Patient. Fine. Balanced. Kind.

If only someone could speak of me the way she talks about you.

Here's the thing. As much as I would like to be able to be stoic, as much as I'd like to just sit back and have fun and not care about other people, as much as I wish I could escape the romantic in me, that part will always be there. I will always care too much. I will always put other people's needs before my own. I will always want a Jane Austen/John Green style love.

And it makes me wonder. How does it happen that those of us who want it so desperately are unable to achieve it? Or maybe it's that we want it so badly because we can't find it in our own lives. And so we go through our lives hoping each and every day that maybe, just maybe, that day is going to be the one when, by some strange miracle, we meet the person with whom we'll find it. Maybe it'll be the day that someone tells us they can't live without us, that every day is an adventure when they're with us, that they blush too easily when they look at us because they don't want to stare, that we are so incredibly beautiful  when we're asleep next to them, that they would do anything to make us happy.


Then we get to the point where we're convinced that no one ever will say those things to us. We think we're not worth the wasted breath. We're crazy for so many different reasons, and no one should care about us past the point of friendship because in the end they're only going to tire of us. They're going to get sick of supporting us through our emotional ups and downs, they'll be weary of saying "I love you" because we need to hear it every 10 seconds just to reaffirm it. We're not going to be enough to keep them interested.

Meanwhile our friends tell us that we just need to stop trying and it'll happen for us when we least expect it. And we'll scream inside our heads, "It's not that easy! You can't just turn hopeless romanticism off!" But we won't say it out loud, and we'll just spend our days waiting. We'll pretend we don't look for our person everywhere we go, that we don't hope someone's vague, angsty Tumblr posts are about us.





I need someone who will be my Augustus Waters, and I will be their Hazel Grace. I want to be the Alaska to someone's Pudge, and I want to equally be the Pudge to that person's Alaska. The drizzle and the hurricane, both of us. Maybe you have no idea what that means yet, but you will, and it's important. I want it so, so badly. I will be patient, as much as I can possibly be. Because as much as I don't believe it, I still hope that my friends are right when they say it'll happen for me. I'll try to keep believing that I'm worth it, that someone will want to know every intimate detail about me. It's so hard to hold on to that. But I will wait for you.

I drowned out all my sense

...That's what you get when you let your heart win.


The next month is going to be tough, let me tell you that.


I can do this.


I can do this.


I can do this.


Easter break was full of weird happenings and life alterations and craziness (see my last post). But now that all of that has happened and I've had a couple episodes of dead-to-the-world thinking, I'm feeling more able to put things into perspective. I reminded myself of some good advice that Shannon sent my way last summer, originally from an awesome blog called The Frenemy. I even typed it out onto a sticky note on my computer desktop so that I could see it every day...and maybe made it my cover photo on Facebook...and maybe even wrote it out and hung it above my desk.

Now is the time when I start pulling my life together. In the last couple months, I lost a lot of sense. It's time to toughen up and stop avoiding things (again). It's time to stay tough, stay confident. Because life is weird and difficult and confusing and frustrating at times - hell, most of the time. But life is also pretty awesome, and living is worth the work. So it's going to be a really trying month or so until finals are over, but you know what?


I can do this.


I can do anything, riiiiight?


Right.

Tell me I'm a wreck

Life's been messy lately...but it'll all work out eventually. Don't worry, I'm fine. I'll be fine.

I got a haircut today (thank goodness, because it was starting to get all shaggy and bleh). I love going there to chat with Julie. It's like a salon in a movie or television show; I can tell her all about my life and she loves to listen and offer advice. Haha, she's great. She's always on my side, no matter what the issue is - although usually it's about guys. If I mention someone, she's convinced he's in love with me. If it turns out I'm just friends with him (which is always the case, you know), she tells me he wasn't good enough for me. Gotta love her. :)

Haircut!

While we were chatting today, Julie told me that I need to "let my inner jerk out." She said I'm too sweet and care too much about making other people happy, and I need to put myself first sometimes.

I don't know how I feel about that. I would rather have everyone around me be happy with their lives, so if I can do something for them, I'm going to do it. I don't want to take away from the people around me just to make myself happier.

What do I need? I need the people around me to be happy. And occasionally let me know that they like me. Thankfully I have some really wonderful friends. I've been thinking too much lately, especially about things I don't want to think about, and I just need to remind myself to think of those people instead.

I love you all a lot. A lot a lot. In fact, I can't not love you. Speaking of that, here's the song I've been playing nonstop for the past few days that, interestingly enough, is called that:

I hope you all enjoy the Thanksgiving holiday. Much love from Fremont.

I am here with you

Nothing really important to say right now...at least not to say here. I just want to show off the beginnings of two new paintings. :)

There's nothing that can accurately describe the internal joy that painting gives me. Even when they don't turn out exactly how I wanted (like the silver on top of the pink in the bottom picture), and especially when they turn out better than I expected (like the top picture!)...it makes me so happy. I don't know what it is...it's just fulfilling, I guess. The creativity, the knowledge that I'm making something for my friends, the simple beauty of having paint-covered hands - it's so wonderful. I love finding inspiration and making the idea my own, I love seeing it in my mind and later seeing it on the canvas, I love the escape of an afternoon of painting.

That top picture could end up being my favorite one yet. Good thing, because I'm making it for a very special purpose.

A new fantastic point of view

There do not exist in this world many things better than the look of pure joy on your friends' faces when they're happy to see you.

Whether it's after not seeing them for a week (or a month), returning to them when you thought you'd left for the last time, seeing them after only being away from them a few hours, or passing by them on your way to or from class...there's simply nothing like it. Okay, so this is getting awfully far away from reality for the rest of you, so I'm just going to explain what I'm talking about.

Before we begin, I want to let you know I'm going to get a little faithy here. If you don't want to read about it, I understand and won't be offended. I know I have a lot of friends who are atheists/agnostics/struggling with their personal faith, so I hope you all don't see this as me preaching to you. I'm just going to write about what I felt.


Also, how are Disney songs so fitting? (see this post's title, and keep reading)

Obviously, if you read my last post, you know that I went to Montgomery, AL, on a service trip last week over my fall break. At the time I wrote that one, I was unsure of how to feel about it. I started finally getting excited during lunch the day we were leaving, when I knew it would be a week before I saw the people with whom I was eating. As our departure time approached, that feeling kept building until I was nearly exploding with excitement an hour before we were supposed to leave. I was practically skipping to my room after class got out, and I finished packing and called my mom and was ready to leave half an hour later.

I was the first one from our group to arrive at the vans, which actually was probably for the best. It gave me some time to get all my energy out and settle down before I drove everyone insane. By the time we actually pulled out of the parking lot (on time, believe it or not!), I had returned to my original state - not necessarily excited or nervous, but ready to go.

We stayed in Columbia, MO, that night - a little less than 1/3 of the way to Montgomery - because Eric's parents were so incredibly kind and let us spend the night at their house (Eric, tell your parents thanks again!). On the way there, I had one of the potentially most important conversations I've had in a very long time. I've never spoken so openly about my depression with someone I barely knew...I've never spoken about my depression with someone I barely knew. I for once wasn't overcome with emotion while talking about it, and I was able to see things a little differently because of the questions I was asked. For once, I didn't feel like I was just talking at someone. My listener was interested and curious, and I'm assuming (correct me if I'm wrong) had never really experienced something like that before, so maybe they learned from it too. I hope so.

We went to the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis that Saturday. It's inside the hotel where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was shot, and the entire experience was so surreal. I stood just a few feet from that spot. I looked into the room where he stayed. What?

The National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, TN
The wreath marks the balcony where Dr. King was standing when he was shot.

Saturday night, we arrived at Resurrection hungry, tired, and worn out from driving 12 hours that day. Somehow we all summoned up the energy to hang out for a little while, but I had to go to bed after a little while. We went to Mass on Sunday and heard from Fr. Manuel one of the most moving homilies I've heard in a long time. I've heard the reading ("Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and give to God what is God's") a countless number of times, but it never really meant much to me. To be honest, I'd associated the entire thing with money. Fr. Manuel spoke about giving ourselves to God, though - He made us, and we are His. (See, I told you it was going to get faithy) So it provided some food for thought, most definitely.

The second thing that struck me about Mass that day was the music. Previously, I'd always thought, "Why is Gospel music such a big thing? Do people really need to be entertained while they're at church? That's not what church is about." Uhh, hello Ali. You were wrong. Experiencing it firsthand made all the difference. I realized partway through Mass how full my heart felt...and if you've been following along, you're probably aware of the fact that I've been struggling with that for a while - struggling with actually feeling something in my chest instead of the pulling weight that's been there for a few weeks. I was happy to be there, happy to be singing along even when I didn't know the words, happy to be seeing all these other happy people. So something occurred to me during the Mass...maybe the South has been doing it right, using music to express their joy and praise for God. I mean, music is where I usually find my peace. So maybe it's not about being entertained during church - maybe it's about being fully present.

The whole group at the Resurrection church picnic:
Mary Clare, Chelsea E., me, Eric, Nolan, Amy
Andi, Chelsea L., Katie, Sarah, Anne, Garret, Anthony
Teresa, Jessica, Kathryn

After Mass, we set up for the church picnic at a reception hall a few minutes away, and then we served and ate some really delicious food. By the end of it, the ladies at my table were force-feeding me the most delicious bundt cake I've ever eaten and pudding and other desserts. I think I gained ten pounds at that picnic alone.

Later in the week, we also got to see the National Civil Rights Center in downtown Montgomery (not to be confused with the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis). Its focus was on some of the people who were brutally killed during the Movement and whose deaths were important but maybe not well-known. It was very small and didn't take long to walk through and read everything, but I got more out of it than the museum in Memphis. At the end, it showed that civil rights has to do with more than just the Movement of the 1960s, that it's something the world is still struggling with tremendously. The very last part of the center was a dark room with a huge screen on one wall with countless names floating down to the floor. It was the Wall of Tolerance, the name of which I didn't really like (I prefer "acceptance" to "tolerance"), but I found it very moving to be inside that room. I wrote a lot in my journal that day, more than doubling the number of pages I'd used for my previous entries. It was definitely a powerful day.

A couple things I wanted to remember from the National Civil Rights Center

Oh man. This post is starting to get way too long. Umm...summary of other things:

I got to hang out with a bunch of 7th graders at Resurrection School, and by the end of the week they actually thought I was cool - possibly because I broke out the Dougie in Sr. Gilda's classroom. They were pretty awesome kids, not gonna lie.

My 7th graders!

I drove around the city with a few others delivering food boxes to some elderly people, which was quite the experience - Ms. Viola was wonderful, telling us to stay in school and making it obvious that she was proud of us for going to college, even though we had just met her.

We had dinner with Ms. Taylor (from the Equal Justice Initiative), Rev. Graetz (the first white preacher to publicly support the Civil Rights Movement), Dr. Hardy (who had been heavily involved with the Movement starting in his teenage years), and Mr. Malden (Nelson Malden, NOT Mandela, who was Dr. King's barber when he lived in Montgomery).

With our special dinner guests

We visited Mr. Malden's barbershop, where the guys trimmed the hairs on their heads. Anthony, Andi, and Garret got haircuts, and Eric got a straight shave.

The guys with Mr. Malden at the barbershop - don't they look great?

We visited the home for disabled adults that's located just behind the church, where I met Bobby, who reminded me a lot of one of my cousins and was really cool.

We had dinner again with Mr. Malden, and also Fr. Manuel, Fr. Fred, Michelle (who was in charge of us for the week), and a few other guests.

We helped to organize and put on Resurrection's annual gala fundraiser event where we met Ms. Bonnie and Ms. Charlotte, and I have never felt so important to two women who I'd just met ever before. I got my Southern accent back for a little bit, and now it's a lot easier for me to slip right back into it (Ms. Bonnie sounds just like my Aunt Judy, who lives in the southern part of Texas). We may have gotten food poisoning from that benefit, but who knows?

My darling Ms. Bonnie!

A lot of us were sick on the way back this past Friday. Mine hit later than everyone else's - they were all sick in the morning, but I didn't get it until we stopped for fried chicken in Memphis that afternoon. It was (of course) worst while I was driving, but I had some Gatorade and water and slept when Katie took over driving for me, and I felt a lot better that night. We stayed at Eric's house again (seriously, Eric, you can't thank your family enough for all they did for us!) and got some really great bonding time in.

If you ever go to Memphis and want some really good fried chicken, go to Uncle Lou's. Seriously, the Sweet Spicy Love  sauce was amazing, and the place has been on the Food Network twice!

I had a couple more conversations that were really critical. I found a kindred spirit whose new friendship I treasure very much, the final drive back into Omaha was again filled with a conversation that was very important, and in the affirmations I received at the very end of the trip, I found something in myself.  All these things, all these conversations...they helped me to uncover something. I don't know if I can define it accurately for you, but it's like the words people said to me that day helped me to find a beauty inside myself. It's still faint, but at least I can see it now. It's a new fantastic point of view, if you will. (eh, you see what I did there?)



"We left as strangers, but we became a family." (credit to Nolan for that one)



So did I come back changed? Maybe a little. But more than that, I came back rejuvenated, with a strengthened voice and a strengthened will to continue to be an advocate for those who are silenced.

This was by no means every detail of the trip - there are so many things I couldn't fit in here, things I'm keeping in my journal and my heart. I'd love to talk with any of you reading this about those things, but for now I'm going to have to be done.

With love, Ali G.

This is life, and it's good.

It's a best friend marrying the man who was meant for her. It's getting to share in the joy of the celebration as a bridesmaid. It's standing up on stage, laughing at the pastor's jokes and feeling the tears in your eyes when you see him looking at her with so much love in his eyes.

It's messing up and accidentally giving the wrong address and feeling terrible and apologizing a million times. It's the awkward introductions. It's the rest of the room disappearing while you're having a conversation. It's so many hugs. It's having a fantastic time while you're not even doing anything.

It's cracking up at old camp memories and it's realizing how well you're understood by each other. It's seeing a perfect little apartment that's so crowded with stuff and knowing there's tons more stuff coming into it soon. It's staying up until 2:30 AM when you have to get up in six hours but there's just so much to discuss. It's not being afraid to share your secrets because they're her secrets too. It's picking up right where you left off, no matter how many months or years it's been.

It's muffins for breakfast. It's a bitter cup of coffee with frozen whipped cream because there's no milk. It's singing along to every song on the way home and realizing that you are so incredibly happy. It's a fresh mani/pedi and lunch before leaving again, and it's a friend coming to visit for a while.

This is your life, and it is so good.

You could crush me

It's that feeling of wanting something so deeply it starts to hurt. It starts in your chest, down below your heart, and it swells and it aches. There are no sharp pains, just a constant throbbing that spreads to your shoulders and down your arms. It's so strong that you think your heart might burst, and you try to breathe and you try to relieve the aching but it just won't fade.

Is anybody listening?

Can't get enough of this song lately.

A Finger, Two Dots, Then Me - Derrick Brown

This, guys. Just this.

6:59 AM - Shane Koyczan

I've been told
that people in the army
do more by 7:00 am
than I do
in an entire day

but if I wake
at 6:59 am
and turn to you
to trace the outline of your lips
with mine
I will have done enough
and killed no one
in the process.

Signed sincerely, me

Yep, I'm doing it. I'm writing a post about not writing.

It's been a long time since I've written something real...on here, at least. That crap poem where I couldn't put into  words how much I felt doesn't count - a) because I couldn't put into words how much I felt, and b) because I wrote it in a notebook first. Also, I wrote a letter the other night (that made me cry because I was so overwhelmed with everything I wanted to convey), and it will be on its way to the recipient very very soon (I promise). So I have done a little writing, yes, but not like this. This is stream of consciousness, flowing straight from my fingertips, less thought-out and deliberate writing.

Why, though?

I don't really know. Maybe I haven't had time to collect thoughts about any particular subject. Maybe I've just kind of been floating along the last few weeks and haven't actually felt passionate about any particular subject. Maybe it's that I don't want to share everything with...well, everybody.

Of the three options I've just allowed myself to consider, I think it would have to be the last one that is most likely to be the cause of this writer's block(?). It's quite possible that some of the subjects about which I've wanted to write are too much to share here. It's possible that they might be looking at this post right now.

#whoops

Also for that reason, I have not been sharing nearly as much personal information as I usually do...well, anywhere. Because I don't know who's seeing this or my Tumblr or anything else, I don't want to overstep boundaries that might exist or cause awkward situations that are only going to break my heart. I'm usually so willing to share everything with everyone, and now I'm wondering why. If I put everything out there, where's the mystery? It's the mystery that makes people crazy, makes them think and analyze and crave.

Sometimes I wish I could focus on certain people and see what they do. It would make things so much easier. But then I know that I wouldn't want to use that power, for fear of not seeing what I hoped.

So basically, I think about you a lot, and all I can do is hope that you do the same. Except about me. Because you shouldn't think about yourself as much as I think about you. That's just conceited, and you're not like that.

This rambling post brought to you by the 1:30 AM version of Ali G.

In a romantic mood tonight

...but then again, when am I not?

• Pride and Prejudice playing on my tv
• champagne-colored nail polish
• TOTES wearing this for Lauren's wedding
• probs ending this calm evening with a little Pablo Neruda
• this movie has one of the best soundtracks I've heard
• especially "Dawn"

Also, I happen to be surrounded by young, single men. And they're all pre-priests. Greeeat.

Home is wherever I'm with you

Things I'm loving about home so far:

1. I can take a baaaath here.
2. I've read a hundred pages of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone tonight.
3. My parents and I had a good conversation over dinner.
4. I didn't have to pay for my dinner. ;)
5. I'm snuggled under my quilt reading, it's only 11:00 and I'm tired, and I can sleep in tomorrow.
6. I get to see some truly wonderful friends tomorrow.
7. I didn't have to buy my own groceries.
8. My parents are on a good spell, it seems. It's always nice when I don't have to be stuck in the middle of a pointless argument.
9. I get to see a bunch of my extended family on Sunday.
10. Although there's still an air of not really belonging here, I'm glad I am. It's not so frustrating this time.

You've been on my mind

Good things list:

• Bike ride tonight, to Iowa and back.
• My leg muscles seem to have remembered they exist.
• I will be extremely sore when I get up in the morning.
• An "I miss you" text that I really needed.
• PS - I miss you right back, and I can't wait to send you the package I'm planning.
• Made it to Scooter's with 10 minutes to spare before it closed.
• Wonderful time spent back at the Kiewit desk with Lance.
• His fambam is basically awesome. :)
• Can finally send in my RSVP for the wedding!
• (because now I know who's coming to it with me)
• Wishing Elane's and my schedules could not be polar opposites for just one evening.
• Back to living in Swanson!
• But I do really miss Kiewit...
• Going home this weekend.
• Seeing the mama, the papa, the bffs, and the extended fambam!
• So many tears in the last couple weeks.
• Yes, that is a good thing.
• It means I was moved or that I really truly love the people in my life (and miss them a ton).

I just wanna be alone with your smile

2 things:

• That damn dream I had this morning. It was the first one about you in months. You were standing there, holding the hand of a girl who was taller, skinnier, and had darker red hair than me. In the beginning, your hair seemed like you cut it, but then I realized it was longer than ever. You were so self-absorbed that you didn't even notice me.
• Seeing lyrics from Blink-182's "M+M's" on Tumblr. It took me back to that time when we just sat in your car and you played it for me, telling me to listen to all the lyrics. All I wanted was to buy some candy (but not cigarettes) and drive to Madagascar with you. And I thought of how those are your favorite candy, and how I bought you that 42-ounce bag of them when I left for school so you'd eat them at work and think of me.

So I played it, and Dammit came on next, and why does every Blink-182 song have to be about you? Why did I have to start listening to your favorite band so much that I can still remember all the words, even though I haven't listened to them in a year and a half? And then there was Feeling This, and I could remember singing harmony with you in the car, and how you played Down and I didn't really understand it.

And it's not that I miss you, it's that I wish you would have tried harder. Because then I wouldn't be crying about nostalgia, I'd be crying about how I'm going to be in Omaha and you're going to be in Texas for the summer, but I wouldn't be alone tonight because you're not leaving for another couple of weeks.

And I just want to know what makes you smile now and if it still hurts to think about that night, whether you thought about coming after me when I left, and why you never called. And if you talked to your mom or your grandma or your brothers and what they said about me and what if I had gone to your grandma's wedding last summer? How the smell of the Garnier Fructis in my hair doesn't remind me of yours anymore, it's just how my hair smells now.

And how I just want to prove to you how much better off I am without you pulling me down all the time and how you hated my friends and how I hated that you hate everyone. And how you ruined Christmas for me that year and never wanted to introduce me to your family and how I never understood that.

And how I wish you'd call, still. That you'd want to apologize and show me how you've changed and become a better person. And how I'd pretend not to know who was calling because I deleted your number but can still remember it immediately when I think about it. And how I try not to think about it, but suddenly it's there, just like the way you'd roll your eyes when you were being ridiculous and how much I loved your real smile and how rarely I saw it because you were never happy, just content. And how I couldn't handle just being content and just wanted to make you happy but never could and how I drove myself crazy with that.

And how you had such an amazing smile.

(not) Waiting for my prince to come

This weekend, I went to Creighton's production of Into the Woods, which I surprisingly have never heard of before this year. I really enjoyed it, mainly because Tim was absolutely hilarious in it - he was Cinderella's prince, and bahahahaha...I was laughing so loud at him (and the cow, Milky White). Besides the hilarity, though, I liked the show because it made me realize something.

I don't want a Prince Charming.


I'm not saying that I don't want a man in my life.Y'all know me, and you know that's not true. But Tim had a line in the second act..."I was raised to be charming, not sincere." Then later, Cinderella had a line that was something to the effect of "his house was a nightmare and yours is a dream, but I want something in-between."

It was those two lines that really made me think. I don't want someone who's perfect. I want someone whose imperfections I can see, someone who doesn't hide them from me. Then I can be more comfortable in sharing my own. I want someone real, because that's the only way I would be able to find something real. Because in all actuality, isn't it the imperfections that make relationships beautiful? Without them, things would be boring, bland, and simple.

Easy doesn't mean right. Usually, easy actually means wrong - it's too easy to do what you want when what you need is really difficult. But we have to push through the difficult times, the imperfect times, to really appreciate the beauty in our lives. Without those hard times, how would we know who's really there for us? How would we know who really loves us for the people we are, rather than the people they think we are/want us to be?

I don't know who he is, I don't know where he is. But I know he's out there, my un-Prince Charming. He'll love me not because I'm perfect, but because my imperfections are parts of me. We'll grow together, accomplish things, love each other like no one ever loved us before.

Until then, I have friends who love me for exactly who I am. How do I know? I know because they stick with me through hard times. No, they do more than that. They carry me through hard times, push me to be me and no one else. They don't falter in times when I feel like I don't deserve them, they celebrate with me when I find things to love about myself. They demand that I tell them five things I love about myself, they supply endless hugs, they wake me up with texts. They tell me secrets, they tell me to "find perfection in the imperfections." So this one goes out to Scott, Eric, Bill, Steph, Patrick, Katie, Shannon, Katherine, Elane, Franky and others.

Also: I felt pretty last night. I was stressing about things to wear, right down to the jewelry, but I found an outfit that was just right. I didn't try too hard with my makeup and hair, and I felt pretty. No one had to tell me for me to feel it, which I think was the best part.

She's on your mind

It's been a few days full of The Fray for me lately. Sorry, I don't really have time to post anything right now due to a physiology exam that will be over 12 hours from now, but here's a song for you to consider. Love you all. ♥

Well maybe...the landslide will bring you down

I know I haven't posted in a while, but I'm not going to apologize for that. Honestly, I haven't felt the need to say anything over the past few days. Lately I've been writing things out in my notebook...most of what I want to say is a little too private to be put in a post for anyone to read. I also had a really wonderful conversation with one of my absolute best friends (shoutout to Steph) yesterday; I finally got something out that I've been holding in for a very long time, and I couldn't have asked for a better listener.

I realized recently that I've been taking a lesson from Glee lately - there are so many songs that can describe how I'm feeling so perfectly. In case you haven't noticed or figured it out yet, almost all of my post titles are song lyrics - each one matches how I felt at the time, or at least was playing in my head for some reason. This time, it's Landslide (originally by Stevie Nicks). I would prefer the Stevie Nicks version, but I couldn't find a good recording of it...or I didn't try very hard because I actually really like the Dixie Chicks version too. I never really understood what this song was trying to say in the past - I guess I never really listened. But yes, it was last week's episode of Glee that made me re-examine it. I had to figure out what the characters were trying to communicate, and I wasn't getting it just from the show. I had to read the lyrics, I had to listen to the melody, I had to look at my own life.

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

We're just amateur lovers with amateur friends

"I love you."

Simple words, aren't they?

But think about it...to how many people have you said that and really, truly meant it? Honestly, outside of my family, there aren't too many that I can think of.

I'm an I love you slut (like Hannah from Made of Honor). I say it all the time, but I don't believe in saying it too much. I use it to express things that might be better expressed by other words, but I never think people would be better off not saying it. It's a phrase commonly used to tell people that they're really great, or when people feel obligated to say it because someone said it to them, or to people they don't truly know because it makes them feel like they have friends.

So I'm making it my promise to you, my friends, to tell you that I love you and mean it. And if I have told you that I love you, believe me - I truly meant it. In a whisper at 4:30 am, yelling from my door while you're in the elevator, sitting on your floor drunk on wine and life on a Tuesday night...I couldn't have meant it more. I love you.

"I love, I love, I love you, and never wish to be parted from you from this day on."

Family pictures

Some ADORABLE pictures of baby Cale, my parents, and me :)

Wow, I look so much like my mom.
Babies. I want to hold them.



He kept attacking my face!

HOW CUTE IS THAT?