Moving, Deodorant, and Wal-mart

I've arrived.

It has been a mess. Boxes and piles everywhere, but slowly

my room and apartment have emerged.

It is definitely a change.

I'm not at college anymore, but not really in the "real world" either.

I don't know anyone in this town and my roommate has

to work every night. So its been lonely getting all moved in and hauling

boxes up the stairs. (I've definitely gotten my workout the past few days.)

I've been to Wal-mart enough times to know which cashiers

are fast and which are slow. And I've broken in my new car.

(I'll tell you that story soon. I need to figure out its name first.)

And my poor Van Gogh

doll with the detachable ear was torn up by the roommate's dog.

(I'm an art teacher. I can have Van Gogh dolls.)

Thursday and Friday this last week were a lot of teacher meetings.

I met with my cooperating teacher and university supervisor to go

over what is expected of me.

I don't know how they think anyone can be comfortable teaching

knowing that in the back someone is critiquing every word said.

Plus, I sweat a lot when I am nervous. (Well, kind of all the time really.)

It is gross and I'm really paranoid that I'll have huge tacos in front of everyone.

I'm sorry if this is grossing you out, but I've had nightmares about it.

I have tried almost every antiperspirant and I can tell you personally:

THEY ALL LIE.

This last student teaching experience is a pass or fail course.

These two people decide whether I can be a teacher or not.

It is scary and very, very intimidating.

Highlight: My parent love me. They gave me three roses with

good luck note. This is a big change for me and kind of scary.

I'm so grateful for them and their support.

I start with real kids on Monday. Wish my luck.

Mom doesn't like the word random

~ When I finally have a house of my own to decorate, I am

going to put thousands of glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceilings.

I have them in my bedroom now and I love trying to find constellations

as I am going to sleep. I make up my own with their own stories.

(I did this with a past boyfriend for a date. We went and checked out
children's books at the library, made a fort out of the couch cushions, and

tried to find constellations on the ceilings as we ate smores made from the

stovetop. I don't think he liked it as much as I did. Cued me in that he wasn't

right for me. :) {Image found at weheartit.com}

~ My mom's name is Ann. My grandma's name is Shirley. I've always

wanted to name one of my daughters: Anne Shirley.

"Anne with an e."

It honors three great people.

{Mom cutting Grandma's hair. This is one of my favorite pictures.}

Anne of Green Gables= fantastic book, fantastic movie

Probably going to watch it today and eat my cupcakes.

~ I Love Lucy is the best show in the whole world. I have never laughed so hard.

I own 6 seasons on DVD and I watch them every year. I've dyed my hair
red in honor of her several times.

{image found at weheartit.com}

~I don't really have celebrity crushes. Although for a while I really liked Orlando Bloom. I liked watching him in Lord of the Rings. Running. Hmm. He made a pretty great pirate as well.

~Getting notes is one of my most favorite things. I love making cards to give

to people. I think notes should be as long as the space available.

There is always more to say to a person, fill'er up!

~Summer is coming to an end. Did I get rid of my pasty-white chicken legs? No.

Did I read any of the books I planned to? No.
Did I do some art projects that I could use for my student teaching? No.

My excuse: for the last four years I have done nothing but study my

brains out. Read and read. I use to love reading. It feels now like

something I have to do (a chore) and I don't want to. I'm done studying for a while.

All I want to do is watch T.V. and eat cupcakes. It makes me

feel sluggish and gross, but I deserve it. I have worked hard to finish college

and this my break. Next week I'll be moving into a new apartment, in a

new town, and starting a new "grown-up" job; I'm scared! I'm having all sorts

of doubts. What if I really don't like teaching? What if I'm not a good teacher?

Crap.

Mom says I worry too much. I know I do.

~These chairs are making me so happy. I painted them yesterday.

The frames were plain wood I had sitting around that I sprayed

with a light coat of white and scruffed up a bit with sandpaper.

Watercolor.

~I really want to know how to make a heart on the computer.

Anyone know?

When I was 18

I always thought that the perfect age was 18. And when we

died we would be 18 in heaven for eternity.

I waited and waited to be 18. It was the age where magical things

happened. All my Barbies were 18 and they got to go to college,

met "real men," drive their own car, and eat sausages and ice cream

for dinner if they wanted to.

First night at college with my first ever roommates. Me= Nerd at the top.

Truth? I didn't know anything when I was 18. I thought it was the

age where you were young enough to still be considered young and fun,

but old enough to be solidly an adult. It was all about freedom and
being carefree.

My roommates and I freshman year "popcorning" someone at 4 in the morning. Me= Right

Drinking too much sparkling cider. Me= far left.

Me at 18 was insecure. I cried a lot and did some crazy things.

And I didn't have money to buy sausage or drive my own car.

But college seemed a lot more exciting when I was 18. I took life by the

horns and tried to shake all the fun out of it.

And yes at 18, I gained the famous "Freshman 15,"
although for me it was 20.

My roomate and I polishing off a 10 lb cake on a very depressing night.
As I got older, I found myself most night with so much homework that "going out" was not an option. I ate too much Ramen and studied too hard. I was a boring college student bent on getting my A's.

But I like myself more now than I did at 18. I know myself a little better.

Maybe I'm a little more mature.

Maybe not.

I do however have more curves to show off and I do eat sausage when I want to. And my car died last week.

I now believe strongly that the perfect age will be 24. I'll have a real job, be a successful, and maybe get rid of my lazy tendencies. And I'll be shaking those horns again, but a little bit more responsible.

Guess I'll tell you how that goes when I get there.

*I lied. That last picture isn't me now. I was 20. It just makes me laugh every time I see it. Enjoy!