frozen goldfish

The older I get, the more I realize certain things I’ve become accustomed to just aren’t “normal.”


Eating frozen goldfish for example. Mom recently informed me that she only put them in the freezer to keep them from going stale.
My response: “Oh.”

Doesn’t everyone do that?

I’ve got more than just goldfish I could go on about, but right now I’m kinda stuck on the fact that no one else eats em’ cold.

a new favorite of mine

Amberly recently introduced me to writer Brian Andreas, and I'm afraid there's no going back for me. I'm obsessed with the way he writes. Seemingly simplistic with this sudden depth that grabs you. Sometimes I don't even try to figure out what he's saying, I just take it in.

This is an intro to one of his books that "grabbed me."


"I’ve always seen hidden meanings in everything. Whenever I used to do those puzzles in children’s magazines, the ones where you’re supposed to find all the hidden pictures, I’d never find the right ones. I’d say I found the griffin, and the Wesselman steam engine, and the missing little finger of the mummy of Tut, and everyone would give me a strange look and say, All you’re looking for is a yellow duck…

…I believe the world still whispers. But we have forgotten how to listen…

…Take some time to listen to the voices around you…

…After that, work up to the voices of places you can only imagine. Ask where to find the griffin, and the Wesselman steam engine, and the little finger of Tut. I know they’re out there, and usually in the strangest of places.

And if you find the yellow duck, let me know. That’s the one I always miss."

I can't wait to get some of his works, but until then, I'll just read Amberly's book over and over every time I'm over there. I'm pretty sure she's ok with that too.

thoughts from a sick kid on Thanksgiving Eve

People have always told me, “It’s just that season in your life. You’ll look back and realize how much you’ve changed, and why you went through that difficult time.”

Spring is always around the corner.

Sure, when I lived in North Carolina, these words were all too comforting. I knew that by April new life would be bursting forth and showing off its colors.

I guess my fear is that my life’s season will be like Florida:

a hot, humid summer that lasts a little longer than necessary,
followed by an uncommonly warm winter,
making spring a little less noticeable when it finally hits.

It's that pre-teen feeling.

I’m young, but I’m old.

I’m old, but I’m young.

I fake my age all the time. Proving my maturity at times. Taking off the professionalism for a few nights out with friends. At the moment, it’s a bit exhausting trying to discover just where I fit.

Last night, my sister and I sat on the living room floor of our parents’ house as I looked up guitar chords. We sang and sang our hearts out with my attempt at playing cheesy Taylor Swift songs. I felt young.

A few weeks ago a student asked me if “people my age” still texted each other when they liked each other. I felt old.

I recently discovered geo-caching with a few friends of mine. Suddenly I became that little kid again. Looking for the missing treasure. Couldn’t give up or I’d be considered a “wuss.” Couldn’t handle being called a “wuss,” so I continued to search for a minuscule piece of rolled up paper for hours. I felt young.

The other day it hit me. I’m a 22-year-old on salary, expected to come in daily and teach English to middle and high school students. I felt old.

Yet part of me still longs to be that artist. To rearrange people’s thoughts and conceptions. To speak to people on a different level than my audible voice can deliver. There’s no age limit on that. Right?

There’s a loneliness that comes with being surrounded by people all day long and not really knowing what kind of me is appropriate for the moment at hand.
So much irony in that statement, but I promise it’s true.

I hold to my ever-consistent Savior in these times.
Trusting in his plan.
Relying on his voice.
*Finding my belonging not in my earthly endeavors or vain pursuits or people's perceptions of me.

*Working on that last one constantly.