Chef Boyarde, hot chocolate, and the Sound of Music. I am definitely sick.

please just let me go home.
please.

one of these days

I'm up.
Again.
I haven't been up this late for a while.
I'm seeing that with every passing day, my life changes.
Even if it is in a miniscule way, it does, nonetheless.
My schedule, my time, my looks, my feelings, my friends, my home, my music, my reading, and who knows what else.
The only thing in my life that doesn't change is my Jesus.
My relationship with Him changes, but He doesn't.
I would love to be able to write that my relationship gets better daily, but I would be lying.
It didn't get better over the last two weeks.
It got worse in a lot of ways.
Is that His fault?
No.
He didn't change.
I did.
That is something that I hate admitting.
When my relationship with Him suffers, it is because of my changing heart and desires.
There are many days that I don't get up and make the choice to follow Him.
I get up and get moving.
I don't even acknowledge Him.
Some days, I acknowledge Him, but keep moving anyway.
I hate that about myself.
I have an incredible ability to know the right set of actions and turn and run the opposite direction.
I am a master at blatant disregard.
That is sickening to me.
I suppose that the fact that I can recognize that about myself and still see it for the disgusting thing that it is, displays that there is still hope for me.
This past week, I feel like I've failed.
Failed with money, with my time, and with my motives.
It has been one of those weeks where you look back and see that you suck without God.
That is a blessing.
If you are reading this and you aren't a Christian, you won't get that.
The fact that I am able to see that I am completely busted up at best without Jesus in my life is the only thing that keeps me centered.
My life makes no sense without my Jesus.
All of my bright ideas burn out rapidly and I'm left with a pile of ashes in my hands.
My smallness is something of which I am completely aware.
I'm trying to learn to be thankful for that.
It is a difficult lesson.
I like to take the reigns in my life.
I do not like to be dependant on anyone else.
I like to feel a sense of accomplishment when "I" do something.
Just seeing that in type makes me see the complete absurdity of it.
I know that nothing good comes from my real heart.
I can put up a fancy fascade better than most, going so far as to fool people close to me, but my desires are nothing to be admired.
They are self-serving in the worst way.
They seek the easy path.
They hurt my friends.
Worst of all:
They break my Savior's heart.


I'm a screwed up individual that continues to strive for God's best.
My plans fail.
Always.
But when I allow Jesus to step into my life and regain the control that is rightfully His, my life is unbelievable.
Events fall into places, doors get opened, and possibilites that I didn't even know where options come flooding into my life.
Jesus loves me.
He loves you, too.
We all just have to let Him love us fully.
Lately, it has been a conscious choice for me to pick Jesus' best for my life.
That choice seems to happen multiple times of day.
When life is falling in around me, I take a step back and say, "God, my life is for You. No one else. Especially not myself. I'm letting You take care of the situation."
It is the most liberating feeling I know.



THE PRESSURE'S OFF.

musings. . . . . yeah.

The fact of the matter is, I refuse to be the type of woman who stands and complains about her body or self-image in front of men. I do not take part in that in front of woman very often, either. I have been finding that this seems to make some men a little uncomfortable and some women jealous. For the men, it seems like they think I don't want to be complimented, which is certainly not the case. For the women, it seems that they think I'm snooty, which, I'm not. For any guy reading this, I love to be complimented, just like any other breathing female on the planet. For the women, I have insecurities like every other breathing female on the planet. I just don't find it acceptable to blab about them in front of anyone who will listen. One thing that I have learned is that men won't even notice those "flaws" until we lovely woman bring them to their attention. Another thing: Girls, be happy with who you are. If you're thighs aren't perfect to you, if your hair is fluffy in places that you would prefer it not be, if you think that your skin is deplorable without caking make-up on it, hear me:
You are beautiful. You're treasured. You're loved.
So please stop complaining.

I have three more days of work before I get a day off. By that time, I will have worked six days in a row. I start school on Tuesday and am back to work on Wednesday. I am still sick because I didn't get a chance to get better. Please be praying. I don't have anybody else to cover shifts.

I think that it is truly amusing that we live in a time where you can find more thirty somethings who are more childish than seven year olds. All you have to do is come work at the mall for one day and you will understand what I mean.

My dear, sweet lovelies, you just don't quite understand yet.