My life is all over the place. My life is unknown. My life is wonderful.
My school told me to transfer. Told me I’d do well anywhere and that my life later will be so much better without these loans. Sometimes, when I try really hard I can see myself somewhere else; but I don’t like it. I don’t like the thought of not being back here.
I love this campus so much--- I always have. Always. My own, personal, real life Hogwarts (ps: I LOVE that word accepted Hogwarts as a real word!). I love the way the trees look against the sky at night walking back from dinner. I love walking through the ‘forbidden forest’ and stopping to smell the scent of summer on the bushes. I love the brick buildings and the ivy and the giant sequoia tree. I love how small it is but yet how we still worry about getting across campus in time.
I love the classes and professors here. I don’t know how I would do in huge classes; the largest I’ve ever had here was less than 30. I love that all my teachers know my name, stop to talk to me around campus, and sincerely want me to do well. I love that I have a major, a minor, a four year plan and an advisor who’s awesome.
I love that I can play bass clarinet. I love that my teacher likes me even though she could hate me. I love that I’ m becoming friends with the other people in my studio class. I love that we talk about and imagine what it will be like when we’re all seniors. I love that I’m starting to become better friends with the wind ensemble. I love that I love my band director.
I love that I have a job that is a safe place for me to go. I love that I’ve made such amazing friendships through work and it’s provided me with my needed place to shine. I love how when I’m upset or stressed (if I just took a rough test or had a bad lesson or am tired of the dorm) I can go to the info center and be instantly cheered up. I love that my boss is already planning my future there for the next three years. I love that I will miss working there this summer.
I love the things we do off campus. I love walking though the surrounding neighborhoods on sunny afternoons. I love walking to watch the sunset over the Puget Sound after concert band rehearsal on Wednesdays. I love going out to dinner or walking to the Met to buy food to make. I love driving up to Seattle. I love that tonight I sat with my feet in sand, with the smell and sound of the ocean with a fire roaring while the sunset before the Cascades. I love sitting in the car singing along to The Beatles and bitching about people.
I love that I do well here. I love how things just work out. I love how I am challenged and how I have to work and how sometimes I have to lock myself in my room and read or write or study. I love how I haven’t gotten anything lower than an 84% on anything all semester. I love that I was one of the smart kids in French. I love that if I don’t do anything to my final paper I’ll have a B+ in pysch (so I can easily get an A-). I love that my crazy philosophy professor thanked me for being there to be understanding of his jokes when the other kids were too dumb.
And, most importantly, I love the friends I’ve made here. I love how much we’re going to miss each other this summer and how excited we are to live together next year. I love how many people I will miss having class with and how glad I’ll be that our school is small enough for me to still see them on a regular basis. I love that it’s only been a year but that there are a lot of people graduating who I’ll miss as well. I love that we can do things or not do things and have it be fun. I love how even people I haven’t realized I’m friends with, I am.
I hate that I can’t actually imagine transferring. I hate the thought of not returning, of not graduating on this campus with these people. I hate picturing the conversations I’d have with Sarah, Jennifer, Tim, and Mr. Morris if I had to tell them I wouldn’t be back next semester. I hate thinking that I may never see these people again. I hate that the responsible thing to do is to leave. I hate how badly I want to stay.
But I’m keeping an open mind. We’ll see what the summer brings. We’ll see if I can be an RA junior year and if I can get the school to give me even a little more money.
Overall, this year has been wonderful. At times it’s been the hardest experience of my life. At times I’ve wanted nothing more than anything but this. But most of the time, it’s been amazing. I’ve learned so much about myself, about others, and about life. I’ve had so much fun and I’ve done well. I dove in, I almost ran out of oxygen on the chosen path, I found a new path. I’ve changed, but I’m still the same. I’m just more of who I really am.
I’ve learned that with time all relationships will end up in situations forcing people to show their true colors. I’ve learned that there is no such thing as a full proof plan. I’ve learned not to procrastinate. I’ve learned to believe in what I love. I’ve learned not to expect my mom to be as understanding as I think she is (only since you’re reading this…). I’ve learned that distance does matter.
But, more it’s so much more than what I’ve learned. It’s what I’ve found.
I’ve found a place where I belong. I’m excited for the year to be over. But as I face leaving, as I take things off my walls, I realize I’m already excited for when I get to come back.
And now, I’m going to sleep. In a room that smells like campfire, with a comforter I’ve had since 8th grade and I’m not setting any alarms.
I’m really excited to return to the valley and introduce you to who I’ve become. I know you’ll be proud, because I am. (So, even if you don’t, I could care less.)
Friday, May 7, 2010
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Imperious Me
Life here as I know it is honestly almost over. There's so little time left. So few days that I'll return home to my little dorm room. The hours that our pictures will hang on my wall are growing limited. It's almost over.
I have this deep feeling of excited nervousness about Yellowstone and all it may or may not bring. I have this image of sitting on the bus, watching Corvallis, Oregon, The Pacific Northwest fading behind me, and a land-locked state of wild blooming into reality before me.
I see trees of green, red roses too.
It's so wonderfully spring here and I love it wholly despite it's instability. Because, hey, aren't we all just a little unstable?
I had a dream about transferring last night, I'm still thinking about it, I'm still not sure. I could, I understand the reasons why it seems like the best possible option, but yet.... I don't know if I want to leave it behind.
It feels better. But I don't know if better is right. When coming from my past, a lot can feel better without being good enough.
I need someone who really knows me to help me figure this stuff out.
But really, I love this campus. And really, I have made friends.
Maybe, I'm just not who I think I am?
I have this deep feeling of excited nervousness about Yellowstone and all it may or may not bring. I have this image of sitting on the bus, watching Corvallis, Oregon, The Pacific Northwest fading behind me, and a land-locked state of wild blooming into reality before me.
I see trees of green, red roses too.
It's so wonderfully spring here and I love it wholly despite it's instability. Because, hey, aren't we all just a little unstable?
I had a dream about transferring last night, I'm still thinking about it, I'm still not sure. I could, I understand the reasons why it seems like the best possible option, but yet.... I don't know if I want to leave it behind.
It feels better. But I don't know if better is right. When coming from my past, a lot can feel better without being good enough.
I need someone who really knows me to help me figure this stuff out.
But really, I love this campus. And really, I have made friends.
Maybe, I'm just not who I think I am?
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
When you can't Breathe
Give me a reason.
Tell me why I should stay. Tell me why I should keep attempting to fit into this social system. I know the amount of angst in this statement, but I honestly don’t fit in.
Nature is so much easier.
Out in the trees, under the sky, there are no false standards. There is no room to be fake or to be shallow. There is only love. There is only respect. There is only truth.
Live with truth.
All around me people are so fake. Life is so shallow. Don’t they understand there is more than popularity? Why can’t they be okay with being alone?
Nature is the solution.
I must break free of these social contracts, these false bonds. I must hike until my legs give out. I must breathe the fresh air until my lungs are full.
Give me love.
If you can honestly wrap our arms around me and make me feel like you will miss me in a sense that it would hurt you, then, then I will stay.
I won’t transfer. I’ll continue in relationships I already know are repeats of what hopefully is not an endless cycle. I’ll continue to be the me I don’t like. The me I respect will continue to only surface in private in the early hours of the morning. I’ll continue to take out loans and to pay them off and be poor for the majority of my life. I’ll keep reassuring others how wonderful it is for me here. I’ll keep putting on a fake smile. I’ll go three more years without love or a hug.
I will return in the fall and remain here for the following semesters. I won’t stay in Yellowstone or live off the land. I’m too responsible for that. I care far too much about what others think then to stop with college now. Dropping music was drastic enough, if I stopped all together it would be too hard to explain. No one would understand. I’d be that kid, the one with potential who burned out in high school. The one everyone thinks they understand but that no one knows.
My soul is hurt right now. It’s down on the ground and it seems more likely to be kicked than to be helped up. I need nature. The trees and water of the McKenzie. The vastness of the ocean. The desolation of Eastern Oregon. The climb up Dimple Hill. The view from Mary’s Peak. I need to sit in your backyard with you. I need you. I need your love. I need the sky and the stars. I need everything I cannot have.
This is just a phase. The quarter life crisis screaming to be heard. Most people go through this. It’s nothing to worry about. It will pass. The rest of the year will finish fast and by next fall I’ll be dying to come back. I’ll greet them happily. I’ll take shots and have fun. I’ll silence my soul for another year.
Hopefully, Yellowstone lets it grow.
Tell me why I should stay. Tell me why I should keep attempting to fit into this social system. I know the amount of angst in this statement, but I honestly don’t fit in.
Nature is so much easier.
Out in the trees, under the sky, there are no false standards. There is no room to be fake or to be shallow. There is only love. There is only respect. There is only truth.
Live with truth.
All around me people are so fake. Life is so shallow. Don’t they understand there is more than popularity? Why can’t they be okay with being alone?
Nature is the solution.
I must break free of these social contracts, these false bonds. I must hike until my legs give out. I must breathe the fresh air until my lungs are full.
Give me love.
If you can honestly wrap our arms around me and make me feel like you will miss me in a sense that it would hurt you, then, then I will stay.
I won’t transfer. I’ll continue in relationships I already know are repeats of what hopefully is not an endless cycle. I’ll continue to be the me I don’t like. The me I respect will continue to only surface in private in the early hours of the morning. I’ll continue to take out loans and to pay them off and be poor for the majority of my life. I’ll keep reassuring others how wonderful it is for me here. I’ll keep putting on a fake smile. I’ll go three more years without love or a hug.
I will return in the fall and remain here for the following semesters. I won’t stay in Yellowstone or live off the land. I’m too responsible for that. I care far too much about what others think then to stop with college now. Dropping music was drastic enough, if I stopped all together it would be too hard to explain. No one would understand. I’d be that kid, the one with potential who burned out in high school. The one everyone thinks they understand but that no one knows.
My soul is hurt right now. It’s down on the ground and it seems more likely to be kicked than to be helped up. I need nature. The trees and water of the McKenzie. The vastness of the ocean. The desolation of Eastern Oregon. The climb up Dimple Hill. The view from Mary’s Peak. I need to sit in your backyard with you. I need you. I need your love. I need the sky and the stars. I need everything I cannot have.
This is just a phase. The quarter life crisis screaming to be heard. Most people go through this. It’s nothing to worry about. It will pass. The rest of the year will finish fast and by next fall I’ll be dying to come back. I’ll greet them happily. I’ll take shots and have fun. I’ll silence my soul for another year.
Hopefully, Yellowstone lets it grow.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
the wound heals; the scar still shows
A year ago today I held you in my arms, our foreheads pressed together, and listened to you take your last breath. I kissed your nose one last time and soundlessly whispered goodbye. For a while it was an intense hurt that burned all the time. But it eased as the months passed and the wound in my heart turned into a scar. I use to dream about you a lot, especially when I was stressed, feeling scared or sad. But even that had eased up.
This morning I woke up to a phone call and then went back to sleep. And I dreamed about him. I dreamed we were laying on the floor together, and that I was crying because the time to say goodbye was drawing closer by the hour. We were hugging. It was a weird dream though, like I could feel myself waking up and was trying to stay asleep to stay with him. Like maybe, if I slept a little longer we’d actually be hugging. When I actually woke up I didn’t really remember the dream, but I felt seriously depressed. Later during the day, driving back from lunch I said “I had a dream about my dog last night.” Kirsten said “really, are you okay?” and I said “yeah, I mean, I use to dream about him a lot, it’s just weird, it hasn’t happened in a while.” I didn’t look at or think about the date.
Just now I realized it was the year anniversary. And, the time at which I was having this dream about saying goodbye, was almost on the dot the exact time it happened a year ago. Weird timing.
Sometimes, I’m just not sure about things.
This morning I woke up to a phone call and then went back to sleep. And I dreamed about him. I dreamed we were laying on the floor together, and that I was crying because the time to say goodbye was drawing closer by the hour. We were hugging. It was a weird dream though, like I could feel myself waking up and was trying to stay asleep to stay with him. Like maybe, if I slept a little longer we’d actually be hugging. When I actually woke up I didn’t really remember the dream, but I felt seriously depressed. Later during the day, driving back from lunch I said “I had a dream about my dog last night.” Kirsten said “really, are you okay?” and I said “yeah, I mean, I use to dream about him a lot, it’s just weird, it hasn’t happened in a while.” I didn’t look at or think about the date.
Just now I realized it was the year anniversary. And, the time at which I was having this dream about saying goodbye, was almost on the dot the exact time it happened a year ago. Weird timing.
Sometimes, I’m just not sure about things.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
like the hills from Mary's Peak
When I look down, I see my two feet on the ground. I know I’m standing. I know I’m not moving. But the world is spinning around me so fast that I can hardly even breathe.
Maybe if you were here our words passing back and forth between each other could slow it down. I think that if your arms were around me it might reverse.
Maybe when I don’t rise above the situation, and I transfer to OSU or drop out entirely and spend my life in Corvallis; then, maybe, it will stop completely.
As I hold this mirror to your nose to see if you’re breathing. As I see you sit there hating me. As I feel my vision clouding, I can’t help but wonder--- is this really what I’m supposed to be doing? How is this different from home? How can I trust this? Where can I turn when I need someone to listen and hug me and tell me everything will be alright? Even when I don’t believe it I miss hearing it.
I miss walking into lessons and being reassured that I’m capable and worthy. I miss you putting your hand on my shoulder, asking if I’m okay, and saying “I’m here for you, kid.”
I miss sitting in the band hall before games with you, eating La Roca or Subway and laughing. I miss how even when we’d fight you’d make me feel like I was important.
I miss that proud smile you’d give me after I read something on Fridays. I miss how you knew when it was rough and would hold me late to offer a hug.
I miss the time we spent together this summer. I miss how whenever I needed you for anything you’d always be right there.
I miss how we use to talk on the phone so late at night. I miss practically falling asleep to your voice and how you’d always be there to cheer me up.
I miss how you would walk towards me and know immediately if something was wrong. I miss how you knew just what to ask and would hold me until I’d stop shaking.
I miss how we use to walk around Bald Hill in the rain and talk about anything. I miss the feeling that you’d always do anything for me if I needed it.
I miss driving to pit and laughing and feeling confident. I miss walking through the halls and being constantly greeted with reassuring smiles and pats on the back. I miss sitting in your office and crying when you’d put your hand on my shoulder. I miss how everyone in that store believed in me and thought I had such amazing potential. I miss waving goodbye to you in the mornings and how you use to greet me when I’d get home. I miss lying in bed with you at night watching stupid TV shows. I miss walking up the road in the dark under the stars.
I miss walking through the woods with you. I miss how your house smells and how you would hug me and say, “I love you, kiddo.”
I miss getting lunch with you and ranting about anything and everything. I miss going on adventures with you and laughing and having fun and being accepted.
(Why hello, depression, is that you? I’m not too sure, but your darkness does seem familiar…)
It’s really not that bad. It’s just been a couple bad weekends in a row.
I could give out pounds and pounds of raspberries, but I’m going to give a rose instead.
Hey, Info Center, this rose is for you. Thanks for giving me a place where the world turns at the right speed.
Maybe if you were here our words passing back and forth between each other could slow it down. I think that if your arms were around me it might reverse.
Maybe when I don’t rise above the situation, and I transfer to OSU or drop out entirely and spend my life in Corvallis; then, maybe, it will stop completely.
As I hold this mirror to your nose to see if you’re breathing. As I see you sit there hating me. As I feel my vision clouding, I can’t help but wonder--- is this really what I’m supposed to be doing? How is this different from home? How can I trust this? Where can I turn when I need someone to listen and hug me and tell me everything will be alright? Even when I don’t believe it I miss hearing it.
I miss walking into lessons and being reassured that I’m capable and worthy. I miss you putting your hand on my shoulder, asking if I’m okay, and saying “I’m here for you, kid.”
I miss sitting in the band hall before games with you, eating La Roca or Subway and laughing. I miss how even when we’d fight you’d make me feel like I was important.
I miss that proud smile you’d give me after I read something on Fridays. I miss how you knew when it was rough and would hold me late to offer a hug.
I miss the time we spent together this summer. I miss how whenever I needed you for anything you’d always be right there.
I miss how we use to talk on the phone so late at night. I miss practically falling asleep to your voice and how you’d always be there to cheer me up.
I miss how you would walk towards me and know immediately if something was wrong. I miss how you knew just what to ask and would hold me until I’d stop shaking.
I miss how we use to walk around Bald Hill in the rain and talk about anything. I miss the feeling that you’d always do anything for me if I needed it.
I miss driving to pit and laughing and feeling confident. I miss walking through the halls and being constantly greeted with reassuring smiles and pats on the back. I miss sitting in your office and crying when you’d put your hand on my shoulder. I miss how everyone in that store believed in me and thought I had such amazing potential. I miss waving goodbye to you in the mornings and how you use to greet me when I’d get home. I miss lying in bed with you at night watching stupid TV shows. I miss walking up the road in the dark under the stars.
I miss walking through the woods with you. I miss how your house smells and how you would hug me and say, “I love you, kiddo.”
I miss getting lunch with you and ranting about anything and everything. I miss going on adventures with you and laughing and having fun and being accepted.
(Why hello, depression, is that you? I’m not too sure, but your darkness does seem familiar…)
It’s really not that bad. It’s just been a couple bad weekends in a row.
I could give out pounds and pounds of raspberries, but I’m going to give a rose instead.
Hey, Info Center, this rose is for you. Thanks for giving me a place where the world turns at the right speed.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
words in songs in info centers
I don’t think I exist. I don’t think this is real. I’m fluid. I think I flow through the wind, spanning distance, time, worlds. I’m there with you; I’m in the past with you; I’m in your future. I’m in love with my campus and I’m in love with the hills I wander in Oregon. I’m looking at the Puget Sound and I’m standing in the waves at Agate beach. I’m walking along the McKenzie and I’m watching the sunset at Tillikum. I’m deadly responsible and wildly reckless. I have a plan and I have no idea. I must not be real. But you think you know me, so either I’m real or you’re not either. No one’s real. We’re all figments of imagination, crossing into each other. That river I love, those trees and those hills, they’re all in my head. Maybe if I focus hard enough I’ll be able to trick myself into thinking I’m there. I am there. And I’m here. I’m everywhere. A wisp of fascination. I’m not real, but I’m alive. I live. I live for right now. Not for tomorrow. Not for five minutes from now. Not for you. If I die here, at least I’ll die happy. If it’s instant I’ll die mid laugh. If it’s prolonged I’ll picture the McKenzie and imagine hugging you goodbye. I live minute by minute, second by second. I live life by life, world by world. I span time and location. I am fluid like the wind or the roaring ocean. I drive. I sing. I laugh. It’s fine. But I stay alive. I’m not real so I can’t die. I live for you. I won’t die because I won’t do that to you. I know what it would do to the world I’m currently a part of, to the world I just recently left behind, and to the world I haven’t met yet. There are so many worlds I want to meet. So many trees to see, so many waves to feel, so many skies to smell. The world is amazing and I’m wonderful. I’m so happy to be here. To walk through this campus. I’m here. I hope you’re as good as I am. I hope your life is as rich as mine is. I can thrive here. Because it’s not real and I can encompass all the wonderful places, things and people that support me no matter where or who or what I am.
This is poorly written and redundant. But I didn’t have anything appropriate to say.
This is poorly written and redundant. But I didn’t have anything appropriate to say.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
lights
Can you hear this? When my eyes are closed I can hear those cedars calling my name, that river singing to me; do you hear it? Am I alone? When I find myself missing the comfort of your presence in my life, do you feel me? Do you walk past a tree and see me? This is just where I’m supposed to be. This is not where I belong. My body fits in naturally, but nothing here really knows my soul. Relationships here are easy, effortless and right, but no one here knows what I’m feeling deep down. What am I feeling deep down?
Nature. Nothing sounds better than sitting at the top of Mary’s Peak. Walking along the bank of the McKenzie. Hiking up Dimple Hill. Talking with you in the thick trees. This building accepts me, but it doesn’t understand me the way the sky does. I miss the stars. I miss standing in the cold and loving its sharp sting. There are no cuts in my soul that Mother Nature needs to heal but without contact with her it starts to compress, the brilliant green starts to fade.
I walk through the empty campus. The night air kisses my cheeks. The lamps just illuminate the trees so that their rich green and brown is just visible against the dark sky showing through them. Stars are visible despite the glare of the city lights. The buildings shine in the night, like closer but so different stars. I can feel the mountain looming behind me in the darkness. I can’t see it. I can’t even be sure of where it is. I’m not sure how to get there and right now it’s impossible for me to. But I know it’s there. Somewhere in the distance. I know you’re there. I can’t see you, but I can feel you. We’re not together, but we’re not apart. Nature is not wrapping its arms around me, but I’m not away from it.
The waves of life undulate; rise and fall, crash and lay calm; wash against the sand and rest on top of the rocks. We turn away from the ocean and walk into the land. Always where we’ve been but on our way to where we’re going. Together despite the distance. In the woods despite the buildings. I’m not alone even though there’s no one around. I can hear the world and I know you can hear me. It would be great to see you, to be in nature with you, but I’m so good here.
Nature. Nothing sounds better than sitting at the top of Mary’s Peak. Walking along the bank of the McKenzie. Hiking up Dimple Hill. Talking with you in the thick trees. This building accepts me, but it doesn’t understand me the way the sky does. I miss the stars. I miss standing in the cold and loving its sharp sting. There are no cuts in my soul that Mother Nature needs to heal but without contact with her it starts to compress, the brilliant green starts to fade.
I walk through the empty campus. The night air kisses my cheeks. The lamps just illuminate the trees so that their rich green and brown is just visible against the dark sky showing through them. Stars are visible despite the glare of the city lights. The buildings shine in the night, like closer but so different stars. I can feel the mountain looming behind me in the darkness. I can’t see it. I can’t even be sure of where it is. I’m not sure how to get there and right now it’s impossible for me to. But I know it’s there. Somewhere in the distance. I know you’re there. I can’t see you, but I can feel you. We’re not together, but we’re not apart. Nature is not wrapping its arms around me, but I’m not away from it.
The waves of life undulate; rise and fall, crash and lay calm; wash against the sand and rest on top of the rocks. We turn away from the ocean and walk into the land. Always where we’ve been but on our way to where we’re going. Together despite the distance. In the woods despite the buildings. I’m not alone even though there’s no one around. I can hear the world and I know you can hear me. It would be great to see you, to be in nature with you, but I’m so good here.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Rocks and Windows
The quality of the early morning light is obstructed by the storm coming in. Even the weathered locals don’t wander the shore this morning. I am totally alone with the roaring ocean. After running south to the twin rocks—to the beach that was beyond important to my preteen self I stand and watch the waves. The rain whipped by the wind has left me completely soaked and I can’t deny that I’m cold. But few things have ever felt as right as this does. The salty air tastes like joy and I inhale deeply, letting it reach down inside of me, wrapping its hand around any frustrations and throwing them away as I exhale.
The view of the rocks is beyond nostalgic. But my reaction isn’t to dive in to the memories; I don’t even watch their reflections. I know that they’re there, but they’re not so important anymore. The rocks don’t say “look at who you were” instead they sing “look at who you are, look at what you’ve done, see what you can do?” And I know. I am not average, already I have not had an average life, and I won’t. There are a lot of things I can’t do. I won’t be a doctor, I won’t find a cure for cancer, I won’t even direct a band. But I will do something that makes a difference. I will make the people who supported me proud; I will make you say “I knew her when…”
I know who I am. I do not know who I will be, but I know the type of path I want to follow and I look forward to when I meet that person. I look forward to when I get to introduce that person to the people I love and admire. But I’m not just spending my time watching that horizon, counting the times the sun sets behind it. I’m spending my time watching the ocean waves, breathing with the trees, smelling the rain. I’m spending my time writing in spiral notebooks, reading influential words and keeping current on what I’m passionate about (if I don’t know what has to be done, how can I ever make a difference?).
The sky grows darker and darker through the window panes. The Wilderness World of John Muir rests on my chest and I am warm in my sleeping bag. I can smell the perfumed aroma of someone showering. I can hear muffled laughter and TV from downstairs. Friendship so easy and honest that even I can’t undervalue it. Exactly what I worried I would never find. I will go downstairs and cook for us, we will eat and talk and play games. And now, in an rare occurrence, I am as content inside as I was out. These are the people who will let me go wherever I need to, and who will help me become as influential as I can.
For a sneak peak at something that makes my heart race: http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2010/01/asian-wildlife/christy-text
The view of the rocks is beyond nostalgic. But my reaction isn’t to dive in to the memories; I don’t even watch their reflections. I know that they’re there, but they’re not so important anymore. The rocks don’t say “look at who you were” instead they sing “look at who you are, look at what you’ve done, see what you can do?” And I know. I am not average, already I have not had an average life, and I won’t. There are a lot of things I can’t do. I won’t be a doctor, I won’t find a cure for cancer, I won’t even direct a band. But I will do something that makes a difference. I will make the people who supported me proud; I will make you say “I knew her when…”
I know who I am. I do not know who I will be, but I know the type of path I want to follow and I look forward to when I meet that person. I look forward to when I get to introduce that person to the people I love and admire. But I’m not just spending my time watching that horizon, counting the times the sun sets behind it. I’m spending my time watching the ocean waves, breathing with the trees, smelling the rain. I’m spending my time writing in spiral notebooks, reading influential words and keeping current on what I’m passionate about (if I don’t know what has to be done, how can I ever make a difference?).
The sky grows darker and darker through the window panes. The Wilderness World of John Muir rests on my chest and I am warm in my sleeping bag. I can smell the perfumed aroma of someone showering. I can hear muffled laughter and TV from downstairs. Friendship so easy and honest that even I can’t undervalue it. Exactly what I worried I would never find. I will go downstairs and cook for us, we will eat and talk and play games. And now, in an rare occurrence, I am as content inside as I was out. These are the people who will let me go wherever I need to, and who will help me become as influential as I can.
For a sneak peak at something that makes my heart race: http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2010/01/asian-wildlife/christy-text
Friday, January 1, 2010
Changes
So, I started this blog with the plan of using it to work on writing beautifully. While it will naturally reflect on the recent happenings in my life, it is not designed to be a “here’s what I’ve been up to” type of blog. Hopefully, those happenings will often times be more hinted at than directly or specifically addressed. Just offering a simple explanation, after a handful of posts, before a new year of words begins.
On most holidays I am a much more stereotypical Hallmark American teenager than I would ever like to admit (to myself or others). I enjoy getting presents on Christmas, looking at lights, and listening to music; I like the romance and sweetness of Valentine’s Day; on Easter I hide eggs and eat candy; the list goes on and on. In a sense, New Years is no different.
I’ve never really made resolutions, I’ve never taken seriously the road tradition of wish papers, I’ve never really used it to let something go. School years, even birthdays, marked more of a distinct passing of time than a random night in winter did. The calendar year changes, but not much else. But, every New Years Eve, I can’t help but feel nostalgic, and hopeful. Every year, I sit down and I write about the year that happened, what I remember, what I’ve learned, etc., and, thoughts on what the new year can and will bring.
2009 for me was the year of greatest change. It held more monumental events for me than any other year, almost in all years combined (though that may be a very sentimental over exaggeration). Duke was diagnosed with cancer and after a painful battle I held him in my arms as we put him to sleep. I went to All Northwest. My friends and I finally went on camping trips. A college was decided on. Several monumental relationships were established. My life in the CHS band program ended and then high school. I experienced the first death that would impact me and my life. College started, my (professional—if it can be called that…) music career ended. I made new amazing friendships and fell in love with a new life and a new home. My first semester of college ended and I successfully had what I thought may be an impossible confrontation. While I was already 18 when the year started, this year I became an adult.
But there’s so much more to this past year than those events. There’s how those events shaped me. Because, I can confidently say, I’m a very different person right now than I was a year ago--- more so than ever before. At the risk of being obvious or redundant I won’t go into specifics of what each monument of ’09 did to me. While I think I was pretty strong beforehand, I’m much stronger now. For the first time in almost the full decade, I’m living without a hyperfocused plan. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I have a lot of things I want to do, and a better understanding about how to live. I’m living for the moment, for the now, not for the next turn of a decade. I have relationships with people that are natural, easy, and rewarding. I’m calmer and much wiser.
The year for me is easiest to think about if split into three sections--- the end of high school, summer, and the start of college. All three sections had their share of shit dark times; the loss of Duke and drama with MP, Danny’s death and job drama, the struggle with music and facing life. There’s no doubt I’m extremely glad to see 2009 become a memory. But I’m also glad for who it turned me into. And I’m not so caught up as to not acknowledge the good times; the overall win of music and graduating, the relationships that were developed and rediscovering my love for nature, friends and a new life. My writing abilities aren’t capable of describing how I’ve changed or who I am now. I know I’m very different, and I like who I am more than I liked who I was. And ultimately, that’s what matters.
So, cheers. 2009 came and went and 2010 will do the same. Here’s to a year of growing and experiencing and learning behind us and to one ahead of us. I’ll remember ’09, but I am extremely excited for what’s ahead.
On most holidays I am a much more stereotypical Hallmark American teenager than I would ever like to admit (to myself or others). I enjoy getting presents on Christmas, looking at lights, and listening to music; I like the romance and sweetness of Valentine’s Day; on Easter I hide eggs and eat candy; the list goes on and on. In a sense, New Years is no different.
I’ve never really made resolutions, I’ve never taken seriously the road tradition of wish papers, I’ve never really used it to let something go. School years, even birthdays, marked more of a distinct passing of time than a random night in winter did. The calendar year changes, but not much else. But, every New Years Eve, I can’t help but feel nostalgic, and hopeful. Every year, I sit down and I write about the year that happened, what I remember, what I’ve learned, etc., and, thoughts on what the new year can and will bring.
2009 for me was the year of greatest change. It held more monumental events for me than any other year, almost in all years combined (though that may be a very sentimental over exaggeration). Duke was diagnosed with cancer and after a painful battle I held him in my arms as we put him to sleep. I went to All Northwest. My friends and I finally went on camping trips. A college was decided on. Several monumental relationships were established. My life in the CHS band program ended and then high school. I experienced the first death that would impact me and my life. College started, my (professional—if it can be called that…) music career ended. I made new amazing friendships and fell in love with a new life and a new home. My first semester of college ended and I successfully had what I thought may be an impossible confrontation. While I was already 18 when the year started, this year I became an adult.
But there’s so much more to this past year than those events. There’s how those events shaped me. Because, I can confidently say, I’m a very different person right now than I was a year ago--- more so than ever before. At the risk of being obvious or redundant I won’t go into specifics of what each monument of ’09 did to me. While I think I was pretty strong beforehand, I’m much stronger now. For the first time in almost the full decade, I’m living without a hyperfocused plan. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I have a lot of things I want to do, and a better understanding about how to live. I’m living for the moment, for the now, not for the next turn of a decade. I have relationships with people that are natural, easy, and rewarding. I’m calmer and much wiser.
The year for me is easiest to think about if split into three sections--- the end of high school, summer, and the start of college. All three sections had their share of shit dark times; the loss of Duke and drama with MP, Danny’s death and job drama, the struggle with music and facing life. There’s no doubt I’m extremely glad to see 2009 become a memory. But I’m also glad for who it turned me into. And I’m not so caught up as to not acknowledge the good times; the overall win of music and graduating, the relationships that were developed and rediscovering my love for nature, friends and a new life. My writing abilities aren’t capable of describing how I’ve changed or who I am now. I know I’m very different, and I like who I am more than I liked who I was. And ultimately, that’s what matters.
So, cheers. 2009 came and went and 2010 will do the same. Here’s to a year of growing and experiencing and learning behind us and to one ahead of us. I’ll remember ’09, but I am extremely excited for what’s ahead.
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