I'm no Copernicus

Listen, I know.  I know.  Not really breaking any new ground with phone shots of leaves and feet.

But, in contrast to cubicles and elevators and computer monitors, what do you expect.  And who says beauty isn't sometimes cliche.  Today, I'm staring out the window at this delicious gloom and admiring the way clouds are hanging over trees and pretending I'm in London and not bothering with proper punctuation and not focusing on what I should be in any way at all.

Because it rained today, all day long.  The way that it never rains here.  And if I can't take a day off to celebrate that physically I'm sure gonna take it mentally.

stickittodemaneosis.

There are some struggles that I'm convinced will always be a struggle. Some parts of me that will always be a little bit broken.  And I've accepted this.

Because human beings were simply not meant to be happy every moment of the day.

Sometimes it is brave to be happy, but other times it's just impossible.
That's nobody's fault.

I don't think that I'll ever be someone who conversation or human interaction in general comes naturally to.  I lack the charisma and self-assurance.  And I don't mean that in a negative way, I'm just saying it.

I'm not charismatic.  I'm not generally confident.
These are the facts.

I'm neurotic and think in circles until I tangle up.  A select few find it endearing, and know how to unwind me from my own thoughts.
The rest are generally turned off.
Again, just facts.
But charismatic people have always made me nervous.  You know?

Probably not.

It's just that it always proved difficult for me to determine
whether they were being sincerely charming
or simply charming me out of their way.

Because their smiles look the same in either situation.
And I can't understand that.
I have enough trouble smiling for pictures when I don't feel like it.  It never works.  I just look like I'm in pain.

All I'm saying is, I know what you're thinking.
But you and I have a very different definition of fun.
I wish you'd stop acting as if happiness were the point, because it isn't.  It never has been.
The point is being able to face the reality - That things here aren't perfect, and never will be.  That, sometimes, really terrible things happen.

That I'm human and I'm broken, in some ways, and I'll probably never know how to make a room of people laugh.  That it isn't about what's fair, it's about what we were meant to learn.
The point is to be able to accept all of this without throwing your hands in the air and giving up.   

misc.

"Hope on. Journey on. 

Honestly acknowledge your questions and your concerns, 

but first and forever 

fan the flame of your faith, 

because all things are possible 

to them that believe."

-Jeffrey R. Holland

Drew finally came home yesterday, after deserting me*.  Which means I was actually able to get a good night's sleep for the first time in FOREVER.**

It's kind of pathetic, really.  I used to sleep alone every single night of my life and everything went fine.  Now I have to wear one of Drew's shirts and leave lights on, and not even that works.

Before Drew happened, I planned on living all alone in a classy studio apartment...in New York, or somewhere else edgy, until I was at least 28.  When I think about that now, I just laugh. 

Oh, and I didn't end up getting that promotion, in case anyone cares.  I took it harder than I should have, mostly because the news came on the week of the month where I'm incapable of handling most anything emotionally.  You know.

Seriously.  It was so dramatic.  The only thing I can compare it to is the feeling of getting dumped. Where you feel sad and heavy and sorry for yourself all day long.  And you might be able to take your mind off of it here and there, but then you remember.  And it's like you just heard the news for the first time all over again.  And you can't stop talking about it to everyone and anyone who gives you eye contact.  This can go on for any number of days.  And did.  But I'm better now.

If you're like me, and your guilty pleasure is acoustic guitar, poetic lyrics and haunting melodies, you should really listen to this guy.  He just released a new album, and I'm obsessed.  It's the perfect rainy day music, but I listen to it every other day too.  It makes Drew want to fall asleep.

I'm getting seriously annoyed with being a grown-up in the Summertime.  In any other season, it's still generally bothersome, but not nearly to this degree.  I need outdoor adventures involving tan lines, swim suits, sunglasses, questionably-colored lake water, boat fuel, and not wearing pants!  Don't you understand?  But I'm just sitting in a chair.  In jeans!

*going on a business trip
**meaning two whole entire days

who knows.

Someday I'm going to have a house that is covered in vines.  Just like this.  I really will.  Watch me.

        "My room and car aren't always clean.  I don't typically put a great 
       amount of effort into 'getting ready' (hair, make up, etc.)  I just figure 
       that the people who love me will love me either way.  Maybe I'm not 
       trying to be beautiful, understood or liked at the moment.  So what?  
       If you don't love me just because my face isn't shining like yours, 
       that's probably more your problem than mine." 

I was just cleaning out my old email address today, and found the above paragraph hidden in my old drafts.  I found it hilarious.  Mostly because not much has changed over the years.  Since, you know...

2007

Unfortunately, my hair will never be this long and beautiful again.  It just doesn't grow like that anymore.  But at least my face is no longer in a perma-stoned expression at all hours of the day.  Just FYI, I was never actually stoned.  Really.

And, yes, I said "old" email address.  Because we all created an email account when we were approximately 10-13 years old that we kept until it became much too embarrassing for us to do so anymore.  (Mine had to do with The Lord of the Rings, of course.)  Then we switched to Gmail, and use the old address to received additional free months of Netflix access and for giving to non-profit organizations when they ask if you want a newsletter and you feel like you'd be rude if you didn't say yes.  You know what I mean.  Don't even.  

-Roxberry.  Se-ver-al times a week.  Because HEAT.  Summertime makes me spend a stupid amount of money on cold fruity beverages and I don't even feel bad because I work full-time and that means I can afford to allow myself one superfluous habit.  The trouble is, I allow myself a great amount more than one.

-Brownies.  Mint ones.  Because I've been giving into the demands of PMS since 2003.

This was nonsense.

 

Because words are failing me.  Because my lips are dry, my skin is itchy and my allergies are back after a week in a kinder, more humid climate.  Because my thoughts refuse to organize and have been insisting on this diabolical behavior for too long now.  

Because these days are starting to blur into one in a way that I find unsettling.  Because I keep jumping back and forth between plans and I just can't seem to get a grip.  Because I'm missing people, and never know how to handle that.  Because I get myself down, and then feel guilty for it, which gets me even more down, if that's even a thing.  Because I'm still not sure how to measure my both precious and insignificant existence.

But Laura Marling's new album is out.  And I have this husband who takes my hand and tells me he loves me with words on a daily basis like he knows I need.  So I'm planning on burying myself for a while, into these good things.  And not even I know what I mean by that.

"You came here to tell me something I already know. Dark before the dawn is the darkest I can go. The calm before the storm is what leaves me here to breathe. So breathe. Us of constant banging, throwing fists against the wall. Screaming at the earth for what it's done to one and all. I came here to tell you something you already know. Just Breathe. Breathe."

-L.M.

We moved to the valley,
We had a great view
Until the housing developments
Spread out and overgrew.

As far as our debts go,
We're a few dollars shy.
But we'll pay it off slowly
Until we eventually die.

I meant to call you 
Just the other night.
But I lost my
Electronic device
Don't have any numbers
Memorized. 

shrill as a choir of children, urgent like the first day of May.  -C.O.

I always used to think that I'd eventually turn into the ball of light I wanted to be.  That was the plan, though I made no effort to set it in motion.  As if all of the personality traits and natural tendencies I never had would just appear in me one day.  I'd wake up with energy and perspective and the ability to light up any situation.

But the farther I travel, the less likely this appears to be.  I'm so out of reach, made my way too far down this road.  Each day the sun gives a pleasant greeting and I pull the shutters closed.

The older I grow, the less I like peanuts.  The less I enjoy parties.  The less I'm drawn to anything even remotely competitive.  I've grown out of likes, dislikes, relationships, and several outfits.  

But naps.  Sweet mercy.

I doubt I'll ever grow out of those.

none.

How does war connect to your concerns about TV, especially reality TV?

The Hunger Games is a reality television program. An extreme one, but that's what it is. And while I think some of those shows can succeed on different levels, there's also the voyeuristic thrill, watching people being humiliated or brought to tears or suffering physically. And that's what I find very disturbing. There's this potential for desensitizing the audience so that when they see real tragedy playing out on the news, it doesn't have the impact it should. It all just blurs into one program.And I think it's very important not just for young people, but for adults to make sure they're making the distinction. Because the young soldier's dying in the war in Iraq, it's not going to end at the commercial break. It's not something fabricated, it's not a game. It's your life.

-Suzanne Collins

meanwhile, at home...

The kitty missed us.  And apparently decided that tampons are the most fun she could ever have.

There is a small number of people I'm completely content to share a car with for twelve hours.  Luckily, my husband is one of them.  The easiest man in the world to be married to.

Cheers to the season's second road trip.

a thought.

"I love the way you can fall in love with a piece of literature; how words alone can get your heart doing that."

        -Laura Marling

*found via pinterest

The longer I lived my life expecting to find magical moments like I find bulk diapers at Costco, for everyday tasks and conversations to boom with the extraordinary, for all of my comings and goings to mimic what I've read in all of my favorite published books, the more I realized....

Life is just bad writing.

pieces of the weekend.

"you know, a lot can happen after everybody falls asleep.  ask the forest fire, ask the cop walking down the street." 

"and do right by them - work a little in your dreams.  don't let time rob you - hold onto your memories." -C.O.

I woke up at some point last night feeling uneasy.  It was considerably windy, windows rattling, floors creaking.  In my half-conscious state, I felt positive that there was someone in our apartment, there to raid it and kill us in our sleep.  I lay completely still, paralyzed with absolutely unnecessary and irrational fear.  It seemed brighter in our room than usual, but I couldn't figure out why.  I decided to say a prayer, asking that I would be able to calm down and get back to sleep.

And sleep I did.  I had a dream that Drew and I got up and searched our apartment for what was making these noises (because wind is simply not a good enough answer in my dreams).  After we had looked almost everywhere, I checked in a corner behind our couch.  I found a dog.  A steely gray, bad-tempered dog.  I opened our front door to pouring rain outside and yelled at the dog to get out!  It showed me its teeth, and I yelled louder. 

The dog finally gave up and ran out the door.  And with it, it seems, went all of my bad dreams and anxiety for the night.

Who even knows.  Dreams make no sense. 

enough

“How wrong to think I was anyone else, like thinking grass stains make you a beautiful view, like getting kissed makes you kissable, like feeling warm makes you coffee, like liking movies makes you a director. How utterly incorrect to think it any other way, a box of crap is treasures, a boy smiling means it, a gentle moment is a life improved.” -Daniel Handler

I've gotten to a strange point where I'm not sure what is enough.  My goals used to consist of staying good, going on a mission, getting married in the temple, going to school, writing something worth while and having babies.  Eventually.  Later.  A lot later.

Marriage sort of jumped out at me.  Seriously, I had other plans.  I was moving forward with my independent female life.  I was untamed and unwilling to be tamed.  I was off to some distant and as of yet unfamiliar land.  But then Drew came along, and without a single word of persuasion or criticism escaping from his perfectly kissable lips, he had me convinced.  I couldn't leave now.

I wasn't a fool; he was the definition of tall, dark and handsome.  He knew when to be serious and when to not.  He smiled when he saw me and listened when I spoke.  He knew the difference between "you're" and "your."  If I left, he wouldn't be available for long.  If I left, I would be gambling with the likelihood of being with the perfect man. And when it comes to matters of my heart, I have a strict no gambling policy.  Not that I gamble anyway.  I've never understood the appeal.  Casinos, gross. 

So, just like that, the goal of marriage was attained.  Completely out of nowhere and feeling surreal.  I had taken time off from college starting the year before in order to save money for my "mission."  The money I ended up actually saving was a pathetic and embarrassing amount.  That whole taking time off from college thing turned into never going back.  There was nothing specific I had been going for.  College is a lot of time and money for not having any reason to go.  Plus, Drew was in school and we needed a bread winner.  So bread win I do.  Even though I'm not sure why it's even referred to as "winner."  That's ridiculous.  Let's adjust that to bread earner, because, at least in my existence, money is earned with alarm clocks and 40 hours, not won.  Where I do nothing and then squeal and jump up and down?  Get real.

And, just like that, here I am.  I'm 22 years old.  I work full-time and have a family history calling I quite like and a primary calling that I complain to my husband about more than I should.  I don't know how I'll ever get good at making dinner.  I like sleeping in just as much as I did when I was ten, but nowadays I get out of bed when I'm supposed to.  The idea of motherhood scares me to death, but it's something I plan on jumping into eventually.  Again, later - a lot later.   I try to be good.  I don't watch R-rated movies and keep the curse words to a minimum.  I scrub my toilet on a regular basis and, with Drew's help, keep the dirty dishes from capsizing in the sink.

I'm a wife, an employee, a teacher, a daughter and a sister and an aunt.  I take pictures with my cheap camera and I write.  I've never run a marathon but I take the stairs every weekday.  I've got a heart thunking in my chest and do my best to put it to use.  I'm inherently reclusive but smile at people when they walk by - sometimes it's forced and sometimes it's not. 

I used to make a habit of looking up to heaven and asking them, "Am I enough?"  It took me a while to hear the answer, but now I understand that God made me, and therefore, I am enough.  God doesn't make an inadequate anything.  That's what humans are for.  

The question I send up to the clouds these days sounds quite similar, but means something very different to me.  Now that I know that I'm enough, now that I know I'm capable of anything that gets chucked in my direction, Is this enough?  Now that I can't deny that I heard the answer and have this knowledge in my head, now that I can't turn back without a compromised conscience, Is this enough?

Am I doing enough?  I don't know how to tell.

uhh.

I'm supposed to make and frost sugar cookies tonight, and take my cat to the vet for booster shots that I'm convinced don't really cost as much as I'm paying for them.

But I want my cat to know that I love her.  And what better way to say "I love you" than taking her to a strange place that reeks of other animals to have her fecal matter tested and needles stuck in her neck?  Yeah, I think she'll feel the love.

I would also like to make social plans I have in mind a reality.  But if I can't get those cookies cooled, rolled, baked and frosted, this may not be possible.  The cookies are stressing me out because I procrastinated making them, and I'm realizing that I don't have half of the things needed for baking in my house.  Also, I've never ever made sugar cookies and frosting by myself in my entire life.

Yeah, brah.  I'm legit-ly stressed about cookies.

Maybe I'll just go buy those pre-made sugar cookies that you find in really-difficult-to-open plastic containers at the front of grocery stores.  You know, the ones that taste like playdough that I don't think anyone really eats other than my mother and I? 

It's the thought that counts, I think. Though I've started to become more and more doubtful of that statement with age.

Will someone remind me to wash my hair and pluck my eyebrows before I fall into bed tonight?

circle of influence.

if you had a flavor,
it would be initial sweetness
with a lingering taste of melancholy.

I'm not chronically miserable.  
it's just never been so effortless 
for me to simply feel happy.

a hunger to understand myself, it dictated my every thought until I grew old.  and what for?  we aren't made to comprehend ourselves; we're strangers here.  unaccustomed to the ways of this world.

we're ill-equipped for lasting beauty.  we can get on without credit and fortune and applause.   we need only keep in mind, When we are in the service of our fellow beings, we are only in the service of our God.

good words.

"If ye were of the world, the world would love his own: but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you."
-John 15:19

The Weekend

As seen by my phone.

Again, I am reminded of the fact

that people have patterns. 

Prove me wrong, I dare you.

Home life.  Sunlight.

Attractive husband.  Dark sky.  Rainbow.

First plant.

This weekend I was especially happy about how big the windows in our apartment are.  That light coming through the blinds is such a lovely sight.  Big windows, must have. 

My obsession with candles was pointed out and joked about.  I didn't mind.  And laughed.  I just love candles.  

Daisy

Rain, from work.  I went out and played in it for a minute.

 Sunday night dinner was a great way to end the weekend.  With just Me, Drew, my brother Clay and sis-in-law Brit, it turned out to be the most laughing I've done in ages.  I got a head ache and my throat and stomach hurt.  Just from all of that laughing. 

sushi art.

I ate a lot of sushi.  Sweet mercy, such delicious sushi.  Accompanied with 
Coca-Cola.  I've found regular Coke compliments sushi best.

Once again I was reminded that my husband is the most wonderful man in all the land.  He drove me around on Sunday until we found a vending machine so I could get a soda without making anyone else work on Sunday.  It was probably cheating, but whatever.  Then without me even asking, he chose "Parenthood" for us to watch on Netflix, which he doesn't particularly enjoy.  But I love!  I had gotten some bad news and he wanted to make me feel better.  Well, it worked. 

Happy Monday.  30% chance of rain.  Cross your fingers.

A picture may be worth a thousand words.
But this isn't like the chicken/egg debate -
The words were there first.

the answer was 'no',

So quit being so much of what I want.

         "Please, don't cry. You liar."