I'm sitting here, with absolutely no clue what I'm going to say, and I can't say I particularly care, either. Except for the sake of our poor readers, who needs must suffer through this terrible display of randomness.
I got back from the March for Life a week ago last Sunday, and for no apparent reason, I have been completely and utterly happy ever since.
Happy, happy happy!!! *dances around*
Oh, right, sorry about that. But yes, I have been happy. Happy happy happy! *catches the looks the readers are shooting her* Eerrrrrr... Moving on now....
I had an absolutely great time on the March, daily Mass, and an hour or so of adoration almost every day, I miss it so bad now that I'm back! It almost makes me want to go and sign into a convent somewhere, haha! Ha.... Well, almost. =P
The group I went with took the train down, 72 hours in all, and stayed at a Franciscan monastery while we were there. The same monastery, I might add, that Lanta's group toured the morning of the March. We were within a block of each other and had no clue!!! Ahhh! We might have even been in the same building! Eek!
Oh well. Be thankful, readers, for when we meet, it is a sign that the Apocalypse has begun. Not to say that the fact we did not meet proves in itself that the Apocalypse has not begun, but you at least are in possession of the (rather) slight consolation that we didn't meet, which is a sign absolutely beyond doubt that the Apocalypse has started. (italics added for the ease of reading)
I'm slowly getting used to home again, after 10 days of being around 29 other people, including a really crazy/awesome priest who ate a huge bowl of cornflakes late every night with a ladle.
But, I can say with a great deal of certainty, I never want to get used to home again.
Which might sound strange to your ears, so forebear, allow me to explain. (I've been reading the Prince and the Pauper for school, so, of your courtesy, overlookest the petty trappings that have come to season my speech)
It always seems that whenever I go on retreats, I always grow really close to God, et cetera, et cetera, but then when I get home, I last about a week before I go back to what I was the day before the retreat. Making any sense? Well, probably not, lol.
This is the longest I've ever made it after a retreat, and I can honestly say, its pretty darn awesome.
Last night, I 'went to bed' (doesn't necessarily mean I went to sleep *looks innocent*), and was just too completely happy to go to sleep.
You know that feeling you had when you were a little kid Christmas night? You felt so loved and fortunate. All your presents, so bright, so beautiful (er, sorry, a little influence from Smeagol there, whoops), you just wanted to stay awake and be happy. That probably wasn't the best analogy, but oh well.
That's pretty much what I felt like. Too happy to sleep. I stayed up for over an hour after my parents went to bed, just being happy, writing in my diary that I haven't written in for over 4 years, because I didn't feel at all inspired to write anything else.
And I have no idea where I'm going with this, haha.
But anyhow, I'm back, I'm happy, and I'm hyper. Happy happy ha-*trails off when she see's the readers' glares*
Don't say more, say Mordor! *scoots*