Eye Can See It Now

I have an eye exam tomorrow.
I'm scared my eyesight is getting worse.
I don't want to go blind.

Update:
My prescription went up significantly.
This bothers me.

My brother...

...came over and showed me the notebooks he had bought for his college classes (which start tomorrow). He asked, "did I buy the right ones?" I answered, "yeah." He then said, "well, yeah, I thought they were right. They're college-ruled."

Hair, hair, hair!

I cut my hair.
And I feel free.
I feel so free.
I feel free and I like it.
Yes, it is not a pixie cut.
Or a bob.
It is mid length but it is not awkward.
I cut my hair and I like it.
I have shaved off two years off my face.
Meaning that I now look 14.
I don't care.
I want to embrace my cuteness.
My adorableness.
There is no conventional sexiness in me.
My cuteness and how I embrace it makes me sexy.
I can't look seductive and shit.
It's OK.
I love that about myself.
I think girls need to stop trying to seem like they're not innocent when they are.
Be what you are.
Don't pretend to be something you are not.
It's not attractive and people can see right through.
Esse Quam Videri, people.
To be, rather than to seem to be.
Don't try to prove to people you aren't innocent.
Let people think what they like.
It doesn't change who you are.
I like my short hair.
I am as free as my hair.

p-town summers

"i think everyone should stay in Portland for a summer, just to see our college from a different angle." she said to me.
though she had left town before i got here, i knew what she meant when i saw the sunset on that first friday.

the pacific northwest sunsets are the most beautiful things i have ever witnessed. the golden honey, vibrant purple, and burnt orange hues, the wispy clouds. it's so surreal. every time.

the dripping popsicles that we share on the balconies as our tongues and teeth turn unsightly tones of magenta. the sweet red and purple imprints left on our hands and lips after we've picked and eaten our fill of strawberries and blueberries.

the laughters that echo in the quad. especially when we're running through sprinklers at midnight. the unpredictable twists and turns of your car rides. singing our hearts out in the car, getting out of the car to dance dance dance.

Portland and my friends here have such a special place in heart. when i try to think of how i feel about being here, blessed is the best answer i can come up with.

Hair Three Times

Yes, I know.

I'm talking about hair for God knows for how much again.

It doesn't matter.

I am cutting my hair.

Short.

No pixie because I can handle that right now. 

But short.

Tomorrow at 9:30 AM.

It is going down. 

Like Donkey Kong.

Damn right. 

secret

there are three postsecrets that really resonate with me this week and i want to post them here:

1. 

i really have to stop pushing people away/finding excuses for why i can't date otherwise nice boys

2. 

the front of this one says "Bikram is the only thing keeping me from totally losing my shit" and it's stamped from Portland, OR. which is absolutely fitting. Ok, maybe bikram yoga doesn't totally apply in my case, but i definitely feel that way about zen meditation. it's weird to say because i never thought i'd be that type of person, yet it's true.

3. 

every once in a while i save a good/inspiring/heartwarming sunday postsecret to my computer. i thought i'd share this quality one with our blog today.

rii: gloomy nights

i understand.

i want to say everyone goes through the same thing, but i know that not everyone does. or rather, not everyone recognizes it because our society has some fucked up idea that it's not ok to be sad--even if that's what you're feeling. bullshit.

it's weird being a psych major when things like this come up because i start thinking about neurochemical circuits and imbalance and release and uptake. then i always have to take a step back and remind myself of the bigger picture. the person behind the brain. the brain is behind the person.

i go through the same ups and downs. my highs are infinitely high, and my lows always feel like i've reached new depths. when i'm at a low, though, i think of the high points and write the sadness away. mint tea and sad novels help too. sometimes a good cry does the trick. that's just me though.

the take home message is that we all deal with "gloomy nights" in different ways. some people ignore the feeling and surround themselves with others. some people take alone time to process and cleanse. at some point you get better at dealing with it all. at some point you begin to wonder if you're having a quarter life crisis. at some point you have to remind yourself that you're not alone in this experience, that this too shall pass, that you have to let go and let God.

camp for the real world

i want to write a blog post
to get things out, to make things beautiful and memorable
but the words aren't coming.
i can't find the poetic words to describe my long, arduous days at camp
to describe the visual structures we created, the activities we fought to get to, the events we struggled leaving (pool), and the joyous laughs we shared at night on that rocking chair porch.
southern nights, rocked away, the sounds of heavy rainfall, the hot rolling fog that would rise from the ground following rain showers.
the weekends when we'd leave camp grounds, exploring the hip city
no making plans, but letting the night carry us through;
walking into album release parties for the experimental arts,
running through private gardens in the dead of the night with the buzz of gin in our souls & love in our hearts.
coming back to a different porch, spilling our stories. having kale, cornbread, and more gin.
unexpected drives to faraway towns, along beautiful, winding stretches of road and mountain.
the blue ridge parkway.
dancing: contra on thursdays, feeling like we were southern belles, spinning spinning spinning, from one man's arms to another's. the club, or "gaybar" as Ginny would say, on the weekends that let us get it all out. the drum circles where we'd move with the crowd, making new friends along the way.
the people we did it all for: our campers.
their smiles, their tears, their hugs and other forms of affection.
the moment B gave me an award for being the person he loved very much. when B and N would fight over me in the pool, they each wanted to kidnap me to their secret lair, but would settle on hugging me tightly. angry birds and listening to the waves splashing to the music (adagio or allegro?)
the radio show i'd put on with R outside the pool. Radio start: down by the bay, my mother would say, you're under arrest, that great big moose. Radio stop. busy time.
R and his pokemon schedule. running around the field, protecting our kickball team like zoroarc.
the first B and singing baby bumblebee, and pushing yellow, green, red wagons.
A and her "dammit alice in wonderland, are you listening to me?"
love love love the campers and their gifts. love my co-workers.
love people, they're what matters.