Happiness in Some Posters

I love posters, don't you?
I think I need to get some small ones to see everyday and therefore make my day better.

 If I were to get ones that embody my current obsessions, these would be they:

My favourite musical!
(For now--it changes.)
(P.S. Wicked is coming to my area in February and I am already STOKED.)

You may not know this, but Flynn Rider? I'm gunna marry him someday. 

 
This could very possibly be my favourite movie.

 

 Or this one....

(Sorry it's sideways)

  

Or this one....

 

Or Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

(But I just don't like any of the posters as much as the others.)

Time! Got the Time Tick-Tick-Tickin' in my Head

I am confused.

(Isn't that a great opening to a blog? Or a book? I should write a book....yes, yes I should. Perhaps I will when I don't have 2395235 million things going on at the same time.)

Rewind to your senior year of high school (or frankly any school year at all). Do you remember how long the school year lasted? It seemed like summer would NEVER come and you would be stuck in {insert grade of your choice here} forEVER.

Now rewind (or fastforward!) to your freshman year of college. It seems like it lasts like (exactly) .34 seconds (okay, maybe not so exact, but you know what I mean). 

Didn't I just move in to room 231 in Page Hall like last week?! Didn't I just start my first class as a college student? Didn't I just discover just how fattening and icky the food in the DC is (for the most part--some of the salads are d.e.l.i.c.i.o.u.s.)?

Nope.

That was about eight months ago. (Say what?!) Yup, eight months.

I am not even close to being done (mentally) with my first year of college. In a blink of an eye, I will be walking down an aisle wearing a big gown and a strange hat that ruins my perfectly (or maybe not-so-perfectly) done hair to receive my degree and a "congratulations" from the President (of Westmont College). SCARY thought.

How does the time highschool (or any education under that) go by sooooooo slowly, but the time in college FLIES by without even so much as a warning!?

Perhaps it is that I am SO much more busy in college....
Perhaps it is that college is SO much more fun than any other grade....

I just don't get it.

A Letter to Cancer

Dear Cancer,

We have some things to talk about. Very serious things.

You have hurt me and my family for far too long. You have brutally attacked far to many members of my family and have struck fear into my family members who have been blessed with avoiding cancer (so far).

First, you attacked my great grandmother (Grandmother) with breast cancer. She is one of the strongest people I know and she toughed it out and lived.

You've also assaulted my other great grandmother (Grams) with cancer of the colon. Again, you failed. Both my great grandmothers are alive and well.

Not to long ago (three or four years ago?), you attacked my grandmother (Nana) with breast cancer. After long months of chemo and radiation, she too lived (and her hair is coming back in).

You also got to my childhood best friend, my rabbit Honey, with cancer of the uterus. She, however, didn't make it. You killed my best friend.

Two weeks ago today, we discovered you had also attacked my best friend, my bed-hog, my snuggle-bunny, my Scottie dog, Hamish. We had no idea you were hiding in his stomach until it was too late. You killed another best friend.

Do you know how hard it is to remember these things and type them out? It's brutal. I have cried so many tears both very recently and in the past over my best friends and my family. As a matter of fact, I'm crying now. The other day, I found a something-of-mine that smelled like him (generally, not a pleasant smell, but it was a good smell this time) and I cried.

You have nearly killed three of my heros and did actually kill two of my best friends. How many of my family members have you instilled with fear of you? I don't know. I know I'm afraid of you. I know I'm afraid of my other dog, my other best friend, Havie, catching you. Very afraid. I'm going to treasure every second with her.

You know what I'm also afraid of? Going home. I have only heard that my Hamish is gone. I haven't seen it. I haven't felt it. I am afraid of going home and realizing he actually is gone and losing it all over again.

"To Hate, V. :To hold in very strong dislike; to detest; to bear malice to. The opposite of to love. (OED)." I hate you, Cancer. I hate you with all of my being.

I've had enough with you.
No love at all,
Margie


Hamish is the sleeping one.                                 Grandmother and Nana







If we're friends on FaceBook or you follow me on Instagram, you're seen this one before. Hamish is the one on my tummy on the upper left. Such a love. I will miss him so much. I barely remember life without him (I was only about 6 when my parents brought him home--SURPRISE!!!--that was a good day) and it's gunna be hard to be without him.














(Sorry to Grams--and Honey--I couldn't find any pictures on FaceBook of you--and Honey--and, sadly, unless I took the photo myself or it's on FaceBook, I don't have it with me at school.)