Tuesday, September 29, 2009

The pain just keeps singing me songs.

My playlist lately:
Ray LaMontagne
Owl City
The Postal Service
A Fine Frenzy
Iron & Wine.

I keep leaning towards the still; the mellow and slightly sad.
My heart is currently built of tentative acoustic chords; melancholy piano and gentle synth vibrations...I find myself straining to find connections between myself and the lyrics I hear, as if I need to know I'm not alone.
I need music to soothe and  encourage, to comfort me even as it makes me ache.
I need to know this too shall pass.

It's irritating how wounded I feel by such a tiny slight.
In the grand scheme of my life; my romantic history, I've endured far greater hurts than this. This is a stubbed toe to an amputee, a cold to a cancer victim. This is merely a slap to my ego that reverberates down to my heart.
And yet......

I feel winded, I feel wounded, I feel wronged. I feel the sore feeling in the back of the throat of wanting to cry. I feel the inexplicably feminine need to eat chocolate and write endless angry words in my journal.

Had my heart been whole to begin with, it would have survived this unscathed. But its old cracks and weak parts have not fully healed, and so the stinging vibrations sent from ego to heartstrings plucked out a decidedly dissonant melody and shook loose some stitches.

It's not a fun way to feel.

In other news, on Friday I got to be a part of my first photoshoot with Scot Woodman Photography. It was completely and utterly amazing.....Scot is an absolute gem; patient and creative and quietly wonderful. Here's a little preview of some of his epic work:

You can see the rest of his photography at http://www.flickr.com/photos/scotwoodmanphotography. There's also a link to his page on the right of my blog. Do yourself a favor and explore a little; he's fantastic. Hopefully we'll be doing another shoot in the next couple weeks. Smile.

My heart is not broken, but it's certainly bruised. A little roughed up and offended.
I'll get over it.

All of a sudden I realize that it only hurts worse to fight it,
So I embrace my shadow,
And hold on to the morning light.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

It's been a long, long time coming.

It's unbelievable how much can change in the space of a blogging hiatus.

Since my last post, I've become a legal adult, switched my major to Music, finished my Freshman year of college, become an actual paid performer in an actual professional show, been physically abused, been emotionally abused, overcome aforementioned abuse, moved three times within Missouri, moved out of Missouri, returned to California, moved back into my parent's home, realized I wasn't really over aforementioned abuse, started going to school in California, started working for a church and for a hospital, started looking for a job that actually pays, lost old loves, found new loves, been depressed, been ecstatic, been overwhelmed.

With all that, I hope you won't ask how I haven't had time to write.

But thanks to some particularly exquisite people and an unequivocally gracious God, the maelstrom of my life seems to be quieting back into some rolling waves, which means that I'm optimistic about being able to move forward instead of just in circles.

I've finally started writing again, and everything feels like a song.
(Even that.)

I haven't been inspired in so long, and now I'm beginning to feel things again. Things like butterflies around a boy with perfect hair and a crinkly candy smile, things like drive to be productive, things like the subtle vibration in my fingers telling me to write, to paint; create.

And it feels good.

Even though my confusions are still present, my conflicts and worries and fears, they are greatly subdued beneath the warm veneer of renewal I've been experiencing. Is it because I'm becoming more emotionally, physically, spiritually well? Because I'm where I'm supposed to be at this moment in my life? On the extensive list of things I don't know, that question is certainly near the top. Which I am discovering I don't mind.

I'm just glad it's happening.

But I know, I know, I know,
A change is gonna come.

Oh, yes it is.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

It's hard to fight when the fight ain't fair.

Dad and I spent four hours in the hospital yesterday morning.
(This post should have been yesterday but you know. Things happen.)

I had an appointment for nine thirty; just a typical check up like I have to get every three months or so. Obviously that schedule has been somewhat diminished due to the fact that I recently moved two thousand miles away from home and my doctor. Now I just have to go twice a year; but hell half as much is still hell.

9:00- We arrive at the shiny new Kaiser hospital. Parking is a nightmare, clearly inspired by the third event of the Triwizard Tournament or an 80's movie involving a fantasy maze. I half expect David Bowie to stride up in ungodly tight pants and profess his creepy devotion.

9:20- They messed up my appointment and scheduled it for next week instead of this week. The nurse seems unable to comprehend the idea of "I DON'T LIVE HERE" or "AM LEAVING SATURDAY TIL SUMMER." Finally, I call Tommie, my bff at the Help Desk, and she sorts it out.

10:00- We finally get into the doctor's office. Height, weight, blood sugar, blood pressure. Even though I can't stand blood pressure cuffs, I have to hand it to modern medicine for the ingenius recycling of what was obviously an ancient torture device.

10:20- Doctor shows up. She's an extremely sweet lady, though I never did understand her need to wear knee socks with capris, or the subsequent need to match those socks to her consistently Christmassy sweater. We go through the questions, the small talk, and then she jabs my fingers and toes to make sure I can still feel them. Congratulations, the excruciating pain means I'm not at risk for amputation anytime soon. Then she pretends to strangle me to make sure my thyroid is under control. She prints off a few sheets of lab orders, refills my nine million prescriptions, and sends me on my way with a friendly hug. She's pretty boss as far as doctors go.

10:50- We head upstairs to the Opthamologist, hand in my appointment sheet for 10:55. The lady glares at me as though I have personally offended her by being on time. We sit down.

11:15- Dad begins pacing. He hasn't eaten yet today.

11:30- Dad goes to talk to the glowering receptionist. She sends him back with his tail between his legs and an equally sour face. Apparently frowns are contagious.

11: 45- We finally get called into the doctor's office.

11:50- We leave the doctor's office. I feel I should broadcast this aggravating fact-We waited an hour for a five minute eye exam. AWESOME.

11:55- We get down to the laboratory where my bloodwork appointment is. We take a number. We wait.

12:15- Dad beings pacing. He hasn't eaten yet today.

12: 25- Dad approaches the receptionist. She's much friendlier than the one upstairs and whispers something in his ear. Next thing I know, he's grabbed me by the arm and is dragging me through the hallways at breakneck speed.

12:30- We leave the hospital. I make an executive decision against my curiousity that it would be far more prudent to keep my mouth shut than to ask what we're doing.

12:35- We arrive at the old, significantly not-as-shiny Kaiser facility. It's practically empty.

12:40- We get to the laboratory. No need to take a number. The receptionist here is the friendliest yet; as a matter of fact, she seems relieved to see us.

12:45- I sit in a chair, amazed at how quickly this appointment was expodited. The nurse seems impressed that I tied my own tourniquet and already brought a vein to the surface of my inner elbow. "Done this a few times?" she tentatively queries. I smile grimly but say nothing due to the fact that I'm biting my tongue with measured force. Getting blood drawn is possibly the most unpleasant experience I can imagine without too much creative energy.

12:46- I quote Juno in my head. "OW OW FUCKITY OWWWWWWW."

12:50- We leave the hospital. FINALLY.

Diabetes sucks.
They say someday there'll be a cure.....

This battle is long,
It's the fight of our lives-
There's something in your eyes,
Says we can beat this,
Because these things will change.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

So this is the new year...

I used to be a relatively hardcore blogger-you know, one of those kids who had Xanga before Xanga was cool and then uncool again. I jumped on the Myspace bandwagon, then Facebook inevitably followed, and yet I have been consistently unsatisfied with their blogging capabilities. I think it's time to bring the passion back into my relationship with blogging.
Besides, I might as well stick with the cliche, right? New year, new start.
New blog.

So this is the New Year,
And I don't feel any different.