Good You Got It

I made it through. It's over. Alleluia. Amen.

What a wonderful end of the semester. It has been a glorious Friday night. I would really like to write a lot right now... I always am inspired to write my heart out. Then I think, I'm so wonderfully happy... and I don't think I could accurately describe how I'm feeling. Christmas break is here. My friends are here. I'm soooo content. :)

Danger! Danger! High Voltage!

When we touch, when we move...

Stephanie,Sophia, Kelly and I went to a drag show tonight. It was delightful... Many of the girls were voluptuous beauties, several were smoldering temptresses and all of them were incredible. As Sophia aptly said about one of them, "She can hide her penis better than I could hide my vagina in that." All the proceeds went to Toys for Tots and the Nebraska AIDS project. It was pretty incredible.

I swam a mile today... are you impressed? You can be, if you want. It's okay. THAT'S 32 LAPS PUNK! If you aren't going to be impressed, I will be. Don't worry.

Dear Friend,

I think you are incredible. I think you are truly amazing. I think you are the ultimate in people. Why don't you think that, really?

Dear Friend,

If you believe in God, I'm going to pray for you... because two is always better than one. If you believe in something else, I'm going to pray for you... because I want you to get as close to that higher power as you can. I'm going to pray for your convictions. If you don't believe in anything, I'm going to pray for you... because if you're right, I'm only wasting my time... but if you're wrong, someone should be praying for you, and I want to... so badly.

Dear Friend,

I want to buy you a pink sweater so you can wear it on Thursdays, and I will call them Pink Panther Thursdays.

Dear Friend,

Will you call me and invite me to road trip to Wisconsin with you... or maybe Oregon?

Dear Friend,

Will you come stay with me and keep me company through the bad times, when all sanity comes crashing down? Please, be my rock and help me keep my head above water.

Dear Friend,

(And imagine my mom saying this about me while she is drunk and tears are coming down her cheeks) I will be the best friend you have ever had... if you just let me. Or, I'll just be that one friend, who's is okay to be around sometimes... I can be that too.

Dear Friend,

Will you hug me like the Imperial Empress Drag Queen? Please, please, please?

Much Love and Best Wishes,

Sarah C. Davis

Countdown To Freedom

Haven't slept since two nights ago... the nonsensical hum of my television is telling me that it's time to pass out on my green bed under my my feather cloud. Oh yeah, that sounds good. Goodnight.

I'm Not Gonna Write You A Love Song

'Cause you asked for it. 'Cause you need one.

People I actually know are getting engaged, people I knew before they were dating. Other people I know could totally and legitimately get engaged. It freaks me out, and it makes me crazy insane jealous.

I talked to a Rabbi today about a paper I'm writing about the differences between Judaism and Catholicism. He was so interesting and really presented some awesome points. He talked about how the basic Christian question is faith or works... he said in Judaism there is no question. It's works. He said, basically it doesn't matter what you believe as long as you do the right thing. While I think that viewpoint is definitely a valid argument, I don't necessarily agree. Yes, it's good that people do the "right" things even if they don't want to. But is it okay for someone to detest a certain race but never act on that hatred? Is it okay for a person to think murder is an alright thing to do as long as he or she never commits murder. I would say no.

Nonetheless, I can very much respect the viewpoints and arguments he set forth. I love that. I get why other people believe the things that they do, and I can respect those beliefs.

I want the people I know to live with a little conviction. I want them to yearn for things. I want them to believe in something so much it hurts. And if they don't.... I can respect them for not acting like they believe in something they don't. I love them. Everyone I know deserves so much love.

Give me reason, but don't give me choice.

Everything you NEED to know about me in one blog.

Green, Tiffany's Setting, Chipped Black Nail Polish, Messy, Hopelessly Devoted, Catholic, Poet, Independent, Procrastinator, Drums, Camp, Co-Dependent, Coffee.

I would choose Summer and Fall over Winter and Spring any day.
I think two is almost always better than one.
I want at least five kids... at least.
I am perfectly content with never being rich.
I have never and never will be able to tell a person if I like him... my fear of rejection trumps my confidence.
In my mind, I'm a bad ass.... in reality, I usually just fall on it.

Singing a Song, Allen Ginsberg, Sneakers, Sleepovers, Night Outdoors, Dogs, Movies, Forgiving, Optimist, Flawed, Jealous, Knit Scarves, Sing in the Shower.

I don't write about love, because I know nothing.
I love to go to church.
I make uninformed decisions that I refuse to regret.
I need you to tell me...
I don't even know who "you" are.
This is not a confusing post...

That is every single thing there is to know about me. Period.

1,2,3,4, Tell Me That You Love Me More

Life sucks when you know exactly what you want, when you know exactly what will make you happy, when you know what you're meant for. Life sucks when you don't know how to get there.

Life sucks when you know what you need to do, but you refuse to do it. Life sucks when know how you it should feel, but you don't feel it. Life sucks when you can't wear flip-flops, because you never learned how.

So why doesn't my life suck?

I'm delighted. I'm peaceful. I'm just taking it all in.

I'm incandescent.

Last Name: Dupri. First Name: The Boss.

Two weeks left. Two weeks left. Two weeks. left.

I fell like if I can make through the end of this semester, I will be able to make it through the rest of my life. So, yes, that's a little dramatic. But totally true. I just spent about $300 dollars to go to the Focus Conference in Dallas at the beginning of the year. So, that's very exciting... it's also very scary. I don't have that money to spend really. I also don't know what I'm getting myself into. But it's paid for. It's booked. I'm going. I think I will probably end up loving it. That's kind of what I do.

I have to go Christmas shopping sometime within the next two weeks... um... scary. I don't even know what to get my family, nor do I know if I can afford anything. Everything will work out.

Over Christmas break I have a lot of thinking to do. Maybe Dallas will help with that. Almost everything about this semester has got me a little messed up. Good messed up. Bad messed up... I'm just a little insane. But, hey, a little crazy keeps you sane... right?

I have almost 15 homework assignments to do before school gets out.

OKAY - Sidenote - HAHA - It's almost 3 in the morning and one of my residents was being loud down the hall. All I had to do was step outside my door and put my arms out angrily, and he said sorry. It was seriously all the way down the hall too. I couldn't even see who it was. Um... hilarious. (He also just came and apologized as I was writing this... adorable.)

Completely off topic - I was talking with some friends tonight... and I guess it would freak some people out to know that I have a lot of how I want my wedding to be planned out already. But I do... I think about stuff like that. I'm a freak.

Right, I'm so tired. I'm going to sleep. Peace out.

The Alligator is My Friend

He likes to wink and flirt. I'd rather have him as my friend, than wear him on my shirt.

So the weather? So dumb and glorious... which sucks cause that means it's going to change. I can deal with snow if it's cold... but if it's cold without snow... I will lose it. Also, school is almost over. I think I can maybe make it three more weeks... maybe. Do you ever feel like you're learning a lot about yourself... you just don't know what it is? That's my whole life. I'm ready for something crazy to happen again. I like the diversions from the mundane.

Everybody's Workin' for the Weekend

I love weekends.
I'm far to stupid for my own good.
I get cold at night.
I don't like being out of control.
I am so out of control.
I like pitch.
I'm a fan of people.
I miss things selfishly.
I am the root of all evil.
I am the source of all good.
I will fall to the rock bottom before I go any higher.
I like the idea of butterflies.
I am so afraid of butterflies.
I take people for granted.
I don't like to be ignored.
I want to hold your hand when everyone's looking, but only for a second.
I think I'll dye my hair blonde for my mom's Christmas present.
I'm done for tonight.
I'm so tired.

Four More Weeks.

I always know that someone else has been watching my television when I turn it on and I get the History Channel. It's been a strange month. Good... but strange. I'm working on surviving this semester, and it's trying to eat me alive.

I don't like confrontation. I want to always be smiling. I like Christmas Carols. But I don't want to hear them all the time. I find guilty pleasure in Christmas decorations. I love Christmas. I put too much before myself... but I can't change that. I like pillows, but I don't really like to sleep with them. I like human contact. I don't like to wear stocking caps. I think boots with fur are dumb. I can say the alphabet backwards.

Let's be BFFs forever.

Lame.

The end.

Blogspot Confessional

I have not always but do have and always will have severe abandonment issues.

Too many of my friends in the past have just kind of disappeared. And I used to try really hard to hold on to them... but when you hold on to something for years without it acknowledging you, you start to lose some of yourself.

I love the friends I have now... and I love the friends I have had in the past, a lot of them fall into both categories. But I'm slow to allow myself to make a huge bond with someone who might leave me out in the cold. Cause I've been freezing in the past.

I was reading through old e-mails and letter I never sent today... so that's what is on my mind.

It was a beautiful day today. I played Ultimate Frisbee poorly... very poorly. But I had a really great time. I think my mono is going to go away soon... dare to dream right?

It's a Secret, You Wouldn't Understand

I think I'm going to pay members of my family to stand and watch my mom cook during Thanksgiving... then every time she finishes a meal I'm going to have them clap... Like on Emeril Live. It will make her so mad. But it makes me so happy.

Also... using butter or garlic will warrant cheering.

I Always Thought Mano y Mano Meant Fighting....

Now I know it just means lots of Mononucleosis. That's what I have. Lot's of it. So basically what that means is I have been receiving phone calls from my mother about every three hours threatening me to go to sleep or she'll make me go to sleep. Whatever that means. If I end up dead in a river bed... you know who to suspect. LYNNE. My grandma also told me that if I didn't take care of myself I would have to get an IV hooked up to take care of me. So I have that family support thing going on really strong.

Basically, what happened is... I've been sick for about two weeks: really tired, not able to concentrate, fevers, cold-like symptoms, really thirsty... lots of bad stuff. So finally, my mom is like... Sarah, you're going to the doctor, and if you can't get in to the doctor you are going to her PA. Well, I'm not a very picky person... but I HATE to go to the doctor. I told my mom that if I was going to the doctor I was going to see a doctor... So I did. My mom felt the need to drive to Lincoln (my grandma though she should come too) and we all went to the doctor together. After an hour of filling out paper work and waiting, it was my time. Carol (the doctor) talked to me and said I need to have a blood test.

I was not happy. I don't do blood, which is the main reason I don't do doctors. She leaves me at a room that wasn't really a room at all. It was a like a room without the fourth wall, so it was completely open to the hallway. I sat down in the chair (now imagine this) and said to the lady, with my finger outstretched, "Are you just going to prick my finger?" She looked at me, smiled and said, "Oh no, we need a lot of blood from you. We're going to have to take it out of your arm."

Immediately tears started coming down my face. I looked at her with the saddest puppy eyes I'm sure and said, "I've never had my blood drawn before." Which is totally true. I can only remember ever having my finger pricked... and only that a few times. I chose not to look. She started on the left arm, poked me with the needle... then told me we were going to have to try the other arm. I whimpered, held a cotton ball to the arm and looked into the hallway where my mom was smiling with a thumbs up sign. I glared at her and shook my head. Her smile slowly faded as she realized what had happened. The lady tried my right arm, I realized she had succeeded as I looked over to see a container of my blood draining into a bottle. It was the most terrible thing ever.

Fifteen minutes later the results were back... MONONUCLEOSIS. I feel like I'm on the downhill track of the virus, which the only cure for is to ride out and get lots of rest and liquids. On the bright side, the doctor wrote me a note saying I might miss class or be late on homework, which is totally awesome. I also get to yell MONONUCLEOSIS and act like the Mono Monster and chase my friends around... they overreact and it is hilarious.

However, it also means constant nagging and concern from the mother... and although I appreciate it, it can be a little much. I told her I was going to be asleep right now. I am not. Soon enough I may be sleeping, but you never know with the Mono Monster on the loose.

This Could Be It.

My mom is making me go to the doctor. So maybe it's legit. I have been sick for almost a good two weeks. Maybe more. She's even coming up to Lincoln to go with me, and although I would never admit it to her, I am so thankful. I hate the doctor. I hate everything about going to the doctor. I am very afraid. But I am also very very sick... So I think I'm ready.

If you are a prayer, please pray for me. It's not that serious... but still, it's scary.

If you are not a prayer... please do whatever it is you do, for me. I would appreciate it. I think I know a lot of non-prayers, this is why I specify.

I don't want to go. Bleh.

Lynne Threatened to Call the Doctor

“And forgive us our sins, just as we have forgiven those who have sinned against us . . . If you forgive those who sin against you, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you refuse to forgive others, your Father will not forgive your sins”

Two of my friends lately have accused me of having a lot of Catholic guilt. Now, I consider myself pretty well-versed in Catholic mockery, but I don't know if I have ever heard that term before. I find that astounding because they both seemed rather set in their opinions on it. So, obviously, I've given it some thought.

I can understand how this guilt could potentially seem more reticent within Catholics; however, I think that is a ridiculous generality to make. Anyone who has a decent conscience is going to feel guilty if he or she does something legitimately wrong. I also think that depends heavily on the person who is being referred to. People who don't do "bad" things often will probably feel worse that people who regularly "sin." Of course, all of these things are generalities. That's my point. To place that label on one faith or one person straight up redonk.

For myself, particularly, I find it easier to bring things in rather than express them outwardly when I get angry or hurt. It's harder... I don't know if you've ever tried it, but it is sooo hard. But I think forgiving is infinitely better than hating and then forgetting. I want to mull over something and come to terms with it. I want to pray about something until I don't need to dislike the person who did it.

I bring it all into my own hands. Because, I don't know if I can trust others to forgive me, so I have to forgive myself. And sometimes, I don't know if I can trust others to forgive themselves... So I let them know that I will forgive them no matter what. Because if I refuse to forgive others, who will ever choose to forgive me?

“Forgive the rebellious sins of my youth; look instead through the eyes of Your unfailing love, for You are merciful, O LORD . . . For the honor of Your name, O LORD, forgive my many, many sins . . . Feel my pain and see my trouble. Forgive all my sins”

Some Punk Stole My Posters

I went to Omaha today to trade cars with my mom. She was going to see Spamalot... I never get invited to those type of things. I don't know why not. And as I was trying to get out of Omaha, which was not going well, I just started bawling. I am so physically sick. I am so mentally exhausted. I need something to happen, or I may lose my mind.

I have a 10 ish page paper due tomorrow morning about a book that I did not read. I don' t know how I'm going to get out of this one.

And Then We Played Guitar Hero

I don't know how to handle things... so usually I just don't. I ignore, joke, tease and laugh things away. I think this may be both my greatest strength and my greatest flaw. And life right now just isn't so great. It will be great... but it's not. The weather causes me to feel freezing constantly (I wrapped up in blankets and shivered in my bed for about two hours last night.) That may have something to do with my newly acquired cold, which was probably due to stress, which could be due to a million things. I also feel numb, but don't worry my fingers and toes are starting to tingle.

On the bright side (and there always is one), Eric and I just won the first round of our pitch tournament. Very, VERY exciting! We play again on Sunday. Also, I get to go hear Harryette Mullen read her poetry on Thursday, and that will totally rock. I don't have any desire to clean my room, which is better than wanting to and not being able.

Right, well once again that's all I have. Someday I'll have something good to say.

Then Heather Brought me Chocolate and Flowers

After 24 hours, my headache went away. I just noticed. I'm about to get back in the swing of college and life. I don't know how I got out of it, but I most definitely did. Life is so ridiculous most of the time. And I seldom, if ever regret things. It's all about learning, growing... changing.

So, to put it shortly. That's what I'm doing.

I think I'll start by cleaning my room. :) Maybe... Sorry, this is all I'm going to write. I have a lot to say... but not here. I think maybe I'll pray (on purpose.)

Personality test. Shmershonality test.

We took a personality type test thing in my RA class. Which is pretty interesting. However, it was incredibly accurate. It's called the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. The test is dependent on four scales. They scales deal with where you like to focus your attention, the way you like to look at things, the way you like to go about deciding things and how you deal with the outer world. I was a ENFP.

That means I prefer to focus on the outer world of people and things, tend to focus on the future, with a view toward patterns and possibilities, tend to base my decisions primarily on values and on subjective evaluation of person-centered concern and like a flexible and spontaneous approach to life and prefer to keep my options open.

That seems like a bunch of nonsense to me... I said to myself, "What does that even mean?" However, then I turned my results over to the description of the letter combinations. This was the description of the ENFP.

Warmly enthusiastic, high spirited, ingenious, imaginative. Able to do almost anything that interests them. Quick with a solution for any difficulty and ready to help anybody with a problem. Often rely on their ability to improvise instead of preparing in advance. Can usually find compelling reasons for whatever they want.

So accurate.

I really don't have a lot else for today. The worst week of my life is over. I'm ready for the weekend.

Sin and Mockery in Academia

So, basically, I had maybe one of my worst weeks ever, which really sucks. However, I'm doing infinitely better (I know you were totally concerned.) I'm signed up for 14 credit hours next semester; therefore, I need to choose one more class. I'll figure that out eventually. The rest of this semester might kill me. If that happens, I want people to read what I've written. Everything. The things in my notebooks, on my computer, in random folders around the places I live... I've written a lot of stuff. When I day, I want that to be part of my legacy. All things seriously though... life is really great.

In my poetry class we're reading Harryette Mullen.... Um, freaking amazing. She wrote Sleeping with the Dictionary and Recyclopedia... and she's amazing. I get to go here her read next Thursday, which is very exciting.

"I'm stuck on the fourth step. There's no statue or stature of limitations. I'll be emotionally disturbed for as long as it takes. You can give a man a rock or you can teach him to rock. Access your higher power."

That is pretty much some of the coolest stuff I have ever read. It's from Mullen' s "Coals to Newcastle, Panama Hats from Ecuador." She rapes language. It's beautiful.

Personal discovery of the day: I'm a very confidant person; however, I need people to tell me that I'm important to them, if I am. I value the opinions my friends have of me, because their opinions aught to matter. If I don't get that affirmation, I question myself. I hate to question myself. Also, I'm so passionate. I pour myself into things. Also, I am ridiculous.

Will you still be my friend? : )
... oh silly... goodnight.

Hmmmmm.... haha.

Some day, I will build the world's largest airplane made only out of SPAM. When the press asks me why I did it, I will smile at them, wink and hand them each a copy of Treasure Island. That moment will stay with them the rest of their lives. Also, then I won't have to explain my reasoning to them... because odds are I won't have a good reason. That will be the best and worst day of my entire life.

I can't wait.

Cogs in a Really Big Wheel

My grandpa always used to say chivalry wasn't dead. But grandpa was wrong. Chivalry was my grandpa's dog that died when grandpa was a child. Chivalry was SO dead. Needless to say, grandpa wasn't all there.

Okay, so that's not a true story at all; however, I think it shows how clever I am. I'm so funny.

Right, so that whole taking things day by day thing? I've had better days. Also, I've had much worse days. Things are never so bad as they seem, and they don't really even seem that bad. Optimism... I think it's one of those things that gets a person through life. How can anything make you unhappy if you see the best in everything. That's me. I see so much good in everyone I know. The people I know are incredible. They really are. And all of the good things about them are so much more amazing and extraordinary than any negative trait they could ever have.

If you can make me smile, you are a gift from God. If I can't be mad at you, it's because you bring so much happiness into my life. If you are my friend, I would lay down my world for you. And I'm so passionate and serious about how much the people around me mean to me. So much of who I am goes into them.

Maybe too much.

My emotions are dependent a large amount on the emotions of those around me. If you're happy, I'm going to be happy. If you're sad, I'm going to sad that your sad. If you're angry, I'm going to feel for you and wonder what I can do to help you smile.

Because of this, I've learned that I have to not throw my emotions into the relationships I make with my friends right away. I cannot function as an unhappy person. I need to smile. God, I can't help but smile. So, if you're my friend, be happy with me. We'll get slushies and watch drunk people downtown. We'll build ant fortresses out of dry grass and refried beans.

I love having amazing friends. I would be nowhere without them. Oh Lord, I'm being ridiculously sappy. That's a new annoying trend in my writing. I'll try to remedy that soon.

I am NOT a Boy!

Shocking, I know. Have you ever had that feeling where it's like your entire insides have fallen asleep... that tingly sensation that makes your breathe become strained and you get a little light-headed? Yeah, it's kind of like that... my life right now. Things have never been so wonderfully terrible and terribly wonderful. It's like I'm walking on daffodils.

It's like I've either made one of the best or one of the worst decisions I've made in a long time. And I'm going to go with best... just because I'm an optimist by nature. I will tell you something though. Being hopelessly romantic gets you nowhere as a girl. Let me stress, I am NOT a boy. However, if I were, I would be the best damn boy ever. Seriously. I am the best at thinking up awesome things guys should do for girls. It just doesn't transfer very well for things girls should do for guys. That's not the same playing field even.

So... I just now decided (like in the progress of writing this blog) that I will make a short(ish) list of things that I think are adorable romantic that guys do/can do/should do. I have a feeling this is going to be horribly cheesy. So, ahead of time I would like to apologize. Usually I'm much more sadistic.

Smile, tell girls WHY you like them, go on walks, flowers, random notes/text messages for no reason, show trust, tell jokes, have patience, make a big deal out of something that doesn't have to be... it shows you care, cook dinner, man up... most women really do love confidence, don't be arrogant, listen (as best you can), talk... no matter how much you think it's stupid to have to talk to people... it's a part of life... be willing to talk, don't take things too seriously... life comes quickly... take it as it is, treat her as an equal. I'm going to stop there.

And I'm sure, a million things exist that a girl can do for a guy. However, I am NOT a boy... therefore, I do now know what they want.

All that being said, I really don't know anything about anything. I'm just about as clueless as anyone. The first step to knowing everything is admitting that you know nothing. I know absolutely nothing. I never have, and I perhaps never will. But I am taking a little of my own advice right now. I'm taking each day as it comes... very happily. Today was great. I'll let you know about tomorrow.

My Childhood Lacked Cutlery

Captain's log, Oct. 24, 2007... I have been lost at sea for approximately 2.2 years.

My friend Liz told me a story today about her grandpa holding a door open for her and saying, "Chivalry is not dead." I agree. However, I do believe a serious disease like typhoid, Ebola or asthma is posing a dangerous threat. I mean really guys, man up. I man up more than most guys, which is pretty sad because I don't even know how.

So... right now... this very second, I have come to the conclusion that I need to take life into my own hands... finally. For a long time I believed that if all of my faith rests in God then He will provide. Which is true! However, He doesn't provide packaged and wrapped with a bow answers. He provides opportunities. God gave us free will for a reason, and we will all use it incorrectly. It's called learning. It's called forgiveness. Sometimes, it's called starting over from scratch. Yet, the opportunities will always be there. Thanks for that J.C.

Lately, I've been making a lot of decisions that have rocked my safety boat. I feel great, like I'm standing in the center of the flame... like I'm breathing explosions.

So, right or wrong, thank you God for giving me this opportunity to stand on the edge without a life jacket... and just be. Your hands are so close I can hear them.

Happiness is When a Dove Puts Down its Gun

Ha... It has been a pretty superb month. Many things have happened. I've seen new and exciting places and done new and interesting things.

Some friends and I traversed to the beautiful apple orchards of Nebraska City... it was glorious. Also, just today we journeyed to Roca Berry Farms to look at and buy pumpkins. All in all, October has been amazingly resplendent.

I went home for fall break and got to see my family, some old friends and one of my sister's boy type friends. I've actually had the opportunity to meet several of these men on different, delightfully awkward, occasions.

So... this is just some catch up. I promise I write something witty and interesting later this week... or month.

Tons and tons of things have been going on. I'm happy... you can know that. Wonderfully happy... as usual. Also, it's so great to not know what's coming. Isn't it?

Love is like reading the Daily Nebraskan

In my poetry class recently, we were asked to associate love or nature through similies with something that is normally not used to describe either word. This is what I wrote, smiling.

Love is like pealing your toe nails off one by one by one.
Love is like reading the Daily Nebraskan.
Love is like being force to watch the Tele-tubbies: Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Lala and Po.
Love is like a nail through your shoe.
Love is like torture.

Granted, that is really angsty. I thought it would be more entertaining to associate love with really negative things. I kind of think it works; although, I don't necessarily believe those things.

I decided to make a pact to limite my facebook and internet time. So far, it has been unsuccessful. (Feel free to use this as a prime example.) But I found a beautiful song by Ingrid Michaelson that is really mellow and gorgeous. You can YouTube it if you want. The song is Called The Way I Am. But I really like the lyrics.

The Way I Am
If you were falling, then I would catch you
If you need a light, I'd find a match

Cuz, I love the way you say good morning
And you take me the way I am

If you are chilly, here take my sweater
If your head is aching, I'll make it better

Cuz, I love the way you call me baby
And you take me the way I am

I'd buy you Rogaine, when you start losing all your hair
And so on patches, to all you tear

Cuz, I love more than I could ever promis
And you take me the way I am

It's so simple, and it makes me happy. I'm really happy. I'm happy like a new pair of socks. I'm happy like sharing the covers. I'm happy like starting the day at 5 P.M. I'm happy like not wearing a watch. I happy like ecstacy, baby!

:) I'm done. :)

The View From the Ninth Floor

I'm seriously considering giving up facebook. The very thought frightens me half to death. Maybe I should just set a specific time every day that I am allowed to be on facebook. That would probably make more sense. But, it is my most accurate form of communication with the outside world. I facebook more than I use my phone... and just reading that lets me know what a HUGE problem I have. I'll be investigating this new facebook time limit within the next week.

In other news, I'm pretty sure that any day now I'm going to start figuring out my life. Eventually the pieces have to just fall together... don't they?

I really wanted to write something interesting today... thought provoking. However, I'm starting to realize that isn't happening. Right. That sucks.

Okay, well... these are the really big things on my plate right now: Peace Corps, Teach for America, Camp Kitaki, and internship, grad school and marriage. I'm going to do at least three of things for sure. The only question is: Which three (or more)? So I'm 99% sure on the last two... and camp. But what about the others? Oh Lord, it gives me a bit of a headache to think of it.

My room is lonely, and I'm starting to think more and more about what I want instead of what I need. I am an idiot wrapped in a moron... a stupid person. Lord save me from my own bad judgement. Introduce me to the future.

NOTICE
I decided that I would dedicate all day to reading the four entire books that I was supposed to read last week. This is what my day looked like. I woke up a 12:30 P.M. I picked up the Iliad. I read maybe 20 pages, and then I took a nap. Afterward, I perused facebook, investigated futon sales in Lincoln and researched plane ticket costs for spring break. It is now 11:15 P.M. In all today, I read a 70 page play for my mass media law class and about 60 pages of the Iliad. In recap, that is a terrible waste of a day. I really didn't do anything else other than waste time.

I really am a happy person... I promise.

Bad Poetry... Oh noetry!!!

So I'm posting these against my better judgement. Not because I don't want people to read them... please, I love people to read my poetry... but because I need to be doing my homework. Oh well! Here's to failing college!

Continental Drift
I am trapped
in northern california
with
Creeley and Blaser

A lemon is
a lemon
aleman
amen.

But my soul is a lemon.
So
is my foot.

To surpass the existential
is to find the
essential.

NYC rescue me
to reality.
All the lemons
shrivel in the
sun.

Not What I Do
The silence of my surrender
is so loud.
Ears pulsating under the pressure.
A series of bad decisions.

Holey sole tattered and forgotten
next to the welcome
mat
and flip-flops.

And the distance from A to B
does not equal
the distance from B to A.

Hold my hand...

Sprinklers and cold
cement
in late July.

Sucking it up.
Soaking it up.

The laughter of a lonely gazelle.

Vesuvius
The mouth of the volcano
trembling
the wanderer
thickly
slides down
woody
stubbled
slopes.
Dwelling
within the cavern
of smog
steam

Lingering
to unearth
mud
bubbling
to the surface.
Aggravating
plains
for the
greater
good.

Oh So Beautifully Flawed

I made a list of character flaws... or maybe they are just insecurities... I'm not quite sure how to classify them. And you may be thinking, "Why would you make a list about bad qualities you have?" It isn't like a form self-deprecation. It's recognition. It's acceptance. It's saying this is who I am... and if you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best (thanks Marilyn.)

I am messy.
I can't sit still.
I tell people when they are being stupid.
I'm afraid of butterflies.
I'm afraid of bugs in general, the dark, heights, scary movies, the doctor, death, etc.
I wear sweatshirts to reduce the anxiety in my every day life.
I don't always let on how much I know, so that way people don't expect as much from me.
I wear to much black.
I waste money.
I over analyze things.
I go through complete conversations in my head before they happen.
I go through complete conversations in my head after they happen.
I don't think before I speak.
I tell the same stories over and over again.
I'm a really confident insecure person.
When I do laundry I separate clothes by what I will and won't wear.
I like gossip.
I don't always follow the same standards I have for others.
I make decision I know are bad.
I don't always wear matching socks.
I never make my bed.
I once made a list of my flaws. (*wink*)
I sign the words to songs as I walk around campus.
I bite.
I don't how far is too far.
I steal magnets from Sonic.

So, I probably have a lot more. But I'm pretty content with that list. Those are some flaws and quarks for you to know about me. It's who I am. I could make a list of good things too... but it might not be as good as I think... so I'll just let other people judge the good.

In theory, I like bears.

I am watching the first ever episodes of The Office right now... I am incredible... and modest. And I will put all of your thing in Jell-O very, very soon.

My bed is like a pile of squishiness. My feet are cold. My room smells like popcorn. I am looking at Stephen Colbert right now. These are random thoughts. Blah blah blah. I really don't have anything to say. It's almost fall now... but it's deceiving, because it's cold... but you can tell by the smell that fall's not here yet. The seasons are being tricky with me.

I do not approve of nakedness. My socks are green. My back hurts, cause I'm sensitive. I like to play games with people, but not mean ones... just annoying ones. My daisies still are prettiful. I think the idea of eye balls being sewn shut is revolting. I want to go to 13 concerts before May - an unatainable goal. I'm probably too affectionate, whatever that means.

I want to watch Little Miss Sunshine but the dvd is missing from its case. I think camp people are ridiculous. I think college people are ridiculous. I think my family is ridiculous. I like all of them a lot. Green is my favoritist color. I like sparkly things.

I heard that glitter is the herpes of craft products... I believe that.

I'll stop wasting your time... but please, please, please either waste mine or don't. No inbetweens.

One Day at a Time

This is all I have... and I offer it up. I write that a lot. And as I read it, I am faced with how much of a huge hypocrite I am. I have so much to offer to my Lord, and seldom do I offer everything... if anything to Him. (For those unaware or unprepared to read about my feelings on God... turn away now friends.)

I didn't go to Mass all summer. I could tell you I had less than 24 hours off a week and much of it was spent sleeping. I could tell you I spent time worshipping God in other ways. I could tell you I felt his presence in everything I did. Those things are mostly true. But none of them are legitimate reasons or excuses for anything.

I look at my life as it is today, and I want so much more. I want my holiness to be exuded from every oriface of my being. I want people to know that I am red-hot on fire for God. But how can they know something that may not be true? I not only want to say that everything I do, I do for God. I actually want to do everything for God. Oh, and that is lofty. It's a goal that is unattainable at best. And to say that statement... where I am right now... is ludicrous.

I'm a good Christian... I'm a good Catholic. But that's easy. I want to be a good disciple. I want people to know God's greatness through my love. So today I start a journey, and it's bound to be a long one. I'm not sure I will ever finish.

Yet, when I stand before God and have nothing but my life to lay at His feet... when my head is bowed because I am unworthy to even look Him in the eyes... when I call Him Father, and He softly says "Yes, my child,"... I want him to know that my life, laying open and vulnerable at His feet - imperfect, flawed, sinful and damaged as it will be - is all I have to offer. It will be my gift to Him. And He shall know that the good I did, I did for Him... the bad I did, I did despite His best efforts... the love I had, was the love He showed to me... and the tears I cried, I cried because I was sorry for disappoiting Him.

I will lay everything that I am at His feet... because what else can one do?

For anyone reading this (although I thoroughly believe that no one does) I am not a religious zealot (although those who call themselves so aught not be ashamed.) I am a sinner, and it is as though I am seeing myself for the first time.

Getting back in the swing...

I have a lot to say... but I don't have much time. So, I will just post this poem that someone read me today. It's amazing. You should read it... whoever you are. It is written by a woman names Oriah Mountain Dreamer.

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

Today is Wednesday, August 22, 2007. It is 3:50 P.M. It's been about three months, and it seems like an eternity.

Camp was, once again, an eye opening and extraordinary experience. I thank God every day that he allowed that treasure to be placed in my life. And it sounds cheesey and most likely is, but the people who I have met at camp have profoundly affected my life.

I laughed as I read my last post... I don't even remember writing it. It's so absurd. P.S... I didn't find love... nope. Love is for sure not something I am ready for. But I am ready for a little life, and I have no doubt in my mind that this year will be full of it. I'm a junior... sick... I don't even believe it. I feel like I left Falls City a week ago, wondering what college would be like. But here I am.

My classes this semester look amazing. I don't think I've ever been so excited for classes to start. Taking three literature classes sounds daunting, but I have a good vibe about it. The only problem may be trying to juggle class and being and RA. But I know what I have to do to keep sane and happy.

I pray today... I pray a lot... every day. But it's not praying. It's talking to God. And God shall lead me through.

This is a part of Allen Ginsberg's "Sather Gate Illumination" that he wrote at Berkeley in September of 1955. I think it's beautiful...

"My grief at Peter's not loving me was grief at not loving myself.
Huge Karmas of broken minds in beautiful bodies unable to receive love because not knowing the self as lovely ---
Fathers and Teathers!

Seeing in people the visible evidence of inner self thought by their treatment of me: who loves himself loves me who love myself"

Yay!

I'm done with my sophomore year of college... yay!!! Now it's time for a summer full of fun, friends, camp, painting, writing and... maybe love? Nah... probably not love... but for sure everything else. So, it's bound to be amazing!

Spring fever

I just noticed... it's spring. The birds are singing. The bees are buzzing. It's all very cliche. In addition, I have noticed that hormones are raging, and the daunting battle of the sexes between survival of the fittest and puppy love has started. Normally, I would roll my eyes and continue with my daily activity. In fact, that is exactly what I have been doing. However, when I recede into the solitude of my room, I remember that, alas, I am a hopeless romantic.

Unfortunately, I don't have anyone to focus my romanticism on... not even in my head. After years of having crushes on one person and then the next, I have chosen to take a step back and just observe my life as it is. And honestly, it's pretty good.

Without a proper springtime focus I have been forced to actually think about what I should look for in a man. (Man?... Guy?... Dude?... does being over 20 make someone a man?... I should find out.)

Although many would probably fail to recognize the fact, I am particularly strong in my faith... and my devotion to God through the Catholic faith is the biggest thing in my life, at least I try to make it that way most of the time. However, I'm very private in the way I praise God and my closeness to Him.

I recognize the convenience in having a relationship with someone who is Catholic; I would already know where that person is coming from spiritually. I would also have a pretty good idea about his values, morals and beliefs. That being said, I'm not so naive to believe that all Catholics are amazing people. I'm not necisarily looking for a guy that is Catholic. I'm looking for someone who has beliefs and is strong in them. I want to know what the believe and how they live by the way they act. But overall, I want someone who will respect my beliefs as much as I will respect theirs.

I'm looking for someone who's looking for marriage... someday (I'm in no hurry for that either.) I'm looking for someone who loves kids. I'm looking for someone who will drive for hours with me, going nowhere. I'm looking for someone who will lay in the grass, listen to rock music, laugh until he cries, sleep under the stars, buy me cheap flowers for no reason, draw me a picture, act like he's tough, make me smile every time I see him, hold my hand, put up with me, fix things, let me drive, sing in front of me and look into my eyes.

I looking for someone who will accept my unending love of poetry and music, accept that I am an artist at heart and, perhaps, understand why I've come to think that teaching English will add to my happiness.

I'm looking for someone to make happy.

But the truth is, I'm not searching. I'm just staying aware of my surroundings. Only God knows where an oppurtunity may arise.

I officially have one day of school left and two finals. Life is soon to be bliss with a hint of sunburn.

I went to camp last weekend; and, of course, it ended up raining. So the rain isn't so much of a big deal... but it was a horse riding camp, and that poses a problem. Well, I take my ten seven and eight year olds to the barn to at least see the horses. It went a little something like this.

Wrangler: Sarah, after your girls have helmets take them up to the arena.

Me: Ummmm... okay?

Imagine this for me, if you will. It's been raining all morning, and basically the only thing behind the barn is dirt.... but, in this case, it's definitely mud. As my ten girls and I slosh and slip through the muddy expanse I realize that we will be forced to traverse up a 45 degree hill of brown, slick and sticky mud. The little ten struggle up the mud hill of death, slipping down several feet every now and then. A couple of them fall forward onto their hands that get covered in the wet earth. Eventually they all make it to the top; however, they have to spend ten minutes wiping the mud off of their shoes and hands. Still covered in mud, they take turns riding the horses. Meanwhile, I have to take one of them back to the barn to meet her mother, because she is leaving early. While doing this I try to find a better path; and, alas, success. As I lead the remaining girls down the somewhat better path we come to a small hill.

Me: Okay girls, make sure you follow my steps exactly.

Not even able to finish my sentence, I fall flat on my butt and slide down the hill. All I heard the rest of the way to the barn were little giggles behind me.

Little girl: Sarah?

Me: What?

Little girl: You might want to change your pants.

I can feel the steam coming from my ears...

Me: Thank you for letting me know, dear.

The end - Moral of the story.... Ridiculous!!!

And here is a poem that I wrote that I don't so much really like... But here it is.

East of Sahara

Three feet in rags
clogging the import
to export ratio.
Displace yourself.
Wading through the
thick eastern night.
Crying, choking, gagging
on malaria and
starvation.

Automatic yielding toddlers
stomachs bulging
bring down society.
Diamond tears sparkling
throughout a crimson
stream.

Continental shifts
to another world
with heightened awareness
and death rates.
Transparency moves to
the facade, revealing
Satan's lair in the
heart of a six letter
word.

Musings and Poems...

139 Ways to sings the blues (abridged)

The walls in my house are
transparent revealing
histories of Broadway
and Madison. How I
imagine them, unknown
to my own eyes.

And suicide sleeps in the
closet next to Hughes
and Bessie Smith. Because
real art may have disappeared
within the last 20 years.

I am of separate
generation of dreamers
and hypocrites. I ignore
beggars on the street, but
want to solve world hunger.

And Nixon bathes next door
to the kitchen. Smoking
a joint and smiling as
he listens to Bono. Smiling
as he begins to drown.

Inquiries about price pop
up form observers who
think home has an
appeal. Forgetting the
importance of objectivity.

The basement is full
of ghosts passed down
through the generations
like furniture, but nicer.

Lithium batteries and
nuclear power charge
party night needs.

And I walk through
walls, knowing that
they didn't ever exist.

Transparency is a
game for the mind.

And objectivity died with Ginsberg.

And apathy is the drive in my eye.

Call me Lorraine

I dream of fishnets,
green sequins,
sleeping on the hood
of my car.

Counting 330 brushstrokes
to my two pairs of
jeans. Seven pairs
of clover shoes.

Chastity calls me
names to see if I
will react, I am
slipping away.

I remember stop sign
battles and bulemia
caught in a war of
wits and skirts.

Dreading the day he
realizes I love him,
and daring God
to hide it.

Patience is a virtue
I knit in my sleep.
Potholders yield my
inability to read.

I beg call girls to
say my name to
strangers, they
unwittingly agree.

Shifting position with
a lack of grace, no
beauty. Bitten nails
and Sharpie tatoos.

Luck is a seven letter
word, who few can
spell and even less
are willing to drink.

Makeshift virtue in
a yellow pill comes
fast and silent. A
pineapple's frown.

Weather in Lincoln is in limbo. I hate that. I hate the unsure... not the unknown. I got used to 70 degree weather and beautiful cool nights. Now it hasn't been over 50 in a week. It's sprinkling right now. I want so desperately for it to pour, for God to let loose the the floodgates and be able to watch a thunderstorm do it's damage. I want to be able to take a walk at midnight with a sweatshirt and a friend. I want to be cliche... because it's spring, and that's what nature is telling me to do.

My mind checked out of school a month ago. I've been looking for it ever since. And I think almost everyone is ready to kill each other (in the most loving and friendly way imaginable.) It's time for summer.

And summer has been one of the only things on mind since August. I yearn for hobo delight and people who can't keep their flipping hands to themselves. Not because they are the good things... but with the bad comes the amazing.

If I ever become a journalist people are going to shoot me, because I've said too many bad things about them. It's sad that a few (or more) people can ruin the appeal of a profession for many.

I have a no track mind... I can't keep my thought in order. I'm going to work on that. Until then, you have this jumble - Good luck!

Suggested reading: Look up some Bob Dylan lyrics.

Completely Random... ish

People (myself included) get ridiculously caught up in the bad things that are going in their lives. But, they forget "bad" is a relative term. My life is NOT bad. It's never been bad. I may never be bad... but it probably will, someday. Sometimes I think it sucks that my life doesn't suck. Why? Because the vast majority of great literary minds have had hardships in their lives. Hardship sparks creative flames and gives conviction to emotion.

God has made me a optimist at my core. I have trouble being sadistics, but I don't have a problem being sarcastic. I have trouble holding a grudge, but I don't have trouble forgiving people. I can't think of any reason why I couldn't forgive a person.

Ah! Enough with the being introspective. I'm like freaking John Lennon (but not nearly as talented or amazing!)

The sunshine colored flowers on my desk are smiling, and should be punched in the face. I think I might like spring, but not nearly as much as I like fall, as a season. But summer is the best for memories.

My dad recently bought a house to fix up and then rent to people. It's a hellacious pit... it's going to be great. The people who previously lived in it painted the windows in their bedroom black so no one could see in. I want to take a crowbar to the floor and uncover the the meth lab that probably exists beneath the boards. Or I'm going to venture into the decrepid attic to unearth the amazing past of the family the first lived in the house over 80 years ago. Perhaps I'll just go into the basement where some teenagers thought it would be funny to spray paint "Please dont retruv" on the door to the closet... I'll be sure to not RETURN if it's as scary as they meant it to be. Painting that house will be my May project. I'm going to need something.

I think I have a weird obsession with lips... or feet... or both. God... I'm so strange.

Can I just say one thing? This is my life: I have one sibling just married, one getting divorced, a picture of a demonic clown on my closet (one of my best friends), a miniature sheep on my shelf next to fish (who is still going strong), my bed has become my desk, I bought daisies for myself at Wal-Mart, and a Santa puppet resides on my bookcase. It's complete and utter chaos all the time.

The word dragonfly is pretty.

I'm done.

Suggested reading: Something/Anything (that's not the title) by Buddy Wakefield

Oh Laredo... Why don't you come to your senses?

Thoughts for today:

• We talked about Dylan in History of Rock to day. It was wicked... He's wicked. Did you know Ginsberg was in one of his music videos. That right there friends is destiny.
• I think if I ever have a real job I love it will be writing.
• Two years later... I still miss Kaarn.
• Being Catholic is awesome, and lent starts tomorrow, and I'm jazzed. Cause you know what happens after lent? On the third day He rises, and it's flippin' sweet.
• My fish Charlie (AKA: Pippa III) is indestructible... as of right now.

Seriously though... I don't have a lot for today. Too much is going on. God bless! This is all I have, and I offer it up.

Suggested reading: True/False by Dean Young

Testosterone Boys and Harlequin Girls

Love is such an unstable and torrential thing. Granted, I’m a hopeless romantic. Take that as you will. I like to think of it like I’m hopeless… but also romantic… maybe. The fact that two people can get married and never be in love, never know what love is, astounds me. I believe that love can come above all things. I believe that faith can carry you through. And I believe that hope is a necessity. Convictions get people places… those are mine.

So, maybe I’m gullible… or a little too innocent. Neither of which are very true. I’m just sure that in the end everything is going to turn out right. I’m sure when I lose my hearing at an early age because I listened to music too loudly… life will go on. When I am a broke writer after graduating college because I never took the time to get an internship… I’ll make it through. I try to take life as it comes and take it with a grain of salt.

So serious… all the time things are so serious. This is serious. I think a lot of the time people brush me off as trivial and flippant. I probably lend myself to that type of treatment. I think this image of happy-go-luckiness, which I innately am, has led to a recent suppressed and sadistic attitude toward things.

I’m a naturally optimistic person… naturally shy… naturally contradictory. In fact, I’m a walking contradiction… Cliché? … Yes. I’m good with that.

I’m a people pleaser. I like what other people like, and sometimes I like things because other people like them. And that doesn’t make me fake… it makes me flexible. I’m an analyzer. I think too much about too much. I wish I was more eloquent. I wish I was famous. I wish I was a better friend. I wish I was a better person. I wish I prayed more. I wish I could play my guitar. I wish I was more honest.

I think music is what holds things together. I think Allen Ginsberg was a genius. I think it’s God’s work that I only remember happy things about my past. I think that optimistic simplicity is as much of a blessing as it is a curse. I believe my purpose in life is to be good mother and wife. I believe that it’s ok to be too open with strangers. Openness is honesty. I believe few eyes will ever see this… I pray the ones that do can understand.

This is how I choose to express myself… words. It’s what I know.

Suggested reading: Ginsberg’s “Howl”

Countdown: 32 Days ... God help me ...

My mind is currently on crisis mode. I'm turning 20... How lame, right? Crisis mode may be an overstatement. But it's for sure making me think. Gross... I hate to think. I've been doing too much of that lately. I wrote this poem... but I don't know what I think of it.

XX

Verge of 20's
luxury in limbo.
Regression is the
house special.

Bring me
a side salad,
aside from the
snide comments.
A side down
19-20.

Double decade disco,
generation displaced.
Y stands for
Why me?

Capsule comfort,
Jesu be thy guide.
Spills to thrills
to bills,
passed by the
apethetic few.

A wine aged
enough
can not choose
itself.

I've recently decided that Allen Ginsberg had to be one of the smartest people ever. He wrote evocotively and masterfully. If I had even a fraction of his talent, I think I could change the world. I'm not very deep right now, or ever... that's fine. I'm going to stop. The lameness must come to an end.