Thursday, April 12, 2018

spring

hey man, it's been awhile.

I was riding home, talking out my feelings (as you do on a twenty minute car drive at 9:45pm on one of if not the first day of the year that reached 80 degrees. And I got inspired to write for the first time in a long time so here I am.

Let me give some background as to where I am at right now in real life.

So, jobs! I quit my first job! Now I'm part-time staff (I think that's my official title please no one shoot me if I'm wrong) at a women's shelter. I'm also the interim Assistant Director at the Baptist Student Union on our college campus.

I used to be one of those kids that can stay up till 1am no problem now 11pm goes around and I'm EXHAUSTED. Any-who!

Thoughts have been floating around in my head and I want to talk about it.

I am not a good person. I'm not a good friend, sister, daughter, whatever. I'm selfish and I can be a brat and really add your adjective but the main thing is I KNOW.
"I know what my weaknesses are, probably better than you do."
But I want to work on that and I think that's important. Also I know some people when they read something like this want to be so quick to comment "You're a good - " or something uplifting and kind and all that. But really though, how good are any of us at any of these relationship type things? What constitutes a good:

Friend- Challenging: You encourage them to be more. Challenge them in ironing out their bad places. Being there. B e i n g  t h e r e. Which is something I'm terrible at! There's so many people on this earth that I truly care about but when it comes to holding up a basic conversation via social media/text I'm the actual worst! I can barely muster a "good morning" "good night" snap chat. Why?Why am I like this? I DON'T KNOW. Laziness, maybe? I don't know. But just know if I'm not messaging you every day that definitely doesn't mean I have any animosity toward you. I'm just hiding a bit in myself and being bad at talking.

On the other hand though, I think I have redeeming qualities and I guess I don't actually think I'm the worst person ever but instead of going on about that I want to talk about qualities I want to work on.

I want to work on being a PERSON. What do I mean by that? When conflict gets in the way I wanna hide in a hole and avoid and bury myself. What do I WANT to do? I want to be the kind of person who can confront the situation.
Hey- this is how you made me feel.
And when someone tells me where I went wrong I want to be able to say that I understand. I don't want to be quick to say that I didn't MEAN to be that kind of way. I want to see where they're coming from and I want to apologize for my actions and I want to ask for forgiveness.
I want to be the type of person who can own up to themselves and be better.

But sometimes I get stuck in my head and I can't get out. But I can work on it. I can work.

Friday, December 22, 2017

reflecting

twenty-seventeen.

Truly without a doubt most definitely one of the most "stand-outish" (we're going to pretend that's a word) years of my life.
So, to clear things up in the beginning- I'm feeling reflective. Also nostalgic. And a little sad, I guess. I'm also tired. God, am I tired.

So, 2017. Yes. The year I attained my first Real Person Job(trademark) which I still have- I'm a theater employee (fancy title is projectionist, but I do a little of a lot). Then, there's the other job I got. Then the other one. Yep, I have three Real Human Jobs and its WILD.

Projectionist at the theater
Assistant Director at the Baptist Student Union
PRN at the Womens Shelter

So, 2017 was busy. And in there I visited Canada for the sixth time which I truly intended on talking about that but you know, my intentions were all good but my actions didn't catch up. It happens.

I'm going to tell you a story.

So, I think sometime last winter I was hanging out at a friends house and one of my friends had purchased two Surge sodas. You see, Surges were his thing. Well, he tried to convince me to drink one. At that time, I didn't drink soda. Actually, since I was thirteen! I almost actually gave in. And he was really happy about potentially getting me to drink soda. Well, I eventually decided no, I wasn't going to get back on the soda train.
2017 was the year I lost four friends. Which is something that I don't feel comfortable about detailing in a blog post, but my surge friend was one of the ones we lost. So, for him, I drank soda for the first time in seven years. A surge. I know he'd be REAL PLEASED he got Gracie to drink a soda. Now I'm back on the train again with an RC right next to me at the desk. I'm not too sad about my decision.

2017. Part of me is unbelievably glad that its almost over. There's something refreshing about turning the page into January. But, the truth is that January 1st is another day; but as a collective 2018 might be the best year yet. I can hope, but we can only see for ourselves.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

untitled october

I'm scared. I can provide a list of things that scare me that range from understandable to "that's not going to happen why are you even getting yourself worked up over that what."

1. My Facebook page deleting thus wiping all of my friends list, photos, and messages. 

2. My phone messing up therefore deleting all of my photos and text messages 

3. Losing someone else that I love. 

4. Buying a drink at the gas station and drinking some before paying and only realizing at the cash register that I don't have enough cash for it. 

5. Getting fired and having to go through the tedious task of applying to jobs, interviews, training, and getting to the point where I can do everything with my eyes closed. 

6. My alarm being set for PM instead of AM or not having a loud enough song or not being set for the day I need it although I use the same alarm most of the time and double or triple check it. 

7. Never actually being able to go on any of these trips I have planned in my head. 

8. Not actually having the energy to write something good again. 

9. Being buried by hospital bills due to a disease I didn't ask for and couldn't prevent. 

So, after sitting for one too many seconds waiting for something to come to me for number ten I decided to stop. I'm sure there's more, it's just that (believe it or not) there's some stuff I really don't want to put on this blog and share on Facebook. 

It's wild to me that I started this thing at sixteen. I just recently turned twenty. Does anyone remember The Seventeen Year Old Missionary? I sort of miss that. TSYOM, writing all the time, yadda yadda. Now look at me, twenty and praying that I get paid enough to afford Christmas and birthdays hahah. 

Life, man. Maybe one day I'll be able to hop in a car and drive away, new things to worry about and new worst days lived. But for now I love you and goodnight. 

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

maybe the reason is hope

I believe that everything happens for a reason.

One week I was working at a camp and I got to have some serious one-on-one time with a person who was struggling with depression/self-harm. Years prior, I was her. I got to pour into her as a human being who actually understood, I got to share my testimony and maybe give her some hope. It struck me that evening. There's a reason for what I went through in that regard. Even if it was just to give that person hope, or to give them an ear they were comfortable talking to, I'd go through it again.

There will be beauty from my pain.

That mindset got put to the test as I hit the highway home from this camp. I arrived on scene of a car accident. I think a lot about those feelsy news stories where a group of people work together to make the end results of an accident turn out okay. We all tried. We can only try. It was a fatality and I was there to see it. What kind of good could come out of this?

Maybe the good is the testimony that I know there's a reason it happened. And I can hate that I had to be there for it. I can hate that it happened how it did. I can hate every aspect of that day and that circumstance and the healing that I so desperately needed afterward. But I've come to term with the knowledge that either one day I might see some positive that had sprouted from me being there on that highway, or that I might never see why I had to be there. Maybe I won't know until I meet Jesus. And I have to be okay with that.

There's a reason I have Cowdens Syndrome.
There's a reason. Maybe the reason for the negative is the ability to spread the positive. Maybe the reason for all of this is the ability to spread a much needed thing in this world. HOPE.

Thursday, May 11, 2017

I Was Listening to Sad Music After Midnight and This Is What I Came up With

Where even am I.

Toward the end of March your girl went and got herself a job. I work at a movie theater and I'm pretty sure it will be the best job I'll ever have. It's also neat to see how a place I've been going to for years actually works. I love it, I really do.

Every now and again I find myself fully realizing- I'm not going to be a summer missionary. It's weird for me. Like, really weird. I haven't had a summer to myself since I finished 10th grade. Now here I am. Three years out of high school and able to breathe. Sorta. Summer missions, much like everything else, was an extremely nuanced thing. For example- the book Looking For Alaska. Have you read it? They play this game called Best Day/Worst Day. While I'm fortunate enough to not have a set Best Day (life is good), I do have a Worst Day. To make it concise, it was tied to the job. But I'm working on seeing the good in the bad. Everything leads you somewhere. I could have missed out on something really great if I didn't experience what I did. It doesn't erase what happened, but it makes the "why" go away. Then there's days in summer missions where I got to see really beautiful things. It was mixed. It was really great at times and really bad sometimes as well. Would I suggest it to someone? Yeah. I would. This is God's plan, I'm just living in it (insert shrug emoji here).

I leave for Canada in eight days! My feelings about this are quite weird. It feels vaguely unreal? Like, I got my passport, it's paid off, I'm ready for it. Maybe it's how time has passed. I don't think winter really seemed like that long, daunting, never-ending cloud hanging over my head. Maybe it's just that things have changed. It used to be school school school, finals, short dance break, CANADA, summer missions, short mournful dance break, school school school. Now I'm feeling more workworkworkworkwork, friends, I actually bought groceries woah, oh yeah Canada! Don't get me wrong, though. Whitedog is still my favorite place in the world and I'm beyond ready to be back.

Soon, Wabaseemoong. Soon.

Monday, February 20, 2017

The Worst Day Encapsulated


This poem has been added to my endless library of things that tell my stories better than I do. 


The Madness Vase/The Nutritionist - Andrea Gibson

"The trauma said, 'Don't write this poem. 
Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones."
--
"There is no bruise like the bruise 
loneliness kicks into your spine
so let me tell you I know there are days
it looks like the whole world is dancing in the streets
while you break down like the doors of their looted buildings.
You are not alone
in wondering who will be convicted of the crime
of insisting you keep loading your grief
into the chamber of your shame.

You are not weak
just because your heart feels so heavy."
--
"What I know about living 
is the pain is never just ours.
Every time I hurt I know the wound is an echo,
so I keep listening for the moment the grief becomes a window,
when I can see what I couldn't see before
through the glass of my most battered dream
I watched a dandelion lose its mind in the wind
and when it did, it scattered a thousand seeds.

So the next time I tell you how easily I come out of my skin
don't try to put me back in. 
Just say, "Here we are" together at the window
aching for it to all get better
but knowing there is a chance
our hearts may have only just skinned their knees,
knowing there is a chance the worst day might still be coming

---


Tuesday, December 20, 2016

Dead Dreams & Friends

Here it is, guys. One of the best descriptions of our friendship. 

First of all, this is Maggie and yours truly. 

Maggie is such a memorable nerd that I can recall the exact day that we meant. Well, I might be able to recall it since it was my seventeenth birthday, AKA Our First Day Of College

I had started this blog the month before we met, for the partial purpose of chronicling my missions adventures, and by the 18th of August 2014, I had finished my first round of summer missions. Little did I know for the next two rounds I would be working with Maggie. 

Week 1.1

Middle Summer (Week 5?)

Debrief (end of week 10)

Oh, August 2015. How absolutely gross you were. Explanation throw-back blog post in this link to save time.

 Alright, friends. You see, Maggie and I have become The More Iconic Duo (sorry, internet humor) since working together for what was an extraordinarily long summer in 2015. Long hours and frustrating circumstance has made us better friends. Hey, gotta look for the good.
The two of us decided to jump in and be summer missionaries once more this year, and boy- what an adventure. 
The system that is a mission team can be quite interesting. On most teams there's the comic-relief, the one that the little kids crush on, the bossy, the "been there, done that," and boy- can I go on. But let me say this- Maggie is the comic relief. She can make any hard situation lighter. Instead of making this bit longer and heart-felt, I'll just tell you that every mission team needs a Maggie. 

We've seen each other through a lot. We've been right next to each other through the worst times. And- through these times, I've seen something about Maggie. She can translate her humor into her writing- and she does it SO WELL. Yet, in one moment, she can write the most real and heartfelt piece. 

Through our friendship, we've picked up some of each others likes and dislikes. I mean, she let me dye her hair and she made me into a bigger Beatles fan. We've sat next to each other on van rides all the way to Canada  

and all the way to a beautiful Florida beach. (Love you, Mexico Beach, FL) 


We've seen two of our favorite bands together. (Mountain Goats and Violent Femmes!!!)


Now, I've been known to bug people about making a blog- and if there is anyone worthy to bug regarding attaining one of these things, it's Maggie. As I've explained- she has something to say. For her to attain a platform like this would make for some indescribable reading. AND GUESS WHAT.

Finally I was annoying enough, and she caved. Maggie made a blog! You can find her HERE at Dead Dream Society.

At TRM you've gotten one side of the tale of the summer epic, but you can find another perspective on her blog. Check out her new post,

YOU WILL NOT BE SORRY.