Watching Elizabethtown. Apparently, 8th grade Haley also thought Orlando Bloom was hot in this. I have a bone to pick with Kirsten Dunst, but I think it’s because we’re like the same person except she’s way more blonde.

I like the South, but I haven’t been there. It’s like this we’re little world with bigotry on one end, and Dolly Parton on the other. This movie just makes me want to take off and never come back because I’m too happy and driving. I really need a post graduation road trip, but the US doesn’t have hostels. Maybe I can exploit my friends and family and sleep on couches. It’s a thought.

At the end of the day, I just want to run away. Not to run, to see all of it. I want to get on planes, and buses, and motorcycles like I did when I was a kid. My Dad would take us places with my brother Casey, one twin per “hog” (he thought he was soooo cool…), and we’d run away to places like the biggest Oak tree in Kansas. That may not seem all that cool, but that tree is HUGE and even if you wet your pants trying to pee of a bridge, you still had the ride there.

Don’t you just want to see everything? Because I know I do. I know it’s not possible, but why the hell not try? Unless I get taken out prematurely, I’m doing it. I’d be pretty chill with that honestly, because Jesus is still gonna be there regardless, and honestly, partying with Jesus would waaaay beat living in terms of awesome. You could probably see all of it from Heaven. Just think about it. The reason suicide isn’t a great choice is because he didn’t call you then, but he will call you eventually, and it will still be a pretty fabulous party.

Sometimes I feel like my life is a lot like Orlando Bloom’s character. He loves seeing things, but he can get overwhelmed by a lot of company. When I’m by myself, I’m like a secret agent extrovert. I walk like my lips are sewn shut. It’s not that I won’t talk, but I just want to listen and look around, and stay in my 2 hour not-real world for a little while where I’m a ghost and I don’t speak and I just live my life. I would make a pretty great Casper, you guys. I’d know.

Don’t you just want to walk down Mass Street (main street not for the Lawrence, KS homies) and equivocate down streets and find new people and all the quirky souls you haven’t met yet?? Because I’m 20 years old and I still haven’t met all the weirdos of Lawrence, and I’ve lived here since forever. Home is exactly what you make it, so is adventure. I just want to explode all into everything like I did when I was swing dancing and I started an interpretive dance party because no one would get up the courage to ask us to dance, and I infected them with my spirit of “over it”.

We’re all really, really weird. Quirk is meant to be celebrated. And if you can’t do that all the way down a highway, have you lost your entire mind?

My Dad is a lot like this. Before I was born (Lauren too) he took my mom on road trips on motorcycles. Now, she freaking hated it (go figure), but I wouldn’t do it because I hate the mountains, and when we took road trips out to Colorado with my mom (because lol we only took reunion trips with my Dad; I love my family but barf), I’d get really scared because I was always convinced I would fall of the side of the road and do backflips of death down like National Geographic. The two things I learned more than anything about phobias from my childhood were: The boogey men don’t have nothing on Amber Alerts told at 10pm during a sleepover (lol anxiety, Thanks Mom bahahhhak), and at the end of the day, everyone always wants their Dad to protect them, no matter what. I can’t help that my earliest memory is loud and dark and arguing, but I can enjoy the ones where we looked for rolly pollies and run through tomato cages and chased bunnies and raced home to eat raspberries we never shared after school in first grade.


It’s just too cute, you guys. It’s just too cute. I was an 8th grade cynic so I never ever thought shit could be this cute, but man, that boy is *pretty* cute. I wonder if he’d take me on a roadtrip. Tehehhhehehheh hope so. Maybe. Jk don’t know. Yolo yolo yolo swag. I JUST WANT TO GO TO INDIA.

I hate how cute this is right now.


Sunsets and bridges man, just as long as you don’t fall off. I just want my life to be like a hilarious mashup montage of random shit and adventures with baby a few babies, and that hasn’t changed since ever. It’s soooo cute. I would be the Kirsten Dunst to your funeral. Maybe I should lead with that. Ahahhahhahhah bahahahha lol.

Ohmergosh she gets trapped in a car. Like, lol.

I just want to be a ballerina, I’m not gonna tap dance. I feel like if my husband ever died like her husband died, I have literally no idea what would happen. I stress clean when I’m stressed. I dance whenever I wanna dance (that could be literally anything, Holmes). I sleep when I’m sleepy (it hits you like a wall, and it leaves you on couches of Karen’s throughout the world). I bake when I’ve got time and no good reason not to and some cravings that won’t shut up. I like making reeses a lot. I’d probably just wither and resurrect, and do cool shit like he was there too. I have no idea what any of that is like, but it seems pretty great. If you have the good fortune of loving someone that is really beautiful, you need to make good on that, cuz not all of us 20 year old skeptics believe it can happen, let alone even be cute.

Wouldn’t you want Kirsten Dunst to be your wingwoman at a funeral? I guarantee you I can do it all better, because I’m decidedly less crazy, because I had to make it that way.

Now, I may seem kinda crazy because I’m writing this to nobody, but I have a friend here or there that will read it, and most of those friends I haven’t met yet. Lol. Would y’all let me crash on you couch? I bet you would.

“I’m not used to girls like you.” Just fucking kiss her, Orlando, stop dicking around. It’s sooo dumb that he thinks there are “girls” like her, THERE IS JUST FUCKING HER. Lol I’m really loving how I’m projecting all over this, it makes it kind of bearable in a sickly sweet Southern way. It’s like Iced tea that you could barf up and use to frost a cake because (there’s no difference).

Doesn’t everyone just want a cute boy to carry their babies on his shoulders like a piggy back ride, and for those babies to have bits and pieces of you both?? Like, he has a butt chin but I think that would be ok if they had my hair. Like, they’re going to have as many dimples as you can possibly imagine because that’s just how my family rolls. Not sure where it came from, but when they inherit the dimples on my shoulders, I’m going to tell them that God is saving those little divots to have a place to reattach their wings.  It’s like a golf course; it’s like the dirt clod spots that come up when you suck at Golf (looking at you, Dad).

Ohmygosh if they had the explosion video when I was a kid they would have had 50% less problems. I still watch movies like the little red headed girl with the hands over her eyes. I don’t want to see your blood and gore; I KNOW IT’S JUST KETCHUP. I can walk into a crime scene but if I have to watch Shawn of the Dead, I will lose my entire mind because ZOMBIES. It’s the scariest thing I can think of, AND IT’S ALL COMPLETE GARBAGE. On the flipside, I could built and equip you a bomb shelter within the month. But, in terms of apocalypses, I really hate the thought of Zombies. I don’t know how God’s got it planned in Revelation, but I pray with all my might and decency that he does not send a fleet of zombies. If he does, I ask that they dress like Michelle Bachman, because that would be really weird, and hopefully (for the sake of my brain), really funny.

I think the thing about zombies that no one ever remembers is that you just have to cut their heads off. If you could herd them into a shed and just find a way (I’m not saying it would be easy, but it’s definitely a thought as like plan J), then you could probably do it; one and done. We have mass retention facilities in this country. You can have your pick between Guantanamo or any place they grow chicken, but yeah, we can arrange for that. Do you think the CIA keeps zombie fallout shelters for you and me, or just the people that can make bad speeches at funerals because they make speeches that don’t matter the rest of the time. Redundancy Department of Redundancy is a lot like what Kirsten Dunst just said. They’re gonna hook up, aren’t they? Mmkay I’ll go stare at the ground on hyperfocus on writing for a hot second while they have their hot second. It’s not that he’s not cute, but I’d rather not deal with that until I can deal with all of that. And yikes, Kirsten Dunst, you really have some shit to work through.

I stopped writing because this just got really, cripplingly sad, and nothing I could say as of right this moment with Orlando Bloom’s idiocy could make that any smaller.


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I am a teacher-to-be who loves people. I am not afraid of many things. I like to explain my thoughts logically on a very birds-eye view level--I was born thinking that way. I follow Jesus Christ, and I accept only that label to describe my identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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