Monday, August 29, 2011

I know what you're thinking.

"She has a deep fear of birds! Why are they all over her blog?"

This is a good question that I, too, find myself asking.

Here is the explanation:

Yes, I am afraid of birds. Their beady eyes, their sick necks, and their disgusting legs/ feet absolutely bring me to tears.
I love the idea of a bird. The idea of flying. This is also why I have a thing for hot air balloons, I think. How more magical can you get? Floating lazily through the air, being held by a giant balloon! Back to the bird: they fly through the air on wings. Simply beautiful. They perch on wires and build intricate nests. Yes, as long as I don't have to look at one, birds are alright with me.

P.S. To my Color-that-is-Golden/Adventure-is-Out-There blogger friend: I am so sorry! I realized after I updated my blog... that it looks quite a bit like yours. So maybe I subconsciously want to be like you? Yes, I think that's it. Please take it as a compliment!

Sunday, August 28, 2011

A Children's Book

I refused to read it for years.

My sister's favorite book.

"It's a children's book." I said. "I have more important things to read. Literature. Books with a Deeper Meaning. That book is about a child's toy."

I was wrong.

After two years of being told I should read it, I picked it up and read it cover to cover this morning.

And I cried. A lot.

I think it's a gift to be able to write beautifully while writing a book for kids. In a few words, the author said what others take hundreds of pages to say. I didn't have to delve in and explicate every line or color or symbol. The story was simple and touched my heart. So much in so few words. That's the sign of a true master.

Do yourself a favor. Read it. No, the rabbit doesn't walk (as the cover misleads you to think.) He can't move; he's a china rabbit.

And it truly is a miraculous 'Once.'

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Simply Excited Post

Hello, my name is Kimberly and I volunteer.

And I love it.

For the sake of privacy on my blog, I probably shouldn't say where. (Always sort-of wary of those kidnappers, right?)

But. I get free food. The girl that I work with is hilarious. I help people. I smile a lot. I transfer calls. Pretty much, it's a blast.

Best thing I have ever done.

Oh! And it was egg roll day yesterday! That means fortune cookies!

This picture is titled "Just Your Generic Girl." Which is true.
Basically a bunch of stuff that makes me happy.
Just cross out summer lust and bare skin, but the rest is pretty much right on.

Also... Dr. Who. Tonight. Nerds for the win!

Matt Smith.  The current Doctor. There is a kid in one of my classes who looks almost just like him. Yes. :)


So yep, that was my completely senseless and simply excited post.
But I figure, if you're happy, simply be happy. Don't let other's opinions bring you down from that.

John Green said this. He is awesome. :)

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Thank You

My dear redhead,

I guess all I can say is thank you. Thank you for this summer. I could not have imagined a better one. Thank you for letting me see how beautiful I am. Thank you for being you. For loving me even through I'm a handful. For calling me Kimberly 'cause you know I love it and no one else seems to be able to. Thank you for the baseball game, the drives in the car, the soccer game, the food, the smoothies, the music, and all of the laughter. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life. You were an extraordinary blessing.

And thank you again. Thank you for understanding what had to be done. Thank you for agreeing. Thank you for our last night together. For agreeing that we should just be friends, despite our feelings. For knowing it's the right thing for now. For the beautiful note, for the dancing, the stars, the running, and going back to old spots. Thank you for crying with me when we said goodbye.

 For our last kiss.



Sunday, August 21, 2011

Lessons Learned from a Horse

I spent a lovely day at a friend's (huge) ranch.
I was thinking of how I was going to write a blog about how perfect the day was.

Four Wheeling? Priceless.

Repelling? Everything I had imagined.

Getting my hair caught while repelling and having to rip some of my hair out? It hurt, but it was funny.

Riding a horse for miles?
I thought I would love it. I didn't.

I fell in love with a black horse named Tommy. I got to ride him, and I was so happy! That didn't last long. Long story short, every single time the horse trotted, it felt like I had a knife being stabbed into my side.

No one else was phased by the riding. They were laughing about centaurs and certain horse's smells. I was biting my lip to keep from crying. Eventually I broke down and did cry.

You don't have to tell me how wimpy that is, I already know.

Today my ribs still hurt when I touch them, and I think I bruised them while repelling. That's what caused the pain.

So, while miserable on a horse, I learned some lessons:

1. Don't choose something just because it's pretty. I much rather would have taken a gentler horse.

2. Sometimes you can't simply leave a trial. I couldn't turn around. I just had to keep moving forward.

3. Bad things end.

4. Things never, ever, ever, ever, ever go the way you plan them to. Ever. You've just got to trust that whatever happens will make you a better person.

Overall, the day as wonderful. I loved it despite the horse incident.

You know it's been a good day when you drive home (accidentally) belting Total Eclipse of the Heart and laughing about The Ring.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Contemplations from a Wedding

My best friend since birth got married on Tuesday.

The cake was really good.
I partied with my pseudo aunt and uncle.
An old family friend covered the get-away car in whipped creme. (Jared wasn't very happy about that.)
My uncle sang in Italian.
My dad cried.
I had fifty glasses of Peach Delight.
I didn't say goodbye, really. I don't say goodbye and I don't cry when people leave.

I just get this terrible pain in my belly and I feel like I'm being eaten from the inside out.

But pain leaves and life goes on.
I see people from elementary school.
I save the universe with a bunch of 14 year olds.
I learn to really, really hate certain roads.
I rearrange my room.
I count down the days.

And at the end of it all, I'm really satisfied with my life.

My sister has moved on, but she'll be with me for eternity.
And I've always got the movie quotes, the plugged noses, the Christmas Eves.
Life goes on, and it's always getting better.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

One of the Things that Makes Me, Me

"Life is a lot like pizza… 
But in fact, Hank, the fundamental thing that all critical reading does is reveal to us there are not easy definitions that distinguish us from them. Reading with an eye toward metaphor allows us to become the person we’re reading about while reading about them. That’s why there are symbols in books and why your English teacher deserves your attention.

 Ultimately it doesn’t matter if the author intended a symbol to be there because the job of reading is not to understand the author’s intent. The job of reading is to use stories as a way into other people as we see ourselves,and when we do that we can look out at the world and see a giant endless set of beautiful variations of pizzas; the whole world composed of billions of beautiful, delicious pizzas." 
-John Green

Friday, August 12, 2011

#1 Rule

My dad has a rule. It's a good rule, so I don't fight it. Apparently, it's rule number one. (This week it is anyway.)

Rule #1: Never have a boy (who is not related to you) in the house while a parent is not there.

Again, this rule makes sense, so I don't object to it.

Which leads us to last Tuesday: I babysat and Daniel came over and we sat outside for hours.

There is something so perfect about playing catch, soccer, and musical chairs with three little siblings. Playing Candy Land on the back porch 'cause Daniel had never played it. Five people huddling around one mosquito repellent candle. Jumping out from the side of the house to surprise my parents when they got home. Wearing sweats and a t-shirt and knowing it didn't matter at all that I wasn't dressed up.

To me, that just spells summer.

So I thank the #1 rule for letting me do something I otherwise wouldn't be doing... and have the time of my life doing it.

Monday, August 8, 2011

A Story

I haven't shared this story before on this blog, really.

And the reason I am is because I'm ready to tell it as a simple story. I'm not wishing for a different ending. I'm not ashamed or embarrassed or worried who might read it. I'm telling it because it's a large part of what made me, me. I feel like the story explains much of how I've come to the resolves I have.

For the sake of his privacy, we'll give him the obvious codename "James."


I went to my 8th grade graduation dance. For the sake of length, I won't go into details. It's sufficient to say that I realized I had deep Junior High feelings for James.

And... these feelings continued. For a very, very, very long time.

All through 9th grade, I tried to sit by him as much as I could. To be his friend. To talk with him. I thought he was the most perfect person I could ever imagine. I was, to put it in a word, annoying. Every little thing he said to me I would treasure. If he didn't talk to me, my mood would completely change. My happiness depended on one or two words a day.

You don't have to tell me I was pathetic, trust me, I know.

I've got ten million stories I could tell you. The first time we danced, all the nice things he said to me, our emails, his birthday party. I have hundreds of instances that I convinced myself actually meant something.

And it went on.

Sophomore year came. Same thing happened. Then I announced I was moving to NZ. He said he would miss me. He asked me to dance at the last dance I went to, and I felt as if the world were standing still. That night he gave me a two second long hug. Special, huh?

While I was out of the country, I talked to James more than I talked to anyone else. I cannot tell you how many hours I spent on the computer, waiting for him to get on, talking to him, wishing he would start a conversation with me. From a whole different continent he dominated my life. He was all I thought about. I was, in two words, annoying and obsessed.

I moved home and things went well for a little while. We were friends. We'd text until late into the night. I thought it was love. I thought he felt the same way, at least a little. We never told each other how we felt. We just knew. I was, in three words, annoying, obsessed, and delusional.

If you couldn't tell, it wasn't a proud time for me.

But for some reason, I thought it was meant to be. I know this makes it sound like the whole thing was made up, but at the time it didn't seem like it. He was one of my closest friends. Someone who I loved to talk to. It's not like he was running away from me the whole time. We really were friends. But things change.

Then things fell apart. He stopped talking to me. Do I know exactly what happened? Nope. Did I ever try to talk to him about it? Oh, yes. I literally cornered him in doorways. In the climactic finale, I asked him for a minute of his time. I had memorized a short paragraph that I wanted to say to him, for "closure." Really, I wanted him to apologize, to tell me he cared. Instead he looked at me with cold, cold eyes and said "No." He wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't let me speak for thirty seconds. Needless to say I was distraught.

So my unrequited love continued for months, and months, and months.

Every song was James.
Every room I walked into, I looked for him.
Every time my phone vibrated, I prayed it was him.
It never, ever was.

We didn't talk. Once in a while I would say a word or two to him, and his response would change my week. If he smiled at me I would melt.

It continued, and then one day I was invited to have some apple pie. And that was the start of another story.
My unrequited love didn't die in a moment, unrequited love rarely does.

But I finally came to the end of the story.
No, there wasn't an "And then lived happily ever after." At least not with James.
We never made up and he never talked to me about what happened. I still don't know.

The reason I'm writing this is simple: So I can confidently say: it does end. If you're stuck on a boy who will never give you the time of day: good news. There is someone out there who will think you are the world.

If you think it can never get better than that boy: it does get better! There is someone who is better for you.

If you think that your heart will never mend, that it will always belong to him: The heart mends. It gets stronger. You come out a better person.

How do I know this? Because I can listen to Coldplay without my heart hurting. Because I can read my journal entries and laugh at myself. Because I can look at James and see a friend.

Life goes on, and things become greater than you even imagined.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

What to Do When You're Out of Bread

What to Do When You're Out of Bread 
(And Your Family Went Out to Eat Without You and You're Sitting Home Alone)

Step 1: Get read to go out for the night. This takes approx. 15 minutes of the hour and a half you have to kill.

Step 2: Sigh.

Step 3: Walk to the pantry 'cause you're starving. 
           Realize you have no bread. At all. Check the freezer. No bread.

Step 4: Walk to the fridge.
            Realize there is nothing remotely appetizing to eat. Everything that is would have to be made into a sandwich... oh, wait. No bread.

Step 5: Repeat Steps 3&4 with little variation.

Step 6: Sit on the couch, hopeless. Realize you killed another 5 minutes.

Step 7: Have an epiphany. You saw you had English muffins in the freezer they aren't bread, but couldn't you make a sandwich using one?

Step 8: Make a mini toasted Cajun turkey sandwich, complete with tomatoes and lettuce.

Step 9: Watch Say Yes to the Dress while eating the sandwich referenced in Step 8.

Step 10: Make another Cajun turkey sandwich because the first one was so good.

Step 11: Repeat Step 9.

Step 12: Want to repeat Step 10, but you ran out of turkey. Improvise.

Step 13: Make a mini cucumber sandwich on, yes, your third English muffin.

Step 14: Watch more Say Yes to the Dress. Feel very feminine and dainty because you are eating a cute little cucumber sandwich while watching a show about dresses.

Step 15: Go out for the night, feeling very accomplished.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Grudge(s)

*Note: I might not have any pictures on this post because I'm afraid if I search using the word "grudge", then I will get pictures from a certain horror movie instead of inspirational images.

I will be the first to admit I have a problem called "Holding Grudges for Extremely Long Amounts of Time." It's bad.

They range from:

 -the ridiculous (e.g.; not forgiving my dad for years because he broke my Winnie-the-Pooh light up pen from Disneyland. He broke in directly outside of Disneyland. I never even got to use it. I didn't let him forget this for years. That is not an exaggeration.)

-to the deep and painful (e.g.; not talking to a boy that really hurt me simply because I thought he was the devil, never forgetting silly elementary school feuds.)

-to the purely jealousy-driven. (e.g.; if I am informed of any girl who has recently or still does harbor certain feels for a certain redhead, I always feel like I need to punch that girl or express violence in some other way.)

Yesterday I could feel the birth of a grudge. My sick little heart started to form distinct dislike of certain Young Men leaders. I had even decided I would never forget the semi-rude comments they said.

Obv, this is a problem.

Last night I finally, finally realized this Truth: When I hold a grudge, I am only hurting myself. What am I proving? Absolutely nothing, besides the fact that I am very pigheaded. What shows more strength: Never letting go of something everyone else has forgotten about, or releasing the hurt?

"Let it go, let it roll right off your shoulders. Don't you know the hardest part is over?"

Sorry this post wasn't funny. If you want to laugh, go look at this girl's hilarious blog post. I laughed out loud. When I actually become employed, I will do these things.

Finally: THEY TOOK AWAY THE OXFORD COMMA. I almost died. This means that instead of writing "Pianos, honey, road construction, and theaters", I would write "Pianos, honey, road construction and theaters." THERE IS NO COMMA BEFORE THE 'AND'!!!

I'm using it anyway. I have a special place in my heart for the Oxford comma.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Mi Vida es Bella

Well, the first off: I feel like I just found out my favorite love song was written about a sandwich. (Credit to 27 Dresses for that analogy.)
One of my role models turned out to be someone I didn't expect.

But besides that, my life is amazingly beautiful.

For Girl's Camp, the YCL's had to write a little something about who they are. Our leader told us "It's something like 'I'm an athlete.' 'I'm a concert pianist.'"
I couldn't seem to do it. I'm not defined by a noun; I am defined by experiences and small attributes. And I figure my life is like that, too.

My life is beautiful because I went on an adventure this morning involving two different Shauna's, who both run ballet studios one street away from each other. Let's just say that misunderstanding led to "Are we being Punked? Come on out, Ashton.", "We're going to be sold to White Slavery!", and "Google Maps, the road does not exist!" And it all ended in laughter and being told I look like my good friend Katherine (which if you know her, you know is a very large compliment).

My life is beautiful because I took two EHS tests. Only 3 more to go!

My life is beautiful because I watched a Barbie movie with my little sister.

My life is beautiful because Cameron Mitchell left the Glee Project because he is amazing.

And mostly, I know my life is beautiful because I know this boy. A boy who is the most likeable person I've ever met, and he chose to see something beautiful in me. Because I like him more and more everyday that I'm with him. Because he will come over to my house and play with my family and they all love him, too. Because he looks so cute in his church clothes. Because he loves every little thing about me. Yesterday he told me that he really likes my hands. I never thought a guy would notice my hands or my elegant fingers.

La vita e bello
Le vie est belle.
Si, mi vida es bella.