"Let Every Heart Prepare Him Room..."

                                   *cough* 

   We're just going to ignore the fact that I haven’t posted in 3 weeks. Sorry, I was too busy watching Christmas movies. 

   This whole month I’ve been extremely psyched and gung-ho about Christmas- and winter-related activities. Oh you know, the usual: ice skating (on our own backyard ice rink), caroling, holiday parties, shopping, cutting down a Christmas tree, baking and decorating Christmas cookies…

   

   I was so excited about all the possible fun stuff I could do, not to mention getting off work on a Friday night, that all my enthusiasm and great plans have carried me through almost the whole month of December... without actually doing any of them.

   

   Seriously, you can imagine my disappointment when I realized yesterday that it was December 22^nd--and the only cute, festive activity I’d actually done is make homemade salted caramel hot chocolate. I love Christmas Day and all, but the weeks leading up to it are the height of festivities, and they’ve whooshed right by me.

   

   Even the exhilarating adventure of chopping down our Christmas tree was kind of a letdown. We arrived at the tree farm, armed with a measuring tape and a saw, but just as we were about to brave the blowing snow and roam the acres of tundra in search of the perfect tree, we happened to walk past a row of pre-cut evergreens. My dad held one up to look at, just for the heck of it, and ten minutes later, it was on top of our car as we drove home. I mean, I suppose it was convenient that the very first tree we looked at happened to be the perfect one, but so much for the 6 layers of socks and invigorating trek into the woods. I felt a little cheated.

   

   In a mood of self-pity because I hadn’t done all this fun social stuff, I happened to flip to the Christian radio station and Brandon Heath’s Christmas song “Just A Girl” was on. I hadn’t heard it before, and was about to switch the station when I got drawn in by the cool guitar part and melody.

   

   As I listened to the nativity story told through the eyes of the innkeeper, my mood slowly began to change.

   

   It’s impossible in my household not to know this story inside and out…and honestly, it can get a bit stale sometimes. As important as the Christmas story is, I sometimes get sick of hearing the same old historical events year after year.

   

   But when I listened to this fresh perspective and different twist on Christ’s birth, everything become alive again, and I got chills as I pictured what he was narrating.

   

   It was exactly what I needed to hear. I could hear the Lord telling me that I was completely missing the point of the Christmas season. The same point that has been drilled into me year after year by my parents and at church. 

   

   No wonder I felt so empty and shallow. I had so focused all my time and energy for three and a half weeks on secular holiday doings (or wishing for them anyway) that I had neglected bettering myself and preparing a place for Christ in my heart.

   

   I felt like a little kid as those hackneyed phrases ran through my mind: “Jesus is the reason for the season”--“It’s not about getting, it’s about giving”--“Don’t get caught up in the hustle and bustle. Remember what we’re celebrating.”

   

   And so better late than never, in these last few days before Christmas, I’ve been trying to do a speed cleansing of the soul. A quick version of Advent...4 days!

   

   I won’t say something utterly cliché about not losing the real reason for Christmas…but maybe we should just try to find a new point of view and listen when God calls us in a different way than we expected.

   

   I think the words of the well-known Advent hymn are a lovely prayer to help us do this:

“Come, Thou long expected Jesus, 

Born to set Thy people free!
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.”

Well, enjoy the rest of your Advent!

…or, wait, have a Merry Christmas!

Starbucks Trip... Turned Cold

(from Google.com)

   As much as I love coffee, I surprisingly don’t get to Starbucks very often.

   
   Maybe it’s because I think $5 is absurd for a “tall” (small) cup o’ joe, or because every time I want to go, I don’t have a ride or don’t look adorable enough.

   Because it’s a well-known fact: you can’t go into Starbucks looking like a bear out of hibernation. That’s why today was the first time in three months that I actually got there.

   
   I woke up thinking, “The only way I’m gonna get out of bed today is if I make myself look decent for Mass and then treat myself to Starbucks...” So I got all ready, looked pretty cute for a Monday morning, and succeeded in convincing my mom to drive me over there (because I still need to work on that license...).

   
   I had been drooling all morning, imagining the feel of a hot Gingerbread or Caramel latte in my hand, and I got even more hyped up when I walked in the door and was overcome by the heavenly scent of coffee.

   
   Ok so I have no life. But hey, it’s the little things in life that matter.

   
   I stood at the counter for a minute squinting at the small sign (since I didn’t have my glasses on) and finally decided on the "Caramel Brulée" Frappuccino. All you Starbucks connoisseurs out there can laugh at me all you want, but I forgot that "Frappuccino" in normal language means “cold”. I thought about asking for it to be hot, but didn’t want to sound like an idiot.

   
   I was already shivering, mind you, due to the abrupt weather change. So when my order was an undersized (smaller than I remember) cup of iced coffee, I practically cried. Not to mention it wasn’t even a cute cup like all the other hot drinks I’d just seen.           But alas, I’m too prideful to say to the young girl that I have no brains and actually wanted a hot one.

   
   Luckily, it was still delicious, and I didn’t even mind that my whole body was trembling and my lips were purple.

   I waited patiently by the door for my mom to pick me up, trying to look as least pathetic as possible. I failed.

   5 minutes later, I was still waiting there like a sad little dog by the window.

   5 more minutes, half my beverage was gone, and I’d seen the same man pass through the door a few times. I think he felt bad for me because he smiled…

   5 more minutes… Tried my mom’s cell a few times to no avail.

   15 minutes is usually a short amount of time… but not when you’re standing in Starbucks trying to look cool as people brush past you in and out the door. I wish I’d at least had a bell and a bucket so I could’ve pretended I was from the Salvation Army.

   
   By then I was freezing, annoyed, worried about not getting my school done, and had an empty (cold) cup in my hand. So much for being all warm and cozy and cute, with a warm drink in a Christmas cup.

   At last, she came, and I quietly slipped into out into our beautiful monstrous minivan.

   The good side was that the caffeine finally kicked in and I had a pretty good day… wrapped up in a snowsuit and blanket. Gotta love coffee after all.

(from Google.com)

Adventures in the Grocery Store

   You know you’ve been too busy when you haven’t gotten to Wegmans for a month. 

   

   It’s pathetic really….and then when you do go, you feel like an old lady, forgetting where the bread is.

  

   What should have been a quick 15-minute trip there yesterday, ended up being an hour-long excursion of aimless wandering, as I trekked through the labyrinth of aisles for Spanish rice and marshmallows.  

   You’d think the big marked signs would help. But what they don’t you tell is where stuff like Guacamole mix is. I guess you’re supposed to infer that it’s in the Refried Beans aisle but seriously, who has time to think that through?

   The produce section is the worst though because there’s no signs whatsoever for guidance. If there was ever a time I wanted a huge, ugly piece of poster board broadcasting “BROCCOLI HERE”, it was yesterday.
   But no, I had to wander through the entire section like a dazed tourist in a museum, cocking her head in every direction, surveying the breathtaking view of carrots and beets, while desperately trying to locate my object.

   I found the broccoli eventually, but when the same thing happened with the avocados, my frustration mounted. So I choked down my pride and decided to just ask an employee. I was not roaming that place any more.

   “Avocados? Yeah, they’re right behind you, miss.”, was the answer I got.

   Oh, you mean those two gigantic bins stuffed to the brim with them that I’ve been walking past for the last half hour? Awesome.

   Of course, they had three different types of them so I called my mom to see which ones she wanted. But there was no answer. So no doubt the guy was amused when I walked away without getting any, mumbling “Like I know which kind she wants.”

   

   I’m usually with someone whenever I grocery shop, so to make it more efficient, we split up to opposite sides of the store. Except it really doesn’t save time, because we always forget to designate a spot to meet up, and just set out on a wild goose chase. Plus, you can’t get cell service in the back of the store so that rules out that idea.

   Once my mom sent me off to get something in the store when I was younger and forgot to tell me where she was gonna be. After 20 minutes of looking for each other, she decided to just have my name paged over the loud speaker to come up to the front desk.
   They even added at the end, "Your mom is looking for you."
   Talk about humiliating… I would have rather kept drifting around lost than endure that embarrassment.

   The other thing I love about grocery shopping is when you walk up to a cash register with two half-gallon containers of ice cream, a dozen donuts, a jumbo Hershey’s bar…and a bag of salad. And the young guy just kinda smiles at you…

   Hey, you know, just trying to balance out my diet a little.

   Well, that’s it for my grocery store rants.

   

   I really shouldn’t complain, because I’ve heard some areas don’t even have Wegmans, and to me that’s about the worst catastrophe and deprivation you can have, so I’ll put up with the slight inconvenience of getting lost, or not finding an item for a few hours. 

In any case, happy shopping!

Fall Frolicking

(from Pinterest.com)

Don't you just swoon over the aroma of fresh apple pie?

Gaze awe-struck at the golden, rusty, and crimson flaming hues of the trees? 

Tingle with delight over the crisp, sunny days of hayrides, apple-picking, and football games? 

****

From September to November, you'll find my cupboards stuffed with pumpkin goodies, rows of boots lined up by the door, the football gear proudly displayed, the house practically ablaze with spiced candles...

Yep, I love everything about it. 

I attempted this year to take snapshots of all my favorite things of Fall, but realized that's impossible. So here's only a few of the lovely elements of this season:

Big sweaters and boots, leaves crunching under you...

Hot mulled cider from my work place...

 Every fall candle scent imaginable...no it's not overkill... 

Apple-picking at old-fashioned farms...

And for a laugh, here's our pumpkin that somehow decided to collapse on itself, just as we were getting ready to carve it...

"I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers."
~L.M. Montgomery

Enjoy the last week of this beautiful month! 

A Random Update for Your Enjoyment

In case you’ve had a burning desire to know what’s going on in my life (because I know you have), I wanted to inform you that nothing is new.

So there you go. Don’t be too jealous now.

But okay, there have been some little happenings of the week that I’ll be glad to recount. So hold on to your seats as you read some of the most exhilarating moments of my life.

Found this in a new purse...suspicious quotation marks...

Blonde moment of the week: I was trying to figure out how to tap into our Wifi on my dad’s laptop a few days ago and couldn’t seem to get it to work. So naturally, I typed into Google “How to get Wifi on a Mac."
Yeah, just never mind.

I was told by my ballroom dance instructor that I have a natural talent for salsa dancing. Made me laugh ‘cause I’m probably the farthest thing from a tall, dark, Latino dancer.

While my sister was home from college last weekend, she offered to make me a cup of chai tea. Now normally, I'd turn my nose up at the dark, murky, bitter concoction and have green tea instead, but she assured me of her newly-improved brewer skills and told me I'd love it. Half an hour later, I had to admit she was right. A little bit of cream, honey, vanilla extract, and cinnamon were the secret ingredients. I sipped a delicious beverage, perfectly sweet and spicy, and just the right temp. Never mind that it looked like mushroom soup with specks of floating coffee grounds.
 And now I'm hooked. Guess she actually is learning some worthwhile stuff at college.

I also learned that you don't know how addicted you are to internet and phone, until your brother accidentally rips the cable out for the landline and internet connection. I felt so isolated from everything, sitting alone in my room, eating candy. Rough life man... but it made me think, just imagine how much stuff I could accomplish if I went unplugged more often.

Well that's all I can think of for now. But I'll be sure to post soon. *Cough* 
(No promises though.)

Enjoy your weekend anyway! 

Tales of A Blonde Waitress

(from Pinterest.com)

   Waitressing in a small upscale restaurant certainly has its perks, like going home with leftover filet mignon. But that little piece of meat is hardly compensation for the blonde dilemmas I face serving five-course meals. 

   My family rarely eats out, unless you count Taco Bell.  So you can imagine my difficulty with 5-star dining. It's hard enough to remember that the wine glass goes above the knife (or was that the spoon?), much less to remember "serve right, clear left" when space is tight.

   So naturally, I've had some minor infractions of the laws of fine dining:

****

    Like the time I cleared a cute young guy’s chopsticks right before we served the Chinese course. 

But don’t worry, I replaced them just in time and I imagine he marveled at what an attentive waitress I was to get him the freshest pair possible. 

   Or the night that I filled a couple’s water glasses three different times, and each time picked the exact moment that they were holding hands across the table and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. I almost felt like I should ask if they wanted a photo of the three of us enjoying the night. 

   Then there are the multiple times I’ve cleared plates and forgotten to hold on to the silverware. I could only hope the melodic crash of metal gave a resounding finish to the sultry jazz piece in the background, but usually people turned and glared at me.

   ****

   These offenses don’t warrant any serious penalties but the next two might be enough to have my “waitress license” revoked.  

   The first one happened when I was clearing plates from a table for four. One man was still eating to my left as I stacked plates up in my right hand. As I turned to leave, my left hand for some reason swung out. In a split second, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man put his hand to his mouth, and heard him chuckle and say to me, “Oh, sorry.”

   As I strode to the kitchen, I noticed my hand was wet. And then I realized...yep, you guessed it, I had timed it just right, so that in the instant the man had opened his mouth to take a bite, my hand had brushed across his tongue. 

   I stayed in the kitchen until I could compose myself from laughing (and get over the grossness of it), then peeked out to see if he was reporting me. He seemed perfectly fine! But I couldn’t bear the embarrassment of even getting near that table the rest of the evening.

   My second catastrophe had to do with water glasses. The close quarters of the place meant that I had to reach across a male patron to get his glass and bring it towards me to fill it. I carefully held the glass over the table and started pouring.

   It was at precisely that moment that my mind decided it needed a vacation. 

   I don’t know why, but I completely stopped paying attention.

   It was a short vacation—3 seconds--but when I returned, I was still pouring and the glass was  overflowing like a fountain, onto my hands, into a puddle on the table! Startled, I ran to get a towel. 

   But that wasn’t the worst. I suddenly remembered the rule “water glass on the right”, and so embarked on the agonizingly slow journey of pushing the brimming water glass all the way across the table in front of the man to get to his right. 

   I was hoping the customers would just think I had some kind of depth-perception problem, but I proved to them that I was just being blonde. I said afterwards, “I’m so sorry; it came out faster than usual.”


   Well that’s all the shameful stories I have for now…but if I’m not out of a job soon, I'll be sure to post more of them!

When Your Strength Is Low...

   (from Pinterest.com)

   So I know I haven’t been very good with updating on here lately, but since school is in full swing, unfortunately, I haven’t had time to post very often. 

   But anyway, one thing I’ve been doing recently is highlighting every verse in the Bible I find about the strength that the Lord gives us.

   With the stress of schoolwork starting to build up, the days getting harder to push through, the lack of sleep often depleting our energy, and whatever other obstacles we face this time of year, I think we all need an extra amount of strength for our spirits. If you agree, here’s some verses to encourage you.

****

“Draw your strength from the Lord and from His mighty power.

Put on the armor of God so that you may be able to stand firm against the tactics of the devil.” -Eph. 6:10-11

“Though I thought I had toiled in vain and for nothing uselessly spent my strength, yet my reward is with the Lord, my recompense is with my God.” -Isaiah 49:4

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

-Philippians 4:13

“The Lord is my strength and my shield, in whom my heart trusted and found help. So my heart rejoices; with my song I praise God.” -Psalm 28:7

“Look to the Lord in His strength; seek to serve Him constantly.” 

-1 Chronicles 16:11

“O Lord, have pity on us, for you we wait. Be our strength every morning, our salvation in time of trouble.” -Isaiah 33:2

“The God of all grace who called you to His eternal glory through Christ will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you after you have suffered a little." -I Peter 5:10

“My strength and my courage is the Lord, and He has been my savior. He is my God, I praise him.” -Exodus 15:2

****

   

   Hope that helps! (And eat some chocolate too...it's a sure way to restore your energy!) 

The Melodrama of Math

   Remember when I said I stink less at English than Math?

   
   Yeah, well let me expound on that a little…

   

  

   Today I worked an hour straight on one stupid algebra problem and at the end of it gave a huge sigh of relief and satisfaction because I just knew it was right.

   But of course…it wasn’t. Surprise, surprise.

   

   Maybe it’s pure talent that I can contrive a solution to a problem that is so off the mark, I can’t even tell which problem I was solving in the first place.

  This has happened to me way too many times: 

   I’m pretty sure my lack of math skills is connected to my incompetency at baking. All that measuring and dividing...

   
  Once my friend and I were baking cookies and we had to cut the recipe in half because we didn’t have enough flour for a whole one. We did okay until we got to “1/3 cup” for one of the ingredients. We both stared blankly at the page, then at each other, then back at the page. 

   Fifteen minutes later, we still couldn’t figure out what half of 1/3 was. (Needless to say, math isn’t her strong point either).  Finally, she smiled at me and whispered one little word…“Google.” Lazy man's way out, I know. But hey, we had cookies to bake.
   
   This has also happened to me, although it was with mashed potatoes (that's a story for another time):

   And I have to say, this one made me crack up:

   

   It’s happened a few times when I’m shopping with my mom. She catches an overcharge right away, but it whooshes right past me. I'd probably pay $20 for a teabag if they asked me.

   

   But I think my worst math horror story was the time I was helping out at a neighbor’s garage sale, and they put me in charge of the cash register. What a cruel joke. I actually managed to survive the first couple of hours without any embarrassing episodes (mostly because people made purchases that were all rounded to the nearest dollar...so making change was simple enough).

   But then a gentleman came up and his total came to $3.50, so he gave me a $5 bill. Big uh-oh. If he hadn't been in such a hurry, watching me like a hawk, I would have been fine. But my brain checked out, and in a panic, I handed him $2.50 back.  He smiled and kept his hand held out with the money. 

   I knew something was wrong, but for the life of me I couldn’t think what. I fumbled around and said something dumb like, “Oh I gave you wrong change, didn’t I?” He nodded and just stood there, expecting me to fix it. I took back 50 cents and I could just see him laughing hysterically in his head. 

   I think he then realized I had no clue what to do, and he was kind enough to complete my utter humiliation by taking the time to do the one thing I hate the most: he walked me through the problem.

   
   I wanted to die right there. Oh the shame…

   

  And so continues my ongoing saga of math struggles and fiascos.

   

   My words of wisdom to you: work hard at your math.

   
   If you don’t, you’d better be okay with ruined cookies, a depleted bank account because of overcharge, a surplus of cooked pasta, and the ignominy of not being able to count back change.

   

Monday Morning Cup o' Joe

(from Pinterest.com)

   It's that time of year again…

   When you think, “The weekend can’t come soon enough”…and it’s only Monday.

   I guess that’s where coffee comes in.

   My Monday morning cup o’ Joe was a Pumpkin Spice blend my mom brewed for me. First Autumn treat of the year :) 

   Of course coffee helps me get revved up for the day, but I know I need more than just a daily espresso to drink, I need an espresso for the soul.

   Every morning, I need Him to kindle in my heart the fire of His love, as one prayer says.

   Without His power and aid, my day falls apart.

   It says in Psalm 127:

   "Unless the Lord build the house, they labor in vain

   who build. 

   Unless the Lord guard the city, in vain does the

   guard keep watch." 

   I have to completely surrender all my plans and endeavors to Him to allow Him to work through me and accomplish His will for that day.

   I encourage you to do the same, even if it seems scary at first. 

   This prayer by Saint Ignatius of Loyola might help:

   "Take, Lord, and receive,

   My memory, my understanding, my entire will. 

   All that I have and possess. 

   You have given all to me. 

   To You I return it. 

   Dispose of it entirely according to Your will.

   Give me only Your love and Your grace.

   With these I will be rich enough 

   And will desire nothing more. Amen." 

   Have a great Monday! 

That Loathsome Time of Day

     I am not a morning person.

   It takes me a good half hour to actually communicate beyond grunting. But I think I'm not the only one who doesn't always enjoy that lovely little process called getting up.

   It begins at the time of night when all the world is bliss.

   

   It’s dark, quiet, peaceful.

   

   After hours of restlessness and discomfort, your body has finally reached the perfect temperature and position.

   

   You’re sleeping soundly at last and in the middle of an absolutely incredible dream: a heart-warming romance, an exhilarating adventure, a Broadway show in which you’re the star, etc.

   

   You’re practically bursting with excitement as your big moment comes.

   

   Then it happens.

   

   Just as you’re about to become president, sing a show-shopping number, or walk down the aisle, a far-off honking sound slowly starts to become pronounced in the scene. You brush it off, thinking it just an off-key instrument in the band.

   

   But it grows so loud that you are finally forced to open your eyes and partially come back to consciousness, startled at the sudden disruption of your paradise.

   You look around you and all the excitement is shattered. 

   

   You realize to your horror the only thing true about your dream is the blaring noise you heard…and it’s coming from within 5 inches of your face, from that demonic device appropriately named “Alarm clock”.

   It’s no wonder heart disease is the number one cause of deaths in the U.S.; we all begin each morning with a heart attack.

   You mutter every possible insult  you can think  of  to it, while you sleep-crawl over to turn the darn thing off.

   You lay back down after the difficult job and begin the method of “compromising”. Meaning the thought process on how many morning routines you can cut out to allow more time in bed. 

   “I don’t really need a shower today, I took one yesterday. That gives me 15 more minutes.”

   “I’ll just wear what I’ve worn for the past 3 days. No one cares.  There’s 5 more minutes.”

   “Heck, I don’t need to wait for toast, I’ll just eat it cold with peanut butter. Okay 7 more minutes.”

   “I’ll buy a cup of coffee instead of making it. 3 more minutes.”

   It’s amazing what you can economize on when the question of more sleep is involved.

   

   Finally, after a good extra 25 minutes in bed, you literally heave yourself out and stumble like you're drunk into the day.

   Thus begins a beautiful new day and no one ever knows what a rollercoaster of emotion you went through that morning.

   If somehow you have a way of miraculously overcoming this dreadful occurrence, let me know.  But until then, just do me a favor and don't schedule anyone for early morning appointments...it makes the inevitable task a hundred times harder.  

"Summer days are gone too soon..."

   
   So I start school on Monday. 

   Yeah.

   Just kill me now. 

   I'm not ready in the least sense of the word.
 
   But instead of making this a depressing post,  I'm gonna force myself to look on the bright side and remember all the good things that happened this summer. Or do as Dr. Suess says:

   So here's some random moments and lovely things of this summer that I thought I'd share:

1. Starting this blog.
2. Car rides with friends, with the windows rolled down, hair blowing, and screaming out lyrics to "Classic".
3. Bonfires (especially late night ones on the lake under the stars).
4.  Picking up my ukelele after a year of not playing it.
5. Going tubing and jet skiing for the first time.
6. Watching a LOT of new chick flicks...I'm a little obsessed haha.
7. Getting back into ballroom dancing and the wonderful exhaustion that comes after it.
8. Late-night grocery store runs with the sis (I think we scared everyone out of there).
9. Learning to shoot a gun (most terrifying thing you'll ever see).
10. Figuring out how to make my own vanilla lattes for the times when I can't get out to Starbucks. And having them actually taste good.
11. "Helping" my sister and best friend take the ALS ice bucket challenge (a.k.a. dumping it on them). It brought me so much satisfaction.

   Although I'm saying adieu to summer, just recalling the memories of it helps soften the blow.

   If you're going back to school soon, then I'd suggest doing this too.

   And if you aren't going back for a few more weeks, well I don't like you. 

Anyway, hope that inspires you to get out there and make the most of the last bit of summer!

The Closest I've Gotten to Death

   I love running. I run all the time: racing to the fridge, sprinting after the ice cream truck, jumping in a departing van, bolting upstairs to avoid unexpected guests, etc, etc. You might wonder how I came to be such a devoted runner, with all of my stamina and agility. Well, I can only give credit to the inspirational (homeschooler) group by the name of  "Running Club"; a distinguished society focused on instilling a passion for self-torture and shin splints.

   Every year my friend and I signed up for the club with the intent of getting some Phys Ed, and hoped that we might even end up enjoying it. But every year, on the first day, we'd step onto the Towpath of Hell, look at each other, and ask, "Why are we here?"

   It was during these sessions of bliss that I discovered what I was really created to be... and it wasn't a runner.

   That first year, we thought that the teacher's beginner method of two minute walking-running intervals was pathetic... until we got thirty seconds in and were near passing out. It didn't get much better with time, although we did manage to get a mile once (with every ounce of will-power we could muster). You know it's bad when your greatest wish is to jump into the murky, debris-littered waters of the canal beside you. 

   Everyone else appeared to gain something from the arduous workout, but somehow, even though we were the slowest ones, we seemed to be the only kids suffering from dehydration, exhaustion, cramps, heat stroke, and intense pain. I wish we could say that crossing the finish line made it all worthwhile, but somehow the urge to puke kind of distracted from the celebration. But hey, at least there were snacks afterwards. Sometimes I think that's the only reason we kept signing up.

   This pretty much sums up my running career:

   So take this as a warning. If you ever see me running again, you should run too, cause there's probably something chasing me.