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.

just be true

A moment can never be truly candid until thoughts are spewed from the mouth like wildfire, leaving the listener only to be immersed in the delicate delight of honesty. Equivalent to the kodak photographs, an honest word paints the clearest, most accurate picture for the people that we are. It’s not statuesque, it’s not forced, it’s irreparably real.

The world that we live in can only be described as “mechanical.” The ability to be free is there, but people only take those liberties in the comfort of their homes, with the people that we have grown comfortable with. It’s rare that the truest emotions are shared amongst an acquaintance. We live our lives hidden by computer screens and smart phones that we forget the one real act of love doesn’t come from a delicately crafted e-mail or a thoughtful picture posted to someone’s Facebook wall. Real love comes in the form of honest and true, uncensored, unparalleled, can’t believe the words are actually coming out of my mouth, moments.

If we continue to tailor our speech to be eloquent and thoughtful we are only hurting those around us. It’s nonsensical. How will anyone come to terms with who each other are if their identities are being curtained by societal norms.

Break the mechanical boundaries, and whisk aside the drapes. Tell the one you love that you love them.

Don’t think.

Just speak.

Be honest.

Be true.

Love isn’t about losing yourself, it’s about creating a place that you can both dwell, strive, and ultimately find unconventionally sublime bliss, complete with open and honest communication.

let’s talk love


Love is such a strange idea. 

I used to think that love was a mere falsity created by the media that gave people something to yearn for and ache for, but never truly achieve. For it did not exist, or so I thought. I was so troubled with concept that something couldn’t be defined in words. What do you mean “You just feel it?” That always struck me as too abstract or just too unrealistic. Everything has to be able to be put into words … right? 

I remember when I “fell in love” for the first time. I was eighteen years old, and I was whisked off my feet. I became so whisked that my feet were no longer planted firmly on the ground and my head was no longer fastened on tight, but loose and in the clouds. I paid no witness to all the times he told me “change this,” “don’t do that,” “just look at yourself,” etc. I thought that he was looking out for me by making little changes to me. He forced me to become more productive, more type A, and less creative … less me. While he literally pulled the whiskey away from my lips and said “no,” what he was really doing was pressing the whiskey bottle against my lips and saying “drink until you can’t think for yourself anymore.” I was intoxicated under his control, his demands and his lack of mercy. He morphed me into a version of myself that I am still, to this day, ashamed of. A person with no voice, is not a person at all. He took away my voice, and my ability to speak for myself. In my head I would always asked myself why love was so hard, and why love was so demanding, exhausting and physically harming. I asked myself everyday “Why do people want this?” 

For two years after that relationship I took time for myself. I had to relearn who I was, because he had taken it with him. Every morning I would wake up, walk to my desk and journal my one goal for that day. Sometimes it was as simple as smile or listen to your favorite song. It seems so silly, looking back, that those were feats for me. But, over time I figured it out. I figured out me. I became an avid yogi, I studied harder than I ever had, I transferred schools, I made new friends, I wrote new music …

… I started over. 

All of this brings me to the person that I am today. And also, the person that I am with today. While my first run-in with this undefinable feeling left me face first and ass up in the dirt, this is different. Oh, so very different. He looks at me in a way that I have never been looked at. Even when I look at him from across the room, it’s just us. He has not once asked me to change anything about myself. He embraces me for me, quirks included. And, I hope that he knows that I would do just about anything for him. 

I’ve realized that love is not an undefinable feeling, but an act. Every day, we both have to work, reach out to one another and let them know we care. Love is an unconditional act of care, compassion and adoration for another person. It doesn’t cease to exist the moment they frustrate you or test your temper. The underpinnings of love can never fade. I’m happy to say that my feet, with him, are firmly on the ground, my head is fastened and I’m thinking clearly. For I know that everything about this is right. I’m terrified of realizing how open my heart is to him. But there it is.

I know why people want this. It’s intoxicating in the best way possible: a little bit numbing, refreshingly genuine and extremely exhilarating. 

Love is strange. 


musical nonsense

A few weeks ago I sat down to write a new song. I hadn’t written one in a while and it felt like it was time to add another piece to my repertoire. I scribbled down a series of lyrics that sounded beautiful to me at the time. I plucked through a number of chords on my guitar that rang well with the words. 

I then paced back and forth in my room trying to make sense of it all. Back and forth I paced. I usually don’t write music this way. Usually, there is an intended purpose from the moment my pen hits paper and my fingers touch strings. I was so confused. I couldn’t even make sense of what I had just written. I then made the conscious decision to just not bother with it. What was the point in pinning a meaning onto something just for the sake of doing it? 

It wasn’t until last night when I played the song through for the first time for my boyfriend that it all made sense. While I would rather not get into the nitty gritty details of said song, I will say this … 

We are who we are.

We have all done things in our lives that we may not necessarily be proud of. Our past may be tainted with regret, but really all that ugly stuff has made us who we are today. I think I have a lot of people in my life who doubt themselves. They see things that they have done as mistakes, when in reality all of the things they have experienced have only shaped what remarkable people they are today. We may not want to think our past has the power to dictate our future, but it certainly has the power to shape it. Whether we are full of doubt or regret, we are who we are based upon the choices that we have made. And we all must learn to live with them. Think them not skeletons in the closet. Think not cruelly of them. Don’t become full of frustration or aggression toward them. You chose to have them in your life, and you chose to be rid of them. So do that. Be rid of it. Be proud of the steps you’ve taken, and only continue to make them. Let your life go on. 

“So we are, what we are, and will be. 

So we know, what we knew all the while, 

There’s no rest in this race round ourselves 

Just the crown, and the unending trial.” 




wrapped in worry


For the first time, in … well, as long as I can remember, I’m completely at peace. School is nearing an end and my plans for the future are slowly becoming more concrete. Working as a barista is simple, and certainly has it’s perks (pun intended). My baby blue house fronted in grandiose white pillars is home to the greatest friends a girl could ask for. And, I have found someone that I can be completely myself with. Someone who showers me in laughter and love. Someone who is patient, kind, and asks for nothing in return.

Yes, I’m at peace. But, I’m fucking terrified.

I just finished watching Sex and the City, the movie, with my roommates. (A cliche girls night, I know). If you have ever seen the movie you know that Carrie has found her Mr. Big and in the midst of planning their day of wedded bliss they both lose sight of what they have, take it for granted, and watch it slip away. As I stuffed my face with sushi and tasted salty tears as they dripped into my mouth, I realized how scared I really am.

I can’t help but fear that I’m merely living out my blissful days, oblivious and just waiting for it to slip away. With men, I have historically built up what felt like a bomb shelter between me and them. I protected my heart as though someone were waiting on the other side, ready to shoot a bullet clean through it. This barricade kept me from ever feeling much of anything. This time is different. There is no shelter, there is no barricade, there isn’t even a measly picket fence. It’s all me. Just me.

The thought of losing all of this is what keeps me up at night, wrapped in worry for the unknown.

Sometimes I wish I could close my eyes and see into the future, just for a moment, just to make sure that I’m going to be happy. If I know that, well, that’s all I really need. It’s a scary business, falling in love. Maybe that’s why they call it “falling,” maybe it’s synonymous with a “free-fall.” No barriers, no support, no protection. Just you, him, the fear of the unknown, and the hope that someday you will reach that day of bliss without losing sight of what’s important, without taking it for granted and never letting it slip away.