Oh, Please...

Dear friend,

I'm nearing the end.

Does that frighten you?

I doubt it. Seeing as you only seem to care about yourself as of late, there is not one thing I could do or say to make you worried about anyone but you.

I wish you would come back.

I've never admitted anything like that to you before. But I wish you were here.

I suppose you are still close by. But not close enough. It brings me to almost tears (for we both know tears hardly exist in my body) to think about you. I miss you.

There. I said it. I miss you. Are you happy? Will you come back now?

You've always been my best friend. You've been that person who was there since day one. Literally.

Remember when we were small? And we thought we were giants?

Remember when we would fight, and then not say a word of apology? We somehow always just got over it, without a word, because we knew that we'd have to be around each other for a while. Well. Forever.

I'm sorry for ever letting you down. I ever so obviously have let you down in the worst of ways, and you are too self righteous to allow me to apologize.

Because you always have to be the one everyone feels sorry for.

You won't accept apology because you soak up energy from people feeling sorry for you.

Stop.

You're selfish and you hurt my feelings to feel better about yourself.

You know you do that.

But I can't point it out without becoming a "drama queen" or a "silly 17 year old girl, who clearly has no experience in life."

So, is that it? You're experienced and I'm not?

Well, that makes perfect sense.

Seeing as I'm the one actually doing something with the talent that we both possess.

You never did anything about it. And you know it.

You know what. You're right. I'm the idiot.

If I have to stop fighting for myself and my feelings to make you feel more "welcome," then so be it.

I'll take all the blame and let you be as rude to me as you want if it means that my best friend will just come back.

You're jealous of me. And you treat me terribly because of it. You belittle me because you know that I'm doing everything you wish you did, and you could have done. But you didn't.

I don't know why. You just didn't.

I'm not trying to be rude to you.

Well, actually I am. Because I'm sick of you being rude to me.

So I suppose I'm sinking to your level right now. Whatever. I don't even care.

Will you just come back?

Please.. Just... Come back...

Thanks.

--Your old best friend

By: Mallory

i have something very important to tell you.

i fell in love with the work of matisse at first sight, and with the artist himself shortly after.
he is unfortunately not available for marriage.
so as plan b, i have always been convinced that i will meet my true love in front of a matisse painting.

while in san francisco, i had the opportunity to visit the SFMOMA, which houses the painting above, 'woman with a hat', as well as 'la femme des yeux verts' and a oil sketch of 'le bonheur de vivre'.
i stood in front of these paintings for a good 15 minutes before i moved on to everything else.

after a lunch of margherita pizza, however, i just had to go back. (seeing matisses is momentous for me). so i stood in front of it even longer, listening to the docent's interesting facts.
(gertrude stein bought the painting after first seeing it, because her husband said, "this is the ugliest smear of paint i have ever seen, but we have to buy it. it will be important someday.")
i was completely and utterly content and thought that nothing about this situation could get any better when i turned my head to the left and saw him behind the three giacommettis...
the most beautiful boy i have ever laid eyes on.
it was destiny, was it not?
however, i am much too young to fall into true love, so i let the beautiful san-franciscan-brunette-levi-wearing-hunk pass by.
i'll be back someday. and so will he.

the man himself, as pictured in 1944...

By: Hannah

"Your love

Should never be offered to the mouth of a

Stranger,

Only to someone

Who has the valor and daring

To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife

Then weave them into a blanket

To protect you."

Hafiz

hold on, hold tight.

"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, and i fall down sometimes, i'm not letting go, you hold the other line.
there is a light in your eyes, in your eyes.
hold on, hold tight, "if i'm out of your sight. everything keeps moving on- moving on."
hold on, hold tight, make it through another night.
in every day there comes a song with the dawn.
--mat kearney, breathe in breathe out

disclaimer: i don't have the gift of putting feelings into words.
i don't think in words. just feelings. that's why it's hard for me to talk about things. so excuse my for my vague-ness, or confusing-ness, or dramatic-ness.

i should have been smarter. i was already carrying my own burden. vulnerability, i suppose.
i guess i learned a lot. i learned to take it a day at a time, an hour at a time, maybe even a minute at a time...
i learned how i ought to be treated.
i learned faith, and patience.
and so when everything settled down, i thought the worst was over.
well, that was true.
but everything wasn't over.
i had been gone from home for 3 weeks, and to be honest, i hadn't thought about anything heavy for a huge amount of time. and so i was terrified when i was faced with the thought of facing it again.

i was standing at the front of the bag check line in the montreal trudea airport. i hugged them, and tears started to fill my eyes.
"sorry," i said, "i don't know why..."
she smiled. "it's okay," she said, "you've had so much to deal with this past year. this has been like a vacation from your problems."
i let out a short "ha".
she hugged me again. "i have to go. you go ahead. you'll be fine."
and they turned around and walked out of the glass doors to the van waiting outside.
i wiped my tears on the sleeve of my blue sweater and turned around.
the blond swedish boy in front of me turned around.
"uh, excusez-moi," he said, "parlez-vous francais?"
"un peu," i said.
"do you have a pencil?" he asked.
"um, i have a pen..."
he looked at me.
so i dug into my yellow bag and handed him the pen.
he finished filling out his declaration form and handed it back to me with a nod. i smiled.
and that was it, i knew i was back to the Real World.

it didn't hit me until hours later until i was in my own kitchen with a tall glass of water. "you go ahead. you'll be fine."
she wasn't talking about the bag check line, or customs, or the layovers.
she was talking about everything.
i will be fine. only if i remember what i've learned:
take it slowly.
breathe in, breathe out.

"patience is waiting. not passively waiting. that is laziness. but to keep going when the going is hard and slow-- that is patience."


patience:
3. quiet, steady perserverance; even-tempered care; diligence: to work with patience.

By: Hannah

Dedication.

This post is dedicated to Shelbie Judith Anne Elizabeth Shill.
Not only did she request that I dedicate a post to her. But I want to.
Because she's the most exquisite human. And I love her.
I really do.

I've been thinking lately.
I know. I shouldn't be doing that so much.
But school is out. And I get bored.

Side note: I think more during the summer than I do during the school year... Do not ask me why this is... Because I haven't a clue.
Anyway.

So. I've been thinking.
About dedication.
It's funny that Shelbie said "dedicate your next post to me."
Because I promise that I had every intention of writing about dedication.

What is dedication, exactly?
Well, as Mr. Webster has defined it:

Main Entry: ded·i·ca·tion
Pronunciation: \ˌde-di-ˈkā-shən\

Function: noun

1 : an act or rite of dedicating to a divine being or to a sacred use
2 : a devoting or setting aside for a particular purpose
3 : a name and often a message prefixed to a literary, musical, or artistic production in tribute to a person or cause
4 : self-sacrificing devotion

I think I like the fourth definition the very most.
"Self-sacrificing devotion."
You can dedicate your entire life to one thing. You can basically live for one thing.
How weird is that?
I mean, I just have been thinking (like we already established) and I don't know if I'm a dedicated person.

In various occasions, such as job interviews and meeting-the-in-laws, people will often say, "I'm a very dedicated person."
But what on earth does that even mean?
You could be dedicated to terrorism or slashing tires or drug dealing or chewing gum from under the table, and yet you can still make yourself sound like a good, idealistic person by considering yourself to be "dedicated."

I mean, I'm sure I'm dedicated in some respect, but I'm not sure if I can consider myself to actually be a "dedicated person."
There are things that are a large part of my life, but what if I only think I practice dedication towards them?

For instance:
What if I'm not dedicated to the piano?
What if I'm not dedicated to my family?
What if I'm not dedicated to fixing my problem?
What if I'm not dedicated to singing?
And, the thing that stares back at me in the mirror, the elephant in the room where I sit alone, the question that scares me the most,
is
What if I'm not dedicated to myself?

These are all things that I have always thought myself to be dedicated to.
But what if I'm not? I don't know what dedication is supposed to feel like. What if I'm doing it all wrong?
What if I'm not a "dedicated person?"

I liked to think I was. But all of this thinking has me going on about the fact that I may not be.

So. Here's the thing.
(I'm about to make an executive decision. I do this on occasion. Sometimes it's a bad idea. But, this time, I think it's a good one...)
I'm going to be a dedicated person.

I'm dedicated to those 88 black and white keys that have a peculiar way of stressing me out.
I'm dedicated to making the most of whatever "family" I may have.
I'm dedicated to never leaving my friends and allowing them to have opinions, whether they be in sync with mine or not.
I'm dedicated attempting to fix the problem, in which, I just might save my own life.
I'm dedicated to optimism. Or at least making the most of a terrible situation.
I'm dedicated to learning, and I promise I will continue to learn every day until that most excellent day when I move past this life.
I'm dedicated to who I am. I'm dedicated to Mallory Elizabeth Ash, and all of her glory. Or disgrace.
I'm dedicated to myself. And to the man I'm going to marry.


You know, I'm sitting here, thinking again, and I fear that dedication may be tiring.
But it's okay.
Because I made the executive decision already.
And nothing is stopping me now.
I'm a dedicated person.
(dedicated is one of those words that begins to sound super weird if you say it too many times..)

Dedication is vulnerability, I think.
So, I suppose that I've made the executive decision to put my heart on the line for all of these things. Which is not going to be easy, seeing as I'm what one would consider to be a "closed book."

Dedication....
What a quality...
Well. Here we go.

I am dedicated to dedication.





By: Mallory

i'm off to california. maybe i'll leave an update?

there's been a lot going on lately--and this past week has been one of the best of my life. maybe i'll give you the deets later. but for now here's some photos of the past two weeks:

the hood.

the statue park.


sliding rock.


bijou.


picnic.


the kid brother.



also, mal and i went on an adventure to the slc antique stores and art museum. unfortunately, the camera died...
we didn't get to capture the cutest vintage white lace little girl dress. most adorable thing i've ever seen.
i'm driving to california (tahoe! family! friends! art museums! dresses!) tomorrow, so i'll have plenty more pictures of that later. i'll be seeing you! sorry my posts are lame lately.
p.s. guess who finally got her drivers license? this girl.

By: Hannah

fact.

1. summer is the best word in the english language.



2. good friends are all you need.



3. my high school is awesome.



4. the statue park is the best place in utah.



5. speaking of which, mountains look cooler upside down.



6. hiking is cool.



7. antique stores are the best thing ever.



8. besides art museums.




9. having a passport feels awesome.



10. car shopping is frustrating.



11. snail mail is so much better.



12. friends is the best show. ever.



(couldn't resist posting this picture. this is for you, mal!)


This first week of summer has been lovely. fires, snow cones, sliding rock, old postcards, watercolors, art museums, vintage earrings, statue park, creeks, breakfast, yearbooks, triscuits, photographs, hangin' with the baby brother, planning trips across north america!...
i love it.

By: Hannah. p.s. You'll be seeing more of me. I have lots to say.