Music & Lyrics.

Well hello there.

It feels good to say hello amidst a season of goodbyes.

My internship ended. It's over. I'm home. In Riverside. No longer a resident of central Oregon. No longer a resident of Washington Family Ranch.

It's weird.

The feelings inside me are clashing. Gnashing. They're bobbling around inside me like ricocheting pinballs. I stand above, peering through the glass, as I feverishly push those two side buttons, not really knowing what element these balls of concentrated feelings will bounce off next.

I was so excited to be done. Truly ecstatic. But now as I lay in a bed in a dim room listening to Florence as she talks about slipping into darkness, there are so many fears bubbling up inside me. I can already see myself slipping back into oblivion. Living a life without purpose.

I almost feel as if I'm standing in the cloud of a recent stampede. Forgive me, but I'm pulling out a Lion King analogy. Simba, standing on the rock, calling out for his father. The stampede has passed but the cloud hasn't settled. He calls out for his father. His cries are shrill, heavy with fear, but still laden with hope. This year was a stampede. So full. So emotionally traumatizing. You enter into this incredible community where everyone loves you, encourages you, lifts you up, spurring you on toward love and good deeds. You enter into this morbid life of servitude in which you're giving everything, every bloody ounce of energy, to demonstrate how much you truly love the Lord. It becomes a fierce battle. A fierce and unhealthy battle in which your heart gets thrown through the wringer. Thrown through the wringer, and then hung out to dry. Hung out to dry when the internship ends.

All of a sudden it's over. And as you drive away, your body racked with that real intense sobbing you normally only see in movies, the world you called home for a year gets smaller and smaller until it no longer exists within your line of vision.

So as I sit in these open wounds, the cloud settling around me, I'm trying to figure out what my new life looks like without camp. I'm reminded of a Death Cab song called Summer Skin. "Labor Day came and went, and we shed what was left of our summer skin...we peeled the freckles from our shoulders. Our brand new coats were so flushed and pink."

Summer is over. Although the heat wave in southern California speaks otherwise, summer is over. Camp is over. And as I shed this summer skin, my brand new coat is flush and pink. Tender. Raw. Incredibly susceptible to infection. The poisonous whispers of Satan are easily embedded in these open wounds.

I experienced such deep and rich friendship in that place and it's been stripped off me...Natalie Imbruglia, torn, lying naked on the floor. Yes, seeing the same people everyday, working with them, playing with them, living with them...it was rough in the beginning, but soon it is comfortable, it is dependable, reliable. But like all things, it's expendable. Those friendships will never be the same.

I've toyed around and joked about the idea of camp life not being real life. Because it's not. You can go there to have spiritual awakening, to have incredible mountain high experiences, to be stretched, molded into the person God created you to be. But then your time at camp comes to end and you have to leave. You have to enter back into this broken world. And it's weird. The theme of our intern year was "it's just weird." I could rattle on for hours about why and how it's weird. It just is. And being catapulted out of that weird life and back into this real one is traumatizing. I think I'll be ok eventually, but right now, I'm feeling out of sorts.

Trying to wrap my mind around what happened this year. "Processing" as people like to call it. My thoughts are muddled. My feelings are like I said, little hyperactive pinballs.

I know that God is present, but He feels pretty distant right now. I think I sort of set Him up on a shelf while I've tried to sort things out, which duh, is not the brightest thing to do.

"It's all over and I'm standin' pretty in this dust that was a city. If I could find a souvenir just to prove the world was here. And here it is, a red balloon, I think of you and let it go." That's Nena, 99 Red Balloons.

I'm off to Kinko's to get this bloggy bound up nicely. So then maybe I can read through it when times are dark, when I'm trudging through the valleys. This valley I'm in right now feels a little bleak. The future is so uncertain. I don't know where I'm living. I don't know who my friends are anymore.

I'm standing at a fork in the road. I could choose the path that leads right back to the life I lived prior to this year. Or I could choose the path that is freshly carved into the brush, the one in which I hold tightly to the lessons I've learned this year, continuing to hurdle over the lies I used to believe about myself. It's uncertain and scary. This whole starting over thing. It's rough.

I'm nervous about accountability. Who will have the audacity to call me out. Who's astringent and abrasive words will keep me in line when I try to make stupid decisions. The world's a scary place people. For now, I'll keep hiding out in this cool dark room. I have eleven days to lay around and "process" before I enter back into "the real world."

Pray for me.

The end.

Dwindling.

I should be packing, but instead I'm blogging.

Classic case of procrastination.

Blah.

My room is a fiasco. A fierce fiasco.

Boxes. Papers. Dirty underwear.

Blah.

I'm only an intern at the Washington Family Ranch for six more days. Jigga what?

I'm feverishly searching for a place of residence in the land called Santa Barbara.
I'm anxiously neglecting packing up this campy life of mine. Anxiously neglecting? Paradoxical. Yes. Deal with it.
I'm tangled up in One Tree Hill again. Nearly half way through Season 7.
I'm aching with lactic acid buildup. Completed my first triathlon this morning. That slopped together with the common case of dehydration I got goin' on just makes for a fat load of discomfort.
I'm whirring with dreams for the new chapter. I mean, I'M not whirring. My brain is whirring. I guess I could whir. But that might be weird.
I'm dwelling in the presence of Jesus. If you haven't heard of Mike Ashburn, google that dude. And then go watch him speak somewhere. Incredible. Absolutely incredible. He struck a match and lit my heart right up the other night. I want my husband to be just like that, minus about 40 years.

All these I'ms.

It's time to take a look at the great I AM.

So lay on the ground. Right now. Do it. Lay on the ground. Supine. That means face up. Palms open. And just be still. Most people get on their knees and put their heads to the floor, bowing down in worship. That's a little too closed off and closed up for me. I'd rather be wide open. Wholly surrendered. Laying on the ground. In stillness.

Try it.

Close your eyes and take some deep slow breaths.

Soothing to my soul. Hopefully yours as well.

Bummin'

I just found out I'm going to be homeless again in Santa Barbara.

Which is what I had intentionally planned.

Are you there God, it's me Sabrina...

and I'm just wondering if you're cool with the whole homeless plan, cuz I'm cool with it if you are.

Tickled.

I didn't shower after the all clean on Monday...but neither did anyone else in the car, so I was ok with it.

There was a less than pleasant blend of glove sweat, dirty toilet water, rogue chemical, and a smattering of feet reek wafting through the vehicle.

Mom and Dad (Stacy and Nick), and the three kiddies (Ashley, Shannon, and myself), hopped in the mid- sized SUV and hit the pavement for a 24 hour adventure beginning at about 4:30 on Monday evening.

24 hours isn't long, but let's just say we made the most of it. You just wait.

At the Muddy Rd. and Cold Camp intersection we took the road less traveled and headed through Ashwood. I think about seven people live there. But they have a post office, and a really nice high school, so that's cool.

It was neat to see how grandiose our property is. Yes, I just used the word grandiose. It means what it sounds like. Grossly grand. The Washington Family Ranch is all of 64,000 acres. Yeah, wrap your mind around that one. Massive.

We made it to the 97 highway after driving miles upon miles of windy dirt road. We got a phantom flat tire and then hit the road again.

To end up at McDonald's. Yeah, I know. Haven't eaten there since that time I was on my way to San Francisco and needed to use the internet to check the road conditions...I felt bad freeloading so I bought some dirty chicken sandwiches. McDonald's was the only fast food joint that was excluded from the voting poll...so it's pretty ironic that we ended up there. Ashley likes the french fries. And Mom and Dad wanted Big Macs.

After pummeling our bowels, we took to the road once again, headed to Bend.

We made it to the movie theater just in time. Going The Distance. Absolutely incredible. I haven't laughed so hard in ummm...well you get the exaggeration. Hysterical. Drew Barrymore. Justin Long. Jim Gaffigan. Jim was a pleasant surprise. Genius screen-writing. There were references to Moesha and baby pigeons. What else could you need for an epic movie? Go see it. Superb.

From the movie, we headed for a bout around town, checking out the local piercing joints. Sizing 'em up. Deciding which one would get our cash money come morning time. And then there it was, that big homely green, orange, and red lighted sign with the big 7 that never goes out.

It's slurpee time.

The fam bam flocks the store...pillaging the shelves. I almost bought a donut, and a bag of chips. But go me, I didn't.

Dad on the other hand, just couldn't contain himself. He almost bought a bomb burrito, but instead settled for the half pound hot pocket. Cooked in a dirty microwave.

Us four ladies sipped our slurpees out in the parking lot and waited for pops to finish nuking his fourth meal. We talked about the movie, and Jim Gaffigan, and hot pockets. Shannon just happened to have Jim on her ipod so when we got in the car, we cued up his bit on hot pockets. If you haven't heard it, go on youtube right now and type in Jim Gaffigan-hot pocket. Dad took the first bite and Shannon hit play as we pulled out of the parking lot. I've never heard Nick laugh so hard, nor have I laughed that hard in ummm...well, you get the exaggeration. Twas epic. About half way through the half-pounder Nick realized that it wasn't even the ham and cheese pocket that he wanted, it was a Philly cheesesteak hot pocket. Foul. He must have been laughing too hard, just throwing those taste buds all out of sorts.

We made it to Marianne's for a late night viewing of Ratatouille. Everyone fell asleep but yours truly. Oh, and Dad stayed up playing with his itouch. Mom and the other kiddies passed out.

Woke up to the sun the next morning, which isn't a terrible way to greet the day, except it was 6:30 and I just wanted to sleep some more. But alas, the sun was just too fierce, and heaven forbid I just reach up and close the blinds. So I got up and hit the shower. Finally. The anonymous excretions from the bodies of strangers had taken up residency on my unassuming skin. Time for eviction.

Showered, shaved, and shined up nicely, I played barista briefly and made some lattes for the family. Witty banter with Marianne and then we headed out to breakfast.

Westside Cafe Bakery. If you're ever in Bend, hit that ish up. The biscuits will blow your mind. And the food quantity will darn near blow your stomach. Literally.

From the Bakery, we headed to Best Buy. Time for a huge investment. Dad and I wandered the store for awhile, perusing all the different necessities for my prosumer camera kit. I think my new blog will be called The Prosumer. Make a mockery of myself when I take the world by storm with my rookie pictures and videos. So unassuming.

Camera's in da bag. Whilst making the purchase, the check out dude says, "Yeah, umm, you totally just saved a hundred bucks on your camera."

Thanks Dad. For that 12% off coupon.

Mom and the other kiddies were frolicking in lyrical land. They found three new cds. Katy Perry, Mumford & Sons, and the Going The Distance Soundtrack. Katy Perry has a song called Peacock. Use your imagination.

Let's just say the Parental Advisory sticker is there for a reason. Good thing our parents were present to experience that lyrical genius with us.

Off to get pierced.

We ended up at Starfire. Not the most clever title for a body piercing place. But it was clean, and accommodating, and totally owned and run by chicks. Yeah, pretty rad. Stacy, Ashley, and myself got our noses pierced while everyone watched. Literally, everyone. There's a one room studio in the place and it's surrounded by windows. The whole city of Bend decided to show up to get pierced that day. Luckily, we arrived before them. I would've hated the anticipation of waiting for the whole city of Bend to get pierced before me. We laid on the table. Listened to the shpiel. And then got some holes in our noses. But I have to tell you about Jamie. Yeah, I dropped 80 bones on a hole in my nose, but Jamie made it alllll worth it. Jamie's the piercer. She's in her early 30's. Been piercing for almost half her life. Not two-toned, but three-toned hair. Blonde. Pink. And Purple. Three rings in the left nostril. A star in the right. Smiley face tat on her middle finger. Diamonds in her teeth. Boots and a lacey black shirt. Rides a motorcycle. And flies to Riverside to get her ink. We chatted. She offered me a number if I wanted to get work next time I'm home.

Although she dropped a hundred f-bombs during our 20 minute encounter, I think I could be great friends with her. She knew we worked at a Jesus camp and she didn't change herself an ounce to appease us. I love that.

My piercing experience was delightful. Even though I didn't get the token Smarties that everyone else did, I do have the best circulation of the bunch so I'll take that as consolation.

Now that I got bling and a big crusty blood clot nestled in my nostril, it's time to hit up Old Navy and some thrift stores. You'll be happy to know that I found a bathing suit bottom for $1.37 and it's the perfect shade of blue...matches all three of my bathing suit tops. Yup, cha ching, I'm a winner. And so is Old Navy. Yeah, I got the bottoms new at Old Navy, not used at a thrift store. Sorry for the mass confusion.

Time for over-consumption round two. Costco. Giant pizza. Giant ice cream. And 59 cent root beer. Yeah, bowels, take that. Bought some memory cards for the camera and then hit the road for home.

But not before a quick pit stop at Wal-Mart. Always a treat. Always an experience. Got some milk and cereal, bananas, and orange juice. But I couldn't escape without at least one full body gape by a dirty old man. And yes, he smirked as he looked me up and down. Oh joy.

As we made the trek back to Campyland, Dad and I chatted about Bartending School. Yup, we're considering learning how to make alcoholic beverages together. Perfect father-daughter bonding atmosphere. Wouldn't you agree?

And there you have it, 24 hours of perfection.

I failed to mention the prancing antelope, exploding Mountain Dews, and the giant cavity infested care package Mama West sent me...but those are just casualties in this epic massacre. I hope you felt like you were a witness.

Sniff Sniff, Cough Cough.

I haven't changed my clothes in 3 days.

I have aches in my back from lying down for too long.

Bed sores? No, not yet.

I've watched six movies in the past two days. The list is as follows:

40 Days & 40 Nights
Two Weeks Notice
Closer
Because I Said So
Patch Adams
DreamGirls

Now I'm going to watch Season 7 of One Tree Hill.

My voice ran away the other night. Lost and yet to be found.

Mucus, phlegm, snotty nasties, all of the above have taken up residence in my throat and nostrils.

Copious amounts of tea and soup have failed to soothe the scratchies.

So I lie here, pathetically, giving the pump up speech to my immune system, ushering it back out into the ring for a final round.

Oh sickness, how I loathe thee.

Oh ps....I entered another writing contest...one that you can vote for. You know the drill...
http://www.trazzler.com/trips/antelope-store-cafe-in-antelope-or-22089

and click the save button...follow the prompts to sign into your Trazzler account or create one if you don't already have one!! Thanks so much friendies.