Definition for happiness: state of well-being characterized by emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy.

You may know that I’m Polish, Irish, and Catholic. Or in other words, I’m more than built for having a huge family to continue on the string of eating, breeding, Polish/Irish Catholics. This isn’t something I’m ever going to fight. It’s what I want. A huge family. I want to be able to surround myself with people that I will unconditionally love because they are my own flesh and blood. This has always been a big deal to me. Being the dork I am, I’ve done some thinking and decided between three and seven kids would be appropriate for my desires. Yeah, you’re thinking “Seven kids?!” And I’m thinking “Only seven kids?!” That’s what makes me different. That doesn’t even seem like many kids to me. Because that’s what I want. Getting married to my best friend and the love of my life. Having kids. Watching them grow up together. Becoming grandparents. It’s my goal in life.

I’ve always been the nurturing type, hence why I’m going to be a nurse. What better way to keep from suffocating my children and friends with care then to care for other people’s kids and friends. My friends always called me ‘Mommy’ whenever I’d start asking questions to help figure out what’s wrong with them and the best way to fix the problem. I use to find this insulting. I even tried to stop caring so much. But it felt wrong to do that. So I just decided to wait until I found the person that let me do that and have it not be a problem for him. Anyone that lets me ask a continuous flow of questions and answers them without a second thought has to be good for me.
Now to kids. Children. Pregnancy. The whole thing gets me excited. Just the thought of being pregnant and I’m bouncing in anticipation. I’m not even taking into account the pre-pregnancy ritual. I always seem to completely forget about that (I get reminded of that on occasion..). Which is funny. And I then feel bad when I do remember. But babies. Feeling a baby move inside you, bringing life to the world. What greater gift is there in the world? None that I’ve ever been able to find. Not that I’ve actually had a baby of my own (yet), but it’s just a feeling I have. It seems so right. Like this was the reason I was brought to earth.
Currently I’m reading Sing You Home by Jodi Picoult. When I got the book, I must not have read the cover or something. The most I took from the synopsis was that it’s about music therapy. I think my aunt just told me that that’s what it was about, and didn’t tell me anything else. I started reading it and it starts out by going through Zoe’s struggles with pregnancy. It’s actually killing me a little to read this. The thought of myself not being able to have children has scared me from a young age. But I will continue to read it. I need to know how it ends up. So far it’s been predictable, just based on what I’ve seen in the past from books and real life. But I do not know how she’ll end up. I wonder if reading it may make me appreciate having kids more, or scare me more that I may be just like her. But I do know that if I don’t read it, I’ll always wonder, even if the book ends in a way that causes me tears.
I know this was a lot of personal information that wasn’t really “necessary”. But it was. In a way. The way I see it, I’m going to live life the way I want. I’m going to cherish the moments I have, and love with all my heart. Some things may not go as I plan, some things may hurt me so much I think the world will surely crush me where I stand. But what doesn’t kill me will only make me stronger.
Recently I got a new charm for my James Avery bracelet. The Serenity Charm. It’s a symbol of many things for me. To keep going. To be happy even when it’s hard. To fight for what I want. To appreciate the things I do have. But most of all to not try to change things that I have no power or control over. I know Alcoholics Anonymous uses this poem for their meetings to help the members, but I’ve always loved it. For myself.
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
 
I’ve always been so serious and high strung and tried to change things that I can’t. I’d feel out of control when some thing goes wrong. But I realized that there’s something that are out of my hands. It took years to do this. But it’s so much healthier to live life how it is, accept it the way it is, and not be unhappy if one thing goes how I did not expect it. Be grateful for what you have every day of your life, don’t wish for things that aren’t possible. You’ll be happier. You’ll be healthier. You’ll change your life and see things you never saw before. So open your eyes, smile, and don’t be afraid to want what you want or to be scared.
 
While I’m terrified of not being able to have my husband’s children and bring life into this world, I know that I’ll get through it. With my husband. There might be a chance he leaves me because I can’t have his children, but I’ll know that if he does, he wasn’t right for me in the first place and maybe that’s why I couldn’t conceive. I just know, if it’s right, it’ll happen. I’ve learned not to fight what scares me. There’s no point. Someone will get hurt. I will get hurt.
 
So feel. Whether it’s happy, sad, angry, confused. Just feel something. That’s the best thing. Show your emotions. Let people know how you feel. Remember there are some things that can’t change. Some things you will never have control over. Make best of what you’ve got at the moment.
 
Be happy. Live. Love. Laugh. And do all those often. For you. For everyone around you. It’ll spread. You could change someone’s life. Just the way I hope I’ve shed some light on one of yours.
 
xoxo, the little birdy.
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Read between the lines.

I did not write this, nor do I take any credit for this next segment of blog (in italics). I do however find that this relates very closely to me. I do read a lot. Okay a lot is putting it lightly. Books are my passion. I can fall into the unreality of them and get lost in them. Then when they’re over, sometimes it takes me a moment to come back down to Earth and realize it wasn’t real. Sometimes it makes me more sad than it does other times, it depends on the book. This next passage is the best way to get to know me, I think. It’s not exactly right but the principles are all there. I hope this helps my readers get a little closer to what’s near and dear to my heart. From wanting to give my kids strange names, to getting lost for hours in an author’s made-up world, to having my coffee go cold because I forget about the world outside of my pages, to asking for book money more often than clothes money, and especially not being happy when I’m interrupted, this is me. Even if it doesn’t begin to fully cover it :p


xoxo, the little birdy.
Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve. Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow. She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book. Buy her another cup of coffee. Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice. It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does. She has to give it a shot somehow. Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world. Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two. Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries. If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are. You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype. You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots. Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads. Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

On a slightly different, yet related note. My fellow Harry Potter and all around book lover friend, Bailey, has started a YouTube channel where she will be giving book reviews. It’s only recently started (yesterday), but I know it’ll be amazing. She’s the first person I turn to when I need another book idea (which happens frequently since I burn through them so quickly). I hope you’ll find her reviews as beneficial as I do. Even if yall’s will be far more formal than mine are. Here is the channel where you can find her reviews: http://www.youtube.com/baileyspazztia !

I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.

For those that do not know, I have a mild (okay fine, all consuming) obsession with Harry Potter. I know the most random of trivia about the books and movies. This makes me happy. In ways most could not begin to fathom. But I’m alright with this. I’ve accepted it. I always knew I was different.. I still say I should have gotten my letter when I was 11, life is so not fair.

Anyways! The last two days I have spent my time at the theater watching the hp movies for the last time on the big screen. Sadly I missed the first and fourth because of class and a test I had to study for. Then I saw the midnight premiere of the Deathly Hallows Part 2 (in 3D). It was magical. I cried like a baby. The end.

Hhahaha yeah right. Basically the issue I seemed to continuously be faced with was the fact that people in this marathon felt the painful need to laugh and cheer and such. I know most of yall have seen these movies before. Calm the f down! I know it’s hp and I love the books and movies, but this isn’t new! Save your energy for the final movie! Christ’s sake. I just wanted to overdose on hp after my fish died and instead I’m faced with the overwhelming urge to punch people in their throats. By the sixth and seventh movie, where people have cheered like maniacs and acted like all around fools, I was terrified that people were going to be that obnoxious during the final movie.

Now yes, they were annoyingly loud and yes, I did miss far too much of the movie because I couldn’t hear over all their noise, but at least people were silent when silence was deserved. The only sounds were the faint movements of fingers brushing away tears and sniffles. This included everyone. Men, women, children alike. In tears. Now I have never in my life shed actual tears in a movie, but I did. Then I’d calm down. But right after I’d start crying again because I realized hp was done! No more book releases (though those ended a while ago), no more midnight premieres, no more dressing up, no more dorking with my friends about hp. Life as I know it has ended. What else is there to live for but HARRY FREAKING POTTER.

Now that I’m done with the melodramaticness of that.. I should tell yall about my experience with this lady in the theater that was obviously a poser hp fan. I’m being lazy and copying this from my fb conversation with the lovely Bailey (whose tumblr is linked conveniently on the right side of this page). A little boy ran across the aisle in front of me, proclaiming that he had seen a Death Eater in the lobby. She quickly asked if he knew the appropriate spell to defeat them. This lady told a boy the wrong spell saying “Expecto Patronus” would get rid of a Death Eater. I calmly looked at her and told her that was a dementor. I should have told her that a Death Eater would laugh in your face if you did that. ): I then had to tell her what the “wand wave away flick thing” was Expelliarmus. And no, that wouldn’t do much for you against a Death Eater because you’re no where near as amazing as Harry James Potter. People these days! Know your Harry Potter or gtfo.

I miss Harry Potter already. Of course I’m going to go see the movie again. How could I not. My children will one day read the books that I grew up with, will appropriately be Sorted into Slytherin (though I won’t love them less if they go into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, probably a little less if it’s Hufflepuff though.. I mean all that comes out of Hufflepuff is sparkly vampires!), and most importantly love these books! They’ll never die. I’m going to make sure of that. As are many of my fellow hp lovers out there.

Now that this is all said and done, the only thing left to say is: Mischief managed.

xoxo, the little birdy.

Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

Stop requested

I would just like to start this blog by giving a small eulogy to my late betta fish, Chuck. I had him for nine months. It was a good nine months. He was very spoiled and such. Alas, I left him to go on vacation for a few weeks in hopes that I would return to him in the same condition but that was not the case. So, he died last night. Probably painfully, but I’m going to hope that that was not what actually happened. So here’s to you Chuck, I love youuu. RIP. ❤

Now to the point at hand. PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION. I know, I love it, but I also hate it. Like why does it change depending on the season. Well on my university campus, at least. How confusing. I’m sitting at the stop just waiting for the bus to get there. When, 35 minutes later, after three buses were supposed to have stopped there, one shows up. I’m so upset at this point because it would have been faster to just walk to the garage where I parked my pickup, but no, I was determined, so I waited. That night I’m hanging out with my future roommate (who also got us tickets for the Harry Potter Marathon and the midnight premiere in 3D, which should say a lot), when I asked her about the buses that run on campus. Here is when I find out that the schedule is actually completely different over the summer.
SIGH.
However, I have a good quote that my lovely friend Thomas said while I was growing increasingly frustrated over the fact that a bus had not yet arrived to take me to the closest stop to the parking garage. He made me giggle like a mad woman when he said, “Welcome to the world of public transportation, where being late is more a rule than an exception.” I knee slapped for far longer than necessary, but nothing bad about a nice laugh after being so perplexed about the tardiness of my bus.
Luckily for my, my prof seems to time her lectures based on when the bus comes (every 30 minutes), so I have yet to have to wait for half an hour. Bite my tongue, I probably just jinxed my self. KNOCK ON WOOD OR A VIRGIN’S HEAD. Derp. Hopefully this continues. I really don’t want to walk in the 100 degree Texas heat for 20 minutes to get back to my pickup when I can easily hop on a nice air conditioned bus to take me there instead.
Here is where Thomas makes some joke about how lazy I am. D:
So yeah. I’ve even become accustomed to actually pulling the little cord thing to announce that I would like to be let off the bus. I was a hot mess of anticipation the first time I might have had to pull it because no one else was going to. I’d get all hot faced from blushing and awkwardly look around. Now, however, I get so mad if someone pulls it before I do. I guess that’s how these things work. Or I’m just insane. You take your pick.
OHOHOH, awkward eye contact with the bus driver? I am sooo good at that. It’s like an art form.
Okay random thoughts are done, I’m going to go back to my Skype call where I’ve been rudely ignoring Thomas for the length of time for which it took me to write this.
ADIEU, MES AMIS.
xoxo, the little birdy.
PS: I am overdosing on Harry Potter tomorrow, you have permission to be jealous.

Chivalry: definition unknown

[This is extremely random, but that’s the way I like it. TODAY IS MY HALF BIRTHDAY. Only six months left of being a teenager. Get pumped, yall!]

Being from the glorious South, I grew up knowing the ins and outs of what is expected of us in regards to respect and manners, etc. Maybe those aren’t the right words. But they’ll work I guess. Generally, we’re taught how we’re supposed to interact with each other. In most cases, it’s generally expected of men to hold doors for other people, especially women (as well as the elderly). This hasn’t really been the case as of late, unfortunately. Call me old fashioned, but I do like (and am extremely flattered) when a guy legit holds the door open for me!

Now, I go to what used to be a fairly conservative all male army college. Then they let women and everyone else in. Twenty years ago, it wasn’t uncommon for a man to hold the door open for many people. But now in the year 2011, the instance of doors being slammed in faces is rapidly occurring. This may not be a big deal to some people, but it is to me. I can accept just pausing to allow the person behind you to grab the door before continuing to walk so it doesn’t shut, but completely ignoring the person is just plain rude.
On a side note, I actually had the privilege of having the door held open for me today. In the building I was going into on campus has two sets of doors you enter. The first time the guy just paused to hold the door and kept walking after I grabbed it. BUT, at the next door he actually opened it and let me through first. It was magical. I mean, this never happens and it definitely made my day. He may have been doing it just to check me out, but I’m going to disregard that because of the fact that he did hold the door like a real gentleman.
I’ve actually talked to people that are offended by other people holding the door open for them. Or waiting until they can catch it so it doesn’t slam shut in front of them. Offended? Really? They claimed it made them feel like the other person thought that they were incapable of doing it themselves. That’s probably one of the dumbest loads of crap I’ve ever heard. Maybe that’s just a different upbringing than mine. I still feel like, they’re in my state (yes My State), they should at least attempt to abide by the everyday rules that are generally followed. Pausing for a few seconds to avoid possible injury, or having someone be polite enough to wait for you to catch up is not INSULTING. It is POLITE AND KIND. It isn’t going to hurt you.
So next time you’re going through a door, pause for a moment and look around, be kind to your peers. Kindness is contagious.
xoxo, the little birdy.

The Power of Words

We use words in our every day lives. Asking for directions, telling someone good morning, or even cursing out the person that just cut you off and slowed down on the freeway. No one really ever stops and takes into account the affect those words may have on a person. I know some people don’t intentionally use their words wrong, but that doesn’t always make the situation less painful when the wrong thing comes out. It’s so easy to mis-communicate that there’s always going to be some sort of disagreement that ruins an hour, a day, a week or even a lifetime. Personally, I have the problem that I tend to bottle up all emotion and keep it there. I don’t let it out. I don’t show it. I don’t even feel anything sometimes because of it. Yeah that sounds emoscreamo, but that’s not what I’m getting at. The problem is more wide spread than just me, I’m sure. I am positive about this. Because I know that when you do just what I do and keep everything in until one little thing sets the bottle spilling over, your words are screwed. You won’t make sense. Nothing will ever come out right until you solve the issues that are really getting at you.

Granted, I like to think I’m fairly good with my words majority of the time. Sometimes my sentences don’t make complete sense because I get ahead of myself, but the same thought is there. I can curse a person out like a sailor if they mean very little to me. It is the worst when the person on the other end is someone that really matters, right? Right. Half of me wants to just say what I feel because that tends to work things out (good or bad) in the end, but the other half is so worried about hurting someone (myself or the other person) that I don’t. Even right now, I’m sure I’m barely making sense. Great. I’m so akajglakerabuaksdfl right now that nothing is coming out right. I couldn’t even make polite conversation with the cashier at the grocery store. I felt like a straight up ass because of it.
Maybe I should try again. I love fighting with people. It exhilarates me in a sick, disturbing way. But for God’s sake I do not like fighting with people that matter to me. To people that I’d give a kidney to. To people that I care for more than myself. Gah that kinda makes me sound like an insane person as well.
IT CAME TO ME. Over thinking. That’s where most things go wrong. I do it. I know a lot of people do it. There are so many thoughts swirling in my mind that no real thoughts can be formed and that ends up putting me in a pickle cause suddenly I have sooo much information and things I want to say but when I open my mouth to speak, it comes out in a hunk of hot mess that makes things worse.
Bah. Words have lost their true meaning these days. That reminds me of this Tim McGraw song, Back When:
We got too complicated
It’s all way over rated
I like the old and out dated
Way of life

Back when a hoe was a hoe
Coke was a coke
And crack’s what you were doing
When you were cracking jokes
Back when a screw was a screw
The wind was all that blew
And when you said I’m down with that
Well it mean you had the flu
I miss back when..

What the heck were we thinking? Why can’t things just be normal. Why can’t everything just stay the same and not get worse. Words are killing us. You say the wrong thing, you could die. You say the wrong thing, you could make someone cry. We really just need a nice long moment of silence to collect ourselves and get our shit together.
Why do people try so hard to say the right thing. I’m probably contradicting myself now. But this thought just came to mind. Why not just say what you really think. Yeah there’s a good chance it’ll suck for the time being, but in the long run, wouldn’t it help? I mean, if you don’t tell the truth, it may not be lying then but it could turn into a huge lie that blows up in your face down the road.
I don’t think I was really going anywhere with this. All yall have plenty of proof that I’m freaking crazy now, but that’s okay. Maybe all these thoughts separate make no sense, but when you smoosh it all together into one thing, maybe it’ll help someone. Just say what you feel. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re wrong because they don’t agree. Don’t let someone change your mind if you truly believe something. Don’t be afraid to disagree with someone. No one thinks exactly the same, that’s what makes things interesting. Use your words wisely, make them worth it. You never know who is listening.
xoxo, the little birdy.