You are currently browsing the monthly archive for October 2007.
Actually I am having another bout with insomnia so I’m actually not dreaming in the “I’m getting sleep” kind of way.
Thankfully during this round of insomnia I am not hooked on Dog. I’ve reached the place you’ve seen one bleach blonde mullet-ed bounty hunter you’ve seen them all. Although a recent episode did make me weep. Let’s not talk about that. Instead I’m hooked on this…
I love this series. My Grandmother was nearly jumping for joy when she heard I wanted it for my birthday. She was 16 when America joined the war. Her father was stationed in London, England as an Army Chaplain, during the bombing of London. One of her cousins died in the Baatan deah March. In her note to me, she said that after watching it she felt that Tom Brokaw was correct in declaring those men to be the “greatest generation”. I’m inclined to agree. More on all of that later, this was all a tangent.
So lately I’ve been thinking about getting back into graphic design and maybe starting to do some photography. Random… Right? Yeah. I think so too. I used to love to do layout and graphic work, I was just getting into some basic logo designs in illustrator when I kind of just stopped.
But I’ve been drooling over a Mac and CS3, and a really nice digital camera.
It’s a dream, I realized as wiped the drool from my desk. But I haven’t really dreamed for awhile.
The other day some one asked me what I wanted to do growing up, I began (super excitedly) telling them how I wanted to be a defense attorney working in DC or New York.
A dream.
Deep in my heart are these dreams, not just about yelling “objection” or becoming Annie, there are dreams that go deeper than that.
Maybe my ache to be fulfilled and my dreams of being “great” are finally colliding. I don’t know if that makes sense, I just have this ache to feel fulfilled to feel at peace and at rest, and I think it is re-defining itself as the desire to be great. Not great in terms of ministry or audience or perfection, but a deep desire, even compelling need, to be great in the sight of God.
Right now this desire/dream is more like primordial groan. Not articulate, not directional, sort of mushy and ambiguous, sort of fetal.
I plan on feeding this dream, the groan. I need it to be more than a dream.
Today I am 25.
I’d like to say that I believe that today I have hit the perfect age. It is in this moment I would like to press stop and stay 25 forever. Tomorrow I will be old.
25 sounds older and mature, but at the same time if I do something stupid I can still pass it off as immaturity. I’m only 25 after all.
In honor of this day I am going to post some pictures of myself related to significant birthdays and/or gifts.
This is me, nearing my first birthday. It is in this picture I realize three important things, 1) I look freakishly like my grandmother 2) I hate camping 3) Second hand smoke will lead to a series of sinus infections in my early teen years (note cigarette in my Father’s left hand)
Yes, this is me; surrounded by cabbage patch dolls, and rainbow brite bedspread, and I am clutching my first birthday gift ever. My lambie. Lambie never left my side and I chewed on it’s ear constantly. One day it was stolen violently by my germ obsessed parents ”disappeared” and a new stuffed toy arrived. Needless to say I was devastated, and I’ve felt lost ever since.
This picture was taken on my 22nd birthday. My friends Katie, Amanda, Sarah, and Caroline threw me an awesome party, with the theme (requested by me) Return to the Womb. The entire apartment was decorated in red and pink, with baby dolls, there were read streamers up the apartment stairs representing my umbilical cord. There was a lot of red licorice also representing the cord, hence the picture above, Brandon Hammonds biting my “cord”. Note the disturbed look on my face.
But today, 25 rocks!!
I don’t have any biological sisters. I have one younger brother who I absolutely love to death. He’s a brilliant funny kid. I find myself missing him at the oddest moments, too bad both of us aren’t really phone people.
But I do have a sister, we don’t share any DNA but I’ve come to the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter, that’s not what makes a sister. Granted she doesn’t really need any more family members, she has a few of her own, but I have shoved my way in and I am not leaving. FYI.
I met Rachel when she took over managing the bookstore operations just about 4 years ago. We were afraid of her. We heard that she was a bookstore professional, and we had an absurd fear that she’d turn our little bookstore into something “corporate”. These fears were both unfounded and dumb. As we too had just started work there and had no real emotional connection with the store. We also were all of twenty and I don’t think any of us had ever worked in a bookstore before, so I’m not sure why we were all so freaked out. And as it turned out we had nothing to fear but fear itself. She was amazing from top to bottom. And she was a great manager and the best boss. We all loved working for her and she was instrumental in the huge growth the bookstore was about to go through.
We were pretty close when we worked together, over time we just clicked and I could read her mind at work, I could be a predictive little helper, and she really exemplified to me great management skills.
During this time I was also going through some pretty rocky relationships, she called me on it and like a sister/friend would give me some pretty serious wake up calls. She even confronted the guy that I was with at the time and told him to quit messing with me. Despite the fact I was making the choices that were causing the havoc, she listened to me cry about it when it all went up in flames, like we both knew it would.
Later that year, she moved but we were still in close contact. I began dating a dear friend of mine. As we began telling people, he would ask me incessantly if I had told Rachel yet, he was very concerned about her opinion in the matter, far more concerned about her opinion then even what my family thought. Which if you know my family, it makes total sense. If you know Rachel, it makes even more sense. She loves her friends and is fiercely loyal and protective. These traits have saved my butt on numerous occasions.
When Rachel returned from her stint away, she became my roommate. We’d stay up late and talk for hours catching up, freaking out, and laughing hysterically. We’ve become really close in the last two years, she has become a person in my life who is encouraging me forward in God and life. So maybe we’re not DNA relatives, but we’re definitely sisters, which I think makes us our own sorority. Just call us Gamma Lambda Beta. Or something like that.
I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.
No idea.
None whatsoever.
Something is lost in translation.
Poke me in the eye.
I’m losing it here.
whew, that feels better.
It’s that time of year. The women have descended and are attending the conference in full force. It’s actually quite fun. In years past one cashier Mr. Kirk Bryson wore a “I’m worth waiting for” t-shirt to this conference, and yet another cashier Mr. Nick Comiskey wore a shirt that said “God told me you’re the one.” The women love to shop, talk and eat chocolate, which makes for a great conference. The bookstore gives out free truffles with purchase. It’s so fun to watch the ladies eyes light up. I thought to myself today, “i (heart) women.” They make shopping fun.
In other news; I’m a little tired. Things around here have been crazy, and cracking open my computer now brings an odd sense of dread. It makes me contemplate how many emails I haven’t returned lately. OY. I hate that.
I seem to be going constantly, I remember as a child, my mother talking about needing “down time”. I honestly didn’t get it. I was quite content to be busy and active every minute. Now I totally get it, makes me wonder if kids will overwhelm me. Then I think, yeah they totally will overwhelm me, probably for different and more significant reasons.
I’m rambling now. I know that. This is a free flow piece of literature, I am writing what I’m thinking, censoring here or there when appropriate.
I’m going to stop here before I regale you with deep rambly thoughts.
