I wonder what life would be like if I were single. I'm thinking I would be in NYC, my guitar, a little crappy artsy apartment, a notebook, some pens, and the basics...I don't think I would care quite as much about what he or she thinks.

Status. Money. Title. Security. Safety.

When I look at myself, just myself, those things DO NOT matter. How did I let myself become so detached?

I feel stifled. This is not his fault. It is my fault for caring too much about what he thinks, his faimly, etc.

Right now, I just want some time completely alone. To find myself. And not who others want me to become.

How long have I been worried about security? About what's practical?

I am Sara Rose - artistic, absent-minded, neurotic, impulsive, musical, and filled with empathy and emotion. Why do I always run from who I am?

What I can't believe is the things I worry about. We hear more about Nicole Richie & Britney's haydays w/ Paris Hilton than we hear about Darfur.

1st grade art class
1990

The frizzy haired art lady might have been crazy, but I had quite an affinity for her. After all, she brought goodies like construction paper, finger paints, and way more colored pencils that what I had in my Crayola set. Sure, she listened to Yanni, wore thick wool sweaters with oversized owl appliqués, and smelled like a combo of cats and apple pie, but at least she tried to inspire creativity.
Admitting that I liked Ms. W was the first mistake I made. It is not a mystery that kids can be incredibly blunt. People with big noses, frizzy hair, moles, and kids that smell weird are all fair game for ridicule. Intuition generally comes in time.
There was nothing about me that fit in. I was the new kid at a small country school that wore matching outfits with my little sister and took art class way to seriously.
I could make kick-ass paintings that blew M’s out of the water, get the teacher to praise me for my “amazing” skill in writing, and ace the spelling bee like you wouldn’t believe. I thought I could make them jealous enough to like me. Right idea, wrong method. I should have realized that (1) what I wore and (2) who I associated were the two determining factors in the elementary school caste system.

There is one day I remember in particular. Ms. W announced with a thoughtful grin “Class, today we are going to create hats that represent who we are. I want you to look into yourself and think about who you are and who you want to become.” Immediately, my desk turned into a construction zone. I knew exactly who I was. Chopped colored paper flew on the floor, sticky glitter glue stuck to my desk, and pencils and ribbon assembled in a fitful mass. Nearing the end of the class period, I proudly displayed hat to Ms. W.
“This is beautiful Sara! You must be …”
“A princess!” I shouted, “My daddy told me that Sara means princess!”
In my heart, I was a princess. I felt beautiful and loved. My mom braided my hair every morning to make me beautiful and my dad kissed my forehead every morning to make me feel loved. I had the two things that every woman yearns for: beauty and love!
Ms. W. instructed me to show off my princess hat and ask others about their hats. Proudly, I walked around the class. I had always wanted to be friends with M, so I decided it would be best to show her first.
“Hi M! This is my princess hat.”
She responded with a comment that was so simple, but incredibly catastrophic to who I would really become.
“Well that’s nice Sara. But, look at your hands. They are really ugly.”

My heart sank as I looked down to see my nail-bitten, multi-colored, near bleeding fingers covered in dried glue. In less than five minutes, a memory was created that I would never forget. Why did this girl’s opinion hold more weight than my parents? Suddenly, I was no longer a princess. I was no longer beautiful. I was “ugly.” The word “ugly” has tormented me since the day.
Not long after, I found myself alone on the playground. It was somewhere in March, when the snow takes on a new form in Michigan. The temperature is right above freezing, so the snow becomes thick and malleable and is perfect for snow ball fights. My favorite place was away from all the equipment and most of the other kids, in a little pine grove where I could lay down and make snow angels. I was trying to get to my favorite spot, but the snow was difficult to trudge through. Ahead of me was a giant pool of slush, snow, and freezing water. Shouts came from behind me “Loser!” as I was struck by several snowballs in the back of the head. Three boys from my class began to chase me. I had nowhere to run, except straight ahead into the giant pool of freezing water. Before I got there, they had already caught up to me, surrounded me, and pushed my face down into the pool of water.
I never told the recess lady about what happened. I never told my parents. I thought that if I didn’t tell, maybe they would be my friend. Maybe, if I was nice enough, someone would be my friend.

The idea of being a princess...of being loved unconditionally...is long gone. Now I'm something that's quite cold. And I don't think anyone knows me.

A hypocrite. Yes. Probably always will be.

I have very little desire to give this up. Except for the insomnia part. Thank god for concealer.

Yet, I hate seeing this addiction in other women. It kills me to see what women do to themselves, how (we) talk to ourselves, how (we) pick and grab saying "this is disgusting."

I guess I can conclude with, I am a work in progress. Sometimes progress means falling back?

Haven't a clue.

My newest addiction: myspace.

My artist page: www.myspace.com/rosemusic
MY profile: http://profiles.myspace.com/users/13479313

AH. Neck strain.
The Anderson home is UNDER CONSTRUCTION
and I am the only one
assigned
to paint
the entire damn house.

But hey the colours look sexy; brick (which I am totally in love with), a dark beige, and a lighter beige for the ceiling. And when it is all finished...I can't believe my parents are selling the house. This may be news for some of you. They are buying a fricken RV and are going to travel the US and do psycho quixtar. OMG, they are crackheads.

I was like, "Well, aren't you guys going to let luke finish public education?"
"Um well. We think it's best that we start home schooling him. Your generation is becoming way to open to things like sex, drugs, blah blah blah."

(Um hello mom. Remember the 60s, your LSD, and your marijunana brownies? And when you stood outside the veal farm with signs that said, Don't kill the baby lambs!" or something like that? )

"Well doesn't home schooling produce delinquent children? The kind that can't assimilate into college because all they know are mommy and daddy? The kind that have ADD into their 30s?"
"Well. We just don't know yet, ok Sara. You over-react!"

I assume they'll do whatever they like with the precious prince son luke, feed him grapes, and find little slave home-schooled girls to fan him with palm leaves.

But AH. They are so weird.

I tried to get Ben to give me a back massage the other night, (and somehow get rid of this ridiculous pain!) for some reason his massages last on average 48 seconds. He believes they are more like 20 minutes. But I must deny that!

This weekend, Ben and I are going Christmas shopping and we're going to buy each other gifts (secretly...somehow) with the sad amount of change that we have. Oh well, I just think. "Someday we will be rich and I will own lots of things that sparkle." The shallowness of it all! Whether I own a wardrobe of designer clothes someday or not will not matter, I will still love little African children and say that I am going to volunteer! (Hey, I really want to...volunteering abroad actually costs so much $$ Africa is suprisingly the most expensive continent to travel to!!)

Ok, well I'm off.
Everyone have a great day!!!

XOXO

Oh my God, it read my mind.
Well, not quite,
but pretty close.
Sometimes, I love these addictive quizzes.

You Are a Visionary Soul

You are a curious person, always in a state of awareness. Connected to all things spiritual, you are very connect to your soul. You are wise and bright: able to reason and be reasonable. Occasionally, you get quite depressed and have dark feelings. You have great vision and can be very insightful. In fact, you are often profound in a way that surprises yourself. Visionary souls like you can be the best type of friend. You are intuitive, understanding, sympathetic, and a good healer. Souls you are most compatible with: Old Soul and Peacemaker Soul

Ah. I just had the best
3 mile run in knee-high snow.
It was beautiful,
violet and deep purple clouds,
the moon lighting the way.
Icy breath and a sky full of stars.

I'm not going to let the cold keep me inside.

-----

Now, I am going to go make some chicken parmesean avec ma mere.
Have some coffee.
and think of last minute christmas ideas for my friends,
oh how I wish my crochet obsession would have lasted longer than a day.
I could have had nice warm and cozy hats for everyone *tears*

<3

What a week.

In a way, I feel blessed for tough times. Forgiveness is so vital in order to move on. Sometimes I hate doing it, I hate forgiving those that hurt others.

Ben is doing ok. He doesn't have a permanent place to stay yet, but will hopefully have one soon. Our friends are letting him stay there temporarily, until he gets things figured out. I'm so excited for next fall, we will be back in Kalamazoo with our own place and finishing our degrees. I know that having your own apartment comes with setbacks, and living in close quarters with the person you love the most can become difficult.

Ah. But I really truely miss Western. I miss the diversity of the people, the rec center, and classes. I miss learning horribly. I read constantly now, trying to saturate my mind. I miss creative writing and fun blow-off classes. I even miss boring and tedious psych classes. And I miss Bilbo's pizza, the best wholesome wheat-crust pizza in the world.

I'm going to retake Abnormal Psych this semester along with a few others at NCMC to transfer back to Western.

My music is coming along great and I'm so happy with the results.

Well not "so happy"

but somewhat satisfied.

You wouldn't even believe the amount of work that goes into doing this alone. Sometimes, it makes me despise my music (from playing it over and over again). Again, I know that this is neccessary to have kick-ass results.

--------------------

I worked the other night at the golf-course for a wedding party of 175.
I was given five tables, three big rounds of adults and two huge tables of children.

Dave gave me the kiddie tables because he said I have "patience."

Patience with children?

Really, that is something I totally LACK!

But, I know it's really because I was the only one who wouldn't complain about it.

In the end, the night went fine and my nightmares about waitressing were all in vain.

:)