Monday, December 19, 2011

And the Winner is!

Anxiety v. Peace: my life, the court case.

not related, I find it quite predictable that my heart has hardened so completely--to its previous state--that I wonder what vulnerability I'm even capable of. I filter through all those "where is love" thoughts and find myself more comfortable denouncing its feasibility than remembering that I've done it before. that it was easy. that it surprised me and spun me like a top--spun me so graciously that only my warm sides showed. my happy sides, my electric sides. and as soon as I remember how it's encompassed me before, I remember that the pain of its concluding roller coaster will never push me under again. and so... as much as I'd like to believe that my current confidence and peace and security is my triumph over the hurt and any subsequent walls, I know that the next soul to sneak through their cracks will fill them in a way that won't ever release it. I know it takes patience to stumble upon the soul that's prepared to be the water and the glue, but my patience is proportionate to the knowledge that I won't be able to repossess my heart a second time.

welp, enough of that! the wind is on my heels, fellas. I feel like I'm one of those pullback cars. I don't know in which direction freedom will send me, but I bet it's pretty scenic. scenic and warm.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011


I never know what to write anymore. Like it takes courage I don't have, or something.

I like to see my thoughts develop, but not in print.

Sometimes I think I could publish something, but not at this rate

And by the time I've worked up the courage, my thoughts will have sunk back into the mundane, back into the down comforter, back into the sudsy sink.

Sometimes I think I could publish something, but not on this date

Monday, November 28, 2011

Small Fry

For the first time, I have thoughts nobody knows. I don't whether to treasure them or to toss them like hot potatoes.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Peaks My Interest

I thought I saw my turn signal miss a blink. I said, ah! Just like me. Palpitations. Skipping rhythms. Your wiring knows when to blink, beat, blink, and then sometimes it just--sometimes it just--sometimesit--sometimes it just, doesn't.

I sip Christmas Blend from a mug as big as my face, admiring its body, the coffee's, not the mug's, though perhaps the mug's as well, and draw parallels between the way the liquid pans my tongue and the way this year has panned my mind.

Isolation, propagation, irritation, awolnation, speculation, interpretation, communication, ation, ation.

"Happiness is only real when shared." - Christopher McCandless

Well, gang, it's time to start over. No one who knew me knows me still. The difference between depression and isolation is that depression plateaus in a valley while isolation plateaus on a mountain. This is not a universal metaphor, and the geographic images are paradoxical, yes, but still, isolation the way I feel it sets in with the same hardships as do any adjustments to high altitudes. I survey the view and am surprised to recognize that I do so alone. Imagine the peak is the present and grows over time (also paradoxical... peaks can only erode... I really need to think these things through). In observing the decline and my past, I notice that my surprise may be rooted in naivety. I think I climbed for too long without regard to the gaps I'd created between my companions and me. The problem remains--I... don't really know how to get back down.

Saturday, November 19, 2011


"Trying to be a nicer person has made me meaner to myself."


Occasionally I allow myself to care for people indiscriminately. Pros and cons.

I fall in love with friendships all the time. I learned to function inside of those infatuations for so long that I don't know what to do with myself outside of them.


At 19.5 years of age, an age that must differ from person to person (primarily due to varied lacks of awareness that doing so is important), I can officially look back on who I was/how I reacted to things/the courses of action I took and reflect on how I would treat those scenarios differently today. Which is promising, I suppose. My brain chemistry must be fermenting right on schedule.

I look in the mirror and see two people: one girl won't need to be someone's partner ever again, and the other doesn't know how she's gone one short year without existing solely as one. Integrating those identities presents my current internal struggle. I typically settle on the notion that my resolute independence is shaping my future as a whole that functions simultaneously as a half.

Whatever. That's reading as a bunch of heart-on-my-sleeve mumbo jumbo. And if there's one place my heart isn't... you get the picture.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

the long way to go never shortens

I'm usually floating along on a writer's spectrum that ranges anywhere from "Why haven't I published a collection of every thought I've ever had?" to "No use adding more thoughts to the world's already overflowing sea of thoughts" to "Why would anyone, given the chance to read already acclaimed works, want to read about what I have to say?"

The other day I was disappointed to realize that a few ideas I wanted to expand disappeared in the relentless Idea Stratosphere because I never wrote them down to remember them. Then I wondered if they were even worth remembering. Then I chastised myself for harboring insecurities regarding something so subjective. Then I chastised myself for encouraging unconditional confidence.

Long story long, I find myself reading so many essays and poems and song lyrics that I identify with. Not only do I identify with them, but I'd like to try my pen at a few. But I get caught up in the dangerous Motive Zone where I wonder for what reason I present such thoughts. If happiness is only real when shared, are thoughts only real if presented for discussion? If I keep something inside, do I benefit from it? If I let everything go, what do I have left?

Meh. I need to purify the process. Expand the process. Never again have to answer the question, "Are you still writing?" with "I don't know. Sort of."

Sunday, November 6, 2011

looking at a milky skyline/the city is my church

Interesting: loneliness is attached to both people and places.

I was thinking about who I know best and thought, "who knows me best?" and couldn't really think of anybody. For the amount of talking I do, I suppose I don't do all of my talking with any one person. In fact, I always considered myself incapable of keeping anything about me to myself, but I totally am.

I was worried I was moving away for the people, but I'll fight loneliness everywhere. It really is a matter of fighting it wherever I want to most... right now, that's definitely here. I really miss my family, but I'll need to deal with that through most choices I'm excited to make right now.

Here we go again: what to do, what to do? Ah yes, choose the option with no cons.

Ah yes, realize there isn't one/choose the option with the most pros.

It's time to stamp New York with a different phase of my life.

Thursday, November 3, 2011


Fresh sunlight paints the recently woken East and extends to greet the West. I take advantage of my window seat and grow eager to take inventory of where a new day meets old night. As the nose of my aircraft fights for its space in the atmosphere, I imagine my newborn nose poking sky for the first time as the animal kingdom celebrates the arrival of an heir to the throne. A few years from now, Mufasa whispers to me, “Everything the sun touches will one day be yours.”

Friday, October 21, 2011

Le Glorious Sigh

So I was thinking,

it's harder to write when I'm happy. now that I write that<-- I remember I've written about this before. my blog frequency trends follow the emotional trends I've had trouble dealing with without writing about them. when I'm excited to just get out and DO, I do that instead of write about it.

there are so many sensations and thoughts I'd like to mull over and get down into form, but I can't even sit still for that long.

everything is going my way, and I can't even fathom why that is, outside of God's great love for me. I remember saying, God, you had better show me fairly soon why I'm better off this way, because right now I don't believe you.

ha! I love how "challenging" God only challenges yourself. in God's goodness, He separated me from what He knew I didn't need and sat with me through the pain of my own ignorance until I emerged, better for it, on the other side. and now I sit in a warm bedroom I share with my sister-slash-best friend across the hall from my brother-slash-best friend killing time until I mosey on over to one of two amazing jobs. my biggest worries concern which dream I will follow next, and my biggest expenses are funding my next adventures. I have never felt so whole, and I could never have imagined that so much independence would yield so much peace.

long story short, if you're wondering where I've been, it's because I'm too busy thinking about where I haven't. what a great age and time and weather and disposition to consider all of this during. In sifting through my blog in future years, I need this to be documented. right now, Lucy, you couldn't have asked for more.

oh! no reason not to fill you in. this is why I'm so happy:
-I have a pet turtle named Simon and ILOVEHIM (there he is now!)
-I have a job that lets me paint my nails
-my other job just promoted me
-I'm not going to school ever again and I'm not worse off for it! [cue Tayler cringing and my hearing about it later... love yooooou]
-I see New York and all its wonders (and all my buddies!) in two short weeks!
-I have plans to travel to ICELAND
-I just auditioned to be a Wheel of Fortune contestant!!!
-I'm moving back to New York in 6 months :)
-just thinking about the holidays makes me giddy
-I have two kicka$$ concerts in my near future
-I know of ways to get myself to Portland, Seattle, Alaska, and Denmark
-I mull over which tattoos to get in which order, and that feels cooooool
-my hair is red!
-and more, somewhere, somehow :)

Sunday, October 16, 2011


I remember exactly what I wrote one year ago today. That year has been the most dynamic in my life.

My favorite part of my life right now looks like a winding neighborhood road on a beautiful, cloudless fall day. My windows are down, my favorite song is playing, I just ended my work day, and my family is home. The best part is that this happens almost every single day.

I still find ruts--one best friend expressed that he didn't realize I do. And I don't either, because I'm usually too busy mentally remarking at how fortunate I am and how much freedom my future has.

The only rut that sticks is that I have no motivation to write and I don't know why that is. I'm hoping it's a season of life just like anything else.

Most days, I realize I'm still waving at a boat that's very close to disappearing over the horizon. From then on... smooth sailing, friends.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

jus' stopping by


--more tattoos
--found out about Steve Jobs's death on an iMac
--I need an iPad. need. I said it.
--God is good
--please please take me to the beach
--I was going to type one sentence about this one thought, but it just turned into a poem right before my eyes. in the way that I haven't written it yet. in which case, by "before," I mean "behind." you know, cause it's in my head and all.
--I love you suckers

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Fall Back, Spring Forward

I woke up more than once yesterday. The sister's alarm told her to go to work right before the brother's, and I was next. I could feel the chill coming in through the curtains, and it nipped at my toes as they peeked out from under the comforter to welcome a brand new day. I chose long pants and a dress code jacket. I found pumpkin muffins and a flannel-coated father when I reached the top of the stairs and felt, for the first time this year, that overwhelming Fall.

I wonder if it's the animalistic part of humanity that sends our psyches into seasonal habits, but I'd like to explore with you the transition of one of my own.

The fall of....let's see. 2006. The fall of 2006 began my crush on a boy. Crushes are exhausting. Mentally, emotionally, and physically as a result. I spent that fall wishing and dreaming and wondering and scheming, and it spilled over into winter without me realizing or keeping count. He started dating my best friend the following spring, and so I returned to the independent, self-confident, unaffected version of me. They broke up that summer, and in the fall of 2007, my more dependent, emotional, romantic side started to surface once more. I was doing whatever I thought it would take to secure him, and I did. The resulting winter and spring were somewhat blissful, if I remember correctly, in a high-school-honeymoon sort of way. And then for whatever reasons, the summer slid down into a fall that left me feeling insecure and grasping for effortless mutual interest once more.

This past year and a half has revealed more to me about mental habits than I ever knew existed. If I had entertained the idea that my cycles of overanalysis depend on, well, the fact that they are cycles, I think I would have remained more aware about reigning them in. But I didn't, and as a result, whenever the first chill of fall hits--the first college football game, the debut of pumpkin ingredients in grocery stores, the final sale of all short-sleeved items--I begin to notice my mental...decline, for lack of a better word, into the half of me that functions best as a worried and infatuated half of a whole. When spring rolls around and wakes me from my hibernation of insecurity, prompting my confident green leaves to burst forth, they do, and all pangs of fall inferiority are forgotten.

Noticing this strange pattern has fascinated me for the past four years, but this year presents a curveball. The cycle has reversed. I will spend this fall more content than I've ever been in a fall that I can remember. And the way timing and friendships go, I anticipate (though don't look forward to) possible emotional attachment by the time spring rolls around. What I'm left to wonder is if this year will feel entirely like a skip in a record track, or if it will feel like a brand new precedent.

I've never explained this sensation to anybody and been met with understanding, and that fascinates me even more. Is it overthinking itself that produces these hypotheses? I'm not sure. All I know is that wool socks and peppermint mochas are appearing like film editing discrepancies; it's been so long since they stopped by while I felt this happy and excited for my future that I suspect their misplacement.

I leave you with this: an entry from that reminded me I wanted to write this post.


I'm at the point where missing you isn't even genuine. It's just that I've been doing it every day for so long that it's a habit.

[by the way, I submitted to this site, and it got published! yay! happy hunting....]

Saturday, September 24, 2011

ba-dum. ba-dum.

soo I left my family to come home for work's sake and alone time's sake and a warm bed's sake and my tortoise's sake, but I am sad. I go through phases of weathering loneliness and dreading loneliness, and I dread it tonight. I wish I weren't alone in this house, and it reminds me that on any day that I think living alone would be a good idea, I am simply moving through a phase of weathering the loneliness. my four happy roommates are away until tomorrow, and I think I'll sleep on the couch tonight. something about grouping unordinary circumstances always feels more ordinary. alone in my bed: strange. alone on a couch: normal. and as much as I love my tortoise, he isn't much of a cuddle bug.

it's a weighty feeling that I'll do my best never to give myself over completely to a relationship without anticipating that it will last for...well, for forever, because in that vein, I anticipate it will be quite some time before that happens. I've given pieces of myself away, but the good news is that I like myself enough to hold on to the rest. it will be something of a triumph for whoever wrestles it from me, actually. or is it whomever? no matter.

my heart is skipping beats. ba-dum. ba-dum. badumbadum. ba---dum. ba-dum. ba-dum. ba-dum. badumba. dum. sigh.

oh, and I wrote something new, if you'd care to read it. never date a poet of any variety. no matter how it ends, the end will remain an artistic wellspring for the rest of your life. which is an especially long time if you're a tortoise.


you taste like the mugginess of a summer midnight
the air of marked heirlooms—old upholstery perhaps
a taste that smelled like the beach at dawn
a smell I’d know anywhere
a smell that taps me on the shoulder from time to time
and challenges me not to know it.

nothing intrigues me more completely
than the idea that your taste has changed
that your smell has developed
so that, when I stumble upon the likes of either,
I am not remembering you at all
but all that’s left to remember.

a smell that taught me home
a taste that let me go
and a realization that my senses
are making sense
of more than I knew to require of them.

you tasted of permanence
and of transience
the way cigarette smoke disappears as it stains your clothes
but I don’t like everything I used to
or dislike all I’d never touch.

my tongue has grown as my brain has,
contained only by the vessel that holds it.
both have too much to say.
my taste has fine-tuned itself,
adapting to what I need.
your taste has grown as your needs have,
increasing the distance between its realities
and my view of them.

your taste has doubtlessly marbled itself
mixed what I know with what I don’t
all the while leaving what I remember
no choice but to marble as well.

a future collision of our brains
or tongues
would act somewhat like a software update
or the recognition of external hardware;
reacquainting would require acknowledgement of increased memory.
they are as two poles that will never touch
or a wave that follows another to the shore—
composed of the same material
but never at the same time.

the whites I labeled
Fresh Starts and
Good Parts and
Free Hearts
now present themselves differently
no matter how slightly;
for any good designer knows
that a coat of Eggshell
taints a coat of Porcelain.
the eggshells you coated me with have since cracked
and scattered,
leaving the porcelain I now don
to chip under someone else’s wear.

if walls could speak,
they say,
if walls could speak,
they would fill their rooms with a foreign future
dotted simply with remnants of their past.
crooked rocking chairs
mismatched china
framed scenes of glossy smiles
hung level on faces that will never again respond
to the stroke of your stranger brush.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

love this song. the only one I ever aced in Rock Band vocals. and bass, of course! though I never looked quite as emotionally stressed as she does...


Sunday, September 18, 2011


The breakup with you, sure. I may never recover from the breakup with Dave and Marcus.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011


Monday, September 12, 2011



Seems like so much distance already between my thoughts today and the thoughts that spurred the two previous posts. Funny how that works.

I'm so tired. I'm due for hibernation.

What do I wish? I wish the people whose opinions mattered most knew how to shelter that role. It reminds me to consider the role my opinion has in the asker's life when asked for it. Hm.

Maybe I'll read poetry this Sunday. Maybe I'll play poker alone on Thursday.

Maybe I'll take these oscillations into consideration before I sign any paperwork--both literal and mental.

Thursday, September 8, 2011


"You felt like my future whenever I thought of you. Now, you finally feel like my past. But I can't help wondering how this is, when you were never my present."

Sunday, September 4, 2011

No Kidding

"I feel so helpless now
My guitar is not around
And I'm struggling with the xylophone
To make these feelings sound
And I'm remembering you singing
And bringin' you to life
It's raining out the window
And today it looks like night

You haven't written to me in a week
I'm wondering why that is
Are you too nervous to be lovers
Friendship's ruined with just one kiss?
I watched you very closely, I saw you look away
Your eyes are either gray or blue
I'm never close enough to say

But your sweatshirt says it all
With the hood over your face
I can't keep starin' at your mouth
Without wonderin' how it tastes
I'm with another boy
(He's asleep, I'm wide awake )
And he tried to win my heart
But it's taken time

I know the shape of your hands
Because I watch 'em when you talk
And I know the shape of your body
'Cause I watch it when you walk
And I want to know it all
But I'm giving you the lead
So go on, go on and take it
Don't fake it, shake it

Crazy eyes have you
Are they gray or blue?
I won't make the move
You must make the move
If you make the move
I will then approve
If you do not move
We will surely lose...)

Don't second-guess your feelings
You were right from the start
And I notice she's your lover
But she's nowhere near your heart
This city is for strangers
Like the sky is for the stars
But I think it's very dangerous
If we do not take what's ours

And I'm winning you with words
Because I have no other way
I'd love to look into your face
Without your eyes turning away
Last night I watched you sing
Because a person has to try
And I walked home in the rain
Because a person cannot lie..."

---"Grey or Blue" by Jaymay

Thursday, September 1, 2011

here I am at this fork in the road
that I wish were a spork in the road
so the basin would catch the pros and the cons
and spit out a rose and new dawns
'cause these choices are tangled like
thirty sets of legs
during kindergarten story time.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

I Love You Human

I climbed into my car to drive to work this week and discovered a ladybug on my window. While stopped at the first signal, I looked at him and sent him telepathic sweet nothings to hold fast and hold on until we arrived safely at our destination. As the light turned green, I refocused my eyes and saw the truck next to me. It was a landscaping truck. The paint job read: "The Grass is Always Greener."

That night, I was driving somewhere else when, stopped at a signal, I read the bumper sticker on the car in front of me: "Relax! God is in control."

All I'm sayin' is, God is in control of everything. Even my reading material en route. Cause I haven't stopped thinking about either of those.


Nothing has made me happier recently than the long lost feeling of quiet but startling joy at the sight of a certain name in my text inbox.


I don't really know what I'm doing, and I feel crazy, but I think I'm going to let go and let the river take me. I can't control the bends, but I choose to rejoice in that and hold my breath while it takes me wherever I'm supposed to go. Even if that's where I came from, I trust that the obedient path I've taken was paved for me for a reason. All I can do is chase the peace I pray for. All joy in my life is a testament to God's faithfulness. Every bend in the river is just one more challenge to paddle through. I think the earth is 70-or-whatever% water because it's just so dang metaphorically helpful. The same current that carries me can drown me when I doubt His might. I think the steps I'm taking only seem like backtracking. I suppose that, in reality, they're all in front of the other. They all stand firmly on a just and merciful body of water. The breeze I'm walking through has never felt cooler.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

I think you're just what I nee--just what I needed!

So I'm cruising down the street, listening to The Cars as loud as it takes for other cars' noise to just barely breeze through, watching Molly jam in my passenger seat, windows down, arm hanging out, laughing as hard as I can without closing my eyes cause I'm driving, and I think to myself, at whichever point in my life I thought I was the happiest I would ever be

I was wrong.

And I realize that I'm experiencing the joy of the Lord, but in a more subtle, nondescript way, because from nowhere else does the fusion of uncertainty and fragility yield contentment and peace. Perhaps a year or two ago I would have said the same thing, but, luckily for me, I didn't really know what I was talking about. And a year or two from now, I'll realize that I didn't know what I was talking about on this August day, but maybe not, cause I get the feeling I'm on the steepest part of the learning curve, at least when it comes to self awareness. A psychic self-awareness-grapher might tell you that the long years ahead of me maintain a steady incline, but not with the slope I experienced back in the transition to my third decade.

I am learning the value of alone time, the value of family, the value of spontaneity, the value of compassion, the value of mercy, heck, the value of hydration, though we all wish that band camp had provided such info. And I'm choosing more carefully who I let peek at my graph. I'd saved front row seats for some who opted not to take them, and against all self-expectations, I'm happy to leave them empty. I am learning the value of surprising myself.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Dis My Jam

"I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah

I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby

And what it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be fine, fine, fine
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five

I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm young and I'm underpaid
I'm tired but I'm working, yeah

I care but I'm restless
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry, baby

And what it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette

And what it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign

I'm free but I'm focused
I'm green but I'm wise
I'm hard but I'm friendly, baby

I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chicken shit
I'm sick but I'm pretty, baby

And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing a piano

And what it all comes down to my dear friends, yeah
Is that everything is just fine fine fine
'Cause I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxi cab"

--Alanis Morissette, "Hand In My Pocket"

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

goddamn right, it's a beautiful day, uh huh


ah. I feel better now.

alright so

forget poeticism and poeticalness and crypticism and craftiness.
I keep trying to weave the same lines as I used to, and I start to wonder if there's some metaphorical string that connects my subconscious to my syntax. because no matter how much I want to express myself in an eloquent yet elegant fashion, all the thoughts I think while I cruise down the highway do not make it to this forum in couplet form. not many ever did, but seemingly especially now. see, I'm even using too many adverbs. I'm growing weaker.

but not in every area! most everything else about me is growing up, growing solid, growing like a gold-dipped weed or something. I eat big, hearty, yet again metaphorical meals of life transitions and adapting lessons and goal-forming and music listening.

and now I'm going to tell you all something I have so far censored from this blog. this summer marked the most depressed I have ever been, and not knowing what to attribute it to deepened the depression further. for the first time in my life, I changed the channels when hearing "Are you constantly fatigued and losing touch with friends and failing to see the fun in things that used to make you smile and wanting to furnish the deep hole you're in because you think you'll be there for a while?" those commercials asked questions I didn't want to hear. to those of you who attribute all unhappiness to spiritual famine, this was something somewhat clearly estranged from my spiritual health. for the first time in my life, though for only a few days, I considered exploring medical improvements to my chemical state.

and the reason that valley was so bewildering to me is that it wasn't in stride with my previously broken heart. it wasn't connected at all. I would never fall mentally prey to such transient emotions--not to the point of numbness I experienced. at least when my heart broke, I could feel it, you know? speaking of which, one time I read this PostSecret that said, "I feel most alive when my heart is breaking." and I did. I felt really invigorated and free. sad, but free. you should try it sometime. then that phase passed, and whatever this thing was began. and I didn't know what to call it. I still don't. but I think I'm out of it.

the reason I think I'm out of it is that... well nevermind, I don't have one. I'm just not depressed anymore. so that's good!

and it felt good to write that. huh. maybe that subconscious string is connected to the ankles of the skeletons in my closet. and when they dance... man. it's a party.

and you're all invited!

Sunday, August 7, 2011


I've been staring at this blank space for, oh, thirty minutes. I have a lot to say but I don't know what of it to say.

how about...

I love the radio
I like my hair
I have too much contempt for people
I might as well become a nun, cause dese boys ain't cuttin' it
but then I probably couldn't get anymore tattoos, so I guess that's out.
I like driving with the windows down towards the Atlanta skyline
the only book I've read this summer had 60 pages and pictures
I am so sleepy all of the time, or maybe just now
I'll be 20 in 7 months
freaky with a capital F

Monday, August 1, 2011

Happy August

I usually analyze long gaps between posts, concluding that I can't record the times I'm living if I'm too busy living them. But then the day comes when I'm too busy living to keep living, and I dial it back, and remember that of the hundreds of potential pieces I've thought about writing, I've written.....four of them. Or something equally pipsqueaky.

a couple things:

it's a shame that knowing life is short doesn't make it longer

by the time you think you've got your head wrapped around life, it'll be over

therefore, don't regard lightning speed as the bar to catch up to and pass, but as a guaranteed thrill ride.

haha I'm gonna need you to print that on a motivational magnet and sell it in bulk.

Basically, I feel both ahead and behind every single day. Like an old soul that never gets off at the right stop--or books flights for the right days. But I'm pretty uniformly content with how life is going right now. And contentedness for me includes depression and worries, because if I shoot for 100% happiness, I'll always lose, and I'll always be sad that I'm losing, and that's no fun.

What is fun is continuing to grow my breadth of experience. What's fun is knowing that I'll be home soon. What's fun is having a pint of Mocha ice cream in the freezer...


{that picture I did take!}

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

I just typed something that I swore I wouldn't delete in the morning, and I didn't, because I deleted it tonight

Thursday, July 14, 2011

[well I didn't take the picture or write the phrase,
but I put the phrase on the picture!]

Tuesday, July 12, 2011


things from Virginian travels!
first, verbatim snippets from last week's late night musings, re-read only now:
[all incomplete. teasers, really.]

she greeted the sun with a forlorn smile,
chin upturned as a sunflower’s might be,
finding the heat and then staying within it,
and it felt like holding onto a hug for too long.
like the sun would let go if it could
like if the sun were not the anchor, but a ship
not the refrigerator, but a magnet
he would meet his maker and then leave her
abandon his roots in the ocean
the kitchen
and say he’ll be back soon
but not mean it.

the blinks they sink like soap in a drink like bubbles that think what they float above is the monster, that what they float above is the answer, that what they float above is the primer before the paint, the "will not" before the "ain’t," the pinks before the faint.

and as you sing along, I sing a different song, a song you won’t know how to sing when I’m gone, won’t know how to take for too long, cause I’m going to the riverbed, going to the river, dead, as Virginia Woolf, the rocks in her pocket and brilliance in her fingers that couldn’t trump the wanderlust in her heart. the wanderlust for another world. and the only other world was one she couldn’t reach in this life, and who knows where the other life is, but it’s not here

how much for that lover in the window
the one with the shaggy blonde hair
it sounds funny I know
but it really is so, oh,
I’m my own...
I’m my own.


and an excerpt from Judith Minty's "Letters to My Daughter." I found a copy at a secondhand store. It's really great.

"This week I received two love letters,
one from a boy still in high school, another
from an older man in his twenties,
a man who whispers about mountains.
Your father doesn't read my mail. He pretends
disinterest in the postmarks, the crimped penmanship,
the shy poems folded inside.
Even when it mattered, he never wrote me. I think he was
embarrassed by misspelled words, stammering lines.
But now he watches me as I watch for the mailman's truck. He notices
how my fingers stain the curtains when I part them,
that I float through snow in my bathrobe to the mailbox.
I hide the letters in dark drawers and pull them out
when I can't remember my name. They smell like wild violets.
Your father? Lately, I find him bent at his desk,
hands knotted over blank papers. I must tell him
those young men are only in love with poetry."

Friday, July 1, 2011

what up, what up

the words in my head are like a swirly tornado. tempestuous and dangerous, but mostly air, but every once in a while, a cow or a VW van, and those hurt, or at least smack you pretty hard, and in the case of the van, they might kill you.

I want a crown of gardenias

and a king-size bed with four posts that I'll drape Christmas lights around with a big down comforter, one that's white, one that's covered in my clothing on the left two thirds because I only need a third of a king bed to sleep on. but I can clear off the other two thirds for a guest if I REALLY like them, and I REALLY like not that many people, actually.

I want my own trolley to ride around America on a track crafted with the signed-in-writing promises of a people welded together by the pitfalls of life, the crests of the good seasons, the days when the leaves look like fall but they don't, cause it's spring, and the fireflies are out.

I just held a turtle and he crawled back into his shell, but it's probably just cause I was smiling so big cause I was holding a turtle! There are a lot of things I don't know how to explain, like how living near a good coffee shop makes my soul feel like it's resting in sunshine, or how heartbreak is thrilling, or how New York is impossible to parallel and just like everywhere else at the same time, or how I think I know how to love a turtle more than I know how to love a dog.

I'm too young to be a hippie, too young to be a yuppie, too young to be a beatnik, too young to be a hipster, even, but every label I'm too young for is just one more I don't need to sport, just one more I can learn from. and whichever bandwagon I hop on, it will have its certain smell, you know, its certain decor. and I don't know where it's going, but I know I like it, because I'm on it, and I don't hop on things I don't like. if I can help it.

and don't you know, I always do my best to help it.

and the part of my best that isn't good enough is being subjected to the wrong judge. as in, no bed-clearing for you! but I'll lend you my spare pillow.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Monday, Monday

why so screwy, font? sigh..

Your depths made a pressure that punctured my works
and all your fluids couldn't tolerate the force of my thirst
I love the place, where we shared our tiny grace
But just because it's real don't mean it's going to work
--"True Affections" by The Blow

She closed with this song tonight at The Drunken Unicorn, and I danced like I dance, and sang all the words I knew, and reflected on the life I've lived while loving this song, which feels like a lot.

I talked to her after the show and told her that her music fills a void in my music taste that I didn't really know I had, but that I'm glad that she fills it. She thanked me for standing in the front row :) and then she signed the poster I stole from the wall.

I just love nights like these. Pondering events of life with Mol and looking forward to new adventures and contemplating choices we've made and choices we're about to make.

And as I drove home and sang along with Ingrid to the song I think I'll get married to once I find someone who can take me on, I remembered the mixes I've made and the paper hearts I've cut out and the letters I've written and thought, I'm good at loving.

And you know, that's better than being good at being loved. And musing on that put me at an ease that counteracted my typical drive to think less. I let me think all my thoughts, and I smiled.

Friday, June 17, 2011

[this isn't the lost notebook poem. I just sat down to write and this sprung out. in fact....] Sprung

(this reads best when read in silence)

no you don't HEAR me because I'm not screaming, I'm typing typing typing and it's how I SPEAK but you don't HEAR me because it's commonplace, it's all commonplace. here's the thing, my dear, this is the thing, says Fink, this is the thing, that you are all yous and I am a me but pronouns they sway and skew and you all think you're you and you all think I'm me, but what I want in a you is for you to be me. what I want in a you is for you to make free see be flee FLEE from how many times I've looked at you, not the you YOU'RE thinking and thought: if you KNEW how I care, you'd put its S back on front, tack it on like a memo to a tree, tack it on like it's got no place to be, I said if you KNEW how I care, maybe you'd reciproCARE, sit on a brick wall after using her in a stall, sit near a fountain of youth, a fountain of knowhow, a fountain of know how to fix what we have. know how to fix what I do and do again, know how to fix what I need from a friend. you'd tack the S back on front and bottle the Scare, bottle the wares, bottle the growing you think you know how to share. you think you know how to fare, pride yourself on pride, forgetting the times you've tried to glue what you thought fit together, but you don't KNOW cause you can't HEAR me. and if you could you wouldn't care, you see, the way you muse on others forces me to muse on THIS and when you ask me the matter, when you ask me what matters, I stumble because you're not what I'm used to, I said I'm used to sending the friend in after me, waiting the months to think I'm fine, underestimating the amount I've learned and now call mine, I'm used to the games and break and swine, but you, you had the pearls, you had the girls, but I didn't care, you see, I could look past and passed the past and pass the past and trade him in like you said to do, trade in those years for a fresh set of cheers, trade in that future for a new set of fears, and the fear it would swim like my heart did to him. swim like my heart, swim like my, swim like, swim swam swum, swim like my heart did to him before its feet felt the scum of the pond bottom it sank to, the pond bottom it pushed from, now doing the backstroke on a surface that gleams with the moon in the day and the sun in the night, doing the macarena on a surface that I thought I'd broken through. the surface of you I thought I'd sprung anew but I must not know what I'm TALKING about, cause the caps lock's on lock and I don't know what you're talking ABOUT. the stings of notgoodenough reflect on your handling more than my bantering, more on your stammering than on my flattery, the stings they POISON and you're too hurt to hurt but you HURT me. I'd already healed and you HURT me. and I don't care what you say, I don't envy the play, I don't seize Seize the Day and you don't care that you .hurt. me. so I transfer cities, transfer headlights, transfer moonshine, transfer what's mine and he's scared shared dared to think it's him but it's not, it was me, it was me chasing, it was me chasing the sting with the sweet, the lost with the heat, it was me chasing anything but what I'd been chasing. anything but the green-eyed prize that cared not when I cried, and when I say cried I mean tried, cause I thought it'd hurt more than it did! I thought it'd hurt more than I did when I stood on the street and thought **a heart breaking** and thought **a life changing** and thought of new horizons, watched his tears and thought **time taking** but thought (new horizons) and the tears I shed cast crowns. the tears I shed lay down on a bed of __seldom__ lay down on a bed of (boredom) cause pain it is monotonous but you've gone and learned a double twist, you did keep in touch, you tied the ties too taut til my freedom was strung up in the You up above! strung up in the You full of love while the haters they love not the love but the dove, chasing peace to the streets, chasing calls from the fleets, they hate the love I'd Love with, hate the dove I'd Shove with, cause you don't HEAR me. you don't hear me. don't hear how to sit there and be happy how to sit there and stay sappy how to sit there and grow strapping, you see, my obsession with dreams are obsessions with things I know not of, things I know caught the dove, things I bless with word of mouth. qwerty of mouth, drrty of mouth, sleight of hand, contraband, foreign land, you see, you don't hear how to sit there, in a car that drives countries, like a scar that knows plenty. if you knew the scars, knew the tar and the char, you'd tack its E back on like the ink into skin, tack its E back on like I forgot to say "when." so the scarE keeps on scarring and the stare keeps on marring all I'd worked to keep barring. and the fountains keep flowing and the sins they keep showing all you thought you were knowing but the passive aggression and neediness mentioned are lowing. lowing like the tide of what's true. lowing like red hair burned blue. lowing like my need has for you.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

GTFO, Insecurity

that's all.

[oh, and as soon as I find the notebook that has my second spoken word poem in'll have it!]

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Aforementioned Goals for the Future

- get a degree or two
- travel tons. to the accessible places first
- buy my first car
- remember to forgive people as often as they forgive me. (I mean because that's a lot, not that I'll forgive them conditionally)
- memorize more poems to slam with
- write more poems to memorize
- babysit more babies. babies at all, really
- get back to reading books at a productive pace
- fall in like a few times
- let someone love me if the opportunity arises
- establish mix CD making as an official love language
- do crosswords
- learn how to play bass guitar
- find an excuse to play trombone regularly
- remember that worry is futile
- underoveranalyze. so.. plain analyze
- exercise often enough for it to be a habit
- row crew pleeeeeease
- line up future tattoos with future ventures
- figure out what I have to do to cash in on this God-given memo that He brought me home to be on firmer ground when he wrecks me somehow, whatever that means. I keep telling Him I'm not ready.... but I think I am. and if I am, He knows so. here goes nothing? here goes everything?

Thursday, June 2, 2011

ROGO (Read One Get One)

a post twofer! as in PM thoughts followed by AM thoughts. as in perplexity followed by coherency.

I haven't seriously sat down to write in...long enough to recognize it in my heart rate. And I realize that sounds dramatic to those who don't process thoughts through words, but whenever I separate myself from writing down what I think about, I grow soundlessly closer to a panic attack. I don't speak much, and I don't make much eye contact. And you want to know what's wrong, and it's not what I'm feeling--it's that I don't know how to convey what I'm feeling.

Partly, I'm this weird fusion of the same person and a new person, and that fusion feels as though it's at a starting line. The same person, because my sense of humor is still hit and miss, and because I still deliberate over eeeverything, and because I still do little things... facial expressions, useless humming, make playful quips, talk too much. The same things show up in my current relationships. Noticing this helped define me, because I worried that I'd lost myself in trying to maintain what I had, but I don't think I ever did. I was never going to be the one to lose myself. In some weird paradoxical fashion, however, I became reacquainted with the person I was beforehand. The person I was this time four years ago. It was completely liberating, and it set a new foundation for all the growth I've been doing. Somehow I took everything--what was good about it, what was bad about it, what I expected, what I learned not to expect--and boiled it down into some sort of crash course for the future. And this is just how life chapters work, not some sort of breakthrough, but I'm thankful that this life chapter followed the life chapter pattern. I can build on what I've done.

Two things I'm thankful for: that heartbreak happened so early in my life. It's like I got my future back. So many goals arose (future post), and so much freedom blossomed. If I had stayed anchored for years longer... well, I just don't see why knowledge should be delayed at all. I may have been forced to gain it, but I did it before polishing off my second decade, and that makes me feel young and wild. In a respectable fashion, of course.

The second thing is the opportunity to go to New York this past year. I've wondered a little bit about how dynamic a freshman year in college is without first heartbreak. I'm pretty sure it's a poignant experience regardless. Additionally, living in New York in a poignant experience regardless. But to layer these things with a healing process is unreal. I spent the majority of the time reveling in realizations about other people as well as me. And I know we all know how wholeheartedly I thrive on realizations. If you could set me back in August of 2010 and tell me that I could only spend one year in New York out of my entire life, looking back, I wouldn't have placed it anywhere else.

I feel a little bit repetitive. This isn't new information to any of you, really. Especially if you've been reading. But as summer begins, back in Georgia, I feel like we can move on to the second installment of my life's film saga. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and hopefully you'll join me in anticipation of what's to come. I'll overpedal occasionally, maybe spin out of control... but that's more interesting than watching someone with training wheels.

Trav'lin On

and this is where the nights go
the nights go
the nights go
the chocolate cake and fights show
we think we know what sprites know
while laying in the grass

the sun goes down so stars shine
so stars shine
so stars shine
your careful heart, it mars mine
our fingers wrapped in weak twine
all circulation lost

when summer sets, the crows flee
the crows flee
the crows flee
they fly among the moons, free
beckoning my soul, "be
the spring that leaves the ground."

but over time, my words fray
my words fray
my words fray
love and war turn peace and play
fallen soldiers seize the day
their compass pointing north

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Hangin' Out

Man, I should have posted sooner after the festival. I wanted to post every night, but pretty much collapsed every time I got back to the room. Definitely collapsed the third night as a result of the sun poisoning I got from being a sunscreen-less LOSER. At least the human body reacts poorly to harm. Learned my lesson. (though you'd think I would have from an earlier sunburn? yeah. same here.)

I feel like I learned a lot about myself and other people, but it's sort of a blur in hindsight. A few things:
--flying solo at festivals is underrated. go with people, but heck, break away. it's extremely freeing. as long as you can find them at the end of the day.
--aren't hippies grand?
--there is absolutely NO need to grind with your significant other during a DJ set. at least nowhere near me. seriously. stop it.
--people are still surprised when I start dancing, hehe
--electronica is so much better live!
--there are so. many. bad tattoos out there. but hey, everyone's a judge, and I know people get tattoos for their own reasons. I'm sure some people think mine is ridiculous. but man, I can't help but regret some other people's tattoos FOR them.
--Big Gigantic uses electronic saxophone. how epic?!
--listening right now. why do earbuds have such sucky bass?

I don't what to say other than how in place I felt at that festival for the majority of the time. I absolutely loved it. Nineteen shows, and that's only because I was slacking. It was quite a posh fest... no one camped, and that was reflected in the crowd. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing from my end against the Greek society scene. But this fest was a bit of a SBXI [Spring Break 2011] phase two. There were SO MANY Greeks. Way more girls at least than I think would have ever camped through, say, Bonnaroo or Sasquatch or Coachella or Wakarusa. But perhaps I underestimate them. Lord knows I wasn't taking my stay in a beach condo for granted. But I think I'll need to go to a few more different fests to get the real feel.

The Hangout was so easy to get to and had such a surprisingly good lineup that I'm strongly considering making it an annual venture. The Hangout's lineup is encompassed, I think entirely, by Bonnaroo's lineup, but The Hangout is still cheaper, and it's still on the sand. Two plusses in my book.

In conclusion, I have never been so excited for anything, and I mean this in the most genuine sense, as I am about attending the Dave Matthews Band Caravan at The Gorge in George, Washington. I'm killing three bucket list birds with one fest: go to Seattle? check. see a show at The Gorge? try, eh, fifteen or so. be my own Davehead? bam.

I need to find some wood to knock on, because I haven't actually purchased my ticket yet. Funds are tight. I just got back from a music festival if you're just now tuning in. But until I scrape it together-slash-someone finds it in their hearts to loan me a chunk, I'm trusting that God wants me to go to The Gorge. And if He doesn't, that He'll start getting used to the idea.


Thursday, May 19, 2011

You had me at Soup Dragons

Welcome to my newly discovered theme song! Leave it playing in the background as you read for maximum effect.

I mean really, what a killer video. I know! Let's film some girls chill dancin in front of psychedelic backdrops. Bada bing, bada boom, baby.

Is it possible to be on a self-awareness high? I keep thinking about that scene in American Beauty where the plastic bag is floating through the air and the voice over says that sometimes, the world is so beautiful, he aches. That is exactly how I feel. I've never even seen the full movie. But what an appropriately iconic scene.

I feel so great, I don't think I'm even conveying it properly in real life. I don't know if it's the summertime, or that I love driving, or that I love the radio, or that I love the sunshine, or that I love my family, or that I love my friends, or that I finally hammered the last nail in a boat full of memories that's sailing away, or that my tattoo is fantastic, or some combination thereof--but life is just flying right now.

I have so many thoughts and so much love for everything around me that I wonder if I'm accidentally prolonging some sort of hormone deficiency that depletes my cynicism.

I feel like I might bubble over.

Remember what I said about being ready to love someone? That someone (far far away in a land called the future) is gonna have to hang on to his hat... I don't think most are ready for the force of it. I think it stems from being excited to exhibit what I've learned. Like I've said, even some close friends don't actually want what they're getting themselves into. I don't know, maybe my zest is a euphemism for creepiness. Call it what you will, and then take it or leave it.

Scratch that. Just take it. :)

I just reread this post, and I sound like a crazy person. Haha!

Monday, May 16, 2011

Brooklyn, Brooklyn

I'm home now, but I miss this.
I said I'll move here when I graduate, and I wasn't joking!
You said you would, too, and you were joking, but I really would meet you there.
It's too beautiful an opportunity for me to live without.

Sort of like some friendships.

I realized today, with great force, that I could easily love someone. Well, that I'd known. That wasn't the realization. The realization was that I could not easily be loved. Not that I'm impossible to love... I just wouldn't know what to do with it.

In fact, I don't even want to think about it anymore. It's 4AM, and this is my subconscious talking. Sorry, buddies. You wait ten days for an update and have to settle for this. The thing is that sometimes real life is updating too quickly for me to translate my reactions into cyberlife updates. What matters is this:

I'm home. in the place I call home for now.
I've returned to the people I love and have many slots open in that category.
I thank God for the aforementioned facts.
YOU are loved!

Well, darling,

I should have known you'd need an invitation. Good thing waiting for you to actually act when you want to isn't something I'll need to wait for anymore.

My number hasn't changed.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Be Still and Know

  • the friends that are willing to make the effort are the ones I'm investing in right now
  • sometimes I fall in love with friendships. sometimes those friends don't know how to handle it and create distance
  • I need to rely on God more than I rely on humans and their error
  • I'm still not 100% sure I'm making the right decision
  • I'm still a control freak
  • I've reminded myself that I like to read
  • I make a pretty good third wheel
  • perhaps I only think I'm confrontational when in reality, I'm passive aggressive
  • my tattoo is b-o-s-s
  • I love my job
  • I don't want to dye my hair back to blonde yet
  • I need to find a spoken word venue in Atlanta
  • I'm STOKED for my travel opportunities this summer
  • man cannot live on two hours of sleep alone
  • to be continued

Saturday, April 30, 2011

follow-up to last night.
God's goodness pervades even what distracts us from it. me from it.

Flying Solo

Insecurity is as potent as sadness. It took me three years to believe the love I was shown, and six months for the possibility of its flukeness to creep back into my head.

Let's just say that, given the satisfaction my current relationships are yielding, I've begun to entertain the idea that I'm shooting for something I'll never find.

I hope that relinquishing the idea of a forever with someone magically releases the idea to someone else's life. That's the only way I make peace with it. I'd rather handle loneliness and learn from it than cause someone else to. Now, that's not the way life has ever worked or will ever work--the transfer of happiness skipping like neutrons between atoms of hope.

But it's true that I've prayed before for God to strip my faith from me that anyone else might have it, free and clear and forever.
There are too many holes in that scenario to count, but I wished it so hard....

I think the imagination behind it all is in the same vein as my gratefulness for the learning experience loneliness offers. As people find their places around me, I get to learn from them as well. There is no bitterness involved because I don't resent the chance to learn more about the world.

That said, it will be interesting to see if/when I find my place. I have the capacity to throw myself into numerous places, as my improving judgment allows, and I used to think I had the strength to do it over and over and over again.

I don't think I do anymore. Partly, the taste of disappointment is officially stale. Partly, I'd like to curb the rate of my growing disillusionment.

That cynicism fades as I walk alone to the park, an apple in my hand and a smile on my face.... but it bubbles up within me as I receive the text that those who invited me to meet them there have decided to leave. They say they'll see me later.

They don't.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011


I am supposed to be doing my math homework, but how can I at a time like this? You know. Like this. When my thoughts are churning.


It was really nice to meet you, goodbye
It's high time I quit wondering why
'Cause I have lost all that I can from my side
And when you think of me again, no
I tried, I tried, goodbye

Forgive me while I lay here
But I have nowhere else to be
I figure when I leave this time, it's for keeps
And when I say, 'Good Morning' next
I'll lie, I'll lie, this is goodbye

I'll only lay the day I can't remember you at all
And it's not easy to say that day
Is already come and gone
And all that remains is a place
Where you no longer are

One day I won't regret this
Oh, how I want to believe that's true
Once I pick up my parts I broke on you
I'll get used to the idea
It's not you, not you, goodbye

--Greg Laswell, "Goodbye"


I have been talking about grief with the people I care about. I think it's interesting how deeply individual grief can be while maintaining a...revelation pattern, if you will, that unites all that have experienced it. A revelation pattern that teaches people about themselves. A revelation pattern that seems to determine identity from that day onward. An identity that tries to shake itself of the grief to find peace, but begins to find peace only once it recognizes the role the grief plays.

I think a universal aspect of grief is the wrenching notion that in times of happiness, the grief hides its face juuust long enough to be forgotten. When the happy moment passes, the grief doesn't just reappear, but reappears as if for the first time. It's as though you say Hello Again with an I Thought I'd Lost You that pairs itself with a Where Did You Come From? and then an Oh Yeah.

What I think I've already experienced but didn't conceptualize until yesterday is how potent sadness is. Imagine a paint palette. Colors get lighter when mixed with white and darker when mixed with black. Have you ever noticed how much white it takes to lighten a color? No matter how much you add, you could always stand to be a little lighter. And every time a person or song or lyric or scent or situation adds just one drop of black to your rainbow, entire strokes of white are erased. The world gets a little bit darker much more freely than it gets lighter. There's never enough white to whiten the black.


The hardest part has been accepting that believing in people with everything I have isn't enough. I keep swearing that I'll get just a little bit more, a little bit more, a little bit more to believe in you all with, but what would that solve?

There's lots to believe in. That you will be disappointed is on the list. That you will be disappointed because you're used to your belief being enough is on the list. That learning how and who to believe is one of the greatest lessons you'll learn is on the list.

When the willingness to have faith in someone forever is unwanted... well. Willingness is difficult to recycle. And faith is hard to throw away.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Sweetest Downfall

Man, does life speed by.

High school was this era of welcome stagnance. It got stuffy sometimes and sometimes I wanted to take a spring day and use it to run away, but I was probably going to come home for dinner. I was in love for the majority of it, so my skin glowed differently. And I was hopeful for most of it, so my words rang differently.

I'm not in love anymore, but my words still ring a little differently. And when they tell you high school is "the glory days," put a mental "some of" in front of it. They are the days during which you learn how to fill your days with glory. They are the days in which you learn how to brush yourself off after a particularly gloryless day. The days when your friends are the best and your grades are the worst. Then college comes around, and you wait for better friends and worse grades....

but I'm still not entirely sure that's part of the deal. The years you use to most form yourself will always seem an anchor in a better time. And the days that have you saying, "Wow. I might belong here." should not be overlooked. Because while you don't belong there, wherever it is you do will have taken a hint from then.

It's rough, you know. I don't want what I had, but what I had is my anchor in that time. I could never embrace ignorance, and so I'll never be able to go back, but that's my gain. Why aren't all gains peaceful?

Eyes can turn natives into tourists. Time can turn lovers into strangers, and girls into birds.

I'll be aiming for the sun until it's time to aim for the moon. Just call me when dinner's ready.

Friday, April 22, 2011


Wednesday, April 20, 2011


yeah, here's the thing about inspirational, guilt trip-inducing, tumblr-confined mourny pictures reading "you said forever."

people say things they don't mean.

people say things they don't know how to mean.

people will not live up to your expectations of them.

people don't even live up to their expectations of themselves.

I don't think trusting someone is wrong. I just think the above image should have a guilt trip-inducing counterpart for the opposite party.

"you heard forever."

Saturday, April 16, 2011


My answer to "I mean, I don't know what I expected," if I'm being honest, is usually "more." It just isn't always justified. And that's alright. But acceptance of that fact rarely manifests as initial peace with it.

Lord knows I don't impress people with my actions often enough to warrant being impressed more often by people's actions.


I have so much ahead of me that I'm excited for, and I still find myself in these ruts. My friends are upstairs laughing and having a good time, and I don't even want to be there. My heart aches with thanks for their presence in my life, but my heart aches too much to surround myself with all that happiness.

I keep craving being near someone who is as excited to hold my burdens as I am to hold theirs.

And I really am, you know. I'm excited to hold your burdens. I haven't broken under any weight yet, and it's a boundary I'm eager to push--especially for my friends. Lay it on me.


"It's sick that all these battles are what keep me satisfied."
--Love the Way You Lie

Tuesday, April 12, 2011


At least I got to keep the smiles :)

Sunday, April 10, 2011

I Chase You

I just chatted with God in frustration about how often it feels like every relationship I have is as good as it is because of the ferocity with which I go after it.

And I asked, "What is it about my life that has me doing all of the chasing, all of the time?"

And, as you might imagine, I heard in an instant:

"I chase you."

And you know... since we're being honest here...

I really wish that were enough.

But I know He understands. He created me with the need for fellowship, community, companionship... it is Him in me that chases people.

And on a good day, that angle is enough, because on a good day, all I want to do is exhibit Him in me.

But on those bad days, I translate my obedience to Him in me into entitlement to relationships that chase me. And I'm being pretty unforgiving, because Molly and my family chase me more than I deserve. But when it comes to fresh relationships, I start to wonder what my prioritizing them over them prioritizing me says about my life.

All that to say, I trust God completely. I am ecstatic about what's to come, and I've missed this version of myself. I know it is only a matter of time until I partner with someone who actually goes after me for a change, and I'm in no rush to find him.

In fact, I'm in no rush to do anything at all.

Including go to sleep, apparently.
Toodle-oo, darlings. Toodle-oo.

[how the hey do you spell toodle-oo]

Friday, April 8, 2011

it's a small world, after aaallll [in your head for the rest of the day. you're welcome.]

Ponder this: The world is God's and, ultimately, as small as He wants it to be.

There are only so many places to go, but there are neverending places to connect. I have so many thoughts about this that I can't put words to them all....

a few instances:

one of my classmates is close family friends with the Henn family. Nate Henn was killed in a terrorist attack while serving as an Invisible Children roadie in Uganda this past summer. that classmate organized an Invisible Children screening at King's.

I almost didn't go to it. My attendance was truly a last minute decision--a decision I'm starting to realize was not mine at all.

Invisible Children's newest film, "Tony," wrecked me. I blamed a lot of this on my hormones, but maybe I shouldn't. My heart's ache at how much security I have when there are children abducted daily from their homes and forced to fight as child soldiers in Africa's longest-running war... it feels sort of like an atomic explosion on an emotional level. I've been struck before by how small I am, but perhaps never quite like this. My speck of existence in the scope of God's world is paradoxed (not a word but should be) by the scope of my potential role in this speck of a world.

I have so. little. time. to do so. much. with. What am I doing? Why do I keep re-orchestrating my list of goals? I am living such a turbulent phase of my life that I look ahead in an attempt to lose as few opportunities as possible. It has become a settling sense of peace to me that God will present his goals for me to me as He wishes. I try to recognize this web to the best of my abilities, but I often lose sleep over my next step. Am I sure I'm following God's path for me? Can I be sure? Why won't He confirm it when I beg Him to?

I worry a lot about my obedience to God. I'm starting to bank on the idea that worrying about that at all is evidence of the right direction.

Anyway, the small world continues, because after the film screening, I was going to leave and go straight home, but I decided to hang around the merch table for a bit. One of the roadies asked me where I was from, and when I said Georgia, he said, "Me too!! We all are!" Turns out the three roadies around me were all from my glorious home state.

What's even weirder is that when Morgan, the first, asked where in GA I'm from, and I answered with Marietta, the one behind me paused and responded, "So am I. Where did you go to school?"

Lo and behold, I met a member of Walton's '09 graduating class for the first time in New York City. In a school I almost didn't go to. A school whose validity the entire Invisible Children team couldn't help but question. At a screening I almost didn't attend. During a tour he may not have been accepted for. After we got over our minds being blown, we chatted for a while about mutual friends and mutual love for Atlanta. I don't know exactly what role that meeting will play in my life--whether his being the kind of person I want to surround myself with gives me hope for increased friendship with him or hope for friendships with those like him.

Whatever the case may be, I learned more that night than I bargained for. I felt a heart for Invisible Children that I don't want to abandon, but I've already begun to emotionally prepare myself for that course not matching what God wants for me. I guess we'll find out. I also felt a heart for new friendships and my hometown that gave me peace about leaving the city.

peace about leaving the city....

peace that surpasseth all understanding

Shantih shantih shantih

One of the women at the screening was talking to my classmate afterwards, and as I unashamedly "researched" the relationships between the roadies I met and the people I know, I recognized her face on Facebook. I learned of her role in Nate's short life and stumbled upon a blog she writes. As I read about her grief, my heart went out to Molly and hers. I knew they were words Molly could stand to read. Molly and Stephanie connected, and Stephanie's grace and love for Molly confirmed my realization that this huge world is only huge if we look at it through worldy eyes.

God's increased revelations to me present a broader scope that, paradoxically, shrinks the world down to its actual size. Actually, I can grow closer to my brother and sister no matter how far I am from them. Actually, I can meet a girl who also grew up north of Atlanta in New York City before returning with her to Atlanta to continue to grow up together. Actually, I can meet a roadie who went to my high school. Actually, I can recognize a mirror of grief that spans time and states. Actually, I can achieve exactly what I'm supposed to for the world because the world is God's kingdom, and I pray and beg for the same exact role that He has been preparing me for for nineteen years. Whichever it may be.

My heart is an atomic explosion for each and every one of you.

especially for making it to the bottom of this post ;)

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

I dare you to not dance

well isn't that obnoxious ad just enough to stop watching... just listen to it while you cruise around in another web tab.

you know, cause I have judiciaryness over your internet behavior

Ima shut up so you can DANCE

Friday, April 1, 2011

Stupid Eve

If the world hadn't fallen, would broccoli taste like donuts?


Wednesday, March 30, 2011

thank you, readers, for watching my heart break and heal

I'm sure I don't know of all of you, but knowing you were there when he wasn't was extreme solace.

we did it!

this is all of us in our colorful little houses as morning greets the sea. we turn our lights on to better see each other wave to the waves. to better see each other welcome the sun.

"Nevermind, I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you, too."


Monday, March 28, 2011

Rollin', Rollin'

"Finally, I can see you crystal clear...
...Don't underestimate the things that I will do.

The scars of your love remind me of us,
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all,
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless,
I can't help feeling,

We could have had it all,
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside your hands,
And you played it to the beat."

--Adele, "Rolling in the Deep"

Oh, Adele. You're my favorite artist to steam milk to.

Also, I like the strength that comes with vulnerability. I like that I can reflect on what I've felt without actually feeling it. I like that I've put enough distance between my past and me that I can actually consider it a past.

It's passed.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Duct Tape: A Conscious Stream

sometimes there are those moments, you know

the ones where I stop laughing for a moment
and remember that my heart is
[while not completely broken]
still cracked.
and I resent that those moments are attached
to being attached
because all I've worked to do
is loosen the shackles.
and God knows I'm free.

and I think it's in the veins of the human condition, you know
being wounded.
the human condition is humans
examining their condition
their wounded condition

and happiness
happiness happens
when that exam yields smiles.
when that exam yields sun


when that exam yields relationships with those who examine
those who piece together your shards of glass house
when you're sick of braving cuts.

the human condition is meeting those who come equipped
with hazmat suits
rubber gloves
duct tape.

Friday, March 25, 2011


Heya, playa!

I am mostly through with my Spring Break. Philadelphia and Boston were fun. The most fun was always knowing that I was in the middle of a plan that I helped create and make work. I feel older and older every day--older in a way that matters. Not older in a way that floats on by, the way we understand that a current carries debris. I'm floating along this current of time in a way that makes me wish the shore were closer. I reach for the coast, simultaneously calling out in fear and saluting with a grin. I am on the fast track to my own life. It's a leeeeeetle too fast. But it's my own life.

Today was my birthday. It had ups and downs. I was disappointed about as often as I expected, and happily surprised more often than I expected. I wished I were home, and I was glad that I got to spend one away from home, just to see what it's like. I guess that's what this brain developing stage is like... doing things just to see what they're like. Responsibly, of course. For me, at least.

This was the first birthday in five years that I didn't hear from Andrew on. Those five years, from here on out, will become a smaller and smaller percentage of my life.

I think I'm excited to get a tattoo because I'm excited to put a feeling to the pain I've grown used to. The slight, refreshing pain of a salty breeze along an open wound. The breeze means I'm on the water, but the open wound means I've been hurt. If it weren't for the open wound, I wouldn't find my place on the water such a priority, for I wouldn't demand its healing properties.

I'll trade perfect health for my place on the water.

The next dilemma: to build or not to build a home on this waterfront?

No matter what, I'll need vacation homes elsewhere.

Saturday, March 19, 2011


I am exhausted.

Showing a friend the entire city in one week alongside regular school and work schedules is a non-stop ride.


I get tomorrow to myself (well, alongside friends in Prospect Park) since my roommates went home, and it's a bittersweet feeling. I do really wish I'd just gone home. But I'm going to Philadelphia and Boston for the first time, and I don't know when I would have if I didn't now. I'm really excited. I love that I had the money for bus tickets, and I just bought them and had two trips on my radar. New York is good for that.

I have a lot of thoughts and things to say, but my eyes are melting into eyelids right now.

In light of the Japanese crisis and the attack on Libya, I hope this finds you praying and well.

Happy spring, bugs.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Word Association

overwhelming calm.

annoying html code space.
hyper aware.
Bryant Park.
Tribute Blend.
sleep shirts.
traveling dreams.
blooming ambition.
long hair.
Betsy Bender!
double feature.
peanut butter.
Christmas lights.
brain development.
charismatic tradition.
body ink.
mental snapshot.
blood brothers.
bright lights.
coming home.

Friday, March 11, 2011

spoke too soon

I've been making two lists for four months now: reasons to stay, and reasons to come home. You have always been on the former.

When you abandoned my heart, you abandoned your right to pity it.

Don't you dare.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

I less than less than three you

I've come a really long way. Transcended all the way to Acceptance, even.

Problem with Acceptance is its relationship to forgiveness.

Problem with forgiveness is its relationship to mercy.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Rosebud Incarnation

This is amazing. Captures the age-old dilemma, "are adaptations helpful or harmful?" Considering mash-ups are all the rage, it's easy to wonder if talent is even talented anymore. Is all the new material gone? Are artists too lazy to find it? But I watch this and think, borrowed video or not, this is talent.

Rosebud Incarnation from Slim Jim Spur on Vimeo.

Thursday, March 3, 2011


I'm pretty sure I only like the idea of have nothing and no one to weigh me down for years and years because that's the fashionable thing to do. To look forward to the time when I can finally answer to no one, travel endlessly, and return when I'm ready.

What jazzes me is finding people to answer to. Finding people to travel with. Forgoing the need to return because every new place I find is home.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

You said I must eat so many lemons/'cause I am so bittah

"my fingertips are holding onto
the cracks in our foundation
and I know that I should let go
but I can't."
- Kate Nash, "Foundation"

I eat carbs now.

Guess what other rule I broke?

If ever you doubted my will power, you were entirely justified.

Monday, February 28, 2011


Was talking to My BFF Molly last night, and we were discussing relationships of any sort and how the lasting ones are dependent on both members knowing it's worth it to be 100% of the relationship when all the other person can afford is 0%. How long each person can tolerate doing so is a different story entirely, which is why the lasting ones are also made up of two people who wouldn't wish to subject the other to it, but thinking about this got me thinking. [What else is new]

Am I supposed to be giving 100% right now? Am I supposed to have the same final say I'm learning to forgo and swear til I die that I had something that should have lasted?

Pretty sure the answer is no.

Pretty sure.