I'd like to...

-Turn off the TV by 10:30pm each night to read

-Use people's names when I talk with them

-Wake up earlier for scripture study

-Try more DIY or art projects

-Print pictures and frame them

-Write more songs with Drew

-Give more compliments, free of charge

-Keep my car and home organized and clean

-Eat more vegetables

-Buy a film camera, and learn how to use it

-Talk on the phone with one of my parents at least once a week

-Go on a date with one of my friends approximately twice a month

-Journal, with an actual pen on actual paper

-Learn about photography

-Keep a planner

-Talk to myself with kinder language (because what we believe about ourselves generally comes true)

-Self-research things I find interesting

-Watch more TED talks

-Go on more walks

-Do a few simple work outs a week

-Pick up my cello or guitar a few times a week

-Re-vamp my wardrobe

-Make more to-do lists with specific goals, rather than vague wishes

-Buy a cute house like this:

And move in today.

At least that last one I can say is a "check!"

07/31/13

finite.

"Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up.  I am polite.  I pretend to understand because I don't want anybody to be hurt.  That is the one weakness that has lead me into the most trouble.  Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta.  No matter.  My brain shuts off.  I listen.  I respond.  And they are too dumb to know that I am not there."**
                                                                                    
                                                                                       -Charles Bukowski

Because my perspective is nothing short of limited.  Because I lack the ability to see anything beyond right this second, in front of my face.  Because I am a finite vessel.  Because I tend to forget more often than I remember.  Because all things greater than this are simply out of my reach.  Because I am nothing more than a child.

You remind me.

At first, I'm mortified.  Because how could you?  But then, for a moment, I get a glance from a more mighty perspective.  I can see that you took a good thing to give me something greater. 

And at least I remember to say Thank You most of the time. 

**Quote ripped off via.

I saw a lady dance yesterday
She was easily swayed
I cannot be tossed and turned 

in this way
I'm not your tiny dancer

-LM

passive pacifist.

"My heart is filled with songs of forever,

of a city that endures when all is made new.

I know I don't belong here;

I'll never call this place my home.

I'm just passing through."

To you,

I'm sure you've probably wondered since why I was there for so long and then dropped it in what seemed like a matter of minutes.  You most likely don't understand how I could have gone from caring to not caring just like that.  I doubt that it made any sense to you when I started ignoring each and every phone call.  Did the sound of my voicemail become painful to hear?  I may have owed you more of an explanation than I gave.  To be truthful, for once, I had been disconnected for much longer than I lead on.  I guess I just assumed you'd notice after a while and I would get out of it without even having to say a word.  Unfortunately, this was my strategy for a great amount too many things.  Even in light of your own downfalls, this wasn't fair of me.

I'm not saying that it's right.  It's just that, with the complete lack of positive attention, I settled for the first source of any attention.  Unfortunately, that had to be you.

And you,

You won't believe me when I say that I'm sorry for missing that dinner we planned on.  And the other and the other.  You'll doubt me from now on, when I say, "Oh, yeah, I'll be there!  Totally, see you then."  I can only imagine how shocked you were, that time I found myself yelling my brains out at you while standing outside of the library on campus, like I had never yelled at anyone before.  My eyes were watering and I was shaky.  People were staring.  I only half-noticed.  It became apparent that you had no idea how exhausted I was, that I was completely incapable of carrying my weight as well as yours.  It was a mistake to assume you somehow knew.  I should have told you before it all came spilling out of me like that, boiling hot and bound to leave scars.

It's just that I didn't know how to tell you.  I didn't want to let you down.  It seemed like a better idea to passively take it all in, but the truth is that I was deficient.  I had spent my entire life keeping my head down to avoid the conflict that I don't think I knew "No" was even a valid answer.


And You,

You had such unprecedented timing, just showing up the way you did.  At the precise moment that everyone I had come to depend on copped out, fell away, turned to traitors, you were there.  You were holding my head to your chest while I cried in the Costa Vida parking lot.  You were telling me that you knew I've been through a lot you hadn't, but this you could relate to.  This you understood.

It was never a question of whether or not I could trust you.  It was more dependent on whether or not I was going to decide to deserve what I knew you could give.

doable.

From 19 to 22 seems like very insignificant amount of time.  Three years is a small fraction of an average life span these days, especially with the help of modern medicine and the fact that a head cold doesn't usually mean death anymore.  It's true, from 19 to 22 can seem like no time at all.

But, take my word for it, the difference between 19 and 22 is a big one.

Trust me, the difference between them is a lot.

I've been doing this thing lately.  I think they call it cooking?  Spaghetti squash with parmesan sauce, fajita-style quesadillas slathered in guacamole.  I may have added in more pretty words to make those sound better.  But they were enjoyable.

I've even been getting the dishes done right after we finish eating...just right then and there.  Soap, water, several minutes of standing by the sink - boom! Clean kitchen.

I'm officially freaking myself out now.  Drew probably senses something is amiss as well, but I'm guessing he hasn't said anything because he's worried that it'll make me go back to normal.  And then he'll be back to doing those dishes all alone more often than I'd like to admit.  Poor chap.

Mostly I think I had been making things more difficult in my head than they really are for the past several months.  I've lived through enough winters by now to realize that cursed season does terrible things for my state of mind.  And once the trees are budding, and the sun is back whispering encouraging things in my ears, I'm suddenly a new human.  I'm enjoying sunsets and old songs and drinking in cool breezes through the window.  I've suddenly become a reasonably productive person who doesn't let the small things bother her.  And I hate it when people say things like that.

Regardless of this, I'm still me.  And for that reason, I have to be realistic.  Realistically, I'll probably be right back to my usual, over-complicated, skeptical way of thinking by the end of the week.  I'll most likely be back to dreading even the smallest, simplest tasks.  But, right now, life feels completely doable.

I like doable.

rich.

I realized I had been thinking too hard about it.  Not everything I said had to be profound or important or worth writing down, but then again it could be.  Any moment now, I could think up the most impressive thought anyone has ever heard.  Or it could just be more pointless crap as usual, but how do I know unless I give it a chance?  If I keep telling my brain, "No, that's not good enough," or "No, that's been said before," eventually it's is going to get fed up with me and stop throwing out ideas.  And if it stops giving me ideas how will I ever come up with better ones?

After I considered the fact that any thought of mine had the potential to be genius or at least move others in some way, I started writing almost all of them down.  At three a.m., in the bathtub, walking to the gas station for a Dew.  I just write it down.  No matter how brief or obscure the thought.  I give it a chance.  And I find I have a lot more creative ideas now.

pieces of the weekend.

T'was glorious to behold.

There is just something delicious to me about that word, "weekend."  The conclusion of yet another week full of so many...life-things.  Eloquent, I know.  Just those things that come with life which can't be avoided at any cost, that make me stop, and sigh, and at mid-sigh say, "Life..."  Because that's just it.  There is nobody to blame and nothing to do other than to keep trudging on through the thick and the thin landscape of this life.  This existence.  That I both love and loathe, depending on the day or the minute or the hour.

The sunlight brought to us a charge, a sense of "we-must-do."  And so, naturally, we cleaned the house.  We organized the medicine cabinet and swept floors, did the dishes and wiped off counter tops, vacuumed carpets and scrubbed toilets. (Well, a toilet.  The only toilet we have.)  And I suddenly feel as though I've finally caught my breath after a long and grueling walk uphill.  Not to say that my life itself has been particularly challenging as of late, but my mind has certainly been doing its best to make it seem that way.  And after this weekend, that irksome feeling has finally decided to go steal someone else's breath for a while.

That's why I felt the need to take pictures of the ordinary this weekend.  To capture those perfectly nothing moments.  Where my mind isn't trying to make things harder than they actually are.  Where I feel like myself.  I wanted to save these fleeting moments, because they won't last forever.

There is new week after every weekend, a new haze after any moment of clarity.  And I will never quite get a grip on that.  But for some strange reason, I feel like acknowledging that fact is the only way to actually get a grip on anything.

Dear January,

Frankly, you exhaust me. I can say little of the hospitality your dreariness lends.  We're running out of fresh oxygen.  February, be kind to me.  Each night I re-acquaint my body with sleep, and vow never to leave my bed again.

But growing up is giving away your time, space, and energy.  Simply adjusting to the things you abhor.  Growing up is shedding tears at the sight of something you've only laughed at on a hundred occasions before.  It's that feeling of shock and disgust when you finally get the joke.  We're running out of ideas.

It's a lousy sensation, realizing that anyone I came to admire has only been tolerating me.  A charade of pleasantries.  Nodding heads and curtsies.   Then comes a confirmation of my greatest fears.

So how could I ever thank you, for humoring me all of these years?

history.

He brought me See's and Diet Dew.  And I feel much better about this whole Monday thing.

I have no idea how to transition this, so I'm just gonna move on.  Did you know my parents have been divorced and re-married twice?  Which means they've been married to each other three times?  That's a true story.  One that is probably too complicated and personal to get my blog on about. But aren't they cute?

When I was younger, and they were living separately, I was always worrying about them.  Those of you who have experienced divorce probably understand what I mean here.  Are they bored?  Are they lonely?  Is Dad hungry?  Does Mom have anyone to gab and watch movies with?  It was a conflicting experience, because I, being young, wanted to go out with my friends and do silly things.  Like "hot tubbing" and/or "going 80's." (Which meant we dressed up in neon colors and danced to 80's music until 1am in a sleezy club in Salt Lake City.  I can't say I know why.  My brain wasn't fully developed.)

My parents encouraged me to go and do these things, insisting that I needed to have fun and not worry about them and they were fine and they'd see me for dinner in a few days or whatever.  I knew it wasn't my fault that any of this had happened, and that I also couldn't do anything to fix it.

But in the moments where I felt especially helpless, I always turned to one specific song.  The song of all sad, therapeutic songs.  Yes, we're talking Fix You, by Coldplay. 

"Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you"

It's pretty ironic because, as I have previously stated, I knew I couldn't fix it or them or anything about the situation.  But this song seemed to appeal to my irrational feelings and voiced the thoughts that I didn't have energy to put into words at the time.  Which is the best kind of song.  I'm not even a very big Coldplay fan.  But that song, it hit the spot.

That song was on the episode of The O.C. that Drew and I watched on Saturday night.  And what did I do?  Bawled like a baby.  Even though things are much different now, and my parents mostly keep each other company and, rest assured, my mom sees to it that my dad never goes hungry, those emotions came flooding back.

And I was glad.  Drew and I talked about difficult things.  How they shape and mold us into stronger, more capable people.  I'm glad that song still brings tears, that I still remember.  Because I learned things from those experiences that have become a vital part of who I am and how I live my life.

My dad.  Somewhere in the 70's,

I don't mean that we should hold on to the bad memories and let them control our lives.  We should do our best to rise above negative or difficult situations.
 
But I'm not sure how to learn other than by reviewing history, and if I forgot my history, I would likely forget what I learned.

so domestic right now.

You know, sifting, beating, measuring....pre-heating...baking.

Every Christmas, my mother and I spend about six hours in the kitchen, baking all sorts of sweets to deliver to people that we like.

Fudge, molasses cookies, frosted sugar cookies, plum bread covered in sugary buttery glaze.  How can you go wrong?

I came to the realization afterward that I only took pictures of food, and none of my mom and I.  Yeah, I should probably work on taking more pictures of actual humans.  This has always been an issue for me.

Here's an actual-human picture of my mom from earlier that day.

 This year's baking party was a little different than any in the past.  See, usually how this goes down is my mom does the vast majority of the work and I sort of follow her around the kitchen licking spoons and bowls and "testing" various doughs and frostings and such.  But this year, I'm quite proud of myself.  This year, I actually did things.

My mom commented on how domestic I'm becoming.  It made me laugh, but was also quite a relief.  I didn't think I had it in me.

It felt more like Christmas than it has the whole month so far. There was snow falling, music was on, we were dancing and singing, delicious smells were wafting.  And after we listened to "Rockin Around the Christmas Tree"  for the umpteenth time, I was so full of sugar and Holiday Cheer that I had to take a break! 

That was actually because my back hurt.  Standing for too long turns me into an old cripple.

You'd better hope I like you enough to get some of these goodies delivered to your door tonight!  Merry Merry.

beginning to become - August 2009

I'm young. I don't know what it is about myself that causes me to constantly believe that I'm so experienced and know everything. Lately, all I've been thinking about is how much I have yet to do, experience, accomplish, and become. I think my biggest accomplishments so far are earning my high school diploma, and getting a 24 on the ACT. Yep, look out world! When I think about it, those things are really just the start. I had to get them out of the way to actually begin my life. I really just feel completely overwhelmed with everything I'm NOT or that plan to be.

I want to be ready. I'm not completely sure for what. But whatever it is I am/will be, I wanna be a good one. A good...Megan. The thought of college terrifies me. School has never been my main talent, in any sense. I was happy to get a 2.5 GPA, while I would overhear people around me complaining about getting a single A- in that AP Study-of-Stuff-That-Megan-Will-Never-Hope-to-Understand class. I mean, what? How is it that I got up everyday, came to that fortress of white walls and endless noise that always went right over my head, and there was always a memo I didn't get? There was always something going on that somehow everyone knew about and understood. Everyone, excluding me. But that has always been my problem - I tend to think in a way where there are only two variables in life: "them" and "me." Which, apparently, "is never the case," which my counselor constantly pointed out to me in almost every one of my sessions.

I'm aware that this kind of thinking is very unrealistic. But all I can see college being at this point is a whole lot more them, and the same old me. Just on a bigger, more expensive campus. With a much bigger chance of me getting lost and/or eaten by a wild animal. Both of which can seem much more appealing than a class I find impossible. At least being eaten would provide a legitimate excuse, unlike, "Professor, I'm just incapable of success!" Teachers always disagree with that one. It's times like that when they start using the "P" word. You guessed it - potential. Oh, potential. I think the most frustrating part of that word is that it never ends. There is always more that can be done.

But enough negativity and sarcasm which seem to flow out of me so naturally. I really do feel that this is a chance I haven't had in a very long time to begin to become whoever it is I know I'm supposed to be. Who I want to be.

"I'm standing on the edge of everything I've never been before."
-S.

I like this feeling. I like this process of pushing away everything that's covering up the real me. I like starting over - again. It's terrifying, but I think that this time, I'll get it right. Even though I just graduated about three months ago...I feel like I'm a new person already. It's weird, and scary. But I've begun to enjoy everything - even breathing - more than I did before. It has become so much more effortless to show my real self. Someone I feel like I haven't seen in a long time.