sorry

I did a bad thing. I got in the way. I disobeyed the bro code. Were my intentions innocent? Yes. But that only makes it worse. It means I lost sight of the goal. Of the code. If only for a moment. So I'm guilty. I'm the ultimate hoe. And I'm sorry.

light the fire

I have this huge urge right now to be at camp.  What I wouldn't give for a campfire, some stars, and a jam session with an acoustic guitar.  Darebase would be great too.  Some table games, all that junk.  But I think mainly I want to be there so badly because it's where I feel God the most.  He's more real to me there without cell phones and television..and showers..than any other place or time in the world.  Maybe I haven't been enough places, but camp is the one place where I can go and immediately feel immersed in in power.

I want so badly to be overcome with joy.  That's not something you can just grab, I realize, and when I expect too much from something I'm often let down, but I want it nonetheless.  I need so badly to feel God around me. I need Him to be here with me.  And I know he is.  And I do feel Him.  I do see His work all around me. But sometimes the times when I feel him are so fleeting.  It's like he's there for a second, and then the next moment He's just what I believe in, the idea of my safety.  Yuck, I hate actually voicing this kind of thing.  Because I love my Lord and my God.  He is my rock.  There's just so much around me, so many ideas bouncing around, so much that makes me feel yucky, that I rarely have time to really focus, really find Him.

Which, I know is my problem.  I get so into "finding God" that I forget that that's not my job.  He  finds me.  He saves me when I can't save myself.  But it's so hard for me to let go sometimes.  

So, yes, I want camp.  Not because it's a "quick fix" to my spiritual unrest, but because I desperately need spiritual rest.  I know the my God loves me, I know he is mighty to save.  But I need it to be more than something I know in my head.  I need it to be something I feel in my soul.  I need my batteries recharged.

At least i know it's not cheese

The moon is sweet currently. Have a look. It's giant. I feel like I should be able to take rope ladder and sling in up there and just have a nice relaxing evening on the moon. When I was younger, I wanted to be an astronaut. After I wanted to be a zookeeper and a teacher, that is. I didn't want to do any of the research. I just wanted to jump around. I always imagined the moon like some giant mattress on which I could jump and play for the rest of my life. I read books about kids who lived on Mars. I always figured I'd live somewhere out in space. I'd make friends with the little purple Martians on the moon...hmm.

Anyway, tonight I once again want to be an astronaut. And I want to go visit the moon, just me, my space ship, and maybe a little monkey friend.

101 ways i am like my mother

1. I am always, always cold.

2. I'm a grammar Nazi.

3. I hate anchovies.

4. I love math.

5. I pretend to follow professional sports more than I actually do.

6. I am always right, even when I'm dead wrong.

7. I forget everything.

8. I'm easily frustrated.

9. I can't stand listening to other people fight.

10. I'm female.

11. I'm a pathological flirt. I never mean anything by it, and I often don't realize I'm doing it.

12. I hate the yucky love stuff.

13. But I love chick flicks.

14. I get freaked out when birds fly too close.

15. I have blonde hair.

16. I talk to animals like they're babies.

17. I'm more competitive than I like to admit.

18. I'm terrible at delegating work.

19. I take on projects bigger than I can handle.

20. I can't say no.

21. I have little fashion sense.

22. I am bored extremely easily.

23. I need frequent changes of scenery.

24. It takes me awhile to understand when a person is explaining something.

25. I love to polka in the kitchen.

26. I can never find jeans that fit.

27. I hate wearing heels.

28. I can never find anything I want to wear.

29. I can belt the Beach Boys like it's nobody's business.

30. I could care less about calorie counting and weight watching.

31. I feel a need to know details about people's lives. I never stop asking questions.

32. I'd rather listen to other people's problems than rant about my own.

33. I fall asleep during movies, every time I watch one.

34. I enjoy children.

35. I love soccer, though I'm merely mediocre at it.

36. I take everything personally.

37. I don't shave my legs in the winter.

38. I love summertime.

39. Coffee gives me gas.

40. When I want something done, no one else gets a word in until I have my way.

send me the rules.

cheater.

And now i cross my fingers..

I'm scared cause I don't know how long this is going to last. I feel so vulnerable. It's like, my entire being is resting on this single thing. I've never put so much stock in something so temporary. I nervous. Rightly so. This type of thing has let me down before. And I've been left hurting and alone. I've felt like a loser, a failure--I've felt that I was nothing. I was disposable. So as much as I'd like to put my trust in this tonight, as much as I'd like to leap without a second look, I cannot. I must protect what little I have left. Because I won't be left broken again.

So right now, at 8:26 p.m., I am fully expecting failure. I will not get my hopes up. When I hit the "publish post" button, I have full confidence in the fact that my browser reject me. I feel that I have earned the right to expect to lose. To lose everything. This post, this challenge, everything. Stupid internet. I hate thee.

Quote for the day..

I'll never need porn.

This'll keep me busy for about three and a half years...

Movie List

- Mighty Ducks (check)

- Garden State (check)

- Monty Python and the Holy Grail (check)

- The Godfather

- Schindler's List

- Matrix

- The Big Lebowski

- Saving Private Ryan (check)

- The Departed

- Inglourious Basterds

- The Illusionist

- Back to the Future

- The Green Mile

- Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark

- Fargo

- District

- Pan's Labyrinth

- Requiem for a Dream

- Children of Men

-Atonement

-There Will Be Blood

- Gone With the Wind

- Good Will Hunting

- The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

- (500) Days of Summer

- Space Balls

- Waiting for Guffman

- A Mighty Wind

- I am Sam (check)

- Casino Royale

- Usual Suspects

- Zodiac

- About Schmitt (check)

- As Good as it Gets

- Silence of the Lambs

- Casablanca

- Citizen Kane

- Once

- Rounders

- Groundhog Day

- Ghostbusters

- Jaws

- American Pie

- One Flew Over the Cukoo's Nest

- Psycho

- Terminator(s)

- Pretty Woman

- Spinal Tap

- Caddyshack

- Austin Powers

- Animal House

- Apollo 13

- A Beautiful Mind

- Jurassic Park

- Young Frankenstein

- Jane Austen Book Club (check)

-The Shining

-MASH

-Clerks

-2001: A Space Odyssey

-Bridge Over River Kwai

-Dial M for Murder

-King of Kong: A fistful of quarters

nvm.

before i ruin it with a shower..

Some of my best days are when I'm completely disgusting.  Grime days.  When I don't shower, don't brush my teeth, don't do anything but sit and revel in my own filth. 

New Foods I've Tried

1. Orange

2. Walleye

3. Quesadilla 

4. Sweet and spicy wings

5. Yogurt with fruit chunks

6. Sweet and sour pork

7. Italian green beans

8. Fetichini Supremo

9. Eggplant

10. Ravioli 

On skydiving

I wasn't kidding. Let's just jump.

thanks for the pick me up

I got my pick me up today.  Today when I woke up only wishing for the day to be over, today when I pressed the snooze button seven times because I didn't want to get out of bed--today, I was reassured.

It's weird looking death in the face.  I don't mean that as people normally do.  I didn't overcome cancer or live through being mauled by a bear or anything cool.  I mean, it's weird looking at it--analyzing it, picking it apart.  I feel like I'm the annoying girl talking about it all the time, but I can't help it.  It's been the first thing on my mind for almost a month now, and seeing as this is my personal diary, I feel I can mention it.  Anyway, like I said, it's weird.  It makes you reevaluate things.  I've been through all the poor-me questions.  The ones that ask why I thought you were so happy when obviously you were suffering so deeply.  The ones that ask what my life is worth if I can't help save you.  The ones that ask why you willingly left me when you told me you loved me--you said we were family, who the fuck abandons family.  The ones that ask if you knew what you'd do to me when you left, if you even cared, and where you could possibly be now.  I've repeatedly asked the poor-me questions.  I realize they don't help.  They just push me down further and further each time.  Each time I have a little chat chit with my Savior and the feelings subside, but they always comes back.

Today, I was reminded differently to "buck up there, kiddo."  Today I was blessed by children.  Their innocence, their excitement for the world around them, it's inspiring.  The fact that the smallest things make them smile, their amazement that I can spell words like "antenna" and I can throw up a Skittle and catch it in my mouth, the way they make me laugh--that is heartening.  Today I remembered how awesome it is to excite kids about the world, and how important it is to keep them excited about it throughout their lives.  Today I was inspired by twinkling eyes and dimpling smiles, by curious minds and open hearts.  Today I got excited about life instead of being discouraged by death.

So the feelings are still there--the poor-me ones.  The icky, burning questions that weigh me down.  But I have new questions too.  The ones that ask what I can do to get these kids' brains working.  The ones that ask what I can show them today that they've never seen in their entire lives.  The ones that remind me what I can do here to make a difference.

I get why Jesus wanted the little children to come to Him, why the kingdom of God belonged to them.  With their excitement for their Savior and the life He's gifted them, with their hearts open and yearning for positively everything there is to teach--for Jesus, and for the world, there is no better pick me up.

lump

Completely exhausted. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. I need a good, long sleep. And a pick me up.  So I'm gonna hide under my covers til I'm all sweaty and gross and the Big Guy comes to get me. This, too, shall pass, right?

Adding flavor

Today I tried my first orange. Ever. Wow. I know. It was a big deal.  They've really always creeped me out so I just say I don't like them.  I trust my intuition.  But I forgot a lunch today, so I tried one. I wasn't a huge fan on the texture. But it could grow on me. I'll add it to my resolution list.

New Foods I've Tried

1. Orange

2. Walleye

3. Quesadilla 

4. Sweet and spicy wings

5. Yogurt with fruit chunks

6. Sweet and sour pork

There are more. I've been good about this. I just can't remember. I'll keep adding.

The secret to a happy Kelsey

Today I realized that my recipe for a good life is activities and adventures.  I don't do well with chill time.

390

Helping people is truly good for the soul.  Feed My Starving Children always reminds me what our lives are all about, how helping others in Christ is our primary purpose here.  The feeling of knowing how many people you feed in just an hour's work is powerful, and it deepens my resolve to do more with my life. 

Cause when I think about my complaints about how cookie dough makes my stomach a little upset versus how kids halfway around the world don't complain when they go days without anything but dirt and bugs, it puts things in perspective.  I realize that it's a long shot to change the world, but I'd like to do my part. Little actions can change a single person's life, and that's all I'm looking for.  Especially with all the destroyed lives in Haiti now, and really everywhere, I feel led to do something.  I have been supremely blessed, and there's no reason to keep it to myself.

I need more outlets for this kind of thing. I've needed a night like this for awhile.

transitioning

I'm at a weird stage I think, as far as stages go.  I'm transitioning, slow going as it may be.  There is so much that I'm grasping for on my apparent horizon, yet there is so much to which I'm clutching from my recent past, daring not to let go for fear of forever losing what I deemed important.  But I am letting go. Painfully, I find myself less and less keen to call old friends, although my definition of old is less than half a year in length.  People and things that made me happy in high school, things that made me full, now leave me feeling icky, for lack of a better word, and wishing everything could simply fade.

And while I'm here slowly pushing old friends away, building indifference and distancing, I find there's little to which to move on.  I thought myself closely bonded with those around me in previous years, and while college is a wonderful new and exciting experience, I've yet to reach that point here. I've yet to find my rock, my person, the stuff that makes me full.

Tonight I'm just full of the things I can't do.  I can't tell you the secret  you desperately need to realize, I can't give you the advice you'll never take, I can't console you, I can't change your mind. I can't make you laugh, I can't give you hope. I can't save you.

Because transitioning is weird.  All the reasons I was a good friend before are slowly evaporating, and all the reasons I can be a good friend in the future are yet to be realized.  And that leaves just me.  That leaves me figuring things out on my own, trying to find my fit. 

So I'm searching for constants.  And as it turns out, it takes a transitional period to realize who you don't want to transition from.  It takes this kind of period to realize who you're becoming and what is helping you get there.  It takes this kind of period to help you realize who and what to hold on to, the rock on which to cling.

That's when I get drawn back,  and I realize that I have the most important constant of all.  I have a Savior who is walking with me every step of the way, even when it's just the two of us.  While recently it's not always the foremost thing on my mind, but maybe that's what this transitional period's all about--maybe this is my reminder that I need to be overflowing with God's love before I can full in other parts of my life.  Maybe it's my reminder that my constants here are constants because they support me in my walk with God.   Maybe this is my reminder that it's never just me.  Maybe I just need to remember where to turn.

Ponderisms

Where did legends like the Loch Ness monster come from?  

Blue sparkles

Oh, the awkward years.  I always say that mine lasted from about fifth grade to sophomore year of high school, but the truth is they're still very much going on, no doubt about that.  However, being in a fifth grade classroom for this month of January, I've had the extreme pleasure of watching younger awkwardness from a different perspective.

I remember eighth grade fondly, my hair always pulled back into a tight ponytail with two thin strands loose in front and tucked behind my ears.  I thought I was the shiz.  That's the beauty of awkwardness; these girls don't even realize they're awkward yet.  Their comb-over side ponytails are totally fetch now, but in six years, they'll be kicking themselves for it.  Fifth graders aren't quite at the sparkle eyeshadow stage yet, but it'll come. Oh yes it will come.  It doesn't get easier from there.  Middle school teachers have their entertainment lives made.  All they have to do is sit back and watch as little pre-teeny boppers make fools out of themselves: girls with their little Ugg boots and sparkle cell phones and boys who don't want to shower, all just trying to find their place.

All this I can say because I was the most akward of them all.  What with my super cute 10 Things I Hate About You style hair, blue sparkles, overconfident attitude, and, of course, late occurring braces experience, I was the cream of the crop for entertaining adults everywhere.  I'm just enjoying watching myself grow up through these kids.  I'm sure I'll laugh at kids in my awkward stage of the game when I'm older too.

Ugh.

Women.

Well, fifth grade, if I could have any pet...

Years ago, before Noah and the ark and all that jazz, beautiful creatures roamed the earth. Majestic, regal, friends to all. DINOSAURS. Why the ark was not accommodated to fit their massive size will always be a mystery and tragedy to me.  The cute little guys who would have been the beloved pets milling around my backyard are now just dust and bones, and for that, I am saddened.

And because they're simply a distant memory, we really have pretty free creative rein in their depictions.  My triceratops is yellow with multi-colored spots and toenails, my stegosaurus has rainbow spikes.  See how much fun dinos can be!

There are several good tributes to the late dinosaur race.  Jurassic Park, though I was always too scared to properly enjoy it, is classic, and Little Foot, Petri, Sara, and the gang from Land Before Time never fails to melt hearts. Then there's the dino ramp at the science museum, the coloring book I got Kristen for Christmas, and, of course, my very own patented Prehistoric Pancakes. So delicious you'll roar with delight;)

I just want to ride one mainly. Walk with a brontosaurus, sprint with a raptor, go for a quick fly with a pterodactyl. What if one lived down the street from me? Automatic best friends, I tell you. We'd understand each other, no doubt.

My favorite dinosaur, you ask? Well, that one's easy.  The pterodactyl, naturally.  Why? Cause it starts with a p, but it sounds like a t! At least that's what I tell everyone at scales.

Too busy klutzin to say anything interesting.

Klutzes like me can run on the ice in heels, but wipe out on the tile floor in tennis shoes. We fall not while going straight down the ski hill, but while standing still on the flat ground. We fall out of bed, while still fully awake.

Klutzes like me fall--at the most inopportune times.

I'm losin it.

So I was driving home today (happy homecoming, Kelsey, we're glad you're here), and I had some terrible...daydreams? Nightmares? Technically there were night dreams cause it was dark out..which is why they were creepy, but that's confusing. Anyway I'll call them.. daymares, so as not to confuse anyone...anyone being myself.

Alright now that that's settled. I was on my way home from St. Peter when the little light came on to tell me that my gas tank was too low to make it all the way home.  I pulled into a Shell and filled up the tank.  Now, this was a creepy little place at night.  The store itself was all locked up so you had no choice but to pay outside, and there was just one car parked in the far, dark side of the lot.

So I filled my car like normal, no problems.  I put in $15.23, I remember.  But then as I was waiting for my receipt, a chill ran up my spine, and I was suddenly panic-stricken.  I grabbed the receipt and jumped in my front seat, locking the door as soon as it slammed.  I could not turn the key fast enough.  At that moment, I was fully convinced that I was going to die.  I knew that right outside my car, a hobo with a bloody face and crooked and broken yellow teeth was waiting to snatch me.  He had a crowbar and would break my passenger side window, grab me, and slice me open.  My blood would cover the snow-packed ground. 

This two-minute hysteria encompassed the single-most irrational fear I have ever experienced.  First, a hobo? Really, Kelsey? Roaming the local St. Peter gas-stations. Naturally.  Also, of course he would have his handy dandy crowbar at the ready, you could tell he'd had his practice cause he was already covered in blood....

It didn't even end there.  I stopped by Cub when I was almost home to pick up some Fat Free French Vanilla Coffeemate Creamer for my parental units, and I had a similar daymare.  There were two men standing under the lights on the other side of the parking lot, and when I saw them, I literally ran to my car, jumped in, and lock the door.  I sucked in the cold breath of safety, but I had to get away quick, cause they, of course, were after me too.  I could see them, or little flashes of them, banging on the car windows, screaming at me, struggling to get in.  Again, I was completely terrified.

Weird. I mean, I know when I was younger I was scared of being kidnapped, and when I would go out to put the garbage can on the end of the driveway I'd sing songs about God being bigger than the boogieman to make myself feel better. But this? This is a little much even for me.

Progress.

 You know what's weird? I don't want to go home. I don't want to leave college. I'm actually sad for tomorrow. I think that's a good sign:)

Growing Pains indeed

Show me that smile again.

Don't waste another minute of your cryin.

We're nowhere near the end;

The best is ready to begin.

As long as we've got each other,

Woah woah

We've got the world spinnin right in our hands

Baby, rain or shine, all the time

We've got each other, shain the laughter and love.

The Growing Pains theme was also my anthem for three years, and tonight is the first night since I was a sophomore that it will be sung without me.  Ah, nostalgia. But I could not be more excited to see my old choir buddios flaunting their stuff out there, feeling on the inside on their jokes and what's most likely going on back stage.  Good luck, Connection, I'm sure I'll have more to say when it's over.

...and that's all I have to say about that.

I have a date tonight. He's cute. Kind of a chunk, but that just makes him more fun to snuggle with.  His name's Herman, Herman the big brown bear. Herman and I are watching Forrest Gump.  It was a good choice on his part, seeing as it's one of my very favorite movies.  Now, I've never been much for history, but I have learned more about Elvis, integration,Vietnam, hippies, communism, Watergate, shrimping, and life from Mr. Gump than I have from any social studies class I've taken.  His innocence and child-like view of the world draws me in every time, and I can't help but be taken by his charming insight. He reminds us that some of our best men are soldiers and teaches that best good friends are worth fighting for. Jenny didn't deserve Forrest.  What with his undying devotion, selfless disposition, and mad ping pong skills.  But she was his girl, and he couldn't have been more adorable.  Oh Forrest, I am a sucker for dorky boys...don't tell Herman. 

Walter, I've got a bone to pick with you..

Why did Disney make his heroes so attractive? I've been sitting here for the last hour, compiling a list of all-time favorite Disney characters, and repeatedly I think to myself, oh yeah, he's cute too.  I'm talking Aladdin, my favorite Disney character, who happens to also be the man of my dreams, John Smith, the handsome adventurer who cares when others kill, Prince Eric, who...well,yes, I melt. It's embarrassing.  Of course we fall for Disney guys.  They're beautiful, one, like Prince Eric, with gorgeous blue eyes and wavy dark hair.  They're built, two, like Mulan's Shang who could take on any guy I know and undoubtably win my affection.  Then they're adventurous, three, and scrappy like Aladdin, who does the best with what he's given and is still just as charming.  To top it off, ALL of these men are hopelessly romantic, just like every single female on the planet! It's not fair.  Guys like this simply do not exist.  I mean, I've met beautiful guys who turn out to be duds, and I've met eh, okay looking guys who turn out to be wonderful.  But together the traits just do not exist.  Which once again begs the question, why did Disney make these wonderful men so attractive? What was his angle? To introduce girls at a young age to to joys of man candy?  To raise the bar unbelievably high for our future suitors? To ensure that we will, in fact, never be satisfied with the men around us so that we'll never marry? Walt must have been a father.  

And then the princesses. Don't even get me started.  You're talking to the girl who in second grade thought she WAS Jasmine, despite her obvious lack of a palace, dark hair, and a tiger. Sigh.  These heroines who have nothing better to do with their lives than find the perfect guy, fall in love, and live happily ever after...they make me sick.  Granted, Cinderella had a pretty crappy life previously, so I'll give her a pass, but I don't like her much either.  What what her little animal friends dressing and cleaning with her.  Cuckoo.  Anyway, these women not only have their lives going for them, but they're all perfectly beautiful and skinny and drive in the point that, if you're hot enough, the world is yours.

There are the Disney characters I love (and don't get me wrong, I love them ALL, no matter how frustrated I get), probably because they're not human and improbable...they're just..improbable and wonderful.  For example, Iago from Aladdin, perfect villain, annoying yet entertaining, lovable and hatable at the same time.  Genie and Abu from Aladdin as well, I could just go on about that movie forever--I do adore it.  Timon and Pumbaa who are the debatably the greatest duo of all time and never fail to keep you laughing, Dory, Simba (who, twisted as it is, is still quite the attractive lion), the list goes on. 

Oh Walt, you did impact my childhood, and you improved it if only for the fact that you introduced me to musicals. You just also destroyed my shot at satisfaction in marriage, permanently lowered my self-esteem, and have lessened the amount of love I can give to any average parrot, meerkat, or big pig I run across. I can't decide wether to thank you for years of entertainment or slap you for distorting my view of the world. 

Dern-tootin'

I've become recently infatuated with the Minnesotan accent. It took me roughly 18 years to admit that such an accent existed outside the exaggerated examples of Ole and Lena and Fargo, which isn't even about Minnesota anyway.  No, I spoke normally.  You betcha I did. No accentage here. 

However as I spend time around just about any Minnesotan recently, I cannot help but notice long vowels and and sing-songy sentences running wild.  And the more I listen, the more I embrace it in my own speech.  It's gotten to the point where all I hear is accent. Most times I could not repeat what you said to me, however I could sing the tune of your song right back to you.

So the next time we have ourselves a little chat and I crack a smile, don't be so deluded into the belief that I thought what your joke was clever.  I'm probably dissecting your language, repeating in my mind your long a's and o's and altogether just enjoying the sound of your voice.  So tanks for da ennertainment, Mini-so-da.  An' you jus' go ahead an' have yerself a great day dere, don-chya-no.

Cheers

Ooooh J-term. What with your enticing one-class-a-day facade, bonding time, marathon-paced learning, and endless parties....how you bamboozled me.

Little did I know our relationship would begin so rocky, what with you tendency to not tell me until I GET to my 8:30 am class that yes, actually I will be there for over six hours every day.  This one-class-a-day thing is far worse than the deal I had last semester. Oh and also, yes, of course my teachers will treat me with no more respect than a fourth grader.  Today I learned the difference between "two," "to," and "too" AND "they're," "there," and "their" all in one, six- hour day. Mm. So my marathon-paced learning has turned out to be that of a turtle. It's gonna be a long, 10 day marathon.  Bonding time is nice, sure, but it gets more difficult when friends leave your waste of time of a j-term for something cool...say, Arabic. Oh, Sarah how I will miss you.  Endless parties? Try endless free time. Endless naps.  Endless movies.

So, here's to you, J-term! If I can make it through 10 days of your tomfoolery, eccentric hand motions, intense Minnesotan accents, posters, and pointless lessons, I will think myself highly accomplished.  Gustavus education department, if I can survive the same amount of time with you, maybe we'll know if we can make this 4-year commitment work. I wish I had more faith in my patience.

January 4th

It's been a year. He's been gone just 365 days, and it truly feels like eternity, as cliche as that sounds.  Really though, some days it's like he never existed except in some distant memory of finer days--back when we jammed to Miley, took long drives to no where, skipped and made fun of each other like idiots.  Some days it's like another lifetime.

But then other days, like today, it's like it just happened. Like it's happening right now.  Like I will live in this moment as long as I breathe.  It's as if I could sit here with his laugh ringing in my ears and his face dancing in my mind until it drives me truly insane.

Mainly it's the guilt.  What isn't there to feel guilty about.  Cause I feel it about everything: the fact that I could have seen him just days before it happened, and I simply decided to pass, the fact that I stood by his casket and felt nothing, nothing but indifference, the fact that I'm still here breathing as if his life was for naught.

It's not as if I think it all meant nothing, quite the opposite really.  I know how much it means, I know how bad it's supposed to hurt.  It's just that in my heart all I can feel is confused.  I replay the years I spent with him, searching to understand, trying to make myself realize that he really is gone and I'm not just going to see him sometime down the road at a reunion.  It simply doesn't make sense, and therefore I can't convince myself it's true.  I feel nothing most days.  I'm stone.  I see him, so much to the point it haunts me, yet still I am ice.  I'm told it's my body's way of coping with the loss, but I've simply come to assume that I'm inhuman.   What kind of person is incapable of expressing emotion over someone she loved?

And that's when I realize that my life has become one big oxymoron, emphasis on the moron. Because the content has effected me-- some things do get to me.  It has changed my overall perspective on life. I get angry.  Mainly when other people don't care. Or when they just don't know.  They don't get it, and neither should they, however, careless comments make me want to strangle them.  Sorry Momo, but I will never call you Mikey, no matter how many times you sign your notes or leave messages that way.  That one's not your fault.  But it still makes me cringe. Then there's the, Ugh, I'd just go ahead and hang myself if I had to listen to her voice any longer.  No, actually, you wouldn't. You like that song? Go kill yourself. No. Don't. And quit talking about it.  It's not a funny reference.  I don't want you to tell me that you're going to turn into oncoming traffic if I don't stop singing so effing loud.  I don't want to hear that a class just makes you want to die.  If you point a fake gun to your head one more time I'll scream.  Stop making jokes about things you don't understand.  You don't know who you're hurting. 

 That's one thing that's come out of this I guess.  I've become a lot more sensitive to the people around me and what they're going through.  I'm more careful to see the problems people might be having and not make light of things that actually can completely alter a person's life. "I think you can tell a lot about someone's good sense of humor by whether or not they can laugh at racist or suicidal or dead baby joke." I don't believe that. You know what I do believe? I believe I can tell whether you're ignorant and insensitive by watching you laugh at the same one. This year I've learned that people can be even more blatantly hateful and ignorant than I could have imagined.  How someone can be so openly heinous I will never fully understand, and how I can offset these effects I am still trying to find.

Mikey changed my life in entering it, and he altered it completely by exiting.  This is a truth I hold to.  I refuse to let anyone else go through this without my realizing.  I resolve to open doors to those who are struggling, and always remind those around me that they are important and that they are loved--by the people around them and by their heavenly Father. And I resolve to make my life count.  Mikey touched so many people in his time here, and I have been blessed with a life with which I can and must do more.

My secret: I used to wish fervently that something truly tragic would happen to me so that people would feel sorry for me--so that they would look at me and I would be different for my pain.  January 4th, 2009, I knew how wrong I was. For seeing death, tragedy, sickness, rape, and sin as things from which I could gain, I will forever feel guilt. 

Hey, God. I know you're shaping me here. I just, need more time to understand this. I thought a year would be enough. I thought I'd have it figured out by now.

School sweet school

Hey break, where you at? All in all, my two weeks of Christmas vacation has merely left me more tired than I have ever been in my life. I thought you weren't supposed to be able to say that til you had a baby. I guess I know what I have to look forward to now.

I'm really not disappointed to go back. Besides the fact that I have to get up before 8 for the next month, I really can't complain.  I can't wait to go back.  I saw everyone I wanted to see here, and I even accomplished one of the two goals I set for myself when coming home.  I think it's better to leave wanting more than to get bored.  I just could really use a good two days to lay in bed.

Mm, but there are good thing to look forward to.  Better food (it's so nice I can say that about school), people, separation (although I've really enjoyed the fam this break), and, of course, Grey's. It's still embarrassing I got hooked. Oh. Also, Wednesday. It better be sweet.

And now to get back to packing.  I have yet to remember everything I've needed when coming back from a break. I think I should be able to make it a week though. Adios, little red room. Dear bed, I will miss you.

I'm running on two hours of sleep..

...which means I'll most likely be extremely slap-happy today.  Just ask my older brother who got me out of bed to drive him to the airport at 3 in the morning.  Now he's on his way to Costa Rica for the semester, and I'm stuck here sleepless in Savage...that doesn't quite have the same ring.

Do you REALIZE how much sleep they say we need? (The infamous they..I won't go into that.) 

Infants need 14-18

Toddlers are 13-15

Adolescents need almost 10

We fine adults need roughly 8

All in all we end up sleeping literally half of our lives away. Do you realize how many trips that aren't taken, mountains that are not climbed, and Grey's episodes that are not watched that is!?

Well. Not I. No. I am seizing the day--beginning at 3 this morning and ending whenever I fall asleep on the table, computer, or snowbank in front of me. Whoever sees me today is going to get a very crazy or very cranky Kelsey.

Happy new decade

It's unfortunate my competitive nature is the only thing that spurs ambition. I mean, I've always said I'd start journaling "soon." Right after my life quits being so damn busy all the time. However, I haven't journaled since I was probably twelve years old. Back when my sparkly blue book was filled with entries about cute boys like Danny Murphy and rantings about Aaron Hulsebus, Chris Breuer and all those other "huge jerks" of the seventh grade. Fast forward six years and here I am blogging--for the sole purpose of winning a competition. The only possible person to read this blog, besides myself of course, is also trying to destroy me, so to speak. I must blog longer than he or, alas, he will score one point in our ever so mature competition. Thank you competitive nature for fueling my first new year's resolution.

And since this is my first blog, not only of the decade but also of my life, I expect it will be a little rough for the first month or so. WHich isn't so awful since, like I said, only one person will possibly read my oh so secret innermost thoughts and feelings. Hey, Kory, how's the blog comin?

Mm and this is when the creative juices are supposed to flow. Anytime now, juices. Today, they will be cranberry juices. Cranberry. Like blood. Eh..vulgar. This is turning out great already. I can't really think of any literal blood, but hurting people? Sure. 2010 is starting out swimmingly with my stomach tied in a permanent knot that I can't seem to loose. Have I done this before? Maybe. Did it turn out well? Eh, trainwreck would be an understatement. So my second new year's resolution: don't be an awful person. Ready? Go.

This is already almost as rambly and jumpy as I'd hoped. Good work, Kelsey. What do you even talk about in a blog? I'm not deep or emotional or in any sort of pain. I'm just here to journal. And to compete. Sorry if that's boring. At least I'm not all goo goo ga ga over Danny Murphy. Actually, that'd be more entertaining.

Today WILL be productive. I refuse to work at at Valleyfair for a fourth summer. I will not be a lifer. Nosiree. So new year's resolution number 3: get a new job. Preferably one with children and Jesus and war paint. That hunt starts today.

NYR#4: Find a new hobby. I need new things to do besides facebook. Guitar maybe? Knitting? Rugby?

5: As long as I'm on new things..here's another. I'm gonna try...100 new foods in 2010. Eek, that's ambitious. We'll see. It's in writing now so I'll have to do it. I'll keep you updated...err, I'll keep myself updated. Journaling is weird.

Sensibilities. That's how you spell it. Good luck at college, kiddo.

I need a number six. I'm trying to get to ten; I just decided. So number six will be: Send mail. I love mail. It's my favorite thing. But I never return the favor. However now one of my best friends is in AZ on her little mission, my brother's halfway across the country, and tons of people are at colleges checking p.o. boxes religiously. I will be bringing envelopes and stamps to school on Sunday:)

Shichi (that's japanese (romaji) for seven): This is God's number so I guess it makes sense to make this one reading my Bible regularly. I can make time for that, right? That's where all the best advice comes from anyway.

Three more. Gettin there. Slow and steady, like Tuck the turtle. Ooh. A guy from Tanzania came to one of my classes last semester and talked about a turtle. That's number eight: figure out how to study abroad in Africa. I want to live there eventually. Just for a little bit, like my grandpa. I guess it'd be a good idea to try to talk to him about it too. Anyway, I want to go there before I get out of college, just to get my feet wet. I know if I go now I'll make sure I go back later. Someday I wanna make a difference there. That's my childish, hopeful change-the-world attitude coming through though. Dad says that's silly. The world is just the world and it's evil and only the damn liberals think they can change things. Sometimes he's a little too bigoted for my liking. I do love him. Mom and Nick and Ryguy too. And Kobie of course:)

Niner niner niner: I want to make a movie list. Maybe a blog later. Look at me thinking ahead! Anyway, I don't just want to make a list, I want to actually watch some good movies. I get that "what-the-hell-you-haven't-seen-that?" look far too often.

Ten's gotta be a good one, but I'm kind of out. Let's go, family. Or just people in general. I'm gonna look to be as big of a blessing to those I take for granted as they are to me. Corny for sure, also not very measurable or traceable, but I'll work on it. It's been a problem this year especially so it shouldn't be to hard to improve.

Wow. I wasn't even planning on making resolutions--go blogging! Compact version of the list (just so I don't forget):

1. Journal (and win this competition)

2. Be a better person (good one)

3. New job

4. Hobby

5. 100 new foods (what was I thinking)

6. Mail

7. Bible time

8. Africa

9. Movies

10. The famdamily

Happy blog number one. It's kinda a doosy. Hopefully they'll get better as I continue. And happy new year, new decade, and new resolutions. Only 364 more of these. Kory, you are going down, friend.