Tuesday, April 15, 2014


Today is one of those days where you keep rolling over to hover in the land of sleep just a little bit longer. There is nothing, not even a snooze button, that makes sleeping just a little longer so heavenly as knowing you should be awake with the rest of the world, but choosing yourself, choosing the back of your eyelids and hanging onto one more dream just a little longer. No one really cares how late you sleep in. So you let it linger.

Today is a day where you smell of sleep and dreams and leftover perfume from the day before. There is no hurry to shower, but when you snuggle against the warm side of the pillow you giggle at the way pajamas smell against the cold air and it all seems to fit with the snow on the ground that daunts the outside world. Why bother with that when there is a book within reach? Now you can pause between paragraphs and close your eyes dreaming of the way New York is described and let your mind wander. Images of the people you love and those around you move around in your head. While you think of calling them, the thought of opening your mouth to say “Hello” seems like too much effort. So you sigh in a way that leaves your face in a faint smile and you shift sides because your shoulder starts to hurt. The thought occurs to you that while it is nice to have this bed all to yourself having someone next to you, judging the book you’re reading, wondering what is behind those sleepy eyes of yours, well...that would also be lovely in a different kind of way. But not today. Today is for rubbing your eyes awake like a four year old waking up, hair all around you, not caring about any of it at all.

It’s quiet today and you can hear the clock tick and the humidifier run. Sometime, though you’re not sure when, a tuba starts playing and it makes you realize that you are not alone in the world and that the day is happening at a faster pace for some. But not for you. It’s slow. The hours are still and afternoon turns into early evening and you may wonder if your to do list is worth looking at--really when does laundry need to be done? Who is actually going to care if your nails are painted?

That’s later. Right now there is a book needing to be finished and covers needed to be thrown over your head like you’re hiding. Because that’s really what you’re doing. You are playing hide and seek with the world wondering if anyone is going to seek you out, not really caring because the hiding is so much fun. It feels good being away. You can flee last nights awkward conversations that you can’t get out of your head; you can flee the cute boy down the street; you can flee the expectations and the ideas. You revert. You prove you introverted self correct and you hide. Not really wanting to be found anyway.

Tomorrow will come and none of this will be possible. Maybe even in a couple of hours you will decide to take a long shower and put in a load of laundry, turn on your computer, and enter the world.

Not now.
Now is for you. And the almost finished book in front of you.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

on a good day

Sometimes I go days without thinking about you. I am able to live in the moment and get all entangled in the lives of those around me. I take pictures, laugh really hard, study, dream, and dance in the car.

Then, just as if no time had passed, you come back in. It’s usually something small, a little text, a comment on social media -- a problem of the twenty-first century some would say. And just like that, I am stuck, staring at those couple of words, and I go back. Back to when it was you and me. When we made promises never expecting to break them. When you had my heart and my secrets.

I tell myself that we were too young to understand how good we had it. Those feelings, the flash of young love, it was too much for me to process, too much for smart people like us to trust. We got in our own way, sabotaged it, made excuses, and in the end let it go. It was the one thing I wanted and it -- you and I -- crumbled before my eyes. I failed. And then, in my truest fashion, I pretended. Pretended it wasn’t worth it, pretended you would go on loving me and that one day we’d come back to each other.

You told me once we may have shot in the future. And I clung to that. When I close my eyes, I see it on my computer screen, sitting there like all I had to do was click my heels three times and you’d be here ready for me, in the same way I am here ready for you.

Stupid us. We tried to be friends. We thought we could be that success story, the two people whose names were always next to each other;  we’d prove that we were mature enough to ebb in and out of each other’s lives and make it.

We’ve been at this for about eight years now.

Somedays I get dressed up for someone who isn’t you. I think about kissing someone who isn’t you. I dream of a future far away from you. Those are the good days.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

the #polarvortex

The Polar Vortex is here! Yesterday we here in Traverse City clocked -18 with the wind chill. Needless to say, it is cold. And the wind is brutal. This is what Netflix and hot chocolate was made for. As far me, I'm spending some of my time off cuddled in blankets, eating s'mores, and tonight's big chore is doing laundry. Livin' large! :)

Here's what Interlochen is looking like. 

as someone who still gets winter break

Lucky me, I am one of the few people who still get a winter break. Ah, the perks of working in education. And first of all, you should follow me on instagram so that you get a full look, but in the meantime, here are some delightful highlights.

Lala in her full glory
the carter 3
Cousins as couches 
the virginia beach boardwalk

back at home + the current read

Thursday, December 12, 2013

just a girl

from Paper Towns, John Green
I remember toward the end of my junior year in high school liking this boy and when we got back to school in the fall people asking me what was the deal between the two of us. While I had absolutely no idea of it at the time, I suppose there was some general curiosity into the social life of the wallflower and soon to be valedictorian that I was, and friends of ours starting playing matchmaker. Even though everyone’s attempts fell apart--timing has never been my strong point in relationships-- I recall telling someone that the reason I would always remember said boy was that through all the drama that was senior year, and for all the expectations I had accumulated -- Ivy League future, speeches, honor societies-- at the end of it what he saw was just a girl. And that I loved.

It’s something that I think about all the time, the idea of something versus that actuality of something, and how often in our lives it’s not something but rather someone. We have to knock them off the pedestal we put them on to save them and ourselves, we can’t live on pedestals and often we never ask to be put there in the first place.

Sometimes I think about how I have become such an open book in recent years. I didn’t use to be this way-- so loud, so opinionated -- but I think one of the reasons I am has come out of the way I have been perceived -- as having it all together, having the perfect family, being destined for greatness-- I knew I couldn’t live under the shadow of perception forever, so in order to beat it, I just began talking.

I’m still being told that I am intimidating. My resume is too long, my adventures too grand, my dreams too big, so I wait. I wait for the people who when they look at me, they just see a person, a girl.

Yesterday I was in meetings for four hours all talking about self-reflection and strengths. (Yeah, it was a little heavy.) At one point we start talking about how you would describe yourself if you couldn’t use the regular statistics. What would you say if you didn’t say where you were from? Or how old you are? Or your one quirky fact? What would you add to the conversation? Who are you?

After some thought, I think this is my answer...for now…

I am a dreamer, a loner, a creative. I long to feel purposeful and needed by those around me. I want to give of my time and energy to a cause and fight for it with everything I am. I am an overachiever, sometimes controlled my to do lists and high standards. I am loyal to a fault, have no patience for ignorance or cruelty, and have a soft spot for John Green novels and chocolate. I feel totally safe feeling small and have owned the fact that twenty-five is a beautiful age because you really are smart enough to know better and young enough to go dancing all night and then eat chocolate milkshakes at 2am. I am just a girl who may or may not be on the precipice of greatness. Do you see the girl?

this is me! picture from yesterday in my new sweater

Saturday, December 7, 2013

the holiday season

Interlochen Holiday Party. ResLife Represents
hello hello! so i know it's been forever...and I have so much to write about! but right now i'm under the weather and years have taught me that one shouldn't publish things when under the influence of cold medicine. so please come back when there is more to say. in the meantime...

find me on pinterest. or instagram.

and i'll be back!

Friday, November 15, 2013

things unspoken part 2

This series continues to talk about some of the things I don’t usually write about here. My point is to find the words...and let the rest just fall into place.

There is a running joke in the movie The Runaway Bride where Julia Roberts’ character doesn’t actually know how she likes her eggs. She just eats them the way that her significant other eats them and has absolutely no opinion of her own preference. Then, towards the end, there is a scene where she stands with plates and plates of eggs, searching for how she likes her eggs.

This is exactly how I feel about music.

It’s an odd thing. Here I am, twenty something in a culture where generations are molded by the music they listen to. I could walk into any high school, college, bar, group of people and have groups identify themselves by the music they love or hate. What music you listen to seems to define what kind of person you are and what group you belong to.

Now this may seem like a weird subject to talk about in a series that is about disclosing...
But here’s the thing.
I HATE it when someone asks me what type of music I listen to, who my favorite group is, what is on repeat on my ipod. And more than that, I don’t ever tell people that because it seems so uncool.

I grew up listening to the music my Mom listened to--a nice blend of 90s country and soft rock. I know the words to every Faith Hill and Colin Raye song. At one point I think we had every album Celine Dion put out and my sister and I can still recite the words to The Bodyguard soundtrack (the good times of Whitney Houston…)

My Dad on the other hand was a die hard rock fan. Smashing Pumpkins, U2, The Stones, Queen...when he would drive that is what was on the radio.

By the time high school rolled around I played in the world of top forty. Nothing too scandalous, but sure, I like to think I wasn’t totally out of it.

Then, my siblings started driving and I was in the car with them. I didn’t care what was on the radio so it became their preferences. Years past and top forty became slightly passe and we moved to alternative rock and local bands. While Bobby’s musical taste is expansive, Laura’s is mindblowing. Girlfriend knows her stuff and listens to true alternative and indie. They are great about making me mixes and recommending artists. Et VOILA! I have a random assortment of music on my own.

But about two years ago I sat there looking at my iTunes account realizing that it was the most random grouping of songs. I wanted it to resemble more of what I liked. And then it dawned on me, I have absolutely no idea.

A couple of days ago someone said to me, “We can put music on, but I have no idea what you like…”

The hard truth is that I’m not attached to music the way most people are. Top forty doesn’t feel like I’m selling my soul to the industry. Country music isn’t about tractors and living in the south. Rap isn’t totally offensive. The Beatles are great because they are THE BEATLES and that doesn’t mean I don’t know anything else about them. I have more Taylor Swift on my ipod than I’d like to admit, but she’s great to run to and that’s really what I use my ipod for. When I get into a car I am never the one to DJ. It’s just not my thing.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not slowing getting in touch with some favorites. And believe it or not, some of them even my sister hasn’t heard of--a feat that makes me so very proud.

What kind of music do I like?
I lean towards strong female lead singers. Adele, Lorde, Jessie Ware, Sara Bareilles. I like a little indie: The Civil Wars, Lord Huron, The Lone Bellow. I am totally in love with slow music that you want in your head all day (and that’s not whiny): Michael Kiwanuka I could listen to all day. I totally have a soft spot  songs you’ll find on the radio, there is always a time and place for Beyonce and Katy Perry, and yes, even Taylor Swift.
Yes, there are ton more on my Spotify and iTunes account. (I didn’t even touch on Maroon 5, Mumford and Sons, or Justin Timberlake…)

At 25 I’m starting to navigate the neverending black hole that is music. I’m trying to keep my cool and understand the vast deepness of the genre, and find my place within it. I want to be able to rattle off favorites and songs and blow your mind with my underground taste. And, it’s very likely that won’t happen. It’s more likely that I’ll have you laughing at the fact I know the words to that song on the radio, whatever that song is, and sing along in the grocery store. But what I want is a playlist to turn on at midnight when it’s just me in my room, when the day has been long and hard and so good, when I sit on the floor, legs outstretched, back against my bed, I can close my eyes and hum along. I want music that fits my life. That’s slow and steady and filled with lyrics that mean something. With a special place for music you just have to chair dance along to, for just when the moment calls for it.