I'm obsessed with these.

I sit in my bed and watch for these.

It's hard for them to happen... when I'm the one driving...

Scrambled Eggs

There are these things I have, That everyone has really. Some people have more than others, Some people's are simple. I have alot. Mine are complex.

They're eggs.

I've had them for years (21years 7months and 28days actually). I don't seem to rotate through them, or get rid of any, but actually, add more to the collection. Every year there are more and more, and I find myself trying to figure out where to put them all. So I find random places to put them.

In bowls that were never meant to hold them.

On plates they sometimes roll off of.

Then the most extraordinarily wonderful peculiar thing happened...

I met someone with a basket.

Overly thrilled, Overly enthusiastic, and Overly eager, I gathered up all my eggs and threw them all in their basket... Agreeably too soon.

And of course, understandably, they became overwhelmed and dropped the basket. A few of my eggs cracked.

They didn't mean to, I know that.

We agreed though, maybe I should just add the eggs one by one.

So that's what I began doing. Softly placing eggs in the basket, one by one, and sneaking in an extra one from time to time.

They've occasionally handed me back an egg and said "not yet," to which they've always come back, found the egg, and placed it in the basket themselves.

I only have a few of them left now. They're just sitting there, and I'm just staring them. I know they're not ready for these eggs. Just like I'm not ready.

Will they be though? Will I be?

What if I give these eggs in the basket, these last few eggs, what if I put them in there, the basket becomes too heavy........ and they drop them? All of them. Again. Only...this time they wouldn't crack.

They'd break.

So. Completely out of fear of the basket being dropped again, I've begun to put the last of them back in bowls, on tables, and in drawers.

Trying to decide whether I'm supposed to give the eggs, placing them gently in the basket.

keep them to myself... keep them sitting.

...Or let them take the eggs themselves...

uh....

How big of an issue is this?

Caithlyn and Mitchell

.............................*sigh..................................

May I Have This Dance?

ok.... ok ok ok ok..... OK! I admit it... While I HATE 97% of "Chick Flicks" I'm a hopeless romantic. This is probably one of my all time FAVORITE songs. I can put it on repeat and listen to it for probably an hour, easy. Aren't they wonderful? This song just makes me wanna slow dance in the kitchen. Go ahead.... try and tell me it doesn't do the same to you.

Almost.

I was told recently that I had an amazing ability to find the perfect song. The song that was the exact situation, just with music notes. Usually decorative piano between verses, instead of a defining silence between statements, gestures, or emotional expression.

This person simply restated something my mother used to tell me. She used to cry every time she'd watch me dance. She'd tear up when I'd be laying on the floor telling her about a song, what each lyric meant, what each cord meant, and why it ended the way that it did. She always told me I connected with music and understood music in a way that admirable. This was an amazing compliment coming from a musician such as herself.

So you can only image how frustrating this past month has been. Trying to find the right song. The song that states the reality of him being gone. That states the fact that he asked me to stay. That shows the aggravation. That states "I"m happy you're happy," but "I really wish you'd change your mind." That expresses the flat out... What the heck?!

This song... isn't it. The melody is wrong. The singer isn't the one who should be singing it. And the piano isn't right. But the lyrics are close. This is the song that I'm calling "almost". I refuse to say that it is the song, because it's not. But this is the song that I'm accepting till I find THE song. And maybe by then it'll be "Rootless Tree" (by Damien Rice) (don't look that one up. it swears a lot) or "Look at You Now" (by Joe Purdy). But I'm sick of over playing "Pretty Things" (by Jay Nash, Matt Duke & Tony Lucca), "It Doesn't Hurt" (by Katie Thompson), and "Romeo and Juliet" (performed by Matt Nathanson......(this is my false hope song)). I've attempted to convince myself that "Some Things Don't Work Out" (by Joe Purdy) is the song... but it's not. Because it could have. There are so many other songs that I've listened to over and over again, that one line fits, or the violin is perfect. But rather than sharing all of them, I'm going to leave it as these. Because I feel that you are getting the point. If you haven't, please tell me, I've got about 10 more I'd be happy to share.

(I heard today that my posts are too long... that's why nobody really reads them.... *cough*)

Ladies and Gentlemen. Here is Almost the Song.

I. Loneliness

By Robert Frost

One ough not to have to care So much as you and I Care when the birds come round the house To seem to say good-by;

Or care so much when they come back With whatever it is they sing; The truth being we are as much too glad for the one thing

As we are too sad for the other here- With birds that fill their breasts But with each other and themselves And Their built or driven nests.

How perfect is this?

The Conversation

I wasn't going to post this till tomorrow. But here I am... posting it today.

This is the conversation I had on Feb. 2, 2011. Almost to a T. This is has always been one of my favorite songs... But never a song I wanted to empathize with. Never a song I wanted to hear simply spoken by a man sitting on my couch. But it happened. And here is the song, that fits perfectly.

Smashing Bottles.

I had two guy friends in high school. They, were a few years older. I rarely saw them, but we were always there for each other. (I never see either of them any more, they're both serving time for robbing a bank, yeah, thats another story... a really good one too. Maybe later.) We got together, what felt like once a month for about a year. We did what we called "Smashing"... Let me explain the ritual.

These two boys drank alot... A LOT of Jones Soda. Which is in a glass bottle. They would save the bottles for "Smashing." How "Smashing" would begin, is one of us three, whoever needed it, would send the text "Smashing. 11pm" Or 12 am. We would meet at a park that is right off of 5300 south, sit on a bench and talk. We would share stories of what was going wrong in our lives, and we'd give each other the best advice we possibly could. At the end of our "pity party" each of us would grab a glass bottle, peel off the label, hold the bottle up high, make a statement, and throw the bottle down, smashing the bottle into as many pieces as possible. (We always cleaned up the glass I promise).

One time, one of my friends had just broken up with his girlfriend. She had told him that it didn't feel right. And with that... she walked away. His heart was broken... He didn't understand how he could feel so right about her, and how she could get to the point where she could walk away from him. (They later got married. So.... screw them for having a happy love story, because most don't turn out like that) That's besides the point. The point is... on the night that we were "smashing" in honor of his broken heart, my friend said something that has stuck with me ever since, and is ringing more true now then ever.

As he lifted up his arm, grasping the neck of the bottle, with tears in his eyes, a trembling bottom lip, and a shakey voice he simply says "I can Live without you......... I just don't want to." The bottle was hurled to the ground, and the sound of the bottle breaking into a thousand peices against the gravel matched the sound that each of our hearts have made at some point.

This story is relevant because for a few days I've caught myself listening to a song. It's called "Miserable at Best." It is performed by Mayday Parade. Fantastic song. Really, beautiful lyrics, calming, understanding melody. Beautiful. But it drives me NUTS that I keep listening to it. Because it's not it. It's not the right song.

In the chorus of the song it states simply "I can live without you, but without you I'll be miserable at best." No. No. I won't be miserable at best. I am completely capable of walking away from this, moving on, finding someone else, and being incredibly happy. "I can live without you"

It drives me nuts when people ask "are you alright?" Yes. I am. With everything I've ever gone through, with everything I'm going through, yes, I'm alright. Not being alright would imply major needs are not being met. When actually, there are very few NEEDS in this world. I have always had a place to stay, even if it be my car. I've always had access to food and water. My NEEDS are met. I am Alright. And rarely does someone HONESTLY ***NEED*** another person. We just have strong desires towards people. .... I don't need you. I will be fine without you. I can live without you.

The question is- Am I ok? No. I can do plenty of things. I can do, overcome, and endure many things. I sometimes... just don't want to.

.... I want to understand like (insert appropriate name) does. I want the same feelings so I don't feel lost in this. I want to know something. Life is just simply theories, and how we apply them. All we can do is be really, very, absurdly sure of things. But your surity means nothing when anothers doesn't match.

I Can Live Without You............................................................... I Just Don't Want To.

Working It Out, With Working Out.

With everything I go through, I find a way to relate it to another. To make it more manageable. More of something that can be done. I try to watch the game, and play the game.

With my latest endevor, it has become a work out video. Everything that has been said- I have a work out that corelates to what is going on. Whether it makes it more hopeful, or simply puts things into a perspective that tells me to walk away.

The first work out metaphor that came about was bench pressing. I said that, when you bench press too much, too fast, it hurts. There is a major discomfort. But when you stop... there is comfort. There is a sense of relief. This sense of relief however has absolutely NOTHING to do with the act of bench pressing. Bench pressing is still a good, important part of your work out. You possibly may need to do it at a lower weight, and slower. But you still need to bench press.

That was my sense of hope.

However, tonight, the second round of working out came about. We however are not weight training now... we are simply doing cardio now. Who knew comparing a late night jog to a part of life could have me up at 12:30 blogging.

When you run, there is a sense of discomfort. (I don't know about anyone else, but rarely am I ever COMFORTABLE in working out. But as put in "LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE".... it's in the discomfort that we grow. Or as Elder Uchtdorf put it- It's after our pain, or adversity, that we get our "Happily Ever After") Anyway- that was a big side track. Back to the story. Running. You're Running. Your chest starts to hurt. Your heart is pounding. Your lungs just can't seem to fill up with all the air that you feel you need. You try to puff out your chest and breath deep but you can't. Most of the time... if you run through this... You'll be fine. Eventually your heart will continue to beat hard, but it doesn't hurt. And your lungs will stop ceasing and will begin to fill with the crisp air it so desperately needs.

But- when you don't run through it. When you feel like you simply CAN NOT continue... you convince yourself that "if I just simply walk for a minute, allow my lungs to calm, allow my heart to slow, I will be fine." So thats when it happens. Your steps get loud and heavy, your arms moving dramatically as you slow to a stop. You put your hands on your waist and you take a gasp in. You know that if you don't continue moving, you'll get a side ache, so you keep walking forward. After your body has returned to a COMFORTABLE state, you say to yourself "at the end of this song" or "when I reach the lamp post" "I will begin to run again." You start to run again. But you can't quite get back into it. Your feet feel heavy. Your knees are locking up. Your hips aren't seeming to find the rhythm that they had before. You think in your head "Why didn't I just keep going?" The new found discomfort wins, you slow to a stop, turn around, and walk home. Frustrated that you missed out on a run that you didn't need to. You just stopped because something was uncomfortable, but then when you tried to get back into it... other things fell apart.

So that's where I'm at. I feel as if even if we began to run again, because... running is good, and we know it. It may have reached a point where starting again, the knees will lock, the feet will be heavy. If you stop once because of fear, pain, discomfort... why wouldn't you stop with the next set of discomforts, that are PROMISED to come, if for no other reason then you stopped jogging. Every jog that has ever ended because my lungs hurt... I walk home upset that I didn't just... try to keep going. No matter how painful it got I should have kept going. Because... I would have been fine....

Lyrically Speaking- Heart Ache Sucks

Picked me up. I knew it was coming from the second I saw him. His arms didn't reach out for me, his eyes didn't care that it had been (48?) hours since we last hugged. Which sucked because I had missed him. "homesick for the home i've never had" (soul asylum)- I missed his touch.

We get in the car, why did he still open my door? "We're drving slow" (pussycat dolls), then he starts to talk. I honestly... I can't tell you what he said. I've twisted it and distorted it in my head already. Is it because of HIM? Does he fear one day I'll be like "hey-la my boyfriends back"? (some 50's group.) Was he leaving because he (loves) me and couldn't take sharing me? Or is he gone because he could never (love) me? I heard both. Yet- I know for a fact- that word never touched his lips. Never crossed his mind. And somehow I still heard it. While I felt my heart stop and my stomache turn. I have no idea what he said. He kept talking and I kept thinking "I hate this part right here...." (pussycat dolls)

Taking a U-turn, he pulls over and stops. My eyes are over whelmed with tears and my throat has a lump. I look over and he's completely calm.... un-moved at it all... "you make breaking hearts look so easy" (anberlin). He says "i wish i knew what to say", and I wave my hand- what else is there to hear?

I'm so confused. What happened? Last night he sent me a text that said "i love holding you." What changed? Why doesn't he want me anymore? "it's here then it's gone- love doesn't last too long" (the weepies). Pulling up to my house "can I walk you to your door?" "why?" "because I still care about you." What? I thought you didn't? Thats why my heart is where my stomache is supposed to be and my stomache has turned upside and cramped to the size of a quarter- isn't that why I'm hurting? Cause you stopped caring? Wait..........is this because he cares too much? I wish I had any idea on what he said....

I thank him for his honesty, and for the time we shared. "amazing" was my adjective of choice. I ment all of it. Everything I ever said. Everything I never had the guts to say. I ment it. When I thanked him for his honesty... I ment it. "But you still hurt me" (william fitzsimmons).

I get out of the car and (run?) to my tree. Been a year since my heart broke- and a year since I've sat in that tree. I pull myself up to the top with the greatest of ease. I sit in my spot, lay my head back and hold my breath. His car turns on. The lights flip on. He has to be laughing, "she went and climbed a tree??" I try to continue to hold my breath but I begin sobbing. His car pulls away. I sit there waiting for another U-turn. A movie scene. He's going to do a U-turn, pull into my driveway too fast, jump out of his car (all while I'm speedily climbing down the tree), he's gonna pick me up and spin me around. Streams of tears will stain his face. He'll put me down and wipe my tears away like he does and hold me. He'll take back every word.

Alright.... it's past the point of a U-turn. "Snap back to reality" (eminem). I stair at his car... at his tail lights. "I know there's nothing stoping (him) now.... but I'd settle for a slow down......come on tap those breaks..... give me just one sign" (Dierks Bentley). But just like the U-turn, he never slowed down. He didn't second guess losing me. Was there anything to be lost to him?

Oddly enough- laying in bed it was a little "past one- I'm all alone and I need(ed him)." I sent him a text. "i know the answer to this question, I also know how pathedic this is, are you awake?" No answer. I lay there... looking.... staring at the clock. Each minute passes by and my eyes don't get any droopier. Just more tears.

Every break up song I've ever heard runs through my head, "all these songs about rain" and while I liked them before, there is more meaning to them. While this is great for my writing and choreographing career... everything about me, every part of me hurts. It was 2 1/2 months. Why does this hurt. I keep thinking... keep racking my brain. I'm thinking of everything from our first hang out, to the first date, to the first time he held me. The first time he saw me cry. More then anything "i've been reading all the letters that you wrote me and all the fairy tales you sold me,and all the pretty things you said. i cant stop thinking about the way that you control meand now you wish you'd never known meoh how i wish you'd come and hold me." (Tony Lucca)

It's not like this is a big deal... since he's been gone "(he's) only the best I've ever had" (vertical horizon). And "there is love left for me I will see" (william fitzsimmons). And ya know... "some things don't work out like they should. i'd bang my head against (his) wall... but it ain't no good" (Joe Purdy). I guess here is where I "take my heart and walk away" (parachute).

Flowers

Monday May 3, 2010 I took my last final for the spring semester of 2010 (most likely bombed it by the way). Anyways- bla bla bla and yada yada yada I was given a single white rose. May I just tell all of you how much I LOVE getting flowers. flowers are so beautiful and so simply elegant. I don't need to get them all the time- but I just really like getting them. I don't think they should be purchased often because they're expensive, but I don't they should be disregaurded for that reason. Lots of things are expensive. Suck it up- skip your coke for a week and buy the girl flowers! (Demetri Martin does this hilarious thing on flowers. he's like "I've never understood giving flowers to a loved one.... flowers die. I feel like they should be given as a threat- send a dozen roses with a note that says "you're next") O.... you think I'm bad with flowers??? don't even get me started on stuffed animals.... (I have a family of bears on my couch in my room... all brown and cream colors. They're the Smithenson family.)