The Sound of Music II

So last time I posted, it was called The Sound of Music I, which was what most of the post was about. I did intend to make a second post involving the words of the title (hence, the I). This post, although it is titled almost the same, is about something a little different.

Last time I mostly wrote about the song My Favorite Things which is one of my favorite songs in the movie, The Sound of Music. I think that each person should have their own version of that song. Everyone needs a collection of those things that they can think of and then they don't feel so bad. Here are a few on my list . . .

music in general
acoustic music
homade music
worship music
loud music
bonfires
fireplaces
hot drinks
heated seats
microfiber blankets
food
scarves
pump-you-up music
christmas lights
warm sweaters
splitting meals
people going out of their way to bless strangers
my dogs
my family
my friends
going out for breakfast
coupons
renting movies
walks
ice cream (duh)
reading
having intellectual conversations
hugs
smiling
watching what makes other people smile
comforters
movie nights
late nights
grace
heroes
and, my favorite of my favorites,
Jesus
-anna

p.s.-ok more than a few ;)

We Meet Again

Well, to say that it feels weird to be here again is an understatement. This is a little emotional for me and I'll try to explain why. Firstly, it's been a while since the last time I wrote here. When I typed the address into the search bar, I was actually surprised that a 404 page didn't show up and that, instead, I saw a familiar title and design come up on the screen. There it was - my own writing, published on a web page I undoubtedly spent hours adjusting and tweaking until it was just right, down to the blue and green squares I painted by hand, scanned into a computer and digitized the old fashioned way with....wait for it.....*Microsoft Paint*. Illustrator? Pshht. Who needs that when you've got the grandmother of graphic design tools for FREE on your receptionist job work computer? (sarcasm, of course. Adobe, baby, I love you.) But even the details and designs of this page speak to the reason why this is emotional for me. All of the things about this blog that ...

Seasons: The Future

So about the future. I obviously don't know it so it makes sense that this one might be a little shorter (or longer-it could logically go either way, I just went with shorter). There are litterally (at least) a hundred different ways it could go. After the internship I'm doing, I might stay on there. Or I might come back here. If I come back here I could work, go away to college, take classes from home, live with my parents, move out with some friends, get some kind of certification and work a more specific job, come back to the office job I have now, etc. Or I could move to CA and live with some family and find a job with some distant cousins. Or I could move to some other random state and adventure there. The list of possibilities goes on and on. What sounds best to me right now is to do one of the aforementioned options that have to do with moving back here but we really will see won't we.

Lipstick marks on coffee cup lids.

This is one of those posts where I'm riskilly honest. The kind where I don't sound politically correct but I hope you'll hear me out. Where I admit things I'm not proud of. Ready? Okay. I used to ABHOR lipstick marks on coffee mug lids (as can be seen in photo below). There, I said it. Now the funny thing to me is that the cup with the lipstick marks on the lid that you see in the picture belongs to none other than yours truly. So let me explain. I used to be the girl who subconsciously thought she was better because she didn't need lipstick to feel pretty or 3 coats of mascara just to leave the house. I was proud to only wear a little bit of makeup (or none at all) and still feel like I looked like my normal, averagely pretty self. When other girls talked about needing to reapply lipgloss or eyeliner, (especially in front of guys) I made it a point to not be lumped into their shallow activity and went out of my w...

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