Thursday, December 23, 2010

I Don't Say A Lot of Things

I Don't Say A Lot of Things

But this year I want to say one thing.

May you be far



May you have






Courage this upcoming year.

So with the fat season here

and while you are full of cheer,

May you pull up a chair

and listen.

To others.

Truly listen.

Hear their stories.

Give a little too.

This is my Christmas wish for you!

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

How to Have A Holly Jolly Christmas

This week I thought I would be festive and give you how I'm having a holly jolly Christmas liquor and Java Chip Free Christmas.

Let me set up a festive Christmas picture for you boys and girls at home. Picture me holding a big ol cup of peppermint tea and stringing 9.oo dollar saran wrap around my windows. Try to read Spanish directions. Realize that I should have paid better attention in high school spainish. Realize that I will not be fluent in spainish in 15 minutes proceed to sing Juan Paco Cinco de lamar (yes I can spell Spainish. Speak it? Well I can order you an omlet with cheese.) and attack windows with blow dryer. Cry as saran wrap stays in place. Realize I have tape in drawer. Cause tape will solve all problems. Put tape over saran wrap then blow dry. One tease out later windows now have another layer! YAY!

I think I'm ready for spring.

Sunday, December 12, 2010 - Utah student becomes an accidental activist - Utah student becomes an accidental activist

This article gave me courage to stand up for something and ask questions about what do we chose to save and what we chose to destroy.

Read it.

Don't read it.

It makes no difference to me.

Constantly in the Darkness

On a back of piece of paper lies the map of my life. Written seven years ago I find that I never planned past the age of 25. Which surprises me cause what did I expect to happen after 25? Was I suppose to die or something? Or just reach the high level of life fulfillment?

I realize that life never gives us what we want. Or what we think we deserve. Yet it gives us wonderful moments that fill us up when we least expect them. I realize as the months wind down what will I do with my 27th year? I hear that towards the end of your twenties your life calms down. I'm ready for that.

I'm ready to do something. I realize that life is about doing something setting goals and reaching them. As Christmas gears up for one more round of forced gaiety. I'm linking an article from KSL about somebody who taught me a lesson. I'm not voicing much of my opinion about it because I believe that y'all are grown ups and can make up your minds but what he taught me was to stand up for what you believe in. To preserve something and to ask why do others profit and others don't.

Read it.

Don't read it.

But take courage to do something different with your life.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Hey Didn't You Know I Was Off to See the World?

I'm ready for adventure.

Call me today.

My bags are packed, the letter of resignation is written and ready to be dropped off to the mailbox I'm sure my boss would understand. I'm ready to vacate my life. Ready to take the art off the walls put the books in boxes and purge my clothes.

I dream of leaving. Leaving with just my clothes and the memories stitched inside my skin. I want to stand on a different horizon. To see the sun rise and set in a different place. I wanna drive a different car and see the stars.

I'm ready to put this life aside and chase after that one that I dreamed of years ago. I realized today that it is almost two years ago that I started this blog. Two years! In that two years I lost 20 pounds gained 40 and graduated from a university! Went back to work at my high school job (which truly humbled me a lot) moved in with my parents, moved out from my parents and to top it all off got a job that has great benefits but it is slowly killing me.

When I started this blog I started it with the vain attempt to be just skinny. Cause if I was skinny my life would be perfect right? Well apparently life requires more than skinniness. So I want an adventure this next year.

Anybody care to join me?

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Coming on Christmas

"It's coming on Christmas, they're cutting down trees and putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace"-River Joni Mitchel

During the darkest days this song was one that I listened to over and over again. (The Blue album by Joni Mitchell? Totally top 5) There was something about the song river that I related to. About escaping the holidays and skating away on a river to a place that was better than the present reality.

Yet now as I step back and look at those heart wrenching moments nine years ago I can now step back and be in awe. Awe that the human body in all of its imperfect perfection can create such a terrible disease yet have the amazing ability to fight it. Though I often don't feel awe about my body. Though I see and have witnessed what the body can fight I can honestly say that I am awe struck. How are bodies are not just the fat thing we carry around with us every day but it is us. It is what we present to the world. How it functions. I am in awe that nine years later my mom runs half marathons and pushes herself to accomplish her personal goals.

Another gift I received nine years ago? Gratitude. To Julene and Kelly for coming over and decorating our Christmas tree and living room while my mom was in the hospital so when she came home our house would have the spirit of Christmas. Though to them it seemed a small thing to me it showed the power of the Christmas spirit. For the meals that showed up at our door step. To the cards and encouraging words. For the act of being there. What I have learned from this? To express gratitude. To say it. To do it. To use it. Gratitude for the simplest of blessings. For this season where joy and life hangs in the air.

Nine years ago I saw and heard death. Though it didn't linger and the threat was very easily vanquished. Why am I writing about this? In a way it is a simple way to say thanks but more importantly to remind myself this Christmas to stop thinking about myself. I think about another night years ago far away on a plain in a place far far away from here and in a different time. I think of a young family scared and alone looking for a place of shelter. For a home. Though we have no way of knowing I think of all those who came and helped at the moment and the fear a young mother faced and a young father paced. Though birth and cancer are at the odd ends of the spectrum they are forcedly connected. From birth comes new life and from cancer comes the removal of old life and the connection that life is fragile.

I express gratitude for living through this. I am in awe.

To close I can only say

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas my loves.

Let the simple joy fill the air. See life for what it is. Live it. Let Love and happiness surround you and be grateful for life.

Merry Christmas.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Never Say Never

December always seems to be the month of hurried endings and forced beginnings. It seems as another year prepares to die we are never ready to start the new year. Things linger, the promises, the ambitious goals, and the weight we vowed to lose in January all seem like bills called in due and need payment. With all of that comes the "happiest season of all" where
the lights are thrown upon trees, our pocket books are emptied, and when our hearts are suppose to be full they seem to be the emptiest. It is a holiday of epic contradictions. Yet among all the glitter and the whines of bankruptcy and false intentions comes just a little light of hope.

Nine years ago my perspective of December was changed forever. It was nine years ago and yet every year when I sit in my mother's living room and see the beautiful Christmas tree and listen to Willie Nelson's FA LA LAing (Seriously a highlight of Christmas every year.) and I lay there under the Christmas tree in the darkness looking up at the lights through the beautiful false boughs (we went plastic years ago. Tragic I know) and see all the ornaments and I am grateful for the moments that I have experienced in this month.

On a night very much like this one nine years ago my mother told me that she had cancer two weeks before Christmas. When somebody tells you that they have cancer it doesn't register at first. It takes a moment for your head to grasp it. It doesn't seem real. Like a wispy dream or a terrible Lifetime movie you tell yourself that it doesn't happen. People you don't know get cancer. But not people like your mother.

And this stuff doesn't happen on Christmas.

Cause it's the happiest season of all. The season of Charlie Brown and The Grinch and the island of misfit toys finding homes. Not siting across from your mother and wondering if she is going to die.

That on Christmas morning the tree may be lit, the presents stacked with care but your mother might not be there.

The force of life that brought you into the world. The one thing that you see indestructible is in fact very human. So in this season of hurried endings and strange beginnings you realize that your life that you knew has been taken. Ripped away. There in that moment all you realize is that you are breathing and that is the only thing that you are aware of. And you realize that breathing is the only thing that you can do. Is to keep breathing. Cause in each breath is a moment that she is alive. That she is there.

The world felt wrong. What seemed a bursting season of light and music was one of darkness. The sky looked pissed. The wind talked back. I looked different. My house felt wrong. It all just seemed wrong. And I lived in the isle of darkness. Till someone shined the light of hope.

I can never say enough about My Grandma and Ms. Holli during this time. My grandma who by her presence was there. She was with my mom at the hospital. She was there at home when I couldn't handle school. She was there when I just needed somebody to offer a voice of hope. I don't remember words or conversations but perhaps that is how love talks. It speaks to the inside of us and we hear its voices through our souls instead of our ears.

To Ms. Holli. Who I can honestly say is my second mother. She organized meals, brought friends over when my mom was up for it and took care of life around our house while we focused on healing. Who wouldn't allow me to feel despair. When I think of friendship I think of Ms. Holli and my mom.

So instead of being a giver that Christmas I became a recipient of a thousand blessings, through dinner, kind words, and hope (which is the greatest gift of all).

So nine years later I ask my mother about this experience and she says the most profound thing. " I do not let this experience define me."

So I do not let this experience define my Christmases.

More tomorrow.