"you cannot discover new oceans unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore"

Sometimes when I sit under the giant pecan tree branches on the patio in a breeze that moves the wind chimes to produce a soundtrack for such a moment in my life, talking to my mother, I almost feel like my problems and pressing responsibilities are nonexistent.

This has been a summer quite unlike any other in my life, and I have lived fully every possible extreme emotion that could be felt by someone whose life is less than tragic. It has been one of the fullest summers of my life in that, looking back, I find it hard to believe I was able to cram as much into it as I did. I have gone to school, left the country, road tripped quite a bit, worked hard, changed residences, applied for graduation, and finally became THAT girl who gets to figure out what "call you sometime" means. I feel like I have stretched myself to great lengths for everyone, and like I don't deserve any of the wonderful people in my life whose wonderfulness has put me in awe.

Many months ago, I fell for someone. As to how far, I still don't quite know since I have yet to find a landing. I dread it because I don't know if it will be firmly on my feet, unharmed or flat on my face, injured. I have transitioned into different phases of various friendships, some good, some not-so-great. I have also learned more about what I need to do to change who I am for the better than I ever have before. And last night, I was immersed and practically drowned in music that I missed so much. Let me tell you about sitting and listening to someone else play so loudly that everything is drowned out: it is also a lovely thing in that it too can convince you for just a short while that all other problems and responsibilities are completely gone from your life.

I want to believe that these pieces will be put together to make sense of something soon, but all I know right now is this (and I quote my darling capstone professor): "starting in October, it's gonna be hell, pretty much." So when the research and papers and annotated bibliographies and rough drafts and presentations and portfolios and late nights and crying mates and piles of dirty laundry/dishes and procrastinated grocery store trips begin to overtake me and suffocate me, I shall be seeking out those tunes.

Just running forward

I cannot believe the entire month of February went by without a post from me! I guess you could say I have writer's block, but I cannot say that because I don't believe in writer's block. I am wondering what I could write that would be worth writing about, I am searching for something that won't be overwritten or overdone. But it's hard to find something I feel I can successfully produce. I don't believe the well of inspiration is ever dry. I just think we sometimes just lose the bucket. I want to believe that I always have something brewing in me that needs to get out, and I do.

All I know is that I always want to be better. I have a green shutter in the corner of my living room that's been there for about four months. I took it from someone's trash because I thought something creative could be done with it. I planned to nail some knobs or something on it and hang my coats and hats, but winter has gone along with the need for coats and hats, and the shutter is still sitting there.

I want to drink tea everyday at the same-ish time, from my teapot and kettle, and I still stick the teabag and water in the microwave. I want to eat more fresh foods, salads, sandwiches, soups, and all those are in my fridge and freezer in different forms, but I still grab the prepackaged, processed snacks from Walmart when I'm hungry. I want to display photos of faces more prevalently around my apartment, but they're still in an envelope in my desk. I want to write more, but the thoughts stay impermanently in my conscious self and eventually drift to my much larger subconscious before I have the chance to remember them.

I always want to be better. And I know that's a good thing, because if I were perfect, there would be no point in continuing my existence because I would be in the wrong species. I know I'm always growing, and I can never be at a point where I will never need to improve, but when I feel like I want to be better, I always feel like I'm reaching for something even though I know I will never grasp it. That's a hopeless feeling. Hopelessness is not something I want.

More than anything, I want to stop writing about myself. It is only natural for artists to internalize everything these days, and as beautiful as that can be, and as necessary as that was when the twentieth century came about, I still think the pendulum needs to go back towards the other way (preferably stopping in the middle). The world is so much bigger than that. The Romantics and the Realists saw that from two completely perspectives, and even though it was an extreme, they still have what we modernists and contemporaries don't. I wish there was a way to meld the two.

I wish I was Mary Oliver. Never have I encountered someone who could so beautifully observe and express nature in a way that so profoundly reflects the self the way she does. She is so external in her writings and yet so internal with her content. I hope that's something that can be learned, because if it is a gift, I shall find it very hard to accept if I don't have it.

So to those of you who read (and those of you who don't), I want to know you so I can write about you. And I want to learn to make steak in my skillet. And use up my spaghetti noodles and sauce. In different meals, though.

'Tis a familiar itch.

Today was that day. I worked physically demanding all day. I worked alone all day. I thought alone all day. I had plenty of space to think of all my problems all day. I ended up being angry at every person I knew by the end of the day. And I ended up hating this town by the end of the day.

I have had these days before. I'm only concerned because they are increasing in number with each passing season. It would not be as much of a bother if they had waited until I could do something about it. But no. These days come when I feel my most trapped. My desires to see the world are staring at me in my cage, mocking me. They come to taunt me when I feel the burdens of money, class, time, and age. They laugh at me as I scrub someone else's coffee stains off the floor. They glare at me as I sweep someone else's crumbs under the rug. They smirk at me as I wash someone else's dirty laundry.

I always believed that I was one who could be content whatever the circumstances. And perhaps I used to be that one, and I've changed. Or perhaps I was never that one, and I was merely a girl deceived by her own facade. And now the shell has cracked. And now truth and dreams do not have so pleasant a meeting. It's time to leave this town. And my feet are glued. And I glued them. Perhaps the burdens of money, class, time, and age are only there because I allowed them to be. Perhaps there is nothing wrong with this town or these people, and my familiarity has calloused me.

Perhaps . . . my dreams are too big for me.

In my brokenness, I collapse on the floor heaving tears, but my anger barely allows enough to sting my eyes before they evaporate. In the night, there is nothing more beautiful than watching storm clouds glide past the moon as lightning and wind that you know came from another world sweep over the fields with a peace that comes only from those who have seen it all. I never want to feel as if I've seen it all, but I sure would like to know that peace.

I want to map a world of you.

There has always been and will always be that question of whether or not we can go back. Memories beg for our attention, and our feet refuse. In our innocence, we are so certain that long ago was our best. We yearn for things to be the way they were, but those ways have left us, and they're never coming back. We long for what's behind, ignoring what's ahead. Why do we wish for what was known and gone when the unknown will always be there for us? The past has left. Though tomorrow is not a promise, the unknown is guaranteed to never leave us. At least that companionship is something we can always count on.

"I feel the distance of the journey yet walked, even though a few steps of it have been taken...just a few. Still, along the way, Heaven has dropped a few articles in my backpack of a heart- Polaroids of faces I've met on my travels, confetti from former celebrations, dust from different corners of the globe, laughter kept in jars from loved ones, prayers on paper, ashes from deep grieving and loss, cages too small to live in any further...unresolved questions that lounge around like loose change at the bottom of my bag. And as I rummage through it all, I am thankful...curious...continually humbled...forever a student on this earth. I am still so stubborn, so impatient, so young... and yet so grateful for the chance to continue learning on this journey...I am standing on tip toe to see what else God's got up His divine sleeve, what else will find it's way into my backpack along the way..." -Joy Williams

So inexperienced, yet sometimes I feel so old. Sometimes I wonder if I lived in Eden whether or not my eyes would be as acquainted as they are with all these things. I know I was never meant to know the grief and pain I have known, and I can only imagine what true innocence is.

But.

My yearning for better life has stretched me. My journeys through these uncharted territories have met me with you. I have found my love in your face that is stained with the bruises of your own stories. I have found my place in your hand as we jump over the hurdles and fall down on the other side. I have seen myself reflected in your eyes too. And knowing that I can call you and hear you say the same things makes my weak arms and feeble knees think that maybe they can go a little longer.

And hearing you laugh revives my heart and my tired head. Thanks for being with me. Thanks for being my friends.

Milk, eggs, vodka...

I'm back at school, and I missed everybody and everything. I'm excited about my classes. I love reading and writing, and that's pretty much all my homework! And taped to the wall right next to my desk and computer is the brochure for the Abbey program in the Loire Valley in France, just two hours from Paris and Pontlevoy! It's good to constantly be reminded of my goals. So no frivolous shopping or road trips:( Unless anyone else wants to pay? Just a suggestion...

Also, I was quite awake at 2:30 this afternoon when I arrived at my dorm, and after an hour and a half of unpacking and rearranging and settling myself, I'm ready to drop into bed. After Taco Bell. But I won't buy a lot. Just a drink. And maybe one taco. Just one. Maybe Roommate's presence just wears me out. *wink*

Also-also, I just found Pandora. Thanks for all the "You have to get on pandora"s. I am now. But just the free kind. I must say it's nice. I offer a big thankyou to the inventor of this great invention. Though you probably don't need it in addition to all your new moneys and stuffs. But thanks just the same. Right now I'm listening to "One Headlight" by The Wallflowers (I do like that song) on the station invented when I searched The Hush Sound. Hmmm...

We can drive home with one headlight.

Book everyone should read (or at least flip through): Milk, Eggs, Vodka: Grocery Lists Lost and Found. You will never be the same, and you will never view you fellow grocery shoppers the same way either.
Background. So this guy from the midwest or whatever has a strange hobby and eventually made a book out of it. Y'all, it isn't tiny. Christmas present courtesy of Little Sister.
Strange hobby indeed. But I am not against strange hobbies. I say if you find something fascinating or interesting and you love to do it, by all means (well not unpleasant means if you can avoid it) do it! It is a belief of mine that if you can apply yourself to something that is not a requirement of your job, family, or classes, you will be a far more well-rounded person. When we do things just for fun, we discover so much because we want to. Just like a guy who scouts grocery parking lots across America, we can find adventure. And just think of the good he has accomplished. By collecting these lost pieces of paper, he's being green. Then he's using these discarded fragments of a person's day to make the rest of America laugh.

I do love to laugh.