I’m a wife. I’m a mother to Loki. I’m a sister to two amazing people. I’m a daughter to the best parents a girl could ask for.

I’m a full-time worker (and I prefer it that way). I’m a spender, but I know how to save. I’m in love with evenings. I’m learning to love mornings.

I’m a student. I want to be a counselor. I want to help children going through a death in the family and/or divorce of their parents. I want to be their shoulder to cry on or their smile to laugh with. I want to be a helping hand. I also want to be a journalist/photographer.

I’m 5’1″. I have a face full of freckles, and I don’t mind them so much anymore. I’ve never dyed my hair; it’s a natural brown with natural red highlights here and there. I have blue eyes (from my Dad and Granny). I bite my fingernails when I’m nervous/when I have nothing to do.

I could eat pasta every day of the week. And chicken. I hate the way chicken looks uncooked, though.

I want children someday. A boy and a girl, perhaps. I want them to look like Husband, with his beautiful brown hair and ever-changing eyes. I love the names Aisley (for a girl) and Greyson (for a boy).

I want to grow, love, learn, fight (passionately), smile, live.

Who are you?

I left work about thirty minutes early yesterday because Josh and I had a date last night, and I wanted to be able to beat the five o’ clock traffic. (That didn’t happen, but I tried.) We ended up driving an hour away to Chattanooga because I wanted to go to Red Lobster. After dinner, we went to Michael’s because, with my newfound love for Etsy, I want to be crafty. Crafty with paper, of course. After $80 spent on supplies (several packs of cardstock, scissors, glue sticks, tape with designs on it, stamps, & ink [is that really all I bought?!]), we drove to Starbucks (two tall London fog teas) and then drove the hour home. By the time we got home, it was nearly ten, but I was too excited to sleep just yet. I wanted to try out my new crafting abilities!

Well, I suck. However, with a little more patience and practice–this is hard for someone who throws the knitting needles across the room after five minutes of trying to learn to knit (which I have yet to accomplish)–I should be a paper expert. I have so many ideas floating around in my head, which is probably why I didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight–and yes, I had to wake up at five. I was thinking of all of these cute designs and I wanted to try them out. (I considered staying home from work today just to work on the cards, but we won’t tell anyone that.)

My problem isn’t in design or creative abilities. I have that. Put me to work on photoshop, and I can design something pretty nifty; but when it comes to doing it by hand, I sometimes have a little trouble. I usually overcome said troubles, but with some things (*cough*knitting*cough*), I give up before giving it a chance. I’m excited about making the cards, though, and I’m trying to start out small so that I don’t overwhelm myself. Eventually, I’ll be a paper genius.

Probably. Maybe.

What are YOUR tips for making paper crafts? How do you deal with your frustrations?

(And if anyone would like to teach me how to knit, I’ll bake you cookies.)

Several months ago, Josh’s aunt asked for my resume. She works in hiring for a big company in east Tennessee–TVA–and she was trying to get me a job in an office somewhere. I ended up not getting the job, but she kept my resume for future job openings. Today, while I was asleep (since I worked last night), she text Josh asking if she could put my resume in for another job opening. I was half-asleep, and thinking “what the heck?” so I let her submit it. A few hours later, I received a call. A man asked if I’d be interested in an office position doing scheduling. He also told me I’d be making $15/hr (which is twice as much as what I make now) with a 401k and five days sick leave. The catch? The job is only an eight-week position. However, there is the possibility of transferring to another area after the eight weeks are up. How could I say no to such a great opportunity? Even if, after eight weeks, I’m not able to transfer, at least the job will look good on my resume, and the money will help me save of for school. I feel like this opportunity couldn’t have came at a more perfect time.

I start Monday at 7am. I’m still unsure of how I’ll wake up so early after I’ve been working third shift for about six months now, but I can do it. I’m off Friday-Sunday this weekend, so I’ll have time to get used to a new sleep schedule. From what I’ve been told, this job is exactly what I’ve been wanting. I’ll be able to dress nice while working in an office environment, and I’ll have normal hours and a great amount of pay.

Maybe this was the push I needed?

I feel as if my job is depressing me–not in the sense that it makes me sad, but in the sense that it is literally depressing me, or pushing me down. With this job, I feel like I’m not going up. I’m in one spot, and I cannot move. I dwell on it, and it just gives me a headache. Working nights is lonely, too. Every one is asleep (except some online friends), and I go hours without talking to a single person. Then, I go home and fall asleep next to my husband, but by the time I wake up, I’m alone because he woke up hours before. I go to bed before the sun rises (if the first shift girl is on time, which is hardly ever), and I wake up while the sun is setting–winter days are just too short. No matter how much sleep I get, I feel tired–well, exhausted is more like it. I can’t write well; I’m not reading well. I just feel as if I’m in this ‘bleh’ state of being.

I still plan to go back to school this summer, but it just seems so far away. The economy is horrible, and it’s nearly impossible for Josh to find a job. I try to remain optimistic about everything, and I know things will go back up eventually; it just seems to be taking a long while to get there.

Sometimes I feel so completely invincible, as if I could go on in life without a care in the world. Of course, then I wake up and realize that I’m only human. It’s okay to be sad sometimes.

I just need a push–or maybe a shove?–back up.

I received my interview from GirlJordyn. (Yeah, if you haven’t read her blog yet, click away… because, well, she’s awesome)

By March, I plan to have all of school paid off (from dropping out). Once that weight is lifted off my shoulders, I’m going to begin saving up as much as I possibly can so that I am able to take a class or two this summer before going back full-time in the fall. I honestly cannot wait. I miss school entirely too much, and I’m ready to get my life moving.

Hopefully by this summer, Josh and I will (finally!) be living in our own place again. That will make school–and life–much easier.

I think this will be a great year.

I know exactly why the thoughts have faded from my mind, though. I came back to Tennessee during February of my sophomore year, and the memories after that seem pretty clear to me. However, before that, I’m at a loss. I don’t even think of that year much anymore. Well, I do, but the details are missing.

My granny died in August of my sophomore year. She was diagnosed with cancer in May of my freshman year. After the diagnosis, I was in a complete daze, I now realize. I moved along in life without really feeling anything, and that is why I look back and my writing is so completely fake, yet apathetic. I moved to Florida that summer after my freshman year, and I was so completely sad–as well as selfish–that I didn’t let myself love Granny the way I should have while she was sick. I was always complaining about wanting to go home, back to Tennessee. I wanted to go back to my boyfriend at the time (Ryan) and to my friends.

I remember writing, when I did come back, about feeling completely different, changed. I didn’t know exactly when that change took place, and I still don’t know the exact moment. However, it must have been when I was in that daze, when I could feel nothing. My life changed, I changed. Everyone else was still the same, but I changed. So, when I came back and I didn’t want to be with Ryan anymore and all of my friends left me, I thought my world had ended. In reality, it was only beginning. I was growing up.

I still don’t remember details from before Granny was diagnosed. That summer after the diagnosis is hazy, and I can almost remember everything clearly after I came back to Tennessee. I realize something, though. I realize that the thoughts before Granny died, I’ve repressed. Everything after, I remember. That’s no way for me to live. So, I’m trying to remember all of the happy times before Granny was sick. I’m trying to remember helping her cook and going in to her kitchen, hearing her sing. I’m trying to remember that time she baked a cake for me on my birthday–so long ago–and surprised me with it along with a handmade photo album. I’m trying to remember her laugh and her smile and her hugs. I’m trying to remember it all. In doing so, I’ll finally be able to come to the realization that she’s gone, and I’ll finally be able to forgive myself for being so selfish when she was here.

1. Josh. Of course I’d start out with my husband. He’s my best friend, my love. We’ve been through a lot, and we have so much more to go through. I’m lucky we got married so young–now I’ll have someone’s hand to hold through all of the tough times.
2. Jealousy. I’m not usually jealous, but when it comes to certain things, I can be. My husband for instance. I get jealous whenever I don’t have his full attention. It’s selfish, really, but I like to have his approval.
3. Jacob. Team Edward, all the way. Okay, seriously. Jacob is a good character, but I prefer Edward. Mysterious, tall, mature, old-fashioned Edward. And that crooked smile. Plus, werewolves are hairy.
4. Jango. I like music. Always have. My most favorites (now) are Sigur Ros, Ingrid Michaelson, Iron & Wine, Alanis Morissette, the Beatles, Between the Buried and Me, the Bird and the Bee, the Smiths, Explosions in the Sky, Eisley, Blonde Redhead. Just to name a few.
5. Jam/Jelly. What do you call it? Apparently, there’s a difference. I call it “jelly,” regardless. However, I don’t really like jelly, unless it’s strawberry. Grape and I don’t get along.
6. Jessa. One of my best girl friends. She just gets me. We are both married; she’s twenty and has an almost one-year-old daughter, Jaslene. We are opposite, yet so much alike.
7. Jenga. You know the game. The one where you stack blocks on top of each other to make a tower; then you have to pull the blocks out without making the tower fall. Yeah. I like that game.
8. June. The month I was married in. A hot month, though not the hottest of the year. June is also Johnny Cash’s wife. Which reminds me of that movie Walk the Line. Reese Witherspoon is one of my favorite actresses. She’s classy.
9. Jingle. Bells, of course! Christmas is coming. It’s my second favorite holiday–Thanksgiving being my first. I usually just have Christmas with my family, but last year, I had it with Josh’s family too. I think I received more gifts than Josh did from his own family.
10. Juxtaposition. Because it’s hard to think of words with the letter J, and what’s a list about the letter J without the word “juxtaposition”?

Want a letter? Just ask.

I used to be terrified of death. I tried not to think about it often because, when I did, I could not stop myself from crying. As I got older, it wasn’t that I became less terrified of the inevitable; I just grew used to the fact that it would come regardless of my tears or not. And so it doesn’t make me cry as often. Still, though, the thought of death sneaks up in my mind, and I remember that it could happen at any single second, and that’s really the scary part. I assume I will welcome death with semi-open arms when I’m old–by then, I will have hopefully lived my life to the fullest with very few regrets. However, knowing that it could happen any time before that? Scares me to death.

Could this be why people, including myself, try to live their life out quickly? That way, if It does come early, they will have achieved everything they wanted. I know that once I die, I won’t even care–especially if there is a such thing as Heaven because then, I’ll be happier where I’m at. But the time until then? I care. I think about my future children, knowing that I will probably–hopefully–die before them. And they will go on, without me. That’s the part that scares me. And Josh. And my family–those I have spent my entire life with–will die before and after me. I hate thinking about it, but it’s a fact of life.

Will death be painful? Or will it be like slipping into a beautiful, peaceful slumber: under warm-cool sheets with only positive thoughts? Or will it feel like nothing at all? Is death a small piece of life? Or is the biggest piece of the puzzle? These questions will only be answered when the time comes–and even then, the living will never know.

I sometimes have trouble answering the question, “do you believe in God?” Well, yes. I do. Not in the Christian way, though. Let me back up.

I’ve always believed in God. One God–the Christian God. When I was younger, my parents never made me go to church, and I think that is why I tend to be more open-minded about religion. I chose to go to church. My family was/is Baptist, but I went to a Methodist church, not trying to focus on denominations but because I liked the people that went there. I don’t remember when I stopped going, but I did. I was young then, in elementary school. I didn’t go back to church (except on occasion) until I was in high school, while dating Ryan (the boy I dated before meeting Josh). He had a Christian upbringing, and since I was now living in the Bible Belt, I felt obligated to go to church. Honestly, a girl I went to school with asked me what church I went to (when she first met me), and I said, “I don’t go to church.” She was incredibly shocked by my answer, and I felt that my beliefs weren’t good enough. So, I started to go to church on Wednesday nights. Well, not really “church,” but a youth group called Planet. It was a truly comforting place, with couches all around and a band that played up front. I only went a few times while dating Ryan.

When I came back from Florida, and after Ryan stopped talking to me, I started going back to Planet (yes, he still went there, but we really didn’t talk after that). I went because I needed God/faith in my life. I had no idea who I was anymore. Planet was truly a life-changing experience for me, and I will never regret going. I even went to church on Sundays, but it wasn’t the same as Planet. Eventually, the youth pastor moved on, and after that, I stopped going. It just wasn’t the same, and everyone was growing up. Younger kids were now coming, and I felt I had outgrown the youth group. I went to church several times after that (on Sunday) but eventually, I stopped going altogether.

Josh and I were married in the church he grew up going to. So, you see, he also had a Christian upbringing. However, he is a much different person now. He has a hard time believing in anything (Allie, you may understand why after the comment I left you)–he even had a hard time believing in our love at one point in the past. As a wife, I support whatever he believes in. I remember when I went to Planet, a woman there knew how I felt about Josh. She knew that he didn’t have a Christian belief in God, and she asked, “Can you be in a relationship with someone when you know that you’ll be going to heaven and he’ll be going to hell?” I felt angry with her for even asking that, though I know that is just what she believes. I honestly had no way of answering her.

I’ve always had a difficult time believing in God. Yes, I do believe in a higher being. However, I don’t believe in the Christian God, I suppose. Christians have always, to me, personified God too much. They seem to give God human characteristics. That is okay, for that is their belief. In my case, though, I believe God is bigger than any human. I believe that “God” cannot walk beside me, for everything is God. The trees, the sky, the earth, my very own breath. I believe that everyone has their own personal god. Whether you pray to your god or dream to your god or write to your god…

Josh and I were discussing this today, and even then, I couldn’t get the words out right. I couldn’t describe it perfectly. It is no different here. I have faith. I still don’t know if I believe in the Christian heaven and hell. There are a lot of things I am unsure of. I just know that it is impossible to say God is not real–just like it is impossible to say God is real. We all have our beliefs. I don’t know how the earth was created–no one really knows aside from whoever or whatever created it. And that’s the cool/interesting thing about life. Nobody really knows. All we can do is believe.

…And remember to continue believing what you believe. Don’t let anyone’s opinion change it.