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.

Freud by mother.

Today will go down in the history of obscure/wonderful things my mother has told me. We were going through my newly purchased underwear and I was remarking how "sexy" they looked, when all the sudden she chimed in these unforgettable words:

"Kelsey, keep it in your pants, skirts, or whatever".

I love my mother because she is just herself, and she never misses a beat.

re-mix.

Today I woke up and came downstairs only to find both parents sitting across from each other, using their computers. I took a second glance and realized that my bewilderment stemmed from an opposite scene far from what I was used to seeing: I expected me, the young adolescent, to be slaving away on my computer while they read this morning's paper. But no, they weren't. Instead, they were both typing to friends, which brings up a new idea I had. While I was sitting across from them dumbfounded, I realized that I should count the number of mothers who now use facebook. The numbers would astonish me.

So with all of this processing, I am left to conclude that my mom and dad are efficient in technology, and that my mom has a larger network than I do.And most importantly, I need to bring my computer next time to fit in.

summer findings

books.

This is the book that Ross and I just finished.
It is truly amazing.

1901.

I decided to title this blog after the phoenix song I am listening to while writing my post. And after listening to the lyrics, I couldn't agree more that this song most appropriately documents my life.

Alright, so last post was about wonderful Blue Moon, and this post will be about____ (Ugh, the Shins just came on. Hold on. It is hard to think with that sound in my ears. Forgive me all the Shin-lovers,their sound just doesn't do it for me.) As a side note, I just discovered Pandora. The jury is still out...

I suppose this blog has taken a random approach, and because Radiohead is now playing, I will get the grove on for this post. As of now, I am in the in-between stage of leaving Washington and leaving my family. Now, at twenty-one, I would love to admit this is something I am ready to do, which I am, but there is hesitancy. I realize that the minute I jump on that plane I am going into a year where there are some certainties, and then not some certainty. I know that when I get back I will be changing some things, meaning, I will be looking for a new place to live. I have some options; although, it is hard when you have too many. I am also going to be in my last year of school, which is hard to swallow. I have attended school since I was three. And last but not least, well, I can save that one. But at last the time is near, which is why I would love to highlight some incredible things I have done/learned/accomplished this summer:

1. learned: I am still a terrible person to keep in touch with.
2: I cannot make fettuccine Alfredo, but I can make many other delightful Italian dishes.
3. I can make mean scrambled eggs with cheese (this beats Waffle House's hash browns with the works)
4: I have missed my mom doing my laundry, but I need to buy a detergent that doesn't remove color.
5: I still have a ways to go on budgeting.
6: I can make any old man smile by telling him I have fresh coffee with some
alcohol.
7: Online classes are a pain, and I still procrastinate (that may never change).
8: I enjoy people more than I enjoy silence most days.
9: My music tastes are about as picky as my childhood eating habits. I seem to be more open to things these days.
10: Lady Gaga is my new muse for Halloween.
11: I tend to sing in restaurants, almost like Turrets.
Accomplished:
1. I hit my first deer.
2. I made more money than I have ever spent.
3. I made an art and craft that actually looked half-decent.
4. I gained more weight than I have in years.
5. I can do a long-distance relationship over a mobile phone.
6. I can drive a car without hitting the gas, while lodged on top of the sun roof.
7. My friends and I made special fruit watching youtube videos.
8. My hair is about 5 shades lighter.
9. I withstood one of the most uncomfortable medical examinations possible.
10. My boyfriend and I flew, and drove all over the world in one month.
11. I added my professor on facebook.
12. I have read over 10 books.
13. I can out-eat my dad, once again.


I am proud to say that this summer has been beautiful in the ups and the downs.
My only regret is that I did not experience some of this beauty sooner.
So today I sign off with Vampire Weekend.

true blue.

Today I just simply wanted to drink Blue Moon when I came home from work. The beverage sounded so wonderful and tasteful.

Today I am really thankful for great beer.

An evolution.

Today's post is more of a vulnerable-transparent post. Instead of having some epiphany about how my life has to be, I am proposing something else in my writing: today I am suggesting that human life is fragile. And not just in a delicate sense of the world is ending "fragile"- I am talking about the type of fragile that begs each individual to examine their approach to one another, including my own.

It has come to my attention that we are fragile: We are evolving into stages of our lives that require more attention than the last. If you are an adolescent, then you need support transitioning from your twenties to your thirties, so forth. And if you are younger than you are getting ready to make life decisions that impact the next four years. All of these can make you fragile, yet not all of these matter on the smaller scales, the daily things. After all, it is always the little things we are taught that make our lives what they are. Just the other day I realized how fragile I am, and how fragile my emotions are. For the first time I experienced an immense fear that paralyzed me from becoming confident in myself, then I became inept to believe in myself. That negativity drove me to make decisions that harmed my wellness.

I don't consider myself a religious person, but I do have conviction of faith and meditation. Both strengths allow me moments of vulnerability that make me see a light in the end of the tunnel where there is joy, a contentment. Over the last few months I have been restless, fearful that there is no light at times. But, I am constantly reminded through tears and through rough patches that there is a light. In one of the most powerful short stories Tolstoy wrote, The Death of Ivan Illych, Ivan dialogues about how there is light amidst his suffering. I am by no means suffering, but I have been unaware of my fragility. And I have been unaware that others are fragile as well.

I need to hold back my fears and let my love compensate for my shortcomings. A great man once said that "The fear of love is the beginning of wisdom, and perfect loves drives out fear". I write these things because even in our most scathing times, we are still fragile. I am fragile. And then I realize the wisdom of peace.

I pray you do too.

family

This is a perfect depiction of how our family looks after a "family vacation".

It's not easy to become.

This song will follow me everywhere, even on days like these, where it's life and you have to become.

Father and Son by Cat Stevens. This song also appeared on Pirate Radio, which is a movie I recommend renting.

melodramatic moments.

I am a victim of melodrama.

However, I would like to tastefully commit my alibi as being: the time and place of this month, which does not function with any part of my well-being. Moreover, I would like to point out that according to a famous author, "We all need a little madness".
My madness today went infinitely around a circle of frustration that has been building for a solid year now. And according to my personality test, being that I am an "I", I am unrealistic- among the many other positive and negative traits. I guess with that knowledge I can see where some of my melodramatic tendencies root.

Today was paramount to the other breakdowns: I let go. I completely let myself go. All of the pent up tension of feeling boxed-in by responsibility, released. As a result, I found myself feeling salty and puffy, spewing words I longed to communicate. They came out to no one better than my mother.

"Mom, I just don't know what I want. I don't know how I feel about anyone, or anything at this point in my life?"

Then I muttered the epiphany: "What if I just want to leave everything I know and go figure it all out".

Blank stare.
.
.
.
.

Her response wasn't in words, it was in a knowing look that I received. She responded, "I think you know".

I did know.
I knew that I needed to take a step back from it all and evaluate each emotion and harness what I couldn't control. I guess most people have a tendency to come to these places and freak out. This is just happening at a point in my life where I can ask these questions and it makes sense too.
Nikos Kazantzakis states that “A person needs a little madness, or else they never dare cut the rope and be free”

My friend's blog is titled " All good things are wild and free"

Good things are wild and free.

So I end to tonight with one of my favorite people, Joanna Newsom.

"We sailed away on a winter's day with fate as malleable as clay,
but ships are fallible I say, and nautical like all things fade-
But I do recall a little wicker beetleshell with four fine legs and sails...
Oh my love it was a funny thing to be the one's to have seen"

Fathers and Cat Stevens.

One of my favorite memories of my dad happened when I was small. I don't exactly remember what age I was, I just remember the atmosphere: we were in our living room, which at the time was barren; it only contained a couch, a t.v., and a record player. I also remember we had horrible carpet- which is odd to me now, considering my dad owns a flooring store. But for some reason, I knew he picked what he wanted- and that always worked. He must have realized this mistake due to the fact that we no longer have that carpet.
I remember the earth-toned walls that paralleled the oak tower of technology, which held a moment of time that will last as long as my memory will. The look on his face changed when he walked over and placed the needle on the steel-black, vinyl surface. He was anticipating the music. An unfamiliar voice was then heard by my ears, but an old-time friend was heard by his. I remember the opening words "Oh baby, baby, it's a wild world" like they were playing now. There was no dancing; there was no movement at all. That afternoon dad introduced me to music- his music. We shared a moment of truth I was too young to understand, and he was too naiive to understand. That song was my first introduction to music; it was also my first introduction to my dad.

To this day, one of my favorite things to do with him is listen to music. However, today we did not listen to music. Instead we read and cooked a delicious meal. Coming and going years change our relationship. Now it seems to evolve into a growing friendship, one that allows me to enjoy his company more than previous times.

I admire my father.
He is a wonderful man who puts himself last.
Sometimes I don't recognize this fact, but inherently I know it to be true.

Happy Father's Day, dad-
sent with an eternal thankfulness for your 'hipness'
and your hippy music.

where words become honey.

This is one of the most refreshing books I have read in a long time.
I am eternally grateful for spending a day to read this.
I recommend that you do the same.

quality time

This week has been interesting to say the least. I accomplished the task of being unsuccessful in work, and very successful at eating half my weight in various desserts. But the upside to this week has been quality time.

An old friend came back for the night and shared her life with my sister and I. My loneliness has been a burden this summer; unfortunately books haven't stolen my heart. Instead, I seem to find a hole the size of a friend which cannot be replaced.

However, I have found comfort in small moments this weekend that fit into the person-sized hole. One of them was drinking cheap Yellow Tail and watching a movie I fell asleep to. The next moment was a short hike up the beautiful mountains of Port Angeles, which gave me long-awaited exercise.

Then the weekend poured into Monday: a job let down. But a redeemable moment compensated for that- my family and I gathered around the television and watched a favorite, "With Six You Get Eggroll". Surprisingly, I found that the movie contained a lot of feminine faux pas: Her husband frequently yells at her, telling her to shut up. My family and I have now quoted memorable lines from this (with shame on our lips).

Last, and probably my favorite moment: we watched the Bachelorette tonight. We were all sad to see the weatherman get cut. He was the source of our entertainment. So, if he ever reads this blog: Jonathan, we rooted for you!

Also, as a close to this night's diary, there is one more thing this week has brought: more understanding: more love. Distance is hard/annoying, but at the end of the day I am glad it forces some hard decisions and hard conversations. Yet, when the uneasiness cools down, it is a sweet, sweet calm.

For that I am thankful.
And I owe this to my friend, Amos Lee's "Black River"

untitled.

Tonight I listened to Bob Dylan's "Talkin New York"

And all I wanted to do was sit in on top of the car,smoke a cigar, and drink South African wine.

"So one mornin’ when the sun was warm
I rambled out of New York town
Pulled my cap down over my eyes
And headed out for the western skies"

There is something to be said about wanderers.
And the beauty of wandering.

systematic failures

It is hard to accept the day when your body decides to crash. Usually this crash seems to happen when a person is in the "winter" stage of their life, as one of my friends likes to call it.

First went the teeth, then the eyes, then my overall health...
I did not imagine that I would have to get a root canal and then I would have to fit a mold for my bottom retainer-my teeth seem to be crooked.
I also did not anticipate that I would need glasses- my 20/20 vision seems to be diminishing due to reading all the time.
And to top off everything- Ross has mono, which means I have mono.

As I write these words, I feel like my grandparents. Both of them had accidents this week. My grandmother broke her nose falling down the stairs, while my grandpa fell off of the roof and broke five ribs.

Maybe it is a family thing, but lately I feel all over the place and not just my health.
To avoid being sappy, my heart feels like it is in its own winter season as well.
I am not coping well with distance; I am not coping well with what little time I have to invest in people- especially the person my heart seems to be on a fine string with. At the end of the day it is people who make me delighted. At the end of most days, it seems to be one person I flip the calendar pages to reach.

So, to this one person:

I love you. No music can bring me closer, so I will freeze you in words this time around. At least this part of my system is not failing yet. I have to learn to be patient, but I do not have to learn total separation.

Perhaps this is the beauty of systematic failures- they never leave you complete. You have to change.

“Wisdom ceases to be wisdom when it becomes too proud to weep, too grave to laugh, and too selfish to seek other than itself.”
kahlil gibran

Seasons

Today is an interesting day. I sat down and began to realize my friends are all transitioning into becoming adults.

Today I processed the fact that I am transitioning.

Today I counted the number of friends transitioning.

Today I discovered most of my close friends are getting married.

I don't know how that makes me feel considering I don't like change.

But in the end, we all have to grow up.

It is just taking me a little longer to get there.

Sometimes I want to rewind, go back to playing outside and pretend again.

Alas, I am thankful for the many blessings of change and what they have brought.

John F. Kennedy states, "We all want to change, but we all need time to do it".

I believe this is me just needing a moment.

summer: where the living is easy.

It is summertime and I cannot be more joyful.There are no more papers. There are no more assignments. The only task at hand is working on my project with the Poet Franz Wright, collecting more music, learning how to take photos, learning how to cook Italian food, and learning how to sew.

Summertime amazes me. Every year I come off a rough semester and immediately begin to plan. Last season I planned to run and to change my diet. I am constantly in a state of altering my life and planning for it. This must be an "In-your-twenties" phase. But a large part of me doesn't believe that. Summertime excites me because it is a time where new beginnings take place from the old.

I find it beautiful that God creates seasons to resemble periods of time. And I have often found that each season corresponds to the scenery. For example, fall is a time of pealing, a time where you are transitioning with school, or you are moving, or you are beginning a new life in a new place. Winter is a period of dead surroundings, turmoil and desolation, whereas spring is a period of rebirth, and summer is a period of rest.

I am thankful for this summer because I have already enjoyed the rest it has brought. I took a trip to Germany to meet Ross' parents and then came back to familiar faces. I am determined this summer is different from any other in that the planning I am currently undertaking will happen. I am working towards achieving all of these listed items. In turn, I hope I will leave it with memories and peace to start a new cycle of pealing in the fall.

This next year brings every season changed from last seasons' events. I am now a Senior in college and I am including my life with another person. I am no longer going to live at home- but getting a real job more or less. So resting this season is exactly what I desire, and so far it has been accomplished. I have caught up on Grey's Anatomy and Brothers and Sisters. Now, I need to find books to read and a job.

Regardless, I am content.

Explicating means exploring.

Tonight I am explicating John Donne's "The Funeral". I have really enjoyed breaking this poem apart. At first, I did not realize how difficult breaking down one line of poetry was,until I noticed that you could read a poem ten different ways. All for just one simple line, yikes. But I am learning.
This poem is beautiful because it's talking about death and love. Two cliches. But Donne actually develops the themes into a unique, biological metaphor to posit that love can be idolized-but it can also be rational.crazy. I am pretty sure I had to re read this poem about 20 times before I discovered this all of that information. In a way though, it has been an exploration into the mind of someone. That unpredictability is kind of fascinating. It is moments like these that I am very thankful for my major.
I am also thankful for my friends tonight who made me laugh. I am going to miss them, some for long periods of time, and some for short periods.

Here is the poem. If you would like, you should try it, maybe you'll enjoy it as well.


THE FUNERAL.
by John Donne


WHOEVER comes to shroud me, do not harm,
Nor question much,
That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm ;
The mystery, the sign, you must not touch ;
For 'tis my outward soul,
Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone,
Will leave this to control
And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution.

For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall
Through every part
Can tie those parts, and make me one of all,
Those hairs which upward grew, and strength and art
Have from a better brain,
Can better do 't ; except she meant that I
By this should know my pain,
As prisoners then are manacled, when they're condemn'd to die.

Whate'er she meant by it, bury it with me,
For since I am
Love's martyr, it might breed idolatry,
If into other hands these relics came.
As 'twas humility
To afford to it all that a soul can do,
So 'tis some bravery,
That since you would have none of me, I bury some of you.

passports.

Today I just really don't like passports.
I am supposed to travel to Germany to meet my boyfriend's family,
but somehow my passport expired, and not only that, the lady that I sent my life savings to, doesn't understand me.
I am sending prayers with Fed-Ex tomorrow. But I am also sending a sober realization that maybe Europe doesn't happen.
Regardless, today I learned that stress can do horrible things to your body, namely your digestive system.
So, I listened to my friends on i tunes and calmed down.
Life sometimes mirrors Murphy's Law, or at least mine does. And if you know me, you would agree.
Oh well, today ended up being okay- At least my friends were there.

The Fallibility of Restlessness

It is only appropriate to speak about the importance of freedom after titling this blog from Alan Ginsberg's poetry. I cannot imagine a better way to express myself on April 26th than to say this: The Fallibility of restlessness excludes freedom.

I am fascinated by poets. In fact, I often imagine that my life is poetry; in a small way I would love to become a poet like Mary Oliver or Gwendolyn Brooks, whose poetry can ring with truth and beauty, rather than write poetry that is sappy, stagnant to the touch. I am fascinated by words and how they traveled from minds before me, conveying messages so bold, so fierce. These thoughts leave me with: If only I could write.

Nonetheless, I will. And here is what I can offer:
There is nothing to fear in being restless. For example, I have been terrified to write my own thoughts, fearing that no one out there cares to read what little I do have, or they will consist of ambiguity. Either way, my thoughts were consistently transforming into weapons that could either detonate, or be dud. Fear. is. a. terrible. thing.
And it seems to cause many anxieties lately. Anxieties that aren't necessarily harmful- or that's what I perceive- and that aren't the worst-thing-in-the-world.
Regardless, I am coming to realize that chaos has been the ticking force behind truth that's been sleeping for some time now.
Let me elaborate. Often times I do not make sense unless I do so...
Lately I have come to the conclusion that organized life often leaves you restless. I have been in college now 3 years and I still do not know why I am here some days, other than to get an education. The fallacy that college is the "Best four years of your life" has been a mantra that is often said to many eighteen-year-old students entering their freshman year. But that mantra leaves a certain level of expectation, a feeling of purpose.
Slowly, I've come to the conclusion that restlessness has been caused because of this expectation. Immense pressure to succeed or become educated has been placed upon me, for the reasons of practicality (as many people see it). I have been challenged to conform to practices that traditionally happen from generation to generation. So,in this journey of feeling out of place most times and ungrateful for education, I find truth in a small conversation I recently had with my friend Angie,:
There is no specific way to live your life. Pursue the virtue of living life how it is meant to be lived: in harmony with who you are and who others are. Therefore, the fallibility of restlessness teaches that restlessness is a horrible feeling, yet the way I see it, it is a purposeful, natural thing. Everyone is restless at times, but there is often a valid reason for it.
For me, restlessness bears a heavy mark on my search for a simple answer: What do I want to do with my life, but an even deeper question of: How do I serve others with my life? These questions keep me up at night and they make me restless, mostly because I am actually trying to think about all the possibilities the answers entail, and not just conforming to the standard quota of a twenty-one-year-old's life.
I choose to be restless because I want to understand truth. And I believe the truth is: The standard is not always truthful to who you are.

I know that this feels like an essay, and as I was just mentioning to my friend, I have no idea how to write without some form, (although I consider myself postmodern). This is my first attempt at blogging, so if you are reading this, bear with me. There will be more to come.

I think today I just wanted to say: Follow truth, truth to who you are, (whatever that may be.)