Daybreak

Well it is 5:15 in the morning and despite my efforts, I cannot sleep.

The day is creeping into motion, and light is slowly breaking through the clouds of the morning.

Meanwhile, me and Benjamin (my scottish terrier) lay in bed.

Ben is contently in a deep sleep, however I just can't seem to find a way to fall into the slumber he is enjoying.

Being up this late has brought me into a conversation I didn't expect to have, especially at 3 o'clock on a Tuesday morning.

I needed this conversation.

I did.

Occasionally, or more frequently if I'm being honest, I lose sight of all that I could be and am capable of. I fall into a slump of worldly mistakes that I deem acceptable for reasons I wouldn't know how to identify.

You make me want to be something better...

No matter how fast I run,

You save me.

Dear Boy,

I like you.

Sincerely,

Hannah

Benjamin.

Hey I'm a nervous wreck...

But I've decided to get over that.

Life is good.

My life is good.

Mute.

I've been trying to write...really....

It's just been hard to say...well, everything.

Just...Love

"We were blamed for what was happily our fault... and to be guilty of our crime was the happiest thing of all."

-When We Were Insane

Fantastical

"If your mind

did wander free,

I pray It'd drift

to thoughts me.

If you dream

of fields of grey,

I pray it's me

with whom you lay.

If you are

the type to wish,

I pray you wish

for just my kiss.

Your fantasies

for which I pray,

I hope are true

in future days."

-Albert Finning Jr.

Never.Let Me.Go.

" It had never occurred to me that our lives, so closely interwoven, could unravel with such speed. If I'd known, maybe I'd have kept tighter hold of them."

...

"What do you want from me? Truth? Alright. You've got it. Here is the pathetic piece of me that you have asked for. What is wrong? You. You are what is wrong with me. You are every torturing thought that has ever been stuck in my head. I can't sleep. You are exhausting. And watching other people look at you, and you looking at them...You make me rage. But the absolute worst is when you talk about your dreams of meeting that one guy who will make you believe in love. You think you haven't met him... You think he hasn't met you? You don't even consider that he might've known you for your entire life... he might know that you couldn't snap your fingers until sophomore year in high school. He might know that after 18 years, you've finally decided that you like pink. He might know that you try so hard not to cry that when you finally do its terrifying. He might know every little problem you have that makes you a complete disaster, and regardless of all of it he might still want you everyday of his life. He does. I do. The truth is when your standing in a room full of people, I can't see anyone but you...But when we are completely alone you still can't see me. That's the truth that I have been lying about my entire life."

----------------------------------------------------------------

We ask for truth, maybe because we don't expect to receive it...

So happens when we do?

The Great..

I've been waiting for a long time for this.

I can't imagine ever wanting to be this young again...

But older and wiser people than me say that I'll miss it one day...

I hope they are incorrect.

Though I said I never would, I'll be Yours.

Wonderful weekends always bring me to the same place: two steps closer to sanity sitting in my bed anxiously awaiting what the next five days will hold.

What does this week hold any how?

-media quiz (what happened in the world last week anyway?)

-academic advisement

-nutrition analysis

-laundry

-To-Do lists

-The Real World (yes, it's a priority)

-Depart at DFW

-Arrive at LAX

That's right. This week ends with the sunset breaking through a cloudy California sky. This girl is going to California for a much needed vacation.

And now that I've gotten all practicalities out of the way, how about story time?

I have this dream sometimes, and you don't know that you're in it.

That's OK though... you'll know someday.

It's a few years from now,

and all those insecurities we once felt are shadows in the past.

You're taller than me, so I wear heels all the time.

We fight so much, and I like to look you in the eye.

We're that couple that I've always made fun of...

You've seen them, so unaware and absent-minded of anything but the other. It's sickening.

We go to record stores and eat chinese takeout because I can't cook.

I try really hard to cook for you, but all I can make is brownies so sometimes we have those for dinner.

You've been wearing your glasses lately,

and I got a haircut with bangs.

We look funny dearest...

Dearest...I don't call you that very often... only on days when I am unexplainably happy...

We fell asleep on the balcony again.

We should really get better outdoor furniture if this is going to become a habit...

And then It will rain for days...

I'll be angry with you, and you won't leave me alone. You know I don't want you to.

You'll hold me even though I scream, and I'll come back to you.

I always do.

The sun will come out,

And we'll have breakfast outside at Fluffy's. Two eggs on toast...

We'll laugh, and smile, and thank the strange universe

because our dreams have come true...

And as our story time concludes,

I bid you Goodnight.

ENDORPHINS!

Just a Reminder

Well as always I abandon the blog only to come crawling back either because of insomnia or procrastination, in this instance i'll attempt to avoid my psychology studies.

By the way, it is pronounce eye-ther...not ee-ther.

During my ten day disappearance from theAFTERpart, many interesting things have come into play. The experiences have ranged from camping in the marshes of Beaumont Texas, to spending eight consecutive hours in the library...and counting.

The business of being busy is an emotionally eroding thing. Will I ever grow accustomed to this fast-paced life, or is it something that genetically we all just learn to live with, surviving only by voicing our complaints?

As I proofread, I've noticed that my writings have changed. As if the fact that I'm proofreading at all isn't alarming, it seems as though I'm constantly writing about my life in news release format. I blame Writing For Media Markets entirely. Alas fellow college students, apparently all of these classes we attend DO in fact aid in learning. Just as I was beginning to have my doubts...

I do in all honesty wish I could get back to the raw, unorganized collective writings that mostly make up this tablet, but truthfully I'm not feeling like much of a kid lately. I say this, but in contrast I had cereal for dinner and have a tasty PB&J wrapped up for later. There is a 4-year-old in each of us that screams occasionally, just to remind us that we aren't as old as we might feel.

Perhaps this is a wake up call.

Press onward.

This too shall pass,

just as things usually do.

Vanished.

What is it like to disappear? I have attempted to do so during trying times in my life, but the results of disappearing are always temporary. Do we breach our comfort of privacy reaching out for communication, or is our comfort breached by others who pull us back into the world where we can be seen?

I'd like to disappear...for maybe a moment or two.

And if I could disappear, maybe you'd wonder where I was.

Life is in a big transition right now, and I'm not handling it very well. I've been emotional, angry, destructive, vague, and flaky to a few people who matter quite a lot to me. This too shall pass....I know this...but what about this feeling?

This feeling...

This constant wonder of when am I going to wake up and feel comfortable with this entire mess...

White flag in hand, I'm just asking for peace...

Inner.

Outer.

Peace.

So I've been taking some hits lately.

No big deal I guess.

Set the fuse to go

"Come, Come,

Fly into my palm,

and collapse..."

Home Bird

Good evening.

My evenings have fallen into a consistent pattern of sitting in the same chair,

in the same room,

with the same people.

So this is what nesting is like.

Alzheimers

-So I cannot sleep.

-And I cannot write my autobiography. What do I say about myself,honestly? What would you say? Exactly. That shouldn't be published. I'm going to make a bad grade, and that makes me worry. Perhaps I should be more worried that I can't even fill two pages up with knowledge about myself. I guess I'm as confused as you are.

-Robin Nordman is in so many words lovely.

-There is a song called Hannah by the Freelance Whales, and the accuracy of it makes it one of my favorites.

Now for the "dear you" portion of the show:

Dear You,

You surprised me.

I love the things you say when you think no one can hear you...

I listen closely hoping to hear just one of them.

You were right about that,

and that,

and that too.

I lied to you.

and I will continue to do so.

You would like the truth.....

But I don't want to tell you because...

Because...

Because......................

You...

...are my favorite.

Shades of Grey

I got my first request ever today.

I guess I've been slacking.

Well really that isn't true at all.

More and more it feels like life moves 100 miles per hour down here.

I guess it's just time for a break, that's all.

So, I think about pizza probably 70% of the average day,

and the other 20% is devoted to actively not eating pizza,

which leaves 10% to get me through the rest of my daily activities.

....There seems to be a prioritizing SNAFU going on currently.

This is disappointing, and I wish I could do something to change that,

but I'm so tired...

My days and nights have been switched for a couple of days....

That's pretty inconvenient.

It's also inconvenient for you to have to read a list of my complaints,

but at least I've apologized for wasting your time.

And in recent news I'd actually like a quesadilla....

Welcome to my life:

-Sleeping at inappropriate hours

-thinking about food

-iTunes

-studying

-and occasionally going to the lake to take pictures of people more athletic than myself....

So I'm sorry you've caught me at such a pessimistic time.

This to shall pass...

Hopelessly Honest

My name is Hannah, and I have a crush on you.

I am never going to tell you that,

and no one who knows me well is surprised by that fact.

I don't mind writing about you right now,

because I know you haven't the faintest clue that you are admired.

I also know it would take a lot for you to stumble upon this page anyway,

so I really should abuse my liberty and say anything.

But the truth is I don't want to say anything too obvious because,

I hope you show up.

I hope you read this,

and I hope you wonder if it is you.

Even if you think it's not you,

I hope you will say something.

I hope you will make a complete fool of yourself in front of me,

like stuttering, or tripping, or losing your words

because I think that is the cutest thing

ever.

I hope you blush,

like me.

I hope I see you soon.

I'm confident that I will actually.

I hope that you find my childish note funny,

and I hope that you have the decency to tell me that.

I hope you have sweet dreams tonight,

and when you wake up

I hope you think of me.

But if you don't,

that's alright,

and here is to hoping that someone better will hope for someone like me.

A trip to reminisce

Okay.

-2:58 am and I CANNOT go to sleep.....

So I consulted a random question generator:

What were your favorite things to do in the past?

1. In seventh grade all my friends lived within walking distance of robin, and we would play hide and seek.

-Why did I love hide and seek? The most prominent memory I have is still very lucid: Stripes. I wore my favorite stripped shirt as many times a week as my mom would allow. I thought I looked pretty in it. In seventh grade everyone is pretty: It's funny how innocence glows. I thought I was fast too. Someone would count to 100, and I would never actually hide, I would just run. I would run through the trees, and hop barbed wire fences, paranoia surrounding and pushing me to run faster. I would never be caught. It was freedom as the wind hit my face, blowing back my long frizzy hair. I was a real seventh grader. No make up. No flat irons. No Abercrombie and Fitch. My smiles were real too. Sometimes thats all I want to be for just a moment. Real, and running through the wind, worrying about nothing but the threat of someone reaching the number 100.

2. In eighth grade we went to the movies every weekend...with freshman boys.

-Eighth grade brought about many changes, one being the desire to be glamourous. I cut my hair, and started fixing it, trying to impress people that I look back on and laugh. In eighth grade you love to be liked. You put on black eye liner, and your favorite smackers lip gloss, and you meet the boy you've been texting all week at the Plaza Cinema III. And you let him buy your ticket because he's an older man... He's a freshman in high school and your awestruck by that fact. You'll grow up to learn that is the bottom of the food chain, but right now you see it as if they were on top of the world. You sit by them, and you make your hand very inviting in all hopes that they will have the guts to reach for it; sometimes they do, and sometimes they just lean on you, afraid of such a bold move. Halfway through the movie you go to the restroom with your best friend and you have an evaluation meeting: "He held my hand!" "He's so cute!" "Look at this text he sent me" "Awwwww" "He's so cute". You reapply the smackers and then you go back inside. For the rest of the movie you anticipate the end-of-the-night-hug. Will he or not? And then he does. And you hold each other for ten seconds, and then release so you can walk to your mom's car. As you lay awake that night, you see a twinkling all on your own, with no needed help from the stars. You're heart feels like a helium balloon thats going to make your whole body float into a different atmosphere; a better atmosphere, because you feel too good to exist in this one.

Sometimes I still feel like that eighth grade girl, but we have all learned too much to go back to that place. Perhaps we're all just trying to get to a place where we feel that good...as good as we did when we were 14. Maybe it isn't about the place at all. Maybe it's about the people. Who makes you feel that way?

It's good to be home

Disposition: Sweet

Do you ever in the midst of all your stress feel...giddy?

I've grown up with a father who prays to be surprised,

and I must say I've run into a sweet string of surprises lately.

Timing is sweet.

In fact so much lately is sweet.

Dare I say I've been hypnotized by February air.

Never Settle

10. Larger than life

9. Strange

8. Takes the lead

7. Pursues

6. Perseveres in the face of failure

5. Loves Dogs

4. Laughs

3. Spontaneous

2. Shares

1. Powerfully holds the epicenter of a life, and refuses to disrupt it regardless of the capability to.

"and when the kids are old enough....."

"...we're gonna teach them to fly..."

I wrote.

I wrote many words.

I wrote it all down,

and then I held my finger on the backspace key.

I watched it all disappear,

and it was a nice thing to watch.

Poise.

Baylor University

One Bear Place #82886

Waco, TX 76798

.............................................

Somebody send me some mail.

Somebody send me some mail.

Somebody send me some mail.

No one should ever be up this late on a Tuesday, or Wednesday depending on how you'd look at that, but here I am trying to make sure my first big assignment is perfect.

Writing for Media Markets is my favorite class for a few reasons:

-It's interesting

-It's fun

and

-It matters

So here's to hoping that things work out great tomorrow.

Despite the night's inability to end at a decent time, it has been a good night. I know I'll be tired tomorrow, but as all college kids are tired this just means I'll have joined the ranks of the average once again. So what makes a person somethings special anyway?

What makes a person special.

spe·cial

   [spesh-uhl] Show IPA

–adjective

1.

of a distinct or particular kind or character: a special kind ofkey.

2.

being a particular one; particular, individual, or certain:You'd better call the special number.

3.

pertaining or peculiar to a particular person, thing, instance,etc.; distinctive; unique: the special features of a plan.

4.

having a specific or particular function, purpose, etc.: aspecial messenger.

5.

distinguished or different from what is ordinary or usual: aspecial occasion; to fix something special.

6.

extraordinary; exceptional, as in amount or degree;especial: special importance.

7.

being such in an exceptional degree; particularly valued: aspecial friend.

I like number three and number five a lot.

I also like you a lot...

ya,know, if you were wondering.

Edge of the Ocean-Ivy

There's a place I dream about
Where the sun never goes out.
And the sky is deep and blue.
Won't you take me there with you.

Ohhh, we can begin again.
Shed our skin, let the sun shine in.
At the edge of the ocean
We can start over again.

There's a world I've always known
Somewhere far away from home.
When I close my eyes I see
All the space and mystery.

Ohhh, we can begin again.
Shed our skin, let the sun shine in.
At the edge of the ocean
We can start over again.

----------------------------------------

Take me to the edge of the ocean...