about me...

from my facebook:

i'm a woman. . .but sometimes i'm still just a girl. i'm married, i'm a wife. sometimes i'm still just a child. i wish i could be funny. nick says i'm funny for a girl. i speak what's on my mind- really. and almost to a fault. i can't count the amount of times i've offended my friends or told miriam she has chubby cheeks or said things that make natalie gasp and then remind me that i have no inner monologue. i like to make sure that everyone knows exactly what i'm thinking and not just to inform them but to pretty much accost them with my point of view because at times i guess i think i'm the most important person in the world. but i'm not. and that's not christ-like. but neither am i, i guess. i try, i strive, i almost beat myself in christianity. but that's not what it's about either. it's about just being so close to Him that you can look like that without any thought and without trying. and i'm not there yet, but i'm still trying. i want to help people. but i'm don't know exactly how i want to live that out yet. i'm dying to have a baby. i know i'm too young. but i just don't care anymore. i wish my house was clean. no, strike that. i just wish i had TIME to clean my house. i wish i just had time. my life is like a whirlwind of chaos. and i like it that way. i really do. even though i try to project that i am anal, and type A, and always in control- it's just a front. i'm not and i wish i was. because then more would make sense. i wish i was better at being relaxed. blue jean baby on the outside but inside i'm trying to be a beauty queen. and it's all fake, all a front. i mean, my front is more like what i want to be. it's my inside that's a mess. but i guess that's okay cuz you see the front and as long as i don't let you get to close you won't see my obsessive depressive manic queen inside who's fighting for dominance. . .and now i've lost you. cuz you came to this section for a little fun info about me and you got my guts. i've practically raped you with information that you didn't ask for. but you're the one still reading so maybe it's consensual. either way, i've got friends who humor me, who laugh at the appropriate times and put up with me even though i'm so awkward. i've got a husband who loves me, who loves me in blue jeans, who loves me enough to make up stupid games to make me happy and laugh at my un-funny jokes. i can't stay on focus. i think i have ADD. i like things that squeak and i can't help but doodle. you may think i'm not paying attention. but i am. and the scary thing is that i'm paying a ridiculous amount of attention. so much attention that you may be teaching me about research applications and all i can focus on is the length of your shirt sleeves or the fact that your leg won't stop bouncing. but i'm listening, i swear. i talk alot and you may think i never listen, but i do. and i assess you even though i try not to. but we are all screwed up and i want to be able to categorize you cuz that makes me more comfortable, but it's wrong. and again, i've still pulled you down an alley you didn't want to go down. all you wanted was this: "i'm fun. i'm outgoing. i like to be with my friends and i like commercials and watching people fall down. i hate wet jeans and stepping on earth worms when it's raining." my dad is right. . .i can't ever just say something. i have to beat it, crush it, mash it and tenderize it until everyone has something that they can get down. and so, let's be honest. i'm just a mess. . .but that's just okay.