noble or silly: all gifted

i can vividly recall the brief span of time when i transitioned from being a single-digit-little-kid to a double-digit-pre-teen. there were so many adjustments to make. one teacher turned into three teachers, which muliplied my homework by infinity. i managed to procure my first "C" in math due to my less than stellar problem solving skills. i was flummoxed by the graceless onset womanhood. there was so much to manage and learn and how was i supposed to finish Island of the Blue Dolphins when there was a spider web in my room? however, my clumsy attempts at at being "kewl" and finding my niche at the lunch tables left one aspect of my single teacher, menstruation-free childhood alive and well: the frenetic rummaging through of The Register in hopes of finding the Toys R Us magazine at christmastime. i have no recollection of my parents fussing over finances. whether my parent's refused to broadcast their financial worries to me or i was oblivious to them, i can say that i had no vocabulary for "it's not in our budget" or "we can't afford that." looking back, my parents might have been too generous. regardless, they entertained my thorough investigation of each item being sold in those glossy want-stimulating pages. (wants i didn't know i had!) the back of the magazine had a page full of stickers that were intended to be used to mark one's favorite items. i would choose carefully and then present the magazine in its entirety to my parents, earmarked corners and all.
this is all to say that, less than ten years later i still make wishlists.
i think to hope for, to wish for, to aspire to is so human. birthday candles. shooting stars. 11:11. eyelashes. dandelions. on and on. noble or silly, we keep on wishing.

update: crossed out items have been purchased

bossypants

by tina fey

baggu leather pouch 

"sea salt" hand soap

sleeping bottoms

"naked" basics pallette

headphones, in-ears

black contigo autospout

they are little luxuries. they are things i can live without but things that would be nice someday.

i could recognize

two thousand eleven was entirely about survival, pushing through, making those damn difficult decisions.

twenty-two years kept my vague impressions of what i loved and didn't love and who i am and who i certainly am not just that - vague, incommincable. the theatrics of living, the obsession with busyness and, perhaps, the very human avoidance of truth that incriminates or frees limited self understanding.  catastrophes were survived and deadlines were met but stillness was actively eluded.

two thousand twelve was the quiet that made way for discovery and disclosure and a laying out of who i am. it was, seemingly all at once, an unfurling and a settling into.
it gave me words to my notions, words that pulse and ache with vitality.

i could recognize myself, finally. a young lady who is enamored with the outdoors. who will go on walks and touch any plant within reach. who would eat stale cereal if it meant she could have it for breakfast. who learned Grease word-for-word in 3rd grade and still gets chills during Rizzo's ballad "There Are Worse Things I Could Do." who doesn't fuss over personal boundaries and manners. who washes her hair less often because it means less effort.  who is full of warnings and caution and preparedness. who will put forth remarkable effort for the things and people she loves. who would, if it were possible, make a home in the hollow of an acoustic guitar just to hear the picking. who would kill for a quiet morning. who most identifies with janie or charlie or francie or esther in the pages of coming-of-age novels.  who is coming to terms with the loveliness of her body, every arch and angle and small curve. who is confident that love and obedience inform one another.

thank you, two thousand twelve for being kind to me.
you saw me through graduation, a batch of trial-and-error reconciliation attempts, and the beginnings of a disciplined and fruitful life.

cheers to two thousand thirteen.
i have high hopes for you.

p.s. no picture. i couldn't decide on a mirror or blurred words or a watercolor, of course. but it's okay.