Have you ever had something happens that makes you feel childish or more adult? I had one of these moments on Wednesday.
I went shopping on Wednesday. I needed new jeans. Being short, it's hard to find jeans that are the right length- usually they are way too long and I have to do a great amount of cuff-making. I decided to try GAP first, and I found this great pair of jeans. I know GAP is pretty pricey (at least in my opinion) but these were desperately needed and I had just deposited my paycheck.
I got up to the register, prepared to hand over my debit card to the cashier. She asked me if I wanted to fill out the application for a GAP card. "I guess I can, but I always get denied," I responded. She coaxed me into trying by telling me I got 10% off my purchase just for filling out the application. That was all I needed to hear! Discounts are great!
I filled out the application while she was ringing me up and putting my information into the computer. She laughed and exclaimed, "You were accepted!" "What?! I've NEVER been accepted before!" I could not believe the luck. Not only did I get 15% off my purchase, but I now have a GAP card (that can also be used at Old Navy and Banana Republic) with a limit of $300 dollars.
I feel all grown up now. I am enjoying it....at least until the bill comes.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
A Weekend to Remember
I spent the weekend with 15 seventh grade girls, all under one roof, sharing two and a half bathrooms. Now I am completely exhausted, wanting only to sleep through the entire week.
Disciple Now is an annual even at my church. I attended it for years when I was in middle and high school. We would pack up our things, stay in someone else's house for Friday and Saturday nights, and have Bible studies and a competition for first place in our recreational games. It was something I always looked forward to.
DNOW 2008 was no exception. I was asked to help out this year as the college student for the seventh grade girls. My job was basically to keep the girls in line and help out the adults with cleaning and organizing. It was the first time I had helped out with DNOW, as opposed to being a part of it. I really didn't know what to expect.
After staying up until after 1:30AM on Friday night because of the girls begging to do a pajama fashion show, I was completely exhausted when I got up at 8:30 Saturday morning. Our next task was getting everyone ready for recreation. It wasn't until 1:00pm, but we had 15 girls to deck out in yellow! Each grade has a color, and, obviously, seventh grade was yellow....BRIGHT yellow. Not the greatest color on me, but bright enough to tell where all of my girls were at all times!
The disastrous recreation time included games with a lot of running and a scavenger hunt all over town with a lot of reckless college drivers (I wasn't one of them!).
Everything cumulated on Sunday morning. We had to be up even earlier on Sunday morning to head to church because everyone had to pack their bags into our van and trunks. I could barely stay awake during church and our Sunday school rally. I crashed into bed the moment I possibly could, very happy to be back in my own bed.
If there is one thing I learned this weekend, it's that I am definitely not a girl who can stay up all night any more. Dealing with girls who CAN taught me that. So now I think I'll go curl up in my bed while it's dark outside, and take a good long nap.
2/26/08
Disciple Now is an annual even at my church. I attended it for years when I was in middle and high school. We would pack up our things, stay in someone else's house for Friday and Saturday nights, and have Bible studies and a competition for first place in our recreational games. It was something I always looked forward to.
DNOW 2008 was no exception. I was asked to help out this year as the college student for the seventh grade girls. My job was basically to keep the girls in line and help out the adults with cleaning and organizing. It was the first time I had helped out with DNOW, as opposed to being a part of it. I really didn't know what to expect.
After staying up until after 1:30AM on Friday night because of the girls begging to do a pajama fashion show, I was completely exhausted when I got up at 8:30 Saturday morning. Our next task was getting everyone ready for recreation. It wasn't until 1:00pm, but we had 15 girls to deck out in yellow! Each grade has a color, and, obviously, seventh grade was yellow....BRIGHT yellow. Not the greatest color on me, but bright enough to tell where all of my girls were at all times!
The disastrous recreation time included games with a lot of running and a scavenger hunt all over town with a lot of reckless college drivers (I wasn't one of them!).
Everything cumulated on Sunday morning. We had to be up even earlier on Sunday morning to head to church because everyone had to pack their bags into our van and trunks. I could barely stay awake during church and our Sunday school rally. I crashed into bed the moment I possibly could, very happy to be back in my own bed.
If there is one thing I learned this weekend, it's that I am definitely not a girl who can stay up all night any more. Dealing with girls who CAN taught me that. So now I think I'll go curl up in my bed while it's dark outside, and take a good long nap.
2/26/08
Friday, February 22, 2008
Rain, Rain GO AWAY!
Yesterday started off badly. I had an accounting test at 9:30 that I just wasn't looking forward to taking. As it turned out, that awful test was not the low point of the day.
I work every Thursday. I leave school, grab some lunch, and eat it in the kitchen in the back of the store. My plan for yesterday was no different. I decided to get a sandwich from the Philly Connection, next to Honeybaked Ham in front of Walmart. It had started raining by then, so I grabbed my stuff and ran to the door of the restaurant.
Instead of taking my purse with me, I elected to simply carry my phone and wallet. After all, the purse is mostly white and the love of my life- why risk it getting soaking wet? It was perfectly logical to me.
As I sat at a little two person table waiting for my food, I had an awful realization: I had locked my keys in my car! Instead of putting them in my pocket, I had slipped them into my purse, like I always do, before I decided to leave it in the car- meanwhile, neglecting to take the key OUT of it.
To some people it may not be a big deal. I could call my parents and have one of them bring me another key, right? WRONG. That key is the ONLY key to the car. I knew that was going to come back to bite me, seeing as I lock my keys in the car too many times for comfort.
So there I am, sitting in Philly Connection, with no key and no one to bring me another one. And I still didn't have food yet! In somewhat of a panic, I called my father, the one who always rescues me (usually by helping me out after locking my keys in my old car- a car that we had 4 sets of keys for!). I got his voicemail. I left him a semi-rushed message telling him to call me as soon as he got back to his desk. Then I tried my boyfriend, Caleb. I got HIS voicemail too, and left him a similar panicked message. I finally got a hold of my mother, who reassured me by telling me she would call Fairway Toyota and see if there was anything they could do to help me.
By the time we had this conversation, I had received my food. My dad then called me back, informing me that, in order for the Toyota people to help me, I had to get the VIN # of my car. I had to go out, in the rain, and stand there, writing down the number that took me forever to find.
Next, I had to walk from the Philly Connection to the Toyota place, in the rain. I was wearing black flats and teal workout pants, intent on changing once I got to work. The pants happened to be about two inches too long; in other words, the bottoms were completely soaked. I attempted to roll the up, but one side refused to cooperate as I began my trek across the street.
After walking in the rain and having the front desk lady laugh at my distraught appearance and predicament, I finally reached the parts-and-services department, where I received my long-awaited key. Then began my trip back to my still-locked car and long-lost key.
As I drove myself to work, with my hair plastered against my face from the rain, I chuckled to myself thinking "What a hard way to get an extra key! It would have been so much easier just to have one made BEFORE I locked them in my car!"
2/22/08
I work every Thursday. I leave school, grab some lunch, and eat it in the kitchen in the back of the store. My plan for yesterday was no different. I decided to get a sandwich from the Philly Connection, next to Honeybaked Ham in front of Walmart. It had started raining by then, so I grabbed my stuff and ran to the door of the restaurant.
Instead of taking my purse with me, I elected to simply carry my phone and wallet. After all, the purse is mostly white and the love of my life- why risk it getting soaking wet? It was perfectly logical to me.
As I sat at a little two person table waiting for my food, I had an awful realization: I had locked my keys in my car! Instead of putting them in my pocket, I had slipped them into my purse, like I always do, before I decided to leave it in the car- meanwhile, neglecting to take the key OUT of it.
To some people it may not be a big deal. I could call my parents and have one of them bring me another key, right? WRONG. That key is the ONLY key to the car. I knew that was going to come back to bite me, seeing as I lock my keys in the car too many times for comfort.
So there I am, sitting in Philly Connection, with no key and no one to bring me another one. And I still didn't have food yet! In somewhat of a panic, I called my father, the one who always rescues me (usually by helping me out after locking my keys in my old car- a car that we had 4 sets of keys for!). I got his voicemail. I left him a semi-rushed message telling him to call me as soon as he got back to his desk. Then I tried my boyfriend, Caleb. I got HIS voicemail too, and left him a similar panicked message. I finally got a hold of my mother, who reassured me by telling me she would call Fairway Toyota and see if there was anything they could do to help me.
By the time we had this conversation, I had received my food. My dad then called me back, informing me that, in order for the Toyota people to help me, I had to get the VIN # of my car. I had to go out, in the rain, and stand there, writing down the number that took me forever to find.
Next, I had to walk from the Philly Connection to the Toyota place, in the rain. I was wearing black flats and teal workout pants, intent on changing once I got to work. The pants happened to be about two inches too long; in other words, the bottoms were completely soaked. I attempted to roll the up, but one side refused to cooperate as I began my trek across the street.
After walking in the rain and having the front desk lady laugh at my distraught appearance and predicament, I finally reached the parts-and-services department, where I received my long-awaited key. Then began my trip back to my still-locked car and long-lost key.
As I drove myself to work, with my hair plastered against my face from the rain, I chuckled to myself thinking "What a hard way to get an extra key! It would have been so much easier just to have one made BEFORE I locked them in my car!"
2/22/08
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Coming to You Live from Pitts, GA
I am sitting on the couch in my Uncle Robert's house, using the computer that kept my Aunt Jan occupied for hours as she sat in the seat next to where I currently reside. We came up here to write thank-you-notes for my Uncle Robert. My mother, my grandmother, and two of my aunts have taken over the kitchen table, so here I am in the living room.
Trips to Pitts are always entertaining, to say the least. Being on of the youngest in the family, I have no idea who half of the people talked about are. Most of the people referenced are at least 60 years old, and no doubt would remember who I am, but I can't say the same for me. Personally, I think it takes enough memory space to remember all of the names of my family members and what aunt or uncle they belong to.
My mother, on the other hand, has a spectacular knack for remembering these people we haven't seen in twenty years and live an hour away from us. The family across the street from my uncle's house? She remembers the family and can probably tell at least one story about the children. Same for all of the other people mentioned in conversation. I have absolutely no idea who any of the people are or where in the world or the past would I have met them.
What I DO remember has nothing to do with other people. I can see a younger version of myself outside, climbing the tree that my Uncle Robert cut down years ago because it was rotting on the branches I climbed. I see myself walking along the railroads tracks that are about 100 yards away from the front door- the only railroads tracks in the world that i'm not deathly scared of (a story for another time...). I see my sister and I swinging on the front porch swing, watching people walk by the house on their way to church, the one gas station in town, or a friend's house- because in Pitts, you can walk anywhere.
Nothing ever stays the same. Just looking around this house shows me that. Looking at the place where my tree used to be, the run-down railroad tracks, the worn porch swing, shows me that. I know twenty years from now, this house and its surroundings will have changed again. However, I'm sure I'll still be sitting in the living room, listening to my family discuss people I can't remember ever meeting!
Trips to Pitts are always entertaining, to say the least. Being on of the youngest in the family, I have no idea who half of the people talked about are. Most of the people referenced are at least 60 years old, and no doubt would remember who I am, but I can't say the same for me. Personally, I think it takes enough memory space to remember all of the names of my family members and what aunt or uncle they belong to.
My mother, on the other hand, has a spectacular knack for remembering these people we haven't seen in twenty years and live an hour away from us. The family across the street from my uncle's house? She remembers the family and can probably tell at least one story about the children. Same for all of the other people mentioned in conversation. I have absolutely no idea who any of the people are or where in the world or the past would I have met them.
What I DO remember has nothing to do with other people. I can see a younger version of myself outside, climbing the tree that my Uncle Robert cut down years ago because it was rotting on the branches I climbed. I see myself walking along the railroads tracks that are about 100 yards away from the front door- the only railroads tracks in the world that i'm not deathly scared of (a story for another time...). I see my sister and I swinging on the front porch swing, watching people walk by the house on their way to church, the one gas station in town, or a friend's house- because in Pitts, you can walk anywhere.
Nothing ever stays the same. Just looking around this house shows me that. Looking at the place where my tree used to be, the run-down railroad tracks, the worn porch swing, shows me that. I know twenty years from now, this house and its surroundings will have changed again. However, I'm sure I'll still be sitting in the living room, listening to my family discuss people I can't remember ever meeting!
Friday, February 15, 2008
Missing You.
My Aunt Jan died on Tuesday. Right now my parents are in Pitts, GA, at her house with my Uncle Robert, getting ready to go to the funeral home. I couldn't bring myself to go with them. She has always been at the house, and I just didn't want to attempt to be there around everyone, crying and hugging and remembering.
My Aunt Jan is my Granny's youngest sibling. My Granny is the oldest, and there are six in between them. Jan was born after my Granny had already moved out of the house and gotten married. In fact, my Uncle Ronnie, my Granny's oldest child, is older than Jan by about six months.
Jan and Robert live in Pitts, their (and my Granny's) hometown. They used to live in a tiny little trailer across from my great-grandma. When she died about ten years ago, Jan and Robert moved into her house.
Jan was not well, physically. I'm not exactly sure what was wrong with her, but it was something that caused her to not be able to walk well on her own, lately not at all. She was very swollen and couldn't move around. Her day consisted of sitting on the couch, watching tv and playing with her dog, Odie. My Uncle Robert would come home from lunch, help her do things she needed to do and get her lunch, then head back to work.
My mom, my granny, my sister, and I used to go up there all the time, especially when my great-grandma was alive. We would watch tv, climb up the tree outside the living room window, and play dress-up with my great-grandma's scarves. After she died, we went up there to keep my Aunt Jan company. We would bring lunch to fix for her and Robert, watch tv, play with the dog, and talk about the things that were happening in their town.
The last time we went up there was right after Christmas. We did all of the normal things I've already mentioned. As we left, I kissed her on the cheek and told her I loved her. I never even suspected that it would be the last time I saw her.
So here I sit, writing my blog instead of spending hours with my family, talking about her and her death and the arrangements. I know people have their own way to deal with things, and I guess this is part of mine.
My Aunt Jan is my Granny's youngest sibling. My Granny is the oldest, and there are six in between them. Jan was born after my Granny had already moved out of the house and gotten married. In fact, my Uncle Ronnie, my Granny's oldest child, is older than Jan by about six months.
Jan and Robert live in Pitts, their (and my Granny's) hometown. They used to live in a tiny little trailer across from my great-grandma. When she died about ten years ago, Jan and Robert moved into her house.
Jan was not well, physically. I'm not exactly sure what was wrong with her, but it was something that caused her to not be able to walk well on her own, lately not at all. She was very swollen and couldn't move around. Her day consisted of sitting on the couch, watching tv and playing with her dog, Odie. My Uncle Robert would come home from lunch, help her do things she needed to do and get her lunch, then head back to work.
My mom, my granny, my sister, and I used to go up there all the time, especially when my great-grandma was alive. We would watch tv, climb up the tree outside the living room window, and play dress-up with my great-grandma's scarves. After she died, we went up there to keep my Aunt Jan company. We would bring lunch to fix for her and Robert, watch tv, play with the dog, and talk about the things that were happening in their town.
The last time we went up there was right after Christmas. We did all of the normal things I've already mentioned. As we left, I kissed her on the cheek and told her I loved her. I never even suspected that it would be the last time I saw her.
So here I sit, writing my blog instead of spending hours with my family, talking about her and her death and the arrangements. I know people have their own way to deal with things, and I guess this is part of mine.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
To Sleep or Not to Sleep
I am exhausted. We've been back in school for a little over a month, and I am just ready to have a break again. I have way too much to do on very little sleep.
Mondays are like a slow torture. Getting up at 6:15 has never been a strong suit of mine, which probably explains why I am frequently two minutes late for class. I school until one, after which I have to rush through lunch to get to work by around two. This last until about 6:30, when I finally go home. I get home at 7, eat supper, and do homework until I finally can't keep my eyes open.
Tuesdays are less busy, but with more work, it seems. I have accounting at 9:30, a class that takes an enormous amount of brain power to sit through. Pilates is next, and it is a little relaxing, but not enough! I usually don't work on Tuesdays, so this is my day to go home and do homework. Usually I have accounting that takes about two hours to complete (sometimes more) and reading for my lit class. I watch some tv shows later, my way of relaxing.
Wednesday is a repeat of Monday, just without working. I have a free afternoon here too, which I try to take advantage of by taking a nice little nap. Naps are a college girl's best friend!
Thursday are like Tuesday, but WITH work. Again, I work until 6, and I am always tired when I come home.
With our Friday class being canceled, I enjoy the extra time I get to stay awake, but I am usually still doing homework. Friday is more or less the same, depending on whether I work or not. However, if I don't work on Friday, I have to work on Saturday. This means getting up early to be at work by nine. Living thirty minutes away from my job means getting up in time to leave by 8:15. I get off at five, which leaves me a few hours before I have to sleep to do something of my choosing.
Sundays are church days. We all get up early, and get home late. I try to sneak a nap in the afternoons, but I usually have too much homework or reading to do for the next day. I try to go to sleep early, and then it starts all over again.
I simply cannot find the time to get enough sleep to keep me going. I guess that is the plight of a college student: broke, tired, stretched thin. I'd say that it would get better after I graduate, but we all know that's not the case. Work will consume me just as much as college does. I guess it's time to face it: I will never again be a well-rested individual!
2/12/08
Mondays are like a slow torture. Getting up at 6:15 has never been a strong suit of mine, which probably explains why I am frequently two minutes late for class. I school until one, after which I have to rush through lunch to get to work by around two. This last until about 6:30, when I finally go home. I get home at 7, eat supper, and do homework until I finally can't keep my eyes open.
Tuesdays are less busy, but with more work, it seems. I have accounting at 9:30, a class that takes an enormous amount of brain power to sit through. Pilates is next, and it is a little relaxing, but not enough! I usually don't work on Tuesdays, so this is my day to go home and do homework. Usually I have accounting that takes about two hours to complete (sometimes more) and reading for my lit class. I watch some tv shows later, my way of relaxing.
Wednesday is a repeat of Monday, just without working. I have a free afternoon here too, which I try to take advantage of by taking a nice little nap. Naps are a college girl's best friend!
Thursday are like Tuesday, but WITH work. Again, I work until 6, and I am always tired when I come home.
With our Friday class being canceled, I enjoy the extra time I get to stay awake, but I am usually still doing homework. Friday is more or less the same, depending on whether I work or not. However, if I don't work on Friday, I have to work on Saturday. This means getting up early to be at work by nine. Living thirty minutes away from my job means getting up in time to leave by 8:15. I get off at five, which leaves me a few hours before I have to sleep to do something of my choosing.
Sundays are church days. We all get up early, and get home late. I try to sneak a nap in the afternoons, but I usually have too much homework or reading to do for the next day. I try to go to sleep early, and then it starts all over again.
I simply cannot find the time to get enough sleep to keep me going. I guess that is the plight of a college student: broke, tired, stretched thin. I'd say that it would get better after I graduate, but we all know that's not the case. Work will consume me just as much as college does. I guess it's time to face it: I will never again be a well-rested individual!
2/12/08
Friday, February 8, 2008
I Love Clothes!
There's something I love about buying clothes. I'm not sure what the draw is for me, but when I walk into some of my favorite stores I always tend to find something I want.
Today, for example, I went to the mall. I wasn't really planning on buying anything, but I walked into a store to browse, and ended up with six items in the dressing room: three dresses and three skirts. Of course, I loved three out of the six.....but I had to make a decision! I knew I didn't want all of them, because two were the same color. I made a fairly quick decision, and went on my way. Because it was a favorite store of mine, I had a discount card for 10% off my purchase. I ended up spending almost 30 dollars- not too much, but definitely more than I planned on beforehand.
What is it about a cute new outfit? I love buying clothes. It may seem shallow, but I'm very much into fashion. Working at a scrub store and having a P.E. class every day doesn't leave much room for wearing real clothes, so I have to squeeze whatever I can into my weekends; also, incidentally, the only time I have to actually go shopping.
I've thought many times about parlaying my interest in clothing into a career. We have sales reps that come to our store every season, selling new collections. They travel all over their area of the country, going from store to store, showing samples and taking orders. Some of them also have a hand in naming some of the prints.
I haven't really gotten far in this train of thought. I think it would be an interesting career, but I guess I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to give up the choices that will ensure me a job. People always need writers and historians! Not so sure about these kinds of sales reps.
I entertain this idea every once in a while, never coming to an actually decision. I guess for now I'll stick with just being a consumer in the market, as opposed to some executive who sells instead of buys.
2/8/08
Today, for example, I went to the mall. I wasn't really planning on buying anything, but I walked into a store to browse, and ended up with six items in the dressing room: three dresses and three skirts. Of course, I loved three out of the six.....but I had to make a decision! I knew I didn't want all of them, because two were the same color. I made a fairly quick decision, and went on my way. Because it was a favorite store of mine, I had a discount card for 10% off my purchase. I ended up spending almost 30 dollars- not too much, but definitely more than I planned on beforehand.
What is it about a cute new outfit? I love buying clothes. It may seem shallow, but I'm very much into fashion. Working at a scrub store and having a P.E. class every day doesn't leave much room for wearing real clothes, so I have to squeeze whatever I can into my weekends; also, incidentally, the only time I have to actually go shopping.
I've thought many times about parlaying my interest in clothing into a career. We have sales reps that come to our store every season, selling new collections. They travel all over their area of the country, going from store to store, showing samples and taking orders. Some of them also have a hand in naming some of the prints.
I haven't really gotten far in this train of thought. I think it would be an interesting career, but I guess I'm not quite sure if I'm ready to give up the choices that will ensure me a job. People always need writers and historians! Not so sure about these kinds of sales reps.
I entertain this idea every once in a while, never coming to an actually decision. I guess for now I'll stick with just being a consumer in the market, as opposed to some executive who sells instead of buys.
2/8/08
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Turning Things Around
There are some days when all I want to do is go home and sleep. Today was one of those days. I have a 9:30 Accounting I class on TR and I just could not get there on time today. I left my house fifteen minutes late, finally got to school, ran up the stairs to my class, only to find that the back door to the classroom was locked! I had to walk to the other door and then in front of the entire class because my desk is on the far side of the room.
My day just started off wrong. After school, I called my former youth pastor's wife and was asked to help with the Disciple Now weekend that is put on every year. It's a big deal in the youth group and I attended it for five years. I loved every minute of it! I met one of my good friends through it, and it was always a great time to grow closer to friends and God. The inquiry made me feel extremely special. This is the first time I've ever been asked to do anything like that!
My day started to turn around after this request. I ate lunch at Chilis with my mom and went to work. The store-front manager filled me in on the things that had been going on earlier in the day. She told me that our boss had read about this neat thing that could be done using our computer system- somehow, we could type in a style and get a picture of the item. None of us had ever heard of that before, much less knew how to do it. I started to play with the system and it took me about five minutes to figure it out. I was so excited- it was so cool! I showed it to the other workers and finally to the boss. I was very proud of myself for actually figuring it out before anyone else.
My day was so much better after that. It made me be excited again about my job. After being there for almost a year, I've been kind of bored lately. It made me want to work on the displays more and hang up new clothes to get steamed and a lot of other nominal tasks that I don't like to do most of the time. I helped our intern do a few sales and special orders. I even didn't mind when two ladies stayed for about ten minutes after we closed because they were trying to order some new uniforms.
After starting the day off badly, I was pretty surprised when it got better. Usually that doesn't happen for me. It really taught me to not write off a day before it's done!
Friday, February 1, 2008
An Ode to Big Red
I came home yesterday to see a new car in our yard. A white Chevy Malibu is the newest addition to our cars. Not because my parents just decided to go out and buy a new car; this is because our beloved Buick park avenue, Big Red, is still in the shop, where it has been for over a month. As I stated in a previous blog, I got a new car in November. I had been driving the buick, which I inherited from my grandmother when she decided to buy a new one, since I got my license. She and I had bonded, but she is ten years old with a lot of miles on her.
I'm not quite sure what was wrong with the car when we took it into the shop. My dad took it after my mom got out of school (she's a teacher) for Christmas break. This was the week before Christmas, and we figured they would be finished within a couple weeks. Obviously this wasn't the case.
If you watched the news over the holidays, you might have seen some coverage of the break-ins at David Smith Autoland. They had two, the second about three days after the first. It just so happened that during the first break in, my beloved Buick was the only car stolen from the lot where they keep cars they are fixing. This happened right around Christmas, either the day or two before, when the shop was closed. We found out my car (I still refer to it as mine) was stolen, it was almost a week later. The mechanic who does all of our car work didn't even know it was our car that was stolen until my grandfather went to check on it.
I was devastated. I loved that car! I was at my boyfriend's house when my mom called to let me know, and I couldn't stop myself from crying. Silly, maybe, but you have to understand that I also hadn't cleaned the car out yet, so a lot of my stuff was still in the backseat and trunk.
Two days later, New Year's Eve and my Mom's birthday, we got a call saying that the police had found her. The car was sitting in some lady's yard, and she claimed she knew nothing about it. They had it towed away; towed because the people who took it drove it until it completely ran out of gas.
The top is dented in from when they drove it through the hole they cut in the fence. Everything is gone except for the case to my Vera Bradley umbrella: school books, earrings, and old Gameboy, everything! In the place of my belongings, they had left chicken bones.
Back to the shop it went. It had to be fixed mechanically and bodily: new paint, detailing, the works. And there it has stayed since December 31st.
My mom had inherited the Buick from me when I got a new car. She had given HER new car, an 06 Altima, to my sister, whose Jeep Cherokee was traded in for my car. When school started back, my mom needed a car to get back and forth. Her first was a white Ford Focus- tiny compared to the huge beast of a car we were used to driving. The next one was a red Impala with gray interior. And now we have the Malibu. I just can't wait for the day when my Buick is back in the yard, welcoming me home as I drive into our driveway.
2/1/08
Worries on My Mind
The verse I have adopted as my personal favorite is Matthew 6:34. It states "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Having said this, I must confess that I am probably this biggest worry-wart of anyone I know- except maybe my mother!
I'm a nineteen year old who lives at home, has an awesome part-time job, and a wonderful boyfriend. What could I possibly be worried about? In an word: college. This is my last semester at Darton. I graduate in May, and have to decide where I am going to transfer. This is proving to be impossible for me.
I spend most of my free time on collegeboard.com, looking up the colleges on my list, checking deadlines, filling out applications, and researching the classes I would have to take. At Darton, I am a journalism major, but, when I transfer, I will become a history major. History: a subject that has always had my undivided attention, whether it has been American, World, or Ancient. I soak it up like a sponge that never reaches its saturation point. I should be majoring in it now, but that just goes to show my indecision.
I've always been an indecisive person. I really have tried to work on it. This is just one decision that definitely is not coming easily to me. Then again, this is coming from the person who was supposed to get a car for her high school graduation in 2006 and finally decided on a car in November of last year. There are just too many things to consider. Where will I live? Will I have someone to live with when I get there? Will I make any friends? Will the classes I choose compliment what I want to do with my life? Will it be difficult for me and ruin my perfect GPA? How far do I want to be away from my parents, my sister, my boyfriend, and my beloved dog? Will I be able to get another part-time job that is as great as the one I have now, with the same flexible hours to accommodate my classes? And what in the world will I do with all of the scrubs I've accumulated by working in a scrub shop for the past year?
I have been told I over think things. Some people might say that's what I am doing with this decision. "You can always transfer," they might tell me. But I disagree. I don't WANT to have to transfer if the college I choose doesn't work out right. I want to go to the place I need to be, and stay there. I want to meet new friends to replace the old ones who I've realized aren't the greatest people to be around. I want to be close enough to come home when I want to, but far enough away to be on my own. Most of all, I want to make the decision that will stop this constant worrying that doesn't leave, no matter how hard I try to put it behind me. I've equated it to feeling like a huge burden is just constantly on my shoulders, and the only way to get it off is to make "the decision."
Until then, I continue to tell myself to not worry about tomorrow; I will be taken care of, no question about it. Whether or not I listen myself is a completely different topic.
I'm a nineteen year old who lives at home, has an awesome part-time job, and a wonderful boyfriend. What could I possibly be worried about? In an word: college. This is my last semester at Darton. I graduate in May, and have to decide where I am going to transfer. This is proving to be impossible for me.
I spend most of my free time on collegeboard.com, looking up the colleges on my list, checking deadlines, filling out applications, and researching the classes I would have to take. At Darton, I am a journalism major, but, when I transfer, I will become a history major. History: a subject that has always had my undivided attention, whether it has been American, World, or Ancient. I soak it up like a sponge that never reaches its saturation point. I should be majoring in it now, but that just goes to show my indecision.
I've always been an indecisive person. I really have tried to work on it. This is just one decision that definitely is not coming easily to me. Then again, this is coming from the person who was supposed to get a car for her high school graduation in 2006 and finally decided on a car in November of last year. There are just too many things to consider. Where will I live? Will I have someone to live with when I get there? Will I make any friends? Will the classes I choose compliment what I want to do with my life? Will it be difficult for me and ruin my perfect GPA? How far do I want to be away from my parents, my sister, my boyfriend, and my beloved dog? Will I be able to get another part-time job that is as great as the one I have now, with the same flexible hours to accommodate my classes? And what in the world will I do with all of the scrubs I've accumulated by working in a scrub shop for the past year?
I have been told I over think things. Some people might say that's what I am doing with this decision. "You can always transfer," they might tell me. But I disagree. I don't WANT to have to transfer if the college I choose doesn't work out right. I want to go to the place I need to be, and stay there. I want to meet new friends to replace the old ones who I've realized aren't the greatest people to be around. I want to be close enough to come home when I want to, but far enough away to be on my own. Most of all, I want to make the decision that will stop this constant worrying that doesn't leave, no matter how hard I try to put it behind me. I've equated it to feeling like a huge burden is just constantly on my shoulders, and the only way to get it off is to make "the decision."
Until then, I continue to tell myself to not worry about tomorrow; I will be taken care of, no question about it. Whether or not I listen myself is a completely different topic.
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