champagne & poppies.

so in about seven months, a million years, and counting, i will be an official college graduate. ill be able to say things like "my alma mater," "when i was in the chapter," "these freshmen have all the luck," and "wish i could take a nap in the middle of the afternoon again." 

but before all the good stuff happens and i get a diploma and a single diamond tiffany's necklace from my parents (lol, yeah right), i have to apply for graduation, which means i have to create a portfolio. 

when it comes to projects, my ideas are usually much bigger than my abilities. castles made out of candy, the story of dr.jekyll&mr.hyde as told by stop motion pacman characters, a musical adaptation of the crucible. so why stop? why learn from my mistakes when i am so clearly better at crashing & burning? what i mean by this is that rather than turning in a manila folder, i'll be presenting my very own magazine. 

of course, all of this was decided out of boredom while the rest of the class was scanning emily dickinson poems for iambic pentameter, so there's that. 

the first step, and obviously the most important, is the name. 

so while you think over which name i should choose, listen to this song "#its1989" because it's the story of my life. 

aslan.

if you have been keeping up with this blog (heehee, that's a joke, no one reads this) you know about the journals that i have been keeping since i started college. if you are new to being your own hero, you can find an example in my post: smile like a georgia summer.

as of today i have finished my third journal, a completion that is strangely beautiful & slightly cathartic. this one is filled with so much heartache, with so many cries to God accompanied with grocery lists, class notes, and song titles.

this journal is precious to me because it is a visual account of God answering my prayers. i have always begged Him to reveal Himself to me, to show that He really has been listening & with his beautiful sense of humor He had me write the ultimate sign on my own. these prayers were more than being upset over a boy or never ever having enough money, they were truly my battle with self worth, my battle with finding my name, the one God calls me. these entries have taught me that God is truly truly on my side, that He sings over me & quiets me with His love. i am not just tossed in the wind, i have a purpose. through this journal God has taught me the secret to being content in every situation (well, that's not completely true, i am still struggling with the fear of losing my grandfather to cancer).

i now light up when i see shooting stars, hear certain songs, or stand in the ocean because i know God made those moments for me. college has been God's love letter to me && i have never felt more lovely.

so there's that. i know i didn't post much this semester so here's a 'state of the union' picture style for 'ya.

sweet notes left from my seesters one night during chapter.

"you have to remember that sometimes the way you think about a person isn't the way they actually are" i have learned that it goes both ways, not all of your friends are friends nor are all of your enemies villains.

"today,
today Lord i will not return to my lovers, i will not forget that all the good i have is from You. today i will be terrified of nothing and i will rest in Your peace. i will not worry about tomorrow but will remember You have planned my steps. today i will remember that what the world needs is not another girl who can do hair, but someone who can do hard and holy things."

the pains of being of pure at heart.

i could summarize our entire relationship rather quickly, i wanted to leave. i battled the age old question of is it better to face this life alone or to face it as you felt alone with someone else. 

he didn't like my jokes. he hated how i would have sudden whims of wanting to dance under the moon at the beach. my thoughts of spending the day other than sleeping off the hangover were dumb. he would cut me off rather quickly when it came to talking about my passions, about a book i was reading or thoughts i've been mulling over. walking aimlessly downtown was pointless. he has ruined every formal i have taken him to. my simple pleasures of a cup of tea, ice skating at christmas, acoustic remixes of rap songs, or an early morning yoga session were stupid. i was accused of being a slutty groupie when it came to seeing my favorite band perform. 

overtime i learned how to dull myself down. i stopped asking for adventures and quietly accepted that he would never apologize for the walls he punched or the evil things he would call me in his drunken rages. he would hold his love over my head, if only i was more tan, skinnier, or more willing to look the other way when it came to him and other girls. 

it makes me sick to write these things, to see the person i have become. and to also know that even so, i still want him to call, i still expect him to wake up from his hangover one day, realizing what he had lost. it is hard to understand that even though i could deeply love someone, the feelings do not have to be returned. no one ever has to feel the same way i feel about them. you can't make homes out of humans. 

"we come to the ride that reminds me of a spinning top. 
it's turbulent but gives the impression of stillness. 
here we go again, your plaid shirt & the lights bleed into one, 
i am frightened, but the more i scream, the more amused you become. 
i wonder why i fight so hard to hold on, would it be so terrible to let go?
the music overwhelms me as we play the games we know best. 
one after one, you throw the ball to no avail & the oversized panda mocks you. 
the game is rigged, but we insist on continuing. 
no matter how hard you throw, the pins stand. no matter how hurt the pins are, they stay. 
"what's wrong?"
"i don't know." 
the conversation never changes. i yearn for better questions. 
the mirrors are my favorite part. 
you stand before me as the dashing man i know you are, you don't grimace when you see it's me you're sharing cotton candy with. 
you look at the ferris wheel and back at me, expectantly. 
"what's wrong?"
"les raisons sont tous partis." 
"(please stop asking me to risk this.)"

as i turned to go it was clear you didn't care.  (go on and click it). 

to build a home.

tell me again about the wedding we did not have. how i did not wear white, did not choke on tradition, did not blush.all the weddings that were not weddings,the vows that were just sneezing.the road ahead painted on a wall and howwe sped over and over again into the brick. i say “we” like you weren’t just watching me bruise.  

life update: i was fired for the first time in my life. 

it's slightly shocking, almost like the feeling you get when an officer pulls you over and hands you a nice, fat speeding ticket and then tells you to have a nice day. 

in case you were wondering how i reacted to being fired for the first time in my life, i drank a few beers and tried to watch the bachelorette. that didn't work so i drank a few more beers and tried reading the book of the moment, "this is where i leave you." that didn't work so i drank some more beers and then eventually woke up to quite the headache. 

a few calls and interviews set up later i realized i was going to be fine if not better and then reading and watching the bachelorette made sense again. 

another life update: i got stood up on a date for the first time in my life. it was so strange, almost movie montage esque. like boy meets girl, boy asks girl on date, girl smiles and waits until boy is gone to show how excited she is, girl arrives first, waiter brings water, girl checks her watch, girl drinks water, waiter walks by a few times, girl leaves to stand outside for a moment, boy never shows, girl walks to her car slightly confused and sad. girl then runs into boy at the gym, girl imagines punching him in the face but really just pretends not to see him. 

yet another life update: i'm actually pretty damn happy. i carry a book around with me wherever i go and have made a promise to try every pizza parlor and coffee shop in savannah by the time school starts. i wake up everyday at 7am to run 8 miles at lake mayor. after my run i eat a pb&j and have a chat with God while sitting barefoot on the dock. i've taken sailing lessons and spent afternoons riding a bicycle, drinking blue raspberry nerd slushies, and eating my weight in oysters. i've catnapped at the pool and spent my nights listening to 'ingrid michaelson' pandora and writing, thinking of all the loves that might have been if only i had thought of something charming to say. 

headlights and shooting stars.

for those who are just now joining, i keep a journal (well, now i have a collection of three) and every now and then i'll post an entry because it's my blog and that's what i do. today i'm sharing an entry about a few weeks ago so i can remember the good on days that wear a little tougher on my soul. 

more to come later about that night (a concert, the shooting star, & why i was there). 

on people i loathe.

there were the days in high school when i would have told you if i didn't like you, perhaps turning it into a dramatic scene and dragging it out all because i was bored. 

it wasn't the most flattering of times. 

but now i consider myself more mature, keeping my rants to phone calls to my mom, blank stares, and sarcastic character sketches in my creative writing class. 

every class my professor reads off a few pieces of the homework that we turned in from the class before. this particular day he said, "i want to read the entire sketch this time because it is stunning and the writer hit the nail on the head." imagine my shock when he started reading mine. i almost died. no, really. 

so suck it, liberal toolbags with the dirty clothes and stench of cheap beer and cigarettes, this lilly pulitzer agenda toting girl is a writer after all. 


He's cute, a little chubby, but cute. He's not into that shaggy hair craze the other boys have bought into; his hair is short, buzzed even. He's a little below average where height is concerned, but my perspective could be skewed because of the 6'8 drink of water standing next to him. 

Girls usually fall over themselves to get his attention, well, that is before they get to know him. The start of fall semester is most likely his favorite season of the year, the time naive new girls line up for him to take his pick. It's slightly entertaining, watching their little dance. She pretends like she doesn't know how to use the weight machine, and he acts like he isn't exhausted from acting like he isn't constantly flexing as he talks to the blonde on the leg press. Poor girl. 

She doesn't know it yet, none of them do. They're too distracted by the strong jaw line and the good teeth to notice that his muffin top is nicely accentuated by his muscle tee. Sure, he has a closet full of trophies and the walls of his mom's house proudly displays pictures from team banquets, senior year photos, and action shots taken from championship qualifying games. But is a lifetime of listening about the time he lead his football team to victory when he was just a sophomore worth the fraternity letters and slightly well-built frame?

He may have been recognized for his good sportsmanship senior year, but will that really make up for the constant one-upping, a habit that will one day irritate you to the point that his voice might as well be nails on a chalkboard?

The answer is no, or at least it should be. 

"Sup, Ella?"
Really? He must be the only guy dense enough to think that someone on the treadmill wants to have a conversation while they complete their third mile. 

"Did you see what happened over there? This new guy was trying to out-lift me on the bench press so I started going faster and so did he and so I put on some more weight and he did too and then I went faster and he couldn't keep up so he dropped the bar and had to ask someone to lift it off of him. I pumped a few more out and was like, 'really bro, do you even lift?' It was so funny. Like dude, what were you thinking? You don't just come into the gym and try to out-lift me. I mean, it's really funny. Like they try to ruin my day and shit but I let the haters be my motivators, ya' know. They can't stop me, they can't stop the thunder, you know what I mean?

Now I have to go run the practice for my flag football team. We're gonna win the whole thing this year. Like today some skinny ass nerd tried asking me when practice was. How funny is that? I was like, 'nah bro, we don't need anyone else, bro.' I was about to tell him that he should try the science club and stick to mixing chemicals or something.

"So you're saying he was a better fit for the chess club?"

"Hey, take that back. I'm really good at chess too. I'm an athlete and I'm smart. Like I don't even have to take notes, like I just retain the information and shit. That's probably why I have so many haters. 

Well I guess I'll let you finish running. That's a really good habit by the way, working out. I think it's so sexy when a girl works out. Like that's a fantasy of mine, to do it at the gym, ya' know? When I get married I hope my wife has a little bit of an eating disorder so she doesn't let herself go and get really fat, you know what I mean?"

white.

well, i'm dating a guy that doesn't want to get married because of the relationship his mom and dad have

(they're divorced, which makes time off a little tricky). 

so naturally, all i think about is getting married. (which won't happen anytime soon because i kind of really like living alone.)

i wonder if ever i will be a bride 
with a white lace gown
standing in front of everyone, 
looking beautiful 
because someone loves me that much.