Walking the Halls

It was quiet because it was Sunday, though there were cars in the faculty parking lot. I walked up to the front entrance and some of the feelings of high school just swept back over me. I only meant to take a picture of the front area but curiosity got the best of me and I ended up walking most of the campus. So much had changed but so many things were the same. I walked by one of the science classrooms and the smell was as it always had been, a bit musty, a mix of the rubber hoses and cleaning supplies. It took me back to my first couple of weeks of freshman year. 

I kept thinking of how I missed the familiarity of it. High School wasn't all fun and games, I battled depression (thinking it was just me being emo) through the second half of my time there, but I still missed it. I think I missed the invincibility that comes with that age. You're not really out of reach but you feel like you are, you feel like you have a pretty good handle on things. And then graduation comes and college follows and there goes the carpet. 

I'd give a lot for some of that confidence. I gained confidence in other aspects of my life, I'm way better off there, but the feeling of invincibility, that feeling was better than gold. 

xoxo

Journal Day! : Prompts from Sometimes Sweet

original post

Danielle over at Sometimes Sweet introduced her new post series a couple of weeks ago and I was immediately interested in her idea. She started a Journal Day and talked about how she use to have her students write for a certain amount of time on J Days, starting with a prompt and going anywhere they wanted with it. I remember doing exactly this in my junior year of High School and loving it. I was very often willing to share my writing, and most often it veered off of the prompt path pretty fast. A memory I hope I never forget, one morning I decided I wanted a smoothie so I started to make it and realized we didn't have any smoothies, frozen or otherwise. I was set on this smoothie so I used strawberry jelly as a substitute. When I went into my English class we immediately started with journals and who knows what the topic originally was but I went with it and then talked about my genius jelly substitution. The boy I had a huge crush on at the time laughed which made my heart soar (it was a good laugh, like he thought I was clever) and it was awesome. 

So, in spirit of those awesome memories, I am going to join in Journal Days. I skipped the first one for now, but the second prompt is below... Join us if you dare! :)

The older we get, the more certain we get about who we are and what our purpose is.  For me, a lot of it is still unknown, but as I make my way down my own path, I have begun to realize that there are indeed some inevitable truths that I know for sure. On your own blog, write a post that talks about "the one thing you know for sure."

I've been thinking about this a whole lot lately. What I know "for sure." I know for sure that things change, that friendships morph either into something stronger bearing any weight that distance or obstacles can bring it and others break with the lightest wear. I know that I should eat healthier and go to bed earlier. But all of those things are pretty universal. 

What I've realized, or re-realized, or extra realized, is that my parents love me. 

It seems so simple. Of course they love you, some would say. And it's not like I actually ever questioned it. Some epiphanies aren't so ground breaking that you see everything in a whole new light. Some take time and space and circumstance and then a tiny little reminder and they come, telling you what you already knew. 

Over the past few months I've started to find my own ground. I moved away for space and peace of mind to figure out how to navigate this life landscape on my own two feet. I needed to hear thoughts that were mine and mine alone, not influenced by others no matter how caring or concerned.

It's been no quick jaunt in the park, I've been working on "finding myself" for years now and every time I think I have a good hold it slips away. But this time, this time, my grip is stronger, and even more sure. I'm learning to love myself for who I am and where I come from. As I learn how to be happy with all that I am I appreciate more and more where I come from and what helped me to be the person I am.

This was the underworking, the slow move toward realization of what I already knew. Then, in the past week I looked at two photos and everything clicked.

I wish I still had the second photo but I only have the first. (mom sent the picture after reading the post!)

I was looking through pictures of my dad and for some reason his tattoo on his left arm caught my eye. I've seen this tattoo for years now and I don't think about it too much but once again I saw part of my name (it is my and my sister's name) and I was like a 5 year old again for a second. "oh! my name! that's myyyyy name." You know, it's very important at that age to find things that are yours. 

So I commented on the picture saying something along the same lines, like "I see my name!" To which Dad replies "that was the idea, who else wears a billboard with your name!"

Touche Dad. Good, no, great point. And that's when it hit me (again). My Dad loves me. It didn't hit me because my name is on his arm, or anything like that. I don't need showy things to understand that he loves me... just that tiny dialogue made it click again. 

A similar click happened a day or two later (possibly before, I am not quite sure) when my little brother (mom's side) sent me a picture from his phone of my picture on my mom's bulletin board. He said that she missed me and loved that picture. 

Now, I've never questioned my mom's (or dad's) love. I've never thought they questioned my existence, never. That's not what this kind of epiphany is about. It just is. It's a feeling that is latent coming to the forefront.

Nothing they could purposely do would bring it forward. It just waits for a day a time, a feeling, a smell and suddenly I'm overwhelmed with something I've always known to be true.

If you ever question it mom and dad, I love you. Please know that I love you as sure as I know that you love me. 

xoxo

Good Feelings

I've been looking over my long (and I mean long) to do list (in all fairness it has everything on it, from bucket list goals to quick tasks) I came across one thing tonight that I didn't want to put off any longer.

My to-do:

Write a things-I-love list.

Back when I was reading Sound of Paper one of the activities I put off but definitely had planned on getting back to was listing everything that made me happy. I think when I read that particular entry I was not feeling so happy or appreciative so I didn't want to spoil it for later and try to stay stubborn. Tonight (after a 7 hour nap, finishing a book and watching the newest episode of Pretty Little Liars) I decided to start the list. 

I started and within a very short amount of time I wrote 120 things, after I saved the page I kept thinking of more. Little victories and happies are everywhere. Maybe it's because I'm in a good mood today (despite failing the Oregon written driver's test haha) but I'm really grateful for so many things. 

If you have a second, go check my list out. If you need a reminder to smile, go check my list out! I made a special page for it so I could easily access it and so could anyone else.

Happies here.

What are some things that would be on your list?

xoxo

Today's Inspiration

Why We Write 

There are many things which resist naming,
Ant that is why we write.
We write because language is slippery,
And the truth is.
We write because
The light we have to see by
Is always shifting

Never forget that writers are prophets.
We speak in tongues.
We testify.
We are for each other a believing mirror.
Our words make us visible.
Our listening makes us heard.

Never forget that writers are soldiers.
Our writing is the long march,
The walk into time.
Each word is a drum.
We sound it across great distance,
Reaching one another and ourselves.
Every poem is a day's march.
A celebration more necessary than water or wine.
Every poem is a drink of blood.

Never forget that writing is an act of courage -
Not on the days when it is simple and we discount it.
NOt on the days when it is hard and we write like sand.
Our words are torches.
We pass them hand to hand
And mouth to mouth
Like a burning kiss.

Never forget to say thank you.
Every syllable is a grace.

-Julia Cameron