mission

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.

-ashley

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.

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.

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.

but

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.

Skeleton

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.

texts from my dad.

Every so often my dad sends me the most amazing text messages. they make me giggle so much.

this is the one he sent me a day or two before i came home for christmas break. they always start with "A:" and end with "love dad"

A: A trip, you are taking a trip.

bip.

that's so hip.

i think i will bake a cake and take a nip

have a nice trip.

love dad

haha! and he did, in fact, make a cake.

things that last

"We all know that something is eternal. and it aint houses and it ain't names, and it ain't earth, and it ain't even the stars...everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you would be surprised how people are always losing hold of it. there is something way down deep that is eternal about every human being"

Our Town

right out loud

I have a distinct recollection of a conversation i had with a friend when i was younger in which i told her i would never, ever, be the first one in any relationship to tell the other person i loved them first. when i think about it, it strikes me as a bit funny that i thought that even from such an early age.

It has never been an easy thing for me to tell people how i feel about them. I always feel remarkably awkward, and my voice usually shakes, and i lose any eloquent words i have, and my face becomes about 3000 degrees. It is not generally an enjoyable experience for me, at least in the moment i am trying to do it.

I have become a great deal better at telling people how i feel in the past few years because i think it is such an important thing to do. and i always appreciate it so much when people tell me how they feel about me. it can change your life. being honest and sharing your heart and telling others what you see in them makes for secure relationships that are free from the pain of wondering where you stand. games are avoided, and hearts are visible. of course it is that very reason that makes it all so scary. it requires the ability to lay down your pride and let down your walls to tell someone they matter to you. sometimes it feels embarrassing. it almost never gets easier to do this....but i have always found it worth it.

in most of my relationships i can't remember the first time i told the person i loved them or the first time they told me they loved me. it was just something that happened and we both just knew and the moment of saying "i love you" wasn't really momentous. i have never been in any kind of romantic relationship so i never had any kind of "in love with you moment" either. those kind of moments were foreign to me.

however, i am currently involved in a friendship that is different from all the other ones i have had. This relationship required that "i love you" be intentional and acknowledged. and it was funny because i thought i would be afraid to tell this person i loved them. i thought i would be nervous and i thought it would be hard to get the words out. But, it was not. at the moment the most important thing was that he had to know that i love him.

and i have discovered something; when you actually love someone you don't give a damn whether they love you back, you just love them. you just want them to know.

in "my best friends wedding" one of the characters says, "when you love someone you say it. right then. out loud."

i couldn't agree more.

let the countdown begin

it is new years eve in the year 2009. somehow the end of the year always surprises me and reminds me of the fact that our years here are, in fact, numbered. This was a beautiful year. it was filled with surprises and hurts and joys and lessons and moments of absolute breathlessness.

It was, in many ways, everything a year should be. I am grateful for it.

happy new year...

Both Sides Now.

i love this song so much. I don't think i ever realized how sad it was until recently. but it remains so beautiful to me, and although it is sad, it makes me feel light. i always have a slight smile with this song

Both Sides Now

by Joni Mitchell

Bows and flows of angel hair

and ice cream castles in the air

and feather canyons everywhere

i've looked at clouds that way

but now they only block the sun

they rain and they snow on everyone

so many things i would have done

but clouds got in my way

i've looked at clouds from both sides now

from up and down, and still somehow

it's cloud illusions i recall

i really don't know clouds at all

moons and Junes and ferris wheels

the dizzy dancing way you feel

as every fairy tale comes real

i've looked at love that way

but now it's just another show

you leave em laughing when you go

and if you care, don't let them know

don't give yourself away

i've looked at love from both sides now

from give and take, and still somehow

it's love's illusions i recall

i really don't know love at all

tears and fears and feeling proud

To say "i love you" right out loud

dreams and schemes and circus crowds

i've looked at life that way

oh but now old friends are acting strange

they shake their heads, they say i've changed

well something's lost, but somethings gained

in living every day

i've looked at life from both sides now

from win and lose, and still somehow

it's life's illusions i recall

i really don't know life at all

i've looked at life from both sides now

from up and down, and still somehow

it's life's illusions i recall

i really don't know life at all.

want

I think "want" is more powerful than "need"

Of course, there are those few things in our life that we actually need, such as food and shelter and water. Clearly, the pursuit of those items is more important than anything else we simply want.

But, in the realm of any relationship, i think want is much more than need.

the fact is that needs eventually get met. If you need me for some reason, eventually that reason will be gone, and then i will be useless. my function in your life having been served.

I try to make sure none of my relationships are based on the fact that I just need that person for something.

**(I am also trying to figure out what I think about the idea of actually needing anyone specific. I am undecided as to what I think. I know that we need people. As humans that is just true. But do we need specific people? it seems that should someone we think we "need" die, most people find a way to continue living. proving that we did not, in fact, need that specific person. But that sounds terrible to me. at the same time though, it also makes the whole "wanting" thing even more valuable. i don't know...anyway that is a topic for a different time. i got side tracked.)

But if you want me. That is entirely different. If you want me in your life because you have been getting to know me and you enjoy my company and you like who I am, well, that is something that can last. Eventually, you may then need me for something, and i will be more than happy to do everything in my power to help you, but once that need is met, you will still want me around. When i can do nothing for you, you will still like who I am.

Sometimes it does feel nice to feel "needed"; to fulfill a purpose in someone's life. I won't deny that. But to be wanted. that is much better to me.

be assured that if you are someone i share my life with it is because i want you there. And i trust my self to need you should something arise, but at the end of the day you are here because i want you. And i always will.

Focus

I had a conversation with you a while ago.

you were telling me about some girl you liked. or, at least had a crush on.

you said it was hard for you to focus because "When she is in the room, everything else is blurry"

For one moment I felt this stinging pang slice through me while I wished that anyone in the world felt like that about me. and to be quite honest, it still sounds a little desirable. There is something in that phrase that I just want.

and this phrase stuck in my head.

but I realized that while that is a lovely romantic notion and it makes me swoon and i think it belongs in a charming movie that will make me sigh and reach for the tissues, it is not actually what i want at all.

I don't want someone who can't see anything but me. I want someone who has perfect vision of everything in the room, and chooses me anyway. I don't want to blind someone to the rest of the world. I want my presence in it to make him more aware of everything surrounding him.

that is what i want. That is what living a life with someone means to me.

Anyway

Anyway.

I love this word.

at exactly the same time, it terrifies me.

I feel like I am constantly trying to learn how to live this word. How can I look at this world, or know what I know, or feel anything, or have been involved in my own life and be able to do anything "anyway"?

But I think the only way to actually have a life is to live by "anyway". To make anything out of the mess in this world I have to learn to be able to look at it and live in it and see it for what it is, and then I have to throw some of my constant rationalization and my perceived reality away... and trust anyway. and leap anyway. and risk anyway. and share anyway.

and love anyway.

with reckless abandon.

to live anyway.

anyway means being ready to feel and to hurt and to be absolutely breakable. To let things in.

most of the time, I don't live anyway. but sometimes, i do.

and the rest of the time i am learning how to figure it out.

pomegranates and people

I think some of the greatest evidence for the existence of God is found in the pomegranate. look at it. It is amazing. it is intricate and beautiful and delicious. God is a creative being. i certainly never could have thought of something so lovely and interesting. It is impossible for me to eat a pomegranate without having at least a few thoughts at the wonder of my God.

Now, when I am going to eat a pomegranate i like to do it like this:

First i set out many paper towels and make sure i have on an ugly shirt or an apron because pomegranate juice is serious. then i cut the pomegranate in half and i spend as long as it takes removing every seed from the rind and that mysterious yellow film-y stuff inside. I then wash all the seeds in very cold water and put them in a bowl. I love the way pomegranate seeds look sitting in a bowl. I think they look like treasure. to me they look like hundreds of rubies huddled together.

It does not take a great intellect to know that these seeds are not as valuable as rubies, but in that moment they mean a great deal to me. they may as well be treasure.

This is the way i think about my life. my experiences and memories. they are my pomegranate seeds. inside of me i have thousands of shimmering, crimson and burgundy thoughts and stories. To me they are treasure. They are as valuable and as important as rubies and when you remove them from me and put them in a bowl i still think they are lovely and make up something important.

that is why i appreciate you. Sometimes when i share with you i could swear that you look at the small pomegranate seed i put in your hand and you think it is a piece of treasure too. And even when you don't think of it as a ruby you still appreciate it. and you understand. and you don't look at me like i am crazy because i think a piece of fruit is as lovely as a gem.

two are better than one

In Genesis we are told about God's creation of the world. Cosmos and land and water and vegetation and animals and man, all created by a vast, interesting, loving God. Now in these days God and Adam (the first and only man) had a perfect kind of communion. The world was, as of yet, untouched by sin. God did things like talk to Adam and send him all the animals so Adam could name them and wander about in the beautiful Garden he created.

as i was looking over this passage in the scriptures it struck me that it was before sin had come into play and while God and Adam had this fantastic relationship that God said, "it is not good for man to be alone" and then he created eve to be a partner to Adam.

Wait one moment....It is not good for man to be alone? How was Adam alone? he was in perfect relationship with God.

this is what i find interesting. I think so often we think, "All i need is God" and that needing other people or wanting a partner is a part of the sinful nature of humanity and its effects on life on this earth, but it is not. No matter how fantastic any person's relationship with God is, it is still not good for him to be alone. In God's perfect creation of human beings we were supposed to be together and not alone. Desire for community and companionship is part of God's perfect plan, and not a consequence of humanity.

go away.

I am a nice person, but I hate dogs.

I don't particularly like any animals, actually.

today my roommates found a dog and they brought it home. i wish it would leave.

it makes me feel nervous and uncomfortable all the time. i never ever want a dog.

i wish i could magically become allergic. then people wouldn't glare at me when i tell them to get their dog away from me please.

forgive.

I had a week that was a little bit less than wonderful this week.

First of all there was a terrible misunderstanding and I thought that my dearest friend felt abused by me. it turned out to be all just a big mistake, but still, for those five or so hours i thought i had failed a friendship and that i had hurt someone i love and it made me feel miserable.

the relief i felt when i realized it wasn't true was immense. (i love you so very much rachell...)

however, in a twist of brutal irony, someone else who i love dearly accused me of the same sort of things three days later. for reals this time. She accused me of using her and betraying her for a year. She said she felt awkward around me and there wasn't really anything she could do and she was kind of over it. I didn't know what to say. i sat there and i couldn't make myself look anywhere but the knees of my jeans. i listened to my heart deflate.

I tried to tell her and show her that what she thought wasn't true. I hadn't used her words (and even now i can't think of a way they could have helped me get to what she thought i wanted), and i would never, ever do something like that. but, i probably didn't have the right words. it was hard for me to think.

At the end she said she was sorry and that it was a stupid assumption. and i told her that it was not just a stupid assumption to me. To me it was a very serious accusation about who she thought i was as a person. and it hurt me. it hurt me that she waited so long to say anything. it hurt me that she believed something without asking me, it hurt me that she thought a relationship i thought was valuable and so important was nothing but a lie. it just hurt me everywhere.

so then i left and i have been thinking about what i want to happen now. i wondered what she wanted to happen now. i got a note and a gift from her the other day. so maybe she still wants to be my friend. maybe she believes me now.

the question was, did i still want to be her friend. did i want to forgive her?

my reasoning, in the end, sounds very selfish, but somehow i do believe it is not. I decided i would forgive her. i love her and i want to be friends. I decided this because i was thinking that in my relationships i want to be able to mess up and i want to be allowed to be a human and maybe even hurt someone without the fear that they will abandon me. I want people to forgive me, because i know i will certainly need it, and that is the least i could offer to her.

but also, this means that i want friends who know me deeply. and i do think that i have those. One of the reasons i feel i can forgive her is that i know her. I know that she has a tendency towards a bit of jealousy. and i know how easily jealousy takes over and makes you believe things you don't actually believe. I know she didn't really think i was a horrible person the way she thought she did. and i would hope that if i ever had a similar situation with a friend they would know that i truly loved them, madly and deeply, and i had just allowed myself to believe the things that seemed appealing in the moment.

and so I forgive. because i know you, and because someday i will want to be forgiven and i will want you to think about what you know to be true about me. and forgive me.

riddle me this

I had a fun conversation tonight.

it was with you.

you told me I had standards that were unreachable and I showed you the error of your ways and i told you, "it is not like i am turning anybody away"

i guess i just give off some kind of vibe that tells people to keep their distance.

and then you went on to say, "well i don't know, ash. but let me tell you this. you are absolutely beautiful. you are fun and funny and smart and you have all your stuff together. You are a complete package. the only thing that keeps me from wanting to be with you is that I know our lives are going in completely different directions. you are definitely desirable. you just don't seem very dateable.....but you are really desirable. I think all the guys you think just don't see you, actually do see you and they just don't know how to approach you. you are very desirable"

interesting.

well then, riddle me this: how do i become more dateable???

i don't know.

but anyway. thanks for saying that. it was nice to hear.

if...

Things I would do if i was unendingly wealthy:

1. travel

2. have fresh flowers all over my house always

3. Buy very nice underwear from victoria's secret.

of course this is not a conclusive list of things i would do if i was unendingly wealthy. these are the selfish things. but they are still quite fun to think about...

:)

flower

A couple of weeks ago a friend of mine gave me a rose. I put it in a vase on my nightstand by my bed. over the next few days I watched it bloom into something beautiful and amazing. And it greeted me every morning and watched over me while I slept. and it reminded me of how much magic and beauty is in the world. and i felt a little better about life while i looked at that rose. and somehow it dried itself into the perfect formation when it died and now it sits on my shelf.

As i was lamenting the lack of my fresh flower i received another flower which i then gladly placed in the vase next to me. and when that one died, just by chance, it was the evening my mom came to see me in a show and she gave me another bouquet of flowers which lived by my bed.

but now those are dead and there is no more occasion for anyone to give me any flowers.

but i really love fresh flowers. i appreciate them a lot. Well done God. very well done.

Fall back.

This is a picture of a bit of my backyard at home in Colorado. it was taken by my mother. and i am a little in love with it. you can almost feel a warm breeze and smell the unmistakable scent of crisp air when you look at it.

How could anyone not enjoy the autumn?

yum.

I just ate approximately 6 otter pops in a row. orange, green, purple, blue, two reds. My mouth has no idea what color it should be. But is was DELICIOUS!

my love for otter pops is real and deep and true...

let's watch the rain

have you ever had one of those perfect conversation moments? The kind where it feel like you have left the real world and you exist to be just the two of you and you could say whatever you wanted and ask whatever question came into your head and you you would be completely honest and completely real and the person you were with was feeling the exact same way and you could both be completely who you were and let each other in to the secret places you don't let most people in that moment. and it is wonderful.

and then something happens. it gets too cold, or someone else walks in, or the restaurant closes, or....something gets in the way. and then you know that the moment is over and even if you keep talking and hanging out that magical space you existed in before is gone and you can't have it back tonight. and all you want in the world is to get it back because it made you feel like a whole, interesting, valuable person. but the time has passed.

I love those conversations. even despite the sinking feeling when they end. I am just glad they happen.

you are killin me, smalls...

You: hello beautiful.

Me: ...did i wake you up?

You: well, yes you did

Me: i'm sorry

You: its ok. I miss you.

Me: I really miss you too.

You: the next time i see you i am going to kiss you.

Me: no you're not

You: yes I am.

Me: no. you're not....you won't see me till Christmas.

You: yes I am. Would you be angry?

Me: would i be angry if you kissed me?

You: yeah.

Me: it doesn't matter what i'd be. you aren't going to.

You: ok. well you just think about it.

Me: alright. i will.

You: goodnight

Me: goodnight.

none for me, thanks

I don't want it. any of it.

to the best day...

My birthday was on October 7. And if you read my blog from a couple days ago you will know i was feeling like it wasn't important, but my view was radically changed. More people wished me happy birthday and did wonderful things than i ever expected. I felt truly appreciated and loved and i don't how another birthday will top it. it was wonderful and i am so thankful to everyone who was a part of it.

Better than fiction

I am in a fiction class this semester. I find it thoroughly entertaining and interesting, but i am having some trouble. I am a horrible fiction writer. And now i know for certain.

I just find myself liking to write the silly musings i write here on this blog far better. I feel like they are so much more truthful and sometimes i feel like they just write themselves. Perhaps it is just my selfish humanity that is much preferring to write about myself than anyone else, fiction or otherwise. This life is just so much more thrilling to me.

And there is one more problem i have noticed, all my stories are far too happy. I think my optimistic views about life creep in far too much and make every story sound like a stupid cliche. the thing is is that i still somehow believe in some kind of happy ending and that is the death of my fiction career. I can't make up situations about the way things actually are in life because i figure, "hey, while i am making stuff up, i might as well make it the way i think things should/or could be".

Damn.

SSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssssss........

There is a distinct noise a balloon makes when it deflates. If you close your eyes you can hear it. It is a soft hissing noise and if you think about it it can make your stomach feel like it is caving in. I feel a little like that. like everyday a little more of my air is escaping.

Sign creeper talked to me again tonight. I don't know why he keeps on trying. I have turned him down every single time, but everytime i feel a little worse about it. But I am not a nice person and the reason i feel worse everytime has very little to do with the fact that i might actually be hurting his feelings and more with the worry that now he is going to think i am truly a jerk and he will never try to talk to me again. Of course, i don't particularly enjoy it when he talks to me. I call him sign creeper for a reason. he makes me uncomfortable. i never miss our conversation, but it would be a lie to say there was not a part of me that feels good about the fact that time after time he has decided it is worth me rejecting him to ask me, one more time, if i want to be friends. It feels nice to be wanted. even just a little. even by sign creeper.

Of course, i have been completely honest. I have not led him on or misled him, because i think that is a horrible thing to do to a person. I shoot him down every time, and fairly bluntly. But once the conversation is over i wonder if that was finally the last time the little chatbox with his name on it will pop up on my facebook page. And i think how relieved i will be. And i also think about how somewhere deep down i hope it is not the last time. I wish for another chance to turn him down because that would mean i am still worth it. Pretty soon i wont be worth it anymore. I think he is finally getting the message, much to my delight and regret.

I am so ready to be wanted.

no one is ready to want me.

As anyone who is romantically lonely knows, your lonliness comes in waves, in seasons. There are times when you hardly notice the small empty place in your mind and heart, and then there are times when that small empty place feels like it is threatening to unhinge its mouth and swallow you whole. Sometimes it feels like the waves might just drag you out to sea. Right now i feel like i am trying to hang on to my life boat. But soon the storm will pass. the season will change. It won't be the day before my 22nd birthday and i won't be thinking about the fact that in 22 years the most men i have managed to interest is one sign creeper.

it will be a new day, and i will appreciate the new chill in the air and i will let it fill my bones and shock my senses and i will feel better and i will tie my life boat up on the shore again and i will wrap myself in a warm sweater and a scarf i made myself and i will enjoy my favorite season: the fall.

another day down.

It's my birthday tomorrow. I will be 22.

It's funny, because usually i love birthdays. I think they are fantastic and special and they should matter. I think people should make a big deal out of them and they should celebrate that their friends or family are there with them. And I should care about my friends birthdays and be glad they are in my life. Be glad they were born on this day however many years ago. You should feel important and wanted and cared about on your birthday. I love birthdays.

This year, however, my birthday is on a wednesday. Wednesdays in my life this semester are remarkably exhausting and flustering. and i am sadly beginning to realize, that for most people your birthday is just another day. it is something to write on your facebook wall and then forget about. No one else really cares about your birthday, and that is sad to me... my birthday is just another wednesday. But it is not to me. It is my birthday. I have now survived or squandered, or gifted, or lived twenty two years. And I will celebrate with me. despite the fact that it is wednesday

and i will remember to celebrate with you on your birthday, because if i know when your birthday is that means i am probably pretty glad you are here with me.

sniff.

I love perfume. My dad almost always gives me a bottle for my birthday or for christmas and it is one of my favorite things. I have a lovely little collection of scents these days....

I discovered, however, that I hate smelling like food. perfume or lipstick that smells (or tastes) like frosting, strawberry smoothie lotion, vanilla cupcake body mist, pear deoderant... i hate it all. I don't mind when other people smell like this. I just hate to smell like food.

just a little weird thing about me...

solitude.

One evening in high school during our annual missions trip to mexico a whole group of us sat around our camp on the beach and listened as one of our chaperones gave us a devotion. The devotion was about silence. He talked about this book that had been written by a monk who took a vow of silence and he then asked us to do a funny thing. He asked us to name our silence. We then went around and some of us said where it is that we find our silence or what we named it. I didn't say anything at the time.

this idea is one that has remained in my head until this day, and four years later it is still something i think about fairly often. especially in the days immediately following the devotion i spent a long time trying to figure out what my silence meant to me. what would i name it?

i finally settled on discovery. that is what i named my silence.

I named it that because my silence is reflective. It is ponderous and my mind is anything but quiet in my silence. I learn things, i discover things in my silence. I discover things about myself and things about others and things about life in general.

For me the idea of silence and solitude go together. Solitude is something i have come to treasure greatly in the last few years. I need it. daily. I need time to be completely alone with my silence. time to discover. time to grow.

i have previously mentioned the poet rilke in other blogs, but i love what he has to say about solitude. here are a few quotes:

"It is Good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be a reason the more for us to do it"

"I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each protects the solitude of the other"

"Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect, and touch, and greet eachother"

"Love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. your solitude will be a support and a home for you"

"Solitude is nothing one can choose or refrain from. we are solitary. we can delude ourselves about this and act as if it were not true. that is all."

I love that he acknowledges that sometimes solitude is hard and it hurts and you might discover things you didn't really want to. you might have to face yourself. you might feel lonely or scared, but that is all the more reason to do it. As humans we need solitude. we need to find our own thoughts and we can comfort ourselves in our solitude and our silence.

Secondly I love that he says that love is when two solitudes protect eachother. they even touch, but they remain their own. they are protected, they are their own. We must give the people we love space to figure themselves out for themselves alone. Give them a solitude. let them name their silence.

i think you have to know your silence to be able to share it at all.....

blog.

Why do I blog? why do i have this blog? why did i make it? what purpose does it serve?

there are 3 people who read it. Why not just write in my journal or some other private place?

I don't know. I was trying to figure this out and i just don't know. I don't know why the fact that some stranger could find this (though i have no idea how) is somehow important....I guess i just like knowing that this piece of me is out there and maybe it could mean something to someone else. It probably doesn't....but it could. Could is a powerful word.

be still

i have been noticing this funny thing we humans do. we try to "outlove" eachother. Sometimes it is just over something silly like a song or a tv show and we stand there in a circle and we try to convince the other people that we are the one single person who loves this specific thing the most because we have listened to that song thirty times a day or watched that tv show so many times we can quote it back verbatim. Of course other times we try to outlove other grander things. most specifically, other people.

I hate this.

then of course i was thinking about the things and people i love. i don't want to have to stand in a circle and prove to others how much i love them. I want to be still and be quiet and know the power of my own love even when it is silent to anyone else. My love of you does not need to be proven to anyone else. it does not need to be greater than anyone else's love. It just needs to be evident to you and it needs to be the best i can give. it is mine and it is for you. I don't care how much anyone else loves you because i know how much i love you. and i hope you know too. and that is enough. perhaps a quiet and confident love that does not need to prove itself to anyone is the most powerful of all...

untitled.

confession:

when i try to think of the reasons why i may or may not be a good person one of the first things that springs to my mind in the "yes i just might be a good person" column is the fact that i always put my shopping cart back back in the shopping cart receptacle when i am through using it, instead of simply leaving it in the parking lot....

....bad sign???.....

scream

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH.

wouldn't it be nice if we all let out our screams once in a while....

"The Friend Box"

I was thinking about many things today. I was thinking about something a friend of mine said in a letter to me this summer about how i know how to make her feel better because i replace the broken pieces of her heart with pieces of my own heart. I think this is a really wonderful picture of what friends can do for each other. we can heal each other but we have to be willing to share bits of ourself and trust they will be replenished in return should we ever need them.

i was also thinking about this dreadful habit i have of trying to give these pieces of myself to people who either don't want or don't deserve them...that never works out very well. anyway, from these thoughts came this (slightly morbid and depressing) story. i am sorry it is remarkably poorly written. eesh. but it is just what fell out of my head at 2 am. anyway, here it is...

"The Friend Box"

once there was a girl. She was like most other girls; nothing extraordinary, not someone who turned heads or would stand out in a crowd, But this girl had a friend. it was a new friend, but it was someone who she thought she could be there for, and one day when her friend was feeling down she cut off a lock of her hair and put it in a box which she then gave to him and she said, "here. this is something soft to comfort you when you feel sad".

He took the box from her hands and thanked her.

On another occasion her friend was feeling lost, so she cut off her index finger and put it in the box and said, "here. this is for when you have lost your way and need some direction".

he took the box and thanked her.

still the next time she saw this friend he was feeling blinded so she carefully removed one of her eyes and put it in the box then she gave it to her friend saying, "here. this is for when you can't see and you need another viewpoint"

he took the box and thanked her.

and yet, the next time she saw him he was feeling insignificant, so she cut off her ear and put it in the box saying, "here. this is so you know someone is always listening to you"

he took the box and thanked her.

and the next time she visited him he was lonely so she cut out a piece of her heart and she put it in the box and said, 'here. this is so you always know that no matter what happens you are loved".

he took the box and he thanked her.

after visiting this friend so many times the girl had begun to become weak and the next time she saw him she said, "i care for you so much that i have given you all these pieces of me to help you along and i suppose i hoped that after i gave you enough pieces the box would weigh enough to matter and you would realize that in order for both of us to thrive you would have to share pieces of yourself so that my hair would be full, and i would have all ten fingers to point my direction, and i could see clearly, and hear the music in the world, and my heart would be whole because you would have filled the empty space with a piece of your own"

the boy said nothing. and he silently rose from his seat and walked to his room where there lay on his shelf a neat collection of boxes from various other friends who had offered up pieces of themselves. all of them remained sealed and unused. he retrieved the box the girl had filled up and returned all of her pieces without a word.

grasp.

it has been nearly the entire month of august and i haven't posted any blogs...not that anyone would notice...but i don't like it. i was thinking to myself about the reason i haven't written anything and i came to some conclusions. first of all, besides the blogs about random things i appreciated that day or silly things i like, i generally blog about things that have been on my mind for awhile, things i have spent time thinking about and figuring out and making opinions on. I don't like to mindlessly say things and i like to have reasons for what i am thinking. but why nothing this month? my mind has been just as active and thoughtful. as someone told me today, "you think a lot", and yes i certainly do, probably more than one should...but as of late i feel like i can't grasp my own thoughts. i feel like there are so many bounding about in my head and ricocheting around in my mind that i can't slow any of them down to identify or analyze them. they slip right through my grasp and they land just beyond my reach. Sometimes for a brief moment i will catch one and i will think, "yes, i have some things to say about that. i think i shall blog about it" but of course once the time has come to sit down and gather the thoughts together i have forgotten what i was thinking about in the first place and that beautiful, silvery thought that was mine alone has now floated away again to somewhere only i can find it, but i have lost the map.

urgh.

i am here everyday and we do nothing. you are leaving. i am sorry you feel sad i will be seeing other people before i leave myself, but like i said, i am here everyday. you are the one who is leaving for two weeks. if hanging out with me is so important...why don't you ever do it? and why are you making me feel guilty for having plans? how many days have i said, "hey lets do something?" and how many times have you said "yes"?

thats what i thought.

Thimble

Today my parents returned from a short trip. My mother and I were sitting in the living room and my mom looked up, smiled, and said to me, "your dad has something for you." Now, as souvenirs go my dad does not have the best track record....i have certainly received some jewelry of questionable taste over the years; but none of that really mattered because it was from my dad.

I could fill a million pages with how much I love my dad... he is why i am who i am.

anyway, i stood up and went over to my dad who was exiting his study and walked over to him grinning a playful grin which he matched when he looked at me. He then reached out and handed me two small balled up rolls of white gift wrap tissue. I took them and started to unravel one. i unraveled and unraveled and unraveled. I teasingly paused and glanced up at my dad saying, "is there anything in here...?". "keep going" he assured me. When i finally got to the bottom i opened a small silver thimble with a picture of the homestead on it. The homestead is the hotel my mom and dad had just stayed in on their vacation. my mother and father and i all started giggling and we continued to giggle as i unwrapped the next ball of tissue to find ...ANOTHER thimble. this one was slightly larger and white ceramic with a picture of a mountain and "utah" emblazoned over the top. We all burst out laughing and i hugged my dad and thanked him. My mom said, "i tried to get him to only buy one, but he had to buy them both!" he hugged me back gave me a kiss on the cheek and gently poked my sides to tickle me.

now, this is the very best part. Why is it you think my dad returned from this vacation bearing not one, but two thimbles for me? ....because i was "knitting". In actuality i was crocheting. and even more importantly neither one of those activities requires a thimble or runs the risk of being pricked by a needle.

"why is this the best part?" one might wonder. i will tell you. it is the best part because it means that my dad paid such close attention to me to notice that i was sitting in the living room "knitting" as we watched tv. it means he listened as i mentioned in passing that i was going to need more yarn. it means he was interested in what i was doing. it means he wanted to help me. It means he cares that i don't prick my fingers. It means he loves me.

That is why i now think a thimble just might be one of the greatest gifts...

You'll see the sun come shining through if you just smile...

Today you made me smile. and the smile bubbled up from deep inside my belly all the way out the tips of my hair. If felt refreshing and at the same time...somehow expected. but it was still surprising. and it planted a smile on these lips. thank you.

OOOOh, AHHHH, OHHHHH...

I really do love the 4th of July.

My favorite part is going to go see the fireworks.

fireworks are magical.

My whole family packs up blankets and drives over to louisville and we always get there too late to park anywhere near where the fireworks are so we all lug our blankets and chairs a good half mile to get to the park. then we must of course find the perfect spot amidst all the other celebrators and once we do we lay down the blankets and all of us huddle together and listen to the band play while we wait for the light to drip from the sky before the spectacle begins.

it is just one of the most wonderful feelings ever.

happy fourth of July

A little poetry on a Saturday.

I love this poem. It is by a German Poet. Rainer Maria Rilke. I love a lot of what he has to say actually...about seeing people and solitude and love and art and life. anyway...

"Love Song"

How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together like a violin's bow,
which draws one voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.

Thanks For Being My Balloons

Thanks for being my Balloons. I know that you have no idea you are being my balloons right now, but you are. you are making me feel lifted and you aren't even trying. We make a funny pair you and me. We are so different but somehow we make sense. if you weren't in my life i would be different. you challenge me and you make me consider even silly (yet interesting) things, like, "how many of the people out there in the world that i could be happy with speak english?". I know you really care about me and you respect my opinion on things. You make me feel smart and interesting and like i could give something valuable to the world. and i appreciate that. You have listened to me complain about boys and i have heard all your girl stories. you make me laugh, you gross me out, and you humiliate me sometimes...but i always, always have fun with you. and i love you so much.

the other day we were talking and you stopped whatever silliness we were chatting about and, in that serious, "i mean what i am about to say" voice you said, "you are absolutely beautiful" and in that moment i got so close to tears. it was embarrassing. and then of course you said something utterly ridiculous but it didn't matter, you had already made my day.

and also, you call me every single day. i love that. even when we only talk for two minutes it means so much to me that you thought of me and you called. you are interested in my stupid everyday life and that is rare. you are someone in my life who truly truly makes me feel loved. and i hope you know how much i truly truly love you.

thank you. thank you for being my balloons.

crack

yesterday i felt the crack in my heart with your name on it grow just a little deeper. it hurt. Everytime you do this it gets deeper and deeper and i wonder how many more times it will take before you cut all the way through and just break it.

And by now all i can do is is wonder how many times i am going to fight for something you won't. how many times am i going to lose all my pride and beg you to be with me? how long until you grow up? how long till i matter at all? of course, i know somewhere in me that i am never going to stop fighting for you. i love you too damn much. i know cause i love you more than you love me.

i almost started crying last night when i found out there was another battle to be had and i didn't even know it was coming. i didn't cry because i wasn't alone, but i felt my eyes sting in that all too familiar way. you know the what the worst part was? it was the part where you gave up. the part where you said, "i have accepted it". that crushed me.

and I am sorry i hurt you. I didn't even know i did. I still wouldn't if it hadn't been for someone else. after all this time you can't bring yourself to talk to me? I must not be a very good friend to you, and i apologize for that.

today, you sent me a message. it didn't say anything about how you feel. but, it was something. and it was you reaching out a little. it was you fighting just a little bit...and it made me feel like that crack with your name on it started to heal just a little.

thank you.

please don't give up ever. fight for our friendship. it matters. i know it does.

why would you want a cloudless sky?

Recently I am in to cloud watching. Clouds in Colorado are different than clouds in california. Here clouds are monstrous and billowing. I am fairly certain there are not only shapes in the clouds but entire stories, entire worlds mapped out up there. And really it almost takes your breath away. When i was a kid i always wished i could play up there in the clouds. I wanted to jump around on them like a trampoline and snuggle myself up in them like the worlds most gigantic pillow (which actually must be something that exists...and i would be very interested in it). I wanted to play hide and seek in them and grow old there. There is magic up there in the clouds. when the light hits them just right. Some part of me feels like the clouds are home in a way. and the truth of the matter is that i still want to play in them.

people who need people are the luckiest people

people are so very important. life is people.

...

it bothers me just a little every time i come to my blog and see that the picture at the top does not fit in the frame the layout gives it! but...i really like the picture...

thoughts on your thought.

if nothing ever pulled our attention away from everything we would know nothing at all.

it is not that we have forgotten "everything". we have just noticed something.

great expectations.

People are very rarely what you expect them to be.

most of the time they are better.

sometimes they are worse...

sometimes you knew someone and you wonder how they ended up the way they did.

and it breaks your heart a little because you knew how brilliant and clever this person was, and how much opportunity they should have had.

But sometimes people surprise you. and thats the thing about people. thats what makes them great.

Float

Do you know what is remarkable? The way blowing bubbles can calm and cheer you at least a little bit, no matter what has gone wrong.

The world will always envy lovers...as time goes by

To tell you the truth I thought it would be easier to be kissed...

as of today, june 22, 2009, it has been 21 years, 8 months, and 15 days. I am still waiting.

In the film "little Women" Amy says, "I have waited my whole life to be kissed, and what if i miss it?" I often feel that way.

Part of me is worried that I will miss it because I am too afraid. Afraid of kissing the wrong person or afraid of what it would mean to kiss someone. Not to mention, now that it has been so long I have built this kiss up a lot in my head and I want it to mean something. I think people have lost the value of such important romantic things...like holding hands. or kissing. To so many people a kiss is not very valuable. it is something they give away to people who are nearly strangers. But that is not the way it is for me. As corny and silly as it sounds when i say it out loud, or write it down as the case may be now, I think a kiss is valuable. I think it is being vulnerable and giving away a part of yourself. I never want to be someone people can say, "who hasn't made out with her?" (A phrase I heard used the other day about one of my dear friends.) I want whoever the man may be that i let kiss me to know I am not doing it simply because I appreciate the meal he purchased me or because I think he is so attractive I just can't help myself, but instead because he means something to me and I care enough about this kiss that I will never regret it and I will remember, no matter what happens, who he is and why I gave a little bit of myself to him.

another reason i am worried i will miss it is the reason that makes me hate myself just a little bit (which is more than enough) for even acknowledging. i am afraid no one will ever want to kiss me. There is a small but powerful part of me that refuses to believe this, but the thought creeps up on me more steadily as time goes on because the truth of the matter is that I have no reasonable evidence to show that anyone ever will want me. No one has yet. How old do you think the average person is when they get their first kiss? i have a hunch it is a long time before they reach 22. My Gosh...i am going to graduate college and never even held someone's hand.

I wish I knew what it was that made someone like someone else. Or the reason no one has liked me. But I am not like other girls who would change themselves or pretend to be something they aren't. The fact of the matter is that i like who i am. I know what I want, and what i believe, and who i am. And I am very independent. I learned to be that way. I like that. I am happy. I like knowing that i can do it on my own...but that doesn't mean that is the way i would choose it to be.

i already hate this blog. it makes me feel like every other man-crazy girl i hate. but that doesn't make it any less true.

Stir CrAzY...

I am going insane. I have absolutely nothing to do. I hate that. I hate that I sleep until after noon. I need stuff to do. I need to have some adventures. I need to be busy. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

the end.

a case of the empties

"Sometimes someone says something really small and it just fits into this empty place in your heart." My So-Called-Life

I read this the other day, and then i couldn't get it out of my head. I feel like in some way i need this. I don't even know what the empty place is or why its there, but i am suddenly aware of it.
I guess i am just waiting for the something small...
it will come. i know it.

Up Up and Away

This is a movie that makes you realize the beauty of your life and what it can be if you let it. Go see it. it is beautiful.

to be...

sometimes I wish I thought just a little less. just a little mind you, but still.
sometimes I wish I thought a little less, and lived a little more.

The Long and Winding Road

Tomorrow is the beginning of my road trip. I am so excited. I am trying to be cooler than being this excited about it.....but I am just really not that cool. everytime i think about it i can't push the silly smile off my lips.
SO FLIPPIN EXCITED!

and on that note, one of my very best friends in this world gave me the greatest gift the other day. She made me a road book of all sorts of exciting adventures to have and questions to ask my road trip partner and just general wonderfulness. It is beautiful and my thanks are far insufficient. There aren't words to describe how overwhelmed i am by the gesture. i keep saying that this gift is like something you just always wish someone would make for you, and now I have it. and it is surreal. and To you my dear friend who made this for me, you are a wonderful friend and from the very deepest part of my heart thank you for the book and for everything else.

Love Letter

I think the world needs more love letters. Handwritten. A piece of your heart on paper for someone else. They should be written for no particular reason except to tell that person how much you love them. They need not be eloquent or romantic, just true and honest.
I received a love letter last night, it was from a friend.
and now the world just seems a little brighter and should it ever start to dim again i will just go back and read the lines and see the handwriting and know that I am loved.
the world needs more love letters...and i can help with that.