That Awkward Moment

...when you run into the same policeman who pulled you over (the day before) in the parking lot of the grocery store as you are putting groceries in your car.

It's like, oh hey...you look kind of familiar....oh yeah...(Cue walk of shame to my car. Except I was already at my car. Cue opening door of shame as I sat in my car.)

Well, and there was the initial moment of panic as I saw the same exact policeman with his car sitting right behind where I was parked. And even though nothing came to mind, I knew I must have done something or broken some law, in the past 24 hours.

Although...the cop was kind of cute...in a young Andy Griffith/Taylor sort of way (wow, that doesn't sound creepy at all) so it wasn't like seeing him again was this god-awful experience. And he hadn't given me a ticket the previous day. I believe our conversation the day before had gone something like this (cop in italics):


Do you know why I pulled you over?  
Um, no...
Did you see me stopped on the side of the road with another car?
Yes..
Did you notice that there was room on in the other lane for you to move over?
Um...yeah...kind of? I guess now that you mention it, I do rememaer that?
Have you heard of the the "move over" law?
Like, 10 In A Bed? ("...there were 10 in a bed and the little one said, 'roll over, roll over.' So they all rolled over and one fell out.." What, not ringing a bell? Well, someone was deprived as child.) And no, I did not actually say that.

I actually didn't know what the "move over" law was, so he then he proceeded to explain it to me. It's a good law. Makes sense. You should check it out if you don't already know what it is about.

When was the last time you have received a ticket?
Uh, like two years ago? December 2009?
What was it for?
...an overdue tag... (I know, such a stupid thing. Nothing cool like speeding or illegal possession of drugs or alcohol.)
Alright wait here a minute.
...five minutes later...
Well Lauren, I don't usually do this...but since you have almost a perfect driving record, I'm going to cut you some slack.
Oh okay.

Throughout this whole conversation I kept thinking, Geez Lauren how about you stop saying "um" and try to at least sound a little grateful or something? But I was on my way to a funeral and honestly could care less about getting a ticket or not getting a ticket...but I suppose grace is always appreciated.

However, today I wasn't sure what would happen if I did something wrong and the same cop pulled me over two days in a row. Would I be arrested? I sure as heck doubted he would be as forgiving this time around. So, I may or may not have sat in my car pretending to talk on the phone for 5 minutes while waiting for him to leave.

Don't give me that face, you know you pretend to talk on the phone in dire situations as well.

To My Future Husband (From 10 Years Ago)

I found this letter in one of my old journals awhile ago. It's something I wrote to my "future husband" from 10 years ago. It's pretty adorable. And Hilarious. And more than slightly heartbreaking.


Dear Husband,
I wish that I knew who you were so much. I pray for you every day. It's wonderful to know that you love me. I love you too. Even though I don't know you. Or, maybe I do. I wish I could just talk to you for a little while. Tell me everything will be OK. Tell me that you'll always love me. I'm only 12 now, but you love that 12 year old who is writing this. Thank you for waiting. Thank you for loving God. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for loving who I am, regardless of what I am not. You won't call me Jenny. You also won't compare me with her. No, I can't sing and dance as well as her, but I am me. And you love me. And I love you. I always have. I know that it might be a long hard wait, but please wait. Please don't keep anything from me. I'll strive to do the same. I know that we will have to go through a lot probably, everyone does, but with God's help, we can do it. I have no clue who you are, but I know you are out there. I guess that is all! I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY HEART!!!!

Always your wife in life and in Christ,
Lauren


Haha seriously, how ridiculously adorable (and slightly pathetic?) is that all? What a cheesy awesome 12 year old I was. However, I have no idea what I meant by, "always your wife in life and in Christ." I mean, I get the "in life" part. But I'm his wife...in Christ? What?

It's funny, because it also reminds me of when I once believed that there was one certain person I was supposed to marry and everyone else was wrong because they weren't that person. You know, the whole, "God picked that person out for me since the beginning of time" thing. Or something like that. Honestly...I don't really believe that there is only one right person anymore. I think there are a lot of people that could be right. I wish I still believed that there was really one person set aside for me, it would almost make things easier. but I don't know that God/life works like that. And I don't know that I need (or want) it to work that way, anymore.

Say goodbye to the romantic in me.

I guess 10 years does that to a girl. (Oh I know..woe is me!)

All Sorts Of Crazy

Okay, so last week I stumbled across an "interesting" blog. It was a blog comprised of notes submitted by random people writing to their "future spouses". I quickly went from thinking, "Aw, this is kind of sweet" to "Wow, this is such a fluffy calzone (insert your indulgent food of choice) of cheesy ridiculousness that I can't even handle it." And well, I just did what any normal human being would do--I made of fun it/them. Not to brag or anything...but basically, I made the world a better place. A safer place. Because that is what heroes do. 

Original blog: To My Future Spouse

My blog:  To My Freaking Spouse (Whatever is written in bold is my two cents)

Midnight Confessions

I admit it. Since living on my own, I have gone to the dark side. I don't pick up ice cubes that I accidentally drop on the floor.

That's right. I let them die melt slowly and quietly on the kitchen floor.

I know. I feel so dumb and childish. Part of my brain is like, "Just pick up the freaking ice cube and put it in the sink, Lauren!" But the other part of my brain is saying (in a low raspy voice), "Lauren, you've spent your life picking up dropped ice cubes. You deserve to be able to let that ice cube melt on the floor. Not picking up the ice cube will make you like God..." (Okay, so maybe not that last part.) But even then... when I walk away, I feel guilty.

Similar internal wars happen regularly. For example: when I walk past the refrigerator and the sheer wind force of my body passing by causes pictures/papers (held up by flimsy magnets) to fall from the fridge to the ground...and I am then faced with a choice--will I pick up the picture...or walk past like nothing happened?

It's like when you're shopping at the store and a clothing item that you barely touched falls off the hanger as your shoulder simply grazes the shirt sleeve. You want to pass by. Pretend that you didn't see what just happened. It wasn't really your fault anyways...you hardly touched it. You glance around...no one else saw the shirt fall to the ground. You could get away with it. 

But if you're anything like me, both in regards to pictures falling off fridges and clothing sliding off hangers at department stores, you will take two steps away and try to ignore the sense of responsibility you feel toward said fallen item. But something in your genetic makeup will not allow you simply walk away. So you turn around and hang the shirt back up.

Personally, I always leave those situations feeling slightly frustrated with myself for not being able to ignore my conscience over such a small thing. Why can't I just walk away?!

Extraterrestrial

                                                                                     I created this. And I am pretty darn proud of it.

Like Baby Baby Baby Oh

...I thought you'd always be mine mine -JB. (Well said JB, well said.)

I'm not going to lie...Kirk Cameron is kind of adorable. I see that face you're making--don't judge me.

I turned on the TV the other day and as I was flipping through the channels, I came across one of the religious stations. I found myself sitting on the floor in front of the TV (I couldn't find the remote) and the minutes began trickling by as I drooled listened as Kirk Cameron talked about the Church of Satan. (Note: drooling attributed to Kirk Cameron. Not the Church of Satan.) I mean, not only does Cameron have an endearing face (and a good voice) but he loves Jesus. Yeah yeah, I'm not a huge fan of the whole "Left Behind" movie series he was in either. But he was still pretty darn attractive, even in those movies.

Needless to say, I did not--nay, could not change the channel until the program was over.

Cute semi-hip Christian guy expounding on the truths of God? Yes please.

(So...remember that post like two months ago when I explained how I exaggerate everything I say just a little? Yeah, this would be one of those times as well. Just FYI.)

Don't Question My Priorities

(Disclaimer) I promise, despite all appearances, I do have my priorities in order. Maybe.

Once you live on your own, you are faced with a series of choices--mostly at the supermarket.
For example, will you choose to buy a brownie mix or paper towels? A (17oz "family size") container of sabra hummus (oh baby) or laundry soap? Will you spend $12 on a jar of Justin's almond butter, or replace your dog chewed shoes?

Decisions decisions. Confessions confessions...
Well, I decided I could make my laundry soap last another week (sabra hummus, come to mama). I also bought the brownie mix (and I may or may not have "borrowed" a roll of paper towels from my parent's house...)

But you see, in order to make my brownies, I needed two eggs. However, I don't normally eat eggs, so I was not about to spend a whole $1.75 on a dozen eggs when I could, again, borrow a couple from my mom. (I promise, I asked my mom about the eggs!) So today after retrieving the eggs, I set about to make my brownies. Then I realized that I didn't have oil. (The week before I had probably decided to buy organic spinach instead of investing in a staple, like oil.) Okay fine, I probably actually bought dark chocolate, not organic spinach.

So what do you do when you don't have oil? You start looking for substitutes. First I searched the fridge for apple sauce. No luck. Yogurt? None. I did have a few bananas and I thought I remembered reading somewhere about using them in place of oil...but I didn't want banana flavored brownies. I considered using maple syrup...but quickly decided against it. Then it hit me. Um, freaking peanut butter! It has almost the same amount of fat per tablespoon as oil/butter. (And let me tell you, peanut butter is always a priority on my shopping list.)

So yes, I melted the peanut butter and used it in place of the oil. And my brownies look normal. I haven't actually eaten one yet...but I am pretty sure they are going to taste like...pure brilliance and awesomeness. I am also pretty sure that I am probably not the first person to sub in peanut butter for oil in brownies, but I'm not going to lie...I feel pretty smart.

Please, don't question how I prioritize my shopping list. Just so you know, my brownie mix was on sale for 75 cents, because it was a "holiday edition" with red and green sprinkle things. Furthermore, I did choose to replace my dog chewed shoes and forgo Justin's $12 almond butter. So take that you judgy judger.

I Need To Believe This Today

"Only a man who knows what it is like to be defeated can reach down to the bottom of his soul and come up with the extra ounce of power it takes to win when the match is even."
– Muhammad Ali

Listen friend, I don't care how cliche or dumb this quote is. Sometimes you (okay fine, I)just need to know that being defeated can having a redeeming quality and serve a purpose. And sometimes that encouragement comes in the form of a quote from Muhammad Ali. That's just life, and today, I'm not fighting it.

Capitola, Not Capicola

I love her

San Fran

It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.
Henry David Thoreau

California

A good day in California

4.2.11 (or, Not The Most Clever Title Ever)

I like replacing words with other words. I don't know why I find this so amusing...but I do. All of these quotes are (supposedly) from Gandhi (who is way over-quoted in my opinion. Then again, he is Gandhi.)

“I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." 
I like your cocoa beans, I do not like your chocolates. Your chocolates are so unlike your cocoa beans.

“Whenever you are confronted with an opponent. Conquer him with love.”

Whenever you are confronted with an opponent, conquer him with chocolate.

“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated”
 The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its cocoa beans are treated. 

 “Be the change you want to see in the world.”
Be the chocolate you wish to see in the world.

 “God has no religion”
Chocolate has no religion. (SO true.)

(I actually do kind of like this next one, so I won't mock it.)
"Men often become what they believe themselves to be. If I believe I cannot do something, it makes me incapable of doing it. But when I believe I can, then I acquire the ability to do it even if I didn't have it in the beginning.”

Neverland. Revisted

Oh dear sweet Peter Pan. I will never see you the same way again.

There are a few things you should know about me and Peter Pan. We have history.

When I was about 10 years old, I woke up crying. I mean, I remember having actual tears on my face..but I also remember feeling a deep sadness. It wasn't because I dreamed my family had all been kidnapped by the KGB or because I had dreamed that my teeth had all fallen out (those are the worst.) Nope, it was because in my dream I had found out that there was no such place as Neverland. There was no Peter Pan. And it (apparently) broke my heart. All I remember is waking up and feeling this vague, but deep, sense of disappointment. I remember thinking, Neverland isn't real. There is no magical place. I can't believe in Neverland, because I believe in God. God real. But there is no Neverland. My belief in God rules out the possibility for a belief in Neverland. (And apparently God is way less mysterious than Neverland?)

Fast forward a few years. The movie Peter Pan came out. Not the animated one. And definitely not that weird musical version that has a freaking woman (Mary Martin) playing the part of Peter Pan. (Seriously, who did not get the memo that Peter Pan is a boy? And supposed to fall in with and marry Wendy? Just saying. That movie was seriously disturbing to watch as a child.) But I digress. A fairly good version came out, and my older sister took me and my little sister to see it.

Before I go on, let me just say that I have always been a sensitive child. Especially when it comes to movies...and apparently movies involving animals. First, The Lion King. It killed me every time how when Simba's dad fell off Pride Rock and died, not two minutes later the movie would go right into the song "Hakuna Matata"--probably one of the darn most happy songs on the face of the planet. And there I would be, tears streaming down my face, boogers slowly dripping from my nose, and I would be thinking, Simba's dad just freaking died, and you're singing Hakuna Matata?! (Except that "freaking" wasn't a part of my vocabulary when I was 7 years old.)

There was also Milo and Otis, Free Willy, and worst of all...Andre the (freaking) Seal. Oh Andre. It even had a happy ending. But that just made it worse. I remember being at the movie theater with my family, me being in tears by the end, and my sisters telling my mom that I was crying and my mom saying, "but Lauren, it had a happy ending, why are you sad?" I even cried in Phantom of the Opera. When I was about 17. Pitiful.

But back to Peter Pan. Long story short, Peter didn't come back for Wendy. Stupid jerk. But more on that later. After seeing the movie, I kept my dignity somewhat in tact while exiting the movie theater with my sisters. And by "in tact" I mean that I walked out on my own two feet, only slightly blinded by tears streaming down my face. I spent the remainder of the day stumbling around in a daze, twitching uncontrollably, and mumbling something under my breath about Peter not going back for Wendy. (Okay, so that whole last sentence is kind of a lie...at least the part about twitching.)

But wait, hold on to your seats, dear non-existent readers, because I am about to crucify Peter Pan in my next post.

We Talked About It

Jesus and I talked, that is. We aren't a fan of who I become when I don't eat like the average American. Allow me to explain.

I'll wake up one day and realize how I am killing my body with the majority of the food I eat. (Now take a deep breath before you begin reading the next sentence.) So then I eat an organic carrot and all the sudden I become this snooty know-it-all health freak who can not believe that the rest of the human population hasn't also had a similar epiphany about what they're eating and don't see the error of their ways (and furthermore, why are they not also buying and consuming organic carrots?!) I will literally walk around all day, shaking my head (internally--most of the time at least) in disappointment at the poor food choices of the average American. Why don't people pick the organically grown carrot instead of the Doritos?

Oh yeah, because carrots taste like carrots and Doritos taste like the flavors delicious and amazing. And they come packaged in dynamic duos (or, "collisions" as they call it) just to accommodate (enable...) the indecisive who can't decide if they want the classic nacho cheese flavor (always a safe bet) or that new slightly weird flavor (that will be awesome for roughly 7 1/2 chips but inevitably make you feel sick around chip number 10).

Anywho, this post has gone way off topic. I like to go off topic when Jesus starts telling me that I am prideful or gives me a reality check about the state of my heart--which is not so pure/awesome/humble/Dorito-free as I like to believe it is. Hi, I am Lauren and I am prideful. Seriously, how pathetic am I that I become prideful after eating a freaking carrot?


Just a disclaimer: pretty much everything I write is slightly exaggerated. But there is truth beneath it. Unfortunately.

Keep The Change You Filthy Animals

So I have this diamond.

If I remember correctly, I found it in my room in Italy.

I am pretty sure it's plastic...but can you really be sure? I mean, it is not hugely huge. It is almost a realistic size. For a millionaire. I keep it in this little tin in my room with a bunch of other random earrings and paper clips. Whenever I dump out that little tin, I see it. And I think about throwing it away. But then I think again. And I know I can't. Because deep in the most delusional place in my heart, I believe. I believe that one day...one day that little baby is going to pay off my college loans.

I mean, I think I remember that I found in my apartment in Italy. Doesn't that add some credibility to it possibly being real? Because it's not like I found it on the floor by the costume jewelry in JCPenney's.

Oh, and at this point I don't have any college loans. (Oh yeah, baby.) So that works out just swimmingly.

Confessions: Part II (Part I was like...5 months ago)

I sometimes listen to Relient K.

I know I know. I try to tell myself that I am above them. I try to be cool and pretend like I would only ever listen to bands such as The National, Sigur Ros, Arcade Fire, The Avett Brothers and Band of Horses...I even try to like (and if I am with especially "cool" people pretend like I do like) Sufjan Stevens, Radiohead, and Mumford & Sons.

But sometimes...sometimes you just have to listen to a Relient K song or two. That is just life, my friends. Don't fight it. My only comfort is that these times are the exception, not the rule. But to be fair (okay fine, in an attempt to justify my middle-schooler-ish music taste) sometimes Rk really can just say it right. They can remind me that problems don't go away even if they're ignored, and they challenge me to not move into comfortable little boxes and then not have the desire to move on.

And then other times I listen to them and remember why I need to leave Relient k in middle school--because I really don't care about mood rings, sadie hawkins dances, or pink tuxes worn to the prom.

Blogging: My Passive Aggressive Way Of Addressing Issues Near And Dear To My Heart

I've never really understood why people hate Valentines Day so much. How can one day be such a sad/bitter day for some people?

I think that there was (probably) a time back in middle school when I felt lonely or sad on Valentines Day. But since then, I've become superhuman and no longer feel such paltry emotions like the rest of the pathetic human race. Kidding. Kind of. I mean, it's not that I purposely try not to "buy into" the whole Valentines Day thing. I neither love it nor hate it. I'm just kind of apathetic about it. If you have someone "special" in your life, great. Spend the day letting the person know that you care about them. If you don't have someone in your life right then...first of all, chill out. Second, why not let someone else in your life know that they are cared about, instead of groveling in your sea of self pity, all day long?

I'm sorry, but I don't understand the extremes that people feel about Valentines Day. I suppose I can understand feeling lonely if you have just ended a relationship, and now Valentines Day is reminding you that you don't have the person that you genuinely cared about, to share the day with. Really, I do understand the normal range of human emotions (I haven't completely shut them off yet). It is just these crazy extremists who either feel that Valentines Day is the spawn Satan or the most joyous day of the year. 

Unfortunately, I can already see the ever lovely Facebook news feed on February 14th, clogged up with ridiculous cries for help from my more...emotionally unstable...single friends. Those types of statuses will probably get two "likes" from fellow emotionally unstable girls, and perhaps a few comments saying, "Aw, sorry baby. Text me if you want 2 talk." (Except that they won't use any punctuation or capitalization in their comment.) And I can also see all the status updates from my "I am Woman, hear me roar" friends, touting the reasons why singleness is such a gift and how men can't complete us. Those statuses will probably receive 20 "likes" and more than a few comments saying things such as, "Oh, so true girlfriend! Way to be. We are so okay on our own!"

Come on people, rise above. It's just a day. We're all adults here, (okay..so that might not necessarily be true). But let's try to act like it at least.

Antarctica

Left behind everything I knew
All the colors but bone-white and sky-blue
Hit the continent running
Engines were humming just to break through... (The Weepies)


So, today is a year since I left. Crazy crazy crazy. Over this next week I think I might post certain things I wrote while I was away. We'll see how much I actually put up on here. This first one is a mixture of things I wrote from the last four days I was in Italy. I am sure this is all super boring to you. Believe me, I don't expect any of you non-existent readers to actually read this. But for some reason, putting it up here...it helps me.

Today is Friday.  I just finished two days of graduation for the students in Udine and Valvasone. Last night was the Valvasone graduation and we spent the night at Tom and Maureen's. I am still at their house right now. Today is absolutely beautiful. From Maureen's porch I can look out over a whole bunch of fields and vineyards. I went for a short run this morning. It probably will be my last one here in Valvasone. Well, now it is noon and the obnoxious loud church bells are going off. I guess I should say "ringing" but it's not so much ringing as a crazy loud gong that goes on for 5 minutes and gives me a headache. Welcome to Italy--or Valvasone, at least. But that is all part of the beauty. I think.


I am trying to enjoy this moment and not thing about what i may have to face next. Four days until I leave Italy. As I was laying in bed this morning it started to sink in that I was actually leaving. I have very mixed feelings about leaving. My main reason for being ready to go home is that I will have more control over my life again--what I do or don't do, who I see or don't see, where I go or don't go. All of that has been out of my control for four months. I know that  part of this experience was about letting go...about not having control and trusting God. There have been times when I have felt the nearness of God in a way I never had before--it was in the moments when I completely let go of my right to myself. Honestly, I have hated every second of giving up control. Maybe it is bad that I am looking forward to having some of my control back? Maybe it means I didn't learn what I should have learned...

What?

Yesterday my mom basically told me to marry someone for money, above love.

What? Seriously? She justified it by saying that, "you can grow to love anyone". How horrible is that? Call me old school, but aren't you at least supposed to pretend that you would choose love over money?

Then she also proceeded to tell me not to marry a person just because I fall in love with them. Rather, not to marry the first person I love. Or the second. Or even the third, necessarily. I am definitely not even close to being in love with anyone right now, but still...what kind of advice are mothers giving to their daughters these days?

Honestly, I don't think my heart could handle loving someone...or more than one person, and then deciding to walk away--for whatever reason. I would rather not put myself in a position or situation where I could potentially love someone...until I am... sure?..sure it would work out?..sure I wouldn't get hurt or hurt them? I don't want to hurt another person just as much as I don't want to be hurt myself. I know I know. That is probably unrealistic. But that is kind of what I have tried to do all my life--stay uninvolved, not get to too close anyone or let anyone else get too close. It has kind of worked...and it kind of has not.

My mom wants me to be completely rational. Can't love be the one thing in my life that isn't a completely rational decision? Obviously I would want to be discerning, but I don't know that I want to be completely rational about love. If you are always completely rational and in control, is it really love? I think love should sometimes make you feel not so in control or rational. Or maybe that is just infatuation. I've read the Christian books about love vs. lust. vs. infatuation...  Believe me, I'm a good little Christian girl and I know all the Bible verses about what love really is. I know that love isn't about the feeling.

All I am saying is that I think that love is such a crazy thing that it makes us willing to lay down our lives for someone. Love is such a crazy thing that we are sometimes moved to set aside our pride and our desire to be right, for the sake of another person. Love is such a crazy thing that we strive to be patient and kind with someone when our natural tendency is to become frustrated and easily angered. Love is such a crazy thing that it makes us choose to put another person's interests and well being above our own. Love is such a crazy thing that it makes us willing to forgive another person, when it would be easier to stand on our soap box and count off all the wrong things that a person has done.

I've never been in love. Sometimes I wonder if it is real. Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. (Song of Solomon 8:4) I've never understood exactly what that verse means.