Written Freedom.

I wrote this poem last year in February 2011 to be entered in a contest to be published on campus. It was selected and printed.  

Written Freedom.

I write to free myself from the feelings that hurt.

I write to take away the tingles and the tears.

When I write I don’t think of the lack of cuddling.

I don’t think of the lack of butterfly and Eskimo kisses.

I forget the smell of his cologne.

I don’t remember how it felt to fall asleep in the cuddle position.

Or to wake up in his arms.

When I write I’m free.

I didn’t fall asleep in another man’s arms.

I didn’t let him kiss my neck and my breasts.

I didn’t let him hold me against the wall.

Or lay me down on the floor.

When I write, things are simpler.

There isn’t the pressure to make up my mind with what I had.

Or what I might have.

I’m not thinking about what I know I threw away.

I’m not feeling sorry for myself because it was my choice.

And now I’m alone.

They were my actions.

His kisses on my lips.

When I write I am free.

A Hunter's Journey

Hunter. The new addition to my family.

I woke up to a text from my boyfriends mom. "Boy does your cat have a story. Call me when you get this." This was not the day to get a text from his mom saying anything remotely along these lines. She'd dropped Hunter off at the vet earlier this morning to get spayed and to get her front claws out--the last steps in making her our domesticated house pet. 

I called his mom on my way to class. 

She started the story off by telling me how she'd gotten a call from the vet this morning saying when they shaved Hunter's tummy to open her up, there was already a scar on her stomach--looking like she'd already been spayed. I instantly thought to myself, that's impossible. Hunter is less than a year old and is a stray. My boyfriend's mom was right there with me, not skipping a beat. She'd asked the vet to make sure it was the right cat. Twice. It was. 

The veterinarian decided to take a shot in the dark and wand the cat to see if there was anything else he could determine about our new and interesting pet. By using the wand, he found that our cat had a micro chip and was registered a family in Arizona. 

By the time he'd called my boyfriend's mom to tell her all of this, he'd already contacted the people who had owned Hunter before. Their story went something like this: They'd both gotten called for active duty in the army and put their pets up for sale on Craig's List. Hunter was sold shortly after that to another family in Arizona. The family who'd listed her had no idea how Hunter had made it from a household in Arizona to being a stray more than half way across the United States in just a few months. 

My boyfriend and I have no idea what our kitty went through on her way to us, but after showing up on our doorstep this summer, it's obvious that this Hunter's journey from Arizona to Wisconsin brought her to exactly where she needed to be.

Can a Goldfish Drown?

On my way home today, I found out that a very good friend of mine was in a horrible car accident. Her and her children were both flown to the closest hospital to be taken care of. My home is almost three hours away from where I go to school, so the drive presented me with an the great opportunity to think about my day and the things that have been happening in my life.

By the time I'd made it to the gas station about 30-minutes into my drive, I still hadn't cried yet. I had teared up taking to my boyfriend, but the worried water works hadn't been unlatched yet. As I was paying for my gas, the gas station worker told me to have a great day. 

I caught myself and just stared at him for a second. A part of me wanted to scream in his face, "How dare you say that!! Do you know what just happened to my good friend?? She might be dead before I get to see her again." But, I did not say a word. I just stared in to his dark brown eyes, turned around and headed towards my car. 

As I exited the gas station a bell on the gas station door rang and it startled me. I looked into the parking lot at the people filling up their cars. I wondered what had happened to them this morning. Did one of them get fired? Did their grandfather just get diagnosed with cancer? Did one of them land the job of their dreams? Was filling up at this gas station just a stop on their way to something greater than they've ever known?

I reflected on my recent interactions with my family and the still freshly severed ties I now have with my mother. The flesh is such a thin and transparent part of our bodies and yet, so much is hidden from the outside. I thought of my appearance that morning and wondered if anyone had not just looked at me, but actually looked at me. Could they see the pain I was in?

As I fumbled to get my key into the ignition, my thoughts scattered in a million places, a question came to mind. 

Can a goldfish drown?

"Stay hungry, Stay foolish."

As I am preparing for the real, post-college world, this speech makes me believe even more in myself as a writer and photographer. Thank you for the advice, Mr. Apple.

Stay hungry. Stay foolish.

Steve Jobs. 2.24.55-10.5.11

Thank you.

A Song with A Great Message

Nickelback: 'When We All Stand Together'

Link to Song on YouTube


One more depending on a prayer
And we all look away
People pretending everywhere
It's just another day
There's bullets flying through the air
And they still carry on
We watch it happen over there
And then just turn it off

We must stand together
There's no getting even
Hand in hand forever
That's when we all win
That's, that's, that's when we all win

They tell us everything's allright
And we just go along
How can we fall asleep at night?
When something's clearly wrong
When we could feed a starving world
With what we throw away
But all we serve are empty words
That always taste the same

(Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

We must stand together
There's no getting even
Hand in hand forever
That's when we all win
That's, that's, that's when we all win

The right thing to guide us
Is right here, inside us
No one can divide us
When the light is leading on
But just like a heartbeat
The drumbeat carries on

And the drumbeat carries on
(Just like a heartbeat)

(Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
We must stand together
There's no getting even
Hand in hand forever
That's when we all win
(Hey, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
That's, that's, that's when we all win
That's, that's, that's when we all win

The 'L' Word

The word 'love' is one that makes each person feel something different. To me, the word love can be defined by butterflies, kisses on the forehead, holding hands, slow dancing without music, candle lit bubble baths, phone calls for no reason, kissing in public and holding each other at night. I find it fascinating that people struggle so much to tell the person that's making them feel this way that they think they love them. Let's be honest here, if you were dealing with a person you didn't get a long with you'd have no problem getting up in their face and telling them to piss off. But when it's someone that means the world to you, you hesitate. You choke. You wait for them to [hopefully] say it first.

Until when?

What kind of occurrences must happen in order for you to think--THIS IS IT. This is my moment to tell him all the ways hes been making me feel? That every time I see I have a text from him I can't wipe the smile off my face? That when he kisses my forehead and squeezes me tight that I feel like I'm going to be carried away from all the butterflies in my stomach? That when I zone out and get that dreamland-look in my eyes it's because I'm thinking about us on a beach in some far away tropical place--feet in the water--rings on our fingers? That that stupid grin I get on my face in public when he reaches for my hand is really because of him, not because the woman in front of us wearing something ridiculous.

So then you think about it more...are you really in love with this other person or are they just that much better than the last jerk you dated?

And then finally it happens. Your heart and your brain have argued enough over these feelings that you have finally let your heart win. Yes, you're in love. But, this isn't where the problem ends. Now that you're convinced, yes you are in love with this other person. He or she is so special to you and you want nothing more than to be with them but now that you're convinced you ARE going to tell them--you still don't know how to tell them. So you go and talk to every friend of yours. You tell them how you feel about your other half. You ask them what they think you should do. They give you an answer that makes perfect sense but then you go talk to the rest of your friends until every person knows you're in love--except for the person you're in love with.

Then he does something simple. Something Romantic. Something so unlike every other guy. So like him. And the words flow from your mouth without a thought.

I. Love. You.

And his response comes just as effortlessly.

I love you too. 

Relationships

Not that I ever really understood it before, but now that I am in a relationship that's throwing around the 'M' word, I don't understand why every guy that I meet seems to think that he--for whatever reason--can get with me. Really? For starters there are a few very OBVIOUS reasons why you can't and should know better.

Reason A: We are friends on Facebook. This means you see the profile picture of me and my boyfriend. You see that I am in a relationship. You see that he posts on my wall that he misses me and can't wait to visit, take me to dinner, etc.

Reason B: When you drunk text me, I tell you that you're an idiot. Just because we used to hook up, that doesn't mean anything now.

Reason C: You are currently trying to get with someone else (or already have a girlfriend yourself!) So shouldn't you already know what a relationship is supposed to be about?

Oh, and I also think this is so funny. As if all the sober clues don't work, when it's made public knowledge that I've been drinking all of the guys who think they missed their chance, are entitled to having a chance or just want to jump on the bandwagon seem to think they've hit the jackpot of an opportunity. They see me on my phone, so they text or call me asking me to come over, saying I look good, etc. What they fail to notice is the person I'm talking to is my man because it's him that I'm missing and him that I wish I was hanging out with right now. Not you and your fantasies. Sorry boys. Your opportunity doesn't exist. 

Why Some Professors Should be Paid More

I'd been struggling with the idea of going abroad for a few weeks when I decided to go talk to one of my professors from freshman year. He is in charge of leading the travel study to Ireland, where I have been contemplating spending the last semester of my now senior year before graduating in May. For the longest time I have known I've wanted to travel, see the world, tell people's stories, capture their lives with my camera and show people things they never thought they'd get the opportunity to see.

With all these things in mind, when applying for graduation came around and trying to plan out my last semester of school I got more than freaked out and started arguing with myself about going anywhere but staying at my institution. Shortly into my argument with myself in front of my professor, he looked at me seriously and asked me what I wanted.

His simple question took me completely off guard and I actually had to sit there for a minute slightly dumbfounded by his simple question. I managed to tell him what I'd just told you and he looked me in the eyes and said, "I have known you for a while. You're not the kind of girl who takes shit or makes excuses to avoid what you want to do." And you know what, he was right. I was making excuses for myself and why would I want to talk myself out of something that would change my life forever and help me get the job of my dreams, and above all, what I've always wanted to do?

That weekend I went home, booked my plane ticket for Dublin, paid off the security deposit on my flat and had a huge heart to heart with my boyfriend over a bottle of wine and a bubble bath. This is one of the greatest professors I have ever had. Even from two semesters of a lecture hall of 150 other kids he could look me in the eyes and call me on my bull shit. Thank you for choosing to teach because you alone have helped change my life.

The Thanks of a Hunter

Over the summer my boyfriend and I acquired a cat. We moved to our new house in June and when we moved in the house came with a few extra items than when everyone checked it out before signing the lease. An orange and white cat who was quickly was named 2x4 was a frequent visitor at our new address. 

He was hated by our roommates unless it was a Friday or Saturday. These days were exceptions because these were drinking days. They would bring him into the house and let him sample a line up of soup bowls filled with different kids of beer... Guinness, Bud light, Keystone and whatever else filled our fridge. I would sneak the cat left overs after dinner and bring him into the house when all my roommates were sleeping.

After about three weeks, 2x4 started to being around another cat. The roommates also hated this new cat but every time they were sleeping after work the boyfriend and I would bring both cats into the house. We quickly named the female cat Hunter because of her keenness of murdering and then feasting upon the flies that would sneak into our living room. 

The reason all of this is important is because after about 2 months, Hunter stopped fending for herself and we knew something was wrong. Either 2x4 was a greedy drunk bastard of a cat or Hunter was sick. I watched her for a while and decided that she needed to be taken care of. Through some cute question asking, I convinced my boyfriend to let me take her in and get her, her shots and get her feeling good again so she could be our pet. 

This leads me to my final and most recent interaction with the cat. Last week we took her to the vet to get her shots. On the way home from the vet, she was sitting on my lap in the car purring. At one point, she intently looked me in the eyes, stopped purring and proceeded to piss all over my white sweatshirt and jeans. I guess that's the thanks we get for giving her endless supplies of food, toys, a warm house with a litter box. 

Thanks Hunter.