tin

i read a short story, once, and in it it described how every age you've ever been is like a tiny tin can inside another tin can, and on and on, like russian nesting dolls, and all the while all your ages are rattling inside you.
i was thinking about it on my walk to school, and i thought that maybe love is like that, too. maybe all the people we meet and love make our hearts grow, but our hearts grow layer by layer, person by person. so the reason our hearts can be so big is because we've loved and been loved by so many, and the influence of those people rattle inside us as we move along.
but maybe not, maybe that's not what love is at all. who really knows?
but i do know that i can still feel certain things rattling inside me. certain people rattle inside my heart, making noise and reminding me.
i wonder how much of me i really am, and how much if me is a conglomeration of all the people i've met and all the love i've felt.
i wonder if my determination is jenoa rattling inside of me, or if jackson's tin can is what makes me so still or if trevor's drives me to be kind,
and maybe julia and whitney are where my laughter comes from and the way i squeeze people's hands comes from mikelle's place in my chest, and maybe mack gave me two aspiring green thumbs.
sometimes i imagine sunshine coming right out of my core, through my eyes and into the world, and i think that sunshine is mckay's, and the wrinkles in my nose when i laugh are steve's;
i ask emily's questions and listen with ari's ears,
or at least all that is what i'm trying to do.

and i could go on and on,
and on and on,
but if you're ever around and you hear rattling,
it's my heart making room for your's, too.

thanks

all my apologies for my rather angst-ridden post of yesterday.
i should know by now not to blog on bad nights.

have i told you thank you lately?
thank you so much for reading this.
thank you so much for supporting me.
it's just a really nice feeling, sometimes, to know that 209 people care about what i have to say, or did at one point.
ya'll rock. i mean that from the bottom of my heart.

love to you,
han

16

i read my sixteen year old self's journal, today. i haven't done that in a long time, because it's hard to read. if anything, i skip the entire first half and pretend it didn't happen. but i read it, straight through today, and it still hurt but i did it. i felt like i knew her but i also knew that i wasn't her anymore. she had a strong idea of what she wanted to be; i have an unshakable knowledge of who i am.
i was smart and i was stupid. but i'm glad i learned through experiences rather than lessons because that solidifies my values for the future. i was sixteen when i started this blog, and i think you can see how much i've changed if you've read back.
i used to care a lot about my image and what i was saying--making sure it was original and unique. i cared a lot about the music i listened to and the clothes i wore, and i remember i would like things because i wanted to stand out, not because i actually liked them. i didn't realize that when i was doing it, of course, but i think we're all like that at some point.
if i could speak to that sixteen year old, i'd tell her she was doing just fine. that she'd make a lot of mistakes but to remember who really loves her and what real love is. i'd tell her she has some amazing people in her life and she will meet countless more who will change her. i'd tell her that i understood why she didn't write much, but i'd ask her to push past the pain and write the stories anyway. because even though she thinks she never will, she'll forget what hurt and why.
i'd tell her to remember what her best friend said when he called to see if she was okay after she broke up with her boyfriend, and to realize that he is one of the best friends she will ever have.
i'd tell her to pay more attention to when she got feelings to make friends with someone, because the one time she did well at following through, it changed both of their lives. i'd tell her to be more supportive and to have a little more faith in falling in love, because even if it fails in the end, it doesn't mean it never was true.
i'd tell her to get a darn job, because her college student self seriously needs some cash.
i'd remind her of her potential and the importance of time and not to lose it. i'd tell her that it honestly won't matter in the end that she didn't get asked to very many school dances because she'll always make good memories on those nights anyway.
i'd tell her not to try too hard to impress people and try a lot harder to please god, to keep her kisses meaningful, and not to confine herself to any molds.
but she already knew it. she might not have acted on it, but i will.

I'm so happy you exist.

Have you ever loved someone so much that your very heart shakes at the sight of them?
So much that their pain hurts you more than your own?
So much that not even the most majestic of landscapes compares to how beautiful they are in your eyes?
So much that you'd prefer to find constellations in their freckles than in the stars overhead?

Have you ever loved someone so much that there are no words magnificent enough to express the infinite sunshine that pours out your fingertips and all throughout each strand of your hair when they take you in their arms and tell you that they love you. And that they will never let you go.
Of course, you could never let them go, either.

Because you love them that much.
Enough to hold on tight and never let go.

People have tried to define love since the beginning of the word itself. Even the dictionary so vaguely describes the most binding and beautiful emotion that human beings have the ability to feel.

Of course, only Shakespeare (and Marcus Mumford) could squeak out words nearly worthy of the discussion of love.

As I read Sonnet 116 at the foot of that bed on that lazy afternoon, it hit me.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 

Within his bending sickle's compass come: 

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

   If this be error and upon me proved,

   I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

No one says it like Shakespeare. And in that, he doesn't even say what it feels like, only what it is: 

Everlasting. Limitless. Eternal. Infinite.

Have you ever loved like this?

While I understand that love will "set you free,"
there's no where I'd rather be than locked in your arms.
It's like I'm the bird with and opened cage who chooses to stay inside.
Because you're my home.

"Guess what?"
"I love you, too." 

apple tree bench

and in all your actions remember to be you,
consistently.
do not compromise
do not rationalize.
remember that hearts are not to be played with,
words are not to be said without sincerity,
and that you are worth more than you give yourself credit for.
remember to love and to like for the right reasons
and learn to say no when you know something isn't right for you.

i have a friend, a beautiful one.
and he has the most excellent ability to immediately know
which people and things fit his life
and which don't.
and when he knows which do,
he loves them absolutely and without question,
with the biggest, truest, sun-shiniest love.
and when he doesn't,
he drops it.

he's my inspiration this weekend.

always be striving to align what is You in your very core to what is
you on every level.
make who you are to your acquaintances, friends, family, teachers, heroes, and followers
the same as who you are to God.
this is the goal that i will never quite reach,
but this is the one i am working on.

note to self.

You don't have to read this. But it's probably maybe about you. So you can if you want. I guess.

I love the way you love art. And the way your laugh is a melodic giggle that shoots to the skies and turns the sunset purple. I love your sense of humor and the way you make the ordinary appear extraordinary. I love the way you love your family and the way you make me think that there really will be a brighter day. I love the way you're strong. And the way you don't let anything tackle you to the ground. Because you're better than falling. You're flying. I always wished I could be flying like you. But you're the flyer and I'm the faller and you are the one that inspires me to get back up. I love that you're my best fly and that you are forever young. I hate that I don't see you very often and I hate that we're adults now, and, mostly, I just hate that I'm not you. In fact, I don't know a single person that knows you that wouldn't like to be you. Because you make you look like a pretty great you. "Every single thing that comes out of your mouth is a hyperbole." "Um.. That was a hyperbole."

I love the way you freak out. And the way your eyes get huge when you're confused. I love the way you forced me to be your best friend. Not against my will, just against my comfort zone. Because you knew we were great together and I was afraid of that. But we are great together. And I'm so happy you exist. I like the way you're fluent in Spanish, but pretend like you don't understand it at all. I love the way you make dresses look casual and t-shirts look sophisticated. I love to hear you say you want a sandwich in Swedish. I love the memories we have. I love the way everyone loves you. I hate the way distance comes between us and the way we get psycho about things and yell at each other. But I love the way you still get me. And you know, more than anyone, that I'm a flake. And I'm a horrible friend. And you still love me. Because you know that, in retrospect, we're still there for each other. Until the end of our days.

I love the way you seem so simple. Like the sky is yours. And it is. You have a small body but you are much bigger than that. Your blonde locks and tiny feet are my favorite things about you. You are beyond words to everyone that knows you. I love that about you. I love the way you say nice things, even though I'm pretty sure you don't mean them a lot. I hate the things you say about me when I'm not around and the way you think I'm a "tool," amongst other things. I'm sure you have good reasons for thinking such, and I agree with you, mostly. And even though you say that, I still like you a lot. I still think you're pretty great. I hate the way I get all chopped up to you. I hate the way we don't really know each other from each other, only from other people. But sometimes it has to be that way. And you're still the sun and the stars and all the planets to me. Because there is something about you that is so beyond this world. I love the way our conversations are always short, but they are always meaningful. And you deserve the best. I sincerely think that. "I'm sorry I talk so much," I said. "It's okay," you replied. "I like to listen."

I love the way you look like a six year old in a man's body. And the way you flail around with your ankles showing. I hate the way things ended, but I love the way things were and I wonder where you'll be in ten years and I wonder if, in ten years,  I will know where you are. I wonder why I know you and if it's all that necessary. I mean, it is for me, but not really for you. And I wonder if meeting you was just for me or if you got something out of it too. I love the way you laugh with your nose, like you're snorting almost, and the way you talk about that girl like she's the world to you. Because she is. And I hope you marry her. I love the way you are so grateful and the way you always said I was still a good person. I needed that.

I love the way we're twins. And you're the pretty, blonde one, and I'm the awkward one, but we're still twins and I've never felt anything less than a sisterly bond with you. I love the way you're so beautiful, but make the most hideous faces. I love the way you're a mystery to everyone except those who know you deep down. I hate the way we fight sometimes, and I hate the mean things I've said to you, but I love the sleepovers on your deck and the way I can't help but just tell you everything. I love the way the world feels like it's in perfect harmony when you sing and the way you make hard things, including life, seem so beautifully simple. I love you and your green eyes and the way you glow. And every single Tuesday I think of you. Because "today is Taco Tuesday." And sometimes I sing that song when I miss you.

 I love the way you just call me to chat and we never run out of things to say, even if they are things we've said before. I love your mind and the way it never stops for anything. I love the way you think and the way you see things and the way that we've been so close for so long. I love the way you answer stupid questions and your giant cackle that vibrates the world when you think you're funny and I think you're funny, too. I love the way you wear your threads better than anyone who has "swagger." I hate the way I don't see you very often and I love the way you make promises and keep them. I love the way you feel like family and I feel like a million trillion dollars when I'm with you. I love the way the ladies love you and your freckled skin that matches mine. And I'm just so happy that I met you and that I'll be able to tell the whole world that we were best friends when you become a big deal. "Mowry, fish don't eat macaroni and cheese."

I love the way you stare at me and don't stop even when I stare back. I love the way you laugh and the way you appreciate my ridiculousness. I love the way you love music and the outdoors. I love the way you always agree to disagree. I love when we lay there and stare at the ceiling for hours, just talking. I love the way you try to dance even though it's clear that you can't dance. I love the way you would kiss me mid-sentence. I hate the way you pretend like I don't exist when you're angry, but I love the way you apologize and the way you say "mmkay" instead of "okay" and somehow your little quarks make you that much more wonderful.

 I love the way you have with words. The way they just swim right out of your mouth as if there wasn't even a thought before you said it. You just say it. And you always say it just right. I hate the way I'm jealous of you, but I love the way people tell us we're alike, even though I say that we're not and act offended. I'm really not. If I had to choose anyone to be a mini-me, it would be you. And that's why I'm so happy that it is you. I love the way you talk about things that matter with such a lightness. I love the way you glow and you don't even know it. And even though you're younger, I've always looked up to you. "It's fine," you tell me. "It's fine." And, you know what? It really is. It really is fine.

I like the way you start your sentences in a high pitched tone. And I like the way you dance when you're in the zone. I hate the way you put me down and love the way you bring me up. You are the most and least supportive person in my life. I hate the way we're like oil and water, but I love the way we blend. I hate the way we're the most contradictory human beings that have ever existed. But, of course, I love that, too. I love the way we reminisce for hours. I love the way you have the best one-liners. I hate the way you don't know how beautiful you are. I love the way we talk about the future. I love it when you cry at TV shows. "I'm six, and you're three. Three plus three equals six, so I'm just going to tell everyone that we're twins." Three years isn't that many years apart, but you've always been so much smarter than me.

I like the way you're so perfectly you. I love how you love cats. Because I love cats, too. And I love the way you've grown up so beautifully. Because you really have. And I love the smile that you make when I tell you that I'm proud of you and I hope you know that I really am proud of you when I tell you that I am. I really, really am. And I love the way you get teary at the sunset and I love the way you love the little things like the Hunchback of Notre Dame and corn dogs. And I love how freeing it is to be with you. Because you're the most beautiful person in the world, and I hope you know it. I love your face when you play the guitar and I hate how incompetent I feel next to the talent that you have. I hate how it used to be but I love how it is and I love the way you do your eye liner. You're my best friend. And I love that about you. "Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen."

I like the way your eyes light up when you feel strongly about something. I love your one dimple and the crazy things you can do with your face. I love your flawless hair and the way we really, truly know each other through and through. I love when we stay up all night and I hate when we fight the next day. I love it when you roll your eyes after I complain. I love it when we love each other. I hate it when we hate each other. I love it when you tell me I'm your best friend, and I hope you know that you'll always be mine. Every day, I thank God for the fourth grade. Because heaven knows I needed you then just as much as I need you now.

I like the way you smell and the feeling of your eyelashes on my nose. I like your collarbone and the way you smile when you are uncomfortable, but flattered. I love the way you talk for miles about things that don't matter at all, even though I tell you that I hate the way you do that. I really love it. I really do. The only thing I hate about you is the way you don't believe me when I tell you that I love you. Because I really think I mean it. I know you want to drag me by the hair and take me to the devil, but I want to drag you by the hair and hang you from the heavens. I hate it when you walk away. And I love it when we talk like little kids for way too long. And I really hope you're in my life forever. And, more than anything, I love the way you kiss my shoulders.

Thanks for being in my life.
Really. Thanks. 
I don't know if I'd die without you,
but I sure wouldn't be quite this alive.

get through it

you know,
pain isn't a hill you can climb
or a box you can close and stand on top of.
our challenges and our grief aren't things we
can just "get over".
so don't expect yourself to just get over it.
because it's a maze and a jungle and an ocean,
suffering is,
and you'll have to follow the map
and you'll have to improvise, too,
and cut vines down with a machete and
make sure you have a big oxygen tank and flippers.
but the promise is that you will get through it,
and that's a lot better, too,
because running and climbing and swimming is a real work-out
and you'll have some strong muscles to help other people through at the end.

so don't have expectations
and don't be afraid to ask for help,
especially from God.
'cause He always listens,
even when you say, "look, i just can't do it right now. lend me some strength?"
He will give it to you, right then and there.
and i think you'll also find that when you stop for a second and look around,
you'll see some friends running and climbing and swimming, too,
and there's this magic thing where when you help them,
you'll end up helping yourself, too.

those are a few things that i've learned.