| it's been more than 2 months...Since I’ve written on my xanga.
I guess I just don't have a lot to say... or maybe I just know that what I do have to say really isn't all that important. I’m not sure. Lets see....
This is something I wrote in my journal a few days ago... yeh, I am really weird; it expresses the ridiculousness of my minds workings:
"I feel like I'm living in a season of bird poop. I keep noticing lots of it and its everywhere I go... following my every move and always on my car. I've never been physically pooped on by a bird... but I can feel it coming... and I'm sort of dreading it. That moment in my life when I can never again say, "never ever have I ever been pooped on by a bird." Dreadful. But then, maybe the fear of what it will be like will be gone once it happens. Then I will be free to play under and amongst the trees. To co-exist with these creatures my family values so.
Here comes the rain. I love rain... before, during, and after it comes. Maybe before I'd stepped into my first rainstorm I was scared of those drops too... of the idea of wet socks and smeared mascara. But I do remember the joy and freedom from letting the water soak through my very being and the bliss that set in once the satisfaction of the situation was clear to my soul.
Rain and bird poop are wildly different substances. I can't imagine anyone enjoying being pooped on again and again... much less it bringing bliss indescribable. But... wait... what if... I imagine a tribe somewhere in the middle of a jungle where a boy becomes a man by standing underneath "that tree" on his 16th birthday and waiting, sometimes for hours, until the honorable moment when that chirp sounds and the poop falls and strikes so effortlessly his ... shoulder. He can now move, and be embraced by his mother and look up to his father’s proud nod. In that moment, he finds complete bliss... and yet, its just bird poop.
Well, I guess anything is possible."
I used to always wonder what other people wrote in their journals… like how it sounded and what they said and if it was like, to God, or just random ramblings. I talked to a friend about this once and she was like, “It’s your journal you can write whatever you want”. It was a really profound moment in my life and from then on out, about a year now, I’ve been quite the journal-er with my new found freedom to write.
So, that’s where the bird poop story came from I guess.
In other news, it turns out I am a Populist-Leaning Liberal politically. Took an online quiz. That settles that.
Hope you’re having a wonderful night/day/life/week!
Until next time,
Samantha
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| random photos!two of my favorites: 
Christina and Caiti - aren't they beautiful?! 
crystal and i went country western dancin' once. 
these weird guys w/ the same glasses. 
Sam B, Kelli, and Sean O'B. 
My fun roommates... almost never a dull moment between the three of us!  
two of the weirdest faces EVER.  Jana dressed up like Sean for his birthday... and making a serious "Sean" face. |
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| Okay- where would you rather live? Option #1:  and 
OR
Option #2:  and  ??? VOTE - this is important 
Thanks! |
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| a thought"When you're [with] people who are similar [to] you at your core it is easier to connect to them... it is easier to be friends with them and so a lot of times its not that you like people, its that you like yourself and so anyone whose like you, you like. Which means you don't really like anyone but yourself." - Erwin McManus TODAY's my mom's birthday - she's 50! it's fun |
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