A diary of.
I love him.
A musical note.
I love him.
Traveling far and away.
I love him.
Simplicity.
I love him.
Keeping me whole.
I love him.
Seeking the open.
I love him.
This is it.
I love him.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Drug
It's like a drug. Traveling out of the country, people that don't understand you, and a universal understanding of the act of gathering new ideas, things, people, and experiences.
I first left the country in my junior year of high school. It was like a needle in my arm the instant we touched down in Paris France. I felt like my senses were heightened and everything was recorded in my memory as clear as an album. From time to time when I feel down I go back in my mind to that first visit to foreign soil.
The second trip to Europe was an itch I needed to scratch, but I left under good intentions. Things didn't go as planned, but the second part of the trip went well and I was fortunate to tag along on a back packing trip to Denmark. Denmark and Germany renewed my senses and healed any damage that had been done. The excitement of travel had been restored.
It's been over three years since I last traveled out of the country and I currently have no plans to, but my husband has the itch too. We want to get away. Maybe we could have the honeymoon we have yet to take, but yet the question remains where? Where to go next? The itch is back. The idea is planted. The drug is dangling dangerously!
(just for the record i have no idea what a needle to the arm feels like other than blood tests from the doctor)
I first left the country in my junior year of high school. It was like a needle in my arm the instant we touched down in Paris France. I felt like my senses were heightened and everything was recorded in my memory as clear as an album. From time to time when I feel down I go back in my mind to that first visit to foreign soil.
The second trip to Europe was an itch I needed to scratch, but I left under good intentions. Things didn't go as planned, but the second part of the trip went well and I was fortunate to tag along on a back packing trip to Denmark. Denmark and Germany renewed my senses and healed any damage that had been done. The excitement of travel had been restored.
It's been over three years since I last traveled out of the country and I currently have no plans to, but my husband has the itch too. We want to get away. Maybe we could have the honeymoon we have yet to take, but yet the question remains where? Where to go next? The itch is back. The idea is planted. The drug is dangling dangerously!
(just for the record i have no idea what a needle to the arm feels like other than blood tests from the doctor)
Monday, October 25, 2010
The Bass Pro Moment "to put into perspective"
(i found this piece of writing tucked in a pocket. i wrote it almost a year ago while working my part time retail gig and i thought i'd share it now.)
"...you know i love my parents, but i keep staring down that road waiting for my chance to run..."
This song filtered through my head as it played from the speakers above me at work today. As the memories flooded I smiled. All the adventures of a teen to all the mistakes as a young adult, and yes there is a difference between a teen & young adult.
It was a 1986, brown, Chevy Blazer, and I loved it as much as anything that can give you unlimited freedom. That Blazer gave me the freedom to become an independent young woman. That old "Beast", as we liked to call it, got me around my old home town for 3 or 4 years. As of today I'm driving a forest green, two door, Ford Explorer.
"...who can wait for heaven? and who has that much time?..."
The song lyrics continue to stir up thoughts and memories.
Seventeen years old with sunlight beaming down on my face, while I drive my friends and I to our favorite summer retreat, Camp Potawotami. We only had a couple of years left to enjoy each other and we all knew we would soon go our separate ways. We never took a second for granted. I remember contemplating during those years about love, heaven, religion, and just enough politics to get me by.
I was obsessed with "love". In college a good friend discovered and introduced me to the theory of Limerence. He and I shared our stories of tortured feelings and long distance lovers. Over a pot of coffee we confided in each other regularly.
Limerence was a subject that aloud the two of us to talk backwards in order to move forwards. So as the subject of teenage years continued in my head, because the song played on, I remember the air of total innocence during high school. However, in college it was about taking risks and putting the puzzle pieces together.
Between the constant pull of "love", production of art, and new people in and out of my life I managed to record past, present, and future linking thoughts into a series of journals. I needed the journals for my forgetful mind and to link all the insanity of time together. I had my fair share of heartache and I have handed out a good amount of it myself. Following your heart isn't always a clean effort, but that is a whole different matter.
(this is where i left off in my scrap paper journal entry, but i will sum it all up for you now)
All of these thoughts, moments of remembering, were brought on by a cheesy, pop-country, song playing at my part time retail job. I left this writing in a pocket, it eventually fell out onto the floor, laid there for a while, and then I said "okay, time to make sense of this moment in time".
In short, I loved my family, friends and home town but I always felt like leaving. No, I didn't really belong there, and I still don't. I love to visit, it's still home, but simplicity and comfort has always scared me. A domestic bliss has set in around me now and although I'm comfortable in my home here I'm not settled, maybe that's what scares me about "growing up".
It all stacks up into a nice pile of my life. These are my cards and this is my deck I'm dealt. I grew up wanting to run, I ran. I grew up questioning virtue and morals, but now I submit those morals with a righteous level of religious understanding. At the end of that song my mind had gone through a hundred memories from the ages 16, 17, 18, & 19. I ran my own show. I still run this show. Maybe it will all be in a song someday, just not a cheesy, pop-country song.
"...you know i love my parents, but i keep staring down that road waiting for my chance to run..."
This song filtered through my head as it played from the speakers above me at work today. As the memories flooded I smiled. All the adventures of a teen to all the mistakes as a young adult, and yes there is a difference between a teen & young adult.
It was a 1986, brown, Chevy Blazer, and I loved it as much as anything that can give you unlimited freedom. That Blazer gave me the freedom to become an independent young woman. That old "Beast", as we liked to call it, got me around my old home town for 3 or 4 years. As of today I'm driving a forest green, two door, Ford Explorer.
"...who can wait for heaven? and who has that much time?..."
The song lyrics continue to stir up thoughts and memories.
Seventeen years old with sunlight beaming down on my face, while I drive my friends and I to our favorite summer retreat, Camp Potawotami. We only had a couple of years left to enjoy each other and we all knew we would soon go our separate ways. We never took a second for granted. I remember contemplating during those years about love, heaven, religion, and just enough politics to get me by.
I was obsessed with "love". In college a good friend discovered and introduced me to the theory of Limerence. He and I shared our stories of tortured feelings and long distance lovers. Over a pot of coffee we confided in each other regularly.
Limerence was a subject that aloud the two of us to talk backwards in order to move forwards. So as the subject of teenage years continued in my head, because the song played on, I remember the air of total innocence during high school. However, in college it was about taking risks and putting the puzzle pieces together.
Between the constant pull of "love", production of art, and new people in and out of my life I managed to record past, present, and future linking thoughts into a series of journals. I needed the journals for my forgetful mind and to link all the insanity of time together. I had my fair share of heartache and I have handed out a good amount of it myself. Following your heart isn't always a clean effort, but that is a whole different matter.
(this is where i left off in my scrap paper journal entry, but i will sum it all up for you now)
All of these thoughts, moments of remembering, were brought on by a cheesy, pop-country, song playing at my part time retail job. I left this writing in a pocket, it eventually fell out onto the floor, laid there for a while, and then I said "okay, time to make sense of this moment in time".
In short, I loved my family, friends and home town but I always felt like leaving. No, I didn't really belong there, and I still don't. I love to visit, it's still home, but simplicity and comfort has always scared me. A domestic bliss has set in around me now and although I'm comfortable in my home here I'm not settled, maybe that's what scares me about "growing up".
It all stacks up into a nice pile of my life. These are my cards and this is my deck I'm dealt. I grew up wanting to run, I ran. I grew up questioning virtue and morals, but now I submit those morals with a righteous level of religious understanding. At the end of that song my mind had gone through a hundred memories from the ages 16, 17, 18, & 19. I ran my own show. I still run this show. Maybe it will all be in a song someday, just not a cheesy, pop-country song.
Paternal Instinct
This weekend was very interesting and abnormal. I spent the entire weekend with my in-laws, I don't really think of them that way anymore they are just family now, and we all had new experiences. I have two amazing nephews that I love with all my heart and miss daily. As of this weekend I'm also an Aunt to a niece who has been welcomed into our family do to new love. My mother-in-law has an eternal soul mate who has welcomed his family into our lives. Now someone is a grandmother for the first time, I'm an Aunt to a little girl for the first time, and things are simply changing quick.
I love kids. I'm rarely nervous about being around them, maybe because I truly relate with those years and have never forgotten my childhood. My new niece is spectacular and opened my eyes to a completely different perspective, in general and internally reflective. I have my moments at the age of 27 and the biological clock ticks away, some days louder than others. It is constantly a conversation piece that most people like to bring up from time to time.
Though I'm personally not ready to bare my own seed, I love to partake in the activities of parental practice. After this weekend I reflect and find myself moved in a way that only an Aunt can feel. It is precious, priceless, and an honor.
I really miss my nephews and plan on seeing them sooner than later, but for now I hope that all three of these children know that there's someone they can talk to, watch a movie with, bake with, or cry to. These are awesome days.
I love kids. I'm rarely nervous about being around them, maybe because I truly relate with those years and have never forgotten my childhood. My new niece is spectacular and opened my eyes to a completely different perspective, in general and internally reflective. I have my moments at the age of 27 and the biological clock ticks away, some days louder than others. It is constantly a conversation piece that most people like to bring up from time to time.
Though I'm personally not ready to bare my own seed, I love to partake in the activities of parental practice. After this weekend I reflect and find myself moved in a way that only an Aunt can feel. It is precious, priceless, and an honor.
I really miss my nephews and plan on seeing them sooner than later, but for now I hope that all three of these children know that there's someone they can talk to, watch a movie with, bake with, or cry to. These are awesome days.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Trail Stops Here
When the horse's silhouette comes out of the fog
Behind Maple trees and Oak wood protection
A floor of frost breaking in rhythm under your feet
Pressing on into the clearing
Eagle & Sparrow on the same hunt
Sections of blood, haunting intuition
Hanging from a tree, wrapped in calf skins
Second man naked on the ground, white & blue from the cold
Southwestern pride met with native tongue and fright
A child steps out from behind the trees
Tears and shaking the story comes clean
There is a pollution in the air that carries on the temperature
Mother and child safe, not safe enough
Dying down from the night's screaming the fires smokes out
Following the smoke's trail in the sky they move
Protecting the memories of feather beds
Silenced by tragedies of survival
Along the winter path the past tense drifts away
No where left to stay
Making home with blankets and dust
Behind Maple trees and Oak wood protection
A floor of frost breaking in rhythm under your feet
Pressing on into the clearing
Eagle & Sparrow on the same hunt
Sections of blood, haunting intuition
Hanging from a tree, wrapped in calf skins
Second man naked on the ground, white & blue from the cold
Southwestern pride met with native tongue and fright
A child steps out from behind the trees
Tears and shaking the story comes clean
There is a pollution in the air that carries on the temperature
Mother and child safe, not safe enough
Dying down from the night's screaming the fires smokes out
Following the smoke's trail in the sky they move
Protecting the memories of feather beds
Silenced by tragedies of survival
Along the winter path the past tense drifts away
No where left to stay
Making home with blankets and dust
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