Everybody loves a good book.

The kind that really sucks you into the story.

The kind that make you shower faster so you can just get back to those beautiful lines that somehow make you feel a part of something exciting.

The adventure, the relationships, the mystery...

We all wish we lived in those books sometimes.

{i wish there was an 8th Harry Potter.

a 5th Twilight.

another Princess Diaries.

A new series!}

Bring on a new series, baby.

It bugs me

when people label others by their hair color.

Most specifically: redheads.

It's like the color of their hair makes some people uncomfortable

and those people feel they must speak out against the elephant in their minds.

They must label the person by their hair-

say something witty about how that makes them different.

It's like....hair racism. Is there a legit word for that?...

Get over yourselves, people.

Redheads are just as unique as you.

Stop yelling "ginger," for goodness sake...

Sometimes, when presented with a new space

my mind buzzes with possibilities of how to use it.

I must hold my body back from running around

dancing

spinning

jumping

singing.

[my friends can witness to this. sometimes I just dance around and do odd things. {this} is my explanation.]

I especially have this problem whenever I step on a stage or large wooden floor.

I suddenly think I can tap and hip hop it up like a pro.

I want to sing something important and steal hearts.

I want to {inspire.}

I want to take control and use it.

I think my body is trying to tell me something.

But, it's time to go to work now.

{sometimes the floors are greasy and I can practice my moonwalk.

please don't disown me.}

When I am old

I will still be sexy.

You just wait.

Bahaha.

I'm discovering

that I don't need to earn love.

I don't need to push it away.

I should not fear it

or put it on a pedestal.

I don't need to search for perfection.

I don't need to be perfection.

People do fail. Them, me.

But love wills more.

To overcome. To be something special.

A lovely union.

A gift of God.

But for now, I spend time with my Creator.

He'll show me things I never knew.

Will romance me like no one else can.

Will help me grow to be the woman He created me to be.

I love Him.

He loves me.

That's all there is to it.

I like the idea

that pets are "practice babies."

Have you ever heard of this concept?

Though I'm nowhere near wanting to have a child yet, I do kind of want my own pet(s).

In my own place.

Hee.

I want to pick a little fluffy monster.

I guess this thought was spurred by visiting 3 animal adoption centers yesterday.

Bad idea.

Certain critters catch your eye and just latch onto your heart!

So here's to you, big tabby with the steady stare;

One day, you and your cohorts will have homes.

I will own all of you.

Only, not.

Vet bills are expensive and I don't want to be "the crazy cat lady."

Much.

[dogs are acceptable too. i just first gravitate toward the felines, my own kind. mrrrow]

Lately I have wondered:

when I collapse into myself,

who will be there to coax me out?

When I have no words,

who will carry the conversation

and ask me things I can answer?

When I'm not funny,

who will stick around?

When I feel ugly,

who could care less, and go grunge with me?

When I seem to make excuses,

who will understand that even I don't get it?

When I get quiet,

who will notice and feel concerned?

Who will have compassion?

Who will care, no matter what?

Who can I always count on?

Who won't judge my unpredictable soul?

I can't even count on myself.

Don't worry- this is just me tonight.

I'll be fine tomorrow.

The questions won't hound my mind so unrelentingly.

But in this moment of clarity, I wonder.

What are my true friendships?

I put a lot in and I don't know how steadfast the return is.

It scares me.

And it makes my heart ache.

The 4th of July

used to be my least favorite of all holidays.

This was because I equated the 4th to

sirens, firecrackers, cannons, and insanely loud fireworks. And don't forget those fights for the good candy.

I had/have sensitive ears, and the noise sends my ears into a pin-pointed, painful tizzy.

The sounds scare me, catch me off guard, kind of get me angry. So all of my life, I'd ask my parents to leave me home during the parades and the fireworks.

It was sad, but I'd rather stay away from the pain and fear.

But now, I go to see fireworks on the riverfront.

The fireworks are shot from the other side, so they aren't as shockingly loud.

A couple years back was my first time being able to sit through a fireworks show. My friends couldn't get over how amazed I was and how much I enjoyed it.

They didn't know how I'd loathed the 4th before because I couldn't really enjoy it.

Now, I can.

[I do still avoid the parades though. I heard that they stopped throwing candy altogether (I actually didn't mind the fights so much)].

So, Happy Independence Day all!

Being bloated

sucks.