Enjoy my enjoyments. Or else.

Things I thoroughly enjoy:

1. Driving through my neighborhood and coming across those ancient old men who are doing their lawns, when, suddenly, they look up and it's really an ancient old woman.

2. The smell of my car. Thank you, Bath & Body Works car scents. You just don't understand my utter gratitude when opening my car door.

3. The act of slamming the phone and throwing a pen. It seems to be a little relieving at the work place.

4. Florida's snowbirds. They appear every single Winter and hog up every lane on my drive home. You may ask how I get enjoyment out of this. I don't. This is the one thing on my list that really irks me.

5. These Pop Tarts I'm eating. Yum.

6. The buy one-get-one sale that happens almost everyday at Publix. It completes me, and helps with my wallet.

I'm pretty sure that's it for right now. Now I feel a little sick from this Pop Tart. I take back number five. Bring on the Putt Putt!

Please put your seat and tray in the upright position.

Something smells! I think it is possibly the time and how it is going by so quickly. Yes, time travel smells when its put into fast forward. Does anyone else notice this?

Typically, I have a horrible memory and I cannot remember what I did an hour ago, but lately I feel that time is moving so fast that I can remember what I did weeks ago. Example: Today is Friday... but it was JUST Friday!

Am I making sense here?

Time is moving at a very fast rate, and I'm almost antsy to say that I'm scared. There could also be a very logical explanation to all of this madness. This explanation comes in one color, and many shades - Coffee. Maybe I've been drinking too much coffee lately? Are my fingers moving so fast right now that I can't even see them? Is my mind traveling at warp speed? Maybe everyone isn't experiencing this. Maybe... it's only me.

I'm alone!

Neh. The reality of it all is that we're all in a warp zone. I'm no longer going to assume this, I'll just state it. We're flyin' with time, people. Don't forget your fanny pack.

Flames and Creeps.

I'm alive, Blogger!

No one cares.

Either way, I haven't felt very "bloggy" lately. My attempt in finding my pictures throughout the week left me performing an act that was close to 'The Creep Line'. I'm still not sure if I should share the story, because, really, it was creepy. Okay, fine... I know your curiosity has been piqued and there's a possibility, if asked, you may even shimmy for this story.

I was minding my own business and driving on Saturday, attempting to waste time before meeting up with a friend (I have friends!) when I saw this giant cloud of smoke. My initial reaction was "Must be a fire!" Duh. But, the bigger and higher the smoke grew, my inquisitiveness grew. I ended up forgetting about it six seconds later (I'm easily distracted) but, then I heard the sirens from the firetruck and saw the zooming of red go by me. Then... I pulled a U-turn and followed it! I want to say I subconsciously did this, but in all reality, I was just truly bored.... and really nosey. I even reasoned with myself! My thoughts on the matter were - "I never do this, why not?". That's probably what Ozzy said about doing hard drugs for the first time, too. Anyway, what I saw was a burning house and tons of on-lookers. When I made the other U-turn to get myself back to reality, I was then stuck in a massive amount of traffic.

My lesson learned: Do not be creepy and follow firetrucks.

So, that was that. I did end up getting other pictures that I thought were totally random, and I'll end up posting them later. I'm at my schools library right now, kind of wondering why I'm not home on my own computer. I guess this is the only place where I will not be easily distracted by... sorry, just checked my e-mail... anyway, I'll blog my pictures in a bit!

A Beautiful Mess.

I had a bad case of insomnia last night, and this was all due to my thought process. My thoughts never seem to quiet some nights. If my thoughts were voiced, it would most likely come out alien-like or even just a lot of mumbo jumbo (Is that a word?) either way, they still go unheard. Even when they are heard, they're repeated and overly used. I'm just tired.

You are strong but you're needy. Humble but you're greedy. And based on your body language, and shotty cursive I've been reading, your style is quite selective; though your mind is rather reckless, well I guess it just suggests that this is just what happiness is. And what a beautiful mess this is; it's like we're picking up trash in dresses. Well it kind of hurts when the kind of words you write, kind of turn themselves into knives. And don't mind my nerve, you could call it fiction, but I like being submerged in your contradictions dear. 'Cause here we are, here we are. Although you were biased, I love your advice. Your comebacks they're quick, and probably have to do with your insecurities. There's no shame in being crazy. Depending on how you take these words I'm paraphrasing.

- Jason Mraz.

It has become clear that some things are easier said than done.

While some things are easier when never said.

Old Farts.

There should be a mandated law that says when people turn 60, hearing tests are given.

These tests would be infallible. Every person, whose hearing has already taken its toll, would be given a hearing aid.

You may be asking what this prevents.

It prevents people, like myself, from having to deal with old farts over the phone who cannot hear or understand a word that is said. The entire situation began with one phone call...

Me: "Have your son go to the website and e-mail the attorney."

Old fart: "Okay, okay... what is the website?!"

Me: "Roothlawyer.com"

Old fart: "WHAT!?!?!"

Me: "Rooth... L as in Larry, a-w-y-e, R as in red"

Old fart: "SAWYER?!?!?"

Me: "LLLLLAWWWYER."

Old fart: "Okay. What else?"

Me: "DOT COM."

Old fart: "DOM???"

This went on for over six minutes. Six minutes too long. I began a crazed laugh for a second and then quickly reeled myself back in. The ladies at work were trying to gather my reasoning for literally screaming into the phone. MY ears are still ringing.

The moral of the story is: Try not watching your M*A*S*H so loudly. The grand kids visiting need to conserve their hearing for the future, so they are not held responsible for every receptionist driven crazy.

The end.

Bye Bye, Birdie.

When I get a free moment at work, I am usually cruising the web. Typically, I will start with the important things, such as the news or Facebook and then mosey on over to TMZ.com, and I always leave feeling slightly pathetic. Did I really need to know that Amy Winehouse got arrested again? Or that Lindsay Lohan is back in rehab? However, I do wonder if Amy and Lindsay have ever crossed paths; maybe shared a room in rehab, and if so, what went down?

See, there's the pathetic part.

What I'm really trying to get at is the insightful 'article' I came across yesterday.

TMZ reported: "The handwritten poem -- which is part of the massive Elvis auction going on at gottahaverockandroll.com -- is called "Ode to a Robin," and was sometimes recited by Elvis on stage and at one point was used as the answering machine message at his home."

Hilarious. Am I right or am I right? I know. America now has a slight, detailed look into what was going on inside Elvis' very warped mind. He was more than macabre. There should be a club for morbid poets. Nevermind, I'm sure there is. Given that, I have a strong suggestion for those clubs: officially dub Elvis the Shakespeare to their genre of poetry. It only seems logical. Anyone who can write about a Robin, being heinously murdered on a window sill, has my vote.

At least the bird received a shared moment with 'the king' and his shaky leg before having a window slammed onto its little body. With that, he really ain't nothin' but a bird killer.

Cha-Cha.

I am supposed to be writing a paper. Actually, I have been meaning to write this paper for the past couple of hours. But, I blame one thing and one thing only... and no, it's not myself (that would be nincompoopish). I blame Dancing With the Stars! That's right, you heard me correctly. Hey, at least it wasn't Lost or some horrible, Sci-Fi hit like that. I don't really know what prompted me to seriously sit down, with a bowl of Reese's Puffs, and get sucked into this show. Though, one dancer (the fluffy one) actually made me look away and feel a bit of pity. I think more for the girl dancing with him; she really must feel like she pulled the short stick.

Anyway, I'm not quite sure where they decided to pick these contestants. My guess is they hold a carnival for stars and do a raffle. Just sayin'. Let's take a detailed look at the line up here:

Holly Madison - The girl who was Hugh Hefner's... well, who really knows.
Melissa - The turd who was dumped on national television by another turd! I'm sure they save her for last just to keep the ratings.
Jewel's husband - He's just a cowboy, who is, obviously, only known for being Jewel's jewel!
Another football player - Nice try at being Emmitt Smith.
A cute couple - Boring! All you get are "Awes!"
Steve-O - He was injured tonight, so I only got to watch the rehearsal dance where he was actually injured... that was pretty entertaining, actually.
Shawn Johnson - The cutey patootie who can say "Sorry, guys! Can't go to the movies tonight... I have Dancing With the Stars!"
The Fluffy one - That's all I got.

I don't remember the others? Sure. What I really do know is that my poor mother had to endure my "I could totally do that" moments. My attempts were very depressing and embarassing. I'm sure she's happy I'll be out of the house in a couple of months. Come on taxes!

Well, now I'm bored and looking at Larry, my fish, who is in a desperate need for a bowl cleaning. I'll put that off, too. Also, my random pictures today were quite unsuccessful. I hope tomorrow brings creepiness. We can only hope. Or I can only hope....

That's a Wrap!

There's heartbreaking news: my sweet LG phone has officially taken its last vibration, gotten its last ring and received its last text message. I decided to finally retire her (it's purple) after I received a text message and it started doing this crazy dance on the screen. Basically, she has been put to death via lemonade. You will be missed.

In other news, I've decided to mark Sunday's as a day to wrap up the week... IN PICTURES! What better way, right? I suppose I will take pictures of the most random things I come across during my week, and since this idea came to me at, eh, 4PM today I only got three sweet shots. Let's begin!

These sweet suckers were found in T.J. Maxx. Who wants these things? I'm almost sure that they are multi-functional. 1. Shoes! 2. A hammer! 3. A Defense Weapon! See, point made. You would still be making a terrible fashion mistake though.

Now, this was spotted at a local Bealls. I just want to know three things... why is her hair silver and why is her posture so horrible? And why is she kissing nothing? I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that this was found in Bealls.

Oh... and this is just me. Hi.

Oh yeah! I wanted to share a funny story. My little brother was telling me about how he was wearing tidey whiteys... under his boxers. I asked if he started wearing boxers because of the guys in the locker room and his response was "Well, I saw my friend get depantsed (sp?) one day and I was so so so scared. I knew I couldn't let that happen and be caught with underwear!" Boxers it was. You are now free to depants Daniel.

Well, that wraps up my Sunday. I must continue with my thoughts and their never ending process. I also really miss my boyfriend; quite terribly, actually. Where is he now? Somewhere in Texas... probably. Yes.

By the way... if anyone actually reads this, please feel free to comment! I'd love to know how creepy I am.

Badda Bing.

Great news!

I attempted the ever so clever myth of "drying the phone out after it is drowned out". I woke up this morning, quite hopeless, and plugged that little battery in AND was then told to "Insert SIM card"... you cannot imagine my excitement. Before this, it would do a crazy blinking deal.

But! There's always a but. Unfortunately, my brother had ordered lemonade and now my keys have chosen to play sticky. I press down, I get #-0-13, or something along those lines. I guess I could either A. Hope this clears or B. Slap Daniel for not getting water or C. Hope this clears.

Eh?

I'm also really upset with my computer. I have unnecessary pop-ups on my computer, and when I say unnecessary I mean things like "Yellowbook Wants You!" I'm sorry, what could Yellowbook want from me? It already has my address and phone number.

Anyway, I have to get ready to thank God for semi-fixing my phone and then I'll be hanging out with the Terrinator. Or Terri. I should stop adding 'nator' after everything.

Really?

Really? That's the only word that comes to mind when I reflect on this entire day.

I had one of those days where you only wish you could press rewind and start over. I don't mean to make it sound like the apocalypse happened or anything, but it was just a really REALLY uncalled for day.

It began with plumbing problems in my bathroom, and how it sounds like the Titanic is taking off in five minutes. The noise just happens to direct right into my room. I figured my first yell of "STOP!" to my brothers would crawl across as a fair warning. It didn't. They did it two more times and my toes were itching to stomp and be angry... but, I was too tired. On top of that, the dogs were barking and acting like animals... I mean, really?

I got up about an hour later, hoping to ease into my day with a little bit more grace. I decided to take full advantage of the Florida sun and the nice breeze. As I descended downstairs to start my time of laying out, I hear my brothers out in the back, just scurrying and being loud. Not peaceful. At this point, you may think I am 86 years old and sensitive, but that is not the case. I work Monday through Friday, 9-4 and go to school Monday through Thursday. Saturday's are my "luxury" days. My brothers were messing with my "luxury" day.

I laid out for about an hour and a half, once the brotherkins decided to quiet down. I figured I would wash my car afterwards. In the middle of that, my brother decided to wash my dad's. Leaving me to now share the hose, my water bucket and last bit of patience.

I ended up finishing with patience left and then hustled off to get my eyebrows waxed by a nice Asian lady, who, by the way, did a fannnnfreakingtastic job on those things. I decided then to go to Michael's (yes, the arts and crafts store) to buy something to paint, since that calms me a whole lotta. I got what I needed and came across the funkiest thing in the store; a bag that read "I Only Date Boys Who Recycle." I stood there for too long and contemplated laughing very loudly or shoving them somewhere - before a young girl, who doesn't shave her armpits (she's hoping to make a difference to the Earth) could purchase this thing. Instead, I opted to tell Josh about that. I like taking notes in my head of the funnies I come across throughout my day.

I guess I'll get to my 'REALLY?!' part already, since you're bored stiff less... or maybe no one is reading this...

Wendy's. The time is, wait... who cares? I pull up to the window and the young girl hands me my drink, with condensation screaming and slip... everywhere. All over my lap, ice cubes in crevasses that would make Paris Hilton think. I didn't even move for like six seconds. Oh, then I realized my phone was then swimming with the ice. Bye bye, my beautiful, plum LG phone. Life really was good to you. Now I am back to my crap phone. This thing has been my fall back phone one, two, and now three times.

That's that. I didn't say anything. Either way... Really?

I wish Josh were here to comfort me... he probably would have laughed at me though. 'Least he'd be there. SIGH!

"Guns don't kill people. People kill people."

Incidents. They come in two forms: The good incidents and the bad incidents.

Lately, bad incidents have been happening across America, and they all have two things in common - guns and people.

Let's start with the fact that I am Pro-gun. I do believe in the saying "Guns don't kill people. People kill people." and I do believe there should NOT be a ban on the purchase of guns. What I do stress is the process in which a person, whose mental health is an obvious implication of what could come, are given a gun. Also, a huge peeve may be those parents who believe their child is responsible when given a gun, thinking it is for recreational use only, much like a recent case.

The New York Daily News reported that an 11-year-old boy took away his father's fiancee life, who happened to be eight months pregnant, by shooting her in the head while she slept. The 11-year-old then hid the shotgun, and ran before missing the school bus. He is in custody, floating around, because they are still unsure of how to charge him - a juvenile or adult.

It is cases like that that make my blood curl. The breaking news of yesterdays shooting in Alabama broke off another piece of my heart. Twelve to thirteen innocent lives were taken yesterday for no legitimate reason; however, there is never a justifiable reason to take a life. One life, especially, was barely given the chance to live, or take her first steps. Her name was Ella Myer and she was a mere four-months-old. Ella was shot along with her mother and 18-month-old sister.

My heart finally broke when I heard of Reverend Kernal Rehobson whose live had been taken while giving a sermon on the pulpit. Shot by a man who, apparently, had already been diagnosed with Lyme Disease. In a study conducted on Lyme Disease by two doctors, it was found that there are neurological effects that occur when diagnosed with this disease - "impacting primarily on attention and reasoning." - what does that say to you?

These people with mental diseases, such as this, should be given a heavy background check. Some states have already implemented such a law, such as: California, Colorado and only a couple of others. While this may come off contradicting to some (being pro-gun, yet ask for a background check) I do not intend to infer that. What I am implying, and would love more than anything, is to see a crackdown on the purchase of guns. Make sure the loons, the hard criminals, and the children DO NOT get these guns placed into their hands. America has seen what the consequences are many a times. Why does it take stories such as these to be a knock on our hearts?

The eerie part is is that this will not change. Guns are sold to those who seem to be in their right state of mind, and one day they just... snap. With breaking stories like these that keep occurring, what seems like, everyday, I'm learning to shut off the news and look to the sky. I figure that's where the real answers are anyway.

Like John Mayer sings:

"It's hard to beat the system when we're standing at a distance, so we keep waiting on the world to change."

My dive into the deep end.

I was cruising Xanga, the old school form of blogging, and I came to the conclusion of: Dang, I used to be cool. Cool meaning that I'd write down my every thought, without a care of what others impending judgement might be. You thought I meant that my personality, my aura was cool? Never. I'm not one of those people that seem to have a light beaming around them, labeled "I'm neat, hang out with me!" Sorry, sidetracked and irrelevant...

Anyway, I've decided to give this Blogger.com a shot. I figured that, maybe, there are some out there who are willing to read whatever I would write and make comments; I also figured it would really jump start my writing and love for journalism. My choice of topics will range from various subjects, like: Faith, Politics (duh), and Random events that may occur to me throughout my life span.

I've left the comments open to the public and I'd love feedback. Hate it or love it, whatever your preference (but I'd prefer love).


I guess we'll see how this goes....