Penny Brown Penny

A Very NOLA Birthday

2011-09-15T15:34:00.019-05:00

See this way cute boy? That's Kyle. He took me to New Orleans for my 25th Birthday! In this particular shot, Kyle had just been hit by a truck. His physical body--not while in a car. It wasn't anything major, but it definitely was NOT part of the plan. We hadn't even been there an hour, nor had we had anything to drink (yet). But, as was to be expected, those famous Cafe du Monde beignets made everything better :)

After breakfast we headed down the street just to people watch and explore the French Quarter. I discovered quickly that New Orleans has some bizarre smells, sights, and scenery. It's all quirky, and definitely stands out among any other city to which I've traveled.

Look at this Jazz singer/clarinet player. He and his band were UNREAL. They were definitely the perfect introduction to New Orleans Culture.

Here is where we stayed! An adorable little hotel less than a block off of Bourbon Street called the Olivier House Hotel. It had a beautiful garden in the courtyard, and cute, Southern rooms that were perfectly charming.

This is me and Kyle standing by the Mighty Mississippi!

This is me and Kyle about to devour ouroh-so-delicious po-boys. Un.Real.

Oh, and you're allowed to drink on the streets. Anywhere you want!

I felt pretty sassy about my mint julep.

Overall, it was a perfect birthday trip. Kyle, you rule. Let's go back!!!

The Junking Fever

2011-08-02T16:28:00.005-05:00

WOW it's been a long time since I've been on here. Just checked out that old to-do list on the last entry...can't say that I've done everything. But that's for another post.

This post is about a little thing my friend Alyssa likes to call "junking".

Look, I've been nesting okay? It's what people do when they move into a new and unfamiliar place. Have I gone overboard? Not yet, but I could be on my way. And guess what...Waco has some darn good finds.

Exhibit A:

Isn't she a doll? This is my new little Queen Anne sofa. I think it's one of my favorite-of-all-time purchases. And get this-it's about to have an awesome new cushion.

Oh, and even better with a cute boy sitting on it to read.

And finally, what I like to call my best find to date, THIS beauty:

This ADORABLE buffet for only $200? How? I have no idea, but it did happen. At Junque in the Trunk in Waco (my second home). And my new little amber glass tumblers just put it over the top. How about those cute flower pictures above? only $10 you say? That's right. From Cedar Chest Antique Mall in McGregor, TX.

Overall, it was a really successful few days. I forgot to mention that we went to the Heart O' Texas races on Friday night after enjoying a Ninfarita of course, and it was the perfect redneck start to the best junking weekend! See?

Return to Poetry

2010-04-05T00:45:00.004-05:00

When I was a little younger, and a little more like a sailboat, I used to love poetry beyond words--all poetry--every poem I read. Now, I feel more like an ocean liner, and I look at poetry a little differently. What's the point of poetry if there's no real purpose in it? Otherwise it should just be called ranting or whining or empty expressionism. Call it something else, but not poetry. Now that I limit myself to poetry that has a true form, value, purpose--it's all the more beautiful in its rhythmic expression. Without being empty about it.

After considering pragmatism and realizing that everything on our planet revolves around this idea, I'm discovering how important it is, now more than ever, to name things and give things purposes and identities. Truth isn't relative to me, and neither are our purposes. I don't collect a personal truth out of practicality. I call something truth because of its nature. I know things in this world change, and that uncertainty exists, but certainty exists, too. My fear is that, someday, everything will be considered legitimate and impressive because everything is relative. Don't get me wrong, people have tastes and opinions, but we also have brains. Make them do work, people. You are so much brighter than you think you are. Name your purposes and don't waver from your absolutes. This applies to everything. For example, poetry.

Rainer Maria Rilke is a legit dude. He's the kind of person who produces longevity for himself and for us, through his poetry. If you read his poetry, you know it must be important in some way. You can see the effort and intelligence behind his words.

This is a picture of him with a violin virtuoso and her composer. Rilke grabbed for beautiful, legitimate things. He recognized them and used his genius to express them how he could.

It must be important to preserve the identity and purposes of things. Call things by name and regard your own identity and purpose. Give truth some credit. I think it matters right now more than it ever has.

THE to-do list.

2010-04-01T12:15:00.008-05:00

Now that I'm going to be a "real grown-up," all graduated from college and seasoned and what not, I think it's appropriate to make a serious to-do list. I think it's also appropriate to begin this new little life stage with a celebratory collection of trips and events. Oh, and find a job.

First, I'm going to celebrate the fact that I may never have to write another paper in my life. The perks of being a Literature major. Papers are a lot of what I do. Now, I'd like to read and write out of pure pleasure for a while.

Next, I'm going to go find the aliens in Roswell. It bothers me to no end that no one is "allowed" to go into Area 51, so I'm just going to sneak in. I could get shot, but it could be worth it. For one glimpse of an alien.

Then, I'm going to go visit my lovely friend Jinx at the Cape. I miss her a whole lot.

Then, I'm going to finally go to ACL, because it's unacceptable that I have never ever been. And Jack White is going to be there, apparently. And he rules.

Then I'm going to take a nice, long look at my life and what could be made of it, and find some sort of job.

The after that I suppose I'll keep looking for new adventures.

END.

Catch Up

2010-03-30T12:35:00.007-05:00

The reason I'm now posting events that happened not so recently is because I just discovered that I can print this blog out and make it into a book someday...which rules. In the past couple of months, Kyle and i have taken some fantastic adventures together.

AMTRAK ADVENTURE

Kyle decided that it would be a really romantic and way cool thing to take a train ride together for Valentine's Day. I, of course, agreed. Who wouldn't want to take a sweet train ride? Basically, it was somehow better than expected, and we had already assumed it would be amazing. I don't think either of us would now prefer a plane ride over a train ride. I seriously could be a representative for Amtrak. Here is my handsome train mate:

The best part about the day was the fact that we only rode from McGregor to Dallas, but saw places in Texas we had never seen before. It's also the way you see the land. Everything automatically feels older, and somehow more important. The walls of the McGregor train station are that old fashioned peachy color. I've only read about that color scheme in novels from 1850. I felt a new connection to American soil and decided that impatience and convenience are no longer good enough excuses to fly anywhere anymore. I mean, unless you just must must must. After all, not everyone has 5 hours to spare in the place of what would otherwise be an hour and a half long trip.

This is us enjoying coffee and cheesecake and looking out the window.

These are pictures of the train menu (adorable), my cheeseburger which was SO good (no joke people, this is no airplane food), and the bedroom instructions for our compartment. Hilarious.

Upon our arrival back to McGregor from Dallas, we of course had to put pennies onto the rails to smash for souvenirs.

SUCCESS!

Where St. Paul stood, too.

2010-03-29T23:27:00.010-05:00

Ομορφιά

I've been missing Greece a lot lately. I think a few people from our trip have taken a trip or two back in the past three years. I'd like to go soon, too. I think about how weird it is to know someone so well for a few months, only to either lose contact with them, or realize that you live in different states instead of the apartments next door to each other. It was getting drunk and laying out on nude beaches with your friends in paradise for 4 months. But actually, I used to think about those things a whole lot more than I do now. Lately, it's just fleeting.

Because I've been realizing also that people are supposed to keep moving. I miss my friends and that beautiful interim home, of course, but I love that everybody from that trip is probably doing something pretty awesome. I like where I am right now, partly because I don't know what's about to happen, and partly because I'm about to finish something pretty huge. Yeah, the big C-O-L-L-E-G-E, folks. I'm proud of myself for just finishing. I didn't think I would honestly. I don't really care about the degree because who the hell cares 5 years from now.

But back to Greece. Look at these sweet cartoonies:

Oh so Grecian and wonderfully cartooned. Greece is a place, you could say, where everything began. It's weird that we always say that everything we have comes from Ancient Greece. Things begin/began there. Words, architecture, culture, politics. I thought I was going to go find myself there 3 years ago. In a way I started over, or "began" there, but I realize in hindsight that I didn't need finding. Regardless, it was a really great trip.

Longevity

2010-03-25T15:42:00.004-05:00

I think that heroism can be put into action in only a few select ways.

Saving a damsel in distress from the terrible prison of an evil and perverted covetous king is the classic picture of what heroism is to most people.

But I guess the most heroic thing I can think of is doing something that is good and right when most surrounding people reject that hero and that deed. The reason it really is heroic is because most people would never call it heroic. Whatever the the rejected deed, it is probably something that most others can never accept or understand. It's heroic because it stands alone-it happens, in different ways, only every once in a while. It doesn't matter that it changes maybe a handful of people, it just matters that a change did happen.

I love that a hero can still be a hero even when they aren't alive anymore. If they leave behind something with substance, a mark that withstands the mockery and spurning of everyone against it, it is still understood by some. That's the part that matters. The longevity of the heroism.

igbok

2010-02-04T23:23:00.004-06:00

I always hear a lot of people say things like, "Life isn't always going to go your way."

But "Life" doesn't go anywhere. We go places.

And sometimes we mess up, and get frustrated with the time we waste, and wish that the "now" would actually be 5 years from now. Skipping ahead.

And sometimes I wish I could take the past 5 years and crumple them into a ball, like a damp newspaper, and throw it away, and start over.

Because most of the time I'm ignoring the beautiful things that are always, always happening to me. Because they're supposed to. I forget that while I was apparently "wasting" the last 5 years of my life in school, I fell in love. I began to write music. I made new friends. I lived so far away from home that Hercules couldn't get me back to Dallas for an emergency. That while I groaned about finding myself and hating life, the next day I loved it again, over and over and over. I dyed my hair who knows how many colors, and I worked at an Indian restaurant. I waited upon death with fear and grieved with hope for a friend. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and learned that, miraculously, I was going to actually graduate from college.

So in this time, God has stung my wounds, ripped me at the seams, and told me that I am exactly where I should be. My opportunities are endless. My life is rich and I have choices. I already know who I am, and I probably always have. Maybe it was that i wasn't happy with it yet.

And instead of the newspaper ball, these years can now be the front page of the Sunday paper, crisp, and thumbed through with my fingers. While I'm reading and absorbing every word-not skipping anything. And actually enjoying it.

Sanctuary.

2009-12-17T00:03:00.005-06:00

I don't know a lot about why things happen in this world. I do know that there is an infinite Being who does, but who also doesn't want us to sometimes. Satan, that reprobate serpent that has so much control over the people and things of this world, somehow thinks that by creeping in, and messing with the small things, he is going to make shit hit the fan. And guess what, Satan? We both know that you're good at what you do. And sometimes on this earth, things go terribly, terribly wrong. Un-curable illnesses, fear, terrorism, all things that come from you. But maybe you've forgotten that the body of Christ is a living, breathing, impenetrable sanctuary of hope and life. Your ultimate destruction at the end of this finite existence will be the most glorious and victorious day for the coming of the LORD.

So, for the Matt Chandler's and Carson Leslie's and Apostle Paul's of this world:

I don't understand why Satan has so much power here, but I know that suffering happens in the midst of the glory of the living LORD. May we never cease to praise Him in the midst of suffering and doubt.

For Which It Stands

2009-12-04T11:48:00.006-06:00

Last night I met people at work who encouraged me and lifted me up even though we were strangers. Again. But this time, we weren't really strangers.

And Indian couple came in to eat, not really a rare occurrence since it's an Indian restaurant, and it was a slow night so we started up a conversation. After small talk about the estrogen boosting effects of fennel, the woman told me that she and her husband live in Minnesota and that he is a pastor there. The Lord did not tell him to establish a physical church, but a comfortable place where all denominations can gather as ONE body of Christ to worship. Their goal, together and with their children, is to build up a restoration of God's presence in America.

Their names are Sharon and David Dawson, and I say we're not really strangers in the main sense of the word because we're part of the same BODY. David said that when he came to America when he was 24, he placed his hand on the Bible to become a citizen, and in his heart, was pledging his allegiance to GOD, the God that this nation was established on. This is no longer a "Christian" nation of course, but a melting pot of religions and cultures. One of the greatest things about America is that everyone has the freedom to believe what they want. But David makes it clear that his allegiance is not to a red white and blue flag, but to the God of this nation.

I rarely have encounters with friends, family or strangers in which the conversation is rolling on the Jesus train and just can't stop. When I realized that last night, I felt sad. To these people, these Indian Americans, these ripped from Hindu culture come to evangelize to the "Nation Under God" people, are totally on that train every singe day. For a purpose, too, and that's to get everyone else back on that train. Walking blessings.

I think that a lot of us quiet folk that call ourselves Christians should probably think some things over. Otherwise, what's the point at all?

Conviction, anyone?

2nd post of the day?

2009-12-02T22:02:00.004-06:00

So,

The reason for the name of my blog:

I whispered, 'I am too young,'

And then, 'I am old enough';

Wherefore I threw a penny

To find out if I might love.

'Go and love, go and love, young man,

If the lady be young and fair.'

Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,

I am looped in the loops of her hair.

O love is the crooked thing,

There is nobody wise enough

To find out all that is in it,

For he would be thinking of love

Till the stars had run away

And the shadows eaten the moon.

Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,

One cannot begin it too soon.

A Contrite Sinner's Prayer for Pardon.

2009-12-02T14:43:00.002-06:00

Psalm 51

¹Be gracious to me, O God, according to Your lovingkindness;
According to the greatness of Your compassion blot out my transgressions.
²Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity
And cleanse me from my sin.
³For I know my transgressions,
And my sin is ever before me.
⁴Against You, You only, I have sinned
And done what is evil in Your sight,
So that You are justified when You speak
And blameless when You judge.
⁵Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
And in sin my mother conceived me.
⁶Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being,
And in the hidden part You will make me know wisdom.
⁷Purify me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
⁸Make me to hear joy and gladness,
Let the bones which You have broken rejoice.
⁹Hide Your face from my sins
And blot out all my iniquities.
¹⁰Create in me a clean heart, O God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
¹¹Do not cast me away from Your presence
And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.
¹²Restore to me the joy of Your salvation
And sustain me with a willing spirit.
¹³Then I will teach transgressors Your ways,
And sinners will be converted to You.
¹⁴Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, the God of my salvation;
Then my tongue will joyfully sing of Your righteousness.
¹⁵O Lord, open my lips,
That my mouth may declare Your praise.
¹⁶For You do not delight in sacrifice, otherwise I would give it;
You are not pleased with burnt offering.
¹⁷The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will not despise.
¹⁸By Your favor do good to Zion;
Build the walls of Jerusalem.
¹⁹Then You will delight in righteous sacrifices,
In burnt offering and whole burnt offering;
Then young bulls will be offered on Your altar.

Get Home Strong

2009-11-30T15:13:00.003-06:00

As soft and light as that floral scene.

Most of the time I don't know how to be thankful for something because I'm used to having it. And most of the time I only bother to be obviously thankful when a day on the calendar tells me to be. This year we stayed with my Nana and Papa in Nashville to have Thanksgiving with all the Tennessee Turners.

I like to see them but sometimes I get weary about staying with/spending time with family for a few days after having not seen them in a year or two. I feel obligated to play catch up with their lives, which I want to do, but hope to do without being awkward. Isn't it weird that you can feel awkward even around your own family? I think it's because your family loves you and knows you the best, and that's a raw knowledge. A stranger just gets the surface, so there's no need to feel pressure about being exposed, because you never will be. Family doesn't go anywhere, if you're lucky.

I realized what a difference there is between youth and old age. I think I learned this week that someone who is pushing 80 is probably going to tend to reminisce a whole lot more than the middle agers and young adults. They have already had their time of waiting for the future. But they have a whole life behind them, that's why. We're just starting everything. This is something that causes a strange tension in our family. The youth of this generation can never really relate fully to someone who lived generations before them, and vice-versa. It's supposed to be that way. This year I'm thankful for everything in the present. And that there's always something to learn from my elders.

My patience in my youth exists on a very thin string. But look at the life that could be left for me. What a waste to fast forward and plan and wait and rush when everything that's happening today is

SO BEAUTIFUL.

Sodium Benzoate (preservative).

2009-11-23T14:55:00.004-06:00

Sometimes i feel very unsatisfied. Or, a lot of the time I feel very unsatisfied with the questions that go unanswered in my head. There are so many people that live on the earth. I don't know if I ever really think about it seriously, and for every one of those people, there is a unique life. When I stop to try to answer all my own questions, i hardly wonder what everyone else must be thinking and asking. Though everyone is unique from everyone, everyone struggles. And everyone is afraid of things, and everyone finds joy in something.

I think that sometimes I find joy in struggling. I'm the kind of person who easily makes things harder than they have to be because I'm dramatic and I take the drama seriously. I think, I cannot possibly be satisfied until this struggle is resolved, and that's mostly with all of my unanswered questions. I am always wondering how "we're just not supposed to know" is supposed to bring me peace. It still doesn't. This can be very uneasy for a Caroline.

But the joy that I get from some of those struggles makes me feel good because it's cathartic. It feels like things are healing when I'm asking and struggling and wondering wondering wondering. Sometimes the same things over and over again. The funniest part is, no matter how sick I am of not quite knowing what I want to, having that CONCRETE answer, there is the dwelling Spirit that makes something about a struggle very peaceful.

Sometimes I think the key to an answer is something as simple as never ceasing to seek. And to love also.

Raindrops on Roses

2009-11-18T18:44:00.006-06:00

This picture is a combination of 2 of my favorite things: Tea sandwiches and the piano.

I LOVE TEA SANDWICHES. I could eat 40 tea sandwiches in one sitting. The smartie pants that decided to make these mini taste treats sans crust and with the most bizarre ingredients, like cream cheese and celery, is my imaginary BFF. Chicken salad, pimento, tuna, veggie, whatever. Yours truly will be at your baby/bridal show for the sammies.

And I looooove pianos. The best instrument if you ask me. The coolest and the prettiest. One of my favorite toys.

AND A PIANO MADE OUT OF A TEA SANDWICH?

Glorious. Basically this picture made me happy. It made me hungry and happy.

Princess Sparkle+Captain Oats

2009-11-17T10:45:00.009-06:00

Isn't my sister a badass? She took these pictures of me. She took a lot more downtown that night, but these are the 3 we chose for Kyle's anniversary present. They were printed as a series of 3 in this order onto black canvas and it turned out to be pretty sweet. I think he liked it. Thanks for being so good at taking pictures, Ishie.

I like to love someone the way I love Kyle. The first time he told me he loved me I didn't say it back. It was because I didn't yet. But only because I didn't get it. Eventually the formulaic property of how to love becomes very blurry and you discover there really isn't one. I think you just know when you do one day.

The only love formula that makes sense to me is this one:

Multiplying DAYS = Multiplying LOVE

There is always something to learn about love and loving someone else. It's a fun series of discovery.

Woah, Caroline, cheesy post.

Kyle is definitely way more cheesy than me most of the time, though. Like a Seth Cohen kind of cheesy. Go ahead and put the Death Cab record on so we can dance to it in your bedroom, Kyle. (HE LIKES IT). So do I.

Seal-Cat

2009-11-16T23:08:00.005-06:00

You know when you look at someone or something and they look like someone or something else for just a split second? I love when that happens. Like today when I looked at Mugsy and she looked like a seal. Yeah, a full-on seal. Or when you look at another human and they look like a random animal or appliance? I don't know really I just think it's cool.

Brains are cool, they way they trick your eyes and perception and stuff. This really isn't supposed to be some iceberg of a post, like with lots of meaning underneath it. I just think the brain is way cool.

Also, maybe it means that everything and everyone is really related to everything and everyone else. That there is some sort of common thread in everybody. I know that humans share the image of God in their very being, but just by looking at someone and then something else--maybe it's never impossible to relate two things. Does that even make sense? I don't know. I just think there is some sort of bond somewhere. There has to be actually. If humans create lifeless and alive things, both, and you can see the mark of the creator in both. Like a baby will almost always look like its parents and an innovative vacuum will always have some sort of indication that it was made by an imperfect somebody. Maybe an imperfect somebody with like really harsh angles and pointy features like his or her vacuum. Maybe I'm also going too far with all of this.

Anyways, isn't this a cool photo?

2009-11-12T17:37:00.004-06:00

I have the flu, or something like it, but Regina Spektor is in town tonight, and I WILL GO. Can't stop me. Ellie and I have been waiting for this for a while now. Tonight is the night.

O, Regina, it would be impossible for you to put on a bad show.

Is Supergirl wearing Doc Martens?

2009-11-10T15:19:00.003-06:00

There are so many things I want to do/be able to do in my life. Like be a skywalker? HOW cool is that. I don't think I realize, sometimes, how creative humans are. There are nudists, musicians, authors, tattoo artists, gas station attendants and astronauts. And each one of those vocations requires an individual to do their job in a personal and unique way. Opportunities. Abundantly. The job market may be the lowest that it's been since 1983, but amount of creativity in people has not decreased since then. It's true that not everyone will be awarded with a top choice career their first year out of school, or even their 10th. If you're an accounting major and Ernst & Young decides to say, "Sorry, Mac," after seeing your shining application, then remember that there is always a concrete purpose and never a dead end. I have trouble remembering that sometimes. Or really, I torture myself about the future I think I won't have. Thinking that I'm out of options is simply just not giving myself enough credit. Look, I'm not going to be a cardiologist because I don't want to be, but if I wanted to, I'd find a way to make it happen someday. Moxie.

But hey, if this swine flu epidemic gets out of control, and no can can ever work for themselves or leave their homes, here's an option. Those are way cooler than the blue papery masks, right?

Fly Ball

2009-11-09T15:37:00.005-06:00

This weekend marked ONE YEAR of Kyle and I being together. We are two partners in crime. And look how cute that kid is. Gaaaah.

It's even crazier, you could say, that I really don't remember a time before Mister Kyle. I think most of was happening involved me floating through the atmosphere aimlessly until I got that Facebook invitation to one of his Dallas shows. That's sort of exaggerating but whatever. Partly accurate too, I would say.

We played catch with each other a lot this weekend. We also ate like kings. We also watched a camera man film a Dorito's commercial by Lakeside. We also found a Charlie Brown coffee mug for $2.00. We also drove down Swiss avenue to check up on those dying leaves that should be covering the ground by now. We also got out my old lizard collection and took turns picking them to build up reptile armies. We pretty much love each other a whole lot.

Kyle always leaves Dallas at 6:00 to embark on that Monday morning sunrise drive back to Waco. "Four more days 'till I see you!" That's what we always say. It's good that we are only an hour and a half away from each other. Could be worse. Kyle could live in Michigan.

This weekend we are going to eat Schmaltz's and tasty breakfast burritos and ride our bikes around the town.

Arnold Palmer

2009-11-05T22:38:00.004-06:00

Virgie has worked the back register at Eatzie's for as long as I can remember, calling me "baby child" or "mama" for all that time, while she makes me the tastiest Arnold Palmer in town. Today, like usual, I paired my sammy with Virgie's special drink.

She handed it to me and said, "Mama, don't even think about comin' in tomorrow for another one of these. I know I make the best one in town but Miss Virgie's gettin' married in the morning!"

Then she pulled out a picture of her fiance and talked about how handsome he was. Isn't he handsome. Yeah, that's my man. Virgie was smiling in that disgusting way you do when you're just THAT in love. Although they had planned on getting married on Valentine's Day, he surprised her a few weeks ago with the suggestion of tying the knot down at the JP as soon as they could.

Mom said, "Well he was probably realized just exactly what he had and wanted to be with you as soon as he could!"

Virgie beamed, "Mama I know that's right!"

Virgie's Arnold Palmers are always better than the last one. Virgie remembers my face when I slap my goods onto the counter. Virgie has a precious life of her own, and that complete happiness that was painted onto her face made me want to cry.

There are so many tiny pieces of joy that make up the mosaic of people.

Tomorrow, at 11:30, Virgie is going to put on her sassy black heels, black skirt, and white blouse. Her man is going to put on a sharp black tux. And next to some fountains downtown in the midmorning, they will wed without the company of anyone else. Virgie has true romance after her shift at the register. And that is the greatest thing ever.

Not to go overboard, but on the way out of Eatzie's, we ran into a young girl embracing the man she was with, her hands shaking while she squeezed her cell phone. She looked up at us and had sheer relief and joy exploding from her exposed teeth.

"Sorry!" she laughs, tears rolling down her chin, "I just passed the Bar! I just passed the Bar."

She couldn't believe it. I was so proud of her, and we were strangers.

And then a few hours later, someone who was either the sickest or saddest human in Texas, took the lives of 12 people on his army base. Not one of them deserving of be shot out of the blue during their regular routines. That man, the embodiment of total anger, confusion, and emptiness, caused some of all that scattered joy to disappear for a little while. The joy that, before his rampage, was alive and well in that army base. He replaced all of that joy with fear.

I wonder if Virgie's joy is something strong and important enough to surpass the fear that the destructive beasts of this world so heartlessly invoke.

Because of her eyes and her smile today, I think it could be.

Drama

2009-11-03T13:46:00.005-06:00

I realized today that I get very riled up at just the silliest things. Like... I spent $3.87 on a coffee from Starbucks today. It was a tall, non-fat, one-splenda iced latte specifically. Soooo North Dallas-y obnoxious as far as coffee goes. Like the antithesis of a good old fashioned black brew.

And really it was because I was too lazy to get out of bed in time to make my own coffee, like I normally do. Plus, I actually enjoy this specific iced and caffeinated drink, made especially by "the man" for "the sucker." And I drove away from that drive-thru so ANGRY that Starbucks would overprice coffee so dramatically. But really I was the sucker. With a happy palate after that first sip.

The sip that followed with extremely unnecessary blame for "THE man."

Because during those times when I'm holding a homemade coffee that ultimately costed me like .10 cents to brew, I bash and damn that effffffing coffee bazilionare corporation that just RAKES it in, thanks to the gaziiilion folks every day all day who go buy their drinks. But really, Man, you are a savvy son of a bitch, aren't you? Sometimes I may even be jealous of you.

Caroline, you make coffee that tastes sooo much better.

Well, no. It's just cheaper you dramatic, coffee loving heretic.

I am sooo dramatic.

So I enjoyed my pricey drink in the midst of my silly pity party. And it was goooood.

2009-11-02T19:17:00.002-06:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/01/books/review/Kirsch-t.html?_r=1&ref=books

Doesn't even need to be paired with more words.

Entertaining Angels

2009-11-01T14:22:00.003-06:00

The customer service industry can be frustrating for someone who has little to no patience with annoying and demanding strangers. Sometimes, though, strangers can remind you of the good in every person, and even the good in yourself. There have been a few instances in my life in which I have wondered if I was entertaining angels, though there is really no way to know for sure.

When I was hostessing on Thursday night, not wanting to be there, A husky, animated man from Yorkshire walked into the foyer, wearing an old coat and a smiling mouth that spit out thick-accented one-liners about the weather, the smell of Indian food, and my smile. He flirted with me like a grandpa would with a cute hospital nurse who just delivered his meds to him.

Throughout his meal, I would walk past him to pick up a to-go meal from the kitchen, and we would exchange smiles and laughs like we already knew each other. Then I would walk back to answer the phone, and the exchange would happen again. And finally, he called me over to his table that held up 2 empty Bud lights and 3 cleaned plates of what used to be the spiciest Indian food.

He grabbed by sleeve and pulled my ear toward his voice.

"I've got a good piece of advice for ya, gal. Because i can see that soft sparkle in yer eyes." (picture someone like Gerard Butler saying this to you, but not as good looking)

"Life is like an orgasm, gal. It's up to you on whether it's good or bad."

After he finished cracking himself up, he loosened his grip on my sleeve and let me stand up straight, slightly above his eye level.

"Just listen to me. I restore historical buildings all over the country. That's what I do. And as for you, I can tell that you know exactly what you want to do. You just need to figure out what you're going to do to get there. You think you're quite the rebel I'm sure, complaining about school and fighting with your parents over the pettiest things. Gal, be thankful for your parents. They love you so."

After he basically put Caroline Turner in the most fitting and accurate nutshell, I walked back to my hostess stand and beamed with encouragement. When there is a stranger that recognizes the moxie that you've always seen in yourself, it gives you reason to be brave enough to use it to get somewhere. At least it did that for me.

And when he was through, and he walked out of the dining room and toward the hostess stand, and he was putting his second arm into his second sleeve, he came as close as he could get to me, the hostess stand our only separator. He said, "Don't worry I don't want a kiss."

Then he grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Don't you ever stop being a lady. You go home and tell your parents just how much you love them."

And he laughed again while the front door was closing.

Oh, how many times I have had to be reminded of my capabilities on this earth. On Thursday, it was an unassuming angel from Yorkshire.

ummm...blog.

2009-10-29T14:49:00.003-05:00

Blog? Like part blunder part logging. Or probably just an online journal. For people who are too lazy to write thoughts down with a pen because it takes too much time. Snap, this is perfect. The name is still confusing, but good idea Mr. Blog.

I'm a Literature major and I don't like to write, but I like how I feel when I look through old journal entries and briefly re-live whatever I was living then. "Always journal," was the wisest piece of advice I ever received from my aunt, advice written in the inside of the blank journal she used to give me every couple of birthdays, advice that I swore to take by filling up that blank journal within the next year. There was true success the first week or two, but no longer, thus explaining the 15 or so quarter filled journals on all of my shelves. There's no way I'm swearing to max my entry limit on an online blog, but it should be some sort of priority.

But only if it's something significant to my day, year, [LIFE], thought process, or dreams.

As it would be, nothing really to speak of today that is just that important. Other than I started a blog?