this is my small tribute to the people who continually show me what righteous romance might look like. even though i've yet to experience the phenomena of falling or rather the married life that comes after you've hit.
homely superman
working 9 to 5
wearing your mis-matched suit
and that same old crooked tie
city traffic jam means
you're stuck in your car
but you always call me up
right after NPR
and i don't know, i don't know what youth dream of
probably some kind of super sexy love
but i'll see contentment when he's on my couch
besides, he's still chasing me around the house
bought a mini-van
like we never dreamed we would
traded lace for nursing bras
but he still says i turn him on
and i don't know, i don't know what youth dream of
probably some kind of super sexy love
but in the end i chose the man who keeps his vows
besides, he's still chasing me around the house
we've sure seen better, and we've sure seen worse
but God's making our last days better than our first
...keep us from drifting and keep us from doubts
and if you think of it Lord,
keep him chasing me around the house
30.10.08
28.10.08
damned love
in kindergarten i had two friends. Respect and Love.
Respect's parents had bought her 64 of the most beautiful, unused crayons for her art box. while Love had only a few worn down crayola's and some dried out markers. handed down from an older sibling, i think.
therefore, it's plain to see, when push came to shove, i chose Respect as my creative co-conspirator. how else could i expect my pictures to make it on the refrigerator each week?
__________
in junior high i had the same two friends.
Respect got to paint her eyelashes before the rest of us; she had all of the pre-pubescent boys staring at her in the lunch line. while Love was busy entering the awkward stage. braces and perms and pleather and all.
therefore, it's plain to see, when push came to shove, i chose to eat chicken fried steak with Respect. our mess hall was the crime scene for far too many social deaths, and i couldn't afford such -- what, when my testimony was at stake.
__________
even in high school, my two friends kind of stuck around.
Respect was well rounded cause she had a varsity letter in two sports, not to mention a homecoming crown, and an AP math. while Love went around claiming that the honor roll was politically perverse measurement, and looked like a dying bird when she attempted to run in gym class, and "accidentally" slept through the entire homecoming football game.
therefore, isn't it plain to see, when push came to shove, i had to be locker partners with Respect? they say faculty will notice if your "in" with the good crowd -- and a college recommendation letter can make or break a girl.
__________
those two friends followed me to where i am now. loyal, they were.
Respect sat in warm coffee shops with chai lattes begging for philosophies and ideologies and terminologies that would solve the world's problems. while Love ate too much and sang off key and danced and cried and cussed and kissed and praised her way through life.
therefore, it's plain to see, when push came to shove, i had to choose the spirituality of Respect. because her ideas could be put in thesis form, like the dissertation i intend to write some day.
damned love.
that's my point i think.let it be known, that i think respect is beautiful and rare and surprising like a package in your mail box. it's only when respect has beat out love, foolish-undignified- nothing to gain -finally redeemed- love, that i must hang my head low. and cry for what wasn't. and cry for what isn't.
it's only when respect becomes my crayon box and my lunch seat and my locker partner and my intelligeable advisor that i must pray for sweet love, love, love to forget. and to become my future.
if my poster paint has failed to convey, let me borrow the real life picture of a man named henri nouwen. he was a brilliant thinker in the theology halls. he taught at notre dame, and harvard and yale. until one day, he felt like God said he should go hang out with mentally handicapped people in a canadian hospital. it's cold in canada. and no one there could comprehend what a degree was, much less a thing called ivy league.
he wiped tears and bottoms most days, rather than discussing nobel peace prizes and bail out plans ... until the day he passed.
i don't know what that means for me now.
Respect's parents had bought her 64 of the most beautiful, unused crayons for her art box. while Love had only a few worn down crayola's and some dried out markers. handed down from an older sibling, i think.
therefore, it's plain to see, when push came to shove, i chose Respect as my creative co-conspirator. how else could i expect my pictures to make it on the refrigerator each week?
__________
in junior high i had the same two friends.
Respect got to paint her eyelashes before the rest of us; she had all of the pre-pubescent boys staring at her in the lunch line. while Love was busy entering the awkward stage. braces and perms and pleather and all.
therefore, it's plain to see, when push came to shove, i chose to eat chicken fried steak with Respect. our mess hall was the crime scene for far too many social deaths, and i couldn't afford such -- what, when my testimony was at stake.
__________
even in high school, my two friends kind of stuck around.
Respect was well rounded cause she had a varsity letter in two sports, not to mention a homecoming crown, and an AP math. while Love went around claiming that the honor roll was politically perverse measurement, and looked like a dying bird when she attempted to run in gym class, and "accidentally" slept through the entire homecoming football game.
therefore, isn't it plain to see, when push came to shove, i had to be locker partners with Respect? they say faculty will notice if your "in" with the good crowd -- and a college recommendation letter can make or break a girl.
__________
those two friends followed me to where i am now. loyal, they were.
Respect sat in warm coffee shops with chai lattes begging for philosophies and ideologies and terminologies that would solve the world's problems. while Love ate too much and sang off key and danced and cried and cussed and kissed and praised her way through life.
therefore, it's plain to see, when push came to shove, i had to choose the spirituality of Respect. because her ideas could be put in thesis form, like the dissertation i intend to write some day.
damned love.
that's my point i think.let it be known, that i think respect is beautiful and rare and surprising like a package in your mail box. it's only when respect has beat out love, foolish-undignified- nothing to gain -finally redeemed- love, that i must hang my head low. and cry for what wasn't. and cry for what isn't.
it's only when respect becomes my crayon box and my lunch seat and my locker partner and my intelligeable advisor that i must pray for sweet love, love, love to forget. and to become my future.
if my poster paint has failed to convey, let me borrow the real life picture of a man named henri nouwen. he was a brilliant thinker in the theology halls. he taught at notre dame, and harvard and yale. until one day, he felt like God said he should go hang out with mentally handicapped people in a canadian hospital. it's cold in canada. and no one there could comprehend what a degree was, much less a thing called ivy league.
he wiped tears and bottoms most days, rather than discussing nobel peace prizes and bail out plans ... until the day he passed.
i don't know what that means for me now.
25.10.08
heal my heart and make it clean
oh, me. oh, my. why do i put myself through such heartache? did i actually think this one was going to be any different?
i'm so predictable. i saw this coming from the beginning. everytime i finally pour a portion of my heart out it always ends up like this. i always end up like this. feeling not wanted and ashamed for ever letting myself get so attached. my fragile little heart can't handle all of this. i thought he was someone who would be there for me and who would enjoy finding me and i, him. I guess i just need to do him a favor and say goodbye so he can move on.
Lord guard my heart. Mend it, once again. Your affection is what i must seek after. your love is what i desire... for no one else's can satisfy. Oh, God your hand holds every tear that i cry... just hold me.
and the healing process begins...
i'm so predictable. i saw this coming from the beginning. everytime i finally pour a portion of my heart out it always ends up like this. i always end up like this. feeling not wanted and ashamed for ever letting myself get so attached. my fragile little heart can't handle all of this. i thought he was someone who would be there for me and who would enjoy finding me and i, him. I guess i just need to do him a favor and say goodbye so he can move on.
Lord guard my heart. Mend it, once again. Your affection is what i must seek after. your love is what i desire... for no one else's can satisfy. Oh, God your hand holds every tear that i cry... just hold me.
and the healing process begins...
24.10.08
highways
i developed this theory about highways over the last few years. (i know i have a lot of theories...just bare with me.)
since as long as i can remember there's been something about the highways that i like.
maybe it's the memories of my dad and i getting something to drink at gas stations while my mom and sister were still asleep in the van.
the anticipation of going somewhere different (with people you love)
the hum of the engine putting me to sleep as we drive through the night
waking up every time the hum let up as we slowed down
the many hours of thinking about life
the many conversations
the silence
the "traveling tunes" mix cd's (when certain songs play i can still remember what part of whatever state i was in).
crying when you drive by a burger king
driving a mini van that shouldn't drive any long distances, loaded to the prim with music equipment, snack food, and best friends
playing euchre
getting stuck in traffic talking to the people in the car next to you
since as long as i can remember there's been something about the highways that i like.
maybe it's the memories of my dad and i getting something to drink at gas stations while my mom and sister were still asleep in the van.
the anticipation of going somewhere different (with people you love)
the hum of the engine putting me to sleep as we drive through the night
waking up every time the hum let up as we slowed down
the many hours of thinking about life
the many conversations
the silence
the "traveling tunes" mix cd's (when certain songs play i can still remember what part of whatever state i was in).
crying when you drive by a burger king
driving a mini van that shouldn't drive any long distances, loaded to the prim with music equipment, snack food, and best friends
playing euchre
getting stuck in traffic talking to the people in the car next to you
all these memories are the reasoning to my theory...
everyone on the highways are on there because of a love of something, someone or someplace.
they travel to see somebody they love.
they travel with the ones they love to somewhere they love.
they travel an hour to work (to and from) everyday so that their family has a roof over their heads.
they drive 3 hours to play music for 50 people and 35 dollars because they love it.
they go for as many hours without stopping, despite having to use the bathroom, just so they can be that much closer to seeing that special someone.
they drive to get away and find themselves (so maybe they can love again).
they drive because they love going fast (LOL).
there are so many scenarios...but i believe love is at the core of it...
but then again it's at the core of everything else.
23.10.08
Forever 21
Dear Girl at Forever 21,
I couldn't help but overhear.
The reason that dress "fits weird" is it's a cheaply produced thin, half blended polyester and tissue mix material, cut by a machine in Indonesia....
also, you're as big as the whale of Ninevah.
I couldn't help but overhear.
The reason that dress "fits weird" is it's a cheaply produced thin, half blended polyester and tissue mix material, cut by a machine in Indonesia....
also, you're as big as the whale of Ninevah.
21.10.08
waldo, meet peter.
sometimes i lose myself. just little bits at a time. an arm here, a leg there, a senseless comment, an empty promise, a half-eaten cheese sandwich in the fridge ...
lost. fragments of a girl to the clutter of a nervous world. a nervous habit. a nervous mind. and a busy page.
like those "where's waldo" books. just opening the things you are instantly given to one of two ends 1) inspiration and compulsion until you locate the man in the red and white stripes or 2) anxiety upon which you quickly shut the book and try for lighter, less demanding literature. perhaps dr. suess or one of his affiliates.
i've always been a fan of the star belly sneetches myself.
nope. never developed an affinity for this chap, waldo. never knew why i needed to find him at the expense of, say, my nap time or afternoon snack of graham crackers and icing.
all this came to mind when yesterday, somebody who i have not been faithfully respondent to, wrote something to the effect of where's waldo? screw that! the better question is where's allison?!
true words that one spoke. cause all of a sudden something clicked. i need to be found. waldo and i both.
we need desperately to be found. because we are beginning to blend in with everything around us. we are picking up a southern accent. contemplating the use of political bumper stickers. and we are buying white v-neck tees.
but i've come to know that there is something that never fails me as i seek identity. the Word. when by grace i invite the Holy Movement. when i ask instruction from the ancient prophets. and when i search for this man Jesus who made a good covenant with me.
and through old texts, he breathes eternal truths. he's constantly updating his blogs, you know. not quite done talking with humanity. not quite done singing to us. never through finding us.
i noticed something just a few days ago. mainly, that shows make you feel very small. like the other night, when i sat in a venue with hundreds of folk who (like me) were basking in the comfort and serenades of a certain peter adams. good and packed in we were.
and i'm certain if one were to scan the room they might not discover me, what with all the people.
where's allison?
row 5 seat 3. being sung to. being found almost. almost. almost. already. almost. completely. not yet. soon.
if only i could give up the rhymes of dr. suess and the suggestion of a nap and the sweetness of graham crackers with icing.
to find and be found, by you.
lost. fragments of a girl to the clutter of a nervous world. a nervous habit. a nervous mind. and a busy page.
like those "where's waldo" books. just opening the things you are instantly given to one of two ends 1) inspiration and compulsion until you locate the man in the red and white stripes or 2) anxiety upon which you quickly shut the book and try for lighter, less demanding literature. perhaps dr. suess or one of his affiliates.
i've always been a fan of the star belly sneetches myself.
nope. never developed an affinity for this chap, waldo. never knew why i needed to find him at the expense of, say, my nap time or afternoon snack of graham crackers and icing.
all this came to mind when yesterday, somebody who i have not been faithfully respondent to, wrote something to the effect of where's waldo? screw that! the better question is where's allison?!
true words that one spoke. cause all of a sudden something clicked. i need to be found. waldo and i both.
we need desperately to be found. because we are beginning to blend in with everything around us. we are picking up a southern accent. contemplating the use of political bumper stickers. and we are buying white v-neck tees.
but i've come to know that there is something that never fails me as i seek identity. the Word. when by grace i invite the Holy Movement. when i ask instruction from the ancient prophets. and when i search for this man Jesus who made a good covenant with me.
and through old texts, he breathes eternal truths. he's constantly updating his blogs, you know. not quite done talking with humanity. not quite done singing to us. never through finding us.
i noticed something just a few days ago. mainly, that shows make you feel very small. like the other night, when i sat in a venue with hundreds of folk who (like me) were basking in the comfort and serenades of a certain peter adams. good and packed in we were.
and i'm certain if one were to scan the room they might not discover me, what with all the people.
where's allison?
row 5 seat 3. being sung to. being found almost. almost. almost. already. almost. completely. not yet. soon.
if only i could give up the rhymes of dr. suess and the suggestion of a nap and the sweetness of graham crackers with icing.
to find and be found, by you.
20.10.08
can't stop the world
Life is a spider webbed woman cackling in her rocking chair. Which of us will understand her crazy logic enough to cackle back? Then we will sit back and enjoy the clouds roll by on hills. Then we can watch the waves rush in and retreat. And then we can speak to her face to face, questioning and correcting and creating from the soul.
It is my belief that we are meant to create. If we believe in God and that we are created within his image, then it makes perfect sense for us to mimic his first action towards us. It seems illogical to drift through life ooing and ahhing at other peoples originality. Make something new. Write what you've never read. Paint what no one has seen. Play what isn't heard.
blue moon
so i really like the movie Elizabethtown. it's a very good movie from director cameron crowe (Almost Famous, Vanilla Sky, Fast Times at Ridgemont High). the movie makes me very nostalgic about love, and traveling and being confused. i found it today in the new and imporved bargin bin at wal-mart (the movies were all $4). the soundtrack is wonderful and fits the roadtrip aspect of the movie and i love how it's based in a place that i've driven through so many times. last time i saw it i noticed that the band playing free bird during the funeral was My Morning Jacket and that made me excited (but the new album is terrible... so i'm not so pumped anymore).
19.10.08
he doesn't even know
He told me we are on two different paths...
If he would take the time to then he would soon realize that both of our paths right now are the same; broken.
He told me that all of his plans that were supposed to be stable are falling apart. Is it weird that i just wrote down that sentence word for word in my journal 2 nights ago?
it freaks me out how alike we are.
he doesn't even know.
If he would take the time to then he would soon realize that both of our paths right now are the same; broken.
He told me that all of his plans that were supposed to be stable are falling apart. Is it weird that i just wrote down that sentence word for word in my journal 2 nights ago?
it freaks me out how alike we are.
he doesn't even know.
18.10.08
are we there yet?
it's interesting; the things you think of when you're stuck in the family carvan for 5 hours. then again, it's dangerous for the poetic mind to be all alone for such a long amount of time.
but, nonetheless, here i sit, quietly, in the very back of our inconveniently priced SUV. the only thing breaking the silence is the sound of my very cold fingers tap-tapping away at the keyboard and the occasional whine of someone needing to use the bathroom.
the sky is a pretty pastel purple and pink combination, which may induce one to think about the beauty of the open road.
..but, not i said the fly - not me, said the bee.
no, my heart is troubled.
i honestly didn't know how much i cared about him.i couldn't sleep the last two nights because i knew something was wrong with him. I just laid there in bed thinking and praying about him. That sort of thing never affects me.
Now, that i think about it...a lot of things haven't affected me like they do since i met him.
I'll try and explain in a well, UNorganized fashion.
he fascinates me. there is something different about him but, i just can't put my finger on it.i just love to spend time with this kid. he makes me laugh like no one else can. he can turn a terrible situation into something light-hearted and carefree.and when i think about him my heart flutters a little bit. So, you can imagine what my fragile heart does when i see his face...it's silly really. I feel childish just writing about it. Like a shy little girl with a sercret...
hm. the thing is...he hasn't seen this side of me, and i don't suppose he ever will...
my heart is so shy.
But, oh how i wish i could tell him. I was going to mention a tid-bit of this feeling to him the last time we were together. But, my words got caught in my throat and suddenly i couldn't speak. I was a little disapointed in myself.
I was afraid he wouldn't feel the same way. but, that's normal, i guess.
i just wish he would want to fit me into his life; i just wish he would want me.
i want him to want to tell me about his day and the bad and good things that surround it.
i want him to want to search my heart and try and unlock the mystery of me.
...hum..but, wishing won't make him talk to me now.
funny how a sudden lapse of bad judgement can make two people want to stop talking...actually, it's only one person...
but, nonetheless, here i sit, quietly, in the very back of our inconveniently priced SUV. the only thing breaking the silence is the sound of my very cold fingers tap-tapping away at the keyboard and the occasional whine of someone needing to use the bathroom.
the sky is a pretty pastel purple and pink combination, which may induce one to think about the beauty of the open road.
..but, not i said the fly - not me, said the bee.
no, my heart is troubled.
i honestly didn't know how much i cared about him.i couldn't sleep the last two nights because i knew something was wrong with him. I just laid there in bed thinking and praying about him. That sort of thing never affects me.
Now, that i think about it...a lot of things haven't affected me like they do since i met him.
I'll try and explain in a well, UNorganized fashion.
he fascinates me. there is something different about him but, i just can't put my finger on it.i just love to spend time with this kid. he makes me laugh like no one else can. he can turn a terrible situation into something light-hearted and carefree.and when i think about him my heart flutters a little bit. So, you can imagine what my fragile heart does when i see his face...it's silly really. I feel childish just writing about it. Like a shy little girl with a sercret...
hm. the thing is...he hasn't seen this side of me, and i don't suppose he ever will...
my heart is so shy.
But, oh how i wish i could tell him. I was going to mention a tid-bit of this feeling to him the last time we were together. But, my words got caught in my throat and suddenly i couldn't speak. I was a little disapointed in myself.
I was afraid he wouldn't feel the same way. but, that's normal, i guess.
i just wish he would want to fit me into his life; i just wish he would want me.
i want him to want to tell me about his day and the bad and good things that surround it.
i want him to want to search my heart and try and unlock the mystery of me.
...hum..but, wishing won't make him talk to me now.
funny how a sudden lapse of bad judgement can make two people want to stop talking...actually, it's only one person...
15.10.08
creative writing project due friday
I have this theory about love. You see, every time I come close to figuring the whole thing out, when I get one tiny pi sign away from solving the equation, a friend will call with the news of engagement.
And, I will positively think that person is crazy. Because their love story won’t fit any of my previous ponderings.
So, now it is, that after all these many 17 years of letting my kindergarten crush, Robbie Miller, eat the cheese off my pizza every Wednesday -- after playground hand holding and uncommitted high school boyfriends, only now have i created this theory about love.
It’s rather light hearted and comical. Cause although God seems to be in the business of making us holy and good, His Son and prophets were not documented as saying much about dating and marriage.
Mainly just that if you feel like you constantly have the urge to “kiss,” that you should just go ahead and marry so you don’t lust and drool all over the place. It’s quite a disgusting mess for the rest of us. Another notable thing he mentioned was that wives and husbands should be good to one another. Like love and respect each other and not get mad about who has the remote on Thursday night when the option of either "Grey’s Anatomy" or “The Office” has the potential to create a proverbial world war. At least in a pre-TIVO realm.
But, if I remember correctly, Christ's issuing for love and respect are widespread commands. He said we ought also to treat our neighbors in this sacraficial Spirit.
No, God doesn’t talk about romance all that much. And even when someone writes a book in the Scriptures about young love birds, you get the sense that their story is meant to be more of a symbolism. The man Solomon, after all, was a song-writer. And more than a handful of good men with guitars have found a way to sing to the deepest things of life while describing, say, strawberry fields, or the color yellow, or even a breakfast of banana pancakes.
Now, I don’t mean this to be a public disregard. And I don’t believe God has left the scene in regards to romantic intimacy. But, when I thought about it yesterday, I came up with the conclusion that there must be a creative writing class in Heaven. (I hope there is anyhow.) And each angel is probably given an assignment to write a love story, a romance novel to suit.
We are the characters.
creativity comes in barrels up there. That is most certainly why no two stories have ever been alike.
That is also why when you witness what appears to be a complex and heart-wrenching unfolding (equipped with the pride & prejudice soundtrack), you can guess that a female angel was the mastermind behind it all. And conversely, when a very methodical and user-friendly arrangement is made between a couple, in which the wedding conveniently falls after college basketball season, you can almost be assured that the author was a sir. Ahhhh, the perpetuating of gender stereo-types :)
That leaves me only one real question.
What the bismark happened to my angel?! !! Naturally, she is procrastinating … not very unlike her fictional character allison faith jester.
My angel will write her story the night before it’s due, but with all the abstract passion she can muster at 2 a.m. God is merciful with the mid-term grades, yeah?
Or maybe she has been writing all along. Brainstorming little bits of dialogue and plot line, then scribbling them down on restaurant napkins and misplaced, yellow legal pads.
Yes, I think that must be it. My angel and I would be friends. Cause she too is convinced that living must not be halted by the fact that her sunday school room doesn’t read “young marrieds.” Let it be known that she is quite proud of the single support group her church offers as an alternative. And she finds it not the least bit degrading that her leaders continually make efforts at turning bible study into date-nights. Rumor has it that the singles room serves better pastries anyhow.
I’ve really said too much.
And, I will positively think that person is crazy. Because their love story won’t fit any of my previous ponderings.
So, now it is, that after all these many 17 years of letting my kindergarten crush, Robbie Miller, eat the cheese off my pizza every Wednesday -- after playground hand holding and uncommitted high school boyfriends, only now have i created this theory about love.
It’s rather light hearted and comical. Cause although God seems to be in the business of making us holy and good, His Son and prophets were not documented as saying much about dating and marriage.
Mainly just that if you feel like you constantly have the urge to “kiss,” that you should just go ahead and marry so you don’t lust and drool all over the place. It’s quite a disgusting mess for the rest of us. Another notable thing he mentioned was that wives and husbands should be good to one another. Like love and respect each other and not get mad about who has the remote on Thursday night when the option of either "Grey’s Anatomy" or “The Office” has the potential to create a proverbial world war. At least in a pre-TIVO realm.
But, if I remember correctly, Christ's issuing for love and respect are widespread commands. He said we ought also to treat our neighbors in this sacraficial Spirit.
No, God doesn’t talk about romance all that much. And even when someone writes a book in the Scriptures about young love birds, you get the sense that their story is meant to be more of a symbolism. The man Solomon, after all, was a song-writer. And more than a handful of good men with guitars have found a way to sing to the deepest things of life while describing, say, strawberry fields, or the color yellow, or even a breakfast of banana pancakes.
Now, I don’t mean this to be a public disregard. And I don’t believe God has left the scene in regards to romantic intimacy. But, when I thought about it yesterday, I came up with the conclusion that there must be a creative writing class in Heaven. (I hope there is anyhow.) And each angel is probably given an assignment to write a love story, a romance novel to suit.
We are the characters.
creativity comes in barrels up there. That is most certainly why no two stories have ever been alike.
That is also why when you witness what appears to be a complex and heart-wrenching unfolding (equipped with the pride & prejudice soundtrack), you can guess that a female angel was the mastermind behind it all. And conversely, when a very methodical and user-friendly arrangement is made between a couple, in which the wedding conveniently falls after college basketball season, you can almost be assured that the author was a sir. Ahhhh, the perpetuating of gender stereo-types :)
That leaves me only one real question.
What the bismark happened to my angel?! !! Naturally, she is procrastinating … not very unlike her fictional character allison faith jester.
My angel will write her story the night before it’s due, but with all the abstract passion she can muster at 2 a.m. God is merciful with the mid-term grades, yeah?
Or maybe she has been writing all along. Brainstorming little bits of dialogue and plot line, then scribbling them down on restaurant napkins and misplaced, yellow legal pads.
Yes, I think that must be it. My angel and I would be friends. Cause she too is convinced that living must not be halted by the fact that her sunday school room doesn’t read “young marrieds.” Let it be known that she is quite proud of the single support group her church offers as an alternative. And she finds it not the least bit degrading that her leaders continually make efforts at turning bible study into date-nights. Rumor has it that the singles room serves better pastries anyhow.
I’ve really said too much.
13.10.08
The Geneva Experiment
wasn't the world supposed to end yesterday? cause i totally forgot to make my bed, fall in love, and see sigur ros in concert. dang it.
(pause.)(consider.) (sigh.)(smile.) the world didn't end yesterday. and Sir Morning sluggishly called "here" when roll was taken.
so, the excuses are void.
to do list:
11.10.08
shutupa
Allie: l lk
Todd: are you just lazy...or are you choking and trying to type out the sounds
Allie: haha shutupa
Todd: you type like chef boyardee "shutupa"
"scusie yoselfa outta ma canned kitchen"
Allie: HAHAHAHA
Todd: yea..he WOULD laugh like that...
Todd: are you just lazy...or are you choking and trying to type out the sounds
Allie: haha shutupa
Todd: you type like chef boyardee "shutupa"
"scusie yoselfa outta ma canned kitchen"
Allie: HAHAHAHA
Todd: yea..he WOULD laugh like that...
9.10.08
Salt and Vinegar Potato Chips
i've never cared too much for mates of state but i think this song (maybe even the video) has changed my mind.
but i also never cared for salt and vinegar potato chips
but i also never cared for salt and vinegar potato chips
7.10.08
The Letter "J"
If you mistype the letter "j" enough, anything looks arabic.
Example:
Without typos: This pineapple is delicious.
With typos: Ijj hajtjje Ajmerjica.
Example:
Without typos: This pineapple is delicious.
With typos: Ijj hajtjje Ajmerjica.
5.10.08
3.10.08
your mom is on Facebook
I got my senior pictures. http://www.carlzochphotography.com/darkroom/share/?n=Allison_Jester
I was told yesterday that i have the blandest facebook in the world ... so i feel i must address the rumor. it is one hundred percent true. :)
but, i'm certain, like most things, that the way (or medium) in which someone chooses to network socially is merely a preference. like the way some prefer cream and sugar in their coffee, while others prefer coffee black. both are perfectly fine. a matter of taste. and at the end of the day, both persons will be called coffee drinkers, lovers of joe.
i don't know why i suck at facebook or why it repulses me to think of adding sugar to my morning beverage.
but this is what i do know. one day, soon, i want to meet you.
and i want to see the expression on your face the first time we discover we love the same band because their live shows kick it. and i want to you to watch my eyes get bigger the first time you tell me about a quote that seems to sum up your existence -- or at least makes your heart beat faster. and i want us to fight about why Juno is or isn't one of the most brilliant shows in our collection. i want to search for your interests the way someone searches for their missing shoe, when it happens to be their oldest and favorite pair. i want you to know who my favorite authors are because we roamed barnes and noble for an hour that one sunday afternoon in october. i want to break all the social boundaries and discuss God, politics and sex in one sitting -- and if i try to sum it up in three words Christian, moderate, single i want you to laugh first, and then kindly reply, "please unpack that for me." i want to know and be known. just not in the way everyone expects. cause dang it, i like my coffee black.
that's just a metaphor, i really do like hazlenut creamer. which you'll find out one day
maybe. cause what i didn't mention was that...
my heart is so shy.
but seriously, your mom IS on facebook.
I was told yesterday that i have the blandest facebook in the world ... so i feel i must address the rumor. it is one hundred percent true. :)
but, i'm certain, like most things, that the way (or medium) in which someone chooses to network socially is merely a preference. like the way some prefer cream and sugar in their coffee, while others prefer coffee black. both are perfectly fine. a matter of taste. and at the end of the day, both persons will be called coffee drinkers, lovers of joe.
i don't know why i suck at facebook or why it repulses me to think of adding sugar to my morning beverage.
but this is what i do know. one day, soon, i want to meet you.
and i want to see the expression on your face the first time we discover we love the same band because their live shows kick it. and i want to you to watch my eyes get bigger the first time you tell me about a quote that seems to sum up your existence -- or at least makes your heart beat faster. and i want us to fight about why Juno is or isn't one of the most brilliant shows in our collection. i want to search for your interests the way someone searches for their missing shoe, when it happens to be their oldest and favorite pair. i want you to know who my favorite authors are because we roamed barnes and noble for an hour that one sunday afternoon in october. i want to break all the social boundaries and discuss God, politics and sex in one sitting -- and if i try to sum it up in three words Christian, moderate, single i want you to laugh first, and then kindly reply, "please unpack that for me." i want to know and be known. just not in the way everyone expects. cause dang it, i like my coffee black.
that's just a metaphor, i really do like hazlenut creamer. which you'll find out one day
maybe. cause what i didn't mention was that...
my heart is so shy.
but seriously, your mom IS on facebook.
1.10.08
the happening
Hello, October. I'm so glad you're here. Did fall come with you? I sure hope so.
i know this aching desire to travel all the time is God given. It can't be from me, the passion is too intense...the longing is too overwhelming.
I can't wait to explore the world next year and see where God takes me. I can't wait to see where i'll end up and who i'll meet.
Moving away and starting something fresh is like a whole new identity. Putting the past behind me and reaching toward what is ahead...what is this ahead of me? I honestly don't know. and that's the exciting part :)
Despite what some may think, i feel as if i'm headed in the right direction. Yes, there have been a few kinks and jagged edges, so far but, you know when you're in the center of God's will. When you're smack dab in the middle...you just know.
There is one thing that is bothering me; Doubt.
People have been talking about how i can't make it in life and i'll never succeed because i'm simply not ready. When they say that to me...it implants a seed of self-doubt that i cannot ignore. But, i know they are wrong. No, i'm not claiming to have it all together...nor am i making a know-it-all statement. I just know i can. I will always be learning and striving...and failing. always. But, that doesn't mean i can't make it.
You just wait and see all the things i can and will accomplish. All the things God has promised me are going to become a reality and i'm so ready for it. I see the pieces falling into place. I never thought it would happen. but, That's what happens when you seek first the kingdom of God...things just go right.
Jesus is so incredible. No wonder i fell head over heels for him...
i know this aching desire to travel all the time is God given. It can't be from me, the passion is too intense...the longing is too overwhelming.
I can't wait to explore the world next year and see where God takes me. I can't wait to see where i'll end up and who i'll meet.
Moving away and starting something fresh is like a whole new identity. Putting the past behind me and reaching toward what is ahead...what is this ahead of me? I honestly don't know. and that's the exciting part :)
Despite what some may think, i feel as if i'm headed in the right direction. Yes, there have been a few kinks and jagged edges, so far but, you know when you're in the center of God's will. When you're smack dab in the middle...you just know.
There is one thing that is bothering me; Doubt.
People have been talking about how i can't make it in life and i'll never succeed because i'm simply not ready. When they say that to me...it implants a seed of self-doubt that i cannot ignore. But, i know they are wrong. No, i'm not claiming to have it all together...nor am i making a know-it-all statement. I just know i can. I will always be learning and striving...and failing. always. But, that doesn't mean i can't make it.
You just wait and see all the things i can and will accomplish. All the things God has promised me are going to become a reality and i'm so ready for it. I see the pieces falling into place. I never thought it would happen. but, That's what happens when you seek first the kingdom of God...things just go right.
Jesus is so incredible. No wonder i fell head over heels for him...
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