AN ARTIST, A FRIEND, A TESTAMENT

i hated post-impressionism, and more specifically, i hated vincent van gogh before i went to paris  i couldn't make sense of his swirly lines and cotton candy colors.

i remember going into the musée d'orsay in paris, after learning so much about his paintings, and looking through brand new eyes at the beauty he painted. and through these new eyes, vincent van gogh became more than just one of my favorite artists, he became my friend.

i researched his life, and every new thing i learned made me more and more sad for what he had to go through. he was afflicted by mental illness and depression, very poor, and was mocked for the things he did and the way he acted. now he was not a perfect man, but the fact that he only sold one painting in his lifetime, and died by a self-inflicted gunshot wound, virtually unknown, tugged my heart down.

he would go into fits that would make him delusional and crazy.  he cut off part of his own ear, and ran after a guy with a knife.  models refused to work with him. so he painted himself. and he painted the night, "i often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day."

we always learned of artists who painted what they saw, and with van gogh's swirling lines and impossible movements, it seems that van gogh made up what he painted, but he was painting what he saw, what he knew.  he was painted what he saw in his mind.

"to me van gogh is the finest painter of them all. certainly the most popular, great painter of all time. the most beloved, his command of color most magnificent. he transformed the pain of his tormented life into ecstatic beauty. pain is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and joy and magnificence of our world, no one had ever done it before. perhaps no one ever will again."

and as ridiculous as it might seem, van gogh became my friend.  the more i learn about his life and art, the more my heart grows. i think it's maybe because his life is a testament to me.

it's a testament because i know what he must now know.  his final words were, "la tristesse durera toujours," or "the sadness will last forever." his life is a testament to me of the power of the gospel because i know he now knows that the sadness does not last forever. his life is an example to me of struggles that a person might have to carry into the next life with them, but through God, they will be overcome.  here is a man who knew he was sick. he knew what was wrong with him, and he did everything he knew to make himself happier, but it didn't work for him in this life. and even though he was not able to make his own life more beautiful, he made the world more beautiful, and i hope in my times of struggle, whether great like his, or small, i will be able to impact the world like he did.

and in a simple thing like a favorite artist, a testament of Christ comes, as these testaments can be found in everything, if we simply choose to look. la tristesse ne durera pas toujours.

THIS IS HOME

in college, one develops a somewhat nomadic lifestyle, wandering from place to place; living at a different apartment every four months of the year, always having to make a new home. i would leave other homes behind, some of them i could go back to, but some were only home for a moment. 

and then i went to paris.

and home became a combination of memories, people, busy streets, dirty rivers, and ancient buildings. it wasn't just a place, but a collection of moments. this was home. it was perfect because it was whole. 

but like all things that inevitably end, i had to leave and come back to provo. and almost every day in provo is hard. i found myself longing for paris every second of every single day. i would wake up and think i was still in paris until i remembered i wasn't. 

school is hard, moving is hard, being new is hard. longing for paris is hard. 

then after spending some time in a negative environment, i realized there are two types of longing. there's the longing that is the kind i want; the kind that keeps your heart full of hope, and is a complete kind of love. this kind of longing is a gentle reminder of this thing that you love. the reminder is evident as a smile that flashes across your face. 

the second kind of longing consumes your whole heart, body, and mind. it consumes you until you are burnt out, and there is literally nothing left inside of you except for the feeling of nothing. it's like how there's no such thing as "cold," just the absence of heat. 

 

and i don't want to be the latter. i didn't want the negativity.

i've realized the key to making provo my home is to live every day like i did when i was in paris. we didn't know what we were going to do. we didn't make any plans, but we lived every moment for that moment. 

on saturday we went to utah lake, and the sun shining bright over the ice and water filled my lungs with cold mountain air, and i didn't think about being in paris. i thought about now. and i was happy. and i was home. this is home. 

TWENTY TWO

i sometimes get the feeling that birthdays may be a better time to make goals than new years. they are a time of reflection as i get older. my twenty-first year was one strewn with confusion and heartache, but it was also the best opportunity i’ve had for personal growth. this year was about me. it wasn't me and him or me and them, just me. i became unashamed of my lot in love or my decisions that i made because they made me happy and they made me, me.

so to continue the tradition from last year, here are twenty-two things from a twenty-two year old.

1//there's something so liberating about telling people what you really feel, and clinging to good memories and forgetting the bad ones. remember that one night? that was a good night, and those feelings i felt? there's no discounting them, and i learned. i felt things i had never felt before, and i will never be sorry for the love, the pain, the heartache, the tears.

2//i was sitting with one of my dear friends in the luxembourg gardens, and we were talking about some of our favorite memories. we were laughing and crying, and talking about how those memories that we were talking about were some of the dearest we have. that's what we hold on to, and she asked me if that moment we were having right there could be one of those memories. that is home. i want every day to be home.

3//crave relationships. not necessarily just the romantic kind, but the kind with people. all kinds of people. some of my greatest friends have been made when i have been willing to let my pride go and open up my heart. now my heart aches with joy whenever i get to see them, and that kind of love is priceless

4//natural, natural, natural. oh baby you are most beautiful natural

5//it is not stupid if it is important to you

6//knowledge is beautiful, but i cannot forget all kinds of knowledge. how to bake a cake. how to solve math equations. how to create something from a needle and thread. knowing and caring about those things is so essential.

7//many people will disappoint you simply due to the fact that you know they know better, however when i decided to remember that i also just need to love them, i realized that love is the answer to everything.

8//"now that you don't have to be perfect you can be good"

9//people who are unhappy will hate, but, as hard as it is, do not pay attention. they will leave you empty.

10//nothing i have is of my own doing. everything i think i do myself i owe largely to my family, friends, and ultimately Him who gave me everything.

11//introspective sensitivity, "it is the notion that some people feel emotions in a more physical way than others"

12//i am extraordinarily content with walking everywhere with my nose in a book. at first i was worried i was going to miss the world, but when i am reading i live every life.

13//journaling is one of the best things in the world.

14//part of letting something change you is living it afterwards

15//my story is about who God is, and what he can do with my stubborn, imperfect heart.

16//i have vivid memories of standing in front of my mirror, terrified of what was to come, and telling myself out-loud that i am a queen, and queens can do anything. every day it is a choice.

17//hats are an investment in the future. a good hat makes for a good life.

18//service is vital for happiness. the days i have been most happy have been full of gifts for other people.

19//i believe that there’s no point in having wealth unless you can share it with other people. and i’m not talking about monetary wealth; knowledge, talents, skills.

20//hardly anything works out exactly how you planned, but you are tough, really, really tough.

21//there are some things you cannot explain; a moment, feelings, the love. don’t try. holding on to them in your heart sometimes makes those moments mean even more.

i try and think of lessons i can share with you so i can mainly prove to myself that things are happening, time moves on and now, finally, so do i. with one thing left, i was trying to think of what i think is most important, one thing to remember if you don't remember anything else, and i can't help but repeat what i said on my birthday last year.

22// there will be many times when you think it's the end of the world as you know it; days when you feel like you have the weight of the whole world inside of you, but it's not and you don't. it's just an opportunity to start your world over again, to learn something, and to remember our Christ who is always there, and has been through everything you are going through. there have many times where the world has begun again for me, some times as many as seven times a week.

PARIS, JE T'AIME

i remember the first moment that i stepped foot in france. i felt disgusting in my uncomfortable tshirt, and my pants had gotten so stretched out (saggy butt lol). my hair was greasy. i knew i looked deathly pale, and all of my makeup had come off.

my journey to france was one of the hardest things i have ever done. i can mark where i mentally started preparing for this around november of last year, but i know that i have really been preparing for this my whole life. november i got an idea, december that idea broke my heart.

in february all the pain and heartache of lonely years made sense to me when i found out that i was going to france. i really, really was going to france. it had always been my dream, and i couldn't understand why nothing had worked out the way i wanted it to before, but here was the answer.

but i still had to get through the summer. one of the hardest summers of my life. the summer of waiting.

and the day was coming. the weeks leading up to it were full of goodbyes and reunions every single night, and, in retrospect, i wouldn't trade that summer of waiting or those days i was alone for anything.

and then my physical journey to france. a flight to new jersey one day. a bus to new york the next. being dropped off in the middle of new york city. the time the homeless man helped me figure out where to go (i didn't ask him for help, just for the record), standing on the side of the road with all of my things waiting for the shuttle to come, exhausted and nervous. the long flight. the layover in iceland.

finally i'm in france, and all i can think about is how i am about to pee my pants.

and after waiting what seemed like hours for my luggage, standing outside for another hour, watching all the shuttles and taxi cabs pick up strangers, and wondering what in the world i was doing here in france, i was in france.

to simply put it, i am in love with this place and with so many things here. coming to paris at this time was exactly the right thing for me. i came here exactly when i needed to with the people i needed most.

and so paris, paris, paris. a part of my heart will always be in paris. i hope everyone gets the chance to fall in love with her someday.

there is never any ending to Paris and the memory of each person who has lived in it differs from that of any other. we always returned to it no matter who we were or how it was changed or with what difficulties, or ease, it could be reached. paris was always worth it and you received return for whatever you brought to it. but this is how paris was in the early days when we were very poor and very happy.  || ernest hemingway 

thnks fr th mmrs paris, i'll be back.

THE OPPOSITE OF LONELINESS

(i apologize in advance for the over-use of commas because, as i have said many times before, i still don't know how to use them, and they are one of my favorite things to use)

about a year ago i found an essay called "the opposite of loneliness" by marina keegan. with a title like that, i had to read it. written by a girl who died tragically in a car crash five days after she graduated from yale, her words resonate in my mind every second that i am in paris. the opposite of loneliness. the opposite of loneliness. the opposite of loneliness...

"we don't have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, i could say that's what i want in life."

when people ask me what my favorite thing about paris is, i don't tell them a place or a food, i can only tell them, the people.

the feeling of togetherness, the love, the wholeness, the opposite of loneliness.

there is a camaraderie here. these people in my group, seventeen strangers thrown together, have become my best friends. they are my family in this foreign land. we have seen all sides of each other, we have laughed together, we have had hours of gospel conversation, we have told our secrets that we keep to ourselves because of how personal they are, and we know we will be loved no matter what.

we have experienced this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity together,we understand everything that we have been through and done here without having to say anything. and it's so hard to put into words what that means, but just know it is great. 

this is why they didn't go to italy. why she didn't go to london. why i got rejected four million times. to meet each other.

in keegan's essay, she describes it better than i ever could have,

"it's not quite love and it's not quite community; it's just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. who are on your team. when the check is paid and you stay at the table. when it's four a.m. and no one goes to bed. that night with the guitar. that night we can't remember. that time we did, we went, we saw, we laughed, we felt. the hats."

i remember being afraid of coming to paris because i was worried that it wouldn't be everything that i dreamed it would, and thanks to my friends, this has been more than i ever thought it could be. every day is so full of pure joy. i don't think my little heart is big enough for all of this love.

there are so many people to thank here, but i owe it all to my fellow study abroaders. i have felt so unbelievably safe and loved every single day.

we don't have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but that's what i felt here in paris. for the times we talked in the luxembourg gardens, the time we danced on the champs. when we found the phone. thank you my buddies, my new family, my kindred spirits...this one is for you.

"we were together. i forget the rest" || walt whitman

this one is for you//why i blog

i need to be more active in cultivating good things in my life. i need to progress, and part of my cultivating good things is writing about them here. to focus on the good, i need to write the bad out. and sometimes i will post them here, and sometimes i won't. i post my writings based on many different things. most of the time, i do it because maybe there is someone that it will help. it's probably just me.

this one is for you. and everything i just wrote is my round-about way of trying to explain what this means.

this isn't some sort of revenge for my old friend who abused my friendship to a degree that i had never known was possible. she told lies about me because they made her feel better. you were so mean.

this isn't for the first boy i thought i loved because he was my first real boy friend. you liked to get drunk at high school football games.

this isn't for the first boy i cared to know that i cared about him. letters and words didn't make you mine, and eventually they made you boring.

this isn't for the boy i met at an exciting time in my life. the boy who took me on my first real date and who i let play me like a puppet. you were a flake, and you were not worthy of me the second you made me your second (and third) choice.

this isn't for him. the first boy i really, really wanted. the boy who showed me that waiting for someone to love me was as pointless as waiting for snow in a tennessee july. he was so full of broken promises. you lied to me and still think i don't know.

this isn't for the boy. i didn't want to know him, you know. i didn't want him to sit by me. i didn't want to know his name, or for him to ever speak mine, but with some things i guess we don't have a choice. you said things that touched something inside of my heart. you and your pretty words. i knew you were trouble from the moment i saw you.

this isn't for the anonymous man who scared me and hurt me last summer. i found late nights and darkness bring out my biggest fears. i didn't have any dreams for you to haunt because you kept me up for weeks.

this is for the proverbial "you," my family and friends. anyone who decides they may want to listen. for you who maybe needs to hear what i have experienced; for you who may just need a good laugh.

i promise to never sugar-coat unless the sugar is already baked in.

thanks for reading.

the thing about being twenty-one

the thing about being twenty-one is that i forgot that i am twenty-one.

it scared me when i was walking home from school; the wind was nippy, and the air was clear. the sun was just about to fall, and i was thinking about being twenty; what that means, all that i have done...

and then i remembered that i am twenty-one, and that scared me half to death.

where did a whole year of my life go? did i lose it, or did i forget? or maybe i did, in fact, know i was twenty-one, and have a moment of relapse? and does it really mean something that i forgot how old i was, or is it nothing?

i was not terrified at the fact that i am twenty-one, but the fact that i forgot that i am twenty-one.

i feel like at my age, i shouldn't be saying anything about forgetting how old i am or the fact that i simply feel old, because that's a lie. sometimes i feel like a child, i am twenty-one after all. sometimes i feel like i am floating around in the same body that i had when i was fourteen (i am supposed to be taller!), and sometimes i feel scared and little. but then other times, i'm already twenty-one, and the future is a big ominous cloud that, sometimes, i am a little too afraid to think about. but everyone has moments where they feel like that, and that's okay.

so here's a funny story about how i forgot my age, and all my half-pint sagacity on the matter because, well, i am only twenty-one.

to look at all of the beauty around you

"a few years back, as i was driving home from work, i had a silly thought that suddenly turned straight genius on me. i realized that all i really wanted was for my life to be beautiful. i wanted my home to be beautiful, i wanted my thoughts to be beautiful, i wanted my feelings to be beautiful. i wanted to create beauty in my life. if it was worth doing, i wanted it to be done beautifully. life didn't seem beautiful at the time, but i wanted it to. it was silly and shallow, until suddenly it wasn't. god created for us an insanely beautiful world. beauty around every corner. music, art, science. all beautiful. and loving families, a passion for learning, and a sense that we can have an impact on what surrounds us-- to me, that is beauty. and holy, for sure. so i stopped considering that desire shallow. i started to think of it as a way of honoring god, who is the one who created beauty to begin with, after all."

from Natalie// found  here

i have a dream that looks a lot like green gables, and i look a lot like anne shirley, but without the red hair, of course, because nobody likes being called carrots. she's a pretty littlewhite house settled in between green, green, green; and it's not the green in these utah mountains, it's the green of the place i call home. it's the kind of green that you can't imagine until you've seen it. 

there are 70-year trees and 80-year trees, even 100-year trees with wrinkles like laugh lines in their bark. a wrap-around porch is complete with swings, chairs, and ferns in between each column, and a door the loveliest shade of red you have ever seen. 

there's a garden out back full of squash and tomatoes and peas-even strawberries! i'm wearing a loose sundress and my hunter green rainboots carefully examining each fruit to see if it's ripe and ready to pick, and if she passes my inspection, she's placed into my basket for dinner later that night. 

the sun is gloriously warm! it shines on my fair skin begging each freckle to reveal itself, the wet air curling my crown of baby hairs around my head. it's summer and it's hot, but it is beautiful. 

as i am busy in my garden, the inside of my house is singing through the open windows, big armfuls of knock-out roses fill every vase and pitcher i own, filling the house with an aroma of summer. i have two little kittens named howard and francesca (howie and frannie for short, naturally), ham and beans in the dutch oven on the stove, and fresh bread rising on the counter. 

but the quietest part of the house hold the best secrets. walls and walls of books, old books, new books, borrowed books, lost books. where future littles can hear stories, their giggles are carried in the wind. 

isn't it perfect? 

dreaming of summer

twenty-one lessons from the twenty-one year old

1///make goals if you want to get anything done, but more importantly, write them down.

2///when you find something that speaks to your soul, no matter what it is, cherish it; learn from it; share it; soak it in. you will be so much happier for doing this.

3///manners cost nothing. let me say that again. manners cost nothing.

4///apologize for things that you have done wrong, no matter how hard it is or how embarrassing it is (and let me tell you, it is so hard, but so worth it)

5///nothing is more liberating than moving on, but nothing is more difficult.

6///it's okay if you cry. it shows that you feel.

7///sometimes you are going to feel like you are slothing through life. at these times, i find it important to remember what i have always loved doing. you're going to realize that you aren't doing those things anymore. get back to them.

8///read to visit places you have never been to before when you can't physically go there yourself.

9///God is good. you will go so much farther than you thought you could. (i just realized that's in the Nashville Tribute to the Pioneers ha)

10///get the leather pants. i believe that you should own at least one item of clothing, that when your children look at pictures of you twenty years from now, they will start laughing, and hopefully snorting, hysterically because you wore that. i can't wait to hear their laughter.

11///never underestimate your capacity to love many things and people. when you think there's no more room, or that your heart has too many holes, you will realize the abundance with which you were blessed, how capable you are of loving when you trust a little.

12///demand respect, but be gracious. be gracious if it kills you.

13///you never realize how much you love something til it's gone. there's never been a cliché more true than that.

14///anne with an "e" was totally right about kindred spirits and bosom friends.

15///great art will change your life. learn a little about it, and you will notice small, but extremely significant details for the rest of your life, and you will be eternally grateful.

16///seek to make all things around you beautiful. if you are going to do something, do it beautifully. if you are going to make something, make it beautiful. there is nothing shallow or wrong about wanting beauty as long as it is good.

17///love yourself. even if you don't like all of your parts, love yourself.

18///make sure to have lots, and lots of comfy blankets. they are the cure to both frozen toes and a frozen heart.

19///family is truly what is most important. when my heart longs for something, it longs for them. make family everywhere you go. they will be your most true and sincere friends.

20///don't worry if it rains or it snows and your hair gets wet, and never take anything too seriously. things mess up sometimes, embrace it. worrying sucks the life out of you

21///there will be many times when you think it's the end of the world as you know it, but it's not. it's just an opportunity to start your world over again. and to learn something, mainly how to move on.

on disappointment

"i've always thought there's a difference between a man breaking your heart and life breaking your heart, and the latter always seems to find a way to break you in ways you didn't even think you could break"

maybe it's dramatic, but maybe it's not. but there's nothing like a broken dream. i always remember what megfee once wrote on her blog. "i'm damaged bad at best" but then there's also something else that she noted, "this life, already wasted and still strewn with miracles."

i'm telling you this girl is my kindred spirit. she is a phenomenal writer. "forgive the anger you feel. feel it and then look again with kinder eyes. forgive yourself for not handling it all better, for feeling like you let others down. the path is not done, the road is not finished, why are you trying so hard to rush the whole thing?"

every time someone would ask me, i would tell them, "i don't know (always making myself expect the worst, but hoping so much for the best), but whatever's supposed to happen will happen the way Heavenly Father wants it to happen." and i know that. but it doesn't make it hurt any less when it happens. because you know what? it hurts. a broken heart from a broken dream hurts way more than anything else i've experienced.

but i did all i could. there was nothing wrong with me or my application or my hopes. i did all i could. and right now i feel i got nothing out of it. DENIED is such a brutal, cutting six-letter word. salt in the wound. but i did everything right, so that's got to count for something.

image via

one, two, three, four

could you give me twenty reasons? ten reasons? even five? as to why it would work?

i knew. man, i knew from the very first months that it wasn't going to work. i knew it in my very deepest heart of hearts. but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

but in reality, there is only what is and what is not. and there is not any reason why i should linger because this, this is not. and lingering is what would make me sad. if i lingered. but i don't do that anymore. 

september sky

yesterday i woke up to a clear, beautiful sky. as i walked home from class in front of our flag at half-mast, i got to watch the changing of the guards. from midnight to midnight, we had someone guarding the flag. it was amazing to me that it had already been twelve years. twelve years. it feels like we just were accepting the devastation and trying to rebuild our city. i listened to some memorials as i got ready, and heard someone say that 9/11 was the loss of innocence of a generation. i was in my religion class at school when we were reminded that everything God allows in our lives will be for our own benefit. faith always points us forward, and some of us flee to avoid tough times, but if we do that we weaken ourselves. if we train ourselves to face hard times the next time we can only be stronger. that is the best legacy we can leave behind

i didn't want to share any of this. i wanted to put it behind me and never talk about it again, but it's like that haunting naggy feeling that won't go away, so here goes.

it started out as a normal phone call.

"i just want to know what religion courses you offer," he said.

while i waited for him to load his computer, he started asking me questions. questions that were too personal. how old i was, where i was, what was i wearing.

i knew i had to get out, but then when he told me what he was doing, i went numb. i couldn't think. my heart was pounding and my hands were shaking. disbelief ran through my body as i tried to keep myself composed after i hung up the phone.

did that really happen?

"don't cry, don't cry."

i repeated it over and over in my head as i swallowed the lump in my throat. i waited for a few minutes then got back on the phone and tried to act as if nothing happened.

i didn't want to tell anyone. i couldn't tell anyone because i was so embarrassed. i was so ashamed that something like this had happened to me.
i hated him. i hated him because he laughed the whole time. i hated him because i had to sleep with my light on at night because alone in the dark the nightmares are real. i hated him because he turned a place that i love into a place that i was afraid of. i hated him because he made me feel like dirt. if a stranger could make me feel that way, what did that say about me?

and when she tried to convince me that he wasn't real, i told her that was the problem. he is real. and i couldn't understand what kind of person would want to hurt another person that badly.

i was violated and scared. and what he did was sick and wrong.

every time i saw an unknown number on the phone, my heart started to race. every time i walked into that office, i would remember what happened and feel sick. even now, i can't control the terror in my stomach and the tears in my eyes and the fear in my heart.

my mom raised me in beauty and light. she taught me to be beautiful, to see the beauty that the world was, but i couldn't see it. i couldn't feel the beauty anymore. and i hated him for that, too.

but then a potent lesson was learned, is being learned. everything i was trying to fight through and handle on my own isn't meant to be fought through. all the fear and insecurity was not and is not my burden alone. His grace is sufficient. that's why the Atonement exists.

and i know i need to forgive him, but because of my stubbornness, that's the hardest part.

you never expect for these kinds of things to happen to you, and what happened to me may be tiny compared to what others face, but it ripped my world apart.

i came across a scripture i had written down a long time ago:

"Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall answer; thou shalt cry, and he shall say, Here I am...

"And if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noonday:

"And the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters fail not."

 Isaiah 58:9-11

my mom taught me to be beautiful. but she told me that that beauty comes from doing things that are difficult for you. "It is a beautiful person who stands up even after they have fallen. It is a beautiful person who never gives up. It is a beautiful person who strives to become better." He uses our weaknesses and trials to make beautiful strengths.

my Christ

hard and clear

"write hard and clear about what hurts."

- ernest hemingway

I have tried to write this so many times, so many agonizing times I have stared blankly at my paper and left it feeling empty. After scribbled words and crossed out lines, I have had to learn to accept that there are many ways to communicate how you feel; and sometimes it is silence.

Because no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to be able to form the right words. I cannot paint the words into pictures so lovely that whoever reads this will want these broken feelings, too. I cannot disguise the words so you will not know this is about you. And I cannot, for once, find the words that will fix this. Sometimes, this time, words are not enough.

So I miss you. I do not know how to say those words any differently. I miss you. I miss you all. And missing you hurts.

Most of the time, I am fine. I am happy. The hard moments come in flashes, when I am living my daily life, and I think of something funny or read something amazing, and I turn to tell you, but you are not there. Or when I come home to an empty inbox with no messages. Or when I am doing something great, and miss having you beside me to share those great times. Or when I think of missing you grow up, when I think I am not being the one thing for you that I always wanted to have.

But the worst part of all of this missing is not knowing whether or not you are missing me, too, or forgetting me.

But then, as I looked out my window tonight, I remembered what I had read earlier about the moon. It’s ours, that moon. She is the same for me and you and you and you and you. And suddenly, the world doesn’t seem so empty because we can both see it, we can both feel it, and if we both squint our eyes really hard, and gently reach out our fingers, we can both almost touch it.

So maybe think of me when you see her, that lovely moon. And when you hear something funny you know I would like, and when you read some words that speak to you so deeply you want to cry. Because you know I would like that. Because they are my favorite, those kind of words.

gatsby, what gatsby?

tonight I saw The Great Gatsby. besides the costumes and scenery being phenomenal, it got me thinking. I have always been a huge fan of F. Scott Fitzgerald, and I have loved the book since I had to read it in Mrs. Crawford's AP English class in the eleventh grade. I saw the movie in 3D, which gave it a funny look. it looked like paper dolls, the most beautiful paper dolls you have ever seen, mind you, but paper dolls nonetheless.

it was unreal. in the movie, there is a man so great and omniscient that he is praised as a god. he has so much money and wealth, and his imagination is just as colorful and beautiful. this man throws these extravagant parties and is young and beautiful (I do have to admit, I have always been a little disappointed about how leo has aged, but throughout the movie I caught glimpses of jack dawson, which made me love Gatsby even more). he would seem to be the man that everyone wanted to be.

but the great Jay Gatsby is lonely. he is alone and lonely. he is stuck in the past, in love with the stunning daisy, convinced that she only loved him as well, that she was stuck in the past as well. he spent the next five years of his life becoming grossly wealthy and throwing the most extravagant parties in hopes that she would come to one of them. and in the end, he dies and she runs away with her husband that she doesn't love anymore (I have this theory that I may have talked about before that f. scott fitzgerald is a complete and total sad, sick, and twisted little man, but that's a story for another day). it's not pretty or lovely or the things made of dreams as everyone imagined.

so this movie made me think of 2 different things. inspiration and waiting.

waiting. a couple of years ago I ran into this quote.

"why don't you tell me that 'if the girl had been worth having, she'd have waited for you?' no, sir, the girl really worth having won't wait for anybody" -f. scott fitzgerald

and then that became my motto. I could never let myself wait. I couldn't wait for someone to pay attention to me, or for him to realize that I was right here the whole time. I couldn't wait, because then I wouldn't be worth having.

let's take Gatsby as our example again- he waited for the girl for 5 years, but she didn't wait for him. it ruined him. he was so convinced that she had and it ruined him.

but then I find myself waiting.


inspiration. if you haven't noticed, this blog has been a little boring lately. I've been running dry on inspiration.

where do we get inspiration from?

is it the words that you read that are so heartbreaking and beautiful that they make you want to write too?

is it when he grabs your hand for a split second, and you heartbeat rockets uncontrollably, even though you've been trying to get rid of that feeling for weeks?

is it missing someone?

in spite of everything that has been going on around me, I have not been able to find anything worth writing about even though I have a million thoughts in my head. until today. today I was inspired- as silly as it sounds- by the hope of Jay Gatsby.

he said that Gatsby restored his ability to hope. he had never seen anyone so hopeful in his entire life, convinced until his death that daisy really did love him and only him, even on his last breath. Gatsby's whole beautiful life was built around this hope.

so don't wait and have hope- two very contradictory things that might ruin us in the end, but the wonder of it all may be what pushes us through.

because even though he was a cynic, fitzgerald also wrote, "I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all she should be. I love her and it is the beginning of everything.”

and anyone who can write words like that has to have hope.

an adventure

usually when you finish your finals, you catch yourself singing "school's out for the summer, school's out forever" in your head, but instead i found myself chanting, "r-u-double-d-e-r-v-i-l-l-e, rudderville, hey, hey rudderville." why do i find myself chanting one of the cheers from my middle school? (which happened to be located in a town called, "rudderville uncorporated," population:234, but only on school days) maybe it's some form of repression.

i was cleaning out my room today, packing up some of the winter things that i wouldn't need this summer, i sat down and decided that no one can leave. the ones who are getting married, the girls that are going on missions, the other people whose names i keep a secret locked in my heart. i have made it a law that no one is allowed to leave me ever again. queen erica strikes again! 

but as our wise Lord of the Rings writer once said, 

"You cannot always be torn in two, you will have to be one and whole for many years. You have so much to enjoy, and to be, and to do. Your part in the story will go on."

i think we always knew that eventually all of our paths would lead different ways, but we were never prepared for it. we were never prepared to leave each other. or maybe it's just me. everyone else seems to give each other up so easily.

all the memories come flooding back at once, the reasons why you're going to miss all of them. and maybe it's because today is your best friend's birthday, and for the first time, you are in Provo and she is in Spain.

or maybe you heard a little mermaid song, and you remember everyone getting ready together on sunday mornings, singing practically every disney song invented.

or maybe it was when you were playing with your roommate's baby sister, and you realize that all of your roommates families became your family, too, so you are losing much more than just friends.

but now, we're done wallowing in self-pity because we're sad, and this is the last you'll hear of it! because even though we all have to go our separate ways, in about 2 years we will see each other again, and i can't even imagine how wonderful it will be. the people we will have become, the things we will have done. it's going to be extraordinary!

"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life and in change there is power."

ready for a new adventure?

the tree

written April 2012

“Come down, come down,” were the only words one could hear as they neared the tree, his tree. It was called his tree simply because he refused to come down from it. The crazy old man in the tree. We were unsure of how he got up there in the first place. He’s been there for weeks now.

At first, the firemen and police circled the tree, with people crowded around, onlookers searching for a show. The world and time had stopped those first few hours they tried to get him out of the tree. We waited, breathless with anticipation. The uniforms would have succeeded if it had not been for the fact that he simply refused to leave the tree.

The crazy old man in the tree became somewhat of a novice. The story of the crazy old man in the tree who refused to come down spread throughout surrounding towns. Visitors would come just to try and succeed in doing what no one else had. 

“Come down, come down,” they would all chant as he shook his head, declining the taunts as if they were a kind offer. After weeks of trying, the young, the old, even the wisest people in the town believed he was a fool, that crazy old man in the tree.

 At night, every night, they all gather as a final exasperated effort, and watch as the crazy old man sits in the tree and ignores calls to, “Come down, come down.”

After tireless begging, the parents and their children, the lovers, and the friends walk hand in hand, making their way through the darkened streets to their comfortable homes. None of them go to bed lonely. The children are tucked in perfectly made beds, and read perfect little fairy tales before drifting off to perfect little dreams.

The town was asleep, and I decided tonight was the night I would finally talk to the crazy old man in the tree who refused to come down. I walked the empty streets I had memorized as a young child, following the worn path that led to his illuminated tree.

As I approached the tree, the crazy old man started talking. His voice sounded like the dust of a thousand years. I felt like I was going back in time as he started answering the question I hadn't even asked him yet.

“My friends, my friends,” he said gruffly.

“What?” I whispered.

“My friends, my family, everyone I loved is gone,” he stated.

He could see the confusion on my face, why was he telling me this? But the crazy old man was wise and waited for me to figure the answer out myself.

“No one. No one is left,” he went on, seeing that I was having difficulty connecting the broken pieces of what he was saying.

More moments of deafening silence passed until I felt I finally knew what he was saying, I looked up into the endless and deep ocean of his lonely eyes and voiced my question to confirm my beliefs. With a trembling voice I asked, “Why don’t you come down from the tree?”

The crazy old man who refused to come down looked back into equally lonely eyes as if he was telling me the secret to the universe and said,

 “Because people will stop asking for me to come down.”

a story

written February 2013

sometimes in order to really get to know a person and the reason they are who they are now, you have to understand where they came from. 

This is a story of a little girl with a splattering of freckles and eyes the color of a cold sea. She was only 17 years old and had the whole world at her fingertips, but she didn’t even know it. She had one of those faces that rarely smiled, but when she did, she had the kind of smile that said, “You don’t know me, and you never will.” And she was happy. At least she tried to be.

She tried to stay as anonymous as she could in high school. She was only in it to get out. Sure, she had friends, but not the kind she wanted. Most of them were fair-weather, and she was alright with that. Her really good friends she never got to see because of the busyness of peoples’ lives. But no one is really alright without any real friends. And one time she thought she got really lucky. She made a friend and they were inseparable. This little girl had walls of steel built around her heart, but the secret was that it only took one blow to bring them all down. Once she finally felt like she could trust someone, she gave them everything she could; her trust, her secrets, and the things she made with her own hands.

She believed the best of her friend. She believed that her friend was looking out for her the same way that she was looking out for her friend. She thought this new friend was always looking out for her, but she was wrong. She was very, very wrong.

The little girl loved her friend even though it was very hard because she believed it was hard for anyone to love her at all. And she loved her friend because she felt like she could never repay her friend for all she had done for her. Her friend had gotten her a job, hung out with her when no one else would, and made her feel like she wasn’t doing everything on her own anymore, and the little girl thought she owed her friend so much.

And the little girl and her friend were happy. They laughed and laughed. They went on adventures and had inside jokes. They loved the same things, and got by alright. Until the little girl started learning about the things that her friend was saying behind her back to her coworkers and even to the parents of the children that they watched. And then the little girl’s friend started telling the little girl that certain people didn’t like her. Her friend told her all these mean things to her face. She didn’t even try to hide it.

And then the little girl found herself apologizing to her friend all of the time for things she hadn’t even done because that was the only way her friend would talk to her. And the little girl was very, very sad, but she didn’t even realize it because she wanted to stay friends with her friend, and for some reason she felt like it was her fault, and she would remember all of the really good times they had had. But it was not her fault. And the little girl got sick every weekend from all of her hurt. And the little girl started pushing everyone else away; she wasn’t able to love other people very well anymore. And the little girl forgot all about her other really good friends that she didn’t see every day. And the little girl couldn’t really get away from this bad friend because they worked together, had school together, and saw each other every day.

It wasn’t until that summer when the little girl started spending more time with her other true friends when she realized how much she missed them. She missed them terribly. She realized that she was missing the happiness that used to be in her life. And she realized that no matter how hard she tried, some people are mean. And no matter how hard she tried to love someone, some people are incapable of loving back. But she also learned that these people need love the most, but it’s also important if you see someone drowning to not let them drag you down with them.

The little girl got out of that bad, bad place. And she made some new friends. All of these friends were just as scared as her; just as terrified of this new place they were going to spend their lives. And thanks to a merciful and loving Father, the little girl’s capacity to love grew at least three times that day. And the little girl still loved her friend, but she decided to no longer let people walk all over her because manners and politeness cost nothing. And the little girl was happy. She was still a little guarded and broken, but she was fixing, and she was inconceivably happy.

a memory

I love this quote, and on a completely unrelated note, here's something I wrote a couple months ago. 

written July 28, 2012

One time I saw heaven.

I can see it; clear as the day it happened.

It happened in a room full of people who started out as strangers. A room full of people who had found each other because they wanted to be part of something great.

We sat there for hours, watching peoples’ emotions spill out of them until they flowed down their self-same rivers. Rivers that were once running in no direction; we were all lost once. Rivers that now all ran in the same direction.

I sat there. We sat there. We sat in our Sunday best. We sat in our suits and our pearls, trying to make the final photograph of us all together a good one.

It was the end. It really was. We couldn't make it last any longer. We all wondered if we had achieved what we had gathered to do. If we had become what we wanted to become.

We did not know that an undeniable answer was about to come.

And then we sang.

And I saw heaven. I looked over my shoulder, and I saw heaven.

They were singing.

I was singing.

We were singing.

We stood of our own accord. The feeling crashed into the room, the feeling was so strong that you could almost hear it.

And at that moment I like to think we all knew it. We all knew that earth was full of angels.

that summer

In the hot stickiness of July in the South I learned what it was like to have angels all around you. It was a summer of first times and last chances. A summer of miracles.

I was at a meeting for being a youth camp leader. Apprehensive and scared, I had never done this before. I didn't really know what to do. My leader said a prayer before we started the practice run for our faith walk. We never realized how much of a walk of faith that it would really be. Her prayer was different than any one I had ever heard before. She asked for angels. Angels to protect us. We all wondered why we would need them.

With 20 girls and 3 leaders, we went out to the 14 ft-high deck. We all stood there, trying to feel the spirit when the sound of a million little snapping twigs filled the air. Before we even could comprehend what was going on, the floor under us collapsed. The next thing I knew, we were falling the 14 feet to the ground, rolling on top of each other in the pitch black night. After the first initial terrified screams of 20 girls, it was silent. Eerily silent.

I remember my mom running to the back of the house, standing next to the ledge that used to be connected to the fallen deck, and the desperation and sheer terror in my mind as I was trying to hold on to a post, a bench, anything.

One by one, we untangled ourselves from the mass of broken wood and bodies. We stepped back and surveyed the skeletal remains of what used to be called a deck- sending prayers of gratitude because no one was dead, but too numb to realize what had just happened.

We didn't really know what to do as we watched the paramedics and firemen and stayed up late waiting for news about our friends who got hurt.

I think the greatest miracle was when we were told the details about this freak accident. The deck rested on a hill, and if it had fallen backwards, we would have been dead. The deck would have flipped down the hill, causing girls to fly on top of each other, under the wood. We got lucky, the fireman said. The deck fell towards the house because of some unbeknownst reason. They had no reason why it did that, but we did. It was the angels.

Later that summer, at the same camp, there was a storm. We hurried to a central location and watched as the angry clouds swirled around us. We looked up to see a break in the clouds, sun shining down in a circle around where we all stood, keeping us safe.

Later that night we needed it not to rain- we heard the rain, we saw the rain, but we did not feel the rain.

That summer I saw 3 miracles. They still burn in the back of my mind, 4 years later. They are there as a reminder of unity, of love, and of His never-ending presence and protection that I know He gives those who follow Him and love Him.