tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11474612405480709622024-03-12T18:30:15.390-07:00caffeinated Joy.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-86611634204234466382012-07-07T09:08:00.002-07:002012-07-07T09:08:48.872-07:00I've never felt so heartbroken<br />
never felt so inept<br />
never felt so embarrassed, disrespected and regret<br />
as if i were thrown in the gutter<br />
tossed carelessly aside<br />
as all the others sit and wonder how, what, when, and why?<br />
<br />
...I've never been called to question<br />
and now i don't know what i would say<br />
twisted and turned, pulled completely out of my life<br />
totally ripped away<br />
for what?<br />
<br />
does it feel better now<br />
to be without<br />
is it nice to know you've broken me<br />
completely<br />
is it nice to know i feel so small<br />
<br />
and it's worse because i know you, love you<br />
it's worse because i know it'll never be the same<br />
it's worse because i'm aching from a punch i never asked to be thrown<br />
it's worse because i'm sick at my stomach<br />
it's worse to feel ashamedLaurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-15605996997190996142012-03-27T16:06:00.001-07:002012-03-27T16:06:35.035-07:00before we turn...when things are as hard as hard can get<br />
and life is filled with paths that seem directionless<br />
and people are disappointing and dreams so far away<br />
i often sit and daydream of the turns i could've made.<br />
i wonder what it'd be like to step upon the stage<br />
with a microphone and breath<br />
filled with the words i need to say.<br />
how surely i would sing it<br />
as each note it certainly played.<br />
i know my heart would be completely<br />
fullfilled with each new day.<br />
or if i spent them all<br />
behind a counter grinding beans<br />
tamping, twisting, pulling <br />
designing delights with every stream.<br />
i'd been entirely content<br />
to serve your daily fix of 'ffeine.<br />
and spend the evenings dreaming flavors<br />
scent of coffee all around.<br />
or if i just decided to embark upon the thing<br />
that guides my steps and builds me up<br />
assured sanity.<br />
if i chose instead to decipher, how 1 & 1 make 3...<br />
and despite all this i'm fighting<br />
both external and within<br />
to be what I know is meant for me<br />
and will be in the end.<br />
so regardless of the hardships<br />
misunderstanding<br />
and the rage.<br />
i'll keep on seeking truth and know<br />
these healing hands will stay.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PgZHbhszGrU">"Turn to Stone" - Ingrid Michaelson</a><br />
<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-36397854309444409552012-03-04T15:28:00.003-08:002012-03-04T15:28:51.793-08:00a truth i'd like to remember, written by a friend.<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-weight: normal;">
<i><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}">A
person's loss of faith isn't an assertion to be taken lightly, and
certainly not one that is express without a lot of introspection; a
dismissive response only mitigates the gravity of the situation. Most
important is to come to an understanding of the person's mindset and
their view of the situation, and then help them as best we can to come
closer to their own conclusions, without forcing them<span class="text_exposed_show">
one way or the other, but also without compromising on the truth. Only
God can save someone, and so my effort should not be to rescue them so
much as it should be to stay with them through the darkness, watch the
daybreak with them, and let God do what He will throughout. In these
situations, the faithful are called not to force the person out of the
sea and into the vessel, but tread the water with them until they start
swimming on their own, in whatever direction, and where ever they end
up, remain a loyal friend and a faithful witness to the love of Christ,
however they receive it. We need not feel responsible for another's
salvation, only for our steadfast witness to the Gospel.</span></span></i></h6>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-56513440125508905302012-02-27T10:50:00.000-08:002012-02-27T10:50:06.334-08:00Obituary (assignment written in class today)<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Lauren Taylor Shank Born April 18, 1987 – February 27, 2012</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Lauren was born and raised in Rome, Georgia the first child of Dave and Susan Dickson. Her daddy raised her on great music and good food from the grill. He loved her giddy personality and cultivated an arduous and honest spirit in her little soul. Her Moma was also her best friend. Igniting the spit-fire, unabashing zest for life that was the very foundation for who she was and for what she is most clearly remembered. She is survived by her two siblings, Page & David for whom she was both fiercely loyal and joyfully proud. Lauren, most affectionately known to her hometown as “LD” was a local soccer star and vocal aficionado in her youth group at TUMC. LD’s spirit was truly personified on the soccer field as a “dominator”, “the wall”, and more clearly “the stopper” she worked to her very last breath defending her fellow teammates and the goal, a direct testament to how she lived every day of her life. Church members remember her best of the young woman who would return home from college and “fill the little chapel with her beautiful melodies and outrageous laughter.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Lauren had recently become the wife of Jason Shank, whom she met rather humorously in the heat of the summer of 2007 wearing a mere chef’s coat and her trademark extra-large grin. Jason & Lauren were rather opposite and yet he completely complimented, accentuated, and made up all that was the very best of who she was. He was the other portion of her puzzled present and the missing face in all of her futures. He was to be the father of her future 6 children and the master of all of her “insanities”. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Gabriola; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Lauren was truly, fully, and completely loved. And loved even more so in return.</span></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-77853165687218009042011-12-08T19:53:00.001-08:002011-12-08T20:09:43.878-08:00the given.and then life<br />
in it's unexpected everpresent twist<br />
turns and speaks<br />
unwielding, straight into your space.<br />
as if in some feeble attempt<br />
offering himself completely<br />
to you.<br />
in a dead sprint, lungs burning<br />
from the tears and the cool, crisp wind.<br />
from the smoke billowing<br />
out of her deep dark, limitless skies.<br />
mountain peaks whisper to little hands clasped<br />
in wonder, and inevitable wander speak<br />
lengthy shadows both make.<br />
to think life<br />
with its twin hearts, scattered about like dandelion seeds<br />
blown by the breaths of too many to name<br />
tamely & twisted.<br />
thunderous applause from the gawkers, the lookers, the seekers<br />
the sook.<br />
oh life<br />
<br />with his and her feet rooted<br />
firm<br />
sure<br />
as the sun.<br />
and the stars.<br />
in every single knight's sky.<br />
as she stared<br />
as she waited<br />
as she lived<br />
lost<br />
forgiven<br />
forgot<br />
remembered<br />
the good<br />
and life how it gave<br />
completely given.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uQlPTBzuptM">"Nemesis" - David Gray</a><br />
<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-9270394313090747762011-11-05T17:03:00.000-07:002011-11-05T17:05:00.515-07:00inside/outthere are times when your heart seems to spill out of your head<br />
scattering broken bits & sentences, as you try to speak<br />
to complete a well structured thought, composure seeking, eyes dry<br />
standing firm on the basis of a hope held inside.<br />
there are times when your lips split and blood pours right out on the ground<br />
from hours of sleeplessly searching the town<br />
from minutes and moments you counted not lost<br />
and those you kept dreaming, would awake in the frost.<br />
there are times your steps trembled and muscles did ache<br />
from hearts pounding, breathes bursting, barefoot & blistering<br />
through the hills you went looking, all ye faithful careening<br />
stumbled<br />
tumbled<br />
bumbled<br />
so open.<br />
so clear.<br />
so free & yet so<br />
contained.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7WG9pC0F4Tc">"Faithful" - Me'shell Ndegeocello</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-30433016520251960952011-08-24T20:44:00.000-07:002011-08-24T20:44:20.651-07:00created<blockquote>
<b>God has given you the air, </b></blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote>
<b>so fly.</b></blockquote>
On freedom<br />
and the proverbial journey of us taking flight<br />
so easy it seems to get a little sidetracked, a little forgetful, just a little bit sinful every now and then.<br />
Until suddenly something, as simple even as a missed breath or a flutter of the heart--how it displaces rather swiftly the very ease with which we piddle through our days.<br />
How we realize just how fragile and final we all really are, without, it.<br />
On freedom<br />
and the choice we have to pick up our broken wings<br />
and whether or when we choose to sing-if ever we even so much as dare to open our mouths<br />
rather silently we idle....always moving and still forever standing, still.<br />
I cannot explain for the life of me what it is I wish to say-- exactly, other than this constant nagging in your heart to be more, see more, do more, live more, want more. The want inside to do and be and see and live and love and give completely of yourself daily. Ever single inch of it. Is something so much more than a simple cell can explain.<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
<b>don't let anyone don't let anything hold you back.</b></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2_Q41-IfFT2aKZ9ZroqEvIV-MaYBnOQn9rGh5Nrw5lyc6Qx0cbTHyba1r4Mn7h7G_PKDL-9H5BxXJupz9-LsqNqandv-iEYgDMe4ppvMPTBaJUBVx1w6UGiMZ9j44lmKpXBX7eV2cWIV/s1600/IMG_20110820_202409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2_Q41-IfFT2aKZ9ZroqEvIV-MaYBnOQn9rGh5Nrw5lyc6Qx0cbTHyba1r4Mn7h7G_PKDL-9H5BxXJupz9-LsqNqandv-iEYgDMe4ppvMPTBaJUBVx1w6UGiMZ9j44lmKpXBX7eV2cWIV/s400/IMG_20110820_202409.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-50636911804712609432011-07-16T08:37:00.000-07:002011-08-24T20:43:41.871-07:00soldierA man I never met.<br />
Created me, somewhat inadvertently.<br />
The father of my mother went to war and ill became.<br />
Something of a distant memory, spoken of in passing--names and places oft the same.<br />
Eery familiarity in the face of a man who never even knew my name, but loved me just the same.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFL6ulTzXA32J3ilbhEkQH6B83e6fKLIOBgBEz8_uE6PYHKOd1F2LzTqtu4EQWiBxTbfXyA-8W91eD_5Yb7cqeLgM0RU-P-su0cu6KxgQLLLxUGwCEfeDWoG3hmPg9Ygucj4Tb3k9Mb6Jt/s1600/granddaddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFL6ulTzXA32J3ilbhEkQH6B83e6fKLIOBgBEz8_uE6PYHKOd1F2LzTqtu4EQWiBxTbfXyA-8W91eD_5Yb7cqeLgM0RU-P-su0cu6KxgQLLLxUGwCEfeDWoG3hmPg9Ygucj4Tb3k9Mb6Jt/s400/granddaddy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-84187353126816393472011-06-24T15:24:00.000-07:002011-06-25T13:45:54.304-07:00Things I've Learned from Clinic: Week 11. I'm smarter than I thought.<br />
2. Hand rub/wash is my new OCD/BFF.<br />
3. Little old men love me.<br />
4. I'm stronger than I knew (both mentally and physically).<br />
5. I could not have picked a better profession.<br />
6. My joy is instantly amplified 50x by working with real patients.<br />
7. Hospitals aren't as scary as you think.<br />
8. I still know at least half of Rome, GA.<br />
9. I work best when a new challenge is sprung on my suddenly (when I don't have time to "stress out" about it)<br />
10. There is no time to STRESS about this job when you have people's lives/well being in your direct control.<br />
11. I love to read patient's charts. <br />
12. I love to read patient's charts and actually understand most of what it says.<br />
13. I love to ask questions, look up answers, and consult with collegues.<br />
14. Its cheaper to eat in the hospital than it is to bring it from home, and the food isn't half bad.(so long as you stick to the salad bar ;))<br />
15. I'm a pretty observant clinician.<br />
16. Lines and wires are alot easier to be cognizant of when they are actually stuck into someone.<br />
17. I am VERY good at reading people and accommodating myself to their individual needs.<br />
18. I LOVE THIS JOB.<br />
19. My life is pretty much going to consist of waking up, going to work, going to work out, eating, & sleeping...and I'm kind of okay with that.<br />
20. I am a fast typer, a quick learner, & I write a pretty darn good eval.<br />
21. On that note, I can recall a startling number of abbreviations considering what that class was like....<br />
22. I dread returning to the class room, but I'm kind of excited to put this new confidence to work.<br />
23. I am more confident in the real world then I am in the classroom, alls I need is someone who believes in me. :)<br />
24. I can hoist alot of LBS, even with this gimp ol' knee. <br />
25. The elderly say the darndest things, and I love every minute of it.<br />
26. You never know who you'll meet or the stories they'll tell.<br />
27. Listen to every word the patient's family tells you, even if it sounds like nonsense, there's bound to be some tid bit that's important or if not they'll atleast know that someone cares<br />
28. Hold a hand if you need to.<br />
29. Baby dolls = instant calm.<br />
30. I am a witty little lady.<br />
31. I hope to be half as spritely as these individuals in my 90's.<br />
32. I am so thankful to have a loving husband and the future promise of many loving children.<br />
33. My loud voice is one of my best assets.<br />
34. I'll never bite my nails again.<br />
35. Scrubs are also my new BFF.<br />
36. I have never felt so sure of anything in my life as I am of this.<br />
37. Pulling charts is like playing a game of hide and seek.<br />
38. Patient's is a virtue.<br />
39. Physical therapist treat EVERY sort of patient, and when we get an order to come see you, that's a GOOD SIGN.<br />
40. Even incoherent patient's will let ya know when they're in pain.<br />
41. Any hospital that has pellet ice and an espresso machine is alright with me. <br />
42. I am more capable than I thought I was, can handle way more than I imagined, and am always a few steps ahead of each of my patients.<br />
<br />
Yep, I am cautiously optimistic that this just might be what God put me on this Earth to do (this and being a mother of course :)).Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-79958252469912854062011-04-03T20:53:00.000-07:002011-04-03T20:53:59.400-07:00about me :]<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">As I am currently mixing a rather lovely musical compilation dedicated to my PT school best friend I decided to pass the time it takes to upload the songs by telling whoever out there happens to read this a little about my self from A-Z.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">A. Age: 23 (soon to be 24 in 15 days...) I can scarcely believe I've almost lived a fourth of my life, because yes I do believe I will live to be exactly 100.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">B. Bed Size: We have a full (that I've had since my third year of college) but I dream of the days when we can one day own a California King. I am like my very own internal heating blanket and I like to spreeeead outttt aka I NEED MO SPACE!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">C. Chore you hate: I am no good at chores...I never was made to do them as a child and on those random occasions when my mom would try to randomly enforce "chores" I would pitch my Grade A fit and that would settle that...basically, I was a brat as a child. And I still loathe them to this day...but I am learning, the hard way, that they are a NECESSARY evil (except on those glorious days when my Moma comes to visit and it is just like old times). But yeah, I dislike them all except the dishes and dishwasher....for some reason I love those.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">D. Dogs: We had a weiner dog growing up - Abby and I can still remember my siblings coming into my room one morning to tell me she had died :(. Now I have my, as I like to call it, step-dog Zero....my husband's pride and joy....and I have quickly come to realize I am not an indoor pet person, I like humans.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">E. Essential start to your day: Coffee. All day, everyday. I'm not ashamed to admit my obsession.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">F. Favorite Color: purple.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">G. Gold or silver: silver (for jewelry), gold (for coloring, eye shadow, all other life aspects)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">H. Height: 5'6"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">I. Instruments you play: I have zero patience, therefore all instruments I have ever played/attempted to played have turned out to be utter and complete failures. Basically I played the clarinet/bass clarinet from 6th to 10th grade until I A) swapped to Colorguard for a majority of the band season B) QUIT - to run cross country (best decision ever). Regardless, my best instrument by far is my voice, it is ever present, multifaceted, and I've been playing it for 23 years, so you could say I'm a pro.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">J. Job title: Full-time student (but in two years I'll be a Dr!)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">K. Kids: 6 please.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">L. Live: Cumming, GA</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">M. Mom's name: Susan, but I call her Moma</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">N. Nicknames: LD, Ldeezal, Ldeezal tha Weezal, LoDix, Sister Lotus, Lawren, Da Best, and now that i'm married --> Shank</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">O. Overnight hospital stays: ACL surgery in 2005 and I think I had pneumonia when I was a lot younger.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">P. Pet Peeve: It changes from day to day but mostly: people that kiss butt, people that call working out on the elliptical "running", girls that come into the gym fully done up with their make up and horribly short shorts, sororities, pot heads, people my age who still think its necessary and cool to get drunk and make a ginormous fool of themselves.....there are plenty more.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">Q. Quote from a movie: "I'm gonna be free. And I'm gonna be brave. I'm gonna live each day as if it were my last. Fantastically. Courageously. With grace. And in the dark of the night, and it does get dark. When I call a name, it'll be your name."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">R. Right or left handed: LEFT of course :)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">S. Siblings: 2 - Pagey Poo and David too (I always saying it like that in my head, Mickey Mouse club style)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">T. Time you wake up: Depends on what time my class is at and how much homework I have to get done that morning before class. anywhere from 6 to 8:45</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">U. Underwear: yes.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">V. Vegetables you dislike: raw onions (gag) and I DO NOT like coriander or nutmeg (which I know are herbs but I will REFUSE to eat anything with them in it)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">W. What makes you run late: my husband (love you!) or if I don't want to be wherever it is i'm going</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">X. X-rays you've had: Kneetimes (and it was miserable)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">Y. Yummy food you make: Spaghetti, chicken poppyseed casserole, chicken and rice, chicken fajitas/nachos/quesadillas, guacamole, COOKIES</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;">Z. Zoo animal: I despise anywhere were I have to go, walk around, and pretend that I want to learn about something (ie. zoos, museums, etc....); plus zoos are depressing. But I do love penguins, alot. I kind of want one as a pet...but I guess that should've gone under P. dangit.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUofQJ0Ad1oTufso870AP9bJn0L8jtyLA6wEfDpOI1oe9ymdziosgDflf6js5KauDJeRx8J4r7Q7d80PqxMwkhXHcHOftJfi9i_J-tuLXL4opjucxyXa1aXagK1Zappx0grX0M5legVsd_/s1600/Photo+275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUofQJ0Ad1oTufso870AP9bJn0L8jtyLA6wEfDpOI1oe9ymdziosgDflf6js5KauDJeRx8J4r7Q7d80PqxMwkhXHcHOftJfi9i_J-tuLXL4opjucxyXa1aXagK1Zappx0grX0M5legVsd_/s400/Photo+275.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me and my rubber penguin :]</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px;"><br />
</span>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-77154453343479845272011-03-27T11:20:00.000-07:002011-03-27T11:20:06.874-07:00hannah*<i>I rediscovered these paper I wrote my freshman year of college for my Honors English class and thought that some might be interesting to revisit and share. Sort of as an insight into my budding interest in writing and glimpse at my mindset at the time.*</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<b>April 5, 2006</b><br />
<br />
The oddity of her rebirth was that it happened in the middle of the afternoon. Her skin didn't intertwine with the rising sun as in most fairytales; nor did it emerge with the moonlight of an eerie pitch black night. These would have, too soon, foretold the tragedy of her demise. No, she had to burst back to life in the middle of a summer's day, <b> </b>it would not have worked out otherwise. We secretly refereed to her as "Nymph of the New Ages," our jealousies prevalent in our faces.<br />
No one took notice of her the day she returned, no one but the eldest of the nymphs because it was her rebirth as well. Rebirths are quite the commonality in the place we are bound to. We are bound by the threads of an initial birth rite. By the mystery of the seven hills and the legends that cause its rivers to sparkle and gleam in the darkness we are bound. It's been said that if you launch your transporting device onto these waters, the water creatures will carry you clear out into the middle before swallowing you up. No one leaves because they cannot, the force will not allow it. Gravity determines everyone's fate in the end.<br />
This mysterious creature of the past was rumored to be the niece of Adeona, prophetically known in nymph society as the one who leads the children away for awhile. Adeona was a heroine to most. The eldest of the land passed on the mesmerizing tales of Adeona, about how she teaches each of the children to fly. Never mind the fact that not a single one of the nymphs had ever seen a non-creature with wings before. They'd heard the stories of the goddess so much they knew them as nothing short of truth. Once they learn to fly, they'd continue, she guides them on long, arduous journeys to distant lands and far off places. They fly until their heart's content but always return home after long. These stories secretly made the eldest's heart swell; she was envious of those who could fly. She was envious of those who seemed to just disappear for awhile and return with tones of chocolate etched across their skin. These telltale etchings and whispers of grandeur are what gave mystery to the younger one. The eldest would sneak glances at the younger, searching the exterior of her body in hopes of catching a glimpse of her coveted wings. She yearned to know the younger, to be a part of her somehow.<br />
<br />
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Eventually the eldest came to know the younger. The youngest was known to travel in a pack of three known kindly by most as the Charities. Sometimes acquiring another here and there, these three are the ones who Adeona had elected from the beginning into her coven. The rest of the nymphs were unaware of their greatness; but to the eldest it was apparent in this one. The eldest and the younger sporadically came together. The younger, blessed with the gift of song, would entrance even the lowliest of nymphs with her beautiful voice. She was not stingy with her gift, as most often were at the time, but saw no harm in sharing it with all. Her voice changed lives; it healed the cripple, sutured broken hearts, and even sent the stoniest of souls into whirlpools of tears. In her frescoes, her colors were vibrant and endless. The rose in her cheeks seemed to splash over her entire body, depending on which light you caught it in. At certain angles one might imagine splashes of crystal blue in her hair, reminiscent of unfinished passions and devilish desires. Things others only saw in paintings, the elder experienced in life. Their time together was brief but impossible to forget.<br />
The eldest seemed to have left them all behind, many were bothered by her departure of sorts. All except the youngest. When they eldest would return home, as all do on occasion until inevitably settling, the youngest would always be there waiting. It fate really that drove these two together. The younger's presence came to be expected by the eldest as often they would spend time inquiring on nature, swinging skillfully through the branches of the greatest wilderness. They dipped themselves fervently into the torrents of the waters and sung great songs of carefree humor and unbounded joy. They dreamed to one day be unbound from this place, but never spoke a word of it to each other. They dare not for fear of those even older then their two ages combined for the elders of their land did not take kindly to those of a wild kindred spirit. The true elders were afraid of the world beyond flight which made the nymphs want it all the more.<br />
The eldest, tired from her mini excursions, returned home one day to discover that the Charities had been called upon by Adeona, it was their time. When she learned of their escape the long ago flames of jealousy again arose within her. She tried to subdue them but knew it was futile; how could one so much younger get what she'd always desired. How had the younger flown before her? How was it possible that the nymph with the skylark's voice had managed to somehow succeed? The eldest was jealous of the Charities' glory; of the youngest's ability to accomplish something she felt she never would and of the two others who were chosen to go with her while she was left behind to grow. While she, the eldest, was left to be just like the rest of them. Just like everyone else. Her insides swelled with anticipation, with expectation of their return. At least, if nothing else, she knew she would finally be told by the youngest what it felt like to fly. She knew when the youngest returned, she would know once and for all the stories she believed in for so long were real. She sent hope and excitement into the air of that summer afternoon; at the moment of her descent she sent prayers of joy into the wings of her youngest angel.<br />
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*<br />
The tales of the monster spread like wildfire throughout the land of seven hills. The eldest heard whispers of how the monster had gobbled up her young, her dear, her sweetest nymph companion. She heard many, many versions of how it happened but in the end one stood true.<br />
The eldest learned that Adeona's visit had come as a surprise to the three. First she had come to her niece, the youngest, with a sly smile that rendered her unintelligible to all. It was said that you never made a move until you found out, for sure, what the smile meant. A flood of commotion, of steam and sparks and clutter fell out of her mouth; excitement pierced the youngest's ears much like a child on a swing set's gleeful scream of delight or a passionate lover's cry of ecstasy. Nothing with Adeona was ever normal, ever monotone, ever without emotion. From the clutter the Adeona proclaimed that today was the day, today the youngest would receive her wings; and not only that but she could pick two of her closest companions to receive theirs as well. she chose the Charities of course.<br />
The story of her flight, however, is where things become a bit cloudy. It is one that few, if any, will ever come close to feeling or being or living. The story of how she flew so close to the water's surface that the very tip of her chocolate-speckled nose could just barely skim the jade blue waters. Her wings of stark white with their tips of blue, it was told, appeared toned and well trained, she flew with a confidence no other understood, with a confidence that even gave Adeona a moment of pause. She looked down into the waters that day, she looked down into her own reflection before she fell and saw in that moment it was made up of us all. She saw her aunt in her fiery eyes, reflecting from far above, she saw the eldest in the flecks of blue in her wings and her sisters in the strength of her arms and legs, she saw her Charities on either side, flying tandem on high, and all the others not with her then composed everything else she was made of. We made up who she was, but really she was the common part within each of us that created that invisible, binding thread. She was bigger than all of us combined, she flew higher than we could ever hope to fly, and yet she was something we each wanted; she was something we could never become. And with that she dove deep into the ocean; and she became immortal.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y249/ldeezal_48/Me%20Hannah%20and%20Anna/MeNtOnE015-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y249/ldeezal_48/Me%20Hannah%20and%20Anna/MeNtOnE015-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<blockquote>I decided to write an allegory about my friend Hannah who died in a plane crash this past Christmas break. Some of the more interesting of the symbols in the story and what not are as follows. A nymph is "any member of a large class of female nature entities, sometimes bound to a particular location or landform. They are personifications of the creative and fostering activities of nature." This seemed to fit Hannah, as well as myself (being the eldest in the story), given the fact that we are both women, both teenagers, both born and raised in the small town of Rome, and both felt tied down to it (our hometown). Hannah was creatively artistic, completely full of life, and athletic; no matter what she was always outside involved in something or interacting with someone. She did whatever she could to be a part of life, always fully engaging and investing in every single person she came into contact with. This is just a brief and beginner's understanding of what this is all about; mostly the moral of the story is that Hannah was truly an amazing human being....she broke the mold and redefined the act of friendship and selflessness. She meant something special to everyone and anyone and is unbelievably and unforgettably missed; because she is irreplaceable.</blockquote>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-76176875093452914142011-03-03T18:44:00.000-08:002011-03-03T18:44:38.508-08:00on any given day<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlxB9zGH8GU">"uncharted" - sara bareilles</a> </div>When nothing else makes sense, when your heads full of all sorts of random crazy mess of life, when you think you might, just might, explode....The only cure for that which might otherwise overwhelm is to spend a weekend of quality time with your most amazing nephew.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEVrQ4jPhCQiTzAaolSL-1V9EPeHyZEiQvh_xMJMsy2m2mQ5LLaqkW-iciMms7Ondpmh1jyYbtV06BV8zcH8-WboAxcpgmCJvhzdsaPZYkDn5xHqCF9RYR4xVPFDGmGrndehhuSiJ3oAja/s1600/gavin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEVrQ4jPhCQiTzAaolSL-1V9EPeHyZEiQvh_xMJMsy2m2mQ5LLaqkW-iciMms7Ondpmh1jyYbtV06BV8zcH8-WboAxcpgmCJvhzdsaPZYkDn5xHqCF9RYR4xVPFDGmGrndehhuSiJ3oAja/s320/gavin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0qQVLyYZYErOlPit3c8XcSvX1FOGpBD1SACCUDcp_Po8oD48ynM1ZWumayoRYNSU82zZ1h9NyzjowxtwOQnGvxs9gM3mEfg0IEIQnN8835O31nkWp1QyoFf8jcNl-twIS5MqpZksoxEoH/s1600/gavin1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0qQVLyYZYErOlPit3c8XcSvX1FOGpBD1SACCUDcp_Po8oD48ynM1ZWumayoRYNSU82zZ1h9NyzjowxtwOQnGvxs9gM3mEfg0IEIQnN8835O31nkWp1QyoFf8jcNl-twIS5MqpZksoxEoH/s320/gavin1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpN9ha_GzdNrlDHVWqUF3RHMswGrqQOwahth4lm8lH14LnCMFsMlPM43QIs2StgMVSB1aBc9wmZv4V9lqinxOSlhfCKLgdgu9L_of50owXrdz3zVvixrYqnerqrwZxgrwy6lyXgge1AUR6/s1600/gavin2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpN9ha_GzdNrlDHVWqUF3RHMswGrqQOwahth4lm8lH14LnCMFsMlPM43QIs2StgMVSB1aBc9wmZv4V9lqinxOSlhfCKLgdgu9L_of50owXrdz3zVvixrYqnerqrwZxgrwy6lyXgge1AUR6/s320/gavin2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3s3dtURcpMBc6kJe-3zqzAaL1oMZh6owhGagAq4SZt-2HT2bkOI4ZBZ-mxGbmYSYRLrbscEQlKgBH7Y6Y3dnRPxKUWNFJGVZR30EFXZUEQXmQ5DUFsYTMa2rvSruf3OGuQ96CGFU71v7O/s1600/gavin3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3s3dtURcpMBc6kJe-3zqzAaL1oMZh6owhGagAq4SZt-2HT2bkOI4ZBZ-mxGbmYSYRLrbscEQlKgBH7Y6Y3dnRPxKUWNFJGVZR30EFXZUEQXmQ5DUFsYTMa2rvSruf3OGuQ96CGFU71v7O/s320/gavin3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>And take a slew of self portraits with his sweet little face looking at his Aunt like she is half past crazy (because she is) :)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXM3RjgVVu9NGK9rWk41guYur_CvtU8edO5wtKQhxcro18by7gLOJw1zNMwQY4JDtGOrrrrVT8QWSp5VKKH7w9BAx23gQjowEzV8PtAc0-Kggt760WJ_WSIC5aSrm70FqXbpH2yf_CRtG/s1600/gavin4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXM3RjgVVu9NGK9rWk41guYur_CvtU8edO5wtKQhxcro18by7gLOJw1zNMwQY4JDtGOrrrrVT8QWSp5VKKH7w9BAx23gQjowEzV8PtAc0-Kggt760WJ_WSIC5aSrm70FqXbpH2yf_CRtG/s320/gavin4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WudxWREl6QixM3hfAXJXihDZfGEt16qreG_x0hqKHguh6mRt9070EZVFvwvHBEhZ0-OqmR_4_FClFsG_bBW64_PrUG4dSrSrVMTnfburWNfaGpv1aXH2t0lEIUEPIKwmZQWPGsSdfU7L/s1600/gavin5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WudxWREl6QixM3hfAXJXihDZfGEt16qreG_x0hqKHguh6mRt9070EZVFvwvHBEhZ0-OqmR_4_FClFsG_bBW64_PrUG4dSrSrVMTnfburWNfaGpv1aXH2t0lEIUEPIKwmZQWPGsSdfU7L/s320/gavin5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> And then show off a little bit with the most precious perplexed face in the world.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdd2O8j1tenJN4Mnt_5PonzDY3iHCx_91C5HQyPVPgap9a6Yi9n2LZbN6q0pJQxUvzWYADjmlN5MN3O_x-ZQN1ot4f_Gi3NY1d0uv89NaqQRMFzN3ez7NCgrusjMoFcvwjShKwq9Q7kKw-/s1600/gavin6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdd2O8j1tenJN4Mnt_5PonzDY3iHCx_91C5HQyPVPgap9a6Yi9n2LZbN6q0pJQxUvzWYADjmlN5MN3O_x-ZQN1ot4f_Gi3NY1d0uv89NaqQRMFzN3ez7NCgrusjMoFcvwjShKwq9Q7kKw-/s320/gavin6.jpg" width="186" /></a></div> And smile big because your mommy's got you. :)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXf7piWGBy-azWzsU3b0H5oAraAl3F5S8-Qy30dWSTh3mQt-VyVYosqA94jbvLH4JeEIoLF9CIixGSU4DmMWVFOG6Y_QwoI3WK2x9cvPR38YGhDdqJaHYJJ-60YdIqF_7xQ6KKDBBKLY9F/s1600/gavin7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXf7piWGBy-azWzsU3b0H5oAraAl3F5S8-Qy30dWSTh3mQt-VyVYosqA94jbvLH4JeEIoLF9CIixGSU4DmMWVFOG6Y_QwoI3WK2x9cvPR38YGhDdqJaHYJJ-60YdIqF_7xQ6KKDBBKLY9F/s320/gavin7.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>And smile some more because Uncle Sasen looks funny ;)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4N_wb4__8enh-NDE5_tuqPzI1Zoiv7NTLdzR8BeUldNONoQ-fss32WmQUiL2jy4E16gvq0kQg74gyxu1BXoIhnTatSr8GgIYS9x7bNke3XdGpkk35VdmwDPSg37YIHiScVJbLIFZ_mAlM/s1600/gavin8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4N_wb4__8enh-NDE5_tuqPzI1Zoiv7NTLdzR8BeUldNONoQ-fss32WmQUiL2jy4E16gvq0kQg74gyxu1BXoIhnTatSr8GgIYS9x7bNke3XdGpkk35VdmwDPSg37YIHiScVJbLIFZ_mAlM/s400/gavin8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> And then give me that big ol' blue-eyed grin as you hold your head up all on your own, totally showing off (and I'm totally okay with that!)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLLfSiqqQx0Iw7PyRp13kPNvP_VH_8zzN0pKfCVR-kSWkWMX15lfpkEARKD22-3c1yqk7MTnYEYpKMdu9HjvmGf8I05LM7ZrzlFH74OIFn-l9KZncQyBaUYPKvpiT2p4jRfdXxFHNAsm8/s1600/gavin9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLLfSiqqQx0Iw7PyRp13kPNvP_VH_8zzN0pKfCVR-kSWkWMX15lfpkEARKD22-3c1yqk7MTnYEYpKMdu9HjvmGf8I05LM7ZrzlFH74OIFn-l9KZncQyBaUYPKvpiT2p4jRfdXxFHNAsm8/s400/gavin9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> And then spend a good many moments just you and your aunt, laughing your little heads off at the simplest little game. Making my heart swell to the point that I swear it just might burst.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAATKrozXBTa0KjIirKZE4G34KL_UB6AnH5DyZ57UPMb9gM01rRNCLnC38VorCFb0c_uCUf7WVkTrytOrFjIm21O8JAhi70M8ehCZXRKJRcAndjSgk1lBkQSM7XpG9ZJpnp2gjB_MRu_XV/s1600/gavin10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAATKrozXBTa0KjIirKZE4G34KL_UB6AnH5DyZ57UPMb9gM01rRNCLnC38VorCFb0c_uCUf7WVkTrytOrFjIm21O8JAhi70M8ehCZXRKJRcAndjSgk1lBkQSM7XpG9ZJpnp2gjB_MRu_XV/s320/gavin10.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><br />
And then, yes a few more close ups and plenty of sweet snuggles before it was back to another week of insanity, cushioned only by the promise of another weekend, in the very near future, of very much of the exact same thing.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-10683174561108316172011-02-09T18:07:00.000-08:002011-02-09T18:33:19.990-08:00reclaim<div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6FsAw8HeSvU">"Messages" - Xavier Rudd</a></div><br />
Upon living with myself for the past 23+ years and having just recently watched a slew of home videos of the "littlest" Lauren I can without a doubt say that since the moment I learned to talk (i.e. around the time my little sister was born) I have been nothing short of stubborn. As a child my stubbornness took form by way of selfishness and the inability to share..as an adult it has morphed into an inability to "just let things go" or conform to the ways of the world. I have learned that with this mentality comes a gigantic tendency to get myself into trouble. I understand now that there are both good and bad aspects to my hard-headed sensibility. Good in the sense that I know what I want, for the most part know who I am, and without a doubt can thoroughly and clearly express myself to all of those around me. However, it is most definitely bad in the sense that I have an incredibly hard time relinquishing control of anything, letting go of things that, however asinine, just do not matter, and in general have a very hard time admitting when I am wrong. This stubbornness has always been combined with a voracious need to love others and be loved fully in return. I am determined to saturate those I am around in joy, so determined that this oftentimes turns me into a chameleon of sorts. I know that this is, in the long run, detrimental to my true self and so I have decided it is time to rid myself of negativity. This a public declaration of sorts of my intention to put an end to speak negatively, of other first and foremost & also of myself. To stop putting others down, stop gossiping about that which I know nothing about, and also to stop supposedly building myself up while putting others down. I would like to embrace that little one, so filled with love, thoughtfulness, & intrigue, that I was before I learned to speak. To truly love myself and this life so much that all I want to do is express it to others, regardless of the return. Most importantly, I want to learn to love to share and share of myself freely, as if it were second nature.<br />
I want to become the me I see in my home videos. Reclaiming innocence, reclaiming me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y249/ldeezal_48/zj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://i6.photobucket.com/albums/y249/ldeezal_48/zj.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-82139171509470727842011-02-04T21:02:00.000-08:002011-02-04T21:02:09.697-08:00<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjFrBvmJO9w">"This Is The Thing" - Fink</a><br />
<br />
There something about a brand new discovery, especially when it pertains to music, that can instantly dredge up all that was dug deep down inside. Unfurling, crawling and climbing, creeping its way up into your consciousness, all over again.<br />
Music has a way of overcoming your seeming subconsciousness, of grabbing with a vice grip hold, overloading every last one of your senses. Music has an incredible power, unmatched by any (except maybe smell), it has yet to be stifled, be forgotten.<br />
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Music is the thing. Music is everything.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-69805076109522752612011-02-02T22:35:00.001-08:002011-02-02T22:35:18.671-08:00my valentine & i<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4DJwoSuXJxZ100wHwEHT65rBMaw7Y3zYNBWX8wXBFzsCSV0Bfzb3ohP1MX88ZlWfO9HJWgUv0GKY5MjheeHUZgeaKUhMmEbAYlRSQVDhFoNPxaOV_PQ5nxUknpkqq-2JX5vz3fmPJ9JO/s1600/P1030487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF4DJwoSuXJxZ100wHwEHT65rBMaw7Y3zYNBWX8wXBFzsCSV0Bfzb3ohP1MX88ZlWfO9HJWgUv0GKY5MjheeHUZgeaKUhMmEbAYlRSQVDhFoNPxaOV_PQ5nxUknpkqq-2JX5vz3fmPJ9JO/s400/P1030487.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-46160564568359428572011-02-02T21:39:00.001-08:002011-02-02T21:39:21.646-08:00"nothing is written"now I'll be bold <br />
as well as strong <br />
use my head alongside my heart<br />
so take my flesh<br />
and fix my eyes<br />
that tethered mind free from the lies.<br />
- mumford & sonsLaurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-78612328939352039872011-02-02T18:38:00.000-08:002011-02-02T18:42:52.693-08:00valentine's challenge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7-UQmB8G5_2c5P5nZwu8WIbpqHK6K22XltJb5jffuXsSPjuzlPATTXfqyDqbZ65zi9WEKBcrz2ZMTq-HC67bRMegp5y-1sInV7dpoSrvpuEWsA6afDvMRGo3H8_B_ngAMVAc79Lg_BsF/s1600/P1020816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7-UQmB8G5_2c5P5nZwu8WIbpqHK6K22XltJb5jffuXsSPjuzlPATTXfqyDqbZ65zi9WEKBcrz2ZMTq-HC67bRMegp5y-1sInV7dpoSrvpuEWsA6afDvMRGo3H8_B_ngAMVAc79Lg_BsF/s400/P1020816.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When I think of a day dedicated to love, I think of it all wrapped up in a pint sized little pudge of innocent wonder. I think of the security of being in Gamma's arms and all the adventure's that Granddad holds in the palm of his hand. I think of a rebirth, reawakening; I think of rising up and the One that rose again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://thepapermama.blogspot.com/2011/01/valentines-challenge.html"><img alt="The Paper Mama" height="200" src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5130/5318445025_6973e4766c.jpg" width="150" /></a> </div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-3483456344588960502011-01-23T11:07:00.000-08:002011-01-23T17:54:12.335-08:00i've got dreams to remember<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rq53NkUZAT0&feature=BF&playnext=1&list=QL&index=1">"Into The Mystic" (Van Morrison cover) - The Swell Season</a></div>I've had so many dreams, throughout the years, of who and what I would one day like to be. When I was younger I can remember saying that I wold like to one day be architect. I'm not really sure where that idea came from. I mean I loved lincoln logs, those cardboard building bricks, and my brother's legos as much as the next elementary school child but it wasn't something I'd say I was particular passionate about.<br />
<br />
I cannot even say that my dreams were really those of a tangible, occupationally defining manner. I'd say they were more glimpses of someone else's life that I just knew I would like to someday become. Watching the varsity soccer team when I was in seventh grade and knowing one day that I wanted to be "the heart of the team." Going to my first cross country practice on that summer morning before school began and realizing I craved the competitive adrenaline that coursed through my veins. Idolizing the senior highs in my youth group, enraptured by the way their voices rang out to the Lord, craving a relationship with something more than just this. Craving the faith and honesty I saw in the newness of it all, the freedom and joy of believing without guilt, knowing and realizing the potential of a personal relationship...becoming a woman of God.<br />
Dreams I had that came to define who I was to those around me, dreams that not just define you on the outside but transform all your insides as well.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1qkgrjXCEqK_-SS3qEkdoX7z-G7bdWVKmhVVJT4dzSI8XlFVByphYw3D1iFL-Nk7AkAFNhGEffGWJrkXQohngD60WNrKzZrF-N2IeI-ed7w_S4AVslowODmShPmF9xcghbItP6xs7To-/s1600/P1010083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1qkgrjXCEqK_-SS3qEkdoX7z-G7bdWVKmhVVJT4dzSI8XlFVByphYw3D1iFL-Nk7AkAFNhGEffGWJrkXQohngD60WNrKzZrF-N2IeI-ed7w_S4AVslowODmShPmF9xcghbItP6xs7To-/s400/P1010083.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>I have dreams even now. Dreams that are conjured both from past experiences (to sing again, to share my heart, to re-ignite and become a woman of God) and those that come with the transformation from child to adult...<br />
<br />
Comprehending potential and wanting more from yourself than ever before...<br />
dreams of becoming a better, more diligent, loving, inspiring, and selfless wife<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5_6VxXvqtRJ5N24StyDqnG39szp-BQn3vCArePPAUYOHUUjCTNEz_54bLfHDMOsDgGAc2c4NJy_Do7mOz4cP-8RZGRic1B_alu2QTCZaIvED80t0eH_70YYralQEGz6cbTEgA10jBQILG/s1600/P1040169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5_6VxXvqtRJ5N24StyDqnG39szp-BQn3vCArePPAUYOHUUjCTNEz_54bLfHDMOsDgGAc2c4NJy_Do7mOz4cP-8RZGRic1B_alu2QTCZaIvED80t0eH_70YYralQEGz6cbTEgA10jBQILG/s640/P1040169.JPG" width="360" /></a></div><br />
dreams of becoming a competent, well-rounded, professionally joyful practicioner<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYFChhCBGIkHEkirfeeyiLKC3hgDY8hwk1yrpmLMllUQoBlgK35yia7_GXQZXOvkYzb0ggAWb0PtojhP5S9UN-Q-VD_qNMfnlNMXmRdmTmFkjcLRJGKHdzenNNTUfS74Rd-rev5aHMSbE/s1600/n1120230300_30157031_3995.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyYFChhCBGIkHEkirfeeyiLKC3hgDY8hwk1yrpmLMllUQoBlgK35yia7_GXQZXOvkYzb0ggAWb0PtojhP5S9UN-Q-VD_qNMfnlNMXmRdmTmFkjcLRJGKHdzenNNTUfS74Rd-rev5aHMSbE/s400/n1120230300_30157031_3995.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
and most importantly, dreams of becoming a mother...with infectious energy and a calming spirit.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_kk1NGOpo3njnm42QbEl3_kQ5_yca777moGexjNDfYjOBhFvYO-lP1-ssY6VhCKuj6CSXW3EjiZQ5zm6Worj8KcjfDAWKPVW6y8NwEcrtPlAjQHszepkrzD8NeODIEp4ajHkC6xxG52P/s1600/CIMG0045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_kk1NGOpo3njnm42QbEl3_kQ5_yca777moGexjNDfYjOBhFvYO-lP1-ssY6VhCKuj6CSXW3EjiZQ5zm6Worj8KcjfDAWKPVW6y8NwEcrtPlAjQHszepkrzD8NeODIEp4ajHkC6xxG52P/s400/CIMG0045.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />
most of all I dream of maturity, moments of serendipity, a mind filled with prayer, days of serenity, taking a deep breath, taking a step back, thought-filled freedom, forgiveness & running free.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2aNRhRaKCPi1161oUl0MlG-E_VPWm59UKTSjcZuuXUCL5LVFJNtzhWI1YqjJ-zZGomfMWQPROMp0zqSCaB5VPjEeVOgD7Qxc0rK4Bjgxc4uNsG6q7Ezrp2pxtICUzCionhIZkbNGTIAt/s1600/P1040199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2aNRhRaKCPi1161oUl0MlG-E_VPWm59UKTSjcZuuXUCL5LVFJNtzhWI1YqjJ-zZGomfMWQPROMp0zqSCaB5VPjEeVOgD7Qxc0rK4Bjgxc4uNsG6q7Ezrp2pxtICUzCionhIZkbNGTIAt/s400/P1040199.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdlTt3E7w4Y">"Good Life" - OneRepublic</a><br />
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<center><a href="http://nihaoyall.com/" target="self"><img alt="Ni Hao Yall" src="http://i53.tinypic.com/2yzh9at.jpg" /></a></center> </div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-66020130267755974342011-01-17T10:55:00.000-08:002011-01-17T12:56:31.366-08:00nutshell.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awXDkm2RkVM">"My Love" - Sara Bareilles</a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">summing up our big day (top "5")</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfs5K2p2ZVDjEUs1ZsT2DIed9gZalNnBDerAB8Xlln69_qvq_xG_rJP7Tb7iI91F-4w5E9KrLpKVtKkBiKrmqM5SpjtUkVGapqEQI05gvT0lZRbQC3ruMeA_OgzzaA_Jyn1iHsVAcotm9/s1600/shank_016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfs5K2p2ZVDjEUs1ZsT2DIed9gZalNnBDerAB8Xlln69_qvq_xG_rJP7Tb7iI91F-4w5E9KrLpKVtKkBiKrmqM5SpjtUkVGapqEQI05gvT0lZRbQC3ruMeA_OgzzaA_Jyn1iHsVAcotm9/s400/shank_016.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">caffeinated electrifying jittery nervous energy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ue16UyMJMmzoNGy_iQ8h0laThpGFP4QuF1ayn9BFjP6fDrJSNhzPSrPL9NE440Xme0Yhyzcq9YNLWpiiJIiXmcTsIwFeSEfn0mj8bkIyHFlsf2APxvuYMoXNlXQpT7CO9kqKhNBoRN0c/s1600/reunion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ue16UyMJMmzoNGy_iQ8h0laThpGFP4QuF1ayn9BFjP6fDrJSNhzPSrPL9NE440Xme0Yhyzcq9YNLWpiiJIiXmcTsIwFeSEfn0mj8bkIyHFlsf2APxvuYMoXNlXQpT7CO9kqKhNBoRN0c/s400/reunion.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">reunion of our lives.<br />
<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPnwCvY6oJsgOoE94TK29mGGya9DMxCyW5tnjfRuRgw6Q4a6lPqe4NJaCXCzoZtTLydKfzxQ6O4xZ_KHLAquEwWMv82pots8AKxwNHkN13kt-Eqt774vsAl_N1WCZ9Wrw9gCcWAwJ_p4A/s1600/joy%252C+amplified..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPnwCvY6oJsgOoE94TK29mGGya9DMxCyW5tnjfRuRgw6Q4a6lPqe4NJaCXCzoZtTLydKfzxQ6O4xZ_KHLAquEwWMv82pots8AKxwNHkN13kt-Eqt774vsAl_N1WCZ9Wrw9gCcWAwJ_p4A/s400/joy%252C+amplified..jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">joy, amplified exponentially.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYacQhcvi_c4r6raZDya2QPlSbjyNo7ZkUUZTFqxxIZhyphenhyphenWQWgQrKiKQgxyUXJPmyEuQXksOcyGLgWzV3SCJVZvRkFYkKTMwr2U4cMaIVukgjvq69fJR4L5EmD1LVqUXJLHJ7LqMej-77AP/s1600/holding+on+%2526+letting+go..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYacQhcvi_c4r6raZDya2QPlSbjyNo7ZkUUZTFqxxIZhyphenhyphenWQWgQrKiKQgxyUXJPmyEuQXksOcyGLgWzV3SCJVZvRkFYkKTMwr2U4cMaIVukgjvq69fJR4L5EmD1LVqUXJLHJ7LqMej-77AP/s400/holding+on+%2526+letting+go..jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">taking hold & letting go.<br />
<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcGKS7rGnvU82KxRE9fuXv0YfRZ8q1mSxyITc3iICs78HMi0cG827-gRK4gkGLHf61WAwE8cFYPsLiyJVsSrfY-i2K-UrCaM7mnUwTrTAGLsNggM63YIsij_xDoV8nWoQPW_Re9aCejgJ/s1600/future.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcGKS7rGnvU82KxRE9fuXv0YfRZ8q1mSxyITc3iICs78HMi0cG827-gRK4gkGLHf61WAwE8cFYPsLiyJVsSrfY-i2K-UrCaM7mnUwTrTAGLsNggM63YIsij_xDoV8nWoQPW_Re9aCejgJ/s400/future.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">quiet strength. assurance. faithfilled leap into a future unknown.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-33646495995135477392011-01-13T20:54:00.000-08:002011-01-13T20:54:04.387-08:00<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T48Z3lt8ADY">"Even If It Breaks Your Heart" - Will Hoge</a><br />
<br />
Keep on dreamin' even if it breaks your heart<br />
even if it trips you up, even if spontaneous maturity<br />
forcefully captured, the beauty of your youth.<br />
Even if it steals your breath, even if you momentarily forget<br />
how to take a one<br />
even if you question everything, especially then<br />
keep it up.<br />
Even when you lie in bed, awake until the morning light creeps in,<br />
scaring you finally to sleep<br />
even when you sleep til' well past noon, even if you feel the moments slipping carelessly away<br />
even wasted, when wasting, even if he wastes the very best of everything you thought<br />
you knew,<br />
even if you question yourself, especially then<br />
keep it up.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-44984153816989141802010-12-16T16:12:00.000-08:002010-12-16T16:12:06.645-08:00<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spnBPl7Xpko">"Goodbye" - Patty Griffin</a><br />
<blockquote>"today my heart is big and sore, it's tryin' to push right through my skin. won't see you anymore, i guess that's finally sinkin' in..."</blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9apPgXW30LnLIMty41sUYragTVywWdtMCgAU8c0JXUxw_vX6wNpI9PlNF0prPRf1647Gm30VWRA3B0svgr49oyVCJoZPMQumkt-rR684WucL5VTmo7EbvWxV2iXxJAXNbe8BvJU1gCM1/s1600/MeNtOnE003-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr9apPgXW30LnLIMty41sUYragTVywWdtMCgAU8c0JXUxw_vX6wNpI9PlNF0prPRf1647Gm30VWRA3B0svgr49oyVCJoZPMQumkt-rR684WucL5VTmo7EbvWxV2iXxJAXNbe8BvJU1gCM1/s400/MeNtOnE003-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-22298010218286665712010-11-21T11:46:00.000-08:002010-11-21T11:46:13.963-08:00sumSomethings<br />
no matter how hard its tried<br />
sometimes<br />
no matter how many hours are placed between<br />
somebody<br />
no matter how many somebodies are met<br />
some ships<br />
no matter how many capsized<br />
some nuggets<br />
no matter how deep a hole is dug and covered<br />
some days<br />
no matter the sun that shines or smiling faces<br />
some dreams<br />
no matter how quickly we try and escape them<br />
some songs<br />
no matter the one who sings them<br />
some words<br />
no matter the mouth that speaks them<br />
some faces<br />
no matter the love that erases<br />
some times in life, you've just got to carry your cross,<br />
some days of the year, you've just gotta suck it up and take it,<br />
some moments, some decisions,<br />
some lies and some truths, you've got to learn how to swallow<br />
either way, some hopes<br />
some say are better left forsaken.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBmJhPGM3V6AgpYVBju2k9mUaUH-t4BO_YHO40t0h0r8yakxAuk7xIjGQkO8wgDpQMTOw6E6jJct6FqfkxW3cAZvQwPO6xw90SRpxHDocCKXWQ5rrrVFIkvGAtTcGCfyJHe_R-keTntro/s1600/CIMG0416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieBmJhPGM3V6AgpYVBju2k9mUaUH-t4BO_YHO40t0h0r8yakxAuk7xIjGQkO8wgDpQMTOw6E6jJct6FqfkxW3cAZvQwPO6xw90SRpxHDocCKXWQ5rrrVFIkvGAtTcGCfyJHe_R-keTntro/s400/CIMG0416.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-51744169790270378242010-11-20T09:30:00.000-08:002010-11-20T09:30:55.230-08:00ThankfulToday I am.<br />
Thankful for the joy of forever friends.<br />
The ability to share, ourselves.<br />
Thankful for music and the discovery there of.<br />
Thankful for memory and the knowledge that sometimes you've just got to forget.<br />
Thankful for accessibility. and thankful for turning it all, off. Thankful for being still, sometimes.<br />
Thankful for turning away and thankful for turning in.<br />
Thankful when things are clean and for a hot, home cooked meal.<br />
Thankful for family.<br />
Thankful for the innocence of a child, its true.<br />
Thankful for the ability to dance, the freedom to sing, thankful for willpower.<br />
<br />
Thankful for more than this, but this is what I've got for now.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-74058757873824448332010-11-17T19:52:00.000-08:002010-11-17T19:53:31.016-08:00<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHaBc0sLwE0">"Name" - Goo Goo Dolls</a><br />
Absolve<br />
Absolutely.<br />
And love really is what its all about, really is the simplest answer.<br />
The easiest cure, quickest of all pills to swallow.<br />
Living life sort of backwards, learning--now, how to live without regret<br />
Regretting only that negativity itself is captivating, recapturing<br />
my<br />
self.<br />
And even when sometimes, you can see yourself laughing from the outside<br />
And even when sometimes, those phone calls are never returned, words never answered<br />
You are learning to find a smile, reclaiming that which was your claim.<br />
To know and be forever, known.<br />
Giddily lept into arms, clasped<br />
wrapped, weeping wonder<br />
rapture<br />
raptured--left forever, what once<br />
never ever could have been.<br />
Running, dancing, dreaming, living, filled with--the stuff of it.<br />
To live it and forget that you ever once just could<br />
not breath.<br />
Just breath. Find belief. Take hold of it and<br />
reclaim.<br />
<br />
<br />
After all of this I'm always still just one step away from it.<br />
Reclaiming me.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1147461240548070962.post-52539986603719831012010-09-26T17:14:00.000-07:002010-09-26T17:14:07.177-07:00How can you stay outside? There's a beautiful mess inside<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jlfCF2k38Y">"Far Far" - Yael Naim</a> </div>Sometimes, even still, there is music that'll sneak up on me and still completely astonish me. The fact that there is someone out there experiencing, like i've said before so many times, the exact same sort of living that I am and is able to express, not just the words but the notes that perfectly pair with, IT.<br />
Those times going on that no one else can understand, but this random person, in some random place, with her own random experiences that somehow fell into rhythmic place with mine.<br />
<br />
And it makes me want to share it with the whole wide world.Laurenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12635757882010234959noreply@blogger.com0