well, you dared me.

remember that time there was a cute boy in my class & you dared me to sit by him?
well, i did.
we're friends now and he invited me over to listen to music at his house last night.
it also was great that the last song played was re: stacks. i don't know if you've noticed, but that song is a big part of my life.

also, that is the crew on halloween, mostly. mallory dressed up nice don't you think?
i sported a nice boy-scout-meets-britney outfit.

go make things happen.

I can't remember why I said what I said but I said it.

And when you grow up, you learn to never take back the things that you say.

Even if you realize that you didn't mean what you said.

You still hold to it.



And that's what I did.



I said it.
And I pretended to mean it.
Even though I didn't mean it.





I feel like my life consists of the same story over and over again.

take care of that soul in there, too.

it's the only thing that'll live forever.
take care of your body; that is wonderful.
learn hard to work hard to pay for life.
but don't forget that life doesn't last very long. remember the life of your soul.
give your soul something to smile about.
go paint,
go take photos,
go dance in the kitchen,
go make a new friend.
spend your time letting people know you love them.
souls are a precious thing. remember that not only does yours live forever, but everyone else's does, too.
even that girl you made fun of yesterday.
even that friend you've been meaning to call.

"speak your love and then speak it again."
-howard w. hunter



note to self.



photo taken on bainbridge island, seattle.

Those boys...

The one with the weird sense of humor and the glasses and the sixth grade crush.

The one with the dark hair and the best friends since fourth grade and the "I'll never let you fall."

The one with the "I'm about to hold your hand" and the confusion and the spying from across the street.

The one with the voice and the eyes and the smell and the late summer nights in the bed of that truck.

The one with the curls and the cigarette smoke and the snowy walk around the city all night long.

The one with the goodbye and the 6'4" and the complicated and the "Someday" by John Legend.

The one with the freckles and the v-neck and the stories and the Radiohead fogging the windows.

The one with the secrets and the plaid and the Skinny Love and the "you're still a good person."

The one with the Beatles and the bridge and the potential love and the let down.

The one with the park and the best kind of kissing and the "babe" and the tears.

Ten.
Those are my ten. My favorite ten. My top ten.
The best ten.

Ten of my favorite stories.

Ten bridges I burned.
Ten bridges I wish I could rebuild.

Ten boys men that put me one step closer to figuring myself out.

And even though I've disliked each of them at one point or another,
and even though some of them seemed to have done unforgivable things,
I love them. Really and truly, I love them all.
Some, like a brother. Some, like a best friend. Some, like a significant other. Some, like a memory.
And some, like a complete stranger.

Ten different kinds of love. Ten strong kinds of love. Ten important kinds of love.

I sometimes wish I could hate some of them.
Because, thinking back, maybe some of them deserve to be hated by me.
But then I remember that if it weren't for them, I wouldn't be me.
I wouldn't have learned something extremely important.
So I have no choice but to love them.


Ten lessons.
Ten opportunities.
Ten thousand laughs.
Ten reminiscent smiles.

And ten cheers.

For having made it this far.

I feel like writing ten thank-you cards.

always an evolution.

i think it can be a little surprising sometimes when our identities shift.
i'm changing into a better girl, and she's turning out different than i expected.
i thought i was one thing, but i've found out i'm even more.
i thought i had myself figured out, but i don't think i ever will.

the core of me is still the same, yes.
but i'm finding that i'd rather wear a windbreaker and boots than a dress and red lipstick.
i don't care about finding new music. i find myself listening to rihanna and the beibs lately (although that's mostly a result of my roommates)
my roommates are becoming my sisters.
plants are making me smile like cloud nine.
i want to raise chickens when i have a home.
i want to be camping in the woods more than i want to be in a big city.
and i eat pomegranate seeds for a snack more than bagels.
i'm not afraid of being alone.
my plants class friends and my fhe brothers and my roommate's boyfriend are literally the only boys i talk to. ever.
and if i could pick my words, they'd be calm, low-maintenance, love, peace, and learning.

it's different, and i like it.
i always forget that i keep changing.
my self-confidence has to keep renewing as a result of that. i loved who i was but i'm not exactly that anymore. now i'm different and i love who i am, and that took a little adjustment.

welcome to the world, new han. it's still just as beautiful, just a slightly different perspective.

Eleanor Rigby.

I love looking at people.

People-watching is different from people-looking.

I find myself people-looking more often than people-watching.

To people-watch is to closely observe.
To people-look is to merely glance, take note, and relate.
I find it to be much less invasive and much more eye-opening.
You see, I find that people-watching has much more to do with others and nearly nothing to do with myself. But people-looking seems to be more about me.
I don't mean to be selfish, but sometimes it's best to worry about one's self before worrying about others.

It's a cycle. We should all be selfish before we are selfless. If we don't take care of ourselves first, then someone else will have to and then everyone is just looking after someone else, so we're all being looked after as well as looking after, and that puts a burden on others, don't you think? If we would have just worried about ourselves first, then others wouldn't have had to worry about us. 
So being selfish is almost selfless.
Kind of.
Right?

Anyway.
When I people-look, I look at faces.
I look at the face that is covering up a broken inside.

Every person is broken.

And that gives me something to reflect on.

All the lonely people. Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people. Where do they all belong?
I don't mean to relate everything to The Beatles, but they are all too inspiring.
All of these lonely, broken people. Growing up, doing the best they can, working hard to graduate high school to get into a university to get a good job to make money to provide for a family that will start the same cycle that they went through and then they die.
Why does it all happen? Why are we all working for the same goal?
We all work hard to get to a place where we will simply have to work harder. And then we die.
Who/what are we doing it for? Why are we doing it at all?

I'm not trying to be pessimistic.
Because life is so beautiful, and there is no way around that astounding beauty.
But it isn't always easy to see that beauty.
We're often blinded by questions and doubt and misunderstanding.
But there is always a silver lining. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel.

That's what I learn from people-looking:
That hard work means more hard work. And accomplishment means hard work. And forgiveness means hard work. And love means hard work. And broken hearts mean new opportunities to love which means hard work. And marriage means hard work. And kids mean hard work. And the hard work never ends.

But I also learn that failure means success. And losing means winning. And working means earning.
And maybe life means hard work. But life also means accomplishment.

Life means glory.
Life is glorious.




Image.

Living.

It is one thing to be alive.

But it is something different to feel alive.

This morning, I woke up more tired than I was when I had fallen asleep.
My eyes were empty and weary. My legs were sore from my late night work out. My neck was stiff.

I rolled out of bed. And I smiled.

The night's dreams were terrible and reminded me of a cold past I had worked hard to forget.
But I smiled anyway. Because it was morning. It was a new day. And I was a new me.
And it was the beginning of the rest of my life.

I took a shower and let my hair dry to its regular curly state.
I put on my coral sweater and thought to myself, "It's going to be a very good day."

I feel alive today.
I can't describe it.
But I feel more human than ever, and it's so wonderfully refreshing.

Things are so simple. Life is so simple. I feel so simple.

And within that simplicity lies the beauty that I possess because I am alive.
I am living.
And, oh, how wonderful that is.

I want to stand on a mountain and raise my arms and shout to the world.
And I want the whole world to hear me. Every living thing.
I want the earth to know I'm alive.

Because I am.


And in the still of the empty silence, I can feel my heart beat.
I close my eyes and think, "I'm alive."
And that is enough for me.

As long as my heart beats and my mind wonders and my lungs accept the oxygen I feed them,
I am perfect.

I am living. I am free.
And I am the only one who has control over me.

It is a great gift to be alive.
And it's even greater to feel it.

Photo credit.