seeking an abel magwitch, but no dramatic ending.

i asked a woman if she wanted a cup of ass instead of ice. freud must be snickering in his grave.

today is beautiful. i saw an old man with a beard riding his bike with the biggest smile on my face--it made me cry with happiness. there is nothing better than a genuine smile.

today something really odd happened. i flirted! flirtation is not easy for me, so much so that i usually do just the opposite if there is any sort of interest. something about this man's ponytail made me loose control of my inhibitions. i twirled my hair, batted my lashes and touched his muscles. or maybe i didn't? it's all a hazy ponytail love blurr.

i started looking at grad school programs. this is something i've always wanted to do, but never did thanks to undergrad student loans. i figure if i go back, i at least don't have to pay this little loan right now. i'm not good at math, but that seems like it works. please let me know if you know of any wealthy people lookin' to throw some dollahs at a gurl...you know where to find me.

string bikini

i had a really nice conversation with a 74 year old woman today. she was naked. it was wonderful. i would tell you more, but don't we all like a little mystery?

a corgi came through the coffee shop's drive thru today. stars aligned and time stood still as i just about jumped through the window. someone needs to tell my future special someone that renting a corgi for a few hours on every single birthday, christmas and other holiday needing gifts will do just fine. more than fine--it would be the most romantic thing possible. some girls like rose petals and chocolate. some girls like short legs and big ears. (ok, and chocolate, too! and gummies! and popcorn! and backrubs! and love notes! and cartoon drawings of each other! but mostly corgis...)

im glad it rained today. i didn't have to run. yesterday i terrorized the neighborhood with out of breath singing/screaming/panting to brittany spear's womanizer and uncontrollable "upper body dancing" as i ran through the neighborhood. i figure i am more embarrassed trying to act like a seasoned cardiovascular athlete. might as well enjoy myself.

i take back the word enjoy. i am going to go with be true to myself and not look at myself in my running shoes and think "you traitor".

i love being active. except when i'm chubby. then it's embarrassing, uncomfortable and just plain unnatural. kind of like a first kiss.

in my high school drama class i made a a fake commercial for lap-ban surgery. i wore a giant sweatsuit and stuffed it full of throw pillows. . the movie was hysterical. the class loved it. at the end of it, my teacher turned on the lights and told us that  he had that surgery. he still gave me an A.

i made so many movies in highschool. the best one was called 360 degrees of sk8rboyz. i played Hony Tawk. i brought a scooter to the skate park and asked 12 year old boys if they wanted to join my sk8 team called blink 182. my friend adam dressed up as a sexy latino girl and i tried to pick him/her off the ave. i ended up peeing my pants all over my friend rachel's mini-van. i made adam go to wal-greens to buy upholstery cleaner and new underwear. he came out with bleach and giant blue leopard and rose printed string bikini. boyz r so dumb!

no more pants

i went to a movie by myself...but i wasn't alone.

if you ask me there is nothing better than going to a movie by yourself...as far as activities you do alone go.

you don't have to worry about finding an entire row of seats for your friends. you don't have to wait for someone to go potty at the end. you just sit right down, open your smuggled plastic bag of bulk gummies and enjoy the show.

i looked around the theatre to see who was joining me. couples. couples. couples. and then a couple women in their 40's and 50's who were also enjoying the show alone. i was in good company.


i like being in good company but i also like being alone. i need to be alone a lot because my brain has a lot happening. i like to talk to myself and sometimes i do 10th grade show choir routines in front of the mirror. i like to not wear pants. that's the biggest reason i like to be alone.

pants are really a hassle sometimes. and please--people who sleep in pants? you are insane. you are like people who watch the nurses take the blood from your arm. crazy pant wearing lunatics.  don't your legs get hot? don't you feel trapped?

i tried to wear pants to sleep a few times. never worked. my friend aj would come and wake me up on the weekends and i would have him wait at the door to see if my pants somehow stayed on during the night. it wouldn't have mattered, i guess ,because aj did accidently see me without pants on once before. he also saw me dancing and singing to the little house on the prairie theme song. the latter was more embarrassing.

College Ruled (or the post that is uncomfortably uncharacteristic for this blog))

i have a spiral notebook in which i keep stories and notes that i would never post on here. there are letters to friends that i'll never send, poems i would die from embarrassment if you read, and lists.

lists of things to do. lists of things i love. there is even a list of 100 reasons i like one of my friends.

there is one list that was easy to write. it is long and ugly and if i read it over i cry. a list i wrote in a fit of hurt and sadness and confusion.

we all have a list like this, but mostly it is written on our heart and not in a notebook. its a list of all the things wrong with us. all of things that make us not good enough.

not good enough for him to like me.
not good enough for that job.
not good enough to have the life i dreamed of.
not good enough to be the person i was made to be.
not. good. enough.

i've been having a lot of not good enough days. transferring my notebook list to my heart. allowing these  little words to engulf my heart and mind, bogging my spirit down with self-loathing and feelings of unworthiness.

i tried to remedy this by making a list of all the reasons i was good enough. forced humility didn't get me too far.

i'm funny.
i'm smart.
i'm moderatly attractive.
i'm nice.

naturally, i scribbled them out. it was so much easier to name all the "bad" things.

i sat in my car crying today. wishing i was someone else. wishing i had a different life. wishing i looked different. wishing i could be all the things i wasn't.

then i would be worthy of his affection.
then i would be worthy of that job.
then i would be worthy of a happy life.
then i would be worthy to be the person i was made to be. the person i should have been.
then i would be worthy of god's love.

as i sat there, crying, contemplating, confusing other drivers with my poofy eyes and elephant tears god  told me something i already knew. something i think have always known but tell myself not to believe.

i am already worthy of all those things. that my list of all the reasons i am good enough is complete with just one phrase--god adores me.

i was created worthy of these things because i was created by god who reveled in design and creativity as he crafted humanity to resemble him, in all of his perfection and splendor.

i know my theology will be disputed, but i believe with all my heart that god adores me as is. he has created me perfectly. that i am not some despicable creature who's sins make me so unlovable that only an infinite being, who using all his strength, could love me, despite my backsliding. nor do i think that he loves me because of my sinning ways and his heroic grace. i think he just loves me.

as with many disillusioned evangelicals,  there is a deep seed to dismiss the goodness in myself. to not acknowledge the beautiful parts of humanity. we are, of course, retched sinners who are lucky to be loved, right? or wrong?...i've come to believe in the idea that we are as a whole not inherently bad. i think we're inherently good--but that we have a broken relationship with god that needs repair (think beautiful painting that must must be carefully restored to it's original glory via careful handiwork and gentle processes. is that a good cheesy analogy?). whoops. don't tell my theology professor.

what am i saying? do i make sense? it doesn't matter. most of the time i don't even understand myself. but it doesn't matter what i think. what matters  mostly is how i feel.

what i am feeling is relief. realization. reconnection.

i'm awesome. more than just smart and funny and nice and moderately attractive. i am a whole lot of wonderful things that were knit up all together to create me. a perfect amalgamation of colorful characteristics and unique qualities and beauty that stems from divine love. i'm a masterpiece created by a more talented artist than van gough, monet or degas.

and so are you. in all your hopelessly flawed moments, you're beautiful. god delights in your life as you really live. as you laugh and cry and wonder what the hell is happening, he is adoring the fragility and strength of your humanity.  

someone very wise once told me that the highest form of worship is to enjoy living. in all of its hardships and heartaches...to celebrate ourselves and others and really love each other and who we are too. to see each other as worthy of our time, energy and attention, because we are worthy of the lamb/love/life/happiness/sadness/ in all of our moments. in our triumphs and mess ups and all those awkward times in between, . etc. etc. etc.  blah blah blah. good reminder to me as i struggle to find my bearings in a new place. as i am feeling alone and exposed and wondering where to plant my feet and with whom to celebrate and cry with.

it is going to take a lot of confidence to push "publish" on this weird little note i've written in my bed next to an old banana peel and the spiral notebook.  it's awkward and strange and written in 15 minutes with furious fingers and tears and laughter and some john mayer music. it probably didn't make you laugh, but i did because it is outrageously vunerable for me to share--thoughts and feelings my usual "total depravity" tells me to go without sharing...pretty much straight from my spiral notebook... but they're important to me, and maybe to you too.

15 dollar ikea blanket cocoon

today was a bad day, but the great news is that tomorrow will be better! how do i know? because i was on the dean's list.

bad days are a dime a dozen. for me, they're usually caused by lack of sleep... which is surprising, because the best days of my life were spent in the edgren study lounge until 5 in the morning. i guess christer casem did find me catchin' some zzz's with my arms behind my head and one knee propped up when i shouldda been in creative writing. i didnt need it. i gotz good grammar and sentence structure.

my mom said when i was a baby, i never slept more than 10 minutes. sorry, mom. i'm making up for it now. i love me a good nap. cocooning myself in blanket happiness, putting on my pretty little fan and loosing myself in partially lucid dreams. add a dog in that mix and i am in 7th heaven. barry watson, jessica beil and i are on very good terms these days. don't awake me until i am ready though, or a beast will be awakened. this beast makes very strange noises and contorts her body in awkward positions until joints pop to perfection. an ipod alarm slowly introducing a soft james taylor song is the best way to go about it...but even that can be dangerous.

i wear an apron at work. that came in really handy today when i had no choice but to wear a pair of pants a size too small. aprons protect your clothing from spills, but also your customers from seeing that you didn't zip or button your pants.

no look ball

for the rest of my life, i have to have a job. that is, of course, if i don't become permanently disabled. the rest of my life could be a pretty long time. i should start to figure out what i should do. i figure by the time i figure it out, i will only have about half my life left. that doesn't seem quite as long.

one of my best friends in the whole world is coming to visit me soon. we're not quite certain how we became such kindred spirits, but it had something to do with being the only two chubby people in our group of friends. and our love of spicy chips and top the tater. in the heyday of our friendship and at our heaviest weights, we thought of a fun game to play outside of our leadership class in college. we called it "no look ball". you basically played catch while using only your peripheral vision. it doesn't sound too fantastic, but believe you me, it brings the lolz. one day we got a little to into the game and didn't notice our class had started. when we realized this we made a run for the door and as we both tried to enter at the same time, we got stuck. i am not joking. WE GOT STUCK IN A DOORWAY. we attempted 3 times to shove our portly little bods through that frame until we fell to the ground laughing. can this get better? yes-- the class was praying. katie realized and ran away. i did not and continued to lay on the carpet laughing hysterically. i looked up, and saw everyone else looking down. teacher asked me if i'd like to join the class. i didn't, but i did.

we once entered a speaking competition. we had no idea what to expect. i found some weird duo monologue about overweight women and their plight. we added really great midwestern accents to give it a special flair. when we showed up to the competition, everyone was very serious. the speeches before us were about, and i am not joking-- rape, death and patriotism. our number was called and we could only look at each other with fear and amusement. we finished to a silent and stunned crowd. somehow, we were just a point away from going to the finals.

we went through a season of life that whenever we'd see and old truck we'd do a double take. usually old trucks have old men in them...but sometimes they would have an attractive young man wearing an old baseball hat. distracted driving at its finest.

katie and i always wanted to travel europe together. when we realized we were too poor for that, we settled for a cross country road trip. we taped a construction paper queen named "dawn" to our GPS and laughed like maniacs, highway to highway. we bought matching fake tattoo tankinis from a kmart in montana and had an indoor water park to ourselves. we slid down the slide together, the back of our thighs making squeaky noises to an audience of men and children watching from their respective balconies. we went potty in a biff on the top of a mountian and felt the ice cold air give our bums a thrill. we made fools of ourselves from state to state and i have never had a better time.

when katie got engaged i cried for a week. maybe more. i was scared to loose my fellow dreamer and laugher. the great news is, she is still both those things and more. i can't wait to have her in my new home and feel at home in her friendship. if i am anne she is my dianna. if i am jo she is my laurie. if i am a spicy chip, she's my top the tater.

PTL, sexy glasses

PTL PTL PTL PTL PTL PTL PTL

ptl for needles and drills and big bibs and x-ray machines.

for the first time in many moons i can think straight. i can smile without wincing. i can do what i wanna do (except eat hard candy or chew bubble gum.)

i feel like a million bucks. well, whatever a million minus $1500 is...but i don't even care at this point. it could have been the sleep deprivation, intense consumption of vicodin or general helplessness...but i have never wanted to kiss someone more than my dentist. i owe him my life...$750 and naturally some french kisses. or maybe just a lingering hug. i begin my life all over (great book/new mantra.)

even with these glad tidings, i am nervie. nervie that i will no longer have anything funny to write about. i guess i can always fall back on making fun of my job, body, life

i'm "watching" the oscar's right now. when i was little i wanted to be an actress so i would pretend to make acceptance speeches in the mirror. i got pretty good at them--forced tears, witty jokes, "i told you so's" to the 5th grade boy who called me Pumba. i'm not sure when that dream died...but i think it was sometime during my NHS production of flower's for algernon. specifically backstage when a boy named Alex touched my lower back and told me i looked sexy in glasses.

i have a pair of glasses i am supposed to wear when i drive at night time. i don't wear them because someone told me i looked like a lesbian in them... which is better than being called sexy, i guess...but nevertheless...i don't want to be associated with them (the glasses or terms) anymore. i also lost the glasses for about a year, but that is irregardless.