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hi blog!

09 November 2015 — No comments

So, this is weird. And thats all I have to say about that! Anyways, this-

"don't cross oceans for people who wouldn't cross a puddle for you"
"No, do it. Do cross oceans for people. Love people, all people. No conditions attached, no wondering wether or not they're worthy. Cross oceans, climb mountains. Life and love isn't about what you gain, it's about what you give."

I don't know, it just resonated with me tonight. And also, on my walk through town this evening I watched as a pile of stuff fell off the back of this homeless women's wheelchair. And I hesitated, do I pick it up? Do I want to? But the boy next to me didn't hesitate, he ran. And just. He ran. And that resonated with me tonight, too.  Lets all be runners. And lovers. And ocean crossers. Thats all.


Hey

07 May 2014 — 1 comment

I felt like, maybe if i just showed up here  i'd having something to say. But all I have to offer is that the world is a really sad place, depending on the day and all. Like many other people, I stumbled across these photos in my instagram feed this evening with the hashtag #redballoonsforryan


And because humans are nosy and i'm a human i googled and read and stalked my way around the internet until I found the heartbreaking story of this little red headed angel, Ryan. Just a boy playing with his family on a sunny day, chasing a frisbee. But becuase this world is sad, and becuase sometimes you can't yell stop fast enough, he followed the frisbee into the road and was taken instantly by an oncoming truck. And now his mom and dad are just left here alone like, what? And as i went through hundreds of comments on different instagram pictures it was heartbreaking but it was also a twisted kind of beautiful, all of these strangers sending thoughts and prayers for a family they'll never know personally. I can't decide if our sad world has it backwards or just right in that we come together more in the face of tragedy over times of victory. But come together, we do. So whether you're into prayers, or good thoughts, or well wishes I know for certain this family could use them becuase holy crap, they just lost their baby and is there anything more frustratingly sad than that? Death shakes my life into perspective every time. so squeeze the people you like an extra lot and appreciate them while you have them, becuase it could be anyone at anytime chasing a frisbee into the road, you know?



On Blogging, Filtered.

01 May 2014 — 1 comment

I come to this space so often; far more often than my post count proves. I come ready to write about something inspiring, bothersome, simple, what have you. And so often I leave this space without sharing any of it because so often it's unfiltered. And unfiltered is scary. Because sometimes you need to throw a bad word in for extra emphasis and sometimes you have opinions that won't suit everyone. Sometimes you need to word vomit a million dramatic emotions because sometimes it just feels good.

But what if my grandparents are offended? And what if my mom tells me not to sound so depressing or a friend says i'm being dramatic?(it's all the instagram poetry, #sorrynotsorry) Do I want everyone in my church to know I went  out on a Friday night? Would that embarrass my parents? I worry about how I reflect back on them. I guess there's a line between being honest and sharing too much. It's tiny, like dentil floss i'd say and I can't seem to find it, that line.

I so envy the bloggers that put it all out in the open, honest and unapologetic. I want to be you.I try to be you, but then I get stuck. How do you do it? How do you give zero flips about what the people who know you in the real world will think? I know I won't be any less loved for anything I could ever say here, duh. (duh, right?) But I'd be lying to myself if I thought my words would never bring a little disappointment. And is it worth the disappointment for these people that love you to love the raw, unfiltered you? I can't decide.

All this really to say that I have no solution. I've thought about creating a new blog that nobody in my daily life knows about, but don't I owe it to people who love me to at least love the real me? Lets be honest, most of them are family members and don't have much choice in the matter anyways. So then I go back to deciding I need to just spill my guts around these parts. But then I go to upload a picture of my weekend and. There's a beer in that photo. A beer? I write about loving Jesus I can't post a picture of beer. But then, i'm only 23 and aren't I aloud to still be figuring this life thing out?

Dear Mom, will you still love me if my photos have beer in them?

P.S. the instapoetry addiction is real. so real. @christopherpoindexter is currently my favorite, but @tylerknott is definitely worth obsessing over as well, you're welcome.




Just a post to say I miss you

06 March 2014 — No comments



I like the long chats we've been having lately, which usually consist of you yelling 'Bye!' into the phone (for) an unnecessary amount of time(s). I'm okay with it. But I'm sad that you're getting big, i'm sad that i'm not there. I'm really sad that it won't be cool for you to wear cow print onsies forever. I guess the up side is that soon, soon right? we'll be able to have conversations about more than eyes. and byes. and hi's.

Why I Work.

15 February 2014 — 2 comments

With questionably, or definitely, the most ridiculous holiday of the year still taking over my instagram and blog feeds i'm practically drowning over here in pictures of flowers and food. Most of these pictures even come with really cute captions that make me want to vomit.
"My boyfriend is the best" no, he's probably not.
"So lucky to have a guy like blah blah blah in my life" except you didn't think you were lucky when he was ignoring your texts yesterday.
"Carnations are my favorite, he really knows me" or, he waited until 9 pm to buy you flowers on valentines day and that's all that was left, more like. Nobody loves carnations past the 8th grade.
I realize i'm probably slightly overly cynical because I spent the night with a box of chocolate,that I would have purchased for myself, but my mom was way ahead of the game. I'm not sure which is more pathetic. But this holiday, I mean common. What is this crap? I keep seeing all of these posts about 'why we work' which is, essentially a giant list of reasons why bloggers love their significant others. And don't get me wrong, i'm all about the love. I love that you love each other. I love that you could whip up an entire, mostly believable, list about why you love each other. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't embarrassingly jealous over the obnoxious amount of lists floating around. But somewhere in the middle of my Russell Stover pity party I came to the most stereo typical single girl valentines day conclusion ever; I don't need someone to write a list about because I work all on my own.



I work because I'm 100% comfortable with not sharing my pint of ice cream with anyone else. No guilt, no shame, nobody stealing my chunks of cookie dough. Just me, i'm okay with that.

I work because I like myself. Not like, an unhealthy amount or anything, but I like to hang out with me. We do crafts. We daydream. We Facebook stalk entire days away. We're quite the unproductive pair, but I enjoy spending time alone with just me. In fact I love it. And loving to hang out with yourself definitely helps the large amount of time that single people inevitably spend alone.

I work because I don't need another person as an excuse to cook. Homegirl has got to eat, she (me) loves herself some solid meals. Cooking for one is a waste of time? Wrong. Cooking for one feeds me. Nobody else to feed means more leftovers for myself and less dinners to cook that week. Is there a bigger win win?

I work because I trust my decisions.
Because I can manage my own money.
Because I'm comfortable asking for help.

I work because I know I can, without anyone else. I've become secure in my independence. While I look forward to the day that I get to rely on someone else, to confide and make big decisions and even fight with them, I know that I don't need them. I'm the first to admit that my mom has coddled me clear into 22, in one of those what is a W2 type ways, but if I woke up tomorrow and had no one but me, i'd be okay. Probably like, really sad. And really frustrated that I have to do my own taxes. But alive you know.

Why I work, or maybe just a list of things to make me feel better about being single on Valentines Day. Potato Potahto, you know.