+ sabotage +

i am not safe to speak.
my lips do not yet know my heart.
i sabotage myself.
perhaps you truly cannot fight
to be at peace.

do you not know?
i am one great experiment.
if you hear ink and not lead
i will stop speaking,

-lauren nicole


+ therapy +

every so often, i force myself to write these obnoxious little social-networking prompted autobiographies in order to face what exactly it is that makes up lauren nicole. i’ve found it’s also a very good way to see what was on the front of my mind at different points in my life. so, here goes.

– – –

My name is Lauren Nicole. I was almost Madison, but my parents didn’t like the nicknames. According to my birth certificate I was born 22 years ago. But most days, I either act six, 16 or 26. I love way too easily, and way too hard. I can’t handle when people make self-deprecating comments. The only reason I am still a functioning human being is because of an outrageous grace and an unconditional love. If I care about you, I will do everything within my power to show you these things. I care about everyone. I tend to either over simplify, or over complicate. I’m still learning how to grow up. I expect a lot from myself, and usually nothing from anyone else. I stand up for everyone. If you cry, I cry. My heart is way too big. I haven’t gained a pound since I was 16. My brother and I share clothes. I hate negative humor; if it’s at someone else’s expense, it’s not funny. The keys to my heart are as follows: single flowers, little doodles and drawings, hand-written notes, little tiny things, French vintage jewelry, anything from Anthropologie, and being taken places I’ve never been. I’m good at a whole lot of things, and not really great at anything. I am an ADD perfectionist. I am not from Ohio. I am an early riser and a night owl. I am a firm believer in honesty. I am always biting off way more than I can chew. I take walks, and want you to come with me. In the summer, I live outside. I hate cold. I am not a favorites person, but my favorite place in the world is the Lux in Phoenix, Arizona. I do too much, and doing less is on my to do list. There is nothing you can ask me that I won’t tell you. I would die for any of my siblings. I make mistakes a lot. I want to know everything you’re scared of, and everything that hurts. I’m a color addict. I’m 50/50 in every category on every personality test I’ve ever taken. I like my music loud. Really, really, really loud. My interests will probably confuse you. I insist on seeing the best in everyone, even when it bites me in the butt. I believe in pda. I’m pretty much a different person every three months, because I tend to change very quickly. I put 100% of my heart into everything I do. Its dangerous, but the only way to do it. I’m a big sister, and you can tell. I’m not a feminist, but if you put girls down, we aren’t friends. My parents don’t know anything about me, and today that hurts. I’m working really hard on being right here, right now. Sometimes when life wears me out, I pretend that you can trust boys. If you want to know anything else, you should probably have coffee, tea, or a smoothie with me..

+ love. +

– – –

i pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have the power to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge — that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

eph. 3.17-19

– – –

this is why i am okay with the fact that the love i believe in does not make sense, and is not fair..

+ a study on brokenness, part one +

We are objects of the greatest pain, yet insist on muting our heart-wrenching cries. We do not voice our plea for comfort, we do not implore for consolation, we do not beg for solace. It is numbing, debilitating, and disabling, and we stubbornly march on, idiotically expecting the cracks and tears to hold water, and the shattered bones and hearts to hold our weight.

We call ourselves a broken people, yet do we understand what we are admitting to? I cannot help but experience it unceasingly, yet I seldom comprehend the depths of brokenness. More often than not, I admit to being broken as an excuse for not being whole, instead of as a despairing confession of utter helplessness and paralyzing hurt. I readily call myself broken; anyone who has seen the past few years of my life knows I couldn’t be anything but this. Every once in awhile, those that catch glimpses of my heart in its rawness will witness a rightly warranted desperation; this offers undeniable proof of my true state, even if against my will.

We all cry out, and we all admit to our brokenness, yet I find that we still deny just how absolute and vindicating the state of being broken truly is. We are still uneasy to justify acting out of brokenness; so hesitant to allow ourselves to believe that our mistakes and emotional instability are compassionately acquitted by the intensity of brokenness. We almost comically attempt to mitigate the severity of brokenness, not realizing that broken is broken. Simply put, I can come to terms with being broken yet I persistantly expect myself to act out of wholeness.

In light of all this, my hypothesis: we do not accurately grasp the totality of Broken.

– – –

Bro⋅ken [broh-kuhn]

1. Reduced to fragments.
2. Ruptured; torn; fractured.
3. Not functioning properly; out of working order.
4. Incomplete.
5. Weakened in strength, spirit.
6. Lacerated; wounded.
7. Reduced.
8. Forcibly destroyed.
9. Spoken in a halting or fragmentary manner, as under emotional strain.
10. Disunited; divided.
11. Rough; irregular.
12. Ruined; bankrupt.
13. Smashed, split, or divided into parts violently.
14. Ignored.
15. Dissolved or annulled.
16. Destroyed regularity, continuity, or arrangement.
17. Having had a part stolen or removed.
18. Disabled; destroyed.
19. Overcome or worn down in spirit or strength.
20. Caused to yield under extreme pressure or torture.
21. Impaired; weakened.
22. Trained away from the natural state.
23. Shattered.
24. Ended ubruptly.
25. Inoperative; malfunctioned.
26. Detached; separated; disassociated.
27. Overwhelmed.
28. Value dropped sharply and considerably.
29. Collapsed; breakdown.
30. Severed prematurely.
31. Crushed.
32. Ripped; torn; halved.
33. Forcibly separated into pieces; pierced.
34. Flawed.
35. To give up.
36. Rendered useless.
37. Failed; unusable; of no value or worth.
38. Split into lesser parts.
39. Weak.
40. Helpless.




+ love everyone +

lauren nicole.

+ ramone the squirrel +

this is dedicated to bailey, and her missing squirrel, ramone. :] i told her i would paint ramone for her, in remembrance of the poor baby squirrel that she had to let loose into the wild. aw. we’ve decided to believe in happy endings..

+ forward +


when the morning sun breaks, it brings a forced rememberance. all is new.
colors, details, shapes and shadows disappear, making way for only the whites and yellows, blending everything together. yesterday’s eyes, pathetic. the piercing warmth casts forgiving rays that soften and blind the outlines of our harsh reality and the mistakes it contains. yesterday has ended. the consuming, all-captivating strength of our sun is our salvation. the source of light commands our gaze. in it’s wake, all else is insignificant and unworthy even of thought. we can and will see nothing else except that which is before us, for we are now blinded by light. praise, eternal. – lauren nicole.


+ pick it and stick with it +

i wish i was given a designated color palette for life. or at least one palette per year. i get excited, over-zealous, and distracted and switch mental palettes too fast; nothing ends up matching. i need to pick one palette for 2009, and master it.

– – –

things i love today.

cosas minimas. by blanca gomez.

julia kuo.
from julia: “When I was young, I was so addicted to drawing that my brother would exploit me by selling me copy paper for 3 dollars a sheet. Now he is an economist and I am a starving artist. I also wonder how I had the money to buy such expensive drawing paper.”

samantha hahn.

sofia arnold
icebear.typepad.com & sofia-arnold.com

yoko furusho.


+ today, this is what my heart looks like. +

thin lines
airy, glassy, free
hello, my name is delicate

cold white
stick figures, oops!

bubbles, move
stop, go.
hello, my name is fragile.

tiny, sweet
hush, lace, twirl

light, tears, pale
hello, my name is brittle.

shh, careful, please.



+ for the other lauren nicole +

i’m not going to give a background story…just trust me that i owe lauren nicole scott a list of the current contents in my bag, haha. enjoy!

lumocolor pens
cell phone
three sets of keys
power adapter for my macbook
daily planner
juxtapox april 2009 magazine
several flyers for random shows
three double a batteries
about eighteen thousand receipts and deposit slips
polkadot stationery
campus/gateway coupons
a letter that hasn’t made it to the mailbox
unknown number of pens and writing utensils
movie ticket stubs
loganpalooza showcase ticket stub
tea bags (hah cool…)
a pissed-off letter i wrote to god
voided check
lavender oil
purple sharpie
CF card
cell phone charger

yeah…i should work on that…

– – –

this week’s portraits.

bailey a. harmon

clay howard.