this, my 24th rodeo

The conception of this post began with me thoroughly bothering the sweet barista at Starbucks (the only place open in this town after 6 pm on a Sunday, don’t get me started!) about the difference between an americano-misto and a decáf misto, which is obviously like the difference between the earth and Jupiter, so needless to say if it wasn’t for this great view of 4 older men reading their books/newspapers/stocks, I would be very on edge right now, so let’s all take a deep breath and remember: YOLO.

And since you only live once (this expression is so obvious it’s comical and annoying all at once) – well, you better make your 24th year THE BEST EVER. No pressure, silly.

And now that I’m 24, I’m alive and kickin’ on the ol’ Twitter, the Book (like a good neighbor, Facebook is always there), and actively using Instagram as the new Photoshop, because hello, Photoshop is expensive and confusing. I also got a grown-up job and I intend to work to live, but hopefully not live to work.

Props to Instagram. Insta-glam! Insta-awesome! Insta-frenz!

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there is NO subliminal message whatsoever

When I was 18, I thought that by the time I was 24, I’d be President of the United States and if that didn’t work out I’d maybe be married (I was a lot thinner then) and if that didn’t work I’d just have an awesome blog. So now it’s clear which path I took. (What is that poem Frost wrote? The path less traveled is littered with blogs?) The Presidency seems overrated anyway. I mean living in a WHITE house,  ALL the time? You can’t pull that stuff after Labor Day.

So on this here birthday I am celebrating with Swarovski crystal earrings (by default, wearing Swarovski makes me officially trendy-elegant), gorgeous flowers, and the fact that I’ve made it to 24 with no regrets.*

Goals for my 24th year:

1. Visit someplace new (like a new city, not like a new public restroom)

2. Get accepted to a graduate school of decent repute. NOT high repute. I’m not snobby.

3. Live the normal Christian life, day by day, bit by bit.

4. Have a “green tea month” and do yoga. Publicize it. Massively.

5. Wear patterned scrubs that would make Florence Nightingale proud.

The possibilities are endless, but the years are not. YOLO, y’all.

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My girl AC did this for me. This is why I’m friends with smart people.

*Regrets, I think, are just things you can do better next time.

 

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#200: because new beginnings

So the cat’s out of the bag! It’s safe to say that I’m not trying to impress anyone with my blog theme, so you’re stuck with content and words rather than sparkly things all over the place. It’s great that you’re not needy.

The past two months have been a big and late spring-cleaning of Life As I Know It. In fact, this blog is 4 years old but I deleted the past 190 posts, gave myself 9 because I’m the blog owner and I can do that, and am re-emerging like a gummy little caterpillar that is now enjoying her butterfly-ness. (Think: if you were a butterfly, what would you look like?) I threw the posts away into WordPress’s virtual “trash” and I’m really not sure how to get them back but well here we are being impulsive aren’t we.

The Lord made my blog and my writing die while I was in the Full-Time Training, and maybe this isn’t resurrection, but it’s like…wiggling around in the tomb? I don’t know y’all, I don’t have a best friend at this point and talking to myself too much can’t be that great for my social image, right. Like I said, here we are re-vamping the old blogarooni.

I was in a public restroom in San Diego (why San Diego? WHY NOT) and I heard a woman and her wee girl speaking the most elegant French I’ve heard in 3 years, and I struck up a conversation in French with them and suddenly the nostalgia came rushing like a memory hemorrhage. I was going to be French, I was going to go au-pairing and hiking through whatever mountains are over there. It’s fine, I’m in southern California. There are mountains here. Right beyond the smog, the majesty of mountains is there. Work with me.

I haven’t set the course description for this blog so forgive me for being tangential, but quite frankly, I’m starting a new beginning for myself, although I hardly have a clue what I’m doing (both literally with this blog and figuratively with my life – or is it the other way around!?) and if I saw a clue and tripped over it and then it got made into a blanket and wrapped all over me, I probably wouldn’t know it.

I try not to nurture my cynical side but it grows like weeds.

As part of my militant Bible-reading schedule that I refuse to get behind on (because my momma taught me better than dat), I read this yesterday and it made me feel like okay, maybe you’re mostly unemployed and changing haircolor on the reg and eating way too many carbs, but like, it’s going to be okay if you’d just chill for a bit.

“And He said to them, Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your heart?” – Luke 24:38

And my answer was not reckless abandon or abundant peace or anything spectacular or even that spiritual.

It was just a quietly mumbled “amen.” I surrender all my troubles, I repent of all my doubts. I’ll try not to change my haircolor so much.