A Grand Irish Metaphor

Here's a funny thing. You can retrace my recent life steps by looking at the places where I've interacted with Ireland. So let's do it. Buckle up, lads and lassies.

Music
So I still work at Chester's (score), and last night while pouring lattes, as the same Sleeping At Last songs and Jukebox the Ghost songs played on repeat for the millionth time, I realized I needed a musical upgrade. And recently I found it in The High Kings. They're folksy and melodic and fun. You've probably heard "Galway Girl," but guys. There's so much more.


(I've selfishly played this one in Chester's a couple times, and when the bagpipes kick in I get really wistful and patriotic without knowing why.)


(In case you haven't heard it, have fun.)

(This one isn't a recent find, but I'm pretty sure this singer is Irish. It's also from one of my favorite shows. It's the best song to listen to on rainy nights. Whenever I listen to it I cry a little. Including while I'm working.)

Chester's is a good segway into Sweaty Tooth (improv troupe) because this past Monday we actually did a free blizzard show during my shift (Is there a word for 100% stressed because there's a line for drinks out the door but 100% amused and joyful because you're simultaneously doing a scene from behind the counter? Because that was me.), so it's kind of a link to improv comedy. We have the College Comedy Festival coming up in a week! Tons of colleges from the greater Boston area bring their teams to compete in different categories and I like to think that it's where the next SNL stars are formed, or something. We've been doing zany drills and different games to prepare for it and build our confidence, and it's super intimidating, but then I go listen to bits of Amy Poehler's audiobook again and remember that just maybe I can do anything. Maybe?

Romance
I saw the movie Brooklyn recently. First of all, wow. Go see it. Second of all, go listen to the film score. Thirdly, I saw it with Josh. (Who's Josh?) For those of you who don't know...

We're dating. I call him lots of things, but one title I'm trying out is boy-o because it sounds (you guessed it) Irish. That's pretty much all you need to know. 

But also, the Brooklyn score is fantastic and beautiful and I listen to it while walking to class in the mornings and trying not to slip on the ice and snow. 

Oh, the snow! Yeah, that's a super awesome thing that I'll probably never tire of. 

I have better boots this year. They make me feel beautiful and powerful. I've made a couple distinct, non-invasive paths across the quad that gets me from my dorm to the library or the arts building, and I step in the same boot-holes every time I use them. I like to think that the reason the rest of the lovely field of snow hasn't been disturbed yet is because others are using my path too (not just that I'm the only dork who wants to trek through the snow).

The U.K. in general

This one's kind of a big deal. I'm thinking about going to London for the fall semester of junior year. (Yikes!) The London Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts (LAMDA for short- Benedict Cumberbatch went there, as did many notable performers) has a classical acting semester program that I'm applying for. There are many wonderful things that doing so might entail (Ireland and Scotland are literally RIGHT THERE, for example, and I'd have my own small apartment in freaking LONDON), but one possible con is that it might mean I can't do a double major in English. 

Because I recently became an English minor! (Whaaaaa-?!) I know, right? It's amazing. For my intro class, we just read poetry and short stories and journal about them. Then we go to class and our professor reads us children's books and we have amazing discussions. I wish I was kidding. (No I don't.) It's too good to be true. 

Meanwhile, I'm updating my acting resume for my application (and Gordon's spring show that I just auditioned for- another life event for you) and staring at pictures of the Cliffs of Moher trying to imagine what it would be like to actually be there.

So there ye have it. Some of it, anyway. I'm still working on figuring out if I have a spirit animal, but if a person can have a spirit culture (is that a thing? and is it offensive?), mine might be the Irish.

Chapter Two

It's been a while. Too long. So much has happened in such a short time since being back at Gordon, and I don't even know where to begin. Adventures! Friendships! Theater classes! Improv! Sophomore year hit the ground running.

Let's talk about the woods.

I've been spending a lot more time out here lately, thanks to my slightly lighter class schedule and awesome weather. There are so many more trails behind campus than I realized! Often, I'll go out in the morning only intending to find quiet nook to read in for an hour, only to stumble out mid-afternoon with pine needles and flowers in my hair, exhausted and happy, having discovered 3 new favorite spots. I'll explore, read, listen to music, and sometimes picnic. Occasionally I'll venture out with one or two adventure companions, but mostly I just explore on my own. It's awesome. 

Speaking of friends, I gained a whole new group when I made it onto Gordon's improv troupe, the Sweaty-Toothed Madmen! Seriously, these 8 people are the coolest; it's a privilege to be counted as one of them. Aside from the fact that they all have awe-inspiring talent and our rehearsals consist of dancing around onstage and pretending to be chicken farmers or dentists or royalty, they've all become like family to me immediately. We go on McDonald's runs at 1am and have photoshoots and a group text and movie nights. It's no big deal. 

Other than that, life is a lot of things. It's rehearsing in practice rooms for Musical Theater and sprinkling cinnamon on customer's drinks at Chester's. It's Monday night hot chocolates with Austin and Friday afternoon tea-and-reading-time on the beach with Josh and Merisa. It's making Cate and I's third-floor room in Wilson (affectionately dubbed The Birdhouse) look as adorable as humanly possible with coordinating comforters and fluffy pillows and yes, a tiny birdhouse that we are going to paint and hang on the door. It's letters from Madison at New Tribes and phone calls from Mom after class and new friends and old friends. It's the great exhilaration of starting new things and comfortable warmth from picking up old ones. 

In conclusion, sophomore year is the best and I can't wait for it to be cold. 

Oh, and here's the most recent awesome song I've found:

I love this feeling,

but I hate this part...

The Latest in Musical Discoveries

It's been a while since I've posted my latest favorite songs, mostly because it's rarely ever one song. But in this case, it's an artist: Andrew Bird.

I was sitting in Chester's the other night, partaking in warm chai and invigorating conversation with a couple friends, and suddenly the room was flooded with this magical music that perfectly echoed the fullness of my heart at that moment. (We were talking about God's amazing provision, manifested in the coolness of astronomy and my getting a role in the play, among other things, and I was overwhelmed with how blessed I was in that moment). I leapt up from my seat, ran over to the counter and requested the name of the song and artist. To my delight, Andrew Bird is one of those rare artists whose every song (not just one or two) hits some part of my soul in a unique way.

Friends, partake in my delight:


(the song playing at Chester's that night)



(a lovely instrumental I've taken to listening to in the mornings)

Hesitantly Brightening

Flower flower, don't you worry
flower flower, there's no hurry
flower flower, don't you cry
your day will come before you die

For the past week, I find myself singing this little tune to myself as I hop on my bike or walk down the hill or push through the same doors as everyone else and try not to bump into people. College so far is a series of opportunities that I feel either not qualified to take part in or not brave enough to attempt to take in the first place. But every time, I sing this song and sigh and let a breeze filter through my hair as my green bike whisks me away and somehow, it's not the end of the world.

Today I also realized I've gotten into this habit of walking into rooms unsure if I'm supposed to be there. I realized that certain sweaters or ways of arranging my hair create my feelings about myself on any given day instead of revealing them.

Everyone is just so put together here, and I have this urge to be effortlessly beautiful, because to me true beauty is that which doesn't realize it is beautiful. And as the air gets cooler and the leaves get ready to brighten, I can feel the world coming into its own beauty and I want nothing more than to do the same. But I don't know how.

Also, I can tell fall is going to give me unrealistically romantic expectations about life and love (for example, did you know that a hundred laptop keyboards clicking and typing sounds exactly like rain hitting tree leaves?), and I'd better decide what to do with those crazy chemicals.

That's about it for this week.

Bald Eagles and Bugs

If anyone's wondering why I haven't posted in two weeks or so (or maybe no one reads this and actually I'm being silly...or whatever), it's because I've just spent the last 12 days fighting mosquitos and sore muscles in the Adirondack mountains with some of the most awesome girls I've yet to meet in an outdoor education program with my college called La Vida.

The experiences and spiritual epiphanies are far too meaningful to sum up in a blog post (which I knew even before I embarked), so I decided to write down one thing every day that summed up the day's challenges. I put them in the form of packing tips, so if any of you lovely readers (imaginary or otherwise) decide to try a survival expedition of your own, you'll be well-prepared.

Day 1: Invest in a small camping pillow!
(My neck became rather sore after resting on hard ground or a rolled up piece of clothing at night)

Day 2: Headlamps are invaluable. 
(vs. flashlights, which are not hands-free)

Day 3: Quick-drying clothes ONLY.
(When it pours for the first 48 hours and even the sleeping bag inside your tent is damp, you want your t-shirts and cargo pants to be dry after only 30 minutes on a line)

Day 4: Sneakers should be narrow with excellent tread.
(If you're rock-climbing, whether or not your toe can fit into that minuscule crack makes all the difference.)

Day 5: Bring thick, high-SPF sunscreen AND a face stick. Oh, and a sturdy 32 oz. water bottle. 
(Apparently the tips of your ears can, in fact, get burned when you're in a canoe.)

Day 6: Your bug spray should coat you well and have the potency to kill anything within 5 feet of you.
(Spray it on any exposed skin. Wipe it on your face. Spray it on the brim of your hat. Spray it on your thermal underwear, which they will bite through. It won't keep them from biting you, but it'll repel them... for a while. Also: sleep with a bug net over your head if you have to. *shudder*)

Day 7: Bring layers that cover your arms without heating you up too much (aka bug protection), and ones that zip are easier than pullovers. Also, the bug spray thing again. 
(Bonus: Mosquitos can't bite through a raincoat!)

Day 8: You need 3 pairs of shoes: hiking boots, water shoes, and easy slip-on ones that will ALWAYS be dry.
(If you're too lazy to lace up the boots all the time, you can wear socks around a campsite, but they will get filthy and you can still step on twigs.)

Day 9: Shorts should have liners, and bandanas work better than bobby pins.
(When you only have room for 4 pairs of underwear, you need ways to cheat. And a bandana tied like a headband is actually kind of cute- and the only accessory you'll probably do.)

Day 10: There is no such thing as too many pairs of socks.
(If you walk around the forest in them or a surprise thunderstorm shows up right as you put those great blue ones on, you'll be glad.)

Day 11: Your sleeping bag better be warm AND waterproof.
(Apparently, a tarp stretched across some trees is not foolproof protection when it decides to pour for two solid hours right before bed. Also: rain in the mountains is not refreshing, but freezing.)

Day 12: Never underestimate how cold it can get in the morning. Bring gloves AND a hat, even in the summer. Sleep in them if you have to.
(You think just because it's July 4th it won't be 45 degrees? Haha. Think again.)

Jokes aside, it was an amazing trip, regardless of uncomfortable weather/bug/clothing conditions. How can you focus on something silly like the sweaty smell of your dri-fit shirt when you're looking at this?

Dear Prom,

Your day is charged with a tingly anticipatory excitement from the moment my eyes squint awake. It's hectic, and the new curlers are frustrating, and there's always some last minute important thing that was forgotten. But I love it.

There's something exhilarating about being a girl on days like this. The oh-so-important scent of hairspray hanging in the air, the warmth of steaming curls next to your ears, the glitter of your rarely-painted nails, the sticky shine of mascara and lipstick. There's something strangely satisfying about sliding a zipper up your side to enclose yourself in silk and satin and beads. Suddenly, you're slipping painted toenails into the perfectly matching pair of shoes and the dress-transformation scene from Cinderella flashes through your head in brilliant color and you look in the mirror.

The angel-soft curls cascade around your face - which for once looks magazine-cover worthy, your dress snuggles around all the curves you want it to, you smell like sunshine and the Botanical Gardens, your eyes sparkle, and without realizing it, the word princess floats to the surface of your mind. Wait a second. This is the same person who looked in the mirror this morning and saw messiness and tired eyes, right? The transformation is nothing short of magical.

And then, as you finish a dreamy sigh, the doorbell rings, and your breath catches. The pumpkin carriage and the prince have arrived.

The night is young, and so are you.

Goodmornings

Waking up while buried deep in the white comforter is a conundrum sometimes. There's bluish, snow-softened light seeping through the blinds, and the coolest friend in the world is dreaming quietly under her purple eye mask next to me, and my hair is clean and nice-smelling and cuddling around my neck. But after those few seconds of dreamy, half-conscious bliss, the noisy, worried part of my brain wakes up and starts running around, fretting about its complaints.

Do I listen to the sunlight and the comforter and the teddy bears? Or the little worries?

I'm not sure.

But it's nice to wake up and for a moment, with all these tiny kisses from the sun showering me with little delights,
the other things don't matter.

Hello, world... we meet again.

 

To Those That Get It,

This is one of those trust moments where I'm placing part of me in the hands of who-knows-who.

I've heard that when you're a Christian, your relationships with others should be like a cross. You've got people above you pouring into you, people below you whom you're pouring into, and those on either side who are there with you, and you all pour into each other.

Well, my 'cross' has been pretty lopsided as of late.

I noticed it a little while ago that I really didn't have too many close friends, but it really hit me when I realized that I had even fewer Christian friends.

And today when I was venting to my mom and absolutely broke down, I realized that this is not something to be taken lightly. It's a real struggle, and a real need.

I have some scattered Christian friends in my area at the moment. Excluding my family from back in Okinawa, there are a handful of people that I see occasionally that are genuinely life-giving, and pour into me like Jesus.

But in my daily life, like-hearted people are absolutely scarce.

Oh, I have a few friends that call themselves Christians, and some even act like it. But like-hearted is something very rare. And I'm realizing that trying to get by on.... the relationships I have been... is not working.

I can feel this huge hole in my life. And as it widens, I can sense the world trying to fill it. I notice myself being tempted to fill it with temporary things. It's scary. I'm trying to respond by simply spending more time with God. That helps, of course. But there is a definite place where Godly, life-giving relationships are designed to fit, and that place is nearly empty.

Yes, this is teaching me to rely on God more. Immensely. In a short time, I've made amazing discoveries on how to bring His Presence into my daily routine and have seen incredible joy come from that. I know I need to depend on Him for my joy, not others.

But as my mother comforted me today, she reminded me of the truth: to be loved is a God-given need. And there's nothing wrong with needing human relationships, because sometimes those are the venues by which God blesses us.

So okay. Here's why I'm saying all this on the Internet.

I'm done hiding this. I'm done hiding the fact that there is a gaping hole in my heart and in my life. It won't get better until I am honest about where I am.

To any readers that are Christians and know what I'm talking about:
Prayer could not be more needed. I cannot under any circumstances go through this life alone, and so if nothing else, pray for more of His Presence. (But some friends would be nice too.)

To any readers I have yet to become properly acquainted with: 
Say hi to me sometime, please. Even if you're not into the whole Jesus thing, I could use a few kindred spirits. It helps more than you realize.

Let your kingdom come in this world and in my life...

....Your love is strong....

The Rainy Song

This will forever and ever be the song that I listen to when it rains.

If you need something to calm you, I give you....Ray Charles. 

You're welcome. 

If Tears Sounded Like Music

So I just found out that you can embed Grooveshark tracks onto here. This means huge things.

One of the wonderful things about Grooveshark is that you can find obscure little songs on there that don't appear anywhere else. You can't download them, but you can make a playlist on the website and listen to that playlist anywhere your phone has WiFi. :)

So a couple years ago I found this gorgeous little tidbit from The Lovely Bones soundtrack (which has hauntingly beautiful music, by the way) and would just replay it over and over again and cry in 1-minute-50-second intervals.

And last year, when I was going through one of the worst post-move depressions of my life, I'd lay in the silent darkness of my bedroom, play this song, and imagine tasting Arashi's fried rice again. And just weep. Like, tears-running-down-my-cheeks cry.

(It gets to the good part at 0:38)

Decorum

Now that I'm applying to colleges, I've been hearing things like,

"You should really be careful about what you post 'online', because you need to think about who can see those things. Like colleges."

So basically, I can't post anything I wouldn't want to explain someone anymore. That was my decision, no one else's.

And yes, I have another, locked page, that I can just rant on and no one can see it but me. But we all know that's not at all the same thing.

So basically, this is just stifling. I have no outlet anymore! I can't get out the things rambling inside my head, because it's not nearly as satisfying to just look at them in this secret corner that no one else will ever see.

I think we all knew that was never the entire point of this blog, anyway.

I give full freedom to my thoughts and feelings on here not only because I can, but because...

...I think deep down, there's always the notion in the back of my head that those people will, in fact, see those things.

And I think deep, deep down...

... I want them to.

I want you to know what I really think of you. I want you to know the music I'm listening to or why I wasn't myself at school today. I want you to know what made me happy this afternoon or who intrigued me last week. I don't like hiding it. I never have. I don't feel myself when I hold it in.

And some things, of course, are too much. But that was why I made the other page. Not for what I'm forced to use it for now.

But it's no use. This is the way it has to be until I say otherwise.

I'm sorry, world. But college is turning me into an ankles-crossed, hands-folded, mouth-closed version of myself, and even though I hate it, it's the way it has to be.

I'm just going to have to hold it in.

My Day Is Coming, Gentlemen

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Before you read this, go find the song that always pumps you up. Listen while you read. (Come And Get It is actually applicable, but you don't have to use that.) 

You know what I realized yesterday?

Guys go through girl 'phases'.

When they're young, it's the Little Rascals phase. "Girls are dumb, yucky, stupid, etc." Then they reach middle school and the curiosity sets in. Girls are new and exciting. Then it's high school and girls are entertainment. They're desirable. They exist either to look at or to pursue. And when I say pursue, I usually mean chase. It's not bad; that is, not all high school guys look at girls as objects. But they're fun. It's not time to be serious yet. Let's be interested in whatever's the newest, shiniest thing.

Then college. Then the real world. Well, now it's time to settle. Guys look for the nice girls. The one's who are good with kids. Who can be intelligent. Responsible. The ones who'd make good wives. Good moms. The ones they can respect.

Well, here's what I realized.

I've never been the newest, shiniest thing. I used to think that meant I was doing it wrong. Well, that's not true.
I'm a nice girl. And that's okay. 

Because the thing is, I'm looking around the sea of high school boys, trying to find one of them who's looking for a nice girl. Because some are. But the vast majority of them are still in the entertainment phase. And that's okay too. But I was brushing my teeth yesterday and realized that my day is coming. I may not be a fashion plate, or know about the coolest hipster band, or have a cool devil-may-care attitude in my skinny jeans and liquid eyeliner, but hey. While those girls are having their heyday, I'm gearing up for mine.

There will come a day when good guys look for nice girls, and when that day comes, I'll be ready.

So it's incredibly liberating to say with confidence that while it really sucks some days, I'm cool with just sitting back for now. And waiting. For when the good guys come for the nice girls.

(Wow. That was empowering.)

My Latest Feels-y Song

'Cause you're the reason I believe in

something I don't know... 

Dear Marco Beltrami,

Of course. You genius.

How could I not have seen it before?

Here I was replaying and rewinding and it was right there. And though your glorious concoction of strings does wonders for my overactive, cinematic imagination, at the end of the two minutes and three seconds it's just sound. I'm still just sitting at my computer or huddled under my covers, and haven't really just experienced the pure magic I saw played out behind closed eyelids.

I guess it took that many replays for me to finally recognize that the very title is telling me to do what the whole thing has me wanting.

Sorry for taking so long to catch on.

Dear Inevitability,

If you've had enough say when...

Musical Thank-Yous

Read it, guys, You may be mentioned in here.

Been meaning to do this post for a while, so heck.

My taste in music is relatively diverse, but not near where I want it. (In fact, I could REALLY use some new music right now.) But I am proud of a few things, such as:

-My 19 playlists, each for different moods/scenarios
-The artists I've found on my own and introduced people to
-Sleeping At Last is MY band. No one else has ever heard of them, and when someone has, I think I'll marry them. Not kidding.
-The absolute brilliance I've found through film soundtracks/scores

But to be honest, most of the best artists are always found through other people. So I need to thank the following people for bringing various music into my life.

Joie Darretta- my beautiful cousin, thank you for introducing me to Mat Kearney. Ships In The Night will forever be a jam, and loving Mat has helped me bond with so many others. Also, Sweet Disposition.

Kaleb Feltner- Changing by the Airborne Toxic Event. Also, the earlier Passion Pit.

Coree Stuart- WHERE TO BEGIN. Songs: Punching In A Dream, Take A Walk, 40 Day Dream, Whistle For The Choir, New Shoes, You and I, Hand Hold, Tongue Tied, You Always Make Me Smile, Worried Shoes (okay, your entire CD). Artists: Spoon, MGMT, I'm sure there's more.

Sarah Labanc- Your adventure music. New Earth by Zerbin, Bon Iver, Whirring by The Joy Formidable, He Is We, the songs on your tumblr, The Kooks... you are so musically diverse it kills me.

Cody DeVries- I'll Follow You Into The Dark. Enough said.

Bailey Lisk- That song called Bailey. Gah.

Common Ground- All of my current worship music.

The men of Common Ground- Downfall of Us All by A Day To Remember. *headbangs*

Alex Mutuc- The Avett Brothers, Iron and Wine. Okay, I only checked them out because you were into them, but boy am I a fan now.

Bethany West- The Vespers, Tender Love by Carl Cartee. Gah, the feels.

Phoenix Underwood- Gravity Rides Everything. Confession: I never got into any more Modest Mouse, but that song has stuck with me and helped the way it does for you. Also: Can You Tell by Ra Ra Riot and The Real of It by Said the Whale.

Ethan Duffy- Love Love Love by Avalanche City(oh my gosh it gets me). The Girl by City and Colour. Question by the Old 97's. Trapstep. Any song you showed me, I ended up loving. THE FEELS. And when you said you liked How He Loves...*shivers*

ABC's Castle- Pearl Jam, Jules Larson, Junior Senior, MoZella, so much more.

Winnie The Pooh, the movie- Somewhere Only We Know, and hence, Keane. Still my favorite ever.

Erik Olson- Mumford and Sons. I'd heard them, but hearing your performance of Where Are You Now got me really enthusiastic about their full albums.

Wendy Nguyen- Your use of Tim McMorris' songs in your videos got me into his (published) music. You're famous, so you'll never read this, but still.

Olivia Parvin- Owl City. I wouldn't be nearly as enthusiastic about him as I am now without your love of Adam Young. Also: The Hush Song, Helicopter by Branches (OH MY GOODNESS PERFECTION), half the songs on your blog.

Charissa Gerke- Your use of the song The King Beetle On The Coconut Estate by Mewithoutyou in your sermon was so, SO unique. It remains the most obscure yet meaningful song I have yet to hear, ever. (Hint: the fire in the song represents Christianity.)

Rachel Sumuray- Lindsey Stirling. Oh my gosh, now I'm obsessed.

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

There are so many more. And honestly, the majority of my music/artists are from movies. 500 Days of Summer, Warm Bodies, etc.

But if you are on here, thank you. For culturing my life a little more. Keep it up.

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]

Car Rides

Last night was the last Fiddler on the Roof performance.

And it was emotional and joyous and heartbreaking and wonderful, and all of the feelings swelled up inside me, but I couldn't cry. I didn't. I teared up a little during the Chaveleh dance, but that was it. Even then, I had to force it.

I pretended to cry the whole night.

Don't get me wrong, I felt like crying. Practically the whole night I felt the ache of almost-tears in my chest. But each time, it was for different reasons, and none of them ever came out.

But on the way to IHOP, in the car with the four people I'd been riding home with every day, as we belted Phillip Phillips with the windows down and even the boys shed a few manly tears, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes and...

... didn't cry.

I was happy.

Even though people were moving away and the year was ending and the show was over and there were a million things in my life I could have cried over by simply thumbing through a mental file cabinet of worries and plucking one out, I was content. I felt fulfilled and whole and satisfied with where I was just at that moment.

And where was I?

I was in a car with four friends, and we were all together, laughing and crying and singing and happy to be together.

And for the moment, that was enough.

Don't pay no mind to the demons

that fill you with fear...

Dear Small Hurricane,

With all your troubles on your mind
you're looking right through me
I'm letting myself down
satisfying you

And I wish that you could see
I have my troubles too...

There are so many things I wish I could make disappear. Trouble is, I can't pick the right ones. I could make you disappear if I wanted to. But I don't. Do I? 

I won't wish you away. There are others out there doing that for me, so I won't. 

But if I could go back, that's the first thing I would do, I swear. 

After that?

I don't know what I would change.