August 16, 1992
If she wants water, she stands by the sink and cries. If she wants milk or cheese she stands by the refrigerator and cries. She is pretty good about letting us know what she wants or doesn't want.
October 14, 1992
Mama pulled weeds in the garden today. Bethany would rather keep going into the house & get into the fridge to get the milk or "chee" (cheese).
January 13, 1995
Bethany went with mom & Brandon to get Brandon some clothes. She brought mom and outfit & said, "Can I have this or not?" Mom said, "Not." She was so upset. Brandon had to pick her up & carry her out & she yelled over and over again: "Put me down I say."
I haven't posted on my poetry blog since November 24, 2012. And I haven't written any deliberate type of poetry since within a month's time of that date. Not in doodles, not in notebooks, and not really in any blog drafts.
People say "Do what makes you happy" because we only have a few minutes here to make our mark. At this exact moment in my life I am doing everything opposite from that advice. If I decided right at this moment to do exactly what would make me happy, I would save every penny toward a plane ticket, fly to Ireland, find a job, and live off of every penny I could collect, and rampage around with my camera, breathing in every second of the bliss. I know you're thinking at least one of the following things:
i. That's unrealistic.
ii. I don't think that would be as blissful as you think it would be.
iii. Hahahahahahalfd kllkfja e;l. Cute
iv. You're in school, in endless debt, and you need to have realistic goals that involve swallowing everything you don't want and look toward a career, a family, and a budget that doesn't even make sense to you.
v. Then do it Bethany, nobody is stopping you. Go risk it all and we'll be here for you with a tissue and "I told you so" smiles when you figure out it's not as easy as you'd like it to be out there.
But guess what, children. My invincibility complex, my romantic mindset, and my passport will make it happen. No attempts at giving me a reality check, please, because those are already my life's only constant.
[But just give me a minute to get this all figured.]
II. I took my first art history test of the year. I woke up this morning with all of what I studied swimming all over in my brain. My ability to recall minute details was unordinary and I'm blessed for it. I feel great about the test. My hand is still exhausted from writing.
III. I think we've gone over this one before.
IV. Aside from getting my degree faster, I think why I keep insisting on taking 17/18 credit semesters is because it's my own way of making up all the ambition I went without for so long. I've never strived for anything exceptional, and I have never been driven to do anything exceptionally brilliant or amazing. I just have always had a comfort zone that I work within. But with taking so many classes in a semester: I'm proving someone wrong. Myself? Who knows. But it's the one thing I can take and run with enough risk involved to keep me on my toes.
V. Waking up is sometimes the most challenging part of the day.
VI. Last, This music video:
I am taking two art history classes taught by the most fascinating professors. No, really. They are brilliant and I spend most of the class time drooling over their intelligence, wondering what it is like knowing so much information. And not just knowing the information, but having the knowledge just wrapping itself around their souls.
I want soul-wrapping knowledge.
Maybe even soul-rapping knowledge. I don't know how that would be, but I imagine it would be very gangster.
This week I made groundbreaking records of passivity and motivation-plummets. I'm not sure how to fix it, but I am sure donuts are in the solution someplace. I will keep you posted on the number of hours I spend lying on my bed, donutless, writhing in agony as I keep a fair distance from anything with a deadline.