but my lips hurt real bad

Yesterday I was sitting in my drawing class working on my color wheel. I love drawing class. It is relaxing and it is 3 hours long 2 days a week... it's almost like mandatory relaxation time. At any rate, most days I bring in my headphones and listen to my mp3 while i draw. I usually only have one ear bud in in the event that interesting conversation arises that is worth listening in on. When this happens, if i do not care to actually participate in the convo, i will just pull the ear bud slightly out of my ear so that i can hear everything being said, but still look like i'm listening to music... sneaky sneaky.

Back to yesterday. I forgot to bring my headphones to class so i got my entertainment from the two guys who sit behind me. Their back and forths are often hilarious and comment interjections are compulsory. i feel the need far too often to whip around and add my two cents. I was definitely trying to complete the task at hand, but when I heard this statement I could not help but join in. "my lips are so dry, i just quit chapstick cold turkey."

I am a chapstick addict. I'll admit it. So as something that I could relate to, I turned around and we began to talk about this horrible addiction that takes you by surprise so quickly and rarely will let go of you. I haven't been able to quit chapstick for at least 2 years. Somedays I can go without and feel completely fine, but that's usually during the summer. As the weather gets drier, so do my lips. As we continued on this topic, my lips began to feel dry. Very, very dry. I was resisting the urge to whip out my own personal chapstick that i had in my pocket and begin liberally applying it. It was almost more than i could take!

But here's a funny story about chapstick and the addiction that lies within. Two winters ago I would drive to MCC with my brother every mwf morning. to save on gas of course. We pulled out of the driveway and not a tenth of a mile away, i realized i had forgotten my chapstick. if we turned around we would be even later as we were already running a few minutes behind schedule. So i asked him if i could borrow his chapstick, because my lips hurt real bad. his response was negatory, as i had recently sabotaged one of his sticks. I think he had dared me to bite it or lick it or something, and calling his bluff, i did. Therefore, he was absolutely unwilling to allow me near his chapstick. In fact, he claimed that he had forgotten his as well. (but i knew he was lying) Well, when my classes were over THREE HOURS LATER i raced to the store and bought chapstick and smeared it all over my lips which i was sure were only minutes away from falling off my face. I returned to the school to pick Dan up, and sitting down in the car, pulls out his chapstick and starts applying! i freaked out on him of course. he seriously endangered the safety of my lips that day!

Anyways, I have no idea how to kick this habit, and i would like to find the group on facebook for chapstick addicts. i would join in a second.

where are you black sweatshirt?

I really really really miss my black sweatshirt.

It all started about two weeks ago. I found a great orange shirt on sale for $4 and snatched it up with little thought to what I would do with it. It was such a good deal the rest didn't really matter. I just had to get the shirt. Post purchase, I sat pondering (literally) how i would wear this new purchase... and it came to me... layers. and the outer layer would be a black sweatshirt. It just so happens that I had one in my closet, so the next morning, eager to put together my new outfit, i whipped it out and put it all together. Then i saw it... "it" wasn't just one thing. "It" was several things.

Before I continue here I would like to illustrate a fact of my life that I have learned to live with throughout the years. I have a very vivid imagination. I can create idealistic scenarios in my mind with so much detail and perfectness that often times when i attempt to recreate it in reality, I am disappointed. When i was very young (say about 2nd grade) I remember lying in bed one night imagining that I could draw a picture of a raccoon. I had it pictured in my mind and imagined my pencil perfectly forming the delicate lines that eventually made up a very realistic looking raccoon. I was beyond excited about bringing this to life and so the very next morning when I got to my classroom I busted out a piece of paper and a pencil and began to draw what I had completed in my mind the night before. However, all did not go as planned. My fingers would not obey what my mind thought up... and i ended up with a very, very unrealistic looking raccoon. In fact it probably didn't even resemble any kind of animal in the raccoon family, or any family... it was sad... I was sad.

After this experience I learned to leave many things to my imagination... but some things just have to be brought to life. And this particular outfit was one of them.

The "it" that i referred to adds up to a list of things so very wrong with my black sweatshirt. It had a couple, if not more, what looked like halfway bleached bleach stains. There were small tears from the last three years of constant wear. And to top it off, it had been washed and worn so many times it looked like i inherited it from a much larger someone than myself.

It just would not do.

But it had to suffice... for the time being. I decided right then that i needed to buy another black sweatshirt... and I would do it today. TODAY. So i went off to my very favorite clothing store, Old Navy to find one... there was an enormous sale going on, so as i was distracted from my main purpose, I still did not forget... and then, there it was. Sitting on a shelf, so lonely... and MARKED DOWN... to $7. It was a happy day...

This all brings me to today. my beloved black sweatshirt that helped me accomplish in reality what i had imagined is taking a vacation amongst alicia's clothing. I miss you dear sweatshirt, and i wish that you would come back to me. I think about you every day and when you come back, I promise to appreciate you for everything you are worth... just about $6.97.

stalk me

For all you e-stalkers out there, this is for you.

I know how you think because i happen to be one myself... I have not gone to the point of following people in real life, however, last night i came dangerously close to having to admit otherwise.

After a lovely evening at rochester's most upscale movie theatre (aka Movies 10 aka the dollar theatre) watching "no reservations" my dear friend alicia and i decided to cap off the night of elegance with a quick stop at none other than McDonalds. For those of you familiar with Rochester, there are quite a few mickey d's around, but in my experience, the one on hylan drive in henrietta has them all topped. They have attempted to do what not many other mcdonalds have done before. They have these cutsie high tables and chairs to match the height, and even a little section with a love seat and a couple posh chairs. At any rate, that is the sole reason I picked that particular mcdonalds last night, yay for effective decorating. We each got a mcflurry and proceeded over to one of the oh so "starbucksesque" high tables. After a few minutes, a police officer walked in and ordered his late dinner. Now, for the record, this was not just any police officer... turns out he is US army military police... and he was, ahem, good looking. I'll just leave it at that. OH SNAP! This is where it gets crazy. When it comes to this kind of thing, I am all talk and no game. I would never approach a guy without any kind of reciprocated action beforehand. This is not the case with Alicia. We discussed to great length the different approaches she could take to initiate conversation, however, my main goal was not to carry anything out in reality, but to get a good laugh out of it. As we progressed, I realized that she was dead serious about talking to this guy. So when he finally got up to leave, guess who else got up to leave. That would be us.

The story now continues from the inside of my car where I say we will follow him, with the underlying clause on my end "as long as he is going the way we are going." This lapse of communication between the two of us was almost enough to make me completely pass out from embarassment, because had she been driving, we would have followed him to syracuse and back. Yes, last night I almost stalked a police officer.

It all makes for a funny story, but i realized a few things about myself in the process. I am not as outgoing as I would like to think. I am also unable to throw caution to the wind as easily as I used to... but i realize that is not necessarily a bad thing. I have done it too many times and seen it go terribly wrong. So my conclusion is that while it is fun to talk about, real life stalking is just not cool on any level.

does God play poker?

The other day I was sitting around thinking to myself... self, what should you do with your life. I am pleased to report that I am no closer to the answer now as I was then. However, I did find that in times like this, it helps to expel my thoughts on paper... or in this case, the keyboard. Typing is easier anyways... and faster.

How many times have i begun to take stock in what i have accomplished (or not yet accomplished) and become overwhelmingly depressed? Sorry, don't answer that question... the answer is "too many." I need to simplify the thoughts i have about my life and refocus. Truly, my purpose lies in God's hands, and often i wish that he would tip it to me and let me peek at what we have to work with. It occurs to me however, that playing poker with God is not the smartest idea. I've heard it said that God never plays dice... dice is a game of chance, poker though, is not. To be a good poker player you have to know how to read people... that's basically the whole game. It makes sense to me that the almighty Creator of Heaven and Earth knows his creation inside and out, foward and backward... so why would i play poker with him when he so clearly has the advantage? I'm not.

Instead, what if I were to give my cards over to him... and just watch. In high stake poker tournaments, often a player will be sponsored into the game by a wealthy (albeit not so good at poker) benefactor. The pro goes into the game with someone else's money and what he or she wins is split between him or herself and the sponsor. In applying this to God and me, I would say though that God would not only win the poker tournament (aka my life) but also GURANTEE my winnings. All i have to do is give up my hand...

Something to think about for sure.