Thursday, December 29, 2011


I don't like cheese, but I do like owls and some people too.
I wish and I wish though it'll never come true.

What do you call having what you'd never miss?
What do you call missing what you never had?

Sometimes I just have to remind myself that to feel is to live, let it out, and move on.
Thank you for being around, and giving me a reason to be stronger than I am right now.  I promise to hold everything together for you, I promise to be there for you.  Any of you, all of you, but you in particular.
love always, laura elizabeth.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Seet Deams.

I bet you all thought that when I say that, it's a mistake, huh?
It isn't.
I just think it's funny.

Yeah, whatever.  I'm not perfect.  I never claimed to be.  I never wanted to be.  Not your version, anyway.

And guess what?
Some day I will pack up all my owl figurines and my potential and get as far away from here as I can.

In other news, happy 200th post.  I doubt any of you have read any of them [especially because some of them are just drafts.]
It's fine.

Goodnight, and seet deams.
love always, laura elizabeth.

Why are you hearing so slow?

The best thing about life is that it keeps moving forward.
The worst thing about life is that it keeps moving forward.

Bring me roses,
Bring me Taco Bell,
Bring me a locket,
But most importantly:
Bring me happiness.

Make me smile,
Make me cry,
Make me angry,
But most importantly:
Make me feel.

Watch me dance,
Watch me act,
Watch me sing,
But most importantly:
Watch me grow.

Help me clean,
Help me shop,
Help me with homework,
But most importantly:
Help me live happily.

Flirt with me,
Hug me,
Kiss me,
But most importantly:
Care about me.

Tell me you love me,
Tell me we'll be forever,
Tell me I'm beautiful,
But most importantly:
Tell me you miss me when I'm not there.

You are rare and beautiful.
Yes, you.
love always, laura elizabeth.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.

Life is frittered away by detail.  Simplify.  Simplify.

Let's just step back and acknowledge the fact that chocolate and caramel can be successfully combined.
Let's just step back and acknowledge that books can be re-read.
Let's just step back and acknowledge that even days you wake up with a migraine on can still be good days.
Let's just step back and acknowledge that Addy is brilliant and beautiful.
Let's just step back and acknowledge that life is brilliant and beautiful.
Let's just step back and acknowledge that tomorrow is the last school day of the year.
Let's just step back and acknowledge that while some things that you wish for, you won't get; but some things you wish for, you will.
Let's just step back and acknowledge that we are blessed.
Let's just step back and acknowledge that healthy can be delicious too.
Let's just step back and acknowledge that even though bad things happen to good people, good things happen to good people too.

Let's step back and realize we are incredible;
We are life itself;
We are beautiful and pure;
We are the actors, and all the world's a stage.

love always, laura elizabeth.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Once Upon an Eleven-Eleven

While doing research for a journalism article, I came across the following terms:

Sport: an athletic activity requiring skill or physical prowess and often of a competitive nature, as racing, baseball, tennis, golf, bowling, wrestling, boxing, hunting, fishing, etc.

Athletic: physically active and strong; of or pertaining to athletes;  involving the use of physical skills or capabilities, as strength, agility, or stamina.
Athletes:  a person trained or gifted in exercises or contests involving physical agility, stamina, or strength; a participant in a sport, exercise, or game requiring physical skill.
 *the following definitions came from 

In other news...

I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than this.

Except, of course, world peace and an end to famine.

love always, laura elizabeth.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Who? Who?

"Who?  Who?" said the owl, turning his snowy head all around in search of someone who isn't there.

Because, how could he know?

Does he know where it's all gone?  To be more specific, does he know where I've gone?

How could he know when I, myself, don't even know?

I am not who I was, nor am I who I'm meant to be, but if I continue on this path I can continue to feel free.

Not everything makes sense, not everyone makes sense.  Life won't always make sense and love will rarely make sense.  But what is sense, really?  A perception?  Does anything ever make sense?  Will friends make sense or just nonsense?  Will I make sense or just nonsense?  Because sometimes people leave you and sometimes people haunt you and sometimes people hurt you but that doesn't mean you should just give up on them, it means that you should just keep trying to make sense of it all.  Does this post make sense?  Maybe not, but it does to me.  Does my newfound infatuation with all things drama related make sense?  Maybe not, but it does to me.  Does my sensitivity about dance make sense?  Maybe not, but it does to me. 
People will talk about you with other people;  I've talked about all of you to someone, I can guarentee.  People will not have the same opinion as you, but people will also be just as tired of it all as you too.  So lay down your sword and I'll lay down my shield and we can part as likely friends and we'll swim through the seas of miscommunications together.
Does that make sense?  Maybe not.  But it does to me.

love always, laura elizabeth.

post script:  I don't really like him.  I promise.  It's just hopeless.  I just needed someone to imagine is holding me to sleep and he's just the last person to have hugged me.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011


What a word. 
You don't hear "grungy" much anymore and I bet you hear "grunge" even less. 
Guess who's bringing it back?
^^ I guess this Christmas we'll see who really loves me..

The funny thing about mornings is that I wake up, I just don't get up...usually until I have about five minutes left.
The funny thing about boys is that I don't understand them.  At all.  And yet, I still like them.
The funny thing about my teddy bear is that it's secretly a real person that hugs me to sleep every night.
The funny thing about math is I'm actually sometimes good at it.
The funny thing about pillows is that lately, I've been more comfortable without one.
The funny thing about Harry Potter is that he's consistently there for me.  Every time.
The funny thing about singing is that I can't.
The funny thing about my dance performance is that it's on Saturday.
The funny thing about me is that when I think, "We should just agree to disagree again" is that I really mean "She should just agree to agree.  With me."
The funny thing about owls is that I LOVE THEM.
The funny thing about taco bell is that I haven't had it in far too long.
The funny thing about homework is that I actually don't hate it, I just hate the time it consumes.  We only get the one life, you know.
The funny thing about Teddy is that I think I might be starting to like him...gug.
The funny thing about birthday parties is that I always feel obligated to bring a present.
The funny thing about weekends is that for the past many, I've almost always had great plans with great people...Like I'm some sort of socially awkward butterfly.
The funny thing about toenails is that once one finally grows back to a decent state, the other one begins to bruise.  And you get blisters on your toes that bleed all over your toe pads.
The funny thing about dance is that it's physically a sport but emotionally an art.
The funny thing about life is that it won't wait and let you sort through the jumbled mess of your emotions.  It just keeps going endlessly-for the time being, anyway-on.  You don't get a chance to catch your breath or really think about what's happening.  Lately, for me, that's been sort of a blessing.

love always, laura.
  I don't care what you say- except I do because it hurts me when you tell me the love of my life doesn't match your standards of physically challenging.  But how often do you have to suffer through extreme tests of endurance while putting on a pretty face and making it all look good?  Please don't feel like I'm attacking your sport, because I am absolutely not; besides, we've already cleared up that it would never be possible for me to even try it.  I just want you to respect my passion and if you still have a different opinion about Ballet, please just keep it to yourself.  It's better for both of us in the long run.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Just Dance.

I hope the sun shines
and it's a beautiful day
and something reminds you
you wish you had stayed

Because this is real life, people.

In real life, people do drugs and have sex and tell lies.  In real life, people kiss you because "why not?" and people don't kiss you because "why?".  In real life, guys give incredible hugs and make beautiful manipulations.  In real life, girls compliment the face and gossip behind the back.  In real life, tables come crashing down because three teenage boys are playing war at a party.

In real life, feelings collide and so do thoughts.  In fact, real life is practically a war of head and heart, with a little will mixed in.  That's just real life.  Real life is math equations and story problems and punctuation and bad singing.  Real life is harsh and doesn't make sense.

But sometimes we get to have moments of fake life, like first kisses by a stream and fitting in.  Moments like painting a set or winning first place or someone unexpected flirt with you.  It's like re-reading your favorite book by a fireplace or having caramel hot chocolate with the most amazing people at IHOP at one in the morning.  Fake life is like hope and happiness and non-reality.

Fake life is taking risks, but so is real life.  We're all fake life and we're all real life and it's all life and the best part is that we all share it.

The best way to stay clean is to not start.
love always, laura.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

No good life is led on maybes.

"Here's my palm; care to read it?"

Because, who knows, maybe you'll learn something.
Maybe you can tell my why I'm so constantly on the verge of tears lately, for no good reason; I've seen my two best friends more in the past three days than I have in the previous two weeks, I'm understanding my math, and I've been reading more often.  Why am I on the verge of tears?  And why can't I seem to talk to him about it anymore?
Maybe you can tell me how I feel; what I think and what I don't.  You could see, possibly, what I think of him and what, hopefully, he thinks of me.  Why I think I have to act a certain way when I don't and why I can't seem to talk to him anymore.
Maybe you could tell me how he really feels, from looking at the hand he once held.  Maybe it left something, residue, for lack of a better word; maybe from that, you can deduce why he's doing what he's done and why he's said what he said.
Maybe, also, you could decide how long my life will be.  But don't tell me; I don't want to know.  I prefer living in my dream of forever young; after all, we only grow up when we stop having fun.
Maybe I miss how we were.
Then again, maybe you can't.
But I know we can never go back.  So thanks, Mitchell, now I'm alone again.
Maybe you'll see a tired hand, fingernails painted some off color that you know I hate, but that's all.  Hands really don't tell you much.  If you really want answers, look at my eyes.  Eyes will tell you everything.
For one thing, if they're green, you'll know I've given up holding it back.
love always, laura.