Wednesday, February 29, 2012


Sometimes I get these crazy thoughts in my head.
The kind of thoughts that turn into ideas.
And the kind of thoughts that turn into ideas that turn into hopes.
And the kind of thoughts that turn into ideas that turn into hopes that turn into dreams.

And you know what "dreams" are, right?

They are an idealistic, beautified reality.
Dreams are the most beautiful things that we have.

And dreams turn into goals.
And goals are always fulfilled.
Real goals, I mean. Not just the half-hearted, "it would be nice if (...)," kind.
The real kind.

Our thoughts really do make us who we are.
"A man is but the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes."
Gandhi was absolutely right.

I can be whoever I want to be.

You can be whoever you want to be.

We will be
we truly want
to be.

Pinky swear.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

tell you

what i want to write about are the adventures i'm going to have in the next year. what i want to write about is what's waiting for me on the other side of the world, the other side of the country, the other side of the universe. how well i'm doing at acing college. taps on the arm and smiles and compliments. high, high swings and first kisses. what i want to write about is a whole family. a little brother, the cutest in the world. all the dates i go on, all the boys i woo, all the use i get out of wearing red lipstick. milk and honey, friends forever, 4.0's, museum jobs, enough money. i want to write about glittering lights and opportunity and cash flow, i want to write to you about the history of art, i want to write to you about how it feels to be in love.
what i can write to you about is worry. failure. the unknown. i can tell you about a broken family and several broken hearts. about how i thought he liked me, but then he disappeared the next day, and he just walked by my window and my heart still sped up again. the way those of the male kind seem to always run away, all but a few, all but one, one who's hoped-for letters send me to the mailbox at the central building every day but still haven't come. i can tell you about waking up far too early and how it feels to hit a wall, how it feels to move your french 321 class from top priority to the very lowest.

i'm not as strong as i seem.

regardless, i can still tell you about the shadows of clouds that move across the mountain and how good naps feel in the SWKT auditorium during political science class. that the entire group of boys that i know are about to spread across the whole world, the entire world, and light it up a little bit. i can tell you that i met one of the magic ones. you know, one of those people who are so humble and still that the most beautiful things about them are the things you have to do the work for, and if you find them, you know you're special, too. one of the ones that take time. i can tell you that china has the yellow mountains and the great wall and the terracotta warriors.
i can tell you that God is concrete and that he loves me and that i love him. i can say that i love life, i love living, but i honestly can't wait for the day when my soul floats up to join His, the day when my worries are over, the day when i receive eternal rest. i can say that i know that sounds morbid, but it's not, i don't have a death wish, i just need rest and i just love Christ.

i'm stronger than i think i am.

i will tell you that i can do it and not to worry, this isn't a bad day or life, just a hard one. i'm growing when i thought i would be done for a little while, but i guess i'll never stop, there's too much that i am capable of becoming for me to slow down. that i know i'm something special, that there's something beautiful inside of me that gets more so with every hard day i face with faith and a smile. i'm honestly happy. i am. i will say that i know there's a lot of really good things i'm going to accomplish in this little life of mine. i feel whole. i'm still not broken. i don't think i'll ever break. i'm grateful for who i am and where i am and what i'm doing, i'm grateful for all these crazy lessons i've had to learn so young, i feel like i have a head start on life because of it. i will say that i am 18 years old but i feel so much older and so much wiser than even the adults, they seem to make such crazy decisions sometimes. i will tell you that i'm safe and i'm working hard and that it will all be okay, and with every passing hour i'm getting better instead of bitter and i really think the person i fall in love with is going to be top notch.

i'm beautiful and strong and wise and so what could ever stop me?

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Quite frankly,

I don't miss you.

But I miss the me that I was when I was yours.
When I was your version of me.
Because she was so happy. And so dedicated. And she was funny and she laughed a lot. And she liked culture and wrote music and she went to the gym every day. She liked herself. She felt inspired and artistic and validated. She was experimental with food and clothing and she never had to apologize for who she was. And she knew that there was a man she could run to when she felt vulnerable and afraid. A man who would appreciate her minus the hair and the make up and the labels. And, goodness, did she love him. He was a solid man. A beautiful man.

A man who would kiss her at all the red lights.

Quite frankly, I hate red lights now.
Because they make me miss you.
And, as I mentioned above, I don't miss you. I mean... I can't...
But red lights ruin everything.

They make me miss the you that you were when my eyes were closed.

Red lights force me to stop and dwell on who I am at that very moment. I'm not in constant motion, not busy thinking about what's to come.
Instead, I have to think about what is.

And I only did that with you. I only wanted what "is" when it was with you... When we would stop at the red light. And you would kiss me.
And at that time, "now" was perfect. We didn't need anything but that very moment.
The future was unspoken of. And all we had was "now."
And, somehow, that was always enough.

Quite frankly, I found myself wishing for all the green lights to turn red. And hoping that you'd slow at the yellow's instead of speed up.
And, you know something? You always did slow down.
I liked to think that it was because a moment with me was more important to you than getting wherever it was we were headed.

You always rolled the windows down in the car. And I would sit in that passenger's seat, so grateful that I was alive. Because, quite frankly, you were simply just too good to be true.
Our time together was a dream to me.
My many memories in that passenger's seat of your car was a dream to me.
You would grab my left hand with your right and my whole body would tingle.
And I would find myself in the perfect state of contentment, sitting there, in that passenger's seat.

And then I would rest my head to the right and close my eyes and just breathe as wind blew into the car and onto my face and all throughout my hair.

And the flawless scent of summer would fill up my lungs, only to become my memory of you.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Thursday, February 16, 2012

breathe in, breathe out.

it's always been my favorite mat kearney song.
it's gotten me through a lot.
when i was watching him sing it on the stage on monday night, tears welled up. and i willed myself to cry. they wouldn't escape my eyes.
it was beautiful and infinite and so much joy bubbled inside of me, from my toes to the ends of my hair, my heart was warm and i was sure.
so tuesday, when i learned some more news that changes everything, once again, and my heart sunk and i cried tears that i haven't cried for years,
this song was my refuge and my peace once again.

Breathe in, breathe out,
Tell me all of your doubts,
& Everybody bleeds this way,
Just the same.

Breathe in, breathe out,

Move on and break down,
If everyone goes away i will stay.

We push and pull,

& I fall down sometimes,
I'm not letting go,
You hold the other line.

Cause there is a light in your eyes, in your eyes.

Hold on hold tight,

If I'm out of your sight,
If everything keeps moving on, moving on,
Hold on hold tight,
Make it through another night,
& everyday there comes a song with the dawn,
We push and pull and I fall down sometimes,
I'm not letting go,
You hold the other line.

Cause there is a light, in your eyes, in your eyes.

There is a light, in your eyes, in your eyes.

Breathe in, and breathe out.

Breathe in, and breathe out.
Breathe in, and breathe out.
Breathe in, and breathe out.

Look left look right,

To the moon in the night.
& everything under the stars is in your arms.

Cause there is a light, in your eyes in your eyes.

There is a light, in your eyes, in your eyes.
There is a light, in your eyes, in your eyes.
There is a light, in your eyes, in your eyes. 

i like to imagine that this is my conversation with God. hannah, He says, i know you're scared. you're confused. you're a little bit broken. but i am here. i will fix you. i will do the work, and all you need to do is move on, one second at a time, and breathe in, breathe out. and trust me.
and so i do. i trust Him.
they say that things fall apart so that better things can fall together,
but to be honest,
all we've really seen is things falling apart. but i still trust that someday, maybe if it's in the next life, better things will fall together.
i know that i'm stronger than i think and i know my family is, too. and i know we can do it.
and i know that we're loved, that we're protected, that there are reasons, and that there will be peace.

things go wrong, but i still have countless blessings.

not everyone will love you right. there will be things that you never thought would leave you that will. unfair things will happen and you might not know the reason.
but i promise, with all of my little 18 year old conviction and heart,
that God will never leave you. that you are blessed. and that you will be okay.

everything under the stars is in your arms.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

One of the many ways public transportation has changed my life.

The blind man rides the bus around for hours at a time.
He told me it's because he likes to imagine all the sights there are to see. And he likes to feel the bumps along the road. And he meets lots of beautiful people.

"As a blind man, I see how people really are. I can see them. And you know something?

We're all children of God.
Running the same race, just at different speeds."

He didn't know I cried right there, sitting next to him on that bus.
But I did.

I stood up as we approached my stop, and said goodbye.
And I pinky-promised him I wouldn't be a stranger.

As our promising pinkies clasped, he smiled.
"I like you," he said.
"I like you, too," I responded.

And we made eye contact.
Of course, he didn't know we made eye contact.

But I had a feeling that those glazed eyes had seen more than I ever will.

Monday, February 13, 2012

weave it all together.

there's this life i'm living and i'm too good at compartmentalizing it.
i'm too good at being hannah the quiet one at church
or hannah the outgoing one on weekends or to strangers in class
or hannah the dry one to boys
or hannah at home, the centered one, the loved one, the understood one
or hannah with old friends and a blog, the deep one.
and consolidating all my selves has been and is the hardest thing to do.
to become consistent, that's what i want.
i'm getting there,
and the hannah that smashes plates and climbs into insanely large treehouses and swings higher than she ever has before is becoming gradually more like the hannah that looks at the stars and lays on the floor to listen to music in the dark and that hannah is becoming gradually more like the hannah that loves so desperately that all she can do is smile and that hannah is becoming gradually more like the hannah who makes friends out of strangers and can sometimes think of witty things to say.
the secret is, i think, that beneath all those hannahs there's a hannah who's prayers get answered every day and a hannah who's God feels a lot more concrete than anything else in her ever-evolving life, and that's the reason why all the other facets of my personality are coming together, and maybe one day, they'll unite, the day when i am completely consistent, the day when i am completely Me.
the thing is that this life of mine changes every second. one minute i am playing mad gab with so many new friends, and i'm dancing in a 50's outfit, and i'm meditating, and telling stories, and i love truly love them,
and i want to stay.
the next minute i'm at the farewell of one of my dearest, one that almost sends little stings to the corners of my eyes when i think of how much he's grown. and i'm surrounded by old friends, the ones who know me inside-out, the way that no one else will ever know me again, because they were present for the times that made me who i am.
and i love them so hard that i just want to stay.
but i can't stay and i know it. it will keep changing. more love will rush in. and i concur with tom robbins because he said the only serious question is who knows how to make love stay?
but i guess the answer is that love always stays, but people don't.
love always stays, but people don't.
it's bittersweet.

and i guess each day all i can do is be the most me i can be and love the most yous that i can.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

These are a few of my [least] favorite things:

Seriously my biggest fear since childhood. Disney/Pixar's A Bugs Life really made a lasting impression on me.

Belts that serve no purpose.
It's hilarious to me when girls wear pants and then a belt around their shirt. Like... isn't the belt supposed to be to hold up your pants? They are not to accentuate the waist that you have now ruined by making yourself look terribly proportioned. The "big belt around the ribs" phenomenon is just a way for flat-chested girls to add extra "umph" in supporting "the girls." And it's hideous. If you are wearing a dress, the useless belt is a little more acceptable, I guess. But if you're wearing pants? You idiot. Don't wear a belt on your shirt. Don't get me wrong, here. I love everyone. But... Sometimes I hate their fashion choices. Belts are for pants.

"Let's solve our dispute by seeing who can kill who first. It's the perfect plan."
Mastermind behind war? You're an idiot.

Hard butter.
It just tears the bread apart... Sometimes, it makes me so frustrated that I cry.

I suppose it's silly for me to say that I want to kill all of them...

Empty cereal boxes in the pantry.
The happiness I feel from seeing a box of Froot Loops on the shelf is so happy.
I get out a bowl. I get out the milk. I get out a spoon. I put on a smile because I think this is the beginning of the best day of my life. And, then, come to find out, what were all my efforts for? Disappointment and rejection, that's what. So then I have to settle for Raisin Bran, because that box is never empty. Dried grapes and tasteless flakes is way less satisfying than my beloved loops of sugar and Red 40.
If you eat the last bowlful, throw the box away. I don't deserve this kind of rejection.

Taylor Swift.
I have tried so hard to like her. Really. I have. But I just can't... She is terrible. The worst artist of all time. There's no way around it. *My apologies to any die-hard Taylor lovers. That's just my opinion. I respect those who enjoy her music, but it's not for me. Please take no offense. I'm sure she's a great human being...

Sick sick sick sick sick sick sick gross nasty sick sick sick.

See above explanation for "Beets."

Waiting for the toaster to pop up.
Seriously, the suspense eats me alive.

Vampire romances.
Novels. Television shows. Films. Any form of media pertaining to the subject. Terrible. All of it. I will never understand the phenomenon. *Again, my apologies to those in favor.

Paper cuts.
I just feel like they are so much more painful than they should be...

And, last but not least,
Losing a sneeze.
If this isn't the worst thing ever, I don't know what is.

On a brighter note, I've been Facebook free for 2 weeks now.
And in celebration, I went and bought myself a pork salad from Cafe Rio.
And life is superb.

Happy Valentine's Eve Eve!

Friday, February 10, 2012

better ways to procrastinate.

there are several corners of the interwebz that i get really excited about.
and whenever i use them as procrastination tools, they always just make me feel awesome instead. not a good cycle.
if you're going to read blogs, read these ones. instead of your average blogs, these ones offer consistent depth and enlightenment. and you'd be wise to check them out. you might learn a thing or two about being an effective human.
now, as a disclaimer, all the blogs on our sidebar are awesome. and we love them. but the fact of the matter is that i don't stay tuned on a lot of other people's blogs unless they're my best friends. these are the special ones that i do keep up on.

some words. lindsey's blog posts look to me like a bunch of shiny golden threads all woven together to make a really large and wonderfully warm blanket. i feel good when i read it. i feel kind of like i feel in a museum. it's beautiful.

the girl in the dress. if kimberly doesn't have her head on perfectly straight, i don't know who does. i admire her honesty and courage. light just comes out from every word of hers. humor and depth? yes please.

we all have a story of adolescence and its glory. she's another lindsey, and after i read her words, i always find myself thinking YES! that's exactly how it is and i never had the words before. it is just good. so good, through and through.

rachael. i'm not sure what to call her blog because it keeps changing. but i do know that it's absolutely lovely, as is she. i think she's one of the most beautiful people in the world. and her words ring true every time.

strange but true. let's be real, hannah is one of a kind. she is nothing but herself and that integrity comes straight through her blog. she's so relateable, funny, engaging and deep. and i love it. and i love her.

music at ten. so, not really a blog, but a very worthwhile piece of the internet. i have a friend who's name is mack. mack and his family started this music at ten thing a few years ago. to be honest, i'm not that sure how it started or evolved, but i can tell you that going to his house to listen to this every sunday night at ten is the most relaxing thing in the world. they pick a friend or family member to make a playlist every week, and then his brother in idaho broadcasts it through the site so everyone can listen live, no matter where they are. good stuff.

so now that i've lured you into more internet time-suckers, i bid you good eve. enjoy. i sure do.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012


The ones I knew the least broke my heart the most.

And the one that I loved the most never really loved me at all.

And the one that loved me the most... Well, bless him for trying. And for taking on the challenge.

I should thank those two girls. We were so young, and all in love with the same man.
And now they're both off, starting lives with real men of their own.

And I owe a thanks to the fourth grade. For bringing me to the girl with dark hair and that perfect dimple (yes, dimple, singular).

I owe a thank you to the woman who sat on the stairs with me for an hour, helping me study for that test.

And I will never forget the little boy who said the most profound things without meaning to be poetic.

I hope my old man knows that he means the world to me.

I also hope that the most beautiful girl in the world knows that I meant it when I said "I'm here forever."
Because I really meant it.

And I will sing songs about that boy until my face turns blue.

And I hope the woman that I haven't seen in years knows that I still look to the example that she set way back then.

And I hope the one with the glasses remembers me forever. But I know that he will.
I mean, how could he forget?

I owe an apology for crossing the line.
And for choosing the wrong.
And for forgetting her birthday.

And I love every single one of every single person's flaws.

My enemies turned out to be my most influential teachers.
And my little brothers turned out to be my best friends.

And I can't remember a time when I was happier for it to be February.


"People who need people are the luckiest people in the world."
Long live Barbra.


Sunday, February 5, 2012

I have a new job. Did you know?

My co-workers consist of a depressed wreck, a comedic genius, a superficial plastic, a former football star, and a hipster photographer/musician.

I sit in a cubicle. And the hipster sits in the cubicle next to mine.

I like him a lot. And the owl tattoo on his forearm.

I mostly like him because he's the only one that has compassion for the new kid (aka me).
He whispers through his cubicle into mine to tell me how to do things so that the other kids on the playground don't make me feel stupid for doing something wrong.

"Thanks for being so nice to me. I appreciate it. A lot." I said, as sincerely as I could.
He brushed it off like it was nothing: "I was the new kid here once, too. I remember what it was like to feel stupid and helpless. I'm here for ya, babe. Just holler whenever. I'm two feet away."

Then we smiled at each other. And that's when I established that we were friends.

After the shift, we walked to our cars together. And we discussed all things lovely.
And our mutual love for the opera and the theatre and the symphony and the ballet.
And then he told me that his life would be so much easier if he were gay.
Because then he would have an excuse for wanting to be a dancer.
We laughed.

Then he told me about some indie things that he does.
And I sarcastically shook my head at him while calling him a hipster.
"Being a hipster is hard work," he said almost instantly.
I was puzzled.
"What do you mean?" I asked him.

"Do you know how hard it is to pretend like you don't care about anything all the time?"

I could not believe my ears.
Not only was he owning up to being a hipster, but he was hating on it at the same time.

That's breaking, like, all the hipster rules in the book.

And I think I love him.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

happy list.

baked goods
clean towels
inverted mountains
being snuggly
new friends
hilary duff
blue eyes
back rubs
dog pillows
letters from missionaries
soft hair & running my hands through it
thoughts of bicycles and greenhouses
warm januaries
because he jump-roped while playing the accordion
shiny diamonds
new februaries
no seasonal affective disorder
audrey hepburn
the internet works
white collar every tuesday, wednesday and thurdsay at 8:30
the fourth floor
sleeping in and getting ready in 15 minutes