I could write a how to book

They say it's easier to tell the truth than to lie.
Mark Twain agreed. "If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything."

If that is true, why do I have such a hard time saying how I feel when you are standing in front of me, waiting for an honest response, but I can gift wrap bullshit and tie it in a bow like I am one of Santa's little helpers... It's practically an art form.

I know I've written about honesty before. About how I am not some huge liar, but if you expect me to tell you how I feel, you are so very mistaken.. but this is different.

This is about how, no matter how wrong lying may be, to some people, it just comes easy.
Sometimes, it's not any easier to tell the truth than to tell a lie.

I guess for some people, it just comes naturally.

I'm back

and better than ever.

I've got new rules, new plays, new lines.

I've got more to do and much less time.
But I'm going to fit it all in.

I've been living on my knees for a while, but I'm ready to breathe easy and dive back in.

I hope you know, I don't need you now.

I'm just keeping you around.

Quote of the day:

"I swear to everything when I leave this earth,

gonna be on both feet, never knees in the dirt."

11:11

I keep saying I don't when I really do.

I keep saying stop, when I want to move.

I keep saying go slow, but I'm gaining speed.

We don't say what we want, but we do what we need.

I have never made so many wishes in a day

On dandelions and eyelashes that I blow away

They leave my fingers for the currents of the wind

While I wait for 11:11 so I can wish it all again.

I have never seen so many shapes in the clouds

Laying in the grass, we don't say it out loud

On the tips of our tongues and our fingers too

It's 11:11 and I'm wishing for you.

I keep saying I don't when I really do.

I keep saying stop when I mean move.

I keep finding words with nothing to say.

And I've never made so many wishes in a day.

Dedication.

I've never touched you.

On rare occasion did I hear your voice directed at me, when not many miles away.

I've never looked in your eyes with a pounding heart in my chest or felt the electricity of anticipation pulsing from your fingertips.

But I've answered the phone at 2 AM and listened to your mumbled words, your thoughts tumbling incoherently from your lips, trying to decipher every word.

I've written words for the sole purpose that you would read them, that you would like them, find something inspiring in them.

I've gone out of my way to be clever just for your amusement, to grab hold of your attention.

I've basked in your compliments, laughed at your witticisms, and shrugged off your sly suggestions.

You said you like to play with fire and I'm the hottest thing on your plate.

I rolled my eyes.

But when you said you were an optimist,
I held on to every word.

You've been my intellectual stimulation, attraction, and my inspiration.

Have I ever said thank you?

If I was THAT type of girl..

Did you know girls like me ... "dont 'get' in love".
but man if i could fall in head over heels real love.. it would be with someone that made me laugh like he does, and smiles at me like he does, and even shakes his head at me like he does.
Cuz lord knows I'm a mess. and he sure knows it too.
But man if I could fall in love, we'd have the best time. And deep conversations about life and all the fucked up things about it, but how good and sweet it is because we have each other.
..On second thought, that makes me sick. Love is so overrated.
Love is for fools, not for me.

Sure, I've been around the block a time or two. I'm sure I've been in love before. But it can't have been the kind of love I'm talking about because after the initial heartbreak, it was so easy to let something else replace it. It was so hard at first, but then so easy to let it go.

I want a "you're my guy, i'm your girl, but you're also my best friend" kinda love. Where there is nothing too deep or too trivial to discuss and every one of my thoughts is heard, assessed.
I wonder if that love exists?

I bet we could create it.

Liberty and Justice For All

Now, don't get me wrong but, America was based on a foundation for religious freedom, right?
People got on boats, came to America, started new lives, to get away from the Church. You know the one I'm talking about. Well, that's the short version anyway.
So our country, this country, the United States of America, was built on the foundation of freedom, religious freedom in particular. And then we had slavery, and we realized it goes against said foundation of freedom. So slavery was abolished. And we were all "equals," another foundation of this country.
But then there was segregation and things weren't really equal after all, thus the civil rights movement. And  over time, we recognized how important equality was. So segregation was out, women could vote, and we were moving in the right direction.
Fast forward to 2012, we have made strides. Great strides. But there are still civil rights issues that for some reason, we just can't figure out. There is still racism, there is still discrimination, there is still a fight against sexuality.

Now, what I don't understand, and the fact that people are missing: our country was built on a separation of church and state.
There is more than one religion for a reason. America is based off freedom, "freedom of speech, freedom of religion," and so forth. Trying to force the beliefs of one religion down a nation, while you can argue it's your "free speech," it affects my freedom of religion.
Someone may believe homosexuality is a sin, but I don't. So should I be forced to have my laws created for your religious views? If you are so Christian, and you love the sinner, but hate the in, you could still give the sinner his rights to equality and freedom. Your faith doesn't make his laws. And your church does not have to recognize his marriage. Just like your church does not control our government.

Gay rights is a political issue, not a religious issue. All civil rights come down to the fact that equality is necessary in every state and every country. Religious and person views are preventing that. The government cannot continue it's attempt to make laws based on faith.

My Body, My Choice, My Right

I've been on bedrest so naturally I watch a lot of TV, something I've never really done before.
I've always had those specific shows I tried to catch on Wednesday or Thursday nights, but I rarely just sat down and flipped mindlessly through the channels like I do now.
But I have surprised myself. I have started watching the news! I live with two politicians so naturally, MSNBC is constantly on.
My new favorite website is MoveOn.Org. It provides the latest clips, updates, and articles on the hottest topics in politics, and it is, for the most part, directed at my demographic: young voters who sway towards the liberal viewpoint. For anyone who has been keeping up with the news, you know the biggest debate right now is over women's healthcare.
I feel like Senator Sanders said it best in this speech he gave:

The top comment on YouTube said it best, " The Obama plan enables Protestant women to use birth control while allowing Catholic women to choose not to use birth control.
That's religious freedom. All women should be free to choose the approach that fits their religious beliefs. Employers should not be attempting to impose their religious beliefs on their own employees in an area of life as private as family planning...
Respect the religious liberty rights of the individual."

I honestly believe that if any of the GOP candidates are elected, our nation will spiral back into the fifties, and all of the headway we have made in civil rights will be close to void.

Just look at the behavior Rush Limbaugh recently exhibited towards Sandra Fluke, calling her a slut because she stated that birth control could cost her up to $3000 during law school, roughly $1000 a year.

If my birth control hadn't been covered by my health insurance, it would cost me between $70 and $120 a month. Last year, my birth control was changed four times over a course of three months, for health reasons. Oral contraceptives help relieve women of heavy periods, severe cramping, and are used as a treatment method for cases of endometriosis.

I'm sorry the Catholic church and the Republican party would prefer that women suffer during that dreaded time of the month... maybe if they weren't all men they would actually be informed on the issue and understand the uses. And just because it goes against your belief, doesn't mean it goes against mine. It's my body, it's my choice, and it's my right. Not yours.


Also, congratulations to Maryland for becoming the 8th state to legalize gay marriage!

All You Need Is...

I love and I love hard. I love, and I love big. I don't take things in my arms and say, "hey, I'm gonna do this halfway." I take things in my arms and I hold on until I can't possibly hold on anymore; I hold on until there is nothing left to do but let go.
I am by no means saying this is the right way to love. There is no right way to love.

And there is no right way to let go. Sometimes we just let go because we have to. Sometimes people just slip out of our arms and there is no way to pick them back up. Or sometimes you try to pick them back up and just break your back in the process. And in the end, is it worth it?

Love is not forever. I know all those songs and movies go on about how love is everlasting and so on and so forth. And in a lot of ways, it is. The concept, I mean; love as a tangible thing. I think in this very blog I have written numerous times, "love will outlive us all." And it will. But love for one person, that does not last forever. I think it's possible to love and then let that love go. Or love from a distance, at the very least. I think we always care for the people in our lives, the people from our past. I think there are very few people who play major roles in your life that you eventually feel apathy for. And after all, isn't that the real opposite of love?

I don't really know what I'm going on about. I've been watching a lot of Grey's Anatomy and it makes me feel, but the outcome is almost always nonsensical.

Really, I think all anyone really wants is for someone to love them. And I think all anyone really wants is to love. But then there is the exception for every rule...

But... what else are we built for? People are made to nurture, to care for one another, to procreate. Not just people. Almost all mammals give birth and then raise their young. We care for one another. What is life without the ones we love?

People matter. That's all.

Chocolate, Tissues, and Issues

The other night I had a conversation with an old friend (of the male sex) that touched on the fact that women are rather odd creatures. In fact, the term he used was "baffling". This friend is rather intellectual and philosophical (whatever that really means) and so finds himself to be rather insightful (you can imagine each italicized word being said with a sarcastic, yet slightly jealous, air.)

In fact, I believe he said something along the lines of, "Women are the most incomprehensible subject I've come across, actually maybe the sole one. Your gender baffles me because (I think) your thought processes are, generally, so drastically different than mine."

To which I replied, basically, I agree.

Women are so completely ruled by their emotions that we are, I'm sorry, incredibly irrational beings. And I don't mean to generalize, because I'm sure there are so many of you out there who are strong, independent, rational women who would never ever let someone bring them to their knees, but, and this is in my experience only, even the most intellectual women can support the stereotype.

I can admit right now, I am not exempt. I am as crazy as they come. Sure, I talk a big game, and I'm so good at pretending to be rational. I can walk away when I know I absolutely need to. And I can think on my feet. I can take away from every experience, and I'm pretty good at moving on and (eventually) seeing things in perspective.

But I would be a liar if I said I haven't let my emotions completely rule my decisions. I've thrown temper tantrums. I've slammed doors. And this past year, I've learned to really raise my voice. I know what it's like to feel crazy, to even know that I am acting crazy, but feel as though someone drove me to that point. I'm not justifying it, (but I mean, I am) but is it really my fault? Even the tough guy act stems from some insecurities drawn from my irrational emotions. But who cares? Maybe women are … the way we are… to make up for all that men lack. I really doubt that all men think about is sex, but let's be honest, we all know at least a few, especially under the age of 30, who honestly only think about sex. And that doesn't mean he is a bad guy. He can still be nice or genuinely interested in what you have to say, but at the end of the day, he wants in your pants. Because he's a guy.

And once he's not thinking about sex all the time, he's probably thinking about money, or work, or just success in general.

I don't know. I'm emotional and crazy and completely irrational at times, but with all these feelings, at least I know I have a big heart. So whatever. I'm a stereotypical woman. It could be a lot worse, I could have a penis… I mean come on. Have you seen that thing?

So pass me those Ghirardelli chocolates and a box of tissues, because I'm about to settle down for a nice rom-com and have me a good cry.

Oh Darling Don't You Ever Grow Up

Last Christmas I wrote to Santa and asked to help me stay young for just a little longer. I had no idea just how little follow-through I would receive... I had to grow up - move into a "big girl" house, pay bills, go grocery shopping. But I guess I didn't have to grow up, I decided to. If I really wanted, I could move home, back in with my mom, go to school and work and not have to deal with all the responsibilities that come with keeping a house. I wouldn't have to go grocery shopping or pay rent, or worry about the utility bill. I could go back and though I can never be a kid again, I don't have to be a grown up yet either.

I turned 20 this week. I know in the big scheme of things, I'm still very young, and many would scoff at my "responsibilities" and concerns on "growing up". But twenty is significant. I am out of my teens, done with those confusing years, and on to preparing for the so called real world. I'm getting into the classes that deal directly with my major, I'm getting out of the habit of sleeping in, and I'm becoming financially responsible.

But tonight, I'm sitting at the table in the house I grew up in, talking to my mom and letting myself be consumed in the smells and comfort, even the lighting, of home.

And it's nice to know that if I decide to buy myself some time, I always have a place to do it.

“It’s harder to talk about, but what I really, really, really want for Christmas is just this: I want to be 5 years old again for an hour. I want to laugh a lot and cry a lot. I want to be picked or rocked to sleep in someone’s arms, and carried up to be just one more time. I know what I really want for Christmas: I want my childhood back. People who think good thoughts give good gifts.”
- Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

I never liked the color pink

I think people only see what they want to see.

That's not me being cynical and pessimistic, it's what I honestly believe.

We view the world - the people, places, events even - that surround us out of our own personalized rose colored glasses. We see the best of people, we see the worst of people, but do we ever see people for who they really are?
Whether we do it out of love or to maintain a selfish ignorance, we do it. We keep our expectations too high or too low, but do we ever really give people the benefit of doubt, or acceptance?

It's something that has been on my mind lately. I am not saying it's a bad thing. Maybe it's even necessary in our society, with as many issues as we have, and how self-absorbed we tend to be.

I am trying to keep my eyes wide open, as well as my mind. But those glasses tend to be hard to remove...

Frog Eat Frog World

Last summer I spent a few weeks at my grandparents house in a small town in Illinois. I spent most of my days lounging by the pool in their backyard, reading. One morning I woke up early, poured myself a cup of coffee, grabbed my book of the day, and headed to my favorite chair overlooking their yard well before the sun reached it's peak. It was nice to just sit outside, enjoy the sounds of morning.
On this particular morning, as I sat by the pool, I noticed about six or seven frogs swimming in the water.
I know enough about this issue from when I was little to understand that the amount of chlorine and chemicals in the pool will kill those frogs within the hour. So I spent the next half an hour or so fishing these frogs out of the pool. But the frogs didn't want to be saved, they just wanted to stay cool. They would swim down to the very bottom of the shallow end and then coast their way along until they were 10 feet deep and skimming the drain. At this point, I was getting frustrated. The sun was rising fast and it was getting hot and I still hadn't finished my coffee. But I kept at it until the very last one was out, an hour after I started. I caught him after he stopped swimming and just sat at the bottom, slowly starting to float upward. I shook him out onto the grass and just watched him. He didn't move. He was a cute little frog, small and green, with a darker splotch on his back that looked kind of like Texas. I watched him for about ten minutes, sometimes picking up a leaf to poke at him or lay over him. He never moved.
I gave up, with a heavy heart. I couldn't save him. He was just a frog but at this point in my life, something about it resonated with me: I couldn't save him. I went up to change into my bathing suit, grab a bottle of water and maybe a soda because at this point it was too hot to even think about coffee, and head back down. The first thing I do is check the patch of grass where I lay my frog to rest. He wasn't there. I start searching, slightly panicked, when I find him sitting in a bush next to the pool. I looked at him. He looked at me. I shook my head. He darted for the water. This time it only took me ten minutes to fish him out. I carried him out to a bush a little further away and settled down to my book. It only took a couple of minutes for him to hop right back in the pool. I fished him out and this time I kept an eye on him, now concerned my little frog had a death wish. This happened four or five more times, each time taking a little longer to get him out - he was getting smart about avoiding my net. Finally, I'd had enough. It was getting to be late afternoon and at this point I would have normally finished whatever book I was reading, but that day I'd gotten about ten pages in. I'd had enough. I fished him out for the last time. I even went so far as to tell him that I was done, next time I'd just let him die. We looked at each other, both knowing I was full of shit. But I think he got it. I carried him out to the edge of the yard, where the backyard becomes woods and gives way to a little creek. I let him out as far as I could from the pool and turned back.
I didn't see him again. I guess he finally got it, or was just sick of the game. Or maybe he was just a frog and couldn't find his way back. Maybe I should have kissed him just to see what would have happened. I don't know. But I spent my entire afternoon fishing a stupid frog out of the pool. He was just a frog. But I spent all day out by that pool, never going indoors for fear that he'd jump in the water and be dead by the time I returned. I never stopped fishing him out of the water. I never gave up.

Author vs Writer

The other day my English professor asked our class if we would consider ourselves authors.
She said, think about it, now is the time we are doing more writing than we probably ever will in our lives.

That made me stop. Sure, I'm cranking out an essay a week, a research or exploratory paper a month, and I've got another forty hours of just English ahead of me... but God, I hope this is not the most writing I ever do.

The class debated for a while about whether we were authors, or just writers. And some factors included whether the writing was temporary - would only last as long as it took to graduate, or whether it was enjoyed, whether pride was taken in the flow of the words, the ideas, or even vocabulary. So many things to think about. What makes an author?

I think about the fact that I have two blogs going (somewhat) regularly, that randomly in class I will scribble pages of ideas for essays or personal writing, that I've been working on the same story for about six months and I think I'm finally getting somewhere...

Yes, I would consider myself a writer. Maybe even a budding author. Next semester I am taking two creative writing classes along with a class on nonfiction writing. I am constantly thinking and creating and scribing. I have plenty of insightful papers, creative prose and poetry.

And then I have my journals.

And even though I have enough papers ahead of me to fill multiple novels, I know this will not be the time of my life where I write the most. I know that is still ahead of me, and I really look forward to it.

There are moments

I could close my eyes and find myself back in one specific moment in time. I can recall the thoughts, the smells, the sounds, the feelings, the words. Always the words.

I'm sure I have mentioned before that my best friend lives in Germany. As I like to refer to her, "someone I love".

Someone I love once wondered, what if everyone were naked all the time?

Someone I love once found beautiful old black and white photography when rummaging through drawers. Exactly the thing I adore. She mailed them from Germany to the United States. They now live in my room.

I am thinking back to the day when I first realized love will outlive us all.

And I honestly believe that. The way many people believe in organized religion and politics and that their vote and place in this world or their country will somehow make a difference... and I hope it does but in the meantime, I will be here, believing in love. And being lost in a moment that has long passed but still holds me tight.

Because I honestly believe that no matter what any of us do to destroy this world, there will still be love.

And I know one person, my person, who is proof of that.

Say Cheese

"Smile", she said
As the camera flashed
And she took a photograph
To hang on her wall
Never guessing all her pictures of them
Would become seasonal.

Pensive Bear

I've been thinking tonight..
A dangerous pasttime, I know.

I do really stupid things. And I don't think that makes me a bad person, I am just very careless.
Sometimes, I am inconsiderate.

I mess up.
Sometimes, I even think I am doing the right thing.
And later, I discover that I am so very wrong. But I'm too scared to admit it.
Not because I don't want to admit I'm wrong, but because I'm scared of what will happen if I do.

All it takes is once for me to realize it's wrong. And I don't need to get caught to know it.

My heart broke for the first time when I was 14. It was my own fault. It was horrible. I thought I would never be okay again. I prayed and prayed to feel whole again, to meet someone new, to be happy.
And months later, I was. Because when you're 14, and you think you're in "love", it feels like the hardest blow. But it's nothing.
Every time it ends, it feels inevitable. Like I was waiting for it. And while it hurts, and feels like the end of the world, I know it's a temporary end, and I'm only biding my time until the next beginning.

This time when I break my own heart, I don't see the next beginning. All I see is lost potential.

Quote of the day:
"Your heart just breaks, that's all. But you can't judge or point fingers, you just have to be lucky enough to find someone who appreciate you."
- Audrey Hepburn

a liquid diet

"I want to be like water.
I want to slip through fingers but hold up a ship."

And that's all I want to be.

Apathetic or Maudlin?

I feel like I lost something today.

To be cliché, something I never really had.

Something I shouldn't have.

I have been frustrated lately. I've felt caged in and frustrated.

Taking a lot of deep breaths, counting to ten.

I feel like I don't know what I'm doing, what my next move should be.

I don't know what I want or what is best.

I can't tell...

I'm starting to doubt if this is right for me.

Ode to Nostalgia

I got off work early tonight.
Went home (well, to Meg's) and ordered a Papa John's pizza. Pepperoni of course.
I settle down with my Harry Potter book, break out my laptop to give facebook a quick glance, and am overcome by the urge to pick up the phone and dial a number I haven't dialed in months.
Not that I can't call it, like it would be inappropriate or awkward. But because the number I want to dial won't work, as the person it belongs to is in Canada.
Oh Canada. The summers I have cursed you...

I want to call my friend and apologize.
I want to call my friend so he knows how much I do and always will care.
I want to call my friend and talk about music and life.
I want to call my friend because I miss laughing so hard my stomach hurt, smiling until I thought my cheeks would break, and having those rare deep conversations where I know the things he says have never touched another's ear.

And maybe I'm nostalgic.
But really... I think I just miss a person who has been actively involved in my life for almost eight years now.

Really, I think I just miss one of my best friends.

god and i

were good friends.

I was in first grade when my feelings on religion changed.

I was raised Protestant. attended Sunday school every week and church after that.

Maybe I did not always pay attention.. but we prayed before we ate each night, holding hands at the dinner table.

And then it was my first day of school. I was six years old and ready to go, with my little backpack and my uniform (a plaid jumper and white polo).

I was the epitome of adorable.

Walk in to school, get lost immediately. The second grade teacher, guides me across the hall to the right classroom.. and there she stood. Sister Carol. In all her habit-ed glory.

And then came Father Mike - so handsome, so kind, so funny.

Second grade. My class was doing that second sacrament (technically third, I think): holy communion.

I wanted so badly to participate.

I wanted so badly to have that connection with God.

So I was baptized, on Easter in second grade. I wore a white dress, I held a candle, and I took a bath in Father Mike's holy water.

Next step: converting my entire family to Catholicism. Easy.

First communion? Piece of cake.

I was drawing pictures of God (a stick figure with a beard) in my diary at this point. I was also writing songs about how much I loved him. They went a little something like, "I love you lord, I love you, for all of my life." You know, really clever lines like that.

And to top it all off, I wanted to be a teaching nun. Just like Sister Carol

I wrote in my prayer journal up until the middle of fourth grade.

When mom and dad had their messy divorce, grandpa got cancer, and everything (felt like it) went to hell.

I still believed in god, then. Lots of kids go through those same things. It's part of growing up.
I still prayed. I still asked him for help and forgiveness. I still went to church and hugged Father Mike after every mass and took my eucharist and thanked the father, son, and holy spirit for it.

I don't know when I lost faith. I don't know when I stopped writing my songs to god.

I don't know when I stopped enjoying church as much as I did.

I don't think it coincided with any specific event. I think I just got older and my thoughts became more complex and I became, I hate to say it, less gullible.
I knew that prayer wouldn't fix all the problems in the world or make people less hateful or violent or intolerant.

I think I was in seventh grade when we had a guest pastor who gave his sermon about stem cell research and gay marriage and I thought to myself.. "well, that's not right"

And I wondered how an institution I believed in so much, that I put so much time and love and effort into, could be so.. wrong.

Because the Catholic church is so twisted and wrong and judgmental.

And I don't think I am cut out for that.

And I couldn't find anything better to believe in, so I walked away from religion all together.

And I walked away from god. And rarely looked back.

I dabbled in church off and on for a few years. I went back to my church every now and then. I went to a friends church. I participated in the youth group.

I could just never get that feeling back.

The feeling that I believe in something, something big and beautiful that will somehow help me, someday, somewhere along the way.

I may not believe in god.

But I believe in love, in music, in the kindness of people.

I have beliefs. I have faith.

And if someone were to prove me wrong about the big man, I wouldn't argue them down or be disappointed.

Because I have my faith. That's all I need.

And I'm sticking to it.