don't expect much of this post

december has been wonderful. here are some snapshots.

i dressed in black, as all directors do. seventy students, kindergarten through middle school
 performed songs and scenes from a poorly written (read:cheesy) christmas play. i instructed these rambunctious children, some of who were more disinterested or nervous than eager, to lock their eyes on me for cues and choreography. the result was hysterical - zombie eyes, concerned eyes, energetic eyes met mine on every step and riser. i could not help my laughter. managing to compose myself was difficult but the play turned out well. the occasional forgotten line or solo sung out of time was expected. they did lovely. i do wish it was more than one evening. it seemed so anticlimactic to move chairs, erect a set and lights, run microphone cords for one performance. next year, next year.

in true hispanic fashion, i spent an evening with masa underneath my fingernails. the feller, my mom, and i spread the mixture on clean corn husks, filled and rolled them. we were experts after the first few attempts were corrected mercilessly by mom. i know it is my last year living here but i always want to be around for and trusted with christmas eve preparations - vacuuming, cleaning, hanging, lighting, etc. christmas eve celebration was so much. just good times eating and playing games and opening presents with deep appreciation for the ones around us. lucky people we are!

the feller and i traveled to san diego twice. both times our eyelids hung heavy with sleep. i do love those moments of rest and unproductive lounging. we go on the occasional walk to offset the hours spent on a couch which could be equated to happily sinking in quicksand. we ate until we were full. we went to dinner with friends and before we had a chance to dig into our bougie plates, i realized, again, what good friends they are. we are lucky to have these two in our lives. they stick. and for people who have often felt displaced and abandoned, this is so so so important.

the christmas tree is still up, as it should be.

i have time off. the kind of time that allows for hours of reading, reacquainting oneself with music, and general cleaning of this-and-that. the kind of time that encourages watching movies in between hours of reading and actually playing with ones dog!

i am happy. that is not the most important thing in the world - i believe unhappiness does people good - but it is nice.

and, lastly, it is almost the new year!

cheers to

writing more than i did in 2013

painting my nails and lips

finding a more stable work schedule

being a friend

being quiet

minding my business

taking a watercolor class

cooking

adjusting my perception of myself, again and again

giving (anything) to others even if it is unlikely to be reciprocated

oh yea, and, like, getting married or something

a place to live.

we are looking for a place to live.
i have lived in three houses since i was born. the house i currently live in, however, i have lived in since i was eight.

sometimes we walk around the neighborhood - the park, my old elementary school. it is comforting to know an area, to have a strong connection with a place. i have been thinking about this since i will be moving out soon, perhaps to a different area. i love the charm of my city. the mid-century homes. the art deco brick work. the brick work, period. it is a microcosm. an iconic remnant of slow, small-town life. it is framed by four or more freeways, but is somehow removed from the frantic impulse of the city. i visit often. i walk the rotund and think, work out my life on my feet.

on saturday i visited a place that would give me the hidden, quiet existence i want. low hanging trees and whimsical, wild vegetation. front lawns. cozy homes with cozy neighbors and bad parking. not too far from coffeeshops and independently owned stores. a place to walk my thoughts. it is too small. the other apartments in the area have unexposed asbestos. is this a health hazard? is it worth risking to live in this enchanted area? maybe.

our home will probably be small and crammed with books and silence and music. there will be cornmeal on the floor from our pizzas and blankets tucked in every corner.

i will miss my home (and room) of fifteen years. by some magic my room itself has absorbed my character. it effuses who i am. this home is so unequivocally part of my history that i can't imagine a saturday morning waking anywhere else. but there is a pull and true desire to sink into a deep sleep with the feller and kiss him awake. to read by his side. to cook with him and, on occasion, for him. to create a home where others are safe and welcome. to, like my family, be completely and foolishly generous with our time and resources.

this will be my last holiday season living here. i will relish every detail.

i know this.

lulls are expected, in life and in blogging. some months i am compelled to write and others i am not. well, perhaps i am but i am too lazy or tired or busy or happy to actually sit down and get on with it.

this was my last* summer at the private school i have been working at for three years. with my raise came more responsibilities. i was ready for them. i was trusted to plan and lead the daily activities eight hours a day, five days a week. there were small catastrophes every day, which i learned to expect and laugh at. there were days when children transitioning into kindergarten scurried out of the restroom naked, third graders had bleeding knees, children had lost socks and a kitchen worker with no consideration for the chaos i was swamped in badgered on and on about a bucket full of ice and if i was done with it. did she see the naked child or bleeding knees? there were days when we watched movies and shared food in a communal way that reminded me of family and played egyptian war for hours on end. there were days when children told me they loved me. there were also days when i ran after children with disabilities, feeling helpless and praying they would not run any further. life with children, especially outside of the classroom where they confide in you, is certainly not boring. it is the most difficult, rewarding thing i have experienced and i am sad to say goodbye to them.

two weeks before the summer program ended, i realized my income would be significantly lower. i applied for jobs in a fury - seventeen, i think? this would explain my current situation:
teaching music on mondays at a private school
tutoring on tuesdays and wednesdays (and hopefully subbing these days, too)
preschool teacher on thursday mornings
nanny on thursday and friday afternoons
part-time position at my church, which requires my time throughout the week

it's okay for you to think i'm crazy. i am. i know this. i also know that i can do this. whenever i find myself knee deep in a busy season i always look back to spring semester of  2012 when i was taking 21 units, in the middle of an internship, and working. if i could survive that, i could survive anything. oh, and there is also something else i am doing right now:

planning a wedding. because i'm engaged!
that deserves its own post. soon enough, soon enough.

well, blog world. i'm back for a few months before i disappear again.
cheers!

*funny how we plan these things. i wonder, will it really be my last summer there? i miss those kids mucho.

non-sentences.

a recap of our two year celebration (october fifth) in non-sentences.

fake glasses and pleated skirts. feasting from morning to evening. fritattas and italian eggs benedict. strawberry jam, apricot jam - housemade thank-you-very-much. brie and chicken. duck breast and quail. pork tenderloin and gnocchi. steak and shepherd's salad. other housemade items: salami, beef pate, chicken liver mousse, chocolate and banana ice cream. imaginitave flavors. pure, sophisticated flavors. food venturing on unreal, of another world. fingers laced and the familiar cadences of eachother's voice. appreciating store owners and restaurant servers. gift giving and exchanging notes. nearly-napping at a park. seeing the whole turtle - finally! strong kisses. a streak of milky starshine on a black sky. escaping run-ins with pantless men and mysterious cars parking in bushes. filing up the tank at the same stop we did summer of 2011. indulging in a slow drive through that neighborhood - yellow lights and busy sidewalks. and finally sweet goodbyes that we wished weren't goodbyes.

some actual sentences:

he is my favorite friend (but not my only friend). i'm a lucky girl. we make a pretty good team.

and an expression from miss austen, which sums up how i currently feel:

favorite person.

leftovers for lunch. chatting with my parents.
practicing for sunday (our friend's wedding). giggles and coming in too early. but finally getting it right. music is fun with him.
walking to the park. sitting at the park. talking and sharing and laughing and being honest. knowing him.
buying pumpkins. carving pumpkins in concentrated silence. his, traditional. mine, not. both, wonderful!
the dark knight rises in comfy clothes. one word: intense.
good night smooches with eyes locked.

he is definitely my favorite person.
i am all smiles.
i am living a good good life.

strange as it was,

sunday afternoons have been my solace for the past few months. after church, my day is free. the feller has every sunday off. this means he comes over and we eat food my mother prepares (or my dad buys). if neither of those things happens, we get in-n-out. duh. we've been frequenting local parks with our ratty old blankets - his, stolen. mine, from childhood. we lay on them and nap. we read. we talk. we crinkle our noses. we smooch. i tell him, as we sort through future possibilities, that days at the park are enough. although we have done and enjoy both, no wining and dining needed here. laying by his side on an old blanket at a park is enough.

the clouds were theatrical, tumultuous. they wrestled with the sun our entire outing. the wind was cool. the grass was damp. the feller was warm. by any estimation, it was perfect.
i have been turning things over in my head about a difficult situation. i know my faults and where i have been wrong. where i have been unfair or too quick to turn my head. and i know where others misstepped. i am aware of the past and how it informs the present. i have been shaped by life experience. and whether i like it or not, i have to look at that experience and push back against the repercussions of it all. the betrayal, the unforgiveness, the lack of trust. what do i do with these assumptions and these feelings of uncomfortability and anxiety? how do i handle this in a way that honors and respects all parties? how do i embody goodness to those i have harbored malice against? what does the Lord require of me in this situation? i have been thinking carefully. the feller has a voice in the matter. and there is a voice i have been avoiding. so i have been thinking about avoidance and all those questions and what to do with a situation that will not evaporate.

and, unfurling from between the questions - that anxious, empty space that quivers,
arose a peculiar thought:
i have nothing to worry about, do i?

strange as it was, i believed it. if only for a minute or so, i believed it.

so i voiced this to the feller. he responded with:
no, dear.

there was sincerity in his voice. no pleading. no fight. just tenderness and understanding.
and while i love boundaries and things to be sure (above all, i want to be sure),

i know that
it is better to trust,
it is better to give chances,
it is better to extend peace and friendship.
(even if typing that makes me cringe still)

and as jonie reminded me at coffee, i have everything to be confident about.

it seems too simple,

saturday night the feller and i doubled with a couple i wasn't well-acquainted with. and before i could think about their kindness or their humor or appreciate their uniqueness, i assumed. and based on assumptions, which were (probably) true i tried to correct everything they (might) have been told about me.  because well, when people are angry with a situation they talk - a lot - and to a lot of people. i worried they were measuring me up against the picture sketched with the frustrations of another. i, the young woman who was sure of herself weeks ago, was confident she could hold her own weeks ago, was worried. while twirling my linguini around my four pronged fork and making swirls in the marinara sauce, i thought. thinking, in my case, can lead to devasting conclusions. i am a class one, self-diagnosed (appropriate, yes?) hypochondriac. and i worry about red eyes and slightly bulging veins and tight breathing. my hypochondria isn't limited to medical emergencies. no, i look behind me when i walk to my house from the street at night. i check my back seat before i enter my car lest a murderer or rapist be lurking (or contorted) in the back seat somewhere. and when it comes to relationships and friendships it might be worse. sometimes i conclude it's better to leave everyone (because they secretly want to leave me but won't out of pity), to suffer the losses, and prepare for the next time i'm forced to leave (because they secretly want to leave me but won't out of pity). i worry. my thoughts tend towards the worst outcomes. saturday night i thought of things they might have been told. i thought of how their opinions of me have been swayed. i wondered if they were comparing me to you. i wondered if they could see you at the table rather than me. i was less myself because of these worries. i laughed less and couldn't think of the right things to say.  it was still a good night. my sheepishness likely went unnoticed since they don't know me well. the feller knew. he knows. i love that.
early sunday morning, God reminded me who i am. daughter. strong. silly. wise. beautiful. and who He is. anchor. rock. truth. He reminded to keep my gaze steady. you see, i do look to the left and to the right. i look. and i worry. i assume. and i worry. i think. and i worry. a steady gaze sheds worry.  a steady gaze requires i not overanalyze, twirling thoughts like i do linguini. it is good to be reminded that, at the end of the day, one persons sketch of me as this or that holds no water like His does. but until i lock my eyes with His, i will torment myself with the what-ifs of that sketch endlessly.  the former is just a better way to live. sunday night, in an attempt to escape my easy-bake-oven of a house, the feller and i went to in-n-out and our faithful gelato supplier. i was honest with him about our double. he assured me that proving myself benefits nobody, achieves nothing. that he loves me and that the sketch isn't worry-worthy. vulnerability is great, friends. it builds trust. it increases intimacy. it gives space to bleed. it gives space to heal.

a note on this post:
i penned the above yesterday morning. but on my bed last night, after a bout of anxiety that only preys on the sleepy and sensitive, i opened my bible of ten years. (because sometimes you know you aren't strong enough to pass up the good words of a good God). the leather cover isn't attached to the pages anymore but i still stuff the bound pages between the cover like a pita.
john 5. jesus asked "do you want to be made well?"there was not even a "yes" or a "no" but a reason as to why he hasn't been able to be well. he is an invalid. he needs the assistance of another. no one will help. other people are made well. he is overlooked. and i'm sure he is used to this. perhaps even looks pessimistically towards getting better. perhaps even looks bitterly at passerbys. jesus didn't need a "yes" to know. and He wasn't off-put by the mans pessimism or bitterness. apathetic as the man may have been, He made him well. last night i was reminded that jesus asks me if i am through with sitting on my mat, crippled and despising my condition. he asks me if wellness is my hearts desire. am i through with being a victim of sickness and mistreatment? well, yes. but i have been walked over lord. i have been dragged through shit. and there are people who help me (the feller, lex, sister, jackie, etc.) but sometimes i don't let them. i am understandably jaded, lord. and at the end of the day, it is hard to shake the familiarity i have with the titles invalid, victim, and (because of these things) worried skeptic. despite my condition and my titles He still asks. and i say yes. it seems too simple, but i say yes. and he says "stand up, pick up your mat, and walk!"

it reminds me of isaiah 1: "stop doing wrong, learn to do right." or in john 8: "go and sin no more." these are unnervingly direct commands. there are no prefaces or buts or ands or ifs. there are certainly no explanations, which usually stave off change and quiet courage. sometimes they come after His kindness or healing. even so, they say we have a part in being made well. so i recognize my weakness and i say it. i describe it. i learn it. i do this so i can spot it from afar. i do this so i can articulate situations to loved ones in the most true way i can. it equips them to help. or to tell me to help myself! i do this so i know where i need Him most. so i can make specific requests of Him. so i can invite Him into these areas to do as He desires. i stop worry in its tracks. and i don't, out of boredom or stress, navigate social media sites such as facebook and blogger and twitter. i kill the beast. i redirect my thoughts. i replace them with the current state of affairs, which are lovely. i exercise confession and honesty. i present myself bare before loved ones. i rejoice in vulnerability. and i celebrate the ones who make vulnerability possible.

filled me.

in lieu of my absence here, i have been living my life well. it is like the slow unfolding movement of one's limbs mid-stretch. i can't get enough of it.

last night the feller showed me this song.



we sat at his picnic dining table. my sharp chin balanced on my hand, elbow atop the dark wood.
he traced the gentle curves of my collarbone, he pressed his lips against the subtle slope of my shoulders.
my eyelids were heavy with satisfaction, my body inebriated with rest and peace and goodness.
blake's voice filled the feller's apartment.
and the feller's love filled me.

all grown and facing giants!

i had opted to leave my hair salty and my skin still freckled with sand that evening. i applied coral-red lipstick and half-tucked my white lace shirt. en route to the night's festivities i talked to myself, of course. i talked to those i expected to see. i weighed words and juggled phrases and cut my language with precision.  i prayed that change would have a voice and a body in me that night. that fruit would be tasted of. integrity. wholeness. honesty. confidence. peace. it is one thing to perceive yourself changed. it is quite another to be confronted with the past, faces and environments with which you clung to only a year ago, and to feel the change that took place. this was the test of that change. did a year provide the time to get my bearings straight? would i lose them in the presence of the past? i wondered what i would feel. if i could handle it. aprehensive, i parked near a car i spot everywhere. but only because it was the closest parking spot - and still, it was far far far from the house.  the image of that grey truck is knotted to memories. i am a visual person. and images are what i see when i close my eyes. are what i see when i read or sing.  without looking i see that truck, though owned by others, and know the past has a say in my future, but is not the authority within whose power it is to decide my future. i walked briskly to my dear friend's home that i have ate, slept, and showered in. this time round, the grass would have fixtures of my past, the air would be filled with an old familiar murmur. past these fixtures i walked into the home to help with an item for the party and to confide my hopes and fears of the night to this friend who is more like a sister. yes, i walked briskly but turns of heads and first looks were not lost on me. images and pictures and all things visual stick, remember? there was shock. my presence was obviously unexpected. [i had a personal invitation from the one going away, but not the official event invite on facebook.] the shifting and uneasiness was, well, understandable. it had been a year or so since i had been with ninety-five percent of these people. after sharing in confidence my hopes and fears of the night, i headed to the yard. and i passed you who i knew at one time. and you were a stranger. there was only the conversation of acquaintances not deep dish pizza sharers or late night callers or entangled desperate lovers. because we are not that anymore. freedom. release. walking away without wondering, i felt it. we are separate people, living separate lives. and it is better this way. and i would not change the way things are for the world.  other people filled me in - they had moved out and have roommates, they want to do administrative work, mothers are moving closer, brothers are living with aunts, they want to move from performance to sound work.. on and on. i was honored to listen, to be trusted - if only for a night. and they asked about my life. actually interested. and i, freer than i've ever felt, could answer for myself, for the life i chose, for the only one i am responsible for. i could be happy and proud of it, for it. He has brought me to a spacious place. the boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places. surely, i have a delightful inheritance.  for the first time, i could engage with those i once felt threatened by. i could look in the eyes of those speaking without my periphery curiously reaching for evidence of berayal.  there was none of that. ah, freedom. we didn't speak again and i didn't hang by your side. and i didn't even cling to my dear friend. i was confident. i held my own.  and it was wonderful. years of horrific confusion and constant sadness. and, today, i am a wholer, healthier person. restoration came. is still coming, mind you. but it came! driving away, i was aglow. each time i recount the events, the subtle nuances to the evening and what they mean, i become light. content and grateful. alive and awake.

the transition from one life to the other was much too quick in some ways. the decisions made about a year ago set me flailing and circling and in a completely different - better - direction.  but there were questions. there were doubts. can she be alone? she hasn't taken time to be her own person. i think i wondered too. but that night provided me with assurance that i am my own. i don't need someone by my side to know know know i am somebody. i can take ownership of my life. i know that if things fell apart again, i could handle it*. i am strong. i am rooted deeply. i know who i am. and i'm pretty damn awesome.

before i pulled out from that evening my dear friend said goodbye, that she was proud of me. it meant so much to me to hear that. thanks, lex. and that evening as i got home and laid down (after already falling asleep on the fellers chest while watching a redbox and sleepily driving home), she sent me a text:

"look at you all grown and facing giants!"

i am glad to face giants with her by my side. with other dear friends and family. with the feller. all by my side. i am glad to have faced the past. and to have come out of that experience feeling sure that yes was the right answer a year ago. 

*the feller and i talked about this. we are far from falling apart. and even though he chants momento mori and even though we visited a cemetary on his birthday, he was unsettled by my cheeky but truthful phrase "darling, i am pondering the end of us." the end. oh! the end. i don't want it. but, finally, i am sure of myself. of who God says i am. and it is liberating. so much so that i can ponder the end, knowing full well that i will be okay if it does end. the first time around i was sick with fright. the feller and i - we don't want the end. we can handle life alone. but we are choosing each other. the sharing. the tears. the quiet nights. the discussions. the kisses. the sacrifice. the laughter. life is good with him. he thinks life is good with me. we make meals together and spend days off with each other. we go on walks and make cards for each other. we know each others families. and we treat each other well. we point each other to truth, even when it necessitates change. we argue and discuss and worry . but we treat each other well. we have been through a lot but, i suppose more than treating each other well, we love each other well. he is quite the catch. :)

p.s. i hope addressing you doesn't upset or confuse anybody. the only reason for addressing you is because you were involved in the horror, the change, and (once we both relented and abdicated our place in the other's life), the good. thank you for relenting, for leaving, for releasing me. for living your own life.  you live so near and i don't know you anymore, but thank you - to be frank - for going away. it has been the best thing for me and by the looks of it for you - i think you would agree. 

not always

i helped the feller and his roommate move on saturday and sunday
twenty plus hours of packing, cleaning, more packing and more cleaning. lots of music and ridiculous statements/jokes. complete exhaustion. food breaks (i.e. sandwiches, pho, ice cream sandwiches, vanilla filled pandas, barbecue chips, orange chicken and rice). jacuzzi time. finally cable and internet and planet earth: incredible families. snuggling and quick signs of affection between lifting, organizing, and scrubbing.
i've never helped anyone move before like this. i'm sore for goodness sake. and i can't calculate the number of bruises i've accumulated over two days. but it was so much fun.
and i am excited for the future. for moving out. for moving in. for eventually living with people other than my parents. for grocery shopping, dish washing, and bills. yes, even bills. for small experiences i will capture with my holga, given to me about a year ago from the feller.

we will not always be young.
but while we are young let's set this world on fire.
i had to do that.
ahem.
but while we are young i resolve to enjoy and be thankful for every ride in a uhaul, every cheap and filling dinner, every dog that playfully attacks me, every hug and kiss, every deep gaze, every every every.

p.s. their new place has windows, long open windows. natural light galore. my favorite.

i graduated.

two weeks ago today i graduated.
and as i said here, it was a different experience than most. for example, i didn't have groups of people to take pictures with before or after baccalaurette and graduation. i had family. and the feller, who also graduated. and his family. and a handful of friends. but it didn't bother me like i thought i would. i know why things are like they are. and i can accept my blunders and be thankful for the strong pillars of support and generosity i have surrounded myself with. they are wonderful people.

the evening before, i sat with the feller crying. thankful for my school and the four years spent there. but feeling as if the whole experience was compromised - what did i accomplish? who have i become? i said to him i am the same, nothing has changed. of course, that is a limited, dreary outlook. but i still become ill with insecurity about my body. i still tremble at preposterous assumptions and suspicions. i still worry worry worry. and i told him it's taking too long. it's tiring. it's hard. change will never happen.

we talked. and sat. and cried. concluding that He is faithful to complete the work He started in me, in us. that change comes slowly. but that change has come (hello, look at the last year!). and that change will come because He is able to turn a heart of stone into a heart of flesh. that, in the words of thomas merton, an apple ripens by sitting in the sun. that perseverance is of utmost importance. we concluded that there are good things to look forward to even if we must pass through the threshold of fear and doubt.

vulnerability is a brilliant opportunity to expose oneself as they are.
and though i hate it at times (who likes to be seen as they are? sometimes we are monstrous, hideous, broken creatures.), i am thankful for this intimate sharing.
sharing words. sharing tears. and pressing our lips against the salt and sorrow, against each others' tan taut faces.
yes, vulnerability is a brilliant opportunity.

two weeks ago today i graduated.
and i am a different girl from four years go.
and i am a different girl from even last year.
and He is faithful.

psalm 126:3

the Lord had done great things for us,

and we are filled with joy.

niv

p.s. pictures to come. 

like i know

oh, i have so much to write!

but for now, as the second day of spring bleeds into the third, i have this song:

nothing says spring like brooke fraser.
i almost saw her once with the feller for our annual christmas dinner with jackie+josh. but the feller and i were both twenty and too young to legally attend. instead we spent the evening at balboa park while the other two enjoyed dim lighting and jokes hailing from new zealand. that was a hard night on stone steps in a quiet stubborness under a luminous moon. it was followed by a blissful afternoon on cold grass in a crescendo of vulnerability under a dance between the sun and the shadows the next day. and a kiss on the forehead goodbye. the first one. december '10. chills. and surprise. and laughter. just lovely.

sigh


God is so good. i know this like i know my heart is beating like i know my nailpolish is chipped like i know wooden floors are smooth and carpeted floors are rough. His goodness, though not always obvious, is real and concrete.

from a hole

today will be good.

i've decided that much already.

yesterday i gave up on getting dressed and going out but i still ended up having quite a good day. snacking with the family and the feller after church. reading reading reading. mom's soup. vegetables and warm broth. chicken salad sandwiches. more reading. some naptime (duh, have you looked outside? it's perfect nap weather). and more reading with intermittent ice cream breaks. and before the feller left, conversation. good conversation.

yesterday, even after insecurity had its way with me i was able to emerge slowly in the midst of those i love, because of those i love - who remind me who i am.

this morning, i am thankful for the emergence that happens every so often from a hole that has many names (fear, self-loathing, etc.).

i am thankful that He rescues me because He delights in me, that He brings me out into a spacious place (think psalm 18). i am thankful that i had the courage, with the prompting of others, to cooperate with Him and not resist His rescue - yesterday and eight months ago.

so today, this blog is everywhere. but that's because i have to leave in two minutes.

cheers to rainy days.

cheers to wearing two leggings and two pairs of socks because i am cold.

cheers to having six classes today.

cheers to looking forward to things (like dinner with the feller).

the same effect.

school is not yet in full swing. i have not felt the shove of deadlines, though they all are written in my planner. yes, a semester's worth of due dates in a red-orange hue, in a heavy inked pen are all there waiting - and i'd like to think yearning with fierce desire - to be crossed off.

*

so here i am in the library: sifting though blogs, capturing the words of others and holding them tight, curious if the words i offer up to a vast, truly incomprehensible world (even online. especially online.) have the same effect. and suddenly i am swept with the urge to write. even my text to the feller about a subject which could only elicit drop of the jaw was more finely tuned.**

yesterday was good. today hasn't been so bad either. but yesterday is the subject at hand. tuesdays and thursdays are early days. yesterday i managed to have cereal. frosted mini wheats before work at 6:45 am is ideal. (anything before 6:45 am is ideal.) i am a cereal girl through and through. i adore the children i work with. that's all i will say for now. i also adore driving to work (only five-ten minutes away) and seeing the sky, lush as velvet, dyed with color. its complexion varies but never lacks in vibrancy or the zing and zip of life. hurriedly i got home from work. showered. dressed. filled my water bottle. and on my way to do homework with the feller, i sang loudly the hymn listed in my devotional. it is one of my favorites. it was wonderful to see him. (i always feel strange when talking about happy circumstances. i know better the sadder ones, the ones inundated with darkness. i have explored the painful subtleties of sadness: twinges of resentment, pangs of fear, stitches of confusion. sadness is a labyrinth i have spent much time in. happiness is less of a labyrinth and more of, for lack of a better metaphor, an open field. as much as i pride myself on my love of freedom, it scares me so. i would much prefer the mossy grey walls of a labyrinth that i know. at least, that is my natural inclination. but as i said before, things are changing.) i digress. the feller and i spent time in a study room on the second floor of the library. it just felt so incredibly good to be with him. shared joy. shared laughter. shared avoidance of responsibilities (like those times last semester when holding each other close was more prized than scribbling lecture notes in a room that is too cold). i love sharing life with him. classes for two hours or so. and then more time with the feller. he is remarkably attractive. especially in a henley. or that sweater he wore wednesday. especially when he is so close. after canoodling (mean girls reference, anyone?) too long we made sandwiches. deli-style. rolls. avocado. sprouts. provolone. ham. turkey. tomatoes. and had fresh tangelos. so juicy! then off to work again. then off to the internship. then home to father's steak and beans and mother's vegetables and mashed potatoes. i went to bed fairly early and accidentally left a candle on all night. thankfully, the house didn't catch fire.
yesterday was good.

*a picture should go here. i can't find one. lo siento.
**see here i used a musical expression about language. i am more aware of this - this pairing of concepts and words and subjects - because of the recent discussion of a condition named synesthesia in my cognitive psychology class. watch this. it is, i promise you, fascinating.

finally, relief.

last night (and) this morning i wore saturated red corduroys.

i wore my mother's jewlery.

i wore a thrifted shirt.

i did a smokey brown eye.

i curled my hair, of course.

the result: feeling like a young lady.

last year was hard, no doubt. hands down it was the hardest year thus far.

but today, on the lap of the feller - after a filling lunch of homemade quiche, after conversation about God and church and life, after kisses in the warmth of the sun - i felt like a young lady with so much ahead of me. so much promise and adventure. i felt relief. finally, relief.

i'd like to believe it was those red cords (the outfit in general is banging. yes, i said banging).

but it was the relief that only a new year can bring. relief because i bore the weight of goodbyes and the inevitable separation that followed. relief because i said yes to His ways and can experience, this moment, the fruit of obedience - sometimes carried out of fervent love and other times, begrudging discipline. relief because i survived, for lack of a better word, the difficulty of last year.

today, i am welcoming the new year.

today, i am filled with gratitude that He was faithful, that He proved himself strong in my weakness, that He was compassionate and tender, even in my wandering and rebellion, and that He is

making me new.

p.s. i told the feller i didn't want to forget today. today, where our skin is young. today, where our bodies our able. today, where we are twenty-one and have one semester until graduation. it really was wonderful sitting on his lap. he sweetly reminded me that it has been over a year that we have been dating. (and it was a hard hard year). and he, then i, talked about the possibility of two years and five years and seven years and and and. there really is nothing else like sitting on his lap in conversation, in silence.

ruined for love

the holidays were wonderful in my corner of the world.

there was an easiness about them. and a fullness.

and there was joy.

i am so lucky to see those i love as frequently as i do.

and the thing is, it takes planning and excitement from both parties. ahem, from you and me. and finally (miracle of miracles!*), i have people in my life that share the same sentiments about me that i do of them. finally, i am not the only one figuring out dates and places and activities. i am surrounded by good people who desire me in their life. and instead of rejecting their love, as i have conditioned myself to do - often on assumptions that they don't really want to share food and a couch and a sidewalk with yours truly - i am accepting it. saying yes to love. and saying no to the assumption that i will, at all times, never belong. the business of choosing rightly is arduous. you see, i am suspicious of love and skeptical of people. i cannnot easily rely on the integrity of others; few people hold my confidence. this has always guided my interactions - this underlying belief that people will pull the rug from under my feet - that they will leave in hopes of greener pastures (or, in my case, in hopes of becoming acquainted with a more [insert any adjective such as sexy, funny, etc.] individual). ah, the painful sting of betrayal. it is the culprit. well, it is one at least. i have suffered the violence of half-truths and omission. and having suffered, find myself unconvinced by earnest pledges of love and friendship. all this i have dramatized and written about, spoken about, sobbed about. this is not to say that the dramatization of my pain forfeits the realness of it all. and this vivid (and sometimes, i must admit, theatrical) representation of my history with betrayal has fed all the assumptions listed above, perpetuating my wariness of all interpersonal relationships.

but i am not ruined for love.

and i will not (choosing against my natural inclinations) crucify you for the acts of others.

and because of this promise to you, i will not play detective: sniffing out nuances in your language, dusting through the commentary and stories of others, researching your whereabouts.

all of these, i have done.

all of these, i have done obsessively.

but i am through with anxiously reaching for information with the expectation that i will be disappointed in you, whoever you may be. being beguiled has filed down my faith in others, that is certain.

however,

this is changing.

because what is also certain is that being confronted with the brilliantly steadfast love and friendship of a few (and saying yes to this all) is changing me.

the holidays were good.

candy cane lane. old christmas movies. shopping. babysitting. making gifts and cards. christmas tree decorating. christmas light viewing (wow!). starbucks. gingerbread house. third annual christmas dinner. the engagement of close friends. gift exchanges. appetizer contest. san diego. twenty-six pound turkey. gift returns and store credit. mao. redbox. pizza and the office and talks into the night.

late nights. early mornings (except that one day i slept until one... pm).

friends (new and old). family. the feller.

and this life - the life i am living, my life, the only one i am responsible for - is terrifically multifaceted and colorful.

today - as i have been for the past eight or nine days - i am thankful for this life. and for the change that is happening in me.

*saying this reminds of a beautiful poem, written by antonio machado.

read it here.

yes,

i have nothing wonderful to say tonight.

but sometimes, it's good to write anyways.

i just recently (two wednesdays ago) finished my last fall semester of my undergraduate career. i participated in my last christmas concert with that particular choir. i finished my last set of required recitals. there were a lot of "lasts." and it feels good to be done with them. and to know that this time around, because of a much freer schedule and freer me i was able to fully enjoy them all. i was able to lead and be led. and help clean up. and finish all my classes extremely well (having read all my material, no skimming. not one page.).

yesterday i got a new internship at a church much different than the last. and i am so excited. i will be so much more well rounded because of this. yesterday i had warm beverages (i.e. hot chocolate because i refuse coffee) with an old friend. an old "bosom buddy," as we would joke. she is beautiful. and for so long i felt we would never be friends again if i didn't undergo the changes that i have this past year. but i did undergo those changes. and there we were, catching up. reconnecting. planning to hang out next week. yesterday i got dressed up (boots, leggings, high waisted shorts, lacey shirt, pea coat, ribbon in hair, etc.) to hang out with the feller. we had so much to talk about. to talk through. and i am glad we are able to be there for each other. to bolster one another up. to be tender and kind. to be compassionate. to allow room for frustration (with life, with God, with friends, with fears) and to allow room for hopelessness. and to exhibit, to personify hope to one another.* we meant to go to a street lit up like candy canes in one of our favorite neighborhoods and then head to my house to watch a christmas story, but the conversation was too good. as were the kisses. and the tears. and the laughter. it was all too good. however, when we were done we drove through the half lit up street (it being late and electricity bills being high) and he drove me home. and we talked in the street. under yellow light. i love him in yellow light. and then we said goodnight.

yesterday was a good day.

today was too.

unexpected staff christmas breakfast (someone got my shift covered!).

crafts and movies and coversations with alexis.

work with wonderful people and children.

yes, life is good.

i am very short on money.

transfering from my savings to my checkings kind of short on money.

but life is good.

and there is so much to be thankful for.

*i remember when this meant trying to be someone's savior. trying to fix them. trying to change them because you needed them. because you thought you would suffocate without them. i am glad to say that it doesn't mean that anymore. it comes from a free place. and it is so good.

on the inside.

thanksgiving was wonderful.

it is too much to describe.

but there was

time at the park with the feller and the nephews before everyone arrived.

jungle gym. slides. swings. football.

food. glorious food.

far too much food.

ham. mashed potatoes. carrots. pea salad. turkey. rolls. potato/cheese/unfrosted flakes/sour cream goodness. many cheeses mac n' cheese with bacon. cranberry sauce. stuffing. pumpkin pie. apple pie.

an unfitting dessert contest. unfitting because thanksgiving is about savory, creamy, warm foods. not decadent, luxurious chocolate. six entries. six chocolate entries. cake. pie. cookies. you name it. an unlikely winner. but not really because as much as mikey gets down on himself for not being all that great - we all know he really is that great.

seventeen people total.

new additions. additions that surprise us all. little children. (this means coloring and toys and paint and a reminder to be playful always.)

i love my family. we are loud. we are fun. we are crazy. and they are so worth sticking around for. they are worth my investment. and the way the feller interacts with them reminds me of this. to not escape the craziness of my family by becoming so preoccupied with my own life. oh yes, they are worth my time and appreciation.

and when everything wound down it was time to leave. and share thanksgiving with the feller's family. a car ride with tension. of course. some arguing and laughter. figuring things out. which is not about being right or wrong but learning eachother. i want to learn this young man and know the details. i want him to learn me and know the details.

a fancy home. fancy plates. white, square. less food. (not that i needed more). candles, glass tables, expensive decor the little one couldn't run around. a fire place. my head being scratched. step-grandparents who live luxuriously. the feller says it comes with age - their taste, that is. the view was jaw-dropping. san diego lit up. electricity running underneath the sidewalks and streets, running into homes and stores and stoplights. feeling that same electricity on the inside - joy and belonging.

driving home. the feller drinking a rockstar as i shook my head. we talked. it is good to share life with him. and play the "guess what?" game. it is my favorite. i never want to not play it. (i love double negatives.) i fell asleep and am thankful he didn't wake me.

and at the end of the day, tired.

coming home to family still at the table and in the living room.

but too tired to hang out much longer, knowing i would be sucked into staying up until four like the rest of them.

with thanks in my heart i went upstairs and slept.

as admitted by

i wear my boyfriends clothes.
and they look better on me.*

i am so down with shopping in the men's section.
and pairing said pieces with feminine ones.


today i am thankful for...

his good taste.
his strong opinions.
his eloquent speech.
his adventurous spirit.
the times he thinks he is funny.
the times he "lets me" borrow his clothes.

*as admitted by the feller himself
(including friends, strangers, family... the list goes on.)

rich.

today was rich.

rain.

rain.

rain.

choir concert. early but rested. two services. power outage. singing, still.

almost done painted living room. mom and dad (out of the bedroom and not watching tv). mikey and carolyn. working together. painting. laughing. (yesterday was a lot like this too. it's good to feel togetherness.)

sisters acting like sisters. the oldest standing up for me. and defending me. the other, always a joy. advice. more than a sister, a friend. brother-in-law and nephew and the feller playing modern warfare three (because they can).

belated burgers for moms birthday. laughs. so much joy. she's vibrant.

mini naps because i'm tired.

the feller and i doing homework. kisses. squeezes. being silly. we are professionals at this. bugging eachother on purpose. for the fun of it. because we take it light heartedly. doing homework. and succeeding! understanding eachother. learning eachother. him being close and a part. him fitting into this crazy crazy family.

me, being thankful. thankful.

and better at not fighting for my preferences, way, and "rights."

selflessness. consideration for others.

this is what living is like.

i feel like i'm living for the first time in a long while.

it is so so good.