i baked eight dozen cookies today.
9.27.2007
how do you possibly go through life without a mixing bowl? seriously.
i baked eight dozen cookies today.
i baked eight dozen cookies today.
9.10.2007
9.07.2007
8.29.2007
it's always brilliant when something you have to read turns out to say something you needed to hear.
oddly enough, when we crave approval too strongly, we inevitably come to resent the very person whose approval we seek. we don't want our sense of well being to rest in their hands. so even as we long to receive aproval, we also resent our need for it.
john ortberg, the life you've always wanted.
8.22.2007
school is starting again, and i'm crawling back inside my shell.
my life is ending.
right...me, the overdramatic teenager.
my life as who i was this summer, last spring.
au revoir, adios, good bye.
god tends to do this to me.
throw me where i belong, then yank the carpet from under my feet.
over and over and over again.
but it's never been him i questioned,
never his fault at all.
but i'm running out of people to blame.
for this, the way things are.
i ran out of people to blame long ago,
for the way things could be.
i cast the blame on to each person i pass,
on this, my journey.
then let it slide off when i realize
just what they mean to me.
some people it sticks to,
for longer than it should.
mostly those i fear,
or those that make me care.
oh that. the caring.
that was always a problem, too.
don't do it, i say, don't make me care,
as i fall into the trap once more.
then there's those that make me care
but make me come alive.
but they're always the ones to leave.
always.
the ones that i need, no,
those never stay.
the ones that i could survive around.
they move on.
so i thrive for a summer, a night, a day.
then they leave.
and i survive.
my life is ending.
right...me, the overdramatic teenager.
my life as who i was this summer, last spring.
au revoir, adios, good bye.
god tends to do this to me.
throw me where i belong, then yank the carpet from under my feet.
over and over and over again.
but it's never been him i questioned,
never his fault at all.
but i'm running out of people to blame.
for this, the way things are.
i ran out of people to blame long ago,
for the way things could be.
i cast the blame on to each person i pass,
on this, my journey.
then let it slide off when i realize
just what they mean to me.
some people it sticks to,
for longer than it should.
mostly those i fear,
or those that make me care.
oh that. the caring.
that was always a problem, too.
don't do it, i say, don't make me care,
as i fall into the trap once more.
then there's those that make me care
but make me come alive.
but they're always the ones to leave.
always.
the ones that i need, no,
those never stay.
the ones that i could survive around.
they move on.
so i thrive for a summer, a night, a day.
then they leave.
and i survive.
7.09.2007
6.09.2007
The Ballad of the Lake Cicadas
There have been times gone by here,
and stories told.
There have been things been done
before we got old.
There is never going to be anywhere
quite like this,
And never will we be
quite the same kids.
that wont make it easier
or nicer to say
But i'm telling you now,
dont you dare shed a tear
This is supposed to be
a good bye, a moving on
It allows us to start anew, while remembering
times that have gone
these memories will be with you
until the end of time
and keep on teaching you
til the end of the line.
this is all ican remember of a post that went through the washing machine
if anyone remembers more or a more correct version, let me know
and stories told.
There have been things been done
before we got old.
There is never going to be anywhere
quite like this,
And never will we be
quite the same kids.
that wont make it easier
or nicer to say
But i'm telling you now,
dont you dare shed a tear
This is supposed to be
a good bye, a moving on
It allows us to start anew, while remembering
times that have gone
these memories will be with you
until the end of time
and keep on teaching you
til the end of the line.
this is all ican remember of a post that went through the washing machine
if anyone remembers more or a more correct version, let me know














