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I love life. I love God. I love laughter. Yet I am far more complex than this.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Dreamin'

My lovely, lovely followers,

How delighted I am to bestow this information upon you. I mean, it's fancy information to me, so it must be the same to you, yeah? Haha...just kidding. I'm not that stinkin' selfish...always. Anyway, background information: every once in a while I hear a song, and it truly delights my heart.

I mean, there are many other things that give me this feeling of true bliss...sunsets, nice compliments, good grades, funny jokes, etc. Anyway, as I was listening to my Brooke Fraser pandora radio, this particular song came on...and my heart delighted.

Why? Because it was raw. Raw talent. Raw beauty. Raw emotion. I listened in awe, and when I watched the video, I was even more in awe. One, it sounds absolutely beautiful. Two, she does everything. And three, this is me as a little girl. Running around, playing pretend, falling asleep as I pray. Heck, this is me...now.

Though I am growing up in so many ways, I catch myself seeking that childhood innocence, simplicity that  was once overwhelming me. Yet the other part of me is so excited for my future to come. Tomorrow I begin a job at an elementary school close to campus.

I am overflowing with emotions. Excited. Nervous. Anxious. Deathly, deathly fearful.

Today, I just had a  realization. I am growing up whether I like it or not. Don't get me wrong, I am so excited to step foot into the real world and get only a taste of what is yet to come. I guess I just realized that I will never have that lovely childhood back.

I suppose that is all for you, my friends. Tomorrow is an exciting time, so I'm going to go mentally prepare myself. For hours.

Keep your hearts young and your ears open,
The Lone Woolf

Monday, February 21, 2011

How those islets make me laugh. . .

My loves,

Please, do forgive me for my current blogger's block. It has been treacherous and has caused me much distress. However, I refuse to write without a purpose...without a passion. Without my flowing creativity in the mind, no writing will come, and I shall never force it. I don't want it to be unenjoyable, you know?

But today, something hilarious happened. I believe, if you wish to be enlightened with some diabetic humor, you should read on.

My day was, well, crazy. It kind of seemed things haven't been flowing smoothly lately, and I seem to keep getting busier and busier. But now, this evening, it was time for one of my favorite classes--Music fundamentals for the classroom teacher. Despite the test that I was about to take, I was still ready to enter this interesting classroom filled with maracas, bongos, and my beloved tambourines. It's just fun.

So I walk in, go to the second row, and take a seat in the second chair back. Normally, I sit in the first, but it was test day, and I wasn't feeling quite as confident, so I decided to express my confidence level by where I sat. I sat down, grabbed a pencil from my backpack, and mentally prepared myself for this test I was just about to dominate...hopefully.

The next thing I knew, my teacher was explaining that we needed to get partners for a huge project coming up. Great. Fun fact, I'm rather quiet and shy when I don't know anyone. I know, unbelievable right? Wrong. This hugely dominating voice isn't always...loud. And by shy, I mean I rarely talk in class. Unless I have to. It's really strange, but for me sit in the front row is a HUGE boundary leap. This explains my slump to the second row. Anyway, I immediately started freaking out regarding a...PARTNER. This required socialization. Who in the heck was going to be my partner? The brunette with cool socks right next to me? Or possibly the blonde that is usually my shoulder partner? Sheesh. Stress to the max.

My instructor then asks the most beautiful question that I've ever heard, "Who in hear doesn't have an idea of who their partner will be?" Boom shaka laka. I slyly looked around, and waited for someone to raise their hand. At the first sight of a hand above the head, my arm went flailing. I wasn't going to let someone take that one and only available partner. Success. I was the proud owner of a new, shiny partner. Just kidding, she wasn't shiny...but she was a partner. So, what is the next step in this newly forming partnership you may ask?

Information exchange. This is where it starts to get funny...so hold out. There is a point to this story.

We exchange folders, so we can write our names in each others...blah blah blah, I know. Be patient.  She hands me hers as I'm reaching in my backpack for a pen. I was semi-hurrying, so she didn't have to stress herself holding that folder out. I didn't want her to think I was oblivious or incompetent by not grabbing what she was so politely giving me. I grabbed the first thing my hand found and ripped the lid off.

Oh snap. I looked down at the pen-like object in my hand. Yes, it was a pen...an insulin pen.

So there I was, exposed needle in hand, and  I got that look that could make any person feel awkward. Not just from my new partner, but from everyone around me. The "I don't know what that is, but it's lookin' pretty sketch" look. What do I do?

Shove the lid back on as quickly as possible. Congratulations, partner! You have a creepy partner who finds humor in showing off their needles. sheesh. Insulin stinks...literally.

Really, it didn't hurt me too badly in regards to pride. I actually laughed about it...through the entire test (which only took 12 minutes, so it wasn't a big deal). Randomly. Hysterically. Awkwardly. Awesomely. And this was also creepy-like. No one understands this life that I live. This is what I came up with: a life equation.

An awkward person + an awesome disease = blatant comedy.

Well, that's all.

Keep your needles capped in public,
The Lone Woolf

See? Anyone could get this mixed up. It's truly inevitable...right?

Saturday, February 12, 2011

A lesson learned from a second grader.

So here I am, sitting at home, on my lovely couch. My sister, nieces, and nephew are slumbering away upstairs, Addie and Mitch are enjoying a nice book in the back, and here I sit. Don't worry, I'm not alone, my sweet puppy, Ralph, is curled up right next to me. He's so cuddly. Some bull riding is on TV, but I'm not one much for watching that for more than, well, two minutes, so what better thing to do than blog?


Yesterday evening, after watching Addie perform a nice dance routine (she's half thug I swear), my older sister, Megan, her kiddos, and I came home. HOwever, when in the town of Protection, it is absolutely necessary to enjoy Don's cuisine at any possible moment. Praise the Lord for to-go orders. I, now at the kitchen table with Don's in hand, could not wait to bestow this deliciousness upon my tongue. Nikole, my bright, seven-year-old niece, sat down right next to me at the kitchen table, and we immediately dug in to our little white boxes.


About four bites in, I decided it was time to crack open that little head next to me. First, you must know this. Nikole is one of the most creative, imaginative, bright, beautiful second graders I know. HIlarious. You know those young children who are timid because they aren't exactly sure who they are yet? Yeah, she's about as far from that as possible. I love her to death.


Enough bragging. Here we are, digging in, and I finish chewing one bite of my chef salad with chicken, and ask something that I feel like I should already know. "Nikole, what exactly do you want to be when you grow up? Do you know?"


Her eyes lit up as she nodded and smiled that little gapped smile of hers. She definitely knew.


Her response amazed me. "Well, I want to be vet, doctor, nurse, a picture drawer, and a hiker. I want to be a hiker." Holy over achiever! How does one even respond to this? I mean, a hiker? Is that even such a thing? As I was trying to figure this out, she kept going, "Oh yeah, and I want to be a gardener, so I can grow green. (misunderstanding to 'going green' haha) Did you know that people kill trees? I'll stop that, too." Hahahaha, I swallowed my laughter, and replied, "Yeah, but we have to cut down trees to have paper. How are you going to solve the lack of paper? And this is where I nearly lost it. "Well, when I become President, I'll figure that out, too."


Okay, so by 'nearly', I  mean I lost it. I laughed, all over that black table cloth covering the lovely kitchen table.


But what was funny about this whole situation was the innocence and honesty behind each one of these statements. She legitimately thinks she is going to be all of these things, and from her, I feel like I can learn so much.


Do you remember those days? The days when you honestly believed in yourself? That you could be absolutely anything you wanted to be. I mean, I do. I was going to be a scientist. A paleontologist to be exact. And on the side, I was going to play basketball. I was a boss. Doing it all, no problem. 


Then one day, life hits, and everyone throws their dreams aside. Why? Because you're not smart enough. You're not tall enough. You're not athletic enough. You're too diabetic (ha, jk). You're not pretty enough. And the lists of insecurities go on and on. 


Yes, I do believe that some people need to understand they just won't be a famous singer because they cannot stay on pitch for their life. However, I also think that people throw their dreams away too easily. I know sometimes life shoots other dreams your way as well. Those dreams morph and become your reality. Yet so many people settle for something less. 


I don't want to settle.


No, my dream is no longer to be a paleontologist nor a basketball player. I realized I despise science and history, and high school basketball made me want to vomit more than smile. My dreams have changed. 


I feel like I can learn so much from young children. I can? I do. Addie, my little sister, has taught me more about compassion and selflessness in the last month than I have learned in a lifetime. Nikole, last night, successfully taught me that dreaming big is something to be cherished, remembered, and treasured. 


So my new goal is to dream like a seven-year-old. Though they may have small bodies, they have huge imaginations and very high hopes.


Love to all,
the Lone Woolf 


Addie, me, and the lovely Nikole. =) Love these girls. 

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

My first. . .gulp. . .kiss.

Prepare yourselves,

The other evening, in between shoveling rather bland food down my throat, Emily, Sarah, and I got to talkin'...and laughing...and talking...annnnd laughing. It's kind of what we do. So, somehow we got to the girl talk, and the story of my first kiss popped into my head. Since Valentine's Day is nearing, and I have no better way to spend it than to reminisce, here we go. Let me waste no more of your time. We shall begin.

Go back in time...there I was, on the floor, staring straight into those beautiful blue eyes of my, yes, yes, LOVE...or so I thought at that time. There my "love" and I stayed, hiding behind a small table--wooden top, metal legs. My heart began to flutter, I closed my eyes, and leaned in.

Yes, I leaned in, and then quickly drew back. I looked to my left, and my best friend was right next to me. Not only was that a problem, the teacher's desk was in plain sight.

Okay, it's time for a side note: it was nap time. No, no, no. I'm not telling you a scandalous story, though you may be wondering at this point. It was literally, "nap time." Yes, I was a whopping five years old, but I definitely tried to act at least ten. Double digits were not out of the question in my mind. Okay, now where was I? Oh right, my creepin' best friend.

I looked at her, my kindergarten bestie, and said this, "Hey, Chris, would you mind holding up your matt. You know, so we could have a little privacy?" After a little more convincing, I was quite the little manipulator in grade school, she finally agreed. Up went her matt, and in I leaned again. We were head to head. I closed my eyes so tightly that the wrinkles on my forehead appeared. Finally, it happened. My first kiss.

I must have seen stars. The next day I drew a picture of a person with stars in their eyes, and I named him, "Tim." (that was the name of my suitor). Maybe I really liked this kid...or maybe that was just the only name I knew how to spell? Three letters was awesome. I don't know the answer to that question. However, a year later, he was still my "boyfriend"--if you can even call them that at six. Obviously, I had another one along with Tim, but they didn't mind. I kept em in the know. One for Monday and Wednesday, and one for Tuesday Thrusday. I believe I was single on Friday-Sunday.

Well, that's really all there is to it.  It was magical, memorable, and mine. Now, I have shared it with you. Feel privileged, for I wouldn't do this with just anyone. But I think you and I are on a secret sharing level, so that's what I'm doing. Sharing my secret.

Well, geography is calling my name. I hope you have a wonderful time, and beware of boys during nap time. They'll getcha. =)

Over and out,
The Lone Woolf

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The peeves. . .

Hiya faithful readers,

I'm currently sitting here at the "security desk" with my besties, Em and Sar. The weather is exceedingly cold outside, and for this, I am truly annoyed. The icy cold air is seeping in through the doors that are about  10 feet from me. The man standing here waiting for the elevator put it ever so simply, "it's rather cold outside." Yes, yes, it is. My delicate little fingers are really having trouble typing because they are THAT cold. This cold annoyance, however, lead to my new inspiration: things that "peeve" me. Yeah, like really just anger me, frustrate me, etc. And I've decided to put it into a list because, well, I love them. So, read on, loves, read on.


  • Surprise attacks by the mattress--yes, SURPRISE ATTACKS! Somehow, in the middle of the night, my sheets are ripped off and out pops the wretched BLUE MATTRESS! I hate it. Why? Because it's cold, probably germy, and a giant plastic mystery! 
  • Blankets that are too short--Apparently, it is a foreign concept to some that the shoulder AND feet area could be cold AT THE SAME TIME! What? NO way! Yes, way, sheesh. I have been known to wake up in the middle of the night, desperately try to cuddle up in a blanket. When it doesn't work, I throw a little fit. You know, like start kicking my legs and flailing my arms. This frustration could be solved easily--more fabric, duh. Sure, I could just wear socks or slippers to sleep in, but no...because my next frustration is...
  • Sleeping in socks--Let's see, how can I put this? I have claustrophobic feet. They don't like to be trapped in little fabric containers of emotion. I hope some of you get that reference. 
  • Silence--nothing makes me feel more awkward than that silence between two people, where you are looking side to side, but you really don't know what to say. Yeah, that's near death to me. As is having the radio off in cars. That silence is absolutely unbearable, and I'm not kidding. 
  • Religious emails--I'm sorry, but I'm not going to go to hell because I didn't send an email. The internet obviously has a different Bible than I. 
  • Missing the sunset by a mere few minutes--ugh, I don't feel like this requires much explanation. Watching the sunset is almost as enjoyable to me as watching a movie. When I just barely miss it, my heart breaks. 
  • Eating food with my hands--please, don't get the wrong impression. I am by no means one of those girly girls who refuses to get their hands dirty. I love mud, the nasty dirt left in your softball glove that sticks to your hand, finger painting, etc. But my friends, I love forks, spoons, knives, sporks. They were created for divine use, and divine use they shall have.
  • Grinding fabric between your teeth--idk, it just sends chills up my spine.
  • Flashing Lights--obviously, I don't like cop cars. But I was actually initially referring to the blinking red light that my phone shows. I mean, it's really a nice concept, but sometimes, I just want to smash it with my fist.
  • One word texts--I love words, so shouldn't every other person? Just kidding. But they do make me feel like I'm only bothering the person texting. Insecure? Maybe a little.
  • Plan making--okay, so I actually LOVE to make plans. I like lists, itineraries, schedules, etc. BUT I hate it when people say, "Let's do something." I agree, and the next question is, "What should we do?" Ugh, soooo muuuucchh PRESSURE! Yet, for some reason, people do this to me ALL of the time. Oh well, I'm large and in charge. 
So there you have it. You all should feel awfully privileged because you now know the frustrations of my soul. Now I must go. Despite the inclement weather, WSU still has stinking school. Ugh. 

Disappointed in my choice of college,
the Lone Woolf

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Let the music come alive. . .

Hello my wonderfuls,


Music. This small, five letter word seems to inspire some of the greatest feelings inside of man, inside of me. Really, there isn't much that can change my emotion, remind me of a memory, or truly speak to me more than music. It moves me to so many emotions--laughter, tears, anger--all come from a simple four minutes of fluctuations of chords, voices, etc.I love music; I always have. However, nights like tonight remind me of the power of music. So let me explain to you the two types of musical power.


First type, emotion. So here I was, at Christian Challenge. Looking at the words appear on the screen, standing there, soaking up the words. The Desert Song by Hillsong (attaching it) was what was coming out of my vocal chords. And these words came up, "All of my life, in every season, You are still God. I have a reason to sing. I have a reason to worship." As I repeated these words, I couldn't help but smile. Like, honestly, I couldn't STOP smiling. And here's why:


I'm a singer. Am I good at it? Not so much. But nothing pulls me out of an emotional slump better than blasting some music, and singing my heart out. Often, when I'm really upset, I find myself chilling in my car (whether it be driving or just sitting), blaring the radio, and singing my heart out. So when I sang the line, "I have a reason to sing." I developed a great joy. God is my reason to sing. Say what? Well, my friends, this was such a simple realization, yet it really brought me great joy. Why? Because now, when I'm singing my heart out (in my car or in my hall), I will not allow anyone to quiet me. Because you can't quiet God. That would be silly. So, I will continue to sing my heart out, which is literally what I do. I felt like my bff, Jesus, was saying, "Lora, girl, sing that presh heart out for me." (Yes, sometimes I think Jesus shortens words for fun, too.)So you know what, I will. Music is power, lesson one.  


Second type, memory. Okay, I'm sure we all have that song that reminds us of that time, event, or person. Runaway Love by Ludacris still reminds me of the summer after 8th grade when I spent most of my time riding around in my sister's car, with her, feeling fly. Trading My Sorrows still reminds me of the first time I learned that Christians can act a fool. Every Rose Has It's Thorn by Poison reminds me of my first dance at diabetes camp with my camp crush. You see, music triggers vivid memories.This can be great, yet I have recently found, it can also bring great frustration. There are recent purchased songs on my iTunes list that I truly enjoy, but I WILL not listen to. Why? Because they scream those memories that I wish would just flee from this interesting brain of mine. However, this goes the other way as well. I love to replay those songs that make me feel happy, revived, restored. And by replay, I mean play them over and over and over and over again. It's what I do. It's how I feel, express. 


So there you have it folks, the top two reasons why I believe music has power. Moral of the story: don't ride in my car with me unless you don't mind loud vocals. That's all. =) 


Keep Singing, 
The Lone Woolf