Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
This morning I was welcomed back from vacation as I went outside to scrape all the ice off my car. As I was moving from the drivers side of the front window to the passenger side, gravity plus ice equaled me sprawling all over the pavement in a matter of seconds. I spent the first half of my day wondering why the entire left side of my body was sore and then trying to forget about the intimate relationship I developed with the parking lot.
I think I sprained my ankle.
So then this entire afternoon I spent thinking about the other two times in my life I have sprained my ankle(s).
Story #1: We all remember that I have many brothers, and having them be brothers instead of sisters inspired many things in my life that weren’t normal for most little girls. Anyways, in our house there are 12 steps going from the hallway by the kitchen to the upstairs where all of our bedrooms are. When we were young children we loved jumping down the stairs. Loved it. We would do it all the time, seriously weakening the patch of wood at the bottom. Well, in the third grade I remember watching in awe as my brothers could clear all 12 steps. All of them! They jumped from the hallway upstairs to the bottom without any problems! I was in serious envy. And after prepping myself, saying that if they could do it I could do it, I slowly climbed up all 12 steps, determined to follow in my brothers footsteps. A few moments later, I sat on the fourth step up, crying in pain.
Not a winner.
It was also worse that I happened to do this just a couple days before our big third grade field trip for “Day on the Prairie” where we would set up teepees and learn about Indians. At least I got a walking stick. Also, not related, my Indian name back then was Falling Leaf. My current Indian name is Gambling Buffalo.
Fast forward to senior year of college. One night on a walk around town, a couple friends and I stumbled upon an abandoned shopping cart from the local grocery store. Naturally, in a town such as ours, with nothing much ever to do, we decided to use the cart for some good times. We took turns pushing each other around and then we made our way to one of our apartments. Good news: this apartment had a pretty legit underground parking lot, with the perfect angle going down for a grocery cart ride.
Note: I am easily influenced by others and I am also not very smart.
We were good at first. One would get in the cart and someone else would hold on to the cart as we ran down the cement. We didn’t want to build up too much speed as there was a cement wall not far from when the parking garage evened out. It was so much fun! But then I got in the cart. And I told my friend “No, no! You don’t need to hold on! I totally got this”
I was pushed down the slope and instantly regretted my decision of abandonment. My speed increased and in a moment I was crashing straight into that cement wall.
I was sitting with my knees bent; my feet parallel with the cart, and this meant all the force of the collision went straight into my ankles.
Friends ran to my rescue, losing focus on the camera that would have documented this entire tragedy, and with fear that the backlash forced my head into the wall.
No no, my head was fine (physically). I was simply unable to get out of the cart because my ankles were roaring with pain. After a few moments to gather myself, I fell out of the cart and onto the ground.
Both ankles were sprained, making going up and down stairs very difficult.
I never learn.
(footage of story #2 is currently trying to be retrieved. Check back later)
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Here I am. A 24 year old girl in a world rapidly going and going and going, with so many problems and despair but also (i believe) more goodness and beauty and light. And I have this blog.
This blog that seemingly doesn't seem like much to any passerby. Another random assortment of ramblings shared to whomever will take the time to glance it over or maybe even read it.
It's a place where I document my quirks, my thoughts, my daily activities.
But lately I've felt as though this little blog should either go big or go home.
I fear for the truth that are my real feelings and desires. That they will be exposed. I fear sharing too much information about things that probably shouldn't be shared. This fear, I admit, partially stems from an English writing assignment gone wrong, but it also comes from the fact that we all fit certain stereotypes, and when someone doesn't always fit into one particular category, we don't understand, and we then continue to only see an individual in this way. We make people fit. We rarely see the beauty of a homeless woman or the sincerity of a politician because these characteristics don't fit into the mold we've already built them to be. People are complex. Everyone has a little bit of something in them that they want to share; that they want people to notice.
So that leads me to this blog.
My little, toddler-aged blog.
I want this blog to be a better representation of all of me, not just part of me. I want it to show all my words, not just the funny ones. I want it to be good and honest and true. I want to get below the surface of my obsession with the Backstreet Boys (but really, NKOTB and BSB together?!?! on tour?!?! my heart hasn't stopped beating since i found out) and I want to delve into the thoughts that seemingly flow through my mind but that never find their way to the internet world.
Because I mean, the internet for sure needs me to contribute to its genius. Right?
So while it will probably still continue in mostly the same fashion, I will sprinkle my heart through more of it, and hopefully the internets will find a place for it in its world wide arms.