Dear John Doozy

I just caught the last 30 minutes or so of the film rendition of "Dear John," and though I shed a few tears, (if you know me at all you know it doesn't take much) I was reminded of how much I despise the movie version of this extraordinary book.

**SPOILER ALERT: If you've been hiding under a rock and haven't read/seen the film and plan on seeing it at some point in the future, you should stop reading.

Okay, here's the sitch.  I read this book a couple of years ago and fell in deep, deep love with it.  I cried my way through the last 5 pages or so and lost more than a few hours of sleep over it.  But in the best way possible.

You see, the thing that is rare and moving and real about "Dear John," book, is that John and Savannah make decisions and chose separate paths and have to live with their decisions.  There isn't some constructed, perfect ending where hearts are healed and lives are perfect and things just "work out."

Who would want to read that anyway?

I don't know why I like to make myself cry like this.

Okay, here is the last snippet of the book.  Hang on...

Okay, I just ran down to my car to grab the book.  I knew I'd been meaning to unload that for the last 2 months.

If you're still reading, I assume you know that Savannah and John broke up when he was away at war, and she married Tim, who is now sick with cancer.  John sells  his dad's coin collection in order to help with his treatment, the treatment is successful and Tim is in remission.

John goes to Savannah's house and, spying on her, sees her happy with her new family.  He also sees as she wanders out late at night to look at the moon, which is significant to their relationship for some reason that I can't remember at the moment.

And here are the absolute last, final words of the novel...

"She pauses then and crosses her arms, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one has followed her.  Finally, she seems to relax.  And then I feel as if I'm witnessing a miracle, as ever so slowly she raises her face toward the moon.  I watch her drink in the sight, sensing the flood of memories she's unleashed and wanting nothing more than to let her know I'm here.  But instead, I stay where I am and stare up at the moon as well.  And for the briefest instant, it almost feels like we are together again."
-Nicholas Sparks

Ugh.

I'm having trouble containing myself right now...

She loves him! And he loves her! And it should be so easy, but it's just not.  She is married, and he made a choice to stay away at war and she made a choice to marry someone else, but, oh heavens, she still loves John.  Is this incredibly heartbreaking and tragic to anyone else or am I just losing my mind?

I am telling you, this ending haunted me for days.  And I waited oh-so-anxiously for my sob-fest at the theatre when the film came out and I watched Channing Tatum's lovely face watching Amanda Seyfried's face looking at the moon and yearning for things that could not be.

And you know what Hollywood did to me?  Well, they screwed me over by creating an ending in which the sick and second-best husband dies, making room for John and Savannah to conveniently meet up at a coffee shop later on and hug and oh of course they are going to end up together now.

Bologna.

I can't even think about how infuriated it makes me that they turned all this heartbreak and longing into one perfect, ribbon-wrapped gift box of a film.  Ugh.

Sometimes I wish Hollywood would just let me cry some more.

Challenge Schmallenge

I'm over this whole 30 Day Challenge Business.

Can you tell?  Here's the deal.  I'm not excited about the posts that are supposed to be next on my agenda.  I don't feel like I can be clever or charming or funny using these ideas as inspiration.  And the truth is that I think of things to talk about every day that would be more fun than this challenge junk.

So I'm giving up.  No, I'm seceding from the challenge.  (How can I word this so that I don't sound like a flake?)

And I hope in this pursuit to be more interesting than this challenge was allowing me to be.

So I'm back! Unbound by restrictions or obligations.

First thing I want to tell you about is my apartment.  I am obsessed with it and it gets cuter by the day.

(If you want to see the live-action view, let me know.  I'm really into Skype lately.)

Here's what has happened lately:

We have a whole living area.  I'm currently too busy using the couch to take a photo, so you'll just have to wait on that one.  Soon we will even have curtains.  Imagine that.

But wait!  We have an entire dining area.  It was created in the minds of my sweet rooms and myself, and came together piece by piece.  It is really quite astounding that it turned out so beautiful.

Yes, those are palm trees in the background.  Welcome to California.

A little tidbit about us- we are in love with the zebra rug.  In. Love. Last night I had an incident with some slightly-burning bacon wrapped jalapenos, and for a moment when I though we might have to evacuate, I remember thinking, "We have to take the rug."  It is of the upmost importance to us.

Also, I am now a home improvement expert.

I found stools for free, they were ugly, I made them... less ugly.

That's the best I can do.

We started here.

U-G-L-Y you ain't got no alibi, you ugly.  AND this is the picture without the other mismatched stool.

So I bought some spray paint and went to work.

Well, at least the legs are the same color.

Then I surveyed the damage...

Word to the wise: When spray painting something close to the ground, be sure to cover the entire surface area.  Otherwise you will end up with a geometric design on your balcony.  Oops.

Then I got to work with the staple gun.

And made up how to staple fabric onto a chair.  I think next time I would be a bit more careful.  Or maybe Google it.

Here's why.  I ended up with this.

Do me a favor and don't look too closely at the draping of the fabric.  And for heaven's sake, if you come visit, please, for the love, don't turn the chairs upside down.

It's like a war zone.  I am no pro with a staple gun.

But I can bake.

It's a good thing, too, because we had a certified party last night.  All in honor of Bachelor Pad.

Did I really just type that?  What is this world coming to?

A Little Gaga Never Hurt Anyone

**COMMENT AS OF 2:27 FRIDAY:  I was just informed by a dear friend that the video embedded below is... well, perhaps less than appropriate.  I apologize for this oversight, and can only excuse my behavior by saying that I haven't exactly watched the whole thing.  Sorry.  You see, I usually just put this on in my bathroom as I get ready in the morning.  So do like me, turn it on, and then stop watching.
Just listen.

**COMMENT AS OF 2:39 FRIDAY:  Woah.  She wasn't kidding.  This is kind of disturbing.  Really, please don't watch the video.  And please don't judge me.


I have a confession.

I am totally, 100% obsessed, in love, infatuated with, and consumed with Gaga's new song "You and I."

(Yes, I realize that I left off those two strange Dutch or Finnish or whatever marks about the "u" in "You." I don't know how to type that biz and I don't understand Gaga's creative desire to put them there.  Sue me.)

I also finally looked up the lyrics and realized that the "You" in this song is referred to as "Nebraska" by Ms. Germanotti.  And then I read the line that says "There's only three men I'm going to serve my whole life... That's my Daddy and Nebraska and Jesus Christ" which made me feel like a gajillion times better because all this time I'd thought she was saying the three men were "The Dalai (as in Lama?) and the Rasta (wasn't sure about this one, but that didn't stop me from singing it) and Jesus Christ."

So, despite the fact that I have absolutely zero affection for Nebraska, I certainly do for my Daddy, and I now love this song exponentially more.  Don't have to sing about that Rasta fella either.  What a relief.

Anyway, I stalk the radio stations for this song like I used to do for "Who Says."  And let me tell you what... I never win the battle against this song.  It is the most elusive Gaga song to ever come around.  (Even more elusive than "Speechless," which up until this point was my fave.

So today, after 9 hours of work and 2 hours of dining room table pick-up and installation (done by yours truly- pictures to come) when I turned my radio to Top 20 and heard "This time I'm not leaving without you..." I almost died of excitement.  Don't judge, I've been looking for this song on the radio for about 8 days now.

And then I heard the worst thing ever... Ryan Seacrest's voice welcoming me back to the Top 20 Countdown.  That trickster Gaga ends the song in the exact same way she begins it.

So, just like a normal 22 year old would react, I shouted really embarrassingly loudly, "NO! YOU SUCK!" and slammed my little fist on my armrest in a fit of rage.

If anyone saw that, I hope I made their entire night.

Here's the vid, which is weird and awesome and... weird.  But it's Gaga.

Totally worth the $1.29 it would cost to buy it on iTunes, but that is just way too logical of a solution to my problem.

So I will continue to stalk the radio stations in fruitless pursuit of this dang song.

Bring it on, Seacrest.

Day 20: Nicknames

How I wish I had little to say on this subject.

You see, I've noticed that nicknames are positive and cute about 10% of the time, and the rest of the time they develop out of a particularly embarrassing or strange characteristic of a person.  At least, that's the case with me.

Let's start at the very beginning... My mom started calling me "Lindsay Lou Who" after reading The Grinch who Stole Christmas to me and taking a certain liking to "Cindy Lou Who."  Thus began the "Lou" phase of my life, the longest enduring nickname to date.  This is easily translated to "Lou Lou," which I hear almost every time I call my mom.  She picks up the phone and sing-song's those words to me almost daily.  I like it.

Then I entered the dark days.  I guess a little background is needed... I'm a little strange.  I know this, and I've accepted it, and most days I try to use it to my advantage.  But I do erratic things sometimes and maybe sometimes I do them at a really fast pace.  Some might call it spastic.

Well, some did call it spastic.  For about 3 years in High School,  I was commonly known as "Spazzy," or more simply, "Spaz."  The z's are important.  I'm vaguely remembering the nickname forming out of my habit of running into walls... Because that probably looked weird to passersby.  Don't worry, I wasn't mentally deranged, I just lack peripheral vision.  Maybe they are one in the same.  Looking back, I probably should have been offended by this, but at the time it was just my name.  I responded to this call and everything, like a trained dog.  Awesome.

Then I somehow became "Mama Linds."  What a turnaround.  From "Spaz" to "Mama Linds" in about a year.  I grew up fast.  The "Mama" part I believe came from my habit of wanting to take care of everyone.  And my tendency to cook a lot.  And babysit.  And wear Mom clothes sometimes because I lack common style sense.

I should stop.

So there you have it. My varied and mainly demeaning nicknames.  Thanks a lot, buds.

Just kidding.  Nicknames are a sign of endearment, right? 

...Right?

Day 19: Something You Miss

Didn't think I was gonna make it today, didja?

That's okay, I didn't either.  My little challenge definitely took a back seat to the other erratic and certifiably ridiculous events of my day.  If only I could share on a public forum... but alas, I believe that is referred to as slander.  Or libel.  Media Law is fading quickly.

But low and behold, here I am, with more senseless musings to entertain you.

Or entertain me... either way.

Something I miss.  Well, normally I would have posted a picture of my family and been good and done with it, but they left me in Cali only 2 days ago.  So I don't miss y'all yet.

Just kidding!  I always miss y'all and your strange habits and ism's.

But today, of all days, what I really miss is school.  Call me crazy, (I would have too a year ago) but man, students have it made.  Seriously, students out there, you have it made.

I especially miss high school.  My good friend Mern and I often muse on the fact that life was so incredibly carefree in high school.  The biggest worry I had on many days was whether I had the match to the correct cheer bobby socks for the ice-cream social that evening.

(Seriously, every word of that sentence is the truth.  Cue small town jokes now.)

Now looking back, with jobs and bosses and pressures and bills and groceries and laundry and oil changes stacking up... I really kinda just wish I could start right over at Freshman year.

Of high school.

Here's me and my little sis on the first day of school about 5 years ago.  Now she is taller than me and probably looks older too.  That's cool.

But seriously, I wish I could zap myself back.  I want to see people I haven't seen all summer, and find out which friends are in each class, and prepare for the first all-important pep rally.  And stay in the high school gym that reeks of sweat and popcorn until midnight on a Thursday night hanging strange streamers and balloons from the ceiling and pretending people are going to care the next day.  And I want to make lunch plans with friends, and race out of the parking lot to beat the lines.  And I want to listen to the Eagles for an hour and a half every other day in Art class and paint obscure oil paintings for months and months on end in horrid smocks.

...Well, if this whole Hollywood business fails, I guess I could always be a teacher.

Maybe that will make me not sound like such a has-been.  Cause after this post, that's exactly what I sound like...

I'll work on that.

Day 18: Favorite Place to Eat

**Disclaimer: I would like to apologize for my utter and complete abandonment of my blog and 30 Day Challenge.  As many of you have noted, my 30 Days seem to be turning into something close to... well, probably close to 50.  Shame on me.  I know.  Working on finishing strong.  Working on making it to work every day too.  And now boot camp.  Oy vey.


Man, this is tough.  Especially since I live in LA, widely known to have some of the best food in America. At least thats what I like to tell myself when I notice my jeans are super-duper snug.  Ugh.  Blame it on the pasta.

Which brings me to my next topic- pasta.  I never knew I was such a fan of Italian.  This is probably due to the fact that Mexican food in Austin, TX is basically to-die-for and I ate it about 90% of the time I went out to eat.  Sorry bout it.

But alas, Mexican food doesn't exist in Los Angeles.  At least it doesn't exist in the sense I would like it to, which is greasy and spicy and smothered in cheese.

...What?

So I have ventured out of my comfort food box into a world of possibilities in the form of food from Italia.  And let me tell you... if there is one thing that LA does well, it's Italian.

Let me introduce you to Il Pastaio.  A lovely little gem on a quiet corner in Beverly Hills with pasta that will make you melt.  The pasta is all hand-cut in the kitchen and the flavors are incredible.  My sweet rooms introduced me to this little joint and I have now made it part of my weekly routine.  Okay, I've gone twice, but whatever.

Trust me on this one... next time you're in LA, just do it.  You're likely to see a celeb or two wandering around, because even they can't resist this place.

Oh, yeah.  These folks have a ton of wine, too.  Like... a ton.

What's not to love?

Day 17: Something You're Looking Forward To

There are so many things that fit this bill right now.

I am looking forward to an interview (for a real, paying job!) this afternoon at 3:00.

(That's 5:00 pm Texas time, for all of you that want to say a prayer for me!  I certainly wouldn't say no!)

The interview is to assist a pretty fabulous screenwriter.  I have very little idea what this entails, but I want the job all the same.

Wait, maybe I shouldn't make that statement quite yet.

I am also really, really, super duper excited about my family coming to town TOMORROW! All four of them.  I saw my parents about a month ago but I haven't seen my sisters in... well, about 2 months.  Not too long, I guess.

But my mom has compiled a long list of activities for us, so I'm sure I will be fully entertained.  Bring on the whale watching!

Day 13, 14, 15, 16... I suck.

I know, I know.  My real life is just too darn exciting.  Actually, the excitement comes and goes, but the business is pretty stinking constant.  I don't know how these working people do it.  I hardly manage to shave my legs once a week.

Too much?

Excuses, excuses right?  Okay here goes.  I am going to attempt to catch up on the vast number of days I missed.  Oh and gonna go ahead and call a time out for next Wednesday-Sunday.  I will definitely, 100% be gone and blog-free for those days, because my sweet family is coming to visit and I have better things to do than entertain them via the Internet.  Like entertain them in person.  Ha.  Get excited for that one, McClendons!




Day 13: Goals

I'm going to keep it short and simple here.

I want to be happy.  I want to be surrounded by people that make me want to be a better person.  I want to show people the love of Christ through my life.  I want to create things that make people smile, whether it's a film or just a really pretty cake.  And I want to laugh so much that I have premature crows-feet around my eyes.  (Whoopsie-daisy, already accomplished that one. Sheesh.)




Day 14: Picture of Yourself Last Year- how have you changed?

I don't really know why I chose this photo, other than the face that it was about a year ago and I really miss all these folks.  And I had hair.  If you don't get this, then you must be new.  I talk about this embarrassing physical deformity often.  It helps me deal.

Physically speaking, that is the only real physical change I've undergone. In the last 5 years.  Apparently I factor out to around 17 when people guess my age.  Cool.




Day 15: Bible Verse


Oh heavens, where to begin?  I have some all time favorites, but then there are those that just are so divinely placed in life it knocks your socks off.

I guess I'll go with the verse that was all over my mind (and radio) today.  I listen to "The Message" in the morning on my way to work almost every morning.  Sometimes Christian radio annoys me to no end (and I mean that in the best possible way, by the way) but sometimes it's really wonderful.  I wasn't super excited about work today and was wondering how I'd deal with some of the junk I get to deal with every day and I heard "Strong Enough" by Matthew West.  And I started belting out "I can do all things... Through Christ who gives me strength..." all the way down Hollywood Blvd. It was wonderful and all through the day when I whenever I was annoyed and frustrated I would hear that chorus over and over in my head.

So there.  Philippians 4:13.  Call it a cliche.  Call it whatever you want, it's a great verse.  Nothing is too big for the Lord of Creation to deal with.  And I don't have to be strong enough.  And that is an incredible truth.




Day 16: Dream House


I have to say again, oh heavens... where to begin?

So, I'm going to admit something about myself (again) that might be somewhat embarrassing.  I seem to be using this forum as a confessional for stupid things about myself.  I will say, (again,) I should stop this behavior.

Oh, what the heck.  This little beauty is one of my favorite websites.

I dare you to try to spend only 5 minutes on here:  Hooked on Houses.

Some highlights from my (many) hours of browsing...

I could just die in this living room from "Something's Gotta Give."  It makes me really, really happy.

I also totally love Cameron Diaz' house from "The Holiday." Don't even pretend you weren't watching the house more than the characters.  Oh, you were?  Guess I should go back and watch it again.

This is a hotel in Santa Monica that I am totally in love with.  I am totally going to go someday.  Wonder if they gave free room tours?

So, I guess if you combined all of the above that might create something like a "dream home" to me.  I am from Texas though and will probably end up with something closer to this.

Guess that's not too shabby, though.

Day 12: Something I Don't Leave Home Without

I started out thinking very practically about this question.

Phone: Lame. Who does leave home without their phone?
Wallet: Super lame.
Sunglasses: Pathetic LA.
Perfect nails: Pathetic diva. (Sad but true.)

My track record wasn't looking great.  So I actually dug through my purse to find something interesting.  You know what came out??

(Does anyone remember that Raffi song, by the way? The one that goes, "You know what came out-what came out-a bouncing ball- boing, boing...")

Sorry.

What came out was a squishy little Sleep Pretty in Pink Earplug.  And I realized, I really don't go anywhere without these babies.

They follow me around like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs.  If you follow them long enough, you're sure to find me.  I also own a ridiculous quantity of these.  They are coming out of my ears... in more ways than one.  Hardy har har...

Sorry.  I'll stop.

Here's the deal with the earplugs.  I feel like I need to explain myself or this entire blog entry is going to be completely absurd.  (Speaking of the word "absurd," I've realized that I use it a lot.  I think this is because at one point in Titanic Kate Winslet declares that something that Jack said is "absurd."  Now I haven't stopped saying it for like the past 10 years.  Absurd, absurd, absurd...)

I should seriously stop admitting stuff like that.

Anyway, here's the deal with the earplugs, Round 2.  I lived in a sorority house for 2 years.  It was wonderful and communal and lovely and delicious and harmonious, and also very loud at night.  Those metal slits in the doors let in every peep from the hallway, and let me tell you, the Chi Omega hallway was a happening place on random Tuesday nights around 3 am.  Therefore, I started plugging my ears up every night as I went to bed, and I was rarely ever disturbed again.

But then something terrible happened... I became addicted to the earplugs.  Now, the most delicate of noises will drive me absolutely bonkers when I am trying to fall asleep.  An air conditioner that goes on and off? Misery.  A squeaky ceiling fan? Forget about it.  I am addicted to muted and smothered sounds for a good night's sleep.  And if you know me, a good night's sleep is very important.

Therefore, I consistently throw these little babies in every overnight bag I have, every toiletry bag I own, and every purse I might ever take out of the house.

Because let me tell you, there's nothing worse than being stuck without your Pretty in Pinks.


Word to the wise: Just say no to earplugs.  They'll get you good.

Home Improvement Update

**We now take a break from our regular programming to bring you this important message.

I have an apartment.  A really big, white, stark space that needs love and comfort and warmth.  And I am no interior designer.  Basically my strategy is to find pictures of random hotels or homes that I love online and try to replicate them down to the last detail.  Here is one of my inspirations... Take a look and try not to fall in love.  It's like my happy place.

Shutters on the Beach

Anyway, since I am decorating on a dime and I don't have wondrous creamy almond colored walls, I've had to look elsewhere.  I did find some hydrangeas though.

Here is the decent looking side of our living area.  We have life, people.  And a coffee table, a TV and an orchid.  What more do you need, really?  Well, some curtains might help...

This is my bedroom.  Its coming together, slowly but surely.  My bed is super comfy, and I'm a little bit in love with the lamp on the left.  I think it's a masterpiece.  I got it at T.J. Maxx.

I also have curtains that are a foot too short and frames that don't have pictures in them.  It's a work in progress.

Most importantly, I have flowers everywhere.  Luckily, I am a wedding planner assistant on the weekends and get to keep the leftover florals.  Here is what last week's wedding provided us...

A sweet little arrangement for my sweet little roomie's room.

A kitchen arrangement.

And hydrangeas and roses for my room.  I'm in love.

Shoutout to my friend Hills who is peeking into the back of this pic.  Love you Hill!


That's all she wrote, folks.  I'll be sure to update when we have, oh I don't know, like a kitchen table.  Or a sofa.

That will be the day.

Day 11: Favorite TV Shows

It's a really good think I'm starting this one at noon, because I have an infinite amount of words regarding specific shows.  It's your lucky day.

I'm going to start by quickly overviewing some shows I have loved over the years before I get to the big, life-changing, all consuming passion of mine that has taken over the last two years of my life.  Don't worry, you will know which one it is.

I think my first TV love affair was with Dawson's Creek when I was probably way to young to be watching it.

I remember "recording" it on Wednesday nights on VHS tapes in my bedroom and watching it after I was supposed to be asleep because my mom would have never let me watch it.  Don't worry, I have already admitted this to my mom.  I have long wanted to go back and watch this show to see if it is actually good television or if I was just intrigued by the drama and scandal.  Anyway, thus began my obsession with hour-long soap/dramas.

Next came The O.C.

This was really serious.  I was mildly obsessive about this show.  I think I could still tell you the episode names of the entire first season, down to Episode 27: The Ties that Bind, which I still contend is one of the best season finales and singular episodes of a TV show ever.  I was in love with the characters, the drama and the music, oh the music.  I bought every "Music from..." for years and years, and would memorize them.  Thus also began my somewhat spiritual connection to the song "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley/Leonard Cohen.  (I personally prefer the Jeff Buckley version.)  This song played in multiple episodes of The O.C. and served to tie certain themes together.  I ended up playing this song at a local pageant (go ahead, make fun) and I still to this day stop whatever I am doing whenever I hear it.  It is a wonderful, haunting, beautiful song.  The end.

I guess next would be Glee. 

 Man oh man, I don't think I'd ever experienced joy at watching a show until I saw the first season on Glee. I won't get into what's been happening lately, but I just remember cheering at the end of episodes where the gang would end with a big group number, like the episode with "Somebody to Love" as the finale.  Woah.  This was powerful, exhilarating stuff.  I don't know what's been happening recently, but I haven't gotten that feeling much... but alas, Season 1 stole my heart and I will undoubtedly be watching at least until my faves graduate.

And that brings us to THE BEST SHOW ON TELEVISION IN THE HISTORY OF TELEVISION.  I'll fight you about that if anyone would like to disagree.

Friday Night Lights.


Why I just discovered this show a couple of years ago is beyond me.  This show was made for me.  Or maybe, people like me.  I shouldn't be selfish.

I don't even know where to begin in describing my love for this gem.  I'm sure a large part of it is due to the fact that I grew up in the realized version of Dillon, Texas, I dressed the way many of the characters dress, I talk the way they talk, I cared about the things they care about, and I generally adore the fact that the seemingly small lives of these characters is more beautifully portrayed and deeply felt than many shows involving people as relatively important as the President of the United States.

Also, I want to be Tami Taylor.

Seriously.  I love this woman, and I have to remind myself often that she doesn't really exist.  I think that if I ever met Connie Britton, I wouldn't be able to control myself and talk about the weather like I do with every other star that I meet.  I met Ronald Weasley the other day for Pete's sake and managed to not utter the words "Harry Potter" in any sense.  But the second I met Connie Britton, I'd probably start gushing about Texas and gold hoop earrings and her awesome hair.

Did I just say that?  Okay, confession time.  I actually started wearing gold hoop earrings a couple of years ago due in large part to the fact that Tami Taylor wears gold hoop earrings on a daily basis.  And I still wear them, almost every day.  Now I feel like they are a part of me, and I'm slowly evolving to be more Tami-esque.

I probably shouldn't admit stuff like that, huh?

Wow, this is starting to sound weird.  I also love, adore, and admire the relationship portrayed between Tami and Eric.

I've never been married so I'm not a great judge, but I feel like the relationship here is the most realistic marriage I have ever seen portrayed on the small screen.  The frustrations, joy, hardships and the commitment are all portrayed in the tapestry of everyday life and the way they are woven together is incredibly moving to me.  I feel like the Taylors are my TV family, and I hate when there is distress or tension.  It's kind of strange, actually, to sincerely want everything to work out so badly.  I should stop now...

And finally, the cast of kids isn't half bad.  Actually, they are kind of amazing.  I will say that I wanted to strangle Minka Kelly for about 5 episodes with that strange lilting voice of hers, but I grew to love Lyla Garrity like a friend.  That friend that sometimes you wish would just shut up, but a friend just the same. And Zach Gilford, I mean, wow.  The acting in this series honestly takes my breath away.  And what the acting doesn't take care of, this fella certainly does.

Oh Tim Riggins, I'll take care of your tortured lonely soul.


Texas Forever.

Clear Eyes Full Hearts Can't Lose.

... And cue the tears...


P.S.  There is hope on the horizon.  Read on for further information... and then we can start cheering and signing petitions to make this happen.

Friday Night Lights: Movie

Day 10: Something You're Afraid Of

I really, really try to live my life free from fear.  I feel like fear is a hindrance and a safety net and a box.

And someone told me years ago to not live in a box.  This same person then repeatedly shouted whenever she was feeling restricted, "Don't put me in a box!"

Does this all make any sense?

I think what I'm trying to say is I'm afraid of fear.  And I guess with that comes disappointment and regret.

I'm afraid of looking back and realizing I didn't take chances or make memories or touch someone because of the fear that I might fail, or I might be disappointed by the outcome.  Because what kind of life is that?

I guess that's why I'm living in this crazy world where I don't know what I'm looking for and I don't have a plan and I don't even know where to look to find these things.

Because at the end of the day, at the end of my life (morbid?) I will never regret trying.

*Sorry for the lack of visual examples, I thought and thought and came up blank.  It's the weekend, alright?

Day 9: Favorite Picture of Your *friends.

*Revised from "Original 30 Day Blogger Challenge.  I apologize in advance if I left anyone off this list.  I know I did because I threw these pictures together off of FB in 20 minutes flat with very little actual effort.  Give me a break, it is Friday, after all.

I'm having trouble with this one, because I honest-to-God believe that I have many best friends.

I guess it's the politically correct Jr. High girl in me coming out and not wanting to offend anyone, like how we stealthily transferred the overnight bag for spend-the-night play dates back in the day.  But alas, I refuse to choose.  There are simply too many friends that mean too much to me in completely different ways to discriminate among them.

So there.

Here is a smattering of some of my friends over the years (at least the years that I can find on FB) in no particular order.

As to not offend, of course.

 This is my rooms Melis.  And she is going to change the world, starting with 22 2nd graders.

This is my bud Larn.  She makes me laugh harder than anyone in the world.

  This is my suitie Tatum.  She is wise beyond her years and diligent and stunning.

These are my friends Huds and G-Tay.  Huds is optimistic and cheerful and a wonderful baker.  G-Tay is a teacher, in more ways than one.  We were born in the same hospital 1 day apart.

 This is my pal Mern.  She is tried and true and hysterical and wonderful.

These are my forever best friends, my sisters.  They are goofy and caring and supportive.

 Sorry friends, I couldn't resist.  These were my best friends for 4 years in HS.  Probably because we lived in a gym during those years.  And hung more streamers than Party Central.

This picture is uber-important, because it contains my new roomate.  She is fun and talented and a total sweetheart. (It was like, the only picture I could find of us.  This is a problem.)

 This is my bud Hillz.  She is smart and a hard worker and just a bit obsessed with fictional characters. I won't mention names. 

 And this is my Sr. year- "Why do the four of us keep ending up together?" group. 

We know why, and we love the reason.

Miss you all like mad. 

COME VISIT ME, OKAY?  Then, and only then, will I stop talking about you on public forums.

Please?

Day 8: Roam if You Want to... Roam Around the World...

(Is that song supposed to be "roam" as in, "wander aimlessly" or "Rome" as in, "When in Rome?")

Did I lose you there? I don't know, I just like that song because it makes me feel like I am in an MK&A movie.

Anyway, let's just go ahead and talk about the fact that I skipped not one, but TWO days of blogging.  In terms of the Blogger Challenge, I failed.

Let's just all say it together and get it out of our systems.  I failed.  I failed.  I failed.

Whew.  Glad we crossed that bridge.

So... Traveling.  I love to travel.  I love to see things that I've only ever seen in pictures, I love to visit places I've read about, and learn about different people.  It's incredibly humbling to see parts of the world you've never even known about.  Like standing on the edge of the ocean, and feeling so insignificant and yet so integral in this crazy world.

Okay, enough with the delusions of grandeur already, right?  The cold hard truth is that I really haven't done that much traveling in my life... for one reason or another.  Perhaps this is because every opportunity I have to go somewhere, I end up coming back to La La Land.  Who knows.

However, I did take one amazing trip to England and Ireland when I was in high school.  It was an incredible two weeks, and I am consistently glad I went on this trip.  We visited the Tower of London and the Blarney Stone, and basically hit all the tourist spots in between on the journey.  It was incredible.  Here are some pics I dug up of the trip.

Please ignore all clothing choices.  Please.  We didn't know any better...

 Seriously though, what were we thinking with those khaki capri pants?

 There you have it, folks.  The extent of my worldly travels.

Honestly, the saddest part of this whole ordeal is that The Tudors hadn't aired yet, and so I couldn't impose my incredibly historically false accounts of English history stories onto the places I visited.  I had to just read the factually correct but somewhat bland pamphlets.

And trust me, after you've seen The Tudors, anything is bland in comparison.

Raincheck...

Sometimes, just when things seem to be going great, life comes and slaps you in the face.

-me.

This is how I'm feeling today, and so I'm not going to waste one of my favorite topics griping and complaining.

Because that's just no fun at all.

Promise tomorrow I'll be full of energy and positivity and life.  And then I'll blog about traveling.

Thanks for sticking with me...

Day 7: Favorite Movies

This could get out of hand.  But ah-ha! I found a loophole to my dilemma of having sooo much to say and only about 15 more minutes of consciousness in my day.

Here goes: I apparently picked a sucky 30-Day Challenge because guess what... Favorite movie is listed not once, but twice!  Now technically Day 7 is described as "Favorite Movie," as in singular, while Day 23 is "Favorite Movies" but we're going to do a convenient little switcheroo and pretend it's all hunky dory.

Wow, I'm full of strange words tonight, aren't I?

Anyway, I figured I'd start with something really melodramatic and sappy and totally un-critically acclaimed, cause I'm just like that sometimes.

(I should also point out that I'm listening to the score to this particular film as I type and that is sure to heighten my emotions.)

Legends of the Fall.  I mean, just the title... come on.

It's bound to be tragic.  I really don't know why I love this movie so much.  It's seriously depressing.  As in, like the most horrifying, weepy story you've ever heard in your life.  But I'd watch it once a month for the rest of my life.

Could have a little something to do with this fine fella...

(Brad, you were rockin' some fine hair circa 1994.  Dang, boy!)

All I know is that this movie touches something in me.  Maybe it's the rugged frontier or the bonds of brotherhood (which I know nothing about, by the way) or the heartbreaking state of poor, poor Tristan's soul, or maybe I just like a good cry every once in awhile, and this flick always delivers on that front.

Do yourself a favor- next time you have a quiet night in, Netflix this baby.  I promise you'll hate it and think it's the most depressing and awful thing ever.

And then you can think of me, and remember to never take my movie advice.

Good news coming from someone working in entertainment, right?