I think it’s a common misconception

That you must pay close attention to your reflection

In hopes to avoid mistaken direction

But I prefer to forget it…

I’ve learned and grown from previous lessons

I don’t need the past to see the present

I refuse to waste time on recollection

Plus the mirror makes me look fat…

"Somebody should slip Edward some weed and see if he can still control himself around Bella"- Prince Harry Jr.

"Go make a life- not a living."- Jason Mraz

taken from - http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/6SPCOi/www.tweakiz.com/2011/06/quotes-to-rejuvenate-your-life-part-2/

USA!

The USA women’s soccer team was able to unite the country- maybe only for a game or two or a couple hours at most, but nevertheless the world was captivated.

NO professional women’s sport has been able to successfully sell jerseys to both men and women. Besides a tennis match here and there, I can’t remember the last time a women’s sport was capable of selling out a crowd or making an impact on a Sunday afternoon. The Women’s USA soccer team brought a new essence to women’s sports.

But the real question, unfortunately, is that will this World Cup make an impact on women’s soccer in general? I bet very few know that there are 6 professional teams throughout the states- very few that reach audiences over a couple thousand.

Will attendance boost? As a female athlete I of course hope so.

Regardless, despite USA’s loss this afternoon, I thoroughly enjoyed the epic game. I think Wambach is a beast and I now have faith in the idea of fate- Let's face it Japan won because their country needed it- that's fate!

Anyways, if women’s soccer dies down after today, they can try again to spark interest during the upcoming Olympics.

Harry Potter

I went to Harry Potter on opening night- I didn’t belong.

Four friends and I headed to theatre around 10… 2 hours and 15 minutes early. That was my first indication that I was a fucking loser. Arriving to see wizards fly sticks way passed my bed time is a bit extreme.

We walked into the already crowded theatre and took a seat in between Hagrid and Voldemort. After analyzing their costumes we searched the rest of the seats and realized we should deem ourselves as "muggles" considering we were the ONLY people not wearing a burgundy and gold tye.

Overall, I was pleased with the movie -despite the row of girls that sobbed like it was 9-11, during a wand battle gone wrong. The endless clapping at the conclusion was also a bit dramatic.

I’m going to venture out and say that JK Rowling might very well have written the greatest story/series of all time BUT like all great things, I am sure someone will eventually surpass it.

But truth is, I can’t wrap my head around anything that could possibly compare to Harry Potter. Good luck to the future creeps with brilliant ideas.

Culpeper article from Friday

Five of my friends and I headed to the boondocks of Lancaster, Va. to spend the weekend on the river. We immediately dropped our backpack of sunscreen and bathing suits in the beautiful blue cottage and headed to the local convenient store — and by local I mean the only store at all within a 20-mile radius.

We parked next to a rusty red pickup truck and immediately saw two old men with pipes who greeted us with a smoky, “hello pretty ladies.” We smiled and acted like we were just as excited to see them as they were to see us.

We walked through an organized mess and straight to the refrigerated area.

“Mmm, excuse me ma’am,” I asked. “Are there any cases of beer that aren’t cut in half?”

The clerk explained that it’s cheaper for them to order beer in 18 packs, so they cut the boxes into 6 or 12 packs and pass the savings on to the customers.

“Brilliant.”

Luckily, there was no reason to leave the cottage again.

We spent the rest of Friday basking on the dock and grabbed some barbeque before a violent summer storm made its way down the river.

I often forget how polluted the typical night sky is by street and house lights, but with just a flashlight, the six of us put on our rain jackets and headed to the dock.

For more than 30 minutes we let the clouds drench us in the warmest rain and admired the lightning’s ability to illuminate the entire night sky. I went to bed wondering why I don’t dance in the rain more often.

A cup of coffee and a cool morning breeze began our Saturday. The being lazy and getting tan part went as planned, but a lost cell phone and bracelet, a few scratches from kayaking and bruises from the zip line left us warn out and ready for sunset.

So there we were, listening to the infamous Dawson’s Creek theme song, “I Don’t Wanna Wait,” while watching the big ripe tangerine sun fall behind the mountains. I figured, why wait? Let’s dance.

We danced around until the early morning of Sunday to the greatest songs of the 90’s and watched the diamond sky overshadow the peachy sunset.

Prior to recent years, I never wanted to vacation anywhere unless amusement parks and restaurants were within walking distance, but these days I want nothing more than good friends and salt water.

So college advice: I spent the weekend imagining myself in a teenage sitcom inspired by songs written when I was drooling over my fifth grade math books.

Go to the boondocks, hop in the water, maybe even drink a few cold ones if you’re legal… or don’t do any of that. But what you definitely should do is surround yourself with people you are not afraid to dance fearlessly with. If you can do that, a 90’s playlist will do the rest.

Change

“Wow, you’ve really changed.” -This might be the most vague, ridiculous statement I’ve ever heard.

I overheard two “old friends” reunite this afternoon and the one says to the other, “Wow, you’ve really changed,” in a bitchy voice (or that’s how I perceived it anyways).

I couldn’t help but to imagine my response to that statement…

“Of course I’ve changed… I’m older, smarter, fatter… Fuck You. Now I’m remembering why I stopped being your friend, because you always wanted me to stay the same… It’s called growing up.”

Harsh response. (I was tired) Luckily, I avoided butting in to their conversation for fear of sounding like the bitch I thought the one girl was…

Regardless, my point is this:

Change is necessary to discover the person you ultimately want to be.

 

Star Exponent Article

As my family packed a bag and headed down to Southport, North Carolina for this past weekend’s events, I stayed behind with my little brother so he could attend to his important high school plans that will become very unimportant in just a few days and extremely insignificant in a year or two.

It ended up being an excellent weekend.

I’ve noticed as the years pass, those annual events that I used to snore or converse through have become more and more enjoyable. Whether I never noticed or never cared to notice, this past weekend was the first time I saw how wonderful fireworks are.

Sure the whole idea of colorful fire splashing itself across the night sky is appealing, but have you ever really looked? Have you ever followed just one spark? Watched it as it created a beautiful picture and followed that one spark as it sailed into the moonlit sky and diminished in the blink of an eye?

From the cool Yowell Meadow Park grass, I witnessed the most unbelievable painting, the perfect picture. The greatest part about the image is that no camera could truly capture a firework’s essence.

My parents came home on Tuesday and after I shared my eye opening experience, they shared theirs.

Southport has been stamped a popular Fourth of July fairground for the state of North Carolina. As locals and visitors laced the sidewalks of the quaint All-American town, the Grand Marshall of the parade made its way down the street.

A local Southport couple had attended a ceremony in honor of their son who had worked on the 104^th floor of the North Twin Tower that once stood in New York City. Upon their visit they came in contact with the 9-11 National Flag, which was originally found in the rubble of the fallen building.

After seven long years, the tattered flag was stitched back together with several retired flags by a group of tornado survivors in Greensburg, Kan.

The Southport couple put in a bid to have the historic flag come to the proud Southport town and ultimately won over the city of Philadelphia. It was the perfect Grand Marshall.

After the flag’s summer tour, it will find its permanent home in the National Sept. 11 Museum at Ground Zero.

Although I felt my July Fourth experience was monumental, my family’s sighting overshadowed it. What is most amazing though is not that I missed out on an historic artifact, but that in the small town of Culpeper, I too witnessed the story of America.

I was accompanied by the thankful, surrounded by the brave and I was privileged to hear freedom ring.

So College Advice: Fourth of July has passed so forget the epic firework show until next year. Instead, the next flag you pass — look at it. If you are a believer, pray for those who defend it. If you are a dreamer, recognize it for the opportunities it offers us; and if you are an American, give thanks for what it stands for.

What I Want Most

I want to be a better person.

I want to be a fighter- like the trees that bloom green every spring regardless of how many times fall punches off their leaves.

I want to keep growing, preferably not in width.

I want to be sturdy in my purpose.

I want to be fearless.

Fearless like the red lights- the ones that continually force people to break from the rush of the world knowing that everyone wants them to change.

I will not change for anyone.

I want to know peace.

I want to rekindle my youth; and I want to lay under the puffy clouds too- the ones that shape themselves daily in to the dinosaurs and airplanes I once knew. I want to notice their pictures.

I want to notice everything.

I want to read more and not just about celebrity gossip or sport scores.

I want to discover.

I want to believe that one roadside cross will save one hundred lives- because believer or not, that cross symbolizes life.

I want to believe more than sometimes.

I want crying to be okay.

I want to clap my hands for the shower singers- the ones that belt out their soul to ten thousand fans that for some reason closely resemble soap suds.

I want a standing ovation for curing hunger deprivation… or for reading a poem.

I want to know if there is a God.

I want those who can’t find him to keep searching; those who have found him to keep faith in his presence; and those who have no intentions of looking for him to keep exercising their free will.

I want Mel Gibson to shut the fuck up.

I wish I didn’t curse so much.

I wish I would stop dreaming and start doing; stop believing and start pursuing.

But I am a dreamer- I want to dream.

I want a heart that knows no limits and has no boundaries; I want a heart that can suck up worries and pump out passions.

I want to thank the body for being the only machine that doesn’t come with directions.

I want to learn how to read a map.

I want to know where I’m going, but when I do sail off into the unknown at one-hundred and twenty, I want to go to the rhythm of sweet memories.

I want to always have happiness.

I wish everyone was happy.

I want to give my sympathy to the alphabet because I butchered L,M,N,O,P until fourth grade.

I want to let down my guard and find time for mourning.

I want to wake up in the morning… just to watch the sunrise.

I want to apologize to the street signs -to the Trail of Tears Drive and Painters Lane to all the roads who welcome my story but I in return do not care to hear yours.

I want to have compassion for things that don’t concern me.

I want to put away the keyboard and pick up a pencil.

I want to write a letter.

I want to bring back all things time has outdated- I miss your sincerity.

I want to seek true serenity -I’m just not sure where to look.

I want to be elated- excited just to breathe.

I want to sing- with that same guitar that sacrificed its body in an attempt to string together a piece of someone’s life; I think you could change my life.

I want to make a difference.

I want to be hopeful, but not the hopeless romantic that hopes for red roses and white picket fences.

I want to be original.

I need to call home more.

I want to be patient, like the light bulbs in the attics that never get used, but calmly awaits for the unveiling of the forgotten memories and history it hides with the ceiling.

I wish I wasn’t so obnoxious.

I want to keep secrets like the curtains that can shut out the world from the person.

I want to be someone that someone wants to be.

I want to give advice worth hearing and praise worth appreciating.

But what I want most, ironically… is to be genuinely content in not wanting at all.

Good Times

1. Flower, my friend, referring to her ex boyfriend.

Flower- "He fist-bumped me on his way upstairs to hook up with his new girlfriend..."

2. MAWBV2 referring to dancing with a little man.

MAWBV2- "It was like an extended defensive slide..."

3. Joke by Red head...

Red Head- "I threw a caterpillar in the air and said, get used to it."

Where are the Answers?

My Star Exponent Article this week...

Charlie Brown once said, “In the book of life, the answers aren’t in the back.” Well Charlie, books kill trees, so you should probably jump on the “Think Green” train and buy a Nook … but you’re right.

Where can we find the answers to life?

I met with a few friends from high school for drinks and flashbacks this past week, but of course talk of degrees and jobs replaced the once innocent chatter of nonsense and breakups.

Although each of them has a degree awaiting an office frame, none have an office to put them in. None have the classroom they’ve spent four years dreaming of decorating, and none have booked weddings in the event planning journal they’ve prepared. In fact, none are doing anything remotely related to their degrees.

Now of course each of them is sure to find great success in their futures, but for now I admire their modest view on “living life” in their parent’s house on a seven dollar paycheck until Mr. Right Job comes along.

With a year left, I’ve nervously started writing my thank you letter to college.

So far I only have, “Dear College.”

But I figure I’ll continue with something like, “Thank you for the degree, the good times and the debt … I hate you.”

Post-college is scary! Where am I going to go? What am I going to do? How on earth am I going to pay for this air I’m breathing?

These unanswerable questions had me searching for a childhood classic more inspirational than Charlie Brown.

“Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too

Went for a ride in a flying shoe

Horay what fun, it’s time we flew

Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too”

Shel Silverstein had me wondering about the adventures I would take in a flying shoe.

I figured I would soar to the tops of the green trees and thank them for the fight they put up every spring even though winter and fall continually knock off their leaves.

I’ve always admired their resilience.

I would then tour the castles and the airplanes that the clouds build every day, regardless of the many that forget to notice their pictures.

I’ve always trusted their entertainment.

I would then land atop a red light, so that the two of us could admire the cars that want so badly to rush past us.

I’ve always been jealous of their patience.

So College Advice: Escaping reality and embracing creativity may be the simplest way to ignore life stresses. Unfortunately Silverstein’s poem ends rather dramatically,

“Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too

Never returned to the world they knew

And nobody knows what’s happened to

Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me too”

But I like to think that life flew that shoe exactly where they were supposed to be. I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest we lace our shoes and hold on tight.