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Sunday, August 29, 2010

accidents welcome


When you're living in a new place by yourself, you can't anticipate anything but the fact that you will make mistakes.  You'll spend over your budget, you'll miss the exit for I-264, you'll sit in the wrong classroom on the first day of school for ten minutes.

I feel like through these little "whoopsies" I've made the past week or so I've been here, I've learned so much about myself.  My perfectionistic tendencies have been crushed.  I'm allowing myself to make mistakes.  I've even welcomed them, and grown bold from them.  So freeing.

For instance, this morning I decided to wake up at 7:30 a.m. to try to make it to First Presbyterian Church for their 9:30 a.m. service.  I plugged the address into the navigation system on my phone (which I subscribed to for such a time as this).  I diligently got ready and left the house at 9 a.m., plenty of time to make it to the service and shake hands with a few members.

Though, I got off the exit of I-264 and turned onto Atlantic Avenue, just like the GPS said, and was directed to a public parking lot.

So NOT church.

By this time, it was already 9:45 and all hope of making it to this, apparent, ghost church was lost.  I decided to park my car and take a stroll down the boardwalk.  I was frightfully out of place with my white capris and lime green shirt.  Everyone who passed me seem to ask with their eyes, "Where'd you leave your swimsuit, sweetie?"

And as I was walking along with my Coach purse, my faithful companion in these times, I thought I heard the beginning chords of "Let God Arise."

Yes - it was!  One of my favorite worship songs was being played right in Neptune Park.  Hundreds of locals were gathered in their flip flops and beach chairs.

So, I didn't make it to church this morning.  But, I did make it to a beach-side worship jam.  And you know what?  It was so much better than I had planned!


Let's all make some good accidents this week!  What mistakes have you made recently that you've been thankful for?  


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accidents welcome


When you're living in a new place by yourself, you can't anticipate anything but the fact that you will make mistakes.  You'll spend over your budget, you'll miss the exit for I-264, you'll sit in the wrong classroom on the first day of school for ten minutes.

I feel like through these little "whoopsies" I've made the past week or so I've been here, I've learned so much about myself.  My perfectionistic tendencies have been crushed.  I'm allowing myself to make mistakes.  I've even welcomed them, and grown bold from them.  So freeing.

For instance, this morning I decided to wake up at 7:30 a.m. to try to make it to First Presbyterian Church for their 9:30 a.m. service.  I plugged the address into the navigation system on my phone (which I subscribed to for such a time as this).  I diligently got ready and left the house at 9 a.m., plenty of time to make it to the service and shake hands with a few members.

Though, I got off the exit of I-264 and turned onto Atlantic Avenue, just like the GPS said, and was directed to a public parking lot.

So NOT church.

By this time, it was already 9:45 and all hope of making it to this, apparent, ghost church was lost.  I decided to park my car and take a stroll down the boardwalk.  I was frightfully out of place with my white capris and lime green shirt.  Everyone who passed me seem to ask with their eyes, "Where'd you leave your swimsuit, sweetie?"

And as I was walking along with my Coach purse, my faithful companion in these times, I thought I heard the beginning chords of "Let God Arise."

Yes - it was!  One of my favorite worship songs was being played right in Neptune Park.  Hundreds of locals were gathered in their flip flops and beach chairs.

So, I didn't make it to church this morning.  But, I did make it to a beach-side worship jam.  And you know what?  It was so much better than I had planned!


Let's all make some good accidents this week!  What mistakes have you made recently that you've been thankful for?  


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Saturday, August 28, 2010

when the goin' gets tough

The tough goes to Sandbridge.


This is a beach up Indian River Rd.  Literally twenty-five minutes from my new apartment. 

That is a nice stick.  *If you get that reference, you are the best!




There has been a lot of Frank Sinatra on my playlist lately. 


No beach trip is complete without an Anna Quindlen novel and my Wizard of Oz journal. 



My favorite flip flops (that have been lost all summer in the back of my closet) are back in commission!



As you can see, I'm very stressed out.  Please disregard the MASSIVE pimple.

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when the goin' gets tough

The tough goes to Sandbridge.


This is a beach up Indian River Rd.  Literally twenty-five minutes from my new apartment. 

That is a nice stick.  *If you get that reference, you are the best!




There has been a lot of Frank Sinatra on my playlist lately. 


No beach trip is complete without an Anna Quindlen novel and my Wizard of Oz journal. 



My favorite flip flops (that have been lost all summer in the back of my closet) are back in commission!



As you can see, I'm very stressed out.  Please disregard the MASSIVE pimple.

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Sunday, August 15, 2010

all this and no popcorn?



The flight from Charlotte, North Carolina to Richmond, Virginia is approximately forty minutes long.

However, the passengers on flight 1022 at 8:10 p.m. experienced a phenomenon not yet experienced by those grounded this fine evening.  Time warp.

I swear, my flight was forty HOURS long.

Why?  Because I was sitting in the back of the plane, sandwiched between "Opie" and "the Fan Man" (that's seriously how they introduced themselves to me).  Opie looked like, well, a 16-year-old Opie from the Any Griffith Show.  Gangly, red hair, the works.  What was the most disheartening was that he didn't know from whence his nickname came.  What is WRONG with American teenagers?  Anyway, "the Fan Man" acquired his nickname in the security check (the check-point-Charlie, as my grandmother calls it).  Apparently he brought a fan with him on the trip and he was checked by security.  There you go.

They were part of a boy scout troupe on their way home from a six-day boating excursion in Florida.  I knew they were going to be trouble from the moment I saw them.  They were a group of eight people hurdling down the aisle toward me in their army-green t-shirts.

As the old saying goes, "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." There was much teasing and guessing of ages involved.  I'm sure they would have been a fun group if I weren't so drained from leaving my family and sitting in an airport by myself for three hours*.

During the respective forty hour flight, one of the guys asked me if I were a Christian.  Random.  I said yes, and a delightful but brief conversation ensued.  As he was telling me that he was an Episcopalian,   he pulled out a Mountain Dew.  His buddy saw this and asked for a swig.  They took turns sipping from the bottle.

It was in that moment I began to mentally create a list of things that Christian guys like.  Prepare for some horribly stereotypical observations.

You just might be a Christian guy if...


1. You have an obsession with Mountain Dew or any other green soda beverage in the Mountain Dew family (i.e. Surge, Vault, Mountain Dew Blueberry Blast, etc.).  The 7-11 Slurpee variations of these sodas also apply.  
2. You consider the Bacconator the greatest piece of culinary artwork ever created. 
3. You own a frisbee that glows, sparkles, talks, sings, whistles, what have you. 
3b. You frequently play ultimate frisbee with your buddies. 
4. You own a pair of Vans, or TOMS. 
5.  You have ever participated in a "Texas Pete" competition.  Ladies, this is when the guys will take turns swigging from a hot sauce bottle.  I've seen the aftermath, believe me...not pretty. 
6. You play poker. 

7. You own a hackey sack.
8. You collect Star Wars action figures.
9. You have ever sold popcorn or helped an elderly woman cross the street.
10. Play basketball.  In real life, or in video games.  Also if you play video games.  Not necessarily sport-related ones. 



Girls, can you think of any I missed?
Guys, feel free to create a list of your own for girls.  Be nice. 


Note: Participating in all or none of the above activities does not automatically make or break a Christian guy.  These are just commonalities that I've noticed over the years.  Of course, you're only a true Christian guy if you have accepted Christ into your heart.  Just thought I'd clear that up.  :) 

*I did, however, run into a girlfriend from my old ballet dancing days.  It was so great to catch up with her.  She was sitting in first class though, and of course I was in D-25, the second to last row in the plane...
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all this and no popcorn?



The flight from Charlotte, North Carolina to Richmond, Virginia is approximately forty minutes long.

However, the passengers on flight 1022 at 8:10 p.m. experienced a phenomenon not yet experienced by those grounded this fine evening.  Time warp.

I swear, my flight was forty HOURS long.

Why?  Because I was sitting in the back of the plane, sandwiched between "Opie" and "the Fan Man" (that's seriously how they introduced themselves to me).  Opie looked like, well, a 16-year-old Opie from the Any Griffith Show.  Gangly, red hair, the works.  What was the most disheartening was that he didn't know from whence his nickname came.  What is WRONG with American teenagers?  Anyway, "the Fan Man" acquired his nickname in the security check (the check-point-Charlie, as my grandmother calls it).  Apparently he brought a fan with him on the trip and he was checked by security.  There you go.

They were part of a boy scout troupe on their way home from a six-day boating excursion in Florida.  I knew they were going to be trouble from the moment I saw them.  They were a group of eight people hurdling down the aisle toward me in their army-green t-shirts.

As the old saying goes, "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." There was much teasing and guessing of ages involved.  I'm sure they would have been a fun group if I weren't so drained from leaving my family and sitting in an airport by myself for three hours*.

During the respective forty hour flight, one of the guys asked me if I were a Christian.  Random.  I said yes, and a delightful but brief conversation ensued.  As he was telling me that he was an Episcopalian,   he pulled out a Mountain Dew.  His buddy saw this and asked for a swig.  They took turns sipping from the bottle.

It was in that moment I began to mentally create a list of things that Christian guys like.  Prepare for some horribly stereotypical observations.

You just might be a Christian guy if...


1. You have an obsession with Mountain Dew or any other green soda beverage in the Mountain Dew family (i.e. Surge, Vault, Mountain Dew Blueberry Blast, etc.).  The 7-11 Slurpee variations of these sodas also apply.  
2. You consider the Bacconator the greatest piece of culinary artwork ever created. 
3. You own a frisbee that glows, sparkles, talks, sings, whistles, what have you. 
3b. You frequently play ultimate frisbee with your buddies. 
4. You own a pair of Vans, or TOMS. 
5.  You have ever participated in a "Texas Pete" competition.  Ladies, this is when the guys will take turns swigging from a hot sauce bottle.  I've seen the aftermath, believe me...not pretty. 
6. You play poker. 

7. You own a hackey sack.
8. You collect Star Wars action figures.
9. You have ever sold popcorn or helped an elderly woman cross the street.
10. Play basketball.  In real life, or in video games.  Also if you play video games.  Not necessarily sport-related ones. 



Girls, can you think of any I missed?
Guys, feel free to create a list of your own for girls.  Be nice. 


Note: Participating in all or none of the above activities does not automatically make or break a Christian guy.  These are just commonalities that I've noticed over the years.  Of course, you're only a true Christian guy if you have accepted Christ into your heart.  Just thought I'd clear that up.  :) 

*I did, however, run into a girlfriend from my old ballet dancing days.  It was so great to catch up with her.  She was sitting in first class though, and of course I was in D-25, the second to last row in the plane...
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Wednesday, August 11, 2010






Audrey Hepburn calls it "the mean reds."

It's when you feel like the skin wrapped around your body might explode from pressure or frustration.  It's an inexplicable phenomenon that could be attributed to PMS - although I've known many-a-fellow to experience it too.

You're angry or restless for no good reason.

The other night, I had the "mean reds."  I couldn't tell you why.  I was just in a mood.

Then my mother (bless her heart) came trouncing into the dining room where I was working on a few job applications.  She said, "Brett!  You need to go check out the sunset."

I probably just grunted an "I'm-too-busy-to-look-up-from-what-I'm-doing-to-talk-to-or-acknowledge-you-plus-I-have-my-earphones-in-and-I-can't-hear-you" manner. Pffffffft.  Sunsets.  I don't have time to look at the stupid sunset.

Five minutes later I sprinted up to my room, grabbed my camera and started snapping away in the rain.  

Why?

Because the sky looked like it had the "mean reds" too.

I stood out in the pouring rain for a solid thirty minutes taking pictures.  And pretending like I wasn't deliberately walking in puddles.

You should never be too busy to look at the sunset. 



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Audrey Hepburn calls it "the mean reds."

It's when you feel like the skin wrapped around your body might explode from pressure or frustration.  It's an inexplicable phenomenon that could be attributed to PMS - although I've known many-a-fellow to experience it too.

You're angry or restless for no good reason.

The other night, I had the "mean reds."  I couldn't tell you why.  I was just in a mood.

Then my mother (bless her heart) came trouncing into the dining room where I was working on a few job applications.  She said, "Brett!  You need to go check out the sunset."

I probably just grunted an "I'm-too-busy-to-look-up-from-what-I'm-doing-to-talk-to-or-acknowledge-you-plus-I-have-my-earphones-in-and-I-can't-hear-you" manner. Pffffffft.  Sunsets.  I don't have time to look at the stupid sunset.

Five minutes later I sprinted up to my room, grabbed my camera and started snapping away in the rain.  

Why?

Because the sky looked like it had the "mean reds" too.

I stood out in the pouring rain for a solid thirty minutes taking pictures.  And pretending like I wasn't deliberately walking in puddles.

You should never be too busy to look at the sunset. 



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Sunday, August 8, 2010

my formerly white pants



"For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.  For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it."
-Romans 7:18-20

Someone who is as clumsy and has as big of a caffeine addiction as I should not invest in a pair of white pants (even if you did get them on sale at New York & Company for $14.99 - I love them, check 'em out here.  Not sure why the price online is so much more expensive than what I paid in store).

Of course, as the universe would have it, my new, crisp, formerly white pants suffered some spillage this morning from my venti-iced-caramel-coffee.  That's right.  VENTI.

I'm not a gal for cursing, but I assure you I came very close when the catastrophe happened.  I think the words that came out went something like, "SHAAAA-FFFFFFFFF-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Note: Venti coffees, though great for a early-morning pick-me-up and the stock of Starbucks, Inc., are a) bad for the economy. Nearly five bucks!  Woof! and b) bad for the wardrobe and should never be slurped in the car.  And certainly never slurped while both legs occupy cute, new trousers.   This brief interruption brought to you by hindsight.

This summer, my youth group decided to tackle the Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis.  It's a faith-challenging and intellectually stimulating work of fiction that looks into the lives of two demons trying to fuddle in the affairs of Christ-followers.  I've learned that there are many ways that the enemy will try to mess up Christians in their walks.

The book focuses on a man who has been redeemed in his life through Christ.  The challenge of the demon assigned to him was to make him fall into the same patterns in his life that he was before he became a Christian.  



And isn't if funny that as Christians, it seems that we fall deeper and harder into sin than ever before when we commit our lives to Christ?  It seems as though the "cleaner" purer if you will, your heart has been made while following the Lord, the more susceptible you are to dribbling on your new white pants...er...redemption. 


And then the whole word stares at the metaphorical stain on your pants and knows that you had a clumsy moment in your life.  And calls you a hypocrite.

Moral of the story?  Venti iced coffees, white pants and driving on the I-95 do not mix.  However, don't let it stop you from enjoying a grande white chocolate mocha later in the afternoon.  Just wait until you're in your home and in jean shorts before enjoying.

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my formerly white pants



"For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.  For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it."
-Romans 7:18-20

Someone who is as clumsy and has as big of a caffeine addiction as I should not invest in a pair of white pants (even if you did get them on sale at New York & Company for $14.99 - I love them, check 'em out here.  Not sure why the price online is so much more expensive than what I paid in store).

Of course, as the universe would have it, my new, crisp, formerly white pants suffered some spillage this morning from my venti-iced-caramel-coffee.  That's right.  VENTI.

I'm not a gal for cursing, but I assure you I came very close when the catastrophe happened.  I think the words that came out went something like, "SHAAAA-FFFFFFFFF-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Note: Venti coffees, though great for a early-morning pick-me-up and the stock of Starbucks, Inc., are a) bad for the economy. Nearly five bucks!  Woof! and b) bad for the wardrobe and should never be slurped in the car.  And certainly never slurped while both legs occupy cute, new trousers.   This brief interruption brought to you by hindsight.

This summer, my youth group decided to tackle the Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis.  It's a faith-challenging and intellectually stimulating work of fiction that looks into the lives of two demons trying to fuddle in the affairs of Christ-followers.  I've learned that there are many ways that the enemy will try to mess up Christians in their walks.

The book focuses on a man who has been redeemed in his life through Christ.  The challenge of the demon assigned to him was to make him fall into the same patterns in his life that he was before he became a Christian.  



And isn't if funny that as Christians, it seems that we fall deeper and harder into sin than ever before when we commit our lives to Christ?  It seems as though the "cleaner" purer if you will, your heart has been made while following the Lord, the more susceptible you are to dribbling on your new white pants...er...redemption. 


And then the whole word stares at the metaphorical stain on your pants and knows that you had a clumsy moment in your life.  And calls you a hypocrite.

Moral of the story?  Venti iced coffees, white pants and driving on the I-95 do not mix.  However, don't let it stop you from enjoying a grande white chocolate mocha later in the afternoon.  Just wait until you're in your home and in jean shorts before enjoying.

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you want the moon? just say the word, I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.


"The time has come for closing books.  And long last looks must end.  And as I leave, I know I'm leaving my best friends.  Friends who taught me right from wrong and weak from strong.  That's a lot to learn.  What can I give you in return?"
-To Sir, With Love

I feel as though the gap between the past and future is beginning to merge.  This weekend was a sweet reminder of where I've come from.  It also gave me inspiration to hold my chin up high as I venture into this new chapter of my life.

It taught me that no matter how much time passes, nothing changes.  Not really.

No matter what happens or how much time passes, I know that my friends will always love me.  That they will make me laugh harder than anyone I know.  That we share a special bond that nothing, not even time, can sever.

It was a good, freeing reminder.

Thank you.
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you want the moon? just say the word, I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.


"The time has come for closing books.  And long last looks must end.  And as I leave, I know I'm leaving my best friends.  Friends who taught me right from wrong and weak from strong.  That's a lot to learn.  What can I give you in return?"
-To Sir, With Love

I feel as though the gap between the past and future is beginning to merge.  This weekend was a sweet reminder of where I've come from.  It also gave me inspiration to hold my chin up high as I venture into this new chapter of my life.

It taught me that no matter how much time passes, nothing changes.  Not really.

No matter what happens or how much time passes, I know that my friends will always love me.  That they will make me laugh harder than anyone I know.  That we share a special bond that nothing, not even time, can sever.

It was a good, freeing reminder.

Thank you.
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Wednesday, August 4, 2010

here we go one more time...

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vT-WoP8zPNQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01]
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here we go one more time...

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Tuesday, August 3, 2010

small fish, big pond



"Sometimes I believe that I can do anything.  Yet other times I think I've got nothing good to bring.  But, you look at my heart and you tell me that I've got all you seek.  And it's easy to believe..."
-Free to Be Me, Francesca Battestelli


My little brother's fourteenth birthday was this past Sunday.  One of his friends gave him these beads that
 g r o w into fish in this tank.  He had the most fun watching them grow over a couple of hours.

What can I say?  We Wilsons are rather easily amused.

And I got to thinking (I always get to thinking) about fish and their environments.  I heard somewhere along the way that a fish can never outgrow its tank.  It's body can sense how big its living arrangements are, and will actually stunt its own growth in order to adapt to its surroundings.  Goldfish can actually be pretty huge.  I didn't know this, but it seems to make sense.  Gosh, those little guys are smart.

I've been stressing out about my own living arrangement, recently.  I learned that there are no vacant spots in my grad school's "graduate" dorm - so I've been given a room in a residence hall that is dedicated to couples that are married and have children.

Great.

Nothing against married couples.  Or children.  I was just looking forward to bonding with some other singles.  Cue Beyonce, ya know (wa-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh...)?

And sometimes, the thirty-two thousand dollar student loan that I took out to pay for my tuition year just seems a little steep.  Well, "steep" if "steep" were code for: OH MY FREAKING GOSH HOW IN THE WORLD AM I GOING TO DO THIS?!

But then I remember the fish.  That's right, the fish had a point.  Swim this way.  I think all little fish are intimidated by their big ponds.  And that's just what I am.  This little baby fish, is entering the great void of the big pond.  A fish who was used to having someone sprinkle her food to the top of the tank is now entering the unknown.

My point is this:  If you don't have moments in your life where you are intimidated by your new location, job, life circumstance, you will never have the opportunity to grow.  You will just be a blubbering, teeny goldfish, swimming around in a bowl.  See what I mean?

(Forgive me for taking this analogy waaaaaay too far.  I've had a lot of coffee).
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small fish, big pond



"Sometimes I believe that I can do anything.  Yet other times I think I've got nothing good to bring.  But, you look at my heart and you tell me that I've got all you seek.  And it's easy to believe..."
-Free to Be Me, Francesca Battestelli


My little brother's fourteenth birthday was this past Sunday.  One of his friends gave him these beads that
 g r o w into fish in this tank.  He had the most fun watching them grow over a couple of hours.

What can I say?  We Wilsons are rather easily amused.

And I got to thinking (I always get to thinking) about fish and their environments.  I heard somewhere along the way that a fish can never outgrow its tank.  It's body can sense how big its living arrangements are, and will actually stunt its own growth in order to adapt to its surroundings.  Goldfish can actually be pretty huge.  I didn't know this, but it seems to make sense.  Gosh, those little guys are smart.

I've been stressing out about my own living arrangement, recently.  I learned that there are no vacant spots in my grad school's "graduate" dorm - so I've been given a room in a residence hall that is dedicated to couples that are married and have children.

Great.

Nothing against married couples.  Or children.  I was just looking forward to bonding with some other singles.  Cue Beyonce, ya know (wa-uh-oh-oh-oh-oh...)?

And sometimes, the thirty-two thousand dollar student loan that I took out to pay for my tuition year just seems a little steep.  Well, "steep" if "steep" were code for: OH MY FREAKING GOSH HOW IN THE WORLD AM I GOING TO DO THIS?!

But then I remember the fish.  That's right, the fish had a point.  Swim this way.  I think all little fish are intimidated by their big ponds.  And that's just what I am.  This little baby fish, is entering the great void of the big pond.  A fish who was used to having someone sprinkle her food to the top of the tank is now entering the unknown.

My point is this:  If you don't have moments in your life where you are intimidated by your new location, job, life circumstance, you will never have the opportunity to grow.  You will just be a blubbering, teeny goldfish, swimming around in a bowl.  See what I mean?

(Forgive me for taking this analogy waaaaaay too far.  I've had a lot of coffee).
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Monday, August 2, 2010

Maybe this...

...will help me keep up with this better. Blogging from iTouch. So tight.
BlogBooster-The most productive way for mobile blogging. BlogBooster is a multi-service blog editor for iPhone, Android, WebOs and your desktop
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Maybe this...

...will help me keep up with this better. Blogging from iTouch. So tight.
BlogBooster-The most productive way for mobile blogging. BlogBooster is a multi-service blog editor for iPhone, Android, WebOs and your desktop
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dear ali,




I hope you make the right decision.  Even though I secretly hope that you don't, so that I can spend some  quality time with him...

Best,

Brett
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dear ali,




I hope you make the right decision.  Even though I secretly hope that you don't, so that I can spend some  quality time with him...

Best,

Brett
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Sunday, August 1, 2010

bring me that java-joy


Is there a line that can be drawn between "quirk" and "addiction?"  Because, something tells me that I am dangerously teetering on the edge of the two.   Eh.  I'm not too worried about it, I guess.

One look at this mammouth cup, and all of your hopes and dreams will come true.

Okay, not really.

But, you gotta admit...there's nothing like a "Coffee Date for the Student's Soul."  Now, there's a New York Time's Best-Seller.

I am particularly under-caffeinated and have spent way too much money within the past couple of days.  That's why this post is so short.

Actually, this post is short because I had a great idea for a post while I was taking a nap, and when I woke up I couldn't remember it.  True story.

Maybe if someone bought me that 'mongous cup o' joe featured here, I'd be able to write some entertaining prose.  Until then, you'll just have to wait until the creative-dream-thing happens again and I can actually remember what it was I was going to write.  Thanks! 
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bring me that java-joy


Is there a line that can be drawn between "quirk" and "addiction?"  Because, something tells me that I am dangerously teetering on the edge of the two.   Eh.  I'm not too worried about it, I guess.

One look at this mammouth cup, and all of your hopes and dreams will come true.

Okay, not really.

But, you gotta admit...there's nothing like a "Coffee Date for the Student's Soul."  Now, there's a New York Time's Best-Seller.

I am particularly under-caffeinated and have spent way too much money within the past couple of days.  That's why this post is so short.

Actually, this post is short because I had a great idea for a post while I was taking a nap, and when I woke up I couldn't remember it.  True story.

Maybe if someone bought me that 'mongous cup o' joe featured here, I'd be able to write some entertaining prose.  Until then, you'll just have to wait until the creative-dream-thing happens again and I can actually remember what it was I was going to write.  Thanks! 
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