I promised myself I would write more this year. We’re a month in, and so far I’ve held up  that promise. I have been writing everything, nonstop. I’ve almost filled a whole journal. I have words strung into thoughts, rarely sentences, written everywhere, that almost never make sense to even me an hour later. But, at least I’m writing.

I’ve grown to despise numbers (thanks Calculus), but you can never really escape them. They’re always there, quantifying everything in your life. The day of the month, grades, how many miles you hiked, how many hours of sleep you got, everything. But those numbers so rarely give you the whole story. They only give you a small snippet of the point, but often it seems that’s what others care about the most. The day of the month really isn’t as important as what you’re going to do that day, how many hours of sleep you got isn’t going to tell you much; was it good sleep?, what did you dream about?


There are certain words I can’t seem to escape lately. College, agility, grades, midterms, puppies, boys, goals, fears… Am I missing anything? Those seem to be everywhere lately. I think about them a lot, and what they mean. Some are more important than others, but the words are still in my mind. I’ve always been obsessed with quotes. I guess they always put into words what I couldn’t express. I have quotes everywhere, written on my wall, in my planner, in the background on my phone. The more I grow to dislike numbers, the more I fall in love with words, Not so much quotes anymore, I think I’m learning to express myself now, without using someone else words, but just raw words. I’m learning to use them better, and figuring out how to put exactly what is going through my head down on a piece of paper.


Words carry with them so many other things. We did a project on this in school after reading Huck Finn, which by the way was awesome. What words did we hate the most, and why? That was our prompt; get in a group and talk about it. Hate itself is a very strong word, and I had trouble thinking of anything. I could think of a few that I will never use, and things I don’t like that my friends say, but did I really hate those words? Everyone else put down racist words, or offensive words, but I put down failure. A friend of mine, the very girl who inspired me to start writing, among other things, just posted a blog about that very word. Funny, I knew we were alike, but seriously? I realized that I in fact don’t hate that word. It symbolizes so many things, very often scary horrible things, but it also says that you tried. And isn’t that the most important part? That you get back up, and try again despite having failed? I’m still learning the balance of all this.

Words have become so important to me, and everything they carry. I’m going to continue writing jumbled sentences all over the place for now, but also taking the time to remember to write like this too. That is so important.


Figuring It All Out

7 days in, one mere week into 2016.

I promised myself that I would write more in 2016. So far that has gone really well, I have a new journal, I have a new wonderful planner, I’ve been very organized. I use my Passion Planner, which seriously everyone needs, to organize my every move lately.

To say I’m a control freak would be the understatement of the year. Maybe that’s why life has been such a whirlwind lately; it’s so messy, all of it. I feel myself loosing control. I wish I could say I love not knowing what lies ahead, the element of surprise in life, but right now I just don’t. If anyone has a crystal ball, it would be very appreciated right now.


I was a dancer for 10 years. And for over half of my life that was how I defined myself. Dance was my happy place for so long, I cherished it beyond words, and I still do. Eventually though, dance had stopped being my happy place. I stopped dancing in my living room, and that little studio in the strip mall was no longer the place I wanted to spend all my time. That was something I had to come to terms with. It took me a very long time, but I accepted that life changes, and it goes on. A video came up on my newsfeed this week  of my old dance teacher, and a beautiful lyrical combo, and I broke down. I don’t know why, but I did. Something in my soul ached to feel the music in my heart again, and to let it move me. I don’t know when I stopped dancing down the aisles at Stop and Shop, but I’d like to get back to that. That pure, uninhibited joy of letting the music in my head guide me.


I’m grasping at straws trying to gain back control. To make my life something I want, something I even recognize. But at the same time, I want to give all the power to someone else; please just tell me what to do, I’ll do it, I just can’t decide by myself. There are so many decisions to make lately, and I don’t want to make any of them. I have to make adult decisions. Decisions about what to do in agility, how do you compete in agility without your own dog? You don’t. So I guess that means I want a puppy. But oh no, I’m definitely not ready for that. I’m not right? Am I? I have no idea. The world just keeps on spinning, no matter how loud you yell “PLEASE SLOW DOWN”. Life will keep going, I guess you just hold on  tight.

A lot of people look at life like a puzzle, and the pieces, especially the hard ones, will come together to make a beautiful picture.

I’m looking at life like a dance. The steps may feel so mismatched, and out of beat with the music, but then at some point, it all comes together. It becomes this beautiful collage of levels, and emotions, and motions. I guess that’s exactly what life is like.

I’m going to keep dancing with my dogs, and with the woods, and with my people. I’m going to let the music move me, and take me.