thinking. . .intensely. . .

yes, obsession. . .that is the topic today.
i find myself obsessed, er thinking intensely, about a weekend-long event that took place a over month ago with a person i barely know. it's ridiculous, to say the least and shouldn't even be on my radar, but alas, it is and i find myself thrust into this sick cycle of mental acrobatics trying to piece it all together.
and the truly sick thing about it? is that i think there is some way that i can influence the current situation. . .and apparently by beating it to death, my ever hopeful self thinks something will happen. i don't ever feel like i've fully explained myself and i don't think it's clear how much it truly doesn't matter to me. . .i could go either way in this situation- with or without it and i feel like i can't make that clear! but in the end, all my antics and attempts to explain away just how truly unimportant this event was, i give it value. and i look like a fool. ugh.
enough said. over it. and done.

intimacy

it's a scary word, isn't it?
what is it about intimacy that we shy away from? is it the vulnerability? the possibility of rejection? the chance of running out of things to say and not having any new growth? is it scary because we don't even know what it means?
everyone has an intrinsic need for intimacy. for as frightening as it may be to admit. . .i believe everyone wants to be known. to be truly known, inside and out, and still be loved.
so we play our games, get to know people, let a few people in and inevitably we get hurt because trying to place boundaries on a concept is tricky. sometimes we take the risk and let someone in further. . .for some it works out, for others still it doesn't and they have the chance at starting at 'go' once again.
there is something so attractive about people who are intimate- genuinely intimate. . .nothing shallow or conniving about it. . .someone who is just really open to the possibilities that are created when previous strangers get together and have deep conversations.

rambling vomit. . .

perhaps it's the fear of success that keeps us from pursuing those dreams. . .it's what makes us shelve the ideas in hopes the passion would die down, or at least taper off in our older age so that we are able to redirect it and create another dream- a more tame and manageable one. . .one that we are pretty confident we would succeed in. . .but is that any way to live? in a world where safety is becoming less and less of a sure thing, it seems like the paths of our lives, the dreams we decide to pursue, are becoming routine and mundane. excitement is left for those in the spotlight. . .the public lives vicariously through them.
we live in a culture that is numbing at best. we have babies having babies. celebrities influencing our morality. pundits pushing their agendas. expletives are used as every part of speech. education has been replaced by entertainment; faith by religion. we've confused wisdom with knowledge. Truth has been thrown by the wayside.
somehow, i think in our age of convenience we've pushed out the good in life and filled the void with more useless and trivial experiences. we are teaching the next generation to settle for the 'here and now' without a vision for what their life could be, and without hope. we live as though our temporary wishes and wants should be focused on and enhanced, as though by doing that we are truly living.
it seems like the things that are lasting and the things that would radically alter our lives and ourselves are what we actually avoid. those desires lay dormant, still needing to be realized, and in our own ways, we go about to fill them in mindless, reckless and numbing activities.
so perhaps it's the fear of succeeding, of pushing ourselves, of finding out what we are really made of and what we were really called to do that keeps us from even trying. we are content to dream about such things but incapable of seeing it to fruition.
we are fooled into believing that if we stay within the safety of our faculties, we will be happy. . .so we leave the dreaming for children and continue to conduct our lives in our false sense of created security.
is it the fear that if we do unleash our dreams and feed them and nurture them and pursue them. . .is it the power in the success that is scary? and not power in a domineering kind of way. . .but in a quiet strength. . .the resolve and stubbornness that we can follow through with something. . .is it the perceived responsibility of the next challenge we take on should have the same results as the previous one? everyone has to fail at some point. . .so if we succeed in attaining what we were made to do/be. . .does it up the ante for the next dream? dreaming is risky. . .but actually intentionally living out those dreams can be fatal. . .maybe it's just not worth the risk?
all this rambling still leaves my question unanswered though. . .so is it the fear of success, the fear of failure, the fear of dreaming, the fear of ridicule, the fear of responsibility. . .it's the fear of something, this i know. . .maybe knowing that is good enough for now. . .

my recent trip. . .

i recently took a trip. . .and not in a metaphorical or nostalgic kind of way. . .but an actual trip. it was marvelous. i went with a new friend to the little town of Seward. we left a couple days after my big brothers wedding. . .the weather on the drive down was as spectacular as the conversation and company. . .
it was glorious. . .and a much needed time of respite and discovery. . .muah

fear pains

is it the fear of failure that keeps us from pursuing our dreams or is it the fear of dreaming itself?
i look at me, so full of hope, idealistic, happy and a dreamer. . .i've always dreamed. . .i make it a practice to dream on a regular basis so i don't lose the ability to dream. i pursue different things, but it's the most important, those that make my knees weak and head swim that i leave on the shelf. why is that?
love & writing
i love. i like everyone until they give me a reason not to. i love people before i should. i love in spite of not being loved in return. there is something in me that loves to love. i love beauty, color, rain, tears, joy, peace, kindness, old people, young people, babies, my family, myself, my past, tattoos, blemishes, scars, stories. i fight pain with love. i fight with love. i try and use my words for love. . .but usually i fall short. i love despite being hurt. maybe i love because i think i can conjure its existence into my life? i don't know.
i write. i've been told that i have talent when it comes to writing. . .personally, i think those who say that just don't read as often as they should. . .and i think this dreaming started when i was a kid and my grandmother would send me national geographic- she was always broadening my horizons and filling my head with ideas about far and away places that beckoned me to dream of places and images i have yet to see. inevitably i would stare at the pictures, mark the pages and revisit them often.
something was stirred back then that i still nourish and treasure. i love to write, this is true. it's cathartic for me. . .but it's also terrifying. there is something so vulnerable about putting words on paper, something so permanent about writing that i get lost sometimes. my emotions undoubtedly spill into my words; objective writing was never my strong suit.
i look at others my age, so sure of themselves and what they are to do in life. . .and for the most part, i know that nursing is for me. i love it. i have a propensity for nourishing people and i enjoy pouring into others' lives. and practically speaking. . .it's the best option. it makes my heart happy to help people and i know that i can support myself for as long as i'm alive working as a nurse.
but in my dreams. . .in those dreams that are so big and daring and frightful that you only dare to take them off the shelf for an instant. . .those dreams that you can't stand to stare directly in the face for fear of being overwhelmed with desire. . .i write.

random observations

it's almost one and sleep has still not overtaken me. . .i've been musing over a few things here and there that really have nothing more to do with each other than their origin and the pen with which they were written. ~~~ There is a major component of trust in love. . .for it is where those two intersect that you are finally free to be who you thought you never could be around anyone else. . .yourself. ~~~ My heart can only speak of what it knows- silence, hurt, fear, you, restraint. . .but when it dreams, oh my dreams. . .it's no longer hindered; hope takes over and the love I imagine is transcendent. ~~~ At what point does age beget maturity? Why is it when an older person, say my grandmother, acts younger than she is, it's deemed a good thing but when a moderately aged person acts younger, it's immaturity? Why is being youthful in one context positive and the other negative? ~~~ Relationships are a tricky thing. . .they involve two of the most fluid things in existence: people and life. And even though this 'fluid' notion grates against my ever-dwindling idealistic tendencies. . .there's a peace in there as well. Something about knowing that tomorrow everything could change makes me excited!

love. . .

it's always been an enigmatic concept for me to grasp until the other day. . .something clicked and i can almost wrap my head around a facet of it.
for me love is a song i've heard for years and for the first time during this millionth play, i hear a lyric that strikes deep in my core and it's as if the song was rewritten since the last time i heard it. it shatters through misconceptions & disbelief; wipes away hurts and hope is brought to life once again.
or it's that Bible verse you've read since you were in utero and for some reason you see it in a different light, with different eyes and you experience it rather than just read it.
it's that rush of relief you have when at last your face breaks through the surface of the water and you're able to breathe for the first time after being submerged for what seemed like eternity and your lungs have been screaming to get air.
it's in the reminder that you're loved- however big or small- and you smile as you blush at its remembrance.

it completely rearranges my priorities, changes my perspective, sweeps me off my feet and knocks the breath out of me. . .this drug, this marvelous thing called love. . .it drives my existence, gives me hope, and makes me smile. . .

travels. . .

i can't believe it's been over a year since i've been out of the country. my word. i wish i could get on a plane tonight to get the heck out of dodge, go get lost on a beach, lose myself at an outdoor market- rub shoulders with strangers as i walk past them and marvel at my surroundings.
under two weeks and i'll be on a plane. . .only to return to florida and only for two weeks. . .but still, at least i feel like i'm going somewhere for the time being. the countdown is on. . .

my heart quickens at the thought of going to a new place. i can't wait to be finished with this year so i can travel for a bit. . .it starts in december when i head to hawaii for a lovely time of respite!!!

australia, tasmania, new zealand, hawaii, italy, brasil, the maldives, ireland, fiji, thailand, new york, vancouver bc. . .ugh. . .lets get going!!!

happy

i get terribly excited when the seasons change.
new days hold new things,
promises are made,
birds return to their roosts,
the sun shines,
the earth sighs and
the warmth that has been hiding
the past 6 months creeps out.

it's a marvelous process.

just can't explain...

how peculiar it is to look back at where i used to be and see how far i’ve come.
it’s encouraging with that view in mind to turn and face the mountains ahead. . .

happy to be...

happy!
i really am. i'm like summer. . .mostly sunshine, some rain and dark clouds, but warm nonetheless. . .
i don't understand people that refuse to be happy. believe me, i can be cynical to beat the band. . .but quite honestly, what's so wrong with finding the good things in life to focus on?!
i like to laugh. i like warm climates. i like water. i like love. i like to smile. i am happy hearted. i like to feel important to people, but at the same time, for some reason, i like to make myself a non-event when possible. . .especially on those days when there is an event to celebrate, it's most fun to pass under the radar. . .it is after all, the best secret to hold. . .

why the bearded lady will never win

this thing we all partake in- this daily circus we live in is tiresome.
it’s difficult to not get caught up. it’s hard not to get carried away.
it’s good to have people around you to keep you grounded.
but most importantly, it’s imperative to remember who your Creator is, because He makes it all make sense. and somehow, through all the struggles and striving, He pulls you out of it and reminds you, this is not your home.

impatience

i’m terribly impatient.
really.
i wish i could slow life down in order to appreciate it, but alas, i can’t.

i hope i’m able to remember these times so i can tell them at dinner...just think of the stories we’ll be able to tell...