Yes.  This is the inevitable dark mood of this blogger.

That moment when you barf all over the back seat of your new friends car and are more embarrassed that you had chunks in your cowl neck sweater and mixxed into your sequence skirt than the fact that her car still smells of spinach and artichoke dip.  That moment when you really need a new black purse.  That moment when you MUST say good bye to the $58 wallet that no one ever knew the price of until now.  That moment when the last thing you needed to hear was Toby Keith.  And the rain keeps falling….  PERSONAL NOTE: someday, I truly believe I will be able to hear Toby Keith and Seal…and even Ray LaMontagne without a little piece of my heart shedding a sad tear in remembrance of blissful times…

Yes.  That will indeed contribute to the dark mood of a blogger.  me.

So to you out there in the blogosphere world that get fed on the words and wisdom and emotion of writing… feed on this.  *insert obnoxious and perhaps R-rated motion and language here.*

We’re all human.  And while yes, the past few weeks and even months have been so blissful, I feel like no- I am not super woman.  No I am not *always* me-the happy-go-lucky, spunky fashionista with cute, sparkly shoes and red lipstick.  Sometimes I’m real with a woman mind that wanders through memories and butterflies and frustrations and fear.  Sometimes, I’m in a mood… *cue today*  And honestly, I like having these sometimes moods where I can just be PISSED OFF!

You know what’s so funny though?  It’s that I like to laugh during said moods.  I like to state the obvious in my own little blunt and rude way…like it’s going to help make me feel better about my own bad day.  Though I hate bullies, I’m a little bit of one myself when the darkness seeps in..

For example:

Mom: Try not to make any noise, your dad is sleeping. 

Me: Oh, how nice…. at least someone is quiet for him…. *under breath…who was NOT up at 5.  and for a moment in time I forget that he’s in his 7th week of radiation at the ripe young age of 85..and it becomes all about me…

Ahhh, yes friends.  I can be a real bitch.  And sorry dad.  I know that really wasn’t nice of me at all.. and least of all respectful.  But that’s the human in me.  Not only am I sassy, I’m cheeky too.  And when I get mad, stay far, far away.  These blunt and rude words can cut deep.

Here are some more..and then I’m done.

Friends, because yes, if your my friends, you’ll still be after reading this, do NOT, I repeat do NOT play the “‘Woe is me’ card” through your facebook and twitter updates on a regular basis, at all for that matter yes, I find I am being hypocritical at this moment…but really I dare you to go through my posts and updates.  Minus this one, find one where I complain, just one.  Here’s why you won’t: While yes it is inevitable that we all are hit by these dark moods, move on.  Don’t get stuck there…You had a bad day…. aww so sad, so did the rest of the world, but guess what IT GOES ON.  Aww, you don’t believe in love because your relationship sucks, such a pity- don’t ruin it for those who still do…. and awww….you wore blue shoes instead of black?? emmm, not a good enough reason to use *FML* …. knock it off and quit being redonkulous.  You’re still blessed.  and so am I.  I get these moods, I do because here I am too.  Sometimes we do have those FML days–but get over it and move on.  GOOD NIGHT!  We don’t all get our naps when we need them most, but we do get blessed when we need the blessings least.  That’s called being humbled.  It’s called grace.  Maybe we should try reveling in it for a change…

mmkkk.  I feel better now.  and that inevitable human normality is finished, for now.  And the dark side is now being shined upon by warm weather and a sparkling green tea lemonade from my favorite writing place….and this boy in front of me is wearing flip flops and glasses and shorts… I’m pretty sure that was a half smile we just gave each other…

I’m pretty sure I’m still blessed when I least deserve it.  I’m pretty sure if I heard Toby Keith in the radio when I get back in my car, I’d scream.  I’m pretty sure if I get home and the noise is still too overwhelming to find the slightest bit of solitude, I’ll turn right back around and go to a hotel.  And I’m also pretty sure that in the midst of my tiny end of the world, those closest to me are at their wits end with their own darkness and apocalypses.  But guess what you obnoxious facebookers and tweeters and bloggers *ahem, me* we’re still blessed.  So I dare you, in the midst of your hissy fit over traffic that is brewing to stop and pass a half smile with a cute boy in flip flops.  I dare you to open your sunroof and be fed by the Son.  I dare you to face the inevitable return of goodness.  and behold Him.  Live blessed.

I’m out.

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Today, you are miss sass, live it true.

So I paused.  and painted my nails red.  This sassy red, it’s called “crimson,” I actually think I’ve had this color since 2006 when Tasha left it in my apartment… thanks girl, you’re the best sass teacher I know….  and as I painted, I played Beyonce.  And she was singing that soul of hers out.  and so was I.

and then, I felt like I just wasn’t living that sass to it’s truest potential.  So I put on my new red shoes and sat back down with Mac (no Smithwicks tonight though, friends).  Mike is here instead.  He’s a bit sweeter…. get it……. hah. ha. hah…….

I’m going to let you all in on a little secret.  Under this warm, comfy blanket are my unshaved legs covered by running tights that I’ve had on since 8 a.m.  Guess who did not go running today?  *raises hand*  Yup, that’s right, her name is Miss Sass.

Guess what Miss Sass did instead…. she went shopping.

And you know what that shopping trip spelt?  It spelled sass like this….

and then it continued spelling it with these….that SASS!  She sure does know how to take a hold of my weakness….

and you may have noticed the big bag in back of the shoes.  That’s right, Miss Sass believes that 3’s a charm.

and just so you know, my favorite part about these suede shoes with the 4 inch heels isn’t the cheeky mood they put me in…. it’s the tiffany blue box in the background.  That Jessica Simpson really knows the way to our sassy hearts!

—

my name is Nicole and I have a problem.  My real name is Miss Sass.  And I am a shoe-a-holic that is hiding a spending habit behind a closed door in her parents house to avoid the, “Aren’t you supposed to be paying for grad school in a couple months?” from her father.  Her mother on the other hand taught her sass and it went something like this:

Oh wait.  That’s probably too R-rated even for this mood.

Salt-n-Pepa just came on my sassy girl mix.  <insert dance in my red shoes and running tights here. “Ahh, push it.  PUSH IT REAL GOOD!” >  Hey Sass, I’m over here.

Okay, all sass aside.  The post that inspired a sass reaction was about pushing it, pushing it real good.  Because my faith these days is like running a marathon, an ultra marathon, that’s up hill.  the.  entire.  way.  and I effing hate hills, and I especially hate these steep slopes that my faith insists I run today.  Darlings, I can’t lie to you, running in these new red shoes makes it better… and those leopard print shoes, I’m convinced I’m closer to winning the race…..

My faith is my faith.  When I write about it, I have this small voice of my cousin (very small as in “consider the source”) in the background saying “Oh yeah, I love her writing, but sometimes, she can get really God-y..”  She wasn’t talking about me, but the insecure, unsassed me wondered if that was some sort of hint…. for the other 96 of you, thanks for at least keeping it to yourself if I get too “God-y.”  Just know that now, if you choose to say something, I may go all sass on yo’ ass.  

So you’ve been warned–I’m about to whip out this faith of mine.  Because regardless of how distant I’ve felt from it lately, it’s there, and it’s NEVER going away.  Bring out the “God-y”..

Let me start it like this (John Michael Montgomery, thank you!):

Life’s a dance– you learn as you go, sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow.  Don’t worry ’bout what you don’t know, Life’s a dance, you learn as you go…

I love to dance, I love it better when I’m wearing red shoes.  track with me darlings…. I miss dancing in my apartment being sexy and knowing it… To tell you the truth, if it weren’t for Miss Sass that possessed me a little over 32 minutes ago, I would have gone a full 23 days without my very own dance party.  I’ve replaced my dance parties with soul dancing for Jesus.  It looks like this:

Sweet, fancy, MOSES.  I look like a freakin’ idiot because no matter how much sass I have, I still don’t know where in the hell to go or what in the hell I’m doing…except this: go where He leads, live where He leads–and right now, minus the school parts, my heart’s not so happy with where He’s taking me.  But… because my soul is doing it for him, He thinks this dancing is freakin’ awesome.  He’s a little partial since He created me to be His masterpiece….shoot.  Keep me living for you sweet Jesus.  Keep me learning.  Keep my praying.  Keep me DANCING.

And in the words of the sassiest of all ladies, the one, the only ALANIS!

You live.

You learn.

You love.

You learn.

You cry.

You learn.

You lose.

You learn.

You bleed.

You learn.

You scream.

You learn.

You greive.

You learn.

You laugh.

You learn.

You pray.

You learn.

You ask.

You learn.

You live.

You learn.

—

Friends, life is short.  Buy the shoes.  Just learn to go ahead and BUY THE SHOES.  and then dance.  dance in them in a way that will have people saying “Sweet, fancy, moses…” that sass girl’s a nut, but at least she’s living………

at least I’m living.

But that’s not me.  Hah!  That’s honestly who I admitting-ly am judging.  That’s who I’ve spent years running from, trying not to become.  I’m still succeeding.  Because I’m “this” Christian girl.  The one who has been scared to date for the past 4 years because of living in a semi-fish bowl.  But guess what, those days are over, over, over– OVER, DAMNIT!  Because dating is fun and kissing is funner.  And being daring, crazy, and free is charming with it’s limited expectations, spontaneity, and surprises.  Oh, I’m here.

So let me share with you “my” men, because sometimes, I like being not so private.  Hell, I have a blog that reveals some of my inner thoughts, how private can I really be??

There was “Staf”.  I liked him, here’s why: he kissed me deep because I’m a spurs fan.  No really.  I screamed for joy over a win.  And he kissed me.  Like, just got in there and kissed me.  with gusto and strength.  He didn’t hold back like “those” Christian boys.  Staf kissed me with confidence.  And it was fun!   It was unexpected, and I may have been a little flustered because of it, but holy buckets my friends.  THAT was fun!

Then there was “Nat”.  He knows my mentor in Omaha.  Oh my gosh, is he the one?  It must mean something.  It’s a sign… *rolls eyes so far back you can’t see them*  He is the one… the one who said, “You’re going to HAVE to come out with me.”  Sorry, not that much confidence.  I don’t have to do anything with you…  He was “that” Christian boy that doesn’t believe in being friends with the opposite sex……. I have major thoughts on this.

Then there was the “handshaker”.  “I like you a lot.”  “You make me laugh.”  “You have a gorgeous smile.”  “I want something serious.”  “I like how I can’t stop talking you you.”  “You’re personality is addicting.”  “Well, it was nice meeting you…” and gives me a handshake.  Is anyone else totally confused by this?!

And Rye.  Yes, like the bread.  I even asked to clarify.  He’s the one who asked personal questions, in a nosy, condescending way, that for whatever reason kept me captivated far longer than I needed to be.  Who knew there were “those” Christian boys that judge you because of your past and while forgetting the real concept of grace.  And they claim to be spiritual leaders…  Guess what Rye–you’re far from it.  You are missing out, because, truth is, your life will be boring if you don’t take risks.  I was worth one of them.

And the dog poop guy.  The one who I write about and keep secret.  When if you know me at all, you know it’s really no secret at all……….
I believe in the power of prayer.  In the power of the Holy Spirit moving deeper and far into our lives and hearts than our minds are willing to let us know.  Until it’s time.  Guess what, it’s time.  It’s been six years that I’ve been praying for your heart, yours dog-poop guy!!, four years since I met you, two years since I fell in love with you, and one day since I fell out of love with you.  And you know what the best part of it is, we both still win.  Him with a ready heart, and me with mine.  Here’s what I’ve learned from his.  DON’T play it safe.  DON’T fight what people say.  DON’T say things to please.  AND DON’T NOT NOTICE ME unless you really mean to.  And here’s what mine taught me.  TAKE RISKS-because if you’re afraid to love, you’re never going to let yourself when it is staring you in the face.  So that’s what I did.  I took a risk.  And guess what, my heart survived.  And it has stronger faith then it did to start off with.  So yes.  we both win.  and we both move on.

Here’s how I’m doing it.  I’m being “this” Christian girl that gets noticed for being me.  The spurs fan that he liked to make fun of.  The independent girl that was so strong it scared him.  The one with a smile that still radiates love–the real, self-sacrificing kind that he chose to deny.  The one with an addicting personality.  The one with a past that makes me thankful for grace and hopeful for more.  The one that is liked for being me.  The one who is more honest because of him.  The one who has made a choice to be daring, a vow to be crazy in fun and in sadness and especially in love.  I’m the one who has made a conscious decision to place no expectations on where life is going to take me, except for one, and that’s to happiness.  Because there’s newness and I’m diving deep into it with it’s ruthless laughs and butterfly flattery and laaattttteeee nights.

Can I tell you btw- this new man, he flatters, enough!  He “defined” me last night….and I liked it.  A LOT!  (ps a man never defines you ladies, he just observes who God made you…) “I like that you desire to be in tune with God’s will.  I really appreciate how you seem to think your way through situations.”  He obviously hasn’t seen my impulsivity yet… “…That was apparent when I was watching your face while you tried to understand why in the world you wanted to come out for a drink tonight.  That’s rare.  You aren’t like a lot of girls.”  He knew that right away.  “You let yourself be emotional, but you don’t let your emotions rule you.”  He knows because of my honesty.  “You were dealing with fear but didn’t let it control you.”  And then he scored, BIGGER than he already was!  “I need to be cognizant of your emotions.”

I need to stop writing.  For four reasons.  1-it’s making me smile so much my jaw is starting to hurt.  2- I’m a little lost in my mind.  3- He’ll probably read this post later, and I’ll let him, and like it.  4- I need to go get ready for a morning with my seester and god-daughter and lunch with dog poop man and favorite golfer man.  Tis going to be a good day.  Tis already is.

smile.  smile big.