Spring Break in New Orleans

I decided to spend my Spring Break in New Orleans. Although New Orleans attracts tourists for many incredible reasons, I did not choose this location based on anything one might find in a brochure. Instead, I chose this location for one very important reason: Matthew Adam Birkhoff. 

When I went to the University of Alabama, I met Matty through a mutual friend. We clicked right away, and the bond that we formed has proven to be one of the strongest imaginable. This spring marked three years since I'd seen my dear friend, and Russell knew that there was no other place I'd rather spend my week off from school than in the company of someone that meant as much to me as Matty does. So, we drove from Jacksonville, AL to Metaire, LA, which is a quick drive down the interstate from the infamous Bourbon Street. The trip was about 7 hours, and each second behind the wheel of my mustang was completely and totally worth it the minute I saw Matty's ridiculously gorgeous face. My heart felt like it was going to burst when we pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building and I saw Matty running down the stairs.

It would be impossible to explain why he means so much to me, but I'll make an attempt to do so. When Matty and I went to UA, we were both going through some seriously hardcore personal issues. He was far from home, having just gone through the wrath and devastation of Hurricane Katrina. I was unhappy with myself, struggling to deal with the poor decisions and mistakes I'd made in the months before I met Matty. The night that we met, we sat on the front porch of my apartment and just talked. We talked about life, love, and everything else under the sun. We just spilled our guts, and from that night on, he was one of the people I trusted most in this world. In a time that I felt completely alone, he came into my life and reminded me that I wasn't alone at all. We became each other's lifeline, family, and best friend. He really saved me from the world, and most importantly, from myself and the guilt that I thought I should feel. If I had not met him, I do not know who I would be today. In fact, I do not even know if I would even still be here. But, I did meet him. And, I am still here. For this, I owe him everything, even though he would never ask me to repay him for all that he did for me. He has never asked me to do anything other than love him, and I do... with every ounce of my being. He is one of the greatest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving, and Hell would freeze over before I could ever forget him.

We spent five days in New Orleans, each of them being absolutely wonderful! I went to a casino for the first time, and surprisingly, I did not lose any money. In fact, Russell and I were both pretty lucky, winning all that we'd gambled and more! We walked down the streets of downtown New Orleans, exploring the French Quarter and the interesting people on Bourbon Street. We went to his favorite pub, where I had the pleasure of meeting some of his awesome friends, including a funny and kind bartender named Mark. We danced, laughed, sang, drank, slept, and reminisced. I had a blast, really, and I can't wait to return for round two!

I learned that the best vacations are the ones you spend with the people that you love most. I fell in love with Russell all over again when I saw how happy he was to see me smile as big as I always do when I'm around Matty. And, when he met Matty, he completely understood why I've missed him so much, which reminded me how great of a boyfriend he really is. I learned that some people are meant to come into our lives, because they help us love ourselves again just by loving us for who we really are. That is what Matty did for me, and that is what I hope I did for him, too. He gave me a reason to enjoy life, regardless of how terrible it may seem sometimes. That is what I hope to give him forever, even when we're old and gray (and still as fabulous as we were in our twenties!). I learned that loving and laughing are the most therapeutic things in life. We've loved and laughed from the very beginning, and all you ever really need to know is to always love and laugh. 

Crazy? Okay!

It has been a long time since I last wrote, and since then, so much has happened. I have made many changes in my life in the past few months, and for the most part, these changes have been exactly what I needed. It is often difficult for me to write about decisions I make when they are as personal as my most recent ones have been. I find it easy to avoid this blog when I do things that may or may not cause anyone that reads this to judge me too harshly. To be honest, I do not really know who, if anyone, reads this blog. I do not keep up with the number of hits it gets, because for me, this blog serves as an outlet for my feelings, as they are often extremely mixed up and all over the place. But, I've decided that I would rather be criticized for standing behind the things that I do than judge myself for being too afraid to write about the things that are most important to me.

First, as most already know, I ended my relationship with Kyle a few months back. I think that it is important to be there for those that need you, but I also believe that being needed too much can take away from a relationship. Most relationships end because one person is being loved too much, while the other is not loved enough. In fact, I feel like few relationships actually end because of a lack of love. It is, instead, the lack of balance concerning that love and how it is distributed within a relationship. I have always loved Kyle, and I will ALWAYS want him to be healthy, happy, and successful. However, when I am with Kyle, I stop being myself. Over the past eight years, Kyle and I have dated on and off, and throughout it all, I'd like to say that we have remained friends. And, regardless of what people may say or believe, I absolutely do not regret being there for him when he needed me. As I helped him cope with his grief, I learned a lot about myself. I saw just how far I had truly come in my own grieving process. In order to help him understand what he was feeling, I had to go back in time in my own mind and dig through all of the immense layers of emotions stored in my memory. As he moved forward, I almost seemed to move backwards, traveling from acceptance all the way back to denial. I found myself over-analyzing each step I had taken, wondering if it was really the best move I could have made. Then, one day, I woke up, and I realized that helping him was hurting myself. His acceptance was not his at all... it  was mine. Because I care about him and want the best for him, I had to let him go. I had to let him take his own journey. I pushed him away as hard as I could, and in the end, it worked out for us both. I will always smile when I hear good things about him. I do not hate him, nor will I ever. From January 6th, 2009 to January 6th, 2010, I lost four people that I cared for deeply. I attended four funerals. I cried over four different sets of memories. I said goodbye forever four times. And, I needed to deal with these losses on my own, instead of putting all of my energy and attention into what was going on in the heart of one other person. So, I said goodbye for a fifth time, but in a totally different way. This goodbye was happy, and I said it with a smile.

After Kyle and I ended our relationship, I finally allowed myself to admit that I had been missing a certain someone very, very badly. For anyone who does not know, Russell Wofford is one of the best friends I have ever had. When we lost Brother Larry, he was my ROCK. When I could not sleep, he did not sleep, either. When I cried, he held me. When I wrote, he let me read it to him, and afterwards, we would talk about it. We talked about everything, in fact. I have no secrets from him, and even if I wanted to change that, it would not be possible, because I just cannot hide anything from him. Russell and I, without a doubt, made some huge errors in the year and a half that we were together. We are young, and we both make mistakes. The day we broke up, I'd just found out about Callie and Kyle's accident. I was already hysterical that day, as I had just been told that Uncle Randall's condition was worsening quickly, and I knew that Callie was not the only person I'd be saying goodbye to that week. I was an emotional wreck, to say the least. Russell and I did not break up over an argument or silly fight, we just stopped talking, because the best thing for both of us was to be at home for a while. I needed to be there for Kyle, who was in UAB at the time and had no memory of the wreck at all. I needed to be at home with my family and loved ones as we said goodbye to a man that we all loved and admired. And, Russell needed to be at home with his family, too. We both needed to take a few steps back from our relationship and focus on the one that matters most of all: the relationship we have with ourselves.

Now, Russell and I are together again. And, for the first time in a long time, I am very much myself. He is so smart and cares so much for me, as I do for him. He knows my dreams, and he will be there to help me make them come true. He has always understood why my love for my family and church family runs so deep, and when I get down and depressed about those I've lost, he reminds me that they loved me, too. Even though some people think I jumped back into this relationship too quickly after ending another, they must understand that neither of these relationships were new. Both Kyle and Russell have been a huge part of my life for as long as I've known them both. Russell cared enough about me to let me go when he knew that it was what I needed most, and that is a kind of love that I both understand and appreciate. It is strange, isn't it? Sometimes, the people that love us the most are the ones that do not fight us when we push them away. These people stand patiently on the sidelines, keeping us in their thoughts and prayers, until the day comes that they can re-enter our lives. Letting go of someone you love is impossibly difficult, but sometimes, it is the best thing you can do for that person. This is true love. This is what he has given me, and what I hope to give him every day. When he and I are old and covered with wrinkles, we will still be able to look at each other and smile, knowing that the lines on our faces are from a lifetime of worry and laughter. And, it will all be worth it... every single bit of it. Whether I waited one month or six years to get back together with him, it would have happened eventually. After all, soul mates are a lot like lives- you only get one, and if you worry too much about being politically correct, it will be gone before you know it.

While I understand that all of this may sound crazy, I need for everyone to understand that this is my life. This is the only life that I will ever have. This is my one chance to really experience the world. I want this experience to be everything that I ever dreamed that it would be. I want to put myself out there and help people, especially people that are going through the long, draining process of grief. I want to love and be loved. I want to be able to open my eyes and see, through all of the tears, heartache, pain, and emptiness, all of the beauty in this big, old world we live in. I want to do all of these things, and still, at the end of every day, be able to love and respect myself- both for the person I am at the time AND the person I will one day become. So, yes, it may be crazy. It may be the craziest idea I have ever had. But, in my book, crazy is not bad. It is not bad at all.

"This is your life. Is it everything you dreamed that it would be?"

Last week, my words about my grandmother were read at her funeral. As a grieving young woman, it made my heart ache. However, as an aspiring writer, it was an honor greater than any other I have ever received. It allowed me to give something back to a woman that had given me every single thing I could ever want from the moment I was born. The night I wrote that piece about my grandmother, I laughed while typing some parts, and cried during others. As my grandmother's loved ones listened to the pastor read it, they laughed and cried, too. I looked around the room, surveying the familiar faces inside, and I realized that what I saw was the definition of a successful life. Below the teary eyes of those who loved her most were smiles, and it became clear to all who were present that one cannot possibly think of the life my grandmother lived without grinning. She left behind a legacy of love, laughter, and living life to the fullest. In my book, that makes her one of the most successful people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving. In a world full of people fighting viciously for a taste of success, it is refreshing to see proof of a person that earned the title without having to hurt themself or others in order to do so.

The day that I was born, my grandparents were there with a pink dress for me to wear home. My cousins, my brother, and I were all so blessed to have those two wonderful people there waiting eagerly to hold us as we each began our lives on Earth. We all have countless pictures of Grandmother holding us when we were babies. Grandmother's arms always made us feel safe, and she seemed happiest with a sleeping grandchild on her lap. She was a natural with children, and even as we got older, she had no problem handling what most others would consider a handful. I cannot even begin to count the number of summer nights that all five of us would spend several nights at a time at Grandmother's house. She somehow managed to wake us up, cook a magnificent breakfast, play ball with us outside, cut grass, make us lunch, wash clothes, make the beds, clean the house (which she claimed was always dirty), warn us to stay away from the water hose, mud, or whatever else we could get into, change our clothes when we played in the water hose and mud anyway, cook dinner, put bandaids on all injuries sustained during the day, catch the fireflies we set loose in the house, give us baths, change us into pajamas, and put us to bed. Then, she did it again the next day, as well as any other day that we wanted. She loved us being there, and no matter what tricks we pulled, before we left to go home, she'd whisper in our ears, "Now, you call me if they are mean to you, and I'll come pick you up." And, she always did. She never broke a promise to us, even as we grew older and found ourselves breaking promises we made to her. She did not love us because she thought we were perfect. Instead, she just loved the great things about us so much that our flaws were unnoticed by her. At Grandmother's house, love was always stronger than hate. Always.

My grandmother was recognized as the type of woman that could always be seen working hard in the background. She never wanted to be the center of attention. She never sought after glamour or glory. At our family gatherings, Grandmother can be seen in the background of nearly every photograph or video that I have ever seen. We always struggled to make her sit down long enough to eat more than a bite of food at a time. She worried more about us having enough tea in our cups and rolls on our plates than most people do about their mortgage payments. She insisted we eat, leave our plates wherever we ate, and then relax. Helping her clean or do anything else was not an option. The only other rule besides this was that in her home, one was to respect three men: Jesus Christ, Elvis Presley, and Paul "Bear" Bryant. None of us ever found out what the punishment would be for breaking these two rules, which is exactly the way Grandmother wanted it. To her, holidays were special because they allowed her to make her family happy. This past Christmas, she said, "You know, when I was little, we got in trouble for laughing at the dinner table. I think it should be a happy place. I think we should get in trouble if we DON'T laugh at the dinner table." Of course, she said this while eating her steak on a fold-out card table that was set up beside the big dining room table. She did not care anything about sitting at the head of the table. She had a better view of her son, daughter, son-in-law, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren enjoying Christmas lunch from that little card table. That, to her, was the best seat in the house. Five minutes after she sat down, she was surrounded by grandchildren that gladly traded their seats at the kitchen table or in front of the TV to sit with her. We flocked to her. Like I said, she was a natural.

Even though my grandmother enjoyed being a background worker, her personality and incredible character set her apart from others. She was smart, beautiful, witty, charming, saucy, bright, hilarious, adventurous, brave, generous, careful, strong, thoughtful, and forgiving. She kept all of the little things we all wrote about her when we were little, and one said, "Why hasn't her hair turned white?" That is perfect when remembering her, because we all thought our grandmother was way cooler than everyone else's. She did not fit the stereotype of a grandmother, nor did she fit any other stereotype. It was not until the last year of her life that I ever heard her say, "I'm tired." That was the first time that I realized that my grandmother was not composed of rechargable batteries. Honestly, I would not have been shocked if someone told the energizer bunny was really just my grandmother wearing a costume all along.  She had wonderful friendships with others, and when her grandchildren grew older, she began traveling often with close friends. She had a vibrant social life, refusing to sit at home and do nothing with her time. Hearing her talk on the phone with a best friend was like listening to two teenagers, always giggling and making fun plans. Whether she liked it or not, she was never able to fade into the background as she wished. Some people just shine without knowing it. She was one of those people. She was a star.

People ask how I am doing, and I tell them, "I'm okay." And, I am not just saying that, although it is the generic response to that question. I am okay, because I know that my grandmother is somewhere awesome with people that she has been waiting patiently to see again. This is how she would have wanted it to be, without a doubt. I keep telling people that the one thing I can do for the woman that gave me everything I ever wanted is to allow her to have what she would have wanted. I cannot be selfish and be angry with God for taking her from us. Instead, I am thankful that he took her in a peaceful way, allowing her to maintain her pride and dignity, just as she wished. I am grateful that we were given so many amazing years with her. I am blessed to have a multitude of memories, photographs, videos, stories, and keepsakes to remind me each day of the kind of person my grandmother was, which will allow me to live the kind of life that she can be proud of as she watches over me from the clouds. My grandmother's story is not a tragedy, regardless of how it ends. It is a comedy. It is a romance. It is an inspiration. It is everything she ever wanted it to be... and more.

I did not cry when I wrote this; I smiled. It makes me happy to remember the way her laugh sounded, how she would say, "I've got to watch my stories." before turning on her favorite soaps, the way her scrambled eggs were always perfect, and the way her perfume smelled. It makes me laugh to think of the adventures we had as kids during the summer at her house. I can literally feel my heart warm when I picture her walking around her house, making sure everyone had every single thing they could possibly need during a meal, stopping only when the grandchildren all yell, "GRANDMOTHER! GO SIT DOWN AND EAT!" She'd say, "Oh, you hush." But, she'd go sit down.... even if only for a few minutes. Goodness, I'm going to really miss her. I already miss her like crazy. I cannot wait to see her again. Until then, I just want to make her proud.

"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint."
Isaiah 40:31

I think this is what my soul sounds like.

"....like your sheets."

beautiful.

"I Will Follow You Into The Dark"

My grandmother's ring is on my right hand. This Christmas, she and I sat by each other at the table and laughed, talked, and ate an awesome meal. That was the last time I ever saw her. 

At 1:58 p.m. on January 2, 2010, she passed away. It all happened very quickly, and because of this, we are all still in shock right now. My grandmother, Dott Thomas, was an incredible woman. She was a phenomenal mother and grandmother. She was there for all of our sporting events, school plays, pageants, graduations, recitals, concerts, and any other event that involved her children or grandchildren. She taught me how to throw a football. When we were kids, she played baseball and tag with us. She took pride in her independence, setting a good example for the five grandkids that adored her. While some women in their 70's enjoy hobbies like knitting, our grandmother decided to try riding motorcycles.....and LOVED it. She liked to travel with friends, shop, and go walking in the morning. She could pull off the color orange like nobody else I know. Instead of allowing her four grandsons to take care of her yard work for her, she insisted on doing it herself. My grandmother had a gold car and gold shoes, and moved around quickly in both. In fact, I am pretty sure she stopped paying attention to speed limit signs about a decade ago, which is a genetic trait that I must have gotten. When she passed away, she was 75 years old. But, you would have never known it. You would have never known it at all.

Her ring is on my right hand. Her genes are in my blood. Her influence is in my being. Her love is in my heart.

2009: a year in pictures

New Year's Eve 2009-2010:

<3

HLT 

december 2009 photographs

lazy afternoon at the lake house

Lesia's Surprise Party- 70's style :)

Darla Magillicutty and Skip Fondue

(me & jamie)

He was singing, I'm sure! Haha!

more to come.........

12.21.09

twitter.com/HLT4BAMA

New canvas. New year. New me.

December is my favorite month. Each December, I find comfort in the knowing that a new year is right around the corner. The idea of a fresh start has always brought to me a type of relief that I have been unable to find elsewhere. Because it is so wonderful and rare, I truly cherish the concept of starting over, and am incredibly thankful each year when December arrives with this extraordinary gift. Naturally, the gift of starting over is far more complicated than the rest of the presents I am given each December, as it requires more time to unwrap, more patience to understand, and more effort to use effectively than the others. Because this gift is completely invisible and lacks an instruction booklet, I have only learned how to truly start over by many years of trial and error. As a 22 year old woman, I am no expert on how to effectively do anything, especially something as complicated as an entirely fresh start. However, I do feel like I know much more about this concept than I ever thought I would. Each December, I focus on what I'd like to change about myself in the year to come. This has not worked for me, though, because I spend each year trying to correct the mistakes made in the year before, which totally defeats the purpose of a fresh start. This December, I hope to focus on all of the parts of myself that I want to leave behind in 2009. I want to begin 2010 with a clean slate, carrying with me only the parts of me that I love. If I want to be happy in 2010, I cannot begin the year surrounded by the unhappiness that came with 2009. I must forgive, forget, and move on. What I have done defines the person I am, but it does not define the person that I will become.

Although many claim to be quick to forgive, one cannot deny the extreme level of difficulty that human beings generally have with  forgiveness. Anger comes to us easily. Hatred is easy. Bitterness is easy. Regret comes naturally, even if we fight it. Fear is easy. In fact, every single negative emotion had by the human race comes without any effort or request. Unfortunately, the most beautiful feelings one can possibly feel in life are ridiculously hard to find. One must journey deep into his or her own soul in order to find out what steps must be taken in order to feel something as incredible as love, admiration, faith, trust, and forgiveness. Brother Larry once told me that life's greatest rewards come from doing the things that we fear the most. I am terribly afraid of letting go of people, dreams, memories, or ideas that are the closest to my heart, and many times, this is because I am terrified of the idea of what kind of person I might be without these people, these hopes and dreams, or these memories. I have a hard time letting go of my mistakes, because I am more comfortable with my identity as a girl that regrets her actions than I am with the thought of being a woman that overcame guilt and regret. When someone does wrong to me, I am more comfortable being angry with that person than completely forgiving him or her.

Many people say they always forgive, but never forget. This does not seem possible to me, because remembering how badly someone made me feel has always prevented me from letting go of whatever wrong was done. Until I let go of the feelings that came with the wrongdoing, I cannot possibly forgive someone completely. In order to forgive, one must let go. In order to let go, one must allow him or herself to forget. It is human nature to cling to bad memories in order to protect ourselves from getting hurt again. We force ourselves to remember each person that betrays and hurst us to protect ourselves from trusting and getting hurt by this person again. We grasp tightly onto memories of our failures in hope that we may avoid failing at these things in the future. Because we desperately feel the need to protect ourselves and our hearts from pain or harm, we have become a generation of people that often forget the times in which we were happiest long before we forget the times in which we were the angriest or the most miserable. Earlier, when I did something called a "picture survey." It took three times as long for me to find a picture that described the happiest day of my life than it did to find a picture of a time that I was miserable. In that moment, I realized that I ruin every happy day now by questioning how long it will be before someone takes that happiness away from me. One time, someone told me that I looked horrible in the color yellow. Years later, I still refuse to wear yellow because I'm convinced that other people will look at me and think that I look awful. I do not remember who said it, when it was said, or what I was wearing at the time, but I have avoided adding anything yellow to my wardrobe because of an insult I received in high school. I forgave the person that insulted me, but I never forgot the way the insult made me feel.

If there is one thing more important than forgiving others, it is forgiving ourselves. This is what I struggle with the most. Even though I constantly make excuses for other people and their actions, I feel guilty excusing any of my own mistakes. Sometimes, I force myself to remember times that I said the wrong thing or made a bad choice, and I replay those mortifying moments over and over in my head until I fully exhaust each and every "should have" or "could have." It is almost as if I am never satisfied until I feel sick to my stomach. It is so hard for me to allow myself to just let go of the things that I cannot change, even when I have learned from a past mistake. I could list 500 examples of bad decisions I have made, terrible things that I have done, or hurtful things that I have said. But, I would struggle to write 10 things I have done that I am absolutely satisfied with and proud of. In order to have a fresh, clean start in January, I have to forgive myself for mistakes that I've made this year. I have to forgive myself for being human and not knowing then what I know now. I cannot continue beating myself up over phone calls I should have made, sermons I wish I had not missed, and choices I should not have made. If I cannot forgive myself, can others forgive me? If I stay awake every night crying over my inability to change the past, I will be too exhausted to appreciate the beauty of each new day. If I begin 2010 surrounded by guilt and regret, January will be the 13th month of 2009, rather than the first month of something new. If an artist did this, he or she would spend his or her entire career making corrections to one painting on one canvas. The result would be horrendous. The different colors of paint would eventually mix with each other, and the painter would end up with a muddy, brown canvas. If a painter is unable to correct a mistake on a piece of work, he or she could try again on a fresh, new canvas, choosing to learn from a past mistake and move forward. Instead of wasting our time trying to erase what cannot be erased, we should all accept that perfection is not a requirement for beauty, happiness, or success. If we choose to be like the first painter, we will end up with one muddy canvas. However, if we follow the path of the second painter, we can create many beautiful works of art in a lifetime. A work of art may be seen as flawed by its creator, but to the rest of the world, it is a perfect showcase of beauty.

One must unburden him or herself with the mistakes he or she made in the past. We all do things that we cannot take back, and the only thing that matters is that we would take these things back if given the chance. We are all afraid of being hurt. We are all afraid of failure. We are all afraid of betrayal. We all fear something, and as unfair as it seems, the only way to overcome a fear is to face it. In protecting myself from what scares me, I am only making my fear even stronger. Choosing to face a fear, however, gives ME strength. I am afraid of death, because it has taken so much from me in 2009. I am terrified that every single time my phone rings, I am going to hear bad news. I am scared that I will not be able to go through the stages of grief again without losing my mind completely. I am terrified that death will take someone from me that I cannot live without. I am afraid that if it does, I will spend the rest of my life completely unhappy, desperately trying to fill a void that cannot be filled. I have to face my fear. I have to come to terms with death, because whether I fear it or not, it will happen. I must be confident in myself and the bond I have with the ones that I love, as well as my faith in God. Fearing death as much as I do gives so much power to death that it destroys me each time it occurs. I fear death because I fear the lack of control that I have over it. If I face my fear, then I have to give up my desire for control. In doing this, I can release myself from the guilt I feel when I lose someone close to me. If I am not in control, then I cannot blame myself for not being there to prevent it from happening. If God is in control, then each death is His will. I find peace in knowing that the lives of my loved ones ended on Earth because God wanted to give them a new, fresh start in Heaven. Instead of being angry with myself for not being there, I can be grateful that He was there to carry them away from pain in the palm of His hand. Fearing death made it more powerful. Facing that fear makes life more powerful than death. Death may stop one from walking on Earth, but it cannot take away the wings one gets in Heaven.

In 2009, I struggled to forgive others. I failed to forget what should be forgotten and remember what I should never forget. I fought a losing battle with guilt and regret. I was too hard on myself for my mistakes and imperfections. I let a fear of death consume me. These are the parts of who I am that I am choosing to leave behind.

I hope to begin 2010 as a person that has forgiven others for doing what has already been forgotten. I will be a young woman that fails until she gets it right, but I will not define myself as a failure. I will be apologetic instead of guilty, and spend more time on what I can do than on what I wish I would have done. I will love life more than I fear death. I will not allow my nightmares take away the power of my dreams. I will remember that the person I am now is not the person I will become. I will wear yellow and feel absolutely fabulous! I will let love come into my life without questioning the length of its stay. I will be proud of my imperfections. I will only keep the photographs and memories of happy times. I will still believe that good things happen to good people. I will remember the compliments I receive and forget the insults.  I will enjoy God's sunshine until it rains. Then, instead of running to get an umbrella, I'll dance as the raindrops land on my smiling face.