Macro Lens

I like noticing the really, really little things.

The way we brace our thumb against the freezer door handle to help open the refrigerator.

The way, when we're in a moving vehicle with a bunch of stuff we're going to have to carry, we subconsciously get our arms in the right positions for lifting it all as we reach our destination.

The way, even if it's not out of place, we touch our hair habitually to make sure it's where it's supposed to be.

The way we have that ideal percentage of how far we zip our jacket.

The way Converse sound different than Vans on a sidewalk. Or Toms. Or Uggs.

The way we have at least one thing in our lives that we always do in a certain, unspoken order. (I always, always put my left shoe on first.)

I live for stuff like that.

The Not-Quite Phase

I thought the moon was full tonight.

I could have sworn it was. It was shining brilliantly and looking so perfectly spherical in the cloudless sky. But at a closer glance, it wasn't.

It was close. So close. There was this one part that wasn't quite there on one side, and it was almost full and whole and perfect, but not quite.

Today was like that.

Shut Up, Subconscious

Hi, you. It's me again.

Yeah, I know you're not that keen on us communicating or anything. But you should know.

You invaded my dream last night. I was literally dreaming about a wonderful night at the theater, with one of my oldest and greatest friends, when suddenly you showed up.

Out. Of. Nowhere. 

I didn't know what to do, so I acted like you were just some regular old friend I hadn't seen in a while. I walked over, smiled, and gave you a hug. You played along and did the same while I dragged you over to some corner. I said I was sorry about your recent relationship problems. I meant it. You thanked me and asked how things were going. It was an awkward, almost-normal check in with someone I hadn't seen in a while.

Neither of us actually mentioned anything that had to do with the two of us.

But as I haltingly led you over to my friend, trying to make the situation semi-normal, even though you were eyeing my friend cautiously, I realized that everything was almost...fine.

There was no leftover anger. No fireworks. You still looked and smelled like your old self, but I felt nothing when I gave you a hug. No animosity, but nothing drawing me in.

When I woke up, I felt somewhat wistful, I think. I wondered, if that had happened in real life, would it play out like that? Would we be capable of such a polite, cursory reunion? Would I be able to feel that everything was okay? Normal?

The fact that you barged your way into my subconscious bothers me a bit, too. I mean, I thought I had established that you had been dusted out of all the corners.

I think it's time you left for good, if it's all the same to you.

Dear Coree,

This is for you.

Because you love giraffes.

I mean, love.

And, like the short-necked giraffe, I know you feel that you don't always fit with everyone else, and so you're afraid to speak up. 

The way you don't always fit is what makes you unique. 

So this song made me think of you, and to remind you that you're awesome, and you can be as extraordinary as you want. 

Keep up the good work. :)

Disclaimer: Do not apply all of the giraffe's habits. The parts about the giraffe being murderous don't remind me of you. Well...no. Just the general principle of a giraffe. 

Dear Three-Letter-Word,

Stop it.

Stop stabbing me in the heart.

That has been known to kill people.

Just...no...please...

Stop...I can't take it any more.

50 Years Ago,

...a woman named Susan Omega Smith was born.

Now she's Susan Omega Erdelatz, and she's also my mom.

Thank goodness that worked out.

Now, at the lovely half-century point, I'd just like to take a moment to reminisce on what an amazing, godly, beautiful, loving woman she has become.

When I was in grade school, every day for as long as I can remember she would be waiting for me when I got home from school...with a snack and a hug.

In fifth grade, she visited my class to share her nutritious snack tips. As we all made our own trail mix and smoothies, a kid leaned over and said, "Abby, your mom is like, so cool." And ten-year-old me beamed with pride and said, "I know."

To this day, she impresses everyone who meets her, including any of my friends who come over to be greeted with her southern hospitality.

She's told me to sit up, shut up, listen up, straighten up, eat up, and woman up...because she's my mom.

And she's wiped my nose, dried my tears, bought me training bras, held my hair back when I'm vomiting, kept my secrets, laughed with me, cried with me, and prayed with me...because she's my mom.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

So Happy Birthday, Mommy. May all your decorating dreams for our house come true.

Love you.

What If We Knew

So I had this realization literally ten minutes ago while walking my dog. (Where I apparently get all of my best inspiration.)

It's something I've pondered briefly before, but I was thinking about it in detail and realized I should seriously write a play out of it. Or a movie. Or a novel. Or something.

Ready? This is it.

What if you could know who you were going to marry? 

Think about it. What if you could get a sneak peak? A look into the proverbial crystal ball. 

Just be able to see them. Where they are right now. See what they look like. Maybe you would even know their name, but at a glance, you'd at least know if it was someone you'd known all your life and never given a second look. Or someone you previously dated? Or someone you'd never met? 

Think about that. Picture it. What it would be like. How long you would want to take to memorize their face. 

Now, how would that change how you lived? 

I realize this is where it could get controversial. 

But personally, I would be a lot more careful with myself. 

Because whoever you date in the future, you'd be able to say, "This is going to be someone else's husband/wife someday. Not mine." 

As much of a pain as that knowledge might be at times, it would also be a bit of a relief at times, right? 

And you'd realize that there are probably other people out there who could be with yours.

And you could only hope that they're holding out for you.

Now, I realize this is impossible. But in a sense, it's kind of the truth. There is someone out there. You may know them. You may not. But somewhere out there is someone who's going to be yours. 

You can't see them yet. But they're very much there. 

Technicolor Eyes,

You know, if you had just said the word at the beginning, I wouldn't be in this mess.

It would be delightful to say that everything has worked itself out.

But then there would be no story.

I can't escape this now, 

unless you show me how...

Pardon My Realness

I'm going to break the mold here and do an actual post about my life that is straight up and not cryptic.

Yes, it's scary, but hey, what's life without a little danger. 

So we went to Target tonight to buy things to fill our boxes for the Operation Christmas Child thing they're doing at church. You know, where you pick a gender and age range for your child, and fill the designated shoebox with all kinds of nifty things for a kid in a third-world country that will receive your shoebox for Christmas.

This actually has some kind of meaning for me this year since I went on a mission's trip to Cambodia this summer, met a ton of adorable children in a village who looked about 5 years younger than their actual ages, picked up 3 or 4 of them at a time because they just wanted to hug me, and braided all the little girls' hair.

So as I was pushing my cart along, looking for a makeup pouch to fill with art supplies for my 10-14 year old girl, I spritzed some of Taylor Swift's Wonderstruck perfume on myself on my way down the fragrance isle just for kicks. It made me cough, and with those hacks of overpoweringly sweet mist came a realization.

It struck me how pointless our lives are as first-world Americans.

We, with our lines of customized celebrity perfume, and our fluorescent Kitchen-Aid mixers, and our weekly planners, and our sticky notes for organizing all the unimportant details of our lives, and our hair products, and blu-ray DVD players, and magazines full of people doing pointless, everyday things like wearing something red or going to get Starbucks with their significant other.

What's it all amount to, in the grand scheme of living? 

Not a whole lot is the answer.

And I'm not entirely sure where I am going with this train of thought, which is (again) rather frightening.

But thinking of all the smiling, barefoot kids in Cambodia who spend their days just wanting to go to school so they can learn and have useful things inside their heads seems a bit more worthwhile to me than the latest 32% thinner Apple product at the moment.

The Silent Break

...Every once in a while those around me turn aside to face the others around them, and I am left standing in a slightly awkward space that only I inhabit. 

But for once, I didn't mind. 

In this small, brief pocket of solitude, I observed my surroundings for a moment, making sure my smile didn't fade too much.

And then I saw it. 

Of course I knew I would. I knew that it would be there, practically sneering in my face even when I was facing deliberately away. 

It was too late to turn away now, but I did anyway, gasping for breath and trying to stop the stinging in my eyes. I stared ahead, not actually seeing anything in front of me. Thought seriously about bolting. It took a few moments of silent, awful stillness to recover. 

The pocket of solitude broke, and just like that the world drew me back in, and I was forced to jerk out of my small moment of weakness. 

What It's Like In My Head

"I think in poetry and in colors and bits of sound and it really is beautiful, having the mind of a writer, but sometimes it really just hurts."

-Coree Stuart

Friend, you have spoken words of truth. 

Dear Wizards of the Strings,

Don't get me wrong. I would love to tell you everything.

But I'm afraid that winding path just might lead me off a cliff. 

Just so you know, however, you've made it extremely difficult to know what's going on inside my own head.

If only you hadn't been so nice, it would have been easier to resist your pleas for me to release my bottled-up emotions, but my wonderfully logical brain reminded me how horribly that would complicate my already confusing existence.

So all this is to tell you.

Don't give up. Maybe some of these knots will untangle themselves (ha!) and I'll be free to sit down with you and enlighten you as to the nature of whole mess.

When You Go in For a Hug and Your Cheeks Brush

It's really a shame that this is a Spotify link, and you have to download Spotify to listen to it.

Download it anyway if you can't listen to it. It's free anyway. And I love it.

And this song...gah. So adorable. 

That's really all I can coherently say at the moment. 

Mind-Boggling

People have told me I'm weird. And confusing.

Little do they know how true it is.

I confuse even myself.

For example.

Why did I wear a sweater dress today?! I knew how it would make me feel. Didn't I tell myself I wanted to be different? But then I wanted to be the same. So I wore it. And it looked great, gosh darn it. I really am the same. 

See how that makes no sense?

And even though I'm fairly certain I liked Imagine Dragons all by myself, I can't be certain I liked them first. But there's nothing I can do about that. 

And while I was all busy in August being lonely and focused on pointless things and pointless people, other people were out there living their lives, and I missed out on both sides of the Pacific Ocean, and now it's too late because I'm just the kid who came into the middle of stuff, not the one who was there for that-one-time. 

And I like being happy. Really, I do.

But sometimes it would be great if I could just be truly sad. 

And I'm afraid that the one thing that just might work...might work too well, and then where would I be?

We can't just give up on happiness, now can we. 

Of course not. 

But I think someone took my seat. 

I'm just going to sit there and doodle and play my instruments and go on walks and occasionally sing if no one's around, and sooner or later someone will look over and wonder why I'm like that. 

You never know. 

That Dangerous Kind of Happy

Both of the above things depict (almost accurately) my extreme joy that I am experiencing currently.

Yes, for no apparent reason.

Just wondering, am I the only one this happens to?

The sun is shining. At this moment, I have nothing drastic hanging over my head. I am belting, at the top of my lungs, every loud, happy song I can find on my Spotify playlists. 

And for some reason, the world isn't big enough to hold my happiness. 

I literally don't know why these feelings happen. Or how to recognize the symptoms before it's too late. I probably should apologize for anyone I've messaged on Facebook during these moments, because they all wonder what on earth is wrong with me. 

But you know what? I don't even care right now. I just want to go belt some epic song from the top of a mountain or something. 

I'M. SO. WEIRD. 

Things I'm In the Mood For

#1: A roadtrip.

I just had a conversation about this, so that's likely what inspired this need. But I honestly believe that it is one of the greatest things to do with one's time.

#2: Hot chocolate.

It's the beverage that's proven to warm you faster and keep you warm longer on a cold day. But I've already brushed my teeth. Darn.

#3: Playing my ukelele.

Actually, this I can do as soon as I go upstairs. My best friend is amazing for giving me possibly the greatest birthday gift ever. I'm unhealthily obsessed with the thing now.

#4: A good conversation.

The kind where you have just enough witty banter mixed with an actual life discussion. The kind where you get stuff off your chest. The kind where when you and the other person feel that it's coming to a close, you get disappointed and try and think of ways to stall and keep it going longer. Because you just want to keep talking.

#5: A hug.

But then, I always feel like a good hug. I just love them.

Anyways. Hope my most impromptu post ever was enjoyed. 

Most Inspiring Song I Have Yet To Encounter

I didn't name my band after an animal,

but I can stay out all night

like Sacagawea in a paint fight...

For some reason, this is my new favorite song.

Dear Girl With the Colorful Laugh,

Little did I know how much we had in common!

Our mutual misfortune for having liked the most inconvenient guys. Our love of leather boots and scarves. Our taste for antiquities and hipster bands that play in bookstores.

My heart leaped into my throat when you said what I'd been thinking for weeks about a certain someone.

I love that you didn't even mind when I got so into my monologue about blogging and musical instruments that we missed not one, but three turns to get to my house. In fact, it was probably the most hilarious part of the drive.

I was serious about that venture to the second floor of that bookstore downtown, and I know you were too.

This will not be the last of our adventures.

And I can already predict several winks from across the room within the next few days pertaining to our ever-growing volume of inside jokes and secrets.

For Love of Happy Songs

We should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team

But yours would look better than mine, 

'cause you're out of my league....

Dear Black and White,

It's times like right now I have the newfound urge to let you brighten my day.

For example, now would be a great time for you to email me in a foreign accent like you do and ask me how my day was. Using colorful vocabulary, we'd discover some new detail we seem to have in common.

Yes. That sounds great.

Another one of those conversations is in store, I believe.

In A Perfect World

Something that would be awesome: 

A romance like in 500 Days of Summer...

Which can include, but is not limited to:

Picnics

Music sharing

Ikea browsing

Invented games

Really, really stupid inside jokes

Handwritten notes

Amusement park trips (intense roller coasters required)

Practical jokes

Creativity for creativity's sake

Mutual eating of messy foods

Sitting on benches without saying anything

Etcetera.

I wonder if those still exist. If so, put me down for one.