2011 Year in Review

Most listened to music: Florence and the Machine, Adele, The Band Perry, Sigor Ros, Mumford and Sons, Old Crow Medicine Show, & Horse Feathers

Songs on repeat: Don't Carry It All (The Decemberists), Someone Like You (Adele), Shake It Out (Florence), We Found Love (Rhianna), & If I Die Young (The Band Perry)

TV Shows: Pretty Little Liars, Revenge, Once Upon a Time, Survivor, Criminal Minds, NCIS, NCIS-LA, & Cake Boss

Favorite Books: Hunger Games Trilogy (Suzanne Collins), Delirium (Laura Restepo), Divergent (Veronica Roth), The Book Thief (Markus Zusak), &

Websites: DYAC, TFLN, DBPB, Roger Canaff, Cat versus Human, Adios Barbie, & Oatmeal


New Places Visited: New Orleans, LA; Telluride, CO; Black Bear Cabin, CO; & Estes Park, CO


Other Exciting Visits/Events: Jessalyn's wedding, Chicago visit in May, Beth & Trey's wedding, 26th birthday party @ Lana's, & Dad & Rhonda's visit

Kiddos: Talin, Shreyas, Ellie & Bea, & Asher & Zander

Lessons learned: (1) Trust my body and mind. (2) Struggles that repeat themselves are doing so to teach new things or remind you that you weren't listening the last time. (3) Family and Michigan mean more to me than I ever knew and the possibility of returning back there says nothing about my ability to live away. (4) Mistrusting people because of past hurts that didn't involve them in the first place ends up hurting the relationship; trust until that specific person proves that you shouldn't, then trust once more. (5) Gratitude is important and doesn't require something magical, special, or important. Every moment brings its own need for gratitude.

To Call Myself Beloved

I have a new blog as well!!!

http://tocallmyselfbeloved.blogspot.com/

365 days of gratitude.

I want to keep another blog where I can write just a few sentences each day, while keeping this blog for longer posts whenever brilliance strikes me.

Since you've drawn out these lines Are you protected from trying times?

Carve your heart out yourself
Hopelessness is your cell
Since you've drawn out these lines
Are you protected from trying times?

Man it takes a silly girl to lie about the dreams she has
Lord it takes a lonely one to wish that she had never dreamt at all
Oh look now, there you go with hope again
Oh, you're so sure I'll be leaving in the end

Dig a ditch deep enough
To keep you clear of the sun
You've been burned more than once
You don't think much of trust

Man it takes a silly girl to lie about the dreams she has
Lord it takes a lonely one to wish that she had never dreamt at all
Oh look now, there you go with hope again
But I'll be sure your secret is safe with me
Oh, you're so sure I'll be leaving in the end
Treating me like I'm already gone

But I'm not, I will stay where you are always
I will stay, I will stay, I will stay (all of now)

SHE SAID IT’S A SEASON WHEN EVERYTHING DIES: By Diane Seuss
for Lauren

and who am I to tell her otherwise?

The dog pulls me down the darkening street

toward a slender, blue-lipped moon that lies

concave upon its violet winding sheet.

I’ve tried to say the leaves are the trees’ hair;

like hair they will grow back, or like the skins

of coral snakes, dispensable. I swear

that fall can cleave from summer, conjoined twins

stuck together at the skull, severed,

so one can stay behind where all is green.

The other, maybe stronger, wearing her

white jacket, walks into cold, a queen

of complication, change, frost flowers, inflection,

of living fish beneath the ice, of resurrection.

"I like songs about drifters - books about the same. They both seem to make me feel a little less insane."

9/11

I believe that the best way to honor and remember the dead is to work for peace. It's in giving those who dug through the rubble proper health care instead of letting them suffer. It's in knowing that the actions of a few do not speak for the many. It's in remembering that despite the differences in cultures, we are all people.

Oh love...

Two weekends ago, I got coffee with a friend, where we talked about a myriad of things... from school to life fears, from relationships to life hopes. While I was driving home, I was hit with such intensity by a thought that I had to pull over and write it down. Here's what I wrote:

"How am I ever going to find love if I don't truly open myself up to it? I'm so scared of losing myself in a relationship or having to take care of someone else's shit or getting unfixably hurt that even as I say I want love, I am mentally/emotionally closed off to it. I must let all of this go before I can ever say I'm ready."

It was such an "aha!" moment that I've been playing it over and over again in my head for the past two weeks. I've never been in love. Sure, I've dated. Sure, I've really liked a few people, but I've never been in love. I've never been willing to let go enough to go anywhere close. Some of it has been self-confidence issues... could a person ever really love me like that? Could my partner want to spend the rest of his life (or at least a period of time) with me? Some of it has been... could I ever possibly love a person that much? Could I ever want to make a commitment (any commitment) to another person? But there are other issues that seem so much larger...


I am so afraid that love means losing who you are. I feel like I've watched so many of my friends and family lose sight of who they are once they've gotten into relationships that I'm afraid that's what comes of love. I know that relationships involve compromises and I think I'm okay with that, but what if I give up on some dream because I need to help make my partner's dream come true? What if I have to compromise on what I want from a partner (humor, liberal views, a desire to be his own person, goofiness, a love of children, etc.) in order to even find someone? What if my partner doesn't like something about me (my introversion, my stubbornness, my struggle with sharing, my desire to be separate) before he'll even be with me? And yes, yes, yes, I know that there's the possibility that there's someone out there who meets all of my requirements and I meet all of his, but doesn't it seem like that possibility is pretty slim? It seems more likely to me that a ton of compromise is going to be involved before I can even get into a serious relationship with someone. and this makes me feel like I'm letting myself down and could lose everything I've fought to become.

And what of all the shit that person carries with him? My friend (from that coffee date) reminded me that we all come with baggage and none of us has it all figured out. I totally agree. I'm very much of the Mimi (from Rent) mindset, "...I'm looking for baggage to go with mine...", but I've worked through so much of mine. I know that there is so much baggage I still have hanging around in my closet, but I've also spent years in therapy. I've dug and searched and unlayered and removed my baggage to the point that it's at least packed neatly and put back into the suitcase. I want someone who has done the same. I want someone who has, through therapy or not, done the same. I want us both to come into our relationship with our eyes wide open. I want someone who knows who he is, knows what he's got going for him, knows what he struggles with, and can be honest about it all.

Then, of course, there's the part of me that is afraid of what everyone is afraid of. What if I get hurt? What if I fall in love and then he leaves? What if I fall in love and he cheats? What if I fall in love and we just aren't meant to be? As Adele so expertly sings, "So I won't let you close enough to hurt me. No, I won't ask you to just desert me...". I think this one is the easiest for me to work through b/c I'm a person who so strongly believes that people come into our lives when they're supposed and exit when they're supposed. (Not to say this wouldn't be horribly hard at the time...). I just feel like everything combined has worked to close me off to love without me even knowing it.

I think I need to sit down (this has been a great start) and process through each of these things and then let go. If I'm not truly open, no matter how much I swear I am, then a relationship will never work. Perhaps I need to open up and then let it all go.

Resolutions

I have decided, my darling readers (all 2 of you), that I want to make a few resolutions for this coming academic year. I've never been huge on New Years' Resolutions because I've never quite understood the reasoning behind making resolutions (with the intentions of sticking to them) in the middle of the winter. But resolutions at the start of something tangibly new makes more sense to me. So, before the new school year begins, I've decided to write out (hoping it will help me stick to them) my resolutions. Feel free to call me out on them at any point!

1. I will continue to blog at least once a week. Over the summer, I've come to realize that I really do enjoy blogging and that even if my posts are not earth-shattering for anyone [including myself], they do provide a wonderful outlet to write whatever is going on is this crazy head of mine.

2. I will explore Denver/Colorado as though I am a tourist here--this means I will go somewhere new (bar, restaurant, event, place, etc) at least once a month. Many of my friends have traveled to fabulous places this summer and I've been incredibly jealous. However, I've also come to realize that Denver/Colorado is an amazing place and I have not done it any justice by becoming caught up in the everydayness of my life and ignoring the awesomeness that is all around me.

3. I will mediate for 10 minutes five days a week (with the hopes of extending the time). Whenever I get back into the groove of mediation, I consistently find myself to be more relaxed, better focused, and with an overall sense of lightness. Sometimes I lose track of how great it makes me feel and allow the daily parts of living to interfere. I always regret it when I do.

4. I will make time for relationships (of all kinds) by interacting with friends at least once per week. I've been honored this summer with getting to really know a few new friends and with strengthening my relationships with a few old ones. These people make me feel blessed to be alive and I want to continue growing and maintaining these friendships. I also want to allow myself to be open to the possibility of a romantic relationship, should it come along.

5. I will focus on experience and learning and not on grades. (Didn't think any of these would be academic, did ya?). I am so prone to getting caught up on the final product that I lose sight of everything I'm doing along the way. In my heart, I truly believe that grades are only as important as the amount of learning that comes along with them. But I've been so conditioned to worry about getting an A (not an A- mind you) that I lose sight of the experience. This will most likely be my last year of school, possibly ever, and I want to take it in for all it's worth. I want to do the readings (well, most of them); I want to have discussions; I want to learn from my professors and colleagues; I want to focus my energies into my internship where I'll get the most hands-on experience. That's what I want from my last year.

A part of me feels silly making all these resolutions since I'm rarely very good at keeping to them. But I've spent a lot of time this summer thinking about how I want this school year to go and what I need to do in order to shape it that way. My original list had about 10 items, but I realized I need to be realistic and so I honed it down to the 5 that felt (a) the most doable, (b) the most beneficial, and (c) had measurable outcomes (except that I haven't figured out how to measure #5).

Here's to sticking with it!

I Vow...

...to live my life in a way that makes this impossible.

Happiness

I took SR (2 y/o) for a walk tonight and we stopped in the middle of campus for a little bit. We sat on a bench, looking at the buildings and the mountains. I asked SR what makes him happy (he's the smartest, most mature 2 y/o I have ever met- in ALL my time of working with kids). He told me, in order- 1. JoJo (the stuffed elephant I have in my car for him); 2. His Water (that he was drinking at that very moment) and 3. His James (the toy train engine he was driving up and down the bench). I told him I was very glad he was happy.

A few minutes passed and SR turned to me and said, "Miss Megan, what makes you happy?" I don't know if it was his maturity, the question itself, or something else, but I, of course, immediately get choked up. Finally, I calmed down, thought about it, turned to SR and said, "You. You make me happy. The mountains make me happy. The sunset. This moment. Everything about this moment."

And as we started walking back to his house, I realized how true my words were. Nothing made me happier than that very moment we were living in. Nothing was better than sitting there on campus, with SR sitting next to me, staring at the sunset and the mountains. What could possibly ever beat that moment?


The beauty of living in each moment is that nothing that has come before and nothing that may come after can ever beat that exact, specific moment.

An Open Letter

Dear boy at the airport,

I noticed you on the Denver to Cleveland flight, sitting with your dad at the back of the plane. You were behaving so well- reading your book and then watching TV. You sat quietly, you didn't wiggle, you didn't bother anyone. (You were behaving better than I was!) Something exciting must have happened on your show because you turned to your dad with a huge smile and he so meanly told you to "knock it off." I watched the smile disappear from your eyes, as well as your lips*. In my seat, I closed my eyes and I wished you well.

I saw you again in the Cleveland airport, our connecting flights going out of the same gate. Your flight was canceled and the airlines were going to put everyone onto a bus. Your dad was furious. He hollered at you for not walking fast enough to the counter. He hollered at the airline personnel for having to take a bus. He hollered and he hollered, holding your arm in a tight grip the entire time. I watched as you stared at your feet-not daring to look at him or anyone around you. For ten minutes you stood perfectly still, your dad's hand on your arm, not saying a word.

And I stood and watched. I watched this scene and I worried for you. But I didn't say or do anything. I wish I had asked you about your book and movie, had found out what had made you smile. I wish I had asked you your age, or where you were from, or what you liked to do. I wish I had asked your dad to lighten his grip on your arm. I wish I was brave enough, or that it felt right enough, for me to come talk to you.

I would have told you that you seem like an intelligent, sweet, well-behaved kiddo. I would have assured you that we all crave our parents' attention and affection and told you that you aren't alone in that. I would have said that for some kids, it doesn't matter how well-behaved or good enough they are- some parents act that way no matter what. I would have stressed that you have your whole life ahead of you and that there will be people who are interested in what you do and say, who won't be mean or hurt you, and I would have told you that you are so special- if for no other reason than that you're a part of this world.

A week after our encounter, I'm still thinking about you. I'm wishing you well and sending the best thoughts a person can in your direction. I hope that wherever you were heading then and wherever you are heading in your life that there is a person to greet you with kindness on the other side.

M.


"You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."
-Max Ehrmann



*I recognize much of this letter is conjecture.

From "Friday Night Lights"

"Two years ago, I was afraid of wanting anything. I figured wanting would lead to trying and trying would lead to failure. But now I find I can't stop wanting. I want to fly somewhere in first class. I want to travel to Europe on a business trip. I want to get invited to the White House. I want to learn about the world. I want to surprise myself. I want to be important. I want to be the best person I can be. I want to define myself instead of having others define me. I want to win and have people be happy for me. I want to lose and get over it. I want to not be afraid of the unknown. I want to grow up and be generous and big hearted, the way that people have been with me. I want an interesting and surprising life. It's not that I think I'm going to get all these things, I just want the possibility of getting them. College[/Graduate School] represents possibility. The possibility that things are going to change. I can't wait."

-Part of Tyra Collette's (Adrianne Palicki) college essay

"I've Got You..." For S.B.

When I was younger (alright, fine, until I was like 20), I always had one close friend and then a bunch of others who lived on the periphery. I thought that I only needed one because that one person could be everything I needed. I unfairly expected that my one friend could be it all- the listener, the partier, the caregiver, the fun one, the wise one, the sporty one, the smart one- everything I needed all rolled into one. How hard it must have been to be my friend, to feel as though you had to be everything, instead of just who you were.

Luckily, as I grew into my twenties, I realized that it's important and natural to have a group of friends. That each of us is meant to fill a role, sometimes more than one, in our friendships. But we're not meant to fill all the roles at one time. I've come to value my friends for who they are and for what each of us a brings to our friendship. I have the friend I turn to when I need a fun night out (L.C.); the one I go to for the mundane, every day parts of life (L.M.); the person who is as dorky and book-loving as I am (M.R.; S.W.; T.B.); the friend who has been around forever (J.S.); and the person I can turn to with everything and anything (S.B.).

S.B. and I went out for coffee today and while we were sitting there chatting, I started thinking about how blessed I am to have her in my life. She gets me in a way that makes our friendship feel so easy to me. We share some of the deepest conversations I've ever had with anyone, yet nothing feels like work. There is no heaviness there. Every time I leave our dates, whether we were serious or silly, I feel lighter, more confident in myself, understood, and loved. She takes me for everything I am and she loves me for it. Now, I'm not saying that my other friends don't do this, they absolutely do, but I feel like this is the main role S.B. plays in my life. She's the friend I turn to when my world is upside. She's the one I text when I need to complain. She's the one who listens to me ramble and makes me feel heard. Somehow, through our conversations, I walk out the other side changed. Better. More whole.

When I first saw this dance routine (as all my posts appear to stem from SYTYCD), I immediately thought of S.B. Not the romantic, sexual parts of the dance, but the message behind it all. The idea that someone's "got you." That someone will be there even before I fall.

S.B.- I love you and am so blessed to have you in my life.

This could really be a good life...

Into the Light or the Darkness?

I love the show "So You Think You Can Dance" for many reasons. For starters, I have no rhythm, can't hear a beat, and therefore suck at dancing, so I love watching others do what I cannot. More importantly, I love the way that the combination of music and movement can speak in ways that words cannot. As much as I am a words person, I firmly believe that sometimes there are limits to what words can convey and that sometimes our bodies must do the talking.

I have a long, long list of routines from all the seasons of SYTYCD that I adore, and most of them are contemporary pieces that reach beyond my mind and into my soul. When I saw the piece in the clip above for the first time, the hairs on my arms raised, my stomach twisted in the tell-tale way, and I started to cry. Perhaps part of it is Dee Caspbary's way of explaining the meaning behind the routine. Perhaps some of it is the way the dancers fulfill his vision. Perhaps it is because I so deeply understand the struggle when being pulled between the darkness and the light.


As someone who has struggled with depression for most of her life, I know how difficult it can be to move out of the darkness. Depression has a way of wrapping her tentacles around you and keeping you weighted down to the bottom of the sea, to the part where light has no chance of ever reaching.

It can be so, so scary to venture out from the darkness after you've lived there for so long. As Marko explains in the video, "I want to go towards the light, but I don't know what's under the light." When you've existed in a place where everything is nuanced, where darkness is comfortable because it is known, when you feel punished every time you allow the smallest part of you to tentatively tiptoe into the light, it is so easy to give up even trying. It becomes so much easier to just stay where the light cannot reach because you cannot be hurt there- at least not in ways you do not already know.

I've been lucky in that I've had loved ones (who both do and do not understand depression) who were willing to reach into the pain and the blackness and the hopelessness and the soul crushing weight of depression to try and help me back into the light. Sometimes they have not succeeded. Sometimes I have pulled them into the darkness with me. But sometimes- through their understanding, their patience, their ability to remain in the light while still holding my hand, in my darkness- I have been willing to venture into the light.

Though in this dance routine, the darkness wins, I have been blessed in my life that sometimes, even if only for a moment, the light wins and I am able to experience life on the other side.

From Winter 2004

"Just Afraid"

We were afraid of everything: poison ivy, a case
of the flu that would leave us in the house for
days, stitches, toothaches, that funny word-Alzheimer's,
that made Grandma forget who we were, measles, chicken pox
that might leave scars. We were afraid we'd

step on a crack and break our mother's back, dying
if we didn't hold our breath past cemeteries, that we'd
walk past a black cat or under a ladder, spilling the salt
on the table, smashing a mirror and having seven years
of bad luck, the number 13, especially Friday the 13th,
especially home alone on Friday the 13th.

We were terrified of the skin-headed, tattooed, Johnny boys
who threw rocks through our windows and burnt
fish behind the bushes next to the lake, tornadoes that would
come during softball games, ants on our blankets at picnics,
Barbie dolls that lost heads, arms, and legs. We were afraid of

having bad grades because our parents would yell at us,
afraid of good grades b/c kids would make fun of us,
getting fat, so we watched what we ate and made sure
to exercise, what we did when our parents didn't see
but God did, of what to say in confession, of what He would do
if we didn't tell Everything.

We were once terrified of cooties, but then wanted kisses.
Were afraid of getting caught playing doctors with the boys
next door, caught sneaking out of the house, caught playing
spin the bottle behind the garden. We were scared that our first kisses
were with girls, that we wanted to wear short skirts and show off
our emerging breasts, that we b/c we left lipstick kisses
on many faces, other girls would call us whores.

We were afraid of our parents' angry voices
that filtered through our bedroom doors as we lay huddled
underneath the sheets in the dark, the sound of dishes hitting
the wall. Terrified of asshole, and bitch, and you mother-fucking-bastard.

We were afraid
that one of the times dad left
he really wouldn't come
back,
and when he didn't come back,
we were afraid.
Just afraid.

That kind of moment

This weekend I went camping on the property of some family friends. Every year they have a huge camping weekend, where all their friends, and friends of friends, come up to swim in the icy river, drink, eat, dance, hike, and play. I only knew the friends I brought, my mom and her boyfriend, and the hosts of the party, but I met a ton of fascinating people.

It was great to spend time with people who are as different from me as possible. I can get so wrapped up in myself and being friends with people like me, that I forget there's a whole wide world out there filled with people who are passionate about things I don't care for. How blessed are we that there are people out there who are passionate? Why do we judge others so quickly because they're different than we are? Why can't we embrace the difference?

I had a great time meeting these new people, sharing in laughter, booze, and music. On the last night as we were all sitting around a roaring campfire, listening to people play the drums, guitar, tambourine, and sitar, as the river rushed in accompaniment, and people danced in front of the flames, I looked around the circle, looked up at the stars, took in a breath, and couldn't believe that this is my life. How did I get so lucky? How did I get to be so blessed?

"...as I know I have squandered
most of my own life

in a haze of trivial distractions,
and that I will continue to waste it.
But wherever I was going, I don't care anymore
because no place I could arrive at

is good enough for this, this thing made out of experience
but to which experience will never measure up
And that dark and soaring fact
is enough to make me renounce the whole world

or fall in love with it forever."

-Tony Hoagland

Happiness Is...

1. Reading a good book until 2am.

2. Long, hard storms.

3. A kind friend offering to buy a movie ticket, b/c you can't afford it.

4. Having time to cook good foods.

5. An old fashion board game night.

6. Playing with fabulous kids.

7. Planning your best friend's Bachelorette party and making the slideshow for her wedding.

8. Planting garlic and watching it start to grow.

9. First Friday Art Night, Mexican food, and a great conversation with a close friend.

10. Hugs from your favorite bartender and the butterflies of having a silly crush.

LandSea Jounral Entry- September 2003

DAY 9:

"It's hard to explain the pain that accompanies each day. While you're hiking, your feet kill, you're tired, the pack is heavy, you're hungry, and it's hard to take one more step. But once the day is done and you're no longer living in the pain, it all seems to melt away. Sure, the next day you remember how painful it was--but you don't quite remember in detail. And three or four days later the pains of that one day have long been forgotten to the joys and pains of another.

Life is like the pain of this trip. The aches and pains really do go away. When it seems like the pain is there forever and that the hurt will snap you in two, it won't. Another day will come, and then another, and eventually, the pain will be lessened until it's almost gone.

Don't get caught up in the moment of pain. Don't focus on every ache and every pain, always keep in mind that another day will come and bring new adventures with it."

Funk

I feel like I've been in this funk since I came back from Chicago/Kalamazoo. I don't want to do anything; I don't really have anything to do; I'm sleeping at odd hours; I'm whiny and complaining about everything; I'm anxious over the money I'm NOT making; etc. More than anything though is the fact that I'm not as appreciative or as in awe of the world as I usually am. I usually can find the silver lining regardless of what's going on. But right now, I just want to close my eyes and let this summer take care of itself. Wake me up when Fall comes.

Which is ridiculous! It's summertime. I'm not in classes all day. I'm not at an internship. I don't have much to worry about (besides making enough money to pay rent). I just spent a fabulous week with my friends in Chicago and some of my family in Kalamazoo. I'm off to a Bluegrass Festival this weekend. Then it's Rogue Camp in July. My best friend's wedding hoopla in August. And then a family trip to New Orleans (where I've always wanted to go)! So why do I want to close my eyes and wake up when school starts again?

I think I'm just struggling with the change of summer. As silly as that sounds. Going from a jam-packed schedule to one that's relatively open isn't easy for me. I like to be busy. I guess my struggle and therefore my goal for this summer to sit in the stillness.

To figure out how to just be.

There are times when I keep thinking, hoping, wishing for more, when all of sudden, I realize this is it. This is all there is. And I am so very, very blessed.

May 10th, 2011

Wings win.
Bulls win.
Thunderstorm.
Smell of
*grass after rain
*lilacs
*laundry
Last day of internship.
*no more groups
*no more mess
*no more rowdy kids
*no more sweet kids
*no more Bridge
Drinks with co-workers.
*funny conversations
*seeing a new side
*holding parts back

I want to be the only one for miles and miles

"And I'm homesick... cause I no longer know... where home is..."

In 24 days, I'll be back in Chicago for almost a full week. I'll be staying at my friend's place, where I used to go all the time for game night, delicious dinners, and various holiday parties. I'll get to wander streets I once knew so well. I'll take the EL to my favorite old haunts. I'll see faces I haven't seen in over 9 months, that I once used to see daily, or at least weekly. I'll get to do things that I used to do each day, that used to be part-and-parcel of my life.

For some reason, the entire time I lived in Chicago, I told myself, told others, and truly believed that Chicago was just a stopping point. It was never "home." While I enjoyed my time there, I always felt like I was just passing through, just wasting time on my way to somewhere, and something, else. Despite living with or near my amazing friends, despite having a survivable job, despite living close enough (and far enough) to my family, despite all these things that make a place "home" for so many people, it never felt that way.

I thought maybe I'd find my home in Denver. I was hoping that this was going to be it, that this would be the last place (or at least last state) that I'd ever live (at least for many, many years). That Denver would have what I need... whatever that may mean. But I haven't found home here. I've worked hard to build a new life. I have my very own apartment; I have wonderful friends; I have the right career path (through schooling and internship). I love the mountains. I love the weather (though I could do with some more thunderstorms). I love the air, the flowers, the trees. I feel like Denver has everything I ever thought I wanted.

People keep telling my to give it time, and I will. But I find myself dreaming of Chicago. Longing for Chicago. Missing Chicago deep in my bones. I question whether it's just because I miss my friends (I do), or if it's the city itself. I ask myself, "if all the people you knew while living there for 3 years were gone, would you still want to move back after grad school?" Honestly? I just don't know.

I hope that when I go back to visit, in roughly 3 weeks, I'll get a better sense of what I want. That I'll be able to figure out if the place finally feels like home. Or perhaps, when I return (especially since I haven't left Denver once since moving here), I'll find that I missed Denver and am excited to come back. Will I call it home? Will I call Chicago home as I leave?

When will I find that place called home?



"There's only one thing on my mind
searching boxes underneath the counter,
on a chance that on a tape I'd find...
a song for someone who needs somewhere to long for.

Homesick.
Because I no longer know where home is."

Writen in 2007, but desperately needed as a reminder now.

Why I Write

I.

I write because of words like cacophony and cornucopia, for evaporate and elaborate and illusion. I write because of trick words like knock, knit and knot, for trick letters like C and K, for count and call. I write for rules: for I before E except after C and Q is almost always followed by U. I write for there and their and they’re. I write because of words like grit and grind, for gut and glory—words I can feel in the back of my throat. For words that dance on my tongue like evolution, alliteration, and allegory. I write for the words that make my lips murmur, words that call for their joining, for summer and magic, monkey and mayhem. I write because the words on the page wind their way through my ears and mouth and fingers and demand to be let out.

II.

I write because my skirt once blew over my head on the streets of New York City, for pulling a Marilyn Monroe, with uglier underwear. I write because of four year old Lahu children calling me farang bababobo, crazy foreigner. For turning a Lacrosse field into a mud slip-in-slide, for fall trees that look like they’re on fire, for drunken roommates falling down the stairs. I write because of the way it feels to say goodbye, forever, to people who feel like family. I write because I held my dog in my arms as the vet gave him a shot and he died. I write because a man once held me down and silenced my words. I write because sometimes it’s the only way I can remember.

III.

I write because I’m afraid I’ll be alone forever. I write to make marks on my own world, marks I’ll see forever. I write the things I cannot say, the things I don’t want to hear out loud. I write because I’m afraid that if I don’t put my thoughts, my images, on paper they’ll evaporate as though they never existed. I write because someone has to connect with my words, even if that someone is only me ten years from now. I write because I fear that if I don’t I’ll poison my body. I write because I am afraid that one day all I’ll have left is a pen and paper and the ability to write.

Happiness Is...

(Haven't done one of these in far too long.)

1. Realizing that getting a "B" in a class isn't the worst thing in the world.

2. Skipping classes to read, in bed, for fun, for the entire day! (Hunger Games! Read it!)

3. Knowing that in 28 days I will (a) have finished my first year of graduate school and (b) will be in Chicago with my people.

4. Hiking in Red Rocks, moving my body as it wants to be moved, witnessing the gloriousness of Colorado.

5. Talking with a fabulous friend for hours and hours.

6. Watching a Red Wings playoff game with wonderful people!

7. Being able to provide support to friends, old and new, when they find life too overwhelming.

8. Planning my 26th birthday party!

9. Thinking about Telluride and how amazing the festival will be!

10. Getting overwhelmed with school work, not having a summer job, and planning next year... and then remember that it will all work out in the long run.

“Someday, sometime, you will be sitting somewhere. A berm overlooking a pond in Vermont. The lip of the Grand Canyon at sunset. A seat on the subway. And something bad will have happened: You will have lost someone you loved, or failed at something at which you badly wanted to succeed. And sitting there, you will fall into the center of yourself. You will look for some core to sustain you. And if you have been perfect all your life and have managed to meet all the expectations of your family, your friends, your community, your society, chances are excellent that there will be a black hole where that core ought to be.”
-Anna Quindlen, Being Perfect

I miss Chicago with every part of me. My friends who are my family, my security, my confidence, my babes, my city, my neighborhood.... my old life.

Daughter
by Nicole Blackman

"One day I’ll give birth to a tiny baby girl
and when she’s born she’ll scream
and I’ll tell her to never stop

I will kiss her before I lay her down at night
and will tell her a story so she knows
how it is and how it must be for her to survive

I’ll tell her to set things on fire
and keep them burning
I’ll teach her that fire will not consume her
that she must use it

I’ll tell her that people must earn the right
to use her nickname
that forced intimacy is an ugly thing

I’ll help her to see that she will not find God
or salvation in a dark brick building
built by dead men

I’ll make sure she always carries a pen
so she can take down evidence
If she has no paper, I’ll teach her to
write everything down with her tongue,
write it on her thighs

I’ll make her keep reinventing herself and run fast
I’ll teach her to write her manifestos
on cocktail napkins
I’ll say she should make men lick her ambition
I’ll make her understand that she is worth more
with her clothes on
I’ll teach her to talk hard

I’ll tell her that when the words come too fast
and she has no use for a pen
that she must quit her job
run out of the house in her bathrobe
leave the door open
I’ll teach her to follow the words

They will try to make her stay
comfort her, let her sleep, bathe her in a television blue glow
I will cut her hair, tell her to light the house on fire
kill the kittens
When nothing is there
nothing will keep her
and she is not to be kept

I’ll say that everything she has done seen spoken
has brought her to the here this now
This is no time for tenderness
no time to stand, waiting for them to find her
There are nations within her skin
Queendoms come without keys you can carry

I’ll teach her that she has an army inside her
that can save her life
I’ll teach her to be whole, to be holy
I’ll teach her how to live,
to be so much that she doesn’t even
need me anymore
I’ll teach her to go quickly and never come back
Things get broken fast here

I’ll make her stronger
than I ever was

Turned at twenty she’ll break into bits of star and throw herself against the sky

(2006 is an excellent year to disappear)

I will not let them
distroy her life
the way they distroyed
mine

I’ll tell her to never forget
what they did to you
and never let them know
you remember

Never forget
what they did to you
and never let them know
you remember

Never forget
what they did to you
and never let them know
you remember"

Comes and Goes in Waves