This is about a boy who I love very, very much.

In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, I thought I would tell you about a boy who I love very much. This boy is one of my best friends. We tell each other everything. Even though we live two hours apart we are still just as close as we were before I moved away from him. He is one of the most thoughtful and caring people I know. He sends me socks and funny cut-out cartoons from comic strips in the mail just to let me know that he’s thinking about me.

 This boy has never hidden his feelings from me. He always tells me what he’s thinking, and he’s not afraid to be himself around me. I know all of his secrets, and he knows all of mine.

This boy knows how to make me laugh. He’s always been able to recognize when I’m upset about something, and he’s always known how to make it better.

This boy has seen me at my absolute worst. He’s seen me throw up numerous times, and he’s seen me when I was loopy on pain pills after I had my wisdom teeth out. He has seen me be selfish and hateful. He’s seen me betray and hurt others. And yet he still loves me and frequently tells me so.

I’m ashamed to say that sometimes I forget just how valuable this boy is. I forget that no matter what’s going on in my life, no matter how much I feel like a failure or how distracted I get by papers and tests and the craziness also known as college, that this boy loves me and cares about me. I love this boy so, so much.

Okay so now I’m at the end of this post. I bet some of you are wondering who the lucky guy is that this post is about. I’m not going to lie, I misled you a little bit. This boy is not someone who I love romantically. This boy is my baby brother.

Hello one AM, it's me again.

I am not a night person. The fact that I am awake right now is a statistical anomaly. The fact that it’s the second night in a row that I am awake at this profane hour is off the charts. I think the last time I was awake past eleven was last fall when I procrastinated on a paper that I didn’t want to write, so I stayed up till two writing it. Which is not advisable by the way, that paper was one of the worst I’ve ever written. An example of how awful it was: one of my sentences was “The gruesome torture showed the gruesome nature of the Puritans”. Thankfully my roommate caught it before I turned it in. I hate getting owned by a bio major on my grammar...

Tonight however, I’m not writing a paper. I’m not even really doing anything worthwhile. Just thinking...which I guess could be considered worthwhile.

Today was...bizarre...it seems like years ago that I rolled out of bed and hiked to the music building. (It was a beautiful day out, by the way.) Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like you woke up and you were one person, and then by the time you went to bed you were someone else entirely? That was today for me. Thank heaven I have one roommate who will take me to McDonald’s and not judge me for stress eating and another roommate who will drive in circles for an hour just so that we can talk.

Someone once told me that the irony gods always bite you in the butt...is that blasphemous?

Well...here I am, a week into the semester. It’s one in the morning and I can’t sleep, so I’m eating cheddar whales and I’ve had to resort to Sunny D because I polished off the chocolate milk approximately twelve hours ago. Not that I’m complaining, I really like Sunny D too.

But all that is just background information. This week I learned something new: life doesn’t turn out the way you expect it to. I should have already realized that based on the number of times I’ve watched While You Were Sleeping, because not only is that the point of that movie, they even come right out and say it. However, I guess I’d always been too distracted by Bill Pullman’s perfect hair and ridiculously charming smile to get anything of value out of that I movie.

I’ve spent the majority of my life telling people all of the things that I would not do with my life. “I will not ever ever be a teacher...I will not ever be good at math...I will not screw up my life like that person did...I like music, but I will not ever get the chance to do anything worthwhile with it...” (The list goes on...). My reasoning behind this was that because I didn’t know for sure what I wanted to do with my life, if I figured out what I did not want to do, then by process of elimination I would get some sort of idea what I did want to do. Not that there’s anything wrong with knowing what you like and dislike, but I’m discovering that when I come right out and say that I will not ever do a specific thing, I usually end up doing exactly what I said I wasn’t going to. (Except for the math one...somehow I haven’t been able to jinx myself into being good at math.)

Children's Literature

I love children’s books. I don’t know why, but when something is bothering me or I can’t seem to chill out, nothing helps like a good children’s book and a cup of coffee. Right now, I’m on Christmas break, so all the time that I would ordinarily devote to studying has gone to reading...which is a lot of time. From Shakespeare to Helter Skelter, from political commentary to a book called The Book of Great Books (which is really interesting, by the way), from novels about silly girls obsessed with chocolate and coffee to Catch-22 (which was a complete waste of my time), I realized that as much as I love to read, nothing makes me happier than a good children’s book.

Granted, there are plenty of horrible children’s books out there. It seems like publishers are just waiting to pounce on any idea that seems like it might hold a five-year-old’s attention, which does not always make a good book. However, spending several hours in the children’s section of the library yields promising results. My favorites are The Tale of Despereaux, Oh The Places You’ll Go, and the one I read this morning, Shakespeare’s Secret. I also really like the first two Harry Potter books (I didn’t think the rest were as much fun), The Mysterious Benedict Society books, and the Artemis Fowl books...although I don’t know if those really count entirely as children’s lit.

Thoughts while packing...

     I have trouble accepting forgiveness. I like to work things out on my own. I like pretend that I can work out my salvation without the Holy Spirit. When I fall short, I plummet into a state of guilt that I won’t let myself out of. My life has been a constant cycle of failed attempts at flawlessness. I’ve spent years trying to convince GOD that I’m good enough to deserve Him. And yet, no matter how many lists I make, or how many books about GOD I read, or how hard I try to convince others of my spirituality, or how many Christian t-shirts, c.d.’s and knick-knacks I own, I’ve never been able to do anything more than build up my pride.

     Tenth Avenue North’s song, “House of Mirrors” talks about how we get so caught up in focusing on our flaws that we forget that we’ve already been set free. (The whole Tenth Avenue North album “The Light Meets the Dark” is amazing.) In their song, “You are More” they sing, “You are more than the choices that you’ve made. You are more than the sum of your past mistakes. You are more than the problems you create. You’ve been re-made.” It’s so easy to forget that my life is not about atoning for my sins. That’s already been done by Christ on the Cross. Instead, my life is to be about glorifying GOD and sharing how He has provided atonement for my sins.

     In The Gift of Forgiveness, Charles Stanley says, “GOD’s forgiveness does not depend on our confession, nor does His fellowship...Our fellowship with GOD is not restored by confession (because it was never broken); rather, our sense of fellowship with GOD is restored. When we sin, we withdraw our fellowship from GOD; He does not withdraw His fellowship from us. Forgiveness is ours as believers. The moment we received Him as Savior, He became our life. But our capacity to enjoy forgiveness-our capacity to enjoy a clean conscience- is based on our willingness to acknowledge and confess that sin”.

Charles Manson was not a nice man.

Today, I’m rather tired because last night I read a book entitled Helter Skelter. This was not the best decision that I have made recently. For one thing, I shouldn’t have read it before trying to fall asleep. For another, I shouldn’t have read it at all. The point is, now I’m tired, but too afraid to take a nap because I might get murdered ritualistically, and I am petrified about being alone in my parent’s house also for the ritualistic murder thing.

The worst part is that I haven’t even finished the book yet. It happens to be really, really long. So, I want to know the ending, but I know that it will probably be gruesome and terrifying. I have a feeling that the morbid side of me will win out in the end and that I will probably stay up tonight finishing it.

So, if the next time you see me I am holding my eyes open with toothpicks while chugging down massive amounts of caffeine and looking over my shoulder for anyone who might by chance be carrying a pirate sword or buck knives or a .22 revolver, you will know why.

"He was the only penguin on the whole block that hated Nicole."

I am a nerd. Not that this isn’t blatantly obvious to anyone who’s ever met me, but some days the reality of my strangeness hits me more so than usual. Like today for example, I rolled out of bed, pulled on some boots, lunged for the last five drops in the coffee pot and then booked it to the library. (Hehe I put that pun in there without even meaning to!) Having been here for an hour with no intention of leaving soon, I’m starting to realize that I might be a teensy bit odd. The librarians think I’m pretty cool though! Anyways, those are my thoughts right now, or at least some of them. The rest have to do with the stack of novels sitting next to me and the coffee run I’m going to make after I leave here. PS it's the day when the librarians read children's books out loud. Hence the title.