January 14th, 2017
I suck at cooking. I cannot cook for the life of me. I once tried to make fried rice. Yeah. . . . I ended up putting in Worcestershire sauce instead of soy sauce, and I cooked it too long so it was gummy. I can follow a recipe kinda okay, but never leave me to my own devices. I can, however, bake and cook breakfast foods. That I can do.
So yesterday I was getting hungry a little after lunch time (I never really eat lunch). I decided that I was going to make pancakes. I actually don't mind making pancakes. They're yummy and filling and has just the right amount of sweetness on their own. Usually I make homemade pancakes, but my mom bought pancakes where all you really had to do was put the right amount of the flour (that was mixed with all the other ingredients) in the bowl and add water. Easy! I wasn't too fond of that, but I thought it would be quicker than if I made it homemade.
I was about to open the box when my mom came in and said that there was already one open. She searched through the cabinets and found a ziplock bag with the same flour. There wasn't quite enough of that, so I ended up opening the other box anyway. I noticed that the flour from the bag and the four from the box were slightly different shades, but I just figured that the one that was opened first wasn't whole wheat while the new one was. But then after I mixed it all up, it looked and smelled odd. There were specks that looked like seasonings or something else and it smelled like something that I couldn't quite place. I thought that something may have gotten into it, but there were no holes in the bag or the box.
At my mom's urging, I made them anyway (I honestly just wanted to chunk it and make my homemade pancakes). I made one and tasted it. It was weird. It was a pancake for sure, but there was something about it that kind of made me want to spit it out. The aftertaste tasted like the batter looked: seasoned.
I did not want it. It tasted gross. My mom said that she would eat them, so I stuffed 14-16 pancakes into three and gave them to my mom (she ate half of one before she threw it away). So while I was searching for the self-rising flour to make my good pancakes, I found this package of darker flour that looked strangely like the one I had opened from the new box. I took it out of the cabinet and held it up to my mom and said, "Isn't this that pancake mix?" She had this look on her face that very clearly said "Oh."
I was freaking out over what I had actually put in the pancakes when my older sister realized. Turns out, her and my younger sister had made chicken nuggets some time ago and that was the heavily seasoned flour they used to bread it. That's what we put in the pancakes. Freaking seasoned, spicy flour. It was making a lot more sense (my mom was throwing away the pancakes while we were laughing about it. Not because she knew what was in it, but because it tasted bad).
I made my homemade pancakes and they were good. They were originally all for me, but I gave my younger sister two. Not that I really wanted to. I was perfectly content with eating a plate of six thick, buttery pancakes lightly glazed with honey.
I can't cook, but I like me some breakfast food.
Later that day I made oatmeal cookies for just me and my older sister while the rest of my family was out. I can't remember how many I ate, but it was good. My older sister made chicken and paremesan spaghetti. I felt bloated and stuffed by the end of the day, but do I regret it? Nope! I finally got some writing done while I snuggled under my penguin blanket, so yesterday was pretty good.
Showing posts with label Penguin blanket. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Penguin blanket. Show all posts
Saturday, January 14, 2017
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Autumn's Late Night With Eleanor & Park
January 10th, 2017
After my dad left for work at 5:55 this morning, I went into their room to plug in the wifi router (they've been turning it off at night for years and it still bothers me to no end. It's not like I'm going to stay up all night because I just can't resist being on the internet all night long. If I want to stay up, I'm gonna stay whether I have wifi or not. Internet isn't the problem). I never have to sneak and be as quiet as I possibly can when I enter their room where my mom is sleeping, it's pretty normal for me to go in there and plug it up whenever I'm awake early. My mom said, "Well, you woke up early." I responded with a "No I didn't." She was confused at that and was like, "Autumn, you do know what time it is, right?"
Oh yeah, I knew what time it was. Yeah, I was up early, but I didn't wake up early. After all, you can't wake up if you never went to sleep. I don't stay up all night every night, only when I get caught up in a good book or show. And sometimes I stay up when sleeping is difficult. I'd rather stare at the ceiling and look out at the moon every once in a while than struggle to fall asleep. It's more exhausting to me, and just not worth it. Last night was not one of those restless nights. I lost track of time while reading this incredible book (I actually just finished a couple of minutes ago). The only things that kept me awake was how insanely good the book was and the two bottles of water I drank with energy drink mixes. I did go to sleep around 7:30 am and got three hours sleep. My eyes kind of burned when I woke up and my whole body was begging me to go back to sleep. Another energy drink mix fixed that problem. Do I regret staying up so long? Not in the slightest.
The book I read is now my favorite. I never really had a favorite before, just a couple of books I enjoyed, like Looking For Alaska and Little Women. This book that I will own someday (I got it from the library) is everything I look for. I could continue on about how good it was, but how about I show what it is first.
Eleanor & Park is a stunning book that I recommend to everyone. Unless cursing and mentions of sex bothers you, go read this! I don't care what you have between your legs or whether romances just don't interest you. This book does not disappoint. It's not just about the beautiful love between Eleanor and Park (though it does focus on them), but everything in their lives. Their difficulties and life as misfits. My mom often says that she doesn't like to read romance anymore because it becomes cliché and predictable after a while. This one will not only surprise you, but leave you breathless as you read of the growth between these two. They're weird and funny and real (as real as fictional characters in a book can be). I will never forget reading this masterpiece and I will certainly never regret staying up all night to read almost all of it. I will suffer through burning eyes and a pounding headache a dozen more times if it meant reading something as good as this. I love it to pieces, and I'm sure you would, too.
Two misfits. One extraordinary love.
After my dad left for work at 5:55 this morning, I went into their room to plug in the wifi router (they've been turning it off at night for years and it still bothers me to no end. It's not like I'm going to stay up all night because I just can't resist being on the internet all night long. If I want to stay up, I'm gonna stay whether I have wifi or not. Internet isn't the problem). I never have to sneak and be as quiet as I possibly can when I enter their room where my mom is sleeping, it's pretty normal for me to go in there and plug it up whenever I'm awake early. My mom said, "Well, you woke up early." I responded with a "No I didn't." She was confused at that and was like, "Autumn, you do know what time it is, right?"
Oh yeah, I knew what time it was. Yeah, I was up early, but I didn't wake up early. After all, you can't wake up if you never went to sleep. I don't stay up all night every night, only when I get caught up in a good book or show. And sometimes I stay up when sleeping is difficult. I'd rather stare at the ceiling and look out at the moon every once in a while than struggle to fall asleep. It's more exhausting to me, and just not worth it. Last night was not one of those restless nights. I lost track of time while reading this incredible book (I actually just finished a couple of minutes ago). The only things that kept me awake was how insanely good the book was and the two bottles of water I drank with energy drink mixes. I did go to sleep around 7:30 am and got three hours sleep. My eyes kind of burned when I woke up and my whole body was begging me to go back to sleep. Another energy drink mix fixed that problem. Do I regret staying up so long? Not in the slightest.
The book I read is now my favorite. I never really had a favorite before, just a couple of books I enjoyed, like Looking For Alaska and Little Women. This book that I will own someday (I got it from the library) is everything I look for. I could continue on about how good it was, but how about I show what it is first.
Eleanor
. . . Red hair, wrong clothes. Standing behind him until he turns his head. Lying beside him until he wakes up. Making everyone else seem drabber and flatter and never good enough. . . . Eleanor.
Park
. . . He knows she'll love a song before he plays it for her. He laughs at her jokes before she ever gets to the punch line. There's a place on his chest, just below his throat, that makes her want to keep promises. . . . Park.
Set over the course of one school year, this is the story of two star-crossed sixteen-year-olds --smart enough to know that first love almost never lasts, but brave and desperate enough to try.
This book moved me and stirred something in me that made it to where I could never not like Eleanor & Park. I could never not love the story of these two and I could never not keep it close to my heart. It sticks with you in a breathtaking, unforgettable way. This is the kind of book I would read over and over and over again, and I usually don't do that in fear of getting bored of it, but I honestly doubt I could get bored of this one. It is written in both Eleanor's and Park's point of views, so you get to read and feel everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything. I highly suggest this.
I spent all night as I usually do when I'm up reading a good book: Covered in my penguin blanket with Eleanor & Park on my lap, all the while my cat cuddles up close to my leg (she's always cuddling with me in some form or fashion, usually on my chest, but I push her down to my legs when I'm reading. Never off the bed though. I love and dote on her too much for that). It was absolutely perfect. I loved every second of it.
Here are some other reviews that might be a bit more persuasive:
"Eleanor & Park reminded me of not just what it's like to be young and in love with a girl, but also what it's like to be young and in love with a book"
-John Green, The New York Times Book Review
"This sexy, smart, tender romance thrums with punk rock and true love. Readers will swoon for Eleanor & Park."
-Gayle Forman, New York Times bestselling author of If I stay and Where She Went
"Funny, hopeful, foulmouthed, and tear-jerking, this winning romance will captivate teen and adult readers alike."
-Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
"Eleanor & Park is a breathless, achingly good read about love and outsiders."
-Stephanie Perkins, author of Anna and The French Kiss and Lola and the Boy Next Door
"The pure, fear-laced, yet steadily maturing relationship Eleanor and Park develop is urgent
and breathtaking and, of course, heartbreaking, too"
-Booklist (starred review)
"Sweet, gritty, and affecting. . . Rainbow Rowell has written an unforgettable story about two
misfits in love. This debut will find its way into your heart and stay there."
-Courtney Summers, author of This Is Not a Test and Cracked up to be
"Rowell keeps things surprising, and the solution maintains the novel's delicate balance of light and dark."
-Publishers Weekly (starred review)
"In her rare and surprising exploration of misfit love, Rowell shows us the beauty in the broken."
-Stewart Lewis, author of You Have Seven Messages
Sunday, January 8, 2017
My Usual Sunday And My Amazing Youth Pastor
January 8th, 2017
Ugh, I have had a long day. Not a bad day, just a long one, but Sunday's tend to be that way. I love church, I really do, but my parents like to immediately go to their friend's house that is on the same street as my church so that they'll feel more up to going back for night service. I get it. Once we go home, we don't really want to go back because we're tired or just not feeling like it. So they think playing board games for hours on end with their friends before 5:30 is a brilliant idea! For them, yeah. For me? Well, let's just say that I got home around 30 minutes ago. That was Eight O'clock, and we left the house at Eight this morning. That's 12 hours. I get sick of being around people after one and a half. It works for them, but definitely not me. I love church, but I kinda dread Sunday for that reason alone.
Something my youth pastor said during Sunday school reminded me of how much I love her. This woman really understands. We were talking about obedience, using Mary as an example of how she fulfilled God's will by giving birth to his son, and she didn't even ask why. She just obeyed. Near the end, my youth pastor asked us when we have trouble obeying God and why. What are some things we just don't want to do even at God's urging? I answered with self-control; the trouble I have with letting my emotions get the best of me and acting on them. I get easily agitated at home and I yell a lot. I'm struggling to respond better, but I make excuses to God (as silly as that is) about how I was upset and my little sister was purposely annoying me. I have trouble with that, as I'm sure a lot of us do. When I finished, the girl beside me said, "So you're being a teenager?" She didn't say it in a condescending way, just playfully. My youth pastor, being the amazing woman she is, said (paraphrasing this), "Well, I don't think that's a teenager thing, but normal human reactions. The whole thing about that being reserved for teenagers because of hormones is just stereotype."
People often treat teenagers like we're not even human, that we're either theses scary or delicate things that you have watch out for. One of the reasons why I love my youth pastor so much is because she reminds that I am actually a person, not just a teenager. She was saying that these things people stereotype teenagers for are actually things everyone has a problem with. We are people and we have a choice in the things we do. I let my emotions get the best of me because I let my emotions get the best of me. If I put enough effort into it, I could stop. I could learn self-control and learn how to be more tolerant, because my age does not limit me from making my own decisions. Being a teenager does not automatically make me rebellious and disobedient. We're only stereotypical teenagers because we allow ourselves to be, because we allow ourselves to believe that we can be no other way.
My youth pastor not only tells us that we don't have to have these stereotypical labels, but that our problems are real. She is an adult who has been married for 14 years and has two kids. She goes to work, she pays bills, she deals with two rowdy toddlers, and she is a grown woman with responsibilities, but she isn't that adult who tells teenagers that their issues aren't real because they don't know what it's like to be grown up yet. She isn't that adult who spits out all the things she has to do that stresses her out and uses them as reasons why we can't have problems or be stressed. She respects us and encourages us. She didn't say, "Oh, Autumn. You're just being hormonal." when I poured my heart out to her while crying my eyes out just a few months ago. You know what she did? She did everything in her power to help me, and she still is! She told me that even though it would be a lot of work and effort and endurance to overcome the things I deal with, I can do it. She told me that I am strong and that I can get through it. She didn't tell me that it would be okay when I got older and she didn't tell me something my dad often tells me, "Ten years from now, you'll look back and realize how silly you were being." She doesn't tell me I'm being silly. She tells me that I can get passed it, and she helps me all the while.
She is an incredible woman who makes me feel normal. Simply being around her encourages me to do the best I can do grow as a person. I am constantly being reminded of how much I love her, and how much I'm going to miss her.
The rest of my day went by smoothly (all except for my internal cries for my bed). I ate fast food, took a nap on my parents' friends' couch, woke up and harassed my sister, and scrolled through Instagram in boredom before we went back to church (I wish I had brought my laptop so I could actually do some writing and blogging, but it's never the same when I'm not in the privacy and comfort of my own room). I'm glad to be home and I'm glad to be able to have my usual setup: Sitting comfortably on my bed, under my penguin blanket with my laptop on my lap. Oh, and no pants. I feel relaxed at last! I'm probably gonna go watch some Mermaid Melody after posting this and write some fluff when I start to get fed up with how blind Kaito is. I wanted to blog some more today, but you know how it is. I'll definitely be more active tomorrow!
Ugh, I have had a long day. Not a bad day, just a long one, but Sunday's tend to be that way. I love church, I really do, but my parents like to immediately go to their friend's house that is on the same street as my church so that they'll feel more up to going back for night service. I get it. Once we go home, we don't really want to go back because we're tired or just not feeling like it. So they think playing board games for hours on end with their friends before 5:30 is a brilliant idea! For them, yeah. For me? Well, let's just say that I got home around 30 minutes ago. That was Eight O'clock, and we left the house at Eight this morning. That's 12 hours. I get sick of being around people after one and a half. It works for them, but definitely not me. I love church, but I kinda dread Sunday for that reason alone.
Something my youth pastor said during Sunday school reminded me of how much I love her. This woman really understands. We were talking about obedience, using Mary as an example of how she fulfilled God's will by giving birth to his son, and she didn't even ask why. She just obeyed. Near the end, my youth pastor asked us when we have trouble obeying God and why. What are some things we just don't want to do even at God's urging? I answered with self-control; the trouble I have with letting my emotions get the best of me and acting on them. I get easily agitated at home and I yell a lot. I'm struggling to respond better, but I make excuses to God (as silly as that is) about how I was upset and my little sister was purposely annoying me. I have trouble with that, as I'm sure a lot of us do. When I finished, the girl beside me said, "So you're being a teenager?" She didn't say it in a condescending way, just playfully. My youth pastor, being the amazing woman she is, said (paraphrasing this), "Well, I don't think that's a teenager thing, but normal human reactions. The whole thing about that being reserved for teenagers because of hormones is just stereotype."
People often treat teenagers like we're not even human, that we're either theses scary or delicate things that you have watch out for. One of the reasons why I love my youth pastor so much is because she reminds that I am actually a person, not just a teenager. She was saying that these things people stereotype teenagers for are actually things everyone has a problem with. We are people and we have a choice in the things we do. I let my emotions get the best of me because I let my emotions get the best of me. If I put enough effort into it, I could stop. I could learn self-control and learn how to be more tolerant, because my age does not limit me from making my own decisions. Being a teenager does not automatically make me rebellious and disobedient. We're only stereotypical teenagers because we allow ourselves to be, because we allow ourselves to believe that we can be no other way.
My youth pastor not only tells us that we don't have to have these stereotypical labels, but that our problems are real. She is an adult who has been married for 14 years and has two kids. She goes to work, she pays bills, she deals with two rowdy toddlers, and she is a grown woman with responsibilities, but she isn't that adult who tells teenagers that their issues aren't real because they don't know what it's like to be grown up yet. She isn't that adult who spits out all the things she has to do that stresses her out and uses them as reasons why we can't have problems or be stressed. She respects us and encourages us. She didn't say, "Oh, Autumn. You're just being hormonal." when I poured my heart out to her while crying my eyes out just a few months ago. You know what she did? She did everything in her power to help me, and she still is! She told me that even though it would be a lot of work and effort and endurance to overcome the things I deal with, I can do it. She told me that I am strong and that I can get through it. She didn't tell me that it would be okay when I got older and she didn't tell me something my dad often tells me, "Ten years from now, you'll look back and realize how silly you were being." She doesn't tell me I'm being silly. She tells me that I can get passed it, and she helps me all the while.
She is an incredible woman who makes me feel normal. Simply being around her encourages me to do the best I can do grow as a person. I am constantly being reminded of how much I love her, and how much I'm going to miss her.
The rest of my day went by smoothly (all except for my internal cries for my bed). I ate fast food, took a nap on my parents' friends' couch, woke up and harassed my sister, and scrolled through Instagram in boredom before we went back to church (I wish I had brought my laptop so I could actually do some writing and blogging, but it's never the same when I'm not in the privacy and comfort of my own room). I'm glad to be home and I'm glad to be able to have my usual setup: Sitting comfortably on my bed, under my penguin blanket with my laptop on my lap. Oh, and no pants. I feel relaxed at last! I'm probably gonna go watch some Mermaid Melody after posting this and write some fluff when I start to get fed up with how blind Kaito is. I wanted to blog some more today, but you know how it is. I'll definitely be more active tomorrow!
Friday, January 6, 2017
There Is Nothing Wrong With Me
January 7th, 2017.
I love being alone. There's just something about the refreshing silence and the freedom to do anything without judgment after a day of constant noise that draws me in. I love being able to just sit with myself and be content with whatever I'm doing. Like right now I am sitting in my room (well, it's actually my older sister's room, but she's rarely home anyway. I've pretty much claimed it.) snuggling under my penguin blanket while typing away. It's relatively quiet right now, the only exception being the cold wind outside blowing against the window and the sound of the heater. It's relaxing because I don't have to worry about sitting up straight, sucking in, or trying to appear friendly with my "pleasant smile". While it can be a lonely and restless time for others, the feeling of being alone is soothing to me.
Merely being in public can be exhausting even after a short period of time. I don't know what it is about socializing, but even though I enjoy talking and joking with my friends, I tire of it quickly. My smiles become forced and I have to push myself to have fun. I love everyone in my life, but sometimes I just need to take a step back and enjoy some time to myself. I have more than likely hurt people by being doing this.
I have a friend named Sayla. We aren't exactly close. We haven't had that connection, if you know what I mean, but I'd like to think that we are good friends. A couple months ago she asked if I wanted to come over, and even though I do like spending time with her, I declined because I had already spent the majority of my week doing things. I was tired and I needed a break, and I was completely honest with her about it (though I may have sugar coated it a bit). I'm not trying to hide the fact that I'm an introvert, but sometimes I wish I wasn't. Sometimes I wish I could go to a friend's house no matter how many things I do in a week. I wish I didn't have to fake a smile or force myself to enjoy being around people after an hour. I wish I could handle summer camp and overnight trips like my friends can. But I can't and that frustrates me sometimes. I don't know if I had hurt Sayla's feelings, but even the possibility that I did makes me feel more guilty than I should. I am this way for a reason and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. It is simply how I live, but sometimes I wish I could live in way that is easier for the people I care about.
I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish. I'm always wishing for something, and I wish I could stop and be happy with how I am, but life isn't that easy. There's always going to be something I wish I could change. There's always going to be something about myself I wish I could get rid of, but this is how I am. Some things are changeable and I can work on them for the better, but some things are not and I should accept that without feeling bad about it. Now, don't get me wrong, there is a vast difference between giving up and accepting. Giving up would be taking my temper and labeling that as something that is always going to be with me no matter how much I try to fix it. Accepting is looking at myself in the mirror and saying that there is nothing wrong with me and I don't have to worry. I want to accept myself, introversion and all. But I am a work in progress, we all are. I am working on myself, but the fact that I enjoy being alone more than I enjoy being around people is not something I have to categorize as a flaw. I like being alone, but that doesn't mean I'm anti-social. As much as I judge myself and stress so needlessly, there is nothing wrong with me as a whole.
I am usually quite happy with the fact that I am an introvert, but there are always those moments, like when I told Sayla I couldn't go to her house because I was tired (I felt so selfish telling her that), when being this way makes me dislike myself.
There is only one person outside of my family I can spend hours on end with without getting tired. I once stayed at her house for two days and was sad when I had to leave. I am more comfortable with her than I am with people I've known my whole life (technically I have known her my whole life, but we haven't been friends our whole lives). I can never thank her enough for accepting and loving me just the way I am. She sets the example for how I should love myself.
There is nothing wrong with enjoying being alone. There is nothing wrong with needing to spend time by myself. There is nothing wrong with needing to take a break from people. There is nothing wrong with being tired. There is nothing wrong with me, not in Elizabeth's eyes and certainly not in God's eyes. It's going to take me a lot of time to fully accept that, but I am a work in progress. I'll just keep repeating that there is nothing wrong with me like a prayer. I'll believe it eventually.
I love being alone. There's just something about the refreshing silence and the freedom to do anything without judgment after a day of constant noise that draws me in. I love being able to just sit with myself and be content with whatever I'm doing. Like right now I am sitting in my room (well, it's actually my older sister's room, but she's rarely home anyway. I've pretty much claimed it.) snuggling under my penguin blanket while typing away. It's relatively quiet right now, the only exception being the cold wind outside blowing against the window and the sound of the heater. It's relaxing because I don't have to worry about sitting up straight, sucking in, or trying to appear friendly with my "pleasant smile". While it can be a lonely and restless time for others, the feeling of being alone is soothing to me.
Merely being in public can be exhausting even after a short period of time. I don't know what it is about socializing, but even though I enjoy talking and joking with my friends, I tire of it quickly. My smiles become forced and I have to push myself to have fun. I love everyone in my life, but sometimes I just need to take a step back and enjoy some time to myself. I have more than likely hurt people by being doing this.
I have a friend named Sayla. We aren't exactly close. We haven't had that connection, if you know what I mean, but I'd like to think that we are good friends. A couple months ago she asked if I wanted to come over, and even though I do like spending time with her, I declined because I had already spent the majority of my week doing things. I was tired and I needed a break, and I was completely honest with her about it (though I may have sugar coated it a bit). I'm not trying to hide the fact that I'm an introvert, but sometimes I wish I wasn't. Sometimes I wish I could go to a friend's house no matter how many things I do in a week. I wish I didn't have to fake a smile or force myself to enjoy being around people after an hour. I wish I could handle summer camp and overnight trips like my friends can. But I can't and that frustrates me sometimes. I don't know if I had hurt Sayla's feelings, but even the possibility that I did makes me feel more guilty than I should. I am this way for a reason and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. It is simply how I live, but sometimes I wish I could live in way that is easier for the people I care about.
I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish. I'm always wishing for something, and I wish I could stop and be happy with how I am, but life isn't that easy. There's always going to be something I wish I could change. There's always going to be something about myself I wish I could get rid of, but this is how I am. Some things are changeable and I can work on them for the better, but some things are not and I should accept that without feeling bad about it. Now, don't get me wrong, there is a vast difference between giving up and accepting. Giving up would be taking my temper and labeling that as something that is always going to be with me no matter how much I try to fix it. Accepting is looking at myself in the mirror and saying that there is nothing wrong with me and I don't have to worry. I want to accept myself, introversion and all. But I am a work in progress, we all are. I am working on myself, but the fact that I enjoy being alone more than I enjoy being around people is not something I have to categorize as a flaw. I like being alone, but that doesn't mean I'm anti-social. As much as I judge myself and stress so needlessly, there is nothing wrong with me as a whole.
I am usually quite happy with the fact that I am an introvert, but there are always those moments, like when I told Sayla I couldn't go to her house because I was tired (I felt so selfish telling her that), when being this way makes me dislike myself.
There is only one person outside of my family I can spend hours on end with without getting tired. I once stayed at her house for two days and was sad when I had to leave. I am more comfortable with her than I am with people I've known my whole life (technically I have known her my whole life, but we haven't been friends our whole lives). I can never thank her enough for accepting and loving me just the way I am. She sets the example for how I should love myself.
There is nothing wrong with enjoying being alone. There is nothing wrong with needing to spend time by myself. There is nothing wrong with needing to take a break from people. There is nothing wrong with being tired. There is nothing wrong with me, not in Elizabeth's eyes and certainly not in God's eyes. It's going to take me a lot of time to fully accept that, but I am a work in progress. I'll just keep repeating that there is nothing wrong with me like a prayer. I'll believe it eventually.
My Favorite Season
January 6th, 2017.
Everyone has a favorite season, a time of year that they enjoy the most. For some it's Spring because of the pastel colors of growing flowers and leaves, and how by each day you can feeling it getting warmer. For others it's Summer because of all the fun things you can do, like going to the beach or a water park (because people usually associate Summer with water games). Everybody loves Fall for obvious reasons. Who doesn't like Fall?
I love snuggling up under my fuzzy penguin blanket and drinking hot beverages all the way from coffee to apple cider. I love wearing big, floppy sweaters with a pair of my patterned leggings and combat boots, and when I'm not wearing a sweater, I'm wearing my favorite black hoodie I wore at last year's recital for my "Dance Thieves" routine (it was a mix of a bunch of different songs like Pink Panther and Smooth Criminal). I can do these things any time of the year if I honestly wanted to, but there's only one season that I can without sweating or getting strange looks.
I love Winter, which is ironic because I can't stand the cold. I like everything else about it that involves being warm and cozy, and looking cute while being warm and cozy, but cold isn't something I can do. It's rare that we get really cold weather down here in Mississippi, but my teeth also literally chatter at 50 degrees. Not only can I not handle it, but I get cold very easily (I'm always the one in my family in the car complaining about it being too cold after five minutes when the AC is on full blast in the middle of July). I hate the cold, but I love Winter.
One thing that sucks about it actually getting really cold in the South is that we aren't prepared for it. The electricity goes out if there's ice on the power lines and things get cancelled because of ice on the road. We often struggle to find warm enough clothes in our closets when it starts to get cold, but even if we have the right clothing, we don't always wear them. You never know what to expect; it could be in the 30s one day and in the 80s the next. It was pretty warm outside last Christmas, and the year before that we broke the record for the hottest Christmas in Mississippi in some amount of years. If you're wearing a sweater on a Sunday morning, you have to make sure to wear something under it because it starts to get hot later in the day. I'm not even talking about in the beginning, but in the middle of December and January. I actually heard my younger sister in the other room freaking out about the temperatures. "The low should not be nineteen!" she said.
It is a bit colder than I would prefer, but I'm cuddling with my cat in a toasty room while under my penguin blanket. It's not really bothering me right now. No matter how cold it gets and no matter how jacked up Mississippi weather can be, I love Winter. I just wish I could bring my penguin blanket everywhere I go. I would much warmer and quite content, but that's not acceptable in public unless I'm a three year old, unfortunately.
Everyone has a favorite season, a time of year that they enjoy the most. For some it's Spring because of the pastel colors of growing flowers and leaves, and how by each day you can feeling it getting warmer. For others it's Summer because of all the fun things you can do, like going to the beach or a water park (because people usually associate Summer with water games). Everybody loves Fall for obvious reasons. Who doesn't like Fall?
I love snuggling up under my fuzzy penguin blanket and drinking hot beverages all the way from coffee to apple cider. I love wearing big, floppy sweaters with a pair of my patterned leggings and combat boots, and when I'm not wearing a sweater, I'm wearing my favorite black hoodie I wore at last year's recital for my "Dance Thieves" routine (it was a mix of a bunch of different songs like Pink Panther and Smooth Criminal). I can do these things any time of the year if I honestly wanted to, but there's only one season that I can without sweating or getting strange looks.
I love Winter, which is ironic because I can't stand the cold. I like everything else about it that involves being warm and cozy, and looking cute while being warm and cozy, but cold isn't something I can do. It's rare that we get really cold weather down here in Mississippi, but my teeth also literally chatter at 50 degrees. Not only can I not handle it, but I get cold very easily (I'm always the one in my family in the car complaining about it being too cold after five minutes when the AC is on full blast in the middle of July). I hate the cold, but I love Winter.
One thing that sucks about it actually getting really cold in the South is that we aren't prepared for it. The electricity goes out if there's ice on the power lines and things get cancelled because of ice on the road. We often struggle to find warm enough clothes in our closets when it starts to get cold, but even if we have the right clothing, we don't always wear them. You never know what to expect; it could be in the 30s one day and in the 80s the next. It was pretty warm outside last Christmas, and the year before that we broke the record for the hottest Christmas in Mississippi in some amount of years. If you're wearing a sweater on a Sunday morning, you have to make sure to wear something under it because it starts to get hot later in the day. I'm not even talking about in the beginning, but in the middle of December and January. I actually heard my younger sister in the other room freaking out about the temperatures. "The low should not be nineteen!" she said.
It is a bit colder than I would prefer, but I'm cuddling with my cat in a toasty room while under my penguin blanket. It's not really bothering me right now. No matter how cold it gets and no matter how jacked up Mississippi weather can be, I love Winter. I just wish I could bring my penguin blanket everywhere I go. I would much warmer and quite content, but that's not acceptable in public unless I'm a three year old, unfortunately.
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