I am 26 years old, and you could say I’ve been reading and actually loving to read for only six years now. I never understood the love for books until I finally fell in love with one. You’ll see it in the pages. The wildly circled page numbers, my favorite quotes underlined, and personal notes scratched in the margins of all my epiphanies or “YES, THIS THIS THIS!!!”
What’s better than being buried in a book, and coming across a string of words that makes you look up, pause, and allow its effect before you look back down again? I…
Being a kid is to be
covered in a mess, while trying
to color inside the lines.
The purpose is never perfection,
Just to find hues that combine.
Like a chocolate brown popsicle mouth
Licking greasy orange pizza fingers.
Or a shirt stained in red Gatorade,
And shoes soaking from the blue rain.
What I would do to be a kid again.
Stuffed animal in one hand,
Sidewalk chalk in the other.
Through a world full of color.
A tiny little redhead,
Sprinkled with freckles all summer.
Now twenty seven,
And I have a confession:
Most days I feel like…
As I try to imagine all the difficulties I’ve faced, I keep coming back to the benefits my hearing loss has given me. I’m a confident, fearlessly adaptable person, a crazy good listener, and I’m in love with observing the cute subtleties of being human. I believe it’s because of my hearing loss that I’ve grown so connected to the world around me.
I was 6 years old when I was diagnosed with chlosteotomas. 15 years and 7 operations later and my left ear’s hearing increased a ton, but my right ear still fell pretty far behind. And somehow along…
I crave for the nerves
that burst in the palms of my hands
when my heart’s on fire.
There’s something wild in small desires
like hazel eyes under dim lights
or curly hair sitting just right.
Or the space between your hand and mine.
So I linger,
and linger long enough until I feel silly.
So silly I wonder how to stop wondering.
I’m so distracted by the aching pull
to move just an inch closer,
I forget the fantasy in my head
is teasing the blood
beneath my obvious red face.
So I try to ignore it,
Every year around my birthday I get extra emotional. I write in reflection about who I’ve become in the last year. I make plans with only my immediate family for dinner, cake and presents at home. And when it’s time to read birthday cards and open gifts I use every inch of me to not explode in loving emotion for my family.
The emotion isn’t so much about getting old, as it is leaving my childhood further and further behind me. …
I am overjoyed
And slightly out of words
Because I love the way
My body turns in waves over you.
The way my heart goes missing,
Heart strings getting twisted into you.
Foggy eyes trying not to stare at you.
Lost in the piercing knot of my throat
Because I want to speak.
I want to stand there.
Right there, right next to you.
I want to feel.
Feel the knots and the twisting
And the turning of the waves.
But I can’t get caught in the current.
I want to get lost in your currents.
This feeling is…
I was sitting in the bleachers of a concert at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles when I took my first of 365 pictures that year. It was the start of my senior year of college. I had my chardonnay wine carafe in my left hand that looked like a jar of pee, but none the less, I held it up in front of the empty stage for a picture while waiting for David Gray to come on.
The thought came over me again: “I’ve got to commit to a 365 day photo challenge at least ONCE. …
At the end of last year I had my first ever and only panic attack. It was so unexpected I even called poison control because I thought it was the leaking gas from my outdoor patio heater that was causing my whole body to respond the way it was. HAHA.
Now I’m shaking my head at the idea of it being the patio heater, because sometimes my worries and fears feel so irrational to the point that my brain understands they don’t need to exist in my mind, but it’s my body having a horrific response.
I became freezing cold…
Don’t get me wrong, a 25 minute frozen pizza with a little (a lot of) ranch, is a solid dinner. Every place I’ve lived always felt more like home with a couple of frozen pizzas in the freezer. So I’ll shock you when I tell you- I don’t remember the last time I bought one. Crazy right? And I’m stoked about it.
Here’s how I went from frozen pizza girl to Trader Joes’ #1 fan to actually learning how to shop at a grocery store and ultimately cook a delicious dinner without completing freaking out.