Of When the Internet Dies

Internet Down Comic

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When I came home from work on Monday my Internet was down. The little blue light on the router was replaced with an evil orange glow. This orange beam means that no matter what I do I will not have the option of going online. I can’t do anything from checking Facebook to writing a blog post, I’m in the dark, officially disconnected from the Earth as we know it.

I don’t know how I functioned without the Internet in the past.

Now, on those offline days I’m initially at a loss for what kind of activity to do. I might try to watch TV or play a game, if I can manage to get ahold of another human being I’ll beg them to hang out the good ole fashioned way – face to face. Yup, without the Internet, and practically the world in front of me, I have an impressive lack of skill regarding what to do with myself.

Before the World Wide Web existed I was very creative. As a child my imagination was  in constant free fall, I could spend a day in a tree pretending it was a spy base or an orphanage. I would spend hours playing with dolls or coloring. My brothers and I invented games and told jokes. And while my imaginative energy has transferred into my ability to tell stories and come up with plot lines at a moments notice, I’m no longer able to sit in a tree for hours (all alone) and be completely content. It’s a sad truth.

Still, I’m lucky that I have any creative energy at all. So many adults seem so dimwitted in their ability to think quickly and make stuff up. I’m constantly writing out my life in my head while I’m just walking around. But, I do miss playing and getting lost in a story I made up before the Internet came along and killed my drive to live in a world outside of reality.

Yes, I’m still forced to remain offline (I’m currently in the library writing this – I have exactly 45 minutes before they kick me off the computer). And while it sucks tremendously, perhaps I’ll be motivated to start that novel I’ve been meaning to write.

Of Cute Little Kids in Glasses

I’m not gonna lie, I wish poor eyesight on my future children. Problem is that I have perfect vision. So maybe I’ll get lucky or maybe I’ll give them clear lenses.

Child: “Mama these don’t change anything.”

Me: “Sure they do, put them on. Oh, you look adorable!”

Child: “No they don’t!”

Me: “You’re just not looking far enough.”

Child: *skeptical child face*

Little kids in big glasses are exceptionally adorable. I’m jealous of my older brother’s kid photos cause he’s wearing huge glasses and I’m not. In fact, there’s a photo of me with half my teeth holding a Pumba doll (you don’t get to see that one). Not nearly as cute.

I’m not known for being the worlds most child loving individual but even I think that big ole glasses on a little face are adorable. Here’s only a handful of examples – of course there’s plenty more cute kids out there, but I don’t want to come across as creepy.

Lavendar from Matilda

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Jerry Maguire Kid

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And now for some not famous kids. I did end up feeling like a creeper, haha.

Girl with glasses

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Kid with glasses and balloons.

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Of Tiredness Taking Over

Me asleep

Me asleep

“When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.” – 1 Corinthians 13:11 (NIV).

This verse has been in my head lately, I first heard it on a mission trip. I then heard roughly seven sermons on the subject.

It inspired me in the following way.

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When I am tired, I look tired – the bags under my eyes gain a third grove and the soft skin darkens in color. Without makeup I look like a sickly patient just a few moments from death.

I conquer my exhaustion through fountains of caffeine. Coffee flows through my veins, pushing the blood aside as it pumps me full of energy. I take my makeup kit and begin to cover my flaws. First foundation, followed by spot covering blemishes with concealer, yellow goop to lighten the circles, flesh toned goop to even the tone, powder, mascara – I’m finished. But I still look tired. I’ll spend half the day checking the mirror trying to fix the bags under my eyes as makeup collects in the creases.

When I go to bed, I get distracted, despite how tired I’ve been throughout the day I watch Netflix, Hulu, On Demand. I listen to music, start cleaning, read a book. I start homework, procrastinate homework, and begin homework again.I fall asleep to Jimmy Fallon, Modern Family, or SNL. Silence makes my brain think, silence might let the nightmares return – let me dwell on the demons that have taunted my dreams for years.

When I wake up I’m still tired. I talk like a moody child, whine, and try to lift my head. I hit the alarm thirty times, roll out of bed and rush about to get ready to get ready for the day. If I had gotten up after the first ring I could have been on time. As it is – I’m late.

When I became a woman I got a little better, started to prioritize sleep, began to take naps. But my nightly routine was still a constant game of chicken against slumber. Regardless of who wins I end up the looser.

When I sleep I feel wonderful. But I still look tired. It doesn’t matter how much I sleep, or how bright and perky I feel. If it’s eight hours a night, daily nap, waking up naturally – I’ll always look tired. The bags under my eyes a constant physical mark of my years of abuse to my body, not letting myself sleep since birth.

I am a woman, but I’ve yet to put all of my childish ways behind me.

Of Brandi Carlile

Brandi Carlile

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A girl with a guitar and some serious talent.

Have you ever listened to an artist for years? Know every word? And actually BOUGHT the music? That’s right bought! Purposefully chose to support this artist.

You love this artist dearly and feel as though you know them. You spend hours singing in the car or in front of a mirror unable to fathom being able to create such beautiful music. In your mind you imagine that you are on stage, singing these words as if your own. Of course, now they do belong to you. The artist has been kind enough to share their music and let you take hold. Time passes and other artists take over as your top played. Then one day you decide to listen to this artist again and suddenly HOLY SHIT!! An emotional chord was struck so intense it practically brought you to tears. It felt as though everything you had been feeling or repressing was thrust to the surface. Explained in a way so perfect there’s nothing more you could say. There was a perfection to the music that you never noticed until that moment. A perfection which try as I might I cannot express in a blog post. It is something that has to be experienced. I encourage all to seek out such an experience – this will mean stepping away from the Top 40 momentarily.

I recently had such a moment with Brandi Carlile, an indie singer from Ravensdale, WA. And I wasn’t able to stop listening to her for three weeks straight. Everything else I owned seemed to fall short in comparison.

Don’t get me wrong I love pop culture. I love Britney Spears, Bad Girls Club, Tabloids, all of it. But there’s something special about finding an artist who has some meat behind their lyrics.

Excerpt from Pride and Joy

I believe this to be true
Nothing sacred nothing new
No one tells you when its time
There are no warnings only signs
And you know that you’re alone
You’re not a child anymore
But you’re still scared
All your mountains turn to rocks
All your oceans turn to drops
They are nothing like you thought
Can’t be something you are not
Life is not a looking glass
Don’t get tangled in your past
Like I am learning not to

This passage mirrors exactly what I’ve been going through. Especially,  in regards to growing up and learning that the beliefs my family enforced were not what was best for me.

That moment of straddling the line dividing a child and adult.

An amazing live performance with not one but TWO cellos! What more could you ask for?