tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33513167949392086022024-02-19T19:36:14.362-06:00Adventures in AdulthoodTales of a twenty-something trying to navigate adulthood.Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.comBlogger321125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-63517720377075688812014-05-20T11:30:00.001-05:002014-05-20T11:30:44.953-05:005 Reasons I'm Failing at Being an AdultI do pretty well with this whole "being an adult" thing. I have a job, I pay my bills, I feed myself. But sometimes, it's really only those basics that happen.<br />
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<b>1. I can't keep my bedroom clean. </b><br />
Seriously. I literally don't remember the last time I cleaned it, and now it looks like a hoarder lives here. I keep everything in vaguely organized piles on the floor.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsn27aovuuvkW6yDJzq1pzmhMKmrp-fTVJ4yZ1W8bSev5TNC2MDab-H1d2m5nhcuUxPR_n_zkc7aWw1_hRPbf3KyAj_ZKBuyfEmuF_a93NzMy2KdUVYMVzCE5CLjAo0ua9StVRoREcx2U/s1600/hoarding-7-300x258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsn27aovuuvkW6yDJzq1pzmhMKmrp-fTVJ4yZ1W8bSev5TNC2MDab-H1d2m5nhcuUxPR_n_zkc7aWw1_hRPbf3KyAj_ZKBuyfEmuF_a93NzMy2KdUVYMVzCE5CLjAo0ua9StVRoREcx2U/s1600/hoarding-7-300x258.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://capeandislands.org/post/help-people-who-hoard">Source</a></td></tr>
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<b>2. I have trouble answering emails and returning phone calls. </b><br />
I'm always at work when I get them and I think, "Oh, I'll answer those later." Lol, NOPE.<br />
<br />
<b>3. I don't know how to write a resumé. </b><br />
Really. I never learned how to do this.<br />
<br />
<b>4. I avoid making doctor's appointments. </b><br />
It's mostly because I haven't gotten around to looking for one. Because that sounds like work.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6-GmWyjqJBPJiwLUXzQZ2yhntdaUO4Jd0RrxtWKQQ7_qphw_xFOTkTAvUOvugP7240c1vRrcHVGoGgiJslAa3BcX2ohlkxjxwi5AxaTMcfjueJg_uv0kqEtYVneoQWEIkQ5Gv9gAaVS4/s1600/zPgcI2A.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6-GmWyjqJBPJiwLUXzQZ2yhntdaUO4Jd0RrxtWKQQ7_qphw_xFOTkTAvUOvugP7240c1vRrcHVGoGgiJslAa3BcX2ohlkxjxwi5AxaTMcfjueJg_uv0kqEtYVneoQWEIkQ5Gv9gAaVS4/s1600/zPgcI2A.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.imgur.com/zPgcI2A.gif">Source</a></td></tr>
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<b>5. I didn't back up my hard drive. </b><br />
This seems to me like a basic thing that most computer-using folks do, but I didn't do it. And so when my computer was stolen last month I lost all of my files including my last NaNoWriMo attempt which was unfinished but 30,000 WORDS OF STUFF I ACTUALLY LIKED.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7McQ-xDmWPFs1NL5rW0RM_41rRhCwrjxTw8aepAtXtFLlzwfheAZNSIFwHQRnA2Ocyg8hCHSYmtbsACCg0BHly-banEXhUZgnjdqPYh5MZLUWSeJW2SGgHtA9_kBwldUL2rta6Tg0tKU/s1600/tumblr_m2p1szDDmL1rnggk0.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7McQ-xDmWPFs1NL5rW0RM_41rRhCwrjxTw8aepAtXtFLlzwfheAZNSIFwHQRnA2Ocyg8hCHSYmtbsACCg0BHly-banEXhUZgnjdqPYh5MZLUWSeJW2SGgHtA9_kBwldUL2rta6Tg0tKU/s1600/tumblr_m2p1szDDmL1rnggk0.gif" height="179" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Fjaffapoops.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F31514556331%2Fzooey-deschanel-gif-hunt-part-four&h=0&w=0&tbnid=c7-75T506yUcCM&zoom=1&tbnh=168&tbnw=300&docid=CuoB2duf0ygChM&hl=en&tbm=isch&ei=NYB7U_mPF9KNyASbwIDwAw&ved=0CAUQsCUoAQ">Source</a></td></tr>
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What about you guys? Which "being an adult" tasks always manage to get left undone in your house?Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-41015724167475234842014-05-16T14:22:00.000-05:002014-05-16T14:22:06.246-05:00To the a-holes who broke into my house last month:I am filled with righteous anger to such a degree that it is completely consuming me. It's totally beyond my comprehension why people think it's okay to go into other people's houses. I want to believe that you chose to do this to me because you were starving and desperate to feed your family, because our society failed you to such a degree that you felt you had no other choice, instead of the more likely scenario, which is that you did this because you need to fuel your drug addiction.<br />
<br />
The loss of my stuff isn't really the issue. They're just things, replaceable material possessions that have no true meaning. A computer, a television.<br />
<br />
The fact that you stole my pillowcase is what is fueling my rage. It's inconsequential to you, merely a handy, bag-like apparatus to carry your loot in.<br />
<br />
But to me, really, it's deeper than that.<br />
<br />
Humans are in such a vulnerable state when they sleep that their beds are supposed to be a safe haven, a sacred space.<br />
<br />
You went into my sacred space without my permission, put your hands all over my things, left traces of your presence all over everything, so that every time I look at my pillow, stripped bare, I'll remember that someone whose face I'll never see touched it, defiled it.<br />
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Common sense and experience tells me that time will dull my sense of having been violated.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to be a good person here. I'm trying not to wish the same thing upon you, but if we're being completely honest, I hope someone else violates your life the way you've done mine.<br />
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<i>I wrote this after someone broke into the house where I live with my roommates. I came home to find a side window open, and several of our valuable possessions gone. The material possessions are inconsequential, but the life experience of having to file a police report and have them dust for fingerprints is one that I'd rather not have. My anger has subsided since I wrote this, fading into merely an intense annoyance paired with an odd sadness at the ordeal rather than uncontrollable rage. Merely the writing and publishing of this post has been both helpful and therapeutic for me.</i>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-11647550555376897322014-03-04T18:23:00.000-06:002014-03-04T18:23:00.856-06:00My last post was a month ago.I used to think that to be a blogger, you had to have a fancy-looking blog, make lots of posts, be good at connecting with other bloggers, be clever and funny, or thoughtful, or have something important to say about politics, society, movies, music, or your religion or lack thereof. I used to think that if I wanted to be a blogger I had to write certain things, write a certain amount, be a certain thing.<br />
<br />
But I also think that the world is full of people who talk a lot and don't really say anything. And I also think that I don't want to be one of those people.<br />
<br />
Just like I don't want to be eat all the <a href="http://martinleah.blogspot.com/2014/01/now-i-will-be-honest.html">lies</a> society is feeding me, I don't want to believe all of the expectations of being a blogger I've come to think actually exist.<br />
<br />
I'd rather write for quality, not quantity. I'd rather not clutter up the internet further with things that, in the end don't really matter. I'd rather not use this blog simply as another way to get people to like me, like I've attempted in the past. I'd rather write something honest instead of something contrived.<br />
<br />
I'll write again. You can count on that. You'll just have to wait until I have something to say. <br />
<br />Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-40340903917752260272014-02-09T14:54:00.000-06:002014-02-09T14:54:04.309-06:00This post could be ranty.So tune in or tune out accordingly.<br />
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A friend of mine, B, was speaking with an older mutual friend earlier today. (I'm not using names to protect the innocent and well-intentioned.) She has a similar employment situation as I do. B is a college graduate, she works two service industry jobs, and she is as clueless about her future as I am about mine.<br />
<br />
Before we continue, let me make it clear that both of us are okay with these facts about our lives. <br />
<br />
Aforementioned older friend asked B if she was still working at her current employment. She replied that she was. Then, he asked, "Are you looking for anything else?"<br />
<br />
If we're friends, or if you've ever been this situation, then you just cringed so hard. For the majority of mid-twenties college graduates these days, our least favorite question is "So what are you doing next?"<br />
<br />
I DON'T KNOW. I'm twenty-seven and I don't have my life planned out, thank you very much and would you please stop asking me that?!<br />
<br />
We know that you just want to know about our lives and get to know us. But when we tell you we're working at Starbucks and not in a "career" your next response should not be "Are you looking for anything else?"<br />
<br />
When you do this, you're telling us that what we're doing isn't good enough, that it's somehow shameful. You're telling us that the lies society is feeding that your job defines you are true. You're subtly inserting a sense of shame into our hearts about the way that we spend our time and earn our money, shame that has no business being there in the first place.<br />
<br />
I know that this older friend didn't mean anything by the question. He didn't mean to make B feel bad. But it still happened. <br />
<br />
B and I complained about our mutual problem for a while, and brushed it off fairly quickly. I'm grateful to have overheard the experience, however unpleasant for her it may have been. Sometimes I forget that this doesn't just happen to me, that it happens to other people, too. It's reassuring when you realize that other people have the same problems as you do. <br />
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I know that some of you, friends, have had experiences like this. I'd love it if you'd commiserate with me and share in the comments. Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-50313138983014126102014-01-26T18:18:00.003-06:002014-01-26T18:20:00.166-06:00ChangeThis week has been one of the strangest weeks in my memory, so full of contrasting events and emotions that I'm almost not sure how to process it.<br />
<br />
This week has left me feeling both affirmed and cut down. Elated and deflated. <br />
<br />
Some of you know what's up, and some of you don't. And that will just have to do. I can't really talk about it on an open forum like this. All I can say is that there are big changes coming my way. I know that in the long run, I'll be better off than I was before, but change has never been easy for me.<br />
<br />
This week has also left me feeling so incredibly grateful for my family, especially my mom who always lets me call her on the phone when I'm crying and inconsolable, and to my friends. I'm grateful for my wonderful internet friends who have been sending me good thoughts and internet hugs all week. And I'm perhaps most grateful for my super cool roommates-my best friends and sisters.<br />
<br />
I wish I could tell all, friends, because I desperately need that catharsis. I hate feeling so mixed up. I hate not knowing if I should be happy or sad, even though I know that most of life is not one or the other. Life is not made up of black and white, but grey, and it is that grey area I have such trouble living in.<br />
<br />
Life is change and grey areas and disappointments and happiness, and I feel like I'm finally learning how to let it all go and not worry so much about everything all the time. It's so noticeable a change, that I hardly recognize myself sometimes. I'm finally starting to like the person I am.Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-24176136898491058312014-01-22T09:48:00.001-06:002014-01-22T10:41:15.669-06:00Morning RitualIt's no secret that I love coffee. I work at Starbucks. Coffee is my life. One of my favorite coffee-related things is the <a href="http://www.starbucks.com/coffee/learn/coffee-press">french press</a>. <br />
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It's so relaxing for me to make one on my day off. It's almost a ritual.<br />
<br />
Measuring out and grinding the beans. Waiting for the kettle to boil, listening for the scream that tells me I'm one step closer to my cup of coffee. Slowly pouring the hot water over the grounds. Waiting again, four agonizing minutes while the timer tick-tick-ticks away until it finally rings and my heart leaps. Pressing the filter down, taking care not to rush. Pouring the coffee into my favorite cup. Taking that first sip, letting it warm me from the inside out, and relaxing into my morning. Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-19763460071941020542014-01-17T20:07:00.001-06:002014-01-17T20:07:47.182-06:00I don't feel like entertaining you.I'm on an <a href="http://martinleah.blogspot.com/2014/01/now-i-will-be-honest.html">honesty kick</a>. I'm busy with work lately, and I've started working out more too, so I don't really have the energy to be fun and entertaining, which is, sometimes, what I imagine blogging is for. Entertaining the masses. Being funny and engaging so that people will like you, you'll be popular, and feel better about yourself. If this is getting to angsty for you, I understand. But sometimes you just have to get your issues out, put them out into internetland where someone might read it and understand and for a moment you might not feel so alone.<br />
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My boss asked me today if I thought I deserved success, and I nearly started crying because I didn't want to tell her "no." I almost didn't want to admit it to myself. From a Christian standpoint, we don't deserve anything, but that's another conversation entirely. But everyone should want themselves to do well, to exceed at whatever they've chosen to do with their life. Right?<br />
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It's not so much that I believe I deserve to fail, so much as I'm not sure I believe I deserve to succeed. The main problem is that I remember all the bad things I've done, every mistake I've made, everyone I've hurt, every time I made a fool out of myself, and my brain collects them and plays them like a movie reel in my head to make me feel the scum of the earth. <br />
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If you're Christian like me, you're going to say to me that no one deserves success, no one deserves anything, which is what makes Grace so powerful. If I actually got what I deserved, my life would be very different.<br />
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But this seems a little different. Success is a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you believe you're going to fail, then you probably will. If I keep waiting for the bottom to drop out at work, waiting for it to start getting horrible for me again, then it will. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but eventually it will.<br />
<br />
So how do I start believing I deserve to succeed at anything? How to I go from a glass-half-empty to a glass-half-full type? At this point it seems like a genuine personality change. I'm mostly faking it right now. I have this struggle between my emotional heart and my logical brain, and I'm at that point where success is the struggle. As long as my logic and my emotions are still at war with each other then I still have a chance, I haven't given up on myself yet. But is this success at all, even a little bit? Or is it just treading water?Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-25066884356539178712014-01-13T19:42:00.000-06:002014-01-13T19:42:01.681-06:00Now I will be honest.I have believed lies. Present tense, <i>believe</i>. I <i>believe</i> lies. In my head, I know them to be false, but my heart has latched onto them. They are poisoning me from the inside out.<br />
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While people, my friends, tell me otherwise, it seems as though it is still expected that I get up each morning and put on my "happy face," that I'm not allowed to answer "I feel pretty shitty" when people ask me how I am, mostly because I'm supposed to care that they feel uncomfortable when confronted with honesty. <br />
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I've also believed the lies that the culture has fed me. Lies that say I need to be thin, have fabulous clothes, perfect skin and hair, be bubbly and outgoing, laid-back (and not the Type A that I am), and happy all the damn time, that I'm not supposed to be 27 and working at Starbucks unless I'm in school.<br />
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I'll confess to you that one of the reasons I want to start exercising more (other than the obvious of being healthy) is that I stepped on the scale last week and didn't like the number staring back at me and because I feel like a whale. I'll confess to you that I'm one of those women who doesn't like to leave the house without makeup on because of her blemishes and acne scars, and when I get complimented on my beautiful skin it takes every ounce of will power to just bite my tongue and say "thank you."<br />
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I know that other people feel this way, that they open their eyes in the morning and would give anything to not have to get out of bed. That sometimes they're just sad or angry for no decent reason other than that life is hard and unfair and that sometimes they feel like they're being crushed under the weight of simply existing. I know other people feel this way, and I also know that they don't talk about it.<br />
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I feel as though I'm supposed to have undergone some sort of personal change in all this confessing, that now I'm supposed to go forth and not give two shits about what anyone says or thinks. But that's not what's going to happen.Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-44633984216047021422014-01-08T16:32:00.000-06:002014-01-08T16:32:23.443-06:00Well, I lived."Polar Vortex." That sounds appropriately daunting, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
On <a href="http://martinleah.blogspot.com/2014/01/in-which-i-lament-my-impending-demise.html?spref=fb">Saturday</a>, in preparation for the impending doom, I wrote that this could be the apocalypse. But I lived. <br />
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In all seriousness, this was one of the craziest winter storms I've ever seen. When I woke up yesterday morning at 4am, it was -8 degrees Fahrenheit. It was the kind of cold where you feel like you'll never be warm again. There's so much snow still on the streets, that St. Louis Public Schools has cancelled school for the third day in a row. The city announced there's <a href="https://twitter.com/stltreasurer">no parking enforcement</a> until January 13th. When I went to work on Monday, I passed car after car that had been abandoned after getting stranded in the snow.<br />
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I did have some fun, though. On Sunday, when the snow was falling, my roommates and I dug our cars out so we wouldn't have to do it in sub-zero temperatures. Afterwards, we played in the snow and had an awesome time.<br />
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<br />Adults like snow days as much as kids.Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-90052233367899173662014-01-04T17:13:00.000-06:002014-01-04T17:13:18.859-06:00In Which I Lament My Impending DemiseSnowpocalypse. Snowmageddon. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://jpgmag.com/news/2011/02/snowpocalypse-greta-garbo-aerial-photography-photo-feed-22.html">Source</a></td></tr>
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At some point, every winter, these words are bandied about, joking about the various amounts of snow that happen to have fallen at that particular point in the season. <br />
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While St. Louis is <a href="http://www.kmov.com/weather">forecasted</a> to receive between 6-10 inches of snow tonight through Sunday, it's not the snow I'm worried about. It's this forecast, (Source is on the above link.) regarding the temperatures early next week:<br />
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"<strong>COLDEST TEMPERATURES IN 15-25 YEARS ARE ANTICIPATED ON MONDAY AND TUESDAY MORNINGS. BELOW 0 WITH WIND CHILLS OF 20 TO 30 BELOW."</strong><br />
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Those temperatures are in Fahrenheit. Weather.com's <a href="http://www.weather.com/weather/5-day/Saint+Louis+MO+63118:4:US">forecast</a> for Monday is 2 degrees Fahrenheit.<br />
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2. That's all. Just...2. <br />
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If you're in Celsius, that's -16. <strong></strong><br />
<strong><br /></strong>
<strong>I am convinced this is the apocalypse and nothing you say will be able to convince me otherwise.</strong><br />
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Someone get me the Winchesters.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7eLsy0mxB328eO4NHlaj4e78FPkEMS6ar7CjerePoOyMFB0yuPpjWe2CUulYq6PGctueLIxFfv2KikPBgdozFuYyioJk5w5lqZFz4m5GbMQF26WnSMT8UX55hTmF1t3irlmXBe6-R-7k/s1600/samanddean2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7eLsy0mxB328eO4NHlaj4e78FPkEMS6ar7CjerePoOyMFB0yuPpjWe2CUulYq6PGctueLIxFfv2KikPBgdozFuYyioJk5w5lqZFz4m5GbMQF26WnSMT8UX55hTmF1t3irlmXBe6-R-7k/s1600/samanddean2.jpg" height="191" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://exclaim.ca/Reviews/Book/essential_supernatural_on_road_with_sam_dean_winchester-by_nicholas_knight">Source</a></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
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If they can't stop the impending doom, they'll at least be able to keep me warm while I die.<br />
<br />
In other news, I'm doing my first Photo-a-Day challenge over on my <a href="http://instagram.com/leahcmartin">Instagram</a>!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkG6hUi_k_qwcoFXfNHtoD1MXHW2r-dzARz51F8eKdRXQYaejQ2KtWffuPiS7HwM916s4IgSmjzVUmKn9d1MvWpe5A5G8G2GQ1KWhguP6vjbzuYcSJHe_Li5CuzF-_HxeFUZVS2Gxowo/s1600/January-Photo-a-Day-Challenge-2014.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkG6hUi_k_qwcoFXfNHtoD1MXHW2r-dzARz51F8eKdRXQYaejQ2KtWffuPiS7HwM916s4IgSmjzVUmKn9d1MvWpe5A5G8G2GQ1KWhguP6vjbzuYcSJHe_Li5CuzF-_HxeFUZVS2Gxowo/s1600/January-Photo-a-Day-Challenge-2014.png" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a challenge I found on Pinterest. It's from a blog I don't follow, but is listed on the image.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Go and follow along!<br />
<br />
Friends, if you haven't heard from me by about Wednesday or so, send help. I may be frozen in my bed. Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-92047111970600963982013-12-31T14:17:00.001-06:002013-12-31T14:17:47.874-06:00Airports are weird.I was going to write a post about how much I love taking airplane flights by myself, but I'm much too tired, and I'm still in transit. Instead, I'm going to share some of the things that happened to me in airports the last few days.<br />
<br />
A TSA agent asked if she could search my hair. <br />
<br />
I waited in lines.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswgvkSE7jcLBALguW35rt4tujL-2Gnyu9jg2Tfn71xpugcPYxHAu0sgH3MhqC3SCY81sBTBbT-zHwYUET0p_x9kIxr3b-SO-9KIPON4Z9f11gHlFHVXbLSZiKBv0_aFs3EdD1A-fSwzM/s1600/IMAG0459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswgvkSE7jcLBALguW35rt4tujL-2Gnyu9jg2Tfn71xpugcPYxHAu0sgH3MhqC3SCY81sBTBbT-zHwYUET0p_x9kIxr3b-SO-9KIPON4Z9f11gHlFHVXbLSZiKBv0_aFs3EdD1A-fSwzM/s1600/IMAG0459.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was the line for the OUTSIDE bag check at the Austin airport this morning.</td></tr>
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<br />
I almost stayed in Austin, Texas because the airport was full of cute dudes.<br />
<br />
My grandmother and I snapped some selfies while waiting for our flight.<br />
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<br />
We spent too much money on expensive airport food.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnu-JXLyavJ8cZUgC5xB5tKOxxzDBF5VRgeZnXeR9hRWT0ePehfblBod3K0BJ3dkx5XLrnLzp5mtyJhEGhJwOG7PWyDo1rkGNL-jSDKIH3KGPVPKp0NwJl8WkOixEXSNIN2N3IUc92vHE/s1600/IMAG0440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnu-JXLyavJ8cZUgC5xB5tKOxxzDBF5VRgeZnXeR9hRWT0ePehfblBod3K0BJ3dkx5XLrnLzp5mtyJhEGhJwOG7PWyDo1rkGNL-jSDKIH3KGPVPKp0NwJl8WkOixEXSNIN2N3IUc92vHE/s1600/IMAG0440.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She doesn't know I took this picture.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Greetings from the road, friends. Happy New Year!Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-82619844819048421012013-12-25T14:49:00.001-06:002013-12-25T14:49:09.308-06:00Christmas in Photos<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuEM3Tsoqg1DstA-Db95819qmzbgfLBaS-sNq_rE-b74GM9ekZHQbA6_w-W1pXVhPnmyL0mf_2k3ewgPeE9k8wtCMqZaaK3d4t2jrqiDR3eSz-TEu37WSaFW9TsNKz5gBa1M1svO0us4/s1600/2013-12-24+16.09.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuEM3Tsoqg1DstA-Db95819qmzbgfLBaS-sNq_rE-b74GM9ekZHQbA6_w-W1pXVhPnmyL0mf_2k3ewgPeE9k8wtCMqZaaK3d4t2jrqiDR3eSz-TEu37WSaFW9TsNKz5gBa1M1svO0us4/s1600/2013-12-24+16.09.47.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoCNyqFkwLUuw6oM0LZ5Xrx1RLWtPehz-b6hjgc0bFeM79FrnpZAMv8kp_hmIMB2GquiV-9W12dMd1X5AwtKJj6qkkVAY84eZho0yhM98TirF1JuP4SIdT_DwTwS9E28ZkifN5Q6gO8cE/s1600/2013-12-24+16.09.54.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoCNyqFkwLUuw6oM0LZ5Xrx1RLWtPehz-b6hjgc0bFeM79FrnpZAMv8kp_hmIMB2GquiV-9W12dMd1X5AwtKJj6qkkVAY84eZho0yhM98TirF1JuP4SIdT_DwTwS9E28ZkifN5Q6gO8cE/s1600/2013-12-24+16.09.54.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1C7bvMkcOGfQCd3fXPzI8NZ9quPyUUP0G9365DiXgNnLCYrdFKYV9Lm6ujVLGRly5A6q6KBkkYmch_SUbB7QiDn9VCz41jPDP9L-CCsO_JU3cEq35vctbstyXkjc6tromtepuk8HpVJM/s1600/2013-12-24+16.10.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1C7bvMkcOGfQCd3fXPzI8NZ9quPyUUP0G9365DiXgNnLCYrdFKYV9Lm6ujVLGRly5A6q6KBkkYmch_SUbB7QiDn9VCz41jPDP9L-CCsO_JU3cEq35vctbstyXkjc6tromtepuk8HpVJM/s1600/2013-12-24+16.10.16.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxdq1mndgaxaVkl7u0MG7Y_FRnslnQjHFhVwk5FnkTE2wR41sOcTczEPcLzFe3GA9dTlsRZGtvxXehvlfvrFVmAR455pyRnypel8-lOTmY1ganZwaqQcmrydykTyV9_nT5lJcthI9G9Q/s1600/2013-12-24+16.54.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxdq1mndgaxaVkl7u0MG7Y_FRnslnQjHFhVwk5FnkTE2wR41sOcTczEPcLzFe3GA9dTlsRZGtvxXehvlfvrFVmAR455pyRnypel8-lOTmY1ganZwaqQcmrydykTyV9_nT5lJcthI9G9Q/s1600/2013-12-24+16.54.02.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_JWKMdnW7vHc3IdqlVejRIBQvJ109EL_FDVM9XamiBV33F22tndo4R3pCMc5we6GpBvpjTAehvNVm6JTyaPqblfWjHTLSGQBkOzReEqIoZvQ-kaAOA3Tc8mej-wb6HP_qyYykTxa5a8/s1600/2013-12-24+16.46.10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_JWKMdnW7vHc3IdqlVejRIBQvJ109EL_FDVM9XamiBV33F22tndo4R3pCMc5we6GpBvpjTAehvNVm6JTyaPqblfWjHTLSGQBkOzReEqIoZvQ-kaAOA3Tc8mej-wb6HP_qyYykTxa5a8/s1600/2013-12-24+16.46.10.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLOLkgnb_rXH-0fUzZufZ9-qJOW99qKwgTCq311N9dvlxTuTFVJKfjoR9lv-Xb5_u2BJnUYc9wznvRrNdsYDWSnI-4UFmdz-37Ghm-4i69FMMRIvLdMfM_TPA0gOELwiV6WHTTytvp4aA/s1600/2013-12-24+16.45.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLOLkgnb_rXH-0fUzZufZ9-qJOW99qKwgTCq311N9dvlxTuTFVJKfjoR9lv-Xb5_u2BJnUYc9wznvRrNdsYDWSnI-4UFmdz-37Ghm-4i69FMMRIvLdMfM_TPA0gOELwiV6WHTTytvp4aA/s1600/2013-12-24+16.45.34.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFnmAIUT7vsCtroPdg2prJVfcwb9wp8FXRsEeuSdM0TDPaxUNnOhTrVH7Q7TRoHh_Y3E5FURyg3mCh7mh9LfNk5B6hPxYepOWgr-nhyphenhyphenH90XuQEH-6WFcIHp1BCMtfsTSuHkzMWA1iu6U/s1600/2013-12-25+07.53.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFnmAIUT7vsCtroPdg2prJVfcwb9wp8FXRsEeuSdM0TDPaxUNnOhTrVH7Q7TRoHh_Y3E5FURyg3mCh7mh9LfNk5B6hPxYepOWgr-nhyphenhyphenH90XuQEH-6WFcIHp1BCMtfsTSuHkzMWA1iu6U/s1600/2013-12-25+07.53.36.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom and stepdad gave me a Dalek Christmas ornament, and a journal
made with an actual record of The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's album!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWl7_0Logta4ez_303i5AvdL-aV6MD-73V5N1twPAZI8cfd2XjBTTu1WqJywEBn1LAAnnZi1_ZU6mkwkNIX_NDTV2PA-Scjs9OnGbxoRbktYxLvVK2oNPyQgsuRFG0o1tFnHYbic9cyc/s1600/2013-12-25+13.38.49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwWl7_0Logta4ez_303i5AvdL-aV6MD-73V5N1twPAZI8cfd2XjBTTu1WqJywEBn1LAAnnZi1_ZU6mkwkNIX_NDTV2PA-Scjs9OnGbxoRbktYxLvVK2oNPyQgsuRFG0o1tFnHYbic9cyc/s1600/2013-12-25+13.38.49.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, we had chili for Christmas dinner.</td></tr>
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<br />Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-29702995984830085182013-12-20T20:08:00.001-06:002013-12-20T20:08:08.264-06:00Perils of Online DatingNow that I've reentered the horrible world of online dating, I've discovered that most men, at least the ones who seem to be interested in me, are incapable of stringing together more than one sentence at a time. Occasionally said men are incapable of even stringing together more than one word at a time.<br />
<br />
These are some real first messages I've gotten from guys on the site I'm using:<br />
<br />
<i>Hey</i><br />
<i>Hi </i><br />
<i>nice pic</i><br />
<i>I think we need to go on a date...</i><br />
<i>Introverts unite! Hello, How are you?</i><br />
<i>Hi beautiful how are you can we talk please bc i really want to get to know u better </i><br />
<i>You're beautiful</i><br />
<i>Your a knockout love (: Would you ever be interested in a FWB thing? </i><br />
<br />
And then, add to this list a "friend" of a friend's harassing me because said friend wouldn't date him. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRZBVvuaEOZFDpSCw3QPSl-Rl-cyYxrBxo8uIfkOFxNRyL124M_U-_T70LOA-f21XHDBe2TjCzU7fNAh7LyZLfFvOd_QG4JidrKaQuRx1GZUKHV6eZBTJ_bO0iyIhFPA53KTbnwkMWsY/s1600/jlaw+eye+rolling.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRZBVvuaEOZFDpSCw3QPSl-Rl-cyYxrBxo8uIfkOFxNRyL124M_U-_T70LOA-f21XHDBe2TjCzU7fNAh7LyZLfFvOd_QG4JidrKaQuRx1GZUKHV6eZBTJ_bO0iyIhFPA53KTbnwkMWsY/s1600/jlaw+eye+rolling.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeeeeeah.... <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=jennifer+lawrence+catching+fire+gif&client=firefox-a&hs=IGD&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=9_K0UuO8O-GdyQHJ4IC4Aw&ved=0CAkQ_AUoAQ&biw=1366&bih=565&dpr=1#q=jennifer+lawrence+catching+fire+elevator+gif&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&tbm=isch&facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=b92yQhET0TIcvM%3A%3BKv7hddo_sBOgpM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fstatic4.businessinsider.com%252Fimage%252F529206a86da8111c213a191a%252Fjennifer%252520lawrence%252520unhappy%252520catching%252520fire%252520hunger%252520games.gif%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fwww.businessinsider.com%252Fjohanna-actress-hunger-games-2013-11%3B245%3B135">Source</a></td></tr>
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<br />
But honestly, do they really think that a simple "hi" is enough to woo me? I realize that I've railed against online dating before, and it's tendency to make me feel as though I was <a href="http://martinleah.blogspot.com/2013/01/adventures-in-online-dating.html">advertising myself</a>.<br />
<br />
But please. You need to at least make an effort to gain and keep my attention long enough to send you a reply. Let's all be honest here, if you at the very least can't be bothered to write Y-O-U instead of just "u," and/or don't know when to use "you're" and "your," then I probably won't be attracted to you anyway. <br />
<br />Every time I log in to the site, I wonder if I'm wasting my time. But I still find myself browsing through profiles and reading single sentence messages from inarticulate dudes who are probably just looking for booty anyway.<br />
<br />
Stay tuned. There WILL be more complaining soon.Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-89481987123346429522013-12-17T19:48:00.000-06:002013-12-17T19:48:31.278-06:00Same Old, Same OldThe last time we met our heroine, she was working at Starbucks and <a href="http://www.shoprung.org/">Rung Boutique</a> and boyfriend-less. <br />
<br />
Now, eight months later,<br />
<br />
I'm still working at Starbucks and Rung Boutique.<br />
<br />
I've applied for many other jobs. I interviewed twice and was rejected for both. I'm starting to get pretty discouraged.<br />
<br />
I'm still single as hell.<br />
<br />
I'm trying online dating again, and pretty indifferent about it.<br />
<br />
I did NaNoWriMo, and failed. But I'm still working on my novel, which is a change from the two previous years' attempts. I actually managed to create a story I care about. I might have even won this year if I didn't work twelve hour days.<br />
<br />
I've discovered one of my problems with my lack of plan for my life
is too many choices. I get paralyzed by all the options. I could do
anything with my life, and that's what's overwhelming. Having too many
options is the same as having none.<br />
<br />
I self isolate. The more time I spend alone, the more time I want to spend alone, until it all builds up and I feel completely and utterly alone...because I made it that way. So if I don't call or text, it doesn't mean I don't care. It just means I'm a hermit. <br />
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I love my two roommates even more than I did eight months ago. Honestly, I have no idea what I would do without them. They are family.<br />
<br />Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-62411545223257334532013-12-13T17:00:00.002-06:002013-12-13T17:00:52.976-06:00Eight Months Later...It's been eight months since I <a href="http://martinleah.blogspot.com/2013/04/more-noise.html">last blogged</a>. I stopped because I didn't have anything to say. I felt like anything I could possibly put into words here would be mere internet noise, not contributing anything to anyone, and certainly not worth anyone's time.<br />
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And in those eight months, I think I've realized something. Maybe that's not necessarily the point of writing, of blogging. Certainly a lot of people blog and write to help someone else, to contribute something. But maybe there's a whole other group out there who write for another reason.<br />
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Because they have to. Because they have words inside them that they have to put down, whether or not someone actually reads them and values them. I feel like this sometimes. I <a href="http://martinleah.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-am-night-owl.html#comment-form">want to be a writer</a>, although I can't quite figure out why. I've always kept a journal, albeit not always consistently. I've blogged for a few years now, also not consistently.<br />
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So what do I want to achieve with this renewed blogging effort? I'm still not quite sure. Perhaps it's more discipline in my writing, making more of an effort to write at all, even if it is just relaying my boring life to all seven of you who are actually interested.<br />
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This blog, like my life is a work in progress. I don't have my shit together, so bear with me, friends. I'll do my best to keep you entertained. Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-231612125255066612013-04-10T16:47:00.002-05:002013-04-10T16:47:22.182-05:00More noise.I know I've been absent from here a lot lately. I could give you a whole litany of excuses.<br />
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I've been working a lot.<br />
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I'm too tired.<br />
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I've been reading instead.<br />
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I'm too lazy. <br />
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But the real reason?<i> I just don't have anything to say.</i><br />
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I feel as though anything I could post on here would be contrived, superfluous, more noise in an already noisy age full of unnecessary things and information. I don't have anything informative or useful to contribute here.<br />
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So where does that leave me? Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-36880766562200055072013-04-08T19:12:00.002-05:002013-04-08T19:12:17.267-05:00This is not about baseball.Here in St. Louis, everyone and everything seems to be about the Cardinals' home opener today. But no sports here, friends. We're talking children's TV shows again. <br />
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Here's some Winnie the Pooh to brighten your day:<br />
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I only discovered this recently, when I had to Google the phrase "Tut tut, it looks like rain." It just makes me smile every time I think of it.<br />
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What was (or is) your favorite children's song from when you were little?Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-27901824411075958762013-03-25T17:45:00.002-05:002013-03-25T17:45:38.414-05:00I may or may not like weird music.Today's music is brought to by PBS. Yep. Sometime last week I caught most of a spectacular documentary about the folk singer, Joan Baez. She was one of the most famous folk singers ever, (Despite crippling stage fright, which she suffered for years!) and she is intensely involved in spreading messages of peace. She has been to numerous warzones, and during the Vietnam War she protested the draft, repeatedly getting arrested, only to go right back to protesting.You can find more information on her website <a href="http://www.joanbaez.com/officialbio08.html">here</a>.<br />
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This particular song was written about Bob Dylan. They toured together in the 1960's, and they were also romantically involved. Here's a link to the <a href="http://www.joanbaez.com/Lyrics/diamonds.html">lyrics</a>.<br />
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I love this song because we all have times in our life that are like this, so full of beautiful and terrible memories, and sometimes they come back to us, playing over and over like a movie reel. I love that this song is so honest about this particular time in her life. She lays their story, her emotions all out on the table.<br />
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I'm also in love with her voice. I encourage you to go listen to some of her other music. She's really fantastic.Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-2771641794858233952013-03-23T13:40:00.001-05:002013-03-23T13:40:14.832-05:00Can someone tell me what I'm doing here?There's a question I've been asking. A question, I'm sure, everyone eventually asks in their lifetime, probably more than once, even. The question?<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">What am I for?</span></b><br />
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Is there some sort of goal I'm supposed to aim for, some sort of purpose my life is supposed to serve? Is there more to the menial life I lead of work, sleep, and church?<br />
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Not to say church is menial. Being a Christian in itself gives life some sort of meaning. However, just because one believes in God doesn't mean one will never feel as though they're wandering in the woods. Which is what I frequently feel like I'm doing.<br />
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I have this silly idea that I was supposed to have it all figured out by now. If any of you actually knew what you wanted to do by the time you were 26, please comment below. <br />
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Maybe I've got it wrong. Maybe there isn't some grand design for our lives, some one singular goal to strive for.<br />
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I'll confess, part of me has bought into the lie that society is peddling that your worth lies in your job, in how much money you make, in the things that you have. When I feel bad about the fact that I work an hourly wage job in the service industry, I have to consciously remind myself that it's all a lie. Everything about my current job, according to culture, is bad. An hourly wage is somehow lower in stature than a salary; serving someone is somehow lower in stature than ruling over someone.<br />
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All of this said and done, I don't want to work for Starbucks forever. <br />
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I would like it if one of you could post in the comments some steps, a list I could follow in order to succeed at life. That would be super handy, although I'm pretty certain it doesn't work like that.Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-44602140807353422112013-03-18T17:43:00.003-05:002013-03-18T17:43:59.263-05:00I don't even know what I'm doing anymore...I considered piggybacking off of Kirsti's <a href="http://www.melbourneonmymind.com/2013/03/movie-monday-music-and-lyrics.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+AQuickSuccessionOfBusyNothings+%28A+Quick+Succession+of+Busy+Nothings%29">Movie Monday</a> again this week, but then I decided it would be cheating, a little. But she did post about the movie "Music and Lyrics" which I will shamelessly admit that I love. So you all should go read it. Right now.<br />
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Anyway, I don't know how to intro this one. It's completely ridiculous. It was introduced to me by my friend Renee. It's a song called "Boten Anna" by a Swedish dude called Basshunter. I'm sharing it with you because nothing about the video makes sense, and it makes me laugh endlessly.<br />
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It has something to do with a guy being in love with this person he's chatting online with, who he thinks is a robot, but who actually turns out to be a real person. (There's a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boten_Anna">wikipedia page</a> for it, in case you care.) There is next to nothing about this video that would clue me in on what it's actually about, and that's kind of why I love it.<br />
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I love that he's standing on a paddle boat dancing, I love that the rearview mirror in that weird yellow car was totally broken, I love that in the logical place in the song where a big dance break would occur, there was just like, a shot of a rave or something.<br />
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I love watching a weird music video and getting to the end and having that "What did I just watch?" sort of reaction.<br />
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So, friends, what's your favorite bizarre music video?<br />
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<i>Also, I think this is the bottom, guys. I need your help! Give me music suggestions for future posts! </i>Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-21968200911376614112013-03-13T15:17:00.000-05:002013-03-13T15:17:04.520-05:00I'm not okay.I had a difficult time writing this post. I've been struggling lately, with my own emotions.<br />
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I recognize that I am a highly emotional person. I feel things very strongly. You'd think that after 26 years of living with this particular personality quirk, that I would be able to embrace it. But I can't.<br />
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Something has told me that it's not okay for emotion to be the governing force in my life, that I must be cold and logical instead.<br />
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And while I am able to logic my way through my emotions and discern which particular feelings may be completely irrational and why I'm having them, for me, for some reason, that's not enough. For a reason I can't quite explain, if I could make myself less emotional I would. <br />
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I hate having emotions so strong that I feel like I'm still going through puberty. I hate crying at the drop of a hat about things that don't deserve tears. I hate getting angry about stuff that should only be mildly irritating. I hate being overly excited about things, because of the way people fake smile and go "That's great." <br />
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I know that the thing that matters is not the having of emotions, but the reaction to said emotions. I know that I can't control the emotions, and that's okay, but that I can control my reaction to them. <br />
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But I still don't know how to be okay with this part of myself. Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-85093904393446433772013-03-11T19:45:00.002-05:002013-03-11T19:45:37.715-05:00ALL THE FEELINGS.Today's music is brought to you by<a href="http://www.melbourneonmymind.com/"> Kirsti</a>. Well, sort of. Her "Movie Monday" this week was Moulin Rouge, and she was kind enough to post this gem from the movie!<br />
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This is one of my favorite scenes in the movie because OH MY GOODNESS THE FEELINGS. I'm definitely going to be watching this movie again this week. Thanks, K!<br />
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So friends, what music do you have on repeat this week?Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-25711024115715971192013-03-07T16:27:00.000-06:002013-03-07T16:27:49.081-06:00Getting old is not for sissies.As a side note, I would like to point out that this is my 300th post! Hooray for me! Do I win some sort of 300th post prize? Timtams? Beer? A hot boyfriend? A day off from work? <br />
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No? Rats. Let's get down to business. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(To defeat the Huns.)</span><br />
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Personally, I don't think we in America give enough respect to elderly folks. Getting older is NOT for sissies. It terrifies me a little. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u>7 Reasons Why Getting Old Terrifies Me</u></span><br />
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Why only 7? Because I'm too lazy to come up with 10. In no particular order. . .<br />
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<b>1.Your body falls apart.</b> Old age is riddled with physical perils. Loss of hearing/eyesight, arthritis, cancer, what have you. None of the physical ailments associated with getting old sound remotely attractive to me. I'd really like to pass on this part.<br />
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<b>2. Your teeth fall out.</b> At least this is the impression I get. I mean, there's the whole thing about dentures being a thing, right? I'd like to keep my teeth.<br />
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<b>3. Dementia.</b> All joking aside, this scares the living daylights out of me. I do not want to forget who I am, who my loved ones are. My grandmother, who just recently passed away, suffered from dementia, and in her last years, she was routinely confused about a lot of things, including exactly who my mother is. Honestly speaking, I'm not only afraid of this happening to me, I'm afraid of my other loved ones suffering from this. I'm not sure I could bear it if my parents didn't know who I was.<br />
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<b>4. Hearing loss.</b> As a musician, the thought of eventually losing my hearing, at least in part, is the scariest thing ever. There are a lot of horrible things I would rather suffer than lose my hearing.<br />
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<b>5. Making big, long-term decisions.</b> Those which potentially affect your entire life. Buying a house, when to retire, investing/saving money, etc. Making decisions is hard. I mean, I can't even decide what sort of career to pursue. How am I ever going to make the really hard choices?<br />
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<b>6. Watching your friends die.</b> I'm not sure I need to expand on this one. I'm sure you guys get it.<br />
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<b>7. Nursing homes.</b> Nursing homes not only smell funny, they are just sad. And there are always stories about the elderly being mistreated by their caretakers. Personally, I'm afraid of being put in a really terrible one and left there.<br />
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I suppose now, to look on the bright side, I'll have to come up with a post about the benefits of getting older, mostly to convince myself that it won't be so bad.<br />
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So what about getting old, (or at least just old-er) scares you? Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-39558684687098180132013-03-04T17:10:00.000-06:002013-03-04T17:10:12.159-06:00Just try and stop yourself from singing along.Oh hey, there internets. Long time, no see. I'm not going to apologize for not having any motivation to do anything ever because sometimes you just have to take a break, right? Right.<br />
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ANYWHO.<br />
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This week's Music Monday is brought to you by a blast from the past. Ready for this?<br />
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THE INSPECTOR GADGET THEME SONG.<br />
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Try and tell me you weren't singing along.<br />
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So, friends, what are your favorite TV show theme songs?Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3351316794939208602.post-58248114779223331342013-02-18T16:39:00.002-06:002013-02-18T16:39:40.866-06:00I have a social life! Kind of.So, on Saturday I went to a concert at Cicero's with my roommate, Renee. Yep, you read that correctly. I went out on a Saturday night.<br />
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But that's not the point. The point is, Renee introduced me to some great new music by a really awesome band called Mike Mains and the Branches. Here they are:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0SLQcgVtCcwqz_9lP3bKNKdRwHnIXBg5Kjf39HmVA0iM7PtQUWDSSYu64UvBrUZhyVAN1EQudyItcWc2n0R5yfoDo9jB6RVASYBDXWf2iTO9yB3mtPSdORhkDDguuXincSIQHggwiDA/s1600/mike+mains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0SLQcgVtCcwqz_9lP3bKNKdRwHnIXBg5Kjf39HmVA0iM7PtQUWDSSYu64UvBrUZhyVAN1EQudyItcWc2n0R5yfoDo9jB6RVASYBDXWf2iTO9yB3mtPSdORhkDDguuXincSIQHggwiDA/s320/mike+mains.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10150594387726374&set=a.432484066373.226177.149861536373&type=1&theater">Source</a></td></tr>
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Most of them anyway. When I saw them on Saturday, their lineup was a little different, but they were so cool.<br />
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They were all up on stage, looking so dapper. Even the girl. Girls can look dapper. The men were all wearing oxford shirts and sweater vests and ties and things. Their show was so rad. They really knew how to engage a crowd, and they even included audience participation! During the last song, they invited the crowd up on stage with them. It was pretty awesome.<br />
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Here's the video for their song, "Stereo."<br />
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Happy Monday, friends!Leahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639925448456059236noreply@blogger.com4