Second of all, I am obsessed with old people and everything about them. Scott told me the other day I dress like an old lady. Now you'd think I would be insulted, but you would be wrong. I was elated. What a compliment! The other day Jesse asked me if I wanted to be old ladies for halloween and showed me some pictures of her friends who had done it last year... I couldn't stop staring at what they were wearing. I love wool, I love high pants, I love gaudy gold jewelry and broaches. When I go to thrift stores on dates or for fun to joke around I'm actually thinking: "I wish I could wear all of this everyday." On the outside I'm a 19 year old girl, but on the inside I am as old as grandmother willow. You give me Jeopardy and Antique Roadshow any day (please and thank you) and I'll give you a happy heart. I think my body is even starting to register that, I may or may not have arthritis and I am starting to resemble the hunchback of notre dame, but only in that both of our backs are hunched. All I can say is:
Bring on the seasonal sweaters!
Bring on the knobby fingers and a cute husband with suspenders!
Bring on AGE!
Oh, and we (scott and I) decided on a halloween costume... it's pretty obvious if you think about it.
Yep, Ron and Hermione. With the new movie coming out we had to, ya know?
I know I just posted something yesterday but there has been a monkey on my back. You see, I feel like I'm getting too sentimental and metaphorical in my posts lately. I'm not a gooey person by any means. It's okay when other people are like that but I don't want myself turning into that... No offense. It's just not my style you know? Ha ha, I just said that last sentence out loud in a black person voice. Try it for yourself, it feels great to say.
Anyways, so I'm gonna lighten things up here by telling you a funny story my roommate reminded me of a few days ago. Now I can't believe I've forgotten it all these years because it is ridiculously embarrassing... Brace yourself for this mateys.
So during my teeny-bopper years (12 &13), my parents let me have the honor of going and starting the car after church because lots of times they took forever to come out and I hated sitting in the lobby. We had just bought a new car and it was a standard. Not yet being a driver I didn't really know what that meant and without thinking my dad let me have the keys to go start the car... So I blame this incidence on him really. I went out and started the car and for those who drive a stick you know that if you don't have the clutch in it jumps right? Well this was a springy little car and when I turned the key, it bounced right over the curb. You'd think: "Oh, wouldn't it stall out and you'd be fine?" No way. I instinctively pushed my foot to the first pedal near it... and that just happened to be the gas. I flew forward with my hands in the air and ran into a pine tree. Not the trunk, just the branches which didn't slow down the momentum all that much. After going through those I continued to fly across the lawn. During this whole time I am screaming hysterically in such shock I don't even think to take my foot off the gas. I'm flying forward and suddenly my dad walks out of the church. As he sees me his eyes go big and "what the (h-e-double hockey sticks) are you doing!?" comes out of his mouth in front of all the children leaving for home. He then runs with inhuman speed to the car, pushes me to the passenger seat, and takes control. Dead silence. Neither of us say a word as everyone stares while our family car turns around on the church lawn and drives on home. I wasn't even embarrassed, I was fearing for my life of what my punishment would be.
When we pulled in the driveway my dad turned to me and said: "Well you better go get a cloth and start cleaning off all the sap on the front of the car." That's all he said. I wordlessly went in, walked past my mom with her quizzical look, and cleaned the car. It wasn't until a while later when I finally mustered up the courage to tell her about it. She just looked at me like nothing had happened and said: "I know, your dad already told me about it." I questioned why he didn't get more mad at me. She just started to laugh.
"Well honey, he said you looked so scared and were screaming so bad there was no way he could get mad at you."
Was this a dream? I now knew the secret to getting out of everything. Look scared and scream hysterically.
that was fun, I think I'll make a habit of writing these kind of stories.
You know what I realized? Girls are so hard on themselves. We all have perfect expectations for ourselves and most of the time there's no leniency for any amounts of failure. It's really deteriorating to our spirits. Whatever happened to just loving ourselves? To accepting the fact that not everything always turns out right? So what if I want to have one measly cookie? I just really noticed this weekend how constantly degrading I am to myself. Around other girls it's almost my whole point of conversation. I must be the most annoying person to talk to.
So, this morning when I felt frumpy and ugly and overloaded with school I decided to get rid of negative thoughts. Yes, I don't have the same body I did when I was 14, but what's wrong with curves? Aren't I always complaining of lacking a chest? Well here they are! haha. Sure, my hair is especially orange today, but who else has the same colour as me? No one. I decided I am going to go on a negative thoughts fast. Whenever a negative thought about myself or anyone comes to mind, I'm going to replace it with one thing I like. Hopefully by the end of this it will be the positive thoughts that naturally come to mind. When I feel like a failure I'll remind myself of all the things I've accomplished. Most women are not failures, they just have the idea in their head that they are. How about instead of busying our lives with worries and unnecessary actions we sit and remind ourselves of what we've accomplished, how beautiful we are, and that there is always tomorrow to be better. It's about the progress, not the perfection.