There's Noone Else I Know How to Be

In T-minus 1.02 hours, we are having a House Opening.

I am not excited.

Yes, this means our house is the cleanest it's been since before we moved back in.
Yes, this means we're actually moved back in to our house, more or less.
Yes, this means dozens of people I don't know very well, or at all even, clomping around my home.

Now, I'm a pretty private person.  I don't really open myself up to other people, and I definitely don't feel very comfortable letting strangers and acquaintances nose about my room.  My room.  Mine. 
It's not that I really have anything in there to hide, necessarily.  Unlike someone in this house who covered up their pipe with laundry.  But this is my one space.  The one true tiny plot of land that is all me.  It's decorated the way I like it (T&S, foreign movie and zelda posters galore), my books are stacked by preference, my favorite movies and shows displayed openly (even the ones that declare me a complete and utter geek).
Invite people to walk through that, even after I've cleaned and shoved what I don't want seen into my closet.  It still feels like a total invasion.  My life and person is on display here and I can't help but feel exposed.
I know I shouldn't worry about little, ole' Master Gardener ladies and neighbors I've known all my life and whoever from West Side comes, but I can't help but think they will scrutinize my life, my interests, me.
It's totally irrational and I'm blowing it out of proportion, but I can't help it.
I love my room.
I love who I am and what I enjoy, but it's still so weird to be so open.

Paranoia be damned, I made brownies, perhaps I should have spiked them.

-KL

I'm Halfway There

Molly e-mailed me today saying she's "obsessed" with T&S.
I reminded her how much she despised and ridiculed them at first glance.
Let that be a lesson to you, Miss Mongo. Never scoff at my judgment and recommendations, especially when concerning talented Canadian twins.

It is in celebration in converting another soul to T&S that I write, well that and I have 35 minutes to kill before I go to work.

I spent a good chunk of my time yesterday finally sorting out all of the sheet music I have accumulated over the span of my worship career. It was kinda ridiculous the number of copies I had of some songs, and by "kinda", I mean REALLY. I'm pretty sure I piled my countless packets into a corner in my room and didn't touch them for three or four years. Add that to the number of different teams and people I've played with and that makes for quite a hefty stack. It made me nostalgic to think of all the groups I've played with: about four Youth Sundays, two Trainee Sundays, four Deputations, CFM Sunday School, Pathfinder Musicals (I don't really miss those), and six or so years of Youth Worship band.
I miss playing with people. I miss having that team. I miss having a place.

I don't know if I'll play this fall when programs kick off again. At this point, I don't know if there will really even be a program, at least a program like any sort I've been involved in before. If there is something, who knows if I'll even be able to participate due to school and work.

Oh well, one of the benefits of playing guitar is that you can play it without any accompaniment and it sounds just fine, at least so long as I can still play worth a darn.

I kid you not, there are probably 13 "Undignified"s and 11 "I Am Free"s in that there front pile alone.

To never playing in Hans Bronson again,

-KL

I'm Not Unfaithful, But I'll Stray

I don't know if you've noticed, but I haven't blogged in awhile.
I know, weird.

I suppose the desire to type out anecdotal evidence of my existence has just left the building. Typing out pieces of my day or how I'm feeling to people who may or may not be reading has very little appeal to me anymore. I don't know what I'm supposed to say. I don't know what I should write.

The truth?

No.

Since when has anyone ever wanted the truth. Least of all me.

I don't mean to be negative about the whole blog-writing shtick, but it's just not what I wanted it to be. Now, this isn't to say that I'm leaving forever, I may or may not resurface (hell, maybe even tomorrow (but don't hold your breath)). I'd just rather have real conversations, real relations of my day, my life, my thoughts, feelings, desires. I know that's not possible for some people reading this, per se (i.e. Chile...?).

hmm, awkwardly transitioned ending?

yes.

Miles Through the Nighttime

I'm opening tomorrow.
I'm wide awake.
My phone is so slow.
Reminds me of the computer WSU "gifted" me with.
Amazing how fast technology depreciates.
How fast it all goes sour.


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Like a Tumor

Perhaps he really was right.
"Humility" is just a synonym for "doormat".


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