The happiest robot of them all

I think it's been 2.5 years since I've been this happy. It didn't take my wildest dreams coming true, it just took a change of scenery and free waffles.
My heart feels new. It feels nothing difficult.
I let go of the air quality, because I can't change it and God still calls me to live here.

I will treasure this winter.

My dad hates made for TV chick flick movies, but we've been watching them all day to get out of football.
These are the Sundays I'll remember, actually, in my later life. Frying stuff and making fun of Lifetime Christmas movies.
God has me in a perfect life.
I wish I could say all the things on my heart but I'm just not any good at writing anymore. Maybe in the next season of trials. I'm resting and not looking too far out of the windows.

of melatonin and snow

When I start to feel exhausted and not smart enough for this new job, I just drive past my Starbucks and that's how I keep fighting to make it work, because I do NOT want to go back to serving coffee.

Very busy with work, trying to workout, and trying to visit all friends all the time. I keep saying, "I'm going to take a week for just ME, to catch up on MY stuff and go on a run every night til my body feels good again." But it's too gratifying to spend time with friends.

I went to Provo last night to finally see Kelsea since it has been months, and saw Abel walking around like he's six years old or something. So cute.

We had dinner and then watched Caleb play a soccer game, and it was just hugely relieving to be with her. 

I say a thankful prayer every time my car gets me to-and-from anywhere in this cold, and I'm enjoying knitted presents from dear friends. Coffee. Electric blankets. Hot tubbing. Calling people with southern accents. New coworkers. Next year's dreams of the Midwest and maybe going back to the U and perhaps a spring half marathon.

It's just plain weird and wonderful to be happy all the time.

I blinked, and a week went by.

for the time being

When I love you
I love you very much.
And when I don't, it's a missing ocean in my life.
Happily landlocked I build cities and towns far away from you. The main feeling I feel is used-to-it.

What did I mean the most?
Between all of this: the very much used box of Kleenex and bottle of cough medicine...
Between beloved dogs abandoned for holidays in Arizona.
After I gave up my weekends, after I started the 60 hour work weeks, but before I became a real grown up.
Between reading fiction books, and then reading nonfiction books.
Between becoming and dissolving.
Between clocking in with my fingers, and clocking in with a picture of my face to a little magnetic sensor.
Between drinking candy for a living, and eating salads for lunch.
Somewhere in there is where I am now, and what I mean the most is that you can stand up tall. You were made clean, at least, somewhere in between 1988 and 2013, for better and for worse.

We might get our heads chopped off by everyone, or we might find romance and that thing of settling down in a house with a compost pile and, God-forbid, a minivan.

For now I'm just happy when the dogs are snoring, because that means they're not awake.

Good night, Ms. Clavel.

I am--of course--starting to get reflective, as it is the end of the year.
Six months ago, or even six weeks ago, I would have said that this was a year packed with hardships. Everything from my dog dying, friends moving away, that unholy flu,car problems, job rejections, The Internship; there were days when I thought I was having a hospital-worthy meltdown.
But coming out the other side of it, with the gift of hindsight, I can't believe how good God is, and how much He rewards those who find peace in Him supremely. I don't know how nonbelievers can do it.

I got to see Judy. I am crazy in love with my new job, I'm still getting to do proof-reading (is that what I went to college for, I think?), I'm paying off the little debt that I have left, I'm starting to eat healthier and sleep more.

I learned more being thrown into the fire, than the peaceful year after graduating that I was just watching every TV series that Netflix had to offer.
What a glorious end to a tornado of a season. Now if we have a nice white Christmas and I don't fail any tests at my new job, I could see it being a very peaceful month of rest before the crazy upheaval that is in the forecast for 2014.

God will still be good though, either way.

He says your name from somewhere nearby like he's trying it out again. (But he's not trying it out, he's got a girlfriend. He's like a suit, he's like---all the mystery's gone.) He just stands there looking great in a beard and hoodie and you think you have pesto in your teeth but you smile and try to hug him but bury your face not-in-his-shoulder---but why are you doing this so weird, you're just friends but you can't think of what to say after two years and the embrace isn't the same as that day you walked around downtown for several hours dancing carefully around the blisters in summer sandals, and he wanted to be with you back then.  Was good for you back then. When you had a strong chin and you had the glow of college and love notes from men in their twenties-not-thirties-or-forties. But you gave it up for the long-term plan. You held up your end of the bargain, and then what? You had to learn a new life and you got to be the one quietly carrying some baton and driving home so late at night that the early morning BBC news is on, but you can't hear it because there is no one in the passenger seat to laugh along with you to the funny things that some Vietnamese man is saying on the radio. You gotta be a different kind of strong than before.
Every day the strong becomes an electrifying, terrifying new thing that won't be easy to explain and the island you're on is a good enough home, because God is good, dammit.

God is great and He is holding up His end of the bargain, even though every day is a different hard, with different joys and hurts, He gave you mercy, so sacrificing everything should be an easy ordeal.
But you go away, and it's a different kind of richness that you miss. Not money, but being known and loved by another human being in a sack of flesh. You miss it and remember what it was like to doze off in the arms of a man who wanted to protect you and cherish you.

Walk out into beautiful cold weather. The mountains so close you can touch them or see them crystal clear. There is grace, there is grace. "Get behind me Satan," you whisper to the feelings, and tomorrow you'll be a better soldier and dodge bullets like a pro.

Happy everyday.

What a nice life.

Been hallucinatin' you, babe

I wish
that
someone
else was
awake
with me.
(And other things that make it hard to be here.)

WELL. Monday finally came.

I have the opposite schedule of most Americans, and I love when the weekends are finally over.
I started my new job today, and I am ecstatic about working for this company and all the perks. By lunch time, I couldn't believe that this is my real life. I am hopefully going to slowly let go of all my extra jobs (I worked my last 5 hours of The Internship this week) and be able to actually have a Sabbath in a couple weeks.

Excited for the future. For work. For Christmas. For fellowship. For running faster miles. God has blessed me with so much.

God willing and the creek don't rise

It may be time to retire from house/dog-sitting as I don't need the money anymore, and I seem to attract the worst problems to me (and other people's property.) I could write a book on my house-sitting misadventures.

This time around.

-First night, one of the 5lb Pomeranians ate two grapes out of my bowl when my back was turned. Well, grapes are poisonous to dogs, and I spent an hour googling "Is my dog going to die from eating grapes" and trying to do the math of grape poison in grams to dog weight in kilograms. Ratios. Ugh. I tried to get him to throw up for the next hour (my mom suggested a teaspoon of salt on his tongue, tried that one, didn't work) and I read that burned toast does something, so I burned the only bread I could find in the house, and he gladly ate it, and still didn't throw up. So I went to bed praying really hard that God would spare his foolish little life. And you know what? 24 hrs later, he was just fine. Not even diarrhea.

-Second day, I accidentally left the fridge slightly open, and all the cold air escaped and went unreplenished as fridges do not like their doors to be left ajar. I came back four hours later and very sadly threw away lukewarm bacon and roast beef. I did, however, move the expensive cheeses to the freezer immediately, and I have been eating them and I haven't died yet.

-Third day: really cold. This couple has been using space heaters instead of the furnace to heat the house since it's been a sunny 60 degrees in Utah since, like, September. So I had the space heater on, and warmed my coffee in the microwave at the same time, and tripped a breaker. Stood out in the rain trying to figure out which one it was on the side of the house, one by one, and ended up giving up and flipping them all. Now all the clocks in the house are blinking.

Same day, I finally text the homeowner to say are you sure you don't want me to turn on the furnace? i.e. are you worried about your pipes at all? She says turn on the furnace, but then I come home from church (earlier than I normally would, thank God) and A PIPE HAS BURST. The ceiling in the downstairs bathroom is bulging with water.

So that is my weekend. I hope you are all binge-watching Scandal or LOST or something so I can live through your free time vicariously...

Judy

"You know how sometimes the leaves are dead but they haven't fallen off the tree yet? I'd like to just go light the leaves and see if the whole thing would burn like a candle."

"Grandma!"

"What?"

"That is not what I thought you were going to say!"

"It would be so pretty, like a giant candle in someone's front yard."

I get the sudden sinking feeling of a man about to fly

I packed my suitcase and came back to earth, hard as it was.

 

Maybe it seems silly to love a town full of old furniture and people who don't go hiking or eat healthy at all. People who still use the Post Office all the time, and the parking lot of the Video Rental store is full on a Thursday night. But I never feel as loved and happy and comforted as when I am there.

 

 I guess it is good to be back home now. I gave my Starbucks boss notice, and I'm starting my new job on the 18th. One of my Colorado friends is moving here. I'm going to push hard to get back into shape. Snow is falling. Thanksgiving is right around the corner.

 

I think I'm actually looking forward to the future now? What new mystery is this?

Maybe we are the lucky ones, the ones that sleep alone.

We can love as many people as we want. Spread our time over time zones. Have the covers to ourselves in our fitful sleep. Watch a lot of episodes of 30 Rock and spend our allowance on fine cheeses.

We're really over-thinking this.

Friday in Des Moines

I know I always crack up Iowa to be really oustanding, but even those expectations are too low for how I really feel when I am here.

Loved and cherished. Surrounded by beauty and everything smells good. With my sweet Judy who never stops making me laugh and loving life.

I am a wholly optimistic person when I'm here. I wish I could bottle it up and take it home to the me that is always trying to escape, but sometimes I think God just wants me to taste a small taste of Heaven so I know what we're fighting for back in the trenches.

and the next day and the next

This is the part of the movie where the montage and the sad song are done playing, and you have to pick yourself up and have a cup of coffee and return proofreading projects, go to second interviews, show up at work and pretend you're not going to interviews. Go to the studio, record Christmas music with your band. Finish busy work for The Internship you seriously thought was over. Buy macaron and scarf them before you even get out of the parking lot. Laundry, laundry, and your regular hair color is starting to show through.

I don't have time to go on vacation, but I'm going to anyway. And after that, I have this vision that I'll be all sorted out and work less hours, and sit in an armchair and read a book. Stop biting my nails. Get this job that I want so bad. Go running again. Write handwritten letters. Go to parties. Just my usual life that I've been missing, but with more holidays and Sabbaths.

Here I come, ready or not.

don't swallow the cap

I'm writing this post during the day, firstly because I am awake, and secondly because I know I won't get as morbid.

Sometime around midnight, I lost my dog to an early death of disease. Last night I didn't really want to face what it would feel like to come home from work today and not have her waiting for me at the door. Not getting to go on a run with her anymore. Not taking naps together.
My eyes feel like I was punched in the face at a bar fight, even though I was home most of the weekend weeping, and I learned enough in 2009 to know that drinking just puts off the grief until later.

As my dad took her to be mercifully euthanized, I couldn't help but say out loud, "God, why are you stripping blessings away from me one by one?" And then I read Job and felt ashamed.

God is good, and I have to learn like a child, over and over again that we're all going to die. We're all going to hurt, but that we are meant to live life for Him while we still have it, to rejoice and to praise Him because He is merciful, and He deserves it.

Revelations 21:4
"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away."

I hope that it teaches me to appreciate what I do have right now.

Pressing onward.

yet it is well with my soul

God works in mysterious ways.
God gives, and then He takes from me.
Jenny Lewis


But God is ultimately good. And it is well with my soul.

passing trains

Makensy: So anyway, I heard in highschool she had a tattoo of her own name on her back, so I said, "Yeah, some tattoos are so dumb! I heard of this girl who had a tattoo of her own name, isn't that stupid?!" And she said, "Maybe it was special to her." And I said, "Stupidest thing I ever heard!"
Me: Oh my gosh, Makensy. You are crazy.
Makensy: I think God gave me a special gift of being good at getting revenge.
Me: I don't know if that's really a thing.

I am done with The Internship.
Here's to life after nightly phone calls to people who don't want to hear from me. Here's to remembering to wash all the shampoo out of my hair before I get out of the shower. Here to maybe getting to the gym a few days a week now. Here's to spontaneous dinners with friends again.

I'm sitting in my bathrobe at 1:55pm and waiting on a phone interview call.
My boss asked me this morning if I was looking for other jobs and I answered her honestly that I kind of was, slowly, and she sighed a really long sigh and then stared into my soul. Her eyes are the only thing left about her that still look young and vital, but her kids and 2 jobs and health problems are killing her slowly.
"I love working here," I told her, "But I have to think about my future since I'm alone, and Starbucks isn't going to pay all my bills forever. If you could pay me $15 an hour, I'd stay."
"Maybe I should get another job too," she said, rubbing her face with her hands. I ate my Spaghettios and nodded.



Let's take a nap instead of thinking so hard.

doppio con panna

I saw Celisse after 9 days of not seeing her and barely texting her, and I realized that we still didn't have that much to tell each other because we are both on a marathon of working 50 or 60 hour weeks.

I'm juggling a lot of bosses, and emails, and to-do lists, but coming out of the sickness (flu?) I am so grateful for everything.

It is a good thing to work. You don't have time to wax philosophical or realize that your favorite month (September) disappeared into a cloud of phone calls and that you hit your one year anniversary of the love affair with Europe, or that two years ago you were in your beloved senior year of college.

And the paychecks show up in your account so that you can get the hell out of here again one day.
It's actually pretty great to be single with no responsibilities. I remembered again this week.

I accidentally woke up Tony who I did not know was sleeping on my couch, and he said, "What time is it? Are you going to work?"

"Yeah. It's 5:20."

"Whoa! Your life sucks!"

Only a few more weeks. God willing.

41 hours deep

Home sick on a Friday night, with no one to get me orange Gatorade and set up my electric blanket, so I am my own knight in shining...how does that saying go? My brain is shutting down.

This internship is continuing to broaden my life experiences, and my experience with Christians from other kinds of churches. Because today I had the captain of a prayer team tell me that God would quench the fiery arrows in my life, as I was sniffling to him on the phone. 

"No one has ever said that to me," I wanted to tell him.

"Thank you," was what I really said.

And then I had a pastor from another church actually pray for me over the phone when they heard I was sick.

So this is not the way I thought I would take some down time, but here I am. 

It's not Shakespeare, but it was good enough for pen and ink today.

sweet september afternoons

Me: Well, the Thinkpad is more gorgeous than the Zenbook, but I'll probably go with the Zenbook. Is that what you would do if you were me?
Brad: If I were you, I would drink tons of coffee and smirk a lot.

Things feel manageable currently. I don't know where I'm going, but I feel like by January, I will be working less than 3 jobs, making it to the gym more times a week, and will have taken a nice vacation and gone to Faithwalkers. I'm so excited to resume some kind of normal life and appreciate my free time better.

18 days left of The Internship.

 

it's all phonecalls and telegrams, eh Angelica?

I am starting to wonder if there is a more humbling part of my life than this. 

I ran into a friend at the grocery store down town and we caught up for a second about what we were each doing with all our free unmarried twenties time, and I felt wholly underwhelming as a person. 

He has a great career that takes him all over the world and it makes him really happy.

I'm single, living at home, working at Starbucks, giving all my free time to an internship, and getting rejected left and right by the great paying jobs I interview for. 

This is a daily invite to a pity party that I'm trying not to show up to.

I know that you have to make your own adventure, and enjoy what you have already been blessed with. I guess I'm a little too tired to be creative right now, but I promise I'm going to get there. 

And in the end, I know that being faithful is worth more than the glamour and the airport terminals. This life is short and the next will be long. 

God help me swallow my pride and put Your plan above my own.

Everyday.

goodnight moon

Romans 8: 18 

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us."

this is not over yet

Oh hi, rough week.
I don't really know what--
I don't really--
closed doors.

Anyway. Friday quotes.


Judy: My cousin wants to give me a burial plot out by her, and next to my parents, and I just think that's kind of like saying, "Oh, sit next to ya at lunch!" But really we'll all be in heaven together, where does it matter where my body is. I could have them spread my ashes over the ocean in Maine, like Poppa, but I don't know what I'd do in the ocean. I can't even swim.

"If I was a white person, I'd be blushing right now."
- T'Keyah, she loves to say this one

"Guys, our neighbors are mad. The Asian grandparents."
-Megan, and a raging frat party she was throwing

Randal: Holy Tennis Ball Tuesday!
Scrib: This is Friday. And these are ping pong balls.
(At the same rager)

"I knew it in my deepest realms."
-Stesha, mumbling quietly to herself during a loud game of Catchphrase

"They just kept telling her not to wear pants and she just kept doing it."
-my uncle Dan, on Patsy Cline

"Well, sarcasm is a fruit of the spirit."
-Bryan

deep space benedryl

One wonderful thing about being busy with extra work is that you really don't have time to think about the other things missing in your life.

I'm happy and tired on a basic level, each day. 
I enjoy band practices now more than ever, because my band mates are near and dear.
I enjoy being at Starbucks, because I am good at it, and I'm constantly built up by the people around me.
I enjoy thinking about the future, rather than dreading it, because I'll be done with The Internship someday.
I like glasses, I like leaving behind fuss. I like to wash my hair when I want, and not on the strict every-other day-white-girl-hair-schedule.

I don't cry anymore, because my eyes don't really know how.
I don't think about how alone I am, because I'm just not alone.
If I feel crazy, I go to the gym, and the crazy goes away.
If I talk to God, He calms my heart.

all the equations got so simple, it almost makes me wish I was this busy all the time.

that's alright, that's okay, I'm alive.

I've been having some sweet days. Saturday night, most of my friends weren't at church, and I was tired, so I went home instead of going out. Only my dad was up, and we watched Pawn Stars and some really cheesy Christian movie and we drank whiskey together and ate falafel.

Sunday I had to work, but then went to the band meeting after about 600 mg of caffeine, and then got lectured by Amalia about my future, and went to La Frontera with Celisse and Bryan.

Today I just worked, and worked and worked, but then I went to the gym and listened to a message, and I feel strong. I think some of my poor single girlfriends are being attacked by sons of Satan this week, and I am going to do my best to bombard them with encouragement.

WE WILL WIN THIS WAR. It can only bend so far before it breaks. Into something glorious. Whether in five years, or forty, or when I meet my maker somewhere in between.
I am asking God to melt my iceberg heart. That what lies beneath the surface would be purged of bitterness and replaced with love.

secure the grounds for the later parade

I put the CD into the slot and watched it get sucked into the machine. The 12:36am BBC blurb about meth in Korea is silenced by the quiet before what I know is coming.

It was like I saved it for all these years (wrapped up in the perfect wrapping paper, the paper with the patterns coming out of my blood) and I took it out of a box: the smile that was going to come.

The song started, and I smiled that smile, you better believe it.

The smile from remembering a flame, but not the burn. A flame that was too much of a chemical fire to ever become real love. It dissolved into the rest of life, diluted by the changing seasons and new carnage.

What I mean is, that song reminded me of the purity I used to feel every morning, staring at my own reflection. A naivete that is long-gone. A child who cherished all pain because being alive was brilliant and gutsy. It reminded me of a winter without nightmares.

And this very early morning of August 23rd feels clean and new again.

back on track

Days left of The Internship: 59

Today I am extremely organized. Feeling good. Almost feeling healthy again, after 4 days of legit medicine/vitamins/going to bed early.

I finished my calls tonight and took Rush for a walk as the sun was setting. Some old people were sitting out on their porch and told me Rush was a beautiful dog. I chatted with them for a second. It felt like the Midwest for the tiny moment that I needed it to. Soon I was waving to all the old people on all the porches.

Hello. Good Evening. You are my hope, tonight.

I prayed for 45 minutes, just walking around the neighborhood, and it felt great to talk to God, and it felt close to pray for people I love, and relieving to pray for people I extremely dislike.

We can be joyful. We can be strong.

of oxygen and light

Status update: a little less crazy.

Still adjusting to doing "work" four nights a week on top of my usual job, but I think my stress level went down two notches after a restful weekend of Indian food, church, long runs, sleeping in, and Jack Bauer.

Makensy and T'Keyah and I keep talking about Christmas (I know it is still 99 degrees) but I'm already dreaming. Dreaming about wearing pants and drinking tea. Dreaming about Nat King Cole and Christmas lights. About glorious routine and snow and molasses cookies and cold cold nights to heap on the comforters. About spicy smells and sci-fi books and never sweating in my car.

Anyway. Elaine finally came back from her maternity leave, and I didn't even know how much I missed her, until I was laughing my guts out, and hearing my own enthusiasm at full throttle. I'm not a naturally optimistic person, but the child in her brings out the child in me.

And in everything, God is good. Some moments I come home, and stand at my kitchen sink, talking to my parents, and I'm so... satisfied.
I'm not winning everyday. 
God hasn't blessed me with the love of my life, but I have awesome friends to fight this fight. I have the honor of spending all this time with my ridiculously wonderful parents and family, and I forget about the societal pressure of moving out for a minute. Our home is a retreat.
From the foolish things I do during the day.
From the heartbreaking wickedness that rests even in such a quiet, conservative part of America.

God has given me home.

I told you to be patient

It's easy. I mean it's hard but it's easy. To keep you at a distance. To love you from far away and give up or come crawling back at my leisure. Since the whole thing is imagination carefully dreamed up with petty real life evidence, in between 5am espresso shots, interviews, chewed up nails and long lonely dinners staring into space.

Distracting heartburn.

Distracting television.

Distracting heartfelt prayers.

It's easy and it's hard and I cling to it. On my days off.

Status update

Days since I've slept at home: 9

Cheese plates eaten this week: 4-6

Stress level: 60% and declining 

Hours in car this week: 8-11

Average espresso per day: 6 or 7 shots

Murder chance: 25-35%

Sleep per night: 5 hrs

Days left of internship: 65

I realized this afternoon that I'd listened to 20 minutes of news and couldn't recall any highlights. I try to understand the Egypt stuff but I feel behind. 

I closed my eyes during bass player downtime at band practice and started actually having a dream.

And it went back to the triple digit heat today. Showed up to my dentist appointment in mismatching pajamas.

But you know what? God took all the sadness out of my life. I tried to cry about my stress on Tuesday, and no tears would come out because it takes energy to stay awake and cry.

I'm too busy to think about my heart and where life is going, and it's good.

I'm out doing life instead.

And I'm learning time management better than I ever did in college.

the final countdown

This week I am not so scared.

Of jobs.
Of moving into the future alone.
Packing my soldier backpack to just do whatever God calls me to for August. For Fall. For stab wounds. For car crashes. For answering unknown callers. Of white water rapids and bug bites that keep getting redder. Of losing an arm to the bug bite. Of whether or not my tomato plants live. Of broken heart #57. Of conversations with a dying atheist. Of never hearing from you. Of never leaving here.

Not scared of dehydration. Not scared of going the whole day without a nap. Not afraid to tell people I love them when it hurts my throat to keep it in. Not afraid of empty mailboxes. Not afraid when you have nothing to say to me. I don't have anything to say to me either. I'm not afraid of reading the newspaper or volcanoes or the economy or germs hidden in bathroom tiles. Not afraid of blacking out at a Target. Not afraid of getting murdered at 4am.

It could happen. But it'll be nice to meet my maker. Desperate for Him more everyday.

Persevere, another twenty five years

Feeling young today, feeling hopeful.
Feeling like stretching my arm out into the future, and unafraid that it will get chopped off by a machete.

God has been answering a lot of prayers "No," or "Not right now, you crazy." But every once in a while, a surprising "Yes" comes along and your heart bursts.

I'm still just making coffee. I'm still on a roller coaster that might be trippin' balls tomorrow, but God is faithful to me, and I will remain steadfast in Him.

Living it up

The doctor put her stethoscope up to my heart and told me to breathe in and out. She listened for a long moment.

"I'm afraid I was right, you are a monster."

"I was worried about that," I said, thinking what this would do to my copay.

"And your ears are crooked," she said. 

I can't stop loving you, I made up my mind

After everything, sometimes what you have to do is turn up Ray Charles and just let go and be enveloped in the romance of what can and can't happen in one lifetime.

fever song

I stayed a little longer at work today, in the air conditioning.

I know we are only a few weeks into the heat, but I am tired now. The same tired as finals week. The tired at the end of a 12 mile run. The tired where you blink for a second, and your eyes don't open back up. That is summer, to me.

God has been giving me a grace to keep going, though. Interesting little things here or there to keep my eyes awake. 

A conversation with an atheist coworker who says he doesn't think he has ever met a creationist, besides me? It breaks my heart, but increases my boldness. To be kind, to be joyful, to show light.

A second interview that I feel peaceful about, whether or not I get the job.

A new perfume.

Iced espresso with dark caramel.

A best friend who wants me to try a billion pie recipes.

Steak nights with my dad.

Praying with abandon: not hiding anything from God, whether or not saying these things out loud is going to end in weeping or desperation.

It feels clean, amidst the sweaty battles that we are fighting. Amidst hurt and hurt and hurt after hurt.

In the tired comes the blessing that it is very easy to start laughing.

i know you like to captain a capsized ship

What you don't end up knowing is: the heroes.

Every week, there is some new and terrible way that your friends or loved ones are letting everyone down, and it makes you doubt your faith.
But what you don't know is that for each of them, there is another friend who is fighting the good fight.

Making their marriage work.
Getting out of bed to take care of their kids.
Reading their Bible even though they don't want to.
Going to work with a headache.
Choosing to stay in Utah.


These things aren't as hard as starving in a 3rd world country, or watching your house be demolished by a tornado.  But it is still duty, and it is still honorable.

This is the end of a very long week, and He will give me rest, I know.

the Army

Several times a day, I breathe in deeply and whisper to myself, "You are a soldier. You can do this."

There are a lot of things that keep me from joining the army. But my heart seeks the structure and the discipline and the place.

I feel placeless.

I am a little weak. I know my place and my identity are in Christ, but this is a daily struggle. The sleeplessness, the hopes deferred, and the flimsy armor I've been carrying don't help. But my foundation is firm. And this can't last forever.


"For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline."
 2 Timothy 1:7

generally speaking

the sun was on the rise

I looked out over the airplane wing on Wednesday and thought I'd come back all bright and shiny like someone had erased my hard drive and I'd have all this beautiful RAM and I'd be efficient and taller and more likeable and stop getting angry and stop watching TV and

mostly I just sort of stopped eating once I got here, and definitely stopped sleeping.

I've actually been having great times with my friends at night, but then I get home and lay in bed and wait for sleep to come. And then I work tired all day, but my thoughts are racing when I come home for my post-Starbucks nap.

I think of my to-do list and look at the wall.
I'm a little overwhelmed, but positive.

God is giving me small joys to make it through hours. Surprising moments of opening the front door at 4:20 am and seeing that is raining, lightly.
A customer who notices that I was gone and whose face lights up when he sees that I am back.
A favorite old song coming on the random Starbucks playlist, and sweet girls who want to shoot espresso shots with me and laugh at my jokes.

Anyway. Here are some pictures of our family farm, and the Heaven I left to come back to the desert.
There is hope to go back, and there is hope to be here.
To do good work.
To be bright and shiny.

Friday Quotes

I'm starting my weekend now.


"Does anyone have a soda they're not using?"
-Grant

Me: Don't hit your brother, Eden.
Will: I'm not her brother. I'm a boy.

"I let someone else pack my pedal bag, so it's still sitting at Urban Lounge, probably getting Hep C."
-Randal

Me: You can have one of my fries, Noah.
Noah: I'm going to use this for long term energy.

"He's trust falling all the time these days."
-Garrett, as he looked vacantly out onto the beach at Hayden

"Makensy, we don't trust you. You're unAmerican. You hate cinnamon rolls, and you probably hate freedom too."
-Philip

your unsecret life

This might sound silly, but every once in a while, I will just start searching hashtags on Instagram, and go down a long rabbit trail of looking at profiles that haven't been set to private, and just peer into the lives of others.

They won't ever find out I'm doing it. I won't ever meet them.

But sometimes I find kindred spirits out there. People who seem genuinely funny and seem to have such similar interests to me, I get really jealous that we aren't friends in real life.

I won't be vacant anymore

We actually had a spring.                                                        

Cold nights melting into warm, and then reprieve, again, to find yourself in fluffy covers, drowning like you're happy. We start to pick out grays in each other's hair. Smell like campfire for days. 

And I might not get out of this love for you.

But I can probably get out of ever seeing you again.

Didn't you pick your old hopes and dreams out of a hat drawing? On a Sunday afternoon? So it shouldn't be that hard to pick new ones and stand up straight and say goodbye to sleep and do everything better and newer and righter?

We found flaws in the theory, Jim and I.
You can't stop it once you get there. Standing in your lab coat, in front of a microscope, the doubt overshadows all the collected data.
Nothing became reliable.
The things Jim had finally written down in pen, started to shift-- in my mind-- back to pencil. To notebooks full of "wrong".

"Well you wrote the ratios down wrong in December. Is that the date we have to go back to and start over from there?" He glared at me.
"Well you were sloppy with the solids, so maybe we should go back to then, to November?" I accused him.

Back at the apartment, at night, something as simple as cracking eggs into a pan became doubtful. I felt as if the pan might collapse in my hand, or the egg wouldn't change from raw to cooked. It might just sit there and stare at me, from on top of the little fire bursting from the range.
"No," I said, because I knew the rules. It had to change from runny clear to bleach white and so forth. That was the given.

We started over at October's numbers, angrily, and started cutting the project in half, laying it out in more increments, taking persistent pictures, and writing our notes explicitly and videotaping the extra miles we were going.

We pictured going back to real life one day, to listening to our loved ones when they spoke to us. To trying to put contacts in our eyes, and show up at barbeques, and email our old co workers back because they'd asked about the project weeks ago. Or months ago?
Family vacation?
Dentist appointments?

They'd escaped us.

All that we saw was the science, and the gravity holding us there.

"If I knew the answers, Jim, I'd tell you," I said, one day, sipping my burnt coffee and staring at the wall while he spouted off rhetorical questions.

I wanted to take a break. To feel sunlight. To clean my car. To grow a garden instead.
But there was the pressure calling in everyday, with the money, to make sure that we didn't have a life.
There was the need to know, where this was all going.
And that's how we figured it out, Jim and I.
After 11 months, and that's why you're still sitting here, still able to buy your food at the grocery store, and to count on the clocks to keep time.
It's because of what Jim and I did, and the life we gave.
You'll never know, and we'll never be able to tell you.

The whole story is more unrealistic than this.

take a little break from thinking all the time

I didn't know hummingbirds stopped moving, but there he is sitting and resting on a telephone wire, letting his heartrate calm down. We're listening to my neighbor's terrible punk rock coming from his garage. The bird's friends are somewhere else and I'm enjoying his aloneness like it was company, from here on my hammock.
It's the end of a good week.
I have a job interview on Monday, and I feel like there is a weight off of my chest. Different weight than usual. Like when things have been bent and stretched so far that eventually, you know they will snap.
Like when you know that if you keep placing the same bet, you will eventually win some kind of prize. If you wait long enough, a bus will come to take you north or south, because there is a bus schedule.
There is a pattern of interruptions to silence, if you are just, like, super patient.

Collect moments of sticking your arm out of the window and coasting 44 mph. 
The smells, the chlorine and the beer and the basements and warm skin.
Days of no headaches. Days of long runs.
Scratch those days off the wall.
For a short time, I am here. For a long time, I will be there.

There is a happiness to catch out of the air like a lightning bug. If you are like, super patient and work hard. (They glow for a moment, disappear, and then glow somewhere else.)

Be good. Be kind. And keep your eye out for it. 

Telephone wires above are sizzling like a snare

Bright hot Nikes hit the blacktop under pink-purple hallelujah sunset. If this is summer, I can do this.

Run til my spit turns into pancake syrup. Run farther away and try to commit to the time it will take to get back. Commitment is tricky.

But I can feel my robot heart and lungs getting better until I don't feel them at all. 

The streets are thick with teenaging. Kids drunk on never having to go back to school again. Summer is promising me that thing of no consequences and being awake when I'm awake.

Maybe I am a teenager too.

Maybe I want you to know my robot heart.

Lucky for me that the muscles keep moving my legs forward. Lucky to laugh. Grateful to breathe.

9 to 5

I have this fantasy of having the kind of job that you can wake up and shower and read the paper, and make your coffee and toast and sit and chill with your kids for half an hour before work in the morning. But I don't have kids or a newspaper subscription.

So I guess I'm lucky to get off work at 1pm and watch Battle Star Galactica in my underpants and eat cake all day.

That is the other American dream right?