Thank God He can read.

As I've mentioned before, it's been a crazy last few weeks. I've been thrown so many situations to handle--new types, old types, you name it. What do I do? I attempt to handle them..duuhh. Sometimes, it turns out well. Sometimes, I do what I know I need to do. Yet what happens when disappointment, grief, or sorrow throw themselves my way? I seem to grab yet another mask. I hide all upset feelings--simply cover it with my big smile and an "ehh, it's life" comment. I honestly can say that I even mask the joyous situations. Relationships that have been mended, hugs received by hurting children, even those I don't let myself attach to. Why? Because those situations may let you down. Those relationships may end as they have before, and those children may not be here tomorrow. And when I do finally let down those walls that I have so successfully built up over the last few years, I feel weak. It just seems better to not feel at all.

As I sit here thinking about everything that has happened, I realize the emotional roller coaster that I should be experiencing. Yet all I've done is put on my 'tough girl' exterior. With everyone. With myself. Is it possible to work so hard to convince every one else that you're okay, that these situations are just life, that eventually, you even convince yourself? And what happens then when you realize maybe you're not 'okay'? Maybe you don't feel like smiling? YOu'd better hope that the people around you can handle it, right? Because people don't like it when you're real. 

So here's my relief--God has x-ray vision. There are no masks with Him. He even knows what I don't. The thankfulness I have at this point, in regards to Him understanding me better than myself...it's abounding. There will always be someone who doesn't care if I cry. He knows when I'm let down. He knows how hard it is for me to let anyone see me in a vulnerable state. He knows when I hurt. 

"And you, my son Solomon, acknowledge the God of your father, and serve him with wholehearted devotion and with a willing mind, for the Lord searches every heart and understands every motive behind the thoughts. IF you seek him, he will be found by you; but if you forsake him, he will reject you forever." 1 Chronicles 28:9

The bold statement, it's...well, bold. And comforting. And scary. And comforting. God, He can read me like an open book. Praise the Lord (haha, literally) because I usually don't even know what I, myself, want. I can justify any possible want in my head. But really? I honestly have no idea. However, it's scary. He knows what I want, even when I have successfully convinced myself that I do not want that.

And here's what is so disgusting about this whole situation. It takes a massive amount of crappy events for me to even realize this sort of thing. How selfish can I get? How idiotic can I bet? I mean, if this were the first time that a realization like this had occurred, that's one thing, but it happens repetitively. So here's my conclusion: the Lone Woolf still has a lot of growing up to do. And always will. 

Maybe that's an abrupt ending, but let it leave you some time to think. Masks? We all wear 'em. More often than we should. What would happen should we all take them off? Chaos? Reality? 

Truth? 

Confidence in God alone,

the Lone Woolf

P.S. this is not a distraught post. I am not upset. I just feel like more than just I feel this way. . .

A dream worth documentation. . .

Hello all,

Okay, so here's the deal. I like to sleep...a lot. The kind of sleep I particularly enjoy is that deep, uninterrupted, drool-worthy sleep--yeah, it sounds good just typing about it. Dreams? Well, I don't particularly enjoy them, but for this rule, there are some exceptions. This particular dream I am going to explain is one of those. I think you'll see why. It all started after my head hit my pillow.

All of the sudden it was Christmas, but it wasn't the normal Christmas. I was actually spending this particular Christmas with some random girl who shall remain nameless. Why? Because I have yet to figure out how she got into my dream. Anyway, she was trying to figure out where she was going to go to college. Now, that's what is strange about this dream. Not only does she already go to college, but also her determining college would have no alteration to my life. Weird?

Onward I go. Now, she was trying to determine her future college, but her method was the strange part. Her two colleges of choice were received as Christmas presents--one red, one green, no bows (obviously not my usual Christmas).  So she finally gets to the good part, she opens the presents, and I immediately knew what they were. Present number one, red box, Marshall University. Yes, we are Marshall. Haven't seen the movie since it hit theaters (mostly because I balled like a little baby, and I don't particularly enjoy doing that. Don't get me wrong, great movie).

 I am certain you are all very excited to hear what was in the green box, and I am excited to tell you, for if this was a college, I am certain I would attend. And when she opened that box, my eyes lit up,  and I was overwhelmed with warmth. Here it is: DPU. Never heard of DPU? That's because it doesn't exist. Don's Place University, my friends. The college of good food, and well, Don.

I never got to see what she decided, but I am certain it would have been Don's Place University. First of all, it was close to her home (yes, she lives near my hometown), and second of all, I mean, who wouldn't want to major in deliciousness, right? I know I would. Obviously, I miss that deliciousness more than an understandable amount. So there you have it, as I woke in laughter, I decided I would share.

That's all my friends. Enjoy life, and I will talk to you soon.

Keep your hunger satisfied,
the Lone Woolf

Something joyous happened today. I decided to write about it in verse...

You've been gone too long
I've missed that silent song
But now you're back at my side.

I keep you close
With each insulin dose
I supply you with my blood sugar slide.

You keep all my data
with some of your own strata
But we are like two peas in a pod.

With you gone
I carry on
But with you I'm as cool as a guy with a hot rod.

Shiny, sharp, silver, pointy
Stabbed deep into my own tummy
I trust you don't give me hypertrophy

They try to take you from my grasp
But to you I tightly clasp
For your company is like my trophy.

When the end comes
And they pry you from my stomach and thumbs
I will always remember the diabetic love we've had.

Keep faith, my Dexter,
My continuous diabetic tester,
For at the end of July, we'll be far from disappointed, mad.

The End.

Dexter is back my friends. I have been reunited with my sharp, continuous friend. =)

Love and Diabetic Consistency,
the Lone Woolf

My passion colored pen

Long time no write,

For this above statement, I am truly sorry. HOwever, I haven't been coming up with much to write about lately. Perhaps it's the business of what my life has been possessing? Perhaps it's all of the emotional highs and lows I've been experiencing? The reason, I really have no idea. I just don't have much to say, yet I find myself wanting to tell you so much. So here I go...

The last two weeks of my life have been a whirlwind. I have lost; I have gained; I have both laughed and ached with pain. I have opened up and built new walls. It's as if life is a never ending process of two steps forward one step back. But at least I'm getting somewhere, right? And what a wonderful jaunt it has been.

I'm nearing the end of my first year of college. Weird, right? I'm becoming such a grown lady. Ha, nahhh. Within the last year, I have learned so much about so much. About life, people, and. . . me. Here, allow me to elaborate five of my self revelations learned this year. 

1. I make horrible first impressions. Why? Because I am one of the most awkward people ever. I am loud, and when I get nervous (which happens fairly often), I sometimes get even louder than my natural state. I'm sure you're thinking that's quite impossible, but let me tell you my friends, it's not. And if I don't obnoxiously force myself into your life, I don't talk at all. I just sit there, smiling, as if I have nothing in my cranial cavity. Extremes? Very much so. Extremely strange.

2. I apparently look or sounds like the following: Jenna Fischer, Zooey Deschanel, and...wait for it...Exercise Barbie? I have yet to decide if the latter is an insult of a compliment. My dearest friend, Sar, once told me, "If Jenna Fischer and Barbie had a baby, that'd be you." Really? Hmm. These comparisons all seem to leave me in a haze, but within the last seven months I have gotten more references than ever before in my life. Strange, I know. 

3. Here's the next one, and this one has become blatantly obvious than ever before. I am a horrible, terrible liar. In an attempt to side-swipe a situation today, not even lie--just not tell the whole truth, this self realization became apparent. What happened? My face filled in the rest of the story. My face gets this panic-striken look much like that of a five-year-old caught stealing candy--eyes widen, mouth drops, and stuttering starts. I'm so terrible at doing this, that upon once attempting to play the two truths and a lie game, I accidentally told three truths. I have always known this hasn't been my strongest quality, maybe that's a good thing? Maybe it's a little embarrassing? Oh well. 

4. I'm a wicked dancer--especially in the Sonic parking lot. hahahaha...yeah, this really happened. Let me put it all out there for you, so you may fully comprehend. ONe night, after Christian Challenge, Sarah and I took a little jaunt to Sonic. Upon hearing some music, Sar broke into random dance, and I obviously followed. Then we hear someone yelling from across the way, "Hey, girl, whatchou dancin' to?" Sarah explained that she was just dancing to some music she had heard, and we then learned that it was the yelling woman and her friends that had been bumpin'. After this discovery was made, I did what any sheltered, white-girl in the ghettos would do...I signaled for her to turn it up. She did, and the next 10 minutes was filled with somewhat of a dance-off between their car and ours. The battle was close until I started framing my face while Sar did the robot. After that, they were toast. Yeah...that was one of my cooler moments.

5. Ahh numero cinco. Here we go. I'm a "follow my heart", "gotta have a feeling" kind of girl. Yeah, lammmme, I know. But it's true, and I've realized this more in the last seven months due to the excessive amounts of changes in my what was once so comfortable life. Sometimes, I do things on a 'whim'. And yeah, it's fun for a while. Footloose and fancy free, right? Well, what happens, you see, is I turn into leadfoot and fancy nausea. Not. Worth. It. But this also goes the other way. When I'm excited about something, it's apparent. When I'm passionate, it's an overwhelming passion, and I love this feeling. I often can't sleep when excitement is overtaking me because, well, I'm that ridiculous sometimes. 

One of my favorite writers due to her bluntness much like my own, Beth Moore, gave me a nice little quote that sums up, well, my last paragraph--especially in regards to my writing. "Passion isn't always the best ink. It tends to get splattered and spit instead of scripted thoughtfully and melodiously like notes on a composer's score. . . Things are better said in retrospect, but had I waited, a written message would never have materialized." This quote made my life. Sometimes I don't tell good stories in person, and sometimes my emotions are so thrown up all over this blog that I pity those of you who have to 'clean them up'. By clean them up, I mean read them. Ha. You get the picture? However, like Beth said, it's better said without melody than not at all. And I don't do well about not saying things. I like to talk.

Okay, so this may be one of the most randomly thrown together blogs of all times, but I felt it was time for an update. Now I must make haste, for bed time has come. 

Goodnight my lovelies,

the Lone Woolf