if places were people no. 5

i never thought i'd see you as a person,

except now that i found you it makes sense:

you became the place we hated.

you formed as i slept,

so i woke to your enormous cancerous thought processes

and your hopeless breath

that blows as mercilessly as the wind.

i woke to you being a mountain,

and i dangled off one of your cliffs.

you rise steeply

from the endless plain floor.

not sunshine falling from heaven,

but rock wishing to rule above grass,

tough as meat and

those shard-like word ledges threaten from miles away

sharp collarbones and jawline and thin thighs

my intention was to never climb your type,

but i'm the only one close enough to try.

now, when you aren't slicing with your obsidian edges,

you're mixing in dirt, breeding infection, reveling in the primal.

hungry green eyes.

you're wild, snarling,

edging away at every flower,

the ones that do bloom are tiny and dull and only last a week or two,

and then your thin breath suffocates them.

seeds only last so long underneath your snow.

your endless winter,

and the longer i spend in you the more i realize

why no one lives

here anymore

your hands used to hold mine and now they

hold me in the sunshine, mocking, until my skin burns.

your skin is dirty and rough and darkening with every day spent so close to the sun

your eyes used to make my own light up,

and now i shiver away at your glance,

afraid of what it might mean.

every car going in the opposite direction seems to call my name,

and i want to go with, but

from where i sit i can see the gravestone that holds childhood memories

and if you will not guard in then

i will

although i think even the memories have crawled out and left

i don't think you even know where the graveyard is,

though it continually fills with your victims,

and you know it not.

you only know when i'm in the area,

your arrows made of steel and the knowledge of my weaknesses

seek out not my heart, but the

arteries pumping towards it.

you aim for my limbs, not

my organs.

you look for targets to maim,

not to kill.

you would hate to be a killer.

you would hate to be anything horrid,

anything blatantly wrong.

but you don't mind the label of desert.

or rock of a mountain.

you don't mind the fact that people climb you to die, not to live.

or that they only come visit you when you smile,

not when you snow your black snow, dark thoughts.

you don't mind that everyone calls you no-mans-land,

no-woman's-land

the forbidden and hated and avoided land.

you say you don't mind, anyway.

but it must be lonely.

it must be quiet.

and i know how you loved the music in the city squares.

how you loved it when people smiled at you

and i know it because you loved it before you changed,

and you say it's an act but i will be honest

i do not believe those words of yours.

i try to bring it to you, the music,

but it isn't the same without the crowds of dancers

and anyway,

your shale mountainsides cut my feet when i dance for you.

it must be trying,

having everyone hate the way flowers grow rarely

so i try to plant a garden,

but your winter comes to soon

for sprouts to push out of the ground.

it must be

so

terribly

hard

to be a mountain in a country

where everything dies.

and yet here i am,

sitting with you,

because so far i have always been a mountain person

and i am starting to think that i have changed,

and that maybe the ocean is more of my style

except i don't want to leave you.

not like this,

not when you've run out of victims so you're turning into one yourself.

not when i can see the structure of the mountain,

and the covering is starting to fall.

the skin is starting to sag and stretch and

you're getting thinner.

i don't want to leave that grave of childhood

the snows came early this year,

i think you crave the ice water more and more.

there was one day this winter when i couldn't make it to the grave.

when i went the next day,

your forced laugh of a wind had felled a tree

breaking the headstone.

i think i will catch one of those cars now,

because who knows when the snows will melt.

i think i will go to the ocean

to see if less thin air will bring clarity of mind.

i think space

between us will make your

visible ribs seem less knife-like.

maybe space will make me miss you.

maybe i will like the thin air when i come back.

maybe the flowers will grow more, if i'm not watching them.

maybe you will have a bouquet for me when i come back.

maybe you will not be so hated when i come back.

maybe it will be better

when i come back.

if i come back.

you stabbed me from behind, when

i turned to walk away today.

an ice shard through my thigh

so that when i do walk, it will be painful.

i can still walk.

but i don't know

when i will come back.

if

i will come back.

too many scars from your arrowheads will

make it harder to climb your

unscalable peak

if i come back.

YO ALL!!! i'm still alive. (seriously i keep saying that. why. maybe because i have multiple not-so-near-death  experiences so i SHOULD be dead.) (i was busy.) (and there was a lack of coffee.) (don't ask.)

SO YEAH. there's another super-downer for you. in my defense i TRIED to find something uplifting. what can i say. i listen to too much chopin to be an expressively happy person. OH WELL. 

xoxo

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.

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-
ward

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
didn't
happen

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.

WHOOOOOOO OKEEAY. I'm not dead.
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 schooling....is that even legal?) Follow me @roommateforsale (yes that is my twitter name thingy. It was late and i was unimaginative.)

ALSO NEWS:
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 confused........at 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.

Xoxo
Sami

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. 

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING

Before we get into this: a couple of things.

1. SOMETHING IS HAPPENING TOMORROWWWWWW.......#WEARELOUDER AND IZZA GON BE EPIIIC.
2. Because I am going through some major life changes...you 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 HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING.

HA.

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)

Back to the point EXCUSE ME BUT WHEN DID MY LIFE BECOME AN EXPERIMENT IN HOW MUCH STRESS I'M ABLE TO HANDLE.

I mean come on SADDJLKDFFIOEPUIOUSE K K K K K I'M FINE I SWEAR BUT WHYYYYYYYY.

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.

AM I THE ONLY ONE EXCITED ABOUT THIS?????

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
GOD IS SO GOOD.
YA KNOW.
HE LOVES ME AND
HE'S GUIDING ME
AND I JUST CAN'T.

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.)

*MIND. BLOWN.*

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 post....is 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.

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
BIG
EXPRESSIVE
GESTURES
AND ENTIRELY TOO MUCH capslock.

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
indifferent.
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
eventually.
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
poetry
nature
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.

(ON A SIDE NOTE: SPEAKING OF INTERNAL DEMONS...CHECK OUT KATE'S POST. IT'S AWESOME. )

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
how?

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

UNTRANSLATABLE
LITERAL
"ALMOST"

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.

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

Y'ALL SIT UP AND PAY 'TENTION.

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

this is the guest post. 

yep...this link right ---> HERE. 

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

*sad*

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.......)

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.

NOTE TO SELF: fifteen

last one, guys. :) don't stop looking for the little lessons. 

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.

MOVING ON:

guys. i am the worst. blogger. ever.

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

YES I AM FEELING GUILTY FOR LEAVING YOU HERE WITH NOTHING TO READ.
(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*)

WELCOME TO MY WORLD.

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.

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 car...so 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) 

this is me freaking out about a book

guys.

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.

GUESS.

THIS woke me up.

ERMAGERD....ITS HERE.

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)

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, help...in 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.

"HEY. HEY MOM. SORRY - SORRY I DIDN'T MEANT TO - EVERYTHING'S FINE, MUM, I'M OKAY, EVERYTHINGS FINE SORRY - SORRY I JUST THOUGHT THAT UM, I'M OKAY YEAH EVERYTHINGS GOOD ITS JUST THE CAT."

"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 tail...cat'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.

NOTE TO SELF: nine

NOTE TO SELF: eight

NOTE TO SELF: seven

NOTE TO SELF: six

NOTE TO SELF: five

NOTE TO SELF: four