I love the idea of adventure- the romance of it, the way it sounds when you dream of it and talk of it. I love the way adventure makes you seem cooler and older and like you’ve lived.
But adventure scares me too, deep in my bones. I don’t like uncertainty and unplanned moments and not knowing where I’m going. I don’t walk aimlessly and come across cozy coffees shops. I use maps and routes and GPSs.
I am thankful for people in my life that know how to walk without direction. I am thankful for those discoveries and the way these people hunger for adventure the way I hunger for routine. They force me to grow up. They force me to experience the world for myself instead of reading about it.
To Tiffany, who takes me by the hand to help me discover things for myself.
I am inspired by powerful people. Lately I’ve been struck by the amount of violence against women in the world. I don’t understand how 50% of the human population can be considered weak or less than before they have a chance to prove themselves.
Powerful women inspire me. I love seeing women in leadership and women authors and painters and sculptors and teachers and really good moms. I love to see women who respect themselves and who know who they are and who radiate that confidence that makes them unforgettable.
I love that Betsy takes risks. I love that she wears what she wants and that she loves people all around her. Being a kind and gentle person takes power. Being the kind of person that welcomes everyone around you takes courage. Being willing to put yourself in the way of criticism makes you fierce.
Power and respect and leadership doesn’t always come in the guise of publicity and fame and aggressiveness. A letter to Betsy.
Your best friend being married is a strange and wonderful thing.
It’s amazing to see the transition from a single person to the awkwardness of dating to that growing certainty that whoever they are dating is THE ONE who loves them. The confidence that grows from that relationship is unfathomable to me. Life changes when you get married.
I love seeing Katie’s marriage. I love the way they still look at each other like it’s the first time and they can’t believe how lucky they are. I love the way they know each other and laugh at each other’s jokes and how they are different people now than they were four years ago. It is beautiful to see.
A letter to Katie, someone who shows me what being a friend is, someone who shows me what being a wife should be.
Words are the art that changes me the most.
I love the beauty of paintings and photographs and sculpture. I love music and the way it builds under your skin. But what I really love is words. I love poetry and lyrics and character description and words that make me laugh and cry and words that make me feel like the author lives in my head and knows my thoughts and understands. Words make me feel not alone.
I’m in a quotable mood. My next few posts will be illustrated by words I love, words that seem to sit in my heart like they belong there.
I’ve had multiple times lately where people ask me about how I spend my time. They seem to ask about my priorities and what I want out of life. I find this a fundamentally impossible conundrum. There is so much I want to do and see, so many people I want to spend hours with. I want to talk and laugh and learn people’s stories and write my own. I want to read books of every kind and watch movies until I can’t stand sitting anymore, I want to drink coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon and live that moment with the cake baking in the oven starts to make the house smell like heaven.
I live in the reality where I never have enough time to quite live the story I dream of. I am limited in my availability, I am scheduled completely and never seem to finish everything I want. I live these glorious weekends full of people and then pay for it when my body can’t keep up with what I wish it could. There are days when I get immeasurably frustrated with the limitations of this life. When I dream of leaving responsibilities and buying a VW bus and driving across the country living from coffee shops and diners. But I was given limitations for a reason- I just need to figure out what to do with them.
A letter to Caleigh, who is a friend I always want to see.
I read this quote right after New Years, right after that time that you make resolutions and think about all the things you don’t like about yourself and want to change. I want to be taller and in shape and I want to bake every day but lose weight at the same time; I want to read books and speak Spanish fluently and get eight hours of sleep a night. The kind or resolutions you never keep and really shouldn’t make.
I like that Neil Gaiman (one of my all-time favorite people) told me to make mistakes and be afraid. I think that fear of mistakes is something that holds me back dramatically. I look back on my life and can come up with moment after moment where fear of failure or ridiculousness stopped me from a decision that could have been awesome.
This isn’t technically a letter, but I’m counting it for today. This is my deposit for grad school. When I sealed the envelope I got that feeling in the pit of my stomach, the one you get when you miss a step on the stairs or when the person you secretly like gives you an unexpected hug, or maybe a combination of the two. Major fear and excitement and joy and abject terror of the unknown. Fear of failure and being so far away, fear of driving by myself to this place I’ve never been, fear of growing up. Fear of liking to grow up.
So I’m sitting here, drinking cup after cup of coffee that’s rapidly getting cold and not tasting good anymore, listening to mix tapes and sending away my money and my fears and trying to step out of my comfort zone this year. That should be my goal. Neil Gaiman hit it on the head.
I absolutely hate summer.
I hate the heat and the smell of it and the way everything feels sticky. I hate that the car never cools off and you burn your fingers on your seatbelt buckles.I hate that you can literally see the heat rise from the asphalt.
But this stationary is so full of yellow and happy and makes me think of those moments of summer that are gorgeous and rare. Summer is bright and full or ideas of picnics and the smell of grass and trees.
To Caleigh, who hosted me this summer in her apartment filled with more heat than all of the outdoors. I dream of picnics in air conditioning in July.
A letter to Karin, who sent me an adorable homemade surprise Valentine. On time, I might add. Here’s a late reply full of thanks and good wishes.
Karin and I have been trying to hang out since we graduated college. In 2009. I don’t know why it’s so difficult to see someone or how to fix it. I know that everyone in the world is busy and full of priorities and responsibilities. I hope to see Karin. 2013 is our year- I can feel it.
I spent hours and hours in the movie theater last Saturday, sitting in those seats until you lose all feeling in your legs and everything you are wearing smells like popcorn.
Katie and her husband drove all the way out from Michigan to wear those super-cool lanyards to hang out all day and I can’t explain how much love I have for them and how excited I was to spend the day watching movies with some of my favorite people.