My Own Salt

So my inner hippie likes to document things: particularly my growing love for people and nature and my new, subtle discoveries I'm making.
For example, I've decided that if I were to take ONE ITEM with me to a deserted island, it would not be pen or paper,it would not be a television, it would not be a pillow or a Bible (sorry, God), or anything like that. It would be a piano. An old, upright, wooden piano. I mean, I would take a baby grand, of course, but there's something comforting about an upright piano.
Also, I don't react well around homophobes. Luckily I can internalize and suppress my violent tendencies. A therapist may soon be needed.
Also, I am becoming more spastic and less "here." Maybe I smoke pot in my sleep. Laura says I've been sleep-talking, and the other night, I woke up mid-reach across the room, touching the foot of her bed. I think in my dream-like trance, I was trying to swat a bug away. Strange. Pot? Maybe.
Also, I am SOOOOO moody sometimes! It's like I"m getting more and more patient on the outside,but on the inside, I'm saying not nice things. (Sorry again, God. We'll talk later.)
My fingernails are gone. I'm a beaver.
Writing a Bible study makes me much more aware of the Bible. Wow! What a coincidence!
I still can't stand Naomi. If I ever got married, I would die if my mother-in-law was a Naomi.
Esther is friggin awesome!
I don't think I ever knew Joel was a book in the Bible.
I've discovered that Indiana is much like that of the Bible Belt. Ehhh...
It storms when I'm in a mood. I like it. I feel power in my female-ness when it storms.
I'm starting to get tired of my hair again.
I am becoming much more passionate at defending people who are gay.
I constantly chant "I love Jesus I love Jesus I love Jesus" when I get rejected by selfish restaurants as I ask for food donations. In stead of calling them bastards as I hang up the phone, I tell Jesus that I love him. It's a nice trade, I think.
I love being pale. It's nice. But if I go to Africa, Miss Pale Face may need to get more Vitamin D. Eesh.
My evenings are spent swapping bipolar moods with a four year old. Sadly, I feel like she expresses what I internalize. Especially the moping about, stomping up the stairs and screaming with fury part.
I'm starting to like my singing voice a little more. Not really in an egotistical, I wanna-try-out-for-American-Idol way, but in a "Hey, this is my voice, uncorrupted by forced influences. I can make things sound different. Sweet!"
My tattoo contmplation is being squashed by my tiny bank account. But I'm not giving up hope.
I love bracelets that tell a story. I have three right now, one from Belgium, one from Belize, and one from Uganda. I requested one from Kenya today (along with the request for a black baby,) so hopefully I'll have four in a month!
I don't want to follow any marriage tradition if I get married. Well, except for maybe a cool celebration part.
I'm only eating ice cream two days a week, and I'm OKAY with that. It's crazy.
I've taken a slight break from reading whole books so far. It's weird.
I can sit down with my amazing, Jesus-loving host family and relax while watching the Bachelorette or some other crazy silly show and sip a beer or a glass of wine. It's amazing. They love gay people, too.