blah.

In all honesty. I think about blogging a lot. I'll sign in with the screen in front of me and just stare. Most cases, I shut my laptop and scribble my thoughts, whether many or few, in my worn out moleskine, with my purple pen. I guess I know some people do read this. (that's the point, right) which makes me feel uncomfortable.

But It is nice, to type in a way that's more uniform, or presentable, I suppose. It's good to have some structure in writing. That's why I continue on.

Anywhozzle.

Let's talk friends.

Mocha Club. I got the internship, which was awesome. I was sold, my metaphorical bags were packed. I just had one month to find housing, and a part time job to pay rent. I prayed, and prayed...and prayed a little more. I had people praying for me. I talked to older people I respected. Everyone said "go". Everyone but two people. My Mom & Pop. . .cool.

It wasn't a "you're our child and what we say goes" situation, by any means. They were just very hesitant. I asked them to pray and not write it off. Days went by, someone offered me a room in their house...door open, bam! I talked to the woman who hired me from Mocha Club, and she said it was super easy to find a job in Nashville. It's a town where people are always coming and going, trying to pursue their dreams. Another door-open?

My parents were coming around. absolutely.

But then, the night I had to tell Mocha Club whether or not I want to commit to this internship, I find out the room I had waiting for me, was no longer open. Door closed. This would mean going to Tennessee homeless and jobless. [Take parents from their newly acquired step forward, and push them back two steps]

I was stressed beyond belief. At what point, to you start to see roadblocks no longer as a test of faith but rather a sign from God?

My friend Marta came over. We sat in my room and discussed everything for what seemed like years. I cried - for a very long time. I laughed a lot too. I can in no way express the inner turmoil I was going through.

Marta and I went through pros/cons, theological debates, & my wants and dreams. We talked until my brain and heart hurt. I lied on my floor, and blankly stared at my ceiling. . ."When did I get that scuff on my ceiling? HOW does one get a scuff on the ceiling? Did I do a handstand with shoes on and hit it? Did I try to underhand throw a shoe in my closet and it got out of control? Probably the former, heck maybe it was a cartwheel, why am I so weird? Why do I even care about that right now. Crap, Am I crazy? No, no -crazy people can't ask themselves that, because it doesn't even occur to them. Or maybe it does, they are just so sure they're not. In which case, you are crazy Hannah. . .Aw, Shoot. Oh, stop Hannah, you're not crazy. Why am I wasting my brain power on shoe scuffs and crazy people. Wait... I am talking to myself, even if it is inside my head. I'm pretty sure that's textbook crazy stuff right there. When's the last time I vacuumed my carpet? I hate vacuuming, but I hate sweeping more BUT. . . I don't mind doing dishes."

Marta would talk, knowing when to not let me be quiet for too long. She knows my weakness in life is that I think too hard about stupid things- in an attempt to push important decisions on the back burner. We ended up falling asleep. Marta's words ringing in my head, "man, I'm glad I don't have to make this decision". It sounds like a rude thing to say in my fragile state, but it made me laugh, and think- I must not be crazy.

I think I was crying because I would be happy to do either one. Go or stay. I just wanted to know which one God wanted me to do. Not knowing is what hurt.

I ended up asking for an extension to give Mocha Club my answer.

I sat down with my parents and we talked about life, God, faith, jobs, money, friends, opportunities and so on and so forth. My dad unintentionally made me feel lower than dirt. I want Mocha Club because of the good they do, but I have ministries in my own backyard that I don't help out with. Tennessee is a new adventure, and New is always more appealing when standing side by side with Old. I say I want God to use me- but that starts at home. Even when home seems boring and routine.

I made the decision to not go.

It was hard, but making the decision was the hardest part.

The next week, I was offered good Nanny job, two weeks after that, I received a new record player (which definitely lifted my spirits, considering my old was was on the fritz). My church asked me to be a leader for our kids club. Brittany moved back from Alaska, I take all of these things as signs from God. I believe this is what He wanted for my life. I now have a good attitude despite not getting a new adventure. Sometimes being faithful to the monotonous road you're on has a more rewarding destination. (I made that up, so it may or not be true. It just keeps my hopes high.)

I feel better about blogging. I think I knew I'd have to talk about Mocha Club, which was overwhelming. Now I can just go on talking about whatever I want.

Friday November Twenty-Sixth

I haven't written one word in a month. I think real bloggers probably get really annoyed with my blogging skills. I have yet to make blogging a habit or a priority. It's just too convenient to leave my thoughts, as sporadic and strange, in a journal. To decipher and translate my scribbles, doodles, and unmethodical notions, easily gets put on the back burner.

But buckle up kids, cause here we go.

This past month

Shesh, ok, I'm going to start from most recent and work my way back. (only discussing the good things)

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. My uncle called be Brittany, and my grandma called me a loner. Both statement's were said in pure honesty and seriousness. Both made me laugh and love the crazy family I was born into. Let's all be thankful for the families God gave us.

Two nights ago I saw these boys perform-

If you've never listened to Good Old War, it's what your ears have been longing for. (unintentional rhythming, but my brain doesn't want to change it right now, just pretend your reading Dr. Seuss)

Watching Good Old War, really made my heart so happy. I couldn't stop smiling. I sang my heart out, sorry to those within earshot of my tone deaf harmonizing. My feet itched to dance, and I wanted their set to go on a lot longer then it did. It was perfect none-the-less. I met the band after the show, Keith Goodwin smiled at me and I apparently forgot how to use the English language. dumb.

Listen to Woody's Hood Boogie Woogie off their self titled album. I defy you, nay, triple-dog dare you not to dance to that song.

I finally finished my application for Mocha Club. A lot of prayer was poured over that baby. Though I have to admit I'm nervous about this whole thing. Not getting the internship thus making me feel inadequate. Or getting the internship and being thrown into a world of change. I believe change is good, and definitely what my soul is asking for. Either way, I believe God's got His hand all over it, and I have nothing to worry about. I just wish my head could convince my stomach that, that's true.

About two weeks ago I gave blood to get a free Harry Potter T-shirt. I thought, "why not give blood, help save a life, and get an awesome glow in the dark Harry Potter shirt to wear opening night?" (if you had any doubts about whether or not I am a nerd, that was your confirmation) I quickly filled my bag with red and white blood cells, getting increasingly excited about how much I will love this Harry Potter tee. I walk out and scarfed my pretzels and juice, getting antsy for the shirt. . . They hand me a shirt that says "you have the magic in you, give blood". What a crock. If only you could see my disappointed face. I demanded they give me my blood back.

I've babysat my cousin Beth's children one day. I love watching family, especially when they are hysterical and well behaved. All five of her children have wonderful laughs and exhibit them often. Brock, the baby's laugh makes me happiest. His such a chubby, gushy, baby that I just love to squeeze. Although through babysitting, I grew aware, that it's never fulfilling to squeeze a baby. Please here me out, I may sound crazy, but I sure everyone knows what I'm talking about. As Brock lay next to me on the couch, I would squeeze his fat little legs and he would giggle like crazy. But in my heart all I wanted to do is SKAA-WEEEZE. (said in high pitched voice, hands clenched and one eye twitching) But I can't. . .cause he's a baby. . .and you can't just go around squeezin' baby legs with all you're strength. It sure was tempting though.

Before that, I road tripped down to Virginia, and Then North Carolina with my good friend Annalee. She's moving down there, away from family and friends, she going where she knows no one. I'm proud of her. Annalee is such a blessing in my life, I really enjoyed talking to her for the hours and hours we were in the car. She's one of those friends that you never grow tired of. She pushes me to do more and encourages me constantly. She's cool by her own merits. Even in highschool I remember she was too cool for the whole drinking, smoking, & drugs scene. It didn't even phased her. She loves God, and she loves others. I respect that those two statements don't waver with her.

North Carolina was absolutely breath taking. I loved every minute of being there. I loved the mountains, the sunsets, the sunrises, the town of Boone, the people I met, visiting Samaritan's Purse, the pumpkin pancakes my friend Sarah made us, bouldering, slacklining, walking dogs, hiking, falling and grabbing a thorn bush to cushion the fall, drinking coffee, eating pizza, sleeping at Collins, drinking Cookout shakes, talking to Annalee late at night about all the adventures we have to look forward to. . . and evidently I love run-on sentences.

A few days before that I decided to cut all my hair off. Okay, not all of it, but I did go from long, luscious locks to mom hair cut in just a few snips. I donated 14 inches to Locks of Love. It's worth it, I mean hair grows back, no big deal.

That's all I remember from a month ago. I'm aggravated that I can't move these pictures around, so that they sit next to their stories. Nevertheless, I believe you guys are smart enough to figure out what picture goes were.

Half-Hearted View of Life.

The past week has been rainy-at some points. We've also had winds at 60 mph. Yet it seems relatively warm. With the peculiar weather comes my peculiar mood. It's strange isn't it? The way our moods often mimic the world around us. Don't worry this isn't ad. for seasonal depression medication, it's just an observation.

Any who. The other day I grabbed my keys and Marmot raincoat (the raincoat that is apparently really hardcore and will keep me perfectly dry in an ocean...or something like that) and I headed out. As I made it to my car I just stood there. Holding my keys in the middle of the driveway, I looked at my torso and saw the rain gliding so effortlessly down my raincoat. It looked so beautiful, really.

And then I looked at the rain fall straight off my coat and onto my shoes. My canvas, Toms. They quickly acted like sponges, soaking up the rain from the sky and my coat. I realized upon leaving the house I slipped on my Toms shoes instead of boots. At that point, I simply acknowledged my half-hearted view of life.

I sat in the car, without starting it.

I just listened to the rain beat on the car, in a trancelike manner. I began to think too hard about life. I find myself doing this too much lately (or maybe always). I like to think I have a good head on my shoulders. When my thoughts become too distant and over bearing, I knew it was time to start the car. Putting my thoughts back in perspective and I chalk my toms/raincoat "incident" up to a simple fashion faux pas. I remind myself to not needlessly get too deep, and too serious with life.

[yo, Hannah stop thinking so hard]

I understand this picture doesn't exactly scream "road less traveled" but for an afternoon walk with my lazy suburban dog, it did just fine.If I'm being completely honest. This shot made the walk look like a pretty dece- one. What it fails to show the viewer is the power lines, whizzing cars and large homes literally 20 feet behind me. But, pessimism aside, it was a great walk to just think. [and PRAY my dog didn't poo. I don't care how responsible it is to pick up dog poo, bag it and take it home, it is in no way natural & 100% disgusting.]

I realize my writing is pretty A.D.D and in no why for the serious reader. For that, my friends, I am sorry.

Okay, back to my apparent soul searching walk.

Thoughts.

I thought about what this year holds for a jobless girl who is taking the school year off put a dent in those school loans. . . When babysitting and mowing the lawn no longer pay the bills. You see my dilemma. How old am I again, you ask? Oh. well. um. 21, not 14 I can see how you'd be confused. it's ok. common mistake.

Calm down, Calm down. I have been putting applications out. Scouts Honor. BUT, it seems everyday that goes by that I don't get a call from a job, only makes my longings to go on a mission trip that much stronger.

Another thought was. If ever I see sunlight filtering through a leaf and don't find absolute beauty in it, I want someone to give me a 4 story atomic wedgie. [Scrubs reference, anyone?]

I also thought these flowers were really pretty. It's quite possible they're weeds, but how would I know. My thumbs are in no way green.

I tried to walk through a patch of these 'alleged' flowers to take a better picture and soon heard a very faint, but definite sound of buzzing. I then found myself in the midst of hundreds of these kids. yup, BEES.

Don't worry I barely have to walk out my front door before situations like these find me. I'll admit it took me off guard and I stood there dumbfounded. How did I walk this far WITH A DOG mind you, and neither of us bothered them? Now in the midst I stood there, trying to think what Bear Grylls would do this situation. I did a quick pro/con run through to decide if I should tip toe out or just sprint. All the while my dog is acting like we're invincible and sniffing crazy close to the bees. Clearly my precious time was almost up before they'd start stinging by the bakers dozen. So I did what any kind-hearted dog-lover would do. . . I pushed my dog, dropped the leash and sprinted in the opposite direction. duh.

Don't worry kiddos. My dog thought it was a game and chased me out. I didn't get stung, and my dog's pretty hairy, [I in no way did a thorough job of checking] so it's very difficult to say whether or not he got stung. I'm going to go with no, but it might just be to appease my conscience. Whatever helps you sleep at night, right? [insert cheesy smile and two elbow jabs]

This post is getting too long and I'm not sure if it's lame to post 2 days apart. I'm new. Give me a stinkin' break. POINT BEING, I'm going to tap out.

In closing, I took this picture when I was almost home and found it to capture life in suburbia. Mini van, automatic lawn sprinkler doing its job, "Slow let them live" sign with no child in sight. I'm not sure how I feel about it. I guess the word would be safe. But immediately afterwards, I feel sickened. I'm not 100% certain why.

I think I want to be one of those kids who blogs..

I believe writing a blog is a great idea.

A place for all my thoughts.

A place to write in a creative manner.

A place free of a teachers mark of approval.

A place to just empty my head on this pretend paper.

Or maybe, it's just an idea. I sporadically wonder if I'm the type to be a "blogger". I mull over whether or not I can be considered a . . . writer. Should I even try and add a blog so small and pointless to the masses. Where every vagabond, college student, and art mom already have one. [and probably more interesting ones at that]

And I realized in that swift change in my rattling thought process,

I've made writing MY FIRST BLOG into a daunting task.

oh boy. where do I begin.

Maybe, I'll just talk a bit about this past year, to catch up that late night wonderer who stumbles upon this blog. The one who can't fall asleep, maybe this will be that something to put him to bed.

[oh geeze, I meant that in a whimsical storybook way.

but I'm afraid it rapidly fell off to the side of melancholy.]

ok. begin, begin. right. ohh kay. just start hannah.

welp. I am 21 years old. The year CosmoGirl promised me would be great. The year you look forward to in high school when you think drinking is a lot cooler that it really is. The year you think back on with nostalgic feelings as you blow all 30 candles out on your red velvet and cream cheese frosting cake.

This year with all it's false glamor and empty promises, was in all honesty. Just another year. I don't like writing things like that because I like to believe each year, month, week, day holds something great. Don't get me wrong. I accomplished things, crossed a few things off my bucket list, grew a little, learned a little. But it was just a year.

I turned 21 while attending a Bible college where drinking was prohibited. I had to wake up early and alert to take two big finals. I was also up late because I was scheduled to work at a coffeeshop where they promised all students a free cup of joe. That whole day panned out a little differently then I thought it would. Not exactly how I imagined the big two-one.

It only proved to me that my life is unlike those in magazines, the life I daydreamed about as a brace faced 14 year old. I am made to have a different story.

I genuinely find that very freeing, comforting & exciting.

The school year ended and I found myself one class short of a diploma. I cried, for literally 10 minutes, got up, and got over it. I quickly remembered that I live in the 21st century and this day and age you can take almost anything online.I found that class, and will be enrolling in it next semester.

This past summer I was a Camp Counselor, which was probably one of the hardest thing I've ever had to do. but also one of the biggest blessings I have to date. It's was a forced role where I had to be giving and happy and loving and motherly and strong and show Jesus to each one of these kids. Arduous, I'm telling you. BUT through it all I learned, God is good, always.

Currently, I'm job hunting. . .which often ends in me researching Mission Organizations. Friends, let me just tell you where my heart lies. My heart longs to serve in an orphanage. I'd love to do that in Uganda, or Kenya, or China, or Guatemala, or wherever the Lord would send me. Hello Mission Trip. If you like to talk to God, you can talk to him about that, ask Him to lead me, and do great things with my life. thnks.

I realize that was a completely bogus way to bring the lost up to speed on my life but it's just the cliff notes version.

Uhh, remember kids this is a blog not a novel.