A Very Lucky Girl

To be frank, this is weird. I haven't taken this long of a hiatus from A Very Lucky Girl since..well, ever. And I don't really remember how to write like A Very Lucky Girl. I turned in my final paper to dropbox less than an hour ago and here I am, still with phrases of Paradise Lost  swirling in my head. The last time I wrote here it was almost three or four full months ago. A lot can change in three months. They've been good changes and hard changes and just plain changes. Where do I start? How do I begin? Well, there's this boy...whom I love and adore and admire with all of my being. I did not plan for this and Tanner's presence was most unexpected, but strangely welcome. I smile to think of how far we have come in only three months and what a precious blessing he is in my life. It all started with our two friends, Megan and Marshall. I know I've mentioned Megan plenty of times in A Very Lucky Girl, but Marshall is her boyfriend, who also happens to be o...

I have been so much better in the past about keeping a regular blog schedule. At least two posts a week, like clockwork.  But here I am, on the brink of a new semester, and it has been almost a month since I last wrote for A Very Lucky Girl.  I haven't stopped writing. I still journal regularly. I have written and rewritten essays for the Fulbright application. I write emails daily. I still find myself when I arrange words into coherent sentences, art in strings of black and white. I started to blog about my Florida trip and began constructing a back to school post in my head.  But neither one seemed to grow me as a writer. I don't see the point of A Very Lucky Girl if I'm not challenging myself.  Someone asked me yesterday if I ever wrote stories. Fiction. I had to say no. I've never even touched the genre with my own words. I devour it when I read, it's my favorite type of book, aside from the travel memoir, which is rapidly escalating in my word-hungry eyes....

Words are weird. I can sit down and type out strings of words that mean something to me in record time. I trip over my fingers because those words have been inside me for so long and I'm anxious to spill my feelings in a tangible, manageable, form. But when I notice I haven't blogged in a while and it's time for a new post I am often stumped. Not because my blog posts are meaningless (although I did write about Tinder...so you be the judge), but because I'm nervous to share all of me with all of you (John Legend reference YES). Maybe you won't like what I have to say. Maybe you will criticize it. Maybe you'll think differently of me. Writing is risky. Writing is permanent. I need only to scroll back on my own blog to find posts with words I wouldn't write now. My words are permanent outward expressions of a constantly changing person. The words I'm currently most worried about are my two essays for the Fulbright ETA funding. I need to write a personal...

I started A Very Lucky Girl exactly two years ago. Writing has always been a part of myself and my discovery of the world. I've kept a journal since 6th grade (that's about 10 years), but I'm thrilled to have been sharing my discoveries with such a faithful readership for two years. So much can change in two years. When I first began writing publicly I didn't know I would be writing about divorce or devastating holidays. I didn't know I'd be writing about adventures to Vegas and Scotland. I didn't know I would recap far too many Bachelor/Bachelorette seasons. I didn't know I would be writing about my relationship with Tyler as it progressed. It didn't even exist this time two years ago! I didn't know I would garner readers from around the world: Malaysia, France, Ukraine, Russia, Australia, China, Poland, Venezuela, Canada, Germany, the Netherlands, India, and Belgium are just a few of the countries of people who have landed on my blog. I also ...

I embarked upon my first train adventure last week. A family friend whom I had never met before conversed with me via email and invited me to spend time with her and her family in their Scottish town of North Berwick. Nat and I purchased tickets and successfully navigated the giant Waverly station in Edinburgh to find the little train shuttling passengers to the wee town.  Jana and her family call New York home, but are currently spending a year in North Berwick while her husband works on a new business. They have lived there before and are old hands at understanding Scottish brogue and knowing where to find fried chicken.  Nat and I arrived in North Berwick around 3:15 PM on Wednesday afternoon and followed our ears to the ocean immediately. Jana had told me to email her when and where we were ready to be picked up that evening, but I never found WiFi again after disembarking the train in Edinburgh. Nat and I wandered the beach for an hour, marveling at the foamy waves an...

To be honest, I didn't *technically* receive this blogging award since my account is a blogspot and not a wordpress. Gah, blog politics. However, Miranda assured me she tried in vain to nominate averyluckygirl-taylor, so I'm going to bask in the thought and pretend it is legitimate. This is the part in an award ceremony where they call my name and I accept the nomination with quirky gestures and a quote, becoming instantly gifable and timeless. However, since I am sadly not Jennifer Lawrence, I will merely nod, smile demurely, and write what the nomination requires! Recipients of the Liebster Award must: LIST 11 RANDOM FACTS ABOUT YOU. ANSWER THE QUESTIONS THAT WERE ASKED OF YOU (BY THE BLOGGER THAT NOMINATED YOU). NOMINATE 11 OTHER BLOGS FOR THE LIEBSTER BLOG AWARD AND LINK TO THEIR BLOGS. NOTIFY THE BLOGGERS OF THEIR AWARD. ASK THE AWARD WINNERS 11 QUESTIONS TO ANSWER ONCE THEY ACCEPT THE AWARD I've essentially answered the 11 random facts about me  here ,...

I'm sure many of you know of my fellow blogger, Miranda or Life Measured in Coffee Spoons , but you probably don't know our history. I met Miranda in sixth grade at St. David's School. She was (and still is) one of a kind. And also one of the smartest people I know! We passed notes all through middle school. These were not your average crinkled scraps of paper haphazardly stuffed into lockers...we caught the writing bug early. We would fill pages and pages of real notebooks and pass them back and forth in between class, detailing our experiences with our peers and our intense crush on Fibi. We planned to perform in the middle school talent show together and practiced everyday after school in her mom's van. Hilary Duff serenaded us with "Someone's Watching Over Me" and we followed along with our respective solos and subsequent duet. We were pretty impressive, not going to lie. And then...I chickened out. I gave up and broke down and went against everythin...

I took a chance a few months ago when I saw @CollegeTownLife advertising for freelance writers on Twitter. I responded to their plea for articles and sent one in. I never heard back. So, I am not good enough. Yet.  I wrote about the epedimic of campus preachers that ignites when springtime starts.  What you can find at an on-campus crazy preacher gathering Springtime is in the air. With its gentle breezes comes the smell of free snow cones, the sweat of students tanning studying for finals on the lawn, and the harsh rants of a Bible-thumping preacher ignoring all rules of the bike lane. Chances are, Brother Jed or Pastor Micah has made an appearance on your campus already and you’ve been privy to the three typical scenes provided for your study-break pleasure. 1.      The focus on sex: For a religious activist, the guy is excessively focused on sexual sin. Bedazzled with anti-homo pins and “no porn!” buttons, he shouts at the ladies wi...

I am a total nerd. I love school supplies. I love organizing for a new year. I make color-coded file folders on my computer. I get excited when I enroll for the next semester. And this year is no exception. Fall 2013 is going to be legen...waitforit...DARY. I'm going to be in class 19 hours every week...but I think I'll love every second. Women&Film, Native American Literature, Sociology of Deviance, Religion&Society, my LAST semester of French, and teacher assisting for Gateway will rule my weeks. Reading and writing and thinking about people are some of my favorite activities. I wonder if I'll even feel like I'm in school.  But you know what I love even more than school? Getting mail. So, y'all get to writin' cuz I know A Very Lucky Girl is worth 46 cents for postage.  316 Cate Center Drive Box 5012 Norman, OK 73072

I'm on a break from work. And it's glorious. We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time. It's miserable and magical, oh yeah. Miserable meaning my income has significantly decreased. To about zero. But being free from most obligations and being 21 is a magical time. So much so that I'm not sure how much I'll be updating A Very Lucky Girl. I hate to stop completely, but I cannot promise consistent posts for the next week or two. I will be traveling and starting my second online course of the summer.  I can, however, promise to provide a wonderful recap for The Bachelorette next week. Tyler has graciously volunteered to watch on my behalf and write a review using his uncensored thoughts. I am just as excited to read it as the rest of you.  Also coming soon, when I have a few spare seconds to write, a full report of my 21st birthday and one of my favorite habits I've instituted since last October/November-ish.  A Very Lucky Girl is taking a br...

I still haven't progressed beyond page 26 in Dr. Townsend's book, but now the entire summer stretches before me so I hope to make some headway in the next few weeks.  To be honest, I've been dreading week five of my love project. I hate this mandate. Let me rephrase, I hate hate hate double hate LOATHE ENTIRELY this requirement.  Love is not Proud. If you know me at all, I really do tend to give off an "I'm the $#!t" attitude. I know I'm really not. I'm probably, like, third on the totem pole of hot $#!t. Like there's Beyonce, then Cady Groves, and then me and Taylor Swift are tied.  Don't misunderstand, I'm insecure in a lot of ways. I think most everyone is. But I hate hate hate double hate LOATHE ENTIRELY being wrong. Cannot stand it. But the worst part of being wrong is when everyone knows I'm wrong. Because then my pride is injured.  You know what would solve this issue? If I didn't have a pride problem. It's okay...

This time last year I was prepping for an excursion to the Big Apple, the City that Never Sleeps, THE New York City, with Megan to visit Hannah. And now I'm going to embark on another adventure, this time with Tyler and his wonderful family. I'm taking my bikini collection, several books, and SPF 4 on a cruise to Jamaica, the Grand Caymans, and Cozumel.  It is a long overdue break. When I come home I will only have 8 weeks left of classes this semester. And then I'll (finally) be a junior, with only 3 semesters left at OU and one semester overseas in DUNDEE, SCOTLAND.  I won't be posting during this cruise so it truly was God-ordained that the Bachelor ended on this previous Monday so that I was able to keep my recap commitment. 7 days of rest is just what A Very Lucky Girl needs to tackle the world again. If you need me I'll be on a lounge chair somewhere in the middle of the Caribbean sea. Just look for the Tyler-lobster nearby. 

February 26th is when I wrote my very first EVER blog post a year ago. You can read it here . 217 posts later I don't know that I've grown as a writer, but I can claim with confidence I've grown as a person.  But maybe that's the exact same concept. Because this person is a writer. Sometimes. I'm also a reader. An eater. A runner. A sleeper. A giggler. A tweeter. A Facebook-er. A studier. A dreamer.  A daughter. A sister. A girlfriend. A friend. All in all, quite a multi-personality Very Lucky Girl. 

I mentioned before that I deep-cleaned and organized my room over Christmas break. Whilst going through my bookshelf I discovered a composition book that I wrote in for Mrs. Purvis' 5th grade Language Arts class at St. Timothy's-Hale school (prior to it's St.David's name change) in Raleigh, North Carolina. August 21, 2002  So far it has been okay but I don't understand math much and I'm really upset about it. Everything else has gone okay though. This year I want to make all As and understand math really well and I don't want to be late for a class and I want to remember bring my homework home, do it, and then bring it back to school the next day.  5th grade was considered middle school at St. Timothy's Hale so I was extra nervous for my first year on the big campus. I still don't understand math but I have learned when run-on sentences are appropriate. The answer is rarely.  September 9, 2002 This is what I have to be thankful for: candy...

He had the sadz male model obvs Today marks month NINE that I've been dating Tyler. So, in honor of such an auspicious occasion, I've compiled the top 9 funniest things he's ever said. Humor is a major cornerstone of any relationship that I have and I'm so glad he can put up with it when I make fun of him every now and then. And all times in between. it's not batman but... this...is tolerance of his immature girlfriend God, Karen, you're so stupid When working on French homework the sentence began with "je parti." Tyler helpfully mused, "So, I partied..." Brb dying. Parti is a conjugated form of the verb "partir" which means 'to leave'. We made cupcakes (Valentine ones to be exact) on Sunday night. When I was over at his house on Monday I searched for them so I could devour a delectable heart-shaped delicacy, "I need a cupcake." "OH, they're in the refrigerator!" *stran...

Ahh week 4. It looks like Sean took a day off from his workout. Chris Harrison greets the ladies in the mansion and presents the 1st date card.  OH there's Sean! Just casually walking around in his boxers. Is this ABC appropriate? "Selma, Let's turn up the heat" Selma skips off to get ready for her date while the rest of the girls sit morosely in their pajamas around the living room, bemoaning their lack of a date. Selma leaves the house in yoga pants and a tank top. So I'm hoping they aren't going somewhere "really glamorous." She awkwardly lounges across his lap in their private jet, refusing to let go of his hand.  They land in the middle of what looks like the desert and Selma "does not do well in heat. at all. " He economically reuses his jeep from AshLee's date and takes them to a national park.  He invites her to rock climb to get a better view and she counters, "so are we taking a helicopter up there?" Selma...

So I mentioned in a previous post that Tyler would be guest writing to share his side of who he has found me to be, in rebuttal to my sharing the observances of him in a post that celebrated our 6 months together. He emailed me his words, complete with pictures, for your enjoyment. I'm sure that everyone who regularly reads Taylor’s blog has a pretty good idea of who Taylor Arceneaux is, but I’d like to give you a little inside scoop of what I’ve learned about her over these last seven months. Taylor Olivia Arceneaux was born on July 1, 1992 in Bloomington, Indiana to two spectacular parents, Paul and Shari “Sharbear” Arceneaux. She has one younger brother named Oakes who will be graduating from Heritage Hall this year. And I can’t forget her wonderful grandparents (with a free meal from Slim Chicken's and Longhorn Steakhouse, wonderful might be selling them a little short.) She has lived in Indiana, Tennessee, North Carolina, Texas, and Oklahoma over the last twenty ye...

Tyler took me to The Warren in Moore the other night to see a movie I've been dying to see ever since I viewed the trailer. "The Words" intrigued me for two reasons: as one who dabbles in writing, I couldn't shun a story of the trade, and Bradley Cooper fills the screen for an agreeable amount of time.  I was not disappointed. The basic premise is of a stereotypical starving writer trying to make something of his words while supporting himself and his newlywed wife. They go on a jaunt to Paris for their honeymoon (a bit pricey I'd think, but who am I to judge holes in the plot?), where Dora, the wife, buys him an antique briefcase. Happy wedding, honey! Here's a manky old murse for you to tote around town! However, the purchase inspires him (Rory Jansen, played by Bradley Cooper) in ways she couldn't imagine, for he discovers an ancient manuscript tucked inside. As his own stories continue to be rejected, he retypes the typewritten, yellowed pages th...

"Writers don't make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don't work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck's book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch face down and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man's stupid words. And for this, as I said before, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more."--Blue Like Jazz (Donald Miller) This is my life. What I love about writing is the freedom of expression. ...

Recently I've been trying to blog a post a day. But I'm stopping that, at least for now. There are lots of factors going into this decision, including:  I have about 20 days left in Norman for this semester. Which means that exams are hurtling towards me at a frightening speed, which means I don't need another excuse to procrastinate.  Putting an expectation on myself takes the pleasure out of writing. When I force words, it's noticeable. I want to claim authorship of a quality blog.  This gives you, dear and faithful reader, a chance to reread, reflect, and even catch up. You're welcome! I've been typing since February, have you made it back that far?  And finally, I am suffering from a severe case of writer's block. Or at least, I was until I started this post. Turns out the most effective laxative for writer's block is to write about writer's block (new tongue twister). Who knows when the source could dry up though, it could be only a tempor...