Waiting for that Something...

I sometimes feel like something is waiting for me--- something great.

I sometimes dream that the "something" is the perfect man. A man that knows me better than I know myself. A man who is just as comfortable enjoying a night out as a night in. A man who holds me when I cry, can sing the words to all my favorite songs and buys me cupcakes just because. I sometimes dream that the perfect man is him. And although I know he will never be the one, I admit that sometimes thinking about the last time he kissed me and held me in his arms gets me to sleep after a bad day.

I sometimes dream that the "something" is the perfect career. A career where I wake up ready to go to work. A career that allows me to make enough money to be comfortable but never enough to make me jaded. A career that keeps me challenged and still allows me to spend a week with my family during Christmas. I sometimes dream that the perfect career is this. And although I don't yet know if this is what I want to spend the rest of my life doing, I admit that sometimes thinking about backing out of it now makes me feel like a failure.

I sometimes dream that the "something" is the perfect ending. An ending that brings a single tear to your eye. An ending that leaves you wanting more and yet, you are content with how it played out all at the same time. And ending that will be remembered and yet somehow never be as clear as it once was. I sometimes dream that the perfect ending is mine. It is within my grasp and one day I will share it with my kids around a campfire in my backyard. I admit that sometimes hoping that I am lucky enough to find a perfect ending gets me through a sad song on the radio.

I sometimes feel like something is waiting for me--- something great.

Maybe it is him...Maybe this is it... and if I am lucky enough, it just may be truly mine.

Falling into routine & out of touch...

In college, I found routines to be oddly comforting.

I woke up in the morning. I took a hot shower then caught CNN headlines while stuffing back breakfast and letting my hair air dry. Then it was a race to get dressed, grab my books and catch the shuttle to campus on time.

I knew where my shuttle would stop, which stairways I would take to my classes and exactly what time I would arrive at work and go home.

And although my nightly varied-- nights alone, nights with friends, nights out, nights in, study nights, party nights-- I always found it comforting that they all ended the same way. I would gently wipe away all my makeup (the day's grime) and then brush my teeth. As I cuddled into my small, cozy bed I would apply a facial moisturizer and lotion to my hands. Then, all soft and sound I would fall into a safe, deep sleep.

You see, even though this was a routine-- it was MY routine. I am now caught up in someone else's routine. I wake up, go to work, get home, eat something grilled, watch television programs according to the night of the week, and then go to bed. It is mindnumbing!

I just want to set my own schedule again. Live in a house where my nights don't have to be planned out according to exactly what time a television program starts. I want to live spontaneously again-- and yet, I still want to be able to end my days safe, sound and by my own choosing.

I think more than anything, I am craving a life that is fully mine again. Here's hoping I get into law school so I'll have that chance.

Rainy Day Musings...

Rainy days always get me thinking...

Post-college life is different. Extremely.

I'm always tired-- I always thought school was tough but it doesn't hold a candle to a 40+ hour work week. My bed has turned into my sanctuary and I never get to stay quite as long as I would like.

I never see my college friends. I hear musing about nights out, movies in and card games but I'm too far away to be included. The people I work with are my new friends and none of them want to play Apples to Apples.

There is no one around to discuss politics with me. Oh, there are plenty of people who like to scream nonsense about the health-care debate and death panels. But there is zero intelligent discussion.

I want to watch Sex & the City, bake cookies, curl up with a good book and walk my beautiful campus while the leaves are changing. I want to feel the passion, beauty and inspiration that college brought me.

Instead, I'm working on a Saturday in a rainy Louisiana town that is as dreary as I feel.

How I miss the collegiate days. Enjoy them while they last.

All in the Game...

It is hard for me to believe that it has been nearly four years since I arrived in Conway and started a life of my own here. I have changed so much as an individual in that short amount of time.

Since freshmen year, I have fallen in love and fallen out of love. I have made amazing friends and also lost some along the way. I have made terrible decisions and then rebounded with great ones. I have neglected my scholarly duties and I have received top university honors. I have work late nights, early mornings and hit the road with Governor Beebe. My undergraduate experience has been an amazing blessing that I will be thankful for always.


I have recently begun planning a small reunion with several girls I spent much of my time with during my freshman year. During the process, I couldn't help but recall the many nights spent in Minton Hall with board games scattered across the floor and laughs echoing around the cramped rooms.

Those days were so carefree. I had four years ahead of me to find myself and to enjoy life to the fullest. I had four years to walk around a beautiful campus and have laughs and tears with good friends. Those four years have passed faster than I could have ever imagined.

I know that the next phase of my life will probably never be as carefree as those early board game nights-- Now I have to worry about jobs, car notes, insurance and other adult responsibilities. Still, if those early days of my freshman year taught me anything...I hope I learned how to sometimes sit all the stress aside and enjoy a good game of Apples to Apple and late night laughs with good friends!

Whiskers, Tail and Fur... My Best Friend.

I clearly remember the day that I brought Rascal home. Now, that memory is coupled with a vivid memory of watching him pass away.

My loss is surely not the most horrendous suffered by someone. Yet, my loss is deeply invading each thought that I think, each step that I take and every dream I encounter. Rascal, was not just a pet to me. Rascal was the one soul in my life who I could entrust every detail of myself to. I recall many nights, as a sad teenager, where his fur soaked up my tears. I remember lazy summer days where I confided in him all my hopes, my dreams, my fears. It was only my Rascal that truly knew me.

Now that he is gone I feel as if a part of me will never be whole. Everyone keeps telling me that time will help, time will heal. I wonder though, does time only help to heal because it helps you to forget?

If that is the case, I would rather not be healed. How can I forget the way he sat beside my bath water, dragging his tail in the water? How can I forget the softness of his fur, the tickles of his whiskers and the flicks of his tail? I always want to recall exactly how he smelled, how he would chase fireflies at night and the sound of him calling for me when I left the room. I want to remember how he would lay on my feet as I slept or how he would try to steal drinks out of my water glass each night. I don't want to forget anything about the nearly eleven years we had together.

If you would have asked me about two weeks ago how I felt about death, I would tell you that I was scared of it. But now I think I am beginning to understand why older people are ready when their time comes-- They are ready because the mere thought of seeing loved ones again is enough to face any fears they may have.

Losing my Rascal is the greatest pain I have ever encountered. It is hard to imagine waking up to another day without him here. Each morning when I do, the loss floods my mind once again and I recall the moment that he flickered out of this world.

These words can not do justice for how much that animal gave me. He gave me unconditional love. He gave me a companion during hard times. He gave me a loyal friend to guide my path and listen to me bare my soul. And now, I can only hope that he watches over me-- helping me to always remember him, his life and my love for him.

I love you Rascal. Always, Forever. I'll see you soon.

Handling All the Pressure...

I can feel the fire under my feet. I feel the expectations weighing upon my chest. My head is full of voices telling me how to succeed, how to go about it and when I should have my life all wrapped up!

The pressure almost literally hurts.

Don't get me wrong. I want to be successful. However, I am not sure that my definition of success is the same as everyone else. To me, being a success means waking up, looking in the mirror and being content.

It means spending time with people that you love, eating good food and giving back to your community when you can. I don't believe that I will ever be defined by what I do instead of who I am.

Still, the countdown to graduation is ticking closer and each new day brings new conversations about when I should have a job, where I should work, how much money I should make and what I want to do with the rest of my life.

The pressure builds. It is crippling.

I want to tell everyone that I am capable of dealing with it all on my own terms, in my own time. But that is considered rude of me and so I must just nod and pretend to absorb all the nagging that is constantly telling me that I need to hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

The pressure is constant. I cannot breathe.

What is the hurry? Where is the fire? I am only twenty-two years old. I'll find a job for after my graduation. I'll study for the LSAT and get good scores. I'll get into a great law school and make something of myself. I want to scream, "Just get off my back! Be happy that I'm happy!"

The pressure won't get the best of me! I won't let it!

After all, pressure is what makes diamonds...

A Good Friend is Worth a Thousand Words...

Over the years I have had many friends in my life.

My first friend was a spunky blonde named Katie. We met in kindergarten over the crafts table and were inseparable until I was forced to move out of state. Next, there was Lynn, another beautiful blonde. We would ride the bus together and giggle at each other while we took turn saying the forbidden word, "butt". Later on I met Amy. She wore big glasses and so did I. We would ride bikes together, always riding further than we were allowed by our mothers. In middle school, Kelly and I were extremely close. We would gab over popcorn and movies about boys we liked and what it would be like to be all grown up one day.

Well, that day has arrived. I'm all grown up, or so I'm told. And while the process of growing up has been a long, sometimes bumpy road, it has been a road that I have, for the most part, traveled alone.

Oh yes, I had plenty of company along the way. I had many people in my life in high school that I called friends. Lynn, Amy and Kelly were all there. But somehow our lives began going in different directions and none of us could quite hold on tight enough to what we had. In college I had friends that I partied with, friends that I got in trouble with, friends that I would go out with and friends I would lose touch with.

However, it has only been recently that I have realized what a 'grown-up' friendship must be like. Surprisingly, that 'grown-up' friendship is not much different from the earliest friendships in my life.

Keri is a spunky and beautiful blonde. We like to ride around town singing whatever is on the radio at the top of our lungs. Sometimes, when either of us says a dirty word we'll giggle like little girls. We might not ride bikes, but we do sometimes stay out later than we admit to our mothers. We both like to gab over popcorn and watch movies. The conservations about boys though sometimes make us laugh, cry or simply sit in silence in support of each other.

I used to fear that one day I would be all grown up and the harsh world would take away my sense of freedom, childlike wonder and sense of fun. Yet, an amazing friendship has afforded me all that I once feared was lost and even more. Keri is my rock. She is my spring board for ideas. She lets me vent anytime I need. We both love a good margarita. Keri laughs with me until our sides ache. She is everything that a girl could ask for in a best friend.

If I looked through my old school stuff I would probably find plenty of folders with [Someone] + Kate =BFF. Funny. There was a point in my life where I thought such things were childish and impossible. Yet, I still keep in touch with Katie through Facebook. I will watch Lynn get married soon. I will be a bridesmaid in Amy's wedding in the spring. And Kelly, well, that's still an avenue I'm working on.

But for now all I know is, Keri +Kate=BFF.