I sat down at the computer today to type to a friend of mine and tell her a story about my day and I typed this instead. I don't really know where it came from, but I think it must have come right from the heart. It seemed like something that should be saved. And recorded. And proclaimed. And stated. And shared. God moments should be shared.
you know, one thing that I really like is how God provides. I have no idea what this summer holds for me. Absolutely no idea. I'm going to trust Him, though, and know that He's got a way to get me where He wants me. I stink at trusting, but I'm aiming to learn. He will provide. I trust in this.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Charlotte's Web: A Fair-goer's Perspective
Dear Diary,
I met a boy today. At the county fair. By golly, I must begin at the very beginning. I always go to the county fair with my family, but this year, I had my new pink dress. I adore the pink pumps that go with it – and, oh, the sweater! It was a beautiful morning, this morning. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping. It was the perfect morning to meet a boy.
It all began while I was in line for my cracker jacks. They’re my favorite. Suddenly, an announcement came over the loudspeaker talking about ‘some pig.’ I think it was the Zuckerman pig. Well, since I had my cracker jacks, I skipped right on over. The pig was cute. He wasn’t as big as some of the other pigs, but he was cleaner. I like clean pigs. They’re cute.
While I was admiring the pig and chatting with the owners, the mayor’s wife came with an award. In my estimation, she thinks pretty highly of herself so she’s always scooting people out of her way. I don’t like her much, but she is the mayor’s wife. She walked quickly past me saying, “EXCUSE ME! Excuse me.” I backed up real quick like and ran into a solid person. I turned to say ‘sorry’ and I looked into these huge blue eyes underneath a head of blonde hair.
I was so embarrassed! I am certain that I turned bright red. I scurried away to sit on a hay bale. My heart was beating so fast. I was trying to pay attention to what was going on with that pig, but that blonde boy was so entirely distracting. I saw him begin to walk towards me and I turned my head bashfully. When I turned back, he was sitting by me.
His name is Lurvy. He is so handsome and charming. I shared my cracker jacks with him. Apparently, they are his favorite, too! He works for the Zuckermans. I do hope that he comes calling soon.
Oh, yes! The pig fainted. I was worried at first but Lurvy – he said that it has happened before. He didn’t seem very worried. When the pig’s owner called Lurvy, he went to get water. Well, when he finally came back – it seemed like hours till he returned – Lurvy threw all the water on Zuckerman and this little boy. Honestly, it was funny. Poor Lurvy. He must have been so embarrassed, but I thought he was darling.
Later in the evening, I got to see Lurvy again. We went and got some ice cream together. He has this lovely Navajo blanket that we sat on while we ate and talked. He’s quiet, but I like that. I think he really does listen. I really hope he comes calling again. I wouldn’t mind greatly if I got called “Lurvy’s girl.” It has a nice ring to it. Lurvy’s Girl. I like it.
Sincerely,
Fanci Vell (aka Lurvy’s Girl)
I met a boy today. At the county fair. By golly, I must begin at the very beginning. I always go to the county fair with my family, but this year, I had my new pink dress. I adore the pink pumps that go with it – and, oh, the sweater! It was a beautiful morning, this morning. The sun was shining and the birds were chirping. It was the perfect morning to meet a boy.
It all began while I was in line for my cracker jacks. They’re my favorite. Suddenly, an announcement came over the loudspeaker talking about ‘some pig.’ I think it was the Zuckerman pig. Well, since I had my cracker jacks, I skipped right on over. The pig was cute. He wasn’t as big as some of the other pigs, but he was cleaner. I like clean pigs. They’re cute.
While I was admiring the pig and chatting with the owners, the mayor’s wife came with an award. In my estimation, she thinks pretty highly of herself so she’s always scooting people out of her way. I don’t like her much, but she is the mayor’s wife. She walked quickly past me saying, “EXCUSE ME! Excuse me.” I backed up real quick like and ran into a solid person. I turned to say ‘sorry’ and I looked into these huge blue eyes underneath a head of blonde hair.
I was so embarrassed! I am certain that I turned bright red. I scurried away to sit on a hay bale. My heart was beating so fast. I was trying to pay attention to what was going on with that pig, but that blonde boy was so entirely distracting. I saw him begin to walk towards me and I turned my head bashfully. When I turned back, he was sitting by me.
His name is Lurvy. He is so handsome and charming. I shared my cracker jacks with him. Apparently, they are his favorite, too! He works for the Zuckermans. I do hope that he comes calling soon.
Oh, yes! The pig fainted. I was worried at first but Lurvy – he said that it has happened before. He didn’t seem very worried. When the pig’s owner called Lurvy, he went to get water. Well, when he finally came back – it seemed like hours till he returned – Lurvy threw all the water on Zuckerman and this little boy. Honestly, it was funny. Poor Lurvy. He must have been so embarrassed, but I thought he was darling.
Later in the evening, I got to see Lurvy again. We went and got some ice cream together. He has this lovely Navajo blanket that we sat on while we ate and talked. He’s quiet, but I like that. I think he really does listen. I really hope he comes calling again. I wouldn’t mind greatly if I got called “Lurvy’s girl.” It has a nice ring to it. Lurvy’s Girl. I like it.
Sincerely,
Fanci Vell (aka Lurvy’s Girl)
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Charlotte's Web: A Judge's Perspective
This past year, my Milton gained the position of being the county fair coordinator. He came home from a chat with the mayor and said to me, “Mrs. Betty Earl, your husband has just been chosen to be the county fair coordinator!” I looked at him with complete shock. My Milton chosen to be fair coordinator! It was such an honor!
The county fair is a special place for me and Milton. As children, we frolicked between the pig pens and the chicken coops. As teenagers, we rode the ferris wheel and looked into each other’s eyes. During the fireworks, I would demurely curl up by Milton’s side and he would drape his strong arm around me. We perused the animals together and we even competed against each other in some animal showings. When I got old enough, I began entering my pies in the county fair baked good competition. One year, my pies failed miserably. I was devastated. That was the year that my Milton asked me to marry him. It was dusk and we were on top of the ferris wheel. It wasn’t conventional, but it was beautiful. Now, we’re happily married. (No children yet – I still have my lovely figure, but one of these days…)
This year at the county fair, Milton is keeping things all organized and I have been given the role of pig judging. Of course, I know everything there is to know about pigs since I grew up on a farm. Yet, perhaps I am not the best judge, but I can make a mean Christmas ham. I’m particularly fond of the blue sash that I get to wear draped across my favorite white blouse and navy blue skirt. Don’t you worry, Milton and I shall most definitely get our annual ride on the ferris wheel and I still will curl up under his arm during the fireworks.
Oh, by golly! An odd thing happened this year. I’ve consulted past judges. They agree with me. This occurrence is entirely new to this year. While the panel of judges and I were analyzing the pigs, we came to a certain ‘Zuckerman’s Pig.’ Other than being the cleanest pig that I had ever seen and being on a bit of the small side, this pig was not altogether interesting. I would not have looked twice except that I had seen pictures of the pig in the town’s paper. This was the ‘some pig’ that was considered ‘terrific’ and ‘radiant.’ Although the pig was not exceptional, there was something about him.
We gave the blue ribbon to the largest pig. Yet, we did not forget the ‘Zuckerman’s Pig.’ I talked to Milton about this miraculous animal. The town was abuzz about the pig. Milton used his coordinating skills and he coaxed the Mayor into creating a special award for this ‘humble’ pig. Yes, sir. My Milton and I were behind that special award to the Zuckerman pig.
The county fair is a special place for me and Milton. As children, we frolicked between the pig pens and the chicken coops. As teenagers, we rode the ferris wheel and looked into each other’s eyes. During the fireworks, I would demurely curl up by Milton’s side and he would drape his strong arm around me. We perused the animals together and we even competed against each other in some animal showings. When I got old enough, I began entering my pies in the county fair baked good competition. One year, my pies failed miserably. I was devastated. That was the year that my Milton asked me to marry him. It was dusk and we were on top of the ferris wheel. It wasn’t conventional, but it was beautiful. Now, we’re happily married. (No children yet – I still have my lovely figure, but one of these days…)
This year at the county fair, Milton is keeping things all organized and I have been given the role of pig judging. Of course, I know everything there is to know about pigs since I grew up on a farm. Yet, perhaps I am not the best judge, but I can make a mean Christmas ham. I’m particularly fond of the blue sash that I get to wear draped across my favorite white blouse and navy blue skirt. Don’t you worry, Milton and I shall most definitely get our annual ride on the ferris wheel and I still will curl up under his arm during the fireworks.
Oh, by golly! An odd thing happened this year. I’ve consulted past judges. They agree with me. This occurrence is entirely new to this year. While the panel of judges and I were analyzing the pigs, we came to a certain ‘Zuckerman’s Pig.’ Other than being the cleanest pig that I had ever seen and being on a bit of the small side, this pig was not altogether interesting. I would not have looked twice except that I had seen pictures of the pig in the town’s paper. This was the ‘some pig’ that was considered ‘terrific’ and ‘radiant.’ Although the pig was not exceptional, there was something about him.
We gave the blue ribbon to the largest pig. Yet, we did not forget the ‘Zuckerman’s Pig.’ I talked to Milton about this miraculous animal. The town was abuzz about the pig. Milton used his coordinating skills and he coaxed the Mayor into creating a special award for this ‘humble’ pig. Yes, sir. My Milton and I were behind that special award to the Zuckerman pig.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Charlotte's Web: A Photographer's Perspective
Hello. I am Claire Ansit and I am a photographer for a small town newspaper. I aspire to become a photographer for the New York Times. I am not so good with words but give me a camera and you’ll get a picture worth a thousand words. I’d be excellent for the NY Times because I have a new way of taking pictures. I have a whole new view of the world through a woman’s eye. We women see things that men often take as unimportant.
I grew up in this little town. My mama was from the big city. She is always encouraging me to shoot for my dreams. While most girls are told by their mothers to get married and have kids, mine told me to read books and to educate myself. That’s what I did. I’ve had my occasional romantic interests. Truly, I’m just interested in getting to NYC. No man for me except for my camera and my reporter.
In this little farm town, I rent a room from a family in town. I’m rather fond of the room and shall be sad to leave it when I move on to the big city. I’ll take my mama’s antique mirror with me, but nothing else. I’m going to start over and I’ll be a true business woman of the 50s. I’ll have me a large apartment on a top floor where I have easy access to the roof top. I can already hear those big name bosses calling, “Miz Ansit, we would be delighted to have you go to this or that and take photographs for us.” Now, I’ll have to be selective because I won’t be able to say ‘yes’ to every one of them. But, for the time being, I am stuck in this smelly old town.
Oh, the other day, something of consequence occurred. Clarence, my current reporter, told me we had a miracle on hand. (Clarence is sharp with his pencil but not too bright on the come by.) I, being my practical self, knew this had to be some play on words. He dragged me down to the Zuckerman’s farm to look at a pig. ME! I was taking pictures of ‘some pig’ in a pig sty when truly I should have been photographing celebrities. Instead, I find myself crooning to a pig and a young girl, “say cheese.” Is not that the most horrifying thing that you ever did hear? I, Miss Claire Ansit, have no place in a barn with pigs and common folk.
Next moment, the pig faints. Have you ever heard of such a thing? A pig – fainting. It is absolutely absurd. Pigs do not faint. Oh, I know. Perhaps he had his nose in the mud too long and was suffocating. I snapped a picture real fast. Pigs fainting is definitely a thing of interest in a small town like our hicksville but not in the big city. Well, in the mean time, Clarence takes a glance at this web that has made this pig so famous. It turns out that instead of spelling “terrific” it has conveniently changed to spell “radiant.” I’m not so certain what is so radiant or terrific about a fainting pig, but I will tell you that I have never met a spider that could spell. Of course, her writing left a tad to be wanting.
The web did take me by surprise. Although I am not entirely that fond of spiders, I do believe that this spider would have been an exceptionally good interviewee. Of course, that is not my expertise and I do not believe that Clarence knows any other language than flattery. Like a good photographer, I snapped a couple of pictures with varying angles and I got some excellent shots of the people about me. I do have to say that the pig’s slop bucket was a tad disconcerting. It was positively repelling.
I’ve applied to NYC Times. Hopefully, I shall being hearing from them soon. Perhaps this miracle spider or shall we say pig can work this out for me.
I grew up in this little town. My mama was from the big city. She is always encouraging me to shoot for my dreams. While most girls are told by their mothers to get married and have kids, mine told me to read books and to educate myself. That’s what I did. I’ve had my occasional romantic interests. Truly, I’m just interested in getting to NYC. No man for me except for my camera and my reporter.
In this little farm town, I rent a room from a family in town. I’m rather fond of the room and shall be sad to leave it when I move on to the big city. I’ll take my mama’s antique mirror with me, but nothing else. I’m going to start over and I’ll be a true business woman of the 50s. I’ll have me a large apartment on a top floor where I have easy access to the roof top. I can already hear those big name bosses calling, “Miz Ansit, we would be delighted to have you go to this or that and take photographs for us.” Now, I’ll have to be selective because I won’t be able to say ‘yes’ to every one of them. But, for the time being, I am stuck in this smelly old town.
Oh, the other day, something of consequence occurred. Clarence, my current reporter, told me we had a miracle on hand. (Clarence is sharp with his pencil but not too bright on the come by.) I, being my practical self, knew this had to be some play on words. He dragged me down to the Zuckerman’s farm to look at a pig. ME! I was taking pictures of ‘some pig’ in a pig sty when truly I should have been photographing celebrities. Instead, I find myself crooning to a pig and a young girl, “say cheese.” Is not that the most horrifying thing that you ever did hear? I, Miss Claire Ansit, have no place in a barn with pigs and common folk.
Next moment, the pig faints. Have you ever heard of such a thing? A pig – fainting. It is absolutely absurd. Pigs do not faint. Oh, I know. Perhaps he had his nose in the mud too long and was suffocating. I snapped a picture real fast. Pigs fainting is definitely a thing of interest in a small town like our hicksville but not in the big city. Well, in the mean time, Clarence takes a glance at this web that has made this pig so famous. It turns out that instead of spelling “terrific” it has conveniently changed to spell “radiant.” I’m not so certain what is so radiant or terrific about a fainting pig, but I will tell you that I have never met a spider that could spell. Of course, her writing left a tad to be wanting.
The web did take me by surprise. Although I am not entirely that fond of spiders, I do believe that this spider would have been an exceptionally good interviewee. Of course, that is not my expertise and I do not believe that Clarence knows any other language than flattery. Like a good photographer, I snapped a couple of pictures with varying angles and I got some excellent shots of the people about me. I do have to say that the pig’s slop bucket was a tad disconcerting. It was positively repelling.
I’ve applied to NYC Times. Hopefully, I shall being hearing from them soon. Perhaps this miracle spider or shall we say pig can work this out for me.
coming soon: a week chaotic
I am looking at a week - a very busy week - an extremely busy week - an extremely chaotic and exceptionally busy week. I think that the phrase describes my coming week perfectly. It's show week for Charlotte's Web. In college, this is my first production that I hold any type of role other than stage hand or back stage helper. Surely, my parts are three little nobodies but these three little nobodies still require me at every practice. I still receive make up, hair (well, wig for me), costumes, and lots of sitting time while waiting for my smidgen of stage time.
Even as this will consume my week, somewhere I still have to make time for everything else plus all the projects that professors have decided to drop on this week. "Please...you don't want to do that!" Shhhhbam. I have more to do than I had before - "okay, how can i beg off for at least this week..." so this is the life of a theater person. Hmmmm. Not sure that I like it. At least the balancing homework and everything else part or maybe I just stink at balancing.
Well, Happy Monday and Bon Voyage on your bountifully busy week.
Even as this will consume my week, somewhere I still have to make time for everything else plus all the projects that professors have decided to drop on this week. "Please...you don't want to do that!" Shhhhbam. I have more to do than I had before - "okay, how can i beg off for at least this week..." so this is the life of a theater person. Hmmmm. Not sure that I like it. At least the balancing homework and everything else part or maybe I just stink at balancing.
Well, Happy Monday and Bon Voyage on your bountifully busy week.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Her Secrets
What is it about night that is altogether hypnotizing? I find that when I wander in the night all I desire to do is to melt into the deep shadows. The mystery of the night calls. I hear it. Perhaps it is in the quiet of the world. Perhaps it is the wind upon my cheek. Perhaps it is how the stars leap from the sky into my eyes. The night and I are intimately acquainted. She knows my secrets and I am discovering her secrets.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Self Description 1
in two words let me describe the last almost week for you: sleep deprivation.
this is the case because I have a myriad of things to accomplish and not enough time to do it. Ever been so overwhelmed that it is much easier to continue putting off your tasks than to actually do them. Yep, that's me all over.
i'm working on an especially long blogpost about my experiences with a shaved head and having it grow back.
now, off to the races.
this is the case because I have a myriad of things to accomplish and not enough time to do it. Ever been so overwhelmed that it is much easier to continue putting off your tasks than to actually do them. Yep, that's me all over.
i'm working on an especially long blogpost about my experiences with a shaved head and having it grow back.
now, off to the races.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
I have a face. Do YOU?
As stated by the author, Julia Alvarez, of In the Time of the Butterflies, “A novel is not, after all, a historical document, but a way to travel through the human heart” (Alvarez, 324). The depth of a piece of literature cannot be found in the genre of the work. The significance of the work is discovered by the one who explores it. It is found in the response that the reader or explorer has to the work. A person often determines their opinion of the said book by the response that they have had to the work. Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis is a book with a significance determined by the response of the reader. This book requires one who is willing to not only analyze the meaning of the book but to scrutinize their own heart. Not only has this book found its way into my own heart, it has also found a permanent spot on my traveling bookshelf that goes with me everywhere.
I have a love of literature. Therefore, liking a book is in no way uncommon for me. Yet, this book is an uncommon book for me to have an interest. I am the girl that loves to read about missionaries and those people who are intrinsically kind and caring to a fault. I would rather read a romantic ‘happily ever after’ book than face reality. Till We Have Faces is not that at all. This book’s primary character is selfish. Although she feigns interest in the lives of those around her, all Orual truly cares about is how their lives pertain to her life. Orual is constantly seeking to fill the insatiable hole of neediness by vicariously living through the lives of those around her with whom she loves. Orual is a person who completely monopolizes the lives of the people around her if given the opportunity. Orual is far from beautiful physically, mentally, or even spiritually.
Orual defies the characters that I am generally intrigued by. Originally, I struggled with a feeling of loathing for Orual. Generally, I do not like people who struggle with the same time of heart matters as I. Of course, Orual is nothing sweet or good although she strives for these things. Orual is overwhelmed by her selfish desires. Yet, she is complex. Orual also has a mystery. She is not altogether bad or altogether good. One moment, Orual is filled with sacrificial love for Psyche where she would gladly sacrifice herself in her sister’s stead. Within days, Orual is manipulating Psyche into doing something that will ultimately severe their sisterly bond forever. Although Orual is motivated by her desires to please herself, those motivations often aid the furthering of prosperity for her people even if they originally doomed Psyche to wandering. Somehow, all the negative influences upon Orual’s life manage to bring about positive aspects in the life of Orual and her kingdom.
I find that whether I like it or not I actually relate very well to the character and person of Orual. I secretly believe that the world does, in fact, revolve around me. My life is very driven by my own selfish motivations. Although I deeply desire to emanate my most pure heroines from the sweetest and unrealistic books, I find that this is utterly impossible. Orual almost makes me uncomfortable because we are so very similar. We both have created walls to protect ourselves from the risks of weakness. Although my veil is not visible, I have placed such a wall between myself and other people. It hides my vulnerabilities. Yet, I also have a type of admiration for Orual who was able to obtain what she wanted in life if not love. She was a strong, mysterious woman who inspired those around her to strive for education. One thing I do not want to emulate is her propensity to allow her love to consume those that her adoration was given. Orual and I share many similarities, but hopefully, we shall differ in our approach to the concept of love.
Till We Have Faces has become a favorite of mine because it subtly deals with the matters of the heart throughout the covers of the book. It has examples of pure, trusting, noble, persevering, selfish, and manipulative characters. It is a story of inner growth. Orual is a character that one can easily relate with because she is needy and desires to be loved. This is a cry that echoes through the hearts of every human being on the planet. A person’s actions stem directly from the thoughts of the heart. Even though I hated Orual at first, I have found an odd sympathy for her and even find that I have a hesitant liking for her. I do not read books twice, but I might read Till We Have Faces again.
I have a love of literature. Therefore, liking a book is in no way uncommon for me. Yet, this book is an uncommon book for me to have an interest. I am the girl that loves to read about missionaries and those people who are intrinsically kind and caring to a fault. I would rather read a romantic ‘happily ever after’ book than face reality. Till We Have Faces is not that at all. This book’s primary character is selfish. Although she feigns interest in the lives of those around her, all Orual truly cares about is how their lives pertain to her life. Orual is constantly seeking to fill the insatiable hole of neediness by vicariously living through the lives of those around her with whom she loves. Orual is a person who completely monopolizes the lives of the people around her if given the opportunity. Orual is far from beautiful physically, mentally, or even spiritually.
Orual defies the characters that I am generally intrigued by. Originally, I struggled with a feeling of loathing for Orual. Generally, I do not like people who struggle with the same time of heart matters as I. Of course, Orual is nothing sweet or good although she strives for these things. Orual is overwhelmed by her selfish desires. Yet, she is complex. Orual also has a mystery. She is not altogether bad or altogether good. One moment, Orual is filled with sacrificial love for Psyche where she would gladly sacrifice herself in her sister’s stead. Within days, Orual is manipulating Psyche into doing something that will ultimately severe their sisterly bond forever. Although Orual is motivated by her desires to please herself, those motivations often aid the furthering of prosperity for her people even if they originally doomed Psyche to wandering. Somehow, all the negative influences upon Orual’s life manage to bring about positive aspects in the life of Orual and her kingdom.
I find that whether I like it or not I actually relate very well to the character and person of Orual. I secretly believe that the world does, in fact, revolve around me. My life is very driven by my own selfish motivations. Although I deeply desire to emanate my most pure heroines from the sweetest and unrealistic books, I find that this is utterly impossible. Orual almost makes me uncomfortable because we are so very similar. We both have created walls to protect ourselves from the risks of weakness. Although my veil is not visible, I have placed such a wall between myself and other people. It hides my vulnerabilities. Yet, I also have a type of admiration for Orual who was able to obtain what she wanted in life if not love. She was a strong, mysterious woman who inspired those around her to strive for education. One thing I do not want to emulate is her propensity to allow her love to consume those that her adoration was given. Orual and I share many similarities, but hopefully, we shall differ in our approach to the concept of love.
Till We Have Faces has become a favorite of mine because it subtly deals with the matters of the heart throughout the covers of the book. It has examples of pure, trusting, noble, persevering, selfish, and manipulative characters. It is a story of inner growth. Orual is a character that one can easily relate with because she is needy and desires to be loved. This is a cry that echoes through the hearts of every human being on the planet. A person’s actions stem directly from the thoughts of the heart. Even though I hated Orual at first, I have found an odd sympathy for her and even find that I have a hesitant liking for her. I do not read books twice, but I might read Till We Have Faces again.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Sunshine Snobbery
With spring sunshine spilling through my windows and a sweet movie about friendship playing in the background with the gentle rumblings of my roommate's music climbing the basement stairs, I sit curled on the couch with my laptop nestled in my lap with a thought on my mind.
So that is not abnormal in itself if you've spent two minutes with me - I'd hope that you would find that I'm a person of thought. Of course, the other day, I found out that people generally peg me as a snob upon first meeting. That wasn't exactly a surprise. It wasn't exactly a sweet moment. For those of you who are annoyed at some snob in your life, take a minute and listen to a person who has been pegged as that once or twice in her life. Snobbery generally stems from either shyness, fear, or uncertainty. From this snob to the next snob, please be kind to those people who are sadly mistaken about who you are through their first impressions. (On a side note, did you know that Pride and Prejudice was originally entitled First Impressions?)
The sunshine that has decided to filter into my life over the past week of Spring break has done funny things to my head. Perhaps it is in the fact that is a Sunday. For some reason, sundays hold a magic of their own. It's a day of whimsy and celebration of being alive. Should I mention that I'm wearing a beanie hat from Antigua that has all the colors of the rainbow in it and a floral dress with designs that scream summer. To top off this creative ensemble, I have a pair of harem pants that gather gracefully at the ankle. I've not met a soul who dresses like this, but if it were warm enough I would proudly march out my door to dance with the sunshine.
okay. so I did just throw my door open and invite the world into my private imaginings. My house faces a pretty well-traveled road. Therefore, I got some odd looks as I stood in my doorway soaking in the feel of the cold pavement under my feet and the chilly air encircling my arms. As I tried to imagine the thoughts of those who drove past and stared, a grin grew on my face.
Life is not quite this delicious all the time, but I do find these golden moments where I feel as though wings might sprout on my ankles and I might soar into the sky and experience the world in ways that no one else has ever or ever will discover the world. I revel in beauty. I do my best to find beauty in every situation. I think I may even occasionally walk around with a pair of stars in my eyes. These stars hamper vision. Yet, I think they hamper my sight for the better. They give me vision.
I see you.
It's a phrase that people might use in greeting or a mother might say to a wayward child. I see you. It is so simple, but it can mean so much. Just ask the authors of the book Captivating and Wild at Heart. When one says that phrase, it could only mean I see you physically or perhaps it is an acknowledgement of your statement. To everything in life, there must be a deeper meaning but how many people take the time to search out that deeper meaning? It takes time and thought.
Well, I'm talking with my brother via skype now so enough all these magic dust ramblings.
So that is not abnormal in itself if you've spent two minutes with me - I'd hope that you would find that I'm a person of thought. Of course, the other day, I found out that people generally peg me as a snob upon first meeting. That wasn't exactly a surprise. It wasn't exactly a sweet moment. For those of you who are annoyed at some snob in your life, take a minute and listen to a person who has been pegged as that once or twice in her life. Snobbery generally stems from either shyness, fear, or uncertainty. From this snob to the next snob, please be kind to those people who are sadly mistaken about who you are through their first impressions. (On a side note, did you know that Pride and Prejudice was originally entitled First Impressions?)
The sunshine that has decided to filter into my life over the past week of Spring break has done funny things to my head. Perhaps it is in the fact that is a Sunday. For some reason, sundays hold a magic of their own. It's a day of whimsy and celebration of being alive. Should I mention that I'm wearing a beanie hat from Antigua that has all the colors of the rainbow in it and a floral dress with designs that scream summer. To top off this creative ensemble, I have a pair of harem pants that gather gracefully at the ankle. I've not met a soul who dresses like this, but if it were warm enough I would proudly march out my door to dance with the sunshine.
okay. so I did just throw my door open and invite the world into my private imaginings. My house faces a pretty well-traveled road. Therefore, I got some odd looks as I stood in my doorway soaking in the feel of the cold pavement under my feet and the chilly air encircling my arms. As I tried to imagine the thoughts of those who drove past and stared, a grin grew on my face.
Life is not quite this delicious all the time, but I do find these golden moments where I feel as though wings might sprout on my ankles and I might soar into the sky and experience the world in ways that no one else has ever or ever will discover the world. I revel in beauty. I do my best to find beauty in every situation. I think I may even occasionally walk around with a pair of stars in my eyes. These stars hamper vision. Yet, I think they hamper my sight for the better. They give me vision.
I see you.
It's a phrase that people might use in greeting or a mother might say to a wayward child. I see you. It is so simple, but it can mean so much. Just ask the authors of the book Captivating and Wild at Heart. When one says that phrase, it could only mean I see you physically or perhaps it is an acknowledgement of your statement. To everything in life, there must be a deeper meaning but how many people take the time to search out that deeper meaning? It takes time and thought.
Well, I'm talking with my brother via skype now so enough all these magic dust ramblings.
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