Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The Secret


I have recently had the opportunity to read "The Secret". I have had the book recommended to me several times and have just never made it my top priority to read. I had no idea what type of book it was, and never really looked into it. However, after just completing it this week, I am happy that I finally made it my perogative.
"The Secret" may be classified as a 'self-help' book. It's a bit spiritual, a little out there, but definitely noteworthy. "The Secret" discusses the idea of the Law of Attraction in relation to our thoughts. We attract like thoughts. Therefore, when we think negative things, or think about what we do not wish to occur, we are just attracting all this doubt and negativity back to us. When we think positively, or think about achieving all the goals we have set for ourselves, we attract more positive thoughts that yeild positive results. While I was a bit skeptical upon first diving into this read, I know that I have received some valuable teachings and plan to implement them into my life starting today. I would also recommend this book to anyone, and have even passed it off to one lucky friend already.

Monday, July 26, 2010

ice cream monsters


They say a young woman is attracted to men who portray similar traits to her father. I never really chose to believe this theory. My father, while he is one of my few heroes, is quiet, reserved, often distant and never bubbly. I am most attracted to humor, wit and intimacy. However, little by little, I am starting to realize that my current love interest displays more and more parallels to my father.
While my boyfriend's exceedingly hairy chest is the most obvious connection to my father's own "fur coat", there are very peculiar likenesses rising to the surface, the most recent one being their love affair with ice cream.
From the time i turned 16 to the day I left home for college, a minimum of 4 weekdays each week, between the hours of 7 and 830 pm, my father would summon me with the whispering phrase, "Hey dane dane, how bout some ice cream." While the obvious fix, for some, would be to head into the kitchen and dish out a heaping scoop of the vanilla ice cream always present in our house, his favorite daughter knew this was not his wish. He wanted soft serve, and he wanted it from Dairy Queen. He wanted one medium sized chocolate sundae with pecans to be exact. And on the off-chance that I would come home bearing 'hot fudge' on his sundae instead of 'chocolate sauce' I knew the outcome would be my trek back across town to correct his specific order. No cherries, no whip cream, no bullshit. I knew the drill. I also knew that I had created a minute income for myself throughout these years as I was given a $10 bill each night even though his sundae was around $3 and we both knew I would be keeping the change.
Many years later, while I have been far removed from dad's nightly routine, I have lately found myself in the middle of a new one. While his summoning phrase is slightly different, and his order not alike, my boyfriend has now also made me his DQ girl.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Sista Sista


Standing 2' tall, with pudgy freckled cheeks and a squeeky chipmonk voice to match, my younger sister looked up to me. From the day she was born I knew I had an everlasting playmate, one I could boss around and convince to do just about anything. She would play school with me, but she was never allowed to be the teacher. She would play store, but was never allowed to handle the cash. She would play house, but had to be the nanny. I wanted to be the teacher, the cashier, the mom. She just wanted my attention. So she played along.
Dara and I had a lot of fun growing up together. We coreographed dance routines and made up trampoline jumps. We wore matching outfits and shared inside jokes. We invented games, such as spoon balloon.
Dara eventually lost her chipmonk cheeks and gained a real person voice. While I always denied her the priviledge of sitting in the front seat, I always have admired her. She has a way of lifting my spirits when I'm down. She understands my personal struggles and is one of my go-to sources for advice. She always laughs at my ridiculous jokes and brushes off my moody tendencies. She's still my biggest fan.
Dares is hilarious. Shes intelligent. She always knows the right thing to say. She's athletic and artsy. She plays the world's greatest air guitar. She's not fond of children but has a passion for puppies and dogs. She's dedicated. She's already had great success in her young 18 years. She's humble. She's corky. She really enjoys her alonetime. She seldom has a bad day. She's beautiful. She dances like a fool but without a care in the world.
And while she's still my younger sister, now I look up to her.

Friday, July 23, 2010


"Do what makes you happy, be with who makes you smile, laugh as much as you breathe, and love as long as you live"

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Villa Daze



It finally hit me. Last night when I habitually started a sentence with, "In high school.." and my roommate declared, "Yea, since Dana was in high school last week." I finally realized it wasn't so recently. It's been 8 years since I started high school at Villa Duchesne, and more than 4 years since I walked through the doors for the last time. As much as I treasure each and every memory, I think it's time to finally realize that Villa is part of my past. (But many villa GIRLS are part of my present!) I'd like to engage in one more recollection of memories, though I'm sure it will not be the last.

For all the villa girls, do you remember...
Our daytime uniform of plaid skirts and polos and friday night "unofficial" uniform of an A&F jean skirt with a bebe black tank showing exactly half an inch of our fake baked midriff. The volleyball coach named "Big". Bosco stix. Betscorn. Facebook detention. Beirut. Making a Tshirt for every significant event. Bunco. Field Day. Conge. True Life: I have ADD. Using our skirts as a napkin. (lack of) ever washing our skirts. Giving up shaving for lent. Pickleball. Tim the trainer. Mrs. Billhimer's English class. Brittish accents in the senior room. Jumping out windows in Biology class. Getting reprimanded for "suggestive" photos online. Lake trips. The hand. Maypole practice. Father-daughter dances. Blake's parties. Dr. Sam. Service Learning. Art Class. Skipping art class. Young Life. Dave concerts. Free Periods. Pretzel or Bagel dilemma at Break. Kairos. and everything in between..

Please add more!

Inspired



Due to the culmination of work-induced boredom, admiration of friends' blogging talents and a sudden desire to let creative juices flow, I am able to present to you, the friendly reader, my blog. I make no promise of grammatical expertise or coherent thoughts, but would like to consider this a form of mindless entertainment.

While the sacred act of naming this blog presented a great struggle for me, I quickly turned to my most trusted source for all words of wisdom: the pussycat dolls. While this may come as a surprise to anyone who wasn't fortunate enough to witness my obsession from the ages of 17-20, I think "loose buttons" is fitting. I'm not going for the scandalous tone that my "dolls" implied. However, once a button becomes loose from its attachment, you never know the exact moment it will pop off. Loose buttons are very unpredictable, just as this blog will prove to be.