a new year

2010 was a good year, just like 2009. (goodness, I can't believe another year has already passed)

I...
-made the ballroom dance team(yay!)
-got into the advertising program (double yay!)
-moved into a lovely little house with the same lovely ladies I've been living with for a while now
-grew up just a little bit more, fancy that.
-didn't move home for the summer. and that meant growing up and paying bills and being really busy, but loving it at the same time.
-wrote a lot more poetry than I ever have before.
-learned a little more about love and life and loving my life.


This year is going to be a good one. I just know it.
I've been thinking a little bit about resolutions and goals and what I want to commit to this year.
But I haven't made any decisions yet.
So I'll let you know when I have.

image via deviantart

Celebrate

"And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins."

2 Nephi 25:26

Merry Christmas!
We have so many reasons to rejoice.

image via this

home is...

chocolate chip cookies
a fridge full of food I didn't make myself
graham crackers with peanut butter and chocolate chips
reruns of old tv shows like Andy Griffith
a brother who wants to be writer
seeing people I know everywhere
umpqua dairy chocolate milk
driving my big red truck
late night chats with dad
a double bed
not worrying about school
borrowing my mom's heels
no snow, and sunshine in december
people wanting to see me
high school friends
talking about health and nutrition with my mom
making resolutions to be better
being asked if I have a boyfriend yet
...and then being assured that I've still got time

I'm so happy to be home.
To relax and not worry about papers or tests.

I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday, wherever you are!

a story from the past--part two

(a continuation of this story)

The change was so gradual, but the recognition of that change was surprisingly sudden.

It took a few backward glances at what was, compared to what is.

To see the distance between the two.

It took being a stranger to her past self to see that she was not that person anymore.

She didn't realize it until later.

Much later.

But a bit of confidence and a little faith can go a long way.

And life is so much better when you live it on purpose.

Instead of waiting for it to happen to you.

And there are still days when she wears sweat pants and no makeup and listens to sad songs just for the sake of listening to sad songs.

But on those days when she just wants to feel sad because she isn't feeling anything else, the rut isn't deep enough to take eight months to climb out of.

It's the kind of rut that is just part of life.

The kind that reminds her what happiness isn't.

So that she can remember what it is.

And that's okay.

Because that's just life.

image via vi.sualize.us

simplify

It's halfway through the school year and I'm just finally unpacking half the boxes I moved in with.

Figures.

But at least I'm doing it, right?

It feels so great to get rid of all the stuff I don't need.

To take a big box of clothes that don't fit/don't look good/I'm bored with/aren't my style to DI and say goodbye to them.

I always sleep better in a room that isn't full of junk.

I found my old pointe shoes and leotards while I was cleaning out our storage room and I was reminded of the many opportunities I've been blessed with over the years.*

I put the leotards and ballet skirt in the giveaway pile, for some future ballerina to find.

But I kept the pointe shoes.

Because they taught me that hard work means blisters and tired feet and sore muscles.

And doing the same routine over and over and over.

But it also means getting to show off, just a little bit, when the work really pays off.

*And that really made me want to take a jazz or ballet class. It's funny how I came to college all excited to leave jazz behind and move on to ballroom. And don't get me wrong, I really do love ballroom. But sometimes I miss the grand jetes and the pirouettes and the tour jetes that my arms and feet grew up with.

image via deviantart

a story from the past

She had been in a foul mood since June

But she was blind to her own bad attitude.

Well, mostly blind.

She knew it was there.

It was like that conversation you never want to bring up.

Because you know it's not going to end well.

So she just let it stay there.

It kept her company.

But she didn't realize how much it defined her for that time in her life.

She didn't believe how many "he's" might have wanted to be with her.

Because she was so focused on one particular "he" that wanted everything but her.

And even sometimes, she still wonders what those other "he's" saw in her.

Because she felt so broken so much of the time.

What did they see behind that face of strength she kept up until she closed the door to her tiny little room and crawled into bed?

What made them get her out of bed to go do something to feel like she was alive?

But the big question is: why is she different now? what changed?

image via deviantart

cannonball--take two

Remember that one time when I was going to be brave?

And just go for it

head first

without worrying about how deep the water was?

I think I'm failing

and I'm too tired to try and catch myself.

Let alone anyone else.

At Her Fingertips--a series of three poems

Eight

She stood with two feet barely
Balancing on the knobby, uneven roots
Of the maple skyscraper in her backyard

Her eyes drew a line
From trunk to tip
Where green fades into blue

So many branches,
And she’d never been very good
At making decisions

He offered his hand to help her
Up to the thick, stable branch just above her fingertips

“I can do it myself,” she countered.

But he said, “Yes you can,
But you don’t need to.”
................................................

Twenty-Eight

She walked down the street
Not watching where she was walking
But who she was walking past.

Their faces told of birthdays and breakups,
Lost and found love,
A soundtrack to the pattern of their steps.

She looked at their eyes,
Curious if anyone wanted to know her story
But no one looked back

Then with a brush of his hand on hers
As he walked by

He whispered her name
And stopped.

................................................
Seventy-Eight

He laced his fingers through hers
As they took a walk
Down the hall with the white tile floors
And that smell that was too clean for the sickness it held.

She imagined they were barefoot on a beach
In Morocco
Forty-five years ago
After wearing an ivory dress and a gardenia in her hair

He tipped the driver of the rusty green cab
That had been their getaway car
And had carried her to the door
Of the quiet cabin that would be their castle

But that night,
When he lifted her onto a bed of clean white sheets
And crawled in beside her

They just slept
And that was enough.


{I wrote these for my creative writing class. I'm deciding that I really like poetry. Writing and reading it.}

praise His name forever

"Rejoice evermore.
Pray without ceasing.
In every thing give thanks:
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."

1 Thessalonians 5: 16-18

I love this message.
We have so many reasons to rejoice.

Today I am rejoicing because of mornings that don't begin at 6:30am, catching up with old friends, and time to eat dinner at the dinner table.

Why are you rejoicing?

thought of you

I saw this yesterday.

It was like coming home.

*Thanks to Ryan Woodward for making this masterpiece. It is absolutely stunning. I can't say enough good things about it, so i'll just leave it at that.

the way to my heart

Love-to-be:

Let's bring it all to the table.

Your strengths.

My weaknesses.

Your faults.

My gifts.

And let's make music from all the discord in our lives.

image via weheartit