Knives, Moccasins, and Jesus

I really feel the need to blog, though there's nothing specific that I want to write about.
So people, you've been warned.

Today, I used my green serrated knife to cut up a pumpkin. THE green serrated knife. The first time I used it, I sliced open my knuckle. (Remember that lovely incident?) Tonight, as I was cutting through this darn pumpkin, I thought to myself, Okay, Erin, be careful. But you know what happened?
I cut myself.
Afreakinggain.
This time, though, I cut my finger (a different one!) at such an angle that the wound basically closes on itself. Because of this, I refuse(d) to go to Urgent Care for stitches. After all, it only bled for about fifteen minutes. And this time, I couldn't see bone. That's always a plus.

I baked the pumpkin, and now have a wonderful dish of it to use for muffins. Speaking (writing) of baking, I'm participating in a "craft fair" type of thing this weekend. The whole idea of it is to produce art (in the broadest sense of the word) that others can buy. Here's my art: muffins and dishrags. Yes, I'm being serious. I'm making cranberry apple muffins, apple muffins, chocolate chip muffins, pumpkin muffins...and more muffins. I've crocheted a bunch of dishrags, too. Totally random, I know, but variety is the spice of life...or so I'm told.

I wore moccasins today, which was a dumb idea. I got a late start this morning and didn't even bother to look out the window. It was raining. The rain turned to freezing rain, which then became very wet snow. I didn't have time to go back to my room until 3pm, at which point my feet were so sopping I could wring out my socks. Clearly, moccasins are not rain/slush/snow shoes. I feel like after 3.5 years of college, I should have known that before now, or at least have been intelligent enough to act upon my knowledge. Sheesh.

My sister and I both left our formal dresses at home, so Momma mailed them to us. Last night, I submitted my very last supplemental application for grad school. I couldn't be more delighted that this ridiculously long process is officially over. It's really hard to type with a piece of gauze taped around my index finger. I'm ready for the semester to end. I even hung up Christmas lights around my apartment today and decorated a foot-high tree in hopes that they will make the end of the semester come sooner. I bought a suit this past weekend for my interview (!) next Friday. Let me tell you something: finding a suit these days is tough. I ended up getting a black suit, since finding a navy blue skirt suit was literally impossible, even at Macy's. It stinks, though, because apparently female applicants that wear blue tend to be the ones that get accepted. Weird statistic, I know. But y'all have figured out by now that I'm just a strange cat.

Yes, I did just refer to myself as a cat.

My stomach is rumbling, but I'm pretty much out of food. If I go to Target to get more food, I'll end up spending $60 on stuff I don't need but think is so cute or is such a good deal. Seriously, that store is going to be the death of my checking account. That being said, I think I'll just stick with the gurgling stomach.

I probably should go to bed. Honestly, though, I just don't feel like it. Is that bad? Probably. I've been fighting apathy like crazy this semester. There are an incredible number of things that I just don't feel like doing that I've forced myself to do anyway. I think I've struggled against some of that each semester, but this semester is especially bad. (Can I use the word semester one more time in this pseudo-paragraph, possibly? And in case you're wondering, I call it a pseudo-paragraph because I don't indent, don't have a topic sentence, and certainly don't have any sort of nicely-phrased transitions. Grammatically, this blog is a disaster. I use short, choppy sentences. I jump around from topic to topic, at least in this particular post. I write fragments instead of complete sentences. I leave out commas because in real life I wouldn't pause as I'm saying it; therefore, I feel no need to write any differently than I speak. Oh, and I make use of ridiculously long parenthetical remarks.) The Christmas lights just fell again. Stinkin' 3M hooks.

Sometimes, I just wish Jesus could physically wrap His arms around me. Today's chapel was presented by Middleton's Psalms class, and it was so good. They discussed a Psalm(s) of lament, and man, it's nice to have confirmation that I can express my frustrations to God when necessary. I mean, believe me, I do. I'm more honest with Him than I am with anyone else in my life, and as you should be able to tell from reading this blog...I'm a very straightforward person. I tell it like it is. Sometimes I feel like I'm almost too blunt with God. But if He knows it all anyway, then why not? As was mentioned in chapel, too, lamenting can be a healing process and actually serve as a way to draw closer to God and worship Him. That all being said, I still really want Jesus here in the flesh. It's so much easier to spend time with someone you can meet for lunch, high-five on the way to class, do homework with, and hug. I understand that that's the point of this lovely thing called faith, but dahhh.

I just want Him to hold me right now.