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Showing posts from August, 2012

You've Got Mail

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Except I don't. I call this photograph: Sunlight reflecting off of the emptiness. Deep, right? Check out that echoing mailbox. You know what I found in there yesterday? A flyer. The day before that? An advertisement. Not one single letter. I pinky promise I will write you back when Shari sends me stamps (Got that, mom? Send some stamps, please. In a stamped envelope. #stampception)! And don't be fooled by the size of the slot; packages still get to me by way of the campus post office. Feel free to send me hugs in a box. Or Swedish fish. I'm flexible, really.  Taylor Arceneaux 316 Cate Center Drive Box #4949 Norman, OK 73072  Real life: Any sort of mail would make A Very Lucky Girl's day. 

Cast the First Stone

Flipping through my Bible the other night, I came across something I wrote a while ago, actually dated from April 2009.  I don't care what you think of me don't care if you can't see the change I'm trying to be. But I have to say it'd be  nice if you thought of me. If you'd cease to be  someone that I can't wait to  leave. Change is difficult, surrounding or within though you may not know  that because here you've always been. But maybe, just maybe, you should think of others once. Give out perhaps an ounce of trust. But on the other hand who needs you, unless you change too. Lots of emotion packed into those lines. Let me fill in some background. The year 2008-2009 was rough for me, though that doesn't excuse any of my poor decisions. Paul announced in August 2008 that we would inevitably be moving away from Beaumont the following summer, just prior to my senior year of high school. I vowed to make my remain

Bachelor Pad Recaps: RIP

Okay guys, I'm really sorry but I cannot keep up with the Bachelor Pad recaps AND school AND a social life. My other posts don't require the watching of a show to write so they are less time-consuming. I want my recaps to be something I look forward to watching/writing and not something I dread/procrastinate. Again, I hate to quit right in the middle of the season, but I haven't even had the time or inclination to watch the show on Hulu this week, let alone blog about it.  I'll try to get my act together for the premiere of the next Bachelor, but no promises.  "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the final Bachelor Pad recap this season...."-our favorite host, Chris Harrison.  Sincerely, A Very regretful Lucky Girl

Know Your Worth

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Up until about the beginning of March I struggled a lot with knowing what I was worth. I didn't feel valuable unless I had a guy chasing after me. But said guy was never chasing after me for the right reasons.  My last post about this topic may have come across a little more harshly than I intended. So let me preface by saying that I am blessed to know some exceptional men. My dad, Tyler, and Conner, to name a few. I know that they honor and respect the women in their lives and I admire them for that.  But there are far too many guys that take advantage of a girl's need to feel wanted. Some of them are currently victimizing my friends and I cannot stand that. My friends are gems and I hate to see them settling for dingy rocks. I want them to hold out for a guy that will polish them, make them sparkle and not settle for the boy that doesn't think twice about their feelings.  A Very Lucky Girl's friends deserve so much more, but they have to recognize that before the

The Sleeping Dragon

I found a paper that I wrote last fall about Addison's Disease for my Modern Monsters writing class. I have a hard time describing or admitting to this autoimmune disorder. It's hard to see myself as less than perfect and not be able to change it. And it's especially difficult to let others see this weakness, as it's not easily understood.  I panted up the stairs, dragging the last of the suitcases, and wiping the Texas heat from my brow with “riff ram bah zoo, give ‘em hell TCU” emblazoned across my purple shirt. It was August 17, 2010, and this was move-in day. I had finally graduated that May and my parents were sending me off into the real world at Texas Christian University. I could not wait to start this independent portion of my life and lounged across my newly lofted bed in anticipation of my roommate’s arrival, rushing a sorority, and the first week of classes.  Fast-forward two months. I was a habitually messy roommate, initiated Alpha Delta Pi member, and

Monday Schmonday

First day of classes has been conquered. And I'm utterly exhausted. I fell into bed around 10:30 pm last night and awoke before my alarm at 7:00 am. Since I was awake I decided to get a jump-start on my workout and headed to the Huff for my daily treadmill/abs/squats routine. I was school-ready by 9:00 and didn't know what to do with my time until Megan met me at Cate Main to catch up on life.  From there I headed to French, arriving 24 minutes early for old times' sake (I used to get there early in hopes of seeing Tyler). Tyler and I placed bets on whether Natasha would make it to class. We were allowed 6 unexcused absences in that class and Natasha had a grand total of 17 at the end of last semester. She made it with about 30 seconds to spare. Final verdict on French class: The teacher seems relaxed and not hardcore about speaking the language all the time. And I have the most attractive partner for speaking activities in the room ;) Next up: Health and Exercise Scie

Lifechurch Musings

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts."-Winston Churchill What a brilliant guy. During their series "At the Movies", Craig Groeschel used the movie "Moneyball", starring the ever-handsome Brad Pitt to illustrate a sermon. I really liked Craig's points, some of the verses he highlighted for the congregation, and the close-ups of Brad's face.  "For though a righteous man falls seven time, he rises again..."-Proverbs 24:16 "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."-Galatians 6:9  I remember the first time I failed a test in school. I was in 6th grade in Ms. Newsome's history class and we were learning the African countries and capitals. Well, the rest of the class was learning them. I didn't, as evidenced by my failing grade on the quiz. This previously straight A student was DEVASTATED. Think hiccuping

Bachelor Pad Week Four: Sloppy Thirds

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The remaining players congratulate themselves on surviving yet another rose ceremony. Jacelyn dubs the late Reid, Dummy McDummerson for not seeing his lies crumbling around him. David and Jamie together mourn the loss of Donna's boobs and Reid's glasses. Jamie realizes that she doesn't have a partner BECAUSE SHE VOTED HERS OFF 2 WEEKS AGO LIKE A DUMMY MCDUMMERSON.  Harrison waltzes into the Bachelor Pad parlor in what looks to be a leather tux. He comes bearing gifts, clipboards with questionnaire packets; homework for the now sufficiently drunk contestants. ABC production takes in vito veritas seriously. The surveys will be used at the next challenge, Gameshow Mashup.  Gameshow Mashup is a bachelor pad game show designed to stir up drama. Instead of playing as partnerships, these roses will be given to the one man and one woman who score the highest. It's every skank for themselves.  The first round is based on love and romance trivia and contestants answer sever

Ticket to the World

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"Renew Passport." That sticky note graced my shelf for the entire summer. It hung over my head like a bad hangover (see what I did there?) so I finally got around to it a few days ago. And of course, by that time, it had expired.  I gathered all the documents I needed and had my pictures taken at the local Walgreens. I think it's an unwritten Murphy's Law that all legal photos have to be horrible. Ready for this mugshot? I promise, I'm only under the influence of nail polish remover fumes. I had just repainted my nails. Nevertheless, that picture gets to serve me for the next 10 years. Womp womp. I reluctantly drove to the Edmond Community Center and almost turned around and vowed to never leave the country when I saw that it was the same place as the DPS/DMV office (I always get those mixed up. Anyone know the difference?). I still have vivid nightmarish memories about trying to get an Oklahoma driver's license following our move. I approached the door, g

971.

That's the number of Facebook "friends" that I currently have. I've chopped it down a LOT. It used to be over 1100. In fact, it may have even been 1111 at one point, because I remember trying to keep it that way for a while. Did I mention I have too much time on my hands? Did I also mention that it's three am and I can't sleep? I hate being awake right now, but I figured I might as well blog.  Anyway, back to the 971. It is dwindling everyday because I heard this genius idea from a friend a few months back. Everyday Mark Zuckerberg kindly informs me, in the upper right hand corner of my news feed, of all of my friends that were born on said day. And everyday, if wishing them a Happy Birthday would be awkward for one, or both, of us, I delete them. It's nothing personal; in fact, you should feel blessed that A Very Lucky Girl is no longer creeping on your life and judging you based on your timeline. Because I unashamedly do that sometimes. 

Opposites Attract: The Twenty-Four Year Phenomenon

Paul and Shari have been married for 24 years. Please, hold your applause until the end. Personally, I think it's truly an act of God because I've never met two people more unlike each other. But then again, we've all heard it said that "opposites attract." (Although Tyler and I are very similar and I'm almost 99% positive that there's an attraction...)  Paul and Shari went to high school together at Benjamin Franklin High in New Orleans, Louisiana. He was a freshman when she was a sophomore (and he still never lets her forget the meager age difference) and they had Geometry together. Paul sat behind Shari, passing on a paralyzing fear to me that I would have to marry whomever I sat behind in Freshman Geometry. No wonder I couldn't figure out proofs, I was too concerned with Frank and I's lack of a love connection. Unfortunately, the high school love connection was short-lived for my parents. She was a cheerleader and traded in Paul and his bike

Bachelor Pad Week Three: The Lying Game

The first few minutes of the show are recovery time from the previous rose ceremony. Sarah's vote nearly sent Ed home and his close call has him reaching for the alcohol, "I need more champagne." Get me a glass while you're at it, Ed? I have a feeling I'm gonna need it for the rest of this episode. Fortified with liquid courage, Ed brainstorms about leaving but his partner, Jacelyn, convinces him to stay despite the lies and betrayal that have taken up residence in the Bachelor Pad.  Chris Harrison's friendly face takes attention away from the tension and announces the next competition. Everyone rejoices that it will be held away from the house. It must be so hard to be held hostage in a million dollar mansion swathed in pools.  At first glance, the challenge is an obstacle course. And everyone starts talking big game. Chris clarifies that the course is modeled after a hot fudge sundae. First, the girls will wade through an ice cream swamp, hurtle down a h

Sharbear: XX Years Young

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You think I was gonna take that bullet and plaster her age across the Internets for all to see? You've got jokes! Shari Nelson Arceneaux, my beautiful mother, is XX today. And yes, I do mean 20 in roman numerals. Born August 7 to William and Sharon Nelson, Shari flourished as she grew up in New Orleans, Louisiana, attending high school with her future husband, Paul Arceneaux (one of these days I'll blog about that volatile high school relationship. You'll read in rapt attention). She graduated and moved to the land of the horned frogs, Fort Worth, Texas, to study nursing at Texas Christian University and join the Delta Delta Delta sorority chapter. Unlike myself, she spent all four years of college in Texas heat and went on to have a successful career in nursing in several states nationwide. She's faithfully followed my father in every move our family had to make, keeping her complaints to herself or behind closed doors. She's reared two decent kids (we're works

Megan is 24!

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24 years ago a beautiful girl was born. I, unfortunately, didn't know her then because I didn't quite exist yet. There are few friends that I feel like I can be completely myself around. She is one of them. I've only known her for a year and a half. We've only been close for maybe a year. But I've learned a lot about this 24 year old in 365 days. Megan Amanda Hunter is one of the strongest women that I know. I'm not going to put her entire personal life out there, but she has experienced more than most people should have to in a mere 24 years. She's in love with her dog, Elvis, and is a model employee at the doggie daycare. She's got a penchant for photography and can inspire with merely an obscure camera angle. She has a sweet tooth the size of Texas and vocal chords that could probably emit something loud enough to cross the state line when used to full potential. I admire the way she stands up for herself and the people that she loves. I never ha

Adventures in Nannying: The End

August 1st signaled the start of school for my young charges so Tuesday was my last day of work for the summer. Monday and Tuesday were as action packed as possible, sprinkled with neighborhood mama drama. Brother and Sister are participating in a miniature triathlon on Saturday morning so their mom encouraged me to include some training in our outdoor activities. I invited the three right-side neighbors to train and their mom and I held a trial triathlon on Tuesday morning, complete with a stopwatch. It was a nice way to blow off steam, especially considering that Monday was overwrought with emotion.  The right-side neighbors invited me and my kids to go bowling with them on Monday afternoon (since when did bowling become so expensive?! For two kids to bowl two games I spent 24 bucks!). Alas, the left-side neighbor girl was over at my house on Monday when we received the invitation, and I, being completely oblivious to any neighborhood tiffs, mistakenly told her she could tag along