SANTA CLAUS AND ELEPHANT HATS

I am going to try something new: I'm going to type and not stop until I fall asleep, or until I run out of finger juice. I got a postcard in the mail from Sweden a day ago. My cousin has been there all of July and flies back this Saturday. The Fourth of July felt off when we got together with family, because she was far away. I also got my blood type card in the mail: I'm an O-, which makes me feel guilty since I've only donated blood once and it was even a really good experience, except for the man who bragged about his workouts, he was rather annoying. I almost donated at Culver's blood drive a couple days ago, but I kept procrastinating and sorta chickened out. I hope I get my new driver's license in the mail soon. When I had my picture taken at the license center by Santa Claus, he told me to look and smile at the camera and when the flash sputtered and clicked, he exclaimed at my picture that popped up on the screen, "we could sell this to a magazine!" It was a strange moment, I mean, have you ever been complimented by Santa Claus? What do you say back anyways--Merry Christmas? I am not going to separate this into paragraphs, I'm just gonna keep rambling and spell things wrong on purpose, maybe I'll even abuse grammar. I have two starred songs on Spotify and I have been listening to them on a perpetual cycle for the past week. Wow, my left hand is starting to tingle, feels like there are drunk spiders hoola-hooping inside of it. A man wearing an elephant hat, building legos with his grandson at Lego Land, leaned close to me as I shot photos on a monopod and asked what we were doing, so I explained that we were at the Mall of America to shoot a short film about human-trafficking, he thought that was pretty cool then said that 'he just had to ask, he was a curious man,' then he explained why there was an elephant hat on his head, "I wear a different hat everyday to make people laugh. Sixteen years ago I was diagnosed with a brain tumor, but look at this," he gestured to the little boy next to his lap leaning over the lego building table, "my grandson and I are playing legos and I am healthy. I thank Jesus. I thank him 9,116 x's (it was a very specific number) a day. Thanks for doing what you're doing." I will never judge a man for wearing an elephant hat again. He was beautiful. I took a picture of him with his grandson. Yikes, I have to take a break and massage my left forearm. Last night, Ron, John, Bek and I met up with friends and family at the drive-in. We got in line early and the sun was dancing on the bright leaves and trees beside the road we waited along. Once we parked our car in front of the screen and set up way more chairs than we had people and munched on dill pickle chips, the sky blew hot air balloons over us and little children sitting on van roofs laughed and pointed with their stuffed tigers. I laughed more than everyone in our group, but then I just laughed louder. Sometimes, I wonder if I laugh too much. Or too loudly. Maybe my laugh steals joy from people's souls and gives birth to Oompa Loompas? O well, I think Oompa Loompas are better off than most humans. The best part of the night, other than having people to snuggle with in the cold, and dancing to old jazz tunes during intermission, was catching seven stars fall across the navy blue sky. Katie thinks the universe might be ending. Tonight was wonderful too, and you know, connecting with souls around lopsided tables is even lovelier than putting seven stars in your pocket. I have some golden people in my life. I hope they don't fall away like shooting stars, I hope my friends are like the moon, because the moon never falls away or gets rubbed across the sky like mosquito guts on your arm when you smack and squish it. But I guess, only God can be the moon. I got a new journal for my birthday. It has lined paper, I don't like lined paper, because it's confining, like a clock, and to make it worse, there are quotes on every other page and I really don't like that either, because they are the same quotes every sixth page, but it has a beautiful painting on the front with the words, 'Destiny' in fancy print. That got me thinking, what is destiny and do I believe in it? To be honest, at first I was like, heck no that's a hogwash word that famous people use to describe their beauty and success. I don't like the word one bit, why? because when I close my eyes and think of the word, I see a curly haired lady with heavily applied blue eye shadow singing to herself on the toilet, hoping that destiny will bring her a future without trying. I guess it's not so much the word, but how people use it, because I believe God destined me to be adopted as his daughter. I believe that. I believe that he has a calling for me, a purpose for me... but is that a destiny? Maybe. I don't know. Maybe it's just that I feel 'destiny' is like the word 'luck' and 'coincidence,' it takes away from God and his sovereignty over everything. "It was destiny that brought us together." Blech. The dictionary defines the word as 'an ultimate power or agency that predetermines the course of events,' but that just sounds so stuffy, doesn't it? Like it's a fake answer. Simply, I struggle to wrap my mind around the word. Maybe it's just because it's almost 2am and I haven't had a good night's sleep since Friday. I am out of finger juice. Good night. m