because i drift

anchors.

despite the fact that they are latest trend (all things nautical, that is), i have been thinking about things - on our tongues and in our hands - that prevent us from the drifting. because i drift more often than i am comfortable to admit. there are days when i am bewildered by a tempest, violent and uncouth. my drifting here has more to do with shock and the helplessness that follows. there are days when i choose the tempest, set my course for her paying no mind to my hazardous behaviour. essentially i think i can handle the drifting. proud creature, i am. arrogantly greeting a billowing storm, welcoming it, thinking i can tame it, survive it, and steer myself to safety. but the latter isn't what i care to discuss. that starts and ends with foolishness.  it is the former - the drifting that i do not plan, do not want, and do not think i can survive.

anchors.

growing up there was a wooden cross, not bigger than the size of my palm, that i received from a group at church. and at night, when nightmares came of conniving theives and murderers i held it. there was a bible given me by the same group. it is my favorite one. i held this too. held on because the figures inside my mind were near tangible. blue-green veins like small rivers rose feverishly underneath my transluscent skin. and i remembered i am safe. i am safe. i have nothing to fear. He is my peace, my protector. shh, shh. go to bed. back pressed against the wall, knees to stomach, eyes shut tight tight tight.

there was a phrase i used in the fall of 2009. ah, here it is. it was inspired by a chapter in richard foster's publication prayer. whenever the tempest began to stir, i whispered this 'neath my breath. i chanted it desperately. i clung to it knowing it was the truest thing about me. whatever i had placed my identity in prior to that fall was exposed - lit with truth and honesty - for the sham it was. that phrase was an anchor, grounding me to a reality that was being fiercely challenged by my experience.

the phrase i shared here is the same. it pulls me in and keeps me steady. keeps me from the helplessness that follows the shock. keeps me from looking for the tempest. it keeps me.

anchors.
metal or stone.
words or objects.
securing me to truth.
fastening me to reality.

but straight through

the past week has been fun, to say the least.
pushing through (never around or over or under but straight through) hard days or moments is becoming easier in the sense that i am pushing though. rather than wishing i could. or feeling wobbly with tiredness. or feeling woozy with insecurity. whatever wobbliness or wooziness i am presented with (or have created over time and is now surfacing. ahem, the beast?) i know that i can.
it occurred to me at around 5:48 am a few weeks ago, sweat on my brow and the marine layer dissipating, that i have the tendency to give up right before i reach a goal. or perhaps i should say, i cease putting forth my best effort near the completion of a goal.

example: when i run the canyon with my friends i set markers. run to the tall teetering teal plant (excessive, i know). jog to the forrest green bench still covered in dew. walk to the 2.5 mile marker on the wooden fence. markers. goals. often, usually on the running markers, i stop. i stop right before i cross the marker. my heart rate increases. my breath feels tight. and though my body can make it to the marker (further, if i dare to be honest), i stop. i slow to a heavy trot, which slows to a walk.
running, i have determined, is an exercise in discipline. i don't much care for the figure i achieve. but i have more energy after my 5:30 runs. my body feels lighter. headaches are less frequent. and i am learning discipline. i am learning perseverance. i am learning to have integrity, even in my running.

come on stacey, you could have done that.

you could have gone further.

be honest with yourself.

push through.

i am not after a self-masochistic regime, where i beat myself into achievement. i am aware of my limits. i have high regard for self-care. but i know that when i begin to trot or walk before i reach a marker, i'm just not giving my best. and because i've allowed that habit to become a sort of life philosophy, i am fighting it back. and teaching myself new habits. because if i don't learn these virtues now and begin ordering my life by them, then i will bear no fruit. all my efforts will be in vain, will be for sport. and soon, all my efforts will end with an apathetic oh well that relinquishes me from caring about the my own fruitlessness. i refuse to be a branch that is cut off. instead, i will offer the parts of me that bear no fruit to God and leave the cutting to Him. He is gentle but He does what is best. knowing this, i can trust Him with these decaying branches. i can trust Him with an axe. and i can trust that it is for my good and the good of His kingdom. 

and at the same time

the beast could probably narrow its focus to a handful of people and subjects. there is always room for expansion - for it favors and welcomes all information, but still only a few tighten its throat with maniacal pleasure giving way to squeal after squeal of ecstasy. and these people and these subjects... well, i can't help but be enraged by them. enraged by them - not the beast. because the obliteration of them would mean the sure death of the beast. provoked by their allure, i hope to do just this. my ambition is their demise. wishing them ill. harboring malice upon malice. but this is foolish. this is not sound logic (oh, spock). this is not a wise response in light of the gospel (which turns all things on their heads). because i know well that the people and the subjects have shifted over time. because there will always be room for expansion, for the inclusion of new people and new subjects to devour. the beast will have its dinner. pork or chicken or lamb or veal. it will be fed. and yet i am enraged by the meat, the people, the subjects. not by the beast. what absurdity! to look upon people and subjects with suspicion as if they are cheering it forward, this spry monster. as if they are the guards to this madness i sometimes feel. what tragedy! to forget their form - dust, yes. but more! image of the living God. sigh. what tragedy. to perpetuate disunion and brokenness. in myself and others.

i am seized by fury at them and subservience to the beast

and at the same time

i am seized by the good and right desire to love love love without suspicion, with trust, with patience, with gentleness and starve the beast.

the latter one i want more.
and i am not sure how long. i always wonder how long. you see, i can speak about it so because i know it so. i know the madness and i know the beast and i know the rage and i know the tragedy. and i wonder how long. because how does one change the set of the heart? how does one change involuntary emotions? how does one change unjust biases? three questions is enough. three is always enough. last night i discovered words to describe my distorted dispositions. suspicion and fear have become hallmarks of my equilibrium. if only to survive the devastation i have experienced over the years, i accepted suspicion and fear as permissible ways to navigate through life. they became filters through which every person and subject must pass. and so the bent and misshapen, the seemingly unbalanced became my only way of feeling at ease. here, i will turn to experiential psychologist, carl whitaker. though his methods were unorthodox (and would probably be deemed unethical today), he sought to shake people (specifically, families) out of their equilibrium that they might find a new equilibrium. a healthier one, more conducive to a rich life. you see, the beast keeps my equilibrium just so. meaning: i can function in all of my daily activities and be a productive member of any group i am a part of. however, when it comes to real situations... i am paralyzed. even my filters turn on me. everyone is criminalized. and i am enraged. there is also confusion as to why i am in the same place (i am using same loosely. i know well i am not in the same place as i was a year ago. but it is not too far from it in this area). ah, some clarity at last.

i am in need of a new equilibrium.
one not governed by suspicion and fear.
one not governed by the beast or by rage at its choice meat.
one forged by hands that are not my own.
because my own have not served me well thus far.
i still wonder how long.
and in the words of David, i join in lament:

"have mercy on me, Lord, for i am faint;

heal me, Lord, for my bones are in agony.

my soul is in deep anquish.

how long, Lord, how long?

turn, Lord, and deliver me;

save me because of Your unfailing love."

psam 6:2-4

and with the saints, i join in hope for things i do not see, things that might take a while. but, nonetheless, things that have been promised.

p.s. forgive the length of this post. i feel it should have been divided into two parts. but i am tired and will be running at 5:30 in the morning. 

details are delicacies.

i attended a play a few weeks ago and the main character, mad with bloodlust, said of his cousins 

"they are concerned with things that are not their concern." 

reclined in a dark theatre, unventilated and sticky, i felt exposed. 

click.

"don't look to the right or to the left

but keep your eyes on Me."

this gentle instruction to have a steady gaze is saving me from an intrusive urge to, well, intrude.
unwelcomed investigation. overeager concern. voracious meddling. call the actions what you may, but i know the beast by name. and it knows mine. it is certainly more than action. it takes shape when there is a lull in my schedule. i think it becomes braver at night. i always feel my curiousity spike when my head is on my pillow and my phone is near my head, its searing orange LED light a call to look look look. technology is its friend. it spoon feeds it, really. sifting through papers and scrolling through pages satiate it, keep it at bay. but it returns greedy for information. it lacks all sensibility, all wisdom, all control. it wants to know. anything. everything. details are delicacies.

oh, but this song. and miss johnson's sweet, spontaneous reminder near the end of this song point me to a God who is steadfast. a stronghold, a fortress, a refuge. my strength. the One worthy of my gaze. i do not need to know. i do not need to search. looking at Him, i am sure of this. and the beast shrinks back when i turn my gaze and look full in His wonderful face. and the beast grows dim in size and strength. yes, the beast grows dim and i am made free. and i become braver. and i become sure that it is better to trust than to know. what a dreadful thing if i were to devote my existence to this beast! this indefatigable beast whose demands steal my time and my energy - steal my gaze and give it to unfruitful things. no, i want a fruiful life. remember? intended growth. i want a trimmed life. without the sort of excess that will make me lazy and ungrateful and a sqaunderer of time and energy.

so i starve the beast of my gaze and give it to the One who is worthy.
and He will instruct me where, what, and who to share my gaze with.
of this i am sure.

dust.

with the start of summer day camp this week i am reminded of my finite form:

dust.

don't get me wrong, i love my kiddos. i equate their scribbles to van gogh. they are silly. they are curious. they fumble through hellos with ease and forget offense in favor of a team game. and their discoveries illumine every contently slouched and apathetic part of my heart.

i am working roughly thirty hours a week at summer day camp. with children who desire friendship and leadership. my responsibilities range from leading worship through music, coming up with skits, bible lessons, etc. to leading team challenges to being attentive to what the little ones are up to (they are always up to something) and, at the same time, being attentive to the older ones who want a game coordinator, referee, and participant.

this doesn't include my job at my church or family time or date time with the feller or friend time with lovely individuals or running or cooking or cleaning or voice lessons.

and today i can feel myself pulling inward, starved for hardy portions of quiet.
it is the reading, writing, crafting, lounging, eating in quiet (read: alone) that i covet.

it is the quiet that i want.
and as an introvert it is more need than want.

i am dust.
i flourish like the grass and flowers...
and am gone when the wind blows.
my frame is weak.

and so i carve out time.
no, i guard my time.
and i lean on the One who is strong.
and i find that in my leaning, my admittance of weakness
i am strong too.

that better life might grow

one would think that graduating college would give me more time to write.
and i suppose it has but i just haven't made it a priority like i have
friends
family
running
reading
working
or
resting.

i will get back on it soon.
it just takes one post. and another.
and the courage or motivation to write another.

but today i have a quote, and my reason for posting this quote?
i am memorizing john 15:1-8 right now.
and upon opening my devotional this morning i was delighted to read this quote.
and think of my tiny roses given to me by the feller that sit on my window sill -
whose leaves grow green but lack buds.

"any good gardener knows that beautiful roses require careful pruning. pieces of living plant have to die. it cannot just grow wild. we cannot simply 'celebrate growth.' it is more than to be regretted, it is tragic that we seem to have lost the insight that growth in Christ requires careful pruning. pieces of us by our intentional action need to die if we are to become the person that is in God's vision. we are not cutting away a cancerous growth, but making room for intended growth. mortification refers to that intentional action of pruning of life that better life might grow by God's grace - just as better roses grow by God's grace."

urban t. holmes III

spirituality for ministry

there is more to it but this is all i can swallow at the moment.

today my niece and nephew graduate high school and middle school respectively.
they will undoubtedly shy away from pictures, contorting their faces or hiding behind hands or tough exteriors. but we will all take pictures. and they, looking back, will be forced to recall how aggressively they recoiled from the camera.
i love them.
i am filled with hope for them.

this time last year.

today is june the first
today does not feel like loss.

i think i will always remember this time last year. though the months that followed (not unlike the years before) were crowded with foolish choices, it was the first time in my life i made a pivotal decision. it took time to order the rest of my life with that decision, but i chose. a well-ordered life brimmed with health was my aim. health does not come easy. this i have found to be true.  adjustments were made. habits were done away with. and health can still be hard to come by. the human condition, marked by a clear depravity, is sure to inhibit health here or there along the way. this i have also found to be true. the heat of a california summer will always remind me of this. it was the first time i recognized my own humanity. my wretchedness. it was a dawning of every selfishness. small rebellions crossing the horizon. blood sunrise. not light but darkness.  and on i rode obliterating all hopes, taking back every promise in the name of self-preservation.  yes, there was part of me that fought the decision. a part that, being allowed to do as it pleased for so long, was threatened and reacted in horrendous ways. a part that was a coward in the face of change, despite its layered armour. and cowardliness made way for foolish choices.

the confessions that followed (and there were many) made way for wise, right, good choices.
confession paired with action gave me back the resolve to choose life.
a year later i can do nothing but give thanks for the graces given me.



and today, june the first, this very moment, i am


relishing



indulging



delighting in



the change that took place.
the chances i was given.
and the life that has resulted.

painting via.

in other news:

it is five and i have spent most of my day (after sleeping in) sniffling, blowing my nose, sneezing and drinking liquids. in between these activities i have eaten breakfast (fruit) and lunch (albondigas soup), played harry potter on the wii with my nephew, played legos with my nephew, and have finished the last pages of The Help by Kathryn Stockett. The last three hours have been quiet. passing cars - metal cutting through air. birds, i wonder what kind. mom and dad are both visiting their mothers. the former in san diego tending to gma's shingles and inconsistent diet. the latter in a hospital nearby while my gma regains the ability to independently do things for herself. it reminds me of death. of their age (and of how young i am). of how fragile our bodies are. of how decay is guarenteed. of how it only needs time to torch the harrowing trail to hospital beds and nurses and doctors and medication and and and. it reminds me of life. of friday morning, alexis bringing me oatmeal and packets of emergenC and good conversation.  of yesterday spent with the feller and his family in san diego. both of us were sniffly (he actually got me sick) so we didn't make any plans to go out. but we lounged. cooked. talked. laughed. went on a walk. of this morning spent with my mom and dad and nephew - with questions about my symptoms, about the trip to san diego and with a list of their worries about their mothers. i know i am not saying much today. nothing worth erecting a monument about. but all of these moments - the lego moments, the heating up of soup mother made for her mother and me moments, the hand of the feller's younger brother as we walk around their new neighborhood moments... are worth remembering, worth examining, worth giving thanks for, worth noticing... and i am much more interested in these moments than the one's that would naturally draw more attention. the small less than monumental moments. those are the moments for me.

in other news:
i need to write more. because this is poorly written. slightly cheesy (the end? sigh.). and my syntax, my pattern of speech and organization of grammar is so predictable. is this a bad thing?
book club starts up again in june. Brave New World. hoorah!
i will be running a canyon a few times a week in the early mornings starting this week.
i have been cooking healthy meals. let's break that down: i've been cooking. WIN. healthy. WIN. meals, emphasis on it being plural. WIN.
summer is in full swing, which means life is in full swing... this means working a lot and spending time with loved ones when i can. it also means paying off loans. eeks.

grace.

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. 

confess

"no, it isn't easy living with hearts like ours: let us confess it."

-carlo caretto, the God who comes

mystery of mysteries!

this morning i am reminded of how much my heart desires oneness with Christ,
how my heart delights in simple devotion to this King and Friend.

it thirsts for Him.
i know that imagery is used ad naseum,
but His word is life to me.
it doesn't just give life, it is life.

and while i need this Sustainer to be my strength, my rock, and my help in time of need (hello, it's finals week!) He is so much more than a fulfillment to my need. He is so much more than a therapeautic idea.

He can be known. mystery of mysteries! He can be known.

my heart's cry for oneness, for closeness, for knowing can be heard even in the midst of my exhaustion and anxities.
and my heart, deprave as it is, not only needs Him but longs for Him.

and i trust.

and before i start to type and memorize and type more,

i am anxious about life after graduation.
not because i won't have a job, because i will.
not because i won't have a place to live, because i will.

but because of all the uncertainties that change brings -
remember eleven months ago?
my life completely shifted.
you have no idea.
did things turn out wonderfully?
yes.
but it's that same shifting that my stomach is in knots about.

i won't have school to schedule life around.
and for someone who indulges in a full planner,
it's frightening.
and for someone who likes certainty,
it's worrisome.

click ^.

and so i look to the One who i know,
the One who knows me.
and i trust.
trust trust trust.

matthew 6:34

therefore do not worry about tomorrow,

for tomorrow will worry about itself.

each day has enough trouble of its own.

niv

so don't worry about tomorrow,

for tomorrow will bring its own worries.

today's trouble is enough for today.

nlt

so no worry bout tomorrow,

cuz tomorrow get plenny fo worry bout.

every day get nuf trouble fo dat day.

hawai'i pidgin

p.s. the last one is fantastic. sometimes hard to dicipher, but fantastic. 

finals week

my last finals week of undergraduate career equates:

seven finals and a portfolio/exit interview

three today
one tomorrow + work
one wednesday
two thursday + baccalaurete practice
and finish the porfolio/exit interview somewhere in there.

oh gosh.

but on saturday?
i graduate.
and i must must must be thankful for this unique period in my life consisting of early mornings and study guides and last minute choir concerts and seven hours in the MIDI lab.
i will never know this again - this time from eighteen to twenty-two.

i stink

sometimes i must say to myself,
in the face of distraction and wanting to know:

just stop caring.
mind your business.
live your own life.

i have a feeling this will be my most difficult lesson to learn -
as evidence by the years it's taken for me to even say those things to myself.
i stink at learning it.

, but gosh

today has been wonderful.
had a small bout of anxiety to push through.
but wonderful.
the sky took my breath away all day long. even now, as i look through my doorway and out my window... wow.
clouds, though they usually mean oncoming rain or a chilly day, are my favorite.

and now,
i must start something.
ahem.
i mean finish something:
worldview paper. my projected number of total pages? forty.
eeks.
i'm close, but gosh it's a lot.

i saw this today on [pinterest]*:

i can relate.
off i go.

*ew. the feller calls it a den of comparison. i wholeheartedly agree. but sometimes it's not so bad.

with the confidence

a week from now i will be taking my last final of my undergraduate career.

there is still so much to be done.

so much.

but i've decided to care for myself.

to let the quiet on the inside grow.

to focus on the task at hand.

to sleep a good amount of sleep.

to avoid some social media.

to rest my voice.

to spend an hour or two daily with friends, family, and the feller.

to wake up early instead of going to bed late.

to take things one day at a time.

i think my graduation experience varies from the majority of people here at school.

for the past four years i lived my life mostly outside this campus and community.

i had other communities, other friends, other ways to spend my time.

and while i've gleaned much from my professors, i didn't develop friendships with them outside of a coffee here or there.

i went to school for classes, not friendships.

and not until recently did i begin to subtly change how i approach this all.

especially on choir tour. 

that being said, i'm not sure how to approach this graduation experience.

i still, after so many years of feeling this way, see myself as an outsider in some ways.

and wonder if i create that boundary, if that's inherently a bad thing -

being an observer and not particpator. 

more reflection on this later.

today the quiet in me swelled under a grey sky.*

sleeping more than usual, with the confidence that an assignment turned in late won't affect my grade.

wearing kick-back clothes and no make up, with the confidence that i am beautiful apart from high waisted shorts and colored lips.

driving in the silence, with the confidence that i need more silence in my life.

walking an empty campus, with the confidence that i am impacting these children's lives.

and while waiting for children to be dropped off at 6:45 am.

there is always a lull after i clock in and before the first one arives.

and i always, to-do list aside, dedicate this time to the Lord.

because He is deserving and because it aligns my soul in everywhich way.

i began reading through psalm 121 this morning.

(the one that has been made into songs again and again and again).

and took solace in my Helper - the Maker of heaven and earth.

and took delight in this watchful One, this One who cares enough to stay awake, alert, engaged.

today will be a good day. 

much to do tonight after classes and work.

but good nonetheless.

*i am painting my bathroom grey soon. next week, i'm sure. thinking about it makes my heart glow.

keeps living

waking up at three thirty isn't so bad when you went to bed at around nine pm.

did you know the birds are awake at this hour?
the world keeps living while i am sleeping and typing.
and while i may feel uneasy about this at times, it is encouraging to know that the world does not hang on my attention to it. that i am, as important as i'd like to believe that i am, not all that important. well, at least not in the sense that i keep the world going.
just a thought at 5 in the morning before i shower and eat and type more.

helps me

dustin o'halloran helps me do homework.

simple piano fingering.
swelling strings.
ethereal background noise.

yup.
it helps ease this massive headache.
it helps focus this tired, sleepy girl.

did i mention i have three more weeks until graduation?

bahhhh.

right now, i do not want to do homework.
i want to
paint.
go on a walk outside with the feller.
read.
do my eyebrows.
clean.
sit in silence.
write.
make something.
do laundry.
sing.
make a fruity dessert.

anything but homework.

three
more
weeks.

bahhhh.
graduation come soon!
but not too soon.
but soon enough so i don't collapse under due dates.

this weekend was crazy.
rollercoaster much?
such is life when people are broken and messy and are looking for protection, security, and peace in dark dark places.

today i sang in my last spring concert. so much truth in our repetoire.
more on this later.

tomorrow i'm not washing my hair.
this is the advice i get from choir people.
let's hope it doesn't look too dirty.

there is so much to say.
so much i want to write about:

tour - the characters, the communities and places i touched, smelt, and listened to.
stories for stories sake.
not forsaking the Rock.
health issues.
the power of God in the face of darkness.
yadayadayada...

i think this post, having no point and zigzagging every which way, is my pitiful attempt to avoid homework.
eeks.

even my soul is wet.

did you know that this month is national poetry month?

the library at my school reminded me with this poster. 

fact: i love watercolors.

i want to write. in color and sideways on paper without lines. in black and white on screens with fonts much more legible than my own. i want to write. feelings. not just about feelings. but to completely encompass and write out the feeling itself - in all of its vibrancy, in all of its melancholy. i think this is why the romantic period is my favorite period in music history. the feelings aren't explained or deconstructed - they are experienced.

here is a poem for today, and probably this month (because this month i graduate and there is not much time for poetry, or posting poetry, when one is graduating):

Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.

The snow unfurls in dancing figures.
A silver gull slips down from the west.
Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
Oh the black cross of a ship.
Alone.

Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.
Far away the sea sounds and resounds.
This is a port.

Here I love you.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.
I love you still among these cold things.
Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels
that cross the sea towards no arrival.
I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.

The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.
My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.

The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

Pablo Neruda

in the middle

this morning as i write my concert report, i am listening to Bruch's Concerto No. 1 in G Minor for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 26.

the soaring emotion evoked from the violin is breathtaking.

the lines sing themselves.

the phrasing pulls and releases; all passion and vigor, known well to the heart of any man or woman who has encountered longing and contentment and felt the terrible inevitable tension in the middle.

it is all drama and richness - the two victors of the Romantic period's war against the obsessive concern with form and concise expression that swept through the prior century. intellectualism left no room for tension in the middle.

le sigh.

is it strange to say that i have a sort of infatuation with the tension in the middle? 

that i indulge the tension, for the sake of the tension?

that i relish in every ascending line, slow crescendo, and hanging fermata?

i do.

i do i do i do.

p.s. the picture above is a daguerre, entitled "dioramanea". he is a romantic painter - all drama and richness. i love it.  

myself.

day two of feeling incredibly myself.

wake up at 6.
oatmeal with the feller at 6:30.
work on MIDI project 7-8.
class 8-10.
finish MIDI project 10-11.
class 11-12:30.
lunch/grad fest 12:30-1.
class 1-4.
group project meeting 4-6.

and right before the meeting started, finding my keys were locked in my car. this hasn't happened in so long. i've followed my professors advice the past year and a half or so and would check to make sure my keys were in my hands before i shut the door to my car. and if it weren't for the stack of text books, notebooks, and other miscellaneous items i was holding i would have caught this. but i didn't. and i didn't worry either. i just worked on my project. with my group. however, i was assisted after the group meeting by three boys and a hanger. my keys were pulled with force out of the small crack i left open for fresh air. enough force to frighten me and threaten their lives if they broke my window. they did it and i said thank you and we laughed at how ghetto* we all were. i went home in slight traffic. some people mind traffic. and if i have a place to be at, i suppose i do - in varying degrees - as well. but with no place to go but home and nothing to do but homework i enjoy slower drives. to think. to drink water. to be alone. to turn the radio on and off, switching stations, cds and finally deciding on silence. always, silence. (well, not always. most days. but not always.) to roll down all the windows or none depending on how quickly i get goosebumps.

now homework.
at the end of this month


i
will
be
graduating.

what a relief.
what an accomplishment.

*and when i say ghetto... i mean mexican. because i am mexican. and the person who suggested the hanger idea? mexican. the other two weren't. but they knew how mexican the whole situation was. as did the people walking by, giving us skeptical looks as we folded a hanger and wedged it through a small crack.

so delighted.

today i felt fully myself. those kinds of days are more frequent than a year ago, for that i am thankful.

as of late i have been listening to soundtracks from musicals.
duh.
specifically chicago, jekyll and hide, and phantom of the opera.
i will see chicago this summer.
with the feller and the roommate/his girlfriend we don't often hang out with.
how exciting!
i think i want to perform in a musical after i graduate.
sometime within the first year, maybe next spring.
the ensemble is enough to satisfy me - i just love the music, the movement, the stories, the expressions...
all of it.


four weeks until i graduate.
eeks!

today is good.
mother just called me down for dinner.
chicken.. rice pilaf... need i say more?
then off to school and a night spent in costa mesa.
acting, recording music, reading and writing.
and sleeping on a floor that isn't mine but one i've grown to love.
today is good, did i mention that?


also, i love my life.
and the professors who help me untangle things.
and the professors who offer to help the feller and i untangle things.
love works through things. for the joy set before it.
love is not about a winner or a loser (though it is so easy to divide into camps and declare war instead of serving, sacrificing, and prefering the other, instead of sitting in front of eachother, hands held, tears rolling, lives committed, working with eachother).
love perseveres.
and persevere, we will.*

sigh.
i am so delighted with my lot.

*love does and is many other things. and while i may know them, i desire to learn through life experiences and the demands of relationships. it will be hard work. but if these past months have been an indicator of anything... it's that all of the hard work is worth it. all of it.

go at it alone,

and though i will go at it alone,
today will better.

spent

the drive home was all nausea and headache.
it was tiredness and dismay.
it was fury and fraility.

the demands of these last five weeks intimidate me.
school, work, internship.
relationships with family and friends.
and the looming decisions i must make, though i feel pressed and pressured and backed into a corner by the loved and the loathed.
i feel as though the loved and loathed have determined to dismantle what little rest and peace i have right now in my busy, busy life by questioning me (desiring only my submission) and having me reevaluate and restate my reasoning until i feel as if my very reasoning is no more than the unbalanced, delirious logic of an equally unbalanced delirious young woman.

i am spent.
i feel the quiet fracturing of my will.
my patience.
my wonder.
my stamina.
my passion.
my trust.

in all of my undone-ness i slipped out of today's apparel and into my sister's eighth grade basketball sweats and the feller's t-shirt. i borrow clothes. i keep the clothes i borrow. within five minutes underneath white sheets and watercolored comforter, i fell asleep. heavy, deep, and deserved. and while i am no more made up than i was before the nap, i have the advantage of a more rested body.

the fracturing is still there.
some things are too difficult for me to do.
some things i just refuse to do or further discuss.

and in my ungraceful collapse under the difficulty of situations and my own refusal to comply to the wishes of the loved and the loathed,
i am spent.

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.

the lord reigns

the lord reigns, he is robed in majesty;
the lord is robed in majesty
and is armed with strength.

the world is firmly established;
it cannot be moved.
your throne was established long ago;
you are from all eternity.

the seas have lifted up, o lord,
the seas have lifted up their voice;
the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.
mightier than the thunder of the great waters,
mightier than the breakers of the sea -
the lord on high is mighty.

your statutes stand firm;
holiness adonrs your house
for endless days, o lord.

psalm 93

all of that energy

fact: i am busy

this week:
fifty short answer questions for worldview
first (and) second round of scenes from doubt for acting
finale project for midi
interview due for abnormal psychology
voice recital
voice performance class
start and finish research for presentation for world civilization
attend two hour classical music performance
usher at a play
prepare for onslaught of exams next week

next week:
four exams (abnormal psychology, cognitive psychology, music history/literature, and worldview)
reason project for midi
paper about play i ushered at
and on friday i will leave for choir tour, which happens to be placed during spring break (my only possible opportunity for rest dashed!).

[all of this in between classes, work, and an internship]

fact: i do not have time to work things out and extend myself to remedy situations. i do not have the energy to even try and approach such things. because all of that energy is being poured into all eight of my classes, my own attempts at self care and my disciplined and joyous care for those i am closest too.

make well

this morning i am holding thankfulness closely.

and letting it make well my sick, fearful heart.

perpetually cold

i want to write. i need to write.
but because the weeks go by quickly and the hours even quicker
i have not written.

i am a busy girl this semester.
22 units.
internship.
work.

but before i endeavored a few more hours of brisk typing,
i was perusing blogs.
and i found this:

dear whoever is reading this,

this is me. add a sweater. leggings underneath the sweats. and it's even better.

love,
a perpetually cold young lady.

look again.

past all difficulty.

this week i am learning that life getting better doesn't mean you have gotten past all difficulty. it also doesn't mean that you won't be bothered by the things you thought you resolved days, months, and years ago.

and while i would love for life to be this way. while i wish some people would disappear completely (because, let's face it people are messy and i'd rather leave the excessively messy ones behind. or at least the ones who stir things up that i'd rather be left alone. oh, and the ones who just won't go away and insist on being an impeding presence in some area of my life.). while i wish things could be resolved once and once only.

i know that something good will

come out of this...

more self-love

a surer sense of who i am

a well-primed ear to listen

a well-trained tongue to speak

better conflict resolution skills

strengthened relationships

it doesn't mean i always want to push through and cry through and work through and think through and talk through and process process process. because it's tiring and i have had enough of life's difficulties. and i have exams to study for and papers to finish and presentations to prepare and an internship and work to attend. the busyness of right now paints processing as not worth it, not productive, not conducive to maintaining low-stress.

but this evening, as i cared for myself in small ways,* i was able to gain some perspective

and some clarity. and while the fog hasn't lifted completely - feelings never lift and clear easy, do they? - i know that the processing is worth it. even though i hate it at times.

*making my bed. folding a weeks worth of clothes i wore and didn't wear piled on a chair. putting dark clothes to wash. working out. long shower. plucking my eyebrows. it's amazing how these small things soothe a mind weary of unresolved conflict.

p.s. i also wrote out five pages today, in between classes and on breaks, to help me think more clearly in preparation for a conversation that is happening tomorrow. i only do this in situations that are tangled like hair that hasn't been brushed.

p.s. i wish difficulty didn't come at such an inopportune time. my birthday is friday for goodness sakes! but i cannot schedule in difficulty. how unfortunate.

miranda sings

last night i went to [la] and i saw miranda sings.

it was fantastic.

today i made the best sandwich i've ever made:

french roll.

butter lettuce.

honey ham.

tomato.

havarti cheese.

alfalfa sprouts.

avocado.

light mayo.

spicy mustard.

so good.

i am thankful for

date afternoon/nights with the feller,

which include lazy dog cafe and waching this movie

and our favorite spot in our neck of the woods

and lots of kisses

and lots of dreaming

and lots of thankfulness.

a computer to do homework on.

the fine ladies who accompanied me to [la].

conversations until almost four in the morning.

friends friends friends.

new church family.

*long brown skirts like this.

*i finally bought one (sans pockets). and love it.

nothing good gets away.

today before attempting to do homework. i found this here..

it made me smile.

JOHN E. STEINBECK

A Letter to His Son | New York | 10 November 1958

Dear Thom:

We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.

First -- if you are in love -- that's a good thing -- that's about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don't let anyone make it small or light to you.

Second -- There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you -- of kindness and consideration and respect -- not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn't know you had.

You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply -- of course it isn't puppy love.

But I don't think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it -- and that I can tell you.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.

The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.

If you love someone -- there is no possible harm in saying so -- only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.
Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.
It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another -- but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.

Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I'm glad you have it.

We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.

And don't worry about losing. If it is right, it happens -- The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

Love,

Fa

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).

you resign

and some days no matter how promising things seem,

you resign to insecurity.

because it's easier

and you don't have the energy to try

and you don't have the strength to push through.

today is that day.

joy!

*

today i am thankful for

waking up periodically through the night,

conscious enough to identify the sound of water plummeting earth

sleeping in until 8:30 am**

the quiet light of rainy mornings

the inevitable grey of the sky

orange juice

lounge clothes

a fireplace

a pile of books (read: homework)

the family

the feller,

whom will come with his own pile of books (read: homework)

and for a new way of thinking about things,

which will be shared soon enough.

also, i have no reason to leave the house today.

joy!

*i wish i had the balls (yes, i said it) to be outside in the cold at the beach. but i don't. i am always always cold.

**with classes at 8 am (20-40 min from home, depending on traffic) and work at 6:45 am (much much closer), 8:30 am is a luxury only to be afforded on saturday mornings, and sometimes on sundays.

this mammoth

sitting on the swings in a cherry button down and a choker around my neck (do you remember those?), i moved the sand below methodically in circles, in squares, in zig-zags. it was the summer before fifth grade and the sun was in limbo between high noon and dusk. i was pondering the costs of plastic surgery. that same summer, a group of almost fifth graders sat atop beige lunch tables. the game to be played was truth or dare. and being almost fifth graders the subjects tended towards grown up matters. mercedes, a blonde, athletic, obnoxious girl, began that days festivities. even though i despised her meanness, i wanted to be a part. and when the subject of body image came up, when i chose truth and mercedes, malicious in tone and intent, asked about contentment with size and shape and all things i feared and had begun to hate only months before... i lied. mercedes had a knack for extracting the truth, as most bullies do. her perception, her easy way of sifting through steady eye contact found me out. the next day, tshe said quite bluntly that i wished my body was different and began to make comparisons to the pop culture icons of the time. i was embarrassed. i was ashamed. and that afternoon i developed a skill for hiding behind laughter and sarcasm. this would later turn into hiding behind academic achievement - achievement in general. and the spokes on the wheel spun faster faster faster.*

there are parts of my body that i feel intense shame for.

parts that i am not sure i will ever learn to celebrate.

and while i can concede that i am beautiful - sexy, even - i can only do so with hesitation, with a shuddering "... except for this part or that part of me." i can only concede because i've known myself to beautiful and sexy on the lap of a male - as an object of someone's affection and pleasure. i can only concede because others have told me, because i have felt their approval. but i do not approve.

the past few months i have finally had time to revisit this area of my life, this mammoth of a subject: beauty and the acceptance of one's own beauty and the celebration that follows. so i have been reading articles and visiting websites of women - young and old - who have dealt with similar issues. i have been educating myself on the place the media has in this tormentous struggle for self-love. i have been buying lovely delicate items that force me to accept the smallness and bigness, the shapelessness and shapliness of my body. i have been attempting to treat my body well in diet (read: consistent and healthy eating habits) and exercise (read: consistent and healthy bodily exertion).

earlier this month i stumbled upon a post by meg fee.

i adore her blog. her words. the honest place she speaks from.

here is a quote:

"what i look like will change with time. my weight will fluctuate. the lines on my forehead will crease. the gray hairs will take hold and multiply. but my mind, my intelligence, the light behind my eyes--that (God willing) will remain. more than that (again, God willing) it will grow and burgeon.

[...]

the opinions of others regarding what i look like will matter only with my consent. it will be how i feel from within my body--inside the sweet-spot of life that will dictate my response. i won't need a mirror or a scale or any of the trappings to provide me with what i've somehow always known but often doubted: that i am, in fact, yes, beautiful. "

*this excerpt is one of many moments - mostly small - that i have confronted. sad sad sad. hopefully, if courage permits, i will be able to share more. the degree of body shame i feel disallows me to talk in specifics. for that, i cannot apologize. i have wasted years apologizing for my body and apologizing for my shame.

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.

first day

today was the first day of the spring semester.

(my last spring semester of my undergraduate career).

morning came too early: 6:30 am.

classes came too quickly: five in all, with errands and to do lists accomplished in between.

exhaustion came too easily: after class, the feller and i went to target - my idea. the purpose of heading to one of the most beloved stores ever was to buy nail polish. to do my nails while the feller napped. to treat myself. to care for myself. to do something repitious. to do something that required little thought and all of my attention.

and even though i dislike the upkeep painted nails require, it felt good to do it.

it was just for me.

this evening i had dinner and tea with a friend.

good stuff.

i am still tired.

and have work at 6:45 am.

did i mention i'm taking 22 units? that i'm working? that i'm interning?

yea, we'll talk about that later.

in your chest: all gifted

update: crossed out items have been purchased

"if you can't let go, you can't put your heart back in your chest."

via iain thomas.

also, i want the book of poetry he recently released.

it is based off of his blog, which i frequent.

my fatigue

the truest fact about friendship is that it takes work.

there was something odd about yesterday. you see, it is not a friendship i would have fallen into naturally. it is not a friendship i was even sure i wanted a month or so ago. what is it then? this is what i am trying to identify, to determine. what is it? i can say emphatically that it is forced, that it is a result of arguments and being fed up and choosing (oh, that word) to give chances and leave room for growth and the possibility of God-knows-what. this is a forced friendship. however, it being forced does not detract from the opportunity in front of me and from the undeniably exquisite individual that sat adjacent to me on a forest green couch. she has dreams, opinions, a sharp personality. solid girl. and i never doubted this - except for the outbursts i eavesdropped on and was told about. but even in those theatrical displays of emotion, i knew it likely that she was finding her way in a messy situation. how i wished she would have held her tongue! how i desired of her only one thing - to let go! i know the urges well. and have, like her, had to deal with the repurcussions of such foolishness, regardless the many ways we justify our rants and interjections and clinging. i know the pangs of heartache and the fatal realization that what once was real, solid, tangible is now slipping, quickly, through one's fingertips. yes, i could contextualize my contempt for this young lady and, while trying my hardest not to rationalize it and give it an 'okay,' understand where she is coming from (and, honestly, relate).

this is all vague. all horribly vague. but the outcome of this all... is friendship. an awkward extension of my hand (and hers) in hopes that something can be salvaged, restored.

what was odd about yesterday had nothing and everything to do with her. my speech, the way i carried conversation had no direction. i have recently discovered that i often interupt myself. the order of stories evades me. all easiness is far removed. this is usually with those i am not intimately acquainted with. and given the circumstances, it makes sense that this is the self i put forward. guarded. detached. fake laughs (or should i say, nervous laughs). the appearance of being something, fueled by the need to be something. if she ever over the course of our time together yesterday questioned, as i did: why am i doing this? why the hell am i choosing this? i had to give her a reason. i felt the obviousness of my false self. i wonder if she noticed.

probably.

but the thing is: i was trying. perhaps too hard. i must admit, the only thing i felt afterward (soon followed by thankfulness) was exhaustion. i felt as if i just completed a full day at work. my voice was tired. my head was pounding. and my heart sunk as i recognized how pathetically i relied on a shell of myself for five hours. my fatigue was not a suprise, considering this.

i believe, am i really saying this?, that something good can come of this. that friendship can blossom. that restoration can happen. now, the only catch is that she respect everything we discussed prior to this hopeful prospect. but, assuming she will, not much more can go wrong. i suppose the other catch (yes, there are two) is that i put forth my real self, my full unapologetic self. even if a deep level of intimacy is never reached, i still want to do this, must do this.

for strangers.

for friends.

for family.

for acqaintences.

so that i can be a true, consistent presence in the lives of others.

p.s. we ate lavash and hummus. this is one of my most favorite snacks. if it were up to me, my parents would purchase items like this instead of the ice cream, cookies, candies, and other preservative infused foods that line our pantry and refrigerator. when i get a place of my own and purchase my own groceries - they will be much more healthy.

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.

it is hard

today it is hard not to cry.

the condnundrum

leaving a place i considered home was a formidable task.
even the consideration of leaving made me shudder.

looking back, six months back i can see that the shuddering was fear.
violent, robust.
there was this feeling that i would be the only one grieving the fallout. perhaps i would be the only one experiencing this goodbye as an eruption of reality. as a complete debacle. perhaps the chalky dust-filled air and accumulation of rubble only meant ruin for me. and for them, well, it was life as usual: people come and go and it becomes easier each time because life goes on.
there was this feeling that my absence would not be felt. i cringed at the likelihood of my replacement.* and how that meant i would soon be forgot, or worse remembered. and to be relegated to a memory felt like failure. specifically, being a memory without impact. i wondered if i had made an impact, one enough to miss.

approximately two months ago i began to get messages.
imissyou messages.
and i wrestled with the conundrum of imissyou.

what does it even mean?
that i've passed your mind like the fact that you need gas in your tank or like the test you need to study for? that i was, to quote the infamous juno macgruff, "a piece of furniture in your weird life" and you miss that old chair or coat rack? that you realized that we haven't talked in months and decided to make mention that you finally noticed?

i expect a follow up to imissyou.
because the words, though i love them - need them at times - are insufficient. it seems so imprudent to do nothing that corresponds with longing. if you miss someone, you do something about it. right? and when you say you are going to make plans, you follow up. right? and if you can't meet up because you're busy, you make it happen because you miss that person and they are worth shifting a schedule or working out a day to meet. right?

i am grieved that imissyou has become a courtesy rather than a true expression of desire.
i want to matter.
miss my smile.

miss my laugh.

miss my conversation.

miss my presence.
miss my ideas.
miss my kindness.
miss my silliness.

when you don't express that you are still there and haven't forgotten, i will assume you have moved onto bigger and better things. and that my being gone had something to with that. i need to know that you would still be there, even though we don't see each other often. or at all.

i just want you to acknowledge that i was important to you, at one point at least. that a text message, facebook comment isn't enough to satisfy the relationship. that you want relationship with me.
(this is by no means saying that i am unhappy with the ones i have here and now. in fact, there is so much more room to engage in deep relationships because [lots of changes] took place inside me and outside me).

then and there, i said hello and how are you to many but not much more. i had other concerns. what a terrible waste of opportunity. i took advantage of the four years i had to build relationships and develop into myself. and i spit on them and chose to stay. stuck. i failed to be present for people and was preoccupied with self-preservation, manipulation, control, and the desperation to be loved by a single person - nobody else mattered. perhaps that is why these imissyou messages seem so empty. i never gave people something they could miss enough to do something about it.

so when you say imissyou, i don't really know what it means.

and it makes my heart hurt because

i know

i know

i know

you won't follow up (with me at least).

*replacement is a funny thing. i know in function i can be replaced. but i refuse to believe that i can be replaced as person. the qualities of another may be similar to mine but they are not mine. i am an altogether unique being, in the sense that the combination of knowledge, experience, fears, etc. are mine alone. i am not unique in the sense that at the end of the day i am human and we are not as isolated from each other as we like to believe. the human experience is a shared one. but who i am, the person of stacey is largely unique. i suspect i've been replaced in many ways. and i see it in pictures and the way people don't talk to me anymore. didn't we hang out three days a week for four years? and i think it shocked me at first. i resented them. and sometimes, in all honesty, i wonder why i wasted time with people who don't find me valuable enough to keep talking to me, to keep hanging out with me, etc. and upon seeing [the replacement] i just kept thinking, over and over again, "get your own friends. get your own life. go. away. they. are. mine. and we would all be better off without you. take that daft smile. that flowy hair. that genuine personality. that ever-so-likable quality that has people swarming around you. and go. away. because you are living the life i wanted for so long but was too unhealthy to live. because you are making this harder than it needs to be." and that may be rude. but nobody likes to be replaced. and nobody likes to fall into the hole of comparison. and come up with a pile of reasons why they have been replaced. nobody. and even though i am convinced that the person of stacey is largely unique, wonderfully unique and special. it is hard to live that out. even after six months.