Loving you [ain't nothin like] cherry pie.

Ohh I have 28 4-foot high reasons to smile.
& it's just the beginning. It's amazing to watch a kid learn.

I'm so excited to do this for the rest of my life.

I like me. I like doing things on my own terms. I like my music, my dance moves, my movies and my thoughts... doesn't everyone like themselves? No one should be bothered by the idea of a "single" life because-let's face it-we all rock.

I'm slowly realizing that not every person that comes into your life has to be your one true forever love. Ohh surrreee, call me naive. But heyy, cut me some slack here. I fell in love at 17 (and hardddd), & teenagers are not known for being the most rational of age brackets. So I just thought that was how it was supposed to be. One second it's ducks in a city park & the next it's happily ever after, right? Wrong. Affection comes in all shapes and colors, and there is room in one's life for every kind of romance, just ask Gaga.

I suppose I am just a hopeless romantic. & not just because Disney has shoved 'true love' down my throat since I was five years old, but because I actually see it all around me. People fall in love every day. People love so much they write music, poetry and dance to avoid exploding with emotion.

I want that kind of love in my life again...

And just maybe I already have it. I suppose my conclusion is that I love myself & you should too. Love yourself, I mean. You can love me too, but that's not my point.

the best laid plans

All week I've been looking forward to some time away from myself. I wanted to go out and dance and sing lyrics that were probably wrong and be with my friends and just have fun.

So anyway, after finishing my commitments yesterday, I came home to change & WHABAM instant headache.

No... not headache. Migraine. Monstrous Butthead of a Migraine like I've never felt before.

So, I have to fight back, right? But see, the thing about a migraine being so close to your brain.. it robs you of your ability to thinkk. Scrambling for ideas, I load up on 400mg of ibuprofen paired with my regular migraine prescription Zomig. But my apartment is noisy... because it's a friday night & NORMAL PEOPLE are shaking off the week hanging out with their friends. Soo I retreat to the bathroom, unscrew the lightbulbs, light a candle, draw a bath & play some Enya... because Enya solves all problems, yes?

So there I am in the tub trying to comprehend Flora's Secret and desperately attempting to Deora Ar Ma Chroi... whatever that means. I give it a half hour before I realize that it isn't helping and that probably the only thing that will help is sleeping until I wake up without tiny men drilling giant holes into my brain.

I briefly consider napping in the bathtub, but then the unintended Virgin Suicides image pops into my head. Though with the pain as it was, I can't say I didn't consider drowning as a viable option.

Anyway, I blow out the candle and get into matching pajamas, regressing to childhood at an impossible speed. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I was whimpering by the time I climbed into bed. Still I'm hoping for a recovery because it's still before 10 so I'm hoping an hour nap can provide me a baptismal experience and release me renewed into the world & back to my regularly scheduled Friday night.

Cut to early Saturday morning and I'm wide awake of my own accord and absolutely ready to get into some shenanigans today! Who's with me?!







Oh.. but wait, it's not even 8am. Awesome.

A Very Sexy Problem

So I did laundry yesterday & my load of towels wasn't dry after a full cycle in the dryer. Muttering about the injustice and my need for dry, fluffy towels, I popped the suckers back in the dryer with a second sheet of bounce & went along my way.

But of course, the day busied itself into a tizzy & I failed to replace the towels to their home position on my towel rack.

Before I know it, morning comes. The birds chirp outside my window & my little alarm clock insists that it's time for a shower. I surround myself with bubbles and steam while rehearsing my new Celine Dion medley in time to get it ready for it's upcoming debut at a stoplight near you. And, as I put the finishing touches on 'My Heart Will Go On', I step out of the shower & reach out for a towel to dry myself off. But oh, hey... there aren't any towels in sight.

Perplexed, I think to myself "Well... this is a problem. A very naked problem. Should I run through my apartment in the nude? Who is even here? Did I hear any unfamiliar voices this morning? Would my roommates even be surprised to see nudity this early in the morning? Probably they'd think 'Oh, Lauren's naked again. Just another Wednesday...' ".

Anyway, I eventually convince myself that I have no choice. I have to streak the kitchen en route to the laundry room to fetch a towel. So I race to the laundry room, & though the surroundings are clear and not a person was witness to my fleeing naked body, I still feel a little thrill.

Conclusion: I think nudity is fantastic. Don't fear it.

I really should stop speaking.

I always speak too soon.

Some days you are the bug

& some days you are the windshield.

In the past 48 hours, my car has broken down on the highway in the snow at night more than an hour away from school & while waiting TWO HOURS for a tow truck, I got a nosebleed. I returned to an apartment with a mysterious odor akin to that of month old trash. Once that mystery was solved, I realized our heater was broken. & to top it all off, this morning I blew a fuse trying to dry my hairs & went to my first day of French looking a little like a french poodle. Awesome.

BUT! Things are absolutely looking up. My spirits are high & whether that is the good Lord's doing, or that of this amazing scented lotion is yet to be determined.

A thought: Timing.

Timing is everything, isn't it?
Ask any chocolate souffle. You must pull it out of the oven at precisely the right time to avoid under or-heaven forbid-OVER cooking it.

Matters of the heart are like chocolate souffles & cannot be planned, forced or rushed.

So don't try.

Harrisonburg bound come morning...

Ohh so bittersweet.

I'm sort of craving my little college bubble, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't full of mixed feelings.

There's a safety in my zipcode.

In addition to something petty and personal which I'll withhold, in the 23464 I'm surrounded by my family, and still so many of my closest friends live in VB. I like being close to the ocean. I like being somewhere guaranteed to be warm in a month. It's just so cold in the mountains...

Last semester I was blessed with a fascinating course list and manageable work load as the pairing for a lovely little personal breakdown. Regardless of my mental status, my GPA emerged unscathed.

This semester might not be so kind.

But perhaps a "vigorous academic schedule"-as my advisor would call it-will be a welcome distraction from my silly thoughts.

Well, stay tuned...

My new year's toast was better than yours.

What I'm trying to say...

According to my mom, I started speaking at nine months... nonsensically of course. But in full sentences that made complete sense to me: "Bird apple bye-bye go to park".

So, I kind of popped out of the womb speaking full sentences, and I guess I haven't really stopped talking since.

I don't know, I don't consider myself an anomaly in that respect... rather I find the concept of a quiet person quite curious. How can you have so many thoughts in your head and just lock them all in there? My little thoughts are little animals that need to be let out of their cages so as not to upset animal rights activists like last night's episode of numb3rs.

[I'm not entirely sure that that metaphor works, but you get what I mean, eh?]

I like to think that I don't speak of pointless things. There are people who really do speak endlessly about things that truly don't matter at all. & while it is my hope that I am not one of them, I do find myself always needing to talk, listen and just generally converse. How can you get to know someone, really know someone without listening to them speak?

& while speaking is rather important, it is essential to be heard. I think this is the hard part.

Stay with me here..

Okay so, even the most loquacious people may have a hard time saying what they mean, expressing themselves in a way that someone else can HEAR.

So how do we solve this problem?

We sing. We paint. We dance. We tattoo. We cry. We color. We scream. We shop.

Human beings express themselves in thousands of ways. If you want to get to know someone, discover their method of self expression.

And, for you quiet people out there, give us talkers a chance and please be patient. The fight is just as frustrating as hell, but what you get in the end is entirely worth it:

a connection.