The Darker Side of Things

Our apartment is completely trashed right now. There are beer bottles and soda cans on every table. Loads of dirty dishes are piled in our sink. You don’t want to hear a description of the bathroom, trust me. Dirty and clean clothes layer the bedroom floor. Shoes jump out at me from the oddest places. Dog hair sticks to everything. I’m going to be sick.

Here’s the crazy thing. I’m super detail oriented and organized. I am also a mess right now. How is that even possible?

Easy. I ALWAYS do this. I’m a freak organizer/cleaner. I have to go through absolutely everything in our apartment. I sort, give away, make space and move around everything. I scrub, spray, disinfect, wax and shine every surface area.

People who come into our space would never know the darker side of things. We are extremely busy, but I’m not going to pull that card out. No way. Everyone is busy and we all have crazy lives, but there is ALWAYS someone working harder and longer than us. That’s life.

I’m going to fess up to what the problem is. Here it goes. I don’t take time to do the little things right. When the mess is small, I don’t take care of it then. Oh no, I let it accumulate, just like other things in my life, until it turns into a total disaster.

I need to learn to work, serve, toil and sweat. I need to pour my whole heart and soul into everything I do, starting with the small stuff.

Everything affects everything else. If I want to be a great writer, I better be a graceful and loving wife. If I want to be an inspirational teacher, I better make healthy choices for my body. If I want to help give others a voice, I better spend time with my own family and friends.

I want to change the world. Maybe that starts with keeping my apartment clean.

Not Enough Time

I don’t know about you, but I’m overwhelmed with life right now.

I don’t want to waste another second, but it feels like there’s not enough time in a day.

I want to be diligent and driven, but I don’t want to be a perfectionist.

I want to be organized, but I need moments of chaos.

I want to do the right thing, but I also need to break the rules once in a while.

I want to be sexy and beautiful, but I don’t want to obsess over my body image.

I want to be athletic, but I don’t want to drive myself into the ground.

I want to be confident, not proud.

I want to have money, but I don’t want to be rich.

I want to be a dreamer, but I don’t want my head to be disconnected from my heart.

I want to be vulnerable, but I also want to guard my heart.

I want to be honest, but I don’t want to be rude.

I want to be strong, but I still want to be held onto.

I just want to live

and love

the best that I can.

We Still Believe in Magic

What has been the most inspirational story for you? Mine is the story of a boy named Harry Potter. Some of you may be skeptical and I understand. Of all the stories, both true and fictional, in the whole wide world, spanning thousands of years, I pick J.K. Rowling’s masterpiece. Yes, wholeheartedly.

Her story transcends age, race, sex, etc. I know old men who have the series in their library. I know moms who re-read it every summer. I know youngsters who have Harry Potter birthday parties every year. I know teenagers who use roman candles as wands while they shout spells at one another. My best friend in high school had Harry Potter bed sheets. I saw a little boy come into preschool every day wearing his Harry Potter glasses. His mom said that he wouldn't leave home without them.

I read and re-read the books, listen to them on tape, have Harry Potter marathon movie days, and host Harry Potter parties. Yes, I’m the nerd who stands in line for hours at the midnight premier, and I’m also one of the dorks that dress up too. And I’m 24 years old.

Why this obsession? What is it about this story that tugs at the heartstrings of men, women, teenagers and children alike? I think that we all want to do something extraordinary. We resonate with the characters. We love some, we hate some, and we both love and hate others still. We desperately want to know the fate that awaits all of them.

We drink pumpkin juice, fly on broomsticks, fight dark wizards, and find ourselves wrapped up in the world at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We find out that we still believe in magic. We still believe in “ever afters” and in friends that stick with you to the end. We cling onto the hope that despite the insurmountable obstacles, the hero will win.

We discover and remember our childlike faith. We look at the world as we once did…with no limits or boundaries. We believe in a world where absolutely anything is possible.

In Those Secret Places

I’m going to start pursuing my dreams this very moment. I don’t have to wait for school to start in the fall. I can read, journal, blog, research and study. I can be disciplined and creative with the time I have now. But I also want to do something crazy…something off the wall and out of my comfort zone.

So here it goes. This summer, on the 2nd Saturday of every month, I’m going to be a peddler. I’m going to sell excellent condition used books and some of my artwork. I’ll be sitting in my director’s chair, holding a polka dot umbrella on the corner of 12th and Clayton St. near Dazbog coffee.

Why am I doing this? Because books are beautiful; they are priceless treasures. They open doors to love, hope, despair, fear, adventure and longing. All these emotions inspire us to live, to write and share our life stories.

With a book, I can give you a ticket to escape to a vast new world. I can give you a great classic or a whimsical novel. I can give you books that helped inspire social change. You will find memoirs of both famous and everyday people. You’ll smile when you see the books you read as a child and buy them for your own kids.

These creations help us laugh a little harder and love a bit deeper. They help us mourn what we’ve lost and fight for what’s really important. They fuel our fiery passions and inspire life transformation.

If we want to change the world, we have to plunge into the written word. We have to tear into the depths of our imagination. And there, in those secret places, we will find that we were meant to live for so much more.

Beautiful and Terrible Things

I’ve always thought that every piece of writing had to be a work of art, beautiful and inspiring. If I was going to write something, it had to be perfect, every time. Even journaling had to be organized and neat. I bought journals of all shapes and sizes over the course of my young life. I was determined to journal every thought, every aspect of my day to day.

One journal was for my dreams, one was for bitching, one was for school, one was for athletics, one was for boys, etc. I never finished one of them. Why? Well because life isn’t categorized like that. Oh, I still try to put my life into neat little boxes. I even tie pretty bows on them. But it’s absolutely ridiculous.

Life is messy and fluid. All of our thoughts, actions, dreams, passions, heartaches, hardships, and triumphs weave together into the beautiful and terrible things that make up our lives. We can’t separate our family life from our work life, or our religion from our friends, or even our desires from our every day menial tasks. Everything is personal.

I'm stubborn, passionate and extremely screwed up. I won't pretend that I have it altogether. But I'm going to keep writing no matter how I feel or what state my life is in. I hope you're ready to get your hands dirty.

Men of Snow

What do you think about when you're alone in a crowded room? What is that awful, beautiful dream you are so afraid of? What are the burning desires that haunt you before you fall asleep? What are you designed to do? How will you leave your mark on this world? These questions have haunted me for some time now.

See, we are men of snow. Our time here on earth is a mere breath, and yet we pretend that we are in control. We puff ourselves up so we appear stronger than the fragile creatures we really are. We crave fulfillment in all the wrong places. What's worse is that we continue to run back for more, never satisfied.

Like hamsters running in a wheel that never moves forward, we race to our death. I can't do it any more. I can't watch a life that could be pass me by. I'm not okay with living a life not worth dying for. I'm switching gears from survival mode to significance mode. I want to make a difference! I want to THRIVE in this life! I intend to do just that.

So, I'm going back to school in the fall. I'm going to pursue my dreams, no matter the cost. I want to be an inspirational English teacher, a revolutionary publisher, and a captivating writer. I have to try. I'm going to do this, no matter how crazy it sounds. I'm going to be a force of change with my paper and pen.

I want to help give children, students, adults, parents, and grandparents a voice. No matter how old or young a person is, I believe they have something to say that no one else can. Everyone has something to share and that something could potentially change another life forever. I want to empower the next generation with words. These dreams won't come true without a fight. If I go down, I'm going down swinging with everything I've got.

Out of the Ashes

I'm a starter, not a finisher. I am a visionary. The thing is I don't put forth the work to see my ideas and dreams come to fruition. At first I'm passionate and driven, but eventually I give up. I've been trapped in this never ending cycle of good intentions, then regret, for too long now. I have to believe that despite the obvious outcome, I can rally again. I have to believe that I can change!

My flaws, the countless obstacles ahead of me and my fear of failure won't beat me this time around. I can either let them defeat me or I can allow them to inspire me. Honestly, I think it's easier to be defeated. It's easier for me to stay where I'm comfortable, the place I've come to know and love. If I want my life to mean something, I have to be prepared to fight!

But see, I have no choice. It's do or die time. Inside my heart I desire a life greater than what's right in front of my face. Inside my soul, dreams and endless possibilities stir violently. I can't ignore them any longer! I've never been more ready or willing to risk it all. Like a fiery phoenix, I will rise up out of the ashes and begin anew.

I have to start somewhere...I put my pen to paper and mark the beginning of this journey. Don't let me do this alone. Help me pursue my dreams and maybe you'll get a glimpse of me becoming someone.

Straining for the Sun

My life feels like the Denver Botanic Gardens...cold, tired, and aching from storms of snow and ice. Her half frozen streams that once flowed so vibrantly are thawing out from the bitter cold. They trickle around the sea of withered grasses and brown earth. As far as the eye can see, there is no hint of color or life. I find myself praying that this quilt of brown, blanketing her ground would wake up from it's slumber.

I stand unable to move; the wind bites at my heels and whips bitterly through her gardens. The wind sweeps me into a run. I feel my feet hurrying along her cobblestone paths; I feel my heart racing to keep up. Where is she taking me? I see a beautifully carved bench with names on them, markers where people tended to her and supported her. Next, I'm taken to nearby prairie grasses. In front of me I survey the damage from careless ones who trampled all over her.

I'm running again through a bamboo forest, over bridges and winding around evergreens. I past the summer tea house and find myself face to face with a giant wall. I can't help but wonder what is on the other side...is it a secret garden? I run my hand over the dirty surface, looking for a way in. Walking further along, I hear heavy machinery. I find a square window built into the fence. As I peer inside I see a new foundation being laid down. There is a new beginning just around the bend. She must know that there is something grand on the horizon!

Something jumps within me and I'm frolicking down the muddy path and into the rose garden. I find myself twirling and looking up towards the sky like a flower straining for the sun. That's when I see the greenhouse. I wonder why I didn't start my journey there. I hop inside and I'm transported to a different place, a tropical paradise. Her insides are teeming with life! I can't help but reach my hand out to touch her green leaves. I can't help but gaze up at the towering pillars of life all around me. I stop and smell each red, orange and pink flower. With sweat pouring down the small of my back, I blush thinking of summer.

In here, hidden inside of her, is a wellspring of life and love. Someone has been tending to her, every day. Her gardener has given her the sustenance she needs to thrive. Water gushes over and around her, folding itself into her. We may despair when we look outside at the impossibilities of her life, but when we look at the fiery hot greenhouse, the impossibilities finally look possible. Very soon, the gardens that look almost dead outside will rise up and bloom again, more magnificent than before.