???????????

When I was watching Oprah the other day (as I have done most every day since I have been home.. what can I say, Oprah knows things) she was talking to Simon Cowell, and they were talking about marriage and such, and how he is getting up in age. And she said something like, "Well that's okay 50 is the new 40 these days."

.......And this is where my question comes in. I don't understand this whole, "old" and "new" thing. For example, the other day I was told that the color coral is the new pink. But when did pink become old? And when pink was new, what color was old? And what if I don't want coral to be the new pink? Do I have any say, or is it a done deal?

Basically, I'm just confused. Is 50 really the new 40? And if so, does every age have a "new" age? I'm 21.. is 21 the new 16? Does that even make sense? Whoever makes these "rules" I want a part in it! I want to make wearing no make-up the new make up face! Unbrushed bed-head to be the new hair-dried straight lucious locks! For lunchtime I want sushi to be the new PB&J! Give me something!

(My apologies for the mass amounts of question marks in this post.)

today is sunday.

I've come to the conclusion today that I'm crazy. "Why are you crazy, Karin?" you may so curiously wonder. Or maybe you already think I'm crazy. Or maybe you think I'm crazy for thinking I'm crazy. Either way, there are lots of crazy people out there. And on the hypothetical crazy scale, I'm not sure where I'd rank, but I'm on there. I think my craziness (I know you are getting sick of that word) is because I'm so blind to things. I don't journal as much as I'd like, but I do occasionaly. Every time I write something new I read over all my old entries. And in every single entry a common theme weaves it's way in and out of them. I have a passion for kids, and helping them to grow in anyway. For music, to be better at the instruments I play. To be better read in the literature I collect on my shelf. And to simply love someone, and desire to be loved.

These passions get lost as I think so much about me. ME ME ME ME ME. And all the faults I see in myself. And that is why I'm kind of crazy. I have all these things I love, but I don't love them they way I want to because I bring myself down. DUMMMBBBBBBBB. I guess God works that way sometimes. Teaches you something over and over and over and over again until you finally open your eyes and see what he's been showing you about yourself.

On a different note, I'm reading The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery. This was my absolute favorite book in middle school, and I remember being so surprised by the ending. But I forgot the ending! So I'm reading it again, and seeing if I will love it still. I like when I forget surprise endings. I always wish I'd forget the twist in The Sixth Sense. But I still haven't. Probably because I always think about wanting to forget it so I will be surprised again.

Snapshot.

So, when I said in my last post that I feel invincible when speeding.. I no longer have that feeling as of today.

Dear Chattanooga Speed Camera enforcement,
I appreciate your concern in my driving 45 mph in a 35 mph zone. I find it cool that my buick got two snapshots printed on a piece of paper and sent to my house. Frankly though I don't really like the fact I have to pay for this fifty dollar ticket, and I would rather you not be so sneaky when snapping my photo. Also, next time, pick on someone who is going at a more reckless speed. Thank you.

ten driving thoughts.

Driving back today from Chattanooga to Asheville I realized some things. SUCH AS:

1) Being alone in my thoughts for four hours is kind of nice, and horribly annoying at the same time. Especially when your phone is dying, and you have no ipod because the ipod you have decides to break because all technology you come in contact with seems to want to gang up on you and hate you.

2)I hate Ryan Seacrest.

3) But his top forty countdown I like. Four hours of pop radio music didn't drive me as crazy as it probably should. Hearing "Bulletproof" three times in four hours was a very joyous occasion for me this morning.

4) I eat way too much McDonalds.

5) An iced coffee, AND a double shot starbucks drink did NOT give me the energy I needed. My eyes kept closing!! I'm not sure exactly what I realized from this except maybe to buy some sunglasses????? Because the sun in my eyes makes me sleepy???

6) Honking and holding your breath when going through a tunnel isn't as fun when you are the only one in the car.

7) I feel invincible when I speed.

8) I am impulsive. In way too many areas of my life. THINK THINGS THROUGH KARIN!! COME ON!!!

9) Where is college going? And how am I a senior already?

10) I'd like to attempt at owning fish again. And have one last more then a month. They always die without having lived the full life they deserve. Technology and fish... what is it you have against me?

Confession #2

I like to eat soggy cereal.

Sure, the word soggy is gross. And soggy food is usually gross.

But, for some reason, a bowl of soggy raisin bran is extremely tasty to my buds.

I'm a kid.

I'm holding a melted airhead, half-eaten tootsie roll pop, and a pair of plastic vampire teeth. The sun is beating down on my back as I struggle to find a place for her tiny socks and his small nike tennis shoes. I bite down awkwardly on the carnival tickets. I drop my phone, keys, and the wallet I am also trying to hold as the kids' possesions suddenly take priority over my own belongings. Finding a bag at the nearest booth selling a pile of useless baby toys, I dump everything I am struggling to hold into the it. Mission accomplished. The sun still beats down on my back. Looking after four kids at a elementary school festival brings out the kid in me while at the same time reality beckons me to be a grown up. Hundreds of little people are running around. Spraying each other with silly string that instantly melts in mid squirt from the hot sun, jumping eagerly on the wobbly moonbounce, stuffing their small mouths with gooey donuts and lukewarm pizza. Walking around I make eye-contact with fellow babysitters and parents who wish they had a babysitter in their place. Our eyes all exude the same feeling: desire. Some desire to be done with their shift. Some desire to have a moment away from their whiney child.

I desire to be small again. I want to be five. I want to win a toy gun for putting a golf ball into its hole. I want to climb through the blow up obstacale course. I want to wear my pink overalls and be okay with my messy pigtails. I want to be queen of my fort in the woods. I want to jump on my bike and fly past my neighbor, in sure thought that he is an evil, mean man whose sole purpose in life is to chase after me and steal my sweet barbie accesorized ride. I want to know what it feels like to simply cry over a skinned knee after I clumsily fall off my bike in the middle of my instense getaway---to not know what it feels like to cry about anything more then that. I want to be my parents best friend, I want to tell them everything. I want to build a tent with my brothers in the living room. I want to write stories about animals--to not have to write fifteen page research papers.

I leave the carnival with the four kids I was asked to watch, to protect, for that particular time. This carnival was their time. They thought of nothing else except finding the best toy to win, and eating as much candy as they could. The sun starts to go down. The coolness in the air becomes a newly welcomed friend. Exhausted, I wonder how I will ever be an adult when my mind is begging me to revert back to my five year old self, to forget about what my present "adult life" is forcing into my head. Things were easier at the age of five.

Getting back into the car I begin to drive away, windows down and wind blowing in my hair, listening to four sweaty kids in the back of the car complaining of thirst that one would assume is life threatening by the urgency in their voices. Ignoring them I enjoy the wind in my hair. Suddenly thankful for the age I am. Nostalgia of five year old Karin is swept away with the wind, for now.

Patten, you rascal.

SCENARIO:
Starbucks.
Five year old Patten has to go pee.
He starts to pull down his pants.

Me: Patten are you wearing underwear?

Patten: No.

Ten year old Carter: Patten never wears underwear anymore.

Me:Anymore? Didn't he just learn to wear underwear like a year ago?

Patten tries to go pee in the bush.

Me: Patten, the bathroom is this way.

Leads him to the handicap family restroom stall.

Patten: this isn't a boys stall.

Me: I know. It's a handicap stall.

Patten: What's handicap mean?

Me: Like, hurt.

Patten: I'm not hurt.

Me: I know

Patten: I can't go pee in here.

Me: Yes you can. handicap.. means.. boy too.

Patten: Oh.

He goes in to pee. I laugh outside the door.

Patten: Why are you laughing?

Me: ....There was a funny bug....

Barges out of stall.

Patten: WHERE??????

Me: I killed it.

Patten: WHY?????

Me: Because it was handicap.

Patten: Whats handicap mean?



.:Kids make life interesting:.