on our way back home

I’ve come realize that I’m the kind of person who claims to know a lot about life–and love. So I am gong to continue to assume that I know everything about love … here goes.

I don’t understand those who dive head first into a new relationship with no regard for life they had before, particularly the people that were in their life before. Isn’t it amazing that we give up handfuls of friends for the companionship of one person? Endless evenings drinking wine with your best girlfriends, dancing around the living room in nothing but your underwear with your roommates, rollerblading through the streets of Minneapolis in outfits that would make a carnival act look twice, are all thrown away for the assumption that what you have with this person is going to last you a lifetime. My fondest memories are those that I had with my friends. I have a lifetime of memories with the same people. They aren’t my back burner friends, they aren’t my just-in-case friends, they are my forever people.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the warmth of sleeping next to him body and waking up to a kiss. But even despite my wildest fantasies, I cannot predict the future of this, or what it will become. There is no telling that we will both love each other as fiercely as we do now five years from today, or even five months. It’s all a reflection of love’s precariousness.

A friend of mine started dating someone last summer. He’s a good enough guy and they seem happy. But her life is no longer centered around being their for her friends, something she used to claim was the most important thing to her. Her days now are lived out in the solace of her bedroom with only him to hear her words. It’s all just fucking weird, right? She hasn’t known this person for a year, she is 22, and is moving in with him planning out the rest of their lives together. He has lost all the people he used to call his friends, and her friends are quickly dwindling in numbers. It all seems so lonely.

I can only imagine what my home will look like someday. A small, vine-covered cottage, perhaps? Or one of those alarmingly modern boxes, full of windows, somehow resembling the life of a goldfish? I don’t know the material it will be made out of, or the neighborhood it will reside in. But, I know that I want it to be full. Full of all the people in my life that I love, and that have stuck me through it all. I don’t want to walk through that door and see only one person. I want to see a family of people. People who remind me where I came from, how I’ve grown, and give me comfort that they will be with me for all future days. That’s what I want to see on my way home.

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my own little space

When I started this blog I didn’t really know what I wanted. Other than to carve my own little space into the vast internet world. I had big dreams of becoming a lifestyle blogger and DIY extraordinaire, or maybe finding a hidden knack for photography that I never knew existed. I had all of these ideas, and none of them came into fruition. The more I blogged, the more I came to realize that this blog wasn’t going to be filled with craft projects and fun ikea furniture makeovers, but it was going to be filled with all of the thoughts rattling around in my somewhat dysfunctional mind. I like writing about love and life in the present moment … both things I won’t claim to know much about.

I am just excited that I feel like I have finally discovered what this blog is going to be …

A personal expedition of this crazy thing that we call life. A blip of my life spelled out into words, sentences and paragraphs for those of you who have any interest at all in delving into it.

For what it’s worth … I appreciate all of the support that I have experiences thus far. May this journey continue, may my writing flourish and may you all continue to stumble on my little space in the vast internet world.

their enviable innocence

As my students bound about my classroom with enviable pep in their step I am always overwrought with jealousy. They have only just begun. Their whole futures are ahead of them and their options are endless. Despite the fact that I am only 23 I feel as though some of my options and decisions have already passed. My college experience has since retired, my graduate schoolwork is already half-finished and I am well on my way to becoming established in the teaching community. While I still have some monumental decisions left to make, I look upon the freedom of youth with admiration.

These little humans are so resilient and sometimes ignorant to all of life’s cruelties. I just wish I could bottle up their childhood innocence and lock the lid forever. Each year I find myself becoming more cynical and more stubborn, more aloof. The world isn’t as safe as I once imagined it. I often wish I could see the world through their little eyes for just one day, to see again that there is beauty everywhere, and not just heartache.

One of my students passed away this year in a murder-suicide. She and her mother were taken. Her father took himself shortly thereafter. My students handled this horrifying truth with such grace and maturity, of which I am still dumbfounded by. They were able to bandage up their wounds far sooner than I was, and are able to talk about her with smiles and laughter.

As a teacher I am constantly amazed by their brilliance. But, this was the most remarkable of all. Life for them is not yet cruel. Even though they were exposed to the horrors of this world far too young they are still able to see only beauty. For that, I am grateful.

my vow to vinyl

 

Last year for my 21st birthday my dad gifted me an amazing Crosley record player. Record players make music feel more raw, more natural and for that I had always wanted one. I was so high with excitement when my eyes saw this beautiful suitcase-esque record player that I could call my very own. However, for the past year I have used it very sparingly and I only have a handful of records that I actually listen to. See, I rummaged through my dad’s old collection and most of the music I am not that interested in. So, I have made a new vow.

I vow to purchase a new vinyl record with every paycheck. Vinyl that I am really invested in, or vinyl that I am just curious to listen to further. The beauty of record players is you must listen to a record from first song to last: the way that albums were intended to be listened to. I vow to choose artists that I am simply curious about, and artists that I have am unconditionally fond of.

Not only will this little “resolution” of mine help to expand my record collection and reignite new music in my life, but it will also support the artists. Illegal downloading of music is great and all, but only for the consumer. What about the musicians? The musicians are the one’s who put their blood, sweat and tears into the creation of their album. But, many fail to reap the benefits.

I vow to support music. I vow to support musicians. This is my vow to vinyl.

a good week: busy but good

This week was a whirlwind if ever there was one. It felt like all of my professors rallied together and decided to make this the week of hell, meaning EVERYTHING was due. Although my head feels very sleep deprived and I slipped on my pledge to become caffeine free, it all feels pretty good. I gave three presentations, turned in three papers and took one exam. The best part of it all? I feel good about everything I turned in. I worked hard, and this feeling paid off. Let’s just hope I do well on all of this stuff!

Next year I will be attending graduate school and working full-time, somewhere, anywhere at this point! My life is on the precipice of extreme busy, not that I’m not busy now. Before I was terrified of not having enough time to see the people that I care about, or be able to have a quiet afternoon for myself. Yet, now that I have done college for 4 years I really do feel confident in handing high stress levels. I am excited for what is about to come my way, eager to dip my toes into it, and confidant that I will be successful.

I feel good. I think I needed this.

not so “casual”

I got to thinking that maybe there is no such thing as “casual” dating or “casual” sex. Can something as intimate as making love really be considered “casual?” When I think “casual” I think of a ripped pair of denim shorts or a lunch date with an old friend. The steamy moments spent between the sheets or in the shower don’t seem to be synonymous with “casual.”

Sure, a girl can kick off her leather boots, strip out of her ripped tights and slither out of her little black dress while jumping into bed with an attractive European all the while convincing herself that the next day it will be more than a simple act of “casual” circumstance.

She will begin reminiscing of the whiskey and waters that were poured, the toasts made to good friends and the very moment he grabbed her waist pulling her on top of him. She will stand in the mirror the next day examining her neck spotting the evidence of last nights rendezvous. And as she stares at her reflection in the mirror she may even begin to convince herself that these “casual” acts could amount to something not so “casual.”

But, while a lady might find that kind of penetrative aggression a sign of lust … or even love it’s always the gents that are a step behind looking for another notch in their belt, or another dent in their bedpost.

Long gone are the days of handwritten love letters to a man out to war. So long are the nights spent pining for the unattainable. Now, it’s an endless stream of one-night-stands and “casual” nothings.

Has love really turned into an undefinable “casual” outing?

one year ago

For some reason I woke up this morning thinking about all the ways that my life has changed over the past year. A year is such a short time. 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days, 8,765 hours and 525,949 minutes. Well, I suppose when I put it like that it feels like an eternity. The point is: some people don’t accomplish much in one year, but for me this past year did just the opposite. I remember writing on New Years before we were graced with 2013 and I was begging the year to bring me something good. I wanted to be able to rid myself of lingering feelings for that unattainable newspaper reporter and I wanted to find pleasure in simply being me. I wanted to become someone or something that I could be proud of.

While my feels for said reporter lasted longer than I would have liked. I finally found peace with it. I no longer resented him for the way that he unknowingly led me on, or the way that he came to me house to cry over his ex girlfriend. I let it go. I let it all go.

I started to forgive myself for mistake that I had made in the past, and began to think of all of those one night stands/rendezvous as moments to learn from and move past rather than dwell on and feel somehow slutty or tainted.

Friendships with unlikely people began to sprout up in every facet of my life. I didn’t feel embarrassed to invite strangers over or to start spending time with co-workers. It didn’t take long for me realize that everyone is looking for a friend or someone to spend time with. If you make a gesture, it will be returned.

Many evenings in 2012 and early into 2013 I spent with tears in my eyes as I convinced myself that I wasn’t good enough. It took a beautiful leather bound journal a new fountain pen, and many evenings tirelessly writing to realize that this wasn’t the case. I was looking at it in the wrong way. I was looking at everything in my life as a measure of self worth. Why was it that when a boy told me he wasn’t ready for a relationship I took that to mean there was something wrong with me? Or, when I misinterpreted signals coming from a friend of mine to mean something more, when they didn’t, I spent days blaming myself for being such an idiot. I was always too hard on myself.

Somewhere over the past year I stopped blaming myself and being so self critical. We are human. We make mistakes. There is no sense persecuting ourselves over them.

I don’t really know where I was going with all of this. But, there it is.