Wednesday, December 21, 2016

December is my thankful month (and this year it wasn't easy)

I do this post every year.

Basically what happens is i spend the entirety of November trying to pinpoint exactly what it means to be thankful, and by the time i actually get around to being thankful, its December. This year, it hasn't been easy. There's stuff happening in my world that leaves me exasperated and exhausted and to be honest, i'm the closest i've ever been to buying a plane ticket for Iceland and never coming back.

BUT - i can't do that. So i'm going to try to be thankful, and i'm thinking maybe if i write it out enough, i will begin to actually feel it. Fake it 'til i make it, essentially. These are things that i'm thankful for, that i don't exactly want to be thankful for, but its what i'm dealing with. I'm trying to be thankful in all situations. So this year -

i'm thankful for figurative brick walls that fly up in my face at the last second of a plan. I'm thankful for the trees (again, figurative) that grow up in my way, and that i grow strong cutting them down, or figuring out ways to get around them.

Im thankful that i've had to learn to be independent, that i'm learning to grow up, because i will not, and cannot, be a child forever, however much i wish it.

I'm thankful for community - the kind that you build up from when you were a baby, when its really your parents community, your parents connections, but you get to build off of them, and it really does feel like everyone knows you. (Which - i'm sorry, my desired superpower is invisibility, so having everyone recognize me is my worst nightmare), but it's really helpful because then you let people know - i'm looking for work, i'm looking for someone to apprentice under, i'm looking for support in prayer, i'm looking, looking, looking and i cannot turn over all the rocks by myself.

I'm thankful for realizing that i'm a loner. I mean, i knew i was an introvert. But spending time with people constantly for three months, i realized that i was weaker there. I needed alone time, i needed alone space, i needed alone in order to be me, in order to be my own person, to recognize where my boundaries were and how i needed to strengthen them.

I'm thankful for staying in MT. I thought I wanted to go to OR (i still do) but money doesn't come by me easily (i swear, its a negative magnetic field between us) so going there became not an option. And i was really sad. But then - i came home. And i discovered that there are 11 midwives in a state of 1 million people. i got completely infuriated for 3 days because that's a stupidly low number, and i decided that i was going to become the 12th midwife in MT if it killed me. There's something about staying where you came from - maybe its that community thing i talked about earlier - that gives you an extra measure of confidence. You know where everything is. You know who the people are. You are familiar with it and with people's viewpoints and opinions. Its home. Why wouldn't i stay here?

Basically - i'm thankful for those things that happened this year that took my breath away like i'd been kicked in the gut. Betrayal of life - that's what it felt like. Swimming upstream, hiking through 5 feet of snow, getting vinegar on a wound, accidentally inhaling a lung-full of chlorine water from the pool - we all know how these feel. Like, why me? What have i done to deserve this pain, even though i know i'll live through it?

This year, I'm thankful for the pain. For the frustrations. For the growth. Because that is how we become better versions of ourselves: through struggle. On my "the plan" page, I have this thing about how pearls and diamonds are made. Essentially, through discomfort, and pressure, and time. And this year has been full of those. So i'm choosing to be thankful for that.

God doesn't do anything without a reason. My mom (seriously i missed her waaaay too much. She's another reason i'm SUPER thankful to be home) keeps saying to me (and freaking me out because 10 years in the future scares me) "i wonder how this will affect you 10 years down the road?" And that's made me think about all of what's happened and how i'm going to let it affect me. Will i let it make me bitter and turn me away from my goal? or will it make me stronger, and more able?

Being thankful wasn't easy this year. The plane ticket would have been easier. (TBH it still is.) But I have little holding me back other than my own hesitations. I have little in front of me other than the problem itself. 

Talk about a perfect set-up for getting this job done.

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

who's who

Hi guys. This one's kind of...well...ugly. Its one of those things where you feel something deeply, and in this case its a struggle between being good, and light, and helpful, and sweet, or giving into my flesh and being the nasty, selfish, hard, broken person that would be so much easier to be. Both people can feel like shells, like masks, but other days they can feel like the most natural thing in the world, second skins, each one separate...or maybe not. Sometimes they meld and its a mess. How do i choose between the two? How do i make them separate? How do i stay in one character so that my mind doesn't go crazy from the back and forth?

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

you're so sweet.
what an angel.
thanks for your help.

your mother taught you well.
what a wonderful friend.
what a wonderful person.
you always have a smile on your face.

thanks for listening.
thanks for being you.

why can't you be more like her.
why can't you try harder.
why did you do that?
why are you so mean?

oh, i'm sorry.
you don't seem to be doing well.
you should really see someone for this.

that's so nice of you!
hmm, (with a smile,) thanks so much!
(i only do it so i can sleep at night.)

you're a good freind too (although you don't really know me. you don't know anything about me.)
i'm only this way because of Him.
its been a good day.
(but get me out of here. i need food and sleep and quiet.)

you needed someone to listen...could i do anything else? (like i i can sleep at night.)
i'm the only one who could be me. and i'm not good at being anyone else.

because i'm not perfect.
because i can't. i'm stuck.
i don't know.
i don't know. i wasn't thinking.

don't be. its life.
i'm fine. there's nothing to do.
i'm fine. i'm fine.
i know. i am.
i don't need to. i don't want to.
i'm fine.

somehow, we're both fine. but we're not. 
somehow, we're both acting, and we suck at it. 
somehow, someday. some way.
things will change. 
but i don't see it. 
it's over three or four horizons, around 
five or six bends, over
a mountain range or two.
i'd say that reality is a long ways away.
except that we're in it. 
in it, and drowning. 
two bodies that should really be one 
and i'm thinking that i'll always be cut in half
and no one will see it except me.
because i'm the one that has to leave half of me behind every day.

Monday, October 24, 2016


:my back is turned: i know they stare: my back, head, bum, the way i walk:

shoes         that
aren't             there

no shoes at all. just
the way my toes
point together a little
bit because i'm nervous.
                                                  i know they're waiting
                                                  but i'm not sure                                                            
                                                  they're excited i
                                                  think they're waiting
                                                                                                  to rip me to shreds.
                                                                                                  i know i have to,
                                                                                                  i have prep-ed
                                                                                                  rehearsed over
and over: over until i
know it better than i
know what i ate for
breakfast this morning
                                                   better than i know myself
                                                   my best friend, and my
                                                   bedroom ceiling.
                                                   climb the stage,

                                K   l
                             &        i
                           t             m  
                         s                  a
                      e                       n
                   r                             j
               e                                  a
            v                                       r
  it is E                                           o   and the steps to

St. Paul's Cathedral, 259
The Eiffel Tower, 1710
the Norweigan Stairway
to Heaven, 4444. the steps
to the stage. and i am
                                                        terrified. of what they might
                                                        think and what they might say
                                                        and what they will do
                                                        once i am finished.
                                                                                                                 but i climb and wait one
                                                                                                                 and think what WILL
                                                                                                                 they say one last time

:i turn: shoe-less: prepared: i: am: terrified: i smile: say my name: think: screw them: one last time:

                                                                                                                                                              and then i succeed. i win.
                                                                                                                                                                     i conquer. the enemy, 
                                                                                                                                                                         opponent, opposite.
                                                                                                                                                                                  is me. not them.
                                                                                                         when i do turn around
                                                                                                                   there's only one
                                                                                                        person in the audience
                                                                                                    that will actually critique.
                                                   and that person
                                        has just left the stage.

Sunday, October 2, 2016

figure it out /// also i'm not dead yet

I'm sitting here trying figure out how it all works.
How i can remember details from my first day here,
like when the iron crackled, it sounded like tires on a dirt road
and then from my fourth week here when we had to drive 20 minutes to find a dirt road
How 'normal' constitutes 97%, but we learn about the non-normal 3% 50% of the time
How i can be so addicted to coffee, and yet i still don't drink it as much as i used to
How twins can share nutrients and still not get equal amounts
How un-matching furniture reminds me of home
How greasy hair and no makeup don't matter anymore because homework dictates all
And 2 am is familiar
And 11 pm is early
And i wear a watch now because i have to be able to take a pulse
And when i eat food that looks like everyone else's they get confused because they think i'm eating what they're eating and half the time i am its just that its my gluten free version, not normal stuff, and that makes them confused they don't get that i'm not gonna change
And how can i be more able to relate to these people even when i
have nothing in common with them
And how the last 4 years of my life were labeled 'waiting'
But 'waiting' is an understatement
That was boot camp
That was training
That was testing and working and patience and art and writing and figuring out pathways and equations that i could lay over situations so i could relate
And how other people didn't get that
And how people don't know that other people think I'm intimidating because i tried really hard on those first few days to be 'out there' and 'open' and 'relatable' because
I knew that if i didn't that would be awk-

But what would have happened if i hadn't figured out step 1
That preparation
Im sitting here trying to figure it out
How to be autonomous
How to be me
And yet how to hollow myself out for more information and more homework and more time
How far can i stretch
And yet how full can i get of God
Because he's here
He's with me
And he is quite possibly the most tangible when I open one of my textbooks and see a photo
Of a condition
That a baby or mother can get
And lets face it
I wonder when the nightmares will hit of those photographs
And i wonder whether this was planned
Or whether this was result of falling
And I wonder if God cries when he sees this

And i think of all the good this will do
All this current preparation
The info being stocked away in my brain,
To pin together as more comes in.
I think of those far-off places with
Bad outcomes of birth and life and death and
How there is such hatred, and such sorrow
And what good it will do

And others say
'That place scares me'
And i'm right there with them
But i see that complication,
And those definitely-not-anatomical figures crossing the surface of the world,
And i see the mountains that make mine seem like pebbles next to a boulder
And the oceans that make the lake seem like a raindrop next to a fountain
And i see God and how he gave us the chance to be pain free

but how that

I see those places and let me tell you
They scare me too

But i want to help
The pain
Because it doesn't stop at my world
It doesn't stop at the edge of my sight
And my world is a fraction of a fraction of a sliver
Of the whole world

And i know that.

And though i may not be able to take the pain away
I can give them hope of eventually being pain free
And the immediate choice of joy
And when i see that option
It seems gigantically more helpful than
Not doing anything at all

So scared or not
Figured out or not
Friends or not
Or financially supported or not
Or not
Or yes
Then yes.
I've figured that out.

And that is a terrible rough draft. BUT I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING.
Mostly this is just me spouting bc i have no time and homework is already glaring at me but
NEWS: i got twitter. Although in my defense i am a student midwife so sometimes i use body words that may be considered offensive to some people but they're just part of my profession so basically just be warned. Also in my defense i'm pretty hilarious so #bonus. (First post, my roommates and I created a fictional roommate that we are gonna try to sell to pay for our that even legal?) Follow me @roommateforsale (yes that is my twitter name thingy. It was late and i was unimaginative.)

remember that time that i told you that i didn't have anything past December figured out.
That's still a thing.
And December (or January...whatever) is rapidly approaching. SO PRAYER WOULD BE EPICALLY APPRECIATED. BC I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING. SO YEAH.

AND NEWS #3: im gonna do a world dump soon. (Me + moving + school + new place + independence = new experiences that i desperately need to write about and a lot of terribly grainy iphone photos.)
I've been at midwifery school for 4 weeks and i have learned so much....and theres 8 weeks left.....and there is so much cool stuff here but the lack of both mountains and ocean makes it kinda lame. I mean cool, but no.

YA'LL ARE AMAZING. Is anyone even still reading this? I'm so what point to blogs just automatically get erased from the internet bc their authors are negligent students who don't have time to blog anymore. (#CRY)

Love ya'll....hang in there.
Life may not always be good, but that doesn't mean there isn't beautiful bits along the way.


P.s. I am terribly sorry for the quality of this post. The grammar is awful and i'm probably going to go back over this in about three weeks and want to kill myself for even considering posting it. 

Monday, September 5, 2016

if places were people no. 4


your eyes are blue. 
as blue as the rest of you, 
ranting and raging and throwing your wave arms up in the air with every 
gust of teasing wind. 
you told me once
green was your favorite color.
i doubt it.

it's not just one blue. 
but layers. 
almost black-blue, like sleeping heavens 
and then the cerulean lighter Caribbean pools,
streaked with the almost white of ripped denim and 
the deceptive brownish of sea foam. 

your waves are uneven, 
and they ripple across the surface of the sand like your skin
ripples across you 
the dips and curves making tide pools 
for crabs and sea anemones to take refuge. 
most people don't like you 
"too chilly. can't swim there. 
and there's too much wind and rain."
i like you. that's my kind 
of weather - messy and dirty and sad and yet simple
with only sand and water to get in the way of itself - the way you let the mist 
lounge about, 
sauntering from tree to tree, street to street,
storefront to storefront,
enveloping, muffling the distant song of water's heartbeat,
and it makes my jacket and jeans damp with its heaviness.  

when i walk down to your shore you throw wind at me
thinking i'll walk back  to the house for warmer shoes and some hot chocolate. 
but that's the thing

you don't know me. 
i'm a mountain girl. 
mountain girls climb mountains just to find wind that carries new scent.

i face that wind, 
and i let the water make my feet go numb,
it's iciness is threatening but
i'm not afraid of you. 

beach length waves shove against each other, 
racing to reach my ankles
a bet against time
a wager for the pretty lady. 
i think of what the jovial nature hides - 
harshness and honesty. 

shelter to the water beasts
raging against the coasts. 

the way you never stop - 
you're a constant of wave, water, depth, shallows, 
somehow you cover every aspect and the sheer 
immensity makes me feel small. 

i think of
the way man has wanted to tame you
and yet you have remained just as dangerous as before 
they tied some sticks together and tried
to cross you. 
"we'll win the pretty lady,
pretty lady come home in our tub"

but you pulled them down in maelstrom and reef 
sent an extra breath of wind to make the waves psychotic
carved graves out of the feasting table
that sharks so often watch.

and yet how like man you are, 
those long waves equalling strong shoulders, 
bringing the wind and blocking it at the same time, 
gritty hands pulling at my feet, digging sand around,
kissing locks of my hair, mingling my blonde strands with your sandy ones,
light and bleached from salt and sun
and then kissing my lips with
your salty ones. scratching
my check with the bit of stubble, grit at the top of 
your cheekbone, sharp.
i can't tell if it's a scar that's yet to heal from 
the tiff with that shark last week
or if it's because you never shave when 
you're supposed to. 
you leave gifts on the shoreline:
seaweed, driftwood, pretty stones and shells 
and even the occasional sea star or jelly fish. 
some days you bring me sea foam in your hands, but 
it spills over, all over the bland sand and makes me laugh 
when it flies in your face. 

the perpetual lullaby, 
murmuring sweet things in a language i do not understand,
shhshh shhshh,

others say be careful. 
that you're dangerous. 
that i shouldn't swim too deep. 
you'll pull me away from them. 

i think of our differences. 
me climbing heights and you diving depths. 
both breathing oxygen but yours is in water and mine is in air
and i imagine your sandy hands pulling at my feet again, 
deeper, love, deeper, let me show you something beautiful. 
and how you love to tease the seagulls. 

i think of how you send me sunsets and 
i think of the way i found the mountain looking at the stream instead of at me
and i think of how i'm tired of air, 
and i'm tired of the brown and green of mountains and the mocking 
of the wind in the ponderosas 

you send a salty kiss my way 
and pull me deeper beneath your waves and i can see the 
sand dollar cities and 
a wall of sea stars and 
families of fish 
and a shark says hello

and how the water feels different in my lungs and 
how it feels different in my hair,
and I see the danger 
and I see your anger
but I also see the way you smile 
at me and i think i like your little gifts and the shades
of blue in your eyes. 
i think i like your lullaby 
and your allure
and the way you send me winds filled with new smells 
i like the way your hands are not big enough to hold the sea foam and how
you're wild, but you're mine. 

Friday, August 19, 2016


Before we get into this: a couple of things.

2. Because I am going through some major life know, COLLEGE and MOVING and LIFE WHAAT, I don't know how much I will be able to post on this blog. I'm crying about that, seriously. I am addicted to blogging. So for the new chapter, I'm going to do it as much as I can, but I make no promises on how often. :( *sobs inconsolably*
3. In the works but still: it's time for a revamp. This blog - I love the look, the vibe, etc., but sometimes old parts of life need new coats of paint. (FYI I almost typed "paint" as "pain" like, nooOOO lets keep pain to a minimum please lol.) I'm thinking peachy colors and cute goldfish. Either that or pastel greens and cacti....THOUGHTS? (Seriously please comment. I love you're comments. They show up in my inbox and I'm like, everyone loves me this is great.)

OKAY I'm done --- TO THE POST.


Let's face it:



I mean, I'm moving to a completely different town in seven days.

I'm going to be learning a trade that, YES I want to be in, but I have NO experience with whatsoever. (It would have been beneficial to have seen a birth and know that I can actually do what I'm doing.)

After three months, I'm moving to YET ANOTHER completely different town that I have never been to AND I'M LIVING THERE FOR A YEAR. (Although this one, how bad can it be, I'm only 50 miles from the ocean. #WIN)



I'm freaking out. My mom is freaking out. My sisters and dad are freaking out (they don't show it. Nice one, guys). My dog is freaking out (she doesn't know details but she's smart. She's catching on.) My best friend would be freaking out but she has her own worries. I think the worship team is freaking out, but to be honest, in the year and a half that I've played with them I still haven't figured out when they're joking or not.

The stress level is about HERE.

Ya know?

And within this washing machine of emotion and chaos and fingernails-digging-into-the-walls-so-as-to-slow-my-departure....I have incredible peace. I'm doing what God wants me to do. Everything's cool. (Which is super weird because I go from lghjlsdlsdlksGRAAAAARG to oh hey cool bro in about 8.9 seconds. I am THE emotional roller coaster.)

So what I have another 150 meals to make before I leave. So what I don't have housing for when I move in January. So what I don't even know if I'll like midwifery. So what I'm essentially getting up and walking out the door of my previous life and rebuilding it in an unknown location with unknown materials. SO WHAT.

It's ok. It's ok.

Life is an adventure. And I'm realizing more and more what exactly it's about:

Not finding true love. (that's simply a really awesome bonus)
Not being the best person.

Not being happy.

Life isn't a race.
Or a game.
Or a punishment.
Or a reward.
Or something that we do over and over and over
and have absolutely no control over.

We are ALIVE. We are living and breathing and we get to create our world and yeah, usually it's an experiment and a blank page and we have to face this every. single. day. But SO WHAAAAAT.

Do you know how amazing that is?

Like, ok I believe I believe that there is an optimal version of our life that God has given us an opportunity to find.


Let me say it another way:

College is not cheap. Even weird college like I'm going to. And yet somehow God has provided every step of the way. He gave me this really awesome job where I was able to sack away 3/4 of my paycheck every month. He made that money multiply. He gave me extra opportunities to house sit and clean and play piano and get paid for it. And I was freaking out about how I was going to make the money to pay for my second semester (first semester $$ came together pretty well) and now I'm looking at my account and guess what? I'M ALREADY HALF WAY THERE.

There's no way I did that.

He did.

I just, like, GAAAAAAHHH

Like, if it's one thing God has shown me through this is that I am so not worthy, and yet I'm his. I'm his kid and he's going "do you trust me to jump into this? I promise that I will catch you and it will be beautiful".

I am overwhelmed. I am freaked out. I am stressed. I am excited. I am nervous. I am listening to sappy soundtrack music that makes me cry. I am terrified. GO READ ISAIAH 40. (Especially verses 11 and 31.)


End of conversation.

So yeah - I guess what I'm trying to say in this caps-lock-emphasized, loooooong, I-have-no-idea-what-I'm-doing that He has got you so much more than you realize. And we're talking about the star-breather, breath-giver, pathway-maker, all-knowing, bigger-than-the-universe, ever-present-ever-loving GOD that has got everything. under. control.

So I'm freaking out. And I don't have any idea what I'm doing. And that is totally, completely, underestimatedly and wonderfully good, because it is in those moments that I have no doubt that God is in control of my life, and that is WAAAAAAYYY better than me being in control of my life.

I'm actually glad that I have no idea what I'm doing. Weird. Awesome.

Friday, July 22, 2016

if places were people no.3

I thought you were a shortcut.

You took us the long way 'round.
With stops at every station.
Pauses after every sentence.

We never went
faster than
50 miles an hour.

26 hours is a long time to sit and stare
memorize each other's faces, skin lit up by
dimness of walkway lights, reflecting off the scratched, plastic-y windows.

Maniacal laughing clatter of steel wheel against steel track
annoying complaint of rubber window lining against foggy glass to the outside
Almost distant stubborn stomach grumble of the machine taking us to somewhere

You are that in-between place
That interpretation
That 'please wait while document loads' symbol.

You will always come back
But sometimes you will sleep
And Destination will take your place

Sometimes you will go on holiday
And Preparation will visit
To get us ready for you again.

Sometimes your face will change.
You'll grow a beard, or something else ridiculous will happen,
Like the time your eyes changed colors.
And sometimes I will need to memorize that face
Over again.
Take the journey twice.

Sometimes you don't make sense.
And yet you are almost constant and consistent
But you are nothing twice
You are never the same
You are In-between

We had better get used to it because
Consistent is different than static
And change is different from chaos

And sometimes you will drive the train backwards
And north will be west
And east will be south.

And I don't mind.
I love you very much, more than I thought I would,
Because I thought you were a shortcut, someone
I could pass by without a second glance
And you very much weren't.

Which is to say
I like your scenic routes better.

In-between is nice.
Even though it is the definition of patience
and You never had a dictionary.

Which is to say
I thought you were a shortcut
And you showed me the world
And stole my calendar
And my time
And my heart
And now,
I live for the limbo
The in-between
The changing
The unexpected hairpin curve that says
Pay attention.
You don't have time for second glances.
You may not come this way again.

(WHAAAAATTTT. Yeah. Hi. I'm not dead or anything I just haven't posted in FOREVER. Sorry 'bout that. But anyway, if you're interested, the idea for this one was from the train trip we took last October. Fun stuff. LOVE Y'ALL. I'm going to post again soon so stay tuned.)

(ANOTHER NOTE BECAUSE I FORGET THINGS: remember last year when i did that blogtober series? I NEVER DID DAY 18 (the horror) but it was supposed to be "This week I..." and really, that week before the 18th i had gone on a train trip, which is what this post was based on. basically: i finally finished blogtober and its july. isn't that great?)

Monday, June 20, 2016

writing (because i need it) 4.21.16

some days you feel like you have to scream.
and since you're at
________________ *insert public place where you
are expected to behave like an adult*  you can't.

so you scream in other ways.
you wear the crazy dress and the flats.
who cares?

you text your grand total of TWO friends,
and you tell them all your wierdest jokes again
and you laugh hysterically in your head, mostly at yourself
but also...well yes, just at yourself, and you feel a little mad
the losing-your-mind kind of mad
when you do it.

and you use

you be wierd.

you mentally scream and you write it out
you sing and dance along to songs in your head
intermittent stops to go "wow that is such a good song"
and you daydream  to get away
and you wonder how far you could get on what's left
of the gas in the tank of your car

you write out the crazy
fill white space with typed black

eat lunch somberly
greet clients quietly
with perfect smile
practiced phrases

still mentally yelling incoherently; still screaming like a banshee
and you wonder how people would react if they had mind readers
and they could watch yours

you wonder what they would say

would they be like:
wow she never stops.

no seriously. make the screaming stop.

or more like
why on earth does she think about this? i thought she was above that.

or maybe
yep, it really is time to put her in a mental institution. 

the good thing is they don't have a reading-your-mind machine yet
and so i'm safe
from everything except my own weirdness
and my mental noise
and there's nothing to stop me
so i keep on going.

i write out the crazy.
it just keeps coming and coming
and i know i sound incredibly calm about the whole
ordeal but
i'm not
its too noisy to be anything but
an adult in a room of three-year-olds on caffeine.
that's what its like.

it will die down, die out,
like cotton from the cottonwoods only come around once a year
the puff balls, snow of the summer, they blow away
just not right now.
and probably not tomorrow.

not until i write it out.

i'll go on a binge of taking in:
art and music
soaking in rays of sunshine
and warm summer breezes and
digging my feet into garden dirt
and then washing them in the muddy water of the pond
and i will end up with brown skin criss-crossed with tan lines and a clear mind

after i write out the crazy.

but not until i have drowned the scream in the sound of everything else
flushing it, taking in, and writing out all of it, good and bad
waiting until it quiets like a babe who needs rock music in the car to silence the wails.
blurring like sharp pictures of summertime
because you can only take the blur
not the sharp because the sharp is too specific.

and you feel like those photos because you know
what the picture looks like behind the blur.
specific. colorful. purposeful.
the prints are there, confident and mocking.
you're the picture, all those. the purpose radiating from you,
like you could lead it into battle and win, every time.
but you can't take it. and neither can anyone else,
so you blur.
you blur the pictures.
you blur yourself.
dulling it like alcohol on the senses,
like the stuff they use to numb your teeth at the dentist
like the 'snow' that used to show up on tv screens when you hit the wrong channel.

write out the crazy, the noise
the screaming.
don't blur it, dull it.
use the pointy end of your pencil, the
click of your fingernails on the keyboard.
use the sharp to dig out the stubborn rocks.
push out the crazy so it don't build up.


Friday, June 17, 2016

writing (because I need it) 2.16.16

they say to write until you can't NOT write
they say to write until it hurts when you don't
until you write better than you talk, think, and see

describe what a jellyfish looks like to a blind person

what does music sound like, to the deaf?

how does heat feel to one who has lost the nerve endings in their fingers?

give a voice to someone who has never said a word

make ice cream for someone who has only ever eaten cake

give it the soul and sixth sense that everyone has

take life and offer it to the dying
lend vision and sound
share some taste buds

that's what writing is

how do i breathe? 
how do i see, taste
how do i feel and touch
what is the meaning of emotion?

my voice is my own language
some sentences come out like i've pasted them into google translate
the basic meaning comes through
but some words just aren't the same.

some languages have words that English doesn't
some languages don't translate into mine and vice versa

komorebi - sunlight filtered through leaves
meraki - to leave a piece of yourself in your work
hanyuaku - to walk on tiptoes across hot sand
bimyou - "meh", "not bad"

and i feel that when i write
talk and create people see part of it
but they also see the underneath description that says
Sami-ese, number of  speakers: 1
all they understand is the
butchered explanation of what i'm really trying to say
one that doesn't even come close


but not quite

write it anyway
write it because it hurts.
write it because if you don't it might write itself
on the walls of your brain in big black
bold letters that will never ever ever come off.

write so that it does not become permanent
toska: unexplained spiritual anguish

write to get it out

write to keep clean.

Monday, May 9, 2016


^ it isn't neon. but it's light. same change. same difference.^

there's a tipping point.
a spot in the journey where it is realized
that change must happen, or we'll
slip off the edge of an ever-tilting world.

we get slapped in the face and realize
that its not right.
for once, realize
that something has to give,
and that something is self.

in that moment
we are not infinite
we are not finite
we are not average
we are not special
we are merely changing.
we are neon.
we are bright
like new-born stars
like dying stars

we change.
flashes, on-off-off-on-on-off
inside to out
out to in all of the above
back again
and we
to neon.

like flares in the wilderness
distress signals
black boxes.

send out the warning,
the message
the decleration.
i've changed
i'm lit up.
i'm neon.

Thursday, May 5, 2016

the note to self series: guest post on kate's blog


Kate at the Goodness Revolt (just stop everything and go check out her blog IT IS AMAZING)  asked me to do a guest post.

yep...this link right ---> HERE

and this is also the end of the NOTE TO SELF: series.  


but don't stop holding on to the little lessons that are actually big lessons. 

#NOSHAME for the amount of links i put in this post. no shame.

(NOT TO MENTION I JUST HIT 100 POSTS ON THIS BLOG. yaaaaaaaayyyyy.......)

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

if places were people. no. 2

Just allow me this moment to say that I LOVE THESE PICTURES THAT I TOOK and also a warning to prep yourself for another rather sad people/places analogy/rant. #sorrynotsorry 

our lane. as in, yours and mine.
open and honest, the towering brown rabbit of a house nested against a row of ponderosas,
three of them a three-headed dog.
if you follow where the driveway points, an arm into the wilderness
you end up in the stream-bottom, hidden heart of the wood, 
wandering water trickling down from a lake 30 miles away, 30 years up the canyon.
you end up in an aspen grove with a random pond 
in the middle where we don’t ice skate in the winter
because we don’t know if it freezes and none of us are brave enough to find out.
none of us want to be eaten by water.
you have to walk down a hill to get there. 
it’s the same hill we go sledding on in winter, dangerous, 
like an angry boyfriend, but alluring in the same way. 
you have to take a 6-foot sidestep to avoid the sister of a bush with inch-long thorns.
around all this are the fatherly fields, that take away the view of the highway and when you lean
down it looks like the grass stems have been dipped in gold-making water, 
except the water is the sky and it's blue as eyes, blue as ice.
and even beyond that are the step-mother mountains, protective, leaning in to eavesdrop your secrets,
passing them on to the wild animals that snicker in the night. 
the mountains where snow shows up in september 
and doesn’t leave until june 
the very heart of them is ice and 
you know that if you started walking through them, 
if you tried to leave, you’d never reach the other side.

and if you look at where the mountains start and 
follow the pointed ears and the pointed hair 
up up up up and over 
until you reach the pointed ears and pointed hair 
on the other side with a playpen for the sun and moon and stars in between, 
where geese dip their wings in the spring and fall
clouds parade and wander and fight 
you swear that if you look hard enough the blue of the sky turns into the blue of the sea
the whispers of the wind gossips that live in the trees turn into 
lullabies of sea goddesses and gold grass turns to gold sand 
but either way you know that if you started walking through the mountains or you started flying
through the sky or the sea 
either way you know that you won’t make it out the other side.

and you know that if you did, if you did start walking or flying, and you changed your mind 
half-way, and you started walking back, 
the damage would be done. 
your stepmother would be broken and old, and your father wouldn’t be gold grass covered anymore,
he would be simply dirt and the few remnants of brown field, 
and the sister thorn bush would be gone and the boyfriend would be married to the stream 
and let’s face it:          if you leave now it will never be the same.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

NOTE TO SELF: fourteen

This. This idea: to not let things get to you. figure out who you are, and what you contain, and then just learn from everything else. let it flow through you, but don't bottle it up. you don't have to process everything. sometimes you just have to let it run by like an icy stream on a summers day. it bubbles and pulls at your feet but you stand there. you don't let it affect you other than to let it make your bones ache and your skin cool and remind you that you are alive, and you are who you are.


guys. i am the worst. blogger. ever.

i just up and leave and decide to drop by to post these notes....

(on the other hand i'm kinda half tempted to be like what? go fend for yourself! i'm totally not responsible for your blogger feed being full and up-to-date. i won't do that though, because i know the feeling of an empty blog feed. *so sad*

me feeling guilty, the lack of posts here, this is soon to change. (translation: if i don't sit down and write soon, my brain and my fingers are going to run away on permanent vacation to the Bahamas and then where would we be?) (Answer: we would still be here, in montana, with semi-gorgeous weather and a 3.7 mile long to-do list buried underneath a full-time job and the incessant craving for coffee that i have tried (and failed) valiantly to curb.) (and we would so much rather be in the Bahamas, now wouldn't we?)

two more NOTE TO SELF posts, and then Kate at the Goodness Revolt has graciously offered to let me guest post on her blog about said note to self series. (i am equally terrified and thrilled. i've never guest posted anything before, so i'm getting that jittery feeling in my gut that happens when i go over to someone's house for the first time and all i can think is i really hope i don't break anything.) (wait. can you break things on blogs?) (*worrying intensifies*)


after this....I have absolutely no idea what i'm doing.

(other than the if places were people series because i've got some sparking ideas for that.)

this is gonna be great.

Thursday, March 31, 2016

NOTE TO SELF: twelve

a compilation of my best pranks (aka: happy april fools)

i have done all of these pranks with ultimate success. use my knowledge wisely. (.....on second thought, don't try these at home.)

1. find a bunch of old office supplies. put in box. mail box to friend, while putting a different friend's address on the return label.

2. if you work in a food chain which prepares its food as ordered (ex: Papa Murphy's Pizza, Subway, etc.) switch the ingredients. What you normally start with, put at the end. Put the end ingredients near the front. This prank is best done the night before when your manager isn't there. And then let them make the first order the next day.

3. that friend that is always pranking everyone? dissassemble their car, bring it up the elevator on one of the campus buildings, and rebuild it on top of the structure. make sure that you don't help them when it comes to getting the vehicle back down.

4. move everything in the house 4 inches to the left. (so evil. so hilarious.)

5. change your relationship status on facebook. This one is so fun, especially if no one knows you're joking.  make sure you keep it going for long enough that everyone starts to actually freak out.

6. hide alarm clocks in target's bedroom. set them for horrific times during the night. (2:08, 2:10, 3:37, 4:48, etc....keep it unpredictable).

7. Lock them out of their house and hide ALL the keys. Or just change the locks completely.

8. rewire the brakes on their every time they hit them, the horn goes off.

9. get their mom in on a prank call. (I don't care who you are or where you came from: your mother angry at you will always be your worst fear.)

10. hire a musician to follow the target around for a certain number of hours. either have them play one song over and over and over and over and over again (i recommend "Barbara Anne" first sung by the Regents but you've probably heard the Beach Boys version, "Baby" by Justin Beiber, or "Its a Small World After All" by Robert and Richard Sherman)...or have them base the current song off of something they said... (ex: "seriously, dude, get lost." turns into "HIT THE ROAD" ::: "i can't hear you over the sound of this bozo making noise" equals "Say something" ::: and every time they answer their phone "HELLO...ITS ME..." :::
NOTE: only use this prank on your very worst enemies.

Please remember that April Fool's Day is not Make Everyone's Day the Worst Day of Their Lives Day.
Confuse, don't abuse. And please be safe.

I'm laughing so hard...APRIL FOOLS. Did you actually think I did all these? LOL NOPE. but i would. mwahahaha.... (These are actually pranks that people that I know did, or I found the ideas on Pinterest. #mostdangerousplaceever #youmustnevergothere #beware #happyaprilfools) 

NOTE TO SELF: eleven

Thursday, March 24, 2016

this is me freaking out about a book


i am a bookworm.

a starving bookworm, but a bookworm all the same.

it has been entirely too long since i have sat down and devoured pages simply for the devouring pages.

maybe i've just been hibernating from reading. (bookworms do that, you know.)

guess what woke me up.


THIS woke me up.


i have waited for this book...SO LONG.

the rest of the series is good. its about good vs. bad, superheros and villians and secrets and hidden identities and there's even a really adorable romance. GO READ THE FIRST TWO and then we can squeal over the third installation together.

(not to mention THE COVERS ARE GORGEOUS. #dying)

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

when the cat scares you half to death

i did this gem of a post a while ago. i'd rather forgotten about it.
but then the this other thing happened (see below) and i was reminded of said post (really though, i didn't lock myself out of my caddi...) mostly because  I thought that my world was going to fall apart due to a situation was completely and 100% out of my control.

i was house sitting for these people that we've known for basically forever. their daughter was my first real friend. i know them, they know me, i've been to sleepovers at their house and know their animals and really house sitting shouldn't be a big deal, right?

WRONG. i realized after the first two nights that i had always stayed there when everybody else was there. the house had always had people in it other than me. i've tried everything - i've tried sleeping with the dogs in the same room, i've tried the exhaustion method (staying awake until you're so tired you could fall asleep anywhere), I've tried watching funny videos and listening to music right before I go to sleep, i've tried walking through the house every time I hear a creak. And let me tell you - there were so. many. creaks.  The 10-pound dog could walk down the hallway and it sounded like a bunch of 300-pound assassins playing football tag. The perpetual thought that maybe I wasn't the only one in the house was making me a little paranoid. 

Back to the point though: nothing helped. No matter, I thought, I'm almost done with this job anyway. It'll be fine!

Oh, the hilarity.

I was woken out of a sound sleep to the two dogs wanting fed and let out - as usual. It's early morning, so I fulfill the requirements and catapult myself back into bed. Laying there, half of my brain is still asleep, half is sprinting through the ideas of today and what it will look like. 

And then the yelling starts. I kid you not: it sound like a small child who's arm had gotten chopped off. A small child yelling help. Over and over and then BAM - the sound gets super loud. that three year old was standing in the kitchen. Help, help, help, a solidly round voice with minimal pronunciation.

I grab my phone (honestly I'm wishing for something much larger and heavier that I can use to protect myself with but there really isn't anything in the bedroom that fits the description and I don't want to lug the lamp through the house because that is the farthest thing from subtle that there is). ANYWAY - the phone, and I'm pressing send because Mom was the last person I called. I start to make my way down the hallway towards the noise. Help. I tell myself to be prepared for anything (and anything at this point in my mind looks like child with blood everywhere and a missing arm) (too much NCIS, dang it). Help. The phone line buzzes in my ear. Help.

"Sam? Good Morning!" Mom's cheery voice goes up that the end, and I realize that I've either woken her or she's still in bed.

If you hadn't caught on by now, I AM TOTALLY FREAKED OUT. Yes, I'm still pretty groggy. Yes, I'm normally a really logical person. Yes, this situation SHOULDN'T BE FREAKING ME OUT BUT DANG IT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO REACT WITH ANY OF THIS. Why do i want to grab something to protect myself? shouldn't i be grabbing helpful items if the sound really is a wounded person?

And then part of my mind is going over the idea that if it is a kid that's hurt, what am I gonna do about it and are we both going to end up mentally traumatized from this? 

And then I'm thinking that I really hate the idea that I am going to try to be a midwife, but this whole scenario has got me jittery. I'm going to have to deal with probably a lot worse than this.

All this is racing through my brain while I'm trying to figure out how to make words to greet my mother.

The old orange cat walks around the corner, yowling the same sound that sounded so much like a wounded child.


"What?" My mom sounds utterly confused.  

"Ahhhhhh....The cat was making a really freaky noise but I didn't realize it was the cat until I called you. No worries!" I look down and my entire body is shaking. Like, uncontrollable, earthquake-is-happening, haven't-eaten-anything-in-17-hours shaking. I'm that scared.

And by now my mom has caught on that something is not quite right. So I tell her the whole ordeal and the cat keeps yowling and there's a part of me that wants to figure out all those ways to skin a cat because this one almost gave me a heart attack. 

moral of this little tale: (or's tail...ok i need help.)

on little sleep, an attempt at a youthful heart attack, and kind of a second look on where I'm at emotionally (i.e., little things get me worked up), this idea popped into my head:

I'm an introvert. I'm fairly to the point. I don't like all the small talk, the aimless chatter. I try to make things comfortable for people but I would so much rather everyone just not care and do whatever they like. If someone has a problem they can leave. 

That makes me sound pretty cynical? Pretty closed off? Harsh? I'm a jerk, right? 

WRONG. I'm not all of those things together. I can be those. Sometimes I'm even really good at those. But in reality...when I thought that there was a bleeding infant in the house, i was freaking out because i didn't want them to die. I wanted them to be safe and healthy and, well...alive. I care. Just because i have the capability of being a mean person doesn't mean that i don't have the ability to be nice and caring. just because someone comes across as a little cold-hearted doesn't mean that's all the deeper their personality goes. usually they just have a wall up, or are preoccupied or have had a different upbringing from you.

maybe they're just having a bad day.

so before you judge - take a minute: how are they really coming across? do you think that their actions and words are based not out of a hatred for you, but maybe on their circumstances and life?

don't treat someone differently or wrongly just because they're not like you.

(wow. i'm starting to sound like Pocohontas.....i would totally be okay with that. i want her skin color.)

Next time you hear a yowling cat, think about this story, and think about how you are interpreting other people.