Insomnia, Shortened Dreams, and Lifetime Roles

Pt. 1-Insomnia
You know those nights when it's late. And you're super tired. And you want to fall asleep. But you just can't? Yeah. Last night was one of those. I lay in bed at 3AM and just stared at the ceiling. Actually, that's not true. I stared at my pillow because I was sorta laying on my face. Comfy.
Regardless, I couldn't fall asleep? I had far too much on my mind. But nothing at the same time? It's as if I had a million thoughts racing through my mind but I wasn't really focusing on any of them. Am I spouting out nonsense here? Does anyone know what I'm talking about? Probably not. 
Anyway, the things that were passing through my synapse (geek to the max) were mostly good things to be kept awake by, if there is such a thing. 
I thought of my mission. I thought of what articles I was going to send today (an editor for a nearby newspaper wanted to see some of my writings. Yay!). I thought of finally getting rid of the hiccups I'd had all day. I thought of the family trip that we will be leaving for tomorrow. I thought of many things but, eventually, I fell asleep.


Pt. 2-Shortened Dreams
At some point early this morning I began to dream a marvelous dream. Then I woke up before I was able to finish the awesomeness that it was. Why? Because I felt like I needed to blow my nose. Blow my freakin nose! Not even a worthy cause. I tried to will myself back into a slumber in which I finished the dream. But that didn't happen. Unfortunate.

Pt. 3-Lifetime Roles
I was reading over at The Dirt Life and I found a woman of mine own understanding. What I feel, what I want in this life? She gets it.
I want to travel this world. I want to write about it and take pictures of the different types of beauties. I want to get married and have my husband travel with me. I want to live different places while we're still young, experience different atmospheres. And then, when it's time to start a family, I want to get a little place in the country and I want to become a mom. I want to stay at home with my children, writing and taking photos whenever I can, taking photos of them. Writing of them. I want to put all of my heart and soul into things that I love, my pen, my camera, my family. I don't care about becoming a career woman but, when I say that, many get offended as if I am backhanding every woman's right activist that ever lived. Forgive me, that's not how I mean it at all. This is the way I am though. I was cut from a different cloth than you.
I am confident that my role in this life is to be a wife and a mother and I am excited to, someday, be able to focus on that. First, though, I need to thank my Heavenly Father for offering me that opportunity and give 18 months to him.

Madre--Amy

Hand in hand

She glances over at me

And her eyes smile

Tires swallow asphalt

As we sing our hearts out

Like old friends

And we are

I’m four years old

Crying at the door

When she has to leave

Donning her shirt

I lay in her bed

Closing my eyes

And breathing in

Her scent

While I wait for

Her return

I’m ten and

I can’t seem to

Stay awake

To finish my paper on

The Boston Tea Party

In the morning

The last few sentences

Are in place

But they aren’t my words

I’m a whole seventeen

And my heart was

Just broken for the first time

She strokes my ratted hair

The curly mess

Which we share

Without so much as

“I told you so”

I’m twenty and

Living in my own apartment

She comes to visit and

We both can see

How much I have grown

As we share stories

Late into the night

We are now equals

She respects my

Opinions and advice

As I do hers

The only friend

I’ve always had

She’s helped me transition

From Barbies

To books

To boyfriends

And now

To becoming an adult

No matter how many

Years pass

I will never be too old

Or too busy

To tell her secrets

And take her hand

She has never been too busy

To take mine.

Witnessing History/ Creeping

Today I witnessed the shortest skirt known to mankind. I'm pretty sure I was just a part of history and, someday, our children will read about that skirt in their textbooks and there, in the background of the picture, I will be. Wide-eyed and all. I wish I could have snapped a photo of this skirt to prove it to you, but it was a hit and run and unfortunately, I could not. I seriously cannot explain to you how short it was, I honestly don't believe you could even call it a skirt, perhaps some sort of strange underwear. I don't know. When I sent my mom a text informing her of this grandeur moment in time, (Yes. I text my mom. Quite often actually.) she asked where the picture was; after relating the tragic news that I didn't have time to collect evidence, the conversation carried on as follows:

Mom: Ahh...your ole mother would've taken one.Very inconspicuously...
Me: Haha like you did with the hippie in Colorado? Reeaaal inconspicuous.
Mom: Or like the bum in D.C...I'm a pro
Me: Ahh creeping. It's truly a hidden art.

Good ol' mom. I love her. =) Just so you know, the hippie wasn't subtle AT all. She grabbed my camera and very openly took a snapshot of him. I have to hand it to her though, getting the picture of the hobo on the side of the street was quite sneaky. She pretended like she was taking a picture of one of the guys who went with us in our group, even having him smile and pose, but she secretly zoomed in through the crook of his arm and captured a timeless photo of the only true hobo I have ever seen. Oh mother dear, how you've passed on your skills.