Valentine's Day...

Happy Valentine's Day, ya'll!
Or, for those of you who aren't very fond of the holiday, I hope you make it through 'Single Awareness Day' with "as little pain to trouble you as God sees fit to send".

I'm afraid I'm among the Valentine's Day cynics. I don't particularly care for all this "lovey-dovey nonsense". I guess part of it comes from my school days (the one's spent in an actually school building, that is). It was always difficult to watch the other girls get special gifts and whatnot while I, well, didn't. All I got was a bag full of candy that I didn't like and a bunch of little corny Valentines with random pictures on them. >.< If it was bad then, I can't imagine what it would be like now if I was still in school. I'd prolly go completely bonkers XD

Of course, my aversion to Valentine's Day would probably be significantly lessened if not completely reversed if I happened to have a significant other to share it with. =P Which brings me to something I've been wondering for some time... Do girls give their boyfriends stuff on Valentine's Day? And if they do, what are they supposed to get? Because I seriously can't see this happening:
JILL: *is hiding something behind her back* Okay, Bill, close your eyes! I've got a surprise for you!
BILL: *claps hands* Ooooh, I love surprises! *obediently closes eyes*
JILL places GIFT in BILL'S hands: *giggles* Alright, you can open them now!
BILL opens his eyes and examines GIFT: Oh my gosh! A fluffy plush teddy bear holding a heart! How adorable! I love it to pieces! Wherever did you find such a darling stuffed animal?! *hugs JILL*

Instead, it would probably happen more like this:
JILL: *is hiding something behind her back* Okay, Bill, close your eyes! I've got a surprise for you!
BILL: Um, ookaaaay... *apprehensively closes eyes*
JILL places GIFT in BILL'S hands: *giggles* Alright, you can open them now!
BILL slowly opens his eyes and examines GIFT: Um, a teddy bear...with a heart... Thanks, JILL.*tries to look appreciative*
JILL gets teary-eyed: Don't you like it? *lower lip trembles*
BILL: Uh, yeah. I mean, it's the thought that counts, right?
JILL bursts into tears: You hate it, don't you?
BILL tries to comfort JILL: No, no, no! That's not it...exactly...
JILL sniffs: Exactly? Exactly?! I shop around for weeks and weeks to find the perfect Valentine's gift, and all I get is an 'I don't exactly hate it'?! *runs away sobbing*
(two days later, BILL and JILL have broken up)

So, if you can't get a guy a cute bear, what do you get him? I mean, there's nothing else to be found in Hallmark...

*deeply ponders the weighty matter before becoming distracted by something else*

not enough butter..

I feel very dull and uninspired. Sleepy, sluggish, and stupid too. "Like butter scraped over too much bread" to borrow a quote from Bilbo. I spent I don't know how long trying to pull together an essay this afternoon and only managed to overwork my poor little brain. There's only so much that I can take...

I hate it when the millions of little thoughts rattling around inside my head can't seem to be able to translate themselves onto paper. >.< It's one of the most frustrating things in the whole wide world to my way of thinking. I suppose I should just stop trying to force myself to write and sleep on it.

Hm, now there's an idea...

*is brilliant*

of all things lovely...

I think I know what it feels like to be old as dirt and sick as a dog, now.

Thanks to my lovely sinus drainage courtesy of my wisdom teeth-removal-type-thingy, I'm now coughing and hacking like I'm a hundred and forty-five million years old. >.< It's very annoying. Particularly when I'm in the middle of a sentence and all of a sudden I go *cough* *cough* *wheeeze* *cough* *cooooouuugghhhh*. Frightfully embarrassing it is, too. Good thing I mostly breathe through my nose.... Otherwise I might be doing that constantly.

Anywheez... (ha, get it? any-"wheeze" =P....*crickets*)

It's a lovely morning over here today... The sun's touching everything with this perfectly enchanting gold, and there's hardly a cloud to be seen; the sky's a light, breathy kind of blue...sorta like a robin's egg come to think of it. I think I might have to bundle up and settle down on the porch swing for a little while...

Mother Nature beckons.

wisdom teeth

I think 'D-Day' should stand for 'dental-day' or something like that. If it did, I'd officially label yesterday as 'D-Day'... Why, you ask? Well, it just so happens that yesterday I got my wisdom teeth out. Both of them. On the top row. All two of them. Out.

I woke up at about 8ish that morning...no, that was when my alarm went off...that means I didn't get up 'til about 8:15ish :P I was on strict orders not to eat or drink anything (the fast began at midnight, but i'm not one to have midnight snakes and such, so that wasn't a problem ^.^). And I couldn't have forgotten even if I'd wanted to. My precious mum must've reminded me over a hundred times about no food or water, making me daydream about eating delicious goodies and drinking gallons upon gallons of water all the more. I mean, I rarely ever think about eating in the morning, but I just couldn't get my mind off of it! That left little time to think about the surgery (i wasn't the least bit apprehensive praise be to God).

We left the house at about 9:15 and got to the little-office-jigger about five or ten minutes early. The waiting room smelled really funny... And I wonder if their TV is hi-definition b/c the reporters' faces on CNN looked really...well, close. It wasn't at all attractive... Anywho, after sitting in there for a couple of minutes (i never really even got the chance to crack open my book...), the receptionist lady called us back to go over paperwork and what-not... Actually, to be completely honest, I don't really know what she was doing with Mom and Dad...I wasn't paying that much attention =P Anyways, then this tiny nurse with a pink gown-type-thingy on came and took me back to the 'operating room'. She was funny. I don't remember quite what it was that she said...all I remember was that she had me giggling a lot ^_^ I do remember that she was wearing those awful fake teeth when she came to get me...'twas quite comical. She looped her arm in mine and skipped down the hallway. Yes, she was very funny. The other thing I remember was that she was an Alabama fan. In fact, I think just about everybody that works there is...including the head-doctor-type-person. That was about the most nervous I got, knowing that the people who would be cutting into my mouth were Bama fans =P Then they hooked me up to all these monitors and other wonderful machines. I was slightly disappointed that they were all behind me...I like looking at the numbers and stuff and figuring out what it all means... I guess I'm just weird that way XD

Anywho, Doctor Parker finally came in just as I was starting to get a wee-bit uncomfortable with all those lovely wires and such. We exchanged a few words, then he popped an iv into my arm (the only shot i got the whole time...well, when i was conscious that is). He said I'd probably drop off to sleep in a minute or two. The cute little nurse said good-night and told me to have sweet dreams, and I think I nodded or something, but I'm not sure. I leaned my head back on the headrest-thingy and looked up at the movable light-type-thing. It kinda started to swirl around and change colors and stuff; the ceiling started to move...(that was probable the most fascinating part of the whole experience). Then the next thing I know, this other nurse that I'm pretty sure wasn't there before was helping me stand up. I remember staggering up the hall and out the door; I barely remember getting into the car.

After that, my memory goes blank. Mom told me that I said that as soon as I got home, I wanted to 'blog all this so that I wouldn't forget'. Ha! She also said that when we pulled into the drive-way, I glanced at the milkshake we'd gotten from a drive-through and asked her if we'd gone to Sonic (we had...i just can't remember it for the life of me!).

The next thing I remember was walking into the laundry room via the garage. I don't recollect getting out of the car; just walking through the door. My legs were like jelly; I kept teetering from side to side like a drunk person as I slowly made my way to the couch in the living room. Since I'm not allowed to use a straw and I wasn't in any shape to get it into my mouth myself, mom had to spoon-feed me. How embarrassing! But yes, it's true... And the weird thing was that she kept sprouting extra eyes and heads, and the spoon kept multiplying and dividing. My brain was doing some weird things! Then, of course, my tongue was still numb and fat, so I talked with a slur and I couldn't ever tell when the dumb spoon was in my mouth >.<

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally finished the cold, vanilla-y milkshake. I spent the rest of the afternoon watching Disney movies and eating as much as I could get my hands on XD I don't recall everything I ate, but it was a lot, let me tell ya =P

My only complaint thus far is of a slightly over-attentive nurse...(haha, luv ya, Mom!)

Thank you all for your prayers...
OH! And thanks for the lovely e-card, Uncle Paul, Auntie Kim, Garrett, and Matt! I enjoyed it ever so much...

Superbowl Sunday

Well, one of the most anticipated events of the year has finally transpired. People all across America settled down for roughly four hours with their favorite snack on their favorite couch with their favorite friends to watch the biggest game of their favorite sport: *cues the music* SuPeRbOwL ILII *tada*

...

Of course, I wasn't one of them (seriously. excepting for the favorite snack, favorite couch, and the not-quite-my-favorite-sport-but-I-still-enjoy-watching-it type thing...). In fact, I'd already forgotten that we hadn't had a superbowl already. *gaspeth* The horror! But 'tis all too true... I was actually slightly surprised when my brother brought up the topic this morning... But then again, I've never really kept up with pro-football that much. *shrugs*

However, I did watch the game. All of it. Which is quite a feat, let me tell you. I normally can't sit through an entire college game, let alone a pro one. And I knew who was playing before we turned the tv on. *beams proudly* AND I knew who I was gonna root for. *beams proudlier still*

I was Giants all the way (i mean, i couldn't go against a manning brother...). In fact, I think I actually got pretty excited a couple of times (which, btw, is pretty rare also)...

I'm super happy that New York won... I know it might not come across that way, but I am--on the inside (you know, 'ka-ra-te man, happy on inside'? =P). I would never admit it to my brother, though, so let's keep this between you and me, k? =P

I can already sniff the makings of a movie... I mean, who doesn't like a story like that? (ie underdog beats big dog even after big dog laughs in little dog's face)

Tom Brady was HIGHLY amused when he was told that a Giants player had predicted a New York victory...

I wonder who's laughing now?

an update? really?

Sorry for the lack of updates...my crazy/busy life hasn't allowed me much time to get on the internet. My Louisville trip was wonderful... I have a 'post in process' for it, but I don't feel like finishing/don't have time to finish it right now... I'll try to get it done soon =D

We went up to Jonesboro, GA for David's basketball game this afternoon. They lost, but David played really well. I was a very proud big sister ^_^ Everybody kept commenting on how tall he was...and then gawking at me when they figured out how tall I was.

Which brings me to what I've kinda been thinking about lately: why does being 6 feet tall bother me so much?

I'm not really sure to be completely honest. It doesn't really have anything to do with the fact that the showerheads in almost every hotel bathroom are too short, or that people always think I'm in college (which is actually kinda cool ^_^) .

I think it has something to do with the fact that I don't like to stand out of the crowd; I'm afraid of being different.

I don't like it when people stare at me when I walk into the room. I don't like it when people talk about me when they think I can't hear. And I especially don't like it when people make smart comments about my height and weight/lack-thereof (ie "It should be illegal for you to wear heels", "You're so skinny, when you walk into the room you look more like 6'7" than 6'," ect)

The root of the issue lies with my fear of man. If I always had my eyes set on God, I wouldn't/shouldn't care about what anybody says. He made me who I am; I should be content. But I'm not, and that's the problem.