Things I'm thankful for

As ashamed as I am to admit it, I overshadowed my own thanksgiving with fear and anxiety. So here is a list of things I forgot to say I am thankful for. After all, thanks should be given on all days, not just one Thursday in November. Either way, better late than never I suppose:

I am thankful for every person who has come into my life. Every friend, family member, teacher, neighbor, or passerby has shaped me into who I am, and for that I owe more than just a thanks. I am thankful for my mother, my father, and the fact that, despite their differences, they both treat me undeservingly well. I am thankful for my brothers, for the inspiration they have planted in me and the rivalry that continues to grow. I am thankful for the girls across the street, the ones across town, and those across oceans who have listened to me and advised me and somehow still believe in me. I am thankful for the patience, care, respect, and poise of every person in (or once a part of) my life.

I am thankful for each and every bone in my body, even the broken ones (erstwhile reminders of "carpe diem's" gone wrong). I am thankful for the wisdom teeth I have yet to pull, the hair I often yank, and the toes I crack to carelessly. I am thankful that I have been given a body of decent proportions but equally as grateful that I have to work to maintain it that way, that laziness reaps no prize.

I am thankful for the house I live in, the security of solid walls and the comfort of consistency. I am thankful for the jar of Nutella in my cabinet, the silverware I will consume it with, and the washing machine and garbage cans that will cover up the evidence. I am thankful for the gadgets I thought I needed but more thankful for the realization that I do not need them at all.

I am thankful that I have the capacity to know seemingly everything, both physically and environmentally. I am thankful for the books, the music, the colors, the numbers, the factoids, the lessons. More than any of those things, I am thankful that someone saw enough in me to teach me those things.

I am thankful for the trees, the grass, the mountains, the stars, the ocean, the fish, the birds, the flowers, the pigs, the lakes, the weeping willows, the sand, the glaciers, the deserts, the seas, the creators, the moon, the canyons, the butterflies, the waves, the sun, the wind, the weeds, and the colors of them all. I am thankful for everything bigger than me, for the things that remind me to love being so small.

I am thankful for my luck, for the experiences that are available to me and not to everyone. I am thankful for the things that just went my way. And, for clichés sake, I am thankful for the things that didn't. I am grateful for the lies I wish had never slipped and the truths I wish had been lies. Each maltreatment, each bump in the road, each hardship, thankfully, has thought me something important. I am thankful, though, that the bumps are just bumps and not mountains, that they have always been small enough to see past.

But, more than anything, I am thankful that the list does not end there. I am so thankful for a never ending and ever expanding list of reasons to give thanks.

How I've avoided this moment up until right now

It is 3:27.

I woke up at 3:00 am this morning; I had a terrible nightmare. I managed to get another two and a half hours of sleep before I woke up for good around 5:30. At 7:00, I went for a bike ride. It is beautiful out today. I got home at 9:00, showered, and went to the gym at 10:00. It was pretty crowded there so I had to wait a while to get on the machine I wanted and didn't leave until noon.

When I got home, I took a shower and made myself a sandwich. I then took a long, long nap and tried to think about tomorrow, when today will be yesterday.

I woke up around 2:00 and started to get ready for dinner, trying on every dress I own to find the one that would best cover up all the stress-eating that is likely to occur. I decided on a purple one that I bought last January in Paris (without the belt) and tied my lucky red bandana in my hair.

It was 2:45. I went downstairs to take some Advil. My mother asked me to help her with some cooking so I did. Around 3:15 she told me that my dad would be here any minute and I should take that silly bandana out of my hair. I laughed. She was serious.

I went upstairs, found my way to my bathroom floor, and sat down. I looked up in the mirror at the bandana in my hair, grabbed my nearby Wilco scarf and clenched it in hopes of fighting back tears. It didn't work. It is now 3:39 (my dad is 39 minutes late) and I on my bathroom floor in tears. My stomach feels like a deflating baloon and my hands are shaking so badly that I am relying on autocorrect to guide me threw this blog post. I wrapped my scarf around my ankles to keep them from kicking the cabinet in front of me and I feel more disconnected from my body than ever. I've sweated through my purple dress and I know today is about being thankful and I am but I selfishly cannot get my anxiety-stricken mind to think clearly. This moment, the one I've joked about and assumed was still days away, is here.

And I am scared.

My own.

I'm not your story to tell
I'm not your product to sell
I'm really my own
More than your stepping stone
I am an independent cell

I'm not your word to define
Not your piece of thread to retwine
My triumphs aren't yours
Nor are faults, cuts, or chores
If I make a mistake, then it's mine.

So here I am begging you, please
Cure me of your smothered diseases
I'm not who you've made me
My soul's absentee
And I'm losing my own subtleties

We all scream for...

Let's talk for a little bit about ice cream.

Ice cream is easy. There are no bones to pick out or sauces to dip or fat to cut around. Really, you don't even have to chew. Or use silver wear if
you don't want to. Even a baby, toothless and naive, can swallow a spoonful without fear of chocking. Even easier, I believe, is the joy that comes with the company of ice cream with friends. Ice cream is harmless.

Ice cream has no rules. There are no tough choices to make, no rules to remember, no "bake at 350", or "not microwave safe". It loves to share, to be plopped on top of a brownie pr swirled in between flavors. and speaking of flavors, they are countless. Whatever you could substitute ice cream with has been made into a flavor of its own, ready to mix and match and blend. Be it as a drink, a topping, a fruit, a nut, a sundae, or a main course, ice cream comes that way. Ice cream is versatile.

Ice cream is an icepack. It's signature coldness mending a swallow heart. When we are sad or sick or lonely or bored, ice cream is an endorphin. and when we finish the carton(s) at home, ice cream is everywhere, easy to find. Ice cream is cold. What would it be otherwise? A sticky, useless mess.

Ice cream. I'm a big fan yo.

Three things from tonight

1. People always say that you don't know what other people are going through and that everyone is more sad than you would expect. Well, I think there are a lot of people out there who are more happy than you would expect.

2. Good people find each other. And that is great. And that makes me so happy.

3. I have the best friends.

Joy in my nothings (home base)

Tonight I am feeling
A 'something' for sure
A break from the 'normal'
And 'same', so secure

Tonight I am feeling.
And that should suffice
But beyond that I'm thriving
In life's different slice

It's exciting, this feeling
It's bright and it's warm
Still this fuzz and this shinning
Are the least bit my 'norm'

But tomorrow I'll feel,
It's safe to assume
The old 'normal' and 'same'
Where I usually loom

For, always we return
To our comfortable ways.
Emotions we remember
Overtaking our craze

So, when the sun rises
I'm ashamed to admit
I'll be back to my 'nothing'
And my 'something' will quit

But, If joy was my 'nothing'
If bliss was my 'same'
Than I'd be happy to return
From where I once came

Good things come to those who wait

This weekend, I was blessed with a trip to Arizona where I stayed in a palace with fifteen other royally genuine human beings. The generosity that I witnessed and the laughs that I shared deserve a blog post in themselves, so instead of trying to encompass all of the greatness I experienced this weekend into one post, I will focus on the one thing that I cannot stop thinking about: stars.

The universe is a fucking huge place and, although the majority of it is empty space, it is filled with uncountable amounts of stellar objects. From the hut tub I was lounging in last night, the dark sky was busy with stars and planets and nebulas and specs of dust, all bursting with energy and shining it down on us.

The best part of the night sky, for me, is that the longer you look at it, the more stars become visible. As your eyes adjust to the darkness and blur the chandelier's glow into peripheral yellow blobs, what looked like a slice of emptiness becomes filled with brightness. Sure, Deneb and Capella, and Venus will be bright the first moment you look up, but it takes some time to notice Pleiades and the other unnamed stars. Over time, the sky will turn from a wall with chipping paint to a speckled lady bug to a tribute to Seurat's pointillism- its emptiness unnoticeable beside things that shine.

And so now, back home in a light polluted suburb, the night sky will be dark. But, I know, if I wait long enough and aim my focus with confidence, even the most empty sky will hold something shining.

Who uses a compass anyway?

Today I put on an old pair of shoes and was forced to remember all the things I felt when I first wore them.

I got these shoes in the height of middle-school angst and I was sad. More sad than I feel comfortable sharing on the Internet. And that sadness led to a bucket full of insecurities that I hid behind nonsensical commentary and dozens of rubber bracelets. I hid behind shouting and being goofy to mask the silence I felt within myself. It was an unexplainable and unavoidable sadness. Tying up the laces on these old Steve Madden want-to-be skater shoes brought me back there. In these shoes, I cannot help but feel as flat as the soles I am walking on, as flat as I once felt. Furthermore, if it is so easy for me to relapse to the sadness I once felt, am I even happier at all? We are only as good as our lowest points and I can still feel just as low as I once did.

In old shoes, each step forward is like two million steps backward.

Luckily, however, I have new shoes now. And although they are no Cinderella-glass-slipper of a perfect fit, these shoes suite me better. But I cannot find it in me to get rid of my old kicks, or, for that matter, anything that reminds me of the unhappiness I once felt. And sometimes, like today, I am tempted to slide back into my old shoes because they are well worn in and easier to walk in.

Today, I'm heading backwards.

Sweet simplicity

Right now, I'm sitting at Prospect Park waiting for my friends to join me. We just left Denny's where a rather comical waiter, D'Mitri, made me a spontaneously personalized milkshake of white chocolate chips and strawberries (if your wondering why this conbo is so exciting, check out my blog post entitled "Happiness: as sold for $2.00"). I have a copy of my favorite poem in my pocket and the shapeless clouds are shading my eyes from an unusually bright full moon as the swings carry me higher than I remember them ever taking me.

Milkshakes, Denny's, Prospect Park, poems, clouds, stars, swings, smiling faces, and amiable friends. This is all I need.