Sunday, November 28, 2010

the christmas-y spirit.

I read this every year. I think it is so perfectly written and beautiful. I am very glad to believe in Santa clause and all the unseen wonders in this world.

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?


VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except [what] they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

texts from my dad. Volume 6.

i miss you toooooo.
hope you're over the cold and doing great things. won't be long before we'll be cooking together.
Love, Dad"

Friday, November 19, 2010

some truth.

"Let no one who loves be unhappy, even love unreturned has its rainbow."
-J.M. Barrie

Sunday, November 7, 2010

"Dear Zachary"

I cry in movies.

that is just a fact. I can't help but become connected to characters and stories; to become invested in the journeys. Even when I try really hard not to cry (because, let's face it, it is a little embarrassing when you are caught weeping through "Lilo and Stitch") I am unsuccessful. Those darn tears just come and make a mess on my sweater...

I am in a documentary phase. I go on netflix and i search the instant play documentaries until i find one i think will be interesting. So one day I found this documentary called "Dear Zachary: A letter to a son about his father". I read the brief synopsis which basically said it was a movie this guy made because his friend was murdered and he wanted to create something so that the victims son could know who his father was. It sounded very tragic but it also seemed like it could be something really beautiful. I knew that I would cry because the very nature of the story is a sad one, not to mention this was a documentary and not a fictional story so that just made the whole thing more weep-worthy.

I started the movie and, as predicted, i started crying. Nearly immediately.
this movie was different however, because i literally cried the whole movie long. Usually I have some reprieve...

And then, somewhere near the end of the movie something so utterly heartbreaking happened and I suddenly felt like i wasn't sure my body could handle it. I don't think I have ever wept so deeply in my whole life. I felt like i couldn't breathe and my body was heaving and, if i hadn't been trying my very hardest to be quiet because my roommates were sleeping, I am certain i would have screamed. It was an emotion i have never felt before and it was so thorough and gutteral...and frightening.

the movie ended and i just kept on crying. and when i finally stopped all i could do was sit and be awed and be thankful.

the movie was tragic. tragic beyond what you think anyone could survive. but it was beautiful. It was about someone who was loved, in the truest sense of the word. I will always be haunted by it.


Wednesday, October 20, 2010

here it comes

yesterday I got myself ready to

make the pilgrimage into the

city and I gathered all my

things and

walked down the stairs to the

exit of my apartment. I opened

the door and breathed in... and

there it was. Right when I

wasn't expecting it. That

perfect, clean scent that

absolutely nothing

else can replicate. That

intoxicating aroma that

invigorates you from your

head, all the way down

to the tips of your toesies.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it

smelled like snow.

Now it was much too warm to

actually snow, but its promise

is there. It is lingering in the

near future. All at once I am

equally thrilled and weary at

the prospect (because walking

to the bus

stop and waiting for the bus in

the snow, not to mention

riding it on icy streets...I mean,

come on

people. you would be worried

too). But no matter what,

I love the smell of snow.


Monday, October 18, 2010

has the mail arrived?

"The power of regular letter writing cannot be overstated. Even if all they consist of is the minutia of everyday life, letters maintain and even strengthen intimacy, no matter how many thousands of miles separate the sender and receiver."

I wish there was some sort of profession in which I could write people letters all day long...
I love letters. I love to write them. and i really love to receive them.
I think they are powerful and beautiful and significant.

is this adventure?

When I went to the airport for my final departure from California I learned that the security guards are really nice to you if you look like you have been weeping and you don't really intend to stop anytime soon...

note: in the future when i have to make any kind of significant departure i will do it in the morning because it is a little bit brutal to have to say goodbye over and over all day long. My flight was leaving at midnight and from about 6:00 on I had been intermittently weeping. I wondered why on earth I had even bothered to put on any make up. that was just silly.

I told rachell we needed to stop at the grocery store so I could buy some tissues. I just wanted to buy one of those small packages. the kind you can fit in your purse. However, it seems you can only buy a case of like six of those small packages...and i was crying a lot, but not 6 packages worth. But there I was carrying 6 packages of tissues around in my purse. Just to add to how ridiculous i already felt.

So then rachell and mikael drove me to the airport and when we arrived we got my luggage out of the trunk and then I hugged rachell and then I hugged mikael. Mikael and I both just started crying and from then on i could not stop. (that is how i learned about the security guards...).

I trudged my way to the gate and sat down. They were playing the most melancholy music in the airport which was not helpful to my state of mind. Then I read the letter Mikael gave me. Commence even more weeping and significant amounts of embarrassment while i sat there with my packages of tissues and thought to myself, "This is ridiculous. who chooses to leave everyone they love on purpose? this was a horrible terrible idea"

And then I thought about how you rarely actually see anyone crying in the airport. It is a place where people say hello and goodbye, but usually the space in between the two isn't large or unbearable. I thought how strange it was to be nearly certain that I was the only one in that airport gate making permanent plans to leave the people who had become my family, my heart. what a strange, lonely feeling.

And then I thought about this part of the adventure. I had always considered my move to new york to be an adventure. Really, the first big uncertain adventure i had ever made. And up until the moment i was sitting in the airport I thought it was going to be really fun and full of intrepid outings and funny moments. I never considered the part that actually made it an adventure: The fact that it would be hard. That it would try to break me. That it would involve a fight. When we think of adventure we almost always just think about the triumph of it all and we forget about the parts that almost defeat us. But we usually think of adventure from the outside. when the adventuring is over, or before it has begun. When we are in the midst of the adventure we don't refer to it as adventure. We tend to refer to it as life, and we frequently don't like it.

For a long time after I got here I was really sad. I am still sad, in truth. But less sad than i was. Mostly, these days I am just thankful i have people i love so much that it hurts to be away from them. There are so much worse aches to be had, and I am grateful for this one. This is my adventure. My first adventure, i will not forget to appreciate it as such, because once I come out of it I will be able to see the epic worthy moments of triumph, such as apartment decorating last night and sleepovers in the city with my best friend. And I will move forward in hope and I will carry my homesick heart with gladness and I will protect it and remember how many people i have to help me protect it. even from far away.

how i love you all...


Timing. Timing is of the utmost importance.

In my first few weeks here in the city I have learned that. You can no longer be running a couple minutes late while you are getting ready and think to yourself, "Its ok, i will just be five minutes late." Because if you are even one minute late you have missed the bus. Now you are waiting at least a half and hour for the next one. Yes, I have chased down a bus. i only had to to it once, and it wasn't really my fault as the bus was actually early on this day. Sue and I were going to an audition and so we were both dressed nicely and we were making our way to the bus stop and we got to corner and we saw the bus we needed start to drive right past us. We looked at each other a bit panicked and then we both took off! we ran right into the street and down two blocks and we abandoned all our modestly as our skirts flew much higher than a skirt ever should...but we made it to the bus. Also, I have missed the bus. Timing.

And then on the other hand, you can rush down to the lightrail station only to get there and see that the next train doesn't arrive for 17 minutes. And then you have to wait around till it gets there and you wish you would have checked the schedule so you could have arrived in a more timely fashion. and then it takes 45 minutes to get to the city instead of 20. Timing.

Too late. Too early. both aren't good.

but of course, I am not really talking about transit.

life and death and the spaces between.

I have a friend I met at pepperdine, her name is Greta. I haven't talked to her in a few years, but she was my small group leader at my church in malibu. She is, and will always be, one of the most beautiful, brilliant people I have ever encountered. The picture above is from an album she has on her facebook page entitled "Thank you notes". Each picture in the album has a caption underneath it which thanks God for some glorious bit of life as we experience it here on the earth. It is a truly lovely album and I look at it frequently as she adds photos every week or so. Yesterday I was looking at it and I came across this picture and the caption she wrote for it which states, "Thank you for a dying swan dahlia, and thank you that she will come back again someday."
And in one of those rare moments, my breath caught. And I had to stop and listen to my breath and give myself a moment to ponder.

This time in life is an interesting one. It stings frequently. In moments you don't expect. There is a lot of triumph and heartbreak to to found all mixed together, and sometimes it is hard to decipher the two as the thoughts and emotions intermingle. For the past 5 months or so I have listened to a lot of people share their various wounds and their fears and the things that break them. many have found themselves in dark places. I have found myself in a dark place. And it is that which makes me ever thankful for the small inextinguishable light that is hope and for the way I found it in this picture.

Perhaps people are more like flowers than I ever expected. We are fragile and we need care and sun and rain. sometimes we are surprisingly resilient and we refuse to give in and sometimes we find that we have done a face plant into the dirt and we try to hold onto our color and we try to stand tall again, but sometimes we cannot. Sometimes we die. And perhaps that is ok. Perhaps that is what is supposed to happen. We all accept that flowers die. The winter comes and it gets the best of them and they always die. But they do come back someday. As do we. sure enough the spring always follows the winter and we find our heads lighter and easier to lift. Death has not conquered us.

"Thank you. Thank you God, for people and for all their broken places and blocked paths and the bits that feel as though they can't be mended. Thank you for the people who seem to be dying, and thank you that you can bring them back someday"

Until Death do us part

These are my friends who got married on October 9, 2010. Rebekah and Ryan. Aren't they Beautiful?

I was a bridesmaid. This was my first time to be a bridesmaid. I was really quite elated about it, but I didn't think it would be a very big deal. Walk down the aisle, hold some flowers, smile, watch bride and groom kiss, follow them outside. I was not unfamiliar with weddings. I have been to a few and I have watched them on tv. It seemed a rather basic principle, but somehow it became so much more to me.

This wedding was by no means extravagant. the flowers had been arranged by the bridal party the night before from flowers bought at costco. The bridesmaids all wore dresses of their own choosing which the bride had not even seen until the day of the wedding. We all did our own hair and make up. We put up all the lights ourselves. It was a simple wedding, but to me it was stunning. It was everything a wedding should be, because it wasn't about the wedding at all. It was about the fact that people were getting married. And that made the whole thing feel extravagant and full. Every time I would ask Rebekah a question about some sort of mindless aesthetic thing she would say something to the effect of, "I don't really care, whatever you want. I just want to get married." I hope someday that I can keep this same mentality when I find myself engaged.

I always thought that I would make it through my own wedding without crying until I got to the father/daughter dance, but when i found myself weeping as rebekah walked down the aisle at the REHEARSAL I changed my mind. I now fully expect to cry all through my wedding...which is a little bit unfortunate...but what will be will be. The rehearsal was the day of the wedding in the morning and I must admit that until we got there I was still a bit stunned by the fact one of my best friends was getting married. I had a bit of a fear of marriage, largely because I regard it as so important and I never want it to be taken lightly. But I think being at this wedding calmed many of my wedding related anxieties. By the time we actually started the rehearsal it felt so natural and perfect and filled with an ever bubbling joy and I decided that I love love weddings. Every part of them. And as I stood there on the stage waiting for rebekah to walk down the aisle I was struck by the symbolism of the wedding party and i felt so very honored to be a part of it. The wedding party represents the fact that the couple entering into the marriage covenant acknowledge that they cannot make it through without people, friends and family, supporting them on both sides. That is the way it should be. and being a member of the wedding party is the same as making a decision to make sure you help to support the marriage and remain dedicated to keeping the two people together in the way you live and the advice you give and the prayers you offer. It was all so lovely and I was so glad to stand in support of people who were giving themselves to each other with the utmost love, repect, and reverance.

I saw weddings in a new glowing, golden light I had never understood before, and I will always remember it.

I love weddings.

just around the corner.

I have always believed God to be intricately involved in our lives. I don't think God is the kind of God to create something and then abandon it...particularly if it is something He loves enough to have sacrificed His son in order to save...That kind of love requires more care and depth than I can really understand. But, all that to say, I do Believe God to be intricately involved in the in's and out's of our daily lives.

However I was wondering the other day just precisely how exactly and intricately involved He is. Does God have a hand in which parking spot I chose to park in? or (now that I live in a city and have no car to park) what about the streets I walk down? There is a never ending series of ways I could end up in one place. If I have to go both north or south and east or west the thing that decides which streets I walk down is the "Walk" or "don't walk" sign. Say i am on 38th and 6th and I need to get to 42nd and 8th and I am walking north on 6th but when I get to 40th the "don't walk" sign is on. Then I would just turn and start to head west toward 8th. and if i hit 7th and the "don't walk" sign was on then i would turn again and continue to go north until i hit another "don't walk" sign or reached 42nd st. And this could happen at every street. I could change directions ever other street, or I could end up walking all the way north and then turning west. And in the city the varying streets offer so many different things. My walk to port authority could be completely different depending on one varying street because there are so many people and so much to see. Is God involved in that? Is God orchestrating the street lights in order to direct what i see or experience on any given day? And if He is, then He is doing the same for everyone else....and that is a lot of streetlight organizing. Of course, God is big enough to manage that I suppose, even though I am kind of baffled by it. And I am just baffled by the number of people and streets in New York City, let alone the rest of the world.


tree house

I want a treehouse. someday.

Ever since I was a kid I have been rather enamored with tree houses. (tree house. one word or two? treehouse.) Usually, you find that as you grow the desires of your childhood fade, such as my deep deep desire for one of those little barbie cars you could actually drive, but I think I will always want a treehouse.
For me a tree house represents escape and adventure and lots of time and space for big and little thoughts. It is beauty and wonder and I would keep lots of blankets in it so I could still sit inside during the more crisp months of the year.
if i had one, i would invite you over to hang out inside with me.

I want a treehouse. someday. soon.

Monday, October 4, 2010


sometimes when my computer is off I type all sorts of secrets and thoughts and things i am too scared or not ready to say. or things that are just too rude to say. all the horrible all too human keyboard knows them.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

I have loved you beautifully

i heard this song today on pandora. I was just listening to some music while i made dinner (which was quite delicious, thank you very much) and i was suddenly aware of the lyrics and i thought to myself, "wait, did that song really just say that!?" so i promptly went and looked up the lyrics. And it did in fact say that. I thought to myself that this was just a terribly sad song. Then i finished cooking dinner and ate and went on a walk with sue.
But i can't get this song out of my head. it is haunting me. I understand this many ways, at many times i feel like it could be about me. And i do still think it is so sad.
but at the same time, despite the tragedy inherent in it all, no matter how many people i have not been beautiful enough for i think it has always been worth it to love them that beautifully. To love someone beautifully, at least to me, means that you love them so fiercely and with so much grace and acceptance of their humanity. You love them as a person. For who they are in that moment. for who they could be. for who they will be even if they never reach their full potential. To love someone beautifully reaches so far beyond the realm of romance. And yet, it is the romance part that stings so deeply. and it does hurt. beautiful love is risky...but if we don't try it, we miss everything.

"Beautifully" by Jay Brannan
Every time he goes, she dies
Every time she comes, she cries

He was her long, bright future
In the middle of a wrong, dark road
He loved her, but he wasn't too sure
If he could return the love she showed
When she said, my love extends
Beyond the realm of being friends
He kissed her head
And quietly he said

It's not that you're not beautiful, you're just not beautiful to me
She said, how beautiful do I have to be?
When I look in the mirror, you're the only thing I see
And I have loved you beautifully

Well, ten thousand tears passed by
But she never let him see her cry
And he called up down one night
He said, let's get in the car and just drive

He talked a lot about loneliness
But why, she didn't know
And some song about Memphis
Was playing on the radio
She said, let's stop the car and slow dance
Won't you just give me a chance?
He took her hand
And hoped she'd understand

It's not that you're not beautiful, you're just not beautiful to me
She said, how beautiful do I have to be?
When I look in the mirror, you're the only thing I see
And I have loved you beautifully

Well, she'll burn that bridge
And build a house
And swallow the smoke in her mouth
She'll feel the burn
And then make the choice
To put the fire in her voice

It's not that you're not beautiful, you're just not beautiful to me
She said, how beautiful do I have to be?
When I look in the mirror, you're the only thing I see
And I have loved you beautifully

Monday, September 13, 2010

thank you sir.

About a month ago a friend told me he was going to take me to dinner and a show. I was pretty excited. and so on the evening we were going to go I spent far longer than usual getting ready and tried to be fancy. I wore a dress and heals and more makeup than just mascara and chapstick. i put a flower in my hair. and i felt pretty.
then i got in my car and drove over to my friends apartment. Once i arrived there i had to wait for someone to come and open the gate to let me in. while I was standing there waiting there was another man standing at the gate. He had a big van and he was waiting for a pair of women who were coming out of the apartment complex. The van had a wheelchair ramp, as one of the women was in a wheelchair. We stood there next to each other for a few moments and awkwardly glanced at one another in a brief greeting. Then, just as the women were almost to the gate he looked at me and he said something. I couldn't quite understand what he had said, so i said, "I'm sorry, what?" and then he looked at me and said, "you look like a queen." that took me quite off guard, and so there was a brief silence and then i replied, "oh...well, thank you!" and then i walked inside the gate and went to meet my friend.

I still think about this short interchange. And i am so thankful for that man. That man made me feel beautiful and lovely for at least a whole month. Anytime i felt like anything less, i remembered that that man thought i looked like a queen.
there is so much power in the tiny small things we say, and the next time i think someone looks "like a queen" i hope i have enough courage to tell them because it might just lift them up for much longer than i ever expected.

Try to remember the kind of september...

a little while ago a friend and I were discussing memory. We talked and laughed about the things we remembered and why our minds choose the things they do to hold on to. I have some very distinct and vivid memories of childhood which seem to me to be rather useless. I have no idea why i remember them. But then there are other things, such as singing "what i did for love" in show choir, that i have absolutely no recollection of. none. i still wouldn't believe we had sung that song except for the fact that i watched myself do it on videotape.

we mused about this topic for awhile, and then she mentioned that our brains can only hold so much. so many memories. She said that this is why older people can go on and on about memories from the past, but it is hard for them to remember more recent events. Their mind is simply full.

I feel a little bit sad about that.

I feel like during this time in my life, last summer in particular, I tried to store up every possible moment. Every sensation, every smell, every new thought, all the funny jokes and the way it feels when you hug me. I wanted to keep it all. I still want to keep it all. Anyone who knows me knows that i truly listen. I try to be fully engaged in the moment with whoever i am with. That is why i am good at remembering things people said and birthdays and lots and lots of moments in life. And i am glad i have all those things, all my shimmery memories. I need them.
I don't think there will ever come a time in my life when I am not going to want to save all the memories i can. I want to remember as much about this life as i possibly can, and it breaks my heart a bit to think that one day so many things will be gone, like that memory of "what i did for love".

But for now, i have heaps of lovely memories and moments to stop and revisit throughout the day. And I am thankful for them. and i always will be.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

a pile

I find myself having written down a pile of 5 things to blog about. And i do want to write these blogs...

but do you ever just find yourself sitting there thinking, "It is 2:30 in the morning and I am exhausted. why am I awake?" Well, if you have found yourself in that position then you will know quite exactly how i am feeling at this very moment as i watch the clock continue counting the minutes even further into the wee hours.

and so, there shall be no blogs on this early morning. but there shall be sleep. and i hope it rains again tomorrow. except i hope it stops just long enough that i can make the walk to the grocery store without completely soaking my jeans. :)

My favorite thing today

This video brought me very much joy.
it made me smile like this :)

"Marcel the shell with shoes on"

Sunday, September 5, 2010

texts from my dad. Volume 5

"bite the apple.
bite the apple again.
you go girl.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

today wants this song

"lately, I've been seeing things
and out late wanderin' dirty streets
to find my way

Dreamers with their cardboard hope,
and lovers with their empty cups-

well the rain drips on down
while the neon dances in the road.

you've got to run,
you've got to hide
honey, i'll never push you aside
cause as soon as you grow
thats when you know-

there's a lot left to say, and i hope to say it someday"

from "Someday, someway" by Cazz Brindis

Sunday, August 29, 2010


Tonight is the last night i will spend in my little blue room.
i loved this room. I loved it more than most anywhere else.

i am a little bit sad about leaving it. and by a little i mean a lot.

peanut butter battle

I used to really not like peanut butter. I mean really, really not like.

recently i find that it is growing on me. It is still not my very favorite thing, but on occasion i find myself wanting some.
the strange thing is that i really don't want to admit to myself that i am starting to like it. I don't really know why...apparently i just really don't want to be one of those people who likes peanut butter.

things i loved recently..

I have been noticing some thoroughly lovely things about life.

let's start with the enchanting silvery moonlight that flung its beams into my bedroom last week. When I was lying in my bed I could see the full glowing moon smiling down and sharing its shimmery light with me. It filled me with delight for a few nights in a row and made me feel safe and comfortable and glad that there are still mysteries in the world.

also, i love that as a "adult" i reserve the right to eat a few bites of ice cream while i am cooking dinner.

the word "whimsy". what a good, delicious word. I could go for a bit more whimsy in my life, i believe. just say it. whimsy. whisper it. and sway while you say it. close your eyes. let the whimsy all the way in.

drawing and painting and general child-like craftiness. i feel very good about it.

singing power ballads with complete abandon while i am driving alone in my car on the freeway. if you don't feel like anyone can hear or see you, then they can't....

the way black ink looks scrawled all over a clean white page.

the car wash. behold the great joy of the power sprayer and the excitement of the time limit and the peculiar pink tinted soap. Best seven minutes of my day.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

all over the place.

Confession: I did something over the moon stupid the other day. Don't worry it wasn't recklessly stupid or dangerous or anything of that nature. It was just one of those stupid things people do.
this is me confessing, without confessing. I just had to take note that i did it.

...what was i thinking? stupid....

in other news:
as i was browsing about the internet in my endless hours of boredom i did many things (some more useful than others). I searched for jobs, i searched for apartments, i facebook creeped, i watched many episodes of criminal minds, and then i came across a link to an article entitled, "How to make him say 'I love you' ."

What? NO. this is bad. of course i ignored my better judgement (as has been my way the last few days. see the confession at the start of this blog), and i clicked on the link anyway. I couldn't finish reading the article in its entirety because it hurt my soul. The parts i did read were about acting a certain way, or saying certain things, or sending certain body language clues and all of those things would add up to one man in love with you.
Now, i could understand why you would not want to listen to me and my thoughts on the subject as nothing i have ever done had added up to any men in love with me, but you should listen anyway. trust me.

I most definitely do not want someone to tell me he loves me because I used all my best trickery to manufacture that feeling in him. I don't want my every interaction with someone to be a manipulation in which i try to make him feel something by using the right body language or saying the right things because i already know how he will react to them. That is not the same thing as him reacting to me, just as me with no impressive trickery, and deciding he loves me. i don't want to have to feel like i have to calculate my moves all the time and know what i should and shouldn't say to make someone love me. i really really do believe that someone could love me as i am, because i do say what i think and i do tell people how i feel about them and i do not try to hide or convince people of feeling things they do not. nothing can be real if you try to do it the other way...and what is the point of that anyway?
this is why i can't stand "the bachelor" and this is why i think i would not like a blind date and this is why i don't want anyone to "meddle" and try to put me together with someone. i don't want to be with someone because anyone else tried to convince them to be with me, i want to be with someone because they decided they wanted to be with me. yes.
rant over. for now.

but on another note, i just got far far too bored of being home today so i put on a cute dress, i put on sunglasses (instead of makeup), and walked to my car, took a short drive, got a boba tea, read some East of Eden, and took a lovely stroll at that perfect dusky sunset time of was dreamy. sometimes you can turn days where you are just alone at home into something great. Today was great, but i need to start having some things to do outside this house or i might go crazy...or do something else that is really stupid.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Texts from my dad. Volume 4

"I'm in Boise Idaho and you're not.

thinking of you.
Love, Dad. "

i love him.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010


i have been having thoughts on silliness. I just think silliness is so important.
sometimes i am really bad at being silly and i find that regrettable.

anyway, my thoughts on silliness:
my friends and i were discussing artistic endeavors a few weeks ago and we began debating the value of "silly" things. I can understand why people miss the value of silly things. I can see why people think that they lack value because they don't necessarily change you or inspire great thought and action. but then again, perhaps they do, in their own way.

I love art. i love the impact that can be made through it. I love the beauty and the mystery and the greatness that comes from it. but i do think that some greatness does come from silly things. While serious art may inspire me to action and make me want things in the future, i find that silliness reminds me to be fully thankful for the moment at present. to my way of thinking silliness is completely about being in the moment. it is about living to the greatest possible level at any given time. Silliness has no self consciousness or worry about what others will think. Silliness just is what it is. that is the only way it can exist. being silly makes you feel alive. when i think back on my life many of the silly moments are my favorite. the moments that ended in peals of laughter that made my sides hurt...those were the moments i appreciated everything that i had. and it was because of the silliness.

also, i find endless inspiration in silliness. some people may read shel silverstein poems or Dr.Suess books and think that they are just silly, childrens books. but not me. The important thing about silliness is it reminds me of the boundless opportunities for creation. silliness is imaginative. reading these things as a child, and even as an adult, taught me that there are still great things to be found. words to be created. new thoughts to be had. and beyond that, that i should not try to reign in any of my ideas because they were "silly". Without silly ideas, without the freedom to have silly ideas, much of what we have would never have been.

we should all take time to be silly, and, perhaps, to look a little deeper and find the value in things that we thought were simply silliness. because, it turns out I don't think silliness is simple after all.

i have a new thing.
i get new things from time to time. by now i have a quite a few things. small oddities and personality quirks....things.
but i am rather enamored with my new thing. i can't figure out why it happened or exactly when, but recently every single time someone takes a picture i cannot help but wonder what will happen to that photograph. I wonder if it will be framed and hung in someone's living room for people to see. or perhaps it will be scapbooked by someones mother. or maybe someone will write a date on the back and then lose it in a dresser drawer. maybe someone will put it in an "album" on facebook, or just maybe make it their profile picture. what if it becomes famous and the world will recognize it in a few years. what if it is a picture someone keeps in their wallet next to their dollar bills and pennies. what if it becomes a picture someone hides and only takes out when they are alone. What if it captures a perfect, unforgettable moment?
i make up all kinds of lives for these pictures. i choose the ones that go on the mantel. and the ones that never make it off the camera...

i know. its weird. you dont have to tell me.

daydream believer

among my favorite things about college is that it is a land of dreams. during my four years i heard so many grand visions and plans and hopes for the future. It is really kind of incredible. And the best part about it is that while we are here, learning and preparing, we fully believe that every one of those big dreams is possible. we see this whole world as a land of opportunity and possibility and we think that there is no good reason that anything should stand in our way on our trecks to success with its many different definitions.
It seems to me that once we have graduated most of us can't see the possibilities or the opportunities. All we can see are the limitations we seemed to have overlooked. I wish we could get back our dreams and believe in them in that same unbending way. This is the same world. All the things we thought could be there can still be there.

i want to remember this about college for as long as i live. I have never been anywhere where more people believed in their dreams.


to anyone who reads this blog ever at any point:

i offer my deepest and most sincere apologies about the grammar. most of these are written in the wee hours and are largely brain vomit. no grammatical consideration is taken. I promise i know better. I know that i's should be capitalized and i know that mostly i write run on sentences and i know that there are more fragments than correct sentences in these entries. and i know that there are a million grammatical errors in this entry....but that is just the way it is. that is the way i write on this blog and that is the way it shall remain!

thank you.
over and out.


i love this blog very much. It makes me feel better knowing it is here. i feel better when i write things down.

But i was thinking about blogs today...and i was thinking that there are some things i hope this never becomes. Some people have blogs for the sole purpose of venting. i don't want that. i don't want this to be a place where i come and complain all the time. I don't want it to be a place where i put myself on a pedestal and write about other peoples problems. I don't ever want to write something brutal about anyone else. i don't want to write things i am too afraid or embarrassed to say to someone's face.

I have tried very hard to maintain these rules so far. i try to avoid using anyone's names. I try to just put out my viewpoints without belittling anyone else's. i try to limit my entries to my own troubles or thoughts. And while i do want this to be a place where i can write about things that have upset me or things that sting my heart, i mostly want it to be a place where i can write my thoughts on what it means to be alive. on how i sat in the hammock and ate ice cream today. On how much i loved doing that. on how i like the feeling of the sun in my eyes. on how many great mysteries there are to this world. I want this blogspot to feel like a celebration of everything involved with getting to experience life. I even want to celebrate the sad and lonely bits because i get to feel them and they matter and they are important.

and so, to the faithful few who read this blog, celebrate with me. Feel things as far as you can and be glad for it. don't let me complain and mope. thats not why i am here, and i can do better than that.

by the way.

i started crying in the kitchen today when i made dinner...

sometimes just thinking about leaving you breaks me in half.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

i think Rhett is dreamy...

No, I don't think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.
-Rhett Butler. Gone With the Wind.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010


my mom got a new cat the other day. a little baby kitty. it is a boy. he is unnamed as of yet. (though i suggested she should name him stud. but she won't cause she would be embarrassed by that!) anyway when i was asking her if the cat was a boy or a girl she said it was a boy and that she was not going to get any more girl cats because they were not as nice. and then she said this to me, and i quote:

"No, it is a boy. i am not getting any more girls. i am sticking with fixed should stick with fixed boys too, ash."

thanks mom. i will keep that in mind.

i am

Sometimes when i pause for a moment and look back on things God is so evident. I can almost physically see how He orchestrated things...and i am kind of blown away. breathless. grateful. I wish i lived more aware of this instead of waiting to look back.
Today i am astounded by God's grace and knowledge and blessings.
sometimes the most comforting thing i can realize is that God is God and he has taken care of me so far. and He won't stop.

A few months ago i was feeling...well, i don't know how to explain how i was feeling really....but i wrote Psalm 46:10 on my mirror "Be still and know that I am God". I was tired of feeling the way i felt and the only way i could see not feeling it was to try to live that verse. Try to be still. Try to rest in that God is God and be certain of Him.

this is hard for me, because sometimes i tend toward uncertainty. But i think it is a choice. i am trying to live this way even when i don't "feel" it. When i would prefer to feel self pity, or jealousy, or anger, or annoyance, or hurt...i try to remember to be still. i fail at this a lot...but i will continue trying to choose to live this way because even though i can't see now,

i know that one day i will see


inspired by a friend of mine who forgave herself. i thought i should give it a try.

i forgive myself for being messy and leaving my clothes on the floor

i forgive myself for being a procrastinator

i forgive myself for not being able to find a job

i forgive myself for not being as faithful as i should be

i forgive myself for all the things i know i should not feel

i forgive myself for not having a boyfriend

i forgive myself for caring that i do not have a boyfriend

i forgive myself for having doubts

i forgive myself for not being skinny

i forgive myself for being scared to sing

i forgive myself for being shy

i forgive myself for being afraid of breaking the rules

i forgive myself for not knowing how to use any technology

i forgive myself for not enjoying most sports

i forgive myself for the days when i feel sad

i forgive myself for not liking dogs

i forgive myself for not trying harder with you

i forgive myself for being scared to leave

i forgive myself for wanting to be married someday

i forgive myself for not calling enough

i forgive myself for my moments of cowardice

i forgive myself because i have been forgiven, and if God can forgive me, then i should forgive me.

I forgive myself so i can try again tomorrow.

a day at the park.

i had some friends come to visit me last week. on saturday we spent an hour of adventure exploring the wonder that is ikea, and then we went to the park. Earlier in the day we had stopped by the dollar store to find some things to play with. We got a package of buzz lightyear bubbles, a mini bowling set, and a foam rocket launcher. our ages are 22, 22, and 28 respectively. We proceeded to play with the bowling and bubbles and rocket for a long time in the park, constantly rolling gutter balls and popping bubbles and shooting the foam rocket at each other. we laughed a lot. the sun was shining. there was a breeze. there were tall trees. it was perfect.

i feel so grateful to have friends who can enjoy simple childlike wonderment with me, because that is how i felt on that day. and i loved it.

we must hold onto our wonderment and the small simple pleasures.

genie of the lamp

my friends helped me finalize my list of my three wishes i would make should i ever come upon a genie.

1. I wish for a magical wallet that always produces the exact amount of money i need whenever I need it.
2. I wish to fly
3. I wish to be able to eat whatever i like and always remain healthy and in shape.

unless of course i need to free the genie with my third wish. then i will just have to do a lot of flying for exercise...

the string around my finger.

sometimes I forget about romance...
of course this is the moment that anyone who reads this blog says, "LIAR! almost every other post on here is about romance of some kind!" and they would be right in saying that. I think about romance and love and relationship a lot, but i think of it in theories and in my imagination, but I frequently forget about romance as an actuality. I think i stopped thinking about it as something that could happen in my life. it is hard for me to think of it that way because i have always been so removed from it. At this point considering any romantic happenings actually happening in my life feels as realistic as considering that the next time my doorbell rings there might be an alien there. I wish this was an exaggeration, but it is not. I cannot even imagine being asked on a date because that feels almost otherworldly to me...and i have a big imagination.

anyway, all this to say that I think I am becoming something I don't want to be. I don't want to roll my eyes at romance. I need to remember these things. I need to remember romance. I need to remember it as a reality.

to protect myself from feeling hurt i usually try to make myself feel "above" romantic things. truthfully i will probably still do that to some degree, But i need to remember to be receptive to romance. I hope that someday i meet someone who tells me all sorts of cheesy lines (because cheesy is perfectly acceptable to me as long as it is sincere), and I hope I can take them all and enjoy them and remember them. And i hope they make me smile and laugh and I hope i let myself believe them.

i will remember romance. at least i will give it my very best shot. and if i forget, hopefully i will remember tomorrow.

Kitchen, dancing in the

I love dancing in the kitchen. Ever since I was a kid i would always try to make my dad dance with me while he was cooking. I rarely succeeded as my dad is not a big dancer, but i could always get my mom to spin me around the kitchen. As i grow up i find this practice loses none of its joy. i have danced and sung and clapped around the kitchen with all my roommates. Kendra and i have slow danced ever so dramatically. Mikael and i have danced in the kitchen. Sue and i just had a little mini dance party to a song we just watched steve martin perform. I love to dance in the kitchen.
I feel like the kitchen is such an alive place. It is a place where all your senses are engaged and that makes me feel so aware of what an experience it is to live. And then you add the dancing and it is even better! i hope i always have people to dance with me in the kitchen.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

you know what i mean.

Ingrid Michaelson knows precisely everything i want to say...
i love almost every single one of her songs. I feel like they are my songs.


I want a snowfall kind of love
The kind of love that quiets the world
I want a snowfall kind of love
'Cause I'm a snowfall kind of girl
I want a snowfall kind of love
That lights up the sky from below
I want a snowfall kind of love
That brings people to their window
Won't you bury me in your quiet love
Oh bury me in your quiet love
Bury me in your quiet love
And we will blow away
I want a snowfall kind of love
The kind of love that keeps you in bed all day
Oh I want to walk through with you
And watch it all melt away
Won't you bury me in your quiet love
Oh bury me in your quiet love
Bury me in your quiet love
And we will blow away

and from "Are we there yet"

They say you're really not somebody
Until somebody else loves you
Well I am waiting to make somebody somebody


texts from my dad. vol 3.

iron your gown
so that you can walk down
after the crown.
we'll meet in your town.
celebrate your time around.

love DAD"

Saturday, April 17, 2010

thanks friend.

texting with my friend

me: I miss you, just so ya know....i wish we could hang out and watch a movie you would fall asleep during...

you: i miss you too, i think you're beautiful, and i am jealous of all your tortured artist friends that get to see you all the time.

somehow, you always say precisely the thing i need to hear. thanks friend. i do miss you.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

another text from my dad...

here is another installment of "Texts from my Dad"

Happy Easter.
Looking out the window i can see a little brunette, white shoes flashing, racing across the lawn. Easter eggs to be found. First one, then another, pretty soon there can't be any other. full basket, mother's camera, little sister's yammer. ah easter morn.

Well, babe we're going to miss you. i'll have to eat your share of the prime rib, i think i can do it. you guys will have to buy a chocolate bunny and have a nice dinner.
love, Dad

is he the best or what?

Monday, March 22, 2010


Something ended last weekend. It was bittersweet. It was my last performance in the official APU theatre season before i graduate.
I was in The Most Massive Woman Wins. I was Carly. Carly is so different from me, but i will miss her. I am grateful for her. she helped me learn about me.

This show was, without a doubt, among the most frightening things i have ever done. It is in the top five for sure. At the end the four women in the cast have to stand on stage in their underwear. this is not something i am inclined to do. it never got easier.

But i am proud of myself for doing it. I am proud of myself for serving the story. and i am secretly thrilled that i had it in me to do it. I feel a little bit like i felt after i got my tattoo; like i had done something no one expected from me. no one would expect me, this shy girl, the one who rarely talks in class, and who occasionally avoids eye contact with people, and who doesn't really like to share, to stand on stage and disrobe. but i did.

but it wasn't bravery. I don't think i am brave. maybe i don't think there is such a thing as bravery. maybe there is only willingness. willingness to do impossible things.


This is on one of my friends facebook pages and every time i read it i am struck by it. I love it. I am adopting it.

Life mission:

To spread goodness and cheer like Santa Claus.

To fight for justice like Wonder Woman.

To adventure like Magellan.

To think like Solomon.

To love like Juliet.

why am i posting this!?

Dear Mikael,
if you read this before i see you tonight:
I wrote this, but i don't think i can share it at the coffeehouse. i'm sorry.

Mikael asked us to write our own vagina monologues based on the prompt "what would your vagina say if it could say two words" to perform at the women's coffeehouse for theatre of the oppressed. at first i felt weird about it. i felt like it reduced me to being my vagina. But in talking about it i realized that a great deal of my personal "heartache" does have to do with a kind of "vagina issue." I don't think i can share it though. i am not a real big sharer... as evidenced by the fact that i have given 4 people the url to this site.... i think it is just too deep in me to share like that. i'm not ready. but i will post it here. for 4 people to see. because i am ready for that. so here it is, my vagina monologue:

Why would you want to hear about my vagina? I guess you could say all women have a vagina monologue, and, since that is true, I just have a hard time thinking that you would care to hear about mine. There are much more important vagina monologues out there. Ones that are meaningful and actually heart wrenching and ones that can make you stop and wonder about the state of humanity. Ones that can make you laugh. Ones that are less pathetic than mine. I hate mine. I hate that it matters to me. I hate that no matter how hard I try to will myself, I can’t change it. And I hate sharing it right now.

When I was a kid I never went through one of those “boys have cooties” phases. I always liked the boys. Of course I put on the appropriate show for the rest of the class should we all have to hold hands for prayer or something. I would make faces and try to pull the sleeves of my sweater all the way down over my hands. I would make some loud proclamation about how I would need to wash the sweater the moment I got home. But secretly, I loved it. I loved holding hands. I loved that at the end of one of the songs in show choir I had to sit on Andrew’s lap and pose cheerily. I loved being assigned a swing dance partner. I always loved boys.

Around the time I turned 12 my parents told me that I was not allowed to “date” anyone until I was sixteen. I didn’t really mind. I couldn’t see the point of dating anyone when I was twelve anyway. Neither of us could drive or anything. What would we do? I was always rather practical…except for this one notion, which escaped my carefully executed logic and reason: For some reason I thought I would have someone to date when I was sixteen. I just assumed that by the time I was sixteen some handsome fellow would be waiting in the wings. That was not the case.

16 passed. So did 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. and 22. High school ended. College began. And ended. For a really long time I still believed that someone would want me. It was just around the corner. It could happen tomorrow. I watched each and every one of my friends get a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I listened to the stories of their first dates and first kisses. I rejoiced with them and I helped them put their hearts back together if it ended. I waited patiently for my turn. I had a lot of friends. I liked who I was. Other people liked who I was. I was appreciated as a good friend and as intelligent and talented. I still felt happy for a long time.

Most struggles become easier over time. We learn how to handle them and we can move on, but not this one. This struggle only gains fuel as time goes on because each day is another day that no one noticed you. I noticed a few people over the years, but they never looked my way, and I started to learn things. I learned that no matter how smart I was, or how supposedly talented, or how funny, or how interesting, or how many hours I spent hanging out after midnight, or how much time I gave listening, or how many other people who say you are perfect for each other, or how much of myself I shared with someone-- there would always be someone better. There would always be someone he wanted more. And I would find myself watching the two of them walk away together under the stars at our group camping trip, or I would see him at the airport and then I would see her and then I would watch him kiss her and not be able to move my eyes. Or he would move away without even saying goodbye to me. He asked my best friend to the dance. I became the consolation prize, time after time. If he couldn’t hang out with her, I would do.

And now I realize that it does not matter how many times I have been appreciated for my mind because no one even wants me enough to hold my hand. Let alone have anything to do with my vagina. And all I want in this world is for someone to hold my hand.

Lots of people have told me I am pretty, but I am not beautiful enough for anyone to want me. I mean really want me. To want my mind and my body. To desire me. Everything I am always adds up to a little less than the girl next to me. So he picks her. It’s simple math.

What would my vagina say if it could say two words? Nothing. It doesn’t have anyone to talk to.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

chocolate. mmmm.

I love chocolate.

As it is officially february and valentines day is rapidly approaching, there is an overload of chocolate all around the world. it is everywhere.
I was having a particularly strong craving for chocolate the other day and I was thinking about how lovely and delicious it is. if you have ever had a craving for chocolate, then you will know that it is among the worst cravings in the world. it must be satisfied....or else.

but anyway, i began to wonder what i would insatiably crave if i had never experienced chocolate?
but i suppose it really doesn't matter because i do have chocolate.

oh my, this blog. what silliness...
i apologize.

Friday, January 22, 2010

the choice

I was watching Grey's Anatomy today. Christina was asking everyone if they had to choose love or surgery which they would choose, because she was trying to figure out this very thing. A patient came in who was a singer. He had cancer in his lung and he spoke about how he did not want to live without singing. As they were operating they discovered that they would have to take out more of his lung than expected in order to save his life. however, one of the surgeons decided they would try another, less sure, procedure in order to salvage his singing career. When the surgery was over Christina went to talk to the surgeon and she said, See you get it. you changed the procedure to save this man's singing because he didn't want to live without his gift. I choose my gift.

And so she chose surgery over love.

and i was thinking about my gift. I love to perform. I love to sing. I love to dance. I don't think i am the greatest in the entire world at any of those things, but i do think i have some talent for them. and when i am doing them it feels wonderful. it is like i have come home and i belong there. i cannot even describe it to you in words. I love it.


if it came down to it. a gun to the head decision. there would be no contest, i would choose love. but at the same time i kind of think that love is my gift. I would still be choosing my gift. I would be choosing something that made me feel whole and fulfilled and alive. Much of what art accomplishes is accomplished through love of some kind. Love is its own kind of art.

I cannot imagine my life when i am seventy without children or grandchildren. As much as i love performing, i love people more. For as much as i talk about wanting to be wanted and as much as i whine about wanting a boyfriend who takes me to the movies and brings me a flower on occasion, i think the thing I am most excited for about all that is that i will also have someone to want. I will have someone to be completely invested in. I will have someone i can build up and challenge and make them feel like they are the best of who they can be. I will have someone who i could text everyday and not worry about it. i will have someone to rejoice with and mourn with and to be a team with.

life is about how you share it. i choose my gift. love.


The other day I was sitting in class and something strange happened.

I was sitting with my elbows on the table, with my face in my hands. I started to move my fingers along by cheeks and I could feel the hardness of my cheekbones underneath my skin. Suddenly i was very aware and awed at my skeleton. I don't think about having a skeleton very often. Even if i am looking at one at the museum i rarely identify with it, or really even consider that i have one beneath a few layers of flesh. how odd it seems to me now.

and as i was sitting there i felt like i didn't know my skeleton. i felt like by skin and my face and my hair and my organs and muscles were all a part of what made me, but my skeleton was possibly someone else. like perhaps it should have another name, because certainly it was not a part of ashley.

and then i felt my arms and felt for the bones in my wrists and then i moved my hands along the sides of my ribs. Still, i didn't know my skeleton.

but i know that we are fond of each other, my skeleton and me. we have a bond. she gets me. she doesn't (usually) do things i don't want to do, and she is always supporting me.

its still weird....

42 pages of friendship

42 pages of friendship. now there are more. probably more like 48 pages...

When you sent me the first message who would have guessed that this would happen? I suppose it is just one of those blessings God puts in your life to remind you that He knows you.

I don't suppose i ever would have thought i could have so much to say to someone who i have only spent a few hours with in "real life." Yet, somehow, that doesn't matter at all.

And now i can see our friendship in a way i have never been able to see a friendship before. I can see it in 42 pages of shared life. and i can go back and read over it whenever i please.

Thank you for your pages.