Let's Talk About the Joy

I've been thinking a lot about writing again. I should be thinking about writing my thesis, but I've been thinking about writing on this blog I created so long ago. 

It's been months since my last post. So much has changed, and yet so much is still the same. 

My favorite kid has cancer again. I didn't think I'd ever have to write that. This past week she started chemo and had an emergency surgery to fix her broken donor bone. It's been really hard for me this time around. I want her to be healthy so bad. I want her to grow up and be big and strong. I just love her so much I can barely stand it. She really is the bravest person I know. 

I got up on Saturday morning before the sun came up to run a 5K. It was my first race in over a year. I've been helping with a 5K training group at work, and it's been really amazing to see how running integrated into their lives. Each person is so different, but they came together every Tuesday and Saturday to run together. Now that's fellowship. And I absolutely love our No Boundaries group. 

I've also been working on a coffee table project. 

I've been bring this beat up old trunk back to life. It's going to make a beautiful piece of furniture in my new apartment. Yep, I said it. My new apartment. One bedroom. Hopefully with a perfect Boston Terrier puppy....if I can find one. 

I'm mixing old with new in my new place. So I bought this couch. I'm basically in love with it, and I can't wait to sit on it every day. It's the most comfortable thing ever. 

I'm kind of nervous to live by myself. I've never really wanted to do that. But it's time. Things....They are a-changin'. Which can be a good thing. Like decorating the new place. And getting a puppy dog. 

I have lots of reason to be joyful. So I'm gonna be. 

The Home Stretch

So here I am on a Saturday at my sweet nook desk in my new apartment. And I have absolutely no motivation to do homework of any sort.

Moving here has really put a damper on my motivation, although I think I always knew I was slowly running out of steam. This weekend I must accomplish a PR Case case study and figure out how I will present it to my classmates and the craziest teacher who will eat my alive if I don't know what I'm talking about.

I have already decided that I will just break down in a cry-fest if she says one thing. I'm a ticking time bomb. She is just so rude and gruff. And to be totally honest, I don't have time for that.

On a lighter note, my historical research paper received rave reviews. Thank the Good Lord because I'm not sure I have it in me to fix it. All it needs it minor tweaking, and Dr. Z said it would be good enough to submit to a conference. Har har.

So today it is back to the drawing board. I have to get my final discussion board post knocked out ASAP so I can move on the paper and presentation. Ah, PR Cases. I can't wait to be done with you.

I hope you have a great weekend. Do something fun. I'm ready for the fun to happen again. I need it to happen. The home stretch is upon us. Two weeks left. One more weekend of homework (remember, I never count the weekend/week we are in). Time to get cracking.

See ya on the other side.

Until next time...

Approved!

It's official. I have been approved to move April 23rd. Hands down it will be the best day ever. My roommate and I are so pumped to move. The place we live in now is just not right for us. We named it The Box.

That is just not something you want to go home to after a long hard day of school and work. The thing is we went about it all wrong.

After freshman year of college, we moved into a house. An amazing house. It was oh so perfect. Three bedroom, two bathrooms. Big kitchen. Garage. Big lawn. Good neighborhood. Patio. Stained-concrete floors. Perfect. I loved everything about that house.

After graduating college, we downsized to a 900 square foot apartment. Two bedroom. One Bathroom. No lawn. No patio. Smallest dishwasher ever made in the history of all the dishwasher (most of our cups have to lay on their sides). No extra storage. And people on the top floor that have hooves.

I don't think I have ever talked about David and Tina David. They are my upstairs neighbors who were born with hooves. I have no idea what their actual names are, but David and Tina David work for me. I do know they are a recently married couple who moved into the box above mine about the exact time we move there.

David is a tall, gangly fellow. And Tina David is a short, slight girl. No sign of hooves at first glance, but they gallop back and forth every night for hours on end. I don't understand how two people can walk so much in a 900 sqaure foot box.

The sad part about it is I can tell which one is which by their gaits. Tina stomps. Everywhere she goes she stomps. It is a fast-paced stomp. Like the balls of her feet never get the chance to hit the ground because she is too busy stomping with her heels. Hands down the most awful sound ever.

David is quite a bit tall than Tina so his gait is less frequent. His heels hit the ground a tab bit softer than hers. Sometimes when he is home alone, I can't hear him walk about. But if Tina is home, girl is walking. Stomping. Slamming cabinet doors. Washing 01391938 loads of clothes. And taking 985720487 showers and baths.

I swear those people bathe more than any person I know. Reason I know they bathe often: Every time their water turns on I can it hear it when I am in the bathroom, and I can hear it in my bedroom because the drain runs down my bedroom wall. And they usually take a shower right as I am about to fall asleep.

This issue with the Davids has gotten so bad that we have tried to let them know we hate their hooves. First we started lightly throwing a tennis ball at the ceiling. That didn't work. Now we stand on the kitchen counter and beat on the ceiling with our hands or some other object that will make a loud noise.

I think the message finally got through to them. Because one day not that long ago, I was beating on the ceiling with a tupperware bowl, and Tina beat back. She intentionally stomped on me. At first I was seeing red. But then I calmed down, and Tina kinda calmed down after that. But they are still stomping and loud as ever.

I know beating on the ceiling isn't the best way to solve the problem, but then it wouldn't be a good story. Asking her to quit is not as interesting as have a hate war with the upstairs neighbors. All I can say is April 23rd can't get here soon enough. No one will walk above me anymore. It will be the ultimate.

Until next time...

Go Big or Go Home

A few good things have come about this weekend that need to be shared. The sickness has died down thanks to a doctor visit and prescibed medication. While I'm not totally healed, I would say 90 percent is better than last week's 30 percent. This should mean a more productive work week. So congratulations...no more sick posts and me being whiny.

BIG HUGE THING: This girl is moving to the big city. Little Rock better get ready for me. I am so excited to say that it is almost official---pending paperwork evaluation. I have been commuting for six months now. As I have said before, it is for the birds. Still not sure how a 25 minute drive can turn into an hour. But that is another rant for another day.

As of April 23, I will no longer be a resident of Conway, AR. I will be living the life in West Little Rock with access to everything I could ever need. Library. School. Work. Fine Dining. Mountain Climbing. Nightlife (when there's time). And I am sure other things that have not been brought to my attention yet.

I am so excited that I could practically burst. Just blow up. Explode. Once we get settled, I will post pictures of the new place with all its fine amenities. Hopefully, I will hear back from them in just a short while because the waiting game is killer. Patience is not one of my finer qualities. It is something I have to work on every day.

While I am uber-excited about moving, the actual move itself is another story. There is nothing I dread more, especially since the new place is on the third floor. This fact will make for a not-so-thrilled Dad when move in day rolls around.

My bedroom furniture is a little extravagant. Four post bed with tall, skinny, long dresser. Average bedside table. You get the general idea. Beautiful to look at, but a pain to move. During this last move, we had to take it completely apart. I am was a nervous wreck about it, but it simply had to be done. This time will be even more interesting---hence the three flights of stairs, narrow stairwells, and  a dad whose hobby isn't moving.

Pray for me.

Last thing on the agenda: a boy.

Three years ago, I ended a relationship. While the end was horrible and painful, it was necessary. We two people did not go together, and we kept trying to find ways to make it work. But it was just broken. So we ended it after a 6 month period of torturing each other. It was like the break-up that wouldn't end. It turned out to be more painful for me because I was more emotionally invested in it. I lost that relationship along with many mutual friendships made during the course of its two years.

During my recovery time, which I like to call the Dark Days, I was a complete wreck mess. True story. I didn't want to go anywhere, do anything, hang out with anymore, nothing. I didn't trust anyone, especially boys. Every boy turned into my kryptonite.

I dove into a new major that semester of the Dark Days, and I started meeting new people. People with like interests. One of those being writing. I met a guy during this recovery time. I liked him a lot as a person. He was someone I really enjoyed. We laughed a lot---probably one of few people who could get a laugh out of me during that time. But we were both not in good places in our lives.

I was completely messed up from the relationship that wouldn't end. I was totally hung up on my ex and what was happening with that. It was not a good situation. This boy was shy and not sure of himself, even though I could see there was a big personality in there dying to get out.

Well this boy asked me out. Not just once, but multiple times. And I said no. Not once, but multiple times. Every time to be exact. And then it kind of just fizzled out. I'm sure I was very persistent in avoiding him at all cost. I was 19 and stupid. He quit asking me out, quit sending me texts, quit asking me just to hang out. He just quit. And I let him quit.

The point? I am now fully recovered from the Dark Days, and he is doing life. We are both completely different people now than we were then. Completely different. As I recovered, I kept up with him on the side by reading his blogs. Creepy? Yeah--maybe a little. He has done some awesome stuff with his life.

And I guess I've always kind of wondered what it would have been like had I not said no and been so scared to trust him. But I can't go back, only forward. I recently read that he's been working on a book proposal and has now finished it.

I don't know what happened, but something in my mind clicked and said "Contact him." Well I, of course, ignored it, but it became a reoccuring thought. The thing about reoccuring thoughts is that they should be acted on. I feel like it's God's way of telling me to do something.

So last night, I finally did it. I sent him a Facebook message since I don't have his phone number anymore. I told him Congrats for finishing the book proposal. And that it was a big deal. I hinted at what I was doing now. And just tried to keep in light and friendly because for all I know he could hate me.

I felt instantly better about it. The nagging urge to make contact was subsided, but my anxiety of if he would respond took its place. Now let's get this one MAJOR thing straight: I am not expecting anything to come of it. I just want to be friends. Am I hopeful? Yes, ever hopeful and optimistic. But expectant? No, he has every right to not say anything at all.

As I said, I just want us to be on friendly terms again. Just establish some kind of relationship...and see what happens. Friendship is a beautiful perfect thing, and I would really love to re-get-to-know-him. Because as I said, we are completely different people now.

If it turned into something else, then it would be a whole other thing. Let's just say I would be open-minded, unlike the first time. So here's to hoping and dreaming big. I felt like this was completely necessary to say because 1) I needed to own up to it, 2) I would have forever lived with what if I never say it and he never knows, and 3) when he does know, he can act on it however he chooses---Worst case senario- Things stay the same as they are now.

If you don't take chances, you never know. So there it is. Ever hopeful, never expectant.

Until next time...