Don't call me gorgeous
Don't say I'm perfect
Don't tell me you love me
I know deep down its all a lie
But sometimes I'm so foolish
I may forget and believe you
Don't call me gorgeous
Don't say I'm perfect
Don't tell me you love me
It never lasts
You'll always change
Tell me the truth
I'm the one on your mind
For today
I'm the one you'll use to feel good
For today
So don't call me gorgeous
Don't say I'm perfect
Don't tell me you love me
But if this isn't the case
If you really feel something
Please, I beg you...
Simply stay with me
Don't speak a word at all
DAS
4/17/09
Friday, April 17, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Bridges and Propriety
I realized yesterday that there are merely three weeks left until commencement, in which I will walk across a stage before a sea of eyes, shake hands with the president of my university, and receive (at least in theory) my degree: a Bachelor of Arts in English with an emphasis in literature and a Bachelor of Arts in history. With that in mind, I sat down this evening pouring over invitations and envelopes trying to figure out the best way to word names and addresses. I realized there is a ridiculous amount of decorum that goes into sending an invitation. First, there are two envelopes. The invitation goes into the smaller one. The small envelope is then labeled with the informal names of the person(s) or left blank. It is then placed into a larger envelope facing so that the informal name is facing the flap side of the large envelope. Then the larger envelope is addressed quite formally such as "Mr. & Mrs. John Smith". None of the words in the address itself may be abbreviated (thankfully, taking French helped me remember how to spell "boulevard"). Whew! I'm sure I'm missing something, but that is about as fancy as I am going to get.
I'm incredibly busy trying to get everything together and ready to leave APU. I find myself with a similar feeling to how I felt when I graduated high school and was preparing to move out of home, or how I felt when I left France after I had studied
there for a semester... ready to move on, but not ready all at the same time. See, I know that this is a different event from high school graduation in the fact that I didn't have to be completely out on my own and be a full fledged adult, or different from when I left L'Abbaye de Pontlevoy because I knew what to expect once I got back home. Still, the feeling is similar. It is as if I am crossing a rickety wooden bridge that holds up just long enough for me to go over to the opposite side, but won't let me go back. Yes, I'm being nostalgic, but it really is true. Right now I'm coming up to that bridge and stepping on the first rotting old board. The trouble is, I can't see where that bridge is taking me this time... I honestly have no idea where I am going to be six months from now--where I'm going to be living, what I'll be doing for work, or how I'll pay my bills. It's nerve racking to say the least. People say to me (and I say to myself), "Dani this is a fantastic time to just completely trust the Lord and let him surprise you!" Well, I'm trying very hard to trust Him, but I really would rather like a hint. I would at least like to see the other side of the bridge I'm stepping onto!
I'm incredibly busy trying to get everything together and ready to leave APU. I find myself with a similar feeling to how I felt when I graduated high school and was preparing to move out of home, or how I felt when I left France after I had studied
there for a semester... ready to move on, but not ready all at the same time. See, I know that this is a different event from high school graduation in the fact that I didn't have to be completely out on my own and be a full fledged adult, or different from when I left L'Abbaye de Pontlevoy because I knew what to expect once I got back home. Still, the feeling is similar. It is as if I am crossing a rickety wooden bridge that holds up just long enough for me to go over to the opposite side, but won't let me go back. Yes, I'm being nostalgic, but it really is true. Right now I'm coming up to that bridge and stepping on the first rotting old board. The trouble is, I can't see where that bridge is taking me this time... I honestly have no idea where I am going to be six months from now--where I'm going to be living, what I'll be doing for work, or how I'll pay my bills. It's nerve racking to say the least. People say to me (and I say to myself), "Dani this is a fantastic time to just completely trust the Lord and let him surprise you!" Well, I'm trying very hard to trust Him, but I really would rather like a hint. I would at least like to see the other side of the bridge I'm stepping onto!
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