Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
My red clown nose and puffy eyes are exquisite.
After wiping the runny mascara off my face, I looked at the reflection and leaned forward. I made eye contact with myself and muttered ever so defiantly "Katie, you're NOT going to do this today."
Last night was hard on my heart. We're talking SUPER hard. I'm sure if you were to do an ultrasound on it right now, it'd look something like this:
(My Mom is trying to read over my shoulder as I write this. She already knows what's going on, so I don't know why she's trying to read it. I covered the screen and said "Nuh uh! No sneak peeks! You have to wait til it's published like the rest of my blaaarging public!" to which she replied "I gave BIRTH to you! With all the brain cells that allow you to DO this!!!" Touche, Mom. Touche.)
Anyway, back to the story.
It's roughed up.
One of the reasons it's roughed up is just stupid. I don't like situations to be left unresolved, and I don't like people to be angry at me, but I think I'm just going to leave this one. Dumb dumb dumb. He can just continue to be miserable (since it seems to make him exceedingly happy). I don't want him to feel that way, but I'm sick of HIS misery being taken out on MY face. So, this one I'm a little angry about. Not gonna lie.
The other reason is just my own fault. I mean, it kinda is, but it kinda isn't. (I'm making total sense, aren't I?) I knew nothing was coming of this friendship (other than friendship) and I am really fine with it. And when I SAY fine, I MEAN fine. But I guess I was just a little blindsided. It happened sooner than I was prepared for it to be. How REDONK does that sound? "The thing in YOUR life happened sooner than IIIII had expected." LOL! Yeah, Katie. Get over yourself. Everybody else has. (Just throwing that in there so YOU don't have to! '= ) This one, I'm really OK with, I was just taken aback at the time. Carry on.
If #1 hadn't happened, then I highly doubt #2 would've had any effect on me.
Call the heart Doctor. I'm out.
I read Psalm 147:3 this morning:
"He heals the brokenhearted
and binds up their wounds." (ESV)
And I liked this version too:
"He heals the heartbroken
and bandages their wounds.
He counts the stars
and assigns each a name.
Our LORD is great, with limitless strength;
we'll never comprehend what He knows or does.
God puts the fallen on their feet again
and pushes the wicked into the ditch." (Psalm 147:3-6 The Message)
I like the part about the ditch.
Friday, January 28, 2011
I basically decided to write something because Kristin got swiped from me for the evening and as a result, I am bored. (I have a migraine and it's really just annoying. I've had about enough. Stupid headache gnomes...)
I did what I could to keep boredom at bay. I took a really hot shower and sang along to several of my favorite tunes. (On tonight's playlist, "Sick Muse" by Metric, "The Story" by Brandi Carlile and "Don't Let Him Steal Your Heart Away" by Phil Collins. Seriously, Phil. Shorter song titles. Get them.)
I made this:
Yeah... Do they have rehab for Microsoft Paint addicts?
I'm trying to watch "Law & Order UK", but despite all the awesome accents and Jamie Bamber's hottness, it's still REEEAAALLLYYY boring.
So that brings me back to my blarg. I'm clean, I have no voice left, I've exhausted my Paint abilities, and I'm bored watching BBC America.
AND THEN I REMEMBERED MY DREAM LAST NIGHT!!!
It was probably the weirdest dream I'd ever had. And I've had some doozies! (You may recall them... http://katiehurl.blogspot.com/2011/01/theeese-dreeeams.html, http://katiehurl.blogspot.com/2010/11/last-night.html.)
BUT THIS ONE WINS.
I had a dream that my Dad wasn't my dad. And not only was my Dad not my dad, I found out that my real dad was someone famous. This obviously left me reeling. My parents were married in '80, and I was born in '85... or was THAT a lie TOO? No, it wasn't a lie. Did Dad know he wasn't my dad? Yes. The family? Did they know? Yes. So I was the only one who DIDN'T know? Yes.
So who was my Dad? Ronnie Wood.
WHAAAAAT THE HAAAAAIL?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
I was sooooo mad. I wasn't mad because I had been lied to about my parentage my whole life, I was mad because my MOM cheated on my DAD...with RONNIE WOOD?!?!?!?
(If you don't know who Ronnie Wood is, he's a member of the Rolling Stones. Google at your own risk.)
I look NOTHING like Ronnie Wood! My mother would never go NEAR Ronnie Wood, yet he was my FATHER?!?!?! What the HAAAAAAIL?!?!?!
I was devastated. (yet this explains why my brother and I look NOTHING alike...)
And my "dad" was coming to see me. His visit was very anti-climatic. He showed up in an old brown convertible with old Taco Bell decals on it. (I've got to stop eating junk food.) I guess there was some dispute as to whether or not I was really his daughter. Apparently there were LOTS of people coming out of the woodwork (pun intended?) saying they were offspring of the Ronnie Wood. Through the magic of dreaming, we did a super quick DNA test, it was proven that I was indeed his daughter (I was heartbroken), he threw some of my inheritance at me and then he was off in the Taco-vertible.
I just remember my Dad being really sad, and that made me sad. And then there was a bouncy castle.
And then I woke up!!!Seriously? What the heck?
First off, my Mom would never cheat on G. Colin Hurl. Second off, I look WAAAAY too much like G. Colin Hurl. Third off, have you SEEN Ronnie Wood?
I can't imagine what my life would be like if I was on drugs. Maybe it would be normal instead?
Back to the bouncy castle!
A mythical creature to be feared by all.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
I have been trying soooooo hard to fight my pity party ways, but yesterday morning, I succummed to it.
"Why am IIIIII still single? Look at horse face over there, SHE has a boyfriend. How is mountain face pregnant? I was supposed to have a baby a couple of years ago, and what am I doing? Being SINGLE and living in my best friend's BASEMENT Waah waah waaah. Blah blah blah."
Yeah. Get over yourself, Katie.
Do we think that the more we whine to God, He'll just cave and give us what we want when we want it? (Especially since it's something that's not PROMISED to everyone in the first place...)
***SUPER ANALOGY TIME!!!!***
When Cordy whines, it makes me want to throw her in a box and put the box in a closet. (I would never actually do that, but it's REALLY REALLY annoying.)
"Cordy. It's not time yet. You have like 18 minutes."
"EEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
"Cordy. Seriously? Dude, you have...."
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" (and she throws in a *Scratch scratch scratch* and a triple lutz double toe loop for added emphasis.)
"Ok, I am aware of your nutritional needs, and your gastric grumblings. I am also aware that I am now bleeding and I require a new slipcover for my couch... I WILL FEED YOU IN SEVENTEEN MINUTES AND FIFTY TWO SECONDS!!! NO SOONER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Bottom line, I'm going to feed her at 5 o'clock. She knows she's going to be fed. I have fed her every day for 7 1/2 years. She knows I'm going to take care of her, but she wants taken care of NAAAAAOOOOO!!!!!!
It's really annoying.
How much do I annoy God with all my silly prayers? "Lord, I want a husband." "Lord, I want a baby." "Lord, I'm sick of sleeping alone." "Lord, I want a pony."
It's the equivalent of "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE."
I need to just shut up and relax. 5 o'clock is GOING to get here!!! (Hopefully.)
...And I seriously need to burn that party hat. It's hideous as all get out...
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I'm under pressure to write something meaningful today. Hmmm....
But FIRST! A word from our sponsor (not really).
This is Vavoom Design Pulse Glow to Pieces Shine Wax. This is what I use in my hair that makes it all awesome. I'm putting it on here as a reference for my Mother. She knows why. LOVE YOU MAAA!!!
I was going to do one of those "Open the Bible, point your finger, and that's the verse you talk about" things, but my Pastor told a story this week about doing that. (I'm sure this is not a new story, but it made me laugh.)
"There was a man who was depressed and he opened his Bible randomly to see what God would say to him and he came across the verse 'And Judas hung himself...'. Horrified, he opened the Bible again at random and came across 'Go and do likewise'. Dejected, he opened his Bible one last time and came to the verse 'What you must do, do quickly'."
I'm sure there's a lesson to be learned in that one right there. (Obviously... don't take Bible verses out of context.) But I'm looking for something a little more meaty.
Taco Bell meat? No. I'm not going there. Makes me angry. (Not at Taco Bell, at the yahoo who decides to sue a fast food company over fast food! Come on, it's smothered in fake nacho cheese! Are you going to sue them for the cheese too? I shouldn't give them ideas. I should also stop this wild tangent...)
Let's see. Today is January 26th (oh, by the way, Happy Birthday to my Daddy!!!), so therefore 01/26. Let's go to Proverbs 1:26 and see what it has to say. (Just for grins. Just to prove the whole out of context thing.)
"I in turn will laugh when disaster strikes you;
I will mock when calamity overtakes you--" (NIV)
Hmm... not exactly the uplifting word I was looking for (point proven)... what does the whole chapter have to say? (And let's turn to The Message because it's easier to understand.)
Wise Sayings of Solomon
A Manual for Living.
1-6 These are the wise sayings of Solomon,
David's son, Israel's king --
Written down so we'll know how to live well and right,
to understand what life means and where it's going;
A manual for living,
for learning what's right and just and fair;
To teach the inexperienced the ropes
and give our young people a grasp on reality.
There's something here also for seasoned men and women,
still a thing or two for the experienced to learn --
Fresh wisdom to probe and penetrate,
the rhymes and reasons of wise men and women.
Start with God
7 Start with God -- the first step in learning is bowing down to God;
only fools thumb their noses at such wisdom and learning.
8-19 Pay close attention, friend, to what your father tells you;
never forget what you learned at your mother's knee.
Wear their counsel like flowers in your hair,
like rings on your fingers.
Dear friend, if bad companions tempt you,
don't go along with them.
If they say -- "Let's go out and raise some hell.
Let's beat up some old man, mug some old woman.
Let's pick them clean
and get them ready for their funerals.
We'll load up on top-quality loot.
We'll haul it home by the truckload.
Join us for the time of your life!
With us, it's share and share alike!" --
Oh, friend, don't give them a second look;
don't listen to them for a minute.
They're racing to a very bad end,
hurrying to ruin everything they lay hands on.
Nobody robs a bank
with everyone watching,
Yet that's what these people are doing --
they're doing themselves in.
When you grab all you can get, that's what happens:
the more you get, the less you are.
20-21 Lady Wisdom goes out in the street and shouts.
At the town center she makes her speech.
In the middle of the traffic she takes her stand.
At the busiest corner she calls out:
22-24 "Simpletons! How long will you wallow in ignorance?
Cynics! How long will you feed your cynicism?
Idiots! How long will you refuse to learn?
About face! I can revise your life.
Look, I'm ready to pour out my spirit on you;
I'm ready to tell you all I know.
As it is, I've called, but you've turned a deaf ear;
I've reached out to you, but you've ignored me.
25-28 "Since you laugh at my counsel
and make a joke of my advice,
How can I take you seriously?
I'll turn the tables and joke about your troubles!
What if the roof falls in,
and your whole life goes to pieces?
What if catastrophe strikes and there's nothing
to show for your life but rubble and ashes?
You'll need me then. You'll call for me, but don't expect
No matter how hard you look, you won't find me.
29-33 "Because you hated Knowledge
and had nothing to do with the Fear-of-God,
Because you wouldn't take my advice
and brushed aside all my offers to train you,
Well, you've made your bed -- now lie in it;
you wanted your own way -- now, how do you like it?
Don't you see what happens, you simpletons, you idiots?
Carelessness kills; complacency is murder.
First pay attention to me, and then relax.
Now you can take it easy -- you're in good hands."
Wow. Harsh. Yet true. Way harsh, in fact. But sometimes we need way harsh.
I don't think I have anything to say after that. (Just be glad I didn't post Proverbs 26...)
Monday, January 24, 2011
Fail. Fail. FAIL.
OK. I'm over my fail now. What shall we talk about today?
I have an idea, but first, an announcement.
My friend Keith started a blog yesterday!!! WOOOOO!!! You should totally check it out http://encounterswithkeith.blogspot.com/. Like I said, he just started yesterday so it's a baby blog, but I am looking forward to awesomeness. He is seriously one of the funniest people I know. (Next to me, of course. JUST KIDDING!!!) So yeah. I don't know what else to say... READ IT.
OK, so today I had an awesome idea. Well, two awesome ideas. Well, one was Kristin's, but it was indirectly inspired by me. So I guess I kinda had two awesome ideas...
I am going to start a column. "Super Villain of the Week". It's going to be like a super villain. Of the week. On a weekly basis.
This is our first villain. We shall call her Jabba. (Please don't come after me, George Lucas. I love you.) She is large and in charge. We all know a Jabba. *Shudder* Most of us have probably sustained damage from a Jabba. Be afraid. Avoid at all costs. Trek through mountains if you have to.
And that was our villain of the week!
The next new thing I decided to do is on a weekly basis (it's probably not going to be on super villain day) is answer 5 random questions. I've had this idea for awhile, but I thought it was stupid. I'm grasping at straws lately. I have zero creative thoughts. So I'm relying on my lovely roommate to rescue me from this funk. (No pressure, Kris10. Or Lease-ah if she is helping you.) In the future, if you have a random question that you would like to see answered, you can send me a message (entitled "question") on facebook, or email me at katiemae85 at gmail dot com. (See what I did there? Yeah. Pretty awesome.)
Here we go. Random questions round uno.
Q: Why do women who are 40+ dress like they are 20?
A: I think it's because they so easily forget how sucky it was to be in their 20's. They are in denial. "Does this cheetah print spandex unitard make my butt look big?" "No, it certainly does not. Nothing looks big in comparison to your perm." They are slave to the "grass is always greener" mentality. No. Grass is not always greener. It wasn't greener back then, it's not greener now. Please put your boobies away. I don't care if they've been augmented, lifted, tucked, stretched, sliced, diced, wrapped around, what have you. PUT. THEM. AWAY. Dressing like a slut does not make you look younger. It just makes you look like a slut. Possibly an old slut. And no one wants to see that. Age gracefully, ladies. Keep yourselves covered. Please. I don't want to go blind prematurely. Also, I think it could have to do with the whole "cougar" mentality. Rawr. Let me just say this: "Gross". Go prey upon men your own age. Leave the cubbies alone. They're annoying after 5 minutes anyway.
(I don't think I answered that question at all.)
Q: Why don't cough suppressants actually suppress coughs?
A: It's the communists fault. They want you to be miserable and die.
Q: What is it about the ability to play the guitar that makes a man sexy?
A: Hmmm... I feel very ill equipped to answer this question because as soon as a guy grabs a guitar, I turn into a melted Popsicle. Yes, he could have JUST returned from kicking a small animal and I could put that aside to melt into a puddle of goo. OK. There are a few people I could think of that a guitar would NOT make them sexy. There are indeed some that if they even dared to go near a guitar, I would intercept it and beat them soundly over the head. But in all seriousness, I think we equate musical ability with sensitivity (?) "Oh em gee. He wrote a song. He is soooo in tune with his emotions. I could be his emotions buddy! We could stay up night after night talking and making violent, passionate love. I'm gonna have five thousand of his babies." It could just be because women are crazy. But I'm going to go with the "emotional sensitivity" answer. (But it really IS because women have overactive imaginations.)
Q: What happens to a furball if a cat doesn't cough it up?
A: I asked NJ and he said "you don't wanna know." so I slowly backed out of the garage... and ran. I'm assuming some sort of furball purgatory, but I could be wrong. Maybe it causes furry poop? Maybe that's why NJ's poop is so weird. Maybe I should stop talking about the cat's poop on my blog.
Q: What the heck is the "Dougie" and why does the Cali Swag District think they need to teach me how to do it?
A: LOOK! A bird! A bird that is on FIRE!!! (That's me avoiding a question that I have zero answer to.)
And with that, I'm wrapping up my Tuesday blog! Many thanks to Krissy the Magnificent (and Lease-ah).
...Wait. That's not right at all.
^ Yeah. It's been like this for the last 3 days. You should hide your children and small animals. You should even hide your small children and regular sized animals.
We went to Manhattan yesterday to see roomie's cousin Nancy. We had sooooooo much fun! I don't even have words for how much fun! All the words I can come up with seem so... sub-par. It was like a unicorn jumping through a hoop and over a rainbow while juggling flaming chainsaws and singing "Yankee Doodle".
Got that mental picture going?
You're messed up!
Oh dear, I probably should cut out the caffine and sugar completely.
I did a lot of laughing this weekend. Laughter is good for the soul. When your weekend starts off with "DING DING DING DING DING!!! Come on down! You're the next contestant on 'Katie Doesn't Give a Frick Frack'!" you KNOW you're in for fun times! (Kristin said that, btw. Give her a pat on the back if you see her.)
This weekend was an exercise in giving up on a lot of things and just going with it. Going with the flow.
I like this.
I like not feeling like I have to make everybody happy.
I like getting out of town and wearing ridiculous sunglasses.
I like sitting at a table at Old Chicago for 5 hours and being really loud with people who accept me in all my insanity.
You know what, I didn't hear one person say a negative thing about me all weekend either.
And that trend even continued this morning at work. "Katie, I just love you." "I know, I'm magnificent." (If only straight guys loved me as much as my gays do.)
I even had a messed up dream last night. All I remember is that 1989 Bono was there in all his 1989 glory.
Ok. This blog is officially stupid and saying nothing of consequence. I need Graham Chapman to show up...
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Roomie and I decided to go to Salina last night for dinner and a movie. (And a Target shopping spree! WOOT!) Found some awesome matching long john jammies (They highlight lumps and bumps that we didn't even know we had...), and I found some AWESOME black boots. They're flats and they zip up almost to my knees. Wicked sweet. Even sweeter? $34.99 but I scored them for $8.48. Yeah. I am THAT cool. Ate dinner at Chili's where we marveled (in shock and horror) at the waiter who looked like two of my exes combined into one person. It was scary. Almost lost my appetite...almost.
We got done eating just in time to make it to the movie. (The aforementioned "No Strings Attached", just in case you got lost.)
I learned many things from this film. The most important one being that if you have a body like Natalie Portman, you can have a sex friend who looks like Ashton Kutcher. This is good news indeed. I am no danger. (The diet starts today, btw.)
Just kidding, Mom.
I learned that after you look like NP and you procure your sf that looks like AK, HE is the one who will get attached. If you treat him like crap, he will fall madly in love with you. (Treating men like crap starts today, btw.) This will annoy you because you don't like get attached to things. You will then beat him upside his beautiful head on a Valentine's Day date. This will make him leave you alone and then you will go to your sisters wedding and realize that you have made a grave mistake and that you simply must have him back. You will drive from the wedding to his house and through a series of misunderstandings, and two boxes of doughnut holes later, you will see him. You will have powdered sugar on your face. And he will love you.
I learned that Pomeranians are uber adorable. (Also learned that roomie will stab me with a thousand knives if I attempt to get one.)
I learned that Kevin Kline is getting really old. I learned that I was not prepared to see him in his underwear. (I've learned lessons like this before. Like when I saw my "husband" Dylan Moran's butt in "Run Fatboy Run"... TWICE. I was NOT PREPARED. Yes, we are married and all, but we have one of those fancy 1800's marriages where we live in a huge mansion in the English countryside where his bedroom is on one end of the house and mine is on the other.)
Kevin Kline. Old. Not Ok. Put some clothes on. You're not the Pirate King anymore and that makes me sad. This face ---> :'(
I learned that it's not good to be a super closed off person, but it's not good to be super open either. However, I did NOT learn what the in between is... Thanks, movie.
I learned that if a guy makes you a mix CD for you while you're perioding ("I have a crime scene in my pants.") it is TRUE LOVE.
I learned that Hollywood lives to CONFUSE. And pollute your mind. And trick you into thinking that you COULD get Ashton Kutcher.
Screw you, Hollywood.
Friday, January 21, 2011
I haven't completely gotten the hang of this. The main problem is that I don't know where I fit in any of those categories in REAL LIFE! "Should I be funny now? Or serious. I suck at serious, so I'm going to go with funny. But I'm sad today, so it's gonna be deadly serious. Do people want to know what I did yesterday? I'm being self obsessed even writing about it! I'm deleting this blog!" I hate feeling wishy washy. It's almost like bi-polar writing.
And now I'm making zero sense and you're probably getting angry at me, but I'm sorry. It's just how I'm wired(?) Yeah. I'm going with that.
My roommate decided that I was a bad person since I didn't write a new blog yesterday, so I'm going to make this one epic... for Krissy.
The reason I didn't update yesterday was that I was in Wichita Wednesday night. Why was I in Wichita? Because Mom took me to RIVERDANCE as a belated birthday present. I hear you snickering and it best stop. You're just jealous because you can't dance and you're not cool and Irish like me. That's right. I went there.
The awesome thing was that Kansas got hit with an ice storm Wednesday afternoon/evening. I had to leave for Wichita like 3 hours earlier than I had planned. That was fine, it wasn't bad when I left. HOWEVER, by the time we needed to leave for the show, it was like an ice rink.
People were driving 30 on Kellogg. I mean seriously. People usually drive 70 on Kellogg. It was craziness. If Mom hadn't paid so much for the tickets, we probably would've stayed home. You should've seen us walking from the car to the expo hall. Mom was holding on to me and we were walking at a rate of inches per hour. I was like "Are you holding onto me so you can drag me down in a violent manner when you fall? We're not falling. I don't have insurance!"
We finally got inside (without incident) and were seated. Perfect. Great seats.
Mom and I had been joking all day that I was going to meet "Mr. Whatsit" at the show. I didn't. I met an old man instead. A kind old man and his adorable wife. They held hands through the whole show. AWWWWWW!!! I wanted to hug them.
The show started and let me just say, there was one guy who I would've been perfectly content with being Mr. Whatsit. I told Brant this and he goes "Why didn't you talk to him?" "Oh, I dunno. Because he was ON STAGE DANCING?!?!?" "Why didn't you go up front and throw your bra at the stage?" "I had too many layers on..." Riverdance probably doesn't get too many bras thrown on stage.
About two numbers in, these two ladies walk in and sit right in front of us. See attached diagram of what I then saw.
Yeah. That's right. Big hair lady. 12 O'clock. Blocking the purty man. I just hung my head in a very dramatic manner. My face was like this >:( it was incredible.
(The only thing I could think of at that point was an episode of the Monkees when they go to the movies and this lady with a big hat sits in front of Mike and he proceeds to yell "HEY! LADY IN THE HAT!!!")
That's how I felt. "HEY! LADY WITH THE HAIR!"
Life lesson #102: Never tease your hair so high that people can't watch Riverdance over it.
I even tried looking THROUGH it. Didnae work.
My Mom traded seats with me after intermission. The lady SHE was sitting by wreaked of alcohol. I mean, we're talking bathed in Kahlua. Not knocking Kahlua baths, I mean I would probably greatly enjoy one, but having one before Riverdance is just not proper.
Wait. Maybe she was thinking she'd get lucky if she smelled like a tasty alcoholic beverage. They're Irish, lady. We Irish have limits...
... You have to smell like Guinness. DUH!!!
So yeah, birds nest hair and being contact drunk aside, it was a lovely evening. (It really was, Mom. Thanks for taking me. There's no one else I'd rather shuffle like an old grandma through an icy parking lot with.)
After we got back, I went out with Willie and Brant. We had an awesome time doing handbrake turns in parking lots. It was number one. Oh, that and the awkward group hug in Dillons that was creeping out the self-checkout lady. She wasn't a very cheerful person. Dillons is the best place for awkward hugs and making strangers uncomfortable. The backwards-walking hug of 2010 is still my favorite though. '=
I don't know how to wrap up this blog...
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
AND THEN, last night, Mr. Sandman showed up with a lovely dream for me. Oh lawdy. I would say "I wish I could sleep all the time! It's sooo much more interesting than being awake..." but I saw "Inception" the other day and that made it ABUNDANTLY clear that I would not want to dream all the time.
Anyway. Back to what Mr. Sandman brought me.
He brought me a really cute husband. (In my dream, obviously.) I shall refer to him as "Mr. Whatsit" because that's what I always call my future husband. Don't ask. Long story. Anyway, this Mr. Whatsit, he kinda looked like Alessandro Nivola, but that's not important. OK, it IS really important, because I woke up like "YESSS!!! WHAT A SCORE!!!" and rolled over to see Cordy's face. (Sorry, Cordy, nothing against your sweet sweet furry face, but you are not a hot guy.) It was rather a realistic dream in that it was very "homey". You know, like playing house. I go to work, you go to work, we'll eat dinner and cuddle on the couch later. It was comforting. The cool thing is that the cuddling on the couch wasn't MY idea. I was married to a man who WANTED to cuddle with me! Whoa! And let me just tell you, Mr. Whatsit had very strong arms. Mmmmm.
Then for no apparent reason, I JOLTED awake at 4:20. Booooooooo. Hisssssssss.
I guess I should just be thankful for the dream cuddletime that I had. No need to be greedy.
Who am I kidding??? Mr. Whatsit! Come back!!!
I referenced last weeks sermon in Monday's blog. It was about trust. You can go to http://www.newspring.org and look for the video for "The It Factor" and watch it. You won't regret it... probably. (JK. You won't.) Trust is the number ONE thing that God has been teaching me for awhile... but especially since the start of 2011. (Insecurity is a close second on the list.)
This trust business is hard. I'm telling myself that I'm handing everything over to God, but I know dang well that I'm still holding onto it.
The area of relationships is the hardest. In my silly brain, I will not be an official person as long as I'm single. I go around getting mad at everyone else for acting like I'm not official, but the reason I get so mad is because I guess I secretly agree with them.
No flesh and blood person is going to complete or fulfil me. I shouldn't look to people or stuff to make me %100 happy. Yes, God gives us things to put smiles on our faces, but they aren't going to complete us. (That's where the insecurity raises it's ugly head.)
I'm not saying that God isn't going to ever give me my deepest desires (a husband and children) someday. I'm just saying that even if I get those things A) It will STILL not completely fulfil me B) I'll find something else to want.
I read this quote in one of my books yesterday: "No person on earth can love you enough to mend a tear in the crimson fabric of your soul."
In my silly little mind, having a husband and children will do that. It will fix me. Now, I'm not knocking having a Mr. and a couple of kids, but if I'm not happy now, I'm not going to be happy when I get "what I want".
And I'm pretty sure if I just trust and quit trying to control every little thing, He'll bless my socks off. I should probably turn those "ifs" into "whens", eh?
Can I get a Cliff Notes on this biznass? Seriously!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
My computer should be here today or tomorrow and it's taking every ounce of my being to not check UPS' site every 5 minutes. In fact, I haven't checked it at all. I'm being awesome. (Too bad it's not Fed-Ex, eh Libby?)
Believe it or not, I actually had something of substance to blog about today. But (and this part you will totally believe) I completely forgot what it was.
After I typed that last part (20 minutes ago), I had a customer come in. This particular customer and I have a different type of relationship. He's one of those redneck "you can't possibly help me because you have lady parts" type of guys. The first time he came in, I'd only been working here for about 6 months and he yells "Where's the guy that used to sit there?" "I'm sorry sir, but this has been my desk for the last 6 months." "Well, you can't help me. I want him." "Um... I'm the only one here." "Well, then I'm leaving." "What, I can't help you because I'm a GIRL?!?!?! Sit down." And he did. And now I'm the only one who can help him. He can be a bit cantankerous at times, but somehow I make him behave.
Just a few minutes ago as I handed him his fixed phone, he goes "You know what? You're gonna make someone a good husband some day. Cook and clean and you might make someone a good wife!"
Then he goes "You got a boyfriend yet? Or are you still gay?"
WHAT IS IT ABOUT BEING A SINGLE, CHILDLESS FEMALE OF 26 THAT MAKES PEOPLE AUTOMATICALLY ASSUME THAT YOU HAVE TO BE A LESBIAN!?!?!?!?
I am not a lesbian.
I like man flesh.
I like people of the male persuasion.
I would say "I like package stalking" to tie in the line from before, but it's still inappropriate.
I know I don't do myself any favors by living with my best friend (who also happens to be a single female), but it's so frustrating! I WANT a boyfriend! I'm TRYING to find one! I PROMISE! (He's just hiding in a jungle somewhere or something.) I WANT children! With a MAN!!!
Why is it any one's business anyway?
I was telling my aunts about my "single for a year" thing and they said "Why on earth would you do that?" "No one's knocking down my door... I might as well have fun with my life. I blogged about it." "WHY WOULD YOU PUT THAT ON YOUR BLOG?!!? NO ONE WILL ASK YOU OUT!!!" "No one's asking me out anyway..." ("Quick!" I thought to myself. "Say something to make them happy!") "Maybe I'll meet someone really stubborn and he'll decide he must break my streak..."
That made them happy.
I love my family, my friends and my random customers who think I need my soul mate and I need him now.
But I don't.
I'll need him when God decides I need him. For right now, I don't need him.
My friend Keith put this on his Facebook yesterday: "Good news of the day: The hands that hold the world are holding your heart." And that is good news indeed!
Maybe if (when?) God decides I need someone, He'll send him UPS... or Fed-Ex...
Can I get a tracking number on that?
Monday, January 17, 2011
I turned 26 yesterday. Go me! Living another year. Who woulda thought I had it in me...
Friday night, I went to Ihop with 4 of my favorite people and then stayed up til 5 am playing Trouble and watching a movie. The bags under my eyes should be documented in a medical journal.
I had a great weekend with my parents. (I got to spend some of it with my brother too!) I ordered my first ever "my own" computer, they took me out to eat, Mom dyed my hair, we went to church (PASTOR MARK IS BACK!!!), watched a movie, Mom made my birthday meal, we had cake, went shopping and played games... And there was much rejoicing. *yaaay* (Monty Python references are never NOT a good idea.)
Somehow between all the unicorns and rainbows, I still managed to get bruised. My heart has a knack for getting roundhouse kicked in the face. (If hearts had faces...)
I know, you're sick of hearing about it, but I don't care. This is a learning process, people.
It doesn't matter if I get hurt. What matters is that I learn from it. God doesn't care that I'm in the fire. (Not to sound cold about it.) I tend to get stuck in a fire of my own making anyway. What He cares about is what I become in the fire. He cares that I change.
I learned to not be one of those girls who waits for her phone to ring if someone says they'll call or text. I was already learning that, but this weekend something snapped and I just took charge of it. My life and plans will not be dictated by waiting around for something to happen or someone to show up. It's OK. People have their own lives and schedules. I have my own life and schedule and I won't continue to put people on the back burner or waste time waiting for that stupid piece of electronics to beep. (And I didn't do that yesterday. Go me again!)
I learned that there are some people who just enjoy being martyrs. Best leave them to it. You'll never be good enough to cheer them up, so don't make yourself a martyr for them. (Martyr is such a weird looking word.)
I learned that selfishness is not an attractive quality, but it seems to be the one thing that everyone has in abundance.
I learned that relationship statuses change. Even on birthdays.
I learned to stop beating myself up. I learned this at 2am today while texting my wonderful cousin Brant. He's probably the one family member that I can tell ANYTHING. I was feeling pretty bad last night and this is what he told me: "Katie, you are beautiful and your middle name holds meaning not because of your family, but His grace. It's never ending and you are already forgiven." I have always known the meaning of my middle name, but I never really stopped to think about it until I was putting my makeup on this morning for work. Grace means unmerited favor. Undeserved. I deserve the opposite of favor, yet He lavishes it upon me. I don't have to beat myself up. He doesn't beat me up. He doesn't even want to beat me up. When He looks at me, He doesn't see my mistakes, He sees me. And He still loves me.
That's more than I can say for anyone else. (That sounds harsh, but it's true. You can't get that from another human being. I promise.)
Cheers to bruises and the lessons that come with them!
Kill it with fire.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Yeah. That's Splatz. Splaz the cat. He is most assuredly maimed, if not deceased. At least he's friendly in his state of "maybe alive, maybe dead". This is probably due to the fact that he's unconscious, but I digress.
Thursday was a very very bad girl. You should talk to your father, Sunday, and have her straighted out immediately. "What did she do?", you ask? What didn't she do?! She hurt me badly. Let's just say she aided me in the construction of my iron-clad heart box. I'm pretty sure she buried the key too.
Bad Thursday. Very very bad.
How are your brothers Monday and Tuesday? How about sister Wednesday? I trust they are all well.
I am looking forward to your sweet, kind face, Friday. Tell your mother, Saturday, that I miss her and I shall see her soon!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
My latest movie obsession is "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World". If you're friends with me on Facebook, you're probably really really sick and tired of hearing about it. So sorry. But this is my blog and I can talk about it til I turn blue in the face... if I so choose.
BUT fortunately for you, I don't "so choose" to do so today.
I love how much Scott loves Ramona. That's all I shall say.
In movies, the hero is (more times than not) just MADLY in love with the heroine. Or even if they're just friends, most of the times he puts her needs first. We are raised to believe that this is the way things are in the real world.
"Hermando heads for the door as Louisa starts to cry softly. As the door closes, a tidal wave is unleashed. She turns into a crumpled ball of emotion. He calls her to make sure she's OK. She is not. Like a good friend, he comes running back and holds her for the rest of the night as she cries. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. Just being there is enough. He listens to her and strokes her hair softly..."
Yeah. Definitely a movie. It really goes like this:
"Hermando heads for the door as Louisa starts to cry softly. As the door closes, a tidal wave is unleashed. She turns into a crumpled ball of emotion. He texts her to make sure she's OK. She is not. He texts her back that he is just not in the mood. He is only concerned about his own 'suffering' and has no time or interest in what is hurting his friend's heart. He does not come back. He finds a small puppy and kicks it in the face..."
Yeah. That's more like it.
The good news is (as I learned last night) for every person who stomps on your heart, there are plenty who will protect it and keep it safe.
As I was laying in bed being a big baby and crying, I got text messages from people saying that they loved me and they were here for me.
I wasn't crying by the time I fell asleep.
I have got to stop this stupid cycle. I think last night was an exercise in anger. The anger that causes things to finally change. The anger that builds a huge iron-clad box around your heart until the right person comes along with the key. The anger that makes someone work for it and deserve it first...
...in 361 days, of course.
P.S. THIS IS NOT ABOUT FREN!!!
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Because I can.
From my phone.
Because I can.
This is super sweet!!!
The possibilities for world domination are now ENDLESS!!! ("With technology like this, I could, dare I say it, rule the world.") MWAHAHAHA!
Ok. That's all for now. I'll post a REAL post later.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
And by crazy thought, what I really mean is only a thought an insane person would think. (Fortunately for me, I happen to fit into the "insane person category".)
What if I swore off dating for a year?
I know, I know. Not exactly a sacrifice since I haven't been in a realationship since 2008... but come on! Give a girl a break!
How much more could I get out of life if I just thought of members of the opposite sex as friends instead of potential mates?
SOOOOO MUCH MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And if you think I'm pulling some kind of reverse-psychology thing, you're wrong. I'm not.
(I'm mostly posting this to my blog so people can laugh at their computers instead of laughing at me to my face. AVOIDANCE!!!)
This is going to make things soooo much less complicated in some ways. It'll probably be worse in other ways.
If nothing else, it will be an interesting experience... and I'm all about those.
(Oh, Lord help us all.)
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Are you tired of doing all the chores yourself?
Are you tired of being all ALONE?
Me too, (some days) and that's why I used my super imagination and sweet sweet drawing skills to develop:
He's like those one guys. Those "husband" people. Except there is no chance of disturbing (or lack of) hygiene practices. (Leaving the seat up is a thing of the past!) Note also, his spiffy bow tie. What a gentleman!
His cooking program is exceptional. Creme Brulee for breakfast, lunch, AND dinner? Not a problem for THIS guy!!!
Have a bad day at work? Need a shoulder to cry on? Husbo-bot 9000 is here for YOU! Look! He even picked up your favorite facial tissue during his last trip to the store! Awww!
Now, he does come with a few downsides.
He's not good at cuddling.
He's not a thrilling conversationalist. (But as far as I can tell, that's a 50/50 shot with a real dude, too.)
He won't keep the other side of the bed warm.
He's not anatomically correct either, so procreation is impossible. But who wants half human/half robot beings anyway? Actually, I'm pretty sure there's a law against that.
You have to tell him exactly what to get you for Christmas and your birthday. (But he won't forget your anniversary!)
All downsides aside, there is one HUGE advantage to the Husbo-bot 9000. If he starts to annoy you....
There's an "Off" button.
"Why Paul?" you ask.
"Why NOT Paul?" is my brilliant rebuttal. (For the record, I saw him sitting on the couch this morning and I thought he looked friendly. Paul is a friendly name. But I don't know any Pauls...)
Paul and I are going to be the best of friends. I can already sense this. There's just something special about him.
He's the kind of hat who will build you up when you've been knocked down.
He's the kind of hat who will laugh with you, not at you.
He's the kind of hat who will listen when you've had a bad day.
He's the kind of hat who will be around when you just need a good cry.
He's the kind of hat who will whip you up some pancakes when you need a delicious breakfast.
OK, I might have gone a bit far with that last one...
Paul and I had a photo shoot this morning as I was getting ready for work. The pictures were taken in my super sweet studio: "El Banjo".
Sometimes Paul tries to be gangsta. *Gangsta Fail*
Sometimes Paul is silly.
Sometimes Paul tries to make me look like I'm from "Zelda".
Sometimes Paul is concerned.
Sometimes, Paul is a little too sure of himself.
Sometimes, Paul isn't sure what you're implying.
Sometimes Paul tries to look smarter than he really is.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Some of you (or at least Libby) might be familiar with http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ and they might think I am totally copying it. Let me say that I was definitely inspired by Allie (I literally roll on the floor and cry when I read her blog) but I am not copying her. I can refer you to my mother, who has notebooks upon notebooks upon notebooks of my short stories and drawings from when I was younger. My personal favorite is from when I was 9. It was drawn during a particularly lively (read: boring) sermon at the McPherson Free Methodist Church (no hate) and it depicts Herman and Eddie Munster in nun's habits. It's entitled...wait for it... "The Nunsters". Yeah. I've been like this for awhile.
Allie's blog just inspired me to let that side of me out again. I can't tell you how happy I've been the last few days as I feel very creatively satisfied. (My creative side is probably the biggest side of me... and I have some pretty big sides... literally and figuratively.) You should check out "Hyperbole and a Half", but be warned; You're gonna need earmuffs (eyemuffs?) because her language gets pretty salty sometimes.
That out of the way, on to todays informative writing!
Last night, I had a terrible, sudden headache. I told Roomie "Oh man. I have a headache the size of Moscow" (pronounced Moss-cow) and that started this terrible ball rolling. This is going to be painful, but bear with me as I feel it could also be rewarding. (In terms of laughter.)
Fun with Moscow!
If you watch "The IT Crowd", you're going to recognize this friendly face (in cow form)! If you don't watch that show, look it up on YouTube. You won't regret it. I wish Moss-cow was a real being instead of a mythical creature.
Not as funny as first Moss-Cow, but still comedically rewarding. He needs a good scrubbin'!
Fun with Kansas!
Now, to be completely fair, I didn't come up with the whole "Cansass" thing. A friendly Verizon Warranty Department worker (representative) came up with it for me, as he spelled "Kansas Ave" as "Cansass Ave" on a phone box. However, turning it into "Can's Ass" was all me.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
"I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! I feel pretty and witty and..." that's enough of that.
In my dream, for some reason a friend and I decided to go to Hutchinson and go roller blading. Rollerblading? One word? Two words? Moving on... I don't like the word Rollerblade because unlike skate, you can't put an "8" in it. Doing so (Roller+bl+8) clearly indicates Rollerbl8ing, which roughly translates to Rollerblating, which simply does NOT jive. But I digress.
We were there. Doing that one thing with wheels strapped to our feet and I'm not gonna lie. I had some pretty sweet moves. I being all Nancy Kerrigan on wheels. That's right. Nancy. Kerrigan. But the awesome thing is that I was being so incredible... that absolutely no one noticed.
"Didya see THAT?"
"I want a soft pretzel."
Thanks, friend. See if I ever bust any sweet sweet moves for you again. I coulda DIED out there!
We had to vacate the rink because it was "Anniversary Skate" and 10 married middle aged couples come out of absolutely nowhere to skate to "I Will Rescue You" by Plus One. Yeah...
There is no "Anniversary Skate" and what are the odds of 10 couples having the SAME anniversary and going to skate in Hutchinson Kansas? Why Plus One? Such a random song choice! I am displeased. How about that pretzel?
"I will rescue yeeeew. I will rescue yeeeeeew. I will shelter yew from the raaaaaaiiiinnnnnn."
They're like magical ponies, these couples. They're suddenly in evening wear and some of the dudes are CRYING from the majesty of it all.
"Whenever you're lost and confeeeewsed. Like a fairytale come treeeeeeeew. I will rescue yeeeeewwww..."
I'm so overcome with emotion...er....nausea that I have to run to the bathroom.
If you've ever been to the rink in Hutch (which I'm sure you all have...not...) you know that there are no doors on the stalls. This caused me a great deal of urinary pain as a child because I simply would NOT pee in a stall with no doors. Absolutely not. Not unless my best friend Olivia was with me and she could be my "door". Olivia was not there. I was stuck.
And just at this time, 3 other women decide they need the bathroom as well. So they need me to hurry.
Bashful bladder + time limit = severe distress.
So I just decided to sit there and carry on a normal conversation with these women and charm them into thinking they don't need to relieve themselves so they can go back to whatever "not in the bathroom" activities they wished to partake of.
Yeah. In my dreams, I'm THAT good.
At this point, I awoke from my blissful slumber to blow my nose.
As I went back to sleep, I dreamt that I was driving home with my Mom and we arrived at this house in Wichita with a 3-car garage. I naturally assumed this was her house and I was going to help her unload groceries when she let out a scream. Her Rav-4 had somehow removed itself from "Park" and was running amok across the yard of this beautiful home.
"Oh no! He's gonna kill me! Make the car stop!"
Apparently, my Mother is under the assumption that I'm part Harrison Ford and that I can stop this car from causing certain death and destruction.
"I'm on it!"
Fortunately for me, the car is just driving back and forth at a leisurely jaunt so jumping into the drivers seat through the open window (what good fortune!) was easily done.
Savage car subdued. Yet again, I save the day.
"Oh, Katie! Thank you so much! The lawn isn't too bad, do you think your husband will notice?"
*Gulp* What? Husband? A) I have one? B) Why would he care if you put tire marks in your lawn?
Apparently, we were at MY house.
"I have a husband? AND a house with a 3-car garage? What joy! What felicity! What...are you smoking?"
I guess I had a husband...and he was inside the house. And my Mom was leaving so I could go join him... inside the house.
I give her a hug as she turns to get in her car. I close the door for her and as she's getting ready to pull away, I bid her farewell with these words:
If only REAL Katie was as awesome as DREAM Katie. I can't make this crap up! I literally LAUGHED myself awake this morning!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Katie Mylittlepony Hurl
That annoying girl who updates her useless blog every day and then clogs my newsfeed with it
(If you call me that last one, you're RUDE!)
Also, this isn't REALLY about my death, because how could I be writing about my death if I was dead? This is about feelings that are in very close proximity to feelings of death. (Or feelings that precede death as I would imagine them.)
I made it through my work day yesterday...barely. Unrelenting craziness had set in around 10 am yesterday, much to the chagrin of my co-worker and my roommate. It was pure awesome. Cold meds and Gatorade are a deadly combo in my world. (There's that "dead" word again. So sorry!) It's like the combo of Vicodin and Vodka to normal people... except it won't actually kill me.
Basically, I was bouncing off the walls. It's bad when I'm sick. It causes me to be crazy at a ratio of Normal Katie x 1,000,000,000. (Which you may already know that "Normal Katie" is something few people can tolerate on a GOOD day.)
I got home, ate the wonderful dinner that roomie had prepared (lasagna, salad, bread....infinite yumminess) and retired to my basement lair. It was approximately 7:20 in the pm when my head started pounding like one of those wind-up monkey toys and my eyes were squeezing out hot eye juice at an alarming rate.
It was time for bed... already.
I got myself dressed in my super-sexy sick attire of my Bama hoodie, Longhorns shorts, and the kicker.... grey socks. Yes. I was so sick that I went to bed in SOCKS!!! (I hate socks! One of my friends told me that one of her friends referred to socks as "tiny foot prisons" and I couldn't agree more!!!) So off I went to bed. At a snails pace. Even Cordy looked at me as if to say "Um, A) you look like hell C) Why you moving so slow B) you do realize it's only 7:20 in the pm?"
I didn't care. Spontaneous combustion of my cranial region was imminent. I needed my bed.
I got into bed, curled up in the fetal position and I was OUT! But I had forgotten to put my phone on silent...
This is an account of text messages I received during my death (Responses are highly exaggerated and purely fictional) :
9:42 "You think I'd look better in pewter or polished brown?"
9:43 "Really Bama?"
Yes, really, and why are you calling me Bama? How do you know what I'm wearing? Is there a spy in my house?
9:47 "Oh haha. Nevermind. Why do i always get them and arkansas confused?"
Never speak to me again.
1:33 (in the am) "I'm not sleeping at your place tonight. Wanna get lunch?" (Ok, you dirty minded people, it was from my BROTHER!)
I am fairly certain I shall expire before it is necessary to eat a noon meal.
I hardly ever get text messages from these people! And now, as I lay dying, EVERYONE wanted to talk. Ironic? Methinks so.
I woke up this morning very rested (I should hope so after 12 hours of sleep!) and very attractive. I'm glad that there were no guys around because I would've had to beat them off with a stick.
"No! I will NOT make sweet sweet love to you! Stop asking! You're embarrassing yourself!"
I walked into the bathroom to survey the damage. I looked in the mirror and shrugged my shoulders. My eyes wandered to the upper right hand corner of my mirror where I have the lyrics "What you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful" taped. (Sometimes a girl needs some positive reaffirmation, OK? Don't judge me!)
The Goo Goo Dolls. They lie.
I almost fell asleep in the shower and then when I went to brush my teeth, I made a startling discovery. My tongue was blue. I had three options
A) I was most certainly dying of an unknown West Amazonian Flu and I could expect reporters from the "Today" show as soon as my doctor confirmed it.
B) I had been unknowingly sucking on toilet cleaning tablets in my weakened mental state.
C) I drank a crap ton of blue Gatorade.
Fortunately, it was C, but I hope Prince Charming doesn't need a phone today because I'm foaming blue at the mouth.
"I'm not QUITE dead!" (But I look like it...)
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Put Droopy Dog and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer together and you get what I look like today.
Droopy the Red-Nosed Katie (Graphics brought to you by lack of proper graphic software.)
That's right, I feel like a walking snot bubble.
You know how you get sick and you drink so much 7up that it forms a strong bond with the excess of mucous that your body is producing and it covers your tongue in that disgusting film? Bleh. Yeah. I'm there.
I'm fighting my hardest, but I feel like I'm losing.
My house did NOT get cleaned yesterday. Wait, part of it did. But I fell incredibly short of earning the "Wonder Woman" title I so badly wanted. I got home at 3:20, ripped off my jeans, threw on my comfy shorts and made a cuddle appointment with Monsieur Le Couch. I was settling in for sweet sweet slumber when my phone rang and I got called back into work. (I'm one of those workaholics who can't say no.)
I finally dragged myself back to Monsieur Le Couch around 5:40 and I proceeded to be very lonely.
What is it about being sick that makes you such a weepy lonely mess? You're SICK! You should NOT have company! But at the same time, that's all I wanted. I could really do without the crying at the drop of a hat, but I really wanted someone to cuddle me.
I was all "Lord, I'm sick. I'm sad. I'm lonely. Does anyone care?" (PITY PARTY!!!) and that's when Cordy came bounding down the stairs and cuddled herself on my tummy. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but I'll take it."
The worst thing about being sick (to me) is going from "I'm going to die." to "Let's run a race!" in 5 minutes. Last night I was sooooo restless. Monsieur Le Couch was losing his appeal. I was this close to giving him the whole "It's not you. It's me." speech when I noticed it was probably time for me to take more meds and call it a night.
I took some Nyquil and went to bed. The problem with that idea is that when I lay down, my breathing becomes annoying to the 1,000th power. It sounds like a constant succession of sniffles and snores. The problem with THAT is that Cordy thinks I'm crying, so she feels the need to walk up my back and sniff around for my face so she can lick it.
I spent all night sounding like my Dad (sorry Dad, but your snoring IS epic...) with a dog curled up on my back. Attractive, right?
At least I got some good sleep, but the downside is that I had a dream about my ex. (Where was the phone call to wake me up from THAT one???) I haven't had a dream about him in months and this one was particularly vivid. Bleh.
I woke up annoyed and looking like Droopy Dog! (See above)
My eyes will NOT stop watering (unrelated to the dream) and I can't breathe with my mouth closed.
The sickness and the dream are just more examples of how I control nothing. (Which in the grand scheme of things is just fine with me. But the little things still get me sometimes.)
I can't tell you how many times in the last few weeks I've prayed "God, please let... No, wait. Your will, not mine. But could You? No. No. No. Your will. But... NO! I'm going to stop praying now. Could You take these feelings away? No. I want them. OH WHATEVER!!!"
(That may sound really sacreligious, but I'm just being honest.)
"We never understand what we're praying, and God, in His mercy, does not answer our prayers according to our understanding, but according to His wisdom." -Rich Mullins
I am immensely glad that I have a Father who loves me and is working on my behalf. Even if I can't see what He's doing and I don't know where He's going with it, everything is happening for a reason. Every little moment that I go through is adding up to a bigger, better picture. I just have to trust.
And trusting is the absolute hardest thing for me to do.
The. Absolute. Hardest.
"Let me hear Your lovingkindness in the morning;
For I trust in You;
Teach me the way in which I should walk;
For to You I lift up my soul." Psalm 143:8
Monday, January 3, 2011
Just as I started to get excited and vow to lose weight, grow my hair, and start being content in the now instead of thinking constantly in the future...
I get sick.
I'm the person who takes care of people when they're sick. I'm not good at being on the other end, especially with my Mom living in Wichita. (Yes, I'm 2 weeks away from being 26, but I STILL want my Mommy when I don't feel well!) Last time I was sick, my brother was still in school so he was able to go to the store and grab me some things.
This morning, I crawled out of bed, took a shower, put on my big-girl panties and went to the store for myself. I even had to use a SHOPPING CART! *Gasp! The horror!* (I'm really not helpless. It's just hard to get out of bed when you feel like crap.) I have enough Gatorade, 7up, saltine crackers, kleenex, cuppa noodles, and dayquil to last me through the zombie apocalypse. (I also found some awesome red sunglasses that I didn't NEED, but they were so beautiful!)
I've got to declare war on my house. It's a pigsty and it's bringing me down! It's hard to be mentally and emotionally up when your house is dragging you to the pit of hell.
My main objectives should I choose to accept this mission (after I get off work at 3):
1) Get well
2) Clean house
If I can accomplish both at the same time, I will earn the title of Wonder Woman.
So here's to getting better and looking forward (but not TOO forward) to a great 2011!