Bloody Bags and Muddy Shoes

You are the gentle thumb sweeping across the back of my hand.

You are clutching my fingers in your hand, the reassuring squeeze.

The goosebumps of a warm rain on a cold night.

You are emanating love.

* * *

It was a strange and beautiful weekend. I learned you didn’t think too much of yourself, that you really were scared because of what girls had done to you in the past. My hurt hurt. You need to know what I think of you, drunk and sober. The kindest I had ever met. The most beautiful soul to experience. I want to love your pieces back together.

You must have hit your head pretty hard because you told me you love me.

I was running around, wishing for clones as I searched for your dog, searched for a bag of ice, searched Google about head injuries. 

I borrowed your clothes, a simple “this is what I want” smile crossing your face. Like you’d found peace you didn’t know I could give you. Like everything was as it should be, with a bandage on your bleeding skull and a beautiful girl in your baggy clothes.

Cleaning your wound, purging my own. I didn’t sleep a wink, and I’m glad you woke up. Though you should’ve let me take you to the ER. 

You were appreciative the next day. You called me your little nurse, and I couldn’t help but smile.

You wore a horrible suit for a themed party and you loved it, exclaiming “I’m getting married in this!” Tina turned to me and said “don’t marry him if he wears that.” I blushed because she thought it would happen, like she knew his love for me. 

Appreciative, apologetic kisses tickled me all the way home. I slept.

The Only Path is the One You Follow

Spring break is almost here! I know it’s going to fly by, as I’m planning on working 7 out of the 9 days I’m home and generally have fun stuff planned the other days I’m home. Hopefully I’ll find time to hike and get a little more realistic incline in.

So, I have an interesting “problem” I guess. More of a thought and situation. Have you ever loved someone but wanted them to go back to their first love? My love interest used to date this incredible girl. I hated working with her because she was so bossy, but the more I read her blog, learned of her personality, saw more of her heart and mind, the more I liked her. She’s beautifully artistic and she radiates confidence. Things turned messy for them, and they ended things on not-so-great terms, meaning whenever she makes her way back to our little town, her old place of work, the bartenders will warn him he won’t want to mingle tonight. The last time they were in the same building, he finished his food and left without a second thought, didn’t even come out for drinks with everyone that night to get his mind off things.

I know he was really hurt by her, more than I think he has ever let on. I have heard him talk about her, both in admiration and in bitterness. They are both such beautiful souls that I’m not sure he will ever love anyone as much as he loved her. What stuns me is that I’m not jealous when he talks about her, but I genuinely feel sorry for him. I want them to be together, even though I have such strong feelings for him. Even when I ask the universe for him, I want him to be with her because I think they could be the greatest love story, so passionate and pure. High school sweethearts, best friends, both fiercely independent but with gentle love for each other. It’s beautiful to me – I have so much respect for it. Which is weird right? I’ve asked the universe for this man! Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should ask for his happiness and see where it leads him. Maybe I’m just a sucker for a good love story.

Maybe I know how he feels. Because who doesn’t wonder what could have been?

Another thought I’ve been wrestling with constantly is my relationship with my best friend, and I think I’ve expressed it before so I’ll keep it short. Shouldn’t you be in love with your best friend? The one you’ve known since high school, the one where you can mutually tell each other everything, you’ve met each others’ families and it’s not strange to just spend all day together doing nothing and still having  a good time. I want nothing more than to love him, and I know so many people that agree and want to see us together. But there’s something in me that just can’t picture it, and I wish I knew what it was. But shouldn’t I listen to that gut feeling now? Before it’s 20 years down the road and I’m regretting not branching out in my life?

If you had the chance, would you want to know your future? I think I believe in some kind of predestination. It’s the least anxiety-inducing method of looking at the future. Everything is as it should be. Whatever happens, it is for a reason. I think I had to adopt that method, because the pathways were just too expansive for me to think about all of them, about every person I could be.

I actually remember that moment that I settled on predestination. I was hiking by myself, I think in Gambrill. My sister had recently been going through some of her anxious/depressive thoughts, and she shared with me that sometimes she felt overwhelmed by all the choices she could make in her life and all of the paths down which she could go. And I told her that I shared those same anxieties sometimes.

I remember when I was choosing which college to attend, I was like this decision is going to decide my life. And in many ways, it does. But I was worried that I would choose the wrong college and somehow miss out on meeting my future husband. Which is crazy for an 18-year-old to be worried about. (Although maybe I was right since, ya know, still single).

But on that hike, as I followed that beaten path, the one forged by so many others before me, set up by the parks’ services, I realized there is only one path in life. You can take many directions, you still have the chance to choose. But what if choosing is an illusion? What if your path is already predetermined, that everything is already aligned for you, all you have to do is follow?

I was very relaxed then, like I had just figured out life. All of my anxious thoughts were put to rest. It’s very easy when you think “what I am doing is what is supposed to happen.” That the universe is constantly guiding me in the right direction. It helps me have faith in my decisions, but I still don’t make choices blindly (not all of them anyway).

Anyway, here’s to love and other drugs.

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Wishes to the Universe

Had a wonderful and spontaneous night at home in order to see my best friend. It involved copious amounts of tequila and the perfect amount of french toast. Our hungover asses sat in his hot tub on a freezing day, fully bloated from the previous night, discussing life, praising the mountains, and feeling grateful for our town. I did, anyway.

As I’ve said, as it gets closer to graduation, I find it harder and harder to leave my little town behind. My heart yearns for the mountains, and I’m always so awestruck when I can catch the colors of the sun setting over the mountains or between the trees. I can’t tell you the number of times my gaze has left the road a dangerously long time just because I’m trying to enjoy the beauty of the sunset. I’ll say it here, if I ever die in a crash because I was watching the sun set, at least the last thing I saw was something I loved.

Morbid… Anyways.

Yesterday I stayed in town long enough to greet my parents after they had finally gotten home from their cruise. As I waited for them to call me, I laid down in bed, trying to close my eyes since I was running on a mere four hours of sleep from the night before (still went to the gym, proud of myself for that!). But I couldn’t close my eyes. My room was too beautiful. A light, happy, peaceful yellow, filled with a similar relaxing sunlight drifting in through the open blinds. I cuddled the pillow next to me, staring at the beauty that my windows framed, that my blinds teased. I wish staring at the sun wasn’t bad for your eyes. I’m not sure I’d ever look away.

I love to linger in those peaceful moments. I want to be able to just share that serenity with someone else, for them to understand my love for a beautiful sky.

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I told Ryan how excited I was to spend a few weeks out in the mountains, just me and Phoebe, someone else who appreciates nature and namaste-ing as much as I do – if not more. It really just made me more excited to think about being outdoors for days on end, not caring how dirty I get, not trying to impress anyone. Just me and her soaking up the wilderness.

Also, side note, I think I’m getting slightly better at yoga. It doesn’t seem like as much of a chore to do downward dog anymore. Part of it might be because it’s nice that my roommate enjoys it as much as I do, so she helps motivate me. She does, however, also motivate me to eat cookies all the time, so I’m trying to work on my will power here.

At the same time, yoga has also allowed me to see how much I need improvement, especially in my mobility. I’m hoping it opens up my hips, but even just side body stretches can be ludicrously difficult sometimes. It reminds me of when Mom makes me her physical therapy guinea pig and I realize I can’t hold poses/postures that are seemingly simple. Like sure I can squat a decent amount of weight, but can I lift my leg while keeping my core tight and hips level? Way harder than I thought.

I had a scary revelation yesterday. Mary texted me asking where I had slept the night before (she knows my drunken habits – I giggled), and I truthfully said that I had slept in my own bed that night, and then we had a short conversation about my love interest where she brought up how it’s been a long time of us being on and off and how he needs to get his act together (preachin to the choir, girl). And I realized that this on again off again thing has been the second longest “relationship” I’ve been in…

I officially dated Chad for a little over two years, I officially dated Adam for maybe a year and one or two weeks. Connor and I were on again off again for maybe four months. But this current one has been a year and three months. I’ve been battling with him and our feelings for each other for longer than I was with someone I had considered moving in with, someone I had considered marrying. It was a weird little revelation.

I doubt he reads my blogs, so I have no qualms speaking freely about it on here: I just haven’t been able to get him out of my head. Sometimes I struggle with it, especially the first time he grew distant. I wanted to be hurt and say “screw you” and never talk about it again. Easier said than done when you see him every time you go home and he’s there in the kitchen of your place of work. And he’s been there longer than you so you can’t be any kind of territorial over your workplace. Some days are easier than others, but that’s usually when I’ve been away at school for a few weeks and we haven’t spoken anyway.

You’d think that with all the back-and-forth, I’d be sick of it and just be done. Part of me wants to be done, sometimes I say with confidence that I am. And then I come back home and fall right back into it because there’s something about him that’s irresistible to me. He has such a good heart, the kind of person that doesn’t like to say anything bad about anybody, and he’ll usually correct himself if it has any kind of mean edge to it. He’s all about enjoying life, though I wish he’d do more with it. But who am I to judge.

There’s some part of me that just wants him. And I haven’t been able to explain to anybody, even myself. I’ve asked so many of my older friends for advice, something I rarely do, and they’ve helped me talk through my feelings, how there’s no reason for me to be as hung up on him as I have been. But I’ve never been able to put my finger on it.

So maybe someday we’ll give it a shot. Maybe I’ll be hung up on him until I move to another state, though the thought of never seeing him again makes me sad. Maybe I’ll be hung up on him forever. Some days I imagine (guiltily) that I’ve moved to North Carolina where I’ve met a nice man, but that I come home to Middletown and rekindle something with him. I want to give things a shot, almost as if it’s unfinished business. That it needs to run its course before I can give it up. But then again, I’ve never really been the one to give things up first, unless, sadly, my foot was safely planted in another canoe (I’m still sorry).

I have worried that I seem to be turning down guys because he still holds the higher pedestal in my heart. He’s the one I drunk call most often. I hope to not close myself off to the possibility of other, perhaps better suitors just because I’m hung up on him.

Some days I just ask the universe for him. And weirdly enough he seems to be headed in the right direction. So I guess we’ll see what happens. Maybe one day I’ll reread this and laugh that I was so attached to him, maybe one day I’ll read this to him. Who knows.

As the sirens screech down Route 1, I can’t help but crave the utter silence of my bedroom back home. So I need to go to bed, as I’m still recovering from the four hours of sleep night I had so recently. Life is great, isn’t it?

Peace

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Bartops, Grief, and Good Karma

All I want is to be at the Main Cup tomorrow night for jazz night. Recently I’ve been listening to a lot of Joe Bonamassa, and it just makes me want to go sit in on some live music that doesn’t require jumping, headbanging, or trying to impress anyone with my dancing. I just want to drink a beer and chat with people while listening to good music. And, funny enough, as much as I hated working jazz nights before, some of my more profound, appreciative-of-life moments happen on jazz nights as the music settles down.

Imagine this: you’re finally off your feet after a few hours of non-stop going, you slide into that tall chair, slough the bag off your shoulder, and one of your coworkers gives you your drink for free. The bartenders are very appreciative of the work you do, they give you a smile, try to make sure you’re okay and not exhausted, even though they still have another hour or so of work ahead of them. You have a sip of your drink, pull out your phone, and start to relax. In the background, the guitar is vibing to the constant rhythm of the drums, and you find yourself absentmindedly tapping your feet against the bar’s footrest. You look up, glance around at the buzz around you, the old regulars laughing, most of them already drunk, none of them paying attention to you (and you prefer it that way most of the time). The lights are a soothing yellow, Christmas lights still dangling from the beams. It’s cold outside, but you don’t have to worry about that yet. You wait for your coworkers to get off so they can join you, and you know they will. You don’t know what you’ll do tonight, if anything, but something almost always happens, be it heading to Bower’s or to another bar. You’re on the younger side of those who will join you, a fresh 21, but your coworkers don’t care. They include you on invitations to continue the party at their houses, tucked into the mountains 15 minutes away. Some of your favorite coworkers are in their thirties and have children, but they make time for you, they enjoy talking to you, and you can open up to them. They’re like mentors, not parents, but also friends. The whole scene is blissful.

That’s what I get to look forward to when I’m home. I like to romanticize, sure, but I think it helps me to be an appreciative person, to take in the little things, to notice and love them. I think that’s why I’ve been having such a good bout of karma recently, and I find it easier to smile at the sky, like my arms are so light I just want to reach to the clouds in celebration of being alive, of basking in a humid, cloudy day in March. I wouldn’t say I’ve found a vigor for life, but I’ve found an appreciation.

I will say, that bar held a couple important nights for me. Obviously, my first shift drink for turning 21. It’s where I “snuck” beer from Cliff during the Christmas party in an attempt to stay drunk (succeeded), it’s where I’ve made some of my closest friends, where I’ve networked many of my relationships. It’s where I’ve gained confidence in myself, in my communication skills. I’ve learned a lot about myself, about my coworkers, all around that bar.

I don’t mean for this to turn sad, but there’s something I’ve been reflecting on a lot lately that I feel I need to share, but I don’t know who to turn to. I know that whoever I told would be sad and sympathetic without knowing what to say, which is fine, that’s all I could ask of them. I just want to express it so someone will understand.

Another few important moments that happened at Main Cup included my cats. When we had to put my first cat down, on Thursday, October 2, 2014, I had to work almost immediately after – not a smart move on my end. I remember holding my little boy against my chest and just sobbing while my dad dug the grave. I have never cried this way in my life – not during movies, not when my sister left for college, not when I was cheated on. It was just bone-shakingly sad.

After we buried him, I went to work, trying not to cry. It was the first death I’d ever really had to deal with, and it was the cat I’d had since as long as I could remember (I was only a few months old when we got him), and he was mine. We bonded, he always slept with me, it was so sweet. My coworkers were nothing but sympathetic, and I think my being teary-eyed freaked them out a little because I never show that much emotion, or if I do it’s always happy. It was hard to go through, and I think part of me will always be with him, but it was nice to have my Main Cup family there.

This past September, my other cat passed away fairly unexpectedly. She was old, I think she got bit by something, and it was a long, painstaking ride for her. She seemed like she might pull through, but her meows were just haunting. I was headed home from college that Thursday to work and see her, help her if I could, be there if she passed.

Mom called me on my way home to tell me that she had passed the night before. It was such a dagger to the heart. She couldn’t have waited another day for me to be there. For me, it wasn’t selfishness; I was beside myself with the grief that I hadn’t been able to be with her when she went, as I was for my first cat. It still upsets me that she died alone, that I couldn’t be there.

So I went to work, plastered a smile on my face, tried not to think about it, tried not to cry when my coworkers gave me their sympathy hugs. It worked better than the first time. At the end of the shift, I sat at the bar and tried to put some of my feelings into a Facebook post, I think I may have also written about it on here somewhere, but I also didn’t want to be sobbing at the bar by myself while I waited for everyone else. My friends came and sat with me, and I forgot about it for a little while. They wanted to go out, and I just couldn’t put it off any longer – I needed to see my little girl.

I went home, tired from the shift, from the week, from crying in the car. The house was dark and quiet. I hung up my things, kicked off my shoes, and made my descent into the basement, where Mom told me she had wrapped the little one up in a blanket. I flicked on the lights, caught between feeling anxious and at peace (strangely enough). I think I was scared of seeing her.

I peeled back the blanket, and there she was, my best little girl, 16 years old. And I just sobbed again, silently this time. I couldn’t pick her up yet, so I just petted her, her body already cold and stiff. Cursing myself for not being able to be there for her in her final moments. I needed her to know she was loved. That I would miss her sleeping on my outstretched arms as her awkward sign of affection. It was nice to have that private moment. I found it beautiful and meaningful, no matter how much grief filled the air.

Now, with no pets, I feel like my Main Cup family is what I really have to look forward to when I return home. I’m blessed to have them in my life, to have their love and support.

Thank you for sharing such a personal moment with me. It’s cathartic for me to talk about it, to acknowledge the beauty. And this is just a casual reminder that if you are going to put your pets down, please for the love of god stay with them and let them know how much you love them.

Emanating love

 

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.

Love

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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.

Australian Kisses and Tequila Ramblings

I wonder how many posts I have written without some kind of alcohol in me, be it from 10 seconds ago or as I’m sweating it out from the night before. I guess I see how Hemingway could get in the moment through alcohol to write his beautiful thoughts. There’s something about alcohol that just releases them all.

Anyways, what a trying and beautiful time in my life! I’m a senior, and there are plenty of changes going on in my life, but that’s to be expected. Lives that don’t change are just boring. Firsthand experience: I never have any idea what to say to/ask Cliff or Zac because their lives just remain the same. No offense to them at all, I think part of it is that I don’t like to seem fake and ask questions to which I already know the answer, but for the most part their lives are so stagnant that they have no news to share and I have not questions to ask.

I’m discovering more and more about myself. I think this summer will be incredibly trying both to my physical body and my mental spirit. I don’t want to jinx anything (because I’ve never been more excited for anything in my life), but I’m planning to go backpacking in Wyoming with one of my friends in July. Now, I’ve never even been camping, let alone backpacking, so I’m both terrified but also incredibly excited. I know I will be tested, and I think it will be a life-changing experience.

***

Interesting moment today. For my intercultural communication class, I learned that I tend to lean more towards Eastern Asian tendencies moreso than my own US American culture. It’s something as simple as what we focus on when looking at a picture and evaluating a problem, but it was interesting to think that I could be more connected to an Eastern sense of beliefs and culture than my own. It’s a collectivistic culture, which I think makes sense as to who I am. I focus on the whole picture instead of the main character (though I will not pretend that I haven’t been primed as a US American to notice certain things over others.

***

Sometimes I think I’ve forgotten you. Those moments make me happy, because I’ve thought about you for far too long.

But lately, in the early morning hours, and when I have a good taste of liquor in my mouth, you’re there, again. And I fight you with every ounce of my being. But something in my heart just can’t stay mad, can’t force you from my mind. Somehow I did a better job of keeping sugar cookies out of my mouth today than keeping you off my mind… At least I’m developing willpower where it counts?

You need to go away. Or at least make a fucking decision.

***

I think I’ve been single for so long that I don’t know where to start anymore. I’ve developed a social anxiety for hanging out with people that might be interested in me. For the most part I just turn them down, sometimes because I genuinely don’t have an interest, sometimes because I think it’s just too nerve-wracking. How can it be?

I feel as though I’ll be single for a while (which is fine, I enjoy being single and not having much to worry about, but as always it gets lonely every once in a while). But I wonder if later I will see I had made mistakes, that I should have taken chances with certain people over others.

I often wonder how different my life would be if I had made a different decision. I try not to dwell on it because I can’t change anything and I would never torture myself in such a way. However, what if I hadn’t broken up with you? What if I had stayed at Frostburg? Would I ever have connected with you? Would it have been better timing at that point? Would we have worked out in the long run? Would I be better now?

That’s the danger of wondering if the grass is always greener.

***

Have you ever had a weird thought for a lover? A large part of you wants to be with them, but then again there’s a strange part of you that wants them to find love in one of their exes? If you’re by any chance reading this, Ashley, go back to him. He needs you.

I wonder if it’s a fate thing. I haven’t decided on whether or not I believe in soulmates. Rationally, I don’t think so. I think you make it work with who you have if you are compatible and think it could work out. But on nights like tonight, when I have a strong buzz going, I think I believe it. The romantic in me wants to believe it. Believe that someone’s soul is out there searching for no one else but me. That we will fit together like pieces of a puzzle, the curtains will draw and we will be consumed in each other forever.

That’s what’s giving me hope at the moment (and also causing me anxiety as far as “Am I passing up my fate?”). Otherwise I may be doomed to pine after you forever, feeling stupid and used, dodging kisses from the Australian boy who might think more of me after one night than you have in a year.

This’ll just be a short hodge-podge of things.

First, I want it known that it sucks to live with any kind of stomach problems. I’m happy for the rest of my health, I can deal with fighting to lose weight just like every other person in this world. But I can’t deal with being doubled over in pain because it feels like someone has poured hot lead into my intestines just because I ate something that wasn’t leafy green. It isn’t normal to endure such pain and try to move on with your day like everything’s fine, like you weren’t just trying to squeeze yourself into the most comfortable position just to make it through the next few minutes without moaning and shouting. The world needs to be more comfortable with talking about stomach problems.

Next, I’ve been working on that ex story some more, and it’s taking me through another wild ride of emotions. Sometimes reminiscent, other times infuriating. But I really enjoy writing it, and I’m not sure why. I’m not sure who I’ll dwell on the longest, but I would assume it will follow chronologically. I want to be able to share this one with the world, but it’s already 50 pages, and I don’t want to run into any lawsuits with the people I’m writing about. But hey maybe that’s the risk with dating a writer? Give me a good story and I’m going to write about you.

It’s making me miss a few people, one I never really let go of. The other one is really dangerous for me to miss, and I have to wonder whether or not I romanticize it. I know that I romanticize it, I guess I just wonder to what degree, whether it’s completely skewed or not. Side note, maybe I should date people that aren’t going to be dangerous for me to miss…

I’m burnt out from school, and I keep thinking about the days in elementary school that I think I reached a higher level of thinking, as if opening my crown chakra. I had moments that I questioned everything, and I mean everything. I would be running in from recess and think to myself why am I here? Why am I this brain? Why am I this body? That’s all we are, brains in bodies that somehow come from different walks of life, different situations. Why am I here right now in this brain with this body? And it happened all the time, like I was looking in a mirror and seeing a complete stranger, unattached to my body, unaffiliated. I’m not sure if that qualifies as an out of body experience.

I haven’t had one of those moments in a while, and I wonder what has changed. If I have been beaten and brainwashed by schooling, if I’m not as close to such spirituality because I have closed myself off to different religions. If that has blocked my crown chakra, and now it takes effort for me to consider not being this body, not being who I am. It’s very strange, and I wish I had more time to reflect on it, but right now my life is too busy.

I miss nature, as always. Yesterday I followed home the sun, taking the time to appreciate the steeples on campus, comparing them to the clustered spires of Frederick, and for the first time since orientation, I felt a connection to the campus. It was a nice change of pace from the constant resentment of being here in winter, seemingly putting my life on hold.

But I shouldn’t think that way, should I? My life’s already started. And I’m so close to having that degree and being able to do whatever I want afterward. If I still had three years or so to go, I’d probably rethink the whole thing. Do what I want now, go back to school later when I could afford it. Chad is always in my ear when I have those “I can’t wait to start my life” thoughts, because my life is already here. It’s helping me take the opportunities that arise in front of me (I spontaneously went to a concert with my friend on Tuesday and was in a mosh pit for the first time – very exciting opportunity that I’m glad I took).

I guess I should say that soon I will be able to take my life in the direction that I want. I will have more time for nature and reflection. I will have more time for myself. For yoga, for work, for exercise. I look forward to it and all the other days of my life, including tomorrow, should it come.

Cheers

Solemn Joy

Break was over in a flash. Those 12 days flew by in a blink of an eye. I was genuinely sad that I would be returning to College Park so soon. I was rarely in my house long enough for me to be annoyed with it, I feel like I didn’t get a sufficient amount of time with my friends (though I got to see all of them in one break which was great — all it took was 12 days).

I took care of my friends animals, and it was wonderful to be surrounded by so much fur. They were all so loving, and having each of her cats purring on my chest gave me the joy of what I think a mother feels when her child falls asleep on her. I guess I’m more of a cat person, and that shouldn’t be a bad thing. I love both species so who cares.

Some unexpected turn of events occurred over break, some that shocked me to my core. My friend’s dad killed himself right before Christmas, and I can only explain it as horrifying for all. I was told right before one of my shifts, and all I could say was “oh my god.” It was so intense, so pure and terrifying. I thought I was going to cry, and I questioned why I would feel so strongly for a man I had only met once. Looking back on it, I think I was moreso crying for my friend. The heaviness in my heart as it yearned to be with him, to support him in such a devastating time.

Our friends bound together in support. Our coworkers put together baskets. Everyone I talked to either went to the viewing or the funeral.

It was incredibly solemn that Tuesday. Dressed in my mom’s black dress, because I didn’t pack any funeral clothes for my trip home. Why would I? My heels clicking through the church, sun trying to shine through the stained-glass windows, I sat with some of my closest friends, and I experienced something with them that I never thought I would have to. I watched as we all dealt with the grief. We all cried while trying not to cry. We listened as our friend delivered a strong, inspirational eulogy for his own father. We watched as Scott’s friends gave their speeches. It was a strange moment for me to watch grown men cry and learn that they cry like I do, that they can’t talk, they have to take sharp breaths, they have to stop and swallow that rock hard lump in their throats.

The entire time I sat in that church, I questioned. I’m not a fan of organized religion, though I believe in a higher power and I’m comfortable with calling it many names, including God. Is this how this man wanted his funeral to go? Was he really saved when the bible says suicide is a horrible sin? I tried not to get too philosophical, tried not to roll my eyes out of respect for this man and his family, my friend.

I questioned whether my friends were trying not to cry in the same way I was. I wondered whether one day we would be up there, delivering eulogies for our friends well before their time on this earth should have ended. As I sat wedged between Nick, Will, and Roeder, I wanted to hug them all. I wanted to touch them, hold their hands, hug them close, but I thought they might think I was being too emotional. Looking back, I should have done it. But I know that we were all trying to make it through without having an outburst or a panic attack.

When it was over, I could see Roeder’s red eyes, Will and I wiping our noses, sparing small smiles for each other, trying to revert to our natural, goofy states in a way that almost felt inappropriate. Nick remained dead-eyed. Sam (who performed a beautiful piano solo) and some others found us, all teary-eyed too. In that moment, I tried to be solemn out of respect, but I think it’s amazing the power of positive energy. How some people’s innate nature is to be happy, to make others laugh. I think it’s the most beautiful power in this world, to laugh and be happy even in the face of such devastation. In that moment it was nice to know that I have that power within me.

When we ventured to the basement for food, we all clung together, sitting together so tightly at those plastic tables that it almost felt like lunchtime in high school. A few of us didn’t say much, but it may have been the hardest I laughed all break. I wanted nothing more than to hold them all there, keep them so happy and lighthearted. And I hope that is a moment burned into my memory forever, when we were so young, too young to experience a death so close to our hearts, to our circle, and everything felt raw and desolate yet happy.

We found our friend, said our goodbyes. The rest of the day went by in a bit of a hollow blur. I cried to my sister afterward, still processing the day’s emotions. The rest of break went by without a hitch. We all kind of huddled closer together after that.

And now I’m back in College Park — too soon, I feel, but I look forward to the promise of Friday, when my friends will surround me again. My Spanish class isn’t the worst it could be (though I did study 233 words for my exam tomorrow). It’s nice to only focus on one class right now, and I might be in for a rude awakening come spring semester. I’m taking some time for myself. I’ve been doing yoga every day because I can’t bring myself to do more than 2-3 aerobic workouts a week right now.

This blog wasn’t exactly what I thought was going to happen, but it felt too important not to share. I’ll get back to you later.

So much love

Rest in Peace Scott

Maybe I

Who would’ve thought 21 would be the year that I start looking after my health?

It’s Rosie’s 21st birthday, and I think she had a great time. I got to see a few friends and coworkers as well, which is nice since I go back to school in a few days and I’ll miss them all terribly. Things went well, didn’t have to listen to that “I should’ve just gone to bed” song, though thank you, Ryan, for trying to reinforce my good habits.

I’ve been petsitting for two dogs, two cats, and a chameleon over the last five days or so, and although it’s a little annoying driving 15 minutes out of the way every day, I really don’t mind the responsibility. It’s helped motivate me to not drink too much during the night and wake up early in the mornings. I’m wayyy too much of a morning person, so seeing the beautiful skies at 8AM have been really inspiring and breathtaking.

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I’ve come across that conflicted feeling again of wanting to share these beautiful thoughtful moments with someone or if it’s just something I should cherish on my own. I will always cherish them, however I’m not sure why I’m starting to yearn to share such moments. I don’t know what I would expect anyone to say in response, and sometimes I don’t think there are words that could describe it. Are all people like this? Is there some random passion, random beauty, for everyone out there? Something that others just might not understand, so instead they yearn for some kind of mutual understanding? Maybe I should ask my friends, but I’m worried that a few of them will just say “fireball.”

Coming home hasn’t been exactly what I expected. I’ve been fighting off a cold most of the time so far, so I’m trying to make sure I get enough rest which is unusual enough in itself. I got to spend a lot of time with my sister while she was here, and I’m really happy about that. It almost felt like when we were still living together, before she even went to college. It was definitely tougher saying goodbye to her, but I’ll always put on that supportive face.

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The restaurant has been about the same, some people you love, some people you can’t stand. I think I’m falling into a rut with it honestly. I’ve always had these exciting yet dreadful thoughts of moving, and recently they haven’t seemed so bad. I will always be thankful for the time I’ve had in my hometown, but I think the universe is telling me that it’s okay to move on soon. Big things are happening for me, hidden somewhere in this cosmic energy, and I can’t wait to unleash it.

I did a chakra cleansing/activating meditation today, opening my crown and third eye chakras, which are supposed to influence intuition, so I’m listening to my intuition today; I forgot how much I enjoy eastern practices. Unfortunately, sometimes I think my intuition is tailored more to my desires and/or anxieties than to the universe. I’ve become to complacent, going by feel. In many cases, I admire that, but in certain cases, I need to remind myself to be rational.

(As I’m currently being tested)

Anyways, I just wanted to check in. My lofty thoughts are fading, though they’ve been abundant since I’ve been home. However, it’s late, and I have to be up early to take care of the animals. I’ll be back soon, I’m sure.

Love

 

 

Backlit Cubicle

Relaxing Sunday evening my ass. It’s been a long yet short weekend traveling up to West Chester. It went by in the blink of an eye – something I’m hoping that will happen with the rest of this semester. The string of Christmas lights that normally lights my room is 3/4 burned out so, quite like me this semester, it’s hanging on by a thread.

Although my hair currently reminds me of Doc’s in Back to the Future, it’s nice to find some time to yourself. I may have left my razor at Lauren’s (oops), but I’m finding other ways to care for myself. I love the clay masks that leave me crimson, and the pride in using a netti pot and actually feeling like it’s doing something. Hopefully it will leave me more balanced than I have been feeling recently.

Karma struck again last Tuesday. More bad news, more cries for help. More keeping to myself in order to process instead of comforting those who would worry as much as I would about the news. May this green tea remedy work, and may my razor find its way back to me soon…

I’ve felt off-kilter emotionally lately, from a source I never would have expected – my family. I’ve always been very big on family. It’s how I was raised, I guess, to want your family close to you and close together. But something about it has put me in a sour mood. Sometimes I have these blips of emptiness, and I still can’t find where the stem from, but they have been occurring more often lately, mostly around my family, and I wonder, why now? Is there something about my family, some of the people I love most in this world, that makes me feel lonely? How can that be?

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Perhaps they are too together, too figured out for this green, broken spirit. Once I explore will I feel whole again? I wish I could pinpoint, but for now I’ll just wonder. If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that sometimes you can ask the question and you won’t find the answer right away. Many of my questions have gone unanswered, but when I find them I find them and for now I just have to be patient (something I’ve never been good at).

More lines were crossed, old lines, new lines. All very shaken, an earthquake hovering beneath the surface. I would rather the earth open and swallow me whole than deal with the cracking of that earthquake. So for now I choose to step carefully, ignorantly, as if things can still be okay.

All I know is I need to get out. I need my home to return to my home. I need a moment to figure myself out, and then I need to get the hell away from my hometown if I ever hope to overcome that ledge. I think it’s the only way, or at least the only way I can see. I always see the world so black and white (a cultural thing, I’ve learned), but there is always gray, and most of the time I fail to see it.

I do miss my homes, and I’m very close to seeing both of them. Very conflicted feelings.

I wish this entry would have been more of a revelation, an inspiration, but sometimes life just doesn’t work that way, and that’s okay.

Love