Can't you see?

I'll bring to you whatever you need
And I'll tell you I'm sorry
That I can't take this pain away from you
And I'd put it on my own body if I knew how to
Can't you see?

-Testing the strong ones
by Copeland

my dear friends!

I love having friends that understand me.

That will put pillows under their shirt and pretend to be pregnant
and dance around with me without thinking i'm weird.

Friends that will blast N'sync in the car and scream the lyrics as loud as we can
out the window.

Friends that will ask me questions like "Do you ever pretend to be dead?"

Friends that will stay up all night making me a birthday cake from scratch.
And when they fail...they write "we tried" on top of the cake in frosting
as an explanation.

Friends that will spend two hours in the greeting card aisle with me...
because they know I love greeting cards.

Friends that make me mixed cds "just because"

Friends that won't ask questions or show surprise or disgust when I come up with one of my crazy schemes.

Friends that will duct-tape me to a tree.
and allow me to duct-tape THEM to a tree as well.

Friends that have been, are, and always will be there for me.

Friends that listen to me when I need them, even if it's the middle of the night.

Friends that understand and accept my quirks.

Friends that seek God with everything they have.

Friends that tell me they miss me, even if I just left their house 2 minutes ago.

Friends that will ask me "What's wrong?" if they see the "off" look on my face.

Friends that will stay up till the wee hours of the morning to hear about my day. and tell me about theirs.

Friends that I can trust with anything. No matter how overly funny, sad, scary, or overwhelming it may me.

Friends that will do ballet on the beach with me.

Friends that make me feel like the luckiest person on earth.

Friends that will spend the whole day doing nothing with me
and then say "This was the best day ever".

Friends that will eat mcdonald's with me and say "Forget you" to everyone who thinks mcdonalds is gross.

Friends that inquire and care about my family. even if they've never met them.

Friends that write me silly poems and then read them to me in front of the entire class.

Friends that will have "yellow" parties and photography adventures with me.

Friends that will stay up until 5am playing games, watching exercise television,
and laughing until we turn bright red.

God has blessed me with all of these.

come ON!

It makes me so sad to see couples that don't treat eachother with respect.
Especially (ahem...) teenage couples.
Seriously, how dumb do you sound when you say "Daaaaangg babayyy grrrl, you lookinnn' fine as helll."

Are you kidding?
Fine as hell?
Please...get a fully fuctioning brain
and a more expanded vocabulary.

I even see husbands and wives talk to eachother like that.


When I have a husband, he won't just be my husband.
He'll be my best friend.
My companion.
My safety.
My better half.
My hand to hold.
My partner in crime. and life.
The one I share everything with.
from dreams to silly thoughts.
He will be my crown.
and I will be his.

We will be young elders.
and old children.
Living life beside eachother.

Can't you guys understand how precious that's supposed to be?

I'm losing it.

When did I get soooo apathetic towards school?

I used to semi-enjoy school, actually.
But now...I look at it as something so pointless.

I literally believe that I could do just fine in the world without knowing
any greek mythology, or geometry, or MLA format. (stupid...)

The only things I remember at the end of the day are bible class and the bits of inspiration from my newspaper staff.
and that, I kid you not...is all I remember.

I feel like an idiot in english class because I feel no motivation to write with so much format.

format withing format WITHIN FORMAT.
it's exhausting.
it's overwhelming.

It has brought me many nights of sobbing and being red in the face.
That class has brought me so many mental and emotional breakdowns.

I don't know if I can take it anymore.

The list of what I need in life:

The Bible...my sword
love for my God
love for people...those I dislike too


Why am I wasting my life sitting in this desk?
It's so beautiful! It's so full of wonder!
I don't want to spend it here!

2009...

Here is my only new year's resolution:

Let my heart be broken with the things that break the heart of God.

Need. Want.

Need:

coffee
a haircut
to stop biting my nails
to stop procrastinating
motivation for all these things

Want:

eternally un-chapped lips
...that's it.

You are special.

You Are Special

by Max Lucado

The Wemmicks were small wooden people.
Each of the wooden people was carved by a woodworker named Eli.
His workshop sat on a hill overlooking their village.
Every Wemmick was different. Some had big noses, others had large eyes.
Some were tall and others were short. Some wore hats, others wore coats.
But all were made by the same carver and all lived in the village.
And all day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing: They gave each other stickers.

Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of gray dot stickers.
Up and down the streets all over the city, people could be seen sticking stars or dots on one another.
The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars.
But if the wood was rough or the paint chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots.
The talented ones got stars, too. Some could lift big sticks high above their heads or jump over tall boxes.
Still others knew big words or could sing very pretty songs.
Everyone gave them stars.
Some Wemmicks had stars all over them!
Every time they got a star it made them feel so good that they did something else and got another star.
Others, though, could do little. They got dots.

Punchinello was one of these. He tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell.
And when he fell, the others would gather around and give him dots.
Sometimes when he fell, it would scar his wood, so the people would give him more dots.
He would try to explain why he fell and say something silly, and the Wemmicks would give him more dots.
After a while he had so many dots that he didn't want to go outside.
He was afraid he would do something dumb such as forget his hat or step in the water, and then people would give him another dot.
In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and give him one without reason.

"He deserves lots of dots," the wooden people would agree with one another. "He's not a good wooden person."

After a while Punchinello believed them.
"I'm not a good Wemmick," he would say.

The few times he went outside, he hung around other Wemmicks who had a lot of dots.
He felt better around them.

One day he met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met.
She had no dots or stars. She was just wooden. Her name was Lucia.
It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick.
Some admired Lucia for having no dots, so they would run up and give her a star.
But it would fall off. Some would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot.
But it wouldn't stay either.

'That's the way I want to be,'thought Punchinello. 'I don't want anyone's marks.'
So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it.
"It's easy," Lucia replied. "every day I go see Eli."

"Eli?"

"Yes, Eli. The woodcarver. I sit in the workshop with him."

"Why?"

"Why don't you find out for yourself? Go up the hill. He's there."

And with that the Wemmick with no marks turned and skipped away.
"But he won't want to see me!" Punchinello cried out.
Lucia didn't hear. So Punchinello went home.

He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other stars and dots.
"It's not right," he muttered to himself.
And he resolved to go see Eli.
He walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big shop.
His wooden eyes widened at the size of everything. The stool was as tall as he was.
He had to stretch on his tiptoes to see the top of the workbench. A hammer was as long as his arm.
Punchinello swallowed hard. "I'm not staying here!" and he turned to leave.
Then he heard his name.

"Punchinello?"

The voice was deep and strong. Punchinello stopped.
"Punchinello! How good to see you. Come and let me have a look at you."
Punchinello turned slowly and looked at the large bearded craftsman.
"You know my name?" the little Wemmick asked.
"Of course I do. I made you."
Eli stooped down and picked him up and set him on the bench.
"Hmm," the maker spoke thoughtfully as he inspected the gray circles.
"Looks like you've been given some bad marks."

"I didn't mean to, Eli. I really tried hard."

"Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care what the other Wemmicks think."

"You don't?"

"No, and you shouldn't either. Who are they to give stars or dots? They're Wemmicks just like you. What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special."

Punchinello laughed.
"Me, special? Why? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?"

Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly.

"Because you're mine. That's why you matter to me."

Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this--much less his maker.
He didn't know what to say.
"Every day I've been hoping you'd come," Eli explained.

"I came because I met someone who had no marks."

"I know. She told me about you."

"Why don't the stickers stay on her?"

"Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them."

"What?"

"The stickers only stick if they matter to you. The more you trust my love, the less you care about the stickers."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You will, but it will take time. You've got a lot of marks. For now, just come to see me every day and let me remind you how much I care."

Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the ground.

"Remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door.
"You are special because I made you. And I don't make mistakes."

Punchinello didn't stop, but in his heart he thought,
"I think he really means it."
And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.