swear by journalism

drive

2010-08-15T10:27:00.001-07:00

Approximately 112 miles of handsome open spaces—

rivers gently whispering, and clouds soften like

marshmallows over ambers in a campfire.

Driving toward familiarity, bliss, and excitement

for a road ahead filled with spontaneity and mystery.

We run together, holding hands, escaping for a moment—

traveling along paths of deep conversation and pleasure.

Our souls were connected even before we met amongst

music from the South, red wine, and high heels.

If only we could pause time, travel the world together

and take pictures of sunsets and random strangers.

For now, we have a friendship as deep as the Grand Canyon

and warmer than Death Valley in the dead of summer.

2010-07-20T19:24:00.000-07:00

floating toward something constant.
sailing toward something foreign.
the stars breathe sighs of happiness
knowing summer offers softness.
the nights are merely dark,
and the sky filters through all colors
in the spectrum of a sensational creation.
the beauty in the atmosphere is like a heaven
only dreamt about in the subconscious.
stuck in a stunning picture is much more glorifying
than painting a false one with watercolor.

2010-07-01T22:25:00.000-07:00

Pink glares reflect across the green grass—

the sky darkens with each passing hour.

In a pitch black background,

your eyes guide each footstep toward home

like a compass when lost in a vast wilderness.

We can approach the horizon at elevated speeds.

Stay tonight, think tomorrow.

struck

2010-06-24T22:28:00.001-07:00

The drinks were cold,

melting into rotten brown tables

with cracks identifying rich history.

Making a new finish,

surfacing the wood with hickory hearts

and stained smiles.

Forks turn toward one another,

puncturing the surface only to create

a mark never to be forgotten.

Conversations leaning, chairs moving,

eyes drifting toward the unknown.

The room fades as prongs gently touch.

The strength of metal draws like species

together, however guilt forces them away.

What a shame that similar utensils cannot

tango at dinner time.

the final march

2010-06-03T21:36:00.000-07:00

Groves of trees, green for miles.

No mountain ridges to depict a location.

Easily lost for miles with anticipation of obtaining freedom,

however finding only pine cones resting in the sand.

Humidity in the air—

pollen dropping, creating a layer of yellow dust

similar to volcano ash over Washington state.

The heat builds up internally,

and eventually the eruption creates a noise,

echoing for miles across vast plains.

Marching toward silence with sore shoulders,

but enjoying the volume today.

I have other poems I wrote at boot camp, but this one reminds me of the final road march leaving Victory Forge, and how it felt to accomplish something mentally and physically challenging. I remember most vividly the silence, and the sound of my breath panting as my heart thumped through my ACU’s. There was only light in the dark of night, and the passion inside of my chest bulged as each step drew me closer to my final destination.

The experience of basic combat training was something I will never forget, even though there are a few situations and moments I wish would leave my mind and sore into the high heavens without returning.

Early on, I was selected to be a leader of my platoon, and shortly thereafter, I was chosen to lead my Company. Someone once said that leaders go where it is not obvious to go. In my position as student first sergeant, I remembered that leaders get others to go with them, and this is done through the example an individual sets. There were nights that I would lay in my bunk, and think about ways to communicate better with my soldiers. There were other nights when I disappointed myself because of the way I behaved, and the message I sent. Each day I would evaluate myself internally, and focus on what I can improve upon. My faults were more vivid, which awakened me to change.

I wrote every night, even when my red lens flashlight was my only source of light. My eyes would droop from exhaustion, but I fathomed the need to reflect. There were days when the entries were small due to time constraints, but there was still a message written either on the surface, or between the lines of my leather moleskin.

Now I am back home, I am more grateful, thankful, and humble. The little things do not bother me, and the small things make me smile. I stand taller, and strive to live the values that took me a week to memorize in reception. The only regret I face is not having joined the Army National Guard earlier in my life, because the person I am now is one step closer to the person I only strive to become.

touched

2010-02-25T20:59:00.000-08:00

writing to relieve myself of stress and anticipation, however filling myself with exuberance and joy. my dog is on my lap, licking me profusely, not knowing his mother will be gone for ten weeks. my cat purrs and meows, and vocalizes his existence better than most humans. i will miss his comfort while i am away.

today i wanted to cry, as emotions were melting my heart like the snow in spring. reading through quotes, and words from advice from people whom i care deeply for... not knowing how they influenced my soul to be full today.

feeling full in numerous ways is rewarding, yet painful. wanting to sleep, yet knowing i cannot in fear i will forget this moment. looking back at the person i was five years ago, and molding myself into a woman has been an adventure in a myriad of ways. never would i have foreseen the happiness i have experienced, and the peace that i feel.

as i embark on a new journey, i walk tall with pride, and stand at ease.

thank you to all those who have made me feel special. i feel honored, blessed, and grateful to be living, breathing, loving and writing.

more to come...

the past

2010-01-27T19:29:00.000-08:00

so i called dad the other night, and he said he was reading back through old entries in his journal, and shared some of his thoughts with me. so, i was inspired to do the same. by my bedside, i read through old journals, and surprisingly forgot about my first blog...

tonight, i spent hours reading through blog entries in my "blurty" journal dating back to 2003... and, i came across some entries that shocked me, but am forwarding a few to remember (my sister would especially agree with the TV entry and laugh):

Sunday, May 15, 2005

12:24AM

i have much less anger now. what has changed? realizing that i MUST give back. years of selfishness cannot be analyzed. there is no time for pondering moments of the past when i MUST live for today. im so glad im done with that LIFE and can live a completely NEW one. this is the real me speaking. for those individuals i have hurt, i will show you through my actions and words that im sorry. i cannot take away the person i once was, just show you the person i can be. this is me. finally free.

Monday, December 6, 2004

9:40AM - for granted

it was cold in salt lake city when i nonchalantly woke up in the comfortable bed. driving with tears for fears was pleasant in times of sadness. i left more dark than when i had arrived. the presence of depressed individuals can suppress my ability to be happy. the constant nagging about how messed up life is, when really, we dont even know how good we have it. to live under a roof, have clothing on our backs, food on the table, opportunities to be educated, surrounded by supportive family, as well as technology linking us to the community are only fantasies for some. and here, we have it all. i've decided my time is scarce. there are going to be people that need me more than i need them. but when my personal happiness is being put in jeopardy, i must back off.

then... i got out of my car and began to walk. snow was falling gracefully on my shoulders. students surrounding me on the cement path. i stepped off the road and paced toward the lonely tree. this place is beautiful. how does this happen? im struck with comfort and filled with joy. this is not home, but look what i have been blessed with: a sanctuary of peace. gratitude for the introduction of beauty and laughter.

instead of painting my walls black, im admiring the purity of snow.

i press on this day, the depression of yesterday a mere lesson for tomorrow. i move on. im unsure of how long my life will be so there's no need to sweat the small things. the picture is much bigger at hand. and, im making an effort to prevail. if they aren't willing to climb out, i must set them free. no more misery.

Current mood: relieved

Saturday, December 27, 2003

11:33AM

what i dont understand is why my family watches so much tv. every room i walk in, the tv is on--i simply walk out. it doesn't make sense to me when there is nothing to be gained from these sitcoms. it just strengthens the theme of anti-tv in my life, and i hope my family may sometime in their life agree with me.

2010

2010-01-20T18:32:00.000-08:00

later than never right.

looking back...

lots of change in 2009: minus 2 rats, minus 1 cat, plus 1 dog, plus 1 new job, minus 1 significant other, plus 1 niece, plus, plus, plus. more plus signs than anything, which brings me to 2010...

oh yes... and those dreadful resolutions.

#1- be closer to my family.

#2- just because business writing professionals tell me to double space, single spacing is okay. and, being single is okay... right? and yes, this new year i am taking pride in being single and single-spacing.

#3- don't be negative in the workplace... work drags, we all know this. it stinks being so typical and standard everyday. waking up to an alarm, dressing in business attire, weekly meetings, reports, morning and evening traffic, work politics. yes, we are all in the same boat, but i am forcing myself to smile and realizing negativity can really wear on the joints.

#4- HAVE FUN! don't be so serious and deep all the time, and live on the edge.

#5- finish at least 8 more chapters of my novel.

#6- eat new things, and dine out more often.

#7- don't talk over people, and be known for listening, rather than delegating.

#8- reunite with old friends.

#9- run up new hills, and hike unfamiliar mountains.

#10- don't be so self-centered.

this life is about growing, progressing, learning, and loving. i hope to do all four, and never lose sight of the things and people that matter most.

“Fear strikes in vulnerable places”

2009-12-28T21:12:00.000-08:00

Inside…

the touch, frighteningly soft like white

bear rugs that accent deer mantels in luxury lodges.

Strikingly cold, yet warmed when fingers

run through fibers of fine fur.

Outside…

stars twinkle through bay windows

And puffs of smoke rise above rooftops.

Frozen branches glisten with snow--

the picture is as simple as it is complex.

Internally…

two voices echo one another as

shadows collide under unobtrusive lights.

Embracing the idea, but challenging the concept--

fatal aftermath.

Externally…

time melts with the capsule buried

66 inches under the foot of man.

Seasons change, grounds thaw.

Only brute strength and a shovel

can extract year s of memories from rotten soil.

Why spoil being frozen when hearts can thaw

in the dead of winter?

fearfully frozen

2009-12-10T22:06:00.000-08:00

A plethora of emotions

filling space in an empty cabin.

The ancient stove is running,

but bitter cold eats bugs

while killing engines in the streets.

Icicles of symmetry line the eves—

touching one another slightly,

adding weight, and causing friction

as they fall.

In bed, cuddling up with blankets,

but never feeling warmth.

The TV glares at a single shadow

who tunes out words that jumble together.

Thinking, but not writing,

Dreaming, but not breathing.

Feeling, but not acting.

Dead like the souls in the cold,

but awakened to the silence in the street.

A granddaughter's Wish

2009-09-26T17:49:00.000-07:00

Constantly moving internally—

memories flashing rapidly.

What happened five minutes ago becomes blurry,

but the events of 1960 are vivid and magnificent.

If only we could change places, things would become clear.

Instead of struggling for the words, they would spit out of your

mouth like a rocket launching into space.

Instead of walking through life in silence, you would hear

babies cooing, street performers singing, and guitars on the corners.

Instead of losing your once endless appetite,

you would eat French cuisine and pasta with pleasure.

If only we could change places, you could be young again.

Until then, I embrace your stories and memories of the past,

and I know you will create history tomorrow.

stepping larger than the stomach can drink

2009-09-23T19:56:00.000-07:00

Protruding the surface—cutting waves into flesh

deeper than the intention of the thirstiest soul.

Traveling closer to the inward core of humanity,

until doors block emotions out, and people are left

drinking, singing, and stuttering deep into the surface of night.

Voices calling, and words become jumbled among the music,

which dollars are forced into machines only faint enough to hear.

People stepping across peanut shelled floors with skid marks,

wondering when the night will draw near, and tomorrow

will become today. Another mind, heart, and soul struggle

while rolling mindlessly away in office chairs underneath obtrusive lights.

Shuffling papers, wanting to write, and trapped in a room

thinking of you and a typewriter.

Passion before paychecks, songs before silence.

Wanting to propose, but unable to commit to anything

outside of this 8 to 5. Lights in the distance become blurred,

and it is your heart I feel through the keyboard of the day,

and your body that touches me in the night.

oregon coasting

2009-08-24T21:57:00.000-07:00

Taking moments to reminisce the beautiful fog

pressing into mountains covered with greenery

and large sitka spruce. Boulders standing tall as waves

crash against their bodies creating a mixture of chaos

and stillness. Myriads of people grazing on cheese

and ice cream, but not here, at this heaven too far from earth.

No background noise hinting at civilization, simply pure sounds

vibrating across caves and crevices in the summer.

Standing tall—glancing at one another—drawing energy

into our thighs and down through our toes. Each view, panoramic,

each heart, full of vibrancy, each mind, euphoric.

transportation

2009-08-15T07:36:00.000-07:00

Sweet silence—

staggering down SW Market.

Unique foliage glistens

under dimming lights.

Walking with others,

feeling unaccompanied,

but secretly smiling.

Stores closing their doors,

beginning to slumber and awaiting

thousands of footsteps on their backs.

Bums crawl under blankets,

crickets start to speak.

Streetcars recharging

until tomorrow.

The city sleeps,

tonight.

yoga in portland

2009-08-12T22:16:00.000-07:00

Words boggled down minds, yet bodies relaxed to the movement of muscles lengthening.

There were two things I heard the instructor say, mixed in with all of the things I avoided listening to:

“How you write an essay is how you make love... be gentle.”

“You date the same person, but with a different first name.”

Taking advice from strangers might appear rash, but his voice was subtle.

Silent FM

2009-07-30T07:11:00.001-07:00

Water slowly sprinkles the surface,
avoiding dust and offering stillness.
Single tracks playing on the hilltop radio—
tuning into footsteps humming soft, melodic,
and lonely sounds. Free from static,
the foggy morning dews the face and creates
chilled ears more attentive to the calls of Nature.
Legs turn crimson like the blood that flows
readily through the veins which offer a fulfilled life.
Sprint, pace, sweat, serene, struggle—
survive.

laddie

2009-06-22T09:26:00.000-07:00

I feel honored to be Laddie's mom--he is the most amazing dog! The "fostering" did not last long, because I fell madly in love after spending one day with the little mutt. He is petite and active, a cuddle bug, enjoys going on long runs, licks the cats, and loves spending time with other dogs. We are the perfect match, and he has added fulfillment to an already enriched life.

happy......

2009-06-19T15:55:00.001-07:00

Accepting change, embracing life, and glorying in the beauty that surrounds my soul. Right now, at this very moment, I am the happiest I have ever been. Blessings fill my heart like spreading petunias in a basket well lit and watered. Instead of focusing on what is missing, I am surrounded by what is present, magnificent, and pure.

Often I wonder why I receive an abundance of blessings, when others suffer and face myriads of tribulations throughout their lives. There are times I feel unworthy of these blessings and much rather give them away to someone in need.

The purpose of my writing today is to remember this moment in time, and how ecstatically happy and peaceful I feel. I have a new addition to my family, Laddie, and want him to feel comfortable and loved. He has amazing godparents also, and without them, I would feel a sense of emptiness in my life. Not only is the sun shining through the windows, but the warmth is brightening my life.

Unattached Runner

2009-06-02T08:34:00.001-07:00

The bib reads unattached—
unspoken for numbers pinned across
light blue jerseys and race ready shorts.
No big box sponsors flashing logos
anticipating to sell more product,
and feeling physically fastened to swift legs.
Numbers moving across paved streets like gazelles
crossing the vastness of Africa in the heat
of summer, with only soft footprints
untraceable except for native inhabitants.
No pit stops, partners, or panic when following
pink and orange chalk marks guiding the way.
Only sounds of silence, swiftness, and steadiness—
breathing alone, and glorying in the still nights of summer.

gardening

2009-05-11T15:50:00.000-07:00

Raking old annuals—
dried and nipped from the cold of winter.
In a state where even perennials
can be annuals, or annuals can be houseplants.
The ground softens with the rain of May,
as memories are slowly scooped away
into buckets, and discarded as mulch.

Creating new plants—
sowing seeds into raised beds, and excited
for fresh growth and prosperous vegetables.
A chapter of last year’s crop has closed,
but the seeds are already springing through
compost like deer over fences.
No unwelcomed guests, but smiles in the backyard
of those whom are profoundly loved.

glasses

2009-05-08T10:45:00.000-07:00

Sweat trickles down the flushed face,
creating tiny streams of salt and crystal dams.
Pulse beats, pounds, and elevates—
approaching mountains only experienced
climbers can embark upon.
Morning sun—glorious and bright—
glaring off sunglasses that try to block light.
Regardless of practical elements,
who are meant to protect retinas from UV-rays,
the sun’s radiance shines through.

your things

2009-04-23T19:05:00.001-07:00

Once the unattractive, dreadful futon departs,
there will be an empty space on the oak floor.
When walking past the spot where the splintered wood resides,
emotions fill up the room like a toddler on Christmas Day—
joyous for the gifts Santa gave, yet silently took away.

A burden will fall off the shoulders of the homeowner,
who embarks on a glorious future free of harmful tenants.
The laminate might be ruined from the piss of dogs,
but it will be honest, pure, alone, and wiser than the futon—
broken, shattered, and lacking substance and a sense of self.

spring nights

2009-04-21T21:14:00.000-07:00

Music echoes from the brown, upright piano, whose melodies leak tones through cement walls. Outside, grasshoppers shout back their tunes of happiness in the heat of the night. No longer are they frozen, but jumping through time with green crabgrass underneath their limbs. Each chord drifts away from the minor, only focusing on the major sounds that ring peace and beauty to those that hear them. The pianist is only out to please those tiny insects who wear less than fancy attire.

sunny california

2009-04-20T12:52:00.001-07:00

california

2009-04-15T09:35:00.000-07:00

Cutest niece in the whole world.
I love the look on her face... adorable
Four generations--Grams, Sis, Mom and baby Paiton
I love the little blue track suit.

Going for a walk with Paiton in 70 degree weather with a slight breeze from the East, and laughter from the West--heaven.

Went for a jog around mile square park, and felt liberated, wonderful, and pure. Met up with my sister and Paiton at the large oak tree, and had one of the best days in a long while.

Ate the best vegan food in the whole world!!!

Took a stroll to Clint's work, and was very proud of him and his accomplishments. His office was quiet, but everyone was friendly, and really admired Clint.

Went to church with mom, sis, and Paiton, and ate lots of food and laughed so hard I about fell out of my chair. Permanent smiles and love.

I have great people in my life that I am honored to call family.

mistakes

2009-04-03T08:17:00.001-07:00

Even Home Depot does not sell a thick enough spackle to cover the faults in my wall. Smearing the gaps with a putty knife, the spackle slowly dries and cracks, leaving imperfections on the surface of a colorful partition. The spot is weak compared to the other 4x8 pieces of sheetrock who remain sturdy and resist temptations of boldness and anger. Each day, I look at the soft spot on the wall, and try not to irritate it further, but relapse and cave the mud backwards toward the studs. I bought a new patch kit yesterday and smoothed the wrinkles out, added texture, affixed primer, rolled on paint, and crossed my fingers in hopes that no one will notice the blemish I covered for the fifth time this year. I must remember that speaking positive and helping others will detract from the blemish created when a time when wallpaper and flowered curtains were customary.

A moment away from poetry, and an illustration of what I feel today

2009-03-18T15:58:00.001-07:00

Sifting through emotions, and savoring the ones that count. I am a human being, intrinsically social and wanting to please like the 5th grader bringing home artwork for Mom to see. Traveling through the motions with more depth and understanding—guiding through the skies with the swiftness and steadiness of an artist’s hand. Viewing each failure as a unique crater, which ultimately defines the beauty of the moon and gives it shape in the night. Blazing bright through the indigo sky, I am the bird taking flight over the picturesque mountains and valleys of Montana, watching the skies melt hearts together into a melting pot of love and friendship. I wonder why our souls cannot be more like burning incense that subsides slowly on all those that gather around it. The fresh smell of sage soothes minds and stimulates conversation over red and white wines who mirror those individuals that age with fineness. We gather like clear glasses, uniquely imprinted with colorful designs and etched glass. Laughter and life embody every movement of my soul as I drift on a boat in an ocean of happiness with all of my family and friends aboard.

gender bound

2009-03-11T13:07:00.000-07:00

A girl dressed in pink—
the skirt two inches above the bony knees
sporting bruises from conflicts on concrete.
Smile pretty for the camera, crossed legs,
crimson bows, and pale lipstick shines while
painfully melting under neon lights.

A woman dressed in white—
the gown two inches above her knobby ankles,
aching from the high heels she wore for eight years
to make her appear lengthier to the human eye.
A false purity and sense of self,
hiding from the reflection in the full-length mirror.

Dressed in flannel—
white-washed jeans fade further
in the sunlight of today and tide of tomorrow.
Footprints in the sand appear unique,
and fail to recognize femininity. The pink and white
dresses society forced her to wear are tossed
in the ocean as the waves crash and break fibers
into tiny, unrecognizable pieces.

The Pen

2009-02-25T07:35:00.001-08:00

Black ink imprints lines and dots onto ancient paper
creating gel-filled puddles of solid passion.
Words and signatures become permanent once liquid
flows slowly, readily, and peacefully like the waves
on Seal Beach after a brutal storm from the east.
Occasionally the ballpoint tries to fix past mistakes,
but makes additional smudges along the way. Scribbles
are distinguished as art, offering a glimpse of humanity
in a world dominated by Microsoft Word. Instead of trying
to white-out misspelled words, the pen crosses through them,
gravitating toward distinctive verbs over others.
Break free of being simple by using phrases that urge
literary movement across the Atlantic. Write tonight,
before morning draws nearer with the Pilot pen
who links soft hands with sensuous readers.

love

2009-02-07T14:18:00.000-08:00

Quotes filter my thoughts, as you tell me "without depth, we die."

The emotions that are blooming inside of my mind are that of flowers in the spring: bright, beautiful, and bold. Capturing a picture of beauty and elegance beyond anything imagined.

The values in my life become more defined as time progresses toward a new revolution. We will create revolutions together of love and peace, where souls follow hearts rather than comfortable walkways.

Tell me which books to read, what captures your mind, and what influences your hand to write words that sing like the flock of birds outside of your window.

We will be one, in time, painting words on the canvases of each other's hearts.

say cheese

2009-01-27T10:29:00.000-08:00

Four clicks come quickly,
printing wet images in sepia .
The decision for blue or red curtains
is never seen amongst the gray.
Stuffing two people in a makeshift closet,
forcing closeness and embracing it.
Looking at one another clearly
in front of the lens, feeling giddy
with something new like a hot affair.
The images stop, years pass,
and photographs are left only as a reminder
of a bright memory in time.
Old fashioned, no erasing,
trashing, editing, or deleting
like modern cameras
that depict a false reality.

Lava Lamp

2009-01-26T09:46:00.001-08:00

A clutter, a clash.
Red and clear oil coat
the floor as timeless
elements shatter memories
from the 1960s. Broken glass
causing piercing pains
on soft, bare feet.
Slipping and sweeping up the mess
by the ancient record player
that misses several beats.
Distorted sounds
smashing, crushing—
silence, inner peace.

Alumni

2009-01-20T07:58:00.001-08:00

In silence, pondering the past—
watching, wondering, wailing
sweet tears underneath Orion’s Belt.
The bold constellation recalls memories
unforeseen and a magnitude of beauty
with a twist of mythological brilliance.
Glancing through scraps and old photographs,
appearing as if talent wastes away…
8 to 5… Monday through Friday…
week by weak… succumbing to the year.
Can color emerge in a dull painting
or mountains appear in a foggy sky?
Will future personalities and creativity
rise about 6’ cubicles and fluorescent lights?
There is satisfaction in security like the paperweight
holding valuable contents in place.
The fascination with sifting sand washes away
with the tide as direct deposits routinely fill accounts.
What may appear a “wasted talent” doubles
as a brightly colored gem, shining across rows
of white 6x10’s, providing intellectual stimulation
where needed most.

life is not fair... as we know

2009-01-12T09:47:00.000-08:00

At night, I lay down to write. Tears beautifully fall between the lines written with passion, love, and fear. Why hold back emotions, when eyes begin to swell? Driving the same route each morning, attempting not to think about where and how streets became misguided, ending somewhere not imagined or deserved.

Internal corruption for many individuals, and humility for only a handful.

Her wings are not broken from the dishonesty of those above, but rather she leaves quietly with the grace of an angel. I have faith she will bust through the brick wall, or at least climb over it quickly. She makes sure everyone is okay before herself, a self-sacrificing purity above those I have ever encountered.

Now she can put herself first, and have the peace she rightfully, justly, and respectfully deserves.

Unrecognizable Photos

2009-01-07T15:45:00.000-08:00

Ice melting on the streets—
a reminder of global warming.
Sloshing, slipping, and skidding
along blacktops without a need
for brown, leather ice skates.
Birds migrating north to native
Big Sky Country where antelope
graze and picturesque scenery
creates the images found on postcards.
Two hundred miles away,
a park once known for naming
150 glaciers, dissolves its population
to a mere 27. A beautiful portrait
burns and fades underneath flaming skies.
Ungrateful, unthankful, and wasteful—
Mother Nature would be ashamed.

Shipwrecked

2009-01-05T15:59:00.001-08:00

The lonely calls of Manx Shearwaters echo
across the vast waters of the Atlantic.
The catamaran drifts further from
the destination without deck crews
to guide it Westbound. The Captain
strands himself on his own ship,
by slowly pushing each mate away.
Once being entitled to a few selfish moments,
they became frequent and old
like the sea-green algae lining the ship’s hull.
Alone, he stands, searching for someone
to guide him home, but finding only Shearwaters
hunting fish in the dark, frigid waters.

new year, new beginnings

2009-01-05T08:38:00.000-08:00

What an amazing start to the New Year...

Paiton Lynn Seader
January 2nd, 2009
8 lbs, 20 1/2" long

I am excited to see my niece, and am actually planning a visit to California in March or April. My sister and Clint are amazing parents already, and I am thrilled for them.

2-0-0-9

2009-01-02T12:16:00.001-08:00

Epiphanies filter my mind with the drop of a sparkling ball. Smiling, laughing, conversing, and being creative are only a few of the resolutions written in my red journal that once gathered dust on my nightstand. We constantly hope for change, but it takes action or outlines to succeed. Pick up the pen, watercolors, laptop, guitar, weights, or whatever it may be that creates awareness, and do it. I never once admired marketing ploys, but Nike engrained in minds everywhere across the globe to “JUST DO IT.” With this New Year I feel a sense of joy, happiness, fulfillment, wonderment, and a completed sense of self. No longer will I watch from afar, but act with the full intentions of my heart.

christmas paintings 2008

2008-12-29T20:32:00.000-08:00

just thought I would share some of my paintings given as presents this season

fiesta of lights

2008-12-27T09:56:00.000-08:00

No one can view or steal the mental photographs
I made of you last night underneath clear skies.
The pictures extended beyond the surface layer of skin
protecting our insides from bodily harm, but exposing
them to conversation, attraction, and permanent smiles.
No one can explain the image I hold of you in my head--
asking for a pen and writing thoughtful words onto paper.
Bright lights and pop music could not compete
with your intelligence or attention as you remained focused
on the mission at hand--impacting with words and meaning.
We forgot where we were for a brief moment last night,
but only the connection of our eyes could decipher
the direction our hearts were being taken.

los angeles at night

2008-12-26T22:30:00.000-08:00

Waiting over red wine
your call comes nearer,
clearer, louder than before.
We are the revolution,
where our art manifests
and hopeless romantics
become one under the twilight
of a radical city. Jumping,
leaping, bounding over
parking meters, our hands
gently collide.

Mysterious writer

2008-12-22T12:21:00.001-08:00

At night, she comes with her notebook and colors dreams
with words so vibrant sunglasses are needed to block the pigment.
The pen moves readily, steadily along the paper and paints
pictures with prose and music with harmonious rhythms.
The stunning silhouette of her tapping away on the vintage typewriter
triggers flooding and after-shocks within the human chest cavity.
Drinking tea and staring out the window at the view from above,
she moves to the beat of her mind and the ring of her heart.
In my unconscious fantasies, I am the paper she types upon,
the words she chooses, and the pauses she places for significance.
If only she were closer, my presence would filter into her writings
as I sit in the corner and watch her create books and make history.

joy to the world

2008-12-19T14:33:00.001-08:00

I am pretty ecstatic right now…

- Lunch breaks become more than sleepy time, but art time
- Refinance at 5% means lower payments
- Christmas in Burbank/Oxnard
- Making presents for my family
- My sisters “bun in the oven”
- Cleaning out my closet
- My amazing friends/coworkers
- Being alone, broke, and happy

X

2008-12-17T12:07:00.000-08:00

Trays of fudge and candy occupy tables with red and white clothes.
Turtlenecks and sweaters with glitter meet in a circle
and converse over red wine and mint fudge with sprinkles.
The false tree bares no presents, just shatterproof ornaments and
simple reminders of our first Christmas together long ago.
Silent hours are spent fluffing, decorating, designing,
and stringing lights no one will ever see or admire.
The corruption of a time that was meant to be a reminder
of something more than debt, chocolate brownies, and roasted turkey.

eight

2008-12-16T13:42:00.000-08:00

Fighting to hold back the words I want to say. Since age 8, the words became hidden behind a violet jacket in the closet. Pulling the arms away, there were messages of help written with permanent marker on the walls—seeking visibility, but hidden in dismay. Always the mediator, holding back the tears until cracking that day on the playground when you caught me trying to run away. The whistle blew from afar, and taking off like a cheetah, I galloped across the hop scotches, Chinese jump ropes, and tether ball courts. Tears made rivulets on my rosy cheeks as you grabbed my arm and led me back to room 23. I left my soul on the black asphalt that day, only to be stepped on while kids played dodge ball and around the world. I am finally picking up the remaining pieces of soul dust imprinted with little Sketchers and wads of gum. I could have been re-baptized and submerged in salty tears this month, but no longer will I deny feelings that have been absent since age 8.

- 22 F

2008-12-15T08:00:00.000-08:00

Freezing temperatures pollute the air, but I refuse to be frozen. The sharp burning from my skin and into my lungs attempts to rapture me into hibernation. As the weather draws colder, my heart remains warm because of those individuals that have drawn me into their homes and removed me from the cold. I will not become that girl from the X-Files movie that is trapped in the ice only to die without a change in appearance. I am constantly changing, and refuse to be frozen.

"Issued by The National Weather Service
Great Falls, MT
4:26 am MST, Mon., Dec. 15, 2008

A WIND CHILL WARNING REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL NOON MST TODAY.

LIGHT WINDS... COMBINED WITH THE VERY COLD TEMPERATURES... WILL ALLOW FOR WIND CHILL VALUES TO RANGE FROM 40 TO 55 DEGREES BELOW ZERO THROUGH MONDAY MORNING."

Rolled 20s

2008-12-12T14:08:00.000-08:00

When traveling through the core of the earth,
each layer of rock becomes softer as we melt
together like the night we ate blue ladies.
Your back pressed against my bony chest,
feeling your heart beat through the layers of threads
and washcloths vaporizing with Vicks.
Kinetic energy flowed through the pink walls
and I forced myself to look away from you,
but was drawn to the pictures you painted in my head.
Across the vastness of the sky, tiny stars moved
as we sat in the hot tub sweating, thirsting for
one another’s presence in a trivial town.
Distant as we were, we chipped away with a breaker bar
at the crust. We reached the core, which was hot
like our elevated body temperatures in the cold snow.
Holding hands with you at the core caused my soul
to burst like lava in a moment of eruption.
I left you that blissful night for my best friend,
with only regrets and rolled 20s in my pocket.

Treading

2008-12-12T09:24:00.000-08:00

People always think of a near-death experience as physical. I am here to inform my readers that emotional death exists and shares similarities to those individuals that come close to dying. No, there is not a bright light as the heart stops and suddenly revives itself again. No, there are no hospital gowns and tubes hooked to ones body like a breaker box. No, there are no priests reading last rights underneath florescent lights.

Yes, there is that gasp of air after being held underwater for two minutes and finally being able to breathe again. This time, it did not take a brush with death to change my perception of life. As I found myself drowning, my muscles gave their last hurrah and forced my head above water. The experience became life-altering, like those individuals that are given a second chance at life. Viewing life from a new set of eyes is refreshing and rewarding, if only I could share this with you.

North

2008-12-11T08:10:00.000-08:00

Sitting on the bay window, and looking at the luminous colors that filter the sky. Internal questioning ceases only for a moment of tinted bliss. Looking out, the gravel road to my right curves, and I cannot envision where it ends. There is this constant search from afar, but without physically moving closer, there is no way to decipher where the road will take me. The last thing I desire is sitting on that crimson bay window for the remainder of my life with regrets—searching for something that does not exist. When really, I had that something all along, and took the perfect life for granted. Without hitting the rocks and bumps on the road and swerving from the furry things, life would become routine.

I slammed into a wall earlier this week going down that infamous gravel road. I was not looking for the rocks to dodge, but hitting them as I drove. Realizing in my mind the mistakes I made, I borrowed my father’s back hoe. Pushing the bad rocks to the side, I smoothed out what remained of the road, and started off new. Without change, how will an individual grow?

There are ways our routes will cross, but it will not be on Applegate.

2008-12-10T08:37:00.001-08:00

Although the rope unravels, one thread holds it together. It reminds me of that frozen lake from the movies. Each chunk of ice dramatically breaks away, and two people are stranded on separate pieces going opposite directions. I toss you the rope and it begins to break, but I refuse to let you go. It is that one lonely string that hold us together.

Broken Chords

2008-12-09T10:21:00.001-08:00

Waiting for the phone call that never comes,
and the ambiguous letter that is due to arrive.
Sitting in the room with blue and green walls,
I navigate toward the green—my internal envy.
Envious of the city that stole your heart from me,
and those constituents that kissed your cheeks
and held hands with you down the cobblestone streets.
Envious of the women who filled you with lust,
and the lack of guilt that filters the human soul on both ends.
Envious that I was cheated out of the truth when
making passionate love underneath overcast skies.
Each chord I play becomes flat, and each note
becomes sharp, like the razors that tickle my skin.
Pulse beating, ticking, heart stopping, reviving.
Cardiac arrest.

Salt Lake City

2008-12-08T13:42:00.001-08:00

it took a while to get these posted, but here we are:
tom cruise in risky business, flapper girl, cleopatra, and luis with bad eyeshadow

Glimpse of Happiness

2008-12-08T08:24:00.001-08:00

Forcing my eyelids to close in the evening progressively gets harder each night. Thinking of you consumes my thoughts, and I lay awake dreaming of the day you will come back. I am not forcing the day to arrive, but am counting down in my head the seconds until the door opens and depression leaves. The clock slowly ticks from two to three, and sleeping becomes more difficult when I envision your face. The wind can be calm, and the weather reasonable, but my heart experiences a natural disaster—beating ferociously with the vision of your body curled up with a blanket on the couch. I glimpse around the corner, but you are not there. I must have been dreaming. If only each second could be spent sleeping, I would see you everyday until the door opens, and you are standing there.

Invisible Cloak

2008-12-05T15:54:00.000-08:00

A professor once told me the worst
type of person is the one that steals.
They can steal meaningless physical possessions
and do little internal harm, but more importantly,
they can steal the truth--
your truth.

I wish I could hide like Harry Potter
under an invisible cloak.
Secretly running through buildings,
and listening to conversations in the streets.
I would be the superhero of honesty,
always searching for the visible truth.

Strength

2008-12-04T12:00:00.000-08:00

She walks along ice easily until she falls.
She slips off the curb into the gutter,
and gets brown gravel on her hands and slacks.
Pulling herself up reminds her of being lifted
again—rejuvenated from the mundane activities
of life and organized routines.

She pulls her body upwards with brute strength
and purposely skids off the sidewalk again.
The more she falls, the stronger she becomes,
and the longer she waits to pull herself up,
the less she accomplishes. The voice in her head
whispers, “stand tall even when you feel small."

death by consumerism

2008-12-01T12:20:00.000-08:00

When parents teach children to become responsible and respectful adults, the principles of sharing and courtesy are high on the list. If your elementary school buddy has a fire truck in their hand, you are taught to be patient and not grab the toy from their hand.

Thus… do we need to teach this philosophy to adults… again? Why is it that on Black Friday adults reverted back to childhood before rules and laws were implemented?

I awoke early on Friday morning, and drove to Wal-Mart to pick up bed sheets that were too irresistible to pass up. What I witnessed were adults grabbing and fighting over items, people shoving carts into shins and ankles, and impatient parents. There was not a kid to be found, but the adults had the behaviors and manners of 3 year olds in the peak of a temper tantrum. I witnessed women grabbing sheets out of people’s hands, and people raising voices in traffic jams.

After my near breakdown in the parking lot at Wal-Mart, my sister informed me that a temporary worker was stampeded to death over an electronic device. Where did the humanity go, and where are we going?

Grace

2008-11-26T14:46:00.000-08:00

I chased you down the classroom hall,
but you did not notice when I fell.
Stumbling along various shades of cream-colored VCT tiles,
I followed you through the maze of open lockers and laughter.
In the shadows I wrote letters to you
in a white, college-ruled notebook that resembled how you appeared.
Pure, perfect penmanship, fine lines, and letters that flowed
in movements like ballerinas dancing the Nutcracker
on a stage with red, satin curtains.
If we were all meant to be dancers like you,
things would forever appear stunningly beautiful and graceful.
With two left feet, I lacked the poise to follow your movements,
but watched from afar jotting words and rhythms as you danced
through the classroom hall.

Dream Catchers

2008-11-25T08:21:00.000-08:00

Suddenly the sound of pedestrians draws me from sleep,
and memories flash vividly while eyes open abruptly.
When recalling the visions of color and darkness,
faces appear at my window, knocking, screaming,
demanding physical movement evidencing I am conscious.
Additional corpses move along the sidewalk lacking
passion for life or a reason to spontaneously survive.
The onlookers at the window cannot embezzle my dreams
as I fall back asleep into a state of freedom and ecstasy.
The screaming becomes shouting, and the knocking grows
to pounding as jealously captures their meaningless souls.
Deafness falls upon my ears, rapid eye movement prevails,
and dreams enrapture thoughts even while sitting awake.

Paris

2008-11-21T08:59:00.000-08:00

Finally I got photobucket to work with me-- sorry for the delays. These are only a few of the pictures I took while visiting Paris.

lucky girl

2008-10-30T14:15:00.000-07:00

I have never been a morning person, until recently. Usually, it takes 15 minutes of toying with the snooze key on my phone to open my eyes and roll my frame into an upward position. I am beginning to get comfortable with new rituals since John has moved in. He lets the dog out, and we drink coffee and talk about the day prior: what time we got home, how work went, the crazy cats and rats, and whether I went to the gym or not. Mornings are surprisingly refreshing.

Last night, coworkers invited me out for drinks, and it was astoundingly easy to decline. I did not hesitate answering the internal question, would I rather feel healthier or poorer? The lonely gym bag sat in my car needing attention; therefore, I did not flake. The gym relaxes my muscles and challenges my endurance, and afterwards, I feel better and healthier than before. My life has taken shape in the way I have always dreamed, and I am glad to have priorities beyond surface elements. Everything extends outside of the physical, and I am attempting to grasp feelings and events that matter most.

In Europe next week, I plan on seeing and grasping everything with mental photographs. While Davey is in class, I will walk around and attempt to memorize sounds and emotions on the streets of Paris. Davey has grown tremendously as a person since moving away, and I am excited to get to know her all over again. At 24, life is brighter than ever before, and I march forward to the future with open hands and unclenched teeth.

photo op

2008-10-28T13:49:00.000-07:00

sometimes life passes by like the calendar week, but stopping to enjoy the small things deters monotony from happening.

great conversation and pumpkin seeds.

brooke's

mine

i enjoy working across from the Capitol instead of inside the marvelous building, because i can admire its beauty. every morning i park on the street, instead of in the lot, because the view is beautiful.

mornings…

roses

2008-10-23T15:44:00.001-07:00

Whenever I heard the saying in my youth, “stop and smell the roses,” it would take every ounce of strength to restrain myself from gagging.

This morning I awoke to ice on the deck and a frozen water dish for the animals. Since living in Montana, I have discovered that frost or ice means starting the vehicle early. During the morning “warm-up,” my eyes were drawn to the beautiful sunrise, and the way the light reflected off Lake Helena and into my eyes. Arrays of pink, orange, and red lit the sky to create a beautiful painting in my memory.

So here I am, in the middle of Montana in my pajamas in 25 degree weather, stopping and smelling the roses. At least all the ones that are not frozen.

Montana skies.

Trees

2008-10-21T11:04:00.000-07:00

Seasons transform similar to people who lose their leaves and hibernate. One moment, the colors change from an orange to a fiery crimson, and the next instant, they are washed away with prevailing winds and bursts of cold. My trunk is strong this season, and my leaves are refusing to fall like the others. When moods begin to darken, there is one leaf remaining in the cold.

The adversities in life are powerful like the seasons. There are those trees you will water, nurture, cover, prune, and mulch, but without roots, they will not withstand the cold and thrive in the spring. One must develop internal roots that have the ability of growing wiser than the calendar years. Feed the roots with knowledge, hobbies, passions, words, ethics, music, conversation—once observed, the lonely tree will mature.

Through interacting with people and movement, I have come to terms that there are more Colorado Spruce’s than Quacking Aspens. Without a blend of slow and fast-growing trees, the world would not have a diverse background and culture. Although it is easy to become frustrated with the lack of growth in deciduous trees every year, it is important to remember their leaves stay green. As people, all we can do is feed our little aspen/spruce/cedar/birch trunks, so in 50-100 years, we remain beautiful and inspirational, and that our branches bring shade and comfort to numerous souls.

Crossroads

2008-10-20T15:44:00.000-07:00

Intervals become my friend at nine tonight.
Awaiting for the time we have alone to unwind
from the helplessness of society and neediness
of its constituents. Everyone wants something
from someone, but no one can find me this eve.
Machines laughing to the sounds of footsteps
on their backs. Clocks ticking, people glaring
secretively, wondering when ten will arrive.
Alone in the room, which gathers green balls,
purple steps, and pink carpets, I loosen muscles.
It is here that images and voices are avoided,
but colorful emotions and solitude fill my soul.

seasonal

2008-10-16T13:45:00.001-07:00

Only solitude and silence
as thoughts are swept
peacefully together
in the afternoon sun.
Dandelions spread across
hay fields, and grasshoppers
crying in the night.
Shadows fading across
the lake and ripples
caused by laughter.
Evenings last for days,
and vivid colors and
smells are remembered.

Why does darkness seize
light and hearts begin to
simmer and shatter?
Those cold winds,
unruly temperatures,
and rare instances of
morning radiance.
Constructive thoughts collapse
with the avalanche
that took your soul.
Shameful is Time who
cannot take back the
soulfulness of Summer.

Wear Lodge

2008-10-14T21:54:00.000-07:00

the Wear Lodge has been a sanctuary of bliss these past 5 nights. no sounds, no television, just peace. i felt a need to write, because being in solitude in the middle of the mountains has opened my perception to a different way of living. inside, i feel myself growing larger and more comfortable in my own shoes. although i much rather be surrounded by people, i am beginning to enjoy the moments i have alone. these moments are hard to come by, which is why i cherish them.

evenings are dark, yet soothing.

and then things are bright... yes the green is finally painted, and i am really pleased with the results.

friendships

2008-10-08T14:34:00.001-07:00

Hunting for true friends my age is hard to find in a world of superficiality and greed. What happened to conversation until 3 AM and hikes in the mountains that looped in both directions until legs could not stumble over another rock in the path?

Lately, people in their early 20s have severely disappointed me in their lack of creativity and emotion. I try to hang with the crowd, but the smoke in bars pollutes my mind, and I am not able to foster any intelligent conversations with people I meet. I have come to the conclusion that age is only a number, and if 30, 40, or 50-something year old people can spark my mind and keep conversation interesting, I will gravitate in that direction.

The best times I have had lately have been playing board games, golfing, hiking, and laughing with friends of all ages. Instead of focusing on the negative aspects of the Y generation, I will forget that boundaries of age even exist. In the end, a true friend is there through the hard times because they envision good times are to follow. All along, I have had true friends waiting at my fingertips—now is the time to let them in.

2008-10-02T08:24:00.000-07:00

mom reads this blog and wants me to post pictures, and i do not take photographs anymore. camera shy i guess. so, this one my sister took in february i think when she came and visited.

running

2008-10-01T13:26:00.001-07:00

in my running group, i noticed everyone is running toward something: 1st place, completing a marathon, winning the Montana Cup, finishing an Ironman.

whatever happened to running away from something.

a chance to escape from the reality of the moment, and free the mind of static and clutter.

when i hurt my knee 5 weeks ago, members of the running club were sad i could not compete. if they only knew that running has never been a race, but a flight from the worries of today in hopes for a better tomorrow.

even if success comes along the way, i turn the final corner and head for home.

realism is near.

2008-09-30T07:40:00.001-07:00

after going to a funeral yesterday, life seemed more valuable and senses seemed stronger. it reminded me of going to church camp and feeling rejuvenated for a couple weeks. unfortunately after two weeks or so, we forget that spirit and head back into everyday activities. but for those who are more strong affected, it may take years to forget.

when someone dies, i never know what to say or write. i have those generic words i write on a card:

"i am deeply and profoundly sorry for your loss. my prayers are with you."

or, for those who are less religious:

"i am sorry for your loss."

to write value of life on a card is virtually impossible, but i have not been able to fully fathom any other way of conveying sympathy without physical interaction. because of this thought process, i did not buy a cheezy card yesterday in memory of kathryn elliott, but i gave lots of hugs, and will always remember jen's gram and her ashtray, coffee, and soap operas.

the "about me" section

2008-09-29T11:20:00.000-07:00

this may be my second blog, but i promise it will be more enlightening than the last.

im living in montana, more rural than some, but taking advantage of the time away from reality. blissful days, yet restless nights are what brought me here. a beautiful world of opportunity has knocked at my door these past three years, and now i am doing what i love with people that i love. fresh brisk air, and moments of silence are near these days, but bring a sense of happiness to my soul. as my last blog focused on the darkness, i will attempt to draw light from nearly every situation. but as most of you know, not everything is always bright, and the grass is not always greener on the other side. but, i am mentally willing to grow and gain knowledge because my soul and mind are all i will encompass when two feet hit the grave.