i'm a pretty pretty princess

You know what I just LOVE? Walking under blooming Crepe Myrtle trees and getting showered by the little tiny pink petals and what I like to call "tree juice". (It's like a little baby rain shower just for you in that moment.) It makes me feel like I'm in a poem or a Jane Austen film.

Bathtime Occurrences on This, Our Hypothesized Last Day on Earth

Two things occurred to me while I was in the shower this morning. Things often occur to me in the shower. In fact, that's really the only reason I ever take showers; so that things will occur to me. Otherwise I wander the streets completely incoherent and void of all thought. Last time that happened I was picked up for prostitution.

The first thing that occurred to me this morning was that I seem to have temporarily lost my desire to make fun of people I don't know. (okay. not true. the FIRST thing that occurred to me this morning was actually that I had an unusual amount of eye crust upon waking.) I've had no trouble at all lately making fun of people I know...to their faces. It's my dysfunctional way of showing affection; or maybe my passive aggressive way of revealing underlying hatred. Either way, I've had no trouble doing it. But when it comes to the normal vituperation of strangers (or even people that I know but just don't care for) that I strive for, I've become soft. For instance: I've attempted to write several blog entries in the past week serving no purpose at all but to gibe, but my conscious has prevented me from publishing them, or even finish them, for that matter. I've pasted one example below. It was birthed from a bitter dislike...and I just couldn't bring myself to complete it.


"There's this woman I know who talks incessantly about her daughter. I've never met the girl, but apparently she is the most charming, brilliant, hilarious, life-impacting human being of all time. It would be impossible for me to calculate the number of glorifying stories I've heard her tell about her beloved flesh and blood.

Crystal (not really her name...but I picture her the way I picture a "Crystal"...fat, unsettlingly unattractive like her mother, promiscuous, and of sour personality) is the epitome of what's good (good, not great. because the two are very different concepts) about today's youth. Believe it or not, EVERY single one of her peers from birth till now have been jealous of her to the point of sabotaging her physically, emotionally, or relationally. Every story told about Crystal paints her as an unappreciated savior. She's a modern day martyr. And all of this despite her earlier days of drug and alcohol addiction, frequent incarceration, flunking out of school, and whoring around (the latter two she's never overcome). "


I got that far and stopped to remind myself that this woman is someone who carries no significance in my life; and therefore, why would I bother to think enough of her to continue writing about her? If I considered her a friend who might actually get a laugh out of my ranting, then maybe it would be worth my time. My efforts suddenly felt snide and pointless. My balloon of contempt was deflated. Part of this condition is the fact that I'm working with really wonderful people now. I, as most people, have always enjoyed complaining about my employers/coworkers. Seems like I can't do that anymore. My new workplace has thrown me in with a bunch of freaks that so far seem like wonderfully gracious souls. What will I do now?? I can't afford to lose my edge. I'm too young to lose my edge.

The second thing that occurred to me this morning really has nothing at all to do with the first. Some of my most beloved and most lovable friends are coming here to spend my birthday with me this weekend. I'm absolutely joyous in this fact, by the way. I've been stressing out a tad bit, however, as I attempt to plan something of a celebratory nature for the big day. Many people know that I've been less than thrilled with my social life since moving back to Louisiana. I know lots of people here. Lots of great people. But the percentage of these great people that I have been enchanted with to the point that I actually like to spend time with them is a bit on the smallish side. I've invited a few of them already to participate in the grandeur of my birthday, but I'm struggling to make much progress. It has OCCURRED to me that I don't have a clue how to begin to plan something that will accommodate/appeal to all of my friends here.

I've bragged before about how all of my friends are "so very different"...like it says something good about ME...and this social detail has popped up once again. However, I currently find it more troublesome than charming. I can't imagine putting all of these people in a room together (or around a table, or at a bar, i.e.) with the outcome that they'd all enjoy each others' company. I picture a party at which Anna Nicole Smith is serving up the queso, Jim J. Bullock is pouring the booze (and throwing quite a few back, I'm sure), Ann Graham Lott is playing DJ, and George Stepanopolous is in charge of the kareoke machine. I think such a gathering would be categorized somewhere in rank between a cock fight and a car wreck. Sounds like a rockin time, huh? Would be for me, in fact, but my constant concern for the emotional comfort of others would have me unbearably anxious throughout the entire event. Perhaps I just don't have enough faith in people. Why do I always assume that others will always be more uncomfortable than myself in social situations? Is it more adult of me to be concerned or to expect everyone else to behave as adults and fend for themselves? tough one. As long as I don't force them all to play Truth or Dare, they should be fine, I guess. My project for tonight is create a way to combine Trivial Pursuit, Strip Poker, and Bible Monopoly.

I've had so much to say lately....just no time to say it. Not here, anyway. Blog, my love....I miss you.

Yes, so, I'm starting a new job tomorrow. Everyone keeps asking me if I'm excited. My answer every time has been a non-hesitant "no". I'm not caught in the antithesis of excited....I'm not dreading this new position. I don't think I feel anything about it at all at this point. You know how your body defaults to shock when the nerve endings detect a certain level of physical pain? Fascinating (and appreciated) nature-made protection device. Well, I think I'm in emotional shock. My body is allowing me to feel no emotion so that the culmination of it all won't finish me off. Remember my not-so-long-ago complaint about my crying overages? Well, amazingly, I haven't shed a tear in 6 weeks or so. I could get used to this.

The feeling will return before long. The numbness will begin to fade, and then I'll just feel all tingly for a while, and before I know it....all will be back to normal. Even if it doesn't, I'm sure I'll have reports from this....yet another.... new career venture. What is this---like number 35??

Piggly Wiggly's Star Employee of the Week (or something similar)

I have amazing friends. Truly...you're all amazing. And the most amazing part of the amazingnessism is that you're all amazing in your own ways. Each and every one of you has a unique character and spirit that inspires me...displays talents and abilities that take my breath away...shares love that makes my life mean something. From time to time I mention you, either by name or reference, in this blog. I should do it more often, perhaps. I'm doing it today.

To the left, under "Links", you'll see one titled Blank Canvas. This one is authored by my dear pal Corey. If you've never looked at his page, you should. Corey and his beautiful wife, my beautiful friend Kristen (who will be signing a record deal in no time, I'm sure), have moved to New York City (I've mentioned this before) to exercise their talents. They have more collective talent, by the way, than any two people should be allowed to have. No wonder God cut some of us short....SOME people got it all. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

Corey is in pursuit of anything related to music, dance, or thespianism (is that a word?). He WILL make it, just so you know. I don't know how or when or by what means, but he will make it. I must point a little spotlight at the most recent entry on his page. He has listed all of the upcoming auditions he's planning on attending. I'm in awe of his courage. Yes, Corey....I'm in awe.

However, I have to say that I AM experiencing a little bit of a gag reflex at the posting of one of your model friends' pictures on your page, though. You're pretty enough on your own...you don't need to exaggerate it by bragging that you hang out with pretty people. And are we really expected to believe that these guys have names like "Jono" and "Brown" and "Apollo"? ( I swear, Corey...if you change your name to something hip and pansy, I'll never speak to you again. I put up with a lot from you, but that's where I draw the line. ) I met some of Corey's model buddies and I have to admit that, despite their ridiculous made-up names, they were actually very down to earth. I had some fairly intense conversations with a few of them. Pretty and hair-product laden or not, there aren't many guys that I could discuss crying with. So, for that, I offer acceptance. Tolerance, anyway.

My intended point, which I have so successfully lost in meaningless details, was that Corey's pursuit of his dream is something that I am chosing to learn from. We should choose to learn from it. We may not be able to hit all the high notes or do jazz hands with flawless flare, but we've all got our own strengths and talents. If he can risk busting his ass on a stage (not that he will), then I'm positive that there are risks we should all be taking for our chance at our own versions of stardom. All I need now are 3 bowling pins, a jar of rubber cement, a damp towel, a trained zebra and a stripper's pole....and I'll be on my way.

The Dough-Boy's Sugar-Coated View of Adulthood

That one of the most painful human experiences is to lose a child is a completely believable concept. I would say that it's completely "understandable" but, as someone with no children, much less someone who has LOST a child, how could I possibly understand it? I've heard parents whose children have passed express the pain by saying that it's "unnatural" or "against nature"...that parents should always go first; not the other way around.

While I cannot possibly comprehend the above mentioned scenario, it makes me think about other variations of "unnatural" events within the parent/child relationship. My current and ongoing situation is in no way as tragic or painful as the death of a loved one, but it prompts a very unique range of emotions. I will venture to say that no "child" should have to parent their own parents.

Most of us will grow to an old age. Most of us will have at least one parent arrive at old age before we do. It's one of our many responsibilities as members of a family...as decent human beings...to care for our parents and look after them once they are unable to physically care for themselves. It's really the only way we repay them for raising us to adulthood, right?

But there is a distinct difference in CARING for parents and PARENTING parents. It feels quite unnatural to have to have to discuss with your siblings what "Tough Love" tactics must be used with your mother and father in order for them to learn from their mistakes. Lecturing 60-somethings about irresponsibility and decision making isn't as much fun as it sounds. And lying awake in your bed at night hoping and praying that you've equipped them to the best of your abilities to take on that next big thing....well, it sucks. It bruises the soul in a way that is pretty much indescribable to anyone who hasn't experienced it personally. Debasement, worry, vexation, frustration, sorrow. Mostly sorrow. When combined they create a dull pain that isn't sharp enough to cut your spirit completely in two, but it's a sensation that never really subsides. It jabs you between the ribs just enough so that you never feel totally comfortable.

That absent comfort, like a nice clean house where the family can gather at holidays just like they do in Pilsbury commercials, is something I never stop pining after.

I'm just a step away from support hose and Wheel of Fortune

In a little over a month, I'll be turning 27. Yikes!! That number sounds so old. Old and....insignificant. 27 is MUCH closer to 30 than 26 is. 26 is hanging out right after 25, and that seems pretty cool, still. 27... not so much. I keep discussing the big two-seven with people lately, and I'm becoming completely paranoid about my age. I'm starting to freak out a little bit, actually. Don't even get me started on the "I'm still not married and have produced no offspring" issue.

Signs that I'm Getting Old:

1. Those "laugh lines" don't think it's funny anymore. For the first time ever, I cracked open a jar of anti-wrinkle cream last night. I think I heard the sorrowful sound of the violin as I applied it. It was a sad moment. But, I figured it can't hurt, right? It's the good stuff, too. $125 a pop. (got it for free, by the way.) Maybe if it works on my face, I'll try it on my butt, too. Just as a precaution.
2. My feet began hurting my first day in New York...and that was almost 2 weeks ago. Shouldn't a good foot soak have worked by now?
3. I recently spent a good 3 hours with a group of fraternity boys (long story), and all but one of them insisted on calling me "m'am" the entire time. The "but one" did flirt with me quite a bit, though, so that should count for something. I thought about making out with him just to boost my self esteem, but in the end decided against it.
4. Going home on a Friday night is now far more appealing than going out to socialize.
5. As time goes by, I grow to like Simon and Garfunkel more and more.
6. I use expressions like "Yikes!".
7. I distinctly remember referring to a guy (who was probably 5-6 years older than myself) as a "nice young man" last week. And I didn't say it to be funny.
8. I get really excited about eating spinach.
9. If I'm around anyone who's under the age of 23, I feel the need to counsel them about their life choices even when they don't ask for my advice.
10. My day feels incomplete without coffee and at least one viewing of the national news.
11. If I go a night without at least 6 hours of sleep, I'm dragging ass the next day.
12. I make moany noises when getting up off the floor.
13. When in public, if I see a kid misbehaving, I give her the evil eye when her mommy isn't looking.
14. When someone suggests dining at Picadilly, I'm totally up for it.



If anyone catches me playing The Weather Channel just for the benefit of the music, please just go ahead and put me out of my misery.

The Point

Foreword: I did, actually, begin writing this on April 15th while in New York City. My feet hurt too badly to finish it at the time. A lot has happened since then, and it worked to transform this entry into something else entirely. So...for those of you who have been updated on my life, don't be confused by the date.

When two of my closest friends moved to NYC a coupla months ago, I was....I dunno....proud of them, I suppose. Saying that one is moving there (here) is almost like a euphenism for the dream of success, excitement, fame, or living out "the dream" itself. It sounds cliche', almost. But guess what? People actually do it. People actually pack up thier belongings, sell their cars, and go for it. And the fact that two people I care about decided to put the plan into action grew an even larger amount of respect in me for them. Then again, I always respect people for taking risks...for daring to do things and go places (physically and emotionally) that don't seem "safe" for the chance of experiencing greatness or, at the very least, newness. I've tried my own version of this several times in, perhaps, less grandiose form. But the success of my well-intentioned adventures hasn't always been quick to show itself. In fact, at times, it hasn't shown itself at all.

At this particular juncture in what is, apparently, my life...I'm once again considering another change. Another risk. Another move. Honestly, just the thought of it makes me want to curl into the fetal position and hide under the covers. BUT, I'm forever romanced by the possibility of...well, possibility. At least, that's the positive spin I'm choosing to put on things right now for the sake of my sanity. Yes. POSSIBILITY. Beautiful word, don't ya think?

The myriad of details that is turning my eyes towards all of this possible-ness is too much to review. But I'll say this about it. Sometimes, no matter what you do, things just don't go as planned. Do you ever sit back in frustration and wonder what the point is in doing "the right thing"? (I guess if you're a horrible person who prefers to do "the wrong thing" in most cases, then you won't be able to relate.) For months, I've had to talk myself into the concept of doing what I know is RIGHT on a daily basis. It wasn't that I had forgotten what was RIGHT or that I didn't know what was RIGHT. It's just that it's so much easier to do what is, in fact, WRONG, when you are surrounded by crappy people or crappy situations. The human part of me has lusted after spite, anger, laziness, and the consistent urge to hit certain someones in the face with harsh honesty and perhaps a open-handed bitch slap. By the grace of God, I've managed to put that lust aside for the most part. And I've asked God continually what the point is in ignoring those tempting desires. It would be extremely easy for me at this point to say it was all for nothing, even though I really know better.

I came across something this morning that solidified for me "WHY". Why, indeed, it was (and always will be) worth it. This is a portion of what I read, and it would not be "the right thing" for me to not share it.

"Let me commend to you a life of trust in God in temporal things. Trusting in God, you will not be compelled to mourn because you have used sinful means to grow rich. Serve God with integrity, and if you acheive no success, at least no sin will lie upon your conscience. Trusting God, you will not be guilty of self-contradiction. Those who trust in skill sail this way today and that way the next, like a vessel tossed about by the fickle wind; but they who trust in the Lord are like a vessel propelled by steam, which cuts through the waves, defies the wind, and makes one bright, straight, silvery track to her destined haven. Be someone with living principles within; never bow to the varying customs of worldy wisdom. Walk in your path of integrity with firm steps, and show that you are invincibly strong in the strengh which confidence in God alone can confer. This is how you will be delivered from anxiety; you will not be troubled by bad news, your heart will be fixed, trusting in the Lord. How pleasant to float along the stream of providence! There is no more blessed a way of living a life of dependence upon a covenant-keeping God. We have no care, for he cares for us; we have no troubles, because we cast our burdens upon the Lord."

Oh, yeah. So that's it.
THIS is why I can sleep at night (when I don't have stressed-induced insomnia, that is). THIS is why I feel healthier now than I have in many months. THIS is one of the many reasons that I live for the God that I do. His grace and his covenant make it all worth something. I praise him for the ability to trust. I praise him for truth.