Fuzzy Feelings and Blurry Pictures

Yesterday was a magical day all around. A warm February day, warm enough for me to wear shorts comfortably, I did some homework outside, my time at the gym felt incredible, I painted (!!!), did some yoga with Alex, and had an unexpected visitor (yes, the one I write about all the time). I was up for an adventure, and he was willing.

We spent the night as we usually do when we’re together – curled around each other, sprinkling kisses on each others’ skin, and laughing every step in between. I love the pattern we’ve fallen into, remaining independent, but coming together for special moments alone.

There were many moments I appreciated, but I think my favorite was I had turned over to finally go to bed, and he grasped my face, turned it toward him, kissed me, and said goodnight. An easy way to send me into some sweet dreams (though I can’t remember any because he kept me up with his snoring…).

The moments continued into the morning, wrapped around each other, him exploring his new surroundings for the first time. We rustled the sheets (sensually and otherwise) into the late morning. He was drifting off again, my head on his chest, his hand finding mine, when I told him we needed to get up and go to lunch if I was ever going to allow him to leave.

(Realistically, he needed to go home and enjoy a day off with his dog for once, and there was a lot of affectionate cuddling that depicted how neither of us wanted him to leave, so we had to spend as much time on each others’ skin as possible)

After lunch, I drove him back home, his hand finding my leg or my free hand (“mine,” he said) as he drifted back off to sleep on such a gorgeous day. I reminisced about how I loved sticking my head out of the car window when I was younger because damn is that wind exhilarating! Something that fueled my love for amusement parks.

It was a short goodbye and a “see you in a few weeks”, and for some reason it was really hard for me. I wanted nothing more than to stay in Middletown, go hiking, spend the afternoon with him, curl up on the couch after such a nice lunch and just continue the cuddling. I’ve grown to love being independent and having my alone time, and maybe it’s because I’ve been single for so long, so I’m hoping that slipping into any kind of relationship, titled or otherwise, doesn’t also send me back to being a more dependent person.

Anyways, it’s hard not to enjoy the days growing warmer (at least for the moment), and the feel of nature and fresh air on my skin is absolutely addicting. It reminds me of endlessly playing outside when I was younger, fresh air, a thin layer of dirt and sweat that clued you in to the fact that you just had an amazing day connecting to your friends in the presence of nature. With Phoebe and I going on our backpacking trip (July 5th!!), I can’t wait to douse myself in that feeling for two whole weeks. I really think it’s going to do my soul good.

Unfortunately, I can’t seem to focus on my schoolwork due to the beautiful weather. I just want to sit outside, but College Park isn’t really conducive for just sitting and relaxing in nature (another reason I think it was so hard to leave my little mountain town today). Thank god I’m in my last semester, otherwise I don’t think I could make it.

I’m not even sure I want a white-collar job. I can’t see myself waking up for the morning commute, sitting in a little office, staring at the road in boredom while sitting in traffic on the way home, and doing it every day while trying to have a life and family outside of it. I personally have always loved blue-collar work (and workers). People that aren’t afraid to get dirty, people that are good with their hands, people that are fun! They don’t have to take work home with them, stress about the next project. They leave work at work, throw back some beers with friends, unwind, have a good time with each other! That’s what I want to do, and going to college may have been a mistake as far as that goes for me. Maybe in the future I will find a mix between my degree and what I do with my life. As with most Americans, I just don’t want to feel like my job is useless. But I do also want to keep bread on the table, while at the same time pursuing my interests and hobbies.

Clearly I’ve been itching to get out there and explore more of the world and of myself. I’m so close to that freedom! Life is good! Even sad emotions are signs that you are feeling and interpreting the world around you. Love that energy, embrace it. It makes the world better.



Remember that life isn’t always about the clear pictures. An honest, true, lovable life has blurry pictures that sometimes are more important. This one just happens to feature some of my favorite people in my life.


Chirping Birds and Sunday Mornings

My eyes are heavy with sleep and dried mascara. This morning I woke up to your snores, shoved off to the side of the bed, shoulder to shoulder with you, fighting your dog for space on the bed.

I was groggy, as is usually the case when I stay at your house, but a small smile twitched to life on my lips. I closed my eyes again and rolled over, lulled back to sleep until the sun breathed life into the room, slipping over us like an added blanket. You rolled over to me – not far, since I had a tiny portion of the bed, and you held me close, falling back to sleep yourself with me as your security blanket. Your ease melted into your breaths, my mind too aware of your consciousness to drift off itself.

You shifted, I followed, I moved, you held on to me, an endless swaddling of each others’ comfort, magnetic skin melded together.

As we began to wake, we murmured to each other, gently warming up our voices. Murmurs turned into kisses, eyes closed, finding a forehead, a neck, a cheek, a shoulder. Skin was salty and plentiful, our clothes on the floor like forgotten present wrappings. And I nuzzled into you and you smiled, your eyes shining brighter than I had seen in months, since the night your drunk eyes ogled me in your clothes. And you kissed my forehead in appreciation.

As the morning drew on, our murmurs grew louder and the sheets became more rustled, limbs twining and tangling together with kisses, tickles, and loud smacks. Eyes alight, smiles bright, and laughter so lighthearted we might as well have been flying.

You’d climb on top of me, bearing your weight on me in calm, like a massage against my skin. I’d try to get out of bed and you’d pull me back down, back to you. And when I conceded, which didn’t take much more convincing than your manhandling, we were pressed against each other, belly to belly, your hand gently grazing my back. I opened my eyes, found skin to kiss, and pulled back to look at you. You opened your stunning eyes, and I told you how distracting they were the night before (and always). You, who rarely accepts compliments without fighting them, smiled and stared because you didn’t know what to say. Your lips demonstrated all that you couldn’t say.

The morning’s tranquil energy turned fun and flirtatious, and I didn’t want to leave. I said I’d leave if you got up, and you promised you’d stay there forever, pulling me into a cheesy, be-proud-of-me-I-said-something-cute hug.

I rubbed your back, lulling you back into a sleepy daze, and memories of the year before spun through my head; I had been here before and I longed to be back there.

As I laid there with you, I thought to myself what a wonderful Sunday morning, and why can’t it always be like this.