Need to sleep hard?

Most recent, yet oldest observation found within my mind: When you work hard, you sleep hard.

Its a "duh" no brainer kind of conclusion... but boy oh boy does it take on a whole entire new meaning when you experience it every time you shut your eyes to the final hours of the day and awake completely refreshed.
I love sleep.
I'm so glad God created it.

8 hours of shear incoherent bliss... my hat comes off to that idea.

Goodnight sweet world, my dreams will be pleasant and lovely.

A peaceful gleam

The night paused to listen to the nothing that floats through its warm fall night air.
It yawns and stretches and then goes back to listening, waiting to hear if any excitement bursts forth on this Thanksgiving eve.

I yawn even bigger as I unwind from a busy week that has yet to slow down.
As I snuggle down into the warmth of my layers of blankets, two thoughts sit on the crest of my mind: one of utter amazement, and another of simple rest.

I am finding that tonight is a night that I can truthfully sing "Savior I come, quiet my soul, remember..." and nestle down for 15 hours of utter calm.
Rest is important for us as people... and I whole heartedly believe that to be so because of the fact that our God took a day to breathe.
More often than not, we take maybe an hour to just sit and rest, and then we're right back to work... whether that be actual work, school assignments, or sometimes even being with others.
Tonight, I am able to embrace the still and the quiet for all that it offers me... and I plan to.
I think that it will help provoke growth in the area of peace that every Christian life should cultivate... a peace that passes all understanding.

I live in complete awe with God's evident mighty hand working in my life.
I remember vividly (and also have written record of doing so) the very first time I really prayed that God would guide me in the direction HE wanted me to go in.
That brought me to Biola.
I remember last year being completely miserable with my studies, and lifting my major up to Him, praying that He would lead me to the area in which He needed me...
He then led me into Journalism.
This year, I have prayed a similar prayer... allowing Him to narrow down His will even further... and have been led to switching my emphasis, as I have explained in previous posts.
He has continuously been confirming that this is, indeed, His will for my life... which has been indescribably outstanding.

His lead is so beautiful... it almost visibly sparkles.
I often times look myself in the eye and wonder, "What is it that He wants? What is it I could do for Him?"
He never fails to answer my self questioning.

Holding His hand and walking toward His next stop is dreadfully wondrous...
I know its His plan... and I know He'll get me there if it really is what He wants...
its all a matter of trust now.
Trust in the silence... trust in the calm... trust in the chaos and also in the surging storm...

Its lovely, ever so lovely letting Him lead for once... a new experience that I plan to transition to every area of my life...
I want every pathway to sparkle and every choice to be overflowing with peace.

Choking on CO2 and frog lips

Ciao amici,
I sat at the red light staring blankly probably only three feet in front of me.
Safe, I know... brilliantly safe.
The radio was silent as my poor, beater car coughed and sputtered, trying to stay alive through the remainder of the light's cycle.
The red light could have stayed red for an eternity... and I quite possibly wouldn't have taken notice.
My thoughts engulfed my entire being... and I barely noticed my old man car grumbling at the fact he would momentarily have to try to pick up momentum again once the light flashed the signal for the races to begin.
But the light turned green, the races began, and I was off like a shot... leaving my troubled thoughts at the signal line at Rosecrans and Biola Avenue.

The thoughts floated back as I sat in a theatre filled with ridiculous junior high girls and even more ridiculous high school girls, and past pathetic college girls... all swooning at the male cast of a certain new cinema production that has been long awaited by the youthful feminine world.
There are "teams" in this craze.... which is something to laugh at in itself.
But I'm going to be absurdly honest with you and say that I myself relate far too much with one of these "teams"... and as I sat and watched the best friend's heart break on the silver screen, I felt a similar twinge of pain behind my rib cage.

Being THE "best friend" sucks.
I've written about that far too many times for me to get into it once again here... but I've stumbled (in every sense of the word) upon the conclusion that there are no true and intimate best friend guy-girl relationships that don't grow feelings of romance in one or more of the participating party.
I don't care what you tell me, its just not a safe possibility.

I think you can have close friendships... just not those close, one on one, you confide in me and I'll confide in you and all will be fine and dandy in the world friendships with someone of the opposite gender.
It mostly always results in the heartbreaker driving away leaving the heartbroken behind in the cloud of CO2, wondering if they were simply someone different if things would be different.

As I talked with the person I confide in the most, I let the words fall out of my mouth as I shared with her my newest prayer... as I've realized my mid-summer night's dreamlike nightmare was childishly foolish and hopelessly destructive.
I've been told to pray for specifics... though, at times, I feel like praying for specifics is unacceptable.... a conclusion that I am quickly growing to learn is a stupid one.
What if just this once, I showed up in God's throne room boldly and began expressing what it is my heart is crying out for?
What if just this once, I begin to pray every day for a new turn of events that is unlike anything I have ever experienced?
What if just this once, I trust that there is a transformed frog waiting to meet me instead of running around kissing the same ones I have thinking they might change?
What if I pray to be the best friend that is really the best friend and is cherished as the best friend and is loved as his princess?

I've seen far too many happy endings to settle for mediocre.... nor will I ever again let myself think that I am settling for slightly higher than mediocrity. 
The stars are calling out my name.
Their pretty voices sing out for my finger tips as I stand on my tippy toes to try and reach them.

I regret... I've learned... and I'll forget.
It's time to grow up and meet better.

The Journal

Buona sera world,

As you can tell by the frequent posts of thoughts, rants, and other writings of mine that can be labeled with numerous titles... I love to write.

My writing was influenced by my mother at a very young age. 
You see, my mom would keep journals next to her bed with her pretty, loop filled, handwriting covering every single line of every single page.
I remember peeking into some of these journals at a very young age and seeing "Dear Father" and "Oh Lord" italicized at the top of a few left hand pages.
And that's where it all began... because my mom was and is my role model. I began my own intimate conversation journal when I was seven, and the habit has grown into an addiction.

Tonight, after almost a year of not having a pretty place to write down every prayer and thought that I have that I don't want anyone else to know, I brought home a new empty book.
It's lovely.
Teal and brown with gold highlights.
And its mine... my own space to write whatever I need to... to pray whatever my heart oozes.

Last night was the deciding factor on this purchase, as I cried myself to sleep for the first time in a long time, and all I wanted to do was have a safe place to write down my lamentatious prayers.
Prayers riddled with whys. 


Having a journal for most of my first year of college was tremendously helpful, both then and often times now... because I look back on my prayers and my poems and prose, and I see a girl growing into the woman she is created to be.
When I look in the mirror, I don't really see that person, nor do I think of myself as that person, because, let's be honest, I feel like I am still 14 years old and walking into high school for the first time.
But my journal is a mirror of who I am really.

It also is the guiding map to avoid the ridiculously huge mistakes that I've made in the past...
This summer, I put away my map and immediately fell into the enormous pot hole I had charted out just months before.
It left me bruised and now has left me absolutely heart broken for a third time. 
I glance back at the tear stained pages of last November, and I see my hurt manifested through red ink... and I see its exactly the same place as where I am now.
And I hear His voice ever so clearly as He says "Darling, why don't you listen to Me? I don't want you to hurt this way ever... It was never My intention."

It was never His intention... nor do I understand why He allowed it to happen... and I don't believe that He will reveal that mystery to me in the near or late future.
But it happened... and I alone am having to deal with the consequences.

I feel very alone... and for once, I'm more than ok with that.
For once, I want to be left alone.
And for the thousandth time, I want to slip away without anyone knowing and never come back... because running away is simpler than dealing with hurt and the anger.

Thank goodness for a pretty blue journal that can hold my tears, frustrated prayers and names.

Little sub-points a and b

Hello friend,

I don't doubt that you have an image of your self in your mind.
That image can shift at a moments notice, turning into something unexpected or pleasant given the circumstances.... but its your own image.

I've been thinking a lot recently on how to view yourself in a godly light... what does it mean to be made in His image? How should that influence my actions? How am I to stare into the big brown eyes of my reflection and see myself as He wants me to see myself?

We're all created differently... different strengths, different weaknesses, different dreams, different mistakes... just different.
I am not the same as my roommate, who is quite and curious.
I'm not the same as my best friend, who has a way of gently, yet bluntly, stating the obvious.
I'm not the same as other friends, who possess many different gifts that God has blessed them with.
But you already know that...

I'm Ali... I like white cheddar cheetos and writing.
I forgive others easier than most, and have been given the gift of encouragement and the loyalty of a golden retriever.
I find myself defining my moods through the songs I listen to... and I don't really appreciate or like running around difficult and/or ridiculous situations; I like things short, simple and to the point.
I learn by doing and seeing.
I've made more than my share of mistakes... I've been foolish and unnecessarily ignorant. I've trusted when I shouldn't have... forgiven and befriended when I should have forgiven and kept away... and I still cry over missing those whom I love that are not really in my life like they used to be.
I'm learning to be more in-your-face... as its what my potential future requires of me... and honestly, I'm loving every minute of it.
I like playing card games, and sometimes Monopoly.... and I love running around outside.
The whole world knows when I'm excited... and I feel smart when I read the New York Times.
I find myself consistently re-reading the same books in the Bible, and they never cease to speak God's knowledge into my soul.
I write down everything, and I remember numbers better than anything else.

I don't know how to correctly view myself...
All I know is I don't want to be swayed. I feel I'm swayed more often than I really should be... and it's infuriating.
Who I am should give me roots... and I don't want to be undefined or shallowly rooted.
I'm fighting for this, and I'll fight till I've either bled to death or conquered.

What defines me?
Is it what I do, or who I think I am?
Nah... those are just little sub-points a and b.
I'm finding as I open my heart up more and more to God, I am exactly who I need and want to be.
Its beautiful.

Embrace and hold

Dear friend,

She glowed as she floated down the isle.

Her long, white dress flowed gracefully about her as she held his gaze.

She smiled excitedly, as each step she grew closer to becoming something new.

And taking his hand, she said "I do."

I sat watching... tears in my eyes as the sight I beheld was one of the most beautiful I have seen in my lifetime.

Yet, some of those tears sat in my eyes as I wished and hoped and wanted that which has not been given to me.

I am young.

Many say 19 is too young to be thinking about marrying someone... though often times I disagree.

Marriage does not gradually cease being hard as I advance in years.

Since I was little, getting married young was something I wanted....

And up until now, its been something that I've eagerly hoped for.

But "now" is transforming into something different.

Long standing hopes are the hardest to give up, because its those hopes that are engraved in your soul.

They are rooted and at home in your heart, happy and content to wait until they come to fruition.

Yet I'm finding as I learn to run instead of crawl in my faith, those hopes are being tied down to an altar that is going to be set ablaze.

I find myself in conversations with God where He whispers softly "What if that isn't what I have for you?"

And what if it isn't? What am I going to do with that hope?

Do I hold onto it for dear life and say "NO! I dearly want this! Can't You, of all people, see that?!"

Or do I raise the knife to slay the desire of my heart?

I think you might already know the answer.

My Father knows how badly I want that... and He knows that He has created me in such a way that I love loving someone.

I love it when I feel down about being alone in a coupled world that He speaks words of compassion saying, "Darling, fix your eyes only on Me. Let me dance with you now."

He's holding my hand and the matchbook as we stare at the struggling hope as it dies on the altar of my heart.

Do I still want to have someone love me soon?

Absolutely!

I just think its high time to embrace singularity and hold His gaze.

I've been told not to duck

Dear Reader, 
Curveballs are tricky.
You think they're going one way, and then they don't... because they do exactly what their title says they're going to do. 


In life, you're up at bat all the time.... and balls are flung at you moment by moment. 
I like to think that over the past month or so, I've been swinging strong at all the balls that come my way.
They've been straight shooters.
Pleasant surprises.
Easy to knock out of the park. 


But on occasion... as is the general way of life... there are a few balls that are thrown that knock you upside the head. 
Sometimes these knocks upside the head result in a happy ending... an ending that you like to retell. 
Other times, you wish you could skip over the instant replay and never remember it ever again. 


I had a small curveball thrown at me tonight. 
It was a marble sized one... nothing world changing. 
But it matters to me... and so I will write it down. 


About two weeks ago, I had a conversation with a friend that I didn't want to have. 
I have had feelings for this person for a long time now... feelings that I have suppressed and forgotten at points... but they've never ceased to be there.
Sadly, they don't necessarily feel the same... but we're good friends, and it shouldn't alter the friendship that we have, even though it may be hard for me at points. 
Because this person doesn't feel the same, I had to express that getting over those feelings was going to take more of a team effort than simply me forgetting the existence of those feelings. 
This seemed be a joint agreement. 
No verbalizing of how either of us feel... and no speaking of certain subjects. 


Today, out of jest, a rhyme was sent to me from him. 
I laughed as I read through his funny thoughts on what my very own theme song should be like.... causing my roommate to look at me like I was mentally ill. 
Then, the rhyme turned serious.... and I stuffed the phone that held it in my pocket. 
There was verbalization. 


Now, of course I want to hear things like that from him... 
but, why go there if he doesn't feel as I do? 


The marble sized curveball hit me hard on my forehead.
Maybe I'll get some sleep tonight... or maybe I'll lie awake with a throbbing memory. 


I have a feeling it will be the latter.