Life as I Know It

The electric guitar being played in the room above mine feels like a scalpul being scraped slowly across my exposed brain and nerves. This kid has been playing all day today and all last night. The international student I was going to interview and do a profile on for the paper is not answering my e-mail, and of course, no phone. But I got my other articles in.



Life for me mostly consists of writing for the paper, homework, work, counceling messed up people, and spending time with my boyfriend. Life is good, but as far as spiritual challenges and encouragement go, there's not a lot. Finals week is closing in. the semester is almost over and though it's been great and I've learned a lot and met some awesome people, looking back I wonder where it has gone. A lot of things have happened, even big things, like starting to date Ryan, but when I look my life previous to college what stands out the most is the moments when I was with God, when I was used by him, when I was spiritually encouraged or challenged, and I realize that's what's missing from college so far. It's not memorable moments - there's plenty of those - but it's the spiritual mile markers that have so defined the rest of my life, things I look back on and find encouragement and strength from. There aren't any since coming to college. Life is good, but I want more. I've had more. I want more of God. I want to be changed and challenged and molded into the person he wants me to be. I want to be pushed to be better, to make mile markers. I crave that. This next semester I tried to set classes up with all that in mind, so hopefully it will be better.

I'm excited to be going home in two weeks and seeing all my friends but figuring out how I'm getting home has been frusterating. Also going to miss Ryan a lot. He wanted me to come see him for part of break but, again, getting there is the problem. Everything is so expensive!

Up and Down

I'm sitting here, while my roommate watches reality TV, as always,... wanting to sleep but I only have fifteen minutes before my next thing. So here I am. Writing. I miss this, just writing what I feel, writing how it comes out, writing just for fun, for release. The only writing I have time for is articles these days - articles in AP style, articles that are unbiased with no commentary. I'm learning a lot, and getting a lot better and starting to actualy enjoy it, but I still miss this kind of writing. More than that though, I miss having time. I miss being able to release. To do nothing. To be alone. To sit. To rest. To sit with God, in quite, completely alone, with nothing pressing, nothing I have to rush off to. I miss that.

My Unshed Tears

I feel like my chest will explode.

I can't breathe.

but I can't cry,

because everywhere I turn there's people,

but I can't let them see,

because this pain is their pain,

it's the pain they've given me.

How do you tell someone that they are tearing you apart?

How do you tell them their hapiness is your pain.

their love is your hurt.

I've lost a best friend to a relationship.

I've lost a relationship to a friend.

It's twisted and backwards,

It doesn't make sense.

And so my heart aches,

my chest hurts

I feel like my my head is spinning out of controle

it's spinning so fast my heart can't keep up,

it hurts.

I'm sick.

my stomach clenches.

I actually want to throw up,

maybe then all this will somehow go away.

maybe it will get rid of the pain

maybe if I vomit out all that is in me,

I won't have anything left inside,

maybe then it won't hurt.

maybe then I won't feel every tear in my heart.

but then again, maybe it's true that it's better to "hurt than feel nothing at all".

It doesn't matter though, because I can't.

I feel like a million tiny shards of glass are tearing my heart to shreds,

I feel each individual crystal peirce the flesh of my heart,

each time I breathe, each time my heart flexes and straigns for life, they dig in.

It hurts.

It's not even just mental pain, it's physical,

it's literally tearing at me,

it's mentaly tearing at me,

every part of me hurts.

I want to scream, I want to run,

I want to break down and cry till I stop breathing,

then maybe my heart will stop striving and all this pain will go away.

"The Only Exception"

So, here I am! At college. Where to begin? So much has happened... I feel like I've lived an entire other lifetime and yet I've only been here for little over a week.

Everything has been going great, but in everything I feel like there's an exception. It's never something big, it's always the small things that add up into one large exception called your life, and brings you to a place like mine - sitting here, staring out a window at the rain, listening to the song "The only exception" by Paramore and writing down jiberish only a mind like mine could understand. What kind of mind is that? - you may ask. The one that with all these exceptions is drained, and hooked on stress like it's some sort of drug. Each moment is a fight to give it back to God, when every fiber of me screams for controle.

Rereading a Story

I went to orientation last week; it was great, met some great people, became more familiar with the campus, acquired a stalker - already, good grief! I guess college won't be to much different than high school in that respect - had some great times with my mom praying and talking about God during the trip, all in all it was pretty good. But even though we were only there one night and two half-days I couldn't help thinking of all I'm leaving behind. How ridiculous. One night and I'm already in tears just thinking about moving. One night away and I already miss it. It was great, I really liked it, but I can't help but thinking what the heck have I done? What the heck is the matter with me? Coming back home I couldn't help looking around and realizing how truly beautiful Montana is and how bleak Wyoming is by comparison. But coming back home I also realize it's time to move on.

This week held more goodbyes for me, specifically the ones said at my last night at my church youth group, it was hard. Goodbyes are never easy. There's always someone you don't get to say goodbye to, someone you wanted to say so much more to, but can't. As hard as it was - even later on the drive home, with tears rolling down my face - I realized I've already moved on. The reason I've stayed this long is for the younger kids I'm mentoring, etc. and I feel like I'm abandoning them in some ways, which is sad, but as for myself, I've been ready to leave for a while now. Especially leaving and coming back I realize my time is done here, and even as hard as leaving is, I can't come back. It's like trying to reread a book, there's no life or excitement, the story has already been played. Even as you fondly recall your favorite characters of the story, or imagine again the triumphs and failures - even feel the emotion once again - it's over. It's done. You already have lived that story through.

The next few days are filled with yet more goodbyes for me, basically every day up until the day I leave. I hate goodbyes. But not being able to say it is worse. The last time I saw my friend Eli I didn't realize it was my last time, and I didn't say goodbye like I would have. You just can't win when it comes to goodbyes. You just can't win at leaving. The new story is exciting and intriguing but your heart is still tied to the old.

Stupidity

Sometimes I look out into a crowd of faces and feel lost. Stupid people make me feel stupid with their stupidity and their stupidity becomes mine.

-A random scribble I found from: [May 2010]-

Life Since Christ

Joy, overflowing.

Drowned in Peace.

Rivers of Life, flowing.

Love, bestowing.

Life changed

Heart overwhelmed.

God, you're to wonderful to me.

Dazed

I'm dazed,

In a haze,

My mind won't stop.

What to do?

Where to go?

Who to love?

And then my heart stops.

-A random scribble I found from:[May 2010]-

Distortion

I'm back from my travels; 15 days, 41 hours on a bus, a 6 hour flight,3 states, and more hours driving then I care to count, later.... I'm home. Of course after over two weeks of being gone, I had to check facebook before it exploded ha-ha - after such a long time,things do pile up! The main source of notifications were picture tagging because, obviously, a lot of pictures were taken during my adventures. Fun times, for the most part, but as I look through the pictures I find myself increasingly horrified at the way I look in pictures. Now they say that pictures distort, and it's at times like this I sincerely hope so. But what is more disturbing than a distorted veiw of yourself in photo, is the feeling of distortion upon returning home from being away so long, and after intense emotional and physical strain, coming back to normal life. Disorented. Exausted. Overwhelmed by emotion, by pictures, by images and memories in your mind, by all that you're coming back to, by all that is now part of you because of your experiances while you were gone, by this new side of you that no one back home can truly understand. That you aren't sure you truly understand. And there's no time to figure it out.Life back home has went on in the same way, while you're swimming in a sea of experiances, some you can't explain, and none that people here can understand, because they weren't there. Life went on the same here, and it's shoving it's wet nose in your face expecting you to be the same, but you're not. Your clothes smell different, your eyes are deeper, your face drawn from travel, your body changed from all the different foods and routines since you've been gone. Life back home bawks at you, it's senses in shock as it realizes your changed, but like any faithful hound it wants to be your friend still and rushes back at you like nothing has changed. But it has. Life back home forces you to embrace it, it propells you back into your old life, but you'll never be the same. You love everything about home, you love Life back home, but you look at the pictures, you look at yourself, and you feel distorted. When something is distorted, it's changed. The shape shifts, things become blurred, they don't always make sense, and sometimes they never really fit back into the place they where. So today, I came back to Life back home, and like any faithful hound it pressed it's wet nose in my face.

Embarking

Tomorrow is another goodbye. I'm leaving on a series of adventures tomorrow that will take me from home for a few weeks, almost a month. First Louisville, Kentucky (which should be interesting I think, quite the different culture there, or so I believe, but I haven't been there so... we'll see), then Detroit and possibly Chicago, then Portland and Seaside. I think you all know what I'm doing there so I will spare you the gory - and boring- details but I am very excited. I must admit though, right now - finishing my last packing the night before and trying to get my MP3 loaded and ready for the trip, and after working for most of the day and getting little or no sleep the past few days- I'm just feeling plane exausted. And I haven't even left yet! Tomorow should prove to be quite the long day I think; I have to leave early for commissioning in the first service and then will be on a bus with a bunch of crazy junior high kids for 40+ hours and running low on sleep.... God give me grace. And I don't say that lightly. I'm so tired right now, and so frazzled

When I Didn't Say Goodbye

I went to a going away party Sunday. I didn't expect to cry to much, I don't like crying in front of people and normally I keep it in pretty well. But I cried. I cried so hard my head hurt. I cried till my eyes were dry and my contacts became foggy. I cried harder than I have in months, and I couldn't stop. I wanted to say something nice, I wanted to say something encouraging, but all my words got lost in tears and what came out made little sense. I talk a lot, I write a lot, I always use words to express, but Sunday words failed me, they were drowned in tears. Your heart can ache, your lips can move, but what happens when the words die and your standing in front of hundreds of people? Or in front of just one or two? When you hold them tight, when you cry until it hurts, when your words fail. When there's to much to say. When you have to say goodbye.

On High School And Graduating

As I sit here thinking of my future, of college, summer jobs, FAFSA… and so much more, I can’t stop myself from going back to everything that has brought me to this point.

As I sort through old papers, I remember all my teachers. I find a note passed during a math class from a friend and I’m back in that moment, laughing and then smiling as I remember so many other memories with them.

I find a picture tucked in a book and a wave of memories flood over me; ones of a new years party in a limo; all dressed up with my best friends, cruising downtown with windows down, music blaring, voices ringing, all of us dancing. I find another picture- in my memories, of ice skating and peppermint hot chocolate at Denny’s.

And then another floats into view; of choir tour, singing “Song of the Sea” in a booth at the Denny’s in Billings, with the incredible base note of Hugo and Amy and Jamie’s alto notes chiming in to push me higher as I sing soprano… and then Hugo’s classic onion rings arrive and the rest of the food it’s all over.

More pictures flood in of actual choir performances, some good, some bad, all of them with people I love and am going to miss. I think of the songs “Lollipop”, “Blue-Skies” , and “Oh-La-Le”, and then of Eli on the congas and his constant singing of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”. I think about my last “real” day of high school, roaming the halls during choir because we had a sub, ending up in Mr. Sweet’s half-empty history class (due to sports most likely) and singing that song – and more – with Eli and Hugo, drawing on the chalk-board, laughing hysterically… and then high school was over.

It was graduation day, my best friends were all there, cheering me on, making faces like only good friends would do. I received my diploma, I had an amazing night afterward – hiking, going to DQ, and watching a movie with two of my favorite people. The next day I slept in – on Monday when all my friends were still in school – it felt good until I realized I’m leaving all my friends and though it’s customary to yell “suckers!” because they’re still in school, the truth is I’d rather be there if it meant being with them; eating lunch with “The Gang”, getting my lunch stolen by “The Boys”, Shane and Mark cynically commenting on the depravity of society while Shane tries to shock us with incredibly awkward comments about Ashley, all the while Cheyenne and Lizzy obsessing over their latest crush (me and Amy laughing the whole time), Christopher speaking to me in German just to irritate me, me and Eli and Amy singing (mostly to irritate Lizzy but also because we love it, ha-ha).

Even if it was in class I would’ve wanted to be there with them; Study hall with Mr. Koch and all the crazy freshman stealing “The Couch” and making fun of my hopelessness while the condescending Juniors all look on with disgust commenting that I must think I’m “one of them” , at which I can only laugh.

In Math Class, with Mr. Elsen Telling us all we’re disasters and how we need to get our lives together and stop being a drain on society- I laugh but am inspired by this crazy teacher everyone else seems to hate (granted he made a few people cry but… hey, sometimes the truth hurts, ha-ha.)

I think of History class with Mr. Sweet and his love of coffee, thick glasses, crooked nose (from his former wrestling days – which all of us find hard to believe considering his ridiculously thin frame), and hilarious stories of life growing up in Wyoming.

Mrs. Job’s soft brown eyes look into my minds eye as she prays and offers advice and love during hard times – and good – I’ve had in high school…I’ll never forget and never could I replace the love and support she’s given in so many ways.

Mr. Mesner - or “Mr. Snowman” as I fondly call him – with his bushy white mustache, his threats to demote me to freshman status, and his ever-caring and guiding hand not only as my guidance councilor but almost as second grandpa . His eyes and Mine would be a little extra shiney as we said goodbye at graduation, reflecting all the laughs and memories from my high school career but showing the depth of how much it had meant to both of us.

I was Mrs. Clawson’s only senior in her German I class, she always thought it was ridiculous I waited till then to take the “best language in the world!”. I will miss her big blue eyes, wide with mock horror as she shrieked “Kaugummi in de mund?!” and her sweet smile of encouragement.

I seriously doubt Mrs. Elsen will miss me much – she has her “favorites” of which she makes no pretense of and making it very clear when you are not one those – but I learned so much from this incredibly talented teacher; I doubt I will ever forget what alliteration or ambiguity means, or the love of classic literature she gave me.

Mrs. Douglas’ “Nanny Voice” and “Julia Childs Voice” will forever stick with me, as well as her big blue eyes staring us down and creepy smile that turns into a large ‘O’ - emphasized with hands in simulation of choking - as she screams “What is this?… in measure 32… IT’S A CRESCENDO GUYS! I NEED MORE!” but also her sweet fun-loving spirit and the long talks on the road during choir tour about proposals, boys, and “opposites”. Singing in racquet ball courts and warming up in coat closets will defiantly be memories I’m taking with me.

I think one of the greatest rewards, honor, or position received in high school – above the Rotary Youth Service Award, or being an ALA Girls State Representative, or any of the other incredibly awkward but “prestigious” honors – was Mrs. Scheiders “TA of the Month”- or months I should say – and all the fun we had tormenting the poor German exchanged student “Bob” with that ever-so- prestigious position – way more fun than long and awkward “luncheons” and award ceremonies that accompanied the other various honors, I must say.

There are so many memories from high school… some good, some bad, but most good. Actually… all good in the sense that all have led me to be who I am today and though not perfect, better than who I was. I think some of the best and most life changing would be those times spent at youth group and on missions trips, because they not only changed me but were the basis for who I became in other situations outside of youth group. So many memories… my first “MMT”, my first Spring Retreat, my first “real” missions trip to Havre, and then Denver and more MMT’s over the four years. The only thing I wish I could take back is my freshman year I waister trying to do it on my own and all the time I missed with my, now, best friends and greatest supporters – both in students and staff – aside from my family.

My family has been through so much with me and given me so much there’s no way I could thank them enough… I love you all so much, especially my two older sisters, Elisa and Janna. So many memories come to mind with my two best friends; memories of “code names”, of forts, of “dress-up”, of painting the “playhouse” and listening to super old-school music like Jump-5 and Avalon, of secretes, of tears, of laughs, of prayers, of late-night talks, of notes, of bible studies, of singing and driving Isaiah crazy =P… and so many other things. There’s something about sharing your entire life with someone that makes a bond no one can break – not even you, when you wish they didn’t know you so well they can tell everything you’re thinking, good and bad – but I never could and never want to, I love them beyond what words can say.

As I think back I realize there’s to many people to thank and to many memories to even “note briefly”. The memories keep coming, and throughout them all a common theme- good and bad- God has always been. In all of the memories, in all of the people, in all of my darkest nights when no one else is there, he has been and is and I find myself at loss, the tears make my writing run and in that river I lose all words, but two. Thank You.