Well, I didn't solve any problems this week. I may have even regressed.

I didn't get the job at Chase, which is God, I guess.
"I've been praying that you won't get that job," Alex joked to me at lunch today. She didn't really pray. But maybe even God just wants me to stay for her. That would be a weird thought since I can tell that she sometimes thinks my faith is a huge joke. I feel liked I've failed her, in some ways, by not being a better example. The truth is, my faith doesn't just make me feel good. I don't just show up to work happy everyday because Jesus lives in my heart. I have a small amount of joy that hasn't died yet, and that sustains me day to day. It keeps me smiling when I see Alex, even if I have nothing to smile about.
But it sucks, because I was really looking forward to maybe working at the bank. To trying something new. And that makes it even harder to go back to work on Friday, knowing that I have to stay there longer.

I wish Jesus would just come back RIGHT NOW.
I want to breathe that fire again.

tell me your oldest answers
the ones that hurt me most
your phrases that make me feel inferior.
cut that and put it at the end.
end of the poem.
alarm goes off upstairs.
tell me I shouldn't have my phone on so loud
the echo scares you
scars on my chin
the floor cracks
still.awake.now.
the door always was locked when I came home
but I didn't get lost
walked in the back door quietly and never let you
hear me.
did you think that I would change when I came back around?
it's more than true that this has been the worst year of my life, but I've never learned so much. So much about faith
hope
trust
and what it means to yell at God.
cold dark rooms have become familiar
haunting and realistic
they were the places that I met my Creator in despair
and it still shapes me.

tell me your oldest answers
FIRST

just enough to be strong, in the broken places

That's an amazing song by Jars of Clay. My copy is really scratched though. It's a crime.
But God really is just enough sometimes. With these small decisions that add up. On the freeway, coming home, I realized I really wasn't going to buy a motorcycle. Scooter. Whatever. The truth is, I really don't need one, even though I want one. I think that, you know, there are the major life decisions, and God will sometimes give you those answers a lot slower. But He'll stop you from making a major mistake in the morning. What was I saying? I think that the weird gut feeling, instinct, is a tiny gift from God. It's not weird to get a vibe.
I don't know where I'm going with this.
What I'm saying is, I walked in the door at eleven, and my father was snoring, and my mom was reading with her book light, and I just stood there and told her I wasn't going to do it, and she said okay. And my dad woke up for a second, and I could hear him thinking, "Yeah, I knew it." And so here I am.
One small problem out of three hundred: solved.

299 weeks to go.

"I’m trying to take my own advice about love and hope
and the hope of love and the love of hope. "
-Dave Smallen

Days off are better than they used to be.
I sure appreciated actually sleeping last night, and having no nightmares, which is a change from the last six days. I got up late, did dishes and listened to good oldies from early highschool days. I ate mashed potatos for breakfast, and drank coffee with a big scoop of ice cream in it. I mean, why not? And then pulled laundry off the line, read a book, and watched a movie that made me glad I'm not wasting my life on drugs or alcohol. Took a walk in the heat of the afternoon, to pick up some prints that got way screwed up. I'm not happy about it, but I'll get over it. It's been a nice day to rest my mind from thinking. As Steele would say, I'm happy enough for me.

Patty Hearst heard the burst of Roland's thompson gun and bought it

Yeah, I do still think about Patty Hearst every once in a while. And Warren Zevon. Usually not at the same time, though. If you wannagetspecific.

Work= blood + guts
Library= new CDs
Home= nap
Night= Kelsea x Laundry / (Sandy)


"I hate Suiki."
"I know, and that's why I think I've always loved her."

when it was just about dreaming,
or maybe we'd just lost our glasses.

either way, we rode motorcycles.

I watched her.
"I'll save you," she had so frivolously thought sometimes. But there are always those selfish ways we forget the details of each other. And it was in those quiet subtleties that he got lost, and eventually vanished, like his brother had to the drugs and the alcohol. He left her with the silent walls. She'd often stare at the ceilings, and wonder why it was he died. And was there life after that? She'd ask me, and we'd sit out on the back porch. And I said, yes. Someday, there is. And she would nod, but she didn't believe me.

you should be in no one's way... in that part of the house

I saw my old math teacher on the freeway. First I recognized his unique nickname on the license plate, and as I peered through the dark into his car, I knew it was him, and I felt this sort of familiar comfortable feeling of being back in math class, and my hatred for him. I think we love what we hate sometimes. I think I have run-on sentences at night.

Every day, I tell the website to remember me. I always click the little checkmark into place in the "remember me" box, and it never does. I get my hopes up everytime, but it still doesn't remember me like it promises to.

Taking naps at 3:30 in the afternoon can sometimes be confused as leaving your mind. I had completely bizarre dreams that were mostly black (I was driving around blind in the snow for a little while) and when I woke up, my arms were completely asleep, and my fingers were white.

I got up as soon as my arms would allow, and made a black cup of coffee and ate left over stirfry.
Then I read some more David Sedaris in a completely filthy living room. This is my routine now. School is almost completely over, and I read a. lot. now. Now I read a lot.
I sit and think about how my dream home (the one that only I live in) has no furniture, but it is practically sterile, and when I come home from work, I lie straight on the hardwood floor, because there is no dog hair. And in my dream world, I usually fall asleep there, but my arms work when I wake up.

In other news, I'm semi dehydrated, and feeling a little old.

I sat, with my feet up, at 6:39 a.m., alone in my kitchen. With one light on and a crappy cup of coffee I leaned my chair back on two legs and could just see some pink coming over the mountains. I watched it the entire time. That halo of pink. It last for two minutes, and then gradually faded into the blue sky. And I felt like no one but God knew about it, either.
I think a lot of people miss the sunrise.
Sometimes it's better that way.

another happy thought

And I realized, as Brandi said that she was done with Utah, with the whole North and West, and that she was moving to Tenessee or somewhere where she could drink, that the whole thing really was about moving forward. I let her teach me what she could. Even if it was all MLA and citations and thinking for myself. Even if she rubbed me the wrong way sometimes, I still wanted to tell her, "Good luck exploring the infinite abyss," (always my favorite line from Garden State). I realized, second of all, as I bounced out of class, handed her my last paper, and walked in sunshine to my house, that it was all just one big adventure. As my mom keeps cleaning our house to get it ready to move out of, that I am more than just a little excited that the end of this adventure is near, and the start of a new, HORRIBLE, wonderful adventure is just about to unfold. With gore, blood, guts, romance, fencing, fighting, new life, music (oh man-the music), leaving, coming and going, shouting, the hypocrisy and the hope, my hope....
Yes, it is beautiful, and it makes me shutter and smile.

Take your places on the battlefield. Damn the torpedos full speed ahead.

"Look, it's a penguin," he said.
"No, Noah, it's an egg," I answered him.
"No, it's a penguin, and it's French," he said, completely ignoring me as usual.

Its a funny thing that I got to sleep in til 7:47 this morning, and I thought I was going crazy. I figured that for sure, when I looked at my phone, it was going to say 11 o' clock in the afternoon.
I'm a bona fide worker now.
On the next schedule, she has me working full time for a couple weeks of it. That should be a nice cushion, I would imagine.
I signed up for the inVision retreat on Monday, having faith that God would somehow work it out with Debbie that I wouldn't have to work that Saturday. And either, they communicated really well, or she was just going to give it to me anyway. But I get to go! And I'm excited because the last inVision retreat got me really pumped up about what was going on in the church, and made me feel so unified with the other believers. So yeah. Win-win situation, there.

Side note: I'm almost completely sure by now that my parents are moving to Provo. They keep finding houses, and my dad has three job interviews. Something tells me that if none of these jobs work out, he'll just keep applying for more. This is Salt Lake and Fort Collins all over again. Except I'm older now, and them moving means I'll be out on my own.
And I think
I feel like
bring it on.

something similar to what we know already

My mind is being blown RIGHT NOW by the following things:
-a great pair of earphones
(I can hear everything and nothing at the same time. I can't hear the dogs barking, can't hear the doors slamming)
-A Doll House by Henrik Ibsen
(I sat on the edge of my seat the whole time I read it, and the twist at the end of the play ripped my heart out)
-Fiona Apple
-God
-photography

your parents were anxious, your cool was contagious

Suddenly I went from partying every night til 2 a.m. to being some sort of person who goes to bed early and gets up early and works for the man and has a schedule. Like I used to.

"Then followed a year of lonely convalescence that set him on a path of self-sufficiency that made him comfortable in a world largely populated by himself and his thoughts."
-Tom Smart Alex Colville Return

Sometimes I read that quote (I wrote it down a couple years ago from a book on how to paint water colors. ???) And I think that I live in a world largely populated by myself and my thoughts. Under my hair, speaking to mostly God. Especially on the days that I am working, and Alex isn't there, and nobody texts me because they are working. (Funny how that goes) I often find myself leaning over to plug in a vitals machine, or in a closet disinfecting IV poles with painfully potent alcohol wipes and entering into a conversation with God right off the bat, mid sentence, like we'd never stopped talking. Even when he is barely whispering answers to my questions.
"God, do I go to Provo..."
"God, is it wrong for me to give up the band?"
"God, what in the world am I doing?"
And then suddenly I am interrupted by a nurse who reminds me of a bird.
"DID YOU GET THAT BLOOD SUGAR IN 39!" He seems to be squawking at me. And then I am left midsentence again, to finish this conversation later.

Makes me wonder how other people spend the time in their head.

He holds Suiki down in the grass, and kisses her over and over to try to make up for hitting her on the back with a bat only a few minutes before, and I have to laugh. Then she squirrels away and he chases her again.
Ridiculous, like always.

Today was a much better day, simply because I woke up and went and met Lauren at Niche Cafe, which was wonderful. We talked for 2 hours, which is a lot longer than we usually do. But she fixed me, like she usually does.
Then, when I got home, there were three CD's waiting for me on the porch, and an empty house. And an empty house was never more appealing. I got a lot of homework done and listened to music.
All this running is doing me good, I think. It's been good for my back, and in general I feel stronger and feel like I sleep sounder at night. I haven't even had any bad dreams...

But I am reading too much Hamlet.
It hits me all over again. Every time.

For three or four minutes, today, time stood still.
It was the end of our shift, and I was at the front nurses' station instead of the back, talking to Alex, and they called the med-team to 2126.
So we walked to the back to see what was going on. It seemed like everyone from all over the hospital were there. The phlebotomist, the respiratory therapist, the pharmacist, nurses and doctors. They all crowded into the tiny little room. They told Ashley to call the code and Rebekah started doing CPR. Rebekah, who I talk to at lunch. A normal woman.
Colleen the charge nurse came out holding the hand of 26's son. Her voice was cracking.
Alex and I just stared into the room. I felt like this whole thing was a joke. This whole job, of working at a hospital. War is hell, they say. A hospital is also hell, I think.
"2:54," the doctor says, and walks out of the room. The med team leaves.
2:54. Does he mean time of death?

Friday night, I came into work, and I was actually really happy to be there. To take my mind off of things. I had a few really grumpy patients, but I also had 2126. I helped him to the bathroom. I laughed at his jokes, and I teased him back when he was teasing me. I sat on the edge of the counter, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
"I told my grandson, the best part of being in this hospital is that beautiful women take me to the bathroom," he said, and I laughed and blushed, "And then I told him that the worst part of being in this hospital is that beautiful women are taking me to the bathroom." Then I laughed again. I sat with him and talked, even though my vitals were going to be late, maybe. John and Lisa wouldn't notice.
"It's people like you that make this bearable," he told me when I walked out of his room that night. I told him he was going to be fine. I would say that 95% of people leave the hospital alive. Maybe even 99% by the time they are discharged from Acute Care. So the odds were that he would be fine.

"What happened Rebekah?" Alex asked.
"He died," she said. Easily. While she was rubbing her hands with hand sanitizer. Her face was red. I could never tell what Rebekah was thinking. She always looked the same. "Now wasn't that exciting?" She said picking up her clip board. But this time, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed she was being sarcastic.
The only thing I could think was that I wished I'd talked to him about Jesus that night. I wished I'd stayed for five more minutes, and asked him what he thought about life after death.
"Today is a good day to die," Don said, referring to the sunny weather, making toast in the kitchen. At first I was mad at him when he said it, but it reminded me of that Dave Matthews song where he says that every day should be a good day to die.

Life is short, and there's one thing you can't do in Heaven. I hope I do it here.

Been reading a lot of E.E. Cummings lately. I skipped literature class the other day, but felt better by indulging in my own exploration of his poetry.
The first time I ever read it, I was very offended ("She being Brand", very offensive to me) but then I realized that he wrote a lot like I write my poems, when I feel like expressing myself in poetry.

I like to read it out loud, and delight in how vulgar but refined he is. Can I have that? Vulgar and refined? Can he be that?

I like to drink coke with ice out of a cup. But not a glass. And not the can.
Those are my conditions, I guess.

Last night Ben showed me some music videos on youtube that had been filmed and then run backwards. They were really cool to watch, because I thought the whole time about how hard it would be to choreograph it and have it look cool. It made me think, what if we lived our lives backwards? What if we'd seen the parts before, and knew they were coming up? Would that be less stressful? Even if you had to live through them, and you knew they were going to be bad, would it make it easier knowing the outcome, and slowly becoming younger instead of older? A hopeful life, maybe. You'd start with a broken body and wind up fixed by the end of it.

Heaven. I think about Heaven, a lot.

only what you can manage sometimes,
in the hardcore silence
they always whisper
"I thought we still had a bird? don't know that noise, where it comes from maybe."
could you answer
in
shorter
sentences
please.

kept in mind that at least we were always young
maybe we weren't
maybe we were old
maybe hearing the Bible through the wall isn't good enough
he said.
he said while he was sleeping.
he didn't know he said it
because he sleeps so hard for 8 hours
with a mohawk. when did that happen?
pretending a couple times.
we did that

So I woke up and made a cup of coffee and stared at my pictures for a minute. I read Dave Smallen's blog and it made me wish I were out on the road again. He always does that to me. Makes me want to drive across Wyoming at 2 a.m. stopping at creepy gas stations. Drive across Nebraska, mid-afternoon, humming along to Bob Dylan while everyone's asleep.
I took a shower, and cleaned up my room a bit since my grandparents are coming, and I'm the only one with my own room so....
I'll be sleeping on the couch. I don't really mind so much. I'm just thinking it feels good to be in a normal life. To not be sleeping all day on Saturday because I worked a grave, you know? To be doing normal chores and talking to my parents like we used to. To run errands with my windows down.

"Suppose I kept on singing love songs,
just to break my own fall...
just to break my fall."
-Regina Spektor

i'm wide awake its morning

Watched Children of Men with Ben, Eric, and a snoring Niels. It feels nice after pauses to be with who you are good at being with. wthi. whit. Eating marshmallow popcorn and sourpatch anything-in-general. Nice nice nice.

Before that, I walked over to the Nicklecade and played video games and gambled with the RockU boys and Britt and Philip. I put a nickle in the jukebox and got it to play Zombie by the Cranberries and the Saga Begins by Weird Al, and Mr. Jones by Counting Crows. Brittni won the jackpot and we stared at the fake pretzels in the fake box to keep them warm. ???

And its four in the morning again, and I'm awake again. Dangit Gina.
But oh. well.

Listening to "The Animals Were Gone" by Damien Rice makes me want to die. But it's so good. I'm torn.

I'm drinking 32% decent coffee at 3:38 a.m. even though I'm going to sleep in five hours. It's hard to tell when it's going to keep me up or not.

I spent 2 hours before work playing around with pictures on my computer. I try to tell myself that I really do have hobbies. That I really don't spend all my time working or hanging out with friends or scrambling to get my homework done for school. Sometimes I feel like I am counterproductive, so I have this stuff to try to make me feel balanced. To show my parents? Look Mom, I do stuff. Look, Dad, I don't just dissapear into outerspace. But they're not asking, I'm just telling.

Oh, Damien. Why are you making me drink this coffee?

"Sometimes I listen to French music while I'm getting ready and about 5 minutes after leaving my apartment I realize I'm dressed like a French prostitute."
-Alison

Which is funny because I don't think Alison could ever dress immodest at all.

Mmmm. I love new phone batteries.

It was a Friday the night his lung collapsed. I remember because my dad and I were at a Friday Night Live. I had my hair all done up, and I had a scarf on, which is something I usually didn't do, but my hair was pretty long (for me) and I felt like wearing a scarf for some reason.
My aunt came over to my dad, and they were quietly talking, and I had a headache. I also had a hard time standing, and I should have been home in bed. I didn't really know what was supposed to happen after your lung collapses. Does the other one keep working on its own? How long can you live that way?
When I woke up the next morning, I was in so much abdominal pain that I could barely get out of bed. I walked up to the living room to tell my parents I had to go to the doctor, and they were all sitting around staring at the floor.
Then they told me that he died. I don't even remember if I cried. I think the crying was later on. I even went to church that night, because everything was completely surreal. I did powerpoint and maybe that was when I cried.
Then, that Sunday, we took off in an airplane and its a funny thing to look down on the clouds and wonder about God, and where He is. Is He in outerspace?
That week was a blur of hotels and freezing cold, my grandmother crying, absense of music, of me taking pills and crying a lot, and sitting on the couch, expecting him to come through the door at anytime. To tell us it was all just a joke. To just be home from work, or to just come home from the grocery store with ice cream sandwiches.
Because the last time I saw him, he was strong. He was standing at the door with my grandma, waving goodbye, and nothing was that wrong. Drugs can mask anything for a while.

I don't know what's brought on all the memories. Maybe it's this headache.

thoughts as one would pull onto the 500 south on-ramp when they were facing west into the sunset, with the window down slightly at 59 miles per hour:
life is perfect
he smiles slightly when she talks about the revolution, can't stop himself, doesn't catch himself
God is beautiful
life is perfect
need to find an amp
miss coffee with Ashley
the sunset is beautiful and the weather is perfect
its always the little things
pray pray pray
every little thing about his smell and his face
"it's the wrong kind of place"
life is perfect because
God is perfect
iced coffee in the sun and my pants rolled up and no sweater on
"is that alright with you? put my gun away when it's loaded"
righteous by faith
grasping at straws sometimes made
life perfect.
and always, it is beautiful.

"I think I am getting love, Rachel."
"You are falling in love?"
"Yes. I am getting in love."
-Ana (my Brazilian coworker) to me

Ana is the single mother of three children, one of whom is as old as I am. We often eat together, and even though she is twice my age, we get along really well. I'll miss her, if I go.
Huh.

"I could use a really good cup of coffee right about now, Joe."

Twelve hours is a long time to work. A really long time.

Wish I was far away, somewhere really warm, under a tree, and that it was day time, and that I was listening to Rilo Kiley, and that I was wearing a tank top and eating a popsicle and that all my troubles were far behind me. And suddenly there was no such thing as work or school.
Oh man. I am tired, officially.

Another
nightmare.

Do they ever go away, when you're trying. Things.

I felt slightly guilty, upon waking, that it was 11:53 a.m. and I hadn't gotten up with Noah to watch a black and white horror B-movie because he would be scared to watch one alone. I'm pretty sure that kid has seen Lord of the Rings and other graphic, possibly R rated movies, but old black and white Twilight Zone episodes scare him so bad he can't sleep.
I rubbed my eyes and heard the dogs barking really loudly and him yelling at them to be quiet, and I laughed out loud. I pulled the sheets up over my head and realized that I love my life. That life is beautiful even in it's consistent difficulty. Sometimes I think that God likes me just a little more than I deserve, because how else could I get away with so much all the time? Like skipping classes on Thursday for Kelsea's birthday.

Band practice was so much fun today. Learned Kelsea's new song and Steele and Kim came so we could work on our girl band for Women's Conference. Steele sat and ate communion bread and drank coffee while we rocked out with no drums.

Then I went up to Salt Lake to have a fancy dinner made by Chef Ben, and even with no rice wine, it was amazing. :) We watched the end of Mystery Men and all of Bottlerocket with Matt 1 and 2, Niels, Eric, and Phil, then Dan.

It was a good night, even though I had to come to work, and it was an amazing weekend of running around Utah and having a lot of good times with good friends.

answering phone calls

When I woke up, I had 9 text messages, and one missed call, and one voicemail.
Joey called from the hospital and wondered if I'd be interested in a bla bla bla position, and I said, sure that sounds cool, so I was going to wait for him to call back, when I got another call from this lady Sandy and in 3.5 minutes, I had an interview set up for tomorrow.
So I'm laying there thinking, Whoa there God, what am I gonna do. So I go make some coffee and while it's brewin' Mrs. Mac calls to see if I think I could talk at the women's conference which a thousand miles outside of my comfort zone, so I say, I'm gonna pray about that one... and my eyes are stinging so bad. And I don't know how to make school and a sound check work out on Thursday, so I'm a bit freaked out about that one.

And all I can do is pray. That's all that's left.

"Sometimes I feel like just joking about living the exciting life, and I just want to sit around and eat poptarts."
-Kels, a long time ago, but I still think it's funny


Tired, in the hospital. Chapped lips. But I got the best parking spot on the hospital's whole dang campus. Should do home work. Should chop my back off. Should do a lot of things.

one of our patients called 911 tonight.
It would have been funny, if it weren't not funny, trying to get her to put down the phone. And the nurse was trying to reassure the emergency people that it really wasn't an emergency. I don't understand some people. Some people, on morphine.

One of my patients asked me how I could be so perky in the middle of the night, and I just smiled at her and told her that I drink a lot of coffee.

It's been a good night, and I'm happy, and I'm looking forward to a very good week.

: )

one lifetime is long enough,
is long enough to wait.
David Gray

the cure for winter

We start to know it a little bit more each day. Each time we wear sandals and breathe sunny air.

"Yeah, I know about that."
"What, about being 60% republican?"
"No! Well. I did start a load of laundry."

these whiskey tango ghosts

it seems dumb to me to have horror B-movies on television when their is real horror in real life, all around us, all the time.
why can't we look away?

Met Lauren for tea and cheesecake this afternoon, and she just made me laugh and get excited about bike rides, and spring, and being okay with things. Rilo Kiley songs were going off in my head (do they ever stop now?) as we watched this man climb the stairs and try not to spill two drinks. I wondered, vaguely, why he didn't take a drink out of one, cuz it was too full. I thought, maybe, that his girlfriend was afraid of his germs, and wouldn't like it if she caught him, and the very thought of that was enough to keep him from trying it. Or maybe he just didn't know what to do.
So after I made her late for work, and we hugged in the parking lot, I decided to give blood, because I had the rest of the afternoon to do anything, and I was thinking about all the people that need blood, hoping I had enough iron. And I did.
I think she sliced my artery open, because it really hasn't stopped bleeding, and it's been, oh, six hours. But I don't care.

Now I'm going to get paid to sit and watch someone sleep and write, and listen to music.

history deletes itself
but it can't make their bad dreams go away.

"are you alright? I can't get you off my mind-"

My back might be breakin' and my chest might be caving in, but the sun is shining now. I forgot what that was. Its funny how only in winter can you appreciate that sometimes. I'm glad I don't live where it rains too much.
Took a walk through the streets of the neighborhood behind mine, listened to Tegan and Sara. Forgot also how much I like them. I guess we'd worn them out. So good.

Sometimes, I don't have much to say to God, but I think it's worship enough just to walk down the street and to tell Him he's good. Just cuz you're happy. Listening to their So Jealous album. Cuz I think God likes what I like.
We're friends like that.

"What would you like?"
"Um, can I get a Shirley Temple, do you make those?"
"Yeah."
"And she wants that without alcohol."
"I think Shirley Temples are generally nonalcoholic drinks..."

Sorry. Second post in one night.

It's funny working the night shift how often my mind can change, or my whole mood can change, once I've acclimated to being here. In fact, sometimes I'm even glad I'm here after the first two hours of running around taking vitals and chasing down nurses is over. It can sometimes be peaceful. There is a hum. The computers hum and the furnace blows, sort of. It never really feels warm, but I like it cool because I wear layers and I hate being really hot while I'm working.

But I feel better about my haircut. And I love people. The last one is more important. I LOVE people. I didn't always. I did live inside myself once, and I only loved the people that were loveable. People I thought were awesome, you know? Now I feel like I can even love people I hate, in a way. God has changed my heart, in those respects.


also, I think that we just want to go on adventures. Us. collectively. the boys and the girls, they want to be heroic and heroinish.

I cut some of my own hair this morning.
I mean, I'm used to doing that, but I quit trusting my haircutting skills after the last haircut. Not that it was really bad, but my past two haircuts have been by licensed professionals.

Ha.

I just cut an inch off the back, and I didn't wash my hair. I put a headband on and pretended I hadn't done this sort of thing to myself, again. I get over it pretty quick usually. In fact, I'm fairly sure that I'll be over it by tomorrow.

I got a microphone in the mail. A Shure SM58 for Kelsea's studio. I get really excited about her studio. In her laundry room. It has a cozy sound to it, doesn't it?

Britt's birthday party was last night. It was really nice; everyone was there. Raychel and I drank a lot of cream soda and Brittni looked cute like she always does. We played a round of Mafia and I spilled Nick's drink on the carpet, and I felt bad. But he cleaned it up pretty well. I just sat there feeling dumb, smiling like a stupid-idiot.

We all went home pretty early, but I didn't actually go to sleep til 2 or 3. I can't remember. Good phone conversations with an even better friend, while I laid on the couch by the fireplace. It's so freaking cold all the time. Anyway.

I feel awful tonight, at the hospital. I feel like a horrible nurse assistant. I can't concentrate. Vitals took me forever. I want to just sit and smack my head. Six more hours...
I just feel, slightly out of place and lonely, even though John is back, and there is a certain comfort in that. I just about broke down in the linen closet. I just stood there and prayed that somehow I could pull myself together.
The thing is, I'm really actually very happy. Joyful. My head has just been really cloudy, and I do feel sort of lonely in the midst of it.

twenty years of snow

I hate when I feel like I know nothing. When everyone else is living a complicated life right here. In the room next to mine. In the house down the street from me. In the church that I grew up in. Hurts a little.

There are bobby pins all over my shelf. I don't know why. I don't have long hair. I mean should I put my heart in a box or not? Put it back on the shelf next to the bobby pins? She never truly hated anyone or anything.

God knows. I mean, He does, when it comes down to it. PEACE that transcends all understanding. I love that. But I hate the everyday fight. But I love standing my ground. But I hate Satan. But I love hope. For the future. Hope for music.

One day, we'll put it all together. The tiny pieces. The shards that tore up our skin. The lovely colored glass melted our heart when we felt vibrant. The pottery that hit the floor and broke. The puzzle that was in our mind. We'll know it.

It'll be okay, you'll see.

2am
"Could you bring me a cup of really hot coffee, and two creamers?" He looks like a mountain man. I mean, it's cool if you want to stay up all night, drinking coffee. It's cool if you've been doing that as long as you can remember. Don't shave. You're cool man.
4am
"Could you bring me a cup of really hot coffee, and some creamer?" Yeah, man, I will. You're really cool, you know that? I don't even know how your body can handle you drinking caffeine twenty four seven, but that's cool. Bushy-hair-guy. He's been in here before. Poor guy. I'll get you your coffee. I mean, his hair. His huge beard. He looks. like. Moses.

life inside the music box ain't easy
Regina sounds happy about it anyway. What would you do?

My little brother at dinner tonight, expressed his concern on growing older and going to college.
"Well, I don't really know how to hold a baby," he told my dad. I watched my dad trying hard not to laugh, and I didn't even bother trying.
"I think you have a few years to worry about that," he told him, "At least two years."

I wish I were out on a boat somewhere warm tonight. Laying in a boat, with someone I love. Drinking Merlot out of Dixie cups. It doesn't need to be a yacht or even a sailboat. Just a little row boat. I'm happy now, but that would be truly perfect.

"I know entirely too much about coffee," Ben told me.
"Everyone should know entirely too much about something," I answered, and then "I don't know very much about anything, but I know a little bit about everything, I think."

And I wish I knew more.
Se tente. I tried.

I think I know about people, what made them what they are. I know about Pepsi and how it feels going down my throat. I know about how hard your heart can beat, when you are doing nothing to provoke it. I know that a Rotring writes smoother than a Lamy. I know why people drink. I know about waking up sad, and how it wrecks you. I know about the farm, I know the woods and the fields. I know exactly what size knot to tie in a garbage bag to get it to fit perfectly and not tear being stretched over the garbage can. I know about Salt Lake City. I know that nobody really wants you to color outside the lines, and that it's probably a good thing, when it comes down to it.

I wish, Alison, that we were better at getting together for milkshakes. But I love it when you write me letters. We can say what we're thinking. Write me a letter, friend.

"Will it be boring?" She asked angrily as she glared at us.
"Yes," she answered her own question. "In your highspeed life of desperation."

I'm cleaning up my room and throwing past lives away. I thought I'd want to remember them? I was kidding myself.

After 18 years of being a daughter, and being a friend to my dad,
sometimes
I
still don't
know what to say to him.

But I love him.

I always wonder what'd be like to be married to Bob Dylan.
When he was younger, and changing the world a lot.

I wonder what he'd say, when we got up and ate breakfast. Or when we'd look through the mail. I wonder if he wouldn't speak to me at all, and if we'd hate each other.
If he'd write songs about me. If he would keep a fishtank.

I just wonder what it would be like for the woman that was married to him. I need to read his biography I think.
That's what's next in knowing.

Noah and I have developed a routine for when I leave.
It sounds really juvenile, but I tell him "Bye bye," and then he tells me not to talk to strangers. Then, just like that, I leave.

I don't know how it happened.

But anyways, I love it when the patients that are rude leave. When you come in and notice that their room is empty, and their bed is made and waiting for someone new. Someone nice. Someone who won't ask you to make dentist appointments for them.

I like house sitting so far. I can nap and nobody tells me to do the dishes. Because I don't make any dishes.

I don't seem obvious, do I?

Chewin' all my nails off.
Watching my feet turn white as the blood drains out of them and never comes back. Listening to Jimmy Eat. Wondering when we're ever going to hit take off, in here. I'm getting itchy, getting antsy, getting tired
TIRED
tired
of waiting for you God. Just give me the answers already.
If I'm going to be honest with You, You gotta give me something to hold onto.