oh, it is love...
oh, it is love...
Challenge: Record the quirky or sweet things you love about yourself
- that I'm a creator and collector of lists.
- that I'm super short.
- that I'm okay not having time or money to go to the movies.
- that I appreciate dry humor most.
- my odd, all-over-the-place fashion sense.
- that I'd rather chew juicy, fruity bubble gum than eat more food.
- that I am a creator, inventive and imaginative.
- that I sometimes get mistaken for a kid.
- that I'm never quite satisfied, because there's always so much more out there!
- that I'm in love with love.
- that the world completely and utterly fascinates me.
- that I have a meaningful tattoo and plan on getting more!
- that my body is so incredibly strong despite everything I have put it through.
- that God loves me even though I'm usually pretty much a mess.
- being me, even if it's usually hard (because overall, it's much more fun)...
cold air that smothers and stings...thick, woolen stockings and three more layers of clothing--still not enough to protect a tiny, frigid body from the icy world...
sweet, waxy lips...sugary Twinkie chapstick crystals form upon my lips...
tangy-sweet, blood-red liquid...slides over my tongue, gently cascades down my throat...cold, smooth plastic bottle, heavy at first but evolves into empty, red-stained space...
feeling the weight--or lack thereof--of my body...the weightlessness...clean, clean bones...his body swallows mine...his arms engulf my body and I will him to crush me...
straightened hair, strays from its wavy tendencies...silky and clean and combed, velvety pleasure for fingers to run through...growing longer, fractions of millimeters, constantly, growing into a long, silky train fit for a bride...
pages of the journal, coarse and smooth simultaneously...empty save for the spaced lines and pink flowers, yearning to be drunk with scribble and uncertain wisdom...soft, leather binding, light and comfort and pink to the touch...
middle of the day--empty tummy, pure and high on air, high on its own emptiness...space, shrinking in ignorant, happy victory...
hours later--belly sated, full of sweet, bubbly diet coke and stringy, light green veggies and bright, zesty mustard globs...
beat building up, arms and legs quivering, ready to take flight and dance right up to heaven...
walking home from school, the wind fighting to topple me over...walking stays brisk, sometimes evolving into a run, anticipation for warmth welling up and dying down inside me with every gust and shudder...becoming slowly aware of nose and ears, aware of the numbness that tries to yank them off of my body...ears pounding, then dead, then aching--aching like i'm an underwater scuba diver who can't equalize the pressure in her ears, miserable until that magical "pop" and then down into the depths she goes...
I photographed this new item for my Candy Store Quest collection. Plus, it's super weird (a pre-melted chocolate bar? Isn't that the same as chocolate sauce?)...
Thank goodness James was there or else I would've wasted (but been totally okay with!) eight bucks on this cool M&M's dispenser watch.
"Bubba Gump! Bubba Gump! Bubba Gump! My favorite restaurant what I never been to!"
How cool is this: we got to see the construction of the new Universal Coaster, which is called Hollywood Rocket or something like that!
And, after a long and wonderful day at the parks, James and I came home to our little tiny princess, Jelly Bean.
More inspiration, from Obama's inaugural address:
- "...and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness."
- "...dust ourselves off and begin the work of re-making America."
- "Our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness."
- "We will lend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist..."
- "And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age."
'While I adore all of these profound quotes, the fifth is especially relevant to my--and all of my fellow pre-service teachers'!--current and future endeavors. Education is so important, yet resources are constantly stolen from the schools and students are robbed of important, significant, vital learning experiences. I hope and pray that Obama will help this country achieve even half of all the wonderful promises he's made. With a slogan of "Yes, we can", it's hard to not be optimistic! :)
On that note, however, I think it's important to point out that Obama is not a cure-all-miracle-worker and that all of the transformations are our responsibility, too. Reform and re-building starts with us, the teachers--how exciting! I can't wait to begin...'
Photo #1: VERY expensive (but also very aesthetically packaged) water.
Photo #2: Huge cinnamon buns! Heck yeah!
Photo #3: Arrr! I was tempted to nab one of these pirate cookies!
Back to the Candy Store Quest...
Photo #4: Ignore my stupid finger and admire the cute sign instead!
Photo #5: How COOL?! A backgammon board game--made ENTIRELY of chocolate!!!
Photo #6: Qachbal's Chocolatier shop at Channelside. (careful here: maybe it was because I didn't buy anything, but the cashier was EXTREMELY rude!!!)
Photo #7: They had a zillion different types of malt balls here; the most unusual, in my opinion, were the Mango Malted Milk Balls!
Photo #8: And finally, the cutest lil cupcakes you've ever seen! :)
Great great quotes:
Mitch Burns: [Dan and his family are eating dinner with Mitch's girlfriend] I swear, the minute I saw her I felt like I was in the room with an angel.
Dan Burns: This corn is like an angel.
Marty Barasco: Love is not a feeling, Mr. Burns. It's an ability.
Dan Burns: There's rightness in our wrongness.
Marie: You don't have to smile.
Dan Burns: It's better than the alternative.
And my favorite part was when Dan sang to Marie "Let My Love Open the Door"...
What does your name mean?
'Jacky'--what does it mean? I dunno.
I used to hate my name. I think every kid goes through a phase like that, where they resent their name and adopt a new one for a while. Even so, I didn't just hate my name because I found something prettier or because I was tired of it. I hated it because it sounds coarse and plain, like you're trying to spit it out of your mouth when you speak it. If I were to discard my name, it would be for good.
And then a professor called me 'Jaclyn', the name that really belonged to me but had been scratched out by my parents, who insisted on a nickname instead. No one here--or anywhere, for that matter--knew me as 'Jaclyn'. But this was all new, this magical place called college, and I could start all over. I could lose 'Jacky' and become 'Jaclyn', which requires fancy flourishes of ink when written by hand and sounds romantically French when paired with my last name DuBois.
In college, they all call me 'Jaclyn'. The sound of this new name rings pleasantly in my ears.
And yet, I am still Jacky.
I know now that it doesn't matter what they call me, though, because I have a different name on the inside, something sacred that nature and God and other souls call me, a non-nickname and a never-been-verbalized name. I feel this name on the inside and I understand now that it's too precious to speak aloud.
So call me 'Jacky' or 'Jaclyn' or 'Ellen' or 'Steve', it doesn't matter. On the inside, I am more than my name, a monstrous yet lovely soul called something I'll never know how to speak.
I'm starting to calm down,
ready to separate from my rages of madness and hate.
I'm not an angry or mean or bitter person;
in fact, I'm most often very cheery and I suppose a little sweet.
And then, randomly but most likely not as randomly as I believe it to be,
I become disenchanted with the world,
and then with life.
[am I bipolar?]
I fall from my high of happiness and curse my obsession with love;
I hit the ground hard and lose [never had?] the strength to stand up again.
I thrash and yell and cry hot tears of resentment.
I almost broke a vase yesterday.
I almost broke my Love yesterday.
I almost wish it were his fault,
I almost with I could cure these fits by leaving someone
or by sleeping till the pain is gone
or by reading a book for inspiration
or by moving away to start life anew
or by running away.
I can't escape myself,
and I am my own
[don't let me get me]
monster angel painting