Holidays and Life Changes.

Tis the season to be... beyond busy, stressed out, and gaining weight! Some people call that jolly. The holidays bring back a lot of memories for me, as I'm sure they do for everyone else.  This year, memories involve so much more than Christmas's past.

As of the seventeenth of December, I am no longer a resident of Louisville, Kentucky.  Academically, I have finished college. No more scantrons, no more product IDs, and no more Kentucky.  I'll be brutally honest when I say, "Thank God."  I have been dying to move home since I moved away last fall.  Then again, now that I am gone, it seems a little sad, a little lonely in a way.  I miss my old room, my kittens, my routine, and my freedom.  Instead of that, I gained my dog, my family, my safe home, my best friends, and someone a little more special.

After six months of bad cell reception, grainy Skype quality, poorly timed text messages, and overall not niceties, I got this man back.  It's not been an easy six months, between his overwhelming work load in the Marines, my stress over school and internship, and a three hour time difference, things with us have seemed to fall the wayside.  We spent his birthday, our one year anniversary, and Thanksgiving over two thousand miles apart.

All sadness aside, I now have him back for the remainder of the holiday season and then will regretfully have to hand him back over.  Until then, look at some happy pictures from this break and my happy friends and family.

I was able to go Christmas tree hunting with AJ and his family.  Erika brought along her boyfriend, Keegan, and they are the dictionary definition of a handsome couple.  So obviously there were photos snapped.

This family means so much to me. They have become my Holland family, and my two best friends belong to it.  The Wells have made me feel so welcome, they have given me support, wise words, coffee in the morning, and reason to smile!

To say that I am just excited to be back with this girl, is the understatement of the century.  I am a happy girl, back in my home state, ready to see what God has to throw at me, and I know there will be a lot.

Stay tuned and have a great New Years!


Any photos you see of me here are from my beautiful friend Erika! See past post and her blog here!

Miss Erika.

Meet Erika.  

A fellow blogger, coffee lover, and photographer.  Most of you will recognize her from my various social media updates about her, and some of you have the pleasure of knowing her personally.  She is one of my very best friends.

Around this time about two years ago, I went to a party hosted by my friend, Sarah.  I didn't know anyone who was coming.  I was actually warned about a few of them, so I was understandably apprehensive.                                                                                                                                                 When people started to arrive, I slowly backed myself into the corner of the kitchen, everyone seemed to know one another, they were all very comfortable, and I was looking for any reason to escape.  Then in walked Rachel and Erika, both of them asking about my last name and where I went to school.  As it turns out I had met Rachel my freshman year of high school and I was friends with Erika when I was in beginning band... about 2005.  Needless to say I was completely rude and didn't remember... Whoops!  

Over the next few months, Erika and I bumped into each other a lot.  We bonded over surviving the end of the world, sitting quietly together in a hectic New Years Eve party, and Pinterest partying whenever the movie nights got boring.  Needless to say it was pretty much instant friendship.  

In two years there has been so much that has changed in both our lives.  We helped each other through everything from the celebration of new relationships to the loss of a grandparent.  We spend holidays with each others families, braved blizzards and Michigan roads to attend Christmas parties, survived a post apocalyptic photo shoot together, spent countless hours chatting, skyping, texting, or snapchatting, she has surprised me in Kentucky, and I bring her tea when she is sick.

In March, Erika and I suffered a mutual loss.  Her brother, my boyfriend, left for Marine basic training.  I came home on spring break about a week after he left, and we just sat in her room thinking that the next knock on the door would be him asking to chat with us, or it was him coming up the stairs to sing along with Erika playing the piano.  Needless to say, it wasn't. Over the time he was gone, there were lots of shared "I miss him too's", info passed from his letters, celebrations of his milestones, and prayers for both us and him. Twelve weeks later we were reunited in California to watch him graduate. Which led us to bond over exhaustion, frustration, sun poisoning, and aloe. Hours I would not trade for the world.

She has been such a huge support in my life.  Not just though AJ's enlistment, but also through my struggles at college, with other friends, with family, and most importantly, with God.  She has held my hand through sermons that made me sob, prayers I could not put into words, and through times where I needed the physical support.





I owe a lot to her. I have her to thank for my sanity at times, for my favorite coffee houses, for introducing me to my Marine, for my inspiration in so many things, and for helping me become who I am today.  There will never be a way to repay her for any of these things, but I will try.

Erika is a rare beauty.  Not just in looks, though she is obviously a stunner, but in her heart as well.  From my stories above, you can tell that she is a comforter, and it is not just me she is looking out for.  She is one of the truest and most reliable friends anyone could ask for, and many know what it is like to call her friend.  Her helping hand never falters, wisdom seems to pour out of her, creativity is second nature, and her love seems unfailing.  Wit and genius sparkle in her hazel eyes and grace shows in her every movement.

In about two weeks, I am moving back home, where I will be a mere twenty minutes away from her again.  There is no way of knowing what will happen between us in the time to come, but I can tell you that it will involve more all night life chats, photo shoots, mugs of tea, study dates, and adventures I know God has planned. And I am looking forward to that!

If you want to check out her blog (her photography is amazing) click HERE!

Things People Don't Understand About Culinary Students.

We have real college degrees. 

We took English and math classes just like you.  I will not use my intro to physiology or religion classes in the kitchen, but I still had to take them. 

We love it when people cook for us.  

Please don't be scared to make us food.  We are food lovers not food critics.

We have weird names for things. 

"Robokus" are food processor.  "French" means knife. "Up at" means serve. "Side towels" are pot holders.  

We talk fast, use a lot of French terms, and don't measure.

Get used to it.

We laugh at one-use kitchen tools. 

Apple slicer? We have a knife for that.

We are passionate learners.

We learn best by mistakes, so expect some experiments that are disgusting or delicious... and if its good, don't ask us to replicate it the next night.  We weren't paying that much attention, we won't remember. 

We can work noon to midnight and still have energy to burn.

Our jobs are exciting and hard.  Adrenaline gets us through a shift and it hangs around for a few hours after.  If you want us to come home after work, we are gonna make noise... let us go out with the gang and grab food and drinks before we come home. 

We hate being still.

Don't ask us to sit till the job is done. 

We call things out.

"Sharp! Hot! Open! Behind! Hot and sloppy!" When we yell, pay attention.

We love people and serving them.

Which means working nights, weekends, and holidays.  Don't get upset about us missing Mothers Day... again. 

We hate doing dishes, but we hate not doing them.

Things have to be clean, and it drives us crazy when they aren't

We don't like people to touch our knives. Don't.

Our knives are an extension of our arms.  We know when they need to be sharpened, how they should be weighted, how the grip should be molded, and how we liked them cleaned.  Taking our knives is like taking away the keys from a teenager on their sixteenth birthday.  Expect some screaming. 

We will ask you to do things, but if you aren't fast enough, we will do them ourselves.

Don't get upset with us... we are just trying to get the job done.

We keep the sinks empty unless washing something.  

If we find something sharp hiding under the suds, you will get yelled at.

We have a flow.  

If you mess with it, we will get flustered.  It's just one of those weird ticks we have. 

We can be lewd, vulgar, insulting and obnoxious in the kitchen.

Take it into stride.  The kitchen can be a very stressful and dangerous place.  Even though we seem angry and upset, it is still one of our favorite places to be.

We are scarred.
In more ways than one. We are yelled at, harassed, questioned, and misunderstood even by the people who we love and who love us most.  Our hands also show the evidence, covered in burns and healed punctures, sometimes tattoos, and we are proud of them.

ALSO...

Your colorful knives are embarrassing.
Stop.

Beauty and Strength.

"You are beautiful. You are strong." 

I have heard these words a lot this week.  Compliments paid to me when I am helping someone with lab work or when I show up on the weekend to volunteer my time for an event.  Classmates ask me how I find the time to do everything, how I am strong enough to wake up before dawn every morning, even on my worst days.  How I never seem to let anyone know I am having a bad day. 

People believe that I am beautiful, happy, successful, and strong, but what do those even really mean.  What is beauty?  What is strength?

I don't feel beautiful, when my eyes rimmed with red and draped in purple. I don't feel strong when I break down in the middle of a classroom.  Beauty cannot be found in my hastily braided hair, and strength is not defined by hiding under the covers.

I am not beautiful.  I am not strong.  I am just a very good actress.

I keep a level head when people are counting on me, but I am put into a tailspin when I'm counting on myself to keep it together.  I try not to let people see me cry, I hide. That is not what I call strength.  I call that embarrassment, humiliation, weakness. Those are the words that come to mind when someone says nice things about me.  I smile at their ignorance about who I really am.  I never let the compliments sink in.

I smile. I work. I get the job done, but I'm crumbling.

To me, beauty means I am hiding behind God-given curls, mascara, and anything that will make it look like I got more than five hours of sleep.
To me, strength means I am hiding behind a smile and a convincing "I'm great."

I am not complimented by beauty or strength, because I see them for what they really are.  They are really just hiding.

So I am not beautiful, I am not strong.

I know these words aren't inspiring, I wish I could come up with some that are.  But today, as I am writing this, I look on in envy of those who seem to have their lives all together.

The ones who aren't crying in the middle of class.
The ones who are better at relationships.
The ones who don't need makeup to make them look flawless.

Then I realize, they are hiding too.  Just in a different way.  They don't struggle with everything that I do, but they have their own struggles they are hiding from the world.

So today, this post is to let any of you who feels crushed and weak know that you are not alone.  You are not the only one, you are not a bad person for crumbling, and it is okay to ask for help.  It is okay to just break down and need a hug, a bag of chocolate, and a day off every once and a while. And I promise you, you will be beautiful and strong again soon. 

Culinary School

I have been at culinary school for over a year now and I have never actually shown you guys any of it!

So today, I changed that!  I woke up really early on my day off and headed in to school, armed with my uniform and camera.

For those of you who don't know me well, I am a fifth quarter culinary student at Sullivan University. Which means I am little over four months away from graduation.  Technically the school calls me a sophomore, since I have been at school for about thirteen months, but because I am so close to graduation, I call myself a senior.




I'll definitely write another post after graduation about my time here, but for now here are some fun photos!

Mis En Place

Clean up

(Thanks to my oh-so photogenic classmates who let me take pictures and get their way this morning!)

Laughter and Memories

Lauren; The Blogger.

Edit. Cut. Reword. Rename. Omit. 

Four hours later and I will still never publish anything.  In the last year of this blog, I have found myself caught somewhere between over sharing and not-so-subtle cryptic messages. None of those make a good blog post.  Which seems to be the problem with my blog.  

I write what is on my mind.  Sometimes I just write for the sake of writing.  I do not have a target audience, I'm pretty sure those of you who read my blog are the ones who find my link off Facebook, which means we are friends.  This is the kind of stuff I would share with you over a cup of coffee, or on a road trip.  Long rants, but here I am not interrupted by anything but my own thoughts.  For someone who lives hundreds or thousands of miles away from those she would normally ramble to, this blog has turned into my outlet.  

For about the first year of this blog, no one knew about it.  I never shared it on social media, never mentioned it to friends or family, I just wrote.  Slowly I worked up the courage to share things on my Facebook page, mostly to let people keep up with me after I left for college... Because I am a notoriously bad friend when it comes to long distances. 

Some of my most popular posts are those that are the most personal... About my relationship, my body image, and my view on dating.  That will never cease to amaze me... And scare me.  Suddenly my blog became a source of stress.  

How much is too much to share?  People will read this... I'll have to edit that part out.  I don't want people to know that I'm not doing well.  Why can't I find an answer to this problem? 

I went from being carefree about what I posted, because no one read it anyways, to someone who was overly concerned about how things look to my readers. 

The last time I wrote a post, I ended up taking it down almost immediately, because it was too much of me and not enough of Lauren; the blogger. I sat in a coffee house and cried about what I had just written, making all the business men around me very uncomfortable.  That post didn't have a strong conclusion... it actually ended with me crying out for help.  It was raw, it was me, and I deleted it.  

I was scared of what other people would think, that they would suddenly realize that I was imperfect and failing.  Other bloggers aren't like that, with their perfectly edited pictures, inspirational stories, and perfect families. Then there is me, a nineteen year old mess of a college student. But no one should know that. 

This is crazy! No one is perfect, even other bloggers with their pristine Instagrams, seemingly angelic children, and artistically plated meals.  They are just like me, carefully editing and omitting the nitty gritty that is real life.  

So here is my honest statement about this blog... I don't know what I am doing.  I am learning everyday and sometimes that means that I falter and don't have a witty conclusion to wrap it all up nicely. 

Is that okay?  Maybe it is.  Maybe that post was written so that someone can understand that it's not just their life that seems to be in shambles.  That no matter how glamorous a person can describe their life, it is still hard, and it takes work.  That Lauren; the blogger, is actually Lauren; the rambler.  Cause I think I just might like that title more.

Tick-Tock

Time is the most precious commodity and we can't get more of it. - Robert Irvine

Sometimes there are days that never end, month-long weeks, twelve hour shifts that feel longer than my entire college career, and other times there are days that disappear, a year that felt more like a couple of random weekends and Christmas break than my entire freshman experience.

I will be the first to admit, I am an expert time waster.  With the help of social media, I can make two hours feel like fifteen minutes.  It's almost an art form.   But we have all heard this spiel before; "Life is over in the blink of an eye." I have heard this from my elders for years.  "I blinked and my kids were grown."  Don't blink seems to be the overwhelming consensus.  But lately that seems to be all I have been doing.

Yesterday I was sixteen and terrified of driving a car.  Twenty minutes ago I was trying to work up the courage to talk to a boy I really liked. ...Wait... It's Monday?!

Normally I don't notice these things, but at work yesterday I got a rude awakening to how cruel time can be.   While working an event for school, our speaker for the night made an alarming announcement in front of not only the crew, but also, his entire audience.  Just hours before the show, he had lost his father.

He showed an extreme amount of decorum during the entire day.  Even those who worked closest with him, were ignorant of the fact.  After this startling announcement, we all stood in shock.  Crew and audience alike.  Our host took a short pause, then gave us some words of wisdom to take with us, that I know will resonate with us for a long time.

He told us to keep in mind what is really important to us.  To not let time slip away.

As he said these words, I watched husbands hold their wives a little closer, mothers kiss their children's foreheads, and the look in an old man's eye; telling more of a story than words ever could.

No matter who we are; celebrity personality, military, college student, businessman, mother, or child, time hides itself from all of us.  It does it very well, looking for the perfect opportunity to come out of the wood work and surprise us.

Don't let it go unnoticed.  Pay attention to time as it passes, and be thankful for every second we have.  Good or bad.

The Perfection in the Hustle and Bustle.

Here I am again, in the midst of hectic quarter.  My alarm clock seems to cackle at me every morning at five, getting too much enjoyment from my exhausted attempts to press snooze.   My chef this quarter is retired military, so this means, if you are early, you are on time, and being on time means you are late.  So class for me, starts at six forty-five.  There is a large amount of pressure and an even larger amount of laughter that happens during this class.  Professionalism is replaced by sarcasm, and if you can't take a joke, it is time to take a walk.  This makes five am worth it to some extent.  The snooze fest of my other classes, not so much.

Homework piles up and I fight to find the motivation to type notes every night, study for irritatingly frequent tests, and crank out five hundred words on a topic I find completely pointless.  What keeps me going?  The promise of only nine more weeks of this madness, and after that, I never have to do it again.

Now and again though, it isn't always enough. I just can't care about the history of dining room service anymore, and I run to the every understanding arms of Netflix or escape to a tiny coffee house and nurse a Chai tea, listen to almost painfully hipster music, and edit pictures.

Just like so many quarters before this, I am struggling.  It isn't the class load, it isn't even the distance from my loved ones.  It is the pressure to be perfect, and falling short so often.   I am supposed to have a plan, a "where do you want to be" list made up, with steps on how to get there.  I thought that I would have one by now.  But in reality, right now, my list is blank and screaming at me to figure this life of mine out.

It screams; "why don't you have a job; why aren't you getting better grades; why don't you know what you want in life?" Right now, I can't quench my thirst for those answers, and I have hit the bottom of many a coffee mug looking for them.

As easy as it is to find things to complain about in the hustle and bustle of my life, I sometimes have to take a step back and appreciate the little things.  Like being able to escape to the comforts of a good cup of coffee, a solitary drive every morning, and kittens napping in the sun as you snap picture of them.  (If you have seen my instagram lately, I seem to be more than a little bit cat crazy).  Remembering to take a deep breath and reminding myself that I don't have to be perfect right now, is something that doesn't happen enough and should happen a lot more often.

I have to find the perfection in the chaos that is my life.  How ever small and infrequent as those occurrences may be.

Happy Days.

Happy isn't something I always have in my day-to-day life.  In the last year, there have been a lot of days where happy feels like the last emotion I could experience.  Stress over school, relationships, and my lifestyle take control of my life and their grip doesn't loosen easily.  It takes a drastic change, usually found at the end of a seven hour car trip.  

Life is more happy when I am home in Michigan, surrounded with familiar faces, places, and coffee houses.  Even here, the stress of school still haunts me.  I have nightmares about being late to class or missing a test I didn't know I had.  Relationships follow me everywhere, and there always things that need improving.  Sometimes the only way to do that is to have a good cry, go to bed early, and try again tomorrow.  But my lifestyle in Michigan does change, drastically.  I sleep. A lot. It is glorious.  I also get to spend time with some of the people I love most in this world.  

Now I am facing the reality of having returned to Kentucky and another three months of seven am labs, homework, and doing my own laundry. I didn't want this break to end, but alas, I don't get everything I want. Bummer.  So here are some pictures of things that make me happy in Michigan.  Enjoy!

Apple Orchard Adventures.

"Try Again."

This is a post I have needed to write for a long time, but haven't been able to find the means to convey it.  Tonight I found my anecdote.

Since I have been back home, I have taken over responsibility for my dog, Tessa, again.  Feeding her, bathing her, and letting her outside.  Tonight, after a particularly emotional evening, I let my dog out like usual and was sitting outside in the lovely 50 degree Michigan weather, praying.  Hoping that God could give me an answer in Morse coded cricket chirps.  No such luck, but he did give me a slight epiphany.

 The chain that I attach to Tessa's collar when she is out, sometimes gets stuck on the staircase on her way back inside, not allowing her to climb up.  Now being the smart dog that she is, she know the command "try again" and when I give it, she goes back down and tries again.  On the second time, the chain is readjusted and she runs right inside.  She knows this.  This is how it works.  But sometimes she is too confident, turning so quickly that she doesn't allow the chain to move, and on her second try, she is choked and pulled back down.  I always chuckle at her and repeat "try again" and the next time she goes slower and makes it up.  Yet sometimes, showing her true puppy nature, she still wants to run, and is pulled down a third time.  That is when she yelps, she makes a small pathetic sound and stands at the bottom of the stairs, not willing to try again.  She is waiting for me.  Waiting for me to come move her chain for her, so she can run up those steps with no fear, because it always works when I help her.

I am like Tessa, life is my chain, struggle is my staircase, and God is my master.  I can go through my life fine on my own most of the time.  There are some days where I can run from one end of the yard to the garage and never have to stop.  It's almost as if I fly over the stairs without batting an eyelash, but other days, I stumble on that first step.  I get caught and God has to tell me to "try again," I turn around and with all determination I run up those stairs again.  This time I make it.

Next time I won't.  

Next time I will try again, and stumble once more.  God will chuckle at my enthusiasm and tell me to try again.  Then I will slow down, carefully letting the chain move and I will make it up.

But then there are nights where I don't make it up the second time.  That when I stumble again, I won't listen to my master's command of "try again."  Instead I will sit at the bottom of my staircase and I will whimper.  I will cry out until my God comes and helps me move my chain, so that I can run without fear.

This is how my life is, and I am incredibly humbled to realize that I am just as helpless as my twenty pound mongrel.  That I need help just to get inside.  That I can't do it alone every time.  That as much of an independent woman that I think I am, I still need God to give me the command and to step in when I can't climb my struggle alone.

So tonight, God didn't send me coded messages though the crickets night songs.  Tonight God showed me that regardless of what I am going through, I need to try again, and when I feel like I can't anymore, He will be there to help me out.

Grand Rapids.

In the month since I have written last, I have completed my all my finals, which concluded my first year of college, and I returned home for my fall break!  I have returned to Michigan, and I am beyond thrilled.

Not only do I get to be surrounded by my friends and family again, but I also have a great deal more freedom here than I do in Louisville.  I can actually go out and grab coffee with friends, visit my old instructors, or even just run errands.  Never though running errands would be that enjoyable.  But it is amazing what cabin fever will do to you.

A few days after I got back, my parents and I went to the Grand Rapids farmer's market.  Enjoy the pictures!

Faith.

To say that my faith has been tested over the last year, would be an understatement.  Over the course of the last four quarters, I have begun a less-then-convenient relationship with an amazing man, I started school four hundred miles away from my home, I have dealt with months of sexual harassment, and medical repercussions from said harassment.  I've lost and gained friends, had three months of minimal contact with previously-mentioned boyfriend, spent hours hiding tears from my roommate(s), and even more time hiding from God.

A little while ago, during a talk with two of my best friends, I began to complain about my life.  I admitted I didn't know what I was doing.  I didn't understand why my life was the way it was.  My friend, Erika, asked me, "when was the last time you prayed?"  (She is notorious for asking these hard questions, and I love her for it).  Do you know what my answer was?  "I don't know." I couldn't tell her.  Looking back, it was probably the morning prior, while I was getting ready for my day.  That is usually when I lift my friends up in prayer, I pray for my boyfriend, my family, and anyone else I can think of at five in the morning.  But that is just me going though the motions of prayer.  It doesn't go much deeper than "please help so-and-so with whatever they are struggling with."

I don't pray for myself.  I don't pray for those I don't like.  I don't pray for those who don't ask for prayer.  Honestly, most days, I forget to pray all together.

Erika asked me when was the last time I prayed for myself.  I told her I hadn't in a really long time.   Partially because I always feel selfish, and partially because I'm stubborn.  Not only do I not ask for help, but sometimes I refuse to admit that I even need it!

When I get frustrated with my life and where I am, I don't run to God. I get angry. I'm not angry with God, but I get angry at everyone else.  I lash out at my boyfriend, ignore my friends, and complain for hours to my mother.  Talking to God is never an option.  I'm hiding from Him.

As much as I don't want to admit it, God is not a huge part of my life right now.  Despite what I write on my blog, I'm not as strong of a Christian as I should be. I don't got to church regularly, prayer is sporadic, bible reading is almost nonexistent, and if I'm being honest, I'm less then stellar when it comes to the way I live my life day to day.  Even on the days when my boyfriend, friends, or mother remind me to pray, because 'God has a plan' I just sit and wallow.  I want to miserable, I want to be angry and hate my situation, and hate my circumstances.

I want to lose faith, because holding on to it doesn't feel worth it.

If I don't pray, I don't have to feel bad about cussing at that pan in lab that just won't come clean.
If I don't have faith, I don't have to feel guilty about the mean things I say about my classmates.
If I'm not a Christian, I don't have to obey the rules.

But if I'm not a follower of Christ, I will loose my entire identity.  God is the reason I'm the person I am right now, not only that, but He is the reason I'm where I am today.  Because of God, I have lived a good life.  Not only has he blessed me with a roof over my head and food on the table, for the last nineteen years, but he was also blessed me beyond imagining.  He has given me a wonderful family, amazing friends, a supportive community, and most of all a conscience. 

I can't go without praying for too long without knowing that something is wrong.  I can't go against His laws without feeling guilty.  I can't stop being a Christian.  For me that is impossible.  I am the person I am today because of the morals and values He has instilled in me.  It's more than just my upbringing from my parents, it runs deeper than that. 

Does that mean that after posting this blog post I am suddenly cured of all my evil ways?  NO!  But now I recognize that they are there.  Having faith right now isn't easy, it's not something that comes naturally to me and I have to work for it.   There are some influences in my life that make having faith harder. They keep me in my sinful ways.  That is God testing me.  And today, I am failing.  Today I have fallen very low; very far away from God's high standards for me.  And do you know what? That's okay.  I can't be perfect all the time, and failing a test just means that I have to study harder.

Today I am failing, but tomorrow will be different, and the next day will be different, as well.  Because I have faith that despite what I go through, God will still be there at the end. All I have to do is keep that faith, as hard as it is, and push through this batch of tests that He is putting me through.  And I know I will be fine.



Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. - James 1:2-3

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God us the Strength of my heart and my portion forever. - Psalm 73:26

Let your hope make you glad.  Be patient in time of trouble, and never stop praying. - Romans 12:12

Eyes and Ears.

We have two new arrivals in our apartment! Over this weekend, we sent Arthur (our previous cat) home to his girlfriend who missed him terribly, and got little Finley instead!  She was discovered by my roommates parents who couldn't keep her because she didn't get along with their current cat!  So rather than her go to a shelter, we made the switch!  Tuesday (the dog) had a little kitten friend at home as well, who has come to live with us.  So, we have two kittens now!  It has been a crazy weekend!

 Meet Jade and Finley! 

Jade.

Finley.  Who is less than pleased!

Two very pretty kittens, and I'm hoping Finley will calm down and actually sit still for more that .3 seconds!

Check out my Flickr for more of the kittens! Link here!

Bonus:  Tuesday!

Doubt.

I am about two quarters away from graduating from college and I am haunted by the question; "What are your plans after college?"  

I am a planner.  I always have been to some extent.  (Don't get me wrong, I love surprises and spontaneity, but only when the surprises are a unplanned weekend visits or trying a new place for dinner). I have always had a plan for my life. Sometimes I change my mind, otherwise I would have a glowing career as a ballerina right now, and that's okay, because sometimes I just have unrealistic plans for my own life.  

As a freshman in high school, I began to plan out my life after high school.  My older brother was graduating and everyone was asking him, "So what's next?" and he could never give them a good answer.  They wanted to know where he was going to college, when he was going to get married, and what kind of job he would have.  I was determined to have a plan, to have answers to all of those questions by the time my senior year rolled around. 

• Attend GRCC for a Baking and Pastry major.
• Live at home throughout college, move out after graduation.
• Meet and marry a guy from college.
• Start my own restaurant with my dad.
• Settle down; with 2.5 kids, white picket fence, and live happily ever after.

That plan got thrown to the dogs when I turned seventeen.  After I finished my junior year of high school, I changed my major, I was definitely a culinary girl. I also changed my school... To one hundreds of miles away...  Grand Rapids Community College wasn't for me. One short year later, I was living in a dorm room in a state I was actually quite terrified of, dating a boy from back home who was on his way to become a U.S. Marine. I no longer wanted to own my own restaurant, and starting a family seemed like a completely hopeless idea.  With graduation so close, and with the definite plan on moving back to Michigan in December, I'm full of doubt about where my life is right now. 

Don't get me wrong, there are some really great things in my life right now. I am dating a wonderful man, my family has been more than supportive about my schooling, and I have had some great memories here, but I sometimes feel so lost.

I haven't been able to plan for anything in almost a year.  There has been something changing at least every eleven weeks, if not more frequently.  Routine has become a coveted thing. And it was become habit to just reevaluate my life every three months or so.  Do you want to know what I have discovered?  I don't know what I am doing anymore!  I am doubting every decision I have made and everything I thought I wanted. 

What are you doing here?  

What are you doing with your life?  

You are just wasting your time.  

You'll never amount to any kind of chef!  

Do you really think you'll make a good mom? 

Do you really think you will ever be successful in any way? 

These things run through my mind on a daily basis.  It takes a lot to push them away, and sometimes I can't anymore.  Sometimes I break down. I let myself believe that I am worthless, with no purpose in life, with nothing but disappointment and broken plans to look forward to.  But that's not true.

Don’t dig up in doubt what you planted in faith. - Elizabeth Elliot 

God has put me here for a reason.  Granted, I do not know what that reason is still, I just have to remind myself that there is one.  One day I'll know or maybe I never will.  Either way, I have to have the faith to say there is a plan... It's just not mine, and I have to learn not to doubt the One I have chosen to put my faith into.  Because putting my faith into myself was not a good idea.  I'm gonna let Him make the plans, and probably still spend a few nights crying, but I will try not to give up on his plans for me. 

Crime of Being Too Nice?

Have you ever heard the phrase, "you're too nice," before? I've heard that phrase more time than I can count.  I heard it in high school, as I helped a fellow student struggling in class.  I heard it when I gave a family I was working for a break on my payment, because they couldn't afford my paycheck.  I heard it when I offered to help pick up a friend's shift at work.  I heard it when I moved into my apartment, running myself ragged trying to live my own life and play "mom" for my roommates.

I finally realized what this phrase meant after someone actually wagged their finger in my face and said, "You're too nice" in the most accusatory tone. I felt bad.  I felt regret for being nice.  I felt as if everything that was happening to me was my fault, and that I needed to be better.  I need to be better than "nice."

This isn't an unfamiliar feeling.  In every instance of being too nice, I realize that I have felt that regret. When in all actuality, its not my fault at all.  In every instance where I was too nice, there was someone on the receiving end who was taking advantage of me.  Using my disposition to their advantage.

But that's how the world works, Lauren.

Yeah, that's right.  That is how the world works.  Those of us willing to use other people to get what we want, will succeed. It happens with all of us.  I will honestly say that there are people I have used to further my life in a positive way.  My parents for one.  They provide for me, when the only 'thank yous' they ever get are cards on holidays and the occasional phone call from their perpetually absent daughter.
We've all "used" people... that's not really the issue.

My issue with all this, is the fact that the nice one is the one blamed when something goes wrong.

"Oh, you're tired?  You shouldn't have covered that extra shift.  You're too nice."

One day I will have children, and I never want to tell them that they are too nice.  I don't think it should even be a phrase in the English language.  I want to look at them, if something goes wrong, and tell them that bad things happen, manipulative people are out there, but don't change who you are and how you treat people.

If my child really loves sharing their lunch with a classmate, I would much rather pack them extra, then tell them not to share.

I don't like the idea that we are raising the next generation to avoid being nice, for fear of what someone else's child may do.  What kind of a world will they grow up in?  One where everyone is too afraid to be nice?  I don't want that for my children, and I'm sure I can get most parents to agree with me.

So here is my proposition, let's quit shaming the nice guys.  Why not emulate them as opposed to alienate them?  Let's not make being nice a crime.

-Lauren

Best Friends.

This weekend I was graced with a visit from two of my very best friends!  Girls Weekend!  It was a much needed break from the stress that I've had this quarter.  Having two girls who are so willing to just go and explore the city with me, makes for some adventures!

Friday; we were able to just explore.  We walked down through town, past restaurants, coffee houses, and cute boutiques.  Taking pictures and making friends!

We stopped at a coffee house called "Quills" chatted with the barista and got permission to play in the shop and take all the pictures we wanted!  And there was free coffee involved so, naturally, I was thrilled!

Behind the lens. 

Free Coffee! 

We then wandered around, and found a small catholic church build out of grey stone with wonderfully red doors. Naturally we took some pictures around it and met Leo.  Honestly, we assumed he was just a really friendly guy walking by the church and saw us with our cameras and wanted a picture!  Turns out he is the custodian of the church we were photographing!  After talking to him, we found out he had been working in churches for almost twenty years and has a little sister in culinary school as well!  We chatted and he asked if we wanted to come inside and see the church.  We accepted and I'm so glad we did!  The church was small but beautiful, with gorgeous stain-glass windows and artistic details.  

*Leo

*

Our Saturday adventures included me heading off to work!  Then thrift shopping, where I got some "new" props for my food photography, more on that to come!  After a long day out, we headed to the apartment for the night.  It was great to just be able to spend quality time with these girls again.  Spending mere days at home every three month and even less time with them, doesn't fill my need for girl time!  So Saturday was spent doing what all girls should do during a girls night...

We laughed.  We cried.  We had noodles.  

Life is good and my friends are pretty, enjoy more pictures!

I am truly blessed with two amazing friends who spent their weekend, and twelve hours in a car, to come visit me!  I can feel really alone here in Kentucky.  I have a lot of people around me, but not many I would call true friends.  These girls sat with me and we talked about our lives, boyfriends, my struggles with school and being away from home, and as I began to feel overwhelmed, I just broke down.  Before the first tear left my cheek, I was surrounded by my friends.  Arms around my shoulders and prayers being whispered to me. They are amazing and I don't know what I would do without them!

Love you girls!

-Lauren


* These pictures were taken by Erika Wells.  Check out her website here!

Apologies.

Now I am understanding what my mother went through for the last nineteen years.  Karma has come back to bite me, even before having my own children.

This post should really starts with a story from almost three years ago.

At age sixteen, I was a nanny for a family of four children, between the ages of one and ten.  For a little more than two weeks, at the beginning of August, I worked between ten and sixteen hours a day.  I cooked meals, played games, cleaned house, settled fights, and played 'mom' to my little ones.  Even when my work day was technically over, I couldn't turn nanny mode off.  I slept on a pull out couch in the living room, and almost every night that twin-ish sized bed was full of me and three little girls.  Coincidence that all three girls had nightmares every night and had to sleep in my bed? I think not.

During the course of the vacation, I realized what a terrible child I used to be.  When I asked the older girls to help me with some of the daily chores like; bringing me the dirty dishes, folding blankets, putting away clothes, and picking up Cheerios that the one year old spilled in his last temper tantrum, I was met with whines and groans.  Worse was not getting a response at all.  After asking four times, usually I would give up and do it myself.  Honestly, the youngest was the most helpful. He seemed to be genuinely happy to help me throw trash away and move all the shoes from one side of the living room to the other.  (Useful, not terribly.  Adorable, always).  One day, after a particularly long and frustrating day I found myself saying some of the same things that my mother used to repeat to me.
"You need to respond when you hear me."
"Pause the movie and do what I asked, the movie will be there when you come back."
"You are watching Barbie; FairyTopia... it doesn't have commercials... Clean your room now! 

Bringing this story to more recent events.

I have been living in my apartment with two roommates for about two-ish months.  To say I am the mother of the group is a bit of an understatement.  Granted I don't have to get the girls dressed and help them brush their teeth every morning, but sometimes I still open my mouth and my mother comes out.
"Hailee you aren't allowed to keep the sun as a pet."
"Stop throwing coasters at the cat!"
"If you two don't stop squawking, you aren't getting dinner tonight.  You aren't peacocks you are humans!"
"Alright, give me the Nerf guns, you have abused each other enough for one day."
"Turn off the TV, we are having dinner!"

Today after a very long day at school, I looked at my mile long to-do list and just wanted to sit a weep for a while.  Cleaning, laundry, dinner, grocery shopping, menu planning, homework, blog writing, and entertaining a guest!  All while my roommates headed out to a movie, with said guest, before coming home wanting dinner.

Such is my life!

So today, I realized that all those little things I did to irritate my mom when I was a kid, came back to bite me in the butt.

So Mom, this is for you. I love you and I am so, so sorry!

-Lauren 

Strawberries.

My boredom on Fridays means you all get to look at some strawberries! Enjoy!

Waiting.

Since I have been back at school, I have had several people ask me about AJ.  The same kind of questions I had mentioned before, but a few asked me a question I honestly didn't expect.

"So, when are you moving out to California?"

The people who ask this don't know AJ, or I, very well. I've only shared a class with them for a quarter or two. I am surprised by this question because it's something that didn't even cross my mind.  I will move back home to Michigan in December, it never occurred to me that moving to California was even an option for me.  Honestly, it's not an option for me, but I realized that my reasons behind that answer, weren't clear to my classmates.

I am a Christian, and part of what I believe is that couples don't live together until they are man and wife. 

When I told my classmates that I won't move in with him until we are married, I got laughed at.  Out right amusement at the fact that I would wait until marriage.  The next thing out of their mouth was "When is the wedding?"  Again... I was a bit taken-a-back.  I have only been dating AJ for ten months.   When I told them how long we had been dating, I was met with more laughter.  Seems that my take on relationships is literally laughable. 

Thinking back, at least three times, since I started dating, I have been asked if I had slept with my boyfriend yet.  When I tell people that I hadn't, that I am a virgin and waiting till marriage, people have shown varying reactions to the news.

Some laugh.
Some tell me I'm a prude, to just sleep with him already.
Some look at me like I am some innocent child, like I don't understand how the world works.
Some look at me with envy, telling me that they wish they would have waited.
Some applaud me for the choice I have made.
Sometimes it is a combination of these.

What gets me is, in the same breath, someone can call me a prude and still be envious of the "innocence" that I have.  I have no problem telling people the reasons why I haven't slept with anyone, and why I am waiting for my husband.  I do it not only to respect my God and myself, but to also respect my future husband.  There is a possibility, as much as I don't like to admit it, that I won't marry AJ.  That I may find myself, five years down the line, engaged to someone else.

What would he think of me if I had been living in California, with my then-boyfriend, just a few years ago?
What would he think of me if I wasn't a virgin and he was?
What would that do to our relationship?

When I place those questions in front of my classmates (and myself), the answer if quite clear. Even to someone who doesn't share my beliefs. The look in their eyes changes.  Sometimes to self-loathing, other times to contemplation. I'm never sure if I change anyone's mind, but something has got them thinking about what makes me different.

Girls from my class have told me that they admire the relationship that AJ and I share.  That they wish they had boyfriends like AJ.  I smile because I know they are saying those things partially because military relationships are romanticized too much by media these days, but maybe, just maybe, I may be of some influence over the way these girls go about their next relationship.

Waiting isn't such a bad thing.

So here we are again, at the end of a post, where I attempted to be profound in my relationship giving advice. I'm not actually sure who reads my blog, but maybe some young girl out there, who is embarrassed because her friends keep calling her a prude, will read this.  Maybe she'll be able to stave off the peer pressure for a little while longer.  That's my hope, at least.

Coffee and Eggs.

Due to my alarmingly early schedule this quarter, I have a hard time sleeping in.  Meaning, that when I am awake at seven and no one else is, the list of things to do are severely limited.

So this morning I decided to play around with a bit of food photography, something I have been interested in for a while, but had yet to completely delve into.  At seven in the morning, there isn't a ton to photograph, plus I have a bit of a one track mind in the mornings.

Coffee and Eggs it is!  

Commitment to Creativity.

I'm back in Kentucky after eleven short days on break in Michigan, starting into eleven long weeks of school.  This quarter is full of new things, not just new classes and classmates. I have moved into an apartment with two of my friends here at school, which is quite the switch from my tiny dorm room.  Three, nineteen year old girls in a small apartment... I'm sure I will have plenty of stories to tell, but that's another blog post.

Since I have been back I have had to start a new routine.  My day now starts at 5:20 and ends after dinner is cleaned up and homework is done.  On top of my school and roommate commitments, I have made a few commitments to myself...

I have gotten very far away from my creative side as a reader, writer, photographer, and cook.  I have become a Pinterest addict, thinking that counts for something... (it doesn't).  So this quarter will be different.  I will be more creative.  I will read more, write more, take more pictures, and make more yummy food.  And never fear, I'll post all my adventures here so you can see what I am up too! 

This was my quick, creative journal entry from today.  

50 things to be happy about... 

Basically just fifty things that make me happy.  A good thing to have on those long days when happiness feels really far away. 

So wish me luck on the next eleven weeks! We'll see how I do!

Bonus;

This Goober came in and wanted to know what I was doing!

Tuesday; my roommates little Terrier mix.