Real Life and Paper Planes

Hello friends!

So, I updated my blog! My toes were tingling and itching and I had to make some dramatic change somewhere in my life - piercings and tattoos were out of the questions since I am about to embark on my YWAM adventure in EIGHT DAYS, my poor mother would cry herself to sleep if I cut or dyed my hair, I just recently changed both my profile and cover photo on Facebook, and trying to rearrange my furniture would involved actual physical activty. So my blog suffered the consequences of my restlessness. Hope you like it!

I miss Europe so much. I love travelling. That's there is to it. Don't get me wrong, I love home, I love my wonderful bed and loving family, things I am sure I will come to appreciate and love 100 times more in the following year, but there's just something about moving. I can't even stand still when I worship. I gotta dance, or at least sway or shift my weight or something - thank goodness I was not raise Southern Baptist! And I never wake up in the same position in which I fell asleep, much less the same side of the bed! (many condolences to my future husband!)

Anyways, I'm off track.

Surprise.

Planes. That’s what I wanted to talk about.

Or type about.

You choose.

Did you know that I did not experience my first flight until I was a freshman in high school? Yessir, at the ripe old age of fifteen, I flew on my first international mission trip to Guatemala with some dear family friends of mine. And did you know that I have only flown internationally?

I wonder what exactly that says about me.

Anywho.

Our family never flew anywhere because:

1)      We love road trips complete with corn nuts, slim jims, and lemon-lime Gatorade.

2)      It’s usually cheaper.

3)      My mother is deathly afraid of flying. Odd, considering she used to want to be a flight attendant. But, alas, the few times she has flown for something or another, (most likely a business trip with Daddikins) she has unconsciously dislocated some limb on my father’s body.*

*slight exaggeration

But I LOVE flying. I love that rush I get when the plane acclerates to hundreds of miles an hour before it hits the air and takes off. I pray that I never lose the rush. #adrenalinejunkie. It means so much to me. It’s like I know that I’m about to go somewhere, experience something that’s gonna change me. And like I said earlier ^^^ I like change.

So, I'm sitting here in my room, making paper planes with my unruly, unloved, and forgotten bank statements, earnestly wishing to turn myself into a little paper person and fly somewhere far away. I just have to wait eight more days to do it in real life.

Peace out, Girl Scout.