Friday, May 29, 2009
Currently feels like 63.
High of 81, and a low of 55.
"Someone close to you completely drops the ball and fails to understand you when you are plainly joking -- awkward! You may need to apologize for something that really isn't worth it."
And what's really pathetic?
I do this almost every day.
...only 75 more pathetic days to go.
(Just in case you missed my countdown over on the right side.)
Chinese Astrology: (Ours is the same.) The Horse may have a challenging year ahead. You may become frustrated with the lack of progress in your career, but you will have to be patient to see the results of your hard work. Beware of your energy levels, as you tend to swing in accordance to your success. You will have to work hard to steer yourself out of ruts with healthy activities and other projects that keep you active. Take comfort in your loved ones and friends who will provide support for you in times of need. Be open to try new things and heed the advice of others in the year of the Ox.
*Note* I don't put a lot of stock in horoscopes, and by "not a lot" I mean none. They're just something fun to do while I'm at work. However, I must say that the Chinese one is pretty accurate. Interesting coincidence.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
This little label printer has been my worst enemy this morning. I'm not sure when it happened, but I guess I got on its bad side.
First it decided to run out of labels. (Okay, maybe this part isn't its fault...) This has never happened before. During the entire first 2 1/2 months of my working in my lovely office its always been fully stocked with cute little rectangular labels. But today it ran out.
It's a tiny little contraption. Until today it's been inoffensive and quite useful. I thought to myself, "How hard can it be to put in a new roll? I really don't need to bother anyone else..."
It only took me a few minutes to figure out how the labels should be installed, and only a few seconds to load them. But then the unthinkable happened.
The label printer had a label jam. I didn't even know that was possible.
Calmly, slowly, I pulled the offending label out of the back of the machine. It appeared to have came out cleanly. I breathed a sigh of relief, reloaded it and attempted to print a test label.
It wouldn't work. I had no idea why. So I had to call in backup.
Susan couldn't figure it out either. So she called in more backup.
Anita is the repair-woman of the third floor. If it wasn't official before, it is now. She led the three of us in a mission to disect and repair the beastly little printer. By the time we discovered the problem (a miniscule piece of label backing, maybe 1/100th of an inch wide, was blocking the piece that pulls the labels through), we had completely disassembeled the thing. It was in like fifteen pieces and there were screws all over my desk.
Anita's a genius though, so it's all back together now. I'm frowning at it as I type. Leave it to a label printer to make me look like an idiot. =/
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
There is an abandoned trailer next door to my childhood home. Whenever someone mentions that property, my first thought is always of the grass. It is the greenest grass I’ve ever seen. The rest of the place sprouts up from that grass as if nothing else could exist without it. Two tall, thick trees stand in the front yard. A patch of irises grow unkempt beneath a high trailer window. Two levels of concrete blocks serve as steps up to a screen storm door, succeeded by a heavy metal one. The paint is chipping white with blue trim on metal siding. A shed stands about fifteen feet to the trailer’s right. It consists of three rooms, one upstairs, and the others down. One room juts out from the left side. This one is shabbier than the original building, obviously an afterthought. Regardless of its deterioration, the place is beautiful in its simplicity. You can tell by looking at it that it served its purpose well.
I was ten years old the first time I set foot in it, but I walked past it almost daily on my way to visit my grandmother. The dark woods behind the old home easily terrified my ten year old self. On my more imaginative days, I thought it must be haunted. Walking by, I’d stop and gaze at it in awe, but never stray from my path, and then double my speed to get away quickly.
However forbidding the place seemed, the curiosity it inspired was stronger. I would try to imagine the family that had once resided within those mysterious walls, or attempt to picture the man who built the little shed. But I’d never talk to anyone about it. Some strange fear would always catch my voice in my throat and prevent me from asking questions. Of course, eventually I had to know the truth. I was tired of mere guesswork; I wanted some answers.
I worked up my courage all morning and then, before I could make up some excuse to back out, I blurted out my question to my grandmother. “Mamaw, whose house is that?”
She was distracted. “What house, hon’?”
“The trailer between your house and Mommy’s,” I explained, attempting nonchalance as I tried on a necklace from her jewelry box. She looked up at me, perplexed that I didn’t already know.
“Well,” she said as I hung on her every word, “It used to be your Little Granny’s. That was a long time ago, before she got sick and had to leave.”
‘Little Granny’ was my rather short great-great-grandmother. She had died the year before. Now I realized for the first time that my grandmother was this woman’s granddaughter. I was amazed. She must have felt as close to her grandmother as I did to her. On some level, I understood the relevance of their relationship for the first time. This one fact sated my curiosity for a while, but not forever.
Eventually I began to crave more information. I wanted answers that I could only learn by venturing inside the place. I wondered if the walls were papered or painted, ugly or pretty. I wondered if light could shine in through the heavy drapes. And what was inside that shed? Probably more than what was in the house, I reasoned. It could have been used as storage after my great-great-grandparents went away. What treasures from the past awaited me inside those walls? Before I realized where my thoughts were leading, I was determined to see inside those buildings. I set to work immediately.
I tried everything I could think of. I stood on my tip-toes to look through the grime-coated windows. They were so covered with filth that I couldn’t make out anything. I pulled hard on the door handles to no avail. Both doors were locked. I even looked underneath the make-shift steps for a spare key. I did these things over and over; all while pushing back my fear of the ominous woods and tall brush at the edges of the lawn. When all my efforts failed, I kicked the side of the shed with a broken “humph” and sulked away. I had only one option left and it was the epitome of a last resort.
“Mamaw?” I addressed her, my eyes wide and pleading.
She eyed me suspiciously before answering. “Yes?”
“Can we go inside Little Granny’s place?” It took her a while to answer. She was probably considering the consequence of trespassing as opposed to the joys of keeping me happy. Since the place was family-owned, and since grandchildren are born with many persuasive talents, she finally allowed me my adventure.
“We’ll see,” she’d said in the end, and I knew it was as good as any “yes.” I was elated. I had wanted to brave it alone, but by now I was so desperate I’d accept any terms.
When we arrived on the morning of our expedition I skipped ahead across crunching leaves to the concrete block steps, but was surprised when my grandmother announced that I’d gone to the wrong entrance.
“Not that way. Come here,” she called, walking around to the back of the building.
“Where are you going?” I protested, not understanding.
“I don’t have a key. You’re just gonna have to settle for this old place, and we’ll have to go in through the back.” I couldn’t believe my stupidity. The back! Of course there would be a back door! Why hadn’t I thought of it myself? I was too excited to be frustrated for long though. I was about to see the inside of the shed I’d imagined for so long.
The back door was locked as well, but three of the large wooden planks were missing from the bottom half. With a little careful maneuvering we could duck inside the added-on room.
The back door had proved not to open into the entire place, but into the addition only. This room had apparently been used as a workshop of sorts. Buckets of tools were everywhere. Two handmade work benches stood one on each side of the room, and assorted odd objects hung from nails on the walls. A much used hammer here, an outdated calendar there: the place was in disarray. A pane-less, high, window was on the center of the inside wall, left over from the time before this room existed.
“So, how do we get upstairs?” I asked.
“The stairs are in there,” my grandmother gestured through the inside window. I climbed up onto the bench and peered through.
This room also appeared to be a work room, but this one had clearly belonged to a woman. A large, white, wood-burning cooking stove stood on the far wall with a curtained window behind it. A large pile of tin storage cans was stacked to my right and farther in that direction I saw a steep, rail-less staircase. A broom stood in one corner along with an old fashioned mop and bucket. The floor was warped in the center of the room, but had not begun to decay as it had in the other. This half of the building was built with more care. I noticed that a set of kitchen chairs was lined against the wall beneath the window I was observing from. They were upholstered in a yellow plastic with garish yellow flowers.
Before my grandmother could protest, I swung one leg through the window, hunched under the low top frame, lowered my foot onto one of the chairs, and pulled the rest of myself through.
My grandmother had no choice but to follow. Once on the other side, she grumbled: “You make that look easy, but it isn’t easy at all.” I barely heard her. In the time it had taken her to catch up I had become absorbed in my surroundings. Cautiously, not wanting to disturb anything, I reached out for one of the tins. When I pulled off the painted cover, I found it was full of buttons. There were big buttons and small buttons, colored ones and clear ones, gold edged ones, and some that looked like pearls. To a girl who had just begun a button collection it was a treasure chest. I slowly examined each object in the room, trying to memorize it. I didn’t want to miss even one tiny detail.
Finally, I approached the stairs. They were steep and made of splintering wood. I picked my way up carefully, holding tight to the step in front of me as I went.
The upstairs was practically empty. I was disappointed. I’d hoped to find more interesting things. I turned to go, and when I did I found something I had overlooked. Hanging on a low rafter was a military jacket, and a section of the wall behind it was covered in newspaper clippings. Carefully, I pushed the jacket to the side. Much to my dismay, the clippings were too worn. I couldn’t read enough of the words to piece together their stories. The pictures, mostly of men in uniform, were barely visible.
I sat there for a few moments, wondering what the significance of the clippings and the coat were. They captivated me in the same way the shed itself did, and I couldn’t pinpoint the reason behind either fascination. I found them inexplicably beautiful. I wanted to know who the clippings were about, who the coat had belonged to. Who had put the pictures there? Why?
Then, as clearly as if it were happening in that moment, I could see a middle-aged woman climbing the stairs and carefully smoothing the pictures onto the wall. Her face was kind, but weathered, as if she’d known a lot of life, and not just the good. Her expression was proud, but scared, too.
As quickly as it had come the image was gone, dashed out of mind by my grandmother’s impatient inquiries from below.
As we walked away I trailed behind a little, desperately clinging to the image of the woman and pondering her significance.
Nearly a week later I was once again going to my grandmother’s for a visit, but when I arrived she was waiting at the door with a key.
“What’s this?” I asked as she put it in my hand.
“That,” she replied, “is the key to the trailer.”
“Little Granny’s trailer?” I asked, delighted and beaming. She nodded her head in response. I ran to the trailer without another word. I swung the screen door open and pushed the key into the lock. It wouldn’t turn. Years of disuse had made it stubborn. I waited impatiently for my grandmother to come and open it for me, switching my weight from one foot to the other and back again.
When the door was finally unlocked, she pushed it open, forcing it back when it resisted. “Watch your step,” she cautioned, but I was already leaping in.
Inside, I stopped dead in my tracks, amazed. The house wasn’t empty at all. It was fully furnished, as if it had been expecting someone to return. The door had opened on the right side of the living room. Further right was the kitchen. I began exploring there. A kitchen table stood cluttered with a notebook and a globe, and a few food items. The sink still had a green and yellow sponge in it. I felt a little sorry for it. It seemed to be reaching out to be used again.
The living room was cluttered with furniture and knick knacks. Moving further in, I spotted a hallway that ran along the back wall. It led me to a tiny bedroom that held a twin size bed, a wardrobe, and a dresser. I began a full-scale investigation, and in the wardrobe I found three hand-stitched quilts.
They were well made, the stitches tiny and tight. There were none of the now common patterns and no pre-cut squares. These quilts were made of scraps of whatever material was available, and sewn together craftily to form an even length and width. They were crafted for purpose rather than decoration. Yet they were beautiful, absolutely brimming with her care. The emotion was almost tangible, it spilled over the edges and enveloped me in a haze of nostalgia.
And then I could see her again. The same woman as before, but this time she
was stitching together the quilt. Again, the image faded quickly. I traced the well worn seam along the edge of one quilt and then returned them to the wardrobe, allowing the home return to its expectant calm.
That night while lying in bed attempting to sleep, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d seen. I couldn’t shake the images of the woman, and I didn’t understand her importance. I chased the idea for hours before I slipped into unconsciousness, still feeling cheated of something.
The next morning I woke up and dressed quickly. I had to unearth the rest of this mystery. I walked fast, determined. I stood in the road with my arms crossed to hold in my frustration and stared intently. I probed every corner of the place with my eyes. Then in an instant everything fell into place. The concept that had eluded me unfolded before my eyes.
I saw my grandmother as a child, running around the trees hiding from her mother. I saw my great-great-grandmother hard at work in the little shed that my great-great-grandfather built for her. I witnessed her tears when she mourned a son. I watched my grandmother age before my eyes, becoming a young woman. I saw her fall in love. I saw my own mother. I saw so many things, both terrible and beautiful. They were events I’d heard discussed, knowledge I’d always possessed, but never fully understood. I saw it all so fast and with such force that it ached in my very bones.
I stepped off of the road and collapsed into the soft, tall grass, dumbfounded by a simple discovery. They were real people. They had hopes, dreams, troubles, sorrows and joys. They were born, they grew up, and they had families of their own. They were the same as me, only separated by the gap in our years.
Time ticked away as I sat there in the grass. It whispered truth in my ear. I watched the home of a family become empty. I watched myself enter it for the first time, piecing together the life of a woman I hardly knew. When I couldn’t bear anymore I picked myself up and stumbled home, utterly speechless, and more terrified than ever by the place. I’d finally put a name on the fear that lurked in the shadows. It was the inevitable outcome of life: At some point, we’ll all leave it.
In a way, the place is haunted. It is saturated with relics from someone else’s world. The objects are distant and mysterious to me, the empty hull of my great-great-grandmother’s life. Seeing her home arranged and expectant after she was gone brought hard and fast my understanding of mortality. It shook me to my core, and posed the question, “What will I leave behind?”
Now that I’m older I return to the abandoned home often, and without fear. This place helped me to mature and see my elders as they really are: vibrant people who, like my favorite hideaway, are fading around the edges, caught up in swirling pools of time. I’m indebted to it. The trailer and the shed may be nothing special to the many people who pass them by, but to me they are the most beautiful buildings in the world. They have taught me things I couldn’t have learned any other way. They demonstrate the most precious secret in this life: the value of it, its beauty, and its potential.
Just a thought.
Now for publishing: I'm considering doing this. I'm terrified. I've never done anything like this before...but if I want to write my own book someday, I have to start somewhere, right?
I wrote for five consecutive hours last night with no breaks and no interruptions. (Okay. Maybe a phone call or two. But I typed straight through them.) I'll probably have a similar routine over the next week. I don't know what I'm thinking. I might be crazy. But if I don't try something I know I'll regret it.
And the phone call: My super-crazy boyfriend decided to call at 3:40am last night while on firegaurd. (aka: definitely not when he's allowed.) It didn't wake me up, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. It wasn't the inconvenient timing that was a problem. I'm always glad to hear from him. But had I woken up to talk to him, his chances of getting caught would have increased (longer talk-time)...and he might have got a mouth-full of annoyance from me for risking it in the first place. =/
However, I am sad I missed a chance to talk to him. He left adorable little messages...but it's not the same. Sigh.
It's nice to have some feel of normalcy. The multiple phone calls Sunday and Monday, the messages last night... I actually feel like I'm getting up-to-date information for once. It makes this easier.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
- Audrey Hepburn
I was inspired:
I believe that there's a new adventure around every corner, that we make our own magic every day. I believe that miracles happen when you least expect them. I believe that hope can carry us through the worst things. I believe in the healing powers of ice cream. I believe that loving yourself will make other people fall in love with you too. I believe in the potential and beauty of human beings. I believe that true love really does conquer evil every time, because there really isn't any other way.
So what do you believe in?
And it was packed with tons of fun things and quite a few new things including but not limited to making homemade chocolate eclairs, a trip to Baskin Robbins, family cookouts, new books, phone calls (yes, multiple =]) from Kyle, and a nice long nap.
Here's to hoping that your weekends were just as great as mine.
Just a note:
Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream is quite possibly the most genius creation on the planet.
Friday, May 22, 2009
I didn't see it coming.
It absolutely leaves me mind boggled.
Are you ready for it?
I, Carrie Chaney, like a Miley Cyrus song.
The video...eh, not so much.
But the song makes me smile.
You've surprised me.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
I don't know what I'd do without them. Even though they're painful sometimes, they make us remember how wonderful life can be. Memories have a way of motivating us to push harder for what we want.
Yesterday I remembered quite a few things.
I remember my great-grandfather. I remember how he always used to sneak into the kitchen with me to give me strawberry wafer cookies when I wasn't supposed to be eating until dinner. I remember that he always gave the best hugs. I remember the way his eyes would twinkle when found something funny, or when he was happy. He was always so full of life. I remember him as a truly beautiful person. I remember that at his funeral I cried harder than I'd ever cried before. I think losing him made the concept of death real to me. And I miss him. I really do.
I remember my cousins. All of them. I remember the way when we were younger we had a special kind of bond, a love we were born with that will never be erased, though it will never hold the same strength it did when we were all young and niave. I remember the way we would play together, all of us happy and carefree. Hiding behind trees and in dark rooms trying to scare one another. Make believe adventures to places filled with monsters we'd slay together. All of the girls gossiping at Christmas... I think the way I picture them in my mind will always be the way I thought of them as children, no matter what happens in the future. I wonder if they'll think of me in the same way.
I remember high school lunches and the way we laughed until our sides ached with it. It was such a good feeling. We hardly ever had time to eat... I remember the way it felt when we'd walk down the hallways: like we belonged, and like we could do anything...the world was ours then.
I remember the moment I realized I loved Kyle. It was terrifying and exciting and beautiful and awful all at once. I remember the absolute joy of the day he told me he loved me too. I remember the hard times and the way they made us stronger. I remember the way we never seemed to want to leave each other...the way we'd drive or walk around until early in the morning just talking, laughing.
I miss so many things, and I can't wait to see what else is in store. I hope I never forget how wonderful the little things in life are: Sharing a popsicle with your best friend. Being held while you cry. Running through the trees. Giving sloppy manicures to tiny fingers. Playing dress up. Witnessing a flock of birds rise into the sky. Twirling in someone's arms. Making prank phone calls with your best friends. Keeping a secret. Spinning in circles until you fall over from being so dizzy. Picking flowers. Acting like you don't want to be in the family photo...when we all know that everyone wants to be included. Running for the last roll at Thanksgiving. Stacking gifts under the Christmas tree. Baking peanut butter cookies. The bittersweet feeling of a goodnight kiss. Making wishes on dandilion petals in the breeze. Watching the sunrise. The feeling after a rollercoaster when you realize that you braved it.
Those moments are what make life worth living.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
I went upstairs last night and sat down on my bed to read a book. It was a little before 6pm. The next thing I remember I was waking up at 7 this morning. Tally that up and you'll see that I had around 13 hours of sleep. It was heavenly...except that I didn't get anything done.
So today I have:
-emailed the director of the honors program.
-called the high school to arrange a time to pick up a copy of my trascript. It took over half an hour to get through. The phone lines there are altoghether too busy...
-done the rare mountain of filing that awaited me this morning.
-set up a time to discuss Kyle's homecoming party with his family.
-made plans to pick up my portfolio for the semester from my professor.
And I still have to:
-pick up the portfolio.
-go birthday shopping for Christina's darling baby, Isaiah. It's his first birthday. :)
-go to the high school to get my transcript.
-go to his birthday party.
-remind Mom to get me a copy of her taxes for my FAFSA verification.
And tomorrow there's:
Eventually I'll get around to:
-planning the Myrtle Beach trip with Kylie for this July.
-go shopping for party invitations.
-arrange the Mary Kay party that's happening next month.
-sleep some more.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
 Lunch with both Courtney and Ashley, my roomie that I've been dearly missing.
 A new book. (On loan from Kylie. Thanks, dear.)
 I'm mailing letters today. I always feel slightly better than I did before when I drop them into the "outgoing mail" basket.
 It's sunny! I think it had rained every day for three weeks before yesterday... It's nice to see the sky again.
 New make-up. Doesn't it always seem to make you feel prettier?
 The compliment from the total stranger this morning at McDonald's. She told me my dress was pretty. (Thank you, whoever you are. It made me smile. =])
Once here, I collapse into the chair behind my desk to catch my breath.
And then I do nothing. I do nothing for quite some time until lunch at 11:30am when I meet the fabulous Courtney Spradling (boyfriend's sister). We have an hour. Then it's back to the office.
On my way back inside I pick up the mail and proceed to the third floor. I deliver the mail. Then I wait at my desk until Tammy/Susan (supervisors) bring me some lovely filing or copying to do. I do it. Then I return to doing nothing. On the rare day (like today) that I have work from Betty (another lady at the office), I alpabetize some things as well.
I have a truly wonderful job. I'm paid to sit at my desk, write poetry for enjoyment, write Kyle letters, facebook, myspace, and blog. Sometimes I bring a book. It's pretty great, really. At 4:30pm, I'm already in my car and pulling out of the parking lot. I never have to work weekends or holidays because the office is closed then. When I am late, which doesn't happen often, no one notices or cares. I don't have to make up the time.
My only complaint would be that it's a dull place...but I don't think that counts.
I'm alphabetizing now.
It's probably the last thing I'll have to do today.
I brought a book.
Monday, May 18, 2009
clouds are pushed from you to me
on a gentian sky –
flower’s petals crushed and bleeding forming art.
coupled and pertinent: We are connected.
even across the insurmountable distance,
mastering odds and meeting the challenge
set by fate. (it set Us too.)
as i write, it is written.
i transcribe what We have done a thousand times before
on time’s returning wheel.
We are one, and one tale
too pure to be abandoned.
 Girl's night out, which means mexican food!!! ...and good company. :)
 Movies with Courtney and Ryan:
(recommended, 4 carrots out of 5!)
 Unpacking my stuff from the dorm. My house is still in shambles...but slowly improving. (Note to self: be more organized next semseter...)
 Movies with Raina and Jon Fore:
(recommended with 3 carrots out of 5.)
[the book was ten times better. if you haven't read it, do so immediately.]
 Commandeering a truck: While Jon, who was nice enough to drive, stepped out of the truck, Raina and I decided to pull a lovely little prank and drive away. It was great fun. We all laughed about it. It's great to have friends who won't prosecute when you steal their automotive. :)
Kyle called. Even though I had a rather great weekend...hearing from him is always the highlight of my week. It takes all the cake in the world. :)
It'll take me a little while to get caught up on everyone's lovely blogs, so be patient. I'll get to it eventually today.
A huge thank you for the wonderful comments.
After that maybe I'll get on with mine...
Friday, May 15, 2009
the “formal feeling” that follows pain.
it settles around my shoulders,
leaving me shrouded,
from the outside.
it will be okay.
then good things began
in rapid sequence,
lending feelings of optimism.
it will be okay.
again and again…
it will be okay.
it will be okay.
the shield falls away.
and it will be okay.
it will be okay.
This is a little something I stole from her today.
It suits my mood...
even if it's about a fruit and not a veggie.
At lunchtime I bought a huge orange
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.
And that orange it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all my jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.
-Boss isn't at work.
-A letter is on its way to Kyle.
-A 5th follower!
-Planning a trip to Myrtle Beach in July.
-Girl's night to look forward to tonight.
-Poem for today?
Could this be the start of optimism?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Second, I recieved more letters today.
2) I have a beautiful, new, 50s style dress to wear when I go to see Kyle this summer.
3) Pay-day is tomorrow.
4) It's Anita's birthday at the office...FREE DONUTS!
5) I had a creative spark yesterday and wrote a huge amount of poetry.
6) It's only 92(?) more days until I see Kyle, and only 4 until he can call me again. =)
7) I have a radio in my office.
8) I have plans Friday AND Sunday.
9) It's only 10:14am and I'm already smiling and twirling around my office.
10) I can't wait to see what happens today.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
"And even if we have to run away,
I'm gonna marry that boy some day..."
I'll run away on a one-way ticket,
because I will be going home.
With fingers laced together and hearts intertwined,
we can conquer the world.
And maybe I'm a fool...
a "hopeless romantic."
But at least I'll be a fool in love
and not a fool without it.
(Or at least that's what I'd like to think.
I hate that I'm more practical than I pretend.
you never know.)
Monday, May 11, 2009
and revel in the feeling of reckless abandon.
Forgetting that I might fall,
and worse, hit bottom.
Soaking up the freedom of it.
I still spin in circles,
but bigger ones
on the edges of cliffs.
Throw my arms out wide,
pull you in tight
and fling us into the abyss.
We hold fast to each other
and nothing else
as we race past the stars.
(Just a "maybe.")
We'll never find the ground...
Maybe we'll forever fly through the stars.
That single shard of hope is worth the risk of falling back to earth,
to tell someone how I used to spin in circles.
1) Mother's Day was nice. =]
2) I started the gargantuan task of unpacking.
3) Movies with Courtney and Ryan on Saturday...=]
4) Kyle called Sunday!
It's more than amazing to get to hear his voice.
Only 93 more days until I see him again...
5) I worked on my scrapbook. (Finally.)
6) I made plans.
7) I kept a secret.
8) I loaded up on much needed sleep.
9) I drove a little bit too fast...
10) I got my final grades.
(Let's hear it for three As and two Bs! Woo!)
All in all, not a bad list.
Friday, May 8, 2009
1) LAST DAY OF FRESHMAN YEAR!
2) My perfect score on my history final.
(Staying up till 3:30am was totally worth it.)
3) My black denim jeans.
4) My newest follower!
(Lovely to 'meet' you, Ivy. =])
5) Re-reading Kyle's letter from yesterday.
6) Getting to leave work an hour early! Woo!
7) Knowing I can sleep in tomorrow.
8) The wonderful sunshine...haven't saw it in a while.
9) Feeling rebellious. Tonight should be fun...
10) Knowing that Sunday and my next phone call from Kyle is only two days away. =D
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Today has been full of them.
I got up at 8, after having stayed up until nearly 4am studying for my history final. The fact that I had to wake up that early clearly classifies as a down.
However, I have an amazing roomate that has the same history class as I do, and our study session this morning helped me tremendously! Another up...
I ran into a professor of mine on my way to the final, who told me I could stop by and find out how I did on his exam. This was an up. I've been anxious.
On the way to his office, I made an enormous fool of myself by falling down some stairs (we've reached the wayyyy down) and twisting my ankle. It hurts.
I fell outside. It was raining. I'm drenched. I had to go pick up my score while drenched. I am now at work, still drenched. (Need I say it?)
But my score was an A! This means my average for the class isn't the C I was dreading, but a B! I'm rather proud of myself. And he said I'd done, and I quote, "excellent work." =D
I really don't know what to say about all of this other than my ankle hurts and I have an A sitting on my desk...Oh my.
Pneumonia is not fun.
And that's what I just found out my boyfriend has.
I'm not happy. If he's that ill, I want him home with me were I can take care of him...not off on some base where he won't get nearly the amount of rest he needs. Oh my goodness. I'm more worried than I have been in a while. =/
But there are positive things too:
[A] Today broke the 100 mark. Only 99 days until I see him again.
[B] He does get 24 hour bed rest.
[C] He got his cell phone today.
[D] Germany isn't Iraq, Afganistan, or Pakistan. There aren't as many scary bombs and things there.
[E] Is something I don't want to say out loud yet. It's too great to jinx. =]
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
surging into the air while it's still cold.
But bold bravery is beautiful.
you could call them.
But have they no fear?
Your two lips brush my skin
light as flower petals
on a warm breeze.
I am bold, beautiful...
But I wonder --
How will I fare in the cold spring rain?
I wrote this poem ages ago, and found it recently. It isn't exactly relevant to my life anymore, and it's rather silly, but I still like it anyway.
I find it healthy to revisit old writing sometimes. It reminds us of where we've been, and makes us think of where we're going. Rereading leaves me absolutely brimming with hope: looking forward to all the brilliant possibilities.
Monday, May 4, 2009
On another topic, I recieved another letter from Kyle today at work. =] He's just too sweet for words. I love that boy; I really truly do, and more with each passing day. I can't wait for August when I can see him again...
According to what he said on the phone last night (my third call in 43 days) he writes home more than anyone else there, and recieves far more mail as well. I don't doubt it a bit. His letters have been an average of 5 or 6 pages a piece, and we recieve 3-4 a week. I write him at least once a day (sometimes more) and his family sends something at least once a week. It's a wonder he isn't overwhelmed by it all.
It's such a wonderful feeling: getting to hear his voice. I'd much rather be there with him, but hey, I'll take what I can get and treasure it. He says he lives from Sunday to Sunday for free time and phone calls...but I wonder if he realizes that I do as well...
1) Hugs and kisses from Kyle.
2) Blackberry dumplings and ice cream.
3) Studying paying off.
4) Girls' nights.
5) Tulips' and easter flowers' first blossoms.
7) A good meal with friends.
9) Warm summer nights with brilliant stars.
10) Christmas morning bliss.