serendipity.

I sometimes overthink things, overanalyze, and overworry.
I go after what I want,
only to find that it isn’t as great as it was in my mind.
I always have a plan of how things should be,
but they turn out so twisted and backwards most of the time.

So today, I am just going to let it all be
whatever it should be,
and let myself go wherever life thinks that I should.

I am going to see how this “letting go” thing feels.

neverland?

In a place where I sometimes feel that everyone has turned into robots, cold and angular, just working for material things and status, I found a tiny bit of goodness left.

On the drive home tonight, after spending 5 hours in the library studying for classes this week, I was behind a new Jaguar, still with its 30-day tag crisp on its back end. The weather was nice, not hot enough for an air conditioner and not cold enough for a heater. I saw the window come down and out came a grey precision suited arm. The man held it there in the wind, and then he moved his hand up and down, making waves the way I’ve seen kids do a million times out of the window. I remember doing it too when I was younger.

He turned off into the neighborhood of expensive colonial-style houses and still had his arm out as I passed the street he turned on. I’m not sure why it made me smile, but just the thought of a 50-something businessman, who obviously lived in an expensive home and drove a brand new Jag, getting a kick out of feeling the wind through his fingers on such a nice day made the frustration of the day melt away.

I have often dreaded growing up, coming out of the age where being young and spontaneous and forgetful and dreamy isn’t acceptable anymore, into an age where being responsible and rigid is what is expected. It scares me to grow up sometimes, to gain all these heavy responsibilities, to be the one that other people, one day even children, will rely on. But seeing a grey suited arm out that window today gave me a hope, an assurance that, yes, I can still be the dreamy person I am, even if it’s just on the way home from work each day.

in lines of 3.

I’ve been exhausted. Utterly bitchy and tired every moment of the past few days.
I don’t like it, and I’m sure nobody else does either.
A doc visit might be in order though.

Being “boyless” kinda sucks, but I’m dealing fine.
After all, this is what I wanted, right?
Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself too.

School is back in the swing of it. Half the reason for the exhaustion and crabbiness.
I underestimated the amount of reading that 5 classes would involve.
So tomorrow will be a day spent at the library, reading and doing quizzes.

I’ve been taking my camera with me everywhere.
It seemed like every time I didn’t have it, I found something awesome to snap.
I’m not taking any more chances like that.

That’s about it, I guess.
It’ll take a few more weeks before college rips my sanity from me,
so you can still expect some posts in the future days.

xoxo!

one question at a time.

The past few days have been quiet and have really given me a time to reflect on things, on the entire summer really. It wasn’t the typical hoo-rah party summer I had envisioned it to be. A friend died, and other friends were lost in other ways. Our family grew closer in some ways and further apart in others. I allowed myself to give in to what I wanted, and recently cut ties with that exact person. It’s been a summer of contradictions, and finally I am able to sort through them.

Mostly, I have been thinking about why I suddenly had such a twisted, uncomfortable change of heart about TM. I haven’t been able to point out anything he specifically did wrong (recently, anyway), and I can’t determine just when I started to change. The whole situation is very confusing to me and seems to have just slapped me in the face with the realization that I wanted out. How could I be madly in love with him one day and then be completely ready to be free the next? I don’t know.

I didn’t have any real expectations from him; that’s what I told myself anyway. We were “just having fun,” which is a completely ridiculous notion when I once dreamed of marrying this man. He wasn’t exactly my boyfriend, but in my heart, I was committed.

I recently read that in committed relationships you continuously discover things about yourself. I agree. In this most recent, last leg of our relationship, one that has been back and forth, off and on for the past 3 years, I did learn new things about myself. And only because of him. I learned that making someone else happy before even putting any thought for yourself is one of the most rewarding feelings ever. I learned that loving someone else means loving everything, even the adorable kids that they have, without you. I also learned that love isn’t necessarily enough to make a relationship happy or enough to make it work.

With him, I think I was holding onto the relationship more for myself than for anything else. He was the one solid thing that I had previous to my injury, and I was grasping at having that normalcy back again, that solid piece of my life. I was making it what I wanted it to be, not looking at what it really was.

Oh well, I guess none of it matters anymore. It’s over, and I won’t trick myself into wanting it–or him–back again.

It’s time to move on to better, happier, more fulfilling things. By myself, for a while.

(P.S. Sorry to all of you who have to read this nonsense over and over, but I’m breaking the circle for you now!)

goodbye, my lover.

A tangled heart. Can you see it?

Giving it up for good. Really, I am. I know that I always say I am giving him up, but that soft spot I have for him always turns to mush when he says the right words. Every other time I melted under the tiny flame that he knew would get me.

Now, though, I am learning that there is a difference between loving someone and wanting to be with them.

I remember a time when so many things were laced with freedom and spontaneity, feelings existed that with no one else have I ever felt, and we held memories that cannot possibly be replaced. They say you only have one soul mate in life. He is the closest I have ever been to it, and the strongest, deepest love I have ever known. But something in that was scary; the fact that he had the ultimate power over my heart, and still played with it recklessly.

Most people would say that we have something worth keeping. But it’s different now, and I am ready to let it go, ready to let him go. I can’t really explain this feeling I have inside. It’s a mix of sadness, hurt, guilt and relief, all at the same time. Maybe I thought I wanted him so much that I didn’t even recognize that it really is all gone. It slipped away when I was so enthralled in everything else, and now I can’t force it back into my heart.

I love him. But I don’t want him anymore. I am letting him go this time, for good.

This is
the
end,
again.

So why, then, am I so happy about it?

boo.

Mausoleum #1, Topeka Cemetery

I’m not afraid of ghosts or spirits. I don’t doubt that they exist, but I don’t think they can harm us or anything.

Yesterday, I went to the Topeka Cemetery (I have a weird fascination with cemeteries). It’s the oldest cemetery here, and Mausoleum Row is one of its signature parts. And I’ll admit, I was spooked.

It’s creepy there. Eerily quiet and seems completely deserted. Something about it just felt odd, and I only stayed to get a few shots before I was ready to bolt.

I doubt I’ll be going back.

back to the grind.

As the days quickly pass and the dredge of schoolwork draws closer, I realize how much I am going to miss the time I spend every day in thought. Maybe that sounds silly, but a specific type of thought is what I am talking about. A type of thought where things matter and don’t come from a textbook. A type of thought where I can have opinions and don’t have to believe just the facts that are given to me. A type of thought where I can focus on me.

I’ll miss the time I spend with myself in the quiet, free to write and go out shooting with my camera.

And I’ll most definitely miss sleeping in.

when it’s done,

what am I to do
with only a smile
and a worn note
inside an empty wallet?

what will words from your heart
buy for a girl like me
in the middle
of this dark night?

where will I go
to cry my tears
when the only place
I am accustomed to is you?

and who will I love
if I don’t love you?

I’m coming prepared this time.

Countdown to classes: 6 days.

I went earlier to the library and brought home 5 different books on stress management and finding inner peace, even when things in life are going absolutely haywire. I have a serious problem with stress, as anyone who has dealt with me during busy and overwhelming times can attest to.

Last semester, I literally felt like I was going to lose my mind. So much piled up on me and many different things were nearing deadlines at the same time, and that stress combined itself with the anxiety and complete fear I have of being less than mediocre. Needless to say, I was a mess by the beginning of May. And when I am a mess, I am not a fun person to be around.

It makes me angry. At myself for being a procrastinator (which is another area I’m actively working on), at others for being rude and frustrating, even when they aren’t meaning to be, and at my entire life situation. I know that there is a snowball effect for negative thinking and stress, but still it’s hard for me to concentrate on anything because I am always thinking about what is coming next and what the next big obstacle or project is going to be. When the stress turns into full-blown anxiety, then I worry. About my own sanity.

This semester, with an extra class than normal and the responsibilities for Student Publications, has stricken a bit of fear in me. I know I can accomplish the tasks, but the stress of doing so might finally drive me to the breaking point.

And at 23, I am not supposed to be worried about a nervous breakdown.

Reading is one of the relaxing activities I do, to take my mind off of the small things that make up the whole, to put myself in someone else’s life for a little while. So reading about how to relax, well, I am hoping it gives me some insight on life and learning to manage time and stress and emotions, all at the same time.

sweetness in leather.

So thanks to Kristi and her birthday gift, I have a brand new journal (and a book too). I’ve had my eye on it for a while, but I just couldn’t buy it. I’m weird in a way; I feel that people who appreciate and understand the mindset of a writer should know that giving the gift of a journal, blank and ready for the thoughts in their crazy little head, is in many ways better than giving any other kind of gift. For me, it is. I try to get gifts for people that mean something to them, or that I KNOW they will love. I love it when that favor is returned.

So when I opened the card and saw that she understood just what I could have wanted (books!), I was so happy. Thankfully my other journal only had a few pages left so I just immediately started using the new one. It makes me feel like everything that is written in it should be important, or touch me or others in some way. The leather is beautiful and still clean and unmarred. The smell of it is intoxicating and makes my writing smell expensive. How long that will last is hard to tell. I take my journals everywhere with me, just in case an idea pops in my head that is too long for a Post It, and they show the abuse that is unintentionally given to them. Others have pop or cup rings, splatters left from rain droplets, makeup smears, and just dirt on them from being handled all the time. This one I hope ages well.

Writing to me is so much more than just writing. It is a way of living, a way of thinking, a part of me that just is, a feeling that is hard to describe. Even though I am shy about showing my work sometimes, I am proud of it. I am always proud of it, even when I don’t feel like I have a single cell of creativity in my body. It’s something that I need to do everyday, just the same as brushing my teeth. It’s programmed, I guess.

It’s real, in there in me. And it’s beautiful.

catching up.

With the internet out for 2 days, I am finally back online. Sure, 2 days doesn’t seem to be a very long time, but it seemed like an eternity. I felt so out of touch with the world!

In the meantime, I have been running errands to keep myself busy. Ordering kegs, paying bills, going to doctor appointments, buying books for school, plus a little bit of shopping has kept me out of the house mostly. It’s nice to have that alone time though. It’s not often that I do anymore.

This Saturday is my birthday party, and I am super excited. I invited a bunch of people, but it’s hard to tell who will actually show up. I don’t really care though. I’m gonna party like it’s 1985. It’s gonna be such a good time.

twenty-three.

Yes, I am officially 23, as of today.  It was a quiet uneventful day mostly, and I can’t say that I mind.  I used to get so excited about my birthday, and I made sure everyone else counted down the days with me as it crept closer every year.  I have always remembered events by how old I was at the time, not by which year they occurred.  It’s always been important to me, and I don’t have a good explanation for it.  But with that excitement in me calming down, I can focus on the plans for my 23rd year.

I hope this is the year that things really bloom for me. I plan on making great things happen, moving past the hurtful things that I have recently dealt with, and generally putting my energy to doing what is right for me.  Kristi told me recently that I always try to hold everyone else up and spend more time worrying about them and put myself and my own feelings after everyone else.  And she’s right.  I can focus on myself for a year and not feel one bit selfish about it.  I deserve that much, I think. 

So here is to moving on, moving up, and loving myself before loving all the others.  Here is to 23!

no news is good news.

I have a bunch of confusion happenin’ in the head over the past few days.

But what else is new, right?

I’ll update soon. Promise.

xoxo!