I don't remember the occasion, but a friend and I were driving on the freeway the other night. I was sitting there watching the lights fly by and I was taken back to my childhood.
I remembered all of the trips my family would take to my grandma's house that would ultimately result in us driving back home after dark. I would have, undoubtedly, carried a book or two with me to read on the trip and, as I get very involved in the books I read, I would find it immensely difficult to let the story go for the hour ride ahead of me.
So I would come up with a way to continue reading even though it was dark and we weren't allowed to have the lights on (because my Dad was driving and that would be a horrible idea): I would sit by the window and hold my book up to catch the light from the street lamps lining the freeway. I would catch a sentence--a paragraph if I was lucky--and wait until the light was no longer enough to discern the letters on the page. Then I would wait. As soon as there was a sliver of light I would resume my story.
Now that I look back on it I realize that this probably wasn't good for my eyes, but it was worth it to me. And you know? It probably still would be: stories make any trip better.
Well I have all my things from my apartment in my bedroom now. It's kind of a disaster right now. I just need to find a day when I can buckle down and organize everything.
I have unpacked a few things, like my clothes, and found that I'd brought home a stowaway in the process. Unfortunately, this stowaway isn't a welcome guest anywhere and I was less than happy to find it had followed me home.
This stowaway is a smell. It is a very distasteful smell that emerged in my apartment about a week or so before I left. This smell originated in our refrigerator and baffled us because it smelled strongly of old fish and we didn't have any fish in our fridge. We cleaned the fridge three times and even gave it a bleach bath, but the smell remained. Some of us in the apartment began losing our appetite and I joked about us joining the stinky fridge diet (because we would open the fridge and immediately lose any appetite we had).
One day Michael cooked the fish she had stored in the freezer. The same smell that had been in living in our fridge was released into the apartment and nothing we did was able to exterminate it. We opened the windows, diffused lemon oil, used Fabreze. . . And yet the smell remained. It did begin to dissipate a little bit the day I left. I was grateful that I would be moving out and away from the smell.
Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that the smell had taken a liking to my clothing and infused my clothes with its essence. Stowaways aren't always a good thing, you know. I'm just hoping that my clothes will air out. . . Fish happens to be one of my least favorite smells.
"You know that feeling where everything feels right? Where you don't have to worry about tomorrow or yesterday, where you feel safe and know you're doing the best you can? There's a word for that: It's called love. L-O-V-E, love."
-Akeelah and the Bee
There's another word for that feeling, I think. I think that other word is called home. In a lot of ways they're synonyms, but I suppose love is more universal. However, I moved back home today and so I'm feeling all of the feelings mentioned before. Perhaps I'm feeling those because a home involves love. And love and family mean safety to me.
This past year has been an exciting one. I've learned so much more about myself and it's been challenging and difficult and wonderful. I've learned more about what I am capable of and what I need help from Heavenly Father with. I've learned how to pray and how to express myself. It's been beautiful and I wouldn't change these last nine months for anything.
That said, I'm so glad to be home. I think I could use a break from learning on my own for a little while. Learning is great and I'm so glad I have the opportunity to go to school and learn full-time, but that kind of learning can be exhausting. Here at home, for the next few months, I'll get to learn in other ways. I'm going to sew dresses and work in a call center and interact with people. I'm excited for the adventures I'm determined to have over the summer. It will be wonderful and safe and lovely because I am home. I am safe and things are right. I won't have a lot of the worries I've carried with me while living on my own. And that is a beautiful thing. Home is a good place to be.
It's finals week. I've been so busy I'm surprised I've had time to think between all the studying and essay-writing. I feel like, now that worst of it has passed, that I should want to blog and share all the thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head (that I've sadly had to push aside for the sake of productivity) but I don't. I just want to sleep. I've already done more of that today than I have any night this past week (not really, but it feels like it). I'll be grateful to move back home. That'll be nice. I miss my family.
I think tonight I'll take it easy. I may begin to write my last essay for the semester, but if someone invites me to do something (and that something's relaxing) I'm ditching the homework effort. I might still do that. . . I have my poor book that I've abandoned so I could be productive. I've realized that logging out of Facebook on my computer was the wisest decision I've made this past week (aside from hiding my aforementioned book in the study that I never enter).
Every time I hear/read the word frazzle I think of Frizzle. Like Ms. Frizzle from my childhood. Either that or a bad hair day. Perhaps I think of Ms. Frizzle having a bad hair day. I can't really put thoughts to that right now. I've been doing that all week and my brain is on strike. I think, tonight, I'll let that happen.
It's the end of semester (there is less than a week of school left before finals. CRAZY!), all my projects are due in the next few days (and most all of them have a long way to go), I have to figure out work and other adult stuff, and I am stressed out of my mind because, while I can see how things can work out, I don't see how I'll be able to make that happen. And I won't. Not alone, at least.
So that's where I am right now. Naturally, I'm finding this the perfect time to clean the apartment (instead of writing one of two large essays due next week or studying for the last couple of exams I have before finals), convincing myself that reading a novel is actually a bad thing to do in this situation, listening to French music that I'm growing to love a lot, and write a blog post.
There are a lot of times lately where I've almost opened my computer to write and have instead gone and been responsible. Plus, these thoughts that have been floating around haven't been long enough to write a full blog post about them. So I'm putting them here and maybe they'll eventually sprout into a full-grown post. Maybe not.
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I had to get stitches last Friday because I was involved in a freak accident involving a kitchen knife (actually, I was doing dishes and tried to stop a knife from falling off the counter). Don't get in a fight with a knife. The knife will win.
As a result of the stitches I am no longer able to submerge my hand in water for an extended period of time. I have solved that problem with yellow cleaning gloves. Oddly enough, I really like the way my hands look in them, but I hate the way they smell after I take them off. But it's better than making my stitches go crazy.
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The weather has been beautiful lately. I rolled up my jeans today and wore a blousy shirt and flip flops. It was lovely. I'm ready for summer.
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I'm really excited to have my own home someday. My home is going to have lots of windows. And pictures. But it's going to be bright, airy, and lovely.
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The above song is my favorite song right now. It's adorable and the beginning sounds A LOT like this song here. I think it's okay though because they're from two different countries in two different languages. And the messages are completely opposite from each other.
Anyways, listening to that song (the French one) while wearing my happy outfit (as mentioned above) makes me feel so. . . content. And that is a good thing to be. You know? Life is good. It's quite lovely, actually.
Everyone has songs that resonate with them and will always bring back memories and sweep them away in beauty. This song below is one of those for me.
When I was in junior high or high school my parents got this CD called "Classical Romance." This CD is one of the most beautiful things ever created (it's a bunch of songs--operatic, broadway, or other--that are sung by famous opera stars. It sounds snotty and weird and I thought that right up until I listened to it. And then I fell in love.). The most beautiful song on that CD was the one above, Nella Fantasia.
I don't know if my family was going through a hard time and this song just spoke to us or if there is something in this song that just speaks to the soul. Either way, I remember my mom requesting that this song be played on repeat in the kitchen and she would just sit on a bucket and listen. It was a beautiful picture. This also happened to be the only song she would crank up the volume for in the car. This song is special. And I will always love it.
I also love The Piano Guys. They just posted a new video and I clicked on the link while I was doing homework. As soon as the music started playing I stopped. And listened. And cried.
When The Piano Guys do covers they combine two different songs to create something beautiful and unique. I love it. In the song below they combined Nella Fantasia and one of my favorite hymns, How Great Thou Art. And it became something beautiful and unique and memorable. Music is powerful.
While you're listening, if you don't want to see the beautiful scenery of Brazil, you can read the lyrics to How Great Thou Art. I think they add a lot to the song.
O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.
When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!
And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing;
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!
When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation,
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow, in humble adoration,
And then proclaim: My God, how great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!
I am so grateful for music and the testimony it can bear. I know that my Redeemer lives and that he died for me. God really is great. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
You see, flowers make me really ridiculously happy and I love getting them. In fact, it kind of makes my day because it makes me feel so loved and special. They're also beautiful and happy and all sorts of wonderful.
I recognize that buying flowers for myself is a bit unconventional and, in the eyes of some, sad, but I want to let you in on a secret: my future husband doesn't know me yet. He doesn't know that I've wanted flowers lately. So I bought them for myself in place of him.
So I would just like to say thanks in advance, darling. The flowers were lovely.
