Hello Old Friend.

It's been a while. Life, yeah it's crazy stuff, living and learning and filling my time with events that will shape me to be who I'm ment to be. Trying to cut back on my reliance on technology and work more on face to face, person to person skills. I still have the wonderful gift where I can talk to anyone, about anything, reach out and befriend a stranger...of course with the exception of those who make my heart skip beats. Ya know, I'm really sick of butterflies in my stomach and not knowing what to say, because I'm so good at ALWAYS knowing what to say with ANYONE. This is a terrible change of hands for me. Either way it's not a big worry as of now, in fact it's more like a humorous thought, and almost an inside joke among me and my friends. I have more complex and mind-stretching things going on that keep this inconvenience on the back-burner. I've implementing new goals this semester and I'm kicking my trash making sure that I reach them. Some of which include monday through thursday gym night, making time for photography, and excelling in all my classes. Hmm and a few like talking to new people, getting to know more people, and making time for those who matter, that roll over from last semester. Things like this probablly will never change, I get older and my need and desire to love those around me still stays pretty strong. Each person matters, each person has a story, each person is funny, smart, sassy, and kind. But you don't realize this until each person is give a chance to walk around the park with you. I'm quickly learning that if there's a problem it's usually a closed-minded view preventing you from really seeing that person. These are thoughts lately the echo through my mind and reverberated back and shake my being. 

This profound thought isn't what brought me to sit at my desk and recount to you the details of my musings, it's an after thought, an added-bonus, the "bakers dozen" just a bit extra. What I want to say is something of much more importance. Something that reaches deep in to my soul and brings me to my full purpose. Something that is so deeply intertwined in every fiber of my heart, my will, my movement and what gives my feet direction and guides each step everyday. I hope that as I share, giving you the microscope to examine every vessel in my heart that you will look with respect, look with open eyes and love. Like all my meanderings there was a spark that lite the fire that inevitably lead to a post. This spark was something simple. Another blog post a friend of mine had written. A very near and dear friend of mine wrote this a little over a month ago and it has really racked my brain. It was a short and simple post about faith, guidance and beliefs. My friend was currently in a world religions class and had often shared many insights with me about things she learned, and that had touched her, she gave me these in the form of quotes, blog posts, and most recently in simple conversations about things of this nature. Courage, openness, but more importantly comfortableness, my friend spoke about these things with such complete bravery. While I've mostly been known as one who's the loudest in a crowd, this is something that I've struggled with, confidence in sharing things so personal, so deep and intimate as my faith. I've always been the "If you have questions I have answers" type, never one forthcoming with information. My friend and I are not of the same "denomination" but she's one who I admire in her courage to share her thoughts, her views, her heart so willingly with those around her and she unknowingly tries to help those who feel lost find a way. I guess this is my pre-face because that fact is so profound to me, As I know and have answers and comforts to things that so many of those whom I love struggle with why do I keep these wonderful peace bringing factors to myself? Fear I suppose, but not entirely as I'm always willing to answer anything. I guess in the beginning more so then now, I feel comfortable in the conversations, more than comfortable I feel warmth in my heart that brings a feeling of safety and peace to my whole consciousness. Is it tact? Do I feel unable to approach this? Probably but I don't know if that would slow me down I lack tact in all things. As I sit here pushing my palms into my forhead trying to figure out why I keep the most precious things I know to my self all I come up with is nothing. So why haven't I? Keeping so wonderful a feeling, a relief to myself is selfish. Is that it? Selfishness? its that the monster that has eaten away my ability to give and share this knowledge? I'm as clueless as ever. 

With that as yet another pre-face I feel as though I need to share this. I need to send this message, that gives my whole life meaning out into the world. Give it a new pair of legs, and dancing shoes and send it out with wings to everyone I know and love and even those I don't who stubble upon my ponderings and stick around to read them. feel free to magnify, inspect, read word to word, and explore this as you will. But I know that we are not alone. EVER. that we may feel low and low, lonely as lonely but we are not alone. We will never be alone or forgotten. When we feel as though we could walk away from this world and no one would ever notice, someone will. Christ is there. He listens to our cries in the night, He even listens to the cries we don't outwardly make. He knows who we are, what we can be and what it takes to get us there. He knows what brings us unmeasurable joys and what brings us to our weakest points. He knows the struggles we face daily, the things that confine us to our beds in despair. He knows our hearts, our loves, and our intentions. He know what will give us the strength and the hope to pull back the covers and face the day despite the opposition we know we will face. Several times on or off my knees I know that God has heard my shouts of sorrow, frustration. He's seen and heard my knees shaking and breaking under the weight and pressure that has been placed upon my shoulders and sent Christ, my Savior to shift the weight from my shoulders to His as he helps me carry the load. I believe in prayer, simple prayer, communication between me and that great being who has created me. It makes no difference the size of my questions, my fears, my gratitude, things that are vast and future-based as well as small things, the being thankful for sunshine on a long walk home. I know He listens to me. I know He listens to everyone, why me and not you? He loves us all. Everyone. period. Every child, every mother, every husband, every lost and confused son or daughter. He knows each one of us by name. He knows what we're good at, he knows what we like to fill our time doing, our hobbies and interest. He cares about each one of us and what each of our futures hold. He knows that I'm typing this and He knows that one day you will read it and maybe take it for face-value or maybe more. He knows how you found it and why you read it. As any father he cares about each of us and how we are doing. Knowledge like this should be broadcast on the news and shouted to all the world, this simple message that "We are not alone, That someone cares." But there's more to this, there's more than an immeasurable amount of love for us there is an infinite forgiveness for us when we make a mistake. No one has messed up so bad that they can't be forgiven and find peace in their heart. It's like a perminate marker, marked all over the wall of who we  are, we feel as though our mistakes tarnish us, make us ugly, but even the toughest of stains are easily removed with bleach; so can we be made whole and feel the peace we once felt before the mishap when we allow the Savior to cleanse us. There is nothing so bad that we cannot experience mercy and be forgiven. Mercy: compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one's power to punish. He believes in chances, given us another shot to change and become who we can be. He gives us the benefit of the doubt always. I know as we struggle through the things in this life that we face daily that we can rely on Him for guidance if we simply open the door and give Him a chance. He knows we can change. We can turn from things that bring us sorrow and seek Him and things that bring us peace. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I know that we are not alone and that we can find peace. I know that I should have been sharing this through out my life, with everyone I've seen struggle, so that they could find happiness and peace like the kind that I have found. And this is my plan. Starting today, to be like my friend and share confidently the messages of love, the knowledge of never being truly abandoned. That we can always cast our eyes upward and feel warm arms wrap around us. I'm human, I am far from perfect and everyday I recognize that I need this, to help me feel joy and comfort and to focus on the small blessings in my day. I hope to be a better example. read, search, ponder, and feel free to get carree'd away.


xo carree

extra extra read all about it

Update update update. I want to update I really do. but instead I've read all the blog post my dear friends have posted while I've been to busy to sit down, read and relax. I also edited my last post since I couldn't figure out what I wanted to post about to all my loving readers in this new post, still only a thought but no words. The more readers that read the more a small part of me gets nervous that I'll disappoint. Don't mistake though I don't write for anyone but myself, this still is a window to me, hence the hesitation to write, the fear that rocks will be thrown through said window if the public doesn't like what they see. Some days I feel a magnate pulling me to write and pushing me to stay away as not to let down those with stones in hand, with that said you understand the slow start. Hmm, but when I think about the ridiculous things I do IN public I really should not have any fears about ANYthing I could write; I guess, but it's not the goofy things about me that I'm afraid of being scorned it's the shock at the more passionate side of me. I guess it could simply be called "the serious side." The side of me that dreams, writes, photographs. The side of me that still loves to swing at the park till my legs go to jello to chase away my thoughts. The side of my that isn't afraid to be alone, to lay under the stars alone while my mind races through thoughts so slowly they seem to be a stop motion picture as apposed to a film in high quality. Those thoughts when shared are the ones that stop people in my window and give suspicious looks. Guess it doesn't really matter. I am who I am, inside and out, through and through. My personality oozes out of each pore of me. I'll never change and with that I always find my push, the factor that actually gets me up here posting my musings, and finding myself along the way.

So what to share today. My passion for dance? the excitement of the music as your body finds the rhythm and each move pumps happiness through you. The flow of each rise and fall like the waves of the ocean soothing my nerves, riding me into that comfortable place where music and body create a beautiful picture, a masterpiece, that leaves both dancer and audience breathless. When footwork, posture and steps fall inline with beat, sound and soul the solution leaves you mesmerized. I'm not one who's usually counted "graceful" most find it hard to envision me waltzing circle after circle in a beautifully lit ballroom, shoulders back, head held high. Eyes lit also with the passion inside as my fuel, unmatched smile at my lips. Shocking to them is it that I took my ribbon for 6th place. This me most people don't believe exist. Because... of this me: The me that while preparing to leave for the week was cleaning up her side of the room doing the usual end of semester ritual of organizing, rearranging, and cleaning. This typical event takes a strange turn when I find a jawbreaker half the size of my fist, that had been left wrapped and untouched at the start of the semester. Sudden flood of excitement. (If you know me, that, that sudden flood of excitement usually foreshadows t-r-o-u-b-l-e, and loads of it.) I snatch the candy right off my desk. Old goal: prepare for next semester, new goal: find some way to eat this. Jawbreakers have always been delish, everyone knows that but what typically prevents them from being the world's greatest candy would be the extreme difficulty of eating them. Like a mad woman I begin this quest. I start hitting it gently with near by objects in the living room in hopes to crack, break and eat it. none such luck. My roommate sees my discouragement and while trying to stiffle a laugh suggest that I put my jawbreaker in a little plastic baggy, and throw it against the sidewalk outside. HOPE! refueled I follow through with, what at the time seemed like the perfect plan, a plan I chastised myself for not thinking of, it seemed flawless. whack. whack. whack. and the result? the first layer hardly chipped off like old paint: no cracks not even close. Re-entering the apartment fail attempt in hand I unbagg the indestructible candy. Now all my roommates are trying to resist the urge to laugh. The roommate who has witnessed the whole ordeal starts to clean up the kitchen for white glove (those of you in rexburg apartments know the horrors of white glove but those who don't it's the mandatory EXTREME cleaning fest you have to do between semesters at your apartment complex so you can check out only to check back in a week later. it's brutal. my quick explanation does not do it justice but you get the idea) out of ideas I resort to standing and deep thinking about what could be plan c, in operation: "obliterate and eat the jawbreaker." My thoughts are interrupted by her question "is this pan yours?"  instantly and idea springs to mind "No it's not" Assuming it was one of the "treasures" left in the cabinet from who ever lived in our apartment before us. I triumphantly grab the pan, bag the candy, toss it to the floor, and start hacking at it like the pan was an ax. SUCCESS. 5 still pretty huge pieces but broken it was. hand the pan back to my roommate with the biggest grin ever imaginable. Happy as a clam! She looks at the pan the back at me. then laughs hold it up where I can see the dents that are now in the bottom of that poor metal pan. The room explodes into laughter. then she says "I was asking cause if it wasn't yours it was one of mine" not a treasure from the cabinet, glad she loves me. it's good we can all laugh at dented pans, and that she understand I'm just a bit far out.

I guess in the words of Meredith Brooks, "I'm a little bit of everything, all rolled into one." Kind of like a smoothie, which if you're wondering, are one of my favorite treats, I'm a blended mix of all the finest things life has to offer. Every trial, test, personality flaw, friend, moment, and word that have crossed me have in some way mixed into me, making me a little sweeter and a little crazier. Some days I'm the quiet kid, that you look at and wonder what they do outside of class, you know what I mean the kid in class that you see and can't picture outside of that class, silent and vague like a faded memory that never leaves that place. that if you ever saw in the grocery store it would throw off your day because they only seem right in that class room. Other days I'm the girl on the 3rd floor wearing nothing but yellow in my knock out highlighter bright rainboots, making those I came with laugh till their faces were red, and those around us trying to hide smiles, glances and laughs from the overheard conversations we're having. Either way I like to watch those around me, take in their reactions. But in the end I'm just a 5"5' (those who've read the 1st post quit laughing, 5"5' is my story and I'm sticking to it) head of curls in some mixed up crazy outfit I've invented, with a cheesy grin and quite a bit to to blurt out, expound and share with this world of eyes looking for more to life than the sorrows of the sunday paper. so read, read away but promise not to get too carree'd away.

xo carree

My spine has the tingle.

A strong sharp tingle, climbing the vertebrae in my back faster than my heart that's skipping beat after beat slowing the blood in my veins leaving my skin kissed with the strangest sensation. No word, no beautiful, graceful word can graze the ears and penetrate the mind as well as as those knots in my heart penetrate my soul. The twists that fill my stomach leave no room for hunger, I'm satisfied so satisfied. And I can't express, elaborate, barely can I even verbalize. There's a trigger in me that fires at emotion sending me raining through the air in drops of passion, longing and dreaming; falling down on lovebirds in trees and on park benches. Dancing in the storm of falling bits of me. Shared dreams in stanzas that reach inside my chest, rip open my soul, bare, aching for dreams of a much similar statue. Open, free, unafraid of judgement, angry cold eyes. I amble down the quite street to total consumption, enjoying each slow second as it ticks by into the beat of a drum pushing me as I march down the road longing to be spent like the last two dollars you've been saving. Your sounds go though me, they shake me, bring me to my knees almost. Eyes closed, ears opened, just falling, tumbling against you, in to you, finding peace in your ribcage curled up next to your heart, while my eyelids rest, drifting into a disillusioned dream, our heartbeats sink, beating together as one, while your words become your world, and your world my dream, in side the cavity of your chest, the ream of blood vessels that form your heart beside me, in you, against you with only my ears opened, eyes closed listening to the sounds of you.

This is what poetry delivered well does to me. When I can feel tone echoing inside my core being pumped to every part of me, head to toe. in those few moments of reading strangers feel as well know as some of the dearest friends. but Ahhhhhhhhhhhh (yes that is a yell) this isn't what I wanted my blog post to be about, I just stumbled upon something unavoidably amazing and blog worthy as I went to write about something else that was amazing and blog worthy. Bold is usually followed by subtle so I just started with what couldn't be contained now I'll transition to the quite little things that moved my world around. Here it goes....

whilst attempting to do homework on the mckay 3rd floor (or refereed to in my apartment the "party floor") but checking my school email, and chasing my tail looking for the assignment. A girl with a sign in the row behind the row across from me (bad description but I hope you can picture it) catches my eye. When I  finally get a better look at her sign it says "free hugs" and in the corner "no talking" I watch her go down the line and show each person the sign and wait for their response. I start to notice that other people are looking up at her too. When she reaches acquaintances I know, I find myself eagerly waiting for their response. I soon realize that the back of her sign says "pretty please" for those who look puzzled and unable to answer. I, myself excitedly waiting for my turn and watching as she comes down the other side. This is when I realize that she knows ASL (american sign language) and she's signing "thank you" to each person who gives her a hug. My excitement more than doubled as I prepared to sign "yes" to her before I hug her. I know a little sign so it was really fun to watch her saying thanks. Her excitement at my signing yes was almost at the point of mine as I waited for my turn for a hug. I know it sounds simple and almost silly but this made my day. I'm tired and it's way past my bedtime so as her quite act was short and sweet so will this post. a little protection to keep you from getting too carree'd away.

xo carree

An attempt to write in under an hour

This never happens. I'll sit at my station pumping out words to be read in strong emotion, pushing and pulling my topic till it and all my words run away from me leaving me speechless. I don't necessarily have a love for writing I've realized, as I write blog after blog I've found my true love and passion is in words. Learning new words and applying them, watching them form enchanting sentences, paragraphs, stories. I get lost in them, sending me into a stupor of thought. I enjoy watching them recount my whims in short syllabled beauty.

however time has flown past me as I dream and my time has fall down to 30 minutes. I'm beginning to fear this task my be impossible for the likes of me, but I trek on. Sometimes I wish that I could tell you the anecdotes of my life as they were ment to be told in dramatic fits of post-situation passion. As the hands on the clockface move forward so do my eyes and thoughts and quickly no matter what level of fa-mazingness the story is, soon it fades. This weekend will fad slowly, it was one of great moments, it's rare that my activities line up so perfectly as to go literally from one to another with only minutes to spare. While a great story the stroy of the weekend of March 11th-13th is, it is not the one I wish to tell in my last few minutes. That tale would the one of the bold and the few.

I enjoy people watching. Yes, I am well aware of how incredibly creepy that sounds, but it's not intended to be. I'm fascinated by the mind, how it adapts, how people move. to describe it in a way that makes more sense would be I like to see how people act and react to each other, and over time it's fun to try a guess at what someone will do next. This has lead to the discovery that people are afraid to move, countless are the times I've watch this scene play out in the form of several faces and people following the same script (I myself am guilty of this as well, mind you). Strapping young lad eyeballing beautiful young lady friend, infatuated with said lady but unable to find the words, or the nerve to say anything. Fear, is a disease spreading across our generation. Fear of change, fear of rejection. fear fear fear. this dread and terror can  be daunting yes but it's explainable with the push of technology. Face to face communication is personal, rare and hard to have undivided from some form of disconnection. I've noticed how much this has lead to increased terror at the thought of confronting, being open, allowing venerability. I myself, as forward and undaunted as I am sometime lose the nerve to embrace a new friend or flame. On a fresh kick of nerve and friendliness still even today could reach out to all but the few of whom I still can't find the nerve to converse with. Puzzling how naturally it comes to me to chat it up with a stranger but fall to bits and pieces at the thought of saying "hello" to a beautiful acquaintance. Oh gosh this is getting too girlie for me, ick. Washing my hands of this ooy gooy side sneaking in; this is not the intent of my post.

This post is for the brave soul that risked embarrassment to break free of fear. After a brief smile in passing, followed by the usual "hey" "how are you" "good" "amazing" encounter between crossing strangers on opposite ends of the skybridge between the library and mc. when we are standing on differing ends I at the beginning of the bridge Mc side, him almost in the library said boy turns around loud and proud through the wide-gapped space now between us asks me for a date. Fearless. Sheer curiosity is what turned me around and started the conversation. Granted my answer was only "maybe" and we parted as unlikely friends. it's sparked hope that possibly, just maybe this generation isn't entirely lost to the media, real people, real friendships, real encounters are still out there . Time's up. under an hour, no temptation to get to carree'd away.

xo carree

ps the grammer of this post horrifies me. seriously. but that's what happens when you race the clock.

Complexity

As defined by dictionary.com it is "the state or quality of being complex" not quite as defining as I had hoped, to find something more of value I quickly clicked, following the link to complex I found the information I sought. Complex: 1. composed of many interconnected parts, compound, composite. 2. characterized by very complicated or involved arrangement of parts. 3 so complicated or intricate as to be hard to understand or ordeal with. 


This differs so greatly from how I feel about myself. I'm as easy to read as this post. My uncharismatic illness of word-vomit has the truth spilling from my lips; my knee-jerk response to shout out honesty makes me fairly simple, child's play, as readable as any old book nuzzled warmly upon your shelf. However, complex is a word I've been getting quite frequently these days much to my dismay. But how does one go about clearing up a misconception of that sort? To change the mind of one person is a challenging task, it requires much time and energy but to clear up this idea that has spread like wild fire to the minds of many, where to start, the task seems almost as over whelming as finding the drive to title and start a new blog. (Anyone who's sat in the same room with me can attest to the struggle of this task, not because I have a lack of words, believe you-me I always have words I just don't always have order or tack) Where does a misconception like that grow roots, how could one miss seeing the sprout that began to take life from said roots and give birth to this Redwood of misunderstanding, mistruth. According to my mathematics teacher one counterexample will disprove an entire theory. So glass of water in hand I brave this task.


Glass on counter, head in hand some 30 seconds later I'm not sure if I'm ready to slay the dragon. All people have complexities, all people have things about them leaving others sitting back with puzzled brows, wondering what could possibly be going on inside said person's mind's eye. That's the the way as humans we were designed. All the same, I feel as though it's simple to forget that complex is not always complicated and herein lies the breakthrough of my thoughts. Admittedly I'll say I am complex, I have intricate wires on the circuit board dwelling inside me. But complicated? Far from it, lies are complicated, those hiding things, quickly become complicated. Complications come from the struggle to keep lies from tangling. As previously mentioned in another blog "I like to keep it simple, bunt and as classy as possible." In other words, just believe what I say and I'll make a lot more since to you, words don't get lost in truth. Truth, isn't complicated, it's not hard, it's the same each time it's repeated, echoing it's comfort and simplicity. Truth is simple, I believe in simple, from the beginning, no confusion, no complications. I'll won't lie this in and of it's self resounds the statement I am complex, but never complicated. 


And so sets in the boredom of this topic. hmmm on to more musings. This week I've learned quite a bit outside the classroom, as well, as much more inside the classroom. But the event this reporter would like to be covered would be that of the list. Yes, the list. At the beginning of the semester I made this list, it wasn't fancy, if I recall correctly in didn't even have a title, which says quite a bit since I have a love of extravagance and a bit of longwindedness when writing, but despite it's lacking aesthetics it held a significance to me. One night unable to fall victim to the sandman's charms I lay in bed, dreaming with eyes wide open of talents I wished to have. Bubbling inside of me were dreams I was afraid would never leave my thoughts, would never become words or actions, dreams that even themselves feared would never reach realities. Well known as a dreamer, with many delusional head-trips that would be long shots from reality I knew their fears were justified. Chastising myself as one who would always be full of good intentions on a road marked to nowhere marching on in rhythmic steps following a pattern of let down excuses as to why these dreams stay on clouds and while I marched, thud thud, thud, to a gloomy fate with many wanted ways left untrodden. I jumped out of bed in a desperate attempt to chase away the dread of past habits and to turn over a new leaf. A new green, thriving leaf of possibilities. So I made this list, on the back of what I believe was an old homework or pre-homework to-do list. Easy to see, the list was soon forgotten laid upon heaps of unsorted documents, books, jewelry, and pictures that littered my desk. While the paper list faded away my subconscious still held it's words. During the course of this semester while trying to find my self, (while not entirely lost) I began to make better time for things, tried to become who I knew with effort I could be, who I am. Trying things that usually never leave my mind, creating pictures, painting, making little do-dads, and trinkets, writing more, trying more, changing more. A day or so ago doing... I'm not altogether sure what, my eyes fell on that folded over sheet. Overcome with the sporadic excitement I get over the seemingly mundane yet meaningful to me things, I read over this small little list and realized that almost every task on there, save a few had been accomplished and tried. A feeling of joy and gratitude filled my heart, knowning that I'd been given those chances and done those things. It doesn't seem very note-worthy but to me it stood as a start, a beginning to something grand.


The last thing I'm going to discuss is one of much fame, one that is here by popular demand the Pomagranite Lamentation. As of now it is to no ones surprise that I love to try new things. I've began walking a new way to class since midterms, and tried to work in little changes in easy places to fit them in around the business which is college. One of these common changes is to try a new Odwalla each time I get one with few exceptions. Through this experiment my love for them has grown exponentially. Having said this there are many of you who are probably like "ah, I see where this is heading Pomagranite Lamentation she's had a bad experience, but should that be enough to make the blog?" A resounding yes, and once the tale unfolds, much to your own horror you will find that yes, here is where this story needs to reside. and so the story begins... It was a chilly day in Rexburg Idaho the sun only trying to poke it's head out between snow falls and here we meet the three victims of this appalling memoir. A post dance class trip to the Crossroads for some snack-age is where this boarder line sunny day gets EVEN colder. (Imagine that...) After some rad Chinese food, accompanied by a rather insightful fortune cookie the thirst sets in.  We'd already finished one Odwalla, it was good but after dancing one can become quite parched, once the debate was settled we'd get another a notion crossed my mind, a friend of a friend (not exactly the best source but still I trusted in my naivety and love of juice) a while back had suggested the Pomagranite. We made the final decisions and anticipation set in. When the Odwalla arrived I became skeptical, all the other juices I'd tried at least had be known to me there taste blended with that of others was still recognizable. I knew of what to expect and here was this pomigrantie I'd only heard of, so foreign. Somehow I had created this thought that it would be sweet, it only took one gulp to inform me that this was in no way the case. In slight disappointed I sought the label to tell me if there was infact something else in it that would cause my reasonless assumption to be wrong. As a vote of the table we decided the cause for the juice's distaste would be explained by the chokeberry, since one of the tasters was well acquainted with the Pomigranite, and still did not quite have a smile about the above mentioned juice tried. The smell is something to be note, it's late so I will not begin to hunt for words to describe this smell it is one to be experienced not re-told,but quite similar to that of dirt. Even though my heart had what is now referred to as a GIANT frowny face on it, I would not have traded the experience of Odwalla#10+, pomigranite for anything. Good, bad, revolting, funny, sweet, embarrassing; doesn't matter, I like to give it a try. You'll never know if you don't, and you can never tell when you'll fall in love with, or hate it if you don't let it walk with you down the block. and either way the memories are typically those that are not easily forgotten. Embrace the world, hold it in your arms, but never get too carree'd away.


xo carree

Fresh Memories A la Mode.

because everything is better remembered, better rooted in the heart, and better gotten over with ice-cream. 

I'm going to do quite a bit of reflecting, which I have mixed feelings on. I believe one should never linger in the past pining and longing for the what-could-have-beens of day, weeks and months of life. Walking forward with eyes glued backwards tends to complicate the focus on the path, you never know where you'll end up when you can't see where each step takes you. However, on that note, the past serves as an event to be learned from but remains unchanged. That statement in and of it's self is the most sobering lesson the past has to offer us. Only the future holds growth, change, possibilities unconfined, unlimited. What we learn about our selfs with eyes cast years behind our bodies is simply, "have I learned? have we taken advantage of this enchanting opportunity to cultivate our hearts, our minds, our selfs? Are we reaching taller turning away from anger? Are we doing what truly makes us happy. Or do our steps fall in the same patterns that drive us mad with regret?"  The question now nested in the back of your mind is what could she possibly mean by this, in a way we all subconsciously see this and are well aware of my said points. More simply put and easily recognizable is Carpe Diem, seize the day. Live, learn and move forward in a passionate array, don't let chance slip from your grasp into a world of fallen opportunities, with roads long past, no way to to ease the longing pain lodged in your chest at the inability to turn back. I won't be that girl, I refuse. Here's to taking chances and embracing serendipity, and to saying hi to strangers and new friends.

So to take a step back from the back of my mind and inner debates to the simple delights of who I am. This weekend was full of love. Before you get to excited there were no men in my weekend, just a book and a movie. The book that sent me and my dear roommates into a haze of love and started the weekend off the romantic way. Said book would be "Other people's love letters, 150 letters you were never ment to see." it was just a few paragraphs into the the quirky introduction when I decided a book of this degree just had to be read aloud. Page after page of giggle and soft signs, we entered the realm of soaring hearts, where each sweet heartbeat pumped blood rich in intoxicating adoration for the beautiful words written in passion, while angry undertones of beaten spirits filled others while some where simply the loving jests and wants of new budding feelings. 

The girlie shannagins did not end with that oh no, book in hand we took our unruly raw emotions off to try the famed pie shakes that Sammy's has to offer. Another satisfying taste to fill my body, what more could one need to give life to a corpses aside from love, and pie shakes. Well Religion, that gives life it's greatest value, purpose, peace, and foundation, in my opinion but second would be love, pie shakes, and maybe a cocoa bean "better than whatever."  Moulin Rouge ensued, I enjoy the colorfulness of that movie, the visual hues as well as the varies shades story carries. Liberty, Freedom, Truth, and Love. What could top this we didn't know but had to try. Painting, something we all craved to take a stab at and this was our next rollercoaster to ride. As previously mentioned my love of the messy arts it was invigorating to experiment with.

This next weekend is already upon us for this week is nearing an end as Wednesday comes to a close. If I were to go into the details of this week the paragraphs that would follow would go on for pages and pages, but how to shorten the story and still give it the justice it deserves, the elaboration? I don't know. Monday, Home Evening where the word "um" was voted out of the vernacular. Note-worthy is the effects of considering the words we choose as opposed to thoughtless chatter. Home evening followed by yoga, remarkably enough we weren't the loudest ones in class. only once in a great while does that phenomenon occur. however a loud face-plant from me erupted the class into a fit of laughter. Tuesday indoor soccer game, sign making and cheering, and of course face paint followed by a celebrated victory of ice-cream. New friendships building while old ones begin expanding. Refreshing. My battery is officially fried in my never-loving jetta. I've been jumped so many times this semester I should have seen it coming, most certainly after last night being jumped twice. Oh life you keep yourself interesting. Today was Taco day and Tangled, groceries and goals. So many details cut the belly-monsters, the falls and bruised knees, but only to keep you from getting too carree'd away.

xo carree

p.s. just to show you how intelligent I can't be; I'll share this conversation with you. 

me- "My birthday is coming up, I've been thinking I really just want a tiered cake. it would pretty and magical and I really just want one"

tessa- "We can use the kitchen in my house it's bigger than our apartment kitchen...WAY bigger"

me- "YEAH! AND THE OVENS BIGGER SO IT'LL FIT! YES!!! : D"

danielle, in between fits of giggles with tessa "uhh Honey, you don't make them like that.....you make separate pieces....." ALOT more laughter.

So yes my readers, I know you hold me in your highest regards, but believe me when I tell you I am a goof. I believe in passion oh how I believe in passion. But I believe in fun, excitement and just having a good time as well.  

Oh if the walls could talk, the stories they'd tell on me

As previously mentioned I'm pretty eccentric, I'm not a radicalist but I'm pretty far out there. I have a strange, strange sense of humor. While brushing my teeth and swearing to my self that I'd go to bed on time for once so I could start my day off early; enjoy to beauty of a new day instead of getting ready in a panic and dashing off to sit through a lesson that would induce the sleep I should have gotten before. (although I'm fairly proud to say I haven't fallen asleep in any classes this semester my teachers are far to entertaining) However, amongst the systemic almost subconscious routine of scrubbing away the decay of my mouth, (cute imagery right?) I found my mind wandering what walls, the silent watchers, would have to say about me if they had lips to whisper my undisclosed life. 

The first thought that wondered in to my head was how they'd tattle, oh they tattle and tell all the things that are ment to be secret, like how I drink the applesauce from the jar, oh how quickly they would call me in on attempted murder because my cursed hipbones feel the need to turn on the gas stove while I reach for something on the highest shelf and countless times; hindsight this toxic gas explains quite a bit about my immaturity. My poor abused mind. oh how they'd laugh; how hard those wall probably laughed today as buckets and buckets of water poured, no cascaded, over the brim of what I now am tempted to refer to as our "porcelain problem." While most twenty year old girls would either scream or quietly deal with this predicament I laughed, I laughed hard and loud a thundering laugh and a laugh that rolled through our apartment which turned this crisis into live stand up from the vanity room of Aspen 609. When in under three minutes we had an inch of water encompassing the floor. I was truly grateful for the fact that I had choose to wear my rainboots to school to fight through the slush of melting snow little had I suspected I would need them within my home. 

The tales the walls of Aspen would tell are nothing in comparison to the chronicles that the campus would spill out if only it could, of my practiced "self control" banishing myself to the Rick's computer lab until my essay was written, allowing myself only breaks for food and the bathroom, how the walls would snicker as I justified a brief "jazzersize" as long as it was in the bathroom which was previously a fair games for a break, oh my marvelous self control. The rolled eyes the walls would possess as they watched my glace backwards to see if the stalls were empty before I started my shannagins. the sneeky smile the walls would carry as they told you of my clueless wanderings around the newly made buildings trying to take it all in with the eyes of a new toddler trying to make sense of a new playground in the neighborhood. they would dote proudly as they watched the glowing wonderment wash over me.

By far the ones with the most amusing secrets to tell would be those of my never-loving Jetta, at times on late nights, mid-days or evening on my many drives whether near or far when I'm alone in my car or maybe with a passenger or two escaping many near death experiences, most of which will not be posted here where concerned loved ones will panic. no need to worry the scare is none worse than a rollercoaster ride and herds of people seek out daily.

It's pumpkin time, so on that note I will bid you all a goodnight. And while I am fairly amused with what people would think if they knew all my quirks and secrets I think enough beans have been spilled I can rest my head knowing you have more of me to ponder upon. with all these bizarre habbits it should be reasonably effortless not to get too carree'd away, right?

xo

carree