"Snap, son!"

Man, oh man.

Thus far, '11 has been the best. Granted that there have been certain people that have left my life--some by choice, others by obligation--all in all, believing that everything happens for a reason, I choose to smile and continue on.

Love has yet to find me in its path. I keep waiting, day in and day out. A couple of months ago, I remember writing something to the extent of, "Does the 'work in progress' stamp on my forehead harbor a sudden dismissal by potential boyfriends?" and I don't think a day goes by in which that doesn't cross my mind. Does the sign warrant a "next, please"? Quite frankly, I believe that it does.

I continue to try and--unfortunately? regrettably? thankfully?--fail with each striking glance I give at church, at a club, at the local bookstore.

Some say that the second you quit looking for something, you'll find it (love, especially), but I just can't bring myself to halt my search. Who knows? Maybe the next post you'll see, dear reader, is that of love finally finding me, and there attached to the paragraph below will be a picture of a hand, clasped over top of another, and a ring resting amid the flesh...

Or, you'll just see another post griping about some boy or work or how my dog chewed yet another hole in my comforter.

Regardless, life will go on and the smile will be there tomorrow.

"No news is... good news?"

Thus far, 2011 has proven to be MY year. Everything has gone right thus far, and even though I know it's bound to end some time or another, I'm enjoying my happiness while it's here.

I've been blessed with friends in the most unlikeliest of places, and what do you know? I've actually found a guy who likes being around me as much as I like being around him. I'm trying not to over think this one, dear reader. Just this past weekend, I worried myself into a panic at the mere thought of him showing-up at my house... Ugh.

Last night, one of my best friends and I had a long conversation about what exactly is wrong with me. My childhood is splattered with random memories, most of which I'd rather not remember. And honestly, the sad part is, that's really ALL that I remember... I can't seem to recollect anything (good) prior to my eighth birthday. All of the things that I do recall, however, are for the most part traumatic.

I wrote a paper on this one time. It's a known fact that the brain can subconsciously forget certain memories if too traumatizing. However, the exact opposite can be said, as well. In certain cases, the brain holds to damaging memories, allowing the subconscious to develop outstanding defense mechanisms as a result--defense mechanisms so "developed" that they can hinder the ability to form relationships, perform daily tasks, or even function properly in society. Herein lies my problem.

It seems as though the guys that I like never like me... Or, could it be that I purposefully choose those who I know--consciously or otherwise--will never have an affinity for me? Do I set myself up for immediate failure, failure that, in the end, brings me closure and thus, comfort?

For those who do fall for my charm--ha!--I immediately start to panic. I dread the thought of seeing them, I get anxious at the sight of "our" future, I regret ever leading them in that direction.

It would be naive of me to believe that the troubles of my past and the current state of my present aren't related in some form or another. The question is: how I do reconcile the two? Or better yet, is it even possible to do so?

"While I'm Waiting"

Waiting is rough. I don’t like waiting. I think I’m probably the most impatient person that you’ll ever encounter. I think the toughest part of waiting is knowing—and coming to grips with—the fact that I’m not in control. But here’s the thing: if I actually had control of the situation(s), I’d screw everything up… And I know this, and yet I still have an issue with patience (or the lack there of.)

I’m not really scared of the unknown, though. I welcome change, usually. Change is a new beginning; change challenges us to become different individuals from who we were yesterday. Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and if there was every a day to celebrate change, it’s today.

MLK was an impatient man. Is this concluded by research? No, not in the least, but simply deduced by the man’s actions. He didn’t wait for change, rather, he made change. He called upon the heroism of humanity, the tested and fervent in spirit. He stood and made a motion to revolutionize the world… and it worked.

I guess all this is to say that while I may be impatient, I can still have some say in the commencement of said, “new beginning.” Rather than wait, call about the change yourself.

I’m reminded of proverbial farmers who, having crop-laden fields, prayed for rain. One made his seed ready, planting and toiling ‘til the day’s end. The other slothfully waited and did nothing for the groundwork of the coming harvest season. When the rains finally came, the ready farmer rejoiced as his field was drenched in the much need nourishment, while the other farmer… Well, his prayers were answered in vain.

So, I may not be a patient person… but while I AM waiting, I’m preparing my fields for rain. God will answer eventually, and when He does--and I know He will--I'll be ready. Praise Him for His faithfulness.

"Slow dancing in a burning room."

(The following post is a message left unsent. It seems as though that I am always the one to end things, and because of which, am always the one regretting doing so. In every circumstance, the first one to walk away is me... however, this was the exception. I write this to simply put into words what I could never say... not now, at least.)

I don’t like putting down a book. Never have. I mean, if I start reading something, if I purposely invest time in it, I want to see how it ends (even if it does suck.) Actually, I think that I’ve only put down one book in my life. “Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter.” Now that book was pretty good, but I had to stop reading it; it gave me nightmares. I guess sometimes you have to stop something good cuzz it hurts you in the long run…

Having said all this, I feel like you’ve checked-out. I don’t know why this surprises me, actually. Everyone always does.

I think the surprising aspect of it is “why.” I don’t feel that I did anything wrong. I sincerely wanted to get to know you, understand you. And I enjoyed the challenge. You made me laugh; our conversations were actually meaningful. Our friendship was easy, like breathing. Just came naturally, I guess.

And then, for whatever reason, you became a dickwad.

Whenever I do put down a book, I always read the last page before doing so. I guess I just like knowing how it ends even if I didn't make it through the middle. Consider this our “last page.” The first couple of chapters were fun… but “sometimes, you have to stop something good cuzz it hurts (too much) in the long run.”

"Just one of those days."

Hello, dear reader.

I woke-up pissed this morning. I was having a dream in which Sarah Palin wanted someone to shoot a raccoon for her, and I guess I wasn't having it.

It sucks that it is so closed to Christmas and I am in the worst mood ever. I just want to talk to someone, but it seems as though none of my friends have any drama in their lives whatsoever, leaving me unsympathizable. Not only that, I don't want to be a Debbie Downer. Who am I to ruin any one's good mood?

Honestly, I really only want to talk to one person... **sigh**

I'm not looking forward to Christmas this year. I mean, I'm looking forward to giving presents--I went all out this year!--but just the "getting together" part is gonna suck. Awkward. Utterly awkward. And depressing.

Things have never been the same since Granny D died. She was the staple that held my mom's side of the family together. Is it bad to miss someone for selfish reasons? I miss her because she was an amazing woman of God, who raised 13 kids without a formal education, and who managed to go to church whenever the doors were open... But I also miss her because of the holidays spent in her tiny trailer. Thanksgivings, and Christmases, and Easters. Everyone would gather at her little single-wide, people overflowing onto the patio... and somehow we always made it work.

And now what? We don't have get-togethers, and if we do, they're always a shadow-self of what they once were. A blurred representation of images long-passed, never to be seen again through clear lenses.

I miss the individuals who have changed since her passing. Is it possible to grieve for someone who isn't dead? Christmas should be interesting this year. And you, my dear reader, will hear all about it if, for nothing else, my own sanity.

"Well, that's new"

Oh, wasting time.

Today was nothing but a lazy day. I slept in--and by that, I mean 8:00am--cleaned house, and waited on the cable guy to show-up. I have TV now! And get this, I have it in my bedroom too! Excited? Yes... Yes, I am.

I came over to my g-parent's house tonight to scold my grandfather for not making an appearance today; he was supposed to come over after the cable guy left. Anywho, when he didn't show-up, I came over here and we got to watching Nature on NPT. The show was like, "Christmas in Yosemite" or something like that. It had this photographer skiing across the countryside, and my grandfather had me CRACKING UP, talking about his chilling military experience(s) while stationed in Alaska. Oh my goodness--I PRAY that when I die and get to Heaven, God lets me go back in time and watch history unfold itself.

Papa said that there was this one time when he and his platoon (???) had to sleep outside above the tundra line. Said that he made the "awful mistake" of zipping-up his sub-zero sleeping bag to where he only had one little peep hole to breathe out of. (By this point in the story, I'm already laughing cuzz... Well, my Papa is the BEST story teller.) Said something like, "And I tell you what--I must have rolled over in the middle of the night and I'll be danged if I didn't lose that little hole, and I began to panic, a-tossing and a-turning. I finally got two arms out," and he began to reinact the scene here, "and I pulled that sleeping bag apart, and I'll tell you what--I never made that mistake again."

I about DIED. Granted that now that you have read this, it doesn't appear half as funny, but to me--oh my goodness, I was rolling.

It's stories like these that I wish I hear more of. I can't get enough of them. Yes, at times, they can drag on, and yes, there are times when he repeats himself--but they are WORTH IT... Aaaand that's all I've got for the night. =)

"The Walking Wounded"

I don't claim to know love any more than I claim to know nuclear physics. I’ve never been in love, so to give advice on such would be asking too much of me.

To better explain my loveless situation, one would only have to watch, “The Holiday.” In it is a girl named Iris. I don’t think a character has ever existed with whom I can relate as much as her. She’s gorgeous (thank you) and she loves a guy who doesn’t love her back—of this, I am all too familiar.

Unrequited love. Yep, that’s all me. To love someone who doesn’t love you back—has my name written all over it.

I don’t understand true love, and not understanding leaves me with the inability to sympathize.

Unrequited love, though. To give advice on THAT is simple—move on. Date other people. Live your life. There a BILLION people in this world; surely you can find ONE to make you happy.

But to CONTINUE to pursue someone even when you KNOW they don’t love you… Makes no sense. Absolutely no sense.

It must be hard for those individuals who wake-up one morning only to find that their "true love" doesn't return the favor. To spend the majority of your life with someone and to sudden have the realization that the rest of your life won’t have them in it—yeah, I guess that might be a little difficult to cope with.

I’ve never been in love, so I can't really give advice on it. But, I do know unrequited love, and the best thing I can say is this: move on, be free, and live your life. After all, you came into this world alone--you'll leave it the same way.