Sunday, July 7, 2013

Down the Mountain

There are a lot of leftover forts and hiding spots on the mountain behind my house. Sacred places that used to be haven for imaginary elves and native tribal rituals. 

But they say there comes a time when we have to put childish things aside. 

I suppose there also comes a time when we have to leave childish people behind.

And sometimes there comes a time when we have to become more like children in order to get by.

I've heard more than a few 'good ol' days' remarks made by friends lately, lamenting how life was 'so much simpler when all you worried about was whether or not you would get to use your favorite crayon that day.'

As idyllic as this thought is, it is also useless. We can languish in thoughts of what used-to-be until the proverbial cows come home, but it does not for a second change the fact that yesterday is gone like the mosquito I just killed on my laptop, today is outrunning us like a sinewy triathlete  and tomorrow is coming at us like a derailed subway car.

Not to imply that I'm worried about the future.

Which I definitely am.

But we could sit and worry about the future just as much as we regret letting our childhood slip by. And I reiterate: nothing will change.

There's always another approach though. A glass half-full outlook, if you will.

We can retain some of the childlike wonder we used to possess. Try being like a kid for a day, a week, however long it takes to get a spark of joy in your life. 

Because life is far to short to waste being unhappy or worrying about becoming unhappy (which in my mind, is the same exact thing).

Redevelop ye old elementary school mindset. If someone doesn't appreciate you or hurts you, leave those suckers by the swing-set  and go make yourself some new friends. 

If someone is funny, tell them they are and laugh at their jokes in a big ridiculous way (someone who thinks they're too cool to laugh big is actually just super lame). 

Do the thing you dream of. (Bonus of being an adult now? We can travel, we can cook, we can drive, we can read, we can design, we can do the big things, anything is possible: if we stop saying we can't and start running headlong towards adventure).

Boys have cooties. (I find this is just a helpful thing to keep in mind at all times.)

Pick flowers, smell the rain, get sunburnt, eat popsicles, catch a bug, steal an apple, dig in the dirt, play dressup. These things don't have to be left behind and just looked back on. We can still live in bliss in the here and now. It might be a little bit harder and a little bit scarier, but trust me, it's a lot less scary than sitting afraid in your house all day because you just can't face someone or something about your day.

Believe me, living in regret doesn't hurt anyone you hope it'll hurt.

It just makes you look like an old lady sitting in a burning house who can only complain about how darn hot it is and how bad it smells.

Put the fire out and use the ashes to make something new grow.

We can be grateful for those moments that we have that make us roll with laughter, or collapse in tears. Because those are the moments that let us know that our hearts still pump blood through our veins and our lungs rush with air.

We are miraculous, and we are more capable than we could even imagine.

And even though we may no longer build forts, there is no reason we have to come down from the mountain.



PS: Here's a poem tidbit for you all:

Dusk in Idaho

It’s that moment, when crimson fingers of sunlight
give final blessings to the peaks that reign
over the tiny, barely a town
that is Pinehurst.

It’s that feeling, of saw grass cuts on shins and palms,
gifts from the Earth from crawling through meadows
that are really just that vacant lot where
a shiny new house now sits.

It’s that smell, of evergreens dipped in rainwater
until they look just right. Of breezes wearing
the scent of cottonwood like a shawl
crocheted in summer.

It’s that longing, to have seen what woodland creature
created trembling rings in that pond, if
I had been just a little bit faster, or
just a little bit quieter.

It’s those seconds, in between the final performance of sunlight
and the opening act of stars, when wandering too far
awakens imaginary creatures that chase me
or thoughts of supper lead me

Sunday, April 14, 2013


Welcome to the History of Insecurity 101.

Once upon a time, I played dress-up and Barbies way beyond the point of when it was no longer cool to do such things with your young life.

Which apparently for everyone else was age ten, and for me, age twelve.

Finally, one of my friends posed a middle-school style intervention on me. Which is to say she called me out on it in front of all our friends. 

Stricken with embarrassment, I put all of my Barbies into a box and sealed them away. I boxed all of my dress-up clothes and moved on to cool things. Like slumber parties and talking about boys.

Which in turn led to feeling insecure about boys.

Which led to feeling insecure about how I looked.

Which led to wondering what I was supposed to look like.

Which led to reading Cosmo for life advice and beauty guidance.

Which in turn led to the discovery that I, no matter how hard I tried, would never reach that Size 2, C-cup, 5'3", straight-haired, manicured, poreless woman who, according to Cosmo, haunts the day-dreams of any boy over the age of eighteen.

I can wish for days that I had stayed a kid. Unoccupied by thoughts of face fat, or thigh gaps, or dress measurements.

Or I could dress up the way they tell me. Put together a kaleidoscope disguise of perfume, makeup, clothes layered by a professional stylist, skirt cut up to there, shirt down to there, stilletto, stillatto, potato, potawto.

I could be that bubblegum, princess, LA pop-queen if I just tried a little harder or ate a little smarter.

Or I could stop for a second and think.

And maybe...

 Just maybe...

 Finally come to the realization...

that the most powerful weapon...

that I have at my disposal...

Is me.

Exactly the way I am.
Ladies, take it from a girl who's tried nearly everything. No matter how much weight you lose, you're not going to change your eye color from brown to blue. Your bone-structure is not going to adapt to make your hips become any narrower. Your hair will not become straight and silky by starving yourself. 

There are certain things about yourself that you cannot change... Well, maybe through major and painful and risky surgery, but why??

I have looked at a mirror so hard I thought I might go cross-eyed, but it did nothing to change the fact that I am gloriously unique. And thank the LORD for it!!

This... well, rant... isn't to say you shouldn't wear makeup. It isn't to say you shouldn't play dress-up or do your hair. 

Because I myself love a little sparkle and color.

But don't do with a mindset that you aren't enough. Don't to it because you think the boys will like you better. Don't use it like a primer to blend in. 

Someone told me once that compliments from strangers are often a result of confident energy.

In other words, if you feel good about yourself, you give off sweet vibes that make people recognize! It's not the clothes, it's not the makeup, it's the fact that your confidence shines so darn bright that you have to hand out sunglasses to people who choose to hang out with you for too long.

 So, eat, drink, laugh, burp, dance, snort, repeat.

But please, for the love of Ellen, Tyra, Emma and Sophia, be you. Be marvelously you. Be gloriously, blindingly, ecstatically, and dumbfoundingly different. 

They're gonna take notice, Love.



Saturday, April 13, 2013

Shake It Off

A whole month of neglect ladies and gents.

If this blog were a cat it would be dead.

Apologies for taking so long, but writer's block can come like a hard punch to the mouth. Especially when you have a month like I just did.

To recap:

Glee, Glee, Glee, Glee, Glee.

Self-pity, Self-pity, Self-pity, Self-pity.

And a dash of cabin fever.

And by dash I mean it's probably a good thing I put the blog away, because any post would have had the Department of Public Health and Human Services on me in seconds.

But we're back. I've got two shoes on and I'm ready to kick things again.

Like myself into gear.

Somewhere in between when Kurt and Blaine fall in love and when Quinn gets hit by a truck while texting (obviously, this has been my life folks) I realized that I wasn't ready to stop living.

Maybe it was the fact that I had been eating frozen fruit by the bagful or that my conversations with my parents and friends consisted of Glee quotes and rants about cast fungus... whatever the reason, I realized I wanted to keep moving.

And as of now, I'm headed back to the University of Idaho and the illustrious city of Moscow, ID in the Fall. With an entirely different game-plan.

I scrapped everything and starting from scratch: Clothing, Textiles, and Design with and emphasis in Fashion Merchandising. Because I've got this thing for clothes, you know. And a huge thing for sewing. I feel like it's time to major in something that I actually spend day to day life enjoying. 

It's easy enough to get bogged down by self-pity. It's heavy like seaweed and can make a person stay in their pajamas until three in the afternoon and give up makeup altogether.

But it's when you decide to shake it off that you realize the self-pity was keeping you from worlds full of things that are loud and beautiful and glorious. Like the people who love you and hold your hand, even when you are a bumbling, whining, crippled mess.

I feel a little dusty and a little shaky.
But I'm definitely not done.



PS: In honor of my decision to go to school for Clothing and Textile Design, I made the dress I wore in this post out of an extra-large men's polo. Le stitch!

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Bugs 'n Dirt

When I was eight, I ate some bugs. 

And unfortunately, I don't mean fried exotically or dipped in chocolate. I mean straight off the tree from the field down the street.

Partially because it was a dare, and partially because I believe eating bugs was a task on my bucket-list as a shorter, less informed person.

They aren't as great without the chocolate, ladies and gents. 

It's the little things, though. By little things, I don't exactly mean insects, but I mean going out of your comfort zone for small things. Or by noticing those small things.

Doesn't have to be bungee jumping, but it could be taking a different walk home. Making something else for lunch. Drinking your coffee by the window instead of in front of the television.

It might help to see the things one might usually miss, too. The little things. And appreciate them that much more.

I got to see the little things today. After much cajoling, my parents finally got me out of the house and down to the bike trail for a short walk. Or crutch, if you will. And folks, I feel like a sweater that used to smell like cats that got aired out.

Definitely not my best comparison, but I'm definitely wearing a sweater with a cat in my lap as I write this, so cut me a break. I'm working with the materials I've got.

Sadness can sneak up on you as easy and as silently as a shadow sometimes. I know all too well that sitting in place and worrying can lead to great cases of cabin-fever. So get out. Enjoy variety. 

I hear it's the spice of life.

But don't eat bugs off a tree. There are limits.