I Like It When the Girls Stop by for the Summer

Some things are just too good to pass up or forget. Not even for a moment.

Friendships.

Best Friends.

Tan lines.

Water.

Tanning oil.

Laughs.

Red Bull.

Reisens.

Barefeet.

Swim Suits.

Wake surfing.

Summer.

You.

"Here comes the sun Little Darling,Little darling,

the smiles returning to the faces Little darling,

it seems like years since it's been here Here comes the sun,

here comes the sun and I say it's all right"

Changing desires and choices.

Living and learning,

T.

There is a Hidden Message About a Boy Who Loves a Girl.

M and I were in the car today.

Talking about wanting a man,

and not being wanted back in the same passion.

Are men really incapable of having that desire of wanting a woman? Or is it that desire only procured by the women that don't deserve it. The women that seem less than par.

In women, there is a point when that man, that individual, is what they physically want. Not sexually and crudely, but desire with their heart. Stomachs turn, and we are drawn to that person. Maybe its estrogen, but maybe not.

For me,

wanting someone makes perfect sense.

I have an intellectual connection that seems natural.

Personality is where it hits the homerun in the ninth inning for me. I'm a bit immature, but ultimately wise. If someone can understand and relate that's it.

I'm hooked.

That

"MMMMMMM"

DANGIT

DYNAMITE

feeling that is just uncomparable to anything else.

It wrenches at the gut, and kicks in the stomach.

It hurts so good, and eases the mind all at the same time.

I need that connection until they rip the romantic, love connection rug right out from under my feet.

How do I make that individual want me back?

How do I kick them back?

Make them feel exactly what they have put me through

Love potion NO.9? (if only)

Some women just have the finesse, and are able to make a man want them so badly they act like an idiot and they want that undeserving tart. I do not posses that gift.

Most of the time I'm glad, but this time its different.

I want you to want me. I need you to need me.

If only it were that simple,

T.

"Do you care if I don't know what to say?

Will you sleep at night? Will you Think of me?

Will I shake this off, pretend it's all okay?

There is someone out there who feels just like me.

Those notes you've wrote me

I've kept them all

I've given a lot of thought of how to write you back this fall

With every single letter in every single word

There will be a hidden message about a boy who loves a girl"

Hello twenty. Goodbye H.

I'm no longer a teenager.

Hello true adulthood.

Way to go T. Another year older. I am excited to report that you are a better person that you were last year. Older, wiser, smarter.

I think I finally have a grip on the filter between my brain and my mouth, I at least like to think so.

I also believe that age is softening me. I cry all the time. Its pathetic.

Im vastly more aware of the social and spiritual reprocussions of my actions, and I love it.

Plan for the 20's:

Get married

Start a family

Graduate from college

Graduate from grad school

See 10 new countries --

(one each year? That seems reasonable)

Be a better person than I was the day before.

Rule the world. Just kidding, kind of.

Pinky and the brain would be proud.

On another note--

2 years is a long time. A really long time.

Its hard enough to wait a week for something; letting the anticipation build, but two years seems ridiculous. How do people do this?

H, is leaving.

The things that he has said have had an enormous impact on my thoughts.

His birthday note to me was so sweet I giggled like a tween for an hour. Kind of embarassing, but I couldnt help it.

His adventure is going to be incredible.

2 years and the next ten will pass quickly im sure of it.

But not too quickly please. make sure to take advantage of it. Love yourself, love others, love experience. Never let your experiences be dull or not worth while. Make each day memorable. Take advantage of each expereince that is thrown your way.

Here's to a great twenty-frist year of life,

T.

Ifly.

Travel is a passion of mine
No correction.
Going to unfamiliar places is a passion of mine.

Recent Developments to hate the "traveling" part of travel.

1. What is so hard about getting a plane in on time? Here is my theory. They hired men to do a woman's job. Punctuality is not a prominent masculine trait. Air traffic control hired the wrong gender. Men are good at many things, organizing and getting things where they need to be when they need to be is just not one of them. Next time hire the chick.

2. Obesity is a shame. I am a complete advocate of being the person that God made you. But recent studies show that its a minuscule percentage of people that can trace their obesity back to genetics. Meaning its just your fault. Please buy two seats. I know I am cruel, but spending the duration of a flight crushed against the window while the man who is causing this current condition is talking about the audacity of some people to suggest that he purchase more than one seat because of his size has lead me to this conclusion. The phrase its not me its you really does apply here.

3. My bag never fits in the overhead compartment. My fault? Possibly. I just cannot travel without several options to choose from on a day to day basis. its jut not possible. I'm female, and over packing is inherit. Now that is genetic.

4. They charge $8 for chicken Cesar salad with no chicken, 4 croutons, and lettuce that had started to rust. boo..

5. I never get seated next to the more than eligible bachelors that are always seated behind me and on the other side of the aisle. They always are next to the working business woman who has her blackberry out the whole time. Who is that fun for? No one.

That is my air port/flying rant.

T.

Undone.

Imagine a ball of yarn.

An organized mess.

Easily tangled.

Easily unraveled.

Start at one end.

Push the ball and let it roll,

Unfolding and crinkling into weird shapes as it glides across the floor.

Decisions:

Not easily made.

The effects can be catastrophic.

They also can be wonderful.

Decisions often walk the tight rope of wonderful and terrible. Eventually falling to one side and staying there.

T is indecisive.

Always choosing and then going back on it.

It seems impossible to make an informed decision.

It also seems all too often the "answer" is to decide for myself. I will always find a way to be happy.

I haven't always made the right decisions, but I have also never made a drastically wrong decision either.

So where does that put me?

Somewhere between good and bad?

Between right and wrong?

My ball of yarn is an informed decision.

The unraveling is a breaking point. The climax, a new twist to the story.

How do I roll my ball of yarn back up into the organized mess that I had once created?

The eally important question is; Can I make a sweater afterward?

Up and down; Here and there,

T.

Orgin, al & tea

First rule of yoga simplified:

Offense is an inward decision.

A lack of understanding in one's self.

Understanding;

Miss T.

• Blunt

• Out spoken

• Responsible (most of the time)

• Desperately seeking to be original

• Dreamer

• Closet romantic.

When understanding myself do I understand why I get offended (when I do, which doesn't happen very often)?

Change. Someone pointing out changes I need to make. Or being offended by someone who has already made the change. Being drastically effected by something just happening rather than making the decision to make it happen.

On my second birthday I sat on the counter of my parents bathroom with a pair of scissors in my hand. Even though I would never admit publicly to committing such a crime to my mother, I remember it vividly. I recall knowing just how much trouble I would be in if i touched my long dark hair with the blade, but I took matters into my own hands and changed things myself. I made the decision to change something drastic in my two years of life. I placed the scissors right above my left ear and cut away. My mother soon rushed in stopping me, and rushed me to the salon the next day. She gave me a Dorthy Hamil cut that my father adored and tries to convince me to repeat 18 years later.

I took matters into my own hands.

Changed with out being changed upon.

Why take offense when I can take action?

Offended and Evolving,

T.

Inizio

I have recently come to the conclusion that my blog is mainly about dating.

reasons:

1. Dating is the greatest grief currently in my life

2. It applies to everyone.

3. It sucks.

Poor unfortunate soul.

Is it possible to be completely comfortable with someone upon meeting them?

Absolutely not.

Soul Mates are ridiculous.

You people are kidding yourself.

I am not a pessimist. I am a realist. Don't hate.

Will each of us find that perfect person that inspires, ignites, and responds the way that we would want them to?

I wish I knew.

Awkward moments are inevitable.

recent events:

Whoops I just touched his hand. I hope he doesn't take that as a sign I want to hold his hand.

Although I kind of want to. But I don't want to be too forward.

I think maybe I just suggested that he and I go out on a date.... again too forward?

I think i have a booger, but I keep wiping my nose and then he wipes his. Maybe he's trying to tell me something, but maybe he thinks that I am trying to tell him something. So I keep wiping.

Yes all of these things have happened to me.

Its amazing to even to me, believe me.

Shed some light on my pathetic and terribly embarrassing dating life.

Fully exposed (but fully clothed),

T.