sheer happiness....a little bit in love

a kiss in the rain among other things

My entire life I have had this strong desire to kiss someone in the rain. You know the picture. Girl in a whimsical dress, Hot Guy pulls her in at the waist, rain shimmers all around them like falling stars from Jupiter. A cool picture. A picture found in many a film, poem, and song. I don't know what it is about the idea that appeals to me. In reality rain is wet and cold and not exactly something you want to dance around in...unless you're Gene Kelly. He made it look good. But I'm not Gene Kelly. I'm just a girl who wanted a kiss in the rain.

And I got one.

Last week.

He kissed me. In the rain.

I wasn't wearing a whimsical dress...in fact my attire was Sunday dress and boring choir-required-clothing because I'd just participated in the CES General Broadcast Choir. But I was in my cute tailored black coat from Nordstrom. The rain wasn't sloshing down like it did in the Notebook...but it did shimmer and slip like tears...cool tears that made trails all over my face and scalp and body...and even though it was wet and cold (I'm always cold outside at night, even in August) it felt GOOD.

Kissing in the rain felt good.

I think I'll do it again. Next time it won't be the soft, silver, blanketing rain. It will be torrents that pulse and drown and swallow us. That might be cool.

Until my Next kiss in the rain this one will be my Only.

xx

I used to be.

When I was in fourth grade I had an overripe curiosity about crime. I attribute this to my obsession with Nancy Drew novels. I still remember my first experience slipping away into the world of Nancy and Ned, of hidden stairways and lockets and notes that all were clues to solving the unimaginable. I remember the smell of those books, like stale paper and library all packed in one box from a garage sale my mom dragged me to. I remember looking at those yellow hardback covers skeptically when she told me I would love them. But when I settled into my first read, I was hooked. Not only did I devour Nancy's tales, I found I had to have more. Soon I had collected the Nancy Drew Cookbook, and was making "Scary Nests" for breakfast in the mornings. But that still wasn't enough to sate my appetite. I wanted to BE Nancy Drew. Wanted it so bad that I looked at my permed hair and unfortunate teeth in the mirror dreaming up ways that I could get that 1960's bob and perfect smile. Before I knew it I was finding crimes to solve. Everywhere I went was a piece of trash that must be a clue to solving the most recent kidnap case (whatever the case was at the time). I collected litter like a socialite collects sapphires. I cherished broken pieces of glass and random shoelaces like a bag-lady clings to her ten cats. And it wasn't enough I embarked on my mystery-solving, crime-fighting sprees alone. After all, didn't Nancy have a posse? I dragged my sister and friends along with me. It got so bad I even started the "Nancy Drew Club" at school.

There were rules. Not just anyone could be in the "Nancy Drew Club." You had to read a Drew book a week, and make at least one meal from the cookbook a week as well. And if you weren't bringing us new trash to comb through...well...you could forget about staying in the club.

Little did I know that starting the Nancy Drew Club would land me in TROUBLE. And not the good, crime-solving kind.

One day my beloved fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cruiser, took me aside.

"Jennifer, I heard you started a club."

I grinned. "Yep."

"That's not allowed. Clubs cause division in classes. I've heard some students feel left out."

What? I was getting scolded for fighting crime? For ridding the world of litter? My oversensitive, never want to let people down heart started quivering. Along with my lip. And tears started coming down my cheeks. I WAS IN TROUBLE?

Nancy had let me down.

The club was abolished.

And I was left to find trash on my own, to solve all the worlds problems alone.

But I didn't let Nancy down. I continued re-reading my bibles in mystery fighting and secretly continued my efforts.


*Footnotes*

Things I witnessed while "spying"

1. A naked grandpa walking across his living room.
2. A lady who liked to kiss her cat on the mouth. Alot.
3. The kid who practiced piano excessively.
4. A whole lot of white space.

I'm lost in the carnival

I walked through the luke-cold air outside today at campus and noticed a guy sitting under a tree singing. He didn't have a guitar, and upon closer inspection he wasn't even 'plugged in'. He was a retro-scrubbed-hippie with worn moccasins and the attitude of an owel. Now, he might look crazy to most, but I couldn't help but send him a smile. Nothing happened as I passed- he kept singing and I kept walking. But my day changed. Suddenly I was shimmering like a fallen sequin through a carnival. Everybody and everything I saw was suddenly garishly appealing in the daylight- exposed, real. That guy singing out loud with no abandon surged me with the urge to be fearless. To sing my own musical. I love days that are full of music. Today was one of those days.

I have to admit that my recent breakup has been EASIER than I ever dreamed it could be. I attribute this to carnival days and dreamy nights and of course the gospel. I don't feel alone in the carnival...I feel dazzled.

I hope to have another carnival day soon :-)

playing around with lyrics

I don't believe
you get one chance
and once its past- its gone
I don't believe you get one dance
and you lost if you get it wrong
I do believe our dance has made us dizzy
And for awhile now my head and heart
have been spinning

So you tripped over my heart
the second we fell apart
It hurt, I admit for a moment
A moment that lasted too long
Sometimes I'm caught, still lost in our song
But the music still calls to me
I'm shaking, but I'm standing
Unsteady but brave I take another hand
I'm not afraid to dance again.

Who said you get one
Once Upon a Time?
I believe in one happy ending
But once upon a times
I think you get at least
a dozen times
I'm shaking but I'm standing.
I'm gonna get my ending.

You can't count the raindrops

I have lived by a code of 'never get too personal' on my blog, facebook, and on my rare tweet. Sure, I will explore feelings about situations I may be experiencing, but very seldom do I explore the actual details--the nitty-gritty. Tonight, my friends, I must explore. I must explore because my heart is bursting at the seams with the need for it. So even though I don't want to necessarily share what should be private, I will try very delicately to sift through the havoc that has been wreaked on my heart.

Three weeks and two days ago my best friend proposed to me. It was a little left field, because we hadn't dated in a year...but I did not doubt his intentions in getting back together (I wasn't entirely sold on the marriage thing, but I figured we could ease back into a relationship). If someone gets down on one knee...it should mean something. Now, admittedly he was extremely emotionally charged as was I, but aren't most people swimming in emotions when they are down on one knee?

Tonight...we are both single.

Tonight...we are two best friends separated.

I sit here in a mess of tear-streaky mascara and a pile of tissue as I try to work out WHAT went wrong. I have figured out a few things.

One. It doesn't matter how brave I am...if HE isn't brave, or willing to fight...we've lost the battle.

Two. Life sucks sometimes. As does love.

Three. I hate to admit this, because I have fought my whole life against it, but I think I have finally lost faith in 'love'. In dating. In romance. In relationships. Walls are creeping up all around my heart at an astounding rate and I pity anyone who tries to penetrate their necessary-born-sturdiness.

I guess I've learned the answer to one of life's questions: why no, men and women CAN'T just be friends, or even best friends...the sex part (as I quote When Harry Met Sally) ALWAYS gets in the way.

I'm sure after a box of sleeping pills, a pore-cleansing mask, some sour patch, and a good facebook clean out I will be feeling better.

sifting through stuff

Sometimes I wish I had a crystal ball so that I could see into the future. Maybe if I could I would know how I am SUPPOSED to handle what I am feeling right now. I feel like I am wading through a sea of glass, sifting through the litter of my own analytical thoughts as I try to find out what I am suppose to do. I am sure about some things. I know that the Gospel is true, and I know I can find answers through prayer. I know I am where I'm supposed to be- at school, in church, working, writing- And I'm there.

But its hard to feel peace when my heart is left fluttering up above me, attached to a flimsy kite string as I try haphazardly to pull it through a lighting storm.

I can't see anything from where I stand as I look up at the clouds that have swallowed my heart-kite, but I finally think I am brave enough to let go and give someone else the string to my kite... the key to my heart. Almost anyways.

Almost.

Until I have surrendered to the storm I hold fast.

I will keep my kite safe for you.

much love.