Damp shoes & thoughts

Deep and dazed in the woods

beside the dewy fern,

I fell faint by the grazes; 

I've got a lot to learn.

My shirt stayed dry 

Despite the great downpour,

Your anatomy saved both ardently

--what was mine and yours.

When it was time to collect

both thoughts and damp shoes,

I thanked you with a clasp; 

The sky refused the gray, and welcomed blue.

Farewell to this occasion

I never liked the sun. 

For it is only in winter

I can be unrelentingly undone.

Idea # 1

Put off my inheritance. 

A Quarter of Appreciation

I'm thankful for many a things, here we go:

 1. A unique & beautiful, not the biggest, most

 loving family.

2. Food in my mouth, and my ravenous appetite for meat

 and not a fig tree. 

3. Low gas prices.

4. Coffee. 

5. Coffee shops to drink coffee in. 

5. Scenic routes & world--the song too. 

6. True and faithful love...beautiful people in that love.  Love in general. Love is Patient. Love Actually, Love & Basketball, Etc.

7. Living by the ocean. 

8. Freedom and independence. Seriously. 

9. Text messaging. 

10. Midnight Adventures, especially tree kinds.

    

11. Community fitness.

 

12. Lazy sundays.

13. Headbands/beanies, any dirty hair repository. 

14. Free Mp3 downloads.

15. Photography. 

16. The idea of Tree houses. 

17. Wifi.

18. Blogs: http://ely-cart.blogspot.com

19. Music & all it's followers. 

20. My not even trendy but 

oh so good-looking red road bike.

21. This picture

which encompasses:

-make believe

-mixed gender dressing

-friendship

-newspapers

-white picket fence American dream

22. Hoodies. 

23. Cold but bright weather. 

24. Creativity and simplicity. 

25. The good Lord who makes all the previous items 

and inevitable afters, possible.

Raising the grateful roof, 

Tray

I'd Look Silly as a Vampire--Pale

In honor of celebrating with the Pilgrims and against the Indians, (c'mon now, I was Tiger Lilly!) an air of defiance has taken place, seeing that my arrival at home in Anaheim took precedent on Monday, 8:45 p.m., when break officially started Wednesday. You win some you lose some, Tracy 1, Institution, zip.  

Speaking of winning, I'm forever fancifully betrothed to Edward Cullen. I've always been fond of vampires, but I'm currently and hopelessly attached to the immortal hip of the

idea of never seeing daylight with Mr. Edward Cullen. 

Enter 'til death do we part, but not really' meter

here: 

True love though, who doesn't want it? Bella risked everything because she fell in love. The thought of growing older without the one she fearfully loved was unimaginable and torturous. 

5 things I want to give important attention to:

-I want to be that terrified, and consequently have an unimaginable love.

-Love and being in a Vampiric trance=same thing really. 

-I want to risk more than I have sometimes, you can have my 1 point world. 

-I want to be romanced in a tree in the middle of Washington in the Winter. And only Vampires can make that happen. Is that so much to ask for?

-Love is essentially everywhere and for everyone & with it= an unimaginable, trance-feeling, tree loving, point less kind of love. Plus, you can save $8.00. 

So in the ZIP chance my whole foundation of faith is incorrect, my desired wish of owning a red satin cape and fangs will remain a dream of dreamers. 

Speaking of fiction though, the other day I visited the biggest used book store nearish my house (while I waited for some bridesmaids to get their nails done--wedding on Friday and I couldn't be more excited!--maybe Vampires like weddings). This place was so glorious, and the authenticity was apparent for it wholly validated it's glory by my constant sniffling nose and watery eyes. Oh happy day. I was able to find some sweet books and plan to go 

there maybe every other day for the rest of my life. 

5 facts about the book store I actively want to note:

-It was in poor organizational order, but it was an adventure.

-So cheap!!!

-A light crowd, I ended up spending about 2 hrs there, so no rush factor.

-I couldn't find Dracula. Guh.

-The music played is the soundtrack from an Adult movie. 

Nonetheless, peep my findings..

 

1. Philosophiques by Voltaire // 2. A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens // 3. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott // 4. Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens // 5. The Best American Nonrequired Reading by Dave Eggers & // 6. Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife by Jane Austen.

All in all, this break has so far proven itself to be imaginative with a bite of hopelessness and educationally a bargain. Let the binge eating and loving continue. 

Letting it go & eternally yours, 

T. C. 

Sunday Smile, Roughly Tuesday

The Sabbath is something I hold dearly. Which mostly explains why I spent all Friday and all most of Saturday working on my presentation project. All I could wish or hope for was for my soul to arise with the morning sun the following day, but it decided to wake up a couple hours later.

9:40a.m.: crap I was supposed to call Kristoff at 8:30 so we could prove to ourselves we could. So about a dime and a nickel later, she responds asking what we decided our lives would be. I tell her the ramblings of last night's doze feast. She picks me up 15 minutes after her "I'll be there in 10 minutes," claim.

Rachel Getting Married at Hillcrest starts at 11:15 am.

1045 : How did it get this time? But that's when she got me.

1:04p.m.: Soaking in one of the most real movies I've seen in a while, we sit and reflect and wonder where to eat because we will faint. But for a moment, great movie, I'd recommend it to anyone who likes real life sorrows and battles alongside unconditional love and forgiveness. The movie also had a splash of Jesus, which is
quite fitting since in the last 2 minutes I've typed "sabbath," "unconditional love," "forgiveness," & "[sex before you get] Married."

1:25: Food at St. Tropez. There we pondered our screenplay novel. Conundrum but so are we. After brainstorming, we accomplished really nothing, partly because we were hungry, mostly because we are not screenplay writers. Nay, eggs will always make the..day, so we enjoy our child portioned omelet of failed movie making dreams. But for the moment again, we take it in. After all we are at St Tropez. And though this isn't how the cafe looked exactly, it's how it felt.

2:15: Head to do what we actually do well, shop. Mind you I'm all about consumerism. I love the world and I shop for it. Hours pass by and we leave victorious only with a few dollar scars and gashes from the tax. Ultimately we leave linked arm in arm cautious that it is in Hillcrest but happy it's friendship.

Praise the Lord for the Sabbath. Praise Him for a such thing called rest. Praise him on Sunday and even Friday & Saturday.

More real pictures to come of the well deserved day.




Always loving you probably,
Tre

Don't Stop Believing

It's my last year of college and I've finally put on my kiddy boots, ready to make believe and go onward to, past-my-bedtime adventures. Upon this subtle and late revelation, I realized I like acting a fool. (Yes on Prop Ludacris) There's something about new shoes that don't sit with me well or walk, so I tend to drag them into dirt and spider family homes. In honor of new friends and old ones who bring fresh ta death perspectives on L i f e, I am thankful for the never failing concept of time, and courage to kill SFH (spider family homes). 

Though it gets dark earlier and I never know what day it is, it is faithful and will return again. & Since the rapture didn't come, my motto is so far more successful than my registration for upper division classes. Which by the way, how the hail did I get this far so fast?... 

...point Loma in case, the best play is after work. I like feeling like I deserve dirty sneakers and damp pants from the dew, or a friends water ridden fountain soaked body. Either way, I'm glad I don't have a curfew. 

I am also glad for cold heartfelt weather. 

I am glad for new free ID cards.

I am glad that I can hop a fence with more confidence than Obama. 

I am glad that my mom and I are bffs. 

& I am glad for a fun and faithful God.

p.s. here's some uncanny eye canny.

 

Raising the roof always, 

T. Le (Tiger Lily)

Prescription for Praise

No matter how many times my heart is swallowed by the sea of momentary thought turned loneliness, I retract, restart and refrain. The sunny days can turn achingly cold, a bad study session can lead to a better grade than anticipated, and a left out ingredient may make your flambe taste flambetter. Expectations and normative thinking will get us nowhere, especially with the God created dealings of the romantic heart. 

Because not all of them are the grown-ups you need them to be. Not all of them can make you laugh and fall to the floor and still be there when you need to mop, sulk, cry and complain. Not all of them pursue God in the way that surpasses your own desires so greatly, it hurts so beautifully. And not all of them will rise to the occasion when she is so ever present, despite how desirable her spirit is. Even if he says she is amazing and one of a kind.

My spirit desires not only to be the every day acknowledged and recognized--and sometimes casually praised, but commended and raved about passionately. To be lifted without effort and marked true without fault and doubt. To be loved fully with haste by both words and action. This stuff I'm talking about is being a woman in the stillness of her unelaborated worth. To lose all inhibitions and heavy armor that stem from the directions of his eyes and the hurtful choices that were made. I recommend this ambition to everyone who is a fan of love and not of warfare. Lay your vigorous arms and legs onto a confidence you only find from time. 

And since we are the beloved on whom His favor rests upon, I will finally, gladly rest my head.

Do not judge a book by it's cover...especially The Shack, because if I would of known the Lord God Almighty came into form of an African [W]oman, I would of never turned down the 5'2 guy with slicked back hair trying to dance with me. But that hobby itself has lent itself credibility in the department of life skills. 1. I do not judge others merely because good dancers don't need to be good if their are cute. 2. I am now officially the best lip reader on earth. and 3. I can touch the floor with skinny jeans on which is characterized as flexibility. But I refrain and continue to my point. Books.

Reading has become a more common guest in my home recently. And I've realized that though my days know nothing besides calendar appointments and lecture notes, I choose to waste away my youth with lasses such as Jane Austen and lads like C. Lew and I can't help but wonder, how would it be to have such a presence answering "two packs of sugar please," when I clearly have only given them one too many because I'm simply too damn nervous they are drinking coffee with me. To enjoy the actual presence of a classic love in body form would be the day I stop wishing for more. My current obsession is love. My forever obsession is imaginative love. Hence...

Do not judge a book by it's cover...especially The Shack, because if I would of known the Lord God Almighty came into form of an African [W]oman, I would of never turned down the 5'2 guy with slicked back hair trying to dance with me. But that hobby itself has lent itself credibility in the department of life skills. 1. I do not judge others merely because good dancers don't need to be good if their are cute. 2. I am now officially the best lip reader on earth. and 3. I can touch the floor with skinny jeans on which is characterized as flexibility. But I refrain and continue to my point. Books.

Reading has become a more common guest in my home recently. And I've realized that though my days know nothing besides calendar appointments and lecture notes, I choose to waste away my youth with lasses such as Jane Austen and lads like C. Lew and I can't help but wonder, how would it be to have such a presence answering "two packs of sugar please," when I clearly have only given them one to many because I'm so damn nervous they are drinking coffee with me. To enjoy the actual presence of a classic love in body form would be the day I stop wishing for more. My current obsession is love. My forever obsession is imaginative love. 

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Those like myself whose imagination far exceeds their obedience are subject to a just penalty; we easily imagine conditions far higher than any we have really reached. If we describe what we have imagined we may make others, and make ourselves, believe that we have really been there. And if I have only imagined it, is it a further delusion that even the imaging has at some moments made all other objects of desire—yes, even peace to have no more fears—look like broken toys and faded flowers? Perhaps. Perhaps  for many of us, all experience merely defines, so to speak, the shape of that gap where our love of God ought to be. It is not enough. It is something. If we cannot “practice the presence of God it is something to practice the absence of god….” My mind wanders and I spend most of my days intrigued by scrapped notes I've jotted before and after class because during I'm simply busy dreaming.

I'm way too busy.

What's a weekend?

I love my job.

I'm a gal of change.

I want to have a chat with you about your heart when time permits.

I wish dollas grew on trees in my backyard.

I hope my friends know I love them.

No room for boys. Whew.

Leisure activities for me is e-mailing.

Jesus & Music. My daily unequal companions.


Ready. Set. Go.

It's the first and not the first time

The winding down of things. Such a natural and emotional occasion we rarely are properly dressed for. I feel the good Lord likes to save up all those coupons of 'happenings' for the end event sometimes. Nothing like a good shake on the shoulders before I begin my new ride to prepare me for what has been done before but will not be done the same. And since life is a huge literary metaphor and/or irony, I actually do have a new ride. Long story short, though I cannot afford school, traveling, or even an original sized Jamba, I may now be able to fit 4 friends and not 3 in my new coupe de random. 

One could see, this summer is filled with conundrums and revelations.  For instance, I've recently learned the emotion that I'm really fond of is to miss--which I find fitting for the summer of distance, longing, and dreaming. I had a conversation with a good guy pal on it and in hopes he didn't think I was too frilly, I quickly defended my belief system before he could prevail in tearing it all down with my imagined sneer and gruff. Against what seemed to be all odds, he agreed. And he even put the best two cents in by modestly noting "It's what makes us human."  Honestly, I got to say I couldn't tell you exactly what he meant at the time, but I knew exactly how I felt. But I had to expand more on this 'miss.' 

To miss someone is to yearn and ache for their presence. 

To wonder of how their experiences without you made them see the world. 

To hope the reality they saw made no sense because they couldn't see pass their daydreaming of you. 

How does that not hoop and holler sadness?  But then again, during my questioning I came to think, doesn't it take the slightest amount of sadness to want a lot of happiness? I know I've learned that this summer o' growth/friendships/love/trust/hopes/challenges/ has put into perspective how adament the human spirit is on being well. 

Thus the conundrums and revelations. The conuntions. 

To add, this summer I've concocted some type of impervious charm that has given me the confidence to be ridiculous, to be impassable upon people and things I encounter to potentially tear me down. To willingly admit when I'm wrong, to be bold when I'm certain to be overlooked, to be completely vulnerable when I already have a good handful of pride saved, and to say words like sneer and gruff with a straight and confident face. I guess I'm digging this shvitz I'm on and I want to invite you to hop in my corolla and see the way I have learned to see and understand for just a moment. And despite the message of, "thou shall want to miss," I encourage you to not miss out on this open invitation.

Conundrumingly this all makes sense. 

Missing you, 

T

To see my car, go to:

 http://autos.yahoo.com/2008_toyota_corolla_s_5_spd_mt-slideshow/?  tab=gen&i=exrrpass75&a=all#imgs

 

For definition of Impervious Charm,

 See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spells_in_Harry_Potter 

Made in love, not China.

I've not only found myself with love embedded in all my question marks I store, but I've discovered I'm made in love, and as though that is not enough weight to carry, I am to love others, consequently while they are all busy staring googly eyed at each other. But love is patient and kind my friends, so I'll wait and be a nice girl. And while I'm sitting on this what seems to be customized bench, I avoid looking lonely by getting up and pacing the concrete, but my shoes are thin and my feet are burning, all because nothing is easy.

Admitting such a universal truth is an outright humiliation and accomplishment but most importantly, it strips us of any righteous indignation we conjure up because we want to feel in control. Vulnerability runs too sparse in other's and myself  but it's the very thing that saves us. I want to be so vulnerable I refuse to hold back anything when you look at me, I'd  put myself on the outside just to be able to enjoy what may lie on the inside, and I'd accept the fact that I don't know what I want, even though  I knew I didn't want  that one guy.

 I don't want want to try, I want to be still but continue to move you, others, and myself.

Sit the Lord says. 'Go and make Disciples,' that I can do, but sit? Really? Anything but that I tell Him. But the path he has laid before me that I can potentially stay and tread on is appealing and I'm thinking I'm going to need feet for such a march, so I sit and wait and be a nice girl. 

In Hymn we trust

I think the Bible is the most creative and intuitive piece or writing ever. 

It has a magical talent of igniting your bones but only during specific times of the day, month, year, and/or even lifetime. I happened to experience this special juncture occasion about 23 hours ago. He is with me and waits to surprise me right when I have no faith in myself with how I handle my faith, by graciously having faith in me. 

This Psalm is ridiculous and every word makes my insides spark. He knows what we need and he knows where to lead and to think I didn't get the whole shepherd thing until 23 hours and 49 minutes ago. 

PSALM 23

  The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.

  He makes me lie down in green pastures, 
       he leads me beside quiet waters,

  he restores my soul. 
       He guides me in paths of righteousness 
       for his name's sake.

  Even though I walk 
       through the valley of the shadow of death, 
       I will fear no evil, 
       for you are with me; 
       your rod and your staff, 
       they comfort me.

  You prepare a table before me 
       in the presence of my enemies. 
       You anoint my head with oil; 
       my cup overflows.

  Surely goodness and love will follow me 
       all the days of my life, 
       and I will dwell in the house of the LORD 
       forever.

The Name Game

What's in a name? Well first things first, I'm 21, therefore my name will be changed from Tracy to Ms. Tracy, thank you. This thought all started, and by started I mean influenced me to actually write it out, this past thursday.

A strange and beautiful man by the name of Dustin was pressured into guessing a group of girls names. What makes a person a name? Why am I offended by being called Lorraine, just because it sounds like a 45 yr old Jewish woman who owns a kosher store, doesn't mean Lorraine isn't this magnificent woman who changes the world daily with her hands and heart. The other day I asked my mom what she would of named me if it wasn't 'Tracy.' She couldn't come up with anything, but we were left with how a name makes a person. I suppose a person can make a name, but we mutually agreed and laughed on the fact that if she named me Sapphire, I would of been a hussy by now...and naturally green with envy. But then again, you never know I suppose. 

Why is it fun to change your name when the Starbucks Barista asks you what yours is? I'm sure all the 'Shaniquas' of the world aren't laughing whilst you drink your frappuccinos--then again I might, seeing your taste in caffeine. Personally I think nicknames are pretty cool. It's the 'fun you' your name couldn't provide you with. It's an opportunity to act out of character with an unspoken validity. It's especially handy when you find out your actual name means "brave," and you can't even handle space mountain and milk. Lastly, nicknames also come in handy when you realize your name is the TRENDY NICKNAME OF THE YEAR. I'm talking to you Jordan..the girl. 

Anyways, I hope these thoughts stimulate your very own, in who you are and how you represent your name. I do hope the very best for you two, because it's a long road from here, unless your name is Katherine or William. 

Until then, good night and good love, 

                                                Tre

Friendships, Relationships & All Sorts of Ships

(a past journal entry I really dig)

People usually do things to prove things. More so, customary things to prove that they are anything but, and that it is especially awesome because well, they are awesome. I've had time this break to reevaluate my actions and my thoughts, and everything that is mine. I came to the conclusion, it seems all my x's have a y. I'm going to give up this for lent because I am discipline and love Jesus. I'm going to write a blog because hey, I'm a good writer, so please read my stuff. I'm going to mention that I'm currently watching Science of Sleep and that is where I got my blog title, so respect me and my superior movie taste. The list goes on and on for hours I'm sure, and I'm going to bed in thirty. All this to say, I wish I was an actress....and had less y's.

A big fake x of mine is wanting to act. I'd normally go the musician route, but that is more easily attainable so I shall refrain. I think the x's (acts, lifestyles, image, etc.) that are so hard to reach are the ones most easily adored. I'm on a movie kick and just watched The Other Boleyn Girl. Granted anything with Portman you can count on me to be praising, but this movie had me on my knees. That wasn't meant to be ironic. Now you might be wondering why irony would even be relevant to anything in this paragraph, but if you don't, I'd suggest a brush up on world history might do the trick. I digress. I get too emotional and into good film/acting. I guess I want to be apart of endowing that kind of unspoken significance to someone. Though my acting career can safely be put in the, "too bad," box, I can't help it that every time Cho bumps into Harry, I cringe and wished it were me who was capturing a gaze from the handsome wizard. But I guess there are several reasons in this specific example...

Basically life sucks when you want something so bad and know it cannot be. And you can guess that it's not acting that I'm all sore about. But the idea of "it" just messes me up. The idea of anything that crosses my mind as satisfaction finds it's way to leave me feeling unsatisfactory. Tonight I lent every letter of the alphabet to two great pals who let me divulge about what I do want, what I think I want, and what I wish I think I wanted and was left with a simple response. Aspirations and ambition, wants and needs, and x's and y's are not silly and is irrefutable if the time spent scuffling the floor, was a time consoled with God. A second response from me followed:

I can definitely work on some re-scufflage.

to living 21 years imaginatively illustrious

=

Oh Romeo

Observing a relationship sometimes makes me feel like I'm watching a play. At least that's what I felt like a while ago when I found myself being...perceptive.

You wonder if this is where you want to be at this very moment, but either way you find a means to entertain yourself with what's been given, so I did. Somewhere in the duration of observing this peculiar phenomena, I hoped to walk away with a lesson or two once it was over, a perhaps deeper morale to live by once I exit the scene--or once their scene was over.

Suddenly I was left with this feeling that I've seen this type of play once before, you know that feeling...the one where originality is the farthest thing from you and a white v-neck is just around the corner. But you have faith in it, that there is such thing as true...play. But what I saw was a bit dark, but this familiar and popular dark. I thought to myself, this is common. It was so common, it made Shakespearean literature look foreign. All drama, jealousy, betrayal and lies. Immersed in all things ungodly, unloving, and unwise. 

I feel the main characters in this had become the main characters because they sought out their own power and image. There was no room for adoration or mutual appreciation before my eyes, I'm certain. 

I could beg for a sequel...but then again, I don't know if I want to watch anymore. The theater isn't for me. My butt's asleep and the costs to sit through one is steep. But I believe in other means to redefine my perspective on love. Maybe technology can reprogram me. I hear Apple is reinventing the human heart.

Beyond my winged unicorn

Love love LOVE love <3. It takes a lot of nerve to even begin to define it, let alone shroud it with mystical italicization and symbols and I don't intend to--not today at least. I don't care what most people believe of this irrepressible word. But first, for the holy records,  I'm going to purposely stray away from the whole Truth aspect of love, that is Jesus. Now from here on out, I confidently stand on this podium of urgence and tell of my latest petition. 

Believe in a love that is made specifically and utterly for you. 

Trust me my friends, I am a realist and believe in preparing in life, especially in dealing with matters of the heart. But I do have to warn you, if you don't believe in the kind of love that can surpass or even reach the magical unicorn fantasy land state (assuming that's even fanciful as I think it is) then you limit how many letters you can bold or capitalize.

I'm certain that life's blemishes have ordered you a personal pair of rock-colored specs, but why wear them when you have..dare I embarrassingly say, 20/20 vision? (Though at my expense, you now get the point). 

You have a choice. But I do have to say, I for one am not really in to the whole modern day romance at all. 

Beyond my winged unicorn though, I've made a decision to only fall purely and incandescently in love. 

I don't think it's too bold to ask for, let alone believe in. 

<3>

Tracy

A rough excerpt of a serious literature ambition.

Hello

He notices She's laughing very loudly. And she has promptly gotten better at illuminating what he thought to be the more than perfect smile. It seems he's far enough to where he himself can wallow in a self laugh. Oddly enough he is the only one who can hear her. Who can read her. Who understood her at any given moment where she was most misunderstood. Because what he sees before his eyes is foreign, he's nervous.  As a matter a fact, he's intrigued and wants to meet this person. He goes up and introduces himself to her and realizes he's never introduced himself to a girl like this before, let alone been this kind of boy before.  

"Hi," is what I think she told me, he recalled to himself.  

Bradley Hathaway's best

I don’t think our encounter would’ve ended up in Your gospels or anything, because all I really need is a hug. I mean, that’s OK for me to imagine, right? That’s not going to be conflicting with any sort of theology, is it? OK, good. Then hug me.

But not one of these ‘sideways, one arm around the neck’ type hugs or the ‘ghetto right hand clasp fist elbows-to-chest pat-pat on the back back’ or the ‘you put your right arm over my right arm and I put my left arm over your left arm and we make this weird sort of diagonal thing’. Nah. None of those.

BEAR HUG ME, MAN.

Take your old school, carpenter arms and throw them around my upper body, leaving my arms dangling underneath Yours somewhere, and I can barely move them because You’re squeezing me so hard. (But don’t pick me up and make my back pop, because I hate it when people do that).

And hold me. Hold me here in Your arms until I start to cry. Because I want to cry, but I just can’t seem to do it on my own. I’ve been teary-eyed once recently, but not even enough for a drip down my cheek. There’s just hurt in my soul that needs to be purged. So hold me in this hugging pose until the pain is flowing from my eyes and nose.