If I've learned anything vaulable so far in this life, it's one thing:
People will forget what you said, they'll forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Are You In Need of a Sewing Kit?
I'd apologize for not keeping up on the blog last week, but it is silly to apologize for something you aren't actually sorry for. I'm human, I get busy and distracted.
To start off, let's throw something out there. You can't shake hands with clenched fists. For you over logical thinker, well duh! It's physically impossible to shake hands with clenched fists. Enless you're first bumping, that is. But, physically you can't either. It has been said that once you get bit by a snake you have to suck out all the poision. Well, that's what I've been busy doing with my life, sucking out all the posioin. Thankfully though, I was not bit by a snake.
I don't recall why, how, or when it happened. Maybe it's that when you've found so much happiness in life that you get greedy and want een more. Or maybe I just felt the need to share it with people who meant a lot to me at one point. I suppose I just woke up one day, ate my cherrios like I always do, (Apple Cinnamon Crunch is where it's at) and decided, "Hey Kara! How about you do something useful today besides eat, layout, workout, and text!" It appears that that morning my cherrios had no been pissed in, because I decided my activity would be to ment. More like a project, because mending in one day's time is quite a challange. Mending.. hm. Time to break the sewing kit out, we have some things to stitch up. A little more challanging than eating, laying out, working out, and texting. But, what the heck, when's a little effort here and there gonna hurt anyone?
So that's what I proceeded to do that day. Make amends with people who are no longer as big of parts of my life as they once were. In some cases it wasn't even my place to be the one to put the effort into making amends, but I was the bigger person. Sometimes you just have to forgive and move on. People are gonna hurt you, get over it. You're gonna hurt people, they'll have to get over it. I also put my foot out to make amends with people of the past whom I had hurt. Most of my amends have been made, surprisingly enough I didn't have too many to make. But, this is life, and not all the amends I wanted to make have been made. If only I knew what was stopping me..
Maybe today you need to break the sewing kit out too and stitch up some wounds? No one is promising that anyone of us will be here tomorrow. And it's never satisfying to leave the heart on a bad note. Live your life with arms wide open.
Stay chill, xoxo.
To start off, let's throw something out there. You can't shake hands with clenched fists. For you over logical thinker, well duh! It's physically impossible to shake hands with clenched fists. Enless you're first bumping, that is. But, physically you can't either. It has been said that once you get bit by a snake you have to suck out all the poision. Well, that's what I've been busy doing with my life, sucking out all the posioin. Thankfully though, I was not bit by a snake.
I don't recall why, how, or when it happened. Maybe it's that when you've found so much happiness in life that you get greedy and want een more. Or maybe I just felt the need to share it with people who meant a lot to me at one point. I suppose I just woke up one day, ate my cherrios like I always do, (Apple Cinnamon Crunch is where it's at) and decided, "Hey Kara! How about you do something useful today besides eat, layout, workout, and text!" It appears that that morning my cherrios had no been pissed in, because I decided my activity would be to ment. More like a project, because mending in one day's time is quite a challange. Mending.. hm. Time to break the sewing kit out, we have some things to stitch up. A little more challanging than eating, laying out, working out, and texting. But, what the heck, when's a little effort here and there gonna hurt anyone?
So that's what I proceeded to do that day. Make amends with people who are no longer as big of parts of my life as they once were. In some cases it wasn't even my place to be the one to put the effort into making amends, but I was the bigger person. Sometimes you just have to forgive and move on. People are gonna hurt you, get over it. You're gonna hurt people, they'll have to get over it. I also put my foot out to make amends with people of the past whom I had hurt. Most of my amends have been made, surprisingly enough I didn't have too many to make. But, this is life, and not all the amends I wanted to make have been made. If only I knew what was stopping me..
Maybe today you need to break the sewing kit out too and stitch up some wounds? No one is promising that anyone of us will be here tomorrow. And it's never satisfying to leave the heart on a bad note. Live your life with arms wide open.
Stay chill, xoxo.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Phone Collectables
The following are just some poems, lines, sayings, and crap that I have found locked on my phone. Most of it is stuff that I wrote, along with some words of Braden Patton as well. Major props to him for always being the judge of my witty writings I send to him. And offering me ideas from songs and poems and stuff that he's written.
I want so badly for you to be,
The good person I see,
Inside of you.
Your intentions see so wrong,
Lyrics to a rap song,
I just wish you could see,
The person I think you could be.
There was me and you,
trying so hard to fight through.
The bridges started burning,
As we kept yerning,
For a love we once knew,
We always thought was so true,
But the bridges keep burning,
As we keep yerning,
Realize there's only so much we can do,
That love we thought we knew,
Just wasn't so true,
Now it's all throuh,
there is no me and you.
You cry the rivers,
I'll burn the bridges,
You sew us up,
I'll rip the stitches.
I'd rather have scars than go unharmed,
I may be weak, but at least I'm armed.
I hope to god I mean a little more,
Than the sounds that escape your three AM lips,
Oh how I hope I mean a little more,
Than a symphany of heavy breakinthing and the frictions of hips.
Always on my toes,
Can't breathe in the one place familiar to me,
Every sound, every creek, inside I'm weak,
In the one placea familiar to me,
Just need to hear you breathe.
Knees weak, fallen to the ground,
No helping hands, no one around.
Strength is all you need, to take away the rain.
But really, strength is just hiding the pain.
You never meant that much to me,
But the idea of having you kept my heart abeat.
Someone to think about night and day,
Someone who would always stay.
That may be how I feel,
But let's get real,
You're not mine, and I know it,
Sometimes at night, I can't hold it in.
I want so badly for you to be,
The good person I see,
Inside of you.
Your intentions see so wrong,
Lyrics to a rap song,
I just wish you could see,
The person I think you could be.
There was me and you,
trying so hard to fight through.
The bridges started burning,
As we kept yerning,
For a love we once knew,
We always thought was so true,
But the bridges keep burning,
As we keep yerning,
Realize there's only so much we can do,
That love we thought we knew,
Just wasn't so true,
Now it's all throuh,
there is no me and you.
You cry the rivers,
I'll burn the bridges,
You sew us up,
I'll rip the stitches.
I'd rather have scars than go unharmed,
I may be weak, but at least I'm armed.
I hope to god I mean a little more,
Than the sounds that escape your three AM lips,
Oh how I hope I mean a little more,
Than a symphany of heavy breakinthing and the frictions of hips.
Always on my toes,
Can't breathe in the one place familiar to me,
Every sound, every creek, inside I'm weak,
In the one placea familiar to me,
Just need to hear you breathe.
Knees weak, fallen to the ground,
No helping hands, no one around.
Strength is all you need, to take away the rain.
But really, strength is just hiding the pain.
You never meant that much to me,
But the idea of having you kept my heart abeat.
Someone to think about night and day,
Someone who would always stay.
That may be how I feel,
But let's get real,
You're not mine, and I know it,
Sometimes at night, I can't hold it in.
Friday, June 3, 2011
You Could Be Happy
Whether you know it or not, you should be happy, that's what I said from the start.
I know, I know, it's my no boy summer, but.. today I think I'm inlove. How corny. With Steven? No, sadface. I so wish! I'm totally "Feelin' it on Friday" though. Feeling EVERYTHING. Just one of those days when you look around and everything is great. Your tan glows, your friends laugh, the sun shines, and you smile when you look at anything. There could proabably be a pile of dead babies on the ground and I'd smile. Actually, no matter what kind of mood I"m in a pile of dead babies could make me smile. My all time favorite dead baby joke: What's the difference between a pile of dead babies and a trampoline? I take my shoes off to jump on the trampoline. I sound like a crazy now, but pu-lease. Who doesn't love dead baby jokes?! I really would never wanna see a pile of dead babies though. Mood-killer.
Back to how life is so beautiful. It excites me so much that I race to write the words and later when I go to type this I won't be able to read my hand writing because it's chicken scratch excitement scramble. (This is a true statement, because I just had to reread my hand written copy multiple times.) I'm writing to the beat of the music. And now typing to the beat of the music. That's love, if I've ever known it. The only ugly thing about today is that this is life. You know what that means? This beautifulness will only last so long. Actually, it'll last forever. But, soon I won't be able to see it. Because you can't watch the sunshine forever, even though it never stops shining. You've gotta sleep sometimes.
Some people are just turds. I don't know how else to put it. They don't see the brightside of life while floating in the toilet bowl. Instead they choose to sink. Those are the people that also don't like happy people. I bet you're think of an old person right now.. Stop it. Don't hate on the elderly. I love my Nana very much. Those people though. Jeesh, can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Who would I have to bitch about without them? Anyways, they try to claim that it's all just an act. That there's no way anyone can be that happy. Take my word, I know all about this and so do you. Helllllo, we're all humans. I'm like that sometimes. You are too. Wanna hear something embarassing? When I get like that I make these little dorky lists of things to be happy about. The drafts on my phone are full of them so is this notebook.
Right now I'm just anxious for the rest of my life. So many places to go, so many experiences ahead, so many people to meet, so many lives to change, so many dreams to chase. Just one of those days. AH. I hope you had one too! If not, well, sucks to suck. Be happy the work week is over. Although, I don't reckon that's a concern of mine because like I've told you, my life is beautiful. And in the beautiful world you don't have to work.
Say chill and happy, xoxo.
I know, I know, it's my no boy summer, but.. today I think I'm inlove. How corny. With Steven? No, sadface. I so wish! I'm totally "Feelin' it on Friday" though. Feeling EVERYTHING. Just one of those days when you look around and everything is great. Your tan glows, your friends laugh, the sun shines, and you smile when you look at anything. There could proabably be a pile of dead babies on the ground and I'd smile. Actually, no matter what kind of mood I"m in a pile of dead babies could make me smile. My all time favorite dead baby joke: What's the difference between a pile of dead babies and a trampoline? I take my shoes off to jump on the trampoline. I sound like a crazy now, but pu-lease. Who doesn't love dead baby jokes?! I really would never wanna see a pile of dead babies though. Mood-killer.
Back to how life is so beautiful. It excites me so much that I race to write the words and later when I go to type this I won't be able to read my hand writing because it's chicken scratch excitement scramble. (This is a true statement, because I just had to reread my hand written copy multiple times.) I'm writing to the beat of the music. And now typing to the beat of the music. That's love, if I've ever known it. The only ugly thing about today is that this is life. You know what that means? This beautifulness will only last so long. Actually, it'll last forever. But, soon I won't be able to see it. Because you can't watch the sunshine forever, even though it never stops shining. You've gotta sleep sometimes.
Some people are just turds. I don't know how else to put it. They don't see the brightside of life while floating in the toilet bowl. Instead they choose to sink. Those are the people that also don't like happy people. I bet you're think of an old person right now.. Stop it. Don't hate on the elderly. I love my Nana very much. Those people though. Jeesh, can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Who would I have to bitch about without them? Anyways, they try to claim that it's all just an act. That there's no way anyone can be that happy. Take my word, I know all about this and so do you. Helllllo, we're all humans. I'm like that sometimes. You are too. Wanna hear something embarassing? When I get like that I make these little dorky lists of things to be happy about. The drafts on my phone are full of them so is this notebook.
Right now I'm just anxious for the rest of my life. So many places to go, so many experiences ahead, so many people to meet, so many lives to change, so many dreams to chase. Just one of those days. AH. I hope you had one too! If not, well, sucks to suck. Be happy the work week is over. Although, I don't reckon that's a concern of mine because like I've told you, my life is beautiful. And in the beautiful world you don't have to work.
Say chill and happy, xoxo.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Gym > Boys
Thursday! Thursday! Well, it's technically thirty three minutes into Friday. But, it'll look like I posted this on Thursday because Blogspot time is off. Time to reminisce some more. Hate to break it to you, but I'm reminiscing back to boys, again. Cut me some slack though! I'm a boy crazed teen. Reading Seventeen and Cosmo just add to it.
Let's reminisce the fact that boys bitch, moan, and complain a lot. They think girls are bad about it, but if they point a finger at me, I'll point them to the mirror. Even my oh-so-loving father bitches a lot. He's let off the hook though because he loves his hair as much as I love mine.
Boys of my past were extra bitchy about one aspect of my life: my daily working out. Yep, I'm busy and I can't hangout because I have to go the gym. They just don't understand! And it's not like the boys of my past or future are or were big four hundred pounders, that can't walk down the hallway withouth getting chub rub. I usually go for the athletic type. For some reason they just don't understand that I need my daily hour of cardio. Plus, come on, I love going to the gym to socialize. I don't know if boys just think that girl (well.. some of us) look this good by sitting around infront of the mirror. Oh baby, if only that was the secret trick to it.. So many time I feel I've had to say, "Sweetheart, I don't stay this size by sitting around thinking about your whiny ass all day." Which is even truer considering that sitting around thinking about boys makes me just want to shove food in my face til breathing is difficult. Gosh, that sounds violent. And as I write this I'm eating and thinking about boys. Eating peaches that is, keeping it healthy!
Stay fit and chill, xoxo.
Let's reminisce the fact that boys bitch, moan, and complain a lot. They think girls are bad about it, but if they point a finger at me, I'll point them to the mirror. Even my oh-so-loving father bitches a lot. He's let off the hook though because he loves his hair as much as I love mine.
Boys of my past were extra bitchy about one aspect of my life: my daily working out. Yep, I'm busy and I can't hangout because I have to go the gym. They just don't understand! And it's not like the boys of my past or future are or were big four hundred pounders, that can't walk down the hallway withouth getting chub rub. I usually go for the athletic type. For some reason they just don't understand that I need my daily hour of cardio. Plus, come on, I love going to the gym to socialize. I don't know if boys just think that girl (well.. some of us) look this good by sitting around infront of the mirror. Oh baby, if only that was the secret trick to it.. So many time I feel I've had to say, "Sweetheart, I don't stay this size by sitting around thinking about your whiny ass all day." Which is even truer considering that sitting around thinking about boys makes me just want to shove food in my face til breathing is difficult. Gosh, that sounds violent. And as I write this I'm eating and thinking about boys. Eating peaches that is, keeping it healthy!
Stay fit and chill, xoxo.
Steven, Why Won't You Call Me?!
Oh, because it's illegal for us to be together. And you respect the law, but I like that about you.
Ohemgeez, allow me to act like a creepy twelve year old for like five minutes. Ten minutes tops. So Steven, AKA just Steve.. well, we've never met. At least we haven't yet. Okay, on the real, we probably never will. But, my dear friend Emma told me about this cute Mr. Steven, whom she met through shows and bands, and that kind of stuff. And like any other teenage girls would do in their free time, we Facebook creeped this Mr. Steve. From Facebook creeping we established that he a.) has an ugly girlfriend, (whose life we must ruin) b.) wears tight ass rocker jeans and v necks, c.) plays the drums, (he bang 'em hard) As we're trolling this lad, I realize that he goes perfect with the Ke$ha song "Steven." Emma transformed herself to a hipster, drum playing, tight ass rocker pant wearing Steven, and we proceeded to make a tribute.
Steve, if you ever come across this you should know how to get a hold of me. And I want to eat your last name. (For security purposes I didn't mention Steve's last name.)
Stay chill and gorgeous Steve, xoxo.
Ohemgeez, allow me to act like a creepy twelve year old for like five minutes. Ten minutes tops. So Steven, AKA just Steve.. well, we've never met. At least we haven't yet. Okay, on the real, we probably never will. But, my dear friend Emma told me about this cute Mr. Steven, whom she met through shows and bands, and that kind of stuff. And like any other teenage girls would do in their free time, we Facebook creeped this Mr. Steve. From Facebook creeping we established that he a.) has an ugly girlfriend, (whose life we must ruin) b.) wears tight ass rocker jeans and v necks, c.) plays the drums, (he bang 'em hard) As we're trolling this lad, I realize that he goes perfect with the Ke$ha song "Steven." Emma transformed herself to a hipster, drum playing, tight ass rocker pant wearing Steven, and we proceeded to make a tribute.
Stay chill and gorgeous Steve, xoxo.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Magenta
This is the real "Whaddddup on Wednesday" because I actually wrote it on a Wednesday. I've recently discovered I write my best blogs when sitting out on my deck soaking up the sun. Yesterday I wrote outside in my undies. But, today I'm trying to keep it a little classier, so I've got my swim suit on. It even matches. Bonus points! You know what's up on Wednesday?! Magent. Probably my favorite color. Actually, you could probably careless that it's my favorite color, and I could too.
Here's my life story about magent. Life is basically like a giant box of crayons. Most people are like the 8-color boxes, but what you're looking for is the 64-color box with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be like a 64-color box. Well.. not quite, because I have a few colors missing. That's okay though, because I have more vibrant colors, like Flamingo Pink. You see, I have a bit of a problem though, in that I can only meet the 8-color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean there's just so many different colors of life and feeling. So when I meet somene who's an 8-color type, I'm all "heyyyy boy, Magenta!" and he's like, "oh, you mean purple!" and he goes off on this whole purple thing. I'm just like, "Damn..no. I WANT MAGENTA!"
Magenta is what's up on Wednesday. Where are all you magentas?! Oh wait, I'm not looking cause it's my No Boy Summer. Go about life as a 64-color box my friends. No one wants the 8-color ones, besides the desperate cheap 4-color off brand boxes they hand out with kiddie menus at resturants.
Stay chill and 64, xoxo.
P.S. When I wrote this I used a magent pin. YAY for being inspired!
Here's my life story about magent. Life is basically like a giant box of crayons. Most people are like the 8-color boxes, but what you're looking for is the 64-color box with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be like a 64-color box. Well.. not quite, because I have a few colors missing. That's okay though, because I have more vibrant colors, like Flamingo Pink. You see, I have a bit of a problem though, in that I can only meet the 8-color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean there's just so many different colors of life and feeling. So when I meet somene who's an 8-color type, I'm all "heyyyy boy, Magenta!" and he's like, "oh, you mean purple!" and he goes off on this whole purple thing. I'm just like, "Damn..no. I WANT MAGENTA!"
Magenta is what's up on Wednesday. Where are all you magentas?! Oh wait, I'm not looking cause it's my No Boy Summer. Go about life as a 64-color box my friends. No one wants the 8-color ones, besides the desperate cheap 4-color off brand boxes they hand out with kiddie menus at resturants.
Stay chill and 64, xoxo.
P.S. When I wrote this I used a magent pin. YAY for being inspired!
Sorry My Room Is A Mess, Mom
I'm just trying to define myself.
This morning when I rolled out of bed at noon and tried to find a path to walk out of my room, I made a keen observation. My discovery was representation. Too bad there isn't a day of the week that starts with a D, so I guess we'll just have to have Discovery Duesday instead. Duesday makes me think of due date, which reminds me that I probably have a some fines rackin gup at the library. We'll have to save the story about the time I had $16.00 worth of fines for another time.
But, back to the regular programming on Kara's Discovery Channel. Today I realized why most teenagers' rooms are messy. Maybe perhaps your room represents you. And the teenage years can be a messy time in life. Yeah, yeah, I know we've all heard you can't judge a book by its cover, but let's get real. We all still do it sometimes, whether on accident or on purpose. (Btw, I don't think it makes you a bad person; it just shows that you're human.)
I'll be honest, the condition of my room totally describes me. I even try to use the excuse with my mom that "I'm using my room to express myself" when she tells me I need to clean it. But, come on Mom! Let me be me! Okay, okay, let's get to how my room describes me. It's a total mess. Which I'm not a neat person, I like my crap in a mess. (Which could be the reasoning as to why I seem to lose every single thing I touch. Hm..) The messiness also describes my life, which is a little messy sometimes. I'm a teenager, of course life is a litte messy. You have the whole finding yourself phase, the heartbreaks, and all the other stuff you could care less about, but you have to pretend you care anyways. How could you expect my life to be neat and tidy with all of that on my plate?! Oh my, if only parents could understand why us teenagers have messy rooms.
Just like I'm sure most of you do, when a room just gets too messy, you clean it up. Well, I do the same. Which also represents my life. When things get to messy, I clean it up. But, then that room starts to get messy again and once again you have to clean it back up. Same thing happens in life. Messy, clean, messy, clean. I don't like when my room is too messy, because then it smells, and I can't find any clean clothes. I also don't like when it's too clean, because then everything is in it's place, and I can't seem to find what I need. When life is too messy I feel out of control, but when it's too neat and perfect you just feel weird. So really, I like it in between. Not to messy, not to clean.
Stay chill and inbetween, xoxo.
This morning when I rolled out of bed at noon and tried to find a path to walk out of my room, I made a keen observation. My discovery was representation. Too bad there isn't a day of the week that starts with a D, so I guess we'll just have to have Discovery Duesday instead. Duesday makes me think of due date, which reminds me that I probably have a some fines rackin gup at the library. We'll have to save the story about the time I had $16.00 worth of fines for another time.
But, back to the regular programming on Kara's Discovery Channel. Today I realized why most teenagers' rooms are messy. Maybe perhaps your room represents you. And the teenage years can be a messy time in life. Yeah, yeah, I know we've all heard you can't judge a book by its cover, but let's get real. We all still do it sometimes, whether on accident or on purpose. (Btw, I don't think it makes you a bad person; it just shows that you're human.)
I'll be honest, the condition of my room totally describes me. I even try to use the excuse with my mom that "I'm using my room to express myself" when she tells me I need to clean it. But, come on Mom! Let me be me! Okay, okay, let's get to how my room describes me. It's a total mess. Which I'm not a neat person, I like my crap in a mess. (Which could be the reasoning as to why I seem to lose every single thing I touch. Hm..) The messiness also describes my life, which is a little messy sometimes. I'm a teenager, of course life is a litte messy. You have the whole finding yourself phase, the heartbreaks, and all the other stuff you could care less about, but you have to pretend you care anyways. How could you expect my life to be neat and tidy with all of that on my plate?! Oh my, if only parents could understand why us teenagers have messy rooms.
Just like I'm sure most of you do, when a room just gets too messy, you clean it up. Well, I do the same. Which also represents my life. When things get to messy, I clean it up. But, then that room starts to get messy again and once again you have to clean it back up. Same thing happens in life. Messy, clean, messy, clean. I don't like when my room is too messy, because then it smells, and I can't find any clean clothes. I also don't like when it's too clean, because then everything is in it's place, and I can't seem to find what I need. When life is too messy I feel out of control, but when it's too neat and perfect you just feel weird. So really, I like it in between. Not to messy, not to clean.
Stay chill and inbetween, xoxo.
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