Good night dear void.

Just a devoid thought to send out into the cosmos.
I am an opinionated, passionate, girl who shares her opinions more readily and more openly than most, and quite often without regard of who is at hand to hear, which I suppose is rather imprudent of me. I have often wondered, if I were in a Jane Austen novel would I be written off as the young woman forced to become an old maid, be shipped off to live with some rich, widowed, aunt in London where I would have all hope of romance thwarted by my lack of marriage-ability, seeing as how I was aged so that the men in my own district would not marry me, or rather would I be portrayed as the second Bennett girl who, though love was always right in front of her choose to be as prejudice and prideful as the suave Mr. Darcy.---Oh, how foolish of me to be going on about my life as though it were a Jane Austen masterpiece. For of course its not! There seems to never truly be a Mr. Darcy, whose complex three-dimensional character is completely wonderful on a one-dimensional paper, and this is not Austen's age.
Nowadays, women are, I daresay, expected to be opinionated. However, I find that my independence might be more intimidating than revered. My singularity more feared than adored. As if my being capable and happy with my own personhood fends people off, sending them running for the hills. Should I be withdrawn and sullen? No, I don’t think those to be amiable qualities. No man wants forlorn brown eyes to dote upon--sullenness has never set well with my personality anyway. Perhaps something is to be said for propriety and restraint of the tongue. An opinionated woman is, I suppose, not always the best to have around, and a high strung woman is hard to decipher, unless one is of the same inclination.

Today was a low point. I have been struggling with feelings of abandonment, for no particular reason. And I have been rather sad lately. I came to the realization the last Tuesday that if I thought about happy things then I would be nicer, and if I tried to be happier then I would actually be HAPPY. Novel idea, huh?
I was discussing things with a friend today, and we realized that we were too stressed out for it being so early in the school year, and if we didn't curve some of our habits, as soon, we were going to be "dead" (not physically, but mentally) by the end of the semester. Which is not a good thing for either of us to be, since I have another semester and she is leaving for Grad school in December.
Anyway, this seems to happen to me at the end of every summer. It's like a form of the summer blues. Something about coming out of the fog summer left and beginning the grind of the semester that NEVER sets well with me. I'm in a funk.
In order to curb this "funk", my friend I was discussing my issues with and I decided that we were going to try to be better at this... and in our conclusion, we made a list of the necessary approaches we feel needed to be taken:
1. Stop being around people who steal your truth and drain your peace.
It's not worth being around people who stress you out to be around.
2. Stop cussing.
In the past semester I have developed a terrible habit of cussing, it began for no particular reason, except for humors sake, but eventually it turned into something that I do when I rage; Which is unbecoming to say the least. Plus it is not edifying, and it makes me appear ignorant like the hordes of other people who say vomitous things.
3. Find a good Bible study.
Part of our requirement at SEU is that we attend chapel. This semester they are offering an intensive more intimate Bible study as an alternative to the service at in the larger chapel. Tomorrow will be my first day attending that, I cannot lie, I am excited about it.
So here's to endeavoring to make what should already be a fixture in my life actually a part of it.

Peace.

Over the summer, I happened upon a huge collection of National Geographic magazines in the bin labeled FREE at the public Library--it was the most complete set I had seen in a long time. Being that my mother was scheduled to teach History classes this year, I loaded them all into my trunk one day after work and took them all home. I sorted the our and sat before a sea of magazines that spanned almost 2 decades. I wondered at all of the stories that had been written, and how much there was to learn from those volumes.
I leafed through the set a magazine at a time, reading random passages and found one about Caribou. How the mothers leave the herd in the mountains to have their young in the low lands, so they can see predators coming. Then the calf, just minutes after birth can stand, then in a week they can keep up with their mother, and after three weeks, they can outrun a grizzly bear. After that three week mark, the rest of the herd comes from the highlands; they instinctively know to do this. Then the whole herd travels inland to prepare for the harsh Alaskan winter. I couldn't help but wonder why we can't be more like animals in the aspect that they thrive off their God-given nature and instincts, it really is amazing.

where the old road was

there stands a bridge over the suwannee:

a day at the beach.

an outing between friends to the lovely st. augustine beach during our not so "spring" spring break