Sense?

Dear world,
If you cannot answer the question "Would you love them if they had never shown interest in you?" with an affirmative, you need to evaluate your position.

Novel 'Spirituality'

One thought of many after reading the Book Thief


I may be a Gryffindor…
I may be a Gryffindor…
I may be able to look my opponent in the eye with ferocity of heart and mind, I may be able to intimidate people when they need to back off, I may be able to take verbal abuse day after day from my family…
But I cannot honestly say I know I would react to this when the stakes are death. If war came as it has in the past, would I face it with a scheming glance and a clenched fist, or would I cower under a table while the shrapnel whizzed by?
Then again, so many people had no choice. They couldn’t look death in the eye, couldn’t fight for their right privilege to live. Yes, it’s a privilege. It may be a right, but when death is concerned, perception takes a turn.
Death threatened them while they were huddled in a cold basement with dozens of other worried faces.  There’s nothing to look at, nowhere to run, only cowering. Your Gryffindor to the Core countenance does not help when all you can do is sit. I suppose, however, you are left with my favorite thing: Being strong for others. If I can hold someone else together I may never know what it feels like to fall apart. In that instance.
Perhaps this aided my wish for an older brother…
Someone that holds me together in the face of my mom’s temper not because I’m helpless- but because I need it, I will learn to stand tall, and holding someone else makes them stronger. (Then again, who's left to hold me...)

I also enjoy books that do force me to cry. That make me love the characters, wonder what became of my own German family in WWII… Great scot, the worry my great grandparents must have been through. Sons in the war, uncles and cousins in Germany, German culture being suffocated in America… Small wonder German wasn’t allowed out of the house. We lost a lot of wonderful heritage. Thanks for instigating that Hitler, make it smart for everyone involved. Including yourself! I’ve been to where you died. Nice parking lot nowadays. I’ve been to where you sent Jews. Stood where your men shot them. Stood where they fell. Felt the examining table on which ‘medical experiments’ occurred. This was also where an impromptu orchestra met. I could hear the music bouncing off the walls.
I could hear nothing in the basement of that place where the bodies were stacked.
Stacked.
You don’t STACK people.
Wasn’t duplo in Germany by then? Sheesh.

I digress.

I must say, even if writing makes me lose a bit of the sincerity that words spoken to the air or to a mirror can contain, I can at the very least retrace my steps.
Or at least the ones that surface.
Books that force me to cry can be wonderful. They make me angry and sad all at once, and then tears. Not a lot. But enough to make up for the myriad of times in which I have avoided crying.
From that bomb of a 65 I received on my unfinished theory test (I HAVE NEVER RECEIVED THAT BAD OF A GRADE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE! I GET SICK OVER RECEIVING AN 87!!!!) to when mom told me with much spite that I had given her the worst mothers’ day ever. 
I hate spite.
I hate things said out of spite.

While I’m at it, I also hate the horrific blood-trail that words can leave behind.
The two instances on which mom apologized for her treatment of me…
The first left me dumbstruck. I was also stunned that she knew the kids bullied me at school. She knew? How did she know?!?! Teachers? Did they know? Did I show it? Or does the absence of friends make it that apparent?
Words put me down, then they kept me sane. I read. And read. And read. Books and constellations for friends, I discovered the wonderful fact that once you read… your entire world becomes narrative.

…Lindsay, just don’t allow your dreams to remain narrative. Even the ones deep inside that you are too embarrassed to speak aloud.

and speaking of words, where are you going to put these now? Now that your blog has been followed by some random guy you have seen a handful of times in passing and never spoken to finding the link on Facebook and trying to court you?
Someone you barely know reading the words that come tumbling out of your mind is one thing.
‘Awkward Courtship Guy’ as friends and I have guiltily dubbed him, finding the words, noting you as a woman of ‘uncommon quality,’ randomly asking if there are any fine arts events you can attend, you stupidly saying sure because you're nice, then realizing what he’s after when he asks you out to the park, you saying no, the letter he sent, him talking to your mom, did I mention I don’t know this guy?
And then a letter with her name in poor cursive to be left in my mailbox?
And then just showing up at my musical?
After reading all of this?!?!?!
HA!
Between the lines. Between the lines.
Then again, I suppose only I can understand the context.

Note to readers if there are any (because apparently there were even when I thought I knew all five of them:) Don’t start to fall in love with me. Don’t try to court me (like the last serious blog reader. Dude. I barely knew you. Met you three times.) This is nice but know me in person first. And also, I’m not as intimidating as I may seem. Or maybe I am. Depends on the person you are. And know that I don’t go places with guys I barely know that are interested in me that I am not interested in at ALL. Can anyone say ‘AWKWARD’ ?!

Reasons I should never show this to anyone, even a significant other if there ever is one:
+I can be very very dark. Not in demeanor, but when you follow the embers a fire gives off, who can tell where they will lead?
+…assumptions.
+I, as everyone, have been messed up by life and sewn together by perspective.
+…assumptions.
+other things I do not possess the ability to verbalize… too much murky thought swirling about. I’m not even sure which end of the iceberg is the tip.
+and also, assumptions. People cannot seem to read thoughts and see them as open ended structures. They read therefore they know. No, no, no. This is not a factual book that I am writing. The characters are not ones of which I have carefully mulled over for weeks, I am real with real thought. Yes characters can be wildly life like. Very much alive. Incredibly real. But they do not possess in of themselves the whirling globe of multi-layered atmosphere that is the human mind.
When I say something, it is a summation of many things. Not always, I’m not always a philosopher making comments about life in an off handed way. (Nor am I a stupid kid in the corner that needs deep things spelled out to her. Keep your kiddy pools folks. You need them more than I.) SO DON’T ASSUME THAT EVERYTHING I SAY IS SET IN STONE! I ramble. I stumble. I try to pull just one cloud out of that atmosphere, spin it out like thread, hold the tangled mess in my hand, and present it to whoever asked for it.
…many many times no one cares or had asked for it.
But they look at the jumbled mess and don’t realize that it’s not the full thought. That there are several meanings to it. That they may have not understood.

Funny thing understanding.

I often feel badly when I say that I understand. That I know what someone is talking about.
…because people confuse this with empathy.
Just because I can comprehend it does not mean that I am saying I have been there too.
It’s saying that I am burdened with far more perspectives than any one person should have, and that if your problem was from point A to point B, and from C to D, that I can clearly see where it intersected.

I have rambled enough tonight. What did I start to say upon coming here?

Ah yes.

And one final thing:

I thought the other day that I would never require writing for some time.
Funny, I didn’t realize it wasn’t sadness, anger, or frustration that caused me to spill.

It’s reading.

One last reason this should never be shown to anyone:
If you know me, these thoughts need to be realized.
If you read them you may not understand.
You may assume.
And all of my spoken words, assumed or not, will just be that emptier.
Even after all of this, I have experienced that you will still not treat my fumble with words as that.
And I dislike being walked over.

If I’m comfortable enough to say them to you, or for you to glean out of conversation…
Well, there you go.

Dude...
Know when you have been brushed off.
Good luck in life.
Goodbye.

Indecision.

It's amazing how fall can settle your mind and create clarity...
Perhaps the scorched summer went to my head with restlessness.
Worst drought my 54 year old mother can remember at least.
Even the trees began to die off, not to mention the grass and flowers.
Burn bans prevented me from my wonderful camp fires and rain simply didn't happen.

Small wonder I felt so ridiculously stuck.

Or do I still?

There's a part of me that, however stupid it may sound, wishes I had taken the random advice of my HS theater teacher and a theater friend. As in, keep acting. That I have done. It's the second part. Make it your career.

Oh.

I'd only been doing theater for two years at the time so I didn't consider myself learned or good enough to major in it.

...then again, how many of my favorite actors randomly did a play while an upper classman in high school, learned they loved it, and went on to study acting?

Dangit Lindsay, should have thought of that!
Why didn't you think of that?

At anyrate, as graphic design is not what I want to do with my life, it's just something to do while I figure out what I want to do...

*sigh*

Then there was the director we worked with last spring. She wanted me to keep acting, she saw something in me and wanted me to build on it. Acting lessons. Acting classes. Anything.

I so desperately want to.

Guess I should have gone to LA with that HS theater friend and gone to ADA? Or some school where I'd learn the wonderful craft of acting?

I dunno.

Still don't know.

Working at camp makes me want to live in the country.

the cracking grass and sweltering sun led me to want to take my graphic design and move to LA or NYC where I could work in addition to learn more and slowly get work in the area of theater or small film jobs.

Then fall came. Fall theater productions in the KC area. And all the sudden I'm once more contented to stay in community theater and work in graphic design. KC is nice indeed.

...and still want to live in the country. Can't do steady community theater with that. Hmm.

...I will have to give that up, won't I...

Oh hey, I have play practice at 5!
I knew that.

I think, quite simply, that in acting, you have the ability I have sought greatly in my scattered brain.

The ability to be everything.

I'm going to want to move somewhere and try this aren't I.

Well, at least I will have a graphic design degree to hold down a solid job.
...if you can have a solid job and do this.

...This is the number of posts my 'journal' of sorts blog has. The one I show no one.
Postworthy? Some of the more recent ones are, yet I suppose I'm ridiculous and consider what I put here worthwhile and the other not... or that I don't wish to share everything... or that I still don't want to inconvenience people when in reality you wouldn't be reading this if you didn't want to?

Hmm.

I've gotten better...

Yet I still find it odd how I can't be fully myself in view of others.
However despite social awkwardness in come places and craziness in others, some people seem to connect the dots.

Awareness

Life is so much simpler when you keep moving and never stop to look around.
...however while this is true, simpler does not equal better.


...and with that, I shan't elaborate. 

...I'm not sure that I've ever had, by my standards, a deep conversation.








-later-

*ellaboration
I feel everything behind a statement I make, therefore I realize more than words when I converse with myself. Sometimes this seems deep. In contrast, when others speak, all I have are words with a many faceted perception (or several) giving me ideas on where it comes from. In addition, they don't really get me. I've been pegged and understood a couple of times, yet never in a more than surface conversation.
Hmm.
Mayhaps I have had one or two half-deep talks...
Yet this is only said because I know I was reaching in and realizing it all. 
Who knows what the other person thought I was blathering about.


...case and point:
when talking to myself I don't have to elaborate.
so why the heck am I elaborating now?
...

Sifting through snapshots

All I want to do is walk along the Rhine on a rainy day...
eat gelato from an open faced store with those small scoops at .6 Euro a scoop.

sit and see how far I can follow the river...
see that church on down the way...

*sigh*

It feels so right there, everywhere.
Then again, I did meet wonderful people that helped the feeling.

Perhaps it will be best to move there.




...no really, I mean it.





...or the least I can do is review posts from last May.

In case you were wondering...

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to solidify a new relationship, one that most people weren't counting on because they stereotyped.
Who was this with?
Oh, that guy I dated over a year ago?
This was his fiance, the one he left just before going out with me then went out with again after he broke up with me.


I knew one of two options were true: she has no idea what kind of guy he is and will one day wake up thinking 'who is this arrogant man I'm married to?" or she knows just who he is and loves him anyway.
I was hoping for the latter.
Turns out that one was correct.


She understood just what I meant on a myriad of topics and we could even finish the other's sentences.
...and she's on my side. Knows he needs to apologize...
and that he used me.


...I wonder if she knows the reasons he gave me for breaking up with her.
I wonder if he made those up.
I wonder if I should tell her how he was...
No, even if she can take it, I won't let the kid shoot himself in the foot that way.


I still wonder why I dated him.


But then the logic kicks in and I see it: He was a friend, I'm friends with people no matter what their fault. He took interest in me and feelings that never saw the light of day were let loose because he liked me first. These feelings were not directed at him, they just wanted out and were there. Girlishness, if you please. I just went along with it.
I trusted one person then realized how much I valued trust and how it was torn out of me after the fact.
Perhaps I trusted, he betrayed, and now I have cut him off from all 'Lindsay' privileges.
Perhaps he's frightened of me because of what I represent in him that he's not willing to face.


Is she worth facing if for, Jake? Is she?


The answer, oh sir stop learning after you assume, is yes.


But you have to know what is it that you need to face, right?


Perhaps this is why he doesn't wish to speak of me.


What I really had wanted to blog about was when came up in conversation, a friend was just commenting on them together and kind of cringing. She also commented on what profs and other people in classes thought of him, his demeanor in class, being disrespectful by always being on his laptop, etc. We got to talking and I told her of how his fiance knew who he was and loved him through all of his faults. She thought and thought and couldn't comprehend dating a jerk or someone that arrogant. I pointed out how deep her love for him would be; she loves him past and through all this. I don't always explain my visuals and they just are what I see and are never thought out, but this is of lots of blocks buried in the top soil. The love is like water, seeps in and around the blocks and eventually goes deeper. the blocks are kind of like sponges even, it can suck up and get rid of the love if they run unchecked. She loves him through it and will be there to help him through when he finally sees himself.
This friend still couldn't comprehend it, you KNOW someone is a certain way and has such an ego, yet still you love them?!

Well, that's how God loves us. Through the faults. Faults and all even. He wants to help us through the faults, be there as we grow into who we were meant to be. Perhaps my friend the lovely young woman marrying the needing a few more years (or decades) of maturity yet okay somewhere in there guy could teach us a lesson in love, even if we take just an ounce of that. I don't care for speaking about him in fear that I may say something I shouldn't, yet that much I said. (minus the needing more maturity bit)

Why do I say just an ounce?
I don't think I could ever open myself up to someone that is that unaware of themself and the world around them. I was forced to try. That didn't turn out well.
You can't find understanding in someone that doesn't even objectively see their own reflection.
I'm failing something horrible in my wording here, yet hey, I have no need to explain.
I'm not being pinned for an exact meaning, no one is badgering me for facts to understand, and I know what I'm getting at.

Perhaps those last few sentences relay more than when I was trying to explain.


People need different things. I sadly don't know that I could fall for anything less than perfection, while my new found friend is marrying a work in progress.
Then again, we are all a work in progress until we die...
or stop learning.

...and I must admit, I do so love the ever-learning nature of life as it should be...

A bit o' the Blues

The mirror says 'dang, you look great in a jersey that fits well!'
The debit card says 'You really need to add up gas money and see what a bad idea this was...'
The Scottrade Center says 'It's about time!'
The sport of hockey says 'Welcome back.'




Seems just like yesterday I was the fastest five year old on roller blades... picking up sticks and swatting rocks with them...


The fans are the same, the feel is the same, it felt like coming home.

One glance worth of thought

on a beautiful day i climb into the sky and float away,
fall into the clouds and settle in,
tell all the tiny people on the ground
I'm never coming down.


I'll make friends with a kite,
see if it'll teach me how to fly,
close my eyes as the wind falls across my face,
you know, they won't miss me anyway.


today as I was walking across campus i thought of how the day felt like 'Raining at Sunset' by Christ Thile. The song does indeed feel like raining at sunset, yet I felt that it also fit such a day as today. Perhaps 'Wind Across the Hills' would be a suitable second title. The wind would twirl across the green hills hand in hand, wonderful visual in that... The clouds would be alive and in motion, there will be brightly colored kites... no, just one. Odd how when you, or at least when I, think of a kite flying an a beautiful day I just picture the kite. Perhaps it would be better to see the person flying the kite, or to be the person flying the kite...
No, I want to be the kite. Perhaps one day a kite will teach me all there is to know about living. Or at least flying. Dancing with the wind... my soul already does that and could indeed teach the kite a few things.




-introvert disclaimer wishes to inform you that the two sections that appear first in this post are not my attempt at poetry, i just said what i thought at the moment. /end irrational fear of others thinking i think i'm better than i really am.

I aim for A to B, I accomplish A to Z (...and then forget it all)

as I was sitting and reading along it occurred to me that I could be reading a book for my Christian Belief's class...
I debated the subject in my head a bit...
Because you know I was choosing to read a novel in the stead of learning about God.

...but no, wait, i really do learn more about God from reading such books as Everything is Illuminated or the other book by that author, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close than I do from reading theology.

This realization was flawlessly come to in my head and haltingly set down to type, yet all the same regardless of what I write...

I remember moments.

and while I knew that I learned about God differently than most of my classmates...

It's nice to have the thought envelop me, if only for a moment.

Back in sixth grade when I began to walk the mile or so home by myself I would laugh at how well spoken I was on my walks outside in that dusty and run down midwestern town. Cicadas heralded the dry grass, a broken metal fence harbored brown vines long succumbed to heat, the creek bed next to the fence that held a collection of plastic bags and pepsi bottles washed over in brown dirt, the form of which proved that water has in fact once existed, the broken asphalt glittering with broken molasses colored beer bottles...

ah, small wonder I find such solace in the rain... my run down town was washed clean, the plastic bags washed away, the old grayed streets looks black and shiny, the washed out lots and houses looked well-kept while the gray sky caused the green grass to explode into your eyes and take over your mind... always finding four leafed clovers on the ball diamond... watching as the poorly graffitied 'Praise the LORD' on the tires at the Lion's club playground slowly faded away. Slowly yet outlasting the other graffiti. 

I watched these things and said it better than I ever could write it. Thought it better than I could speak it. Live the words better than if someone walked with me, in which case I wouldn't say anything fantastic anyway as no one understood. Suppose I've been conditioned.

*takes a walk to the box office, thinks a myriad of wonderful thoughts, forgets them upon sitting down. point proven.*

You know, I have changed a great deal but not really.

I have always known how to react to myself, I've been the same yet matured and aged as anyone would. Yes, that warrants some change, but not if the foundation (other than the worthlessness one that was destroyed) and crucial ideals remain the same. Like when I contemplated the brevity of the moment in third grade while sitting in the countryside at my babysitter's house. Watching the falling sun and the green clovered grass, smelling the air, sitting on a double chair swing attached to a rickety old swing set. That's still me.

What has changed... 

I suppose how I react to other people.

I took a winding road to social acceptance and comfort. Not my chosen path, yet it was the one thrust upon me and I walked it as best I could, even when it left my reactions to myself in turmoil.
Except for those moments when You allowed me to glimmer to the surface... 

I'm pretty sure I wanted to say something other than what I ended up with.

Yet I'm not complaining one bit!

...oh look, a metaphor...

When the ice matches the glint in your eye...

My dear snowy winter's evening,
I do admire your choice of clarity yet a sense of mist and moisture about...
The light twinkling through the trees was perfect.

isn't this what i've been saying all along?

synonomous

The beautiful sunset and the clear air enraptured me as I walked across campus this evening...
So many times I have wished I could always be out breathing the fresh air, taking in the sunset and admiring spring.
Wishing I never had to leave it.

God heard.

...so what did He do?

simple:

He made me from nature.

'i am at all times...'

and with last year's induced lack of life inside it's only natural that this year the earth and Kansas that I love suffers from a perpetual springtime.

One perspective I lack: The view from outside.

today the head of the music department came into my theory class and jokingly gave me a coin purse to put my debit card/drivers license in in lieu of my status referring to how I put them through the washer.
...well, and also because a mysterious person left a brightly colored picture of snoopy by her door... coincidentally, someone also taped a picture of snoopy decked out in a Philadelphia Flyer's jersey to one of the other prof's door that same day, hmm, same individual? possibly.
later that day when we were chatting I offhandedly mentioned that I never knew people actually read my status' until they brought them up in conversation.


she said that she not only reads them but looks forward to seeing them each day; that my humor, wit, and wisdom has a touch of... well, brilliance. that I see connections that no one else seems to notice and my insight is incredible. she went on to say that all the things I post just make her think 'this girl has no idea how brilliant she is, does she?'


...suppose i never really thought of it that way.
really, i just have a different perspective...
some don't understand it, others overlook it...
and i love every minute of it.
that does pair with the 'that girl has no idea how beautiful she is, does she?' thought i was told she had...




but perhaps the best way to introduce others to me would be:
"This is Lindsay, she has no idea how beautiful she is and she has no idea how brilliant she is, however she does love the view from her window."


and in all reality, as long as i have that last bit i'm perfectly content not fully realizing the other two.

"but there's peace for every pound of strength..."

$30 and two big red X's on my hands later, I have now seen one of my favorite bands of all time.


apart from the people going three-to-one pushing against one small girl to get a better place and the people just wanting a better place to make out with/feel up their girlfriend, it was fantastic.


you know, I can really get into music.
...but not in front of people.
...and never, ever when the music is worship music at church.


but Hammers and Strings...


Bloodshot...


I think of what God's given me so much more when I'm at a club surrounded by people that probably don't believe in God, a place where the F-word is dropped on stage by someone that's written music that I lived on for months, a place where the ground was sticky from beer or whatever other drink of choice people had...
I got into it.
and I got more out of it.
Certainly more than at 90% of chapels.


The words are different, they come from a different place.


and you know, finding You in such places seems more honest than it being induced purposefully.
...but I'm an odd one.
'a breed all unto myself' or whatever my theory prof jokingly said the other day.


as long as I can remain who I am in such places I don't mind one bit.
somehow I remain clean.


but hey, I'm kind of ridiculous, what can I say?
I'm quite a fan of breathing deeply...
it just may come out in odd ways at times.

A Re-introduction

...since I'm currently in the business of new beginnings with the whole 'throw out half the old blog and keep getting rid of pieces of them once they're in the new blog' and feeling spring (albeit early) in the air...
I felt this was necessary.

Hello, I am Lindsay.
I'm a singer and a bass player, a graphic design student and a neat-freak, a Marvel comics nerd and a bookworm, a theater kid that wishes she had gone to school for theater, and I have a fantastic new straw cowboy hat with beautiful hardware.
some consider me 'Humble to a flaw' while others just think I'm weird.
others think I'm 'the deepest person' they've met, and some just don't care to know.
in all reality i'm a bit crazy with a dash of whimsy...
though that last bit hardly anyone gets to see, yet I'm getting better.
some think I'm too serious, some think I'm anything but serious.
I've been told I can seem standoffish though that is never my intention,
in all reality I do the best to be myself, but fully myself with others around and fully myself while on my own are two different things, why?
I'm a ridiculous introvert that wants nothing more than to run barefoot along the grass and talk to the Orion constellation as if he's my big brother, make people smile, and hopefully, hopefully, wonder at something in such a way my eyes glint.

I began this blog years ago just to get thought out, a friend and I blogged together on separate blogs. That friend is gone but this blog, obviously, is still here.
a while ago this blog went from thought to a blatant need to spill out frustration...
but I want this to be for thoughts I want to hang on to, things I wish to find again...
not me boiling over several times a day because for the first time I'm experience the maelstrom of feelings.
It aggravated me that I wore my heart on my sleeve to that extent, even to a blog that only a few read.
With this in mind I utilized the magic 'hide blog' from profile option and the imported it all to here.
Many dropped, chopped, and swapped posts later...
here you are.

I don't claim that everything is a gem, there's probably posts I thought of dropping.
But hey, for my few good friends that read this, it helps them get me.
To the rest of you, feel free to skip as much as you would like or cruise right past, hey, I'm a wall-flower, I'm used to it!


as for the name, ah...

a few of my posts I do enjoy quite a bit, they remind me of anything from sitting by the Rhine reading Dorian Gray, traipsing all over the Midwest with my jazz band, or just stargazing while working at camp.
in all reality, you can have a great amount of good thought while gazing in wonder at what's around you.

When I'm at my best I can be serious, but with such wonder...
I love it.
Seriously Whimsical indeed.




p.s.
For future notice, my form and punctuation here would drive a grammar nazi insane. That first couple of years... Heh. Sorry. Had a no capital letters phase. Fit my thinking at the time. Hurts my eyes horrifically now.
It has progressed through the years as I have changed, yet the earlier years and such... ouch.
I follow my thought here, but then again even if I can switch it off and write well for papers...
I should make an effort here.
In addition, due to not too recent events, i'm slightly fearful of my thought being judged...Open mind, please. it's only a part of my opinion, don't tear me apart, or even worse, assume.
in addition...
I tend to live in fear of others thinking I consider myself better than what I am.
...and I hope that doesn't rub off here.
...but I truly do love who I am and constantly try to live up to the ridiculous person God made me...

"A man takes a drop too much once in a while, it's only human nature."
"Nature, Mr. Allnut, is what we are put in this world to rise above."
- The African Queen, 1951

Under Construction.

Hello World,
if you are reading this then that means you are part of the .02 people that have managed to stumble upon my blog.
you see i have another blog, but do to frustration and a pretty tough obstacle in life (that should have been easier in my eyes, but it makes sense now) there was too much pain and hurt for me to ever want to share it.
with this in mind I imported it all here and am in the process of cutting parts out and dropping about half of the posts in an effort to have something that isn't so painful that my closest friends can't stand to read it.
the posts that are up now have been edited, chopped, and perhaps one or two are merged.

...stay tuned!

...however if you do not wish to stay tuned, other options include turning your computer off and doing something worthwhile outside, simply finding a blog by someone that knows what they are doing (...then again, if you wish to read about life, wouldn't it be more interesting to learn another perspective from one trying to figure it out, yes?) or just read the posts that have already made the jump.

if the last option is appealing...
there's a nice chunk of blogs from Germany in May of 2011, the late 2010 vintage includes a lovely rainy day with Miss Anne of Green Gables, the stock from 08-09 will feature a 16ish year old that's just trying to get a handle on things, and starting in early-mid 2011 you can find the first time i try to trust humanity! (it's a short stint in the trust business, but it leaves one heck of a dent!)
stay tuned for late 2011, this include the wide-eyed wonder of the world inside introvert corner!
*holds up 'oooh and ahhh' cue card to audience*

thanks for flying Girl from Kansas airways, please exit safely and have a wonderful trip!



(girl from kansas... kansas... wide open spaces... there's a blog title somewhere in that...)

i need to write because i want to hold on to something, not because i want to say something.

...then again, sometimes deconstructing is necessary.
but this blog is for thought.
i'll leave the daily deconstruction elsewhere.

Being Lindsay is: friends texting you once, you never get the text, they go somewhere and do things without you.
Being Lindsay is: the church going wild for a friend's 20th birthday with gifts, parties, and all- you sit down and think 'now who else had their 20th birthday not too long ago...'
Being Lindsay is: I lied, it's more like being Lindsay when friends don't try to call at all and do things without me.

...but these friends usually try very hard to involve me...

and I feel like a brat for comparing birthdays.
Suppose it's just affirmation of what i'm used to, suppose that's the problem with noticing quite a bit.

But hey, as long as I don't let such things get me down i'm in good shape.

and yesterday wasn't about me, it was my friend celebrating her birthday with friends. I'm used to sitting alone, what's one more day?

new year, same slate, different section.

and New Years arrives quietly,
playing games, laughing, not looking at the clock.
then again, I wouldn't have it any other way.

here's to the passing of 2011 and the many previously known epiphanies that became a part of my symphony,
may such death not find me in 2012,
and may i continue to learn to be myself.

...whether that be in front of others or dancing like a sprite caught in the wind while on my own.

i'll be happy either way.

exciting to see what the year will bring, what majors i'll add...
hmm.
what New York will bring...
what the summer will be like...

haha, not exactly a real page-turner, but it keeps me busy, busy indeed.
wonder how much i'll learn in my spring internship...
how the play will go...
if i'll be deemed worthy of the upper level choir...
ha, singing in voice studio this year and wowing them...

have i thanked you profusely yet today, Lord?

...this year, that is?

well, another year, once again, though i realize we do this at the beginning of school it's different now...
so...
meet You halfway?

...and We're off.