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I feel… strange. Like I want to push everyone away from me. Yet I want them to be with me all the time. It’s odd.

I miss my Aunt Beast, even though I saw her two hours ago. I guess I just want to talk to her more. It’s weird.

But I just want to write. I haven’t wanted to write passionately for a long time. I just want to write everything and anything and to have it feel good. I want to write about life. I want to write about love. I want to be deep. I want to be poetic.

I want to love God like I’m supposed to. I want to be the Christian I’m supposed to be.

It’s strange how I connect writing and God. I think expression and God are intertwined in a lot of ways. David was a poet. Solomon was a writer.

I think that since I will be home next year, and perhaps the next, that I will focus a lot of my time on improving my creative writing. On making my ability to express myself key in my life.

I want to be a writer again. Not just an English major.

More on this sometime later.

I have to go get 2-3 cucumbers, 2 things of grape tomatoes, and a giant container of sour cream.




“As you know, I am a petal borne aloft on the autumn wind. It should say that in my file.” I like my alone time but get lonely frequently. I am dependable and trustworthy, a hard worker, and if I say I will do something, it will most likely be done. I am daily learning who I am and how I relate to people. I sing almost constantly. (Some would say I’m crazy or weird… I’m ok with that.) I am a singing, dancing photographer/writer/web-editor/proofreader who wants to change the world. I am on the cusp of a quarter-life crisis, navigating the ups and downs of becoming a grown-up. I find that as a twenty-nine year old woman, many of my friends seem to have the life I want: jobs in fields they love (with decent salaries), boyfriends, fiances, children, etc., while I seem somewhat stuck in a mediocre job with little time for a social life. I am a Christian trying to apply my very real faith to my equally real life. I have perfectionist tendencies which I blame on being an oldest child. I think that about covers it so... yeah.

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