Distant Memories Float on Free

Good music always makes me feel nostalgic. It has this overwhelming power to make me miss what used to be.

Augustana's new album is pre-streaming, they, out of all bands, have the strongest grip hold on my trips down memory lane.

Though, as I look at memories from the past, I look towards the future and ponder (cheesy word) about, well, what it is.

Will I ever have a daughter to be named Elouise Katherine? Or will I be down a totally different life path? This past year in college has been full of different experiences I had never thought I'd run into. I feel like I have learned about me. Now myself and I need to figure out where we are going.


I am in one of those moods, you know you get it when you're alone late at night. Just you and your thoughts together to wander off to wherever. (Like this post hasn't shown that already). I'll let you go before you think I'm high and just got ahold of a laptop.

I love, love, love this quote. 

Recovery!

Tell your mother, tell your child, tell yourself: my iPod survived!

Some how after sitting at least ten min in a storm drain Woodstock sang loud today.
It truly is a miracle.

On an unrelated note I accidentally just swallowed my own hair. eh.
weird? Don't care it's my blog. Marley is blasting and I'm happy.

Here's some pictures that tickle my fancy:

All from weheartit.

Comatose.

Woodstock II fell in a storm drain today. This is how I reacted:

Shirtless and all

He is now in a comatose state pretty much looking like this:

"Help me, I'm wet and in rice--my ipod"

I will keep all you worried citizens updated on the status of my dear, dear friend.

This is what I whispered to Woodstock as I put him in his rice bed. 

The Erratic Thought Collection in my Head

Here's the brain jumble going on right now in my "wee liddle noggin'" (picture style), enjoy:

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Have a great week.

Kelsie

Dreaming of Reality

I have this hope chest; it's brown now, but this summer I'm going to paint it white and then sandpaper it for a vintage-y feel. Kind of like this:

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It's kind of a tradition in my family for the girls to get hope chests when they turn 18, something they can have when they move away. To use as storage or to keep memories hidden away, it's always there. However, I'm digressing back to my story. 

I had it all in my head, every detail, down to my shower curtain, it was all laid out.  The kitchen and the living room were so open and always sunny. Everything in the house was a product of our own labor, we created everything, or at least put a little TLC and love into everything in that house, we made it our home.

Oh, and my bedroom, my bedroom was my favorite part. It was very open with a couple windows and again an always sunny view. My hope chest was there. It was right by the window sill, with a light blue with white polka dots pillow seat atop it surrounded by yellow pillows. Next to that I had a bookshelf that reached from floor to ceiling. All different types of books adorned it. Art books, photography books, economics books, silly fairy tale stories everything was something I had read and fallen in love with. As you continued to look around a cozy white chair would invite you in to snuggle up and suggest to you to pick one of those books out and fall in love with it all over it again. A chair similar to this one:

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This house was it, it was quite literally the house of my dreams. I woke up elated to be living in such a place. But as I looked around I wasn't surrounded by blue and yellow I was surrounded by old wood furniture and cramped living space. I wasn't in that house, I was in reality, I was in my dorm room.

One day, though, one day I'll be there. I'll be waking up elated every morning as the sun kisses my open room and stamps it approval to start the day. I'll be surrounded by the white vintage furniture I created. I'll be home.

This is the closest I could find to put a visual to what I'm saying. The colors are perfect. The fact it is a nursery, not so much.

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 Taken from my dream journal April 3, 2011


xoxo,

Kelsie