Someone told me today that I had taught them how to be crazy. He told me I'd taught him to go on adventures, to watch the sunrise and jump in a river late at night. All of those memories that were only a few years ago, feel like a different life, as if someone else had lived every single one of those moments. And yet the stories still ignite that same small flame of adventure. It made me wonder who I was back then and a bigger question, am I still her?
I think maybe that by teaching someone else all of that crazy, I may have been giving some of it away. Handing it all over day by day, picking the last of it out of my pockets like lint and just throwing it into the wind. What I don't think...is that it's something I can take back, in fact even if I asked for it back-no one in their right mind would give it to me... it's more of something that I've gotta build. It's the kind of something that's built with a whole lot of everything. It's built with ice cream and flowers and sunshine and water and sweat and laughing so hard you cry. It's built from looking at the stars. From dancing in the rain. From wet grass in-between your toes. It's built from howling at the moon.
Building it, it's hard. Just talking about it made my want to start over, at baby, at freaking crawl. It takes a lot of forgetting-no. Not forgetting, accepting, acknowledging and laughing at the past. It takes a lot of shrugging it off. And you know? It takes hugging life with every single thing you've got from before the smell of coffee... until after you are even too tired to talk about nothing under the stars.
Who I was back then didn't need a recipe on how to build crazy. I was already there. I was standing on the rooftop of crazy.
Monday, September 1, 2014
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Choices
Sometimes we are faced with decisions that are too big for us to make. They tug at our heart strings, make us question what we value most, and pull other people in to the same sticky mess. It's amazing how much more you notice every detail of the present when an entire future is at stake. I notice people, how long it takes me to ride to work, how perfect it smells. Why didn't I notice that before? Everything has changed. Im moving towards this undecided decision in a race car wishing I was driving a half way broken down VW bus. I have no idea what's gonna happen, or what the hell I'm going to do, so for now I will turn on Sex and The City and hope to find something more inspiring than, "how much will you be making?" "I'm not going with you." or "But it's Texas."
Sometimes we need to stop analyzing the past. Stop planning the future. Stop figuring out precisely how we feel. Stop deciding exactly what we want, and just see what happens. -Carrie
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Spring Break Outfit
Well the "I wish I was on Spring Break" outfit. Yesterday was my break. I drove to Denver after work on Sunday and drove back Monday after a very successful shopping day. I told myself...only things you can use for Mexico. Which isn't till May, but still, we are gettin there!
BUT everything has to be functional at home because well...who can buy something and not wear it the next day. For Spring in CB and by that I mean today. (It may or may not be snowing) I'm going to wear this with boots and this cute little denim button up with a lace back.
This outfit screamed dancing in a little bar in San Jose to me. Think floppy sun hat by day, turquoise hat band, no shoes-wavy beach hair, hoop earrings, wedge sandals by night. When it's on you would think for sure it's a dress and a wide belt would help that much more.
The Skirt- FreePeople $60 WAS $128
(On sale because it came in the dead of Winter. FP loss win for me)
The Bralette- FreePeople and lets not talk about it. Yes the very fit woman with perfect skin below is me HA!
The Boots- My old Steve Maddens that have seen too many days. Can't give up on boots that still get you there!
This Is The Life
I love mornings like this in Crested Butte. The fog seems to cling to the streets, and there's this urgency to get a coffee in an old sweater, loose and fraying a bit in the spaces that have been a little over loved. It's early and in a town like this no one is headed to work yet, it feels like not a sole is moving, even inside their houses which steam around the edges from under the snow, everything is still. Maybe it would be better to sit in a coffee shop, let the warmth hold me in close, but alone on this porch I don't have to talk, the cold air feels good seeping through the top of my jacket, crisp and messy, alive, in my hair. Who knows when I will get this again. This is the life. 
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Baseball
Do you remember your mom counting down? She would say, "If I get to three, you're _______."
But she never really got to what it was that would happen at three.
"One." There would be this long pause where the smirk still lingered in my face, I can remember thinking how cool I was and how little I cared. One was the safe zone, it's all still fun and games.
"Twwooooo." This is the count that divides kids from normal and stubborn, and where I most often chose the latter, but I began to sweat it. Worried that just maybe, maybe, this time it was for real. This is where my mother would usually choose to interject my name, the way it's written on my birth certificate, into the threat. Somehow a word- my name "Jessica", which normally has this almost sort of delicate ring to it, can sound scarier than any full sentence that ever came out of someones mouth.
There's no describing three. What happens there? I can't tell you because honestly, I'm not sure we ever got that far, the mere idea of three was enough. I wonder...did she even know?
Everyone knows that in baseball (sing with me here) it's...
This is where I am at this week, but for once I'm in my mother's shoes. Here I am, wearing those silly red kitten heels of my mothers standing in the snow on Elk Avenue at one. And to be honest I'm not really sure what happens at the end either.
But she never really got to what it was that would happen at three.
"One." There would be this long pause where the smirk still lingered in my face, I can remember thinking how cool I was and how little I cared. One was the safe zone, it's all still fun and games.
"Twwooooo." This is the count that divides kids from normal and stubborn, and where I most often chose the latter, but I began to sweat it. Worried that just maybe, maybe, this time it was for real. This is where my mother would usually choose to interject my name, the way it's written on my birth certificate, into the threat. Somehow a word- my name "Jessica", which normally has this almost sort of delicate ring to it, can sound scarier than any full sentence that ever came out of someones mouth.
There's no describing three. What happens there? I can't tell you because honestly, I'm not sure we ever got that far, the mere idea of three was enough. I wonder...did she even know?
Everyone knows that in baseball (sing with me here) it's...
ONE!...TWO!...THREE STRIKES YOUR OUT!
What we tend to forget is that baseball is a game. In life, we are playing with the big boys, not the kid next to you at the game eating Cracker Jacks, and somethings call for two strikes instead of three.This is where I am at this week, but for once I'm in my mother's shoes. Here I am, wearing those silly red kitten heels of my mothers standing in the snow on Elk Avenue at one. And to be honest I'm not really sure what happens at the end either.
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Valentines Day
Hello all. This....is a brag post.
Disclaimer: If you are one of those Valentines Day hating people who spends the entire week of February the 14th groaning and complaining that it's a made up Hallmark holiday-
I woke up in the morning (late as usual) for school and got there just in time for class, flustered and rushed. After 50 minutes of the ever thrilling Haase class I walked into the hallway to find Mikey with a dozen roses. This right here is every girls dream but let me tell you I could not get out of that hallway fast enough, EVERY pair of eyes was on me. This is both one of those things we love and hate. When I finally got out of there and into the truck, he hands me the next gift....gee whiz I know. We have this ever going battle for who gets to take the very coveted chapstick with them for the day because it seems they disappear like socks in the dryer just as you wish you had them the most. So in this little red paper bag were a dozen chapsticks of all different kinds. You may not think this is adorable buuuutttt I cried.
While he was downstairs each time, I was given some VERY important task and told something like, "Jes, please make sure you keep stirring that the whole time so it doesn't burn." I take these tasks very seriously because, well, usually I mess them up. the last piece was to clean off the dining room table which was more covered in more things than I'd ever seen before.
When dinner was done, I went and sat down at the table, but he kept walking and told me to follow him. Oh my gosh! When he opened the door to the basement I thought I was really going to explode. Rose petals were spread all down the stairs with candles on each side. In the basement there were more petals and candles all around, he'd set up a blanket and wine, the whole thing! We had our own little indoor picnic, and it was so beyond perfect......melt!
Disclaimer: If you are one of those Valentines Day hating people who spends the entire week of February the 14th groaning and complaining that it's a made up Hallmark holiday-
- You are a scrooge.
- You should stop reading this post.
- ...and maybe my blog.
It is a Hallmark holiday, you're 100% right, but can you think of one single holiday in America that isn't? That's my rant on that. Get over it. Buy yourself some clearance flowers, discount day after chocolate, and wipe away your black nail polish.
I quite possibly had the best Valentines Day of my life. Mikey-if you're reading this....don't be mad.
I woke up in the morning (late as usual) for school and got there just in time for class, flustered and rushed. After 50 minutes of the ever thrilling Haase class I walked into the hallway to find Mikey with a dozen roses. This right here is every girls dream but let me tell you I could not get out of that hallway fast enough, EVERY pair of eyes was on me. This is both one of those things we love and hate. When I finally got out of there and into the truck, he hands me the next gift....gee whiz I know. We have this ever going battle for who gets to take the very coveted chapstick with them for the day because it seems they disappear like socks in the dryer just as you wish you had them the most. So in this little red paper bag were a dozen chapsticks of all different kinds. You may not think this is adorable buuuutttt I cried.
After that, we both had work and whatnot. The only plans I was aware of were that we were making steak together after he got of work. Being the Want, Want, Wanter that I am, I begged to go to swing dancing class and almost ruined everything. We get dinner started and it's this whole process of cheese melting, cooking, baking, stirring [I'm NOT good at this]. Mikey had brought his giant pile of laundry with him and kept running downstairs to sort it, use his stain remover, and move the laundry. I'm such a gullible little shmuck! There is no guy in the world who doesn't just throw it all in and forget about it. And stain remover?
While he was downstairs each time, I was given some VERY important task and told something like, "Jes, please make sure you keep stirring that the whole time so it doesn't burn." I take these tasks very seriously because, well, usually I mess them up. the last piece was to clean off the dining room table which was more covered in more things than I'd ever seen before. When dinner was done, I went and sat down at the table, but he kept walking and told me to follow him. Oh my gosh! When he opened the door to the basement I thought I was really going to explode. Rose petals were spread all down the stairs with candles on each side. In the basement there were more petals and candles all around, he'd set up a blanket and wine, the whole thing! We had our own little indoor picnic, and it was so beyond perfect......melt!
This, mind you, was on top of going to Leftover Salmon as my early V-day gift....and just the everyday awesomeness. I'm a lucky girl with a bundle of roses, a big ol' load of Mikey's laundry, and one heck of a mess in my basement, my goodness do I love Valentines Day.
What did you do? Let me know!
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Hide and Seek
Therapy is a lot like a game of hide and seek. To get at what...or who...is really there, you've really gotta look. Sometimes a look inside someones closet just isn't enough to get at what you're looking for. Every door needs to be opened, every bed needs to be looked under. Sometimes things are hiding in places that you would least expect or in plain sight. If you go through the game quickly without paying attention to the nooks and crannies, it's easy to miss what you're really trying to get at. People are good at this, we learned at early ages that if you don't look at someone through the crack of the door they can't feel you watching them and will probably pass you by. That any amount of attention drawn to yourself sets the alarm. People don't want to be found. Not in hide and seek, not in therapy, and sometimes not even in themselves.
Class after class about people and their lives and just humanity it amazes me how much we, as a species, are capable of keeping a secret. Some things we see as best pushed under the rug-left alone, forgotten or tucked deep away, suppressed so that we can just go on living.
When I was 6 and as usual in trouble with my mom I thought it would be fun to play a game of hide and seek with my mom when I was supposed to be in "restriction" in my room. I tiptoed down the hallway and into the living room where we at the time had the kind of couch that would eat a child. I pushed myself into the crevice behind the cushion and covered myself up. I sat quietly, waiting. They started looking, at first kind of mad and then frantically. "Jessie! Jessie?! Jessie?!" I didn't laugh, didn't giggle, in fact I'm sure I was holding my breath doing everything I could to be silent. When I came out they were at first relieved and then the relief turned again to anger.
Today, I had that same feeling. I held my breath, bit my lip to keep myself from making a sound. My teacher was looking behind the cushions, I looked through the crack in the door- I'd been caught. Even to me the hiding spot was a surprise. Medical Sociology-a class where no one expects to have to worry about this sort of thing. I think to me the biggest medical mishap I'd had was simply an accident, something that had happened and been fixed. But underneath the metal, the screws and the pins there was more pain than I'd ever known. The questions that had needed to be asked, by me, by someone, by ME, had never come up so that pain over time had just become something else to push under the rug. It amazed me that the questions I was asked put the kind of tears in my eyes that you can feel in your throat.
10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1... Ready or not, here I come!
How do you feel about what happened?
How do you feel about how it will affect your future?
FOUND YOU!
Think about it, what are the most defining moments of your life? I don't want to put a number on this, some people will have 5 some people will have 20. Just be honest with yourself here, think about the way that even the little things have affected you, they won't all be positive and they won't all be negative.
Class after class about people and their lives and just humanity it amazes me how much we, as a species, are capable of keeping a secret. Some things we see as best pushed under the rug-left alone, forgotten or tucked deep away, suppressed so that we can just go on living.
When I was 6 and as usual in trouble with my mom I thought it would be fun to play a game of hide and seek with my mom when I was supposed to be in "restriction" in my room. I tiptoed down the hallway and into the living room where we at the time had the kind of couch that would eat a child. I pushed myself into the crevice behind the cushion and covered myself up. I sat quietly, waiting. They started looking, at first kind of mad and then frantically. "Jessie! Jessie?! Jessie?!" I didn't laugh, didn't giggle, in fact I'm sure I was holding my breath doing everything I could to be silent. When I came out they were at first relieved and then the relief turned again to anger.
Today, I had that same feeling. I held my breath, bit my lip to keep myself from making a sound. My teacher was looking behind the cushions, I looked through the crack in the door- I'd been caught. Even to me the hiding spot was a surprise. Medical Sociology-a class where no one expects to have to worry about this sort of thing. I think to me the biggest medical mishap I'd had was simply an accident, something that had happened and been fixed. But underneath the metal, the screws and the pins there was more pain than I'd ever known. The questions that had needed to be asked, by me, by someone, by ME, had never come up so that pain over time had just become something else to push under the rug. It amazed me that the questions I was asked put the kind of tears in my eyes that you can feel in your throat.
10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1... Ready or not, here I come!
How do you feel about what happened?
How do you feel about how it will affect your future?
FOUND YOU!
Think about it, what are the most defining moments of your life? I don't want to put a number on this, some people will have 5 some people will have 20. Just be honest with yourself here, think about the way that even the little things have affected you, they won't all be positive and they won't all be negative.
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