the condensation of atmospheric water vapor falling on the earth's surface makes me feel alive.

Life. What a funny thing you are. Every day you are different but always essentially the same. Why do I love you so much? Why do I wish you would go away sometimes? I don't have good answers for these questions. All I know is that I walked in the rain tonight. I felt it fall on my face and clothes. It washed away the day's grime. It is a seemingly meaningless moment in my life that I will cherish for awhile. I will think back on that moment in the rain and smile. Why? Because it is my life. Because it is during all of those inconsequential times that I realize how lucky I am to be alive.

So, thanks God, for the rain. It made me feel a little more alive today.

breathing, part two.

I haven't experienced a thunderstorm in my new house. Did you catch that? Yes, my new house. I have a place of my own. It is an incredible feeling to walk around a place that is yours and only yours. I like being alone. Normally I get my energy from being with people. I have found that I have really enjoyed staying at my house and being by myself. My home is peaceful. It arrived with no memories of its own. It was just built a few weeks ago. The only footprints left in my cheap carpet were made by people I love. My family walked through it as they helped me move, and my closest friends came in to help me fold laundry and say "pretty!" when they walked in the door. It is a sweet place. A surprisingly pink place, as well. I really feel like a grown woman now.

The other night I crawled into my new bed and ate cereal from a blue Dixie cup. Ecstasy.

breathe.

It is raining. I hear it from inside my little room. I'm not in my regular house. It is a new place to me. The owners are in the Bahamas. I'm watering their plants, sleeping in their bed, and making sure no burglars come and get their stuff - although the most important stuff (aka the scuba diving gear) was taken away with them on their trip. I'm lonely. It is a lonely night. I'm happy with that. Sometimes it is good to just get away from the noise of the world and be by yourself. Just to listen to the rain water the plants I watered this morning. I hope they don't drown. I can't wait to experience a thunderstorm like this in my own house. Hopefully I won't be lonely. Even if I just have a big dog that is afraid of storms, I would be content with that.

The rain will help me sleep tonight. It will remind me that tomorrow will be a new day. Probably a very humid day, but a new one, nonetheless.



And that is the kind of news I need to hear right now.

situation manipulation, part 1

I am not assertive. I don't make decisions. Granted, I do place a lot of value in decisions but overall I hate making them. Most of the time I just like to be. I like other people to take charge.

Shall we now cue Emily and Kendra? I think so.

They are marvelous women. Creative, cute, friendly...the list goes on. Both of them have that "it" factor. The factor that makes you watch them and think to yourself, "Wow. I want to be in their club. I want to be their sister or friend or (if you are a man) husband or (if you are a mother-in-law with an appropriately aged son) daughter-in-law." Recently, they performed the situation manipulation. It was very enjoyable. They were assertive for me in a very awkward social situation by prodding, encouraging, and sometimes forcing. But what would I have done without them? I certainly would not have had nearly as much fun. They are very good situation manipulators. Emily can capture the situation manipulation moments on camera. Then she can email them to you without anyone knowing. Kendra can encourage the conversation along and try to get you in prime situations as well as give you pointers and pep talks.

Today, think about your situation manipulators. These are the people that love you so much that they would take time out of their day to make your day happier or make that dream-like moment come true. Thank you, Kendra and Emily. Thank you for being assertive, encouraging, and at times - forceful. I needed that this weekend. :)

the pink tree with the flowers on it.

Things have changed. Lots of changes. New major, new friends, no boyfriend, new responsibilities at work, new attitude, new clothes, I went to New York!

I'm dying my hair.


Today, one of my favorite patients entered the office. I would love to tell you her name, but that would be a violation of HIPAA. She is 92, loves the Lord, and is the biggest fireball you will ever meet. "Violet" was enraptured by the pink tree outside the window. It wasn't a dogwood, it isn't some weird bush. It is a large tree with beautiful pink blossoms on it. During the Winter she would have been able to identify it, but now that the blossoms are there it is throwing her off. I love this tree. It is a reminder that just because different colored blossoms appear on this tree that people aren't used to...doesn't mean that they love the tree any less.

I am trying to make myself not feel guilty for needing an after-break-up makeover. A lot of people don't want me to dye my hair, but it is a much-needed thing that needs to occur. I need a change. Even though there have been a good amount of changes around me, I want some changes to occur WITH me. I guess I want to have control of this change.

Yesterday I went and hiked a 5.3 mile trail. That is hardcore for me. I don't do the outdoors. But I did it and loved it. I never take risks. I never do anything that will really rock the boat because I don't want to disappoint anyone. But I need to rock the boat every now and then. As long as I'm not sinning against God - I'm golden. I can rock the boat by hiking, walking in the rain, wearing my dress two days in a row just because I like it. Tonight, I am rocking the boat by going blonde. Does this make the tree less recognizable? Yes. Does this make the tree and sucky-life tree? No. Welcome, newly colored blossoms!

Look at me! I'm Evangeline!

MyHeritage: Celebrity Morph - Dynasty - Family history

Finish line.

Well, it has happened. I am actually finishing something. See, I have this thing where I back out of things when they get overwhelming or sad. Simply because I believe I can't do it.

There's the rub. I can't do it.

There is no way that I can get through Music School. You know why? Because I can't do it alone. And I am not alone. I have this great God who has my back all the time. He gets me through it. He gave me the talent, now I need to use it.

So, please really-scary-advisor...don't be mad at me when I say, "Hey, I changed my mind. How about helping me figure out a new schedule?"

This doesn't have a clever title.

Have you ever watched The Andy Griffith Show or Gilmore Girls and longed for that small town feel? After watching shows like that, I crave companionship. I want to go get a coffee from Luke - bad example. Who wouldn't want to get a cup of coffee from Luke? Okay, restart. I want to go to the barber's shop or the police station and have people know my name. I want to have a cute little town named "Mayberry" or "Stars Hollow" and wave at people that know me. But more than anything, I want to walk in a restaurant and be a "regular". I want "Patsy" the waitress to know that I like flimsy bacon, over-easy eggs, and grits with no butter. (I totally just pulled that out of my rear, by the way. I usually don't eat breakfast unless my sister makes it for me. Speaking of her, she's a great cook! You should take her cooking classes!)

Anyways.

Myself, along with my boyfriend, have achieved this feat. In Greensboro, North Carolina. Sure. It isn't as great as a barber shop, but Steak 'n Shake will do. The Steak 'n Shake on Lawndale Drive is our place of choice. We go there for about 50% of our dates. The rest goes to the bowling alley. However, you have to go at night, when Brandon's shift starts. Brandon is our friend. He works 70 hours a week, has a girlfriend that wants him to quit, and has the brightest smile on this planet. We also love Pam, Bryce, and Michael. Michael makes my Raspberry smoothie and has Jason Castro dreds. Pam tells Justin he shouldn't have that much ranch on his salad because it will make his cholesterol go up. Bryce has bad posture because she is uncomfortable with being almost 6 feet tall. And Brandon. Brandon just talks to us and gives us coupons. And he tells us what his schedule is so we can come back and see him. I love Brandon, Pam, Michael, and Bryce. They are my night shift family. When we come in, Brandon puts us in the same booth. He also puts on a fresh pot of decaf coffee, because he knows Justin works at Starbucks and wants him to not be disappointed in Steak 'n Shake coffee. Brandon also won Best Employee of the Month in May of 2007. I think he should be employee of the year.

So here's to you, Night Shift. May your nights be short, your days be long and restful, and may your milkshakes overflow. In a good way, not a messy way.

My Umbrella, Ella, Ella, Ella.

It is Monday. A dreary and wet Monday. A monsoon Monday. My sister bought me an adorable umbrella for my birthday two years ago. It is black and white and has a vintage print. It is my pride and joy while walking under its protection in the wind and rain. It is compact. It fits in my purse just right. I love my umbrella.

*pause*

If you are one of those people that struggles with pooping in public places, this post is especially for you. I feel like everyone has bathroom anxiety in one shape or form. Whether it is the germs, actually using a public restroom, or just feeling anxious about the little boy that is out of control who peaks under your stall. I have major bathroom anxiety. Yes, this is a little embarrassing, but necessary for you to understand the rest of my story.

*resume*

The story starts with another embarrassing part about me. I have nervous pooping issues. When I get nervous, my system gets moving to an obnoxious and embarrassing extent. That Monday morning, I had an exam at 11am. At 10:30 or so, I get that feeling. I head to the bathroom. Upon my arrival, I notice all the women in the bathroom at the moment have rested their backpacks, purses, coats, etc. up against the wall across from their respective stalls. Seems like a good idea, right? I'm one of those germ bathroom anxiety people. (Among all of the other bathroom anxieties that I have acquired over the years.) No germs on my coat. Hooray for me. I set my coat on top of my bookbag and purse and then place my lovely umbrella on top.

Well, here it goes. I'm in the stall. Waiting for everyone to leave. They leave. I'm almost finished with my business when I hear someone coming in. To spare them of the awkward and uncomfortable situation, I pause my bathroom visit. They don't use the bathroom, though. They just come in, walk in front of the stalls, and then go wash their hands. I assume, They must have problems just like me! Maybe they had to poop too and couldn't because I was here! Well, they leave. I finish. 28 seconds later, I walk out of my stall.

No umbrella.

They freaking stole my umbrella. My pride. My waterproof joy. My comfort blanket. My reason to feel unique in a sea of rainbow dots on a black canvas, which is what everyone uses on the UNCG campus - I'm convinced. I felt so violated. I felt so angry. I felt so annoyed because I wish I had just pooped while they were in there and made them feel miserable and awkward so they got some kind of punishment. But I didn't. I had to be the anxious bathroom girl.

By the time I walked to my car, which felt like 5 miles away, my purse was ruined. My sweatshirt was soaked as well as my coat. My make-up had washed off my face. My shoes were wet. My socks were wet. My jeans were wet. And lets not talk about the fact that my bookbag had soaked up the rainwater by way of my books and computer.

So, thank you, dear Thief-False-Bathroom-Anxiety Person, for making my day miserable. For robbing my joy. At least you didn't get wet on Monday. If I see you with my umbrella near the School of Music, I will approach you and say, "My name is Hannah Joyner. You stole my brella. Prepare to die."

Just kidding.

One good thing out of this story. I bought a new umbrella, ella, ella, ella from Teerget. Its pretty. Its classy. Here is a picture.

Teerget.

In the spirit of springtime and daylight savings time, I decided to look at bathing suits. Granted, I hate shopping for bathing suits. It makes my security in my body drop dramatically. However, I was with a friend. I had moral support. I was at Target. I was feeling good. I even pulled a cute little two piece off the shelf. And then...

...I met the Teerget lady.

Anyone ever seen the SNL sketch of Kristen Wigg doing the Teerget lady? It is mahvelous. However, this Teerget lady was not. The SNL Teerget lady is obnoxious, but at least she is friendly. The real life Teerget lady was the stereotypical lady at the counter. Bad make-up, even worse hair. But I tried not to judge. I was going to be friendly! She did have about 49 bathing suits to put back on the hanger and 13 year old girls were loading them onto the carts beside her in droves. She was also in her 60's and probably just wanted to go enjoy the pretty weather outside like any other person.

Me: "Hi! How are you doing today?"

T.L. : "How many?"

Me: Ouch. Tinker, tinker, tinker, trying to count fast. I'm no good at math! Poop! She's already getting frustrated! "Um...I have 9." Whew.

T.L. : "You can only have 4 bathing suits..."

Okay. So maybe this story isn't the best story. I don't remember what she said because Target has THE most ridiculous bathing suit/try-on policy I've ever heard in my life. I still don't get it. But I was so frustrated! I couldn't understand what she was saying and every time I tried to take clothes back she FLIPPED OUT. Apparently, I look like shop lifter. Yeah. Okay. What a thugmuffin I am in my little black t-shirt and jeans and homemade button necklace with my hair in french braid pigtails. I mean, really, lady. I am not going to try on these bathing suits and hide them in my clothes or my purse that looks like a bowling ball bag. I will return them to you WITH the hanger attached to save you the trouble. Because YOU look like you've had a pretty crappy day. And I would like to be nice and make you happy. But, no. You won't let people make you happy.

I had a conversation with her, (actually, it was me role-playing with myself in the dressing room)
and I told her that I hope she found Jesus because He could soften her heart and make streams of living water flow out of her. In my role-playing, we hugged and she let me take my 9 articles of clothing in the dressing room.

How was your Valentine's Day?

Last night at my small group, my leader asked all of us how our Valentine's Day was. One girl's mom had sent her package saying, "It's okay to be single on Valentine's Day." Ouch. Another girl had a romantic evening with her boyfriend...another ate dinner with friends...etc. Then it came around to me. "Oh, I went to the doctor and two excruciating shots later, had one third of my nasty ingrown toenail removed. Then I threw up all night because I am apparently allergic to Hydrocodone. Yummy." There is nothing better than vomiting the Valentine's dinner that your boyfriend made you.

But you know what? I don't care.

I mean, my toe hurts and I felt horrible because my mom had to come pick me up from my little dorm at 3:30 in the morning. But the fact that it was Valentine's Day didn't really matter to me. I'm not sure why we have to have a holiday to tell each other why we love one another. Shouldn't we celebrate the people around us all the time? My family (and some friends) laugh at me because I tell them I love them all the time. An abnormal amount of times. But I think people should be celebrated. I mean really, you are in love with your husband or wife. So on Valentine's Day, you go to Harris Teeter and buy them a helium balloon with a teddy bear on it that says "I LOVE YOU HONEY". Really? This is a token of your love? Just celebrate the people you love every day. Don't feel like you have to have an excuse to tell someone you love them. When I say that, I mean that people rarely just say "I love you" just because they feel that way. It usually happens when you are ending a conversation, saying goodnight, maybe you married couples say it when you wake up in the morning...I don't know. But I do know that Valentine's Day isn't the big deal that our consumerist society makes it out to be. So, I hope you all had a nice Valentine's Day. And don't forget...you don't need a holiday to celebrate your love.


I love you.

taking a stand is hard when you just want to sit down and be quiet.

I am taking two classes that are not music classes. One of those classes is a speech intensive course which is called "Women's and Gender Studies". It is comprised of 17 women, 1 terrified man, and 2 female professors. One of those professors has recently made me feel inferior and a terrible person. Now I know that "no one can make you feel anything unless you let them" blahblahblah. It is hard when a 50-something old woman looks you straight in the eye and says, "Now class, we can't pick on her because she doesn't believe what we believe." I mean, really. Isn't there some law about this?

The first day of class we all pushed our desks to the sides of the room and stood in a big circle. Kinda freaky. I felt like I was in some weird ritual. I can't imagine how the guy must have felt. The professor, who I will call "Tangela" to protect her privacy, began telling us how we would get to know one another. "These are all strangers right now," she said softly and reverently, "but not for long." She took a long pause. All of us waiting for her next word. My contacts started to dry out a little bit because I hadn't shut my eyes - I was so intent on finding out what she was going to say next.

"All republicans go to this corner, all democrats to that one, and independents stay in the middle of the room."

Oh, really? Hm. I feel like that's personal. Looks like I'm 1 of 2 Republicans. "Left handed go in this corner, right in that one." Oh, good. Looks like I'm 1 of 2 lefties. "Religious affiliated private schools vs. public." Looks like I'm 1 of 3. "Now do you really think you are better off because God was taught in your classroom??" First girl: "No. I hate Nuns." Second girl: "No, I don't really care." Me: "UMMMM." scuffs foot on floor. breathes deeply. prays for strength directly from Jesus. "Yes. I do, Tangela. I think I did benefit from having God in my classroom." SILENCE. "Okay, pregnant women, divorced moms, singles...find your corners."

That was hard. It was my first college experience where I felt like I had to take a stand for what I believe in and I got persecuted for it. It is a 3 hour night class so we have breaks in between hour and half sessions. I've tried to start conversations with people but it just hasn't happened. The only time anyone has talked to me, so far, is when Heath Ledger died. I guess he brings people together. Hm.

I think this is a good thing, though. God is teaching me to take up my cross and follow Him ... even when my teacher scares me. And even when I don't want to. I wish that I could have said, "Heck, yes. I love God. He's awesome. He loves you just as much as He loves me. Even though you bash the Bible, and say that God is a male chauvinist. And yes. I love my private Christian school." Take that, Tangela. Even then, that's not a very loving response. Maybe it is just in the subtleties that I will take a stand. Like saying, "Yes. I think I did benefit from having God in my classroom."

Last class, she had the following quote written on the board:
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." - Eleanor Roosevelt.

As my dear Alanis would sing...

Isn't it ironic.
Dontcha think.
A little too ironic.