Mornings and Afternoons and Evenings

I want a house on the outskirts of a little town, maybe near the ocean.  I want vintage furnishings in pastel colors like mint and lavender and grey.  I want natural light and fresh breezes.  I want wood floors and rugs and space to do yoga.  I want to walk into town on Saturdays and stroll and read and sip coffee.  I want mornings and afternoons and evenings with someone that I love.

I want to live not too far from the city.  Whether I work there or in town, either is exciting.  I want to be close enough to the places I like and the foods I love and find a new way to adventure as often as I can think of it.  I want love.  I want mornings and afternoons and evenings with someone that I love.

I want a porch with a swing and a yard with a lawn.  I want a garden with shade and a table for writing.  I want a hammock beneath the trees for napping and a chair for basking.  I want a dog to run in my yard and to play fetch from my porch.  I want mornings and afternoons and evenings with someone that I love.

I want travel.  I want trips to the zoo and museums and road trips to canyons I have yet to conquer.  I want music and color and poetry to fill my very being.  I want happiness.  I want to be overwhelmed with joy.  I want mornings and afternoons and evenings with someone that I love.


I just want to sit in reality with you
With someone
I just want to be washed over
Because as clean as I am, I will never feel clean
As my life changes, all I see is the dirt
The filth
The grime
And every time you say that it’s gone
That you don’t see it anymore
Every time that I start to forget
I am reminded of my stains
My old carpet soul
I am reminded that as much as I am wanted
I can never really be wanted
And as much as this might not be real
I constantly find it my reality


Trust.  It’s something I’ve talked about a lot.  I’ve talked about moving across the country and trusting God that it’s the right decision.  I’ve talked about how scary trust is sometimes.  I’ve probably talked about trusting people.  But I was recently confronted with a realization.

A close friend tried to promise something and I said I wouldn’t hold them to that.  They asked if I trusted them.  I told them that I was fairly certain I didn’t know what trust is.

And maybe that’s true.  That I don’t know what trust is.

Trust is defined as the “belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength” of someone or something.  It means to “have faith or confidence.”

Such a simple definition for such a huge concept.

Trusting God is hard, but it’s also the best decision, because he already knows the outcome.  Trusting a bridge when you cross it makes sense, because you’ve crossed it before, it has been crossed a thousand times.  We trust what we know.  We trust what makes sense.  We trust what we’ve experienced before.

But trusting people?  I’m pretty sure I forgot how to do that a long time ago.  Because people are forever changing.  If I look at my own life, a year and a half ago, I had no idea that I’d be living so far from where I grew up.  I didn’t know that I’d be starting my life over.  I didn’t realize that I would suddenly become an unknown.  So anyone who trusted that I would stay in Mammoth, or in California, or at least on the western side of the country ended up having their trust broken.
People have their own agendas.  So being close to someone, trusting someone, is one of the easiest ways to be let down in the long run.  As soon as my heart calls me somewhere else, I’ll probably leave, so if anyone comes too close, I’ll let them down.  And every time I am somewhere new, or around new people, I’m an exciting person, because I don’t really fit into any regular mold.  I am constantly surprising.  However, after a while, that gets old too.

I recently told someone that it’s better to be hated than to be passively ignored and forgotten.  Not a lot of people hate me.  But a lot have gotten over me.  That’s one of the things that I can really trust.

Sure, go ahead and prove me wrong.  I mean, it’s fine.  I’m fine.  I’m pretty much just over all the false promises.  And I fully understand that no one does this on purpose.  You can’t know the future when you say something in the present.
I promise to never promise something again.  Trust me.

Blogging Everyday in July|Is it Hopeless to be Romantic?

Someone asked me to blog about what it means to be a hopeless romantic.  Or maybe what I think the definition is.  Which is possibly one of those things that I can’t quite grasp, so I looked it up.  Google is telling me that a “hopeless romantic” is someone who loves love.  Someone who believes in happy endings.  Someone who wants a fairy tale.  Someone who won’t give up.  This makes me wonder, am I one?

I love love stories.  I love when my friends find their person.  It would be nice to have a person.  But currently, I’m enjoying discovering myself.  I don’t think I’m hopelessly romantic.  I don’t expect anyone to go over the top to chase me down or woo me over.  Life is not like the movies.  But whenever I get to hear a crazy story about something someone has done for the person they love, it makes me glad I’m alive.  Because I want a story.  I want an adventure.  But I want more than that.

Grand gestures probably exist.  But I think they’re rare in this day and age because people are so afraid of getting let down.  Most people spend so much time in the beginning of their relationship unsure if they’re actually in a relationship that they’re afraid to be romantic at all.  And I can’t think of anyone actually following through on anything romantic involving me.  That doesn’t mean that it’s something that belongs only in the movies though.

I think that by defining something as hopeless, we make it unreal.  We make it something that people are afraid to be a part of.  Why do a grand gesture to show how much someone means to you, how much you want to be with someone, if it’s hopeless?  Romance is not hopeless; at least it shouldn’t be.  It should just be romantic.

So maybe hopeless romantics don’t exist.  Because they’re all still hopeful.  Hopeful that the world will be a better place.  Hopeful that someone will love them back.  Hoping for a happy ending; or even better, no ending at all.


You were my escape
I was running away from everything
Giving it all up for you
Knowing you weren’t who I should be running to
But I was intoxicated
You were like a drug to me
And when you left I couldn’t breathe
As if you had taken all my oxygen with you

And after all this time
Even though spend so much time on my mind
I thought I had finally escaped you
Wanting only to move on to someone new
Maybe someplace new
Yet there is no one
And I’m still here
But I won’t let you have me again

The hardest part
Is that I’m sure you thought you had escaped me too
It’s me who had the final word
But your silence said it all
You’d never take me back
And that was okay in your eternal disappearance
So how dare you reappear

Now I know only that to truly escape you
I need to learn to let you go
I was never enough for you
You were never what I needed
I need to leave this place behind me
Before I do it all again

I’d throw all my inhibitions
Into this gusty wind
Giving you all I have left
As you drain me of all life
An untrustworthy vampire
That I could never quite escape


I was shaken
The hills reached out and grabbed me
Tried to strangle me
And I felt it

I could have stayed there
Frozen in time
Forgetting my purpose
Yet only for a moment
As I was drawn in

Yet I escaped
I believe
So I’m here now
Not myself
But someone, still

So I pray
Finding something else
As I’m lost in a new adventure
Hearing stories
Losing my own

Brokenness and Beauty

There is a lot of brokenness everywhere
We could close our eyes and point and some cracks would be revealed
And we could ask so many times how to fix this imperfect world
But is that really our job?

I think we might be focusing on the wrong thing
We only see the dirt, the grit, the grime
We are far too focused to see what is shining through the slime

There is a lot of beauty everywhere
Mountains that echo the voice of the Creator
Grass that grows without needing a command
Flowers that dress better than most people
And they don’t even have to try

Sometimes we catch glimpses of the human heart
Beyond all the anger and insecurities
And we can see passion and love and joy
We can see the stuff that can shift nations
But we have beat it down

There is a lot of forcing each other into silly molds
But we don’t all fit into molds
Our dreams are bigger, even though we’ve been told not to dream
But how did anyone get to any high place without first dreaming?
Dreams have purpose and they are beautiful

And where did these dreams come even come from?
Was there not a plan put into motion all those years ago?
Someone bigger, the biggest someone, had an idea, had a dream
We were his dream!
So maybe we should do more than just dream
And watch our feet so we stop stepping on each other’s dreams too

There is a lot of uniqueness everywhere
Creator was so creative in his individual creations that match nothing else
There is an infinite combination of features
In mountains, in forests, in valleys, in creatures, in us

So why, instead of seeing something beautiful in these variations,
Do we refuse to celebrate these differences?
But rather we made our own word U-G-L-Y
I think I’d prefer to be S-P-E-C-I-A-L

Yet we’ve found something wrong with even that
So we take beauty and make brokenness
And we find that there is a lot of brokenness everywhere
Searching for ways to fix it
Instead of realizing that it’s all our fault
And we could stop it if we wanted.