In my dream last night, I watched a little girl, not older than 8 years old, as she told her teacher that she didn't love the boy down the street; that she never really had.

Afterwards, she went home and cried
because she had promised her mother she would never tell a lie.

More than every once in a while...

I get really tempted to say a certain word that rhymes with schmidt.

I crave coffee. I don't know how that's possible because I've never even had it.

And I kinda just wanna make out with twenty-seven strangers and call it good.


I got tired of being the good girl. But someone once told me, the only road to happiness is goodness.
And I'd have to agree with that.

Just gotta keep fighting, eh?

I watched that man,
the jumbled man with sad hands
and empty eyes.

I saw him worrying tiredly about everything that had gone wrong.
Wondering frantically about how he was going to save a withering situation.
I wished I could tell his wife, his children, how much I could see that he loved them.

He didn't know anyone was watching.

And I guessed to myself, well, I guess I have it pretty good.

Ew Gross Love.

"Bad love letters beg for love back. Good love letters ask for nothing.

This, I'm pleased to announce, is my first good love letter to you."

Stumbled across this little ditty while watching a silly little movie called Waiting for Forever. It's not that great of a movie, but, ya know, it's cute. AND it was filmed in Utah! How cool are we, right??

Anyway, hearing this really tugged at me. Because love has a conniving way of convincing us that we deserve something in return for the love we give. I know I fall into this trap every single day. I hate remembering how selfish I've been to the people I love. And my mouth is all clogged up with the mounds of sorries I should've said (or, more appropriately, should've shown).

It breaks my heart to see the people who give everything to their loved ones, when they know for a fact they won't be receiving any love in return. It's like the mother in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Or the father in The Pursuit of Happyness. Like Samwise Gamgee and Peeta Mellark. My mom. My dad. Like Christ.

It breaks my heart, and yet, it's all that I want to be. I yearn to be that selfless, that compassionate, that giving, that loving. I hope I can be someday. So I'll just keep on trying.

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Okay, does anyone else find it really hilarious that in the spam box on Gmail, the ads that Google puts up are for Spam recipes?

Who knew that Spam was such a versatile food, right??

    Spam Fajitas - Serves 8, add extra salsa if desired
    Spam Veggie Pita Pockets - Serves 8
    Spam Vegetable Strudel - Bake 20 minutes or until golden, serve with soy sauce
    Vineyard Spam Salad - Combine grapes, spam, peapods and onions in large bowl
    Spam Swiss Pie - Bake 45-55 minutes or until eggs are set
    Ginger Spam Salad - Serves 1, refrigerate overnight
    Spam Quiche - Makes 4 servings
    Creamy Spam Broccoli Casserole - Makes 8 servings
    Savory Spam Crescents - Bake 12-15 minutes or until golden brown

And if none of those lovely TMI descriptions have managed to make you vomit all over your computer... well, this one will.

    French Fry Spam Casserole - Bake 30-40 minutes

Ohh how we do love Gmail and its disgusting advertising tendencies.

Just Listen.

Yeah. It's from Like Crazy again. You could say I'm obsessed.

If nothing else, listen to 2:50 on.

Guys. FAMILY HISTORY.

Family history, man! I'm serious you guys. I know, I know, it sounds like the most boring thing on the planet, but in FACT, it's really so fun! Especially when you find fantastic gems like these:

Awwww! Is that not the most precious little face you've ever seen?! That is my mother, people! Gahhh.

Such an angel.

Grandpa Gene holding my mommy. Oh man. There's just something about a father holding his baby that absolutely melts my heart.

Another one of Mom. Ahhh, that coat!! Absolutely darling.

More of my mom. Sorry, I know it seems like I'm obsessed, but I can't get over how cute that semi-boyish-looking haircut is on her!

Cute little Katie and Clarkie. And the glasses of course. Ohhhh the glasses.

Bonnie, Clark, and Wayne. We love matching outfits, yes we do.

Meet Christian, the cutest, chubbiest little boy in all the world.

Although Steven could probably give him a run for his money.

Aaaaand here's one of Christian dressed in pretty princess attire. Think of that what you will.

My stunning mother. Ow ow! Just look at that sultry face.

Bonnie looking distressed. Oh, and do those overalls look familiar to you? Well, that's probably because Clark and Wayne were wearing them earlier. Boy, do we love hand-me-downs. Especially when they're unisex!

And then there's Clark, who's just always been a stud.

Bonnie, la belle ballerine.

Cutie-patootie Ali.

Here's some of my ridiculously handsome grandfather.

And then Grandma and Grandpa. The handsome couple.

Oh, and we mustn't forget Daddy-poo (that's Katie he's holding) and his beautiful glasses.

And of course, the moment I know you've all been waiting for (HA)....

Les photos de moi.

Okay, am I just completely self-absorbed or was I literally THE cutest baby you have ever seen in your life???


That's me?! Hhhwhaaat???

With the baby bwudder.

Swee yeaws owd!!

Me and my momma. Yeah I know I'm vain, but there were just too many cute pictures!

......And then I became an awkward child. Ohhh dear. Haha. And don't worry, I'm still just that awkward, but now maybe a little older-looking. Why couldn't the cuteness have stayed??

And last but not least, me and Al-Pal. Can't you just tell how much she loves me? Ha.

Like Crazy.

Guys.

It was so good. 

Infinitely,

unfathomably,

crazy good.

Every single minute, however unbearable.

The entire thing I cried. That's how crazy good it is. That's how crazy real.

I am the very farthest from an expert, but it seems to me that the mark of a really great work of art, in comparison to a good one, is the difference between sympathy and empathy. The sad truth is that although people tell us to learn from others' mistakes, it will never absolutely stick unless we make the mistakes ourselves. I think it's the same kind of idea here. It's nearly impossible to portray something that people will understand unless they have experienced that sort of situation themselves.

But this--

this one,

it makes you feel.

No matter who you are.

Every single emotion they feel on the screen.

Only, there's not a screen anymore.

It's just you, and you've become them.

And you know exactly how they feel, because you're living it.

***

"I thought I understood it, that I could grasp it, but I didn't, not really. Only the smudgeness of it; the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it. I didn't realize it would sometimes be more than whole, that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea. Because it's the halves that halve you in half. I didn't know, don't know, about the in-between bits; the gory bits of you, and gory bits of me."

***

I really, really love this song. Like crazy, right?? Like crazy.

Here's the thing, blogging world.

The thing is, today marks the end of all my dramatic hullabaloo. I think we've all had enough of it.

-Êtes-vous d'accord?

-Mais oui, s'il vous plaît!

-Oh là là, moi aussi.

I guess I started this blog so that I could have a place to just write and write and write--to no one at all. No one that knew me, no one that could hold anything over my head, no one that would take what I'd say and run with it. Except, I chose to do it on a blog instead of a journal because I needed to feel like I was talking to someone, even if it was only, perhaps, a girl in Russia, my age, who kind of understood my roller coaster of a life. And it did help, a little, to tell someone I didn't know. That's probably the main reason I haven't really told anyone about my blog. It helped me sort out all my unruly emotions. So, if you're reading this, chances are I don't know you, and I just want to thank you for reading, listening, and being someone that I can talk to. But from now on, I'd like to provide you with more of the simple joys and silver linings of life, instead of all the drama.

Because, as Mr. Charlie Fink would say, blue skies are coming.

But unlike Charlie here, I can't really say, "This is the last song that I write while you're even on my mind."

Because the truth is, he always will be.

I just need to stop bringing him into every single thing I do.

I just need to make this the best summer yet. Full of sunny bike rides and good books.

Like these:

Yikes-a-bee.

Yeah... sorry about that little fit of anger back there. I guess it was pretty immature and juvenile of me. Especially because it's not him OR the girl that I should be taking it out on. It's really just my own problem.

Moral of the story? I spend waaay too much time on Facebook.

The solution? I, Laura Clare, am going to abstain from Facebook for... the rest of time. Or... however long I can stand it. (Which will hopefully be... the rest of time.)

In a few weeks I'll let you know how my impossible quest is coming.

What I wish I could say to him, but won't.

Hey. You.
Yeah. You.

Just so you know, all those damn posts about your damn new girlfriend on stupid damn Facebook aren't making it any damn easier to get over you.

I know you don't care, but... I thought you should know.

I'm sorry; I had to. He's just the cutest.

Apparently I'm one of those girls.

You know, the sort that pine over boys.

{well, for me, just boy}

Well, you know what?

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that I'm weak.

You're right though;

I should be stronger.

All the time I wish I could be.

But sometimes,

the tears just come.