To Honesty, Again

Another small tidbit about me: I second-guess everything. And by everything I mean, Ev. Ree. Thing.

It doesn't matter how steadfast I am in a decision; there will always be a small moment right before I take the leap when I can see the horrible what if play out and a small part of me decides it wants to back out.

Sometimes, if it speaks up early enough, that little part of me even wins.

But perhaps worse than second-guessing myself is when I doubt other people.

Maybe they said something nice a few days ago, but now? They didn't talk to me as much today. They've probably changed their mind about how cool or uncool I am. That must be it. They realized I'm not all that exciting and don't want a thing to do with me. I should leave them alone.

I once heard that if someone really wants to be friends with someone, they will make it happen themselves.

But is that really true?

You know back in middle school, or heck, even now, when Person A really has a crush on Person B, and so A tries talking B up all the time, and whenever A's like, "Hey! What's up?" B's all, "Oh, hey, how's it going," because B doesn't want to be rude, but A thinks that it obviously means B's into them too, so A travels down this dark road of misinterpretation with the inevitable result of their heart getting broken?

I feel like my whole life is like that sometimes, with me as the sucker who thinks people actually enjoy her.

Tbh.

What's This "Familiarity" You Speak Of

The military has taught me many things.

For one thing, my mental, emotional, and spiritual states would be vastly different right now without it, after the past year.
Adaptability takes on a whole new meaning when you have a new life every two years. But thank goodness, my toughest challenge came after a lifetime of practice.

There are many different aspects of war. I used to imagine Marines being only the guys that ducked from behind walls in the desert and shot at the enemy. But though my dad went to Iraq, he never killed a man. He works in logistics. He makes plans. Strategizes. That's helped him be a heck of a laser tag partner, for one thing.

Even if you don't agree with a higher power, you have to respect their authority.

When people say they'll keep in touch, not everyone means it. But some do.

Things mean more when you've earned them. Giving is a wonderful and necessary part of society, but it teaches nothing, and fosters no growth. Give a man a fishing pole, not a fish.

No matter who they are, your family knows you better than your friends. Always.

If you've made your way to the top, don't brag about it. If I wanted to, I could have flaunted the fact that my dad was the Base Commander of Camp Kinser (the military equivalent of a mayor), but he didn't, so I didn't.

You can't always tell the people that are going to stick around.

The center of the world isn't where you live. It doesn't matter how long you've been somewhere and how well you know it: it's nothing like the rest of the world.

You appreciate something in a very different way when you have to do without it for a year at a time.

The same applies to people. Like your father.

The term "home" is relative. Whenever I feel like I don't belong somewhere, I remind myself that none of us will never truly be home until we're with God. 

Most Marines aren't stone-faced gorillas who tower over everyone in their camo, clutching guns and barking at everyone.
They're just a lot of dads with crew cuts who know how to get places on time.

And of course, I have some invaluable skills including, but not limited to:

-Fitting ten days worth of clothing and toiletries into a backpack
-Understanding entire sentences of solely acronyms
-Packing a suitcase for two months in approximately 10-20 minutes
-Being able to recite an airplane safety video word-for-word
-Airplane sickness immunity
-Owning everyone in class during annual "What I Did This Summer" sharing time

-Navigation of the Bangkok International Airport with the speed and efficiency of Jason Bourne

-The knowledge that most of my amenities in life have been government-issued

-The ability to turn "goodbye" into "see you later"

And though the life of camouflage and painfully-tight sock buns isn't for me, I look ahead with somber acceptance to the day I will exchange my military ID card for the title of "civilian."  

Anonymity

I want to become a girl with a different name. 

With social media, it can't really be that difficult.

I can create a tumblr account with a false persona, and voila. 

I can spend a few months filling it with things. 

And then it is only to type in a select few names and click "Follow". 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If I were someone else

someone you'd never seen

but felt

what would I be?

Would you be intrigued

would your heart warm

when you saw how much we're alike?

Without the visual inhibitors

of "real life"

what would you see?

Would you like it?

I don't know

if I would

or not

I'd hope you would

but of course

all you see

or rather, don't see

is what's "real"

The irony is

it's not real at all

But you'll never get

close enough

to know

Stumble and Plummet

Lord, my eyes are blinded
Your light, I've failed to find it
in constant darkness I reside
what I thought a lamp, merely pride

This fall ends in pain, alas
the bottom is self-shattered glass
as the edge bends and slopes
I cling to roots of high, fruitless hopes

My Own, a root that won't grip tight
my wisdom, naught- my labor, a mite
The World simply fills a broken cup
I, a mere human, hear "Look up"

Your hand, always present in distress
Lost in the torrent of my mess
Your will- greater than my circumstance
While mine is void of Your elegance

Though I grit teeth and leap out alone
I leap in the hopes it flings me home
whether You catch me or whether I fall
Your hand is regardless controlling it all

Though I wish for neon signs
I've yet to learn to walk blind
for clouds small as a man's hand
can bring rain to cover the land.

Sunshine and Blue Eyes

It was a rather slow Saturday afternoon.

My hair was still wet from my shower, and I was passing time by watching my notifications on Facebook ping away after uploading over a hundred photos from Younglife camp.

Then I heard a knock at the door.

First thing you should know about me: About half my daydreams involve someone wonderful showing up on my doorstep out of nowhere.
So each time I hear someone at the door, I have to prepare myself for the inevitable downfall of it being not a long-lost friend or mysterious stranger, but just the neighbor or the UPS guy.

So I opened the door.
And there, wearing denim shorts and the hugest grin I'd ever seen, was.....Bailey.

Bailey.

The same Bailey that came with me to the airport on that fateful July 15th a year ago. The same Bailey that wrote me a two-page letter that had me sobbing on the plane somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. The same Bailey that was by my side for my first two years of high school, and one of the only people during those last 3 months to ever see me cry.

I remember gasping, vaguely. Then I just clung to her forever as she did her wonderful belly-laugh of pure joy.

Honestly, I was surprised I wasn't crying, but I think I was so unprepared that I only had room for one emotion: pure excitement.

For so long, I'd walked around my neighborhood, wishing I had an Okinawa friend by my side to take it all in with, so I wouldn't have to be alone. And here she was, walking the sidewalks to the park with me and sitting on my bed and eating pudding in my kitchen and suddenly 370 days felt like five minutes.

It was so surreal I just couldn't.

But thank you, thank you, thank you Bailey for surprising me. People like you are the best surprises in the world.

My face pretty much all afternoon

To The Stranger

Whenever I close my eyes and picture you
you're looking me right in the eyes
telling me that everything will be alright
because
you love me

Usually you have dark hair
because the Tall Dark Stranger
is the stereotype you embody
in my mind

But even though your mental image is
strong and quiet
I know you are funny
goofy, even
because you see humor in everything
the way I do

You like being a kid again
But take time to appreciate unnoticed beauty
Like the breeze That One Thursday
or the way the sun hits a branch
because your soul
is decades older than your body

There will be many a time
When you'll run up to me, panting
Red-faced and grinning from ear to ear
clutching your leather Bible
because you can't wait to show me
what God just showed you

And then we'll sit
and drink coffee
in a downtown cafe
and comb through scripture
enraptured by the new meanings
in verses we've read
a hundred times before

But every time this image surfaces
your face is always cloudy
your eyes are bright
but what color are they?

Do I know you now?
Did I pass you on the street yesterday?
Did I disregard you as an acquaintance?

Have I looked at you and wondered
what if?

Are you someone
destined for the same mystery college as I
that I'll meet one day in a writing class
someone brand new?

Who are you?
Where are you?

To know your name
your face
would be to disregard
everyone else

But here, now
I'll never know if
I'm wasting time?
Or will these stories will be told later
to our children?

Nanoseconds of Inner Freefall

The things that make my heart race
are so, so
infinitely small
and infinitely large
and infinitely insignificant
and infinitely life-altering

Pixels fill oceans in my mind
yet in the physical world
a single tear will only drown an ant.

Drink This In

"When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free. "

The Peace of Wild Things
Wendell Berry

Serenity in Black and Red Nylon

In, out
Gentle sway allows just enough movement
for the sun to wink from behind a leaf
and brighten the dimness behind closed eyelids

In, out
Gleeful shouts slowly quiet 
as the mind finds its own sounds
namely a soft piano
and swallows

In, out
Pretend not to hear the tittering whispers above 
or sense the shadows above the hammock
and camera shutters discreetly clicking away moments
that were never meant to be seen
only remembered

In, out
A patch of sunlight on one leg
warmer than the rest
but time has run too far
since tired muscles have felt this peace
Don't break the stillness, they say

In, out
A thick volume, still open
but for the moment neglected
cradled below sweaty palms
its words dancing through the air
floating above heads
unseen, but felt
by the whispers of the leaves
and by the militant lines of ants on the rock
and by the rippled waters of the lake
and by the stag
who is likewise unseen
but felt

In, out

362 Days Later, Part 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE: READ PART 1 FIRST. 

So there I was. In my own personal hell (aka Stafford) with none of my best friends and two weeks to do summer assignments for an English teacher that turned out to be the polar opposite of my last(favorite) one.

A month passed. I still hated it.

Two months passed. I hated it even more.

I could still feel inside jokes bubbling up inside me in situations, but realized that no one here would understand them. I could see certain people's faces and hear what they would say to certain remarks.

I needed Japanese food. So. Badly. (here's that post)

Whenever my mom would ask about school, I'd descend into a fit of angry ranting that usually ended with me, on my bed, alone. Crying. Again.

And so it continued.

Somewhere along the way, I made friends. I got involved. I had (thank goodness) a few teachers I liked. Some of them I'll have next year.

There were moments when I was happy.

But at the end of the day, I wasn't where I felt like I belonged. Everyone I talked to in Stafford seemed to have this awful mindset that it was the center of the universe. Like nothing else existed. I just wanted to shake everyone and say, "Wake up! Don't you get it?! This is nothing like the world."

But perhaps even worse than that was the thought that even though my life wasn't going on without my family back in Japan, they were all still there. And their lives were going on without me. Even if I went back, it wouldn't be the same because they would have made new memories without me and I'd be That Girl That Used To Live Here.

There is nothing worse than the feeling that you don't belong...

...anywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So here we are.

I'm still here. And it looks like I'll be around a little longer.
The fact that I can say that without breaking down is a feat in itself.
It's funny. I look at atheists and just wonder, how do they do it?

Because in all honesty, if it weren't for God, I'd have done something pretty bad by now. The thought of what I might have done scares the crap out of me.

Some of the sadness I felt this year would have been absolutely impossible to get through on my own.
But in the midst of the worst moments, a simple prayer, and the most incredible peace would flood through me. Some of the things I'm most thankful for this year-actually, all of them- I didn't deserve. At all. But I'm glad they found me.

So to end, I guess this has been one of the longest, hardest lessons I've ever had to learn. And I'm still learning it. Nothing is the same yet, and I don't think it ever will be. But I guess that's okay. I'm better now. Not quite great, but better.

At the end of it, this song is really the only thing that can explain everything.

So here's to one more year. May it be better than the last.

Happiness is somewhere I've been before

a blurry photograph that I've since ignored...

...God, it has been quite a year

I've lived a little bit and I've died a little more.

362 Days Later, Part 1

I'm going to be in Lake Champion on July 15th, or else this post would have been written then. But this is one that needs time and adequate background music. Anyway.

On July 15th 2012, I did the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, and left Okinawa for most likely forever. 

The pages of my sophomore yearbook were completely filled with signatures letters from friends and favorite teachers, and there was even an extra page stuffed in. I had a huge white poster that was filled with signatures from my Common Ground family. I had a two notebook pages, front and back, filled with a personal letter from my dearest Bailey, which I read on the 9-hour flight from Tokyo to San Francisco... and sobbed all over again. 

But what I didn't have was a clue of how on earth I was going to survive in the one place I'd sworn I'd never move back to, Stafford, and not in the first place I'd actually called home and meant it, Okinawa. 

What had happened was my dad had torn his Achilles tendon, and had to stay behind with my mom for physical therapy. So my brother and I were flying to Tokyo and then to California on our own to meet up with our relatives. Molly, Coree, and Bailey all came to the airport to say goodbye to me. 

I think I would have been okay, but then I hugged Bailey and we both just cried on each other's shoulders. 

The next few hours were some of the worst of my life. Tears were coming down my face as I handed the Japanese airport security my boarding pass. I was sniffling as I took my seat. And when the plane started to take off, I completely broke down. I didn't stop crying until the island had been out of view for a while. I still cried on the next flight. And almost every day in California. And when we got to Stafford. And....

Well, you get it. 

This story isn't over yet though.

[The song I was listening to as the plane took off]

Dear Wizard of the Strings,

I have a feeling I'm about to start enjoying your company more than the others.

Cobalt and I hardly talk at all anymore. Burgundy interacts with me, but of course we can't hang out or anything. The other Wizard is similarly occupied, in addition to the fact that he's become a supreme jerk incredibly sarcastic to me.

And then there's you.

In the circle of all of them, you and I are the only ones who aren't glued to a significant other. Yes, I have one, but he's not around when I'm with this particular clan. So I have no one to drink Arnold Palmers and stand around discussing obscure music with.

Thank goodness you're still around to do those things.

And don't worry. You'll find someone. People like you always do.

Say It

Recently something occurred to me as I was galavanting around Ripon with my cousins, taking group selfies and enjoying each other's company. It first struck me when I arrived at the airport, but didn't really surface with clarity until a few days before I left.

When my cousins came up to hug me, we were all squealing and one of them goes, "Here, get a picture of me and Abby!" She wrapped her arms around my neck in this overly affectionate way and smiled into the camera.

Throughout the next few days, we all took pictures hugging each other, holding hands and jumping, even giving each other silly kisses on the cheek. And it hit me, We don't actually do this in real life. We're affectionate, but not this affectionate. 

But it wasn't until I read the caption of a photo I'd posted on Instagram where I said that I loved my cousin that I realized I hadn't actually told her I loved her to her face. Why was that?

And then it was like a scene from a movie where a horde of mental images came flashing back. I remembered tons of Instagram photos of friends at graduation and other things, all with epic-novel-length captions about how much their friendship had meant to them. At the time, I'd smiled and thought it was sweet, as everyone does. But all of a sudden, I had a thought.

If someone means that much to you, why don't you tell them instead of putting it in a caption?

It was this earth-shaking epiphany where I realized that (as Tom so wisely said about greeting cards in 500 Days of Summer) we can't truly say what we feel anymore. We rely on widely-used catchphrases. Greeting cards. Hashtags, for crying out loud. The whole time I'd been in California, I never once told my cousins, out loud, that I loved them, until we were about to say goodbye.

Don't get me wrong, it is really sweet when someone takes the time to write a long blurb about how much they love their friend underneath a photo. But if the most I ever directly say how much someone mean to me is in typed words, I feel like I'll have missed something.

We can't say what we feel any more. We hide behind screens and texts and masks of sarcasm because we're afraid to just be real to someone's face.

Be brave, world.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I guess this is a little...judgemental(?) of society for a blog post. But hey, the fact that you came to read this means you actually care what I think. So there you go.

Dear Girl I Used to Hate,

Thank you, thank you, thank you for that Twitter message.

Like I told you, normally that kind of stuff doesn't get to me. Ever. But it did. I don't know how you knew. But even after I put the urge to violently subtweet to rest and logged off Twitter, I was still fuming. I mean, all day. All my joy from the previous afternoon had been completely drained.

Who is anyone to take away my joy??

For the first time, well...ever, I had gotten actually excited about college. It made all the frustrated tears and pillow-screaming disappear, like it was God's way of telling me this could, in fact, be a little fun. Like there was, after all, a place for me out there.

And then... it all crashed to the ground, shattered, and my joy was replaced by me picking the shards out of my skin and smoldering.

But at approximately 11:00 that night, I got a message from the last person on earth I expected. You.

What you said to me made up for ten months of resentment I'd built up against you. Pointless resentment. Resentment I didn't even think was still there.

It wasn't until the remaining trickles of ill will dissolved from my heart that I realized I'd never really dealt with it.

But at last, it was gone.

At last, we were on the same side.

The fact that anyone said that to me made my night. But the fact that it was you multiplied it by a million.

Thank you.

We're friends.

Gravel and Breeze

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Slight apologies for the long-ish post below, but it's worth reading. I think.

Last summer, I was introduced to this wonderful dirt trail that runs along the Ripon Country Club Golf Course, behind a large almond orchard, under some huge overhanging trees, and back beside the cartpath somewhere near what must be the 11th hole or something.

It enchanted me. And ever since...well. *holds up hands* First thing you should know about me. I am the hugest sucker for secret hideaways. Little places that only I know about. If they're tucked away on some lonely outdoor path? Psh. Even better.

And ever since I've been aching to come back. Oh, it's fun to see my cousins and swim in my uncle's luxury pool and all those lovely, normal human things. But I have not been able to get that glorious path from my mind.

(Also, I'm not athletic. So biking is just about the only thing I can do that could possibly qualify as "working out", ergo, I love love biking.)

So this morning, I jerked myself awake at the lovely hour of 6:00am. Sheets flailing (I'm not kidding), I stumbled over to my iPod, irritated that it hadn't woken me early enough, only to find that my internal clock had woken me a full 45 minutes early.

Well, I thought. Better now than ever.

(You see, in Ripon, it heats up fast. It was supposed to be in the 90's by nine. But right now, as the sun was just coming up, it was a balmy 72, which happens to be my favorite temperature.)

So I tugged on some shorts and kept my 49er's t-shirt on from bed because, hey, I wasn't going to see anyone worth impressing. I stuck my iPod, sunglasses, and phone in a tiny messenger bag over my shoulder and chugged a glass of water in the kitchen. I spent a few minutes pumping up the tires in my cousin's bike, pinching myself accidentally in the process. And then, per the norm, I started the musical selections for the morning with a quiet film sountrack coming through my earbuds that was perfect for, say, pretending like you're sneaking out.
Dork.

And I was off.

And oh, what a morning it was. There were streaming rays of sunlight coming through trees everywhere. It made me wish someone was making a movie of the whole thing because the lighting was so perfect. There was a soft breeze from my moderate speed wisping my bangs back from my forehead. It was warm, but not dripping-with-perspiration-while-suffocating hot, as it would be in a few hours.

And the trail. Gah. I almost cried. Being by myself, doing whatever I want, in some beautiful setting, can literally make me happier than almost anything in the world. Gravel was softly crunching under the tires, I had these brilliant songs playing, and I could even indulge my photography-loving side to snap top-notch pictures with my phone, while moving, no less. *brushes off shoulder*

But I digress. The point is...

Well, the point is that I'm happy. This morning made me so happy. I don't get that happy much. My plans that I make, to do something, to be somewhere...they almost never work. I was half expecting to get stopped by golfers as I passed the NO TRESPASSING sign. I was half expecting my mom to say it was too early for me to go out by myself, but when I came back, the rest of the house was still sleeping.

(I'd like to take a detour here to say that if anyone reading this has never done something that involves coming back before the rest of your world has woken up, it's a marvelous feeling. Try it sometime.)

And now I'm sitting here, typing on my grandparent's ancient, clacky, awesome keyboard. My 49er's t-shirt is now a purple tank top. My thick, slightly sweaty ponytail is now a (relatively) neat side braid. But I'm still smiling.

Am I going back next year?

What do you think.