It's been a long time...

This year I...

a) got married.

b) moved across the world.

c) lived without regular internet access for 4 months.

d) live in a house that is clearly WAY too big for my Husb, my two cats and me, though I love its every nook and cranny.

e) all of the above.

Yes, folks, it's "e." It's been a very busy 9 months for me, and continues to be in my day-to-day life. (I mean, who knew a house required so much upkeep?) And in this flood of this, that and the million other things that need/want to be done in a day I have lost touch with my beloved blog.

So here it is, a nice little promise that I will indeed be starting back up with enthusiasm and longing, if for no other reason but that it may help my sanity (and my Husb's...man, I love that guy).

It's a strange thing getting married, combining lives, moving across the world, taking in cats to love, furnishing a house and then maintaining it, keeping in contact with family and friends, making new contacts, doing laundry and whatever else I manage to, sometimes very sloppily, fit into a day. And while I love it with every freckle kissed across my skin, it certainly does take a little something out of somebody...more specifically me. And my absence from my preferred mode of "brain drain" has had its consequences, and I feel like there is no time like the present to combat it.

I look forward to typing so much that my fingers feel drunk.

Type to you soon...

My rock and hard place.

Despite all the amazing gifts I've been given over the last few months, there lingers around me such a sense of loss and confusion that the amount of internal pep-talks have reached an all-time high. I find that I am constantly reminding myself of all the gifts that I have already received and all the ones I have to look forward to; there are so many of them, I am not ignorant of that. It's just that while I have so much to look forward to and be grateful for and to be the trembling sort of excited about, my heart is still breaking.

It's a part of my heart that I never dreamed would break. It's the part of my heart that belongs to my family; blood relation and those who are so much a part of my soul that DNA is no factor. This part of my heart has always been bursting, filled to an always increasing "max" with love and laughter and beauty. But now it also breaks. Not because it's finally reached a max that can't give anymore, but because someday soon, almost too soon, I will have to tell them "good-bye" (which even though is temporary still stings with pain) so that I can say "hello" to a man that I was in love with long before I was even aware of it.

I can't decide whether I am that lucky, or that unlucky. To have a heart so big and so bursting; it almost seems too painful to feel lucky, though I know that is exactly what I am.

And grateful. And inspired. And so in love with everything that it becomes hard to breathe.

And it is hard. I've had to talk myself through the, "You're not trading one thing for another," conversation so many times that I could write a book on it. And I'm slowly understanding that having both loves requires not a choice but rearranging and compromising. A shift and change of lifestyle that I never considered because, well, I never thought I would be this lucky. I never thought I would be so lucky that a choice of the "lesser of two evils" wouldn't even apply. Both of my choices are so mind-blowingly amazing that this choice is far harder.

But I have to remember: I'm not picking one over the other.

I'm choosing both. But it still calls for great change and great compromise.

And it's great. It all is. It will take adjustment, and there will be more tears, and more heartbreak but in the end things will be even better than they are now (I didn't even know that was possible). I will have created a life with both of my loves at the top of my pyramid and the tears will be replaced with laughter and smiles, and the heartbreak will again make my heart stronger and bigger and even more excited for life.

I will be okay, better than okay. And my loves will be okay, too, better than.

They already are.

On Certainty, part 3.

I keep trying to think of a catchy way to start this; a hook, or some sort of opening line that sums up, or at least gives some sort of direction for the following precipitation of words. But I really can't find one, so I figure, why force one?

The past few months of my life have been a bit of a...whirlwind? evolution? experiment gone cuckoo? hasty rush of rebellion? I couldn't sum it up if I tried, and trust me I have tried. But no matter your phrasing, it's all relative anyway. What it is for sure though is...

I am living.

Not just the normal, everyday, sustain your body, autonomic function living. But the out of the ordinary, once in a lifetime, sustain your SOUL and your mind living. I get a little quick of breath just thinking about it.

I waited a long time to live. Too long. And the past two months I haven't been able to think myself out of life, which has always been my issue, and boy let me tell you it has made such a difference. I've never been one not to think things through. In fact, I don't do much without over-thinking. I would argue that I think too much, as if anyone thought that were possible. And it only occurred to me fairly recently that thinking has stopped me from acting, and that has resulted in a life less lived. Not really the sort of thing a 20-something year old dreamer likes to come to realize. Truly. But then there came a moment when, thank goodness, my head silenced itself to listen to my heart and without any useless thinking I acted.

And did I act.

I don't expect anyone to applaud my decisions let alone agree with them. And I really don't expect anyone to understand them. There were my decisions. And isn't that one of the many beauties of life, that I can live my life and you can live yours, and they can look completely different with both of us equally glowing with excitement?

Yes.

I found a love in someone that I didn't know existed for me. A love that even when I thought it was ending I never lost wonder for, excitement for, gratitude for or hope for. I held onto what I could and didn't give up because for all the over-thinking I had done in my life, I had at least come to one life changing conclusion: this is it.

This is the thing worth getting battered and bruised for.
The thing that will give me the strength to stand up and try as many times as possible.
The thing that was reason enough to look logic and all the people who doubt me in the face and just say, "And...?"

I found it. I didn't have to settle. I didn't have to find out what I wanted by dating men who showed me what I didn't want. I didn't have to sell myself short. I didn't have to compromise myself.

I didn't have to do anything but be me and follow my heart. So simple.

And I know that not all understand, and that just as many, if not more, doubt what I am doing. But I just want to tell them, "I'm sorry. And it's okay."

I'm sorry because you don't understand. But I'm even more sorry for the reason you can't understand: because you haven't found it. I'm sorry that you think you know me so well, but clearly you don't. I have a near blemish free past, mostly due to my insistence on thinking instead of acting, but nevertheless, I don't often make bad decisions. And when I do, it's nothing this grand. I'm sorry that this is what causes your true colors to be seen. I may be most sorry for that because there is so much I wanted you to be a part of but it seems you forfeited your right to be a part of it.

And it's okay because I'm happy. And while it hurts me to know that you can't be happy for me because of your insecurities and selfishness, I'm still happy. More than happy. I am the type of happy and excited and blissful that manifests itself as pure, calm confidence. I breathe easier, think clearer, walk bolder and feel deeper.

And for that I say, "Thank you."

Thank you because, even though I don't need another reason to know this is it, the fact that your doubt helps me realize how doubtless I am about this whole thing and feeds my confidence instead of feeds on it makes me grateful.

I don't delude myself into thinking my incredible journey is anywhere near anyone's standards of normal, ideal or even acceptable...

So good thing I'm not living by your standards.

I can see how happy I wouldn't be.

On Blinking.

The last month of my life has been made up of a series of moments that have left me speechless, excited and completely in love with life. And it all started with a blink.

One moment I was living my usual life of safety nets and habits. I had a carefully choreographed life that, while it wasn't a sad life in the least, it certainly wasn't anything near the standards I had set for myself as a child. And if you ask me, those are some of the most genuine standards one will ever have; you developed them before you knew how to be insecure and scared. And despite my living in routines and habits, one spontaneous moment took hold and that was it. In one world shaking blink everything changed, and I couldn't possibly imagine ever being happier.

I blinked and he said the words I had been waiting to hear.

I blinked and he was standing there in front of me.

I blinked and his life was a part of mine, and mine was a part of his.

I couldn't have predicted the beautiful stream of events that took place, nor would I have believed you if you had told me it would happen. This is my life. I'm still having a hard time believing it, but I'm incredibly grateful for it all the same.

Sometimes all it takes to turn your world around can happen in the time it takes to blink.

Man, I love blinking.

On Certainty, part 2.

How do you explain a feeling that leaves you speechless? That nearly leaves you unable to formulate words and sentences?

I don't know. But I'm attempting it anyway.

I fell in love with a person long before any of my conscious senses were even aware of its possibility. One moment we were strangers separated by three quarters of the United States and the next moment I was dizzy from the flips my stomach did at the mere thought of him. He quickly became one of the most important people in my life and from the very moment I met him I knew that I never wanted to live without him in my life. I knew my life would be beautifully intertwined with his and I looked forward to every new second spent with him.

We hit the requisite bumps in the road; we tripped, skinned our knees and in some instances, face planted on what felt like gravel. And even when some of my closest and most trusted companions thought I was crazy for holding on, I continued to hold on. Even stronger. I wouldn't let go. I couldn't. Because I knew...

I knew that despite how painful it was, how heart broken I was, how skeptical everyone was, that this was something you don't let go of. Something that you fight for in the face of opposition and doubt. It wasn't something fleeting or a fire easily put out. It was the thing that I had always dreamed of and never gave up on searching for, so why would I give up now?

I knew that even though I felt battered and bruised and crazy for holding on that it would be worth it. The pain wouldn't just make me stronger, it would make the love stronger. It would create a love that wasn't just fresh and new, but tested and found to be more durable and more resilient and more unconditional than before; an undying love. The kind I had started to think only existed in dreams.

But most importantly I knew that it would work out. I was certain. There was a constant feeling of knowing that even though it was hard and others didn't understand (sometimes I didn't even understand), that the love would win. And it did.

The certainty that I had always felt wasn't just a naive hope; it was the courage to keep holding on, the strength to not give up. It was the feeling in my gut that knew despite all odds, all doubt, all opposition that if I didn't give up, neither would the love.

A whole new world of life is opening up to me and I am grateful for every new sight, sound, smell, taste and touch. I would go back and relive every painful scrape and fall a million times because it only adds another spectacular layer to my story; lessons and feelings that can't ever be duplicated, that are mine to cherish and mine to grow from.

I have yet to find words that could do this feeling justice. I don't think I ever will...

It is that amazing.

Here's to certainty.

Getting out while the getting's good.

It’s never been a secret that I am not a “lady”; not to me, or anyone who knows me. And to be honest, I’m not all that concerned about it.

It seems to me that there the guidelines we set on women and men in our culture are in no way beneficial to anyone. They are limiting and discriminatory, rigid and unforgiving. The molds that were created for us hundreds of years ago are suffocating yet many people spent a lifetime trying to fit themselves inside of it. Uncomfortable? Quite.

But even more than uncomfortable, it is painful. It is our culture’s habit to make people feel bad, guilty, and ashamed of themselves simply because they do not fit a mold that was shaped so long ago that they are neither helpful nor relevant. We don’t tell them that, though. We just tell them to fit, and maybe not so directly, but with the bombardment of all the silent, covert, sneaky and disguised cues in our movies, our music, our commercials, our everything, the messages are quite clear.

Girls wear pink. Boys don’t play with dolls. Girls will be wives and mothers. Boys will make the money. Women clean. Men mow the lawn. Women take care of the kids. Men discipline them. If you have a child, you should be married. If you are gay, you are a pervert. If you are a “minority” then it is a surprise if you succeed or not a victim of poverty. If you’re not religious then you are a bad person. If you believe in God then you are right. If you enjoy being alone then you have emotional issues. If you’re too friendly then you’re easy.

So many equations and “since you are this therefore you are this” type thinking that we not only ignore peoples’ unique traits and lifestyles, we actually insult them, degrade them, punish them. When did we stop cherishing the differences in ourselves and start coveting uniformity and sameness? Why do we claim to revel in the beauty of difference and diversity and variety when what we actually do is stifle those things as a habit?

I often like to close my eyes and think about what I should be like, if I were to follow our culture’s idea of what a lady of my age should be. But all I can think about is in how many ways I am in no way even close to our culture’s ideal…

I have a hard time remembering to sit with my legs closed (especially, it seems, when I am wearing a dress) and it’s always been a natural instinct of mine to be an avid competitor in burping contests. I’m not married or in a relationship that will lead to it, and at twenty five that is sort of weird. Even more, I don’t have dreams of a white dress and I’m still not entirely sure if I will ever have children. I’d love to have a booming career that takes me places; literally and figuratively. I don’t require diamonds or gold, and my daily cosmetic routine is basic, at best. I can’t style my hair, and in terms of dressing myself, I lack a certain style. And it isn’t rare for me to question whether or not I’ll be able to cook myself food other than grilled cheese or boxed macaroni and cheese.

And I’m not worried. I’m not helpless, or floundering. I don’t base my happiness on how well I fit into the mold; and actually find more happiness in the fact that I don’t. I have nothing against any woman (or man) who wants to fit the mold or actually does, I just realize that I don’t, never will, and don’t want to.

I don’t want to limit myself so I sure as hell don’t want someone else to set limits on me. I’m not dangerous or stupid, I don’t sacrifice helpless animals or cry myself to sleep. I simply try to follow my heart and not just accept myself, but love myself. And so far, so good.

I just wish our culture would get the hint.

Cricket Pitch.

It isn't an infrequent occurrence for someone to make some comment about how often I laugh. The most common comment being that I don't just laugh a lot, I laugh most of the time. It's never said in an insulting way, or even in a way to make me feel awkward, mostly it is said with curiosity. It is stated in a way that implies to me that most people don't find half as many reasons to laugh as I do, and even if they did, they wouldn't have the energy to actually laugh. How on earth do I do it?

How on earth could I not?

My every day, normal life is filled with countless moments that end in laughter. Sometimes those moments are complete surprises, other times they are planned to the finest detail, whether by me or the comedians around me. Either way, when the laughter comes, it comes and it doesn't apologize.

The second most frequent comment about my laughter is with the voracity in which I laugh. I hardly ever giggle; quiet, moderate laughter isn't something I do naturally. I laugh with my entire self, and the intensity of my laughter is the proof. I'm an open mouthed, eyes squinted, body trembling sort of laughter. It bounces off walls and echoes across the world. My laughter doesn't apologize for its arrival or its volume.

What strikes me as most odd about the comments of my laughter is that it is something that catches people attention so strongly that it becomes a sort of normal topic of conversation. Why would the frequency in which I laugh be anything of note? Do people really laugh that infrequently that I'm the abnormal one? It seems like it should be the other way around.

And if we're being honest here, which I have no reason not to be, I have a very strange sense of humor. It's dark but cheesy, twisted but sincere, goofy but adult. It's a million different things which makes in incredibly easy to find things funny. I laugh because my body knows no other way, and really doesn't want to.

Laughter isn't just involuntary contractions of muscles and organs; it is so much more. It is a cure for your sadness, for your heart-break, for your anger. It is a magnet that draws people together; the more they laugh, the stronger it pulls. It is an instinct, a hobby, a way of life. It is the purest most reliable aphrodisiac. It is the glue that holds you together when you're falling apart. It is a melody, a rhythm, song and dance. It is one of the most enjoyable, near death experiences one will ever endure; gasping for breath, aching in pain but loving every moment of it.

Laughter is beautiful.

Think about it: laughter is so important to our way of life that the first time a baby laughs, we write it down and then try without exhaustion to make it happen again and again and again.

So yes, I laugh a lot and I do it loudly. It may even be noteworthy. But can you really laugh too much?

I can't.