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.