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walking in a winter wonderland

Just kidding!  I am not walking.  I’m crawling, under a truck, with a plow on it. Who the plow guy call when the plow guy gets stuck? Who said that anyway? Walking in a winter wonderland?  Lies.  You know what my favorite thing to do is when its snowing? Stay inside.  I love snow days. I do.  But TWO in a row.  Let’s talk about it.  My kids, they are home, again! And guess who still has to work in spite of the snow? Right, me.  Guess who can’t get any work done because there is screaming, jousting, singing, laughing, crying and stunting going on in her office…. also me.

As I am typing this, my five year old just spilled water all over the floor.  Ok, deep breath, its only water.  Oh, but wait, did I mention just one hour ago he sprayed himself with a can of axe, note that, a CAN of axe.  Now he is both soaking wet, and smelling like mini pimp. Excellent.

Wait, what’s my seven year old doing? Shit, I don’t even know where he is.  *Screams*  Oh there he is, hiding in the closet playing games on his iPad.  Even he is searching for peace and quiet.  That makes two of us kid.

Wait, its lunchtime, they’re STARVING!  Funny guys.  You both took 2 bites of the sandwich you had to have, the one I had to make three different times because you keep changing your mind.  Oh, you want a Taylor ham and syrup sandwich?  Yes, let me get that for you right after I finish vomiting into the sink full of dishes all from this lunch that you didn’t even eat.  Oh, what’s that?  You’re finished.  Good get out of this room and go play.  Wait, why are you calling my name now like there is a pack of wolves chasing you?  I’m running downstairs as fast as I can but my socks are still wet from that water on the floor and now I am on my ass, no big deal, I am coming, the wolves won’t get you, what do you need? Oh, you’re hungry again.  I see.

So I have accomplished nothing today.  But I have learned that my kid’s boogers are “the size of hot dogs”, that he needs 27 tissues to blow his nose just one time, and that he wishes he was a troll.  The other one, back in the closet.  I think its probably naptime… I hope they can fend for themselves. Goodnight.

 

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A look in the rearview mirror

Or as I like to call it, the tearview mirror.  My past is complicated.  I remember once hearing “everyone has a chapter they do not read out loud”. Well, I have many.  The parts I wish to keep unspoken, and not for the reasons you think.  I am the girl you see here.  The one who writes feelings, who tries to show you that there is always another chance, the one who doesn’t give up.  I wasn’t always like this.

I was the competitive gymnast.  The girl who walked better on her hands than she did on her feet.  The girl who loved homework (and still does).  The girl with the rock collection.  The girl who had a secret club with her siblings (hi sissy!). The girl who worked 3 jobs at 16.  The girl who applied only to one college (and luckily got in). That girl who had not a care in the world… and then the girl who ceased to exist.

If you asked me my biggest wish 15 years ago, I would tell you it was to become an attorney, to be successful, to make the world know my name.  Fast forward… if you asked me my biggest wish 14 years ago, it would have been to disappear.

Coming to terms with the unexpected things life throws at you, it is possible.  It is a process, an ongoing one, with many ups and downs along the way.  On some days, I am still coming to terms with it.  But most days, I remind myself of how it has built me.  You don’t know how strong you can be, until strong is all you have.

The parts I wish to keep unspoken, and not for the reasons you think.  Because I am proud of who I am now.  And that’s what I want you to see.

 

She held the world in her hands.

She had stars in her eyes.

A life full of potential

met nightmare in disguise.

The world closed in upon her

in a moment of pure chance.

And bequeath this wolf

with which she’s forced to dance.

Spinning round in circles

and years of public eye,

exiled into shadows

to hide her desperate cry.

Reaching for the mountains

and barely making stride,

she begins to teeter,

no handrail by her side.

Her own two legs beneath her

could not support the weight,

and like a house of cards,

she fell to a new fate.

 

 

 

 

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Fruity Pebble French Toast

That is what we made for breakfast on this freezing snow day.  It was delicious.  Regular french toast dipped in fruity pebbles before getting dropped in the pan.  I am a BIG fan of fruity pebbles.  Huge, actually.  But, there are a lot of things I do not like.  I am not a picky eater, but I can say that there are a lot of foods I have always refused to try or have written off after one taste or even just the sight of it.  At 14, I ate a dry steak one night and decided I hated all meat.  What followed was 13 years as a vegetarian.  And then, one night, I smelled steak grilling and said let me try this again.  I am quite the carnivore now.  I wasted 13 years not eating any meat over one night, one steak.  How ridiculous!

Everything deserves a second chance.  We write off things, sometimes daily, because we are unwilling to try again.  In my gym, I often watch people fail and hear them say they can’t do it.  No! Pick it up and try again!  I have seen friends, even family,  write off people over one disagreement.  I myself have quit something because I wasn’t good the first time I tried it and instantly I claimed to hate it just based on embarrassment.  (It was snowboarding for those who are interested, and yes, I am terrible!).   We have all done it.  But, everything and (almost) everyone deserves a second chance.  (Trust me, there are some unforgivable acts that don’t deserve a second chance, but that’s not what I am talking about here).  I am talking about the second chance we have all been given.  No one is perfect.  We all make mistakes.  I am talking about the failed attempts we give up on.  I am talking about the people who deserve our forgiveness.  I am talking about a willingness to revisit something and try again.  And, I am talking about steak, which it just so happens, is really, really delicious.

She whispered and said Im sorry
as he slowly turned around.
Her cheeks littered with sadness,
his eyes cast at the ground.
Fast forward five years later,
and an accidental run in.
His dimples appeared at the sight
of the fossiled tears upon her chin.
He took her by the hand
and in silence they agreed.
Sometimes a second chance
is just the thing you need.

And seriously, try the French toast, it’s incredible!

 

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learning to sail

I am no stranger to failure.  Sometimes, I have to remind myself, and others of this.  It is great to be defined by your successes.  It is also important to remember how you achieved them.  Long ago,  I learned that if you believe in something, you have to push on.  You will want to give up, you will want to throw in the towel, but you have to be bigger than your fear.  I have learned what you want and what you deserve come only at your own hand (with the help of others).  14 years ago, I did not give up.  14 years ago, my life was changed.  Eventually, you may come to learn about the events that both broke me and then built me.  For now, as I begin this venture into furthering my life through writing, I have to remember that I have faced failures and even more the FEAR of failure countless times.  I have had (what felt like) the world screaming it in my face.  But, I didn’t give up.  And so, fail as I may here I am, sending out pieces of writing to publishers and contests looking for a future in the thing I love to do.  Failure is inevitable.  And I have reminded myself, that I am ok with this.  Because failure means trying again, and eventually, I am bound to get it right.

I’ve waited for the sunlight

staring at the dark clouds above.

Rough waters are surrounding me.

(The wind helps dry the tears.)

The waves crash all around me

but I breathe beneath the wake.

As the deep sea begins to swallow me,

I know not to let go.

Because though it gets unsteady here,

it is temporary.

That is the beauty with this ship,

it has yet to sink.

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til death do we part… and not even then

Soulmates; I bet if I asked 20 people for their definition of a soulmate, I would find that it has a different meaning to each.  Yesterday, I had this very conversation with my best friend.  What if a soulmate wasn’t just someone who you were madly in love with, but someone you could never imagine life without?  Your go to, your support, your #1 fan.  The wake up in the middle of the night and do anything for person.  Two people who belong together.  By this logic, it stands to reason that soulmates do not have to be lovers, but maybe soulmates can be best friends, cousins, siblings, or in this case, brothers.

18 years ago, I met a pair of brothers.  They were inseparable and if you wanted to hang out with one, you had to expect the other was coming along too.  You never minded though because they complimented each other, grounded each other and they were fun.  They remained this way through adult life.  They got jobs together and lived together.  They shared friends.  They shared a life.  And then, one day about two months ago, one of them died.  It was devastating for everyone who knew him, but not nearly as devastating as it was for his brother.  You can not ever imagine life being taken from the person you love and need most.  Especially when your life is entirely built around this person and you have never known life without them.  B was the older brother.  And now, he was gone.  T had never lived a single day without him.  His entire world was ripped apart, as it would be for anyone in that situation.  He had family, and he had friends, but he didn’t have his brother.

Today, I found out T has passed.  Little brother and big brother reunited once again.  Two months of separation but now eternity together.  The way they would have wanted.  The way it has always been.  Because maybe soulmates can be brothers, and soulmates can’t be kept apart.

Lonely little daisy

swaying in the wind.

Your delicate white petals

look as though they’ve thinned.

Maybe you’ve been crying

or given a small pluck.

A game of “loves me not”

could have changed your luck.

You’re slowly wilting over

and your leans not to the sun.

Your head bows toward darkness,

shamed and not brazen.

I bet you have a story

that’s too sad to tell

a broken stem, a missing leaf

the reasons that you fell.

We’re not so very different

the ones they couldn’t save.

Together now we both stand

alone above his grave.

 

To BS and TS may you always find yourselves side by side.

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The Power Ranger

I think I was 9, maybe 10.  I was the girl who watched “The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers” everyday after school with my brother.  I wanted to be that pink ranger so bad.  She was such a badass and in my mind we were basically the same.  She was a girl, I was a girl.  She was a gymnast, I was a gymnast.  She liked pink, I liked pink.  She could turn into a ninja with superpowers, I could…. Anyway, I wanted to be that pink ranger, I wanted to save the world.  I remember jumping off couches and beating invisible aliens with paper towel rolls.  Isn’t it funny the things we remember?  In my mind, I knew I couldn’t ACTUALLY be a power ranger, but it didn’t stop me from trying.

I guess it all comes full circle.  Our realization that we can’t instantly become exactly what we want to be.  But, we can get close, we just have to start somewhere.  So, find your starting point.  Just remember, that starting point can be anything and anywhere.  One small choice can change everything.   I want to help people.  I always have.  And maybe this is a really small step, blogging about my life and my experiences, but if I can make just one person realize that they have more to offer, more opportunity out there for them than they think, well I think I am doing just what I want.

We do not get things by asking for them.  We have to work hard to accomplish things.  But this makes the reward so much more valuable.  We learn to appreciate ourselves, and also, others who help us along the way.  After all, this is what life is about.  This world is full of opportunity that is waiting to be seized.  You only have one life, go be a power ranger!

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The story of the sleepless

Sleep.  We hate it when we are young.  We love it as we grow old.  It refreshes us.  Or, most of us.  There is this little known fact about me.  I don’t sleep. Or rather, I do, but not like most.  If you ever need someone at 3 AM, I’m your girl!  Twenty minute power naps.  That’s all I have.  I am a clock watcher, which, by the way, is excruciating.  2:05.  2:27.  2:42.  I swear in darkness time stands still.  But, you learn a lot at night, in the shifty darkness and the deafening silence.  Like how to spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, how to sing to the beat of your own heart, and how to escape the person breaking into your house for the 5th time this week (never fails – I swear someone knocks on my windows at night!).  You also learn that dreams can be reality when you are awake.  I have accomplished more in the endless hours of night than I have during any work day.  For some reason, my thoughts run at Mach 6 as soon as the rest of the world sleeps.  But I am used to it.  Am I tired? Yes. Some days.  But tired is for the restless, and lucky for me, my soul is still wide awake!

What’s my point here? Sleep.  Do it!  Whenever time allows.  But, on those nights when the weight of the world hangs on your shoulders, when you can’t seem to make sense of what is eating away at you, do yourself a favor and remember, eventually, the sun’s coming up. Everyday the sun will come up.  And everyday is the best day for a new beginning.  Try again.  And again and again, or as many times as you need.  And on the off chance you are awake at 3 AM, call me, I promise, I am free.

I am the daydreamer and the night thinker,

a simple girl with a complicated mind.

I have bags under my eyes from working for

the dreams I’ve yet to find.

I am not nearly as strong as I wish I could be,

overcome, I’ve done my best

But some days the memories fall from my eyes

and knock the wind from my chest.

I am made of the pieces of what used to be,

never again to be complete.

And though I have fallen, I stand again

on my own two feet.

Just like the moon, some nights I am hidden

tucked between the pain and the fight.

But I try every morning to conquer the world

after being haunted all night.

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But who am I?

I am:

Chaos and beauty and silent cries,

a mixture of simple things.

I like to write, get lost in books

find sweet lyrics to sing.

I carry myself in a certain way,

on my sleeve you will find my heart

and I like to talk at midnight

when my world’s falling apart.

I think too much and I get lost

inside of my own head.

Often I search but cannot say

things that need to be said.

I smile a lot and I laugh.

I dance like the sea for the sun.

I try to shine like the stars in the night

before darkness comes undone.

I am reckless and delicate like storm clouds,

old soul with a big heart.

I’m not perfect, I’m just a girl

who occasionally comes apart.

 

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pilot

I feel like such a big girl.  First blog entry.  Where I will go from here, I haven’t a clue.  But, instead of writing in multiple journals that sit in a nightstand drawer, I have taken the leap into blogland.

I started writing in 7th grade. I remember “honors English” with Mrs. Schroth.  She was brilliant.  And I, I was horrible.  I remember her always sending rough drafts back to me and saying “find your feelings Amy!”  or “more details, describe it!” and thinking to myself how the hell do I write a feeling.  I think in order to find feelings, we have to live them.  The spectrum of feelings is so broad.  Lucky for me, my life has been a whirlwind and I have experienced almost all of them, the highest highs and the lowest lows.  I am lucky to have ended up where I have.  “Let your past make you better, not bitter.”  This is one of my favorite quotes.  I like to believe I am the epitome of turning lemons into lemonade.  Through my experiences, I have learned that if you wait in darkness long enough, someone is bound to turn on a light.

And so, Mrs. Schroth, I found my feelings.  All of them, in fact.  And I have learned to use them, and let them set me free.

We write for ourselves.  We write so that we can let the feelings out, or relive the feelings in the future.  And sometimes, we write for others.  So that they can find comfort in not being alone in the way they feel.  In the end, we are all really just trying to feel or unfeel.