empty

Well. I feel strangely silent.
After all of yesterday's action, and the temper flares, random giddiness, and laspses of loneliness last week, I think I have been drained of all emotion. This seems to be a growing condition. Somedays I think that you could tell me the most shocking thing you know, and I would just look at you blankly, knit my eyebrows, and absently nod my head (while I wonder how I'm supposed to be responding!) NOTE: I am NOT encouraging you to try this or anything. I can only imagine what you'd come up with...

Anyway, on a random note: do you ever just consider your current life and wonder how it got that way? Why things happen the way they do? Why everyone elses life seems so complication-free? Why everything you do, even your very personality seems to invite unwanted...problems?!
(and by the use of "you" in these sentences, I really mean "me" or "I")
How does my life get this way? I have a general plan of what I want to do, am taking slow and steady steps to accomplish my goals, have a nice set of standards, and just try to get through each day through God's grace. But somehow, reality's not so clear-cut. I can't just choose a college, I have to research/compare/analytically challenge each college's pros and cons. I can't just choose a major, I have to factor in job opportunities, housing, state of residence, and marriage--of all things! I can't just have normal, growing, healthy, and beneficial friendships with nice people, I have to invent non-existent problems and deal with so much that I definately don't ask for!
Not that all of this is bad. I'm learning from experience and will hopefully and eventually benefit from all of this. I'm glad that I have parents who help me think things through, and I'm glad that I'm dealing with these issues now. I guess I just want to know when things will simplify---or if they ever will.

dispirited sigh.

Well--yesterday I visited my childhood house with Meg and Adrienne. I lived there until I was 11, and I love going back for some reason. Sentimental value I suppose.

Anyway, the man that lives there now cut down all of our flowers, trimmed all the lower branches off the tree that I spent half my life in, and completely destroyed "the fairy bush"--a huge green plant with enormous, bright purple blossoms. I used to sit in the little space between its branches and the side of the house and construct little "fairy houses"--hence the name. I took a few pictures, and it made me feel really funny. On one hand, just being there again took me back in time and invited a semi-permanent grin across my face. On the other hand, I felt strangely empty. The house was just kindof...barren. Empty and spiritless. It seems weird, but I felt this the most when I witnessed what they had done to my little tree. For those of you who couldn't have guessed, I was a very strange child; very impressionable and willing to try anything. I played in that tree everyday--sometimes with a book, doll, diary, or sketch pad. Christopher had his tree right next to mine, but I definatley had the better of the two. Thick branches created a seat, and there was even a branch where I could prop a book. It actually wasn't that big of a tree (though it seemed so at the time) so the wind easily shook it, especially the smaller, higher branches, creating an endless source of entertainment. Anyway...seeing it cut the way it was made me feel...funny. I walked over to see if my initials were still carved in it, but noticed dejectedly the large amount of bark that had developed on the formerly smooth branches and knew that my carvings had been covered. Looking up once more with a parting sigh, I noticed something else--tied between two branches was the length of rope I had used as a back support. Really, rope and backsupports are not very sentimental at all, and not nearly as romantic as carved initials, but I was instantly fluttery with excitement to see that it was still there.

Anyway...
Strange things make me happy. Like Peach Orchard Punch.

What's your happy juice?