New Beginnings

Things change constantly. The world is never ending change.

The thing is, you never really know what comes after. Like the transition from life to death, what comes after is shrouded in speculation and best guesses. You may have faith that the things in your life will turn out one way, but you won't truly know what will happen until after the fact. Will you?

And then things afterwards are so different than you expected them to be. For a little while, you form the world to your expectations. You live in a world of partial non-reality. But your perception breaks, and you realize that things aren't quite what was expected. The world is brighter than your speculation. The world is messier, and darker, and ever more changing.

Once your world has shifted, it's time to find new constants - new stars in the sky to map and comfort yourself with. For some, this is the hardest part. We aren't all born astronomers. Some turn to the darkest places, while some search in the past to find their new points in the sky. You find constants that you thought had disappeared.

But most unexpectedly, you find constants from the unknown. You're introduced to someone new, and suddenly the days go by in such a blur you never thought possible. And you're happy again. You realize that things in the past weren't quite as you remembered, and you find comfort in this.

There's comfort in new worlds. Unexplored realms, new friends, new ideas. And you find yourself thinking:

"I never want this to change..."

This Autumn Mind

I thought I'd see your face by now. It's been so long, I hardly even remember it. Parts of you are still here though - the little freckle by your nose, the way your cheeks crumple when you smile, the way your eyes can pierce through a soul. Sometimes, I imagine that you're here next to me holding my hand, and it's almost like I can feel it. Like some piece of you has traveled all this way to me just to hold my hand while I cry at my favorite movie, and drift off to the whispers of Frank Sinatra and Julie London.

I still have those records you lent me, by the way. They're perched on the highest shelf, next to the feathers and flowers from so long ago. I've deemed it my shelf of remembrance. I catch myself quite often peering off into the distance beyond this little corner, caught in a stream of Nostalgia. Surely you remember those days - the ones filled with rose petals on water and stick races beneath the bridge. Those glorious days in the age of the Sun.

It's late autumn now, and those feeble leaves that cling so desperately to their branches are doomed to fall. I'm sure you're aware of this, being as perceptive as you are. We used to lay under such trees, watching the hours pass until the fateful moments when the leaves would let go and float down to their final resting place. I always knew I was one of those leaves.

We spend so much of our lives just passing time, in order to forget how fast time is passing. For now, the leaves are falling, and the trees are losing those most dear to them, and the world is going silent. But just wait a few moments. You'll find the sounds of life begin to return. You'll find the grass discover it's rich color. And you'll see the trees regain their lost friends.

I know I'll see your face soon. I'll see that little freckle, smile at your crumpling cheeks, and be pierced once again by those wondrous eyes. You see, i'm just getting caught up in this Autumn mind, and soon enough I'll discover the glory that rests in the depths of the mind of Spring. I'll feel the warmth of your hands once again, this I know for sure.

But for now, I'll settle for those moments of Nostalgia. They'll keep me warm while I wait.

Winter Madness

Winter is a time of stress.

For the High School seniors, it's time for college apps. Getting those letters of recommendation, finding the schools you like, figuring out what you want to do with your life, and (maybe hardest of all) writing your personal statement.

For the college sophomore who is applying to transfer, there's all of this plus a few extra essays and reports to send in, as well as current year classes to figure out. (How do I finish my basic requirements? Should I take overload credits to do photography or would that be suicide? And if I do take it, should I take the 8am math class to accommodate it, or let the two classes cut half an hour out of each other twice a week? Should I take the 183 level chemistry, even though I haven't been in chem for two years, or would that also be suicide? There's been more of these questions in the last few hours than I'd ever imagined were possible)

For those with seasonal depression, well.... they're not exactly happy about these coming months.

Then there's the burden of the consumer nature that Christmas has adopted, buying just the right gift for the right person, in some cases spending money you really shouldn't be spending. Maybe I'll be more creative this year...

It seems rather contradictory that such a seemingly calm season should be so hectic. The thought of slowly falling snow late at night, the soft chill of the winter breeze, bundling up in blankets and sweaters in a warm house, maybe even next to a fire. It's such a relaxing thought. And the music that I relate to winter (besides holiday music) has such a calming, quiet nature- the kind of song you might fall asleep to, or contemplate the world while listening to.

And yet, in reality there's people working hard, fretting about the future, and generally being driven insane by the world and christmas music. There are long shopping trips and worrying that you haven't gotten that person a gift yet. There's just general worrying!

So, I give you a task for this winter. During a time you're feeling especially stressed, or get caught up with tons work, or you're starting to go insane - Stop. Take a break and grab your iPod. Gear up in your warmest winter clothes. Put on the most peaceful playlist you may have ever created, and take a walk. Venture out into the world. Forget all your worries- forget even that you have an existence besides in that moment.

Let Winter take you away, if only for a little while.

And At Once I Knew

I just wanted to take a moment to show you this. Below is a music video for Bon Iver's song Holocene. I honestly think it's the only music video I've ever seen where the beauty of the video is perfectly translated from the beauty in the song. They both feel so wondrous, and so lonely. It gives that feeling where you're not sure if you should smile at it's perfectness or cry at it's sadness and honesty. And the lyrics... "And at once I knew, I was not magnificent..."

I simply cannot describe my feelings. So instead, I'll show you:

Also, I want his sweater really badly.

Sometimes

Sometimes, it feels like the world slips away. You watch yourself having a conversation with someone, walking, pointing at something that excites you. But it's not you really, it's something that's taken your place while you float around in a sort of nothingness.

Where have you gone?

Sometimes, you find yourself back in reality. But you never realized you were gone. No time has gone by at all, and yet it's been an hour, a day. You look back and have all these memories of where you've been, the things you've seen and done. But you didn't do them. It was a placebo-you, filling in. It's almost like a vacation from life itself.

But you don't always want that vacation.

Sometimes you can feel the breeze on your skin, the cold nip at your face, hear the leaves rustle. It's the place where the leaves fall like snow. The place you never knew could have beauty, innocent beauty, until you were able to see the flaws of the world. Until the reservoir of sea water sprung a leak. Until you found yourself on your back looking up into the blackened sky, and watched those leaves that fell like snow.

Sometimes you wonder to yourself where you've been all this time. You don't understand yourself anymore, there's no logic to you.

Sometimes there can't be logic. It's nothing but rawness. Numbness.

And sometimes the world comes crashing in.

And sometimes there's nothing to do. Nothing to do but make a pile of those leaves, and fall asleep.

Seven Swans

Inspired by Sufjan Steven’s “Seven Swans”

            “Billie! Billie come quick!”

            I could hear my mother run down the hall to her bedroom to wake my father.

I looked across the room to where my sister was slowly waking. An orange glow came through the window bathing her and the angel mural my mother had painted at my birth in unfelt warmth. I got up from my bed and cracked the door, watching my father run by frantic and down the stairs. My sister came up to me, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. I put my finger to my lips, telling her to be quiet. As we went down the stairs I could hear my mother sobbing and yelling at my father.

            “This is your fault!”

            “Christine…”

            “No! Don’t you dare! This wouldn’t’ve happened if you would just do what’s expected of you...”

            My mother trailed off as she saw my little sister and I watching from the open sliding door. My father stood with hunched shoulders over the flames as my mother came over to us, scooping up my sister and putting her hand on my shoulder. We stayed that way for a while, watching the fire burn its message into the earth. The light felt so invasive as it cast shadows into the woods and outlined my father as he stood before it.

            I broke away from my mother’s touch and ran up to my father, stopping by his side. I looked up at him and felt the pain in his face as he shifted his gaze to me. He treated the flame as if it were the open casket of a man he did not know. I reached up and took his hand in mine. There, with my father, I tried to understand the meaning of the word that was burning into our family’s backyard. The word that would cause my mother to look into my father’s face with such disdain.

            No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t understand why someone would go so far to deliver the message. It simply read:

            “Sinner”

            I heard the sound of birds from the wood behind the house, and watched as they flew overhead. Seven swans, tainted by the glare of the fire. They were gone after a few moments, and the rest of the family didn’t seem to notice them. As they disappeared over the house, I heard a voice in the back of my mind. It said:

            “I’ll try, I’ll try… I’ll try”

            The sun shone through the living room window as I sat on the couch reading the book my father had given me earlier that week. I could hear my parents arguing from their room. Their muffled voices felt as if they would rip me apart. There was a slammed door, heavy footsteps, and my father appeared from the stairwell. He stopped and stood motionless, looking at me. I looked back. He set down the large bag he held and motioned for me to come to him. I could see him starting to cry, and I didn’t understand.

            He bent down to me and put a hand on my shoulder.

            “I… I’ve got to go away for a bit honey.” He spoke so quietly I almost couldn’t hear him.

            “But why daddy?”

            “Your mom doesn’t think I should be around you girls. Thinks I’ll be a bad influence on you.” Tears rolled down his face and he chucked softly. “Who knows, I might’ve been.”

            “But why would you be?”

            “Well… It’s a bit hard to explain honey. You’ll understand one day. For now, you just go to school, and church... And be a good girl and do what your mother tells you…”

            “You can’t be leaving though! I need you and sissy needs you! I’m reading the book you gave me! Is it because of the fire?”

            “…Yes honey, it’s because of the fire. Daddy decided not to go to church anymore, and it didn’t make people very happy. So daddy is leaving… And it makes him so sad to leave you girls.” It was getting harder for him to speak and finally he hugged me tight and stood. Wiping his face on his sleeve, he grabbed his bag and started walking to the door. He opened it and looked back at me.

            “I love you so much. When your sister gets back from preschool… tell her I love her too. And remember what I told you. Be good.”

            He paused there, watching me for a few moments and turned out the door. I hurried to the window, tears in my eyes, and watched him back out of the driveway. In the sky over the house, I saw seven horns singing their goodbyes to my father. As he drove away I thought I heard someone talking to me, but there was no one around.

            From the kitchen I heard my mother’s sobs while she pulled the roast from the oven. When she brought dinner to the table I looked into her eyes and saw into her soul.

            “Why did daddy decide not to go to church anymore mom…?”

            She froze and looked at me for a long while before answering.

            “Well… He got it into his head that our God isn’t real honey…” She focused on her food and didn’t look at me

            “And that’s why he left us?”

            “Yes honey, that’s why he had to leave.”

            “What he did was so bad that he couldn’t be with me anymore?”

            “You’re young honey, you’ll understand when you’re older. You have to grow up to be a wonderful woman who finds a nice husband and has children of her own. God will give that all to you if you’re faithful.” She reached across the table and stroked my face, smiling at me.

            I was quiet for the rest of the night.

            As I lay in my bed that night, I heard a voice. It was very firm and commanding. It said to me, “I am Lord. Be faithful to me, for I am Lord.”

            And I lay in the darkness, the sobs shaking my body under the blanket.

            My father had been gone a long while now. I laid in the same place I was when he came down those stairs, and my sister lay on the floor beside me reading passages. Suddenly she looked up at me and stared.

            “He will take you.”

            “What?”
            “If you run, he’ll take you.”

            I sat silent and just looked at her

            “He’ll chase you.”

            I started to cry. “Why? Why would he do that?”
            “Because he is the Lord.”

            I put my face in my hands and wept. Wept for my father, and my family. When I took my hands from my face, and looked up my sister stood at the bottom of the stairs looking worried.

            “What is it sissy? Why’re you crying?”

            I sat there for a few moments and looked down into my lap.

            “Nothing… It was nothing.”

            She came over and hugged me for a few minutes and then stood back up to leave.

            “I was just listening to dad’s radio upstairs. Want to come with me?”

            I softly smiled. “Sure.”

            And we went upstairs, to let the radio wash us away.

Two Hours

At the halfway mark comes the sun, shining through. Then back to the rain.

The music fades in and out with the swells, parts missing, parts brought out from the depths. Skipping, skipping, skipping through old memories and new ideas.

It's a long path, and the mind likes to wander. The past, the future, is all laid open as the mountains to the clouds. Condensation collects on the thin glass, and it's all hard to comprehend. The dozens of histories, hundreds of actions, thousands of words. They all get mixed into a jumble of everything, and nothing.

It's a winding path, and it's easy to get lost. A couple of words can mean dozens of different things, and suddenly they're all possible. Paranoia sets in the mist. A sideways glance darts by showing a second of annoyance, and it's gone. But that means nothing, and everything. A touch is forgotten, a word remembered forever, an expression a vague memory.

It's a dead end path, and it's either turn back or trek forward into the unknown. The path back is too familiar to be remembered. Seconds move by slipping through the grasp of memory, until you've found a new way to go. But what if you don't? The trek forward is too new and invigorating to be forgotten, and yet too detailed to be recalled. The wrong words are remembered, the right ones locked away in a labyrinth. But the seconds are grasped, and rewards may await.

It's a path that has no end. It's a path that has no beginning and few destinations. It's a path you must travel alone, and yet not alone. You just put one foot in front of the other and hope you don't confuse another's path for your own.

It's a painful path. You'll emerge with scars and bruises. It's a rewarding path. You'll emerge a changed person, more knowledgeable and hopefully happier from the journey.

There is no path.

Some Thoughts from a Wandering Mind

Sometimes I feel as if modern entertainment is robbing us blind. Even the most gripping and revolutionary of entertainment. And what I feel it takes from us is the magnificence of the world.

Turn the channel and you'll find you're in the Pyramids at Giza, or on the edge of the suicidal waters of Niagara Falls. With your television alone, you can explore the world. And this seems wonderful, that anyone can experience these things without any trouble at all.

But you see, when you watch these things from afar, you only take in the feeling of seeing whats on the screen- you can't feel the wind breathe across your skin or smell the mist of the falls; you can't feel the heat from the sun as you float in the water of the pacific, or experience what it's like to stand on the edge of that towering cliff where one wrong step sends you falling an unimaginable distance. So you are able to see these fascinating things, but when it comes time to experience it for yourself, you find that you're slightly less impressed than you thought. You won't admit it to anyone, even yourself. And it's because the full experience has been taken from us, leaving us with only fragments of how it should be. You've seen it all already so only the other sensations are new to you, taking away our true first experiences.

Modern entertainment, in some ways, also sets us up for disappointment. Watch a romantic movie and it gives us expectations for what true love feels like. Watch a teen angst movie, and it give you expectations for your life as a teenager. Expectations that in many ways cannot or will not be fulfilled, no matter how much we want them to be, and in this way entertainment robs us of going into situations with an open mind, being willing to experience what comes at us for better or worse.

I think this is one of the reasons I've always loved books. They take you to far away places with new people and adventures that are left up to you to imagine and create. They can't take away that first experience, though they can create expectations. Everything is so hard-set when it comes to things seen on a screen. When you fall into the world of a book, the world becomes yours to craft and shape.
---
I think i will stop the rambling here before my ideas become any more disorganized. Summer is slowly on it's way out now, just as the weather is starting to shape up to resemble something somewhat decent...  I have so many things I want to do before it's disappeared completely. I hope you are all doing well! And I'd better see you soon!!

Nice to See You!

It's been quite a while since I've been back here... Hello again! :) i feel like I only come here anymore to put random stories I write somewhere. So I'll do a bit more than that this time!

I'm really ready for summer. And next school year. This year has been great, but I feel like it's been mostly a learning experience. How to adapt to everything, if you will. Roommates and friends, grades and homework, home and school. Plus, i've got some pretty exciting classes next quarter, including being in a lab with mice, and doing behavioral studies! It's all very exciting. And I'm ready for summer....

I spend a lot of time on tumblr now... It's sort of consumed my blogging. You can find it at Doorwayshome.tumblr.com if you wish to see it. Tumblr is a really cool community...

I've had a hard time finding things to decorate my walls with since I'm very picky about things like that, so i've decided to draw/paint my own things to hang! Which is pretty exciting...

I still have a continuing obsession with cats.... In fact, it may have gotten worse, if that's possible. Kittehroulette.com....

Also, I'm 19 now! What's strange is I actually do feel a bit older, which isn't usually the case. 19 just seems so old.... I'm almost in my 20's... That's just a strange thought. It's also strange to think my grandparents were already married at my age!

I think i've exhausted my ramblings for now, so i'll leave you with a short story/thing I just wrote. 'Til next time!!




A Thread Cut With a Carving Knife

            It was a hot and sultry afternoon in late June. The two of us had collapsed ourselves in the deep shade of the willow tree on Peak Hill to conclude our day’s love affair. We lay there in the deep green grass, looking up into the weeping branches of the willow as the sun continued it’s slow decent to the distant horizon. There was so much I felt I needed to say to you, but it was too damn hot to speak that much, even in our shade, and we found it felt much easier to touch. As the sun neared its destination, arriving with a blind man’s masterpiece, we just lay there clinging to one another, as if to separate were to say a farewell forever. And so we forget to fall apart that day.

            And the next day….

****

            Above me lay just a cold and endless sky, grey clouds looming on into the distance. It was the day that I decided I was through with love. I made my slow journey along the path that lead from the hill back into town, pausing along the metal serrated fence that surrounded the small graveyard. A small girl lay there, curled next to a modest headstone and clutching a small tulip in her sorrowful sleep. As I neared her, I noticed the drying tracks that lead from her now silenced eyes down to her frail chinbone. The engraving on the tombstone read:

Grace Campbell

1980-2010

Beloved Mother, Daughter, and Wife

Graceful in life, Graceful in death

            I removed my heavy coat and laid it over the girl to shield her from the grey clouds, and made my way back. As I neared the small barrier of trees guarding the town with piles of leaves as skeletons, I realized that I was only skin and bones.

            I went to the bridge, just outside of town. The one at which we had met. I went to the bridge so that I could fall, and drop down into the current, far away from it all. But as I stood on the edge, ready to let go, I looked down at the water. It was so black and deep, that I had to close my eyes and look away.

            And I fell asleep, ‘til the next day….

****

            The snow had fallen hard from five to five, and the only way to stay alive was to drink your worries away. The tumblers were drained and then flooded again and again as I sat slouched on the barstool I called home. And as the bartender filled my glass one last time for the evening, I wished it would kill me too. Because then at least I’d have something changing me. There would a break from the continuous dark emptiness.

            I was as cold as the ice at my front door, and I raised my trembling glass, shouting “Fuck the war!”. And then I fell into oblivion. Through the blackness of the world I found myself lying on my bed with my shoes on. That was the last of the light I felt.

            ‘Til the next day…

****

            As you handed me the envelope, I knew what it contained. And I knew no matter what that opening your letter would be the hardest thing I would ever do. On that terrible evening when the darkness began looming, I opened that grey envelope as if I were a doctor making the first incision for a heart transplant.

            The world I saw no longer had substance – the lines around me had been blurred until everything I saw blended into one. I began to read your final words to me.

            “Baby, close your eyes until tomorrow. It could bring joy, or it could bring sorrow, but no matter what happens it will come as sure as light. You never know what may come, but you have to be ready for anything, even if it means losing everything. Try not to dream tonight. I know that if you do you’ll just be consumed by the darkness in the corners of your mind, and you’ll be lost to the world too. Imagine that you’re just standing here, and suddenly you disappear. That’s how I feel… I’ll never be ready for this, but I know I’ll disappear soon. ‘A thread cut with a carving knife’- That is what they call our life. And now, I understand.

            I love you.

            Be strong.”

            

Hmmm

Recently, I've felt like I should blog something. But I have no clue what...
What do blog posts usually talk about?

Events... Well there hasn't been too many of those recently. Aside from an enjoyably awkward high school Tolo. My spring break is coming up fast though! I should get back around the 17th, and my week is wide open! So whoever is reading this, let's plan something :)

Emotions...? Nothing new here either really.

Objects of stress... Well my physics of sound professor gives out craaazyyy loads of homework. Which mixed with everything else gets to be quite a bit too much. Can you say all-nighter? Also my piano class has just been pointless. She's a rather awful teacher and i have a test to catch up for very very soon.

Newly discovered things.... The book Brave New World! It's really really great. We read it for genetics class and it turned out to be much better than I thought it would be. The blog/book Stuff White People Like is quite funny, and true. The creator came to Central and talked about the blog and how it was created and everything. It was really interesting and I started to get the humor on the blog that I didn't pick up before.

Stuff currently happening.... Ellie Goulding's album is on repeat. It was just released in the US finally! Soon to come is a night filled with homework and Desperate Housewives.

Miscellaneous... It seems every time I try to do something in my beanbag, I end up taking a nice long nap... It's started to become a bit problematic haha.

Hit me up for spring break plans!

Something to Be Expanded/Completed

“Innie, where are you going?”

            “Just down to the stream, I’ll only be a bit. Don’t worry about me!”

            But I always worried.

            I knew something was wrong that day. She seemed slightly off whenever I’d say something to her. She acted like she was separated from the world. But we’d all had days like that before…. Right?

            And she went down to that stream that night, but even later than usual. And she left without a word – It wasn’t like her. I should’ve known something was wrong.

            She came back at dawn, just as the sun began to paint the horizon with the colors of the day. She tried to be quiet getting into bed, but I was awake already. I waited until I knew she would be asleep, rose from my bed, and walked quietly over to her. She had a thin layer of dirt on her face, and her sleeve was torn a bit. I went down the hall and into the bath, where I caught a small drop of blood Innie had missed in her cleaning.

            What had happened to my Innie?

            She wasn’t herself the next day. Or the day after. I couldn’t stop worrying myself about her.

            And one day, she left again. Late at night. But this time I was going to follow her. I couldn’t let something happen to her again.

            I was her shadow, following her down the street, down the dirt path, and watched her from the tree line as she neared the stream. She stood, staring across the stream for what might’ve been fifteen minutes, until she collapsed onto her knees at the water’s edge. She thrust her hands deep into the stream and started to thrash at the water, turning the peaceful flow into an aggravated spray that startled a small bird from a nearby tree.

            Innie calmed after a minute and stared down at her dripping hands. The moon glow reflecting off the water illuminated my sister’s tormented face. My gut clenched and fell from my body, leaving me both numb and anguished. I turned from the pain to return to the sleep of ignorance, knowing I would awake changed.

            Just like Innie.

There's Only Two Words.

Buzzbuzz. I have a text.

He's the first one in my mind. There's this overwhelming desire that it is him, and not someone else, responding to me. I take my phone out swiftly and and my heart dips a little to see that it is in fact, not him yet. I choose not to respond, so that i'll know for sure the next time. So that the elation stays around when i see who the text is from.

It all started with the eyes.... How i remember it anyway. Apparently he said something to me in the hallway after taking a break from dancing. I don't recall that though. I remember talking to a friend of mine and suddenly looking to my left and locking eyes with him. There was really nothing prompting it, except that maybe we were subconsciously guided to where we needed to go. At first i didn't give it any weight. He came over towards the end and danced with the group I was with, and i brushed it off as coincidence that he reappeared, though i later found out that it was definitely on purpose.

Fast forward to a week later, and i'm hanging out with two friends of mine. One of them is on facebook, and suddenly, he's posted something. My other friend said something about how he was at the Annie Wright dance a week ago. Foolishly, i only took mild notice of this. Until later that night, when i was browsing facebook... his name appeared in my head. And something compelled me to add him - even though we barely interacted and i doubted he would remember me. It was as if, despite my foolish actions, something drove me to him.

He accepted.

And the next night, he talked to me.

And suddenly, we were texting.

And two weeks later, we sat together, alone for the first time, in the Old Town Starbucks. I'd never actually been on a date before then. In my head, i'd pictured it being awkward and embarrassing, constantly doubting every word and every action. But it felt so right. And we walked. And talked. And sat, and got cold. And trespassed (technically). I left feeling a surge of energy and happiness that I didn't really understand.

And then there was Babies. And Piper. And Sufjan Stevens (of course). And the four, mixed with a few other (at the time, less important) variables, made an amazing day. And there were hands, held together with excitement, intrigue, and nervousness.

And there was the waterfront, being showered in the late-spring rain. We sat in the car for a couple hours, talking. It always seemed so easy. So freeing. So right. Just to be around him. Silences were few and far between, and conversations would roll into each other with the transition of his heart-warming, infectious laugh. His sentences were filled with such excitement - about the seemingly mundane that carried such life for him. And about the living that carried such freedom and joy. His sentences were filled with the joy of being alive.

And then it was official.

And all summer, it was rare if we weren't seen together more than twice a week. I found that when i was away from him, my life became a little more empty. A little more less purposeful. So i stayed as close as I could.

And then one week, i didn't have to leave him. No less than 100 hours together. And they couldn't have been more perfect. Staying up late into the night while the others slept, just to talk and explore each other's past and present. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but "they" lie. Nearness makes the heart grow fonder. Absence makes the heart ache.

There is one person in this world who can control how i feel - without doing anything, or saying anything - but just by being. He can make me laugh uncontrollably, and sometimes without reason. He can make me smile so much it's painful. He can make me cry with joy at night without doing anything, but simply from knowing that he's mine.

That infectious laugh that always makes Demi say "Tyyler!! Haha!". That shine in his eye when he talks about where he's going in life. That smile that he can give away to anyone for nothing in return. That sheer adorableness that can't even be put into words. That fake sad face and voice he gets when he's trying to convince me to do something. His crazy over-empathizing. His random spanish phrases he uses in the middle of a conversation (This also can be filed with the adorableness).

I'd spent a lot of time wondering about what i would do if i did have someone like him. Would i eventually tell my parents? Or would i keep it from them? Would i tell lots of people? Or only a few? What would we do, where would we go, who would we see?

But, from the very point I sat down in that coffee shop, I suddenly forgot all of those questions. They didn't matter. Let whomever know. Let them say what they want. And who cares what we do, where we go, and who we see? As long as i could do all these things with him, nothing else in the world mattered to me.



Words keep coming and going. They appear in my head as i write them down, or they disappear before they can be captured into a sentence. No matter how hard I might try, a majority of what i want to say escapes me when i go to type it. I'm sure i've missed more than one topic. For instance, his inescapable kindness. How he could never imagine paining another person, and goes out of his way to make someone's day a little better, even if it's just with his perfect smile. And there it is. One of the only words that can truly show you a glimpse of the man. And even then, it's a flawed word. Nothing truly captures him. But there are two words that come close, used either together or separately, to describing him.

Perfect.
Love.


Buzzbuzz. I have a text. This time, I know who it is. And nothing can contain me.

An Honest Mind, A Warm Heart, And a Fucking Filthy Mouth

She was always a bit of a mystery. That girl, the stand partner of one of my best symphony friends. Yeah, the one with the long hair. Getting really into her playing.

I have no idea how she wormed her way into our little group of friends. But she did it. And now i couldn't ever imagine if she hadn't. Of course, the first full and heartfelt conversation I shared with her was about Sufjan. Initially, I thought she was talking about some guy in her class that wrote weird songs about Night Zombies. Until she talked about John Wayne Gacy Jr., the song I was most familiar with then. We survived that muggy, theory-filled week together.

I only saw her once more that summer. It was sort of an odd meeting - my old stand partner and I met up and then visited Piper at the shaved ice stand, where her parents urged her to go and socialize with her friends, and to not worry about them at the stand. Always the worrier. We walked and talked and laughed with the utmost joy. I gave her a cd with some random music i thought she would like, mainly based on Sufjan. It took at least a few months for her to listen to it, i'm sure.

And then, suddenly, it was time for camp. And it was like there had never been almost a year's gap since we last met. Laughing and frantic socializing occurred, when she wasn't too busy being alone in a practice room. Not eating (She never eats). I tried to hide it the very best I could, but i desperately wanted to be around her whenever possible. It was like being in her presence was an automatic rush of happiness, and i felt like we were somehow (foolishly so, since I'd had very little contact with her) connected - as if we knew each other, and could laugh forever. She brought a friend that year too.

Silly Logan.

We kept in a bit better contact after that. Emails and whatnot. But suddenly, I'd found someone. And surprisingly (or maybe not so), he knew this girl! And had known her for years! When the conversation between us began to slow, we'd just mention her, and suddenly we'd have an amazing long conversation. Even when i'm not in her company, simple talk of her can't help but make me happier.

And suddenly, I saw her all the time.

My world began to be filled with "Sufjan!", "Holy Fuck!", and "I'm really, really sorry you guys. Like so, so, so very sorry!". She very much likes to apologize, even for the little things, as if she's worried it may be something that will deeply upset you. Yet, every time she tried to apologize profusely, I can't help from smile, even grin. Because I know how all of her nervousness before a performance, and all of her worry of upsetting someone, comes from the most honest place in her heart. Because she doesn't want to let you down, no matter what. It's not that she really cares what other people think, but rather keeping the things she loves from being hurt, or disappointed.

And every time she curses, I can't stop myself from giggling, or even full out laughing. Because such strong language is a very interesting contrast for such an amazingly sweet girl. And every time she swears, it is So Goddamned Funny! She always knows what to say to make the mood lighter, or the exact time to say some funny remark. She has impeccable comedic timing.

When i'm around her, I can never help but be in the best of moods. She carries with her this amazingly strong aura of warmth and love and honesty. And when she's sad, or under the weather, or worried, sometimes your heart just breaks a little bit. Not because you're disappointed that the happy side isn't there. Not at all. But rather, because it hurts to see such an amazing person be anything less than the happiest she can be.

And then, we embarked on a wild and epic near 100 hour long trip. It was an amazing trip. A perfect trip. I could never, and would never, change a single thing about it.

And there's only two things I can say:
"With that robe, and those glasses, you'd make a perfect psychiatrist"
"Well shit, when my shoes are off, I fly!"

Sorry about the novel. Though it barely conveys half of what I feel.
I love you :)

The Purest Heart I Know

There exists this girl. You'd never guess that she wasn't actually a figment of your imagination if she didn't interact with other people. Everywhere she goes, she brings light. In her golden hair, in her unwavering smile. Sometimes you have to stop and think to yourself

Is this an angel?

We didn't talk much. Just sat as a part of the group, her with her dark, stylish shades, me with my fading blue hair and thin, over worn sweater. Perhaps the only conversation shared was a discussion on Sufjan Stevens. I should've known then who i was dealing with - only the most wonderful people can whole heartedly love Sufjan the way she does. Or love anything in such a way. So purely.

Suddenly, i find myself in a certain Nissan Altima, driving along I-5, and then Highway 101 with this girl. And it's like we'd always been friends. Like we'd already shared our darkest secrets with each other, and come through to the other side, in full acceptance and admiration (at least on my behalf) on who the other was. Aside from sleeping and showering, we were in near constant company for bordering on 100 hours. The best 100 hours of my life, without a doubt. 

You would think that a trip like this would bring out the annoying habits and mannerisms of people you once thought were free of them. But this girl remained as untainted as a newborn child. Always polite, always considerate. She'd apologize for accidentally interrupting, but wouldn't say a thing when someone else interjected. You must think "She has to be annoyed at such an action, but she just hides it well." But I don't think that to be true. I think terrible injustice is the only thing that can truly upset her. And such a trivial thing, well - it is what it is, and what is there to be upset about? 

You cannot know pure until you have met the girl who decides to take a nap on a rock by the ocean. You cannot know love until you sit with this girl in a Borders, reading Postsecret and a Sufjan interview while Celtic music softly plays over the speakers. You cannot laugh truly until you have been with the girl who wrote ALTIMA on a piece of notebook paper as if it came from a horror film, and held it against the car window to show the passing nissan.

By the way, I really hope you don't still feel guilty about me getting you coffee and coving your Pho. It's the least I could do for a friend such as you.

I love you! :)