one hundred. fifty seven.

I worked out for the first time in a bit.
Oh, hello muscles in my legs.

Got asked out by a guy at work.
Oh, hello awkward moments and painful rejections.

Forgot to take the cookies out of the oven.
Oh, hello disgusting, black, chocolate chip hockey pucks.

Bob Dylan sings on our Christmas station at work.
Oh, hello to the worst rendition of "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" you could ever imagine.

Goodbye world
Hello beautiful slice of tiramisu.
Curled up in our big chair, listening to Iron & Wine and refusing to move my feeble legs until tomorrow morning.

one hundred. fifty six.

I'd like to get all decked out with Dickens and make a goose this year for Christmas.

Don't even try and tell be that wouldn't be a ball.

I've got a recipe all picked out.

This is how I tend to do things.

The first time I have a baking lesson with Hannah we make croissants.

CROISSANTS.

Not only do they take hours to make, they also turn into a disaster very quickly.

Now, the first time I decide I want to make a Christmas dinner I pick a goose with all the trimmings.

Sometimes I can't distinguish between a challenge and setting myself up for disaster.

Went Black Friday shopping with 4 generations of ladies.

My great-grandma, my Meme, my mom & aunt, my cousins & my sister.

Great fun.

I love my family.

We are big and crazy and isn't everyone? Quite wonderful.

I am, however, on a bit of a guilt trip on account of the shopping I did for myself.

I just finished reading that book by Donald Miller where they go on a road trip and find themselves thankful for just cereal.

I don't love everything by Donald Miller, but I do enjoy some things he writes, like when he writes about our need for things...

And here I am. Black Friday. Buying things I don't need the day after Thanksgiving.

Ironic, really.

We spend a day being thankful for the things we have, then wake up early to spend money on things we don't need.

Unless you are like my Meme who only buys gifts for everyone else and splurges on a pair of socks for herself.

That's the spirit.

& not that I'm on some bitter self-loathing trip, it just makes me think about what I have and what I need.

You know?

I've been awake for so long but I'm still not tired.

You up for a midnight game of Battleship?

Nothing sounds as good to me right now as a game of Battleship and a glass of chocolate milk.

one hundred. fifty five.

I don't know if writing the words of another on this blog counts as an entry, but tonight the words of Oswald Chambers were convicting and timely:

"It is not your devotion to God that makes you refuse to be shallow, but your wish to impress other people with the fact that you are not shallow, which is a sure sign that you are a spiritual prig. Be careful of the production of contempt in yourself, it always comes along this line, and causes you to go about as a walking rebuke to other people because they are more shallow than you are. Beware of posing as a profound person...

To be shallow is not a sign of being wicked, nor is shallowness a sign that there are no deeps: the ocean has a shore... We are so abominably serious, so desperately interested in our own characters, that we refuse to behave like Christians in the shallow concerns of life.

...the greatest fraud you have ever known is yourself."

I'm a scoffer.

I should be sleeping [at 8:15p.m.] but things tend to fill my mind right as I lay down my head. Last night I lay awake for 2 hours before hopping up to get nutella and toast and read. I love reading with toast and nutella, but tonight I'd prefer to sleep.

So. Goodnight then.

one hundred. fifty four.

& that will be one of the moments

you'll say that you remember.

it's silly

and simple

and strange the reasons we hold on.

||what if i was whole again?

i've been casually flipping through this book called "Indie Publishing." I would love to take on a project outlined in the book, but it all seems so complicated. Besides everything being the craftiest of all books, there are confusing bits about ISBN numbers and copyright laws and all that. I keep looking at pages and then just have to continue flipping through because my mind is so full.

It really just feels like i'm slow.

Those moments pop up every now and again. I'll stare at an object for an extended amount of time grasping in the depths of my mind for what I was supposed to be doing.

Stare at pages in a book about publishing and nothing will be connecting.

Wretched.

I'm too young for my mind to be leaving me.

--here's something i know: some things are best in silence.--

don't we all find beauty in such curious things?

you may find beauty in darkness

or loneliness

or melancholy

or sadness

i might agree. i might see a strange beauty in these things too.

[but i'm convinced there is no beauty to be found in bitterness

& such beauty to be found in longing.]

one hundred. fifty three.

Thursday-

Work. Train ride down to the city.

Tour of Roosevelt/visit to the gallery, thanks to Jacob.

Elephant & Castle for a proper English dinner of Shepherds Pie and Bread Pudding. Fantastic!

Amusing ride on the red line. Arrive and meet friends for the Johnny Flynn show.

Terrible opening act. Everything typical and awful about twenty year old males.

Good tea.

Lovely music thanks to Johnny Flynn. Would he have been so wonderful if he didn't have a terrible opening act?

yes.

Such lovely folk music, lovely accent and stories.

Forming a mild obsession with folk music.

Got my shirt signed after the show.

Discover shirt is too small. Blast.

Make it home and in bed by 3 a.m.

Finally I sound like I'm 22 and not 83, sitting home and knitting.

Friday-

Strike party and then drinks with the team for HONK. Reminisce. Jolly times.

Saturday-

Went and saw Beauty and the Beast performed in Lake County.

Exquisite dinner, beer and time with friends afterwards.

Stayed up until 2 talking with Sarah about God, boys and living together in England.

Tonight-

Back to being 83. 9:00 and I'm about to call it a night.

this is a good life.

one hundred. fifty two.

i want to spend one year in the city.

i want to spend it with some spirited folk, probably my sister.

i want to do something every night, big things, little things, parties, trying new restaurants.

i want to shop in the most expensive store.

i want to find the cheapest, dingiest little shops.

i want to see good art, listen to live music on the streets and in smoky bars and under the stars in the park.

i want to discover hidden places, make friends with people who like fine wine.

i want to talk to people, since in the city people look away from you.

i want to take knitting classes in wicker park and walk craft shows, take pilates, take a ride in a carriage around Christmas.

i want to spend one year in the mountains.

i want to spend it, just me and someone with a laugh that is warm.

i want to be tucked away, hiking everyday, snow and rain and sunshine.

i want to learn the trees and flowers and the neighbors a mile away.

i want to bake pies and bread.

i want to read books aloud, roast our toes by the fire.

i want to chop down a tree.

i want to make a quilt.

i want to learn to dance in living room and trip on the carpet.

i want to scream in the forest as loud as i can.

i want to spend one year away.

i want to spend it, just me and someone who can pack light.

i want to spend it away at P.E.I. and Ireland, England and France.

i want to eat food i've never eaten before.

i want to get drunk. just once.

i want to communicate back home only through letters and funny postcards and phones on the streets.

i want to watch foreign movies.

i want to listen to foreign music.

i want to hear old, old stories from old, old men in old, dusty places.

i want to spend it out of doors, on bikes, on foot, on trains, on little boats in big rivers.

i want to do these things & i want to write it all down.

[let's ignore how many times i said "i want..." don't count.]

one hundred. fifty one.

Just signed up for classes for next semester. Apparently, according to my advisor, I got all my fun, elective classes out of the way at Harper and now have to take stupid classes here, such as biology at 8:30 Friday morning. Nothing says good morning quite like dissecting a pig. Yum.

Something I thought about whilst I was laying in bed last night:

I am constantly searching for ways to make the world better. That's what I do. It's pretty noble of me. For instance, when driving, if everyone paid attention at a red light and we all let go of our brakes at the same time when the light turned green, then we could all move together without anyone obnoxious sitting and picking their nose [totally me...what??]. So simple. Everyone moving together. I realize this sounds frighteningly like utopia, but really it's just common courtesy.

Another thing that would make life better would be if people just acknowledged awkward obvious moments aloud. Rather than blushing and ignoring when you spit on someone, point out that you just spit on someone, laugh about it and move on. Otherwise it hangs between you for the rest of the conversation as you wonder if they noticed that you just projected a huge globule of spittle onto their shoulder.

If someone farts, mention it, let it go. Laugh about it if necessary, cover your nose if necessary, but please don't let that bad air sit there as everyone wonders who did what.

If someone cooks poor food, laugh about it. Eat it anyway. But if we're eating among friends, don't spit the food out into a napkin and then ask for the recipe to be nice. Tell me it is revolting and we'll scrap around for some ice cream to eat instead.

Someone offers you their hand. You wonder if it's a hug or a handshake, and go in for the hug on a whim. It was a handshake. Their hand is trapped between you. Embrace that moment you just shared, accept the fact that it was a bit strange, move on. Remark that it didn't go over as planned. Everyone will feel so much better.

Anyhow. Thoughts that fill my head when I should be sleeping. Implement them into your life and see how much better you fare. Thank me later.

one hundred. fifty.

I promise that eventually I will stop making the majority of my posts be about Mumford & Sons/their lyrics.

But not yet.

Because their concert, which I went to this last Sunday, was FANTASTIC.

Even though I smelled like cheap beer afterwards because everyone around us was drunk, and even though the girl screaming the lyrics to every song behind me drowned out their voices at times, and even though I didn't have space to turn in a circle, and even though I had to wait for several hours in the unexpectedly chilly weather, it was wonderful. Good friends, questionable food, good hot chocolate, excellent music.

We were two rows back from the stage, but towards the middle of the concert, Tai made her way up to the front rail, inches from the stage. This was done by careful conversation with "Claire-bear" the drunk woman, and "Roy" the emotional fan who may have wiped away a tear or two during the performance. Taylor so kindly gave me her spot for the last song/encore. After the band left the stage I timidly called out for the set list and was given instead the DRUMSTICK.

Yes. Quite a gift. Quite elated.

After all that...I got sick. So this week has been pretty rotten.

But here's something I read & enjoyed recently, the day after the concert to be precise.

"Why shouldn't we go through heartbreaks? Through those doorways God is opening up ways of fellowship with His Son. Most of us fall and collapse at the first grip of pain; we sit down on the threshold of God's purpose and die away of self-pity, and all so called Christian sympathy will aid us to our death bed. But God will not. He comes with the grip of the pierced hand of His Son, and says - "Enter into fellowship with me; arise and shine." If through a broken heart God can bring His purposes to pass in the world, then thank Him for breaking your heart."

-Oswald Chambers

...but then also made me think of the night before...

there will come a time you'll see

with no more tears

and love will not break your heart

but dismiss your fears

get over your hill and see

what you find there

with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

-mumford & sons

& both are good in their different ways.

it's good to have purpose.

it's good to have hope.