Monday, April 21, 2014

A Portal to a Star-Crossed Sea

I crawled into the bed
I slept in as a child.
my imprint was small,
and I curled into
the shadow of my youth.

My body didn’t fit there
I shifted and turned,
tired and chasing
the small hope
of sleep.

Ribbons of light
marched across my face,
spots danced within
my eyes as I slowly blinked
the stars away.
The stars turned blue-black,
As I finally drifted

into a restless sleep.

What time is it, London? Blue o clock.

Friday, April 18, 2014


Hashtag thesis. Ok, so I may have gotten trouble with people lately for my totally IRONIC use of the word hashtag. I promise it was irony and I was mocking the system. The patriarchy made me do it?

It's always the patriarchy.

I've been rambling for at least three sentences here, so let me get to the point (if there is, in fact, a point). I turned in my thesis. It is in no way done, however, but I turned it in by the due date of before midnight on the 15th. I turned it in at 11:56pm, to be precise. Haha, no YOU'RE the procrastinator.

It wasn't me procrastinating though, promise. I have two readers, both of which had comments. Look, I'll do the math for you's like...I had like, 100 pages of edits. Ok, that's not it *counts on fingers* *gives up*. It doesn't matter how many edits I had, but it was a lot.

The process continues with my readers viewing the "final" product and giving it back to me with "nope, try again". Then I re-edit until they approve. I have so many library fines, you guys. So many.

To celebrate yesterday, I stayed in bed the whole day and worried about my future. I'm like a go-to party all the time. I finally got out of bed at 6pm to meet a friend for beer/wine. He likes beer and I think beer should be wine more often.

I am having an existential crisis of "what the fuck happens after academia?" and "how does money work?" and...oh god, I'm hyperventilating again.

That's the update.

Cool, here's the window to my soul. Or whatever.

Sunday, March 30, 2014


I've been taking mini breaks to become ensconced in poems that I've happened upon instead of focusing on the poems I should be explicating for my thesis. After I've been lost in a poem the lyrics of a song pull me into them:

"Bundle up and come with me now
Down the road where to the burned down barn
We could make a blanket of coats
And breathe our souls into the neighbor's front lawn"

And I give myself five minutes to be distracted. However, five minutes later I find myself staring at the wall, and lord know how long I've been staring.

I may have had too much coffee today, and my sleep patterns are all fucked up. I stared at the word "cascading" for a full two minutes because I kept spelling it wrong.

I've also had St. Lucia and Papa on repeat pretty much the whole day.

And I'm going through old photos.

I haven't done the work I've needed to do, but I'm almost done with my journal article.

Side note: I met a friend for coffee and he told me, "When you walked through that door I wanted to marry you on the spot" and that was the nicest thing I'd heard all day.

This is stream of consciousness. This is why I can't have nice things.

Monday, March 17, 2014

The North

I've been listening to "The North" and it reminds me of living in Alaska. In turn, thinking of Alaska brings on wistful memories of falling in love & mountain parties during 24-hours of sunlight. Obviously there are months where you don't see the sun at all and it snows until you think you may never feel warmth again. Then, the seasons change again and you're climbing a mountain with some of your best friends and basking in endless sunlight.

You can't hold onto seasons--they fade and time passes on. What I've always found, in myself at least, is an intense connection to music and how a song can take me back to where I was when I first heard it and again to when I consequently fell in love with it. The song will remind me of the good and bad--the changing seasons. Warmth and freezing cold. I've never lived anywhere without both.

I hold onto music and the people in my life that bring me love.

Wednesday, February 5, 2014


Content (not the one where you sigh while drinking wine), the other one--the one that fills pages with words that may or may not be good. Yes, you're with me: content.
con·tent2 ˈkänˌtent/ <---- (that one).  
I want this blog to filled with more content and maybe even some of it will be good. I may be just starting out on the first chapter out my thesis outline, but I'm almost done with grad school. I still have zero self control when it comes to getting distracted but I always manage to finish what I set out to do--you can see that in any of the travel posts I've done. Oh, I think I'll go to Bali *books ticket*.

The point is, really, life is too short to not do what makes you happy and writing makes me happy. Writing for you, even abstractly, makes me happy. Thus, I continue to write. Sorry for the slump.

Here's a photo of coffee. 

This is a sext, if you know me.
Uh oh, I just had to add "sext" to my dictionary. At least my mom hasn't asked what "sext" means...wait, she's calling right now. Dammit. Well, I'm going to call it an abstract notion of love--like this here blog. 

Maybe I'll even write a post tomorrow. 

Thursday, January 9, 2014

2013: This Happened

The end of 2013 was rough for me, to say the least. I ended a three year relationship with a man I still love, although it's been nice to realize I'm not in love with him anymore. The relationship ended on good terms and we're cautious friends. However, in 2013 I met some wonderful people and reconnected with friends.

The breakup forced me to find myself again and I finally figured out what "selfies"were and guess what? I took a lot of them.

First one. How am I doing?

I met Alie and went to a gala

One of my best friends was married in Missoula, MT

He broke his shoulder and we decided to be friends

Our first post-breakup trip: NYC for my birthday. Yes, it was awkward (my sister, left)

Wine was had

Katy's bday!

I met Vanessa and spent more time with Jess (BOOBS!)

Remember that there was a gala

I dyed my hair pink and then purple

We went to the South of France

We also went to Denmark and I saw my little Danish, Louise (left)

So wow much love

I almost bought this. No, really.

We stayed in a mansion for two weeks. Here are some random lights

Christian's Danish family and awesome photo bomb

This is July. I was crying because I was about to leave for home and already missed everyone

It was magical

This is coffee

Oh, just some old ruins.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Unpacking and Complacency

I haven't posted in a while and I'm OK with that. I've finally gotten around to unpacking and not just the material items I've had in boxes but unpacking mentally as well.

I'm embracing the changes in my life and with those changes come pain and self-doubt. I'm embracing those, too. Without the pain, the self-doubt, and the sadness I could not see the silver lining, but I see it now.

I'm past the uncertainty that comes with swift and sudden change and I'm moving forward. Sometimes it feel as if I'm moving forward underwater with limbs thick with exhaustion. My body feels like I've run a race and I'm laced with fatigue; I'm moving forward and know that I'll fall in love again and this time with someone who truly loves me back.

The worst part of a break-up is the uncertainty that dwells constantly in the back of your mind. This uncertainty tells you you're not good enough and that you'll only fail again if you try--but I'm doing it anyway.

So here I am surrounded by mountains of clothes and boxes full of the last three years; it feels like I'll never finish unpacking, but I will.

This is more an open letter to myself than anything else--a pep talk, if you will. I wrote a poem (that's not quite finished) about the end of my relationship, and it's a work in progress.  I write to share my experiences and through writing I feel alive. This I share with you: it feels great to be alive.

Caution: "Wild Animals”

Packing books, photographs, memories
Down into a brown box labeled
“Caution: Wild Animals”.
He sure had a way to make her smile
And roll her eyes simultaneously.
She glances over the books and framed photographs
Dusty with age and thinks rather dramatically,
“My best years are behind me”.
She sits down heavy with weight of
Shared jokes, heated fights, and
Sleepless nights.

He drinks a beer and the
Condensation drips onto his
Crisp white shorts,
Pressed with perfection.
But he fails to notice
The droplets even as they
Wind around his fingers
Finally making a last desperate
Move and spill to the floor
Because he’s watching her
As she makes a mess of her packing.

Their eyes meet
And in that instant they wonder if
Maybe they can give it another try.
She drops her eyes first as they become
Heavy with the finality of their
Last night.

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