A rant on femininity

I want to be brave. I want to be courageous and fearless and powerful. I want to be a force to be reckoned with-- and I want to have that inner sort of power people have when they REALLY know who they are, when they really understand their potential. I don't want to be delicate. I don't want to be soft. I don't want to be passive, sweet, fragile or emotional. So why does society want these things from me? Am I a crazy *Gasp* Feminist for wanting what I want? I think I'm just a human being. I think I'm just a daughter of God who understands my potential and worth. I have been thinking much about the labels society wants to slap us with, and can we really blame society for wanting to make sense of someone? And what easier way than to pull from a pile of dirty laundry a couple of cheap words and call it good?

I am not looking to find someone to blame. I am looking to break through.

You hear that?

I want out.

I want out of the labels. I want out of the "Supposed To's".

I want out of feeling consistently conflicted about my true inner desires and who everyone WANTS me to be.

I might not be able to change the world, but I can change MY world. And my world consists of every thought I have, of every action I do, of every life I touch. I create my world. So if I can change my world, I will in fact change THE world. The only world that matters.

So delving into this headfirst I ask...why is it that men often SEEK the 'weaker' kind of woman? And why do women feel they must, for some unseen  reason, comply? Do women feel so desperate for a man that they think the only way to get one is to make the man feel "like a man" and therefor stronger and in control of the entire relationship?

Not all men are like this. But I do see this plaguing our society. And as I have looked back on my dating experiences I have realized that any time I started to show a 'masculine' trait, the man was somehow turned off (except for ONE Man :)...lucky me). But WHY is this? Men and women are equally powerful, have an equal amount to offer, and yet we hear phrases like "battle of the sexes" traded back and forth on a frequent basis. Does it all breed from massive amounts of insecurity from BOTH sexes?

I know, I know, I ask alotta questions :)

But. REALLY.

Come now.

Lets all huddle together and be honest a moment.

I consider myself feminine. I also consider myself powerful. I consider myself assertive (more and more as the years have gone on) I have realized anything "nice" about me has been 85% for show and to 'fit in.' I have a confession my friends. I am not that nice. I am not that sweet. I am not that PINK.

I can be downright mean if the occasion calls for it. And I also have no problem calling men on their desire to be babied.  I don't WANT to be babied. And I do not want a man who wants to be babied.

I know, some people have daddy issues. Some people have mommy issues. Others have brother and sister issues (not touching that one) BUT I don't care about the issues. I want a fully functional, adult, respect driven, fearless, plucky kind of relationship that is interdependent and can weather any storm.

I want intelligent banter. I want best friends. I want honesty. I want connection. And I want someone who has the desire to 'date' me the rest of my life. I really want it all...is that too much to ask? ;)

But why SHOULD this be a stretch? What does the world around ALL of us say to  women AND men who want the 'other' kind of relationship?

All I can say about society and HER expectations....BORING.

This post (sort of a rant) is not over. More to come...

So I have a real music video in the works, but until then I made this from scratch with an unpublished acoustic song I recently wrote. If you like..share :) http://youtu.be/uTXKhdlZyMI

enter if you dare...scarily honest

Today I crawled in the back seat of my car in the school parking lot, rolled the windows down and sprawled out on the significant pile of junk (anyone who knows my car knows this is an understatement). I rested my head on a wadded up pair of male dress pants (I seriously don't know WHERE they came from) and stared up and out my window at the almost-clouds. My thoughts drifted, and then they gravitated toward one singular thought.

Where has my heart been all year?

A sickening ache started right between my ribs, sneaking its way down my legs and up through my head. The ache spread everywhere. My whole body shivered with Ache. I closed my eyes as memory after memory cascaded through me of the times I'd shut my heart down this last year, the people I'd turned away.

I saw faces and smiles and tears.

People I love and care about I have let down. People. PEOPLE.

For those of you who have seen Schindler's List, you understand the painful reality in the moment when Schindler looks out on the crowd of Jews and realized he saved every single one of them, but also saw the space between them...the faceless strangers he could not save. That moment when his eyes shine with personal agony when he looks at his belongings and realizes every physical belonging he kept, kept another person from living.

Now I don't want to be Schindler, nor do I believe I am here to save anyone.

I merely relate to that bitter moment- that moment when you realize your heart has been not only absent, but locked away. And that my heart wasn't available to be there for anyone else.

I seriously doubt more than my sister even glances at this blog anymore, but to anyone's eyes who might chance a glance this way...you are obviously my friend. And if you are my friend I have probably let you down in some way, and if that is the case I apologize.

I want to be completely honest. Number one- no one reads this anymore. Number two- no reads this anymore. Number three-honesty sets a soul free.

Confession number one: My heart discovered a new level of heartbreak this year. On so many levels. My heart has broken for my brother and his wife and their sweet, sweet kids (my adorable niece and nephew) as they have struggled through addiction, my heart has broken for my sister and her struggle with her health, which she has handled like a champion. My heart has broken for my parents as they have gone through their toughest years (luckily they are blessed with a wonderful marriage). My heart has broken for dear friends making bad decisions. My heart has broken in the hands of a man who is the only man I have allowed close enough, loved deep enough, and trusted enough...to take it in the first place. My heart has been sufficiently broken, the pieces scattered and I'm sure someone's creepy little pet is already gnawing on the remains...

BUT...Confession number two: My heart has loved. My heart has grown. With every break, it has left room for someone else to slip in there, another lesson sandwiches me in faith and trust in God. With every crack I have been able to grow, and as painful as it is I know it is making me into the person God has seen in me from the beginning.

Confession number three: I believe in new beginnings. I believe that my little brother and his wife can have a wonderful, sober life. I believe my sister will live long and healthy and be an example to others who struggle with health. I believe my parents marriage will only grow stronger through these years. I believe God will take care of my friends. I believe that when the time is right, when my heart is ready and I have grown into who I need to be, when he has grown into who he needs to be...we can have a chance to experience what we have 'almost' experienced from the day we met. And I won't stop loving him. I believe in the man he is, and I believe in the woman I am growing into. I believe everything that has been etched into my heart from the beginning. And as corny as it sounds, I'll just keep writing him songs until one day, one song says everything I ever wanted to say- moves him in ways my words never could.

Life is too wonderful to try to stop loving anyone I have ever loved. My heart just keeps growing. And I just keep getting stronger every day I walk with faith.

A Heart

I don't think anyone reads my blog anymore (at least not this one) and so I feel a sense of liberty in writing straight from the soul. There is something oddly purging about letting the pieces of me that have been struggling to form semblance ink to something tangible across the white noise of the interworld. There is a part of me that is still hesitant to write this, because there is something strange about scattering pieces of my soul like confetti into the inter-abyss- but the taunt of freedom is too alluring and I can only hope that if anyone reads this they will do so with forgiveness and a gentle sense of humor. Blogs are the new 'message in a bottle'. I'm writing from the heart and tossing it into the ocean. The only person I expect to find this is a pirate....or mermaid (preferably a merman mind you, dripping and wet with long-ish hair and a glowing six pack...)

So basically this year I have had a lot of firsts. I have used atrophied muscles in my heart:

Opened

Trusted

Loved

Grieved

Discovered

Believed.

Believed. This is a big one for me. I never believed in using my heart the way I've used it this year.

Let me explain something about my heart. My whole life I have been trying to protect it. Ever since I came home from school crying to my mom about the kid I didn't know who got pushed down on the playground I knew I had a different heart. We all have beautiful hearts, and they are capable of different and unique things. I have been cursed (blessed) with A tender heart. A big heart. The kind of heart that gets hurt by just watching the cruelly labeled geek in class get spit-wadded by the school bully. Not just hurt, but swallowing my tears and snot as I cried for them HURT. I used to hurry up to finish my schoolwork in sixth grade so I could go and tutor the resource kids. This is not the fastest way to make friends in sixth grade, and I had a few friends who were very special to me that understood my heart...and I understood theirs.

But I grew up. And in the process of bad hair cuts and teenage growing pains I discovered that I didn't want to walk around FEELING my heart. I wanted to protect it. And thus began the process of slowly piling brick after brick around my heart. It wasn't until this year, through some painful discoveries, that I realized this heart of mine is MEANT to feel. I am meant to love so completely that I feel empathy and compassion for everyone. I am meant to emulate Christ as closely as I can so that I can understand even the teeniest portion of what He understands. I am MEANT to use my heart in service of my God. I am supposed to open my heart, and even though it causes me agony it also blesses me with a sense of serenity and peace I haven't known since I was a kid.

I am meant to love.

I am meant to hold. To comfort. To console. To do my part and let go.

I am meant to TRUST my heart in the Lord's hands. If my heart is in His hands, it will be taken care of. He knows my heart better than anyone, and he knows what I need to feel and when I need relief. He also knows HOW to relieve me.

I have never felt God closer in my life then just these past few weeks, but especially days. I have felt pushed down (this has been a rough semester for me as far as semesters go), but instead of brushing myself off and getting back up (which is what I normally do) I have taken His hand. I am taking His hand and trusting His plan for me. His plan for my big heart.

The amazing thing about this is that because the Lord knows me, and knows how to take care of me...I feel WONDERFUL. If I was a fighter in the ring, I'd be ready to jump back in. I've never felt more free, because NO MATTER what happens...I am trusting the Lord.

I believe in love. So cliched...so cheesy...but so true.

Love has the power to CHANGE people in ways that are...for lack of more inventive word...magical. Love can soften. Love can move. Love can beckon. Love can turn back time and change what otherwise cannot be undone. Love can forgive. Love is patient. Love trusts. Love can bend the hardest knee and bring tears to the driest eye. Love can let go...but Love can hold on. Love can surround us and Love can leave us...but ONLY if we let it.

I choose to trust my heart. But not trust it to myself...or anyone other person...trust it to the Lord.

I choose to Love. Openly and Freely. Until I wear Love as comfortably as I wear my skin.

control

I like to get what I want-- almost as much as I like fighting to get what I want. I'm not afraid to dive head first into battle, war paint on as I make my way through life. Recently I have come to realize that in my efforts to fight for what I want I have crossed a collapsing boundary and found my hands dipped in the slippery grit of control. I struggle with the paradox of not giving up, of fighting for what I want, and trying to control the outcome...control my entire life. In trying to control every outcome I have on accident given up my weapons to fight a fair fight and have instead exchanged them for the sneaky devices of a spy. I don't want to be a spy, I want to be a warrior. I can be extremely stubborn. I wont give up. But how do I find the balance of letting go...of practicing faith...and still fighting for what I want? I need to give up control, but all the same I need to keep my war paint. I can't control how my life will turn out, but I can fight for the things I want...right?

Gah. Its hard for me to live in the gray of this.

so this is

so this is life on the sun. I feel a constant glow, a consuming energy as I try to take it all in. no more gravity. just fire and brightness and light. so far...i love life on the sun.

Silence

I am more powerful than you, because I can listen. I know the cleverness of sound because I am careful to be still enough to understand it. Words can move, attack, destroy, seduce, impact, belittle, hurt, resolve, love, tangle. I can deduce. I can watch. I can deaden or make alive. If you throw words at me, I can soften them and butter them up. I can chew your words until they dissolve or I can hang them up so they are amplified.

Silence.

I am silence.

Sometimes there is too much of me. But most of the time, there is not enough.

A few gems

Lately I have been reading Atlas Shrugged by the very talented and insightful Ayn Rand. When I have finished the novel (which is well over one thousand pages) I will post a little more. But for now, a few gems I have savored:

"Let me give you a tip on a clue to men's characters: the man who damns money has obtained it dishonorably; the man who respects it has earned it."

"Contradictions do not exist. Whenever you think that you are facing a contradiction, check your premises. You will find that one of them is wrong."

"A man's sexual choice is the result and the sum of his fundamental convictions.... He will always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer--because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement."

"What greater wealth is there than to own your life and to spend it on growing? Every living thing must grow. It can't stand still. It must grow or perish."

"There are two sides to every issue: one side is right and the other is wrong, but the middle is always evil"

"I take no pride in hopeless longing; I wouldn't hold a stillborn aspiration. I'd want to have it, to make it, to live it."

"Money is only a tool. It will take you wherever you wish, but it will not replace you as the driver."

"If you don't know, the thing to do is not to get scared, but to learn."

And many, many more. The End. For now.

one on one hundred lonely

clock on my phone blinks 11:17, I tuck it away and fold my hands
fold them carefully, like I might fold a fancy dinner napkin
the longer it takes to fold my hands, the longer I can avoid looking at
Him.
I watch a speck of dust sigh in and out, all around the room
the room.
Its so full. Full of people. They have faces, but to me they are all one shade
Gray.
My heart catches in my throat when I see a flash of color. It dances in the gray. Teasing. Luring.
Blue.
Your eyes.
I see them for an instant that is split into a thousand splinters and then shatters.
Everything falls away because for a shattered second I have your eyes. And they have me. So completely we have each other.
My hands drop to my sides. They tingle.
And then You're gone.
And He is there.
His gray eyes watch me with authentic earnest that only rolls off my skin like marbles, heavy with disinterest.

Hundreds of bodies around me.
One on One across from me.
One on One's all around me.

I go back to folding my hands. Carefully, articulately I label each finger, each inch of flesh in my mind something to watch other than the carnival around me.

The last label I reserve for my pinkie finger, as I tuck it under all the rest: Lonely.

you know the feeling...

you know the feeling.
can't breathe because it hurts too much.
can't think because whenever you do you think about...
can't move because if you do you will move in only one direction. its like gravity.
always pulling you toward...
in so much pain.
didn't know my soul could crave something so strongly.

you are my one. you are my only. and for allergy related reasons I can never have you again

Sour Patch Kids.

My all time favorite relationship. You got me through some rough semesters.

this break will sting.

running around naked

I told someone EVERYTHING recently. The truth in all of its awkward, vulnerable, messiness. I shed the old sweater and let everything out. Things I have been terrified to say. Things I have been terrified to face. Well I said it. I faced it. And you know what? I've never felt more liberated in my entire life. It was like running naked across a park except with my emotions. I'm lucky the park in question was kind and let me run around naked as long as I needed. It felt amazing. I don't think I will hold anything back. Ever. From now on. It felt too dang good. To emotional nudity, cheers.

i am a song...a giant, massive, infested, song....

I have worked out so many of my feelings through writing music lately. Seriously. Who needs a therapist when you can slink away into a world of ivory keys and thudding chords? Lyrics run through my brain faster and more often than average conversation. I find myself thinking in lyrics constantly. This has many downsides...such as answering the register-lady at Wal-Mart in rhyme or alliteration...and humming like someone who has forgot their meds as I walk into work...or treasuring old receipts that I have used to capture my thoughts because my songbook is too full...And sometimes I even have one on one dialogue with myself through music...slightly crazy? yes. But helpful to my over all well being and emotional robustness? Very.

I seriously, seriously have to raise my glass in thanks for the song of today where I reside :-)

ps. working on the demo. Its REALLY happening. Like. Really. And I have been SWEATING my blood through some re-writes that I hope will pay off.

mysteries of said universe

WHAT is falling in love?

This has been discussed, dissected, poet-ic-ized-ed, music-a-fied since the dawn of the ages.

I have a collection of theories and thoughts. In no particular order I give them to you.

Falling in Love:

Having faith enough in another person to give them your heart.

Letting yourself feel too much, too fast and face planting in the end.

Breaking down your own walls to not only let in, but let out.

Thinking be damned. Feel it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Fearless. Fearless. Fearless.

Not knowing for sure...but daring to go there anyway.

You cannot choose love necessarily, but you cannot feel love without becoming vulnerable, and you do choose who you are vulnerable to. So choose to be vulnerable. Better to feel the start of something, the hurt, the disappointment ... then to never feel at all. You can never feel the fullness of love without risking the sorrow. So risk. Risk it all.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Fearless. Fearless. Fearless.

And this post is utterly pointless except to help me explore song writing options. ha. Wow. WOW.

smiling when it hurts

Sometimes I want to run away. As I walked on stage tonight for my bow in Singin' in the Rain I felt the strong need to run. I didn't want to smile. I didn't want to sing. I didn't want to charm. I wanted to run. This has nothing to do with the wonderful experience of being in a show with my best friend and getting to know a whole new family, it has everything to do with the dissonance in my life.

Dissonance in music is one of my favorite qualities. I love the jagged way it can scrape at your soul with nothing more than a struck chord. I love how it sends chills down my spine and leaves a feeling of raw, unresolved promise.

But dissonance in life is hard to wade through. I think it can be the product of many circumstances, but it for me it is always internal. Something inside of me feels off.

I hate it. And the worst part is...I know where I need to turn. I know what I need to do. So why is it so hard? Part of why I feel like my soul is out of orbit with my body is all the change that is gripping at me, trying to pull me in a million directions, trying to tear right through me it seems. Change is hard. Necessary. But so hard.

Some thoughts as I drift in and out of after-show haze tonight:

I have so many unrealized dreams. Yet I have unlimited potential.

I have so many beautiful, good desires. And they never seem satisfied.

I have a handful of wishes I've been tossing in the same well since I was little. Nothings happened.

Do I need a different well?

I feel out of place. Everyone who has moved with me through life is moving or has moved on. And I still float, drifting along, grasping for anything to help me reach that shore where everyone I love seems to be.
How long will I float, I wonder? How long will I feel dissonant? How long until I can run away... because I can't stay floating here forever.

Dissonance is ironic. It has an intriguing pain to it. But without dissonance, the resolution of it would not exist. And that's the part I'm wanting. The song that's whispered its way through me the last few months has washed me in dissonance. I am ready for a beautiful resolution.

Sometimes I want to feel pretty

Sometimes I just want to feel pretty. You know the feeling. When I feel pretty I feel more. I feel deeper. I feel truer. When I feel pretty there is even more power in my words and more conviction driving my actions. Its great to do something great...but isn't it better to do it pretty? No, no no. Do not misunderstand. I do NOT mean 'pretty' pretty. I mean pretty. I don't mean how you look. I mean the feeling. The feeling of pretty.

Feeling pretty.

When a boy looks in your eyes and you know he sees past your outside pretty to your inside pretty.

Feeling pretty.

When a boy kisses you not because you are pretty, but because he wants you to feel pretty.

Feeling pretty.

When your world is falling apart and you still find the pretty.

Feeling pretty.

When you've conquered a fear and you look at yourself and see your new set of smiles because of the conquered fear.

Feeling pretty.

Being looked into. Not at.
Feeling pretty.

Waking up with the sun melting over your face.
I want to feel pretty.

this shall NOT pass

I have never really liked when people say, "this too shall pass." Not only is it a massive blanket statement that people seem to utter when they just can't think of something a little more empathetic to say, but I actually find the phrase ironic.

Things don't pass.

We never really leave people, or experiences...totally behind us.

We collect them. And we carry them. They become a part of who we are. Experiences, good or bad might fade in the distance, but they will always touch us, shape us, color us...and we carry those colors through life.

I have this theory that we are all colored by our past. This is not a negative thing. How else do we grow in life? How else do we find strength, faith, and kindness toward others?

Life can be hard. Some of the colors can be dark and muddy, but they are OUR colors.

I proudly wear the colors of my past. They make me who I am today.

If I could walk on the moon

If I could walk on the moon, maybe I'd have the perfect view
Of everything around me, the stuff and people that surround me
I could see the tears between the smiles
And I could feel the breaths between the tears
If I could walk on the moon, maybe I'd have the perfect view
I'd be far enough away, I wouldn't feel pain
But I could maybe see it, and then I could avoid it

Maybe I would see the truth.
Maybe I could see You.
You the way you really are, if only I could get that far
Away from you to see

But I'm trapped in gravity

I wish I could float through space
And I could see the world that way
I wish I could walk on the moon
Because then I could really see you

With all your shades of yellow and white
And all the real, the wrong, the right
And it wouldn't matter what I see
Or what I know, or if my heart was worn and used
Because I'd be safe and on my moon

face suck in the hospital parking lot. a whole lotta yuck

So yesterday I took my dear sister Rachel to the hospital. She has been deathly ill (for those who didn't know) and had a whole buncha scares yesterday. She was told possible kidney failure, blood clots, you name it...she could have it. Anyways, I went with her to the labs to set up an appointment for her blood transfusion.

All went surprisingly well. We kept our spirits up and as we were walking back to her car I spied a couple eating each others faces in the parking lot. Hardcore making out. The hospital parking lot. If hospitals don't make me sick enough, I had to witness a young angsty couple trying to procreate RIGHT before my eyes.

Rachel turned to me, and in usual Rachel fashion said, "Unless one of them was dying and just found out they are not any more, that is sick."

yes. plain sick.

Maybe they did belong at the hospital.

I've learned more about life this semester than perhaps any other. In some ways, it has been my most challenging semester. I have had a mix of 'easy' and extremely difficult classes. And in that mix came a break up with someone who proposed to me, and a new friendship with someone unexpected. Life has taken me to a place where I had NEVER seen myself. I have never felt more opposition, and I can't help but attribute it to the fact that I think I am close to some really amazing things. I will be performing in Singin in the Rain this summer, which is one of my all time favorite musicals. It has that potent ingredient of nostalgia for me. I love the time period of the story, I love the dancing, I love the music...I love the rain. Everything about it. I love how I watched it over and over with my dad growing up.

I am also working on my very first demo cd this summer. I have written some songs that are cut straight from my soul, they are very real and raw for me, and I am so excited about producing something so honest.

I have a book coming out this September (crossing fingers I can revise my little heart away in time). A book. A BOOK!!! I am so very excited about this. It was always a dream of mine to publish something BEFORE I was done with college.

Thanks to my new friend, who happens to be a boy, I have learned SO very much about relationships, communication, and that there are people out there, specifically men, like me. I have discovered that wanting a man who actually supports my dreams and in fact believes in me is something I can have. I can have that. I was used to relationships where 'convention' was the only path and my dreams came second. I was used to relationships where I didn't even feel connected, and I foolishly attributed that disconnection to the fact that we were just men and women and would forever be DIFFERENT.

Now I know there are men out there made of the same cloth, stitched with the same thread, and constructed loosely like myself. And knowing that feeds me with hope.

I've learned this semester that its okay to dream. Its okay to hope. Its okay to feel. Hurt. Happiness. Pleasure. Its okay to let someone in. Its okay to let someone go. Its okay if I don't do everything the way "everyone else does it." I'm doing it the way I've always wanted.

I've learned Me this semester. A strange, slippery, random subject that is still a blank field and I still have so much to learn, but at least I took that first course.

Skimming the Surface

There are two ways to go through life. You can skim or you can swim. I think I used to be a skimmer...floating over ideas and situations, barely touching them so that they could NOT touch me, but recently I have been a swimmer. Diving deep. Swimming to places that are foreign and cool and bumpy to touch, but full of life and adventure. I know that if I want less scrapes and scars I should skim, drift above it all and just take in the view. But I'm not afraid of the scars anymore. I'm not afraid to sink to the bottom just so I can experience that rush when I shoot back to the top. I'm not afraid to swim. I want to touch and taste things that scare me. I want to FEEL life instead of just look at it. I am feeling braver day by day, and I swim deeper with every breath I take.

Finishing this semester is going to be a deep swim. Tough and full of late nights and skull cracking headaches- but I'll get there. Watch me :-)