My Bucket List

Even I admit it's odd that I associate graduation with impending death, but bear with me. If I have to be a grown up then I might as well know what I want, right? It's all a small part of my plan to become a worldwide sensation. Which isn't going so well...

My Bucket List
**Please take note that none of the following are in a particular order. Because I'm not organized enough to do it all in order.

-Learn to speak another language...preferably Ebonics.
-Run a marathon.
-Be honest with myself about the likelihood of completing a marathon.
-Become a world-renowned novelist.
-Be on The Ellen Show...if you're out there, Ellen. Hire me to be a writer on your show :)
-Speak in a stadium full of people.
-Marry rich...shoot for the moon.
-Convince Bob Harper of The Biggest Loser to marry me. He'll assist with bullet two.
-Dump him after he bans doughnuts from the house.
-Travel the world...except Amsterdam. I'm still having nightmares from Hostel.
-Slap some sense into Lindsay Lohan.
-Be in a horror film.
-Adopt.
-Learn to paint my own nails.
-Have my own radio talk show.
-Personally see that someone replaces Ryan Seacrest on American Idol.
-Marry John Krasinski. Sigh....
-Get a tattoo...a wee little bitty one.
-Go to every Smithsonian museum.
-Have tea with the Queen of England.
-Make the Pope laugh.
-Live to see a cure for cancer.
-Be an inspiration to someone.
-Witness a miracle.
-Throw the first pitch at a Rangers game.
-Sit on the sidelines of a Dallas Mavericks game.
-Help Chase get in a Gap commercial. Gap has taste. He can do it.
-Go skydiving.
-Write and produce a movie with Tina Fey.
-Host SNL.
-Have a role on The Office.
-Bring sexy back...50s style.
-Be a guest host on QVC. I'll sell anything but exercise equipment. Let's be real.
-Teach a college class on something really ridiculous. Like blogging.


And most of all I want to be one of those super interesting persons whom people can't resist. I want to openly declare my love for Jesus every singe day. If fame is what you're looking for, come sit next to me.

BIG peace.

Growing up...sheesh.

Graduation is 45 days away. But who's counting? Oh yeah, Wells-freakin'-Fargo. I'm not even walking across the stage in what is sure to be the most boring ceremony of life, and those b-words are already sending my folks letters! They'll get their money, unless I die. Then all is null and void. I read the fine print. Speaking of my folks though, guess what I so graciously had the privledge to help them with recently. Their mother-truckin' taxes. I used to think having to shovel the hog crap was the suckiest thing ever. Nope. Not even a little bit. So, as a response to my recent bout of "Peter Pan syndrome", I've developed a list of the pros and cons of growing up.

The Cons.
Taxes - enough said.
Gravity - I've already seen what it has done to my body in just 21 years of life. I cringe at the next 60.
Girdles - Tuck it in ladies.
Your mom and dad cease to care.
People begin to give you that "poor-single-you" look.
Your boss will inevitably be a bigger a-hole than your Chemistry professor.
Debt collectors get fiesty.
Have you seen liver spots?!
I may be healthy now, but I'm sure that'll go downhill fast.
I'll have to start calling celebrities like Sean Connery hot.
Orthopedic shoes. The horror.
Your toenails get that funky yellow color.
I don't want to be that cranky...all the time.
I'll become the "older generation"...shudder....

The Pros.
No longer will I pay $200 for a book that I will never use.
No more homework, tests, projects, etc.
Not boys with jobs, men with careers.
Money.
Money.
Money.

Maybe it will all work out. If I marry John Krasinski and have lots of money. That'll work for my first marriage.

Dancing...

This is clearly a ballroom. The most beautiful room I have ever seen. The walls glisten like the surface of the ocean when the sun is highest in the sky, and the floor reflects the open night sky to appear as though I am walking on water. I fix my eyes upon the sky above me and am instantly positive that each star has been hand crafted and chosen just for me. My foot catches on something on the floor and causes me to stumble. As I recover, I see the only ugly thing in the room. On the floor are my worldly, dirty grave robes. My trembling hand reaches out to the clothing that has been my comfort zone, and the pile evaporates in front of my eyes. I stand to see that I am draped in a cloth like nothing I have ever felt in my life. The gown is pure and white like the first snow and hugs my body in a reassuring and perfect way. It lightly brushes along my finger tips sending chills down my spine. For I am, in this majestically created room, clothed in Grace. A light breeze blows through the room kissing my cheeks and shoulders with Glory and the wind carries with it an aroma so Heavenly and powerful that am weak in the knees. I become intoxicated on the scent and search for its beholder. As if He'd been there along, and He had in fact, a Man stands on the far most wall of the room. Tears fall down my cheeks as this beautiful King approaches me. His eyes dance as He reads me, for He knows me by heart. "I know the plans I have for you, but for now, let’s dance." And we do just that. He knows all the right steps and never flinches when I step on His toes. When I grow weary, He lifts me up and carries me. I am drowning in the love of my Beloved. In His presence, I am complete...

What you have just read is one of the most intimate moments I have ever had with Him. In this moment, He revealed to me exactly what He wants for me right here and right now. For months I have worried unnecessarily about my future when He has all the plans. I've worried so much that I've forgotten to dance with my King. He longs to romance me, and I have rebuffed His advances.

No longer. I want to simply be with Him, all the time. I hope that this has touched you in the exact way He has intended. I hope you'll dance with Him because He's really the very best. You don't have to bring anything but yourself...

Father, I am in love with you...

Withdrawals.

Day 6. Or perhaps I should call it Day 2. That's right, I cracked. Cracked like an egg on Sunday morning. In my defense, it was the Tech v. Texas basketball game, and I was entirely too stressed out. This girl needed a Coke, mmmkay?! Otherwise you were gonna see a big girl down on that court giving the refs a "comin-to-Jesus" meeting.

But I'm still alive, and still without that sugary goodness. Oh geez. I've noticed that I'm quite irritable these days. So did the guy I screamed out my car window at this morning. Poor guy. I truly regret insulting his momma now. I bet she's a nice lady. But I'm praying violence isn't the stage that follows. If so, I'd like to know in an advance so that my aggression can actually be used on someone worth punching in the face.

Some good has come out of my withdrawals though. Last night I laid awake for a good while (like 10 minutes) and pondered how different my life would've been without Jesus. I don't have to go into the details to tell you that the thought was scary. I'm really happy to have Him. And that may seem like a lackluster way of showing how much I love Him, but He knows my heart. I'm also really thankful He loves me despite my lack-of-caffeine induced road rage.

Peace Biggies.

40 days...really?

I'm not Catholic. Though I kind of wish I was because those people are F-U-N. Catholic or not, I am observing Lent this year. I've tried in the past and failed miserably. I think it might be because I inevitably wipe someone's ashes off their forehead thinking that I'm being an excellent person. I don't usually tell people they have something in their teeth though because, well, that's funny.

Anyways, back to the point. I've decided that I am going to make it this year! No Cokes for 40 days! I'm on day 2! And I feel...like death. Seriously, I just shook like a recovering crack addict. I might actually turn to crack when this is all said and done. Is it normal to wake up and want to volunteer a vital organ in exchange for 20 oz. of sweet, sticky goodness? I think not, but if anyone's looking for a kidney....

Jesus went 40 days. I'm no Jesus, though. I'm not good with carpentry. Or well, I haven't walked on water lately either. So I guess this is a fast or sorts. Honestly, I heard no Cokes makes your face slimmer and I've got a portrait session coming up soon. 40 days later...goodbye Rush Limbaugh, hello Jennifer Aniston.

Have a BIG day.

Football Pansies.

I hate football in a BIG way. I don't understand it for one thing. But the true source of my deep hatred is due to the way that adults become bickering children because of it. Seriously?! It's a game. I'm joking when I say your cheerleaders look like men and your team's playing reminds me of my niece's ballet recital. Can't you tell I'm joking?! Oh wait, I guess not since you just started stomping your feet and screaming in a high-pitched tone that sounds as though your testicles haven't fully descended. Bummer, move along baby cakes.

I was told tonight that I'm not a true Texan if I choose to support the opposing team? For those of you who know me, I don't put much thought or feeling into what I say or do. I don't give two hoots for Alabama, but I don't give two hoots for UT either. I'm a Red Raider, we inherently hate the Longhorns. Also, we had to sign a contract to never cheer for them but shhhhh.

Football is not some conspiracy. Nor is it worth fighting about. Nor should it determine your mood for the next 3 days. Gosh, I wish people put this much attention into politics or foreign affairs or maybe even to the fact that your 13-year-old is smoking crack. Whatev...get that touchdown! All I'm saying is liiiiiighten up, people! Can't we all insult each other's teams in humor and then go get some chicken wings?!

Wreck 'Em BIG, Tech.

Geezers and Facebook.

When did Facebook become so appealing to geezers? I miss the days where it was considered nonsense to anyone nearing or above the age of menopause. Guess things have changed, huh? For instance, both of my parents and my nearly 70-year-old grandmother have and operate Facebook. But they're not even my complaint. My complaint is how adults from my past have now chosen to utilize this social media outlet as a tool to critique my thoughts, opinions, and what-not to tailor to what they feel I should think or do. Bite me. My mom and dad see what I post daily and say nothing. I'm not profane, thought I would love to be to you, Miss Get a Grown-Up Life.

I recently removed my relationship status and political views just to shut some old women up.

"Oh, Sam. I see your single. You just hold out, honey. In the mean time, would you like to come knitting. I can show you how to fix you hair into something much more becoming." Witch.

And let's not even get started on what you might have to say about my political views when you have no clue how ignorant you really sound.

You know, I've been socializing just fine my entire life without the interference of adults. I didn't see any of you coming to play on the jungle gym with us, so stay off Facebook. I don't curse or post pictures slandering my reputation. I really do intend on getting a job one day, ya know.

So, I have created a list of DON'Ts for today's old farts.
1) If you must use Facebook, don't add someone younger than you unless you're as hip as them. Don't know if you are, then you aren't.

2) Don't ask us who we're texting. If we wanted you to know, we'd call them. Texting was invented to assist you in minding your own damn business.

3) Don't talk about your sex life. It's gross and we will hate you for it.

4) Don't reprimand us for saying something you don't understand. Case and point, I called something "ballin'" yesterday, and my mother scolded me assuming I was comparing that something to the male scrotum.

5) Don't wear low-rise jeans unless you are in-fact not altered by childbirth and still able to pull it off. Most likely, you're not.

6) Don't talk about our habits in front of total strangers.

7) Don't scream at us just because you can.

8) Don't assume we're stupid; it makes you sound stupid.

9) Don't talk about how you had to hike through the snow to get to school. Lies.

10) And last, but not least, don't comment on our Facebooks in an attempt to "correct our ways". Oh wait, there's a block button. Hello block button.

And a word of advice, one day this generation you're treating like crap and invading on their personal space is going to be feeding you and wiping your butt. Remember that or we may just forget to pay your electric bill that month. Whoops.

Go to MySpace, oldies.