Love the Life you Live, Live the Life you Love

Okay so it's been a while. But you know what? Don't judge me. First of all, forgive me, blog, but I cheated on you. I started a different blog...but it was more of a dedication rather than a blog. In a nutshell that one didn't work out (in more ways than one) so I'm glad to be welcomed back with open arms. Really.  Because this is my first entry in, oh say, 9 months, I'm not expecting too much out of myself. Maybe because my brother is hammering away on his clarinet, still sounding like a A.D.D cuckoo bird on speed with a pipe down it's throat. At least he's trying. Or maybe because I'm suffering from only the most extreme form of Boston-sickness ever experienced, who knew I could miss suicidal drivers, horizontal snow, and Red Sox fans so much? Or maybe because I'm not feeling too inspired right now. Choose your weapon. However I'm perservering and at least attempting, however sadly, to write again in this at least once a week. I know I'll r...

So there's a total of 8 school days left until I finally can break free of CJ. Not that I'm not completely immersed in sharing the love of the sacred heart of Christ and all, but if I have to sing the almamatter one more time I'm going to gouge my eyes out with a #2 pencil. I just have one request. Can we move this along a little quicker? The last month has been a parade of easy classes, no tests, no papers...I thought I was scott free until I was smacked across the face with an environmental engineering text book. And I thought I could duck under the radar, grab a diploma, and book it. It was just a senioritis tease. And the cure? An encyclical essay, 3 math tests, a portfolio, a timed write...and unending class discussions of being woman of integrity in college. They're simply dangling the bait of graduation in front of us with each day. What a sick sense of humor the administration has. Speaking of sick sense of humor. As I tried on my graduation gown - no, not gown,...

Five months. That is how long I waited. Fine agonizing, heart wrenching months. I clicked 'submit' on my common application for Boston University on October 15, 2007, knowing I would have to wait until at least March for a reply. But what would the response be? Would I find myself staring at a small envelope, encasing, in my opinion, the most disappointing letter ever composed? Or would I hold a fat packet, packed to the absolute maximum with information of housing, tuition, and opportunities. The odds were against me, and so were the financial aid Gods. Boston is known for it's high standards and even higher tuition, so how would I ever find my way into it's highly guarded doors? I fell in love with Boston in August of 2007 when I attended a summer camp there. I loved the people, the campus (or lack thereof), the history, the culture, the mood...I could not get enough of it. It has been my number one choice college since then and though I have been accepted into many o...

So it's decided. The votes are in. The checks are tallied. The conclusion? Boston. As if I didn't know back in August I would be going there. Maybe it was the absolute, bawling breakdown I had on the plane home... or the non-stop thinking of it... or the never taking off my BU sweatpants... Maybe it was the fact I desperately missed my good buddy in the cafe, Gift, always making me the perfect vegetarian tofu wrap. Either way, I always had my college answer right inside of me, or...at least, written down the side of my leg and in my scrapbook. Yes, it's going to be hard. No, I won't come home any time except Christmas and Summer. Yes, I'm from the suburbs of Missouri aka hey, I live in a protected bubble. No, I've never lived in a big city. Yes, I'm too polite for my own good and most likely will get walked on at first. Truth? I can't wait.

contented silences fill spaces song lyrics hummed as commentary slows laced fingers sleeping naturally on your knee aimless glimpses uncover smiles rhythmic light borders temperate eyes following the line to that which is mine

Once again I find life fails the ability to be explained. How caterpillars turn into butterflies, why the sky turns perfect pink at dusk, and why the jelly side of bread always falls face-down when dropped. In addition, describing how friendships form also has always posed difficult for me. I guess I just never can understand how two girls find themselves in the perfect place, at the perfect time, and strike up the perfect conversation that entices us both. I remember the first moment I met you in the Cor Jesu gym, I know we both remember it. I didn’t even want to try out for cheerleading, but I knew I would be no success at any other sport in the fall and I was desperate for new friends in high school. I was tall; too skinny, had no curves, was dreadfully awkward, and had black braces. You were shorter, had jet black hair, pink braces, and always seemed to be dressed cooler than me – even in your Columbia, Illinois t-shirt. In 8th grade, I thought meeting my perfect best friend would ...

Some days I get so angry I can barely breathe. Every noise, every person, every animal, every object just annoys me. I want to scream at every phonecall, kick every door, rip off the leaky faucet off the sink, and completely go off on random people I don't even know. The feeling of complete and utter discontentment sets me off even more because then I feel helpless that I can't make myself happy again. It's not often I completely lose it like this, mostly when I'm under endless stress or when my mother nags me as though there were no tomorrow. What makes us completely lose it like this? When I feel like this, I feel like I just want to run; get anywhere but where I am right now. Usually, the change of environment changes my mood completely, either that or my running makes me so exhausted I can't do anything but be nearly drugged. Once, when I felt particularly angry, I punched my wall. Stupid, immature, and childish, I know. But I thought, boys do it, why can't ...