I have all these thoughts running through my head right now (read: lately). And I can’t sleep because today went from okay to miserable in one big, fell crapfest. These thoughts are swarmin my mind and I need them out before I get calm. All these thoughts.
Like how a big part of me wants to live in the old south because every country song seems to mention sitting on the porch and looking out and being happy. And that is just terribly appealing.
Like how another big part of me wants to live on the coast at a beach and walk barefoot forever…. Because lately, when I think of happiness it’s usually my family, my friends, sunshine, sand and laughter. (I immediately feel a little guilty and feel like real happiness should involve temples or something like that—I love those, too, promise.)
Like how I feel like I belong in Eugene (the kind of belonging that comes from being in the right place at the right time…) but a lot of the time I feel really lost too. Like I’m missing defining part of me that can only be found here.
Like how sometimes I want to quit being a “team player” because it’s not getting me anywhere. I’m sick of busting my butt and putting in my extra time for a team that stabs me in both the front and the back.
Like how I absolutely positively cannot wait to see my family again. I’m looking more forward to this family vacation than I have to anything in a long time.
Like how my sister is possibly one of the funniest text messagers I know. She’s 11. And we had a very long textersation today about the attractiveness level of Zac Efron in High School Musical 3 compared to number 1. Best part of my whole day. (check out the preview of his new movie. i'm stoked.)
Like how my cute 18 year old brother bought me a protective cover for my phone because he knows I bust them and drop them all the time. And like how my 16 year old brother sent me a hilarious text message the other night…picture and all.
Like how I’m so ohmygoshimtwelveyearsoldtwitterpatedgahhhhhh sometimes that I make myself (and, likely, others) sick. And I spent my weekend doing the dorkiest things with him. And I loved it. And how at 22 and ¾ (the real mark of my inner kid) I can still get all nerdfesty about a boy.
Like how I played the piano for the first time in more than six months the other night…and it was a catharsis and peace I didn’t know I needed. It was crazy to see how much I missed something I didn’t know I was missing.
Like how I’m 22 (and the aforementioned ¾), and I still feel sometimes like I really need my mom, in the kindergarten hold your hand kind of way. And like how boys never seem to measure up to the wonderful man my dad is…and I wonder if they, honestly, ever will.
Like how I went through "Lyndsi Shae and me" letters tonight. And I felt the my adoration for this awesome, courageous, legit intelligent, (not to mention smoking hottie) of a woman that I am friends with. I once told her she was my “pre-real world version” of your kindergarten best friend you forever appreciate and love. I still believe that. Only now she continues that role into my “real world life”. I’m really excited for her to come visit.
Like how I’m probably one of the only girls to openly sob through He’s Just Not That Into You. Not because he’s not that into me…but because Jennifer Connelly made me so sad. She did exactly what I did in that situation…and she was not to blame. (I don’t want to ruin the movie for anyone yet to see it.)
Like how I really should go to bed so I can kick butt at work and institute and socializing and choir and checking in on Libby tomorrow.
OH!!! And like my funny story of the weekend. I got pulled over. For my second time ever. And it included snow, a cop, a blonde moment, a criminal records check, and some serious adrenaline and nerves. The cop was behind me on the Beltline as I was driving home from church, and as he began to pass me, he suddenly slowed. My adrenaline sped up. ‘Crap.’ I looked at the speedometer…‘I’m not even speeding!’ But, regardless, on went the blue and red lights. I pulled over. He came to my window and informed me my Utah plates (still ON my car) were expired. I said, “Oh my gosh! I forgot to change them! I have my new Oregon ones right here!” and, sure enough, held up my shiny new Oregon license plates. I’m sure he thought I was intoxicated or something…and he asked for my registration and license. As he went to walk back to his car, with my license, he said “You can go ahead roll this up.” Any normal person knows he meant my window. But the blonde in me went ahead and moved my car about 20 feet up the road (I thought I hadn’t given his squad car enough room). He returned to my window, told me it seemed like I was indeed the owner of the car and that I just needed to head home and put on my new plates. Apparently, he checked to see if I’d stolen the car. Awesome. Oh well…hopefully he got a good chuckle about the knucklehead blondie who had the wrong registration. I laughed the whole way home.
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