Words

They come wonderful and weighty. The good ones stroll past. The bad linger on. The ambiguous bounce about, rattling, clunking, unsure whether they should stroll or linger. All hold something more than the letters strung together. (But what?!?) They all float around in my mind as I overthink them and cling to them. I file them away - messy, but treasured - to clarify and confound how I use and choose my own later.

And how do I?

I like the idea of less. At work, especially, I like it. Short & sweet. True & clear. Leave ‘em wantin’ more. Soundbites are memorable. (Be so, so careful though! Qualify, never oversimplify!) 

In my personal life though, I want to ramble. (This blog must be very personal...). I want to tell those closest to me every detail. I don't want to be misinterpreted. I think if I say everything I have more control over what is heard. I don't. And the wanting to say everything sometimes leads to the failing to say anything. If you can't get in every detail, If you can't fully explain every thought, then it's probably best to just remain silent in fear of misinterpretation. Or so the overthinking silence goes... 

It's all very confusing what with the pretending not to care what you think and the really caring so much about what you hear and believe.

A little honesty: I have no idea how many should be heard at any given time. How? Which ones? How loud?

Do I leave things to the imagination to encourage curious questions to creep forward?

Or be lavish, spilling generously each juicy detail?

Should they come firmly? Sweetly? Laced with sarcasm? Playfully? Draped in eloquence?

Will you lean in if I whisper?

Does increasing the volume increase your intake, your interest?

When you interrupt me should I let them waft off to never, never land or fight to be heard?

What speaks to you  - the ever changing you – who I long to address well? I want to be better than I know how – you deserve better – all my yous do.  

Don’t misinterpret this, really, pretty please. This post is no passive aggressive reaction to anything else. I can imagine it interpreted that way. It's just the truth. It’s a constant question bouncing through my brain. I rarely have a clear idea how to let all the beloved letters unfold. 

You’ll likely get less unless you ask for more. (I almost always have more.) Unless you are amidst a select few who I trust with my crazy because they have shown themselves to have some crazy endurance (aka friendship) and then maybe you wish you got less – way, way less.

(If you made it through this blog you may have some crazy endurance potential - just sayin'.)

How many? I seem to creep towards and away from the answer a little more every day.

You are such a moving target.

Wanderlust

So, I received this sweet award, many moons ago and I've just been too distracted by life to respond to it (moving is hard!). And I'm not even going to do it right, but better late and wrong than not at all! (well, I hope anyway) I got this fun little Sunshine Award from my high school Spanish teacher. So appropriate because I have had some killer wanderlust of late and she is one of my original Wanderlust inspirations. She took me on my first international trip, to Spain (be still my heart!), and the rest is history. I'm going to do her wrong though, and not pass the Sunshine along. I don't know who to send it to. Or if they want it. Or or or... Excuses... I'm hoping she'll tolerate my very LATE response and very sincere: "Back at ya!" as a sufficient response to her lovely gesture. I do so enjoy her blog and her - she's always just back from somewhere I wish I'd been and she's so good at recounting it all to let me live her adventures vicariously. You should check her out at Provence in Ann Arbor. You should also probably make her Pomegranate Guacamole right away. I'm a fan.

My award came with an assignment. I have to answer some random questions. We all know I'm always game for random rambling. Here goes!

Favorite Color:  Green
Favorite Animal: Giraffe
  Favorite Number: 3? 7? 21? I didn't know I was supposed to have a favorite number... I sort of like made up numbers that assist me in exaggeration though. Like: "There were eleventy bazillion people there." Eleventy Bazillion is my favorite number. Glad we've settled that.
Favorite Drink: It's seasonal and mood based. Here are some favorites... Hazelnut coffee. Cranberry juice and carbonated water. Rum & Coke. Cider. Iced vanilla coffee. Chocolate almond milk.  Orange juice - with normal pulp (why are there suddenly so many pulp options? Just give me some normal oj!)
Facebook or Twitter:  Facebook, clearly I can't fit my crazy into Twitter sized sound bites.
Your Passion: Brighter futures for children, ending the use of the phrase "a whole nother", and teaching people to "use their words" (aka mediation - I'll get back to you someday you handy, amazing methodology...)
Giving or Getting Presents: Giving! I know I can't say getting because I'd be a jerk, but I do prefer giving -really, really! So fun to find just the thing or find quirky ways to add meaning to something simple. I prefer getting cards though. I'll confess to that. (although I do like to send them too!). Write me a handwritten note and I'll get totally warm & fuzzy. Let it arrive in my actual mailbox and I'll probably be your best friend forever.

Now that we've sunshined, can we talk about my life for just a minute? I'm surrounded by stories of travel. Coworkers on vacation. Friends on mission trips and international work trips. Family, friends, church, work worlds. It seems everyone is headed off somewhere. Some of them are thrilled. Some of them are apathetic. Some don't want to go at all (I have no grid for this...). 

I am not apathetic with regard to the journeys of what seems to be nearly everyone around me. I'm not apathetic at all - that would be far more mature behavior. 

 I'm jealous. 

 I feel like I've been grounded. Like, literally forced to stay right here on the ground and out of my beloved airplanes. Forced to stay put and listen to other people tell me stories about their trips to islands and beaches and foreign lands and returns to familiar, cozy places. I'm just drowning in their plans and their pictures and their memories and their souvenirs. I'm smiling. I'm nodding. I'm polite.

In the dark, honest places inside of my head, I'm fiercely JEALOUS. 

Don't get me wrong. I need to hear about their trips. I want to. It's like a mini-fix that gets me through. Living vicariously until I make it to my next real fix. (oh and you're in my life and I like you and I want to know about yours!)

Inside of my head though, I'm becoming less gracious with my vicarious mini-fixes. I'm becoming whiny. Like a real drug addict, the little fix quickly becomes not enough...
I wanna go! (Stomp foot. Pout in corner.)

I want to be in a place in life where I have the time and money to pick up and go. I want my favorite people to come with me. 

Screw responsibility. 

I'm so over it. Eww. Been there, done that. I want to be the wandering free spirit who doesn't pay her student loans one month and uses up all her vacation hours and darts off to watch the sun rise in Guell Park (It is on the very short list of things I'll get up early for!).

Ok, reality check. I KNOW that I just got to go to Michigan AND Washington at the beginning of the summer for 2 of my nearest and dearest's weddings. I wouldn't trade those trips for the world. I'm aware that I'm very lucky and it hasn't been that long. It's just that travel makes me a better person and the summer has felt so long and tedious.

If I could just go I promise I'd come back far more kind and wise and willing to...almost anything. God designed travel as my personal mood stabilizer and I just don't think I've found the place in life where I get to properly apply it yet. If I don't get to run away soon, I just might have to resort to real mood stabilizers.

Ok, but all this reminds me, I better order a new passport. I lost mine in Washington. Perhaps that can be my first step towards the next big thing... My next mini-fix. I might be just a little afraid that I will run away if I have one again. I'm never that girl who irresponsibly chases a whim. This is the summer I feel like I could become that girl though...

I probably won't. I'll plan responsibly. I'll save. Find a bargain. Put it on my work calendar weeks in advance with permission. Oh but please, let it be Spain! In the next year! I can't let 10 years go by without getting back. 

Ok, bedtime! 

May our dreams be Barcelona filled.  

Spazzy until Wednesday

Where did July go?

How did a whole month whir by and seem so long and so fast all at once? 

It's been eventful and dull. I've been delighted and distraught. I feel like I've been living in extremes. 

I have become a girl who cries in the last couple years. I was just never that girl... And I'm SO that girl now. Sometimes because of something important and heartbreaking - and that comes too often... Also though, because of something just a little warm and fuzzy. Like a good-bye lunch for our interns. They're great, but they're not even leaving for a week or so... Also because of something even just a little sad and definitely anything dealing in actual sadness. I mean, well, good night... 

I've also become a girl who occasionally wants a hug and dances. That's a sort of new girl too. 

I remember thinking of people as sort of "spazzy" in the past. When they appeared to be living in mood extremes. I remember wondering why they were so distracted and unpredictable and wishing they'd mellow out. 

God thinks he's funny. 

July taught me a little more about spazzy. I got an insider's perspective on strong emotions, hard moments, and hard earned joy. None of that was entirely new, but it all phased through in ways that felt fresh.

Ok then, I'm laughing too. I see Your point. I'm taken care of and should probably just calm down. A lot. 

Still though, in the midst of all the searching for a place to live, making a lot of popcicles, packing, working, crying, dancing, praying through the night, absorbing hard news, musicals in my backyard, and feeling left behind, moments in July, I have found myself most often just tired. 

I'm usually a girl that finds a way to fill the days and live. In July I was a girl that hid -- in shutting down and hiding from the junk and in missing the joy sort of ways. 

That seems a funny way to be in July especially. Summer, in my mind, should be full of frolicking. Kites and wildflowers and beaches and bubbles and spinning until you collapse in extra green grass. Should I be this tired when the sun shines so much? Isn't all that vitamin D supposed to be good for me? Maybe I'm a vampire... Life just refuses to let me live at night as a vampire ought. Silly societal norms and professional hours and dearly loved daytime dwellers. The sacrifices I make for all of you... 

I'm hoping spazzy is an exercise that I can leave behind with July. I'll settle in to being a girl who cries and dances and feels and hopes in new ways and I will not panic in reaction to life happening around me. I'm not going to invite spazzy over, but I won't file an eviction notice these last few days of July - I'm moving this weekend. Giving up spazzy now seems especially daunting. And heck, spazzy taught me some things I needed to learn. I'm going to see what I can do about leaving it to others, but I'm going to try to embrace what was learned instead of spazzing spazzy away.  

On Wednesday though, August is here and I'm taking back control! (HA! As if I was ever in control...)