Elevator Love Letter

Elevator Love Letter brings a certain type of memory to my attention. One of the most savoring memories it brings, happened back in Sweden with my best friend. We would listen to this song while cleaning our rooms and carrying out trivial duties our school required of us. Another memory it brings, happens while I am driving on long, stretches of road. But regardless of wherever I am at, I always associate this song with new beginnings.

So, I title this post after the song because of newness. As of late, my life has taken another turn down this windy path called, "senior year". I am discovering how much love I have for Ross and for my friends. Now, I do not normally blog about the intimate details of my love-life but I must write on a public forum how much I have come to love, and continue to fall in love with him.

We've been dating for almost eleven, whole months now and I still get nervous whenever I am near him. I get nervous because I realize more and more how much he is becoming a part of my life in small ways. For example, we were going to the store the other day and while we were looking for an item, we both proceeded to plan a whole meal together, one that we would consume with joy, too. We do these kinds of things in grocery stores. We shop together and plan out meals, which is one of our favorite activities because we both love food so much.
Not only that, but we also love to take road trips to shows. And on our last trip, I innately knew that Ross drinks a billion gallons of water so I bought him and I a water for the road. Now, many reading this probably have guessed what his roommate accused us of, "the fact that we are married already," but I am here to say that all of these little things just point to the realization that we:
know each other well
fit together well
and enjoy the small things together.

It has not always been easy for me to adjust to relationships, but as I am discovering more about who I am and what I want, I am finding out what I love and appreciate more about other people. So, without exhausting this post, I will simply, but complexly reveal that I am in love with one of my best friends and that has been a cornerstone of joy, and contentment in life that continues to surprise me in small ways.

Ross and I just went to a show the other night and I loved how we worked together, listening to the music. It is in those times, when I am doing something I love, like: concerts and grocery shopping, that I recognize how well he compliments myself.

I wanted to say these things because I know he reads this blog, and also because I am proud of who he is and am grateful for the person he is. I truly love many qualities he has, but I love even more how we are falling in love with each other on a daily basis.
So, if you are reading this Ross, know that you are more than just the peanut butter to my jam, you are both slices of bread with them in between. And you are more than this silly metaphor.

I love you. Publicly.

Yeah, I love somebody.

We must believe, if we are to believe at all, that there is a God who created this world, but that He also separates Himself from it.
We must believe that we are all mad, and that is what makes us love from the places we cannot conventionally love from. It also makes us function from dysfunction.
I do not claim to love with any power other than that the love I must have and must show is unconventionally messed up.
But after all, I am messed up; therefore, anything I give automatically disqualifies me from ever being a sane lover.
I am mad, and that is what makes me beautiful.
I am mad because I still believe that my love can move mountains, when all it can move is a piece of trash from one bin to the other.
I am mad because at the end of the day that love has moved farther than just those bins, it actually lends itself to others. It actually makes sense.

I am mad because today I realized that I have no love other than the Father's which is not messy, but it is the most intangible love I know.
My friend told me today he might be crazy, and my only response was:

I am crazy too.

William Cowper

“Absence of occupation is not rest; a mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.”

"I've seen it all before"

Today's post goes out to Amos Lee. His song is inspiring my morning's thought. I find that music always lends me a great title, or a great sendoff for whatever thoughts I want to write. The beauty of a great song is its smooth delivery. Often times I find that words being written need that smooth delivery, too. They need a sweetness to them like beats can create for one measure. It is just a shame that the function of music won't transition into my life.
My move back to Arkansas was a broken note. I found the peace and tranquility of friends again, but I did not find the greatest peace. I still spend some days thinking of the coast. There is a gap wherever I am at, but none the size of my heart, which is acquiring enough water to drown out a needed peace I would love to feel. Moreover, the feeling I am mentally weighing will not subside unless I understand what it is.
In the last few days I have searched for what hurts the most. I have come up with several ideas that I will keep hidden for now. I do not want to use this blog as a diary for the innermost thoughts, rather I would use it for a way to reach a connection with those who might read it. With that said, I am confident that reasonable conclusions could be made from what little I have shared.
A clue though to this secret comes from the oldest truths in the universe: time. Time brings many people to conclusions that they either need to know, or do not want to believe. Time also functions as many other abstracts, but I will use it in these two contexts.
In my case, time has been leaving me little clues along the way which point to hard realities: I need to know that becoming a whole person means making mistakes, some devastating, which reveal their ugliness more later in your life than the present. I recently unpacked some decisions I have made in the past, which have brought many joyful gifts, but they have not been opened without pain. The drowning feeling I tread illuminates the immaturity of my youth. And I have a strong taste in my mouth against it. I wish that being eighteen did not come with many landmarks, namely what the next four years of your life had to be. I would not do anything differently from being eighteen, but I would have before that year.
Essentially, I will quote the lyric of my title to shed light on how I feel about many events in my life present and past. I suppose what brought these emotions on, were the revelations of why I am discontent here at times, and why I chronically feel the need to create new realities.
Today the freshmen are gathering around our campus. They are terrified and they are scared. But something tells me that the person on their right, or left will be a cornerstone person to them, whether they leave this weekend or stay forever. They are going to college for the first time, but they are also going to be living for the first time in many diverse conditions. And my only thought I had while watching them is, "Why are you here?"

So Long, Farewell.

My life has significantly transformed in the last few days. I cannot begin to describe the experiences I have had, but I will try my best. First, the catalyst for this eye-opening event started as an idea on the Seattle ferry. Cortney, my best friend, told me that I should come visit her in L.A. And with that said, I bought the ticket. I took this trip as a stop along the way to college. I took it for several reasons: I wanted to spend time with one of my best friends, and then I wanted to be able to have a relaxing time in one of the prettiest places on earth.
My time here has been too short. When I arrived, I immediately was greeted by five screaming boys. They were all running andjumping- but I am here to say that this behavior did not stop for the whole five days I was here. I would not consider myself the type to be a "babysitter" but after this experience that is all I want to do. It is odd to me that I got along so well with this family and so well with their boys, that I do not want to leave. I guess I have been feeling a little nervous as to where I am going to go this next year, and I have even been feeling a little anxious to go back to Arkansas, but I will, and I must. I know the people there are expecting me with arms of love, and I need to finish what I started. I just can't describe the overwhelming amounts of emotion. I don't want to leave this family, and I do not want to leave Santa Barbara (ah, I love it here) and I want to spend more time with Cortney.
I guess this leaves me feeling bitter-sweet. I would love to come back eventually. I had entertained the thought of moving here next year, and with this confirmation, I just might. It is just so strange to me how normal this all seemed. We had so much fun this weekend. I had more food on my clothing, more dirty diapers, more stains, more owies, more patience than in a long time. I heard more inappropriate/but funny words come out of five-year-old's mouths than I have heard my immature friends talk about. And I have seen more naked bodies running around, but I loved it. I experienced so many wonderful events from a Polo match to clubbing. Cort and I hit the night life, both our first times in the U.S.A. and it was an experience. We were amazed that every night we went out, we were the only straight people there. But, it was an experience. I peed in my first public place ever (a parking lot) and I had my favorite drink of all time ( a first) an applesauce shot. I also had never dressed five boys before and fed them, and got them all to bed. Woo. I am exhausted, but also energized. This weekend was better than I ever expected. And I am so sad to leave.
And on top of all this fun, to end the night, Cortney and I were chatting and from her lips comes a quotable phrase:
"I just want to cook for my husband and for him to be the King, and for me to be subservient."
Love it.

Read this when you are sober:

"It may after all be the bad habit of creative talents to invest themselves in pathological extremes that yield remarkable insights, but no durable way of life for those who cannot translate the physical wounds into significant art or thought".

Theodore Rosack

We forgot the names we used to know.

I take this lyric from one of my favorite Arcade Fire songs because it puts meaning to much of what I am feeling in these moments. I am about to head off for the summer to L.A. and then back to Arkansas. I feel both excited and nervous. I feel excited because I am seeing faces that have become unfamiliar. I am also going back to a family I miss, but I am also leaving one behind. These feelings all leave me a little jaded to say the least.
I know we all have to move on and we all have to push forward, but it is hard to make a motion when there are forces pushing in every direction. I have once again come to loving home. It is just where I realize that I feel comfortable, and after being here over two months, being here becomes home in itself.
This is the part in life I do not care for. I am tired of being transported from place to place. I want to settle down somewhere. I want to be in communion with my friends, but I also want to be with family. I cannot have both though. So here are the hard, and fast conclusions: I desperately want to be cradled at home because I miss them, but I also want to be with others I love.
A friend wrote, "I hate goodbye's". I am no good at them, so I hate them too. Tonight I watched T.V. with my dad, an evening staple, and I also packed with my mom, which made her feel like a mom. I am also going on our back porch tonight and looking at the stars. These were/are my goodbye's. Tomorrow is another adventure, and maybe then I'll be more ready to leave. But as for now, I will do the same as I did on the ferry today, I will just sit and reflect on how blessed I truly am.
Here is to another summer Seattle.
And in remembrance, I leave with one of my favorite lyrics, a lyric I discovered here:
"How roads must a man walk down before you call him a man? And how many seas must a white dove sail before she sleeps in the sand, and how many times must a cannonball fly before they are forever banned? The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind".

Thank you Bob.
Seattle, I love you.
Goodnight.