I got this fantastic green and blue and yellow plaid fabric from hobby lobby. I thought it would be a great idea to make a dress out of it.

then I remembered catholic schools.

so I am half way done making my school uniform.

but whatever. because it feels good to be sewing again.


young mothers

its been a while since I posted on here. school, work, family, church, friends. theres a lot thats has been going on. in my religion in the public square class our prof gave us an alternative to writing a research paper. instead we could use the arts to portray some sort of ethical/political issue that is hot in the public square and the church. I was the only one in the class who opted for that. 

these photos are meant to represent two young women who either are or were pregnant.

1) uninformed/pressured


 2) shame/regret 


sometimes I just need a place to yell and hope that no one will really hear…

But I don’t just want someone to listen to my problems. I want someone to listen to my responses to their problems. Can I be wise too? Can I add anything to this situation. Or should I just shut up? Not worthy to help you? Haven’t had enough life experience? Too selfish? Too young? Or maybe I just have too many problems of my own. Can I try again? Can you try again? 

I don’t like the word listen, I don’t want someone to listen. I don’t want someone to hear. I want someone to share. Not take turns. I want to build off of each others thoughts and feelings.  And that has happened before. I remember. 

Sometimes I wish I didn’t know how to talk or write. Because I say things. Really stupid things. Things that I don’t really mean. And I don’t know why I say them. When what I want to say is the opposite. I saw the old movie of the Great Gatsby. I would live to see the new one. There is a part when Daisy says to Gatsby “I wish I had done everything on earth with you” and that’s great. But she ends up proving to be a worthless girl. And her words are meaningless. What can you do? Nothing said is right or wanted or helpful. Except casual things. There is am elephant in the room and it changes everything. I love elephants so much. I used to think I maybe I loved them too much. But now I just want to shot that big guy so I can stop seeing out of the corner of my eye the elephant I made standing there. No one has any idea what I am saying maybe because I am referencing a dream. I have dreams. I remember them all. The ending of Jane eyre. Green eyeliner. Tinker bell and Captain Hook. I know this is all a strange way to say what I am trying to say. I wish I didn’t know english. I wouldn’t say much. I built my elephant with words I said and heard and thought about over and over and words I forgot until I needed to remember them so I could use them to my own end. It’s not that everything isn’t true. But it doesn’t matter. And it’s not as huge as I needed it to be. I needed it to be the size of a mountain when really it was a hill I wanted to walk over. I am a three year old. At work I nap and play and eat snack with the kids. I throw tantrums until I get what I want or until I hear what I want to know. I want to not wonder. I want to be allowed. I don’t want to talk about me or you. I don’t want to be angry. And I am not really. I am more just… Sad. But then I woke up this morning and my dream was over and it was time to get ready for church and I could do what I wanted to do. I don’t like to wait. I want it all fixed now. But it’s really not that easy. I have never been good at puzzles. They make me mad because I can never see them going anywhere. I can never fit any pieces together. Any putting the puzzle together with out a box top. And feeling like maybe someone else has the box top and just won’t show me. I am sorry for failing everyone. Don’t give up on me. Someday I might grow up a little.

in which Grace rants about her lack of desire or ability to be athletic.

Im just not athletic. I am not. I don’t know how to play basketball, like at all. I have never been skiing in my life, and the one time I went snowboarding just…don’t count. I freak out when playing volley ball, I am a totally spaz when the ball comes towards me. I just get in the way when it comes to football. I hate running. Ultimate Frisbee is a terrible game and I always imagine the Frisbee as a saw-blade coming for my neck. I was made fun of in middle school because I was no good at soccer (Thats gunna be my pity story when I go on “The Voice”). Really the only sports I enjoy playing are street hockey and football- both of which I probably look like an idiot playing. I don’t care about being athletic. Ill join the team just for the sake of being a part of something, and then I will spend most of the time making fun of myself or cheering for whatever team I am on.

I love to move. I love to dance. I love theater, and getting out of my comfort zone. I love walking, I will walk for hours. I love bikes, but I haven’t been on one since mine was taken out of our yard by some rude boys who like purple. I love climbing (But Im not very good at it). I like hiking a lot, but it takes me along time because I will stop to smell every flower and look at every pinecone and collect every good walking stick and rescue every bug and study every spider web and I will sit at the top of the hike and look and think and lay on the ground and stare at the sky. I love swimming. I love ice skating. I really love dancing. A lot. I like twirling. I don’t mind working out ( I actually enjoy it when I am with Hannah). But Im not athletic. Im just not.

“But you could be!”

Yah well I don’t want to be.  I don’t enjoy those kinds of sports. I really don’t like playing volleyball at all. Is that ok? Ill try. But chances are I won’t enjoy it.