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."