Nothing Is Impossible! Except, You Know, That.

First, I'll start off by giving myself a pat on the back for posting TWO Blogs within 4 days. To that I say, go me.

Second, as allot of you may already know, I posted my first cover last night. For this being my first time actually finishing a cover I think it was pretty ok. Go to this link and you can not only listen to it, but download it. What is this madness? Listen, Tweet, Status, reblog, and simply share it. It's much appreciated.

Lately my idealist state of mind has been getting me into trouble. Not literal trouble, no grounding or shaming was had, but trouble with myself. I don't quite know exactly why it's decided to show itself so much so suddenly, but it has.

For those of you who are not such, there for, don't fully get the concept of an idealist, here-

-Idealist-
–noun

1.

a person who cherishes or pursues high or noble principles,purposes, goals, etc.

2.

a visionary or impractical person.

3.

a person who represents things as they might or should berather than as they are.

4.

a writer or artist who treats subjects imaginatively.

5.

a person who accepts the doctrines of idealism.

There ya go.

Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining about this. I'm merely saying that it's a gift and a curse. Like every temperament, it has it's pros and cons. Realists don't spend enough time imagining and can be rather depressing to talk to, idealists spend too much time imagining and making up impossible situations and can be annoying to talk to.

Great stories come from thinking hours on end about what COULD happen if THAT happens or what MIGHT happen if THIS happens. I feel light hearted quite often and try to see the beauty in everything. Because if theirs beauty, theres possibility. And even when there is no hope left, I always have a smidgen hidden in my pocket to take out and look at when I'm lying in bed at night. I can truly say that I'm happy most the time because of this. I don't know if that will change as I grow older. Maybe instead of seeing light at the end of the tunnel I'll see just endless black. But I hope that doesn't happen. But sooner or later I have to step back and say, "That will NEVER happen." Which is very hard for me. Once I get my heart set on something it's there to stay. So theres allot of poking and prodding after admitting that to myself. I have to analyze myself and reanalyze myself. Each time taking a bit more of my heart and feelings away until all I have left is reality. Which is a sad day, because I've never quite liked reality. Ever since I was a wee tike I was the one who was always in their own little world. Never venturing outside of it until dinner was called. But after all I have left is reality I usually have to shift my inspiration as well. So basically, I rebuild part of my life from the ground up. The only thing remaining is God. The Foundation. Because He never changes. And I'm slowly learning that it's pointless to lean all your weight on a wall unless God's holding onto you. Because then, it's not such a big deal when your goals collapse. You're main one is still there and will forever be.

With all that said, I leave you with this-

-Nevertheless, God’s solid foundation stands firm, sealed with this inscription: “The Lord knows those who are his,” and, “Everyone who confesses the name of the Lord must turn away from wickedness.”-

Snowflakes Are Falling On My Head

This is the story about the beauty of snow. But first, a lesson from a Minnesotan to all you southerners.

To all you southerners who are not use to snow, there is only one way to make sure you last longer than 5 minutes outside in the snow before your legs start to fall off. And that is layers.

This morning when I drug myself out of bed to get dressed I had to run through the process of winter weather wear in my head to remind myself it's better safe than sorry. So I figured I'd give you a lesson as well.

First, if your a girl, leggings and/or Long Jons are a must. They fit nice and snug under your skin tight skinny jeans and keep you a good 10 degrees warmer. Second, double long sleeves. No, this is not over kill. Unless you so wish to throw yourself in the snow for a snow angel and end up with frozen limbs and a trip to the fireplace instead. Next comes my favorite- Double socks. Yes, double socks. It's amazing how cold your toes are capable of getting. And make sure you wear BOOTS. Not converse, not TOMS, not Vans, BOOTS. Got it? Then comes the usual. A heavy jacket or coat and gloves. I personally skipped out on the hat and went for fuzzy earmuffs instead. But if you wish to wear a hat, go for it.

Undoudtedly once you've been outside for 10 minutes you'll realize you are still cold and your legs are still numb. I'm sorry, but no amount of clothing can help this. It's an inevitable thing of life that can only be made better, not taken away.

You may also realize something else. Your nose is FREEEEEEEZZZZIINNGGGGG. This is another one of life's laughing matters. Because there is now possible way to keep your nose warm without looking like the little boy from A Christmas Story and your neighbor not being able to hear anything but, "Hhhhur Mhr Ghhra hu Wuuhg." When you say "Top of the morning to you." And we wouldn't want that, would we? But I promise that no matter how stingy, chilly, or drippy your nose may get that it will not fall off. My nose has braved many a winter and it is still with me till this day.

After getting clad in my chain mail against the enemy, so to say, I immediately grabbed my iPod and stumbled out the front door and started trudging through the snow. It was dry, icy business. A layer of ice had formed on top of the powdery snow and made trudging loud. Awkward stares were had by the few people out. But I didn't mind. Port Blue was pouring through my headphones and everything was beautiful. Not a trace of homesickness was felt in my heart and I knew this was going to be a wonderful walk.

I started off just walking up my road. My goal was to get lost in my own neighbor hood, but that is easier said than done and regrettably did not end up happening. Every step I wished for a neighborhood friend to play with and shove snow down each others coats like in Minnesota. It was just slightly heart wrenching to see the neighborhood children running around and pushing each other in snow heaps. As you get older, you start spending more and more time alone and I'm still getting use to that fact. But the nip of the midwest was a familiar on my rosie cheeks and I decided to spend the remainder of my walk consulting my Best Friend. Along my journey I decided to see how snowball capable the snow was. So I picked up a clump and quickly realized that the melting technique was needed. And from then on I continued to randomly smash the thin ice on peoples trashcans and grab handfuls of snow, rubbing it in to semi-melt it into a perfect ball shape.

As I passed the neighborhood playground I seriously considered being the immature teenager who climbs on the roof to form snow angels and write cheesy poems in the snow. Or twirl around from pole to pole screaming "Whoooooo!" with my tongue sticking out to catch the falling freezing rain. Or, ya know, swing on the swing set... But just as I was standing in front of the gate I decided to withdraw my presents. I don't know why. Perhaps I just felt out of place. But non the less, I walked on. The more I walked, the colder and wetter I got. The colder I got, the more alive I felt. The more alive I felt, the more I noticed the beauty in every bit of God's creation. The more I noticed, the more words came flooding to my head. The more words came, the more I felt like myself. And the more I felt like myself, the more I was happy. Not just happy, content and willing. There's just something so beautiful about the cold and snow. It makes everything it touches beautiful. Like a gentle kiss from heaven. I noticed the once flowered trees that hang over the sidewalk's bare branches, the heaviness of my UGGs as the slush and snow collected on the bottoms causing my steps to weigh 2 extra pounds. Everything was illuminated.

By this time my snow ball was the size of my hand. Every stop sign I passed I contemplated throwing it at. Except anyone who knows me knows I have a terrible arm and would likely sooner hit the person shoveling their driveway 10 feet away than the big, red stop sign 5 feet in front of me. I could just see myself trying to explain this to a red faced middle aged man with a medal shovel gripped in both hands. So I decided against that as well. All the same, every family I passed seemed to keep a watchful eye on the suspicious looking teenager with a giant snowball made out of half ice. I don't blame them.

When I finally decided to turn back(after wondering through half my large neighborhood) it seemed like everyone had decided to come out to the world of the living at once. Dads were driving 4x4s while their daughters hung off the back with a smile that could melt the heart of the Winter Warlock, people were playing catch, two year olds were building their first snowman, and you couldn't go 10 feet without someone flashing you a smile and saying, "Lovely day!". To this I would of course reply, "Oh yes! Cold, but perfect." while pretending I could actually hear them perfectly through my music. It's amazing what a difference in weather does to people.

Once I entered my street the change of pace was staggering. Our hill down to the Col-de-sac had been turned into a ski slope with even the parents enjoying themselves. I watched at a distance for a while before deciding to go inside and have lunch.

I don't know why I felt the need to dump all of this on you guys. I guess to make up for my depression over Tumblr. I could say so much more about how my indoor experience today has been. Like how at the moment my dad and mother are baking cookies and blasting German, trying to decode it... But I wont. I've already been typing for 2+ hours. I shall not bore you any longer.

Stay safe.

The Between Time

    Only two days ago was one of the most anticipated days out of 365 in a year.

Christmas.

Even the sheer word of it greats in most a feeling of extreme joy, happiness, and contentment. It's the day that kids and teens alike store up in there memory and count down the days till. I will admit I was one of those kids which in the middle of the summer would see something I wanted and go, "Oooooo. I'll ask for that for Christmas." And as I've gotten older, the excitement of the Christmas season hasn't changed much. The lights, the sound, (and yes,) the snow... It's hard to believe that it's already over. There was waiting, feasting, chatting, unwrapping, curclacking, shurlacking, mushtaking... You get the gist. But, within 48 hours the excitement was over. How depressing.

But as everyone finds out, when one thing ends, another takes its place. And right after Christmas comes New Years. And a little after New Years comes Valentines day. But in-between Christmas and New Years Eve is a span of 7 days in which nothing happens. It's just utter.... Boredom, free time, loneliness... Pick a word. But the bottom line is that you have nothing but time to do whatever you so choose to do. Over the years I have named this and it's sort of become a Holiday of it's own in my heart. Everyone, please become acquainted with- The Between Time.

Let's just go ahead and admit to ourselves that when we have an abundance of time on our hands and nothing to do with it (unless you're a guy...), we think allot. Too much. There's no school, very few friends, and too much time to think. That's The Between Time. It's when you consider things you'd never consider and think about changing certain areas of your life. It's when you let your dreams break through your ordinary life.

So here is me saying, happy Between Time! May your mind wonder (but not too much) and your dreams break through.

I know my Blogs are very spaced out. And I'm sorry. I just have no time in my life for extra stuff. I already live 4 separate lives. My dance life, music life, book/writing life, and school life. It's a taught world. So I'll also leave you with happy new year! Don't forget to celebrate with friends, drink some Sparkling Apple Cider, and kiss your hubby when the clock strikes twelve.

Love you all.

Once Upon This Sleepy Town...

So, what happened is that I wrote this in the car on the way to the beach on WORD and I TOTALLY forgot about it. We drove through a town in Alabama and the vibe it gave off (and the way I felt) immediately got my attention. So here ya go. 

I am writing to you all from approximately the left side of the middle seats in my van. The view is pleasant as we drive through the sleepy town of Eufala, Al. A town lost in time, you might say, seeming to await for the right time to awake… But that time never comes. Perhaps I should start at the begging of our journey, so you can better get why I’m here and where I’m headed.

 It started out as any other ordinary day, awoken to my moms voice, drug myself out of my raffled bed with the same swimmy headedness I have every morning. Except it wasn’t like every morning. I slowly changed my clothes to cut off shorts, my surfing shirt, a favorite boy-friend vest, and a bright orange bandana tied as a flip-sided headband over my head. In a “mammy” style of sorts.

I gracefully tumbled down the stairs in my usual fashion, and greeted my mother, grand parents, and sister. I must admit, it was too early for my loner self to surrender myself to family. But it didn’t matter, my mind was crisp as a piece of paper and I was ready to tackle this next adventure in front of me. Walking out to the garage I spotted my dad working his magic with the van. Skillfully placing every piece of our luggage in a distinct place, like a puzzle he had done many time before and succeeded. Which, we all knew, was the truth of it all, as my family can easily fill two cars with just our suite cases. Handing him Alice I noticed that my brother-in-law and sister number two had arrived with two other family members- their two little Yorkies, Haley and Oliver. The whole family was now together for one sole event, the beach. A little beach house we had rented for 5 days of bliss. In the words of sister number one, “’Vacation’ is a foreign word to the Doss family.” So true.

Approximately 30 minutes later my mother, grand parents, dogs (Precious, Maggie, Haley, and Oliver), sisters, and brother-in-law all piled into the two suppurate cars bound for the beach and waved goodbye to my daddy and brother (of which were suppose to meet us at the beach at approximately 5:00 in the morning.)

Then we were off! I was then stuck in the car for an 8-hour drive. Superb. We grabbed Starbucks alone the way (because nobody was very thrilled to be in the car this early), and got on the highway. I immediately threw my head phones on (after pulling on a pair of pure white knee socks, as is customary for my car travels.), turned up the already-loud volume, and let the blissful, serene sound of Owl City, Cady Groves, Chase Coy, and Sky Sailing run through my body and influence my dreamy thoughts as I looked out the window. During this I notice the clouds. They had a wispy, wistful curve to their thin figure. Pure white against the clear blue sky. And then I was lost in though and did not submerge until lunch.

 After a few hours of reading my new book, listening to music, and trying to keep my dog of my shoulders, we ended up in this small town. A pure southern town, it is. I currently put down my book, picked up my computer, and allowed Cady Groves folky voice to run through my headphones. (If ever there was a soundtrack for this town, it is definitely Cady Groves’ first EP, “A Month Of Sundays”.) The town seems a bit tired and sad compared to the city life I’ve always loved, but at the same time completely perfect in the bring sun and warm breeze. A simple picture of serene ambience.  

For This I Am Thankful...

   *Sighhhh.* Dare I be one of the cliche bloggers to post a Blog about being thankful? Due to Thanks Giving just around the corner. Or more... Staring into our faces. Because... It's only days away. Ehem.

So here are the traditions of the Doss family for Thanksgiving.

I wake up late and eat a lukewarm breakfast. Usually consisting of sausage. Then sit around like a vegetable watching the parade and being taunted my the smell of food. But these exciting events aren't what make Thanksgiving awesome for me. It's two things really. 1. The family actually all sitting at one table for a meal. And 2. The dishes my mom makes.

I could go very deep into the reason number one, but I will restrain myself.

As for number two... Every year since I could remember my mom has made certain dishes for Thanksgiving. A few of these are Smackin' Cheese (Haha), Anti-Giblet Gravy, Sweet Potato Casserole, and so much more.

I'll post again soon, but this was just a taste of some more blogs to come. I just wanted to post a little something as a "Sorry for not being around" message.

Thanks. :)

I Know A Girl...

I know a girl who has a different view on life. A wishful thinker I sometimes call her. Even though I claim to know her, the truth is that I'm the one who knows her best, and I still don't understand her. At least not fully. She changes so often, yet completely stays the same. Like the oceans tide (no matter how corny that might seem), wanting nothing to do wish reality and everything to do with somewhere most people don't see past the age of 10. A different world set in the same earth, yet a completely different perspective. This is the person I know. And, just maybe, I know only this, and that is not even the start to her person.

She seems to love people and friends, yet lives for those few moments of seclusion. Where the world seems to fade and slowly drift away... Leaving nothing but those thoughts and feelings which it so chooses to let her feel and think. Nobody to disturb her... No appointments which need to be met... Just simple.... Serene... Silence.

A pen and page are her escape of choice. If not that, then a guitar and pick. Getting lost in that one world which is yours can't compare to anything else. It's not that you make the rules, or don't have to fallow them. It's that their aren't any. If a pirate wants to find her own way, so be it. If a girl wants to fly, let it be so.

But one of the main things I KNOW about her is this- She thrives on loneliness. Separation is her happy place and beyond this world is her reality. Nothing will ever change that. Nobody knows why. She just seems to like the emptiness that void feels. Or maybe it isn't that the void is empty, but that it's full. Maybe loneliness turns on a bright light inside her where thoughts aren't limited and life isn't the same. Perhaps it changes things. Maybe she thrives on that single idea of being 23 and single. No man in her life, living alone and traveling whenever her heart yearns for it. Maybe her mind is the one place she can go where God, music, writing, and all else she cares for live as a whole. Where nobody can change that and influence action. Maybe loneliness IS her escape.

In Which the Procrastinator Finds Inspiration

Lately I've been having dreams.

No, not that kind.... Well yes that kind but that's not what I'm talking about.

I've been having the kind of dreams that you fall asleep, see a story projected across your eyelids, and suddenly get thrown back into reality by the deafeningly loud voice of your mother repeatedly saying "Thea. Wake. Up."

The last part isn't exactly enjoyable, actually it's down right awful. But the middle part is amazing. It feels so real while it lasts. Even if it's totally the opposite of realistic, it seems realistic at the time. I love that saying from Inception that goes, "Dreams seem real when we're in them. It's only when we wake up that we notice something was actually weird."

Well said, Cobb, well said.

But dreams also make me realize stuff when I wake up. My mind seems fogged up, yet completely clear at the same time. I'm dizzy, yet stable. Life is always a bit dimmer and slightly more queer. I usually realize how bland this world is, (As if I didn't already know that...) and that I'll probably die if I live the same life as millions of other people. The "white picket fence, 9-5 job" life style is more like a nightmare than a life to me.

I guess it make me driven to make my life more than I myself am capable of doing. It makes me strive to prove "I can do everything through Christ who strengthens me."

Ever since I was a wee girl of some small age, I've always done 3 things:

1. Created stories. Any kind of stories. I hated writing at the time, so my friends and I would put together stories (like so many other little girls) and we'd act them out. And as I've grown up I've never stopped creating scenarios and characters. Of course my ways of doing it have matured and gone through stages. I've gone from plays, to film, to books. But what I do and my mind set towards it has never changed.

2. Sing/perform. I ALWAYS loved singing and performing. I still remember the first time my daddy let me get my grubby little 5-year-old-hands on his guitar. I, of course, had no idea how to even begin to go about playing the darn thing (I wasn't a very smart child... Never have been) So I looped the guitar strap around my neck (I remember it being huge compared to my tiny self) and aimlessly strummed away. I didn't care if it sounded like someone was strangling our cat in the back yard, I loved just simply holding the thing. Needless to say, the song I wrote never made it onto the top 10 on iTunes. But that's ok.

3. Travel. Traveling has always been a yearly thing for my family. I thought it so magical that we could get into a plane or car and travel for a few hours, then end up in a completely different place than where we were. With different people, paces, accents, views... I just loved it.

All that said, I have/always had an impeccably dreamy state of mind. And it never left me. Reality? Pshhh! Who needs it? But lately as I've started to really grow up and explore the world, be consumed by school, and have emotional tax put on me, that mind set has started fading. The world has gotten to me and the inspiration to write, do music, and imagine the world differently has slowly started decreasing. Making me not believe I'm capable of being a writer, a musician, or anything else God has given me a love for. Making me think that maybe I will end up living the life I dread.

But that's where dreams and the inspiration of them comes in. That "tasting freedom then being thrown back into reality" thing rekindles the dreamy, child eyes I've always had and will always have for years to come. God is going to use it, and that I'm sure of. So I'm going to strive to not let the world seep through my cracks and get to me.

Think about it.

Think about it.