1. David Tennant
2. Spotify playlists
3. Toddler hugs
4. Chipotle burrito bowls
5. Tyler Oakley
6. Being able to walk to the store
7. Watching the rain
8. Skittles
9. Rap music of the 2000s
10. Broadchurch
11. A fierce workout after a bad day
12. A big bowl of ice cream after a bad day (canceling out #11?)
13. Shorts weather
14. Open windows
15. Writing
16. Actually feeling my feels
17. Painting my toenails loud colors
18. A good book
19. Target
20. Coloring in a coloring book
because sometimes you need a happy list.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
why i don't mind if this corner is small
the world of blogging can be a world of platform. share my post! blog for revenue! ads on my sidebar! become instagram famous! i don't think there is anything wrong with it, but i think there can be a danger to being sucked in.
i mean, if that's your thing, cool. you do you. more than ever i feel that phrase is true and perfect all the way down to my toes. you do you.
but... this is my blog and i get to talk about my opinions here, so i get to talk about what i want to ;)
i see so many "big bloggers" talk about that they are honest with their readers. raw. that they cherish not putting up appearances.
but isn't that what you did to make it big? in most cases? put up appearances?
these same bloggers that flaunt honesty and say they are happy being a mess flaunt their perfect marriage, and well clothed kids, smooth weekends filled with fun, and big money vacations. they talk about topics they won't cover (like religion. and marriage problems). and i get that.
i do.
but where i come from, that isn't raw and owning your mess. that's hiding things that aren't that pretty. sometimes to keep privacy, sure. but a lot of times to gain readership and not alienate anyone.
to me that isn't really that honest.
now let me be clear, if things are triggering for you or you are protecting the privacy of others, absolutely don't talk about certain things. for me, in this space, i won't really be talking about my daughter, for instance. for her privacy. and i think that's fine.
but when you wave honesty like your banner flag, but paint your life perfect? i don't get it. but i know it gets you readers and all those sponsors you say you don't live for, but evidence shows otherwise. don't label something one way, when that isn't what it is at all.
and maybe your life really is that perfect.
and maybe it's just my jealousy talking, because at this point my life doesn't look like that. not one bit.
but i'll be content sitting over here in my small corner of the internet. it may not grow to be anything special, but it will be where i'll be honest and write my heart. write while i sit in the sewer water mess of my life that touches everything, even if only a little bit. sometimes the water even rises and touches the pretty things, and nothing looks glossy.
and that's fine with me.
i mean, if that's your thing, cool. you do you. more than ever i feel that phrase is true and perfect all the way down to my toes. you do you.
but... this is my blog and i get to talk about my opinions here, so i get to talk about what i want to ;)
i see so many "big bloggers" talk about that they are honest with their readers. raw. that they cherish not putting up appearances.
but isn't that what you did to make it big? in most cases? put up appearances?
these same bloggers that flaunt honesty and say they are happy being a mess flaunt their perfect marriage, and well clothed kids, smooth weekends filled with fun, and big money vacations. they talk about topics they won't cover (like religion. and marriage problems). and i get that.
i do.
but where i come from, that isn't raw and owning your mess. that's hiding things that aren't that pretty. sometimes to keep privacy, sure. but a lot of times to gain readership and not alienate anyone.
to me that isn't really that honest.
now let me be clear, if things are triggering for you or you are protecting the privacy of others, absolutely don't talk about certain things. for me, in this space, i won't really be talking about my daughter, for instance. for her privacy. and i think that's fine.
but when you wave honesty like your banner flag, but paint your life perfect? i don't get it. but i know it gets you readers and all those sponsors you say you don't live for, but evidence shows otherwise. don't label something one way, when that isn't what it is at all.
and maybe your life really is that perfect.
and maybe it's just my jealousy talking, because at this point my life doesn't look like that. not one bit.
but i'll be content sitting over here in my small corner of the internet. it may not grow to be anything special, but it will be where i'll be honest and write my heart. write while i sit in the sewer water mess of my life that touches everything, even if only a little bit. sometimes the water even rises and touches the pretty things, and nothing looks glossy.
and that's fine with me.
Monday, April 7, 2014
where to even begin
when you haven't written a word in over a year, looking at everything you want to get off your chest is like looking at a forest of trees.
there is just so much.
you tell yourself to start at the beginning, but where is the beginning? everything connects and intertwines and relates. because life is like that. we like to make it cut and dry. chronological. black and white. but that is not my life experience. finding the beginning would be like running in a circle trying to find the start. never begins. never ends.
i wish i had that cut and dry chronological story. but that doesn't seem to be happening for me, and that is okay. i have no choice but for that to be okay, i suppose. i just know that story has led me to where i am not the same person that wrote a year ago. that is why i'm here.
the person i see a year ago is a person walking in the status quo even if she didn't feel like she was. i felt like i was different, a rebel. people told me i was, my own family told me i was, but i think i just wore that on the surface like clothes i could take off when it didn't suit me. i pretended to be a real mess while polishing up my life till it shone. but wearing the rebel clothes and owning my fake mess planted a seed that has grown into something huge.
i come from a community of wealth, of white privilege, of "faith" (whatever that means, sometimes i can't tell), of conservative values. as a teenager and college student i grew away from those things a bit, especially my conservative fundamental upbringing. i recognized their toxicity, so i spoke out. i got labeled the hippie and the liberal.
but still, i had internalized all those things i grew up with. they still festered in my heart and set me on my life path. get married early, have a perfect family, a perfect home, a strong faith. value appearances even though you say you don't. value honesty, even if honesty looks like being honest about some things and hiding a lot of the rest.
i was a fake rebel.
some of you know that a few years ago, abuse in our church led my strong faith to get shaken a bit. i was putting it all back together. i was working towards having all those things that i was supposed to value, still. but it put me on a path of searching and learning, and the more i searched and learned the more i couldn't get it out of my head
who am i?
what in the hell am i doing?
do i still believe all this stuff, really?
what is this life i have built?
is this really the life i want?
am i happy?
and the sad part is a lot of those questions i couldn't answer. i did what i was supposed to, right? i have everything i'm supposed to have, right? i should be happy, right? everyone else is happy... right?
i couldn't decide what to do. keep up appearances? shatter the facade and bare my honest heart, that now makes me look i have split personalities? so i stopped writing altogether.
but still i searched and wondered and learned. that is what the last year has seen me do. search and wrestle and make terrible mistakes and grow and make more mistakes and piece life together.
somehow.
and now i'm so far from the person who used to write that i am starting over. that's why i don't know her. my questions and my searching left her somewhere along the road and i know i'll never find her again. i left the rebel clothes that screamed "i'm raw, i'm honest, i'm different, i'm a mess!" and picked up a heart that said all of those things in truth.
and now i'll write.
there is just so much.
you tell yourself to start at the beginning, but where is the beginning? everything connects and intertwines and relates. because life is like that. we like to make it cut and dry. chronological. black and white. but that is not my life experience. finding the beginning would be like running in a circle trying to find the start. never begins. never ends.
i wish i had that cut and dry chronological story. but that doesn't seem to be happening for me, and that is okay. i have no choice but for that to be okay, i suppose. i just know that story has led me to where i am not the same person that wrote a year ago. that is why i'm here.
the person i see a year ago is a person walking in the status quo even if she didn't feel like she was. i felt like i was different, a rebel. people told me i was, my own family told me i was, but i think i just wore that on the surface like clothes i could take off when it didn't suit me. i pretended to be a real mess while polishing up my life till it shone. but wearing the rebel clothes and owning my fake mess planted a seed that has grown into something huge.
i come from a community of wealth, of white privilege, of "faith" (whatever that means, sometimes i can't tell), of conservative values. as a teenager and college student i grew away from those things a bit, especially my conservative fundamental upbringing. i recognized their toxicity, so i spoke out. i got labeled the hippie and the liberal.
but still, i had internalized all those things i grew up with. they still festered in my heart and set me on my life path. get married early, have a perfect family, a perfect home, a strong faith. value appearances even though you say you don't. value honesty, even if honesty looks like being honest about some things and hiding a lot of the rest.
i was a fake rebel.
some of you know that a few years ago, abuse in our church led my strong faith to get shaken a bit. i was putting it all back together. i was working towards having all those things that i was supposed to value, still. but it put me on a path of searching and learning, and the more i searched and learned the more i couldn't get it out of my head
who am i?
what in the hell am i doing?
do i still believe all this stuff, really?
what is this life i have built?
is this really the life i want?
am i happy?
and the sad part is a lot of those questions i couldn't answer. i did what i was supposed to, right? i have everything i'm supposed to have, right? i should be happy, right? everyone else is happy... right?
i couldn't decide what to do. keep up appearances? shatter the facade and bare my honest heart, that now makes me look i have split personalities? so i stopped writing altogether.
but still i searched and wondered and learned. that is what the last year has seen me do. search and wrestle and make terrible mistakes and grow and make more mistakes and piece life together.
somehow.
and now i'm so far from the person who used to write that i am starting over. that's why i don't know her. my questions and my searching left her somewhere along the road and i know i'll never find her again. i left the rebel clothes that screamed "i'm raw, i'm honest, i'm different, i'm a mess!" and picked up a heart that said all of those things in truth.
and now i'll write.
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