Crush

I should be opening a word document instead of blogging about my feelings right now. I should use what I feel as an avenue for creativity, and I probably will after I vent for a bit.

For people who know me, I think they would agree that I am a loyal friend and I readily make myself available to any friend of mine who needs me whether it's a serious matter or not. I hate when this is not reciprocated. I just do not understand how it is so difficult to return a phone call. A text message. An email. A freaking facebook message. I am tired of being the only one who feels like maintaining a friendship.

When we become adults we accumulate a multitude of responsibilities and life sometimes runs away with our time. When I was at my busiest working at Wal-Mart, taking a full load of classes, and being involved in ministry, I worked hard at keeping up with people I cared about. I am literally crushed. This makes me question whether or not I'm worth the amount of time I put into others and that is wrong.

Of course I don't feel this way about all of my friends, in fact, most are wonderful (that's why they are my friends). I wish more people were self-aware of how they trample over other people's feelings I guess.


I'm done rambling.

why can't i be a prostitute?

Just kidding...

I watched Moulin Rouge today with my mom. Ewan McGregor is not handsome, but I really do love his voice. If a man sang the "Come What May" song to me, I would be his forever. Seriously, just youtube it, and make sure it's the time they sing it in the finale. So...how can Satine (Nicole Kidman) get someone to sing that to her and mean it and I'm all alone? BOOO YOU HOLLYWOOD! hahah



I'm also a few chapters away from finishing "Redeeming Love" which is also a story about a prostitute...hmm...can't seem to get away from that for some reason. It's actually a beautiful picture of redemption and the Lord changing someone's heart and molding it over time for His glory. I need to check into more christian fiction.


I wanted to get another blog in before the weekend. I'm going to Orlando for my interview tomorrow and then I'm headed to Lakeland for the night and part of the day Saturday to spend some time with my beloved Nicole Smothers.


I'm getting anxious about school starting for everyone in a few weeks. I'm not fully convinced that it's set in my mind that I'm done and not going back to USF with all my friends. If you are reading this and wouldn't mind praying for me, you can pray that I find a job soon so I won't be so consumed with being upset about my friends being together in Tampa without me.


goodnight, all!

Turning Around

As those of you who pay ANY attention to me know, I graduated in May and since then, I have been without a job. I have applied for countless positions and most don't bother getting back with me, I have to call them...people hate giving direct answers as to whether or not they're hiring you. I'm not taking it personal, ya know...I get it. The economy is horrible. You can't hire everybody. Just don't dance around the issue of my employment when I'm asking for a straightforward answer. DUH.

I have an interview this Friday at 2:00pm for an English tutoring position...I'd be working with all different schools in volusia county, with all ages. I hope this works out because it would be part time and it would be something I could do for sure. I also applied for a part time job at a preschool in Port Orange. It's a Christian preschool and since I have experience at my church's preschool, I'm thinking it makes me look pretty good. I can ONLY PRAY that one of these turns into work for me because I need a job. Not just for money, because my parents are amazing people who God has blessed with the ability to continue to provide for me...but just for my own sanity, I need to be working.


I'm reading a lot this summer. It's exactly what I wanted to do and God blessed me with the free time to do it. I read all three books of the Hunger Games, four more books of the Gossip Girl series, and I'm currently reading a Christian fiction novel called "Redeeming Love" that my dear friend Katie Norton let me borrow. I'm about half-way through and I love it. I wasn't expecting to like it because I actually despise the time period it's written in, but that really isn't the focal point of the book so I was able to get past that pretty easily.


Some recent news in the Smith Family Household is that we rescued a baby woodpecker about 2 weeks ago. We named him Simon, after Simon Cowell from American Idol because when we first found him he had this weird part down the middle of his head and he looked ridiculous. We decided 2 weeks ago that if this bird lived, we would set him free once he could fly. Well...he's flying...and my dad isn't ready to give him up. It's kind of cute seeing him so affectionate with this bird but COME ON. It poops ALL over the place and it's so loud. I've renamed my dad the bird whisperer because he walks around with this woodpecker all nestled up on his shoulder and it looks pretty funny.


Since I've followed my dreams in reading more this summer, I need to write more. Not just in a journal or in this blog, I want to be writing poetry or anything that I could be working on and potentially publish. I've been so lazy in my writing world this summer and I need to jump back on the horse and set goals...maybe like, once a week write SOMETHING creative and interesting that I'd even consider having work-shopped haha.


This is all for now, my friends.

Rach

Not Guilty?

People are blowing up about the Casey Anthony trial and reasonably so. I just had to write about it because I'm stunned. I'm not dissing the system but I think the 12 jurors are idiots. I hate how there's nothing we can do now. Casey can come out tonight to the nation and tell us all how she murdered her daughter and she won't be punished for it...at least by the law. I hope she lives a long and miserable life.


Also, it's super annoying how hours after people freaking out about it, there are those who are wanting to play devil's advocate and play the hate is murder card. Come on. You had the same exact reaction. Your first thought when all of this happened was not, "oh, I have a really wicked heart. Let me examine myself," it was, "what the hell ????" People think that because they have a facebook and a few hundred friends that can see their posts on their minifeed that they have to say something against the grain. I'm sorry, but pissing into the wind is not a good idea.

Aside from all this Casey drama, I'm looking forward to my family vacation in a few weeks. I'm also looking forward to eventually finding a job. Summer is going to pass and the longer I'm without a job, the worse I look. I am volunteering at Embraced by Grace though and I think writing grants for them is something I could be really good at.


I'm done for now, I should clean my room or something.

xo rachel

Summer time, Hunger Games, Road Trips

Hello friends!

I know I know... I haven't written a blog post just about my trip to Jamaica yet, as promised. After coming home from that trip, I was preparing for finals, graduation, and moving home. On top of that, there was RUF Summer Conference and saying goodbye to all of my closest friends.

God has really given me a content heart through all of these huge changes in my life. I think I get so nervous about things changing and people moving on that I usually see it in a negative way. I got to know people this semester that I think will be a part of my life for a really long time. I had constant support and prayer from people who really love me and I see God's hand in all of my friendships. Not only did I get this from my USF pals, I got it from my family and long lost friends here at home in Ormond Beach. Relationships were rekindled the first weekend I was even home. A really good friend of mine, Nikki, called me up and told me she was driving to Savannah, GA the next day to see our friends in their show. Naturally I said yes to that proposition and the next day, we took a little road trip. Hopefully this won't be my only road trip this summer (that's all I'm saying about that).
I've also gotten back in touch with people I used to be close friends with in high school like Mitch and Sarah Adams. A group of us have been having "Taco Nights" and all I can say about those nights are that they aren't something you want to miss ;)

Since I've been home, most of my time is spent helping in any way I can around the house, job hunt, and lounge! I love the lounging part ;) I recently read a book series called "The Hunger Games" and I fell madly in love with the lead guy...it got to be ridiculous and I forced Miranda and Danielle to join me in reading the books. Now, though I hate to admit this, I'm flying through the Gossip Girl books. I'M SORRY. I know how horrible they are, they're just like a soap opera though and since my mom's favorite soap opera, Guiding Light, got canceled, this feels familiar haha.


I'm not sure where God is leading me because I still don't have a job and I'm not 100% sure of where I'm supposed to go to church (now that I really love the whole Presbyterian denomination), but everyone who I've gotten a chance to talk to here has been a wonderful source of encouragement. I never thought I would say it, because I'm stubborn, but it feels good to be home.

Pain Killer

I seriously hate being a woman.

There is absolutely nothing awesome about waking up in the middle of the night scared to death of what you'll find on the sheets because you definitely woke up to what felt like someone stabbing you around your waist. Nothing seems to be helping this round, either. I could use some vicodin.




On another note, I am excited to announce that I will be participating in a poetry workshop with published writer, Jericho Brown. My poetry II professor sent out an email saying she selected some of us who she thought would take advantage and do well in a workshop with one of three poets coming to USF to read and I was one of those students. I chose to do Jericho Brown's workshop because we read his book for our class and I enjoyed reading it. I think he's a completely different writer than I am and I could learn from him. So I am sending in one of my poems for him to read and edit, and when he comes in April, he will sit down with me and five other students and tell us what he thinks! I am so honored and nervous about this. I have no idea what poem I'm going to send him and I only have until Monday to figure it out.

This good news is definitely a great distraction from everything else that's going on.


Being back from an amazing trip to Kingston, Jamaica can be a little depressing. I miss being with the team that went, eating together, working together, playing together...it was so encouraging and fun. I journaled every day so when I get the chance I will type out the entries on here so those who care about my thoughts during the trip can check it out. Right now, I'm not feeling well so I don't want to write about something that made me so happy and was such a special trip. I'll wait until I'm back in Tampa (I'm visiting my family right now).


I would like to write about my youngest sister, Danielle. She is EXTRAORDINARY. I am convinced that she could sleep for days if given the opportunity. She went to bed last night before midnight and here it is 12:30pm the next day and she is still OUT. Every time I come home she sleeps in until at least 2:00pm. It's not like she's up until 3-4am, so I don't know how she does it.

On the other hand, Miranda was up with me until at least 2am and she was awake at 7am in order to get to work at Chick Fil A. If I weren't feeling like absolute crap I would drive myself up there and get lunch from her.


I think I'm done writing for now.


Look out for the Jamaica blog! Thanks for reading!

xo Rachel

Keeping it Real

An old friend of mine informed me that she loved reading my blog so even if she's the only person regularly checking it, I'm gonna write here more often.
I have been journaling almost daily since Eli and I have taken our "break". It's reminded me so much of why I love to write. I love expressing myself through it, especially poetry. I know I won't just let people read my journal, but by writing it down and getting it out of my head, it seems like I'm making myself more vulnerable. By the way, being vulnerable sucks. Or at least it feels sucky.

In my poetry class yesterday we had a discussion on what it means for an author to write confessional poetry. An example of confessional poetry is "Daddy" by Sylvia Plath. If you have never read it, do it, it's so emotional and fabulous. Apparently, many look down on the term "confessional" poetry because it's said that it's typically female writers/poets who do it and it's an easy way out of writing because it's just writing an emotional poem (probably means using a bunch of abstract words instead of using concrete imagery and metaphor). I would like to know what author ISN'T a confessional writer at some point in his/her career as a writer. Who doesn't put some of themselves in their art? A douche. No, just kidding...but seriously...especially published poets; how does someone not put some sort of real emotion into their poetry? I find it almost impossible to write something that I don't feel something towards whether its anger, happiness, ambiguity, apathy, frustration, joy, confusion, etc.


This is all the time I have right now but hope this was enjoyable after my long break from writing on here.
xo

Survivor

I haven't written in HOW long? I look on this blog and it seems like I fell asleep one day and am just now waking up. I would say I miss blogging but apparently I don't because I haven't been on in so long and I haven't really thought about it since. I'm in my last semester as an undergrad here at USF. I'm kind of excited but I'm more scared than anything. I hate change, and I especially hate the idea of moving back home to Ormond Beach. I am praying most diligently that God will open up some doors here in Tampa so I can stay here and work. My church is here, my friends are here, I'm a much better person here.

I'm in Poetry II this semester and I'm loving it. The poems I'm writing are so different from when I was in Poetry I, and I freak myself out a little bit by how odd they are. I don't want to post them on here because apparently that's self-publishing and I'd rather try and get them published for real.



I came on here to write that the last 3 weeks have been pretty surreal. For reasons I feel the need to be ambiguous about, I feel lonely lately. I miss my best friend and I miss thinking that I knew what was going to happen to me in the future. I hate feeling unsure. I hate my feelings. I "feel" as though all I have right now is God (for comfort) and poetry (as an outlet). Friends try their best to make me feel better, and I thank them for it. But all they can really do is try.

BAD blogger! BAD!

I haven't blogged in over a month?





You see the depravity of the human heart in public places. You see it most in Wal-Mart. You scan item, after item, after item. Monotonous beeps continue to push you further into a coma where you hope to remain until your eight hour shift is over. Sometimes people are polite to you and you feel bad for not paying attention. It's people like that who remind you to stay on top of your game; do your job and treat people like they're human beings, not cattle. You smile and kindly say to the next person in line, "hello, hows it going?"
Of course the next customer is a foreigner who doesn't speak English and doesn't want to communicate anything with you, or you to them except their total. You slip, once more, into the abyss of day dreams, beeps fading into soft hums that you no longer hear.

You get embarrassed when your day dreams turn into memories of the stupid things you did in front of customers like combine greetings, "heyo," or even worse, when they're leaving, "have a great d---one" so it sounds like you said, "da-wone" (that's combining "day" and "one"). You also remember specific customers that you'd like to physically hurt because they were so rude. A memory of a father with his two kids comes to mind. He only has about 15 items, one of which was an expensive cheese that his food stamps don't cover. He says to just take it off and before you can put it aside, the old man behind your current customer says, "oh no, I'll get it." The father is bashful and says, "no, no, you don't have to do that," and the old man motions for you to hand him the block of cheese. The young father pushes his buggy and stands by the bagging section of your station and you ring up the old man. You hold onto the block of cheese wondering if you should just give it to the guy, or let the old man give it to him, but he doesn't say anything so you just put it in a bag by itself. He pays. He says "you too," when you tell him to have a good night, and he walks away, bag of cheese in hand. The father and his two kids stand awkwardly looking at you and then down at the floor. Then they walk away too.


You laugh sometimes thinking about it because it's just that uncomfortable of a situation that it seems like something you'd see on the Office. You feel bad about laughing though because that guy with his kids must have been really embarrassed after he realized he assumed the guy was going to buy the cheese for him.



You dread going to work, because if you're ever excited about it, you're GOING to have a bad day because the customers really suck. You know you're capable of more than dealing with ungrateful, spoiled people with their rotten children for hours. Your heart breaks for the people you see who are stuck there working the registers, for the rest of their lives.

Saving title for last

I don't know what I want to say, but I know I have something to write.

I know what you're up
to and again; feeling weights clunk my skull
side-ways, every way. Whispers
scratch at my window, and behind
the pane your face glows hot
red, a burning smirky face. The toothy smile
haunts me, and I don't close
the blinds. I clinch my knee caps
waiting for the burn and slice
my fingers through the glass
gripping your neck. I clench more.
I stifle you, pulling the drapes over
your body, never giving
you a good night kiss