rush.

Hello, again.



November is drawing me away from my running, busy, rush of a life and into her rainy cold arms. I go willingly. The thrilling blue that was the sky today is beautiful in so many ways, but it is the rain that makes me sigh.

Leaving work on Monday, the steeple of the church in Lawrenceville's downtown square was masked by the frigid mist. It looked absolutely like a photograph, and it won my heart. I want rain for days straight, until my fingers are wrinkled and my hair is curling with all the freezing cold wetness in the air. I crave more of those gray skies, with low mist engulfing all our buildings. We'll be walking in clouds, breathing white and swirling breaths in front of our faces; we'll be damp, cold, and rained on, but I will be so at home.

Because sometimes my heart just asks for rain, and will have no substitute.
In Georgia, this is a predicament for obvious reasons.


And so, when two days of bitter cold precipitation drifted down from the shrouded skies, I got a taste of what I didn't know I wanted. Now I want more.

Although, I will say,
today was glorious. November, altogether, is wonderful.

Now. I have a sentence or two to toss into the pile of inconclusive thoughts.


I have become so well-acquainted with this life I've been living since September. Within the first week of that month, I was officially taking all my classes and starting my new job, in addition to all the familiar things of church, family, dating, and friends. Suddenly, I was leaving my house at seven in the morning and getting home at eleven PM. I have wanted to fall apart more than once; everything changed so much, so fast, or so it felt. But I've kind of come to be on good terms with this busyness. I sleep enough, I eat enough, I don't cry alone in my car every day- I am alright. But somehow, as old questions find answers, my heart finds new questions.

I wonder if I have forgotten how to be still.

I've been home tonight with my family, just doing whatever. We ate and watched a movie, and I wandered up into the kitchen to do the dishes. Once that was done, I found myself pacing the hardwood floors, turning over possible to-do lists in my head. Homework was the obvious choice, but I wanted to let myself rest a little. I wobbled back and forth between "restful options" for like, ten minutes. Somehow, that didn't feel like relaxation. Somewhere in me, some little administrative assistant was chanting things about how I can't just go to sleep for eleven hours, and I shouldn't just eat dessert whenever I feel like it, and what's the point in taking a hot bath when I have so many things that I should be addressing, or doing, or solving? I bought new stationery, but I can't sit still enough to write on it. I have shelves of good books, but all my mind wants to talk about is how I should be doing something productive or "good for me."

Altogether, it is a very overwhelming chorus of seemingly well-meaning ideation experts who all seem to know exactly what I should and should not do.

I wonder, also, if I have forgotten how to seek community.

There is a line from an Azure Ray song appropriately entitled "November" that goes like this,
"I was afraid to be alone, but now I'm scared that's how I like to be."

I think that's how I feel sometimes. It's no good, my beloved audience, and do you know why? Because both ways, I end up filled with fear. I'm either "afraid to be alone," or "scared that's how I like to be."

But what if it is how I like to be? It's an intimidating thought, you know?

So many things press in on my heart and mind these days, and always. And I know it's not just me. I know that human experience is all at once both commoner and more diverse than we think. Because everyone has felt alone, or scared, or has loved the cold November rain- but not everyone finds the same answers at the ends of their questions. We connect, but we are not the same.


And so, these are my questions, my unfinished thoughts. Thank you if you've read this far. I have a lot of words in me tonight.


Little Things of Happiness:

1. Leaf cyclones, and the wind. I smile at them all the time. The wind feels so playful in cold weather.

2. Red sprinkles on top of whipped cream and hot coffee. It's good for you.

3. Mornings. Once I am on my way toward living the day, I enjoy them very much. Before that, eh. Who likes that feeling, anyway?


This computer is hungry, and I'm headed for hot chocolate of some variety, I think, so I think I'll be done for now.

Sleep sweetly, world. Thank you, again, for looking in on my unfinishedness. Don't forget, you can always comment... :)

follow your bliss.

I have to admit, I have been reluctant to show my face here.


Days pile on top of days piling on top of me and my words, and I get lost in the shuffle of it all. It is not a shimmery business, this writing thing. Sometimes it feels like owning a very personable animal. When you take it daily to walk with you, to experience the life that you experience, it is well-mannered and pleasureable. The silent conversations between the two of you will be easy and intrinsically understood. If, however, you stop having time for these walks and conversations, your playmate will become flighty and unpredictable. One moment, she's by your side, and, in the middle of a sentence, she'll suddenly be gone, as though she has decided not to exist. But while she's busy not-existing, you're on hands and knees at the scene of her immaterialization, frantically searching out the sidewalks for a trace of her.

She may or may not fly back to you.

Probably, if you wait, she'll come around in the end.


So, that, friends, is the precarious position in which I choose to place myself for the sake of words strung together on a computer screen.

Why?



I saw a movie tonight called August Rush.

I'm not even sure where to begin. So much of the story in this film echoes around in the spaces of my heart. Before it was even over, I trusted it to be one of my very favorite movies, second only to The Village. It was a fairytale, a true story and a love story. I can usually recognize a good movie by how involved I feel while I'm watching it. It is so rare to watch something and feel literally as though your insides are on the edges of their seats. It wasn't suspense, really, so much as it was just that I cared about what would happen to these people on the screen. So often, I'll realize somewhere halfway through the movie that I don't really care anymore. Who lives, who dies, who gets married, or who gets thrown into a pit of leeches- it all just feels meaningless. I'm not involved. But with a really good movie, I can feel the very center of me being all wound up and tangled with the concerns and causes of the characters on screen. It feels kind of like having your fists clenched, internally.

This is how I felt during August Rush. I want to explain why, but I really, really just want you to see it. It will hopefully make clear to you the feeling I'm talking about, while also answering the question I asked earlier- why on earth do I keep writing?

Why did my dad leave a well-paid job that he really liked to be a not-so-well-paid music minister at a church?
Why did my mom home school her three children when it would have made so much more sense not to?
Why do I believe so truly in a person I cannot see?

So. It's a beautiful movie. Go see it. And then report back to me with thoughts.


Other than this,

1. It's raining. I wish it would do so for fourteen days straight.

2. It's November. I can't believe how quickly time urges us forward. I wish it were colder. I love this month. I want to be married in a November.

3. I just wrote 4. instead of 3. I need sleeping. Much sleeping. Hooray for holidays! I still have to work on Saturday though. I'm a big fan of paychecks, though, so I'll refrain from my complaining.

4. Happy Thanksgiving. Not turkey-day. Some people eat ham. I am not one of them, but it's always prudent to remember the less fortunate.

5. Lalo is singing goodnight songs to me. He is saying, "Please, either talk to me or turn out the lights, babycakes. I can't be listening to you type all night long." Coincidentally, this song sounds quite similar to the, "Get up, dang it!" song, and also the "I'm in love with you! Forsake your boyfriend and fly away with me for all eternity!" song. He is a very expressive bird.


So, those are my words for tonight. Goodnight world. I wish for days when writing here will be weekly again, you know? I miss you all.

hither and yon.

How do I begin?

Finally I am here again. It seems I always come back when I am too full to keep holding all my observations in just my heart's two hands. Actually, I think my heart may have far more hands than two. I plow through days and days of life-happenings without giving it a real chance to stop and sort through what it carries. That awkward conversation, this look in his eyes, and the homeless man on the street all stretch out open hands toward my heart like abandoned children- waiting for someone to do something about their existence. I get so filled over the span of my days, I lose count of the anythings and everythings that I'm supposed to be thinking about.

Erin sent me a message via myspace today, with pictures of us making memories before a Copeland show we went to back in 9th grade.

I smiled at first, and read past the pictures to the end of the message.
But then, I got stuck.

Scrolling back up, I let my eyes just sink into that photograph. I must've seen it fifty times before, but something about it landed right in the middle of me tonight. In the background, my daddy was playing acoustic guitar and singing the song he wrote for me when I was little. Just then, it was like my heart looked at all the many, many things in all her hands and shook her head sadly. Somewhere in me, I got caught between then and now. Who I have been and who I have become.

There is so much tension in this transition.

Because, I miss the girl who looks back at me from that picture. But I think I only miss her because I don't know how to live in the world I have stepped into. I walk through crowds of people whose faces are veiled and undisclosed to me, and I don't know how to meet their glance with mine. I go to malls alone and buy clothes alone and eat alone and walk through rainy, damp parking decks alone. Alone because there's no one else shopping at Lenox? I assure you, no. Alone in a crowd; we are alone together.

What is hard about this is not that I'm not always with someone. I can be perfectly happy on my own. It is a question of belonging, of having a place.

If only I had this worked out within myself. Then maybe I could make sense of it on your behalf. But it is so unclear and messy to me, so gritty and unrefined, that probably most of my thoughts on the subject will be the same.

Here is sort of how it feels,

You live in the same house for the first 10 years of your life. Then you move. A month later, you come back to see how the new owners have taken ahold of your old place. Within moments, you're in tears. Unbeknownst to your mental faculties, your heart is overwhelmed by the feelings of no longer knowing what wall your bed used to face because your room is now an office. Or of your closet being re-carpeted from where your dog once destroyed it. These are your memories; this was your place. Now, where can you stand? Even just sitting on these unfamiliar couches is strange- it is time to move on.

That feeling is, in addition to being inexplicable, very, very hard.

I think it's got something to do with growing up.
I know it does.


Anyway, it seems much of my thinking is melancholy these days. Sorry if this is less fun. (:

It would be no good if I didn't write from where I am.


In addition to this,

Things to Smile About:

1. Raspberry Milk is excellent. I tried it on a whim the other night. I made it myself using raspberry syrup. Definitely recommended.

2. New Dresses. I am going on a 5th-monthiversary/going away to BJYUK date this Friday and needed something snappy to wear. Dates are snappy events. So, I found the American Apparel store next to Lenox mall today and went bravely in to face the brazen advertisements in favor of a greater cause. After much deliberation and conversing with a very hairy young man, I emerged victorious. The brilliant thing about this dress is that you can wear it more than fifteen different ways. I've been wanting one since my lovely Ashley friend showed me the two she has. They are lifechanging. click here, ignore the sketchy models, and watch the video. AMAZING.

3. 5th-monthiversary dates. This gets its own smile. I'm happy.:)

4. Happy parents. This one I am adding in lieu of the fact that my mom just came chasing my dad up the stairs from the basement, exploding with laughter. A beautiful sound, and even more fun to watch.

Now, it is time to consider showering and sleeping.
Thank you for being here.

and p.s.:



good days. :)

though i feel alone.

Today has been so strange.

I have this ache in my heart that I cannot seem to make myself tumble through, or over, or around. You know what I mean? There are pains and bruises that you can make friends with, and live on the edges of, until they wane away. Not this one. This pain wraps itself around my heart like the rain on my windshield this afternoon; softly, at first, and then the bottom falls out. I left school today and drove to Five Guys and parked. I didn't want a hamburger. I didn't know what I wanted. In the background, Fernando Ortega quietly played. There is a line in one of his songs that goes, "And when I am alone, when I am alone, and when I am alone...Give me Jesus."

Something in me tripped and fell to the ground, and I began to cry. There, parked on the outskirts of the Atlanta perimeter, I couldn't help but feel so by myself. People walked by on the outside and didn't glance up to see the girl who was crying in the driver's seat of her Buick. I don't know what I wanted them to do, I guess. Half of me wished somebody would go in and buy my lunch, just to show that they had seen me.

Loneliness is just so unfamiliar to me.

My life has always been a veritable inundation of social opportunities. I'm not used to feeling alone in a crowd. It used to be such a breathe-again kind of feeling when I went places where no one knew me all that well. I could be just another face to pass on the sidewalk, or a casual-but-interesting first-meeting. It was a thrill to be able to isolate myself, if only for a little while.

Today did not feel this way. Today I longedfor something- I'm not sure what. A heart-stirring conversation with someone whom I could trust. A confident look in the eyes from a wide-open face. To cry with someone, and not alone in my car.

I'm not sure how to think about this.


Something in my heart feels amiss, and I don't know where to turn.
Maybe it's just for today.


Another thought.

It rained today. On my way in when I got home from school, I was loaded down with any-and-everything that had been lying around in the front seat of my car. In order to not have to make two trips through the wet, I had gathered up a hundred million pounds of books and sweaters and cups and whatever else I had brought with me this morning. As I stepped out into the downpour, I was a snowplow, a steam engine; I would not be stopped.

However.

I was.

A butterfly was perching on the side of one of the cars in our driveway, most likely trying to not get pelted in the storm. It occurred to me, for some reason, that it would probably not resist the idea of being re-located to just about anywhere. Offering my middle finger as a possible solution to the issue, I watched in complete captivation as he unhesitatingly accepted the offer.

So, for lack of any better idea as to what I'd do after having made this new friend, I tip-toed inside and set everything down on the counter to spend some time watching him open and close his wings. Eventually, after showing some family members and letting him climb up the bridge of my nose and into my hair, I watched him carry himself away. What a beautiful way to spend ten minutes of my day.

And it occurred to me.

God is like this.

You're plowing through your day, carrying everything you can possibly carry, and with plenty of things to do, but still, you see him. Like an open ended question, he's waiting in the rain. The holy spirit, when you stop to offer your hand, will lead you to somehow find yourself, all your burdens settled on some remote countertop, with you staring straight in the face of something beautiful. Spend time there, and when it is gone, the powder from its wings will still cover you.

Is this not the way he works?


Anyway.

I wonder if anyone still reads here...
I know I write so little these days.


Thank you to the ones who are still here.

I hope to see you soon.

oh, inconsistent me.

I danced today.



One of my favorite parts of this whole experience was in coming out at the end on the first service to be greeted by my best friend. Now, Julisa is far from being what you could call a "physical" person. She doesn't give obtuse amounts of physical affection, to anyone. She sort of just...lets me hug her, on a regular basis. But when she found me in the church lobby this morning, after having seen me dance, she threw her arms around me and held on tight, exclaiming bright words about how wonderful I was. What I loved was how she said, "I was so happy for you. I know it's what you've always wanted to do."

In some pretty corner of my heart, I treasure the fact that she knows this about me. How many people in your life actually really know your story? I have this intricate and beautiful framework to how I have come to the place of being on the dance team, being a dancer, but really so few people have any idea that it exists. I'm okay with this. Not all stories are story-book stories, for all the world to greet. Some are stories to whisper backstage and behind closed doors, while eye-to-eye and in careful moments with the ones who know you best. I'm not even sure if I have explained the whole story to anyone completely, really. But Julisa has watched me decide, undecide,and re-decide to be on the dance team for years. Actually, she's probably relieved that the reign of uncertainty is coming to an end. Her knowledge of my backstory, and the fact that I trust her implicitly with such information, is what ribbons our hearts together so inseparably. We know each other.


Anyway. I just stumbled across those thoughts as I sat down to forge through the attic in my head, trying to sort out the unwrittenness of the last few weeks.

Which brings me to my next thought.


I'd like to publish the following message to the general public of people I love:

I know we need to hang out. I know I say that a lot. I miss you too. I still love you. Don't give up on me yet.


Okay. Now. If you've been trying to contact me at any point in time for like, say, the last month, this applies to you. Or if you just feel neglected and like I wouldn't even know your favorite color anymore if someone asked. I do. Try me. I'm just learning to live at a new speed of life.

I mean, honestly.

So much has changed. Example:

I used to go to bed between midnight and two AM, and get up between nine and eleven.
I now go to bed between ten-thirty and one AM, and get up between 5:45 and 7:30 AM.
I used to be out of my house for church, miscellaneous appointments, and hanging out on weekends.
I am now out of my house for an average of eight hours, often more than twelve, almost every day.
I used to babysit every now and then for cash.
I now work 24+ hours a week in a Customer Care office.
I used to drive a half-hour to church and back several times a week.
I now drive a half hour to church, 40 minutes to work, and an hour and 15 minutes to school, on various days of the week. Without traffic.
I used to have all the time in the world for schoolwork.
I now have whatever time is left over between working, driving, being at school, and church.

SO.

This is not to prove to you that my life is busier than yours. My life is actually prettyokay compared to like, most of the people I know. This is to show that the reason I have been buried beneath a fortress of busyness is because I have never done this before. I have never been a part of the college, corporate world. Traffic to me was what happened when someone got into a wreck. The eighty bucks a week I spend in gas would have been enough to last me a month in a previous life. It is all so utterly different from the "normal" colors of my world. I spend most of my time trying to understand the chemistry and paradoxical grind of "what I want to do" and "what I need/have to do." And yes, in the midst of all this, I really do miss the people that should be the loudest sounds in my life-symphony. But I am hoping above hope that there will be a way to keep at least a hand above water so I can hold on to them. I like the circumstances of my life. But I love the people in my life.

That said...
I should probably go do homework.
Maybe I will let myself sleep.
But I wanted to do this first.

Love to you all. Thank you for reading.

:)