Sunday, December 16, 2007

I'm sick. :(

Friday, December 07, 2007

"We'll share this fortune cookie."
"How about you eat the cookie, and we just share the fortune?"
"Okay, here-you read the fortune. What does it say?"
"'You will live a long happy life.'"
"Thats a good thing to share."
"It sure is."

Monday, December 03, 2007

Mr. Not perfect, but just right for me:

He'll get just as excited as me about all the stupid science fiction/fantasy movies and books that come out. He'll sit through Disney movies without complaining too much. He'll look at me from across the room just to let me know he's thinking of me. He'll say my name like it feels good just to say it. He'll leave me notes in hidden places for me to find later when he's not there. He'll hug me without warning. He'll like to spend the night just being next to me. He'll sing aloud with me in the car. He'll love me for who I am, bad parts and all. And he'll let me love all the horrible things about him too.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Being alive is hard stuff.

Being alive is hard stuff. And I'm tired. Sometimes, I just wish I could have awhile where I could feel safe, secure, and content all at the same time.

I mean, sure, happiness lights up my life like so many fireworks, but that just makes the darkness seem SO much more consuming while I wait for the next round of amazing.

I don't know what its like to be other people. We all have our trials and our joys. I don't know if having so many "bad things" means I'm strong enough to handle them, or that I'm weak and I need these things to make me stronger. Some days, it feels that one more blow is going to knock me down for the count. And I don't even want to get up again. I really am tired of hanging on.

I just want to be able to fall apart and let someone else catch me, but I end up being the one picking up the pieces around here, holding things together the best I can. And now I'm afraid that I CANT let anyone else help me hold it together.

One day. One day. One day, it will all be over, right? Things will get better. They keep telling me that things will get better, I only have to survive until then. I'll survive, but I'm gonna come out of it scarred beyond belief, and nothing will ever fix me. And I'm tired.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

I'm afraid of butterflies.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

When I think of it in poetry, it was a GOOD night.

Last night Nika invited me to a bonfire at her uncles house. Suppressing my insane need to arrive everywhere early, I arrived just on time. Incidentally, I was the first one there. :( Apparently, this was one of those "fashionably late" events. Oh well.

The sky was covered in not-quite-ominous looking clouds but the fire was warm and the host was friendly. I waited. When Nika and J arrived, we made hot dogs over the fire right before the rain began to fall. Here comes the poetry: we were huddled under an umbrella like an island of safety while the heat of the fire fought with the cold of the rain. Finally, the rain decided to exit gracefully. Smores, hot coco, and hot cider followed. More friends arrived and we talked and laughed in the glow of the flames, resting on bales of hay.

Later, we all went to the movies to see Dan in Real Life. Only about halfway through the movie did it occur to me that I was the only single person in a group of couples, but that didn't matter at all. As we were leaving the theatre, I noticed the sky had finally cleared, revealing a bright moon and only a couple brave stars.

Thanks Nika.

Sarah Jo

Saturday, October 20, 2007

This is how I show my anger.

"Will you come pick me up?" He asks over the phone. It's more of a prompting than a question; he thinks he knows the answer.
"No." I reply casually, as if he had asked me if I'd like a Popsicle or if I'd seen the latest blockbuster.
"No?" He struggles, trying to make his lips, tongue, and teeth work together to form this foreign word.
"No." I repeat in my best friendly voice.
"What do you mean?" He gropes for understanding because, contrary to all obvious evidence, I can't really mean "no", can I?
"I mean 'no', as in, 'no, I will not come pick you up'" I clarify. Poor thing, hes so confused.
"Um . . . okay." Silence. "Can I talk to mom?"


(Yes, I am satisfied.)

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Bleh

I had a bad day. I'm so tired of crying at work. I want a job that doesn't make me cry. I keep telling myself that I graduate in May and then can go do something else, but now Katie is leaving and it's not going to be the same without her. I thought I was going to visit her in Canada but that fell through and now theres only that distant future that's so foggy I can't make anything out.

School is great this semester. I haven't complained about it, have I? I can't remember. But, work is another matter. I just had my annual review and it didn't go so well. She told me what I should do to improve and I tried that today and she told me I had a really good day, but it wasn't good at all. Why should I try harder when I care so little? I know I should work hard at what I do because I'm getting paid to do it well, but a person can only handle so many mean, mad, grumpy people and still be able to smile.

Let me talk about something positive now. Katelyn and I finished the book! Now, we are going to get it printed and give copies to a couple people to read and give us their (constructive) criticism. Hopefully, people wont hate it. Then, I guess we try to get an agent. We'll see where it goes from there.

I dunno. I'm in an awfully sour mood. I have been all day. Being around people didn't help. Maybe I'll go be alone now. Me, and a book.

Sad, Sad, Sarah Jo

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Bad stuff happens like the seasons around here.

So, after 12 years at one place, my dad got laid off. As you can imagine, it is a little frightening to have the source of income to dissapear. However, my dad is always calm and resilient, making even a crises seem like a minor setback. Hes not upset. I asked him how he could remain so calm and he told me that much worse things could have happened.

It reminds me the day of my grandma's (his moms) funeral. There we were, standing in the line at the front of the church where people are supposed to walk by and offer their condolences like some kind of grieving recieving line. But, I wasnt shaking anyones hand or listening, I was clinging to my dad and crying all over his shirt while he held me like the world wasn't falling apart. That will always be my most prominent memory of him, like a summary or a defining moment. This is my father: the one person who didn't expect me to cry, the one person who held me until I was finished.

Dad said, "What bad can happen as long as we are all together? We'll get through this, Red." And I suppose we did. And I suppose we will.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Today, one of my customers threw something at me. When did this become appropriate behavior?

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Resident Evil: Extinction

Last night I went to the movies by myself and ended up meeting a stranger in the ladies room and then sitting with her and her husband. Hah. It all happened because I have this extreme inability to stay silent when other people are near enough to hear me. So, I said, "Hi!" as we both washed our hands and it ended up a few minutes later with, "You should come with with us!". And I did.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

I'm going to have gastric bypass surgery (roux en-y) in December.

This is how it is to be fat:

It lives under my skin like another being, its not me, but my prisoner, my prison, my pain. I can’t escape, now enslaved to the restrictions and the desires of my rolls. Eat more. Stop moving so much. Stop trying.

It is a lens in front of my eyes, making me look at the world, my friends, and myself differently. Is that chair big enough? Will it hold? I don’t want to go there, we might have to walk a lot. How can she complain about her size 8 jeans not fitting anymore? I must be worthless, no one asks me out. Sure, I’m nice but who could get past the double chin and the width of my hips? They must always say I’m “sweet” because they are too nice to say “fat”.

It is a leech, eating away at my body and my spirit. It steals my breath when I carry myself up the stairs. It consumes my energy when I dare go out to that festival or that amusement park. My self-confidence is swallowed whole by stretching skin and too much weight. Ambition and desire have long been devoured by the need to stay home and hide, where I feel less hideous.

It is my obvious secret. I can’t talk about these things with people who might care because I did this to myself. No one made me eat the way I do; no one else forced me to skip the exercise for a nap. How can I complain? This isn’t a disease, it is my own doing. How could I complain any more than the drug addict or the person facing bankruptcy because of gambling? This is self-induced.

It is the end of my dreams. I tell myself I don’t want to get married because I believe no one would ever be attracted to me. I’m not attracted to fat men, how could I expect any different? Even then, how would I find a dress big enough for me? This is why I didn’t go to prom. And then if I did get a dress, would the aisle be wide enough for both me and my father to walk down together? Suppose somehow someone does decide he loves me that much, I do find a GIANT dress and a church with wide enough aisle, what happens on the wedding night when he sees me naked? I don’t want to see me naked. And maybe I shouldn’t go to Europe because they aren’t overweight like Americans, it might be even worse over there. In fact, maybe I shouldn’t go out to eat with my friends because they might be thinking about how much I’m eating and not about what I’m saying to them. How could I face these challenges? I might as well give up hope altogether.

It is my constant torment. I diet and exercise enough to lose 20 pounds (which doesn’t feel any different at all to me, my jeans aren’t any looser) only to gain it back and more when I finally decide that effort isn’t worth the reward. I see no escape in this hopeless future of feeling tired and ugly and uncomfortable in my own skin. It is exhausting smiling so much when I just want to go hide and cry.

But let me tell you what it isn’t. It isn’t the death of hope or the only thing left for me. I’m going to have weight loss surgery.

So, understand why I get defensive when you say, “Doesn’t that surgery kill people?” Because, honestly, I would rather die trying than continue living this way; it is a half-life. Understand that, to me, twenty-five thousand dollars doesn’t sound like too much if insurance won’t cover it. I can’t put a price on what it feels like to even hope, let alone what it might feel like to experience freedom. Understand that I have tried other things, this is the only thing I think will work permanently. I didn’t just come to a snap decision, I’ve researched. I’ve studied. I’ve asked questions. I’m ready.

Finally, I just wanted to let you know that I don’t want to hear the horror stories you’ve heard from this or that person. I don’t want to hear that you are worried, that I should “be careful” or that maybe I should consider this or that alternative. I’m about to go through the most scary, exciting experience of my life this far. What I need is support and encouragement. What I need is to be honest about the biggest secret I’ve ever had.

Can you do this for me?

Friday, September 07, 2007

"Hey there Pumpkin!"

I hate it when I have something on my mind that I don't want to share with everyone. I wouldn't call it a secret, exactly, just one of those things that you only talk about with your close friends, and then when you feel comfortable, everyone else. But I'm not a very private person, so it feels strange not to share things.

In other news, so far, this semester is great. I only go to oxford two nights a week and I'm only taking thirteen credit hours and one of my classes actually has creative writing as the homework, so its amazing! Of course, when I'm turning things in I pay a bit more attention to things like sentence structure, grammar, and spelling.

I sure like the baby. I like to watch her sleep and hold her when she cries and hear the sounds she makes when she's eating. I like laying my hand on her back while she sleeps so I can feel her breathing in and out. I love the way her toes curl in and the way she grunts at me when I touch them. She sure doesn't like being messed with. Mostly, I haven't found anything I don't like about her except that nasty umbilical cord, but everyone assures me that it will fall off soon. *shudder*

Well, I'm going to go make that CD for Katie that I said I'd make several weeks ago. . .

Sarah Jo!

Take that!

I was reading the last chapter of the last Harry Potter book when it happened: the noise. It came from behind me, to my left. Soon, it became apparent that an insect has somehow infiltrated the sanctuary of my bedroom and was now hiding inside the lampshade. As I moved closer to investigate, the enemy dropped so quickly I only saw the black flash falling to the floor near my bed. I crawled across the bed and peered over its edges, trying to get a closer look at my adversary. As if anticipating my every move, it flew up, towards my face, circling my head before landing on the ceiling, mocking me. A wasp. Before I knew it, I was off the bed and running towards the doorway, casting a suspicious eye on my attacker. Too late, I realized my mistake. There, on the bed, still open and waiting, was my book. I couldn't just leave it there.



Now, the wasp was crawling down the wall, creeping closer to the doorway, to me. I had no choice. Cautiously, I crept into the room, leaving a wide berth between myself and the monster. As soon as my fingers touched the rough cover of the book, I was fleeing the room, swinging the door shut behind me. The battle was lost, but the enemy was trapped.

Finally, reinforcements (my father) arrived. He lead the front lines while I waited (cowered) outside the bedroom door. He checked the walls. He checked the ceiling. He checked the light. No wasp. In a desperate move, he pulled aside the curtain to reveal the breach that allowed the enemy to gain access; the window was open about two inches at the top. Clearly, this is how the battle began, but did the monster once again use this hidden portal to escape the battlefield, or was it lurking in some dark corner to catch me unawares. No, I couldn't allow this to happen.

While my father watched my back, I gathered clothing to dress in the bathroom. As I went to fetch a shirt off the floor, I was it. I spied the enemy. I sounded the alarm. Swiftly, my father brought fate to the sneaky little monster between a shoe and the carpet.

After some intense labor (no time at all), the corpse was disposed of and the battlements reinforced. Once again, the bedroom is safe.

Sunday, September 02, 2007

The story of a dream

The other day I had a horrible dream and woke up crying. Okay. That happens occasionally. But then today I had another dream that caused me to wake up crying. This is excessive. In this dream, my mother was having a baby and I was going to the hospital to visit her. On the way to the hospital, I met some cool girl with funky hair, piercings, and tattoos. She seemed really nice, but then when we got to the hospital, I found out it was a set-up and there was a shoot out! This person was shooting at me with some kind of automatic weapon and I was hiding but then one of the bullets hit me and bounced right off. It hurt, but I didn't die, which was good. So, I walked towards the person with the bullets flying at me and I reached up and broke the gun. The other person died, I guess. Finally, cops and paramedics showed up and I looked down at myself to see that I was covered in open wounds and it REALLY HURT. I started crying. I woke up. How terrible. Naps ARE evil.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

Wondering

So I guess it happens that people aren’t always who they’ve always been, and things that you could always count on aren’t there anymore. So I guess it happens that things you expected to stay the same suddenly change. But here I am, and I don’t feel any different than before. Is there room for me now that everything is different, or will I remain part of the past with all those old memories and that box of photographs?

Friday, August 24, 2007

Introducing:






This is a video of Kiersten and her daddy about an hour after she was born. I believe its Kiersten Gabriell(e/a) Lee Lewis


6lb 7oz 19in. born Friday, August 24, 2007 at 1:11pm







video



Saturday, July 28, 2007

Simpson Sarah


Just wanted to share the results of http://simpsonizeme.com/#


Thursday, July 26, 2007

Fun times

At this very moment, the central air AND the refrigerator are broken. Is this like the preview of hell? The night included: warm egg yolks spilling all over my hands, sweat, trying to decide which items should be saved from yesterdays grocery trip, oh, and arguments. You know, because yelling at each other makes everything better.

When are we going to Gatlinburg?

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Creative writing feels like delicious.

So, I've decided that while I really love to write, I especially love to share what I write. Sometimes, however, what I write has nothing to do with me. So, I'm creating a second blog to put all the stuff I write and want to share that maybe no one cares about but it will make me feel better having it somewhere. Anyway, if you are interested, its here and if not, just don't go there, kay?

Sarah Jo

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Things I waited to say (until after you walked away)

The other day at work, I was inspired to write two poems with exactly the same title, but with two different messages. I had a lot of fun writing them, so I want to share them with you!

Things I waited to say (until after you walked away)

Silence does not mean that I’m mad at you
its just, I expect my words to betray
all the feelings I haven’t the courage to express
(until after you walk away)

You call me a friend to my constant delight
but I cannot help but to wish for much more
and although sometimes it seems that you feel the same way,
it is never enough to be sure.

Your quirky charms make me smile like a fool
even when you aren’t around,
but its so much more than words could describe;
it’s your presence, your scent, and your sound.

How could I, being me, (without sparkle or shine)
ever hope to deserve one such as you?
Still, insecurities cannot refute what is plain,
this declaration is long overdue.

So, I’ll say it this once, despite all my fears,
despite what my cautious heart begs me to do,
It’s been far too long that I’ve waited to say:
I’ve fallen in love with you.





Things 2

Silence does not mean I’m not mad at you,
holding my tongue is the best weapon I can muster.
And after all the excitement your shining eyes promised,
I’ve never experienced anything so lackluster.

You once called me a friend to my constant delight
but I do not think that the label will stay
for I intend to keep every piece of my heart
now that you’ve so gallantly thrown it away.

So, forgive me if I’ve failed to articulate
the many reasons this romance met its demise
its just that all the quirky charms that drew me near
are the very ones I’ve learned to despise.

How could I, being me, (without voice to defend)
ever hope to recover from you?
Still, somewhere inside is the woman I was
is the love of myself I once knew.

So, I’ll say it aloud, despite what happens next
because I cannot hope to survive this anew
(although all this seems vaguely familiar)
I’m finally finished with you.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Thats what SHE said!

I would like to share some important things I learned yesterday. While they are separate lessons, they are all intimately related.

First: When bleach is poured into the place marked "liquid bleach only" in our washing machine, it simply runs out the bottom of the machine onto the laundry room floor.

Second: It is not a good idea when separating the laundry to leave the blacks piled up in front of the washing machine on the laundry room floor.

Finally: Black dye for clothing cannot undo the damage bleach has wrought.


In other news, after the urging of several parties, I watched the office. Every episode. And yes, it is amazing and wonderful and other positive adjectives. You were right. Now, I feel the need to spread the Office gospel, because I have been converted and I am new! Haha. And I do feel the need to share a quote from Dwight: "I know what you are thinking: Won't that just shed more light on the penises?"

More excitement? There is. I'll tell you about it, and then answer your questions:

I went on a date. (I know, right?)
I'm turning 21 REALLY soon. (Yes!)
Katelyn and I are writing a book together. (Yes, when it's finished.)
I tried asparagus. (No, it was green. Of course I didn't like it.)
I'm going to Europe. (August, 2008.)
Now I have a real cell phone plan where I can actually talk to people and stuff. (T-mobile.)
I now officially hate my job. (New people, old people gone, negativity, stuff.)


I guess that covers it. Now we won't have anything to talk about, will we?

Sarah Jo

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

I DO have standards . . . and you don't meet them.

Ashley J mentioned the other day that something seemed "off" with me. Maybe I agree. I dunno. I'm not sure which version of me she is comparing the current me to, since she has been in Michigan most of the time for the last three years, and well, three years is a long time. Maybe. . . she just isn't used to me anymore. Or something.

Summertime is lovely, if not unproductive. Yes, the stress of school is gone, kind of like the waves disappearing, giving me time to breathe. But, without a little motion in the water, it just turns to a stagnant, dead pool. Nobody wants that.

Today, I had an "ouch" moment. You know the moments where you realize what you wish would happen is never going to happen? I mean, I can pretend for weeks, even months at a time, that everything is going the way I would love it to go but then. . . . *ouch* Oh well, its not good to hold on to false hopes anyway, right?

Ewww! Today, I customer informed me that he was passing a kidney stone. While. I. Waited. On. Him. Ewww.

So, Katelyn and I started writing books together. Its going well and its SO much fun. Its amazing to get to create characters and put them in situations and decide how everything turns out. I am learning that authors aren't crazy when they say that characters make them do things. After all, if Leena did this, she wouldn't be Leena, would she? But then, you don't know Leena. I don't know if you ever will.

Yesterday, I decided that I like Micheal Buble. 'specially the romantic tunes.

Oh! I have another story! Denise said she was at the drugstore the other day and some man told her she looked familiar. She said she worked at the License agency. He said he was there the other day and that young red-haired girl was just a joy, and she was cute too. Then, he apparently wished to revise his statement by insisting that he was a "christian man" and he meant it in a "christian way". Haha. When Denise told me this story my response was:
"He was old, wasn't he?"
"Yeah"

Yep. Old guys and sex offenders have the hots for me! Oh, and I can't forget the toothless, alcoholic black men at the drive-thru. I'm thinking the next shirt that I order should say something like, "I DO have standards. . . and you don't meet them." It's gonna be great!

Well, I think I'll go daydream and wonder, plant some angst and see what blooms.

Sarah Jo

Saturday, May 12, 2007

You should really read this one:

I walked into work this morning and my boss informed me that I had a letter. A letter? At work? Apparently everyone else felt the same curiosity. Who would send me a letter at work? I examined the envelope. It only said "Sarah" and then our work address. Whoever this is, obviously doesn't know my last name. I looked at the return address. "Manno" in Lebanon. I don't know anyone named Manno, and I don't know anyone in Lebanon. Perhaps a customer?
I open the letter:

Sarah,

Hello. I feel weird doing this, mostly because I don't usually write to
strangers I see, but also because I'm really shy.

But here I go, because when I saw you and talked to you, there felt like
there was something I couldn't ignore. I don't know how to describe it, really,
but it was there in the way you smiled, the way we flirted back and forth . . .


WHOA! Stop right there! Flirted? I don't flirt. Whats going on here? I continue reading. The letter goes on to describe in detail just how I made this person feel. Then, he describes himself. I remember him. Oh no! I remember him! (I'll tell you all about that in a minute.) Next:

. . . I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries here, but you are a very friendly and absolutely gorgeous young woman. You have a wonderful personality and I
loved the way you were "dancing" to the songs in your head. Yes, I did mention
you are pretty, and I meant it. I think your smile and your freckles are your
best attribute. There are other things I noticed, but I'll save that for later.


My hands are shaking and I think I might get sick. Really.

But I felt a nervous calmness around you. Like it was easy to chat with you,even though I was nervous and every word you spoke was like a symphony.


Oh. My. Gosh. Is he serious? Is this for real? Oh yes, he certainly is. Well, he goes on to explain what I already knew; he is currently an inmate of Lebanon Correctional Facility. He wants me to write him. He wants to see where we can go from there. He says that we can be friends "for now".

What did my co-workers say? "You should write him back! Look at his nice handwriting! He sounds smart. Maybe it's nothing serious. You know, he's just in the place for minor offenses. At least ask him what he did."

Would you like to know what he did? Because, thanks to the Internet and the information he so willingly gave me, I know EXACTLY what he did. Domestic Violence. Gross Sexual Imposition. I dont even know what that second one means, but it does sound good! And he's 32 years old! I'm not writing back to some 32 year old sex offender inmate who wants to tell me what else he noticed later. In fact, next time he comes in , I'm hiding. Thats right: Hiding.

My thoughts? Since when did being nice and bubbly mean I was flirting with someone? Now do I have to STOP being nice and bubbly around men? And why is that my very first love letter comes from a much-older criminal person? What happened to the nice young men? Dang it!

Write him back, indeed. Silly girls.

So, I remember asking what was so hard about someone thinking me to be absolutely amazing. I would like to revise. What is so hard about someone I find amazing finding me to be amazing as well. Geez. Next time, I'll clarify.

Sarah I-don't-want-anymore-letters Jo

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Books = delicious

Hi!

So, I started writing this poem and no matter what I do to it, I'm not happy. Nothing fits. It feels like the first and last verse are just pasted on there. No matter how I change it, it seems unsatisifed. I like the middle, but I don't think its saying enough, so I keep trying to fix it, to no avail. Anyway, I'm sharing here because I have nothing better to do with it.

Now, I'm going to go back to reading Twilight where, just like the main character, I am in love with Edward the Vampire.



When did I fall in love with you?

When did I fall in love with you?
Was it too subtle for you to see?
Let me show you all the ways
you romanced me:

It’s Tuesday and
you are singing softly
as I am keeping time
with my hand on my knee
and the melody
is bit off-key
but it doesn’t phase me
because you are
singing
about love and forever
and looking into my eyes
and it’s Tuesday.

It’s Sunday and
I am slowing fading
in the passenger seat
the music
and the hum of the engine
weave a lullaby
and you cast a spell
with your thumb
tracing lazy patterns
on my knee
and the song plays
about happiness and passion
as you are touching me
and it’s Sunday.

It’s Thursday and
we are laughing
leaning forward
over cups of warm caffeine
sharing our thoughts
dreams and
insecurities
your face is alight
all covered in honesty and excitement
as you talk
about beauty and romance
and you are smiling at me
and it’s Thursday.

When did I fall in love with you?
It was in moments like these
when I was with you,
and you were with me.

Sarah Jo!

Sunday, April 29, 2007

Title-smitle

Hi!

I started reading back over past posts, as I sometimes do, and it made me like me more, as it usually does. So, on those days when I can't figure out why I do this blog thing, I should remember that it is a good reflection of my personal growth/exploration/what-have-you. And, unfailingly, no matter how much I change or grow, there is always the most important part of me crying out in the loudest voice. No matter what is happening in life, I've noticed three things I write about: my relationship with God, how much I want/enjoy talking with other people, and happiness.

Everything is not always okay. Sometimes, I feel that I could not handle one more thing. Other times, I feel so happy and content that I might just explode. Today, I am in the middle portion of that continuum, or, as my health professor would say, I'm living in the margin.

Something else I've noticed? I nearly always get what I want, even if sometimes I have to wait a very long time. Other times, I realize that the things I didn't get, are things I didn't really want in the first place. God is awesome and I am spoiled rotten. *grin*

So, thinking over something I've wanted for a VERY long time, I will tell myself that I will get that too, even if I have to wait a VERY long time.

I'm happy.
I'm happy.
I'm happy.
(Let's try to keep it that way.)

Sarah Jo!

Saturday, April 28, 2007

*Smile*

Because thats what I've been doing since I found the mountain dew this morning. I don't drink very much pop, but apparently it is an effective cure for evil-morning-Sarah.

Two more days of classes and I can spend three months allowing my brain to slowly dissolve into a jello-like puddle of jello-like stuff. (Dissolving has aparently already begun.)

I wish I had some wonderful story to tell you involving a handsome gentleman and an adventure that changed my life, but. . . I don't. Oh wait, I do! Once upon a time I was all kinda sad on the inside and pretend-happy on the outside and I was sure that I would crumble into a thousand pieces with the unstable world I was living in. Then, someone introduced me to a Man that loved me so much, He actually died for me. Ever since then, I have been falling more and more in love with the very One that fell in love with me. Oh, and it changed my life. The end!

I know, I know; you knew that story already.

This perfume is making me smell magically Delicious. You should feel sad that you cant smell it right now. If you were here, I would hug you to make you happy again and then you would smell my perfume and be twice as happy!

I went for coffee with Katie again. It didn't last three hours this time, but I dont think that was an improvement. Long talks = awesome. Yes, my verbal abilities astound.

Okay, well, this is obviously not going well. I'll try to write something when my life gets interesting.

Sarah Jo

Sunday, April 22, 2007

A waste of your precious time follows.

I don't really have anything in particular to share, just the urge to communicate. So, here I go:

At church this morning we had a speaker (I can't remember her name) who has written 14? books so far; the first was Jesus CEO. She was a very moving speaker. Then. . . I came home.

Hmmm. This is not a very interesting entry. Maybe you should go find something more entertaining. Maybe I should grab someone off the streets and make them tell me about their feelings. Or. . . solitaire? homework? reading? knitting? eh.

I think I'm going to join a small group at church.
Thursday a beetle hit me in the face.
I'm going to have a niece.
I've got a week and a half left of school.
I'm kind of looking forward to that first sunburn.
I'm currently addicted to Jimmy Needham.
Theres a large yellow jacket outside the window right now.
I would like to go lay a blanket on the grass and close my eyes and daydream, but the neighbors would stare and their dog would investigate me.
I got a random free hug today!

Okay, I'm distracted. I'll go.

Sarah Jo!

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Pink stuff and whipped cream!

Last night I went to a comedy club for the very first time! It was fun minus the old guy at the end talking about his penis several times. I dunno what that was about. Yay for new experiences!

And. . . Katie asked me join her for coffee after work and it was much fun as we talked about boys, excuse me, guys for quite some time. Other topics were covered. Apparently, three and a half hours is not too long for coffee. Oh, and the coffee-shop-worky-lady/girl gave us free drinks! She said that she saw our drinks were empty and she was bored, so she made some new concoction involving strawberry bomb and vanilla. My mouth liked the concoction.

And now my mouth would like some, uh, food. I'm thinking the hamburger wagon. Have you ever been there before? Its good like. . . stuff that tastes good!

Sarah Jo

Friday, April 20, 2007

Juice!

Is there anything better? Well, yes, but right now this wonderful creation is what's making my mouth, and therefore, me, happy.

Yes, that was all I had to say.

Sarah Jo!

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Current Status: Choas

I've come to view my desk as a reflection of my life. When a new semester starts, I've got all my books and folders organized into neat piles. Everything is in its place. As the semester progresses, those piles turn into scattered papers on the desk, backpack on the floor, books haphazardly piled on the chairs, the bookshelf, any horizontal surface. Then comes summer, and a nice layer of dust settles on the now clutter free surface.

Similarly, as a new semester starts I prepare. I am organized and ready to go. Then, I procrastinate and stop putting things in the dividers I so carefully labeled. I've got three projects going at once and they are all due tomorrow. Finally, I've survived and I have three months to recuperate from the self-induced stress. Usually, this involves reading books that have no educational value whatsoever. Yay!

Presently, summer will arrive and I can sell back these books and dump the contents of these folders and shake the dust of education from my heels for a season.

For tonight, I have a five-page paper to write and its 1:30am. Go me!

Sarah Jo

Friday, April 06, 2007

AndsothenIdidthisanditwassoamazingthatI'lltellyouthestoryforthenexttwentyminutesokay?

Katelyn and I went to 1835 tonight and it was amazing fun. Lots of people from the service went for dinner at IHOP afterwards; fun ensued. As Forrest Gump would say, thats all I have to say about that.

So, in the past two weeks I've encountered two people that have clearly not learned the art of conversation, more specifically, the turn-taking part. Usually, you say something and I respond and add something that you respond to etc. . . but not so with these two. They just keep talking and talking and talking with the only chance to respond is "mmhmm". Tangents pop up out of no where until I don't remember what point they were discussing in the first place.

With the first, I said "hello" without knowing what I was getting into. Five minutes later, I manage to extricate myself from the monologue about 30 years of teaching experience. Oh. My. Goodness. I backed up, she followed. I said the normal good-bye type things, "well. . . I better go", "thanks for sharing that with me", "it was nice to meet you", "I'll see you tomorrow". . . it didnt work. I left when someone else walked by and made the same mistake. I bolted.

With the second, I was in a group situation and this person kept talking and talking to me and I couldnt participate in the conversation with the rest of the group. "uh-huh" "I see" "oh?" "mmhmm" "I guess so" "thats interesting" . . . Hello? How do you get out of it? I'm listening to someone recap the entire set of some comedian I've never heard of. Other people at the table are rolling their eyes.

So, what do you do? They are nice people, they are just painful to talk to. Do they not have any idea? Is there a nice way to explain to them whats wrong? Do they care? Would that be appropriate?

There should be classes for this.

Saturday, March 31, 2007

Well, they've succeded

With all their coughing and sneezing and snot-wiping and hugs, the second graders have managed to infect me. I swear, they've had it in for me since day one. But, the sickness also falls on the last day of my field experience, my last field experience EVER. I am not going to be a teacher and I NEVER have to spend all day in an elementary school again. Really, the outside world has no idea, no idea what its like in there.

So now I feel like a great burden has been lifted. I've planned my schedule for next semester and its going to be fabulous: only two days of Oxford included.

I joined this group on facebook called "I'm saving myself for wild, passionate, awkward honeymoon sex" or something like that. The message boards are so active that I've been stalking them in an unhealthy manner. But, its nice to see that I'm not the only one, you know? There are even some people that are saving their first kiss for their wedding day. Isn't that great (or some may say, crazy)? But hey, I'm twenty years old and have never kissed anyone, so what are a few more years? I think it would be special. There are so many topics that come up on the boards that make me feel part of something. I thought I was the only one thinking some of these things but then dozens of people are sharing their versions of my own thoughts. Specifically, one topic was about being afraid that if someone REALLY knew you, they wouldn't love you, but it seemed that nearly everyone felt that way. I think we are all secretly insecure about these things. Another topic was about being afraid of ending up alone. I share these feelings and it was reassuring to know that there are other people like me out there (at least 23,000 right now). Other topics are kind of silly and fun. All of this has led to much contemplation on my part, apparently because. . .

Last night I dreamed that I met my future husband and he asked, well no, he told me I was going to marry him and he kissed my forehead and my cheeks (yes, my version of wild, crazy sex dreams haha). Then, I was all sad when I woke up. :( The point of this story? I think I should spend less time on facebook talking about future husbands and more time with, you know, real people.

I think I'll take my infected self to bed and think happy, healing thoughts. Come on immune system! ( I think I might cough on the mean customers tomorrow) *evil laugh*

Sarah Jo

Monday, March 12, 2007

I don't know why I'm always suprised at stuff like this.

I woke up this morning and walked down the stairs. Mom had company; she did not hear me come down the stairs. She did not know I was listening as she carried on a conversation about how much this or that person charges for pain pills, what each one makes her feel, about breaking into my dads cabinet to get pills. She did not know that I heard her yell down the stairs to ask my brother if her guest could have a joint. No, she didn't know how long I stood there. Finally, she sees me, greets me good morning, realizes I'm upset. I tell her that I heard that. "What" she says? "Shannon is just here to see if chris can fix her car." she says. I tell her again that I heard it, I heard everything. "What?" She asks.

So. . .

Did she never quit? Did she quit and start again? How long has she been lying to me? HOW LONG HAS SHE BEEN LYING TO ME?!?!

I didnt ask her this. I left. I havent said a word to her. I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm tired of being lied to. People are going to do what they want to, but why lie to me? She says she doesn't want to upset me, but I'm upset right now.

But, I'm done crying. I don't want to leave anymore. I'm tired of leaving. I'm tired of trusting. I'm tired of all of this.

I don't know how I'm ever going to learn how to trust people.

Deception seems to be the main form of communication in my house. And everyone does whatever they want. It doesnt matter if its illegal. It doesnt matter if its going to hurt everyone around.

I feel like I'm in one of those movies where the gate is closing and the characters are racing to get through the gate before it closes or the building collapses or blows up. I sure hope I can get out before this house crumbles.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Have you seen the new Choco/Nilla Krispies?

Thirty - something black gentleman: Hey
Me: Hi
Him: What yo name?
Me: Sarah
Him: Do I know you?
Me: I don't think so.
Him: Can I GET to know you?
Me: Uh, I don't think so.
Him: Why not? You a pretty lady.
Me: No, no I don't think so.
Him: Well, it don't hurt to try.
Me: No, I guess not

________________________________


So, today I made corn chowder and homemade croutons. It was much tasty. Yum.

Friday, March 02, 2007

Lascivious

Yesterday, I learned how it felt to be leered at.

And then, a customer made a comment about my necklace, asking if I got my beads at Mardi-Gras. I informed him that I will never, ever earn any mardi-gras beads. My next customer exclaimed, "Well, your face isn't so red anymore! Oh, there it goes again!"

And later, Katelyn (not the toddler, but my friend) informed me that my breasts are scary.

Its nice when a day has a theme to it, you know?

Monday, February 26, 2007

Why does missing you have to hurt so much?

I feel like I'm losing ground
two steps without you
and I'm turning around
staring blankly at the place where you stood
I would call out your name
if only I could
I don't know what to do now that you are walking away
when I would never leave
and you don't want to stay
I dont know who I am, if I'm not with you
after all that time
after all we've been through
And if I said I need you, you make me thrive
would you tell me to find
some other way to survive?
Why does missing you have to hurt so much?
I keep saying I don't need you,
your voice, or your touch
but I feel like I'm losing ground
two steps without you
and I'm turning around
I would call out your name, if only I could
but I see only footprints
in the place where you stood

Monday, February 19, 2007

My attention span is this big ().

I'm drinking my vanilla milkshake, stirring around the contents with my straw and staring down into the cup, when I come to the horrible realization that there is something solid and dark colored in the bottom of my (now nearly empty) cup.

Oh











My











Goodness








(further investigation)



















Oh, its just the cherry.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Yes, I know. First its glass in my mouth and now its a glass desk. . .

Sunday night I knocked my hand against my desk as I went (ran) by. This resulted in immediate bruising and swelling (and tears). As I nursed my wound with an ice pack, I kept thinking "Why does it have to hurt?" Well, today I was watching House (love that show!) and there was a patient that could feel no pain. She almost killed herself because she didnt know when she was doing things that werent good for her. This episode made me re-evaluate the voice of pain. Before, I thought pain was screaming "Ha Ha! Punishment!" but now I think its more "Oh no! Not good! Don't do that again! Thats not good for you! You ARE breakable!" Lesson learned.

Moving on.

I really do hate school this semester. I've decided that I don't want to teach but I'm finishing my education degree. This means that I'm taking seven classes on how to teach. I am SO not interested. I dont have any motivation to do my homework, read, or study. What am I going to do? I don't pay attention in class. I'm doing just enough to get by. I'm expecting the bottom to drop out from under me at any moment. I guess I'll wait and see.

And I feel like I just really want to talk to someone for a really long time. And I keep flipping through people in my head. I cant talk to this person about this thing. I cant talk to this other person about this other thing. I cant talk to . . . Well. What happened? I thought I was being completely me all the time and then somewhere along the line I lost track of who that was. And now I'm a fragmented Sarah Jo with too many silences. And I don't know what I'm going to do to fix it or even if I want to. I don't like not talking about things, it makes me feel like a liar. Hmm. Well. I don't know what I'm trying to say either.

Read my mind! Whats wrong with you?!?

LoVe,
sArAh jO

Sunday, February 11, 2007

"Its terrible and wonderful at the same time! It's freedom in a cup!"

My friends, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time I made the lovely salsa stuff that Nika makes. Today, I was eating said salsa stuff. Wilst chewing, my teeth made contact with something too solid to be either salsa or chip. Very disturbing. After further investigation (spitting it out) I discovered that the "something" was GLASS. Now, how on earth did GLASS end up in my mouth? And will I ever be able to eat salsa stuff again? These questions shall remain a mystery.

Oh! I know! Do you know what movies these quotes come from?

  1. "Its like riding a bike, only you're crapping on it!"
  2. "I have a strict policy that nobody cries alone in my presence."
  3. "Chi-cken... Good. "

Yay! Now, I'm going to go try to prove my theory that, if I sleep enough, I won't be sick anymore. I'll let you know how that goes.

And just one more. . . "Once there was a magical elf who lived in a rainbow tree/ He lived downstairs from a flatulent dwarf who constantly had to pee/ One day the elf could take no more/ so he went to bang on the rude dwarf's door/ and what do you know, they suddenly both were marrrrried. "

Thursday, February 08, 2007

So I'm pretty much AMAZING. I mean, I hate school, but life is awesome. What else is there to say?

Hey! You should spend some time with me!

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Here we go around again.

I think you are
missing the best part of me
and maybe I am
missing you entirely
but I don't know how
to invite you closer
to show you my heart
Oh, my friend
lets try this again.
Gavin DeGraw should come to my house and sing me to sleep while playing with my hair.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Shake it baby!

I feel like a snowglobe. I've got all these things floating around in my head and I don't know which one to deal with first. Or if I even want to deal with them. Maybe I'll let everything float around in my head like a beautiful disaster. And lots of these things are people specific. What I mean is, I would better write a poem to that person telling them everything I would never truly say. And some things I need to work out in my own heart. Grrr.

I've got all this information, all these new ideas and concepts, all these situations and thoughts and no time to process them. How does this all fit together? What does it mean now? Do I believe this?

I think I just need to write poetry. Its easier to do that because then all the scary things to say are at least pretty in their own right, dressed up in verse so they do not look so vulnerable and bare.

I put all my secrets in poetry. The funny thing is, anyone can read it, anyone at all. They just have to ask. They just have to listen. Its like my heart, it is open and available for anyone willing to pursue. But thats it, isnt it?

Sarah Jo

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

(Please.)

I want
what I want
RIGHT NOW.
Why must I wait?
Patience is for people
who do not mind
giving it time.
(I am not one of
said people.)
Do not tell me
I am learning something
somehow,
just give me what I want
and do it fast.
Do it right now!
(Please.)

I've got about half a dozen scarves to make.

Lately, I keep thinking things that make me blush, but I figure out that they are not good things to say out loud before they make it out of my mouth. So then, there I am, turning red for no explicable reason. At least the filter between my brain and my mouth is starting to be more effective. On the down side, people have noticed. Now I'll have to stop getting embarrassed when no one knows what I'm thinking.

And. . . I just got a voice mail message that is garbled beyond recognition and I have to wait until tomorrow to find out what it said. I'm not good at waiting. I keep imagining the worst. I don't know why. I'll have to think about something else. Like homework.

Things would turn out a lot better if I kept my mouth shut more often. Yes, they would. In Kidd Coffee there is a quote on the wall that says something like "I’ve often regretted my speech, but never my silence". Forgive me for not remembering the author of this quote. You can google it. At any rate, I should take this to heart, but I don't. I talk and talk and talk as long as someone will listen. And I keep listening if someone keeps talking. There should be a happy medium somewhere.

I keep thinking about this voice mail message.
And I'm not doing my homework.

I wish I could listen to my ipod in the shower. They have some kind of device where you put your ipod in a "water resistant" container with speakers. Its only 30 dollars. Why would I put my 250 dollar ipod in a 30 dollar contraption and trust that everything will turn out okay?

Oh! I got an ipod! Ha. I like it much. I purchased a pink case for it. All is well. And I get a daily audio bible podcast that makes me happy(er).

Voice mail. Homework.

So. . . How is your semester going? I'm already behind on my. . . new subject. So I don't really know my course numbers but I have courses that teach me how to teach math, science, and social studies. I have a personal health class (apparently, I need to be a good role-model for the young 'uns) as well as a class on assessment and a class on classroom management/discipline. What did I forget? *Counts on fingers* OH! And technology. How to integrate technology into a classroom. This would all be great if I wanted to teach, but, I don't. Maybe I could write children's books that would be useful when integrating the content areas. A children's book to use for math, science, social studies, health. Now, what would I write about? Oh, I guess that's the hard part.

(Voice mail. Homework.)

I feel like I'm on the right track again. Before, I felt like I fell off into a hole that I had no intention of even trying to escape, but not so anymore. God has a way of scraping off the things I cant handle, and lifting me up, until it isn't a hole anymore at all. Its amazing that no matter how many times I try to walk away from Him, He follows after me, chases after me, calls out to me, until I come back again. And it seems that I never really left in the first place. And every time I hurt, there is purpose. There is reason and growth. There is a lesson. Its not all senseless. And I'm never alone. I'm never alone.

(Homework.)

Even though I've been at school all week long, and I've been spending time with my classmates, I feel that I haven't seen anyone at all. I feel lonely. Sigh. I miss people.

I want to go somewhere. I want to take a trip. When? Spring break is kind of out. This summer maybe. I want to go anywhere that's not here. Okay, somewhere that can be driven to. Somewhere that doesn't cost TOO much money. I'm going to think on this.

I MUST do my homework now. Thanks for listening to me. I need to be listened to.

Sarah Jo

(Wow, I had a LOT of spelling errorrs.)

Monday, January 01, 2007

"Draw me close to you. . ."

This break has been balm for my soul. Many times during the last semester, I thought I just could not continue. I thought surely I would fall apart and just not make it through the next day. And I thought I couldn't handle anymore. And then something else would happen. And something else would happen. But every time I thought I couldn't do it alone, I got just enough help, just enough support to continue. A few well timed phone calls. Much needed hugs. Listening ears and helping hands. I made it.

Now I feel like I've had a great release of breath. I'm okay. No, I'm stronger. And now I know things I didn't know before. And I'm happy. And its okay if things hurt so much you can't think of anything else. This passes and joy comes.

I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. I'm not going to teach. I want to write. Its what I love to do. I'm not going to worry about whats going to happen to me in a year and a half; I'll worry about completing this day, this week, this month, this semester. I'll worry about trusting God more than I trust myself.

I've experienced a lot of changes in the last few months, changes in my life and changes inside myself. I thought I had it all figured out and now its different. I walked all the paths in my heart and I knew exactly who I was and why and now . . . now I have to do it all over again. Sigh.

So I don't have all the words sorted out just yet because I don't have any of the details, emotions, thoughts in order.

You know what though? He always gives me exactly what I ask for, I just never anticipate the path that takes me there.