Merfairy

The Little Mermaid is, and always will be, my favorite movie. Oh yes, I know. She's spoiled, she didn't do what her dad told her to, she was too young to get married...bla bla bla. But this was the first Disney princess movie I ever saw, and a little part of me would love to live in a pretty underwater palace but never get pruny. And maybe marry Prince Eric, even if he does have a tendency to be duped by sea witches. On  the other hand, watching Barbie Fairytopia: Magic of the Rainbow made me want to grow wings and live in a flower. I suppose I'll just have to be both and grow a fin and wings like this little girl, except for real:

She looks delighted.

This week has been full of ups and downs. The ups have included making Valentines, coloring pictures, baking, watching children's movies, playing Band Hero, and visiting Carter Tower. The downs? Dealing with death in the lives of others. A year ago this week, one of my friends lost her little sister in a car accident. This Thursday, one of my hallmates lost her older sister to cancer. I can't imagine losing my sister, regardless of how much she chatters and gets in my space. She is precious and I adore her. I mourn for these girls and the holes in their lives that will heal a bit, but never be full this side of heaven. 

I love my sister, even if she is a tad creepy.

This weekend I visited my cousin at Georgia Tech. Going down there is much like visiting a foreign country because even though everyone speaks English, they are all rushing, traffic is crazy, and there are next to no Walmarts. Whenever I go down there, I feel much like I'm in the story "The Country Mouse and the City Mouse", being the girl who was raised in the mountains and who could never properly function in a city. Anyway, we spent a lot of time flitting from shop to restaurant to shop in the blur that is Atlanta. We also found this obscure little park where they had the kind of house I always wanted as a child:

with little apples in the window:

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, and this year I am actually looking forward to it. This February 14th, my valentine is going to be a sweet four-year-old who reminds me of Ariel herself. And after that --> midnight half-price chocolate run! Single lady Valentine's Day is really not a bad thing. 

Here are a few photos from Carter Tower (atop the main building of Covenant), which is a lot creepier than I imagined it would be:

(sketchy stairs)

What a lovely school I attend!

Stuff

• My roommate got the flu. I lysoled everything. Now she is almost cured. I am a magic doctor. 

• Scenario: It's raining. It is two minutes past one o' clock. Campus is deserted. You are late for class. And you need to pee more than anything else in the world. What to do?

• Don't read the Hunger Games before you go to bed, especially if you are sleeping in another room alone because your roommate is in your room with the flu. 

• Last week was scholarship weekend. We drew obnoxious tattoos on ourselves with permanent markers to scare the previewers.

• Also, Baba Larve showed up and gave some of her wisdom to a previewer. The previewer was...thankful [scared].

• (It's been proven that scaring previewers a little bit makes them want to come back because they think we are fun. And we are.)

• Getting dressed to Spanish music is a good idea. 

• Atlanta is too crowded and hard to drive through. 

• I thank the Lord for cute boys who "accidentally" throw footballs at you at the park. 

• It's fun to sing in Swahili onstage. 

• I wish I could fly. 

• The first paper of the semester is always the hardest to write, because for the first few hours of working on it, you realize that you've forgotten how to do it. 

• I am scared to death of becoming a teacher because my classes this semester say teachers need to work 405984058 hours of the day [that's not completely true, and isn't possible, but it's close].

• Scenario: you are playing hide-and-go-seek with some children you babysit. One is hiding in the corner. You spot her, and she says, "Pause! I have to go to the bathroom!"....You reach for her hand...."I can't get up!".......You think Oh no....she screams, "I'm peeing! I'm peeing!"

• Last night, I said Time is going by too fast, Lord. He replied, Savor it, but let it go.

This kind of thing happens all the time.

Off to the park....in January

Precious girls from my high school small group....

....visiting the beautiful woman who used to mentor us (AND SHE'S GOING TO HAVE A BABY!!).

Mature

Word of the day: mature.

At this age, I’m beginning to hear that word a lot. What does it mean to be mature? To act your age? To be an adult? It seems to be pretty ambiguous. Does it mean keeping your emotions to yourself? Learning to accept what you cannot control? Living on your own?

Not exactly?

The dictionary definition of “mature” has to do with coming to a desired, concluding state. For the Christian, it’s unattainable here because we will never be “finished” this side of heaven. So what’s a girl to do to become mature, when the definition is so ambiguous and the result unattainable? What exactly is mature?

Over the last two years, I have seen a change in myself that some would consider becoming more mature. In 2009, I went through a breakup that dragged itself out for several months before skidding to a calm place where I could really start healing. Since the beginning, I’ve gone through several different stages. From curse words, to seemingly endless tears, to the end of the world (oh, woe is me!), to anger and hatred, to slowly letting go of dreams that had already been taken from me, to realizing that this was the way things would be, to finding a new identity, to finally figuring out how to forgive—a process that took a really long time compared to some and a short time compared to others. Though I reached out for support from friends (some of whom I leaned on and wailed at too much—I’m sorry!), it was a wound that could only be fixed by God’s love and a series of decisions that I made on my own. I had to get sick of myself in order to rise from my mud puddle of self-pity.

Yesterday, I found out that he was engaged. I couldn’t figure out what I was feeling—I went from what???, to THE INJUSTICE!, to moping for poor little single me. Then to something else—something beautiful.

Laura, I have a plan for you. I love you. I know what’s best for you, and this is it. Why don’t you trust me? 

And something else.

I love him and have a plan for him, too. And this is it. Accept it.

That stopped me in my tracks. Who am I to question my circumstances? Laura of a year ago would have focused on how unfair the situation was, I was the one left behind, I wait and pray for my future husband, in my own eyes I had done everything right while he did everything WRONG.

My answer to hurt was ACCUSE, CONDEMN, WAIT FOR HIS DEMISE. ß not grace.

Now I see why everything happened as it did, and I praise God for it. I praise him for this period of my life, even as I have dreams of the future. I praise him for breaking my heart as he did, because in reality, it wasn’t the boy’s fault—it was God’s. In all honesty, I do want good things for that boy now.

A dozen friends of mine have gotten engaged or married over the last year. At least six have gotten divorced. My God knows that I’m not ready for that world, but that I desire it someday (marriage—not divorce. I hope that was obvious.)

It’s strange to see my old dreams playing out exactly as I planned them—with someone else. But that’s how God intended it, and I trust him. Even if this is some kind of a joke, or if it doesn't last, this situation will still have made me think. 

Part of maturity is letting go of the past, which has been a struggle for the girl who’s never wanted to grow up and wants to hold onto dreams as tightly as she can. Another part of maturity is trusting God’s timing. Little 20-year-old me doesn’t know what’s in store, but I know that He has written every last detail of my life and has given it a purpose. I’ve always been loved by a Savior who knows EXACTLY what he’s doing.

Which means He knows what’s best for me, even if I'm not mature enough to see it at first.

Don't Creep on Me, I'm Celibate.

Did you know....that blogger gives you a way to track who is looking at your blog?

Eh, me neither. Then I found it. You know who's been reading my blog??? Me neither. But some of them live in Finland and Malaysia and Russia, and some of them found me under the google search "ski pants", or a google image of my bed tent, or through a Russian gaming site. First thought, "Wow, I'm popular." Second thought, "CREEPY???" ...Now I've set it so I can't be googled anymore. I hope.

But here I still am, throwing myself out to the internet.

I also have a confession to make. Most women who adore celebrities have romantic fantasies about them--walking on the beach, going on a picnic, doing...other...things. I have different fantasies. When I was in love with Jesse McCartney, I wanted to begin a correspondence with him in which I explained why I loved his uplifting messages to women with beautiful souls. When I loved Daniel Ratcliffe, I was going to persuade him to become a Christian. Now I have fantasies of playing checkers with Justin Bieber and riding on his segway.

Classes began this week. First day, I was jazzed. Now there is a state of oh, classes. On the first day of Ethics class, my professor paused in the roll and said, "Laura Love...What a great name! You should never get married!" Wonderful. First day of Ethics and I'm already labeled as a future celibate.


Babysitting has kicked up again too. What does this mean for me? Weekly doses of Disney Princess, dancing, and snacktime.

Baba Larve made a reappearance last night with "The Tale of theYeti and the Cactus". The Yeti wins. She has so much wisdom.

Because it's January and summer is so close, naturally the question of "what will I do this summer?" is buzzing in my brain. So is the question of "where will I live next year?" and "when can I finally get a cat?"

Time to switch OUT of planner mode and enjoy my last semester of The Fritz. Wait? Last?!?! NOO!!!

The other day, I caught my roommate looking at herself in the webcam. Her response? "I'm playing peek-a-boo with myself!" The next day we played humpbacks. Yesterday she became the Thigh Master, and I am the Thigh Apprentice. There is no END to entertainment in this room!

Musical Artist of this Week: Taylor Swift (not Justin Bieber. Shocking?)

Happy Fun Times Snow Camp

We are watching Salt. Last time I watched this movie, I felt sick and didn't finish it. Apparently, it's awesome or something. My opportunity has been redeemed.

My first week of spring semester 2011 has actually been a solid week of Happy Fun Times Snow Camp. Events as follows.

Snow trek. 

Fort building. 

Snowball blitzkrieg on the boys (we won).

Karaoke games.

Baba Larve storytime. 

Dress up dance party.

Ke$ha dance party.

Reading.

Snow cream making.

Tent time. 

Guitar Hero. 

Mall time.

Textbook madness. 

Zumba with Imani. 

Food.

Free Art Museum.

No classes. 

Not in that order. 

Baba Larve

Karaoke time.

JB & me at the mall.

Art museums are cool.

Ew. I hate the beginning of this movie. Blood and torture. 

This week, I have badly wanted to leave the country. Destination? No idea. I want to go to Italy. Ireland. Greece. Africa. Canada. Mexico. Russia. Ukraine. Kazakhstan. It's weird--once you've spent extensive time in more than one culture, it's hard to fit back into your original culture. I want to go somewhere. 

Want, want, want. This week has been full of too much self-indulgence and thinking about what I want. After a while, one begins to feel dusty and stale. A shift of focus needs to happen here. 

Song of the day: The World Spins Madly On by the Weepies. 

Sometimes, Snow is OK.

Our room is completely dark. It's weird. Lisa, why aren't any lights on?

....She didn't answer me.

So, first full day back to school and there is no school. Not to say that the school is invisible, but the campus is closed until Wednesday due to the "blizzard". What does this mean? I get to spend some extra quality time horsing around and participating in general tomfoolery. Excellent. For now, I have set aside my hatred of snow.

Today was magnificent. I woke up in my bed tent (at LAST!) and everything was glowing pink and snuggly warm. A few of us decided to venture outside into the foot+ of untouched snow and soil it by galloping/running/skipping/falling in it. A short trek turned into at least a mile hike in the treacherous woods through shin-deep snow. Mercler, the clumsy ginger with a heart problem, was not pleased. The rest of the afternoon was spent watching Gilmore Girls and eating processed foods that had been sitting in our rooms for the last month. Tonight we had a celebratory Ke$ha dance party. And tomorrow, we get a whole nother DAY. Sledding, anyone?

I was sad, of course, to leave home. I spent three days with Morgan--bridesmaid dress shopping, going to the movies, ice skating {with Jordan "the wolverine" in tow}, sitting, more sitting--another day with my friend Lacey that I haven't seen in a year, and several hours of good reading time. Right before I left the house, we had a family dance party to some of mom's sweet oldies tunes. All in all, I'd say the break was splendid, and very much a break. 


I also found that fathers make good shopping partners because they are willing to buy things that moms are not, and that I despise cell phone shopping. My phone of three months broke. I went and got a new one. The new one was not a good phone. I didn't know what to do. I asked dad. Dad say, "We go get you smartphone." I say, "REALLY?!?!" Then I drooled a little bit. So, I am officially the proud new owner of a Droid, the appliance that is more giving than a boyfriend and more entertaining than my roommate {not true, Lisa, I am joking with you...maybe...}.

Oh! Lights! Thanks, Lisa!

Anyway, alien status: slowly dying...? I think...? It's hard to tell. I don't really remember the "before the alien implants" times. Fortunately, THE CLAW has not made a reappearance.

Song of the day: Cannibal by Ke$ha. In this song, she eats boys that she doesn't like. That's right--EATS them. Fortunately, I don't model all of my ways after Ke$ha.

And a few pictures...for fun.

Sisters.

My cousin Jenny.

Wolverine and Baba Larve

The ice awaits us.

When Lisa and I return, everyone flocks to our room. I'm beginning to suspect that it has something to do with the couch.

THE CLAW.

Three things run through my head at the moment.
1) This week was really not all that interesting.
2) I really should come up with some New Year's resolutions.
3) My stomach is angry with me. Still.

The biggest thing that happened this week: we went to a big mom's-side-of-the-family Christmas gathering. How was it? Eh. There was a lot of talking and awkward pauses because nobody's seen each other in a year. "How are you? How's school? What year are you again?....Um, I ran out of questions. My bad." I texted Lisa about it and she suggested I tell everyone I was pregnant just to get a conversation going, but I figured that wouldn't be very productive.

A big perk, however, was getting The Hunger Games trilogy for my one-family-member-buys-you-something gift. I spent the next 3 1/2 days locked in those books. Any moment one of the books wasn't in my hands, I was nervous and all my thoughts were being narrated in the writing style of the book. When I finished, I had to stare at a wall for a few minutes and then watch a mindless movie. Two days later, I am still thinking about them, dreaming about them, and living in paranoia--well, only sort of. They were AWESOME.

I do have one New Year's resolution, actually: get rid of the alien implants. Yes, over a month and they still won't leave. Rather than me hating someone else's guts, my guts hate me. I thought I was getting better again until Wednesday, when suddenly my innards were on fire and my belly was saying FEED ME and I HATE FOOD at the same time. What a dandy day to go on a 3-hour car ride home. When I got there, I finally put my foot down and said, "Dr. Dad, I need some more meds. Alien meds." <--not my exact words.

The theory is that, hiding in the walls of my belly, I may have a lovely bacteria called H. Pylori, also known as Helicobacter Pylori, which sounds like "Helicopter Pie". Left untreated, this can be--gross. So, yesterday I got medicine for this thing that I might have. Guess what the medicine does? Makes me feel worse. HOORAY! I went to bed last night (after ditching my friends on New Year's) hoping it would go away. Nope, at 5 this morning, my dog heard thunder, had a panic attack, and woke me up. A few minutes later, my belly thought it was time to join in the fun and it tried to run out to fight the thunder while all it really ran into was all of my other innards, who were not pleased. I knew one of the pills was the culprit--but which?

Fast forward this afternoon, an hour or so after I took one of the pills, my stomach felt like it was in the clutches of a dragon. Actually, I imagined it looking like it was stuck in the claw of one of those arcade machines. (and then I immediately imagined all the little green aliens from Toy Story inside of me as well, going "Ooo, The CLAW!") At the time, we were also at my grandmother's house and she had requested that I help her finish cooking lunch, so, screaming stomach or not, I had to comply.

Fast forward to now. I think I have discovered which pill does what. One tastes like fish and garbage and makes me somewhat nauseous. The other is THE CLAW. I think. I hope I'm right and that a switch in the medicine makes THE CLAW stop--though I'd still have to take the garbage pill. And that, when the 14 days of pills are over, the helicopter pie diagnosis will be correct, meaning that the little aliens will be dead.

Then I can drink coffee and eat whatever I want.

Sadly, after a month of eating less because of my angry innards, I have not lost a pound. I suppose this means I'll actually have to exercise after all!

My belly wants to go to bed now so that when it wakes up before the sun tomorrow morning, it will have at least gotten some sleep.

Lack of good food turns me into Negative Nancy.