Falling Into October

Flour covered every inch of the kitchen counter last night, and buried in its scattered dust were measuring spoons, spices and fingerprints. It was our first batch of pumpkin bread--a tradition which launches the season for us, as funny as that may sound coming from a girl in southern California.

It feels like summer, but alas, it turned fall this week.

And because of this, I feel compelled to rattle off everything I want to enjoy now that it's fall. Like fires and blankets and movies and cider, nature walks and baking and decorating and friends.  Even though it's ninety degrees outside right now and the closest apple orchard is a plane ride away.

I might not have golden fields or fiery foliage to tell that it's fall, but I have my own memories--rituals I want to recreate that rely less on weather and environment and more on effort and the need to keep up with this season, which happens to be my favorite.

Summer is free and alive, spring is renewing, and winter has the whole Christmas thing going for it, but fall? Fall is home.

This, of course, doesn't mean I won't go to the ends of the earth to bring a little bit of fall environment to our otherwise barren landscape (by barren, I'm referring to majestic palms and calming ocean--I'm exaggerating due to my current South Carolina withdrawl). 

My Top Five Fall Memories and Favorites:

1. Living in South Carolina when fall meant drives to the orchard, oatmeal apple crisp after dinner, and cider with our lunch trays.
2.  Warm sugared donuts 
3.  Building giant piles of leaves just to jump in them for a moment of satisfaction.
4.  Wearing tights--even in California, even if it's hot
5.  The Elementary School Leaf Project--saving maples and oaks and aspens between sheets of waxed paper, thumbing through leaf identification books, making crayon rubbings from my favorite leaves.  

Free

Long blog pause due to proper living.

Today began with the sound of my alarm going off. I opened my closet and a pile of clothes came tumbling out, probably because I folded them in a too-high tower or didn't position them correctly. Blame is important in these situations, you know, but I'm still the victor because... hello, I folded my clothes--a feat always worthy of applause in this home.

Lemon squeezes nicely into lemonade when you figure it was a good opportunity to re-organize them and pick off some lint balls. Plus, I found a dress that I forgot about.

But then, inconvenience struck again. When we got home from school, the front door was locked, and so were all of the windows. And I was mad. It's one thing to bang loudly on the door and shout for someone to open it, but I even made turning the knob and opening my backpack to get my phone into a loud activity. Like "SOMEONE (BANG) OPEN THE (BANG) DOOR".

I was supposed to work on homework and a story that's been brewing in my mind for a week, and I ended up hiding my backpack on the porch and walking to the library. This is where I'm supposed to say "This blows, what a waste." Alright, it totally blew. But I have this theory on nights that blow. There's this old Top Chef episode where, in the quickfire challenge, contestants were given a selection of ingredients--one of which happened to be SPAM. Given a choice between fresh, flavorful foods and SPAM, you would assume any chef in his right mind would scurry to score the good stuff and the last rotten egg would, begrudgingly, claim the SPAM. But any smart chef knows, SPAM's a challenge. Anyone can whip up something good out of fresh produce, but SPAM? It requires ingenuity, a look outside the box. If you can turn SPAM into something good, it's a guaranteed win--an unforgettable victory. A risk, yes. A disadvantage, definitely. But an edge.

An edge that makes you realize...
Wow, I did that. I made something good out of SPAM. Imagine what else I am capable of.

*******

If my entire life is like this, loud laughter and bold action and the kind of exhaustion you feel after a hard but satisfying day, I will be content.
thank you, veronica roth, for your always perfect quotes.

T'was a gauntlet week, last week. The kind you dread on Monday but makes you feel victorious on Friday.

And last Friday, it felt just like Friday should feel.

I never expected that I would actually enjoy football games (I hardly understand them), and I never have before. But last Friday? Good lord, was it fun. The screaming and the cheering and the clapping and pounding and noise and smells all came together into one of those "life is good" moments that make Mondays worth it.

peace is restrained. this is free.

I hope today feels like a Friday for you.

Sun Buzzed

A billion degrees, the thermometer said today. And the day before. And the day before. So when I'm at the beach watching sweat-slicked teenagers pull damp t-shirts from their skin like wrappers off a fruit roll-up, and they're drinking Pepsi and tying their hair up and painfully smiling through We're-all-gonna-die-on-this-sand expressions, I'm thinking "Oh my God, these people are crazy. Who would go out in this heat?" Until I realize I'm here too, so that makes us all a little sun buzzed.

A thick stew of heat and humidity, the air has been uncomfortably stagnant. Running in this heat actually sounds like relief because at least the motion would provide some kind of air current. Instead, we join kids with red cheeks and sticky foreheads and settle for tanktops and shorts.

We join forces with nature for an afternoon heat compromise of ice cream and cooling storms.

The day did not get a rolling start this morning. Rather it sort of stumbled and then stopped.

But I won't go down without a fight. I refuse to condemn a perfectly good Monday as "one of those days" before noon 5.

I don't think being happy and the number of good days we have is so much governed by genetic disposition as it is creativity--developing new possibilities and alternatives to deal with real problems. And really, creativity in its artistic form--painting, decorating, writing, singing, sculpting--it's all the same. We create something good when there's a need. When there's a blank canvas or maybe just an ugly one that needs repainting.

I repainted my ugly canvas today, rifling through nearby resources kind of like digging through a junk drawer for spare paint brushes. You use what you have, and I had a sister and a beautiful, albeit hot, day. We walked, slowly reversing the day's tone with each step. We stopped by Wendy's and the person who took our order gave us a free frosty. And a solicitor told us "Hey girls, remember: Hakuna Matata."

Hakuna Matata indeed.

I don't push creativity on the people I know because I want them to be interesting or because I want them to have something great to tell people at a party someday. When I praise my friends after they tell me something that they did or came up with, it isn't because I think it makes them stand out as unique and awesome (even though it does).

I celebrate creativity and applaud imagination in people I care about mostly because the ability to create something new--to dream up a different way of doing something--means they are more guaranteed to find happiness in life.

The more they create and practice building something from nothing or changing not-so-great into amazing, the more likely they are to use creative strategies to develop solutions to challenges in their lives. They will find joy, and they'll do it with words and colors and paintbrushes and voices and journals and music.

If what you seek doesn't exist, create it. In art. In life.

This week, in art:

Abby (dressed in lace)

 

She's pretty, pretty, pretty.

 

 

This week, in life:

 

 

Raegen

 

My sister Stephanie is pregnant. This is her second kid, and apparently being pregnant prompts trips across the country to live with us again, starting in September. Yay. (I know that yay doesn't depict much excitement, but I am so excited that I'm always in danger of fainting)

 



Hello Raegen.

Sunny Monday to you.

Brooke

Sometimes I have great intentions. And my intentions were to post this 2 weeks ago, but alas, I hardly ever manage to get on a computer. Like, a computer. Not a mobile device.

So two and a half weeks ago, I decided to freak the freak out all to meet someone I've never met before. And, as passionate as I was to get this all happening--capslocking Brooke for not telling me she'd be in my city, demanding that we meet--about half an hour before our meeting time, I went white-knuckled. It dawned on me that I was going to be spending a few hours with someone I've never really physically connected with. What if, in the first 10 minutes, it was a total bust and I wanted to go home? What if we bored each other and I dragged her down to our beach for nothing? What if this was a blind friend date gone wrong? What if she was... crazy? You never know.

Half an hour later, my fears diminished as Savanna and I walked toward the pier and saw her standing there waiting for us. Her hair was down straight and she had sunglasses and a cardigan and her family, distinguishing her as the girl I had come to love through words and tweets.

And we walked down the pier and connected over bagels and hot chocolate and most likely annoyed every person in that restaurant with the amount of selfies we took. And then we went to walmart and searched for cute worker (mission failed, but still fun). And I provoked a girl and was threatened, but that's whatever.

It's amazing how much didn't surprise me about her. She is simply a beautiful person with a beautiful soul.

So thanks, Brooke, for eating breakfast with us over the ocean and for this purposeful adventure. I love you very much.

Summer (so far)

We're 3 weeks into summer vacation now, and I'm realizing I need to pace myself a little here. The gun went off, the race started, and I gave it all I had this month. All days filled with "yes, let's do it". I can't help it. I kind of feel like an overenthusiastic puppy. Jumping, panting, chasing my tail, looking for someone to play with. Hey, want to go to the park? Hey, want to go to the beach? Who wants to have a water balloon fight? Let's go! Let's see! Let's do!

The earth must be shifting. Or Saturn is crossing over Jupiter or whatever it means in the planet world when things are miraculously out of the ordinary. I know this because I've kept up academically, socially, and personally all at once for... wait for it... two. weeks. straight.

And now that I've got this groove going, I'm obsessed with not losing it. Like, if a teacher at the summer institute at my high school shows us yet another video on graduation requirements--the same thing I've been seeing and consequently memorizing for the last 3 months--I compulsively write down everything I hear, like how the UC college system requires 4 years of math while the CSU college system only requires 3. And if I see that I have a single message or tweet, I jump to reply even if it's completely irrelevant. And if I'm bored and I have a perfectly good reason to just watch TV or do nothing important, I instead spend that time pursuing writing or taking pictures. Or asking everyone I meet if they want to go to the beach or the park or have a water balloon fight, respectively.


I've signed up for different courses, started learning 2 languages, found tickets to another country, researched countless things, and read 4 books. Oh, and I graduated middle school. That was cool.

But I already know all of that is going to catch up with me very soon and I'll have a mental, emotional, and physical break down all at once. It'll all blow up in my face, and I know this because it's happened enough times that I can expect it. BUT, for now I'm accomplishing a lot. I await the impending doom.

I need to simmer down a little. There's a long race left to go.

Have a good week :-)

rafaella's birthday post think of a better name later

Some worlds are meant to collide. You may not know how important they are until the stars align in such a way that they leave a constellation in the sky. The more stars that join the constellation, the further it stretches across the celestial sphere, incapable of being ignored from those who look up. Last summer, a few stars aligned.

I am not sure what I believe about how God crosses the paths of people.

But with her, I am certain that my soul needed her soul in this life.

I wish I could really find the words to describe the kind of person she is. How tender her heart is towards the blessed souls that call themselves her friends. What it's like to be witness to this magical love.

And just typing the beginning of this post has me all sentimental and switching to the Twitter tab to tell her that I adore her more than anything. Because speaking of Rafa as a friend is a language of its own. It is magic. It is beauty. It is as if every cell in her body has been blessed with best friend genes--the kind that know instinctively how to cheer someone up or make them feel recognized or loved or cared about... and the list goes on.

And while I can't seem to recall exactly how we discovered each other, before we skyped, before we messaged, before I cried tears in front of her over a webcam and she initiated the healing process of a broken part of me--before all that, I watched her begin her twitter account. And I saw something then. I saw the way she put herself out there to talk to people that many considered intimidating, how she was vulnerable and honest. I remember thinking about how happy I was that she didn't care in the slightest about how I had thousands of followers, and she still introduced herself and talked to me. And recounting all of this now, I am so happy I think my heart might burst. I'm thankful for that every day.

I was lucky to have known Rafa when she first began her account, but when we became close, I discovered a new kind of magic. The kind of internal beauty you can see. The kind of magic you know when she confides in you with her stories of betrayal, sadness, regret, love, happiness, life, and all the while, she shows you what love looks like. The kind of love that rips you apart every time she insults herself or criticizes herself. For the record, those times scare me to the point that I can hardly breathe but they are few and far between and I find comfort in that. Everyone has bad days. And everyone needs to be reassured that those days will soon be long gone memories and the happy, vibrant, wonderful days will take their place and outweigh them many times over.

***

And, while tempted to start shooting off a rote list of what I love about her, it doesn't seem right for the place I'm at tonight. Yes, it seems an actual place, with it's own longitude and latitude, a place where I have taken residence. A place that cannot bear some cliche title like "thankful" or "gratitude". It is a real place with, yes, some dark corners and fixer-upper fields (the price that comes with caring about someone). I have walked its paths and met its people. And overall, there is just so much beauty here. The longer I stay, the more I see.

We are so different in countless ways. She's twenty one and I'm fourteen and she'll never stop making fun of me for being so young (and vice versa), but in all honesty, I would miss her teasing if she stopped. She lives in Brazil and I live in California. I look forward to visiting Brazil next summer and hopefully meeting her. But that's a year from now and if she'd like to show up at my door anytime soon for an unexpected visit, I'd die a million deaths and be forever grateful. Just sayin'.

The point is, we're different. Very different. But we love each other. And we're curious about each other. And we both love Taylor Swift and books and finding new ways to connect. Tomatoes tomahtoes, we're really pretty much the same people.

How awesome it is that in a world of so many differences, when you really get to know people and open yourself up in an honest way to learn something...you'll discover how very much the same we really are. I find such comfort in that sameness.

***

(the ***'s basically translate to "hey, this post has no theme! prepare for jolting subject change!)

***

For the last year, she has emitted love and joy into the lives of people she's never met face-to-face. She has reaped invaluable happiness to us. And sometimes I use the word "us" to make that sentence collective and to water down the fact that it's personal. That she has reaped invaluable happiness to me.

She never fails to make me happy. Ever. Even when I'm crying my eyes out and literally shaking with emotional pain right in front of her eyes on skype, she can make me happy. That day was important, you know. I was overwhelmed with love. I'll never forget what it felt like to be changed so instantly by her response to my breakdown. She can make me happy just with her smile that brightens my mood, if not my soul.

So I guess that's all for the prerequisite. If you're friends with Rafa, you know all of this already. It's kind of a choppy transition, and I don't know that I can write a letter that is worthy of the love behind her. I do know that I can not describe to you all of who she is because she is complex and unpredictable and too entirely her own self to be confined to sentences and adjectives and my fingers on a keyboard. But I will try to depict to you the crazy way my soul has grown into hers and how absolutely beautiful she is between her vibrancy and kindness and inquisitivity and gentleness. And that may not be easy to do, but I swear if you speak to her, even anonymously on ask.fm, you will come into contact with the single most resplendent and taking human being I've ever known. No kidding.

Without further ado,

***

Rafa,

It hurts to write this. The good hurt. And not just because you're like my sister and that whole messy line of "how have we been friends for a year how fast time flies." True indeed. But it's so much more than that.

It's the celebration of your life and everything you mean to the people who know you.

But any attempt to attach words to something so far from simple seems lowly. Cliche. I could use "magic", but then again, magic is tricks. Magic is hype and smoke and illusions. Your magic is anything but. And when I try to attach words to something so far from simple, I sometimes fear that I cheapen what really is unspeakable.

At 21, you are a perfectly open emotional soul. I like 21. It's beauty in all of its honesty.

I love this friendship we have, and I love it because I get to spend it with you. I will always be applauding you and the way you love. I've never seen anything like it. And it doesn't go unnoticed by anyone who happens to be blessed enough to watch you in action. I can't wait until the day we meet in person, and I can show you how much you really mean to me. How much this legacy of love and caring you are giving me will truly shape me into the person I know I will be. I know I will be vibrant and I know I will love, because you show me how.

You are an amazing musician, a creative force, an alluring combination of talent and story and singing and books. The first time I heard you sing, I was equally captivated by your voice and intimidated because of my total lack in vocal chords and harmony.

I can compare our differences immediately. Your hair is dyed a deep brown. You have blue eyes. So do I. Mine are mixed in with a muted gray, and yours are bright and beautiful. You speak like a poem. You tell stories that make me laugh and you deliver them as soulfully as you sing your songs. You act them out, own every word, every flaw, every amazing thing, every awful thing. You hide nothing, submit to nothing. There’s a sort of freedom that you breathe as if the gates between your true creative self and what you express are not just open--they're non-existent, and I envy it.

I see kind and vulnerable and confident. You tell your story through your love of books and people and the world and the songs you sing about your city from your kitchen.

I'm so fortunate to call you one of my best friends. And writing about you has made me so much more entirely grateful for the magic we have and the magic you are. I am continually astounded at the way your heart, your mind, your core... are taking in as much of this world as they can and yet, you are still giving back. 

You radiate joy and life and spirit, and what a marvelous journey it is to be a part of that. I'm learning more about what that means every day. I'll sometimes forget how blessed I am to know you. I might get frustrated or tired or a little impatient when I'm trying to explain something to you or when I'm waiting for you to skype with me (I am STILL waiting).

Let me tell you something though. This feeling I'm feeling right now on your birthday? It's going to come again and again and again. In between boring days or days we don't agree or even days where one of us doesn't even go online or interact, through exhaustion and sadness and anger. My heart will always be overjoyed with knowing you and loving you.

We have quite a different relationship than pairs of friends who meet in "real life"; face-to-face. And with that comes a different appreciation for friendship. Not a better one, persay--but a different one. Being that we live in different parts of the world, it's sometimes hard. I can tell you're a little nervous about the future sometimes. I am too. I have replayed in my mind so many times what the future will look like. I want you to be happy. I want you to run out into the world and feel the opportunity that exists between those oceans, in those books, through those people. You might not feel it right away, and that's the hard part for me. Because I won't be there to hug you or hold your hand or whatever it is you would need in that situation. I can't be there when you're feeling a little bit insecure, reminding you of your strengths and the happiness that exists around you.

But I'm here in a different way (Girl, I am always here...you can't get rid of me). Thinking of you. Looking forward to your tweets and stories. And knowing that we are both always growing and learning.

And before I start spinning off into a rabbit hole of metaphors and quoting singers, let me cut to the chase.

Dude, you have a light that can not be extinguished. I will always admire that light. From the day I met you, and beyond, and forevermore, I will be in awe of you. And I love your light. And I love you. With a love that is deeper and purer and is so infinite that it can not be shaken. 

Thinking about you, loving you, knowing you is heaven. And I can say now that my world would be a less of a place without you.

My dream for you, on your 21st birthday, is to have a big, beautiful life. It doesn't matter where you do it or how you do it. Just make it beautiful. Fill it with laughter and love and people who make you happy. Give something of yourself every day...and you will be given in return.

And I, along with so many others, will love you all the while.

You are everything I've ever wanted in a friend.

Happy birthday, Rafa.

Love you forever.
Naomi

***

So there. She's 21 (even older). I am so proud to be her friend.

And honored. And thankful. Beyond measure.

Happy birthday. I love you.

Month of New

Hear ye, hear ye! Hark!

I have not posted anything in over two weeks. I've been meaning to, but things kept coming up and I couldn't get on the computer, and life demanded to be lived and not written about. But writing is just as much a part of my life as, say, school or friends or playing with my dog. And there has to be a healthy balance between all of these loves and responsibilities that a 14 year old might have. And while, yes, sometimes one thing needs extra attention, and I certainly do not regret (nor will I ever regret) letting my room stay trashed so I can go to the beach with my friends, there is one thing that centers me and keeps me feeling like I have something together. That thing is writing, and I've been abandoning it lately. This will change.

***
This week, I made a new blogging friend. She was already my friend who I met via Twitter. We were kiking the other day, and she casually dropped into conversation a "you write blog posts, right?" Yes. That I do. I'll spare you the details, but go check out my beautiful-souled friend Ainhoa's new blog. Her twitter is @yoursweetsmile. And she's just good and kind and I'm lucky to know her. I am better for it.

 

Today marks the 8th consecutive day of unbearable heat, and we've found not-so creative ways to survive. Like putting our heads inside of the freezer sitting in front of the air conditioner and swimming.

I introduced Kate and Bobby to the concept of going in further than up to your ankles. And body surfing. And getting hit by passing rocks and shells that the waves carry with them. (their only argument for not previously doing these things is that I'm tall and they're short. Which is true, but no excuse)

So, other than all of that, school is almost over and I didn't put much effort into this post. Have a wonderful day.

Connection, Disconnection

“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.”
—    Anais Nin

Well, hell. I guess it's time to write a post.

There's 6,226 miles between where I am right now and where we spent the bulk of last week planning to go next summer. There's about 5 years of time until I go to college, which is what I spent the bulk of last week preparing for--or not so much college as what I'll need to do in high school in order to get there.

5 years. 6,000 miles. That's a lot of space, and I'm swimming in it--treading waters somewhere between a time not so far on the horizon, when I will share an amazing experience with my mom and my sister and meet one of my favorite people on earth, and the living room of my own home, where puppies bark at the slightest noises and teenagers beg mothers for money (homeless people living in the mother's house), their music a different kind than what will accompany us in Brazil.

The last two weeks were an experience. I don't know what I expected when I had an unannounced semi-twitter hiatus, tweeting maybe a few times a week, though I had my intentions written out in my mind; things like "find my voice" and "remove my creative block". But I do know that I didn't expect to be so stirred by this week and the people online who I cared about more than enough to talk to even when I was busy.

I've tried to put my finger on what it was exactly that's left me in this "Wow" haze. I mean, I woke up last week and put Abby's leash on and walked. For an hour. To the beach and up and down its sands, listening to music, honoring this spot of peaceful thought in my head.

Of all the memorable elements and ending thoughts of being isolated from your friends by choice--boredom, confusion, forced problem solving, missing them like crazy--I keep coming back to connection. I want to be disconnected so that I can realize how essential being connected is... and how equally essential disconnection is.

Last weekend, I felt very "ugh, internet" and Kate did too. So we went outside and rode bikes and made up games and talked about our futures and how scared, confident, excited about them we were, as best friends needfully talk those things out.

Last weekend, Rafa kiked me and expressed her dislike that I wasn't talking to her (or anyone) very much anymore. And I realized that I was still way too busy to just sit down and chill with Mia and Rafa and Sofia on kik. So guess what I did? I sat down and chilled with Mia and Rafa and Sofia on kik.

Detached from social networks, missing my friends that I connect with there, reveling in hanging out with the ones I connect with face-to-face. Reuniting at necessary times with the online ones. That felt really good. Assuring, forgiving, uplifting, honest, relatable, insightful, hopeful--all of the things I want my writing to be.

Connection is where writing begins. Maybe not writing, but story-telling.  Anyone can write—study great sentence structure, learn about perspective and tense and details, say something interesting—but story-telling begins with connection and telling one's truth. If we can do that in our writing—connect to a person, an experience, an emotion, a new perspective— we possess the ability to affect someone else's story. Writing connects people, online and offline.

All of my friends and I shared stories last week.
Words and music.
Pain and mundane.
Sorrow and celebration.
All of it was important.

I could be going to Chile and Brazil very soon. Meeting people, bringing online and offline together. And I think that's a very good note to end on.

Hearing the Grass

"If we had keen vision and feeling for all ordinary human life it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's heart beat, and we should die of the roar which lies on the other side of silence."

I read this quote this morning, on our way to the beach--the end cap of an adventurous week. And I thought about it, especially after such a high-on-life week. Sometimes when things are good--really good--I seek to understand the presence of good just as much as if it were the opposite--to question unfortunate circumstances which is a natural response to heartache. Sometimes I've felt that positivity, blue skies and good fortune need a disclaimer. Like it's only deserved if it's been well balanced with hard times, a lot of effort or heartache in the past.

I'm not superstitious but, to be completely honest, in some of my most contented periods in life when I've been so presently aware of good, I've actually wondered...is heartache around the bend? Is this all some game where everyone says someday, "Well that makes sense. Things were just too damn good for that unicorn girl."

That is a ridiculous way of thinking.

Over the years, especially the last two, my confidence in the natural order of the universe and our own ability to alter our perspective has grown. Life doesn't dish out bad and good in equal amounts or according to what's "fair." Likewise, I don't have "bad" coming to me any more than I have "good" coming to me.

The answer to all of this lies, for me, in the simple truth of which this quote spoke. Regardless of how good or bad life presently is, I will tear reality apart into "vibrant morsels and reassemble them into a meaningful pattern." While I believe that good begets good, I also know it is inevitable that life will come with challenges, sad days, rain and heartache. Through all of it, I will listen to hear the grass grow or the squirrel's heart beat. I will focus on right now, today, and I will not disclaim fully feeling life's gifts.

Maybe loving life and embracing experiences in a tearing-apart-the-vibrant-morsels kind of way is a bit like the tree that falls in the forest that only creates a sound when someone is there to hear it. Is it only good if we're wildly pursuing opportunities to be sensually aware? To feel the heat of the sun and make note of its goodness, to listen to our loved ones' laughter and memorize its tone, even to acknowledge the depth of our pain and fully feel its sting? If so, all the more reason to find the best in everything. That's right.

I did this weekend. My skin is sun-kissed, we have a heap of memories, my camera snapped hundreds of pictures of things that made me come alive and, as God would say, "Behold, it was good."

I'll write more on this week soon. Happy Easter, friends.

He is risen :-)

Fifteen

Leftover Thai food, broken chopsticks, and what is left of my vanilla scented candle are what sit beside me as I type the beginning of this post, the latter enticing me with its clear pool of hot wax, the former just a soupy mess of spicy coconut milk that I refuse to eat because, after two days, it already has all the good stuff picked out. Okay, I did it. I dipped eight fingers (the thumbs wouldn't fit) into the wax and peeled it all off. It brought me more pleasure than it probably should have.

Well. Now that I'm in my element. Friends, this is a special post. A post that's very very important to me. I'm going to write and write and write until it's worthy of her possession, but first I'm throwing down lots of pillows and blankets and asking you to feel welcome. We're celebrating my very lovely friend Claire, whose eloquence and beauty makes me aspire to be like her. Every day.

Whew. Ok. Soupy Thai food, broken chopsticks, scented candle, and the looming greatness of putting something beautiful into words. I've put it into feelings, I've pieced it together with music, but words? Hard to do. I don't know how it's going to come, or if it's even going to make sense, but nevertheless, I will tell you what I can. And being given the opportunity to write a letter to (one of) one's best friends is such a beautiful invitation. Nothing I'd rather do. But words are hard to find.

May be the candle that I'm almost sure is making me high...may be für elise in the background...may be the raw emotion of just knowing her...or the sheer beauty in these memories, but regardless...I'm a mess. And I guess that's okay.

I love talking to my friends on twitter. Every single moment. They annoy me to death and make me regret creating a twitter sometimes, but I would do it again. A trillion times over. I love knowing, no matter what happens, that I'm not alone. That it's me and so many other people there to help me. I couldn't wait to be part of a support system for the people who are such huge parts of mine, and what I wouldn't do... oh for the love of all things holy, what I wouldn't do to go back and meet some of them all over again. I would know how close we would eventually come, and I would approach them more with compassion and caring rather than hesitation and intimidation. I love having friends like them. Love it, love it, love it. That is one of the most beautiful things that could happen to a human. Ever. 

So anyway, in the middle of all these friends, there's one of the most wonderful, beautiful people ever. She's just good and kind and she always let's me lean on her for anything... and I never worry about anything because I have no reason to. Not with all the support and wisdom she gives me. Funny... since meeting her and asking for advice on things I'm worried about, many of my friends who are going through those same issues will ask "did you have to do this? were you nervous about that? did you.... blah blah blah". And I honestly cannot remember ever ever feeling nervous or anxious if I talked to her. 

It's been almost half a year since this one graced me with her beauty.

I followed Claire one afternoon in September. A decision that must have seemed trivial and impulsive at first, but, in the long run, that trivial, impulsive decision turned out to be not so trivial and completely, beautifully, wonderfully full-circle impulsive. I wanted to know who she was, why everyone loved her, what about her had stolen my entire timeline's heart.

I know now.

When I was in elementary school, we read a book called "Have You Filled a Bucket?" It’s all about the ‘feeling buckets’ every living creature possesses and the choices we all make everyday — do we dip from buckets or give to buckets? How do others interact with us? What feels best and right? How do we take responsibility for our own buckets? At bedtime, what is your day’s resumé; how does your bucket feel?

The other day, Savanna said "You treat Claire and everyone else like your sisters more than you treat me like your sister."

Sister, she is. Bucket filler.
 

There’s also a pretty rad connection between Claire and I. We know each other through photos, messages, twitter and Skype. A different world from 10 years ago. And this foundation brings it. Bucket filler.

It's a birthday. The celebration of a birth day, and the most beautiful, lively, intimate person I've ever met. And the fact that 7 months ago I was unsure of whether or not to follow her, but I made the absolute best choice. And the fact that I'm so happy she was born.

Her birthday. The anniversary of gratitude for every gift her life has given us. She is full of light and magic and beauty, and it's hard to put all of that into words. All of who she is. For certainly without saying it, that light and magic and beauty exists for me and Rafa, Sofia, Hudson, Grace, and Carina and those who know her well. Who she is is immeasurable and admirable beyond limits.

Yes, I'm so happy she was born.

And trying to tell her how much she means to me is a challenge so daunting that it just might not be possible.

But I'll try, rest assured.

Without further ado...

***

Claire,

Last November, you wrote a twitlonger. I think, after reading that, I truly started acknowledging you and realizing how remarkable you are, and observing all of the love you unleash with your little obsessions and rants and passions and words.

That twitlonger confirmed what I knew to be true: That no, I'm not alone. That there are other beautiful, kindred people who go through pain and loss and suffering.

When you wrote that, you were so broken. And it hurts to address that.

But what a girl you've become. A happy fairy of a thing who seeps life and spirit into your Claire aura. Fifteen. Fifteen years of beauty and grace and your spirit unleashed with your smile. And at the times when you were terribly sad. When you shut down because you didn't know what else to do. When you were truly consumed by your depression to the point where it seemed you may just be eaten alive.

You've come a long way, you know.

Somewhere and somehow, you leaned in. You figured it out on your own. You had to decide on your own to lean into that situation and realize that happy is a beautiful place to be. And you worked so hard to get there for us and for you, something I'm very grateful for. I'd love to think something I said or did caused that turning point for you, but I'm going to have to say it was all you, baby. You had to experience it, you had to wait, you had to be uncomfortable for awhile until you could begin healing.

There was one thing you told me in those early months, something I'll never forget.

"I hide my feelings, because no one wants to talk to a person who's crying all the time, you know?"

I don't want you to ever feel that way again. If you have to cry, cry until you can't cry anymore, because we will love you through it and we will help you as best we can and we will not pass judgement, and in doing so, we will remind you that We. Are. Always. Here. But you have to tell us. Please.

***

Okay, wasn't expecting to write all of that on that particular time, but I'm glad I did. That was stressing me out.

It was six months ago. The beginning of knowing someone extraordinary. I wonder sometimes what heaven is like. And I think that perhaps, if it really is as wonderful as we hope it is that someday when I leave this earth I will re-enter those moments of learning and love from you and our other friends, because it's one of the most insightful, lovely, sweetest heavens I've ever experienced and I could relive those moments infinitely. Especially since it's all we have until we meet, you know.

Claire, there is no way I could ever tell you how much I love you. How I smile when I see how mature you are in every way, yet how your heart is so young and wild and caring and unpredictable and undeniably you.

I'm not sure if you remember this, but last December, in early hours of the morning when not many people were online, five or ten of us came together to have a real, raw discussion about life and love and friendship and loss and growth. You started it of course, (whenever you throw out an idea it often releases this an entire dam of thoughts I've had for awhile) stating something along the lines of "Why do I always have these really intense emotional friendships and then suddenly we haven't talked in months?" And from there it just sky rocketed to a timeline conversation of mutuals agreeing and mutuals reminiscing and mutuals getting everything out as the mutuals often do when this type of conversation occurs. You and I somehow ended up talking this topic over in DMs, and I was amazed to find that we were one in the same when it came to love and appreciation for friends. And now, once again, I don't know if you'll remember this, but I said "I wish we had a closer friendship." And do you know what you said back? "Can we please?"

I reacted appropriately.
Like maybe I fell off the couch.

So I replied, "How do two people go about becoming close?" Neither of us knew. So we just did what we knew best. We talked and we skyped and we opened up to each other. And day to day, nothing really changed, but looking back, I think it happened somewhere in all the in-betweens of holidays and celebrations and big events. This is my thing. My mission, my passion, my niche. If we could have a neighborhood parade throwing candy every Sunday for no better reason than because the last day of the week should be celebrated—well, sign me up. Life is beautiful, Baby.

And while yes, I thrive on holiday adrenaline and birthday party planning sessions, it's the in-between that is truly worthy of celebration.

I think all of the big moments and all of the small moments should be represented in one post, because really, they're both important.

Secrets and plans told quickly and sincerely with swears of secrecy and down-lows.

DMs shared back and forth under the comfort of cold sheets and recognition that she is beautiful and I love knowing her.

Complaints of boredom during vacation, complaints of being too busy during school.

Twitlonger masterpieces screenshotted and saved for bad days.

And random I love you's between all of it... just because.

Claire, I love all of these kinds of moments we share together, but writing this letter is reminding me of all the little things I love about you. Not about "our friendship" really. About you.

I love your mood-lifting sarcasm.

Your hair.

Your wit.

Your contagious laughter.

The way you pay attention to everyone.

Your style.

When my notifications ding with a message from you.

The way you celebrate your friends' successes.

The way you challenge me when I need to hear it.

Any attempt at attaching words to something that words simply refuse to do justice to seems so lowly and unworthy.

You set the pace. You blaze the trail of love, and how easy it is to follow you. You are compassionate, spirited, independent and someone who likes to find her own way. You are witty and silly, caring and kind. You are a sunny little pixie and every dream and thought I ever had my entire life about friendship just can't compare with the reality of you and how beautifully you play the role of being a friend.


 And, while there's a lot more I could say, I want you to know that you've been evolving so beautifully lately into crazy little layers to the point where I am numbed with admiration and thankfulness for everything you are.

Thank you for everything you are. I'm so happy you were born.

Happy birthday, angel.

-Naomi

***

Thankful for all of her.

And the fact that the crazy birthday weekend has come to an end. (Almost)

Happy birthday, Claire. I love you.

To Fall in Love With Strangers (Also Known as 22)

Well hello there.
Goodness I have written and deleted about 17 sentences to begin this post, an ocean of thoughts holding back, waiting to swim into paragraphs.

I wonder if when John Milton (who I admittedly often confuse with Milton Bradley) sat down to write Paradise Lost, he created the perfect ambiance to do so. Certainly, an epic poem so historically known was not composed among a mess of a house or on cheap paper. No, I'm sure he had the finest of quills and the perfect candlelight, especially being that the light bulb had not yet been invented and candlelight was the only light available.

Even so...the point being that tonight I write epically, and in doing so, I have adjusted the atmosphere accordingly. It's tea, piano music, and candles (which, in all honesty are more for effect being that I'm writing on a harshly bright screen) ...and oh, the preparation of articulating twenty two years worth of beauty. That too.
I am tackling the concept of "tell her how much she means to you" with one giant post.

Well, I'm just going to start typing. Because you have to begin somewhere. Writing her a letter 15 months later is interesting. My, how we change over time. And yet really, I'm still the same girl. The one who started dreaming of having a friendship with Mia before she was even brave enough to tweet her by herself.  The one who held giant spaces in her heart reserved for many many friends she would meet over twitter, and she didn't even know it.  The one who possessed a multitude of strengths that would stretch and grow throughout the year, guiding her through challenges, pulling her toward victories, and always always pushing her towards a greater love.

First, I'll preface this by saying that the writing of letters for my best friends is done freely.  I didn't reread or edit Mila's before posting, and this will follow suit.  I write.  I write and I write and I write, and whatever falls onto this screen gets published.  Love and honesty without censoring is how I like their letters to be preserved.

I remember what it feels like to be handed this friendship. Pure joy. Heaven. Given to me. And when I look at this blessed human being that I love so much, I can't believe anything other than that there is something bigger orchestrating all of these beautiful little things. So I must have done something right.

There are scribbles of precious unshared moments from my friendships that are hidden in lost tweets and DMs, and there are parts of these chapters--also precious--that I share.  It is a common thread that runs through the tapestry of my friendships--all kinds of people, so many unique and beautiful twitter friends, miles of earth that separate us, cultures and beliefs and families that identify us--but each of my friends has a story of how I feel about them individually.

This is Amelia's.

***

A Little Story to Begin 
On December 29th, 2012, I talked to Mia for the first time. I didn't tweet much those last couple of days of that year, but there were a few moments when I did some interesting things, according to my memory. Talked to Mila, was one. And another... I talked to Mia. I can't think of exactly how it started, or exactly what we said, but all I know is, it was the start of something beautiful. Something very beautiful.

I would go back to our basic and cringey friendship days in a second if you asked me, but I suggest you don't ask me those kinds of things because I'll throw your question into a mental movie montage and one piano sonata later, we'll all be crying.

The beginning story of our friendship is quite similar to the one I wrote last December, on Mila's birthday. Though those two could not be more different, all mutual loveliness and heart filling selves aside. 

***

She's quite a character. She's sarcastic and clever and quick-witted and there's not much that can knock her off her feet. But she's also sensitive and caring and sweet and loving. She loves Criminal Minds and scary movies. But she also loves Taylor Swift and chocolate covered pretzels. She stands up for what she believes in and she's smart and confident in herself but she respects other opinions and she doesn't have a mean bone in her body.

She's one of the greatest crescendos God has given me and she's given me unbounded joy simply by being in my life. And about this time almost 15 months ago I was under thin cotton sheets after tweeting to her for the first time, nervous because she intimidated me and had a lot of followers and was funny. I'll say it again. My, how we change over time. Because now I see nothing in her but some ungraspable miracle that I've been graced with beyond my wildest dreams. And I love her more than anything.

She's an art that I'll never grow tired of studying and marveling at and admiring and adoring and "oooh"ing and "ahhh"ing over. Because even though she can be annoying, and rude, and frustrating, and completely unrealistic and stupid, she was one of the greatest, biggest things to ever happen to me and she changed me and she taught me--she's teaching me--a whole hecking lot about life and I couldn't ever type words that are worthy of the love behind her.

But birthdays for friends like this deserve memorable posts, and to add that to this post I am going to have to, of course, talk to the one I speak of.

I'll almost certainly mess this up, I can guarantee. I'll publish it and release the link and then I'll read it to myself as she reads it, and I'll think of a million other things I should have added, should have done. But right now, I'm typing and I'm the only one in control of what goes on this screen, so I'll definitely make an attempt, I assure you.

So...

***

Dear Mia,

The way you love makes me want to be a better person every day. You remind me of all that is good and possible in this world, and you center me with everything you do.

It's your birthday. Surprise.

Your birthday. The pinnacle of gratitude for every blessed gift your life has given the world. And the moment this over-reflective friend of yours takes every bit of daily reflection...and stirs it into one beautiful mental montage of who you are, what you've taught me, how knowing you has changed me, what I want for you, and what you mean to me.

15 months ago, I thought you had "an intimidating personality".

Because 15 months ago, you had exactly that in my eyes. But little did I know that that would be the least defining phrase following the subject of your name. Today it's all completely different.

Today...
You have...
...this crazy infectious smile that takes but two seconds to extract from even the grumpiest of moods.
You have...
...a determined spirit, and when you're tearing through this life to demonstrate your independence and occasionally leaving the rest of us behind, I can almost imagine you looking back and laughing at the distance between us. So often, you understand and discover things so much sooner than the rest of us, but you so generously share all wisdom and advice with us and you wait patiently for us to catch up. It's quite beautiful.
You have...
...a special way of knowing when anyone needs love, and you never hold back from offering a simple uplifting word or a confidence instilling hour long conversation about life.
You have...
...the most impressive comebacks and jokes. No comedian has anything on your signature "xD"
You have...
...a wonderfully fulfilling aura that brings me joy and makes me smile.
You have...
...favorite twitter accounts and celebrities and places, numerous ways of expressing yourself, notable interests, repeated routines for leaving everyone in side-splitting laughter, a growing repertoire of lovely words, the best laugh, remarkable qualities for facing challenges and an ocean of opportunities awaiting your future.

You are happy, bright, wise, lively, sunny. You inspire me and fortify me and you are a joy and a blessing and all dreams come true when it comes to dreams of amazing friends.

***

You have gone through so much these past few years. And maybe there's a lot more to go through, but with the amount of strength and positivity you possess, I just know you will conquer anything and everything in your path. You are so strong, and once upon a time, you gave me your strength to borrow when it seemed I had none of my own. I've told you I would one day tell you that story, and I think now seems appropriate.

It was, of course, the time Mila's ask.fm was blown up with negative criticism for me. I remember sitting on my bed the first time it really got serious and my heart was shredded with confusion and pain. Nervous, afraid and alone. And no matter what everyone else told me about how it would get better, I just had to figure it out on my own. And you helped me with that so much. When something like that happened and everything I thought I knew about mine and Mila's friendship was suddenly ripped away, the most solid, truthful, comforting thing in that world was our friendship.

And though you told me about how it would get better and how one day I wouldn't care and how you promise, promise, promised I'd own those critics someday, I think what meant most to me in those weeks was simply consistent love. The time you gave me, the words, the "have a great day"s, the feeling of you always being there.

And somewhere during all of that, I just leaned in. Not because you told me to, not because I was pushed, but because you gave me constant support and love and those things you did, like sticking up for me and asking me how my day was and joking with me? You did those things, and in doing so you reminded me that Joy. Is. A. Choice. Loving by example is so much more important than loving with the right things to say.

You've gone through differently painful things. And you? Well, you'll be okay because you're smart and strong and resilient and naturally equipped with so much to handle life. You demonstrate that to me every day.

***

Your attentiveness and love is, no doubt, obvious to so many, and I see people tell you "you're perfect" or "you're funny" almost every day. I love that, and yet I've been very careful lately to recognize the other qualities that make you who you are as well--your creativity and ingenuity, your free spirit, your imagination and your constant awareness of others' needs. Your personality is complex, and it's important for me to continually embrace the many things that make you unique, because there's so much that I love.

Like your accent that Savanna and I mock when we skype.

Like the way you only send us pictures of you doing beautifully ridiculous faces.

I'm thankful that you can walk and run. Not everyone can walk and run, and we're all blessed that you have strong, capable legs that withstood more than they should have had to.

Your confidence and security in yourself that inspires me and teaches me a lot simply by existing.

Your determination and strength and endurance.

The absolutely bewitching fascination of the way you love your friends. The love you give, the language we speak, the way we smile at each other and joke on skype and it feels so very meant to be.

***

Mia, I hope you know in no uncertain terms how much I love you. Your fifteen little months in my life have reaped invaluable happiness to me. And I can say that... in all the weeks I spent wishing I could be friends with the person who was my sister's friend... in all the weeks I spent thinking about how cool it would be just to talk to you... I never imagined it would amount to this. This beyond magical, beyond authentic, beyond immeasurable friendship that means everything in the world to me. These are the kinds of things I never tell you often enough. You're one of my biggest blessings, and knowing you is beautiful.

And I know I say "beautiful" all the time, but it is. You are.

Everything about you is completely beautiful.

It's difficult to put into words now. You know that, almost 15 months actually separates me from the beautiful day you entered my life. And 22 years actually separates the world from the day you entered it and were destined to do great things. You'll do great things. You're doing great things, just by being you.

And all that you've become in 22 years.

I want to live up to everything I hope you to be.

I hope you know how animated and lovely you are; how valuable your abilities, your love, your mere existence is; how full my life has been with you in it.
Dude, these past fifteen months have been grand. And I love you.

Happy birthday. Happy birthday. I love you.

- Naomi

***

I don't know what else to say. It's just untouchable, holy ground that words could not, in any way, ever do justice.

And it's a choppy ending. But it hasn't ended... it keeps going. For 15 months I've felt that feeling. Maybe not as new or raw, but some days I'm just like... holy crap. She's my best friend. I didn't even know she existed a few years ago, but there she is right there. And I love her so much.

Thankful for life and everything hers means to me.

Thankful for this year, this girl, and this weekend of celebrating her.

I love you Mia.

Fourteen and the "Can't Also" Crisis: also known as A Great Many Things

I used to do a list on my birthday of what I learned that year, but every time I make some definitive check mark as to what I learned, I realize later, "Oh honey, you're still learning.  Don't check it off yet."

I will say that 13 was a great age for recognizing more that weaknesses are really secret strengths. When I am aware of my weaknesses--the things I've spent years wishing I could change about myself--and embrace them without being defensive, I can find ways to use them for good.

Growing older is always a journey of becoming a better version of yourself--a journey that will and must include both happy moments and hard moments.  It's how you weave them together, drawing lessons from both, that gives you the power of creating a beautiful life.

So, I'm 14 now. As in years old.

When I turned 13, I was pretty much arrogant about a lot of things. If I had to choose, I would say year 13 was the most prospective, enriching, terribly sad, overwhelmingly joyful, surprising, ordinary, painful, beautiful year so far. It's astonishing to me, what I learned in year 13.

The year contrasted itself nicely, with important lessons on both pain and letting yourself feel pain and also overcoming it. Growth follows.

So begins the can't also crisis.

It's not just Sad vs. Happy. It's everything. I often pigeonhole myself into categories, as if a girl who wants to change the world can’t also love cute shoes.  Or a girl who sings of the joys of family and friends can’t also want to learn more about independence and solitude.  Or an advocate for a cause of great importance can’t also advocate for a cause of little importance like wearing lipstick or buying art or making crafts.

This little crisis has followed me all year, so much that when I found out about the Spice Girls, I actually stressed out about who I would want to be if I had to be a spice.  I loved Posh’s style, but some days you just need tennis shoes, you know?  Sporty Spice is fun.  And Baby Spice?  I love babies!  And then there’s the bold, can’t-mess-with-me badassness of Scary Spice.  I wanted to be them all.  Which probably explains why I love Allspice so much—Mmmm.  Hot wassail.  I digress.

Who said Posh can’t also be Sporty?  We intersect areas of interest in a million different ways all the time, and that’s fantastic.  We certainly don’t have to be everything (and trying to be is a whole ‘nother story), but if we want to explore a little bit of everything, that’s okay.

So why in my mind, even after thinking and writing about this so many times, do I still treat my loves and areas of interest like people who can’t let their food touch on a plate?  Friendship and business and fashion and faith and family and world-changing and creativity and community awareness and activism and advocacy and home decorating and politics and having fun should all be able to be cooked up in a tasty casserole that isn’t nitpicked by my own need to compartmentalize all these passions that a fourteen year old might have.

I think a little bit of analysis is good—it makes us contemplate our beliefs and ascribe some accountability to our choices.  My sister and I recently got into a discussion about the ways we teach and model what we believe about beauty.  “I tell everyone that what’s most important is inward beauty—that it doesn’t matter what they look like on the outside, and yet,” I argued, “I went to the store twice this week because I’m hung up on the fact that the orange tones in the red lipstick I just bought make my teeth look yellow.”

Maybe it has nothing to do with what I think and more to do with what other people think because, listen—I care what other people think.  I just do, even though I’m learning not to so much.  I find myself struggling to painstakingly find equilibrium with every choice I make today.  Make sure everything adds up, aligns, checks out with what you believe. It’s like I’m looking for errors and contradictions in my own life, and there’s a word for people who do that in other people’s lives:  Assholes.  I’m being an asshole to my own self, and I need to quit.

Do I live in a way that contradicts what I preach?  Maybe in some ways I do, and that's okay.  Everything doesn't have to line up perfectly. Things will align eventually.

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes)

-Walt Whitman

There's also a paragraph in a book that says:

"…Even when his thoughts are most irrational and dreamlike, his writing follows them.  “I cannot keep my subject still,” he says.  “It goes along befuddled and staggering, with a natural drunkenness.”  Anyone is free to go with him as far as seems desirable, and let him meander off by himself if it doesn’t…(and here’s the clincher)…sooner or later, your paths will cross again."

I’ve come back to that phrase—“sooner or later, your paths will cross again”—so many times.  Shielding, defending, purposely preventing natural human contradictions just to make sure our identity lines up perfectly outwardly is exhausting and, frankly, a waste of energy that could be poured into our loves of life.  When we truly let go and love what we love, without worrying if all of those loves line up, the contradictions will eventually cancel each other out, and our paths will cross again.

If I'm normally inclined to keep all of the food on my plate separated, then this week I made one hell of a casserole with all that I love. Amid googling "mint green loafers", doing extra credit assignments for math (because I'd rather die than get a B on my report card), reading inspiring stories, hiding under blankets while frantically tweeting and making tea, I realized that Twitter.com is one of the biggest contradictions I've ever come into contact with. I follow tens of people that are almost all complete opposites and I love each of them immensely. Talk about Kenny G meeting Jesus.  All of these areas of interest that I normally exhaust myself in trying to connect the dots to dissolve contradictions?  They’re having an Empowerment Potluck together on my timeline, and I’m only invited when I let go of my shit.

Here’s the thing:  when you stop trying so goddamn hard to make the dots connect, they’ll connect.

Be who you are.  Love what you love.

As I tweeted a few days ago: “When you’re not being who you really are because you’re trying to make sure you’re being real, then you’re denying who you are and that, in turn, is not real.”

Don’t try to be good; be good. Don’t try to impact the world; impact the world. Don't try to connect the dots or dissolve the contradictions or explain what it is you love and why. Just do your thing. Be your good.  Love your loves.  The dots will connect, and a beautiful picture you'll create.
***

“The simplicity that you obtain as a result of controlling your complexity is most satisfying.” Steve Jobs

How do we control that complexity?  All those loves, those interests, those contradictions?  We stop trying to control them.  We invite them all to a party and trust that they'll get along with each other and find connections naturally, without our micromanaging.

"Fashion, meet Faith.  I think you two might find something in common.  Simplicity lover, meet Wants to Change the World. You two are totally going to hit it off."

Play Pharrell's "Happy" because that will get everybody dancing.
Stand back.  Quietly take it in.
Don't freak out if not everyone is choosing to act crazy on the dance floor.
Let all those people, all those areas, all those loves, all those parts of you come alive on their own time, in their own way.

A charismatic dancer can also sit quietly and watch from the sidelines.
A humble thinker can also take silly selfies.
An analytical CPA can also dance barefoot in a puddle.
A world traveler can also burrow into the safe comforts of home.
A critical scientist can also write deep, reflective poems.
A woman can read and discuss Newsweek and also The New Yorker, Fifty Shades of Gray, Christianity Today and Scrapbooks, Etc.

Embrace it all.

I am a great many things, and I'm proud of it.

I cry when I read stories of struggle with self harm, or eating disorders, or loss and the coming through of it--it inspires me.
I swear like a sailor on Twitter and censor it all for this blog.
I believe in God, and communicating with him and connecting myself to his purpose is an important part of my life.
I have friends who don't believe in God.
I believe strongly in owning your voice and making a meaningful impact in the world with what you have to offer.
I often feel vulnerable and unworthy of making an impact.
I am passionate about changing people's views on disabilities and disorders and making the world a more accepting place for marginalized individuals.
I read fashion magazines and stress out when my toe nail polish gets chippy.
I love classical music.
I love techno music.
I love Doctor Who.
I love The Walking Dead.
I care about the environment.
I use a lot of paper towel.
I respect Catholic faith and Jewish faith and Muslim faith, though I am a Christian.
I love my atheist friends.
I dream of living on a quiet prairie, running in fields of wildflowers, smiling in the hot sun.
I dream of living in the big city, hosting parties, visiting museums, hailing cabs to our next big adventure.
I want to help people, connect with people, make the sad feel loved.
I like to buy stuff.
I like to make stuff.
I like to give stuff away.
Sometimes I feel so pissed off, I could knock walls down with my anger.
Sometimes I feel so weak and weepy, I could crumble if you looked at me funny.
Sometimes I feel so strong, I'll say whatever I think and not give a shit whether anyone agrees or not.

But all the time, I am complicated--maybe even contradictory.

Ladies--all the Ladies, let me hear you say:  We are a great many things.
(I had a conversation with Mila that prompted me to write this. We can model clothes and also study architecture)

Happy birthday to myself. And my lovely friend Sofi.
Celebration of life.