work, school, work school work.

Life is...busy. I know working full-time and going to school full-time is only going to get more stressful, but the thought of taking it easy and going to school for the next two years is even less appealing than going hard and only having to go to school for one year. I'm not complaining--it was my choice and the fact that every single adviser and teacher (minus one) has acted like I am going to fail miserably (one even said "you're setting yourself up for failure") only makes me want to go even harder and prove the all wrong. I do realize, though, that next semester I may not feel the same way.

Work is...work. Its long, happy, sad, tiring, exciting--all at the same time. I'm struggling with staying professional, as some clients are have made their way into my heart in ways that others have not. I have to constantly remind myself that I have been able to help so many families, that the ones that I cannot help should not overshadow all of that goodness and happiness. Still, how is it fair that one family can be helped, and the other cannot? How is it fair that this child over here gets to go home and sleep in his very own bed, but that one over there has to share the floor with his brothers and sisters in a family friend's small apartment, as their family is "too large to accommodate" at any of the shelters. Our emergency assistance department is able to take 5 names a day to help with utility bills, but we get 300-400 calls a day.

Why is this the way things are? This makes my heart ache.

Although I struggle to stay positive at times because of the sadness I see, I remind myself how lucky I am to have grown up in the home that I did and to have the most amazing family anyone could ask for. There are no words to explain how lucky I feel.

Pigeon

Having mixed emotions of L O S T last night.

Love that a pigeon just landed on our windowsill. Wonder if it would have flown in had the windows been open!

Feeling so lucky and loved after today's events.

And that is all that I really have to talk about lately...

Happy Momma's Day!

Mamaw's response after opening a mothers day present that included an electric toothbrush:

"Oh!!! I might have to use this for something else."

another day another dollar

It is unbelievable how exhausted I am today. I (unintentionally) woke up at 7AM both Saturday and Sunday and was productive on so many levels, but I was able to catch up on some sleep with a few cat naps here and there. I worked out and cleaned our apartment almost obsessively, did all of the laundry and then finished up the weekend by spending way too much money at the grocery store (again).


I miss my friends. I miss the drunken/irresponsible nights that came so often with college and with living in Columbia. My rush to graduate and find a full time “big girl” job is now baffling to me and I often wish I would have taken the Van Wilder approach instead. Though I enjoy my job and the paychecks that come with, this whole full time, wake up at 7AM every morning is not as relieving as I think I though it would be. And while I love our new apartment that provides the convenience of living in walking distance to almost everything, I still miss Columbia and the drink specials that allowed you to spend only 10 dollars on drinks for the entire evening, and then 10 more at the beloved Diner that just happened to be owned by an old man that adored my grandmother that passed away when I was still in high school.


On another note, I went to the city market with Mamaw and Mom yesterday. None of us thought it would be open and were just driving by to make sure, but to our surprise there were tables full of fresh fruits and vegetables and little shops that offered some of the most darling merchandise. I wish I could put into words the love that I have for my mom and for Mamaw, but over the years I’ve come to realize that that will probably never be possible.


On another another note, Brandon and I watched “The Lovely Bones” this weekend. I expected it to suck, but (of course) I had to watch it just to see my Marky Mark for a good couple of hours. While the movie was much better than I thought it would be, it made me realize how badly I don’t want to die. After finishing the movie I thought about that in depth, about what would happen to my body, my mind, and my soul once I’m dead. After a while I began to feel sick to my stomach and decided that since I’ll never know for sure until that time comes, I might as well not worry over it at this point. Still, it is disheartening when one realizes that they are not invincible, and that anything could happen to any of us at any moment. Something anyone who has ever lost or almost lost a loved one can understand.


Well, I apologize for the jumpiness of this entry, and also for the morbidity—but cut me some slack, it’s Monday. And we all hate Mondays.

bomb diggity

My client came in today and told me that her 10-year-old grand son thinks I am THE BOMB! Tell me that is not awesome. I'm the bomb, YO!

Happy Friday!

rain rain go away

I chewed my pinky nail too short today. It hurts. Stupid habit. I started because I wanted to be like my sister. That was nothing new...

Rain. And I wanted to ride my bicycle today.

I want to explore.

So many things, places, avenues, ideas.

Sputnik

"Don't pointless things have a place, too, in this far-from-perfect world? Remove everything pointless from an imperfect life, and it'd lose even its imperfection."

-Sputnik Sweetheart, Haruki Murakami

This is a quote from one of my three favorite books, all written by the same author. I think everyone should read his books. He helps you appreciate good literature, the diversity in relationships, and true, real, deep, and sometimes disturbing love. I'm re-reading this one and I am even more appreciative than before.

I have some of the strangest memories of my childhood up until high school. Most are random, mediocre things that happened, pointlessly remembered. I remember sitting at the dinner table with mom and dad (before they were divorced) and having steak and crinkle-cut French fries. No vegetable (weird for my mom, right?). I had dad cut the steak (something he did for me up until probably a couple years ago—through if I asked him to cut my steak for me tomorrow, he would without the slightest bit of hesitation). I shoved the steak chunks to one side and the fries to the other, and filled the middle of the plate with as much ketchup the place would allow. And that is it (though I’m sure mom told me not to use so much ketchup). I don’t know why I remember those small, insignificant details. I suppose that is just it though—this memory seems so pointless, but it has a place in my past, my life, my brain, and for some reason it has always felt special.

Maybe just because I never forgot.