Success

One area in my life I've been extremely successful is my friends. I have surrounded myself with caring, loving, supportive, wonderful friends and I have been so incredibly blessed. I used to struggle with the term "friends" and wondering what all it meant - I did have some rough days learning about friendships and what makes them work. Somehow, through it all, I have come to learn the meaning of friendship and who those real friends are.

So, to my friends: I thank you for being you. And I love you.

I am a galley slave to pen and ink

A very intelligent man, who I respect endlessly, told me this weekend, "The only way to get better at writing is to keep doing it. Practice makes perfect."

That actually stunned me a bit. I often fail to write insane stories that pop into my head when I'm just about to nod off to sleep, or the lyrics I sing to myself in the shower because it just doesn't seem that good. Why waste the paper? Why waste the blog space that could be used for something truly inspiring, like lyrics FAMOUS people have written...

Yet other times, after I haven't written anything for so long, it's like my mind vomits. I wake up at 2:30 a.m. with all these poetic verses swimming in my head, and hopefully by the time I turn on the lamp, find a paper and pen, they haven't vanished. Other times, my emotional wheelbarrow tips over, and there is no other way to put things back to order unless I write. Yet, it never seems good enough. Like, why would people care what I have to write? I look at people who can write - Dooce, Dad Gone Mad, Hemingway, Dybek... and they have this way that captivates the mind and soul. When I read certain things, I stop existing. I am so in tune to the book or blog or article that I am not even aware that I'm being. How do they do that?

I've decided to write more. Anything and everything. Grocery lists, fun words, thoughts, wishes, dreams, everything. If I find something good enough, I'll post it here.

(Quote by Honore de Balzac)

Freedom

My fingernails are broken and bleeding. Black dirt is packed underneath the nail and my fingertips are raw and throbbing. The toes on my feet are scratched and bruised and broken. The wrinkles of skin in my knees are embedded with black, like it is purging my skin. There is not a muscle in my body that does not hurt; there is not a tear left in my soul. I have fought so long to climb out of that pit beneath the earth that I had nearly forgotten what fresh air tastes like. That pit was so deep that no light could trickle down to me to inspire hope, or show me the easiest path up. The pit was so far down that no sound reached my ears except the heavy, sad sighs of the earth. I sat in that cold, black pit for so long that the darkness ate all feeling from my heart. But, finally… finally my bones began to ache; my muscles craved to stretch and flex and my mind confronted the ugly shadows of dark. The first handful of black dirt, the first foot up against the wall to rise out of the dark sent me sailing back to the floor. Black dirt fell on me, raining in my eyes, nose, and mouth. The dirt tasted like a colorless eternity that struck a fear in my chest and a determination to live. I stood up, brushed myself off and once again grabbed the wall that lead to the unknown.

It took minutes, hours, days, and years to climb that pit. A limited eternity. Muscles I never knew existed now ache with the strain of pulling myself out. My calves are now stone; my arms are long sinews of determination, desperation, and hope. I loathed the sacks of fat clinging to my butt, thighs, and belly that made the climbing so much more difficult. Now, I see them as sacks of trial and testimony; and walk knowing that even they gave me extra strength.

So, here I stand – my body throbbing with exertion and I imagine gently washing each limb, each finger, each toe – those tools I used to once again breathe fresh air. I imagine wiping them dry and tucking them safely into a soft bed for a well-deserved rest. I examine each tool with love and appreciation… and awe.

After so much trial, time, tears… I got out.

So, my cleansing will wait. Now, I will breathe the fresh air that carries birds – that washes over the earth like a baptism. I will breathe the fresh air that smells like innocence. The air is God and I inhale deeply – smelling the salty ocean, tasting the early rain, and feeling the newness of it wash through my veins. I hesitate to exhale, hoping to hold the freshness; hoping to hold God inside me a bit longer. But as I finally exhale, I realize that I am not exhaling freshness, I am exhaling the musty, stale air from the pit from which I came. With each breath, my soul softens, lightens – and colors come alive. Colors swim around me and I do not see them as much as I hear them. The colors sound like listening underwater; pronounced, yet muffled. You can hear the talking, but not the words being said. I hear the color swimming around me, but when I try to pick out a color, they all kaleidoscope into a liquid rainbow. My heart picks at these colors, jumping to catch the ray of yellow or the streak of blue. With each leap, happiness grows.

It is bright now, out of that pit. My eyes are sore and tired from the light but I am unwilling to even blink for the missed chance to catch one more ounce of hope… inspiration.

I walk softly, knowing the earth is uneasy. The crevices, valleys, and deep pits are numerous and around each corner. I walk softly and slowly, treasuring every feeling – even the aches. I know now that the light, the aching, the musical rainbow, the air I breathe, and yes, even the bottomless black pit are blessings. So, I gather them all in my heart and hold them gently.

I got out.

8 Things

Eight Things: A Meme

8 things I am passionate about:
- Traveling
- Becoming a mom someday
- Reading
- Figuring out who I am
- Motorcycles
- Art
- Despite my best interests, Chris
- Faith

8 books I’ve read and enjoyed:
- Love Story
- Memoirs of a Geisha
- A Separate Peace
- The City In Which I Love You (a book of poetry)
- Phoenix Rising
- Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
- The Bell Jar
- The Catcher and the Rye

8 words/phrases that I say often:
- What the dooce?!
- Oh for Pete's sake
- Cotton-pickin it
- I love you
- Holy Mary Mother of God
- F*ck a duck
- Huh?
- Mucho gracias

8 things I want to do before I die:
- Be a mother
- Travel extensively
- Sky-dive
- Live near the ocean
- Own a Harley
- Wear a bikini again
- Get an advanced degree (in what? not sure)
- Write a book

8 things I’ve learned in my life:
- Always trust your gut
- People treat you how you teach them to treat you
- People will always disappoint you; the trick is to not disappoint yourself
- A simple life is a happy life
- Problems don't fix themselves
- Love is never enough
- Never close your mind to new people, places, thoughts, ideas - open mind; open heart
- Friends are chosen family; treasure them in whatever capacity they come in

8 places I want to see:
- Hawaii
- Africa
- South America
- London
- Paris
- Sweden
- Jamaica
- Japan

8 things I currently want/need:
- Want someone to scratch my back
- Need to drink more water
- Need to find my cell phone
- Want to see a call from a special someone
- Want and need a new car
- Want to pack my orange lounge pants and swim suit and head back to the lake
- Need to go to the gym after work
- Want to color my hair

8 people I want to tag:
-I'll just say anyone reading this... I want to see your meme!

Summer

This has been a super busy and fun summer... too busy and fun to blog much, but I will try to be better. Anyway, I thought I'd share a few highlights (and lowlights) of my summer thus far... and considering there are only a couple weeks left of this beautiful summer... I'm going to relish these memories and store them snuggly away, so when we hit -20 this winter, I will have something to give me warm fuzzies on the inside, even if I can't feel my nose.

Early this summer, my family went to the Skime Ranch to help Thor vaccinate (brand, castrate, etc) about 200 head of cattle. (Previous picture posts are from that weekend.) It was quite fun! I gave cows shots, which made me nervous as hell, but fun... but when we got to the baby calves, I had to call it quits and leave. The branding of those poor babies nearly made me sick. I used to be able to handle that kind of stuff, but as I get older I become more and more of a pansy.

In June, my sweet, amazing cousin Lisa got married to a fantastic man. They had a beautiful wedding and wonderful reception and dance. They are so in love, my heart swells to think that her dream has come true... I feel so lucky to have been a part of her special day. Congrats Lisa and Brett! Your love renews my faith in relationships and marriage.

I spent the 4th of July with my roomates and their family at Lake Sallie. We fished, tubed, drank, and had a great time. At one point, we headed into DL to pick up some pizza's from Zorbaz and while we were waiting, we all had a couple drinks. I had two of the best Hawaiian Long Island Teas EVER, but I was shot after that. Two Long Islands in 45 minutes for this girl is 2 Long Island Teas too much! We had a great time though, checking out the hotties and freaks.

Towards the end of July, despite a long spell of sickness, I went to the North Dakota State Fair with Alysa to see the Sugarland concert. Alysa loves Sugarland - and while I love a few of their songs... meh. So we drove that long-ass drive for what turned out to be an amazing concert! They put on a fabulous show and we had such a blast. Us and our sidekick, Keith. (I think his name was Keith.) Haha! Afterwards we hit up a few of the beer gardens, and let me tell you... Minot knows how to party. Also, I had no idea Minot was as large as it is. It's kind of a messed up little town - but it was very pretty and very fun!

A couple weeks ago, my buddy Lisa was home for a couple week stay with her family in Minnesota. We got together and had a great visit. Then one weekend I went to stay with her at her family's home... where I had my first experience with kayaking. It didn't go so well. Lisa demonstrated how to carefully get into the kayak and paddle. I went to get into my kayak and completely flipped it. I dropped into the water up to my chest (I was wearing jeans, white shirt and flip flops). My feet got stuck in the mud as the kayak filled with water. I was able to recover 1 flip flop but not the other. I climbed onto the bank, my jeans so soaked they were sagging off my butt, and pulled a kayak full of water back onto the bank while Lisa laughed until tears were pouring. She helped me empty the kayak, and climb in without tipping, she climbed into hers, and we were off. She continued to laugh, and I nervously paddled and jerked my way along in the water. Later that day, we met up with an old classmate and went Jeeping through trails in the woods... Such a blast!

This past weekend, Alysa and Alison and I went back to Lake Sallie. We spent Friday night on the pontoon close to the WeFest site and listened to the Sugarland concert. They must have put another amazing show because the crowd was wild. It was fun to hear them live again, even though we couldn't see them. But, as we were on the lake, storm clouds came through and it turned pitch black out before we knew it, and it started to rain. It was an adventure trying to find our house, and then attempt to dock the pontoon in the pouring rain and no lights. We were soaked to the skin, but we had a good time.

Saturday, we went to WeFest for the day. We caught the Dirks Bentley and Winona Judd concerts - both very good. But that wasn't all the excitement! We met up with friends at different campgrounds, drank an awful lot, laughed like crazy, saw some horrifying sights and some amazing eye candy, got fake tatoos, and scarfed one Uff-da taco while waiting for our ride home. So, FINALLY I got to experience WeFest. My first time ever, I'm sad to say. I definitely have to go next year... I can't miss out on that fun anymore.

Sunday, we went fishing and tubing. On the way to dock the boat, I was still on the tube. To make a long story short, I underestimated my abilities and crash-dived onto the dock: on my back. You may wonder how in the hell something like that could have happened, but don't worry - you are not alone. I'm wondering the same thing. All I really know is that I have an elbow with no skin, and a buttcheek that is completely black and blue and throbbing.

There's been so much more... but there's so little time and so much to say, that I'll leave it at that. It's been a summer to remember... definitely better than last summer. And I'm sad to say that it is already August 11, and in about one month my sun burn will be peeled away to leave my sickly white skin, and I'll be busting out the sweaters and quilts. But I can only hope this fall and winter will be half as fun!

Another lesson for me to learn

An almost sure-fire way to begin to reclaim your life is to develop the courage and wisdom to know when and what to quit.

(Don't Sweat the Small Stuff)

Close your eyes and imagine

Friends and I have talked about what you see in your mind when you think of certain things. When I think of the days of the week, I see the days set up like step-ladders; except Wednesday is not at the top of the ladder like you might think, it is Saturday. When I think of colors I see a booklet of paint swatches in my mind. One friend of mine says he sees colors as either male or female and usually they have scents associated with them.

I see my heart to be a big wooden antique chest.

The antique chest in the attic that Grandma stores quilts in, complete with the rusty lock and scuffed corners, delivered straight from Norway 120 years ago. When you open it, it smells like maple wood and moth balls and fills you with a sense of longing. I imagine the people in my life like trinkets or knick-knacks that I store in my antique chest. When I think of a particular person, I imagine pulling them out of their spot in my chest and examining them. If the person is someone I feel very tender or sensitive about, I unwrap them from tissue paper and cup them in both hands.

People who have hurt me or that I dislike are like crunched-up paper balls lying in the dark, dusty corners of my antique chest. When I think of them, I imagine picking up the paper and flattening it out and smoothing it with the edge of my hand. If what I think about comes back to hurt me again, I crumple the paper back up and throw it back in the dark, dirty corner. There is often a single, naked light bulb hanging over this corner with a pull string. When I am tired of hurting and thinking of negative things, I imagine tugging the pull string so the light goes out.

People who are fun and bubbly are bouncy balls. I pick them out of a bucket that sits in another corner of the chest. I toss them from hand to hand and smile. People I don’t trust sit along the back wall in a line. They are carved wooden figurines, like the one Po Campo made for Deets in Lonesome Dove. I never take them out but just look at them and wonder.

The people who give me ‘warm fuzzies’ are not figurines or other objects, but feelings, like big Grandma hugs. They are soft and warm (and often a supple peach color) and make my heart glow. There are people I completely admire and respect above all and I pull them off a little shelf in the chest. Often times I imagine myself dusting these people off—not because I don’t think about them often—but because they are not recognized often enough, by me or other people, as being truly special.

When I think about myself, I am one of those I unwrap from tissue paper. But when I unwrap myself from tissue paper, instead of a figurine or some other object, I always unwrap a butterfly. The wings are fluttering softly to some rhythm I do not understand and I cup it in my hands so it does not fly away.