November 23, 2010

Playing Chicken with a Train

I challenged you to this race
A game of skill, a gamble if you will.
Neck and neck we kept the pace
The chance of a tie was nil.

You chugged along,
My engine strained.
Every sound: our competitive song
Our passion would not be tamed.

I ignored the warning lights ahead
Speeding faster to get there right by your side.
It was as if my tires were lead,
The crossing arms slammed down, as I arrived

And you, dear you, you kept on the go
And I, poor I, waited for a time
While searching for a way out, a tow
Away, away from the scene of the crime.

October 9, 2010

Admittance, Acceptance and Expectancy

"Children expect nothing, therefore they see everything."

Or something like that. I remember those days. When I really thought that if I made a wish at the exact moment underneath the San Diego Bridge I would turn into a unicorn, or a mermaid. Or even better a unicorn AND mermaid. I never even needed an imaginary friend because my adventures alone were so much better than I could share with someone who was imaginary. I explored a new profession everyday, hopping between countries like borders were only lines in hopscotch. Night time was nothing more than a chance to dream, a new morning nothing but an opportunity to put those dreams into play. 

Amalthea: But I'm always dreaming, even when I'm awake; it is never finished. 

And then, it changed. Suddenly my imagination didn't work the same way. Instead of something that enriched my daily life, it became an escape from my life. And somehow the sweetness of imagining was lost. Don't get me wrong, I still loved my time in the different world my mind had created, but it was a different enjoyment than ever before. 

Unicorn: I have forgotten that men cannot see Unicorns. If men no longer know what they're looking at, there may be other unicorns in the world yet, unknown, and glad of it. 

Then the days came when my imaginations were criticized. When it was no longer ok for a 14 year old girl to play dress up and be one of the Queen Anne's hand maidens. Those were the days that I found public school is nothing like the place I had pretended to attend. The days when I was told women couldn't be Navy Seals. The very day I discovered that just because I could jump around the room or battle Captain Hook like Peter Pan, didn't mean that I was immune to growing up as he did. 

Schmendrick: It's a very rare person who
 is taken for what he truly is. 

This was when I started to hide my imagination. I stopped writing in fear of my imagination being discovered. I worked towards more practical occupations such as Speech Therapy or a Legislative Secretary. I knew I would more than likely work for a few years, get married and have kids. I had hidden my imagination so far within me I forgot I had it.

Haggard: You may come and go as you please. My secrets guard themselves. Will yours do the same? 

One chilly October Day I began to write again. Ironically the day after I watched The Last Unicorn. My favorite childhood movie. Quotes from that movie pulled me back into a more complex time. Simple in my understanding of the world, complex in my curiosity of it. So I started to write. I wrote everything that had affected my writing and therefore lack of it. And the wall came tumblin' down. It is a subject I have written of often in the past year. My understanding of who I am, and my struggle to come to terms with it. 

Prince Lir: I wish you would ask something of me. 
Almathea: Drown out my dreams! Keep me from remembering whatever wants me to remember it! 

The other day I had an emotional, philosophical, drunken conversation with Robert. A guy next door who I can do nothing but admire for the grace he exemplified that night to me of his battle with his own emotional demons. I came away with many jewels of that conversation but one stands out the most and best serves the theory behind this blog.  I have to own who I am. Every last part of me. Take it and make it my very own. Forget the stereotypes or bias against that attribute, revamp it and show the world how great it can be. How great I can be. Scratch that. How great I am. I'm not saying its something I believe in, just yet. 

Molly Grue: But you do. You have magic. Maybe you can't find it, but it's there. You called Robin Hood, and there is no Robin Hood. You have all the power you need if you dared to look for it. 

I would rather just be someone else altogether. But I've been down that road. And it wasn't a pleasant or fulfilling one. I have yelled and I have scoffed. I have battled and I have run. I have won and I have lost. I have questioned the timing of events. And in the end, I have come to find that is all I could've asked for. As long as I'm still questioning I am still that little girl imaging a world wholly different than the one I'm experiencing now. 

Amalthea: Once, I can't remember, I was long ago, someone strange. I was innocent and wise, and full of pain. Now that I'm a woman, everything has changed. Once, when I was searching, somewhere out of reach, far away, in a place I could not find, or heart obey. Now that I'm a woman, everything is strange. 

Everything is strange now. Nothing is how I expected it to be. Everything is a question I yearn to answer. And someday...somehow that answer will come to me.
 In the end the dreams of my childhood will become the reality of  my adulthood. 

Molly: No, it can't be. Can it be? Where have you been? Where have you been? Damn you! Where have you been?  
Unicorn: I'm here now. 
Molly: And where were you twenty years ago? Ten years ago? Where were you when I was new? When I was one of those innocent young maidens you always come to? How dare you! How dare you come to me now, when I am this! 
Schmendrick: Can you really see her? Do you know what she is? 
Molly: If you had been waiting to see a unicorn, as long as I have... 
Schmendrick: She's the last unicorn in the world. 
Molly: It would be the last unicorn that came to Molly Grue. 

And so here I am. Writing on a blustery fall day, curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and embracing my whimsical mood. I always say that admittance is the first step to recovery, and maybe acceptance is the second step. And as Robert told me that night, expectancy is the third. So I will start expecting greatness in my life and I'll start expecting it of others too. So long I've thought if I didn't expect people to come through for me, I wouldn't be disappointed when the inevitable happened and they didn't.
How can I expect people to believe in me, if I am to afraid to believe in them? 

Prince Lir: No. My lady, I am a hero. Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen. A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever. A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story. 

August 26, 2010

Everest Bound

Ahh college. Student's faithfully trekking to class everyday. Frolf on the greens. Coffee at Margies. Beer pong. So far it's been a good experience.  I love my classes. I love trekking to my classes. I haven't experienced Frolf yet, or beer pong. But I have started joining clubs, meeting friends. It's been my dream college experience already. I love the structure, the late nights, the friendly people. Above all else I love how our campus feels like a family brought together by an allegiance to Clawz the Bear (GOOOOO BEARS!) I can't wait for September 4th. Our first football game. Everyone in blue and gold. Cheering on our football boys. It's..well great. You all know how big I am on patriotism, throw some football into the mix and I'll be a Bear for life. So I have to sit back and wonder where my anxiety came from. Why I didn't think I could handle this. Why I was so afraid to move to Colorado and do something new. And I realized...

I'm deathly afraid that I will be one of those girls who peaks in college.

I don't want that. I want to move higher and higher.. I want to be a lifelong learner. I want to always be learning something new. Always achieving something new. My first assignment for my English class was "What is Good Writing" I wrote my opinion and everyone I've asked about it tell me it's so far above the 120 level it isn't even funny. Some have even suggested with a little more meat to it, it's graduate level work.


Me? Capable of graduate level writing? psh. I dunno about that. I learned to write by...well writing. I've been at this blog for almost a year now. And that's all the "formal" writing I have done in years. I admit. I panicked when I considered this. Does this mean I'm already peaking? Is it all over from here? Well I don't know. I know I certainly have a lot to learn, and I know I can be better. 

Maybe that's enough.. recognizing my potential for greatness. Perhaps like in my paper, I can peak...and then move on to the next mountain's peak...Everest here I come!

(here's the writing btw. tell me what you think!_

To ask “what is good writing?” is like asking “why is blue your favorite color?” It is not as simple as asking “what is your favorite color?”, because it cannot be answered easily or with one word. It is not a straight fact that is true for everyone. Yes, you may find a group of people who like blue because of the ocean, or blue because of blueberries, but in that select group you will find each has a different “sub-reason” so to speak. It could be related to childhood memories, inherent desire or a reflection of their daily life. One could gather from this that the why of favoritism is directly correlated to the what of good writing. Both are relative to each individual, to their perception of imagination and its relation to reality.
A more simple definition may be that good writing has an effect on you. This can be in a positive or negative way. A piece of literature, no matter the form, may cause you to laugh or cause you to cry. Great writing on the other hand has a deeper affect in that it forces you to think, and this can eventually bring about a change in you.
I firmly believe that we can all become good, even great writers. For some it is an innate gift, for others it is an inclination that can be cultivated into a desired habit. All writing is a journey that involves diligence, encouragement and eventually reward. As you traverse the writing path you must accept the lessons in stride and apply them when you leap off of the highway of classical writing.  Here you will find that the mechanics of classical writing are still vital. Sentence structure and correct use of vocabulary still plays a part, however here you make a discovery. A discovery of the significance of your own thought, your own style and what your writing really means to you. When you reach the destination you set, you will be surprised to find that not only have you put your heart on the line, but you have put your heart down on a page. What started out as a rough dirt path quickly evolved into an interstate of discourse and thought. Here you realize that your destination wasn’t an end after all but a checkpoint along the way.
However the process is not as simple as I have described it. In reality you may need to scramble back up the bank onto the highway to establish a firmer foundation before traveling on. Writers block will waylay you along the way. Good writing grows from finding the joy in frustration. When you seek the joy in your frustration you find how your struggles have bettered you. It can be assumed therefore that writer’s block is a hidden joy that has bettered you.
Good writing rarely means good reading. Yes, mechanically and structurally it will be good reading. I simply mean that truly good writing is that which affects you deeply, whether by association or by confusion. To truly think and be changed your world’s axis must tilt and you must ascertain your own opinion. Whatever the genre of writing; fiction, biography or an essay, it must include a certain amount of confusion in its depth. In a society that requires being on the fast track, the confusion in good writing slows us down physically but mentally speeds us up. As we gain speed we learn more of why we are instead of what we are. That realization is the first step on a new journey. A voyage we all seek called living a life of challenge. 

August 1, 2010

And After All, You're Still My Wonderwall....

I haven't opened my journal since June 12, 2010. The date of my last blog. And when I opened it tonight I was surprised to find an unfinished letter. All it said was 
"Dear Katie Butcher,
Change is in the air. Can you feel it? And no it isn't Obama's change...."

I was so overjoyed to tell her of my decision to go to Greeley. Of my decision to move past Jeremy and really live the exciting challenging life that was before me. I think even then I was afraid to tell her and so I chose to write a letter...Because the spoken word is so often misunderstood, but in the time it takes to read a letter one can normally take the time to really get it.

However I never got the chance. I never finished the letter because I was busy at work with some Calvert Crisis and later than night she dropped by. I was so excited that I blurted out my news and I could literally feel the disappointment and the disapproval rolling off of her. The stony glare she gave me told me all I needed to know. She held all the cards and she knew it. I immediately doubted my decision because if she didn't approve...who would approve? Looking back I'm sickened that that was my response. 

Fast forward almost two months. I'd like to expound more on those two months... but it's not worth it to me. The biting words and immaturity is in the past, thankfully where it belongs. Partly it was serious busyness and partly I was just so over it, and over her it is now August 1, 2010. In 16 days I move to Greeley Colorado to pursue a degree in Journalism with a concentration in Public Relations and Marketing at the University of Northern Colorado. Not only is that a mouthful its a lifeful. 
Tomorrow at 10:30 a.m. I pick up long time friend Chris at the airport for three days
 full of tattoo's, long drives and concerts. 
I'm giving Ghost back to her owners.
I'm desperately searching for a home for Percy.
I'm starting to sand Brutto on Thursday so I can paint him.

So once again change is in the air. Can you feel it?

Everything in my life is changing. But I guess there will always be a twinge in my heart that makes me long for older more complex times. I'll always wonder how he is fitting into my life at the moment. When he is a jackass and rips his thumb to shreds I'll always cry and worry for him. That much hasn't changed. 

He will always be my wonderwall and I'll always wonder if he was supposed to be the one to save me.

There wasn't this pull a few weeks ago I swear. Until I heard his voice for the first time in week in that crowded parking lot in Loveland, Colorado. Or when I naively looked at the picture Eric showed me, my violent reaction of tears and the quick coverup of shouting "jackass!" was as much a surprise to me as anyone. When he came up in a recent conversation with a guest and  I looked away and closed my eyes his softly whispered words of "it still hurts doesn't it?" told me all I needed to know. 

I still love you Jeremy.

No matter how much you distance yourself from me, no matter how many reckless decisions I make and no matter how many boys I try to distract myself with; it's still you I think about when I'm not even thinking. Other guys may make me smile and my heart flutter, but on St. Patricks Day 2010, you became the guy to make all my butterfly's fly in synchronization unlike anyone else in this universe.  

 I know that isn't okay with you and that isn't how you wanted this to go. And it isn't how I wanted it to go either. To be honest I wanted you for your dangers, booze and body. That quickly morphed into wanting you for your quick wit, raunchy humor and your body. Before I could identify it, 

I wanted all of you, your brokenness, flamboyant heart and your understanding. 

Until you said those three fatal words I didn't realize how strong of a connection we had unknowingly built. Now I'm left with a desire that hasn't been quenched and invisible threads that tie us together. There are so many things I would like to say to you, but the most important has already been said. But that is so hard for me to accept that it won't change anything. 

I strongly believe that our words matter, spoken or unspoken, written or unwritten. 
For our words are a sound wave of the heart. 

But as much as those fatal three words mattered to me that rainy spring day and as much as they changed me, those same fatal words won't change you. They will matter, but they won't change anything. They can't change anything. So you keep telling yourself and so I keep repeating to myself 
like a broken record of chinese water torture.

Those words keep repeating over and over. 
"Your love doesn't change anything. Your love doesn't change anything."
But sometimes a spy from the enemy camp called my heart invades and softly whispers,
"why not?"
And for the briefest of interludes I am once again sitting in your truck with a pug chewing on my thumb as I stare into your eyes and listen to those three fatal words fall from your lips. Emery's teeth were the only thing I felt in the moments that followed, and so in what should have been the happiest moment of my life, all I remember is the pain of puppy teeth. And the needle falls back on track and the broken record starts again.

"Your love doesn't change anything. Your love doesn't change anything."

My love doesn't change you.But your love changed me. The fire in my heart was out. But an ember remained and it softly flickers in the dark. Even though the chinese water torture is ongoing, the water cannot help but reflect the light of the ember.

And after all, you are my wonderwall....

June 13, 2010

Life Don't Go How You Planned It

I fully believe that everything happens at a predestined time. Fate, if you will. If I'm upset but don't have the words to write, I don't force it. I wait for when the words flow easily. The correct timing will give words to the emotion and healing to the hurt. If a book doesn't draw me in, I put it back on the shelf. For another time, another day, another emotional chaos. Soon enough when I pick it back up the pages will speak the words that my soul cannot. If a movie doesn't feel "right" I wait to watch it. It never fails that when a movie does feel right, it will be "for such a time as this." 

Becoming Jane was such a movie. It was accidentally sent to me by Netflix 3 weeks ago when my number one choice wasn't available. Since then it has been carried around in my backpack disappointed that it wasn't my first choice. But last night was the night for it to be right. And how right it was. I'm always gungho for an "old fashiondy" love story. But this is the type of love story not often told, but just the type I needed to experience. 

*Spoiler Alert*

It doesn't end in love. At least not the kind you most often find in "books" (which I of course find wildly ironic) It's the type that you sneer at originally because you think "o. just another trite tale." then find yourself rooting that  the tragedy won't happen. That it will be trite again! That love will conquer all. That love will override the pride, the prejudice, and the standards. The type that when it ends you sit quietly and wish that Jane's ruined love is not foreshadowing your own. 

"A novel must how how the world truly is, how characters genuinely think, how events actually occur. A novel should somehow reveal the true source of our actions."

Maybe if more "creators" had this mindset we would grow up with a truly realistic sense of reality. Perhaps we wouldn't expect sunshine when rain is predicted, and then experience the hurt when the rain does indeed come. Life would be very different 
if we were raised in realism, instead of idealism. 

Jane wanted to write what she knew, the matters of the heart. Somehow her novels end up more "right" than her own love story did. 

"Mrs. Radcliffe: Of what do you wish to write?

Jane Austen: Of the heart. 

Mrs. Radcliffe: Do you know it? 

Jane Austen: Not all of it. 

Mrs. Radcliffe: In time, you will. But even if that fails, that's what the imagination is for. 

Even so I wish it weren't so. From an idealistic standpoint it is unjustifiable. But to be broken hearted and alone? That is real and understandable. I don't know why it was so. I just know it was. Becoming Jane was oddly refreshing in that it reminded me that the condition of my heart is not a new or solitary one. Many woman before me have experienced it, truly since the beginning of time. The tragic lives of lady Victorian authors has always been near and dear to my heart ever since my mom
introduced me to Jane Eyre. 

Life is tragic.
Life is hard.
And life doesn't go how you plan it.

Sometimes I trick myself into thinking that if I don't plan, or dream I can't be disappointed. But I now know that strangely, not living is a more painful disappointment than the first. To not live vicariously is an injustice I commit of my own volition. And injustice is a bittersweet pill I have swallowed to many times before. 

Dad whispered in my ear the other day that I need to feel free to do whatever I want. To not march behind anyone else and essentially to do hard things; no matter the possible end result. I know people have told me that all my life, but I don't know if I ever really believed that I could be the girl who went for it all. I had expected that life would go as planned, the plan I thought I wanted. I would lead a perfect high school life, I would proceed to college immediately and get an unknown but useful degree. I would marry young, have lots of babies and live out the rest of my life in a planned way. I would die at a grand old age. 

I haven't accomplished any of that, and I'm not sure I want to. Life up until now hasn't convinced me that is the way to go. Plans go awry. Really, my relationship with Jeremy has me convinced that the status quo isn't for me. The trite sayings and the things I was supposed to say and supposed to feel that wasn't me. And I suppose that became clear to all of us on
April 12, 2010.

I want more out of life than love. I want it all. And if it means living a crazy, solitary, degree-less, early death life? I'm ok. I really am. Because that means I lived "life unexpected". 

I regret much of life up until now, because I have constantly done, thought, felt; what I thought I was supposed to. I lived in fear that if I didn't meet the benchmarks I would never have another chance. No more. I have a bucket list and I'm going to accomplish it all. -by golly- (<---felt that was necessary) Without fear. Because even if I fail, I still did it. I started it. Which is more than I can say for my life right now. So I'm going to work and transfer in January to UNC for prevet. Or maybe I won't. Maybe it will be criminal justice or theatre. Maybe I'll work my way through Europe; scrubbing dishes for my next train ticket. Or maybe I'll settle in Helena and work my way to the very top in the legislature. Or maybe I'll fall and move back in with mom. But I'll get back on my feet and try again, and again and again. If that is what it takes to live my dreams, then it's ok. 

But, like I suspect, so many writers I can be braver on this page than I can in life. But life doesn't go as we plan it. Love doesn't last we expect it to. We must prepare for loss and the fact we may never get it back. Whether "it" is our jobs, our love or our sanity; the truth is the same. We may need to branch into another work force. He really won't ever come back, but your next lesson dressed in wranglers will come along and it will be an epic love story that may not end. And sanity is relative to individual situation. 

So silent friend I often challenge you to greatness 
but this time,
 I challenge myself. 
I'm ready for life, and I'm ready for it to not go how I plan. 

June 8, 2010

Grasping At Straws and Empty Arms

Written June 1, 2010

Although years and years have passed, I almost started this blog with "dear silent friend" just as I did in my early years of high school. I guess it's fitting since these are the final pages in my composition book; that I'm also putting every remnant of childhood behind me and jumping into adulthood headfirst, eyes closed...but I forgot to plug my nose. 

I bought my first truck this week. I've been living on my own for two months now. I'm paying more bills than ever before, enjoying being a workaholic and all else that comes with newfound maturity. Notice dear readers, I don't say freedom. I guess I haven't been able to fully enjoy it yet, or haven't wanted to? I have to much to prove and so little time to prove it. In spite of all the responsibility of being an adult, or perhaps because of it, I still feel like a lost little girl. I want nothing more than to crawl into my daddy's lap and cry like I once did. Back when my biggest worries were my friends getting cell phones and Bridger liking Abby. A daddy hug made everything okay. But now? I can't crawl into daddy's arms and cry over being heartbroken. Because I broke my daddy's  heart when my impetuosity made a decision for me. I learned tonight that when he arrived home to my empty room he sat on the floor and cried for hours. It's not that I regret my decision perhaps my regret is for how I went about it, or maybe I just want to have my cake and eat it too. My regret is that I was not there when he cried in my empty room.  Maybe if we had cried in each others arms we would have had all the strength we needed to move forward. I'm grasping at straws...and empty arms.

Instead we are sugar coating it, being distant and acting like we aren't hurting. Like we don't miss being around each other. I miss his dumb jokes, when he would do that chicken neck thing that made me dizzy. I miss when my first boyfriend broke up with me; he handed me an ax and told me to take out my hurt on the logs we were splitting. I miss our early morning ski trip traditions.
"Any advice dad?"
"Don't die."
I miss the rare occasions when I would wake up early, creep downstairs and sit next to the fire with him as he read his Bible. There I would lay my head on his shoulder and we would talk about all that life had to offer. I wish I had woken up earlier more often...I even miss our discussions on horse training and never agreeing on how much contact was correct. I miss blue striped shirts, one finger waves and that smile that George Straight ain't got nothin' on. 

Truth be told that as hard as that wedding was from a Jeremy perspective, it was more gut wrenching when I tried to imagine walking up that long aisle alone. To have to give myself away. When Kaylin's dad stood up and performed the ceremony I didn't think my heart could hurt worse, but when he broke down crying I wasn't sure I would be okay. 

I miss you daddy. I miss your future schemes and memories. I still want you on my arm that fateful day when I finally walk up that aisle. 

But I don't think I'll ever be ready for you to give me away. I want to always be your only little girl.

Even when I ruin everything daddy, even then.

I'm sorry
I love you. 


May 30, 2010

Wedding Confrontations

Weddings, weddings weddings. You may as well say "misery! misery! misery!" Katie and I took off to Wyoming this weekend to go to a close friends weddings. We both needed the break from life as usual, specifically Lewistown. An escape from all that life has been in the last seven weeks. I wanted to "run away. run away. just get on a fucking train and leave today." I needed to leave family, Jeremy and my numerous other woes at the Montana state line and just...heal. And I do think this weekend set the healing into motion. I was confronted with all that I can't figure out in my head and my soul. 

As I watched the groom lead his parents up the aisle I was completely ambushed with the thought that if this were Jeremy's and  my wedding everything would be the polar opposite. He would not be escorting his parents up the aisle. Jason would not be his best man. In fact I suspect the entire right side of the aisle would be empty. They say you don't just marry a man, you marry his friends, family and heritage. I was shocked at the injustice of him losing all of that because of a simple thing called love. It's...cruel...

As the ceremony progressed I noticed all the parts of a wedding I have always taken for granted. The opening prayer reminded me that God would have no place in our ceremony. A covenant established by God Himself, and He would not be welcome. The location made me thankful I want an outdoor wedding so we would not have to quibble over what church would allow a "heathen" wedding ceremony. As the ceremony went on it became more and more of a blur of all the things that would go so very very wrong. I grieved that the most important day of my life as the pastor mentioned, aside from the day I accepted Christ, would have to be plotted out minute by minute to equalize all the religious aspects. And then the words that came next shattered my mind and heart, for the fight I still desired to maintain.

"till death are we separated" 

A twist on the more traditional "till death do we part", it still brought home the point that no matter who is "right" in this, we would still be eternally separated by death. 
Love on this earth is beautiful, powerful, sustaining to life and most importantly it was created to be eternal. To outlast our strivings and our pain. The only thing we carry with us from this earth to our eternal existence. 
I know we have no tears in heaven. I have to wonder if that soul tie we have held onto all our lives would have us standing at Abraham's bosom trying to reach across the dimensions to feel just one last electrifying touch for the rest of eternity? We are eternal beings and our love that we share so joyously on earth is eternal also. Eternal but never enough. 

The power of love alone can not bridge the gap between two souls with a different outlook, of eternal significance. Just as it could not bridge the gap between our souls on this earth that rainy spring day. In this case love does not conquer all. 

Love conquers our fears and our tribulations. We can live on and we will live on. And one day, love on. But to conquer doesn't mean to change in the way we expect. Life's battles are a mystery, and this Sherlock in training is going to solve it. 

One wedding at a time. 

May 27, 2010

I'm Gonna Go Eat Worms

I honestly haven't the faintest idea where my heart is right now.Like a recent tattoo I have seen it's like I look down to where to my heart should be and it's just a gaping hole. I wish I had put a tracking device into my heart so I would remember where I lost it, or find out the culprit of who stole it. I got called into work again today and it's almost like it's on purpose. Like I'm being forced to face my sorrows and where they all began. 

I don't understand how it is possible that he the one who was so incredibly in love up until a few short weeks ago is already dating someone new. (Or old? leftovers... that's a blog for another day I think) I was the one who wasn't in love and was so okay, and now I'm the mess. Typical? I suppose. What happened? What am I missing? I feel now like these past seven weeks have been an absolute lie. From the moment, and I'm sure even before he told me he was in love with me he was lying. I even lied. Heck we all lied. Maybe if we all go eat worms we can fix it just like we did when we were kids. Some are saying I dodged the bullet of Jer-Bear, or maybe it missed me but either way for him to tell me loved me and now he's dating someone else... that just isn't right. That isn't love. Lust? Confusion? Excuses? Whatever the basis of his declaration it was a lie. (Haven't I yet learned that declarations from men never end well?) I've been too blind to see it for what it is, or isn't. A fling? A happenstance? A rock thrown though this glass window of a heart? All I ever wanted was honesty. Remember? "Just another sip of honest Jack." That is the only thing I asked of him and somehow it was to much to ask? Where is the justice in that? 

I found a quote on my old facebook today and it reminds me that as I said in another blog 
"every heart leaves a different mark"
It's true and yet it isn't. Even though every relationship is different they are all really the same. 
They all come down to love and hate. It is which side comes out on top that classifies the relationship as a success or a failure. 

I had said "I don't know what hurts worse being in love with someone and knowing that they don't love you back or learning to hate that same person and knowing without a doubt that they never loved you at all."

Katie in her infinite wisdom said 
 "It's when you love them and hate them at the same time and knowing they don't give a damn either way."

I don't know which category I would put Jeremy in. All? None? I know there must be application of those three categories to him, I'm just having trouble fitting all these pieces together. He sounded so lost on the phone and I was so livid. My hands were shaking; I couldn't breathe. I know that if he had been standing in front of me I would've beat the living tar out of him. And that scares me, to know I'm capable of that... scares me. I guess I realized the mindgames he was playing when he told me that he would be calling me back and if I didn't want to talk to him I didn't have to answer it. Of course I want to! Deep inside is this little girl that still believe things work out in the end. She will probably always hold out hope that we can talk and gain a mutual understanding and be blissful together. So when he says that it's essentially my choice, that girls heart soars that means I can change things! I can do something about this! If I just answer that phone call, the pieces will all fall into place and off to Ever After we could be. But if I don't answer the call we may never work things out. And then... it's on me? Right? Katie affectively 2x4ed me into perspective (at least a healthier one) when she said "I wouldn't answer until he called back twice. three times. five times. hell TWENTY times." And I said " but.. he won't call back again after the first" Her raised eyebrows told me all I needed to know of her response. I know it would've been an "exactly!" And God.. for the first time it was clear to me, if he gives up after the first phone call he will never fight for this. Just like he never fought for us in the first place. Just like he happened to fall enough out of love to move on. It doesn't make him a gentleman as I originally thought. No, it only makes him weak and unwilling. I think I can go as far as to say uncaring. I'm tired. I don't have the fight left in me. Not only is the ball in his court now, but he can have the entire damn gym to himself.

I'm done. I'm not here. I'm not available. 
I don't have the time nor the heart for pushovers.
 If you can't stand up to me you can't stand up for me
Rebound? Probable. But I can read the writing on this wall now.

March 6, 2010

Hope Deferred and Hope Re-Awoken

It amazes me how God sends along some hope right when you're about to give it all up again. I say again because this wouldn't be the first time I have just wanted to forget everything and fall into an easier life. Sometimes I have given in. Sometimes I have been distracted at that last critical moment. And once or twice I have outright said no. Out of guilt, fear or a combination of both. Last night I had a stunning revelation as my old friend and I talked. What would I do if I was given the chance to be his again. (mistake me not. He wouldn't be mine) I don't know. I really don't know what my reaction would be. I told Katie that I almost want to be locked into a room with him and say "Give me your best shot big boy." And see what I would do. See if I'm repulsed or attracted. If I take the first shot or the first step into his embrace. Last night in the early morning light I was willing to drop it all, just so I would finally know. I was willing to go back to revert to that girl again, just so I would gain an understanding of what really went on.
I was willing to turn my back on God,
for one more moment of pleasure, 
seeped in a thousand moments of pain.

And then tonight, before I had the chance to make good on my hasty decision I started to talk with him. About God. Traveling. Dogs. Math. Music. And I smiled big. I fairly well danced out of the office to my pickup. And then he called. I picked up without a moments hesitation, no calling bluffs needed. No big push. I just answered. I laughed. I joked. I laughed. I was myself. And we talked about God. Work. Mcdonalds. Triple X Church. Now we're talking again. Deeply. No awkward silences. Notice the recurring theme? God. Yep. That's right. Crazy Backslidden Emily talking about God. But guess what? He admits he's crazy too. 

I know. I sound crazy. twitterpated. infatuated. silly. I'm just... joyful. Really and truly joyful.Thankful already so thankful that God saw fit to put you into my life through Regent. For hope? Trust? Joy? Math help? All of the above? I don't know yet, but I'm excited for this overwhelming joy. I hope it has come to stay. It's has been to long since I was joyful. 

Last night I read a letter I wrote to Jared a few years ago. I talked about Proverbs 13:12. How hope is confident expectation. And to "defer" is to give up. So if you defer hope, you have no one to blame for your sick heart but yourself. Tonight the second part of the verse takes on special meaning. I understand now what it means to desire hope and how it brings life to your heart. Like rain to a withered tree. 

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, But when the desire comes, it is a tree of life.  

It's a truly beautiful thought. A thought to hold onto for eternity.

What a difference hope makes in the heart of man. Or a woman. 

February 27, 2010

A Wild Call And A Clear Call That Cannot Be Denied

I guess I always thought that with enough time the wounds would heal. Or with a grand gesture all would be forgotten. That they would see my heart for what it is now, instead of what it was then. But the truth is; time doesn't heal every wound. And grand gestures are often an embarrassment.

I have had the luck or the grace to live a life with relatively few regrets. Don't misunderstand me, I do regret many decisions, but most of them I learned from and others I have the rest of my life to try to fix and fulfill. But the few regrets I do have I don't know how to fix. It has been over five years. Time hasn't healed those wounds. The grand gestures were left unnoticed. No matter how much I apologize it does not seem to make a difference. Perhaps they are still deeply hurt, but my real fear is that they simply don't care anymore. Our friendship was deep and true. But, it was young. I do admit I was young and I didn't understand life or love, or what either of those things entailed. I was in an ivory tower of my making. And I would be damned if the world tried to show me any other way. I peeked into that mirror and if I didn't like the glimpse of the world I saw, I just wouldn't look again. I won't go as far as to say I was dumb, because I don't think I was. However, I did lack wisdom and mercy. I was prideful. I somehow thought that no matter what went on or what I did, they would come back. How very wrong I was. Five years later and nothing but a meaningless facebook friendship. I wish I could somehow get through to them. That I could SCREAM my regret and my longing. That somehow I could hand them my very heart and say "See! I have changed. I have grown! I really have! Please. Please. Trust me!" But I understand their hearts for theirs are so very much like mine. Why trust someone who hurt you badly, even if it was blind and unintentional? Yet no matter how much I understand them, I still wish with every ounce of my being that it was different. 

They moved on. Happily and yet I have learned with great hurt. We promised "BFFL!" (best friends for life!" But I wasn't there. I moved on. Happy for the most part. Also with great hurt and many lessons. They weren't here. Our "BFFL!" promise was limited to life. A different life in a different town.

Perhaps I learned to not limit my relationships for you never know what form that limit will take. 

I have often wondered where I get my deep feelings, my lust for life and all the emotions that comes with it. After reading Christy by Catherine Marshall I think I understand. Feeling deep is in my very blood, in my heritage. My grandmother was from Arkansas and my ancestors before that from England and Scotland. The stories that have been passed down are so like the sentiments in this book. Reading the following quote seemed to open me up, lay me bare and then sew me back together. Each stitch tightening my skin and my understanding of self. 

"Now I understood why these mountain people were shy with strangers. 
They had never learned the citified arts of hiding feelings or smiling when the heart was cold. Friendship was dangerous to them because they had built up no protection against it."

I never learned any other way. I love deeply and I loathe deeply. I heal deeply and I hurt deeply. I feel deeply and most of the time I wouldn't have it any other way, for it is my heritage that I so recently longed for. Our friendship was dangerous to me. I came to find out I had no protection from the hurt, for I had no experience with hurt in our friendship. Up until that time it had been sunshine and rainbows. But at some point it has to rain and sometimes the sun doesn't shine at the correct angle to create a rainbow. I couldn't deal with our friendship taking on this new aspect. And only recently have I been able to lay blame where it was supposed to be. At my feet. The blood is on my hands. 

I'm sorry seems inadequate. As does time or any gesture. Life isn't a novel and maybe our chapter doesn't have a happy ending. But it does have a lesson, and I suppose to ask for anymore would be selfish.

January 26, 2010

Soul Mates in Oblivion

It's late and I'm thinking of you. There is something about this darkness that reminds me of you. Of who I was with you. of you and me. Some days I think I was happier when we were together or even those rainy springs days before we were together. Tonight I closed my eyes. A blink. Just a moment and I was immediately traveling back in time. My journey screeched to a halt on the day I got home from San Diego. We hopped on a 4-wheeler and drove up the valley. I think I fell for you when we hit that tree. In that very moment it was all over for me. No going back. It was perfect. It was just how I imagined it to be. I wished for that moment to never end. I wished that I would always have my arms wrapped around your chest. 
That we would always laugh. That whenever we looked in each others eyes we would know and we would understand. But we turned that 4-wheeler along and our moment passed.

It was our beginning. I'm glad I do have moments like that to look back on and think at one time we were happy. Before we allowed other friends drama to create drama in us. Before our physical reality overtook our emotional reality. Before my insecurity and your naivety clashed together. Before... well life smacked us and we crumbled. I sit here looking back and for the first time I can admit it was never "us" that was good. It was never you or me that was wrong. It was you and me... separately that was great. It is "us" that was never worth missing or fighting for. And here's the next truth. I miss you. I miss the boy who rode that 4-wheeler with me on that rainy spring day. Our love was easy then. It was understood. It was "you redneck? me redneck! Lets redneck." And that's all there was to it.

I don't want to delve into our past anymore. At least the "us" area of our past. We both made mistakes and I would like to think we both learned from those mistakes.
Looking back is futile and it is ignorant.

Futile for our inability to change the past.
Ignorant for our thinking that our past dictates our future. 

If we don't learn from history we are doomed to repeat it. Even worse, if we focus on looking back to our past we leave our back open to the dangers of an  undefendable future. So here's my lesson for the night.

"Don't look back. Just keep looking forward to the next thrill. 
The next lesson. The next passion. 
The next quest. That is satisfaction."

A soul mate is one who challenges you. So yes, you were indeed my soul mate. You challenged me to learn who I really was. To march to the beat of my own drum and to thumb my nose at the orchestra standing next to me. You challenged me to move on. Alone. To be lonely. And to be ok. You were my soul mate. The soul mate for the lesson I needed to learn.
And yet not the soul mate.

Thank-you. And I miss you.

Ignorance isn't bliss. It is oblivion.

January 22, 2010

An Unsent Letter

Last year I made a very obvious statement about “washing away the affairs of the past”.  At the time I considered it to be my final goodbye to Jared and all he was to me. As the car wash scrubbed on the mud on my truck I could also feel it scrubbing on my heart. As I drove away my heart fairly squeaked with the closure of a clean truck and a clean outlook.

They say that admittance is the first step to recovery. I often wonder where I am in that journey towards recovery. For the most part I have moved past the anger, hurt and regret. Some days I don’t even think about it. The days I do remember are still hard. Some days I seethe with anger. Some days I wallow in the hurt. And then the days come that the regret and embarrassment suffocate me. Thankfully with the more time that passes, the more days there are between. It has now been over a year since our official breakup. A year and a half since the beginning of our end (or any other trite phrase to describe the beginning of pain)

And then there are other days where I can sit back and relive the past without reliving the emotions of the past. Today has been such a day. I had embarked on a mission to clean out my closet, and I was already two trash bags into the mess when I found a letter from Katie dated Oct-13-2008. Judging by the letter we had had a disagreement/misunderstanding (as only Katie and I can) over nothing really. (mushrooms dammit mushrooms!) I stuck my head down the rabbit hole and remember the day I received the letter distinctly. It was in the middle of my “dark days of depression”, not that that is any excuse at all. I was aggravated all over again. After all I didn’t want to hear anything but what I thought I wanted to hear. What that was at the time I don’t even know. Looking back all I see is how self-centered I was. So self-centered I caused her hurt. Not intentionally, no not at all I just couldn’t work 
past my broken heart enough to see anyone else's brokenness.

Reading over the letter and my subsequent reply, I can’t even recognize the person I was. In that dark time I didn’t care if I lived or died. I went to work in a haze. I slept in a haze. I even cried in a haze. I pushed everyone away in desperate hope that they would love me enough to push back into my life. Jared did for a  time. He repeatedly (according to this letter, I don’t remember) tried to assure me that he loved me for me and didn’t want a “brunette bobbisue clone”. Katie repeatedly told me how much she loved me just as I am. In my reply I told her how my dad had told me how proud he was of me and I didn’t understand how anyone could be proud of me. I was worthless! Why couldn’t anyone else see it?

In the end of her letter Katie said “Why would you say “I’m so depressed” and how can you be okay with that? Why do you insist on being down? You are an amazing girl. Let nothing stand in your way…. You are a strong girl! Present that to the world!" I wish I could say that in the year since she wrote this that I had taken her words to heart and had worked through these issues and in fact I had planned on saying it. However, when I think on these last few weeks I see just how much I lie to myself about how ok I really am. Just the other day I caught myself thinking that if I didn’t have to tip-toe around Katie, constantly worrying about annoying her; we would have the perfect friendship. Then I read this letter and remember she has seen me at my very worst and still cared enough about me to write me a letter telling me how much she loved me despite my faults. Wait Wait! She knows my faults, understands I’m far from perfection and hasn’t run a million miles per hour in the opposite direction? How can this be? I’m sure that you, my dear reader already have this figured out. She flat out says “you are the biggest drama queen I know. 
But I love you despite all that."
It isn’t just with Katie but all other friends, family and relationships. I automatically assume that if I make a mistake they will write me off as a screw-up. If they aren’t expressing their amusement they must think I’m an idiot, or they must be angry with me. My inadequacy stares me in the face and I wake up every morning with the reality of how incompetent I am. Someone wise once told me “You are only as incompetent as you let people tell you, you are.” Maybe the deeper truth is that I’m only as incompetent  as I assume people think I am. Insert any other disparaging adjective and this truth holds true. 
Novel concept eh?
These past few pages reveal so much of the behind the scenes of my issues with anyone in the past year. I wonder how I possibly thought I was okay. Because the truth is, I’m not okay, but then again who really is?  I’m still broken and I’m still trying to heal. This letter opened up a new area of brokenness to me. Where I had previously stuck a piece of duct tape, this letter ripped it off and has opened it up to healing air. 
In reply I said something not as much for then but really for now “I have learned independence and although it’s a lonely place; it’s where I need to be right now." I’m lonely it’s true. I don’t have any friends left in town and nights like New Years only reminds me of how lonely my days really are. Yet, it has also been a time for me  to read old letters, consider past mistakes, and grow through present hurt.
That is true healing and I’m thankful for it.

Liberty Perseverance and Promise

Written Jan-7-2010

"You have no right, heritage or memorial"

I was thinking of this verse today as Katie and I toured around her ranch. She had a name for every field, dam and rock (well. almost) And she had a few stories for each of those too. All of this made me ache for an upbringing such as she was gifted with. I sat and wondered if she knew how very blessed she is in that. I don't have a piece of land I can lay claim to. I can't take my friends out to "the ranch" and name off every field. My heart aches a new ache at this realization. I want so very much to stake a claim and start making memories. To develop a right. To pick up some stones and make a memorial to my hard work.
Perhaps my writing is my memorial. And the air I breathe is my right.

But paper can burn and air is only good for the first breathe and then it is just a chemical of no use. 

What of my heritage?

Outside of Katie's ranch there is a sign that says "Butcher Ranch, Established 1929". That is a heritage, or at least the beginnings of it. Tonight we watched Good Will Hunting. I pondered Will's heritage for most of the movie. An extremely abusive foster father was all he had to look back on. But he had the chance to be better.  I thought of my dad and his fathers and his fathers father and even further back. Each of them continued to make the mistakes of his own father, even though they too had experienced the brunt of those mistakes. That is my heritage. It isn't exactly something I would want to put on a sign for all the world to see.

Do I have the chance to better? Do I have the chance to be different? Do I have the chance to establish a heritage my children's children can be proud of? I believe I do. Fear threatens to overtake my passion. That voice whispering in my ear tells me it isn't so, that I cannot overcome predestination and genes. Is the desire to have a heritage right and memorial enough? To at least start on a path I can be proud of? Can I rebuild my section of the wall and move on, better and different? Something tells me deep inside that I can, it is possible, if I can keep this tight grip on my dreams and promises. If I promise myself here and now that I do want a right to my blessings, a memorial to my hard work and a heritage that I can display for the world to see.
Then I can indeed have it.

Perhaps I am overly optimistic.
But if I didn't believe these words I would be a hypocrite.
Today I told Janae that she can do anything that she sets her mind too.
Maybe this is my anything.
My all or nothing.
My first brick in the wall that is to be my future.

Liberty is a soul's right to breathe. 

That doesn't mean inhaling diesel exhaust mixed with sewer fumes, but breathing in the sweet aroma of freedom and the opportunity to rise above genes, habits and addiction. To be the best you that you can be. In fact, even better. I don't know what my best is, or what my better than best is.
I do know this, it is out there.  

And my soul is ready to breathe. 
To breathe in Liberty, Perseverance and Promise. 

January 16, 2010

A Camel's Freedom of Speech

God can (will) bring healing from pain, good from evil and justice from injustice. It is a tragedy but I firmly believe that out of tragedy great opportunity is often available.

Said by me in a discussion on my facebook status (wants to know what Pat Robertson did that has everyone flipping out. *head shake*) a few days ago. It's a motto that I try to live by whether it be my personal lemons or a national tragedy I do believe that God can bring the good out of any situation. He's not exactly a half-empty kinda guy. Anyways, that's beside my point. Here's the facebook convo (yes, names protected)


he said that Haiti brought the earthquake upon themselves by making a pact with the devil.

Protagonist (aka. me):

I'm sure it wasn't worded that way... interesting


no it was more or less, youtube it. I saw the clip like 10 times this morning


My mom just told me what he said, there was a lot more to it than a pact with the devil. *shrugs*


IMO, it doesnt matter what he said afterward he still said essentially b/c of their pact with the devil, they are a cursed country. The man needs a filter


Basically what he says is that after the French Revolution the Haitian's used the occult to get rid of the French in their country. He never directly says they are suffering the consequences of their "pact with the devil". He asks for a blessing over the Haitians that they will turn back to God. I can't state an opinion since I haven't researched Haiti and it's religions but I don't think Pat Roberston deserves to be mauled for his beliefs. It's called Freedom of Speech people. And whoever said (not one of you but the video I watched) that Pat Robertson is using the money for his own organization is so full of it, it disgusts me. I'd like proof of that slander please.


"ever since (the pact with the devil to remove the french) they have been cursed..." when hearing that, its essentially the same thing as saying they are suffering consequences of the pact. Hence why the media and the country is in an uproar over his comments.


I didn't take his comment that way.

*shrugs* it's whatever floats your boat I guess. All I'm saying is that I would like to see a little more equality so to speak. I know of many politicians or people in the spotlight that would NEVER be attacked for saying something to that affect.

It all depends on your belief system. To a non-christian/atheist/agnostic/Buddhist etc; it would be considered offensive that one would be judged for their actions against a Sovereign God. For those who are part of a faith that believes in one God (or many Gods? I haven't considered this aspect of it) who submits to a "Greater Source of Wisdom" it is not far fetched to believe that there are judgments to be had when one chooses between good and evil.

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."


I think anyone who would say something like that about a country in crisis would be attacked, regardless of belief system.

Protagonist the Second:
Ok seriously, I think his comments are uninformed, but not altogether so out there considering religion as a whole. Certain, I won't say fanatical, but exceedingly devout members of almost all religions want to divide everything into an "us" and a "them". The "us" is following the true way, the way to salvation, and the "them" is following evil. Some religions then see the "them" to be destroyed, others to "teach" them the correct way. From that stand point, his view is not altogether that shocking. There were extremist Muslims thinking the same thing about us for September 11th.

I don't think he thinks his statements are an attack on the Haitian people. I think he believes that this is a crisis, but an opportunity to help the people come to God. I do not agree with his statement, and I feel that it is naive, but I do not feel that it was meant to be an attack. 

And I have to agree with Emily that not everyone would be attacked for statements that were seemed against a country in crisis. I think at the moment, such Christianity is deemed very unpopular by the American majority and by most other countries, so his statements are MUCH more likely to be attacked. Statements of the same magnitude could be made by other groups and get away with much less negative attention. It's all about sensationalism.

This is why I think Pat's statements were altogether naive, but not necessarily malicious: Yahoo News Link


Emily, that woman bugs the hell out of me every time I watch that show. She needs to lay off of the uppers. I couldn't say it better myself, so I won't even try. Sensationalism is the best word to describe this whole mess. And that was a great article too. I think the point that needs to be made on my part, is that God can (will) bring healing from pain, good from evil and justice from injustice. It is a tragedy but I firmly believe that out of tragedy great opportunity is often available.


 The more I wrote the more passionate I got. I wasn't angry. I wasn't upset. I was just back into my debating apologetics mode, and let me tell you IT FELT GOOD.  I stood by my morals, my opinions and my passion. I'm sure I have now been written off as an extremist. But I honestly don't care. Why? Because I realized something. I am extremely passionate about the Bill of Rights, specifically the First Amendment. At that moment I knew immediately what I needed to write my Admissions Essay for Regent on. I started writing and in less than 15 minutes I wrote a kick ass essay, something that has taken me 5 months to even try to outline! Within the half-hour I had proofread it and sent it off. It may not be my best work, but it is something I'm very passionate about. And my hope for this essay was for my heart and my desire to learn to show through. So here it is folks!

I chose to apply to Regent University not only because of its high academic standards, but must importantly because of its’ motto. A motto that I have lived by for all of my life and aspire to follow in greater ways throughout the rest of my life. “Christian Leadership to Change the World.” This phrase excites my heart as I consider all that I can learn to accomplish through Regent.

As I have been interested in Politics since I was young, I have seen the great need for Christian Leadership, in my local state and federal government. I have a great desire for the world to be changed for Christ’s Kingdom, and I have come to understand not only can a straw break a camel’s back but it can also lend support and bolster the camel into new heights. Our world will not be changed by one strong individual but when one individual spreads Christ’s love to another and that person to another we have then sparked a change. This is the change I wish to see not only in my personal life but in our government. As I consider all that I have seen Regent’s graduates accomplish I cannot help but feel that Regent University can offer me all that I need to reach this personal goal of spreading the Good News into my government.

In my Graduation Speech I spoke on this same manner. Gaining inspiration from my work in the Montana State Legislature as a personal intern and the Word of God I came to realize all that we have of lasting value in this world is the legacy of our words. The constitutional right of  freedom of speech is a gift that we have all taken for granted, therefore my second goal is to defend this liberty. What path that goal will take I do not know at this time, however I strongly believe that Regent University will equip me to fight for our God inspired Constitution to remain in its rightful place.

I am thankful for the chance to attend a university such as Regent that has the same goals in mind as I do. To help mold, shape and form a citizen to change the world. I firmly believe that as Paul said in Acts 4:20 “For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard.” we must continue to testify of  the blessings we have received and Regent University is just the school to give me the courage and the wisdom to do so in God’s honor.

So here's my challenge for the day. Stand by your passions. You might be surprise to find out something about yourself that you never knew.

January 2, 2010

A New Years Lesson and a Group Hug

It's no secret that I hate riding the lift with "certain" snowboarders. Those who are about to get off the lift, panic and latch onto you. Dragging you down as they fall. I finally levered my ski pole at this individual and told them I would never ride the lift with them again. I was tired of being drug down. The analogy behind this hit me this morning at work. In the last year when I levered my ski pole and fought back against those who drug me down I "ditched the bitch" and ended up with the most amazing friends I could ask for. Friends who don't drag me down and off my feet but support me as I get off the lift. 

Friends who helped me relearn not who I was but who I have become. 

When I stand back and think on the last year to this very day it feels as if last year was a lifetime ago. This eternal year has brought about so many changes for me. From one extreme to the other. I have regained my passion and zest for life and all that it has to offer. I'm on the road back to God. I rose as a twisted phoenix. I learned to embrace my faults and instead of hiding them I learned to accept them for what they make me. I found those who appreciate my many quirks. I opened my heart to great love again knowing full well that meant it was also open to great sorrow. I faced two of my greatest fears and came out on top, or at least close to it. I learned that I don't answer to anyone but my heart and God. I realized that I don't need to explain myself to anyone. I started to be honest with myself. I moved on. I came back to my passion for writing and found a way to fill my soul.

I cried. I screamed. I cut. I bled. I scarred. I healed. 

I don't have it all figured out. I'm still a mess. I'm still angry. I'm still confused. Boy am I confused. But I have figured out two very simple things.

"In life I make the lemons, give them to God and he makes the lemonade out of them." (Copyright Katie B.)

I'll make mistakes, but if I just give them to God he makes the best of the worst. He takes away the bitter taste of defeat and fills me up to the brim with the sweet taste of lessons learned and healed scars. It's so freeing to know that whatever I do if I come back to God He will open up his arms cradle me in them and wipe away my tears. (sidenote. one of my favorite verses: You number my wanderings; Put my tears into Your bottle; Are they not in Your book? Psalm 56:8) And then He makes me right and whole again.

My second lesson wasn't as simple to learn and I need to be reminded of it often. It's a long one.

"There are just some people in life who will bring you down no matter what you do. They are the people you have emulated and tried so desperately to please. Well here's the truth. They aren't your true friends and they never were. If they were you wouldn't have to try to please them. Just a simple smile or a joke would make your friendship worthwhile to them."

And then one day, out of the blue a true friend comes along. They praise your strengths and support you in your shortcomings. They love you for you. And when its time to get off the ski lift; they smile and you know they believe in you. You can get off the lift ski on and have confidence they will catch you when you fall. Put you back on your skis. Tell you to bend your knees, grit your teeth and ski down that hill with all you got. All the while not feeling so pressured you can't laugh at the fact there is a Kit-Kat on Geronimo. Those people are your friends. Friends for life. I have made such friends this year. Four of which I knew but in this year recongnized their greatness and impact on my life. The last I have known for almost a year but on New Years Eve I could see how much he means to me.

Katie B~

We have enjoyed a wild rocky road together. We shared the hardest time of our adult lives. We didn't care if we lived or died. Screamed or cried. We supported each other. Yelled at each other. Loved each other. Our friendship is like night skiing on powder and ice (o yea and she is used to my crazy analogies that don't make sense). When we get in the right track track down the mountain, we finish each others thoughts, salute at the same time and sometimes even lust over the same boys. We just know each other. Sometimes we hit our rough patches of ice lose control a little bit, but somehow we never give up and we understand that there's always another lift up the mountain. (until.... the great... "Closing Time" that is). And we get back in the groove. I couldn't have done this without her. She gives snowboarders a good name, we like the same drinks and most of all she taught me to never settle for less than my best.  To push myself to be better and to recognize the greatness I have in me and sometimes I don't even have to try.
I love you. Wanna marry me hot cakes?

Emily M. (E.M!)~

My favorite other Emily! Amazing jumper turned fledgling dressage queen. That right there sums her up in my mind. She is so astoundingly brave that she was willing to step away from all she knew and learned something new. Even though I call her my "practical" friend, she exemplifies bravery to me in everyday life and pushes me to do the same. She doesn't let me get away with my normal tactics of beating myself up to the point of pansying out. Her aspirations make me aspire to be more than I think I can be on my own. I'm amazed at how alike we are. Not only do we share a name but our music taste(even if I'm lame and don't always know the band), our opinions on politics (Conservative... Independent.. Same difference) and our desire to understand theory (her mind for theory is mind-boggling). My twin from anotha' motha' or something like that.I know she is always good for a rant, bitchfest, or gossip session. Even more so, she does what no man (or woman) has done before and she keeps me sane and focused.

Cj Wan-Kenobi, my own personal jedi~

 Wow! I never thought I would be friends with the infamous Cj of myspace legend. We became friends in a confusing point in both of our lives and we have continued to parallel on so many levels. I know without a shadow of a doubt she is always here for me. Whenever I need her. And I hope she knows I'm willing to be the same for her. I can never thank her enough for inspiring me to write again and believe in the power of my words. She taught me that I do have value even if I am quirky. When I think of her I think of passion, gin and inspiration. Ok, maybe only two of those.
Cj. Can I be just like you when I grow up?

Mr. Mock~

 You're crazy and I love you. You taught me that. You taught me that even though my words are imporant I don't need as many of them to get my point across. Case in point: Green Umbrella's--->Snow--->I miss you. So I'll keep it short and sweet and thank-you for supporting me and teaching me to mean what I say and say what I mean... And don't waste a lot of time on it. O and don't be cryptic. O and don't be confusing. O and and and.... ok so I'm still learning. By the way,
I'll always be your Hot Navy Fiance. Even when you marry someone else. Ok? Good.

My Man Ben, with a side of awesome~

You are the reason for this blog, you know that? I hope that isn't weird for you. But at the bar on New Years Eve I stood there and thought of how well our personalities align. Of how I'm myself and nothing else with you. (I don't have a side of awesome I guess)  Of how I'm amazed at how you just accept me. For whatever I am. I'm so happy our parents "set us up". That first night at Riley's was awkwardly amazing. It's has only gotten better since then. You taught me to "laugh with myself" to live and have fun.
(Eat, drink and be merry might be synonymous with that).
Now I'm just really excited to see what we are like together when you are sober!

 They are such a diverse group who push me to greatness, give this cowardly lion some courage, inspire me to seek passion,  how to say it short and sweet (even if it is ichthyologist) and to laugh, often and heartily.

I'm so excited to see how our friendships deepen and how we continue to learn. I love you all. Happy New Years



*whispers* GROUP HUG!!!