Live A Little

All you talk about are the movies you've seen

The books you've read

The fandoms you're part off

You spend all day on Netflix finding the popular TV shows

Fan fictions

Tumblr posts

Just so you can join the conversation

I love all that stuff too

But

Where our time goes

Our hearts go

You can tell me a million random facts about a million random books

But you can't tell me five things you've done last summer that you will remember

That you can tell your children you did and they'll listen with wide eyes and say,

"I want to live like that too."

Where are the memories going?



We joke about how we spent all weekend staring at a screen

But we know it hurts

But we also know that all our friends did it too

And we'd rather watch Sherlock for seven hours straight and get a headache

Than go do something we've always wanted to do and be behind on the TV show that we hardly care about

A reader lives a thousand lives

Unless they've forgotten to live their own

Then they never lived at all



Good lives are filled with books

Great lives are filled with memories

But

The greatest lives have both.

Five Months Left Guys

I remember on April fools day telling my Kindergarten teacher an elephant was going to step on the school, then being told, "April Fools is for recess."

I remember moving to Georgia and then having my parents called in to talk to the principal because I said "crap" (It's like a swear word there or something...).

I remember believing I had a pet dragon when I came back and everyone either pretending they believed in it too or taunting me to no end. 

I remember my tigers obsession, my pirate obsession, my Webkinz obsession...

I remember dancing all the way home on my last day of sixth grade shouting for joy.

I remember going to middle school and having teachers who taught me so much. Just not a lot about what I signed up for.

I remember flipping my bike and breaking my arm while riding it down my driveway, then explaining what happened twelve times a day.

I remember kind of thinking a guy was cute for about half a day, then the girl who liked him finding out and trying to ruin my life through Facebook.

I remember once in seventh grade wanting middle school to last forever because all the TV shows made it seem like the time of your life. 

And I remember wanting to get out of that baby prison so badly every single day of ninth grade.

I remember my first marching band tour. I was included in something. Then I got excited that I got included in something. Then I got too excited. Then I felt ignored the rest of the tour.

I remember my first time driving. I ran a stop sign. Then I got yelled at for running a stop sign.

I remember my first date. We washed the windshields of the cars outside the temple. We joked around about when the cops would show up. My date guessed 11:45 am. Guess when the cops kicked us out.

I remember watching fireworks with a group of friends. One of the guys sat too close for comfort while my crush was three people over.

I remember not being asked to Prom, but having just as much fun running around in the rain that night with friends who didn't get asked either.

I remember too much drama. Too much growing older and not enough growing up. I remember a lot of friendships made and a lot of friendships broken. I remember learning a lot about trigonometry and learning even more about myself. 

I remember many days I had waited my whole life for that are not much more than memories now.

Senior year is half way done. Another milestone is dead center in my windshield and about to flash by until all I have left is glances in the rear view mirror. 

Five months left until graduation.

Five months left to be a kid.

Five months left until high school is just a memory.

A gift for Patient Zero

I illuatrated some of my favorite lines from your blog. Hope you like it!

I stole some words and called them mine

I Am Not

I am... uhhh...

I am... What to say, what to say.

I am... not.

I am not an adult. That's seven months away.

I am not a pessimist. I've tried to keep Cloudwatching pretty upbeat. How am I doing?

I never liked sports. Other than fencing and marching band. Which deserve as much recognition as any other sport, thank you.

I am not a dancer. But I still bust some serious moves at dances.

I am not ashamed to admit I love Disney movies. Still a little awkward when I see them in theaters.

I am not a "rebel". Molly Mormon to the core.

I am not a romantic. I read Matched (among others) for the intriguing plot. Totally ignored the love triangle.

I have not been to Mexico. But I have been to Europe. Riddle me that.

I am not German. I got asked if I was in Paris. Nope, 'Merica.

I am not Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Slytherin for life.

I am not a bug killer.  I always feel so bad.

I am not a gamer. But I will still kick your trash in Mario Karts.

I am not healthy. Chocolate is a fruit. Right?

I am not a mathematician. Ugh, math is the worst.

I am not a turtle. Despite the ongoing nickname since Elementary School.

I am not as outdoorsy as I so wish I was. But I still love nature with all of my heart.

I am not a photographer. I don't like risking losing the moment for a selfie.

I am not a hipster. I used to try to be one before I learned stereotypes are nothing but lies.

I am not who you thought I was.

I am not my favorite anything. Not the places I've been or the people I've met. Not the labels that have been given to me or the way people have treated me. Those things have impacted me, but they are not me.

I'm much more than that.

I am a writer.

I am an artist.

I am a lover of life.

I am a cloud watcher.

I am Allie.

I am me.



Inspired by Patient Zero's reveal. Check it out. It's awesome.

The Symphony

The purr of the cat under my hand blends with the tap of raindrops on the window pane, soft and light before sharp lightning and crashing thunder slams into the sky. 

The crunch of red leaves in October ring out at mezzoforte until the pianissimo of November snowfall steals the melody. 

Wind shivers in the trees, the rustle harmonizing with my crescendoing heart beat as I reach for the next branch. 

Our laughter is flute trills as we run down the street, feet pounding the asphalt, sun pounding our skin. 

My heart strings are guitar strings that play loud as trombones and softer than violins. My mind is that percussionist in the back of the band room who played four extra measures after the cut off. My life is a song with peaks and valleys, harsh melody's I fumble through and beautiful movements that I want to play on repeat. 

But the hard parts still make it interesting. 

Music is the child of loud and soft, light and dark, beauty and chaos.

Each breath is a beat of the metronome. 

Each memory is a chorus. 

Each day is part of the orchestra. 

Life is the symphony. 

And we are the music. 

#different?

Let's track down the believers and call them hypocrites

Let's laugh and point, but only when their back are turned

The imperfect preaching against sin

What a joke

Isn't it obvious to them that people already are what they ever will be?

That change is unattainable?

Let's call them hypocrites when we're the ones full of irony

Running through minefields in the name of living

Walking into cages in the name of freedom

Stepping in front of trains for the feeling of security

Only realizing what we've done when the door locks and our legs are gone and the train hits

Let's call them the liars when we're painting smiles on our faces

"Rebels" fighting preacher's kids

Feminists fighting girly-girls

Hipsters fighting "the crowd"

Stereotypes fighting stereotypes

Our image means nothing

Being 'cool' or  looking 'hot' goes no further than the temperature of our skin

And if skin is what you're focused on, you'll never reach the soul

When you try too hard to fight conformity, it swallows you

When you try too hard to "be yourself", you became lost

When we're standing here, fighting so hard to become different

WE

BECOME 

THE SAME.

A Tour of my Heart

Hello and welcome! I'm so glad you all could make it today and be one of the first groups to tour Cloudwatcher's heart! If you can, please leave your shoes at the door, we don't want any dirt from outside to get in.

If you look down the hall on the left you'll see Cloudwatcher's memories. What has happened to her, how she feels about the person she used to be,  and the ways she relives her past. In this walk down memory lane you'll feel like you're stepped through a portal into the past, seeing things that are so relateable, you'll feel as if it was all about you! Be careful of the construction at the end of the hall, we're making a new installment, to be opened May 2016.

And we're walking, we're walking.

On your right is Cloudwatcher's fantastic love life! Feel free to take a quick peek. You won't be in there very long.

Please sir, the pamphlet is not a hat. But it would make a nice paper plane...

Over here is Cloudwatcher's philosophic central. Enter to witness the things Cloudwatcher has come up with in her pondering. See the puzzle pieces of your soul. Discover a glimmer of hope. Understand the things that separate humans from robots and experience what we do to feel alive.

Please be careful around the mountain of work, thank you.

We're now passing a restricted area. Please pay attention to the signs and please do not enter. We have no way of protecting you from what is in there.

How many times do I have to say no flash photography? Sigh. I don't get paid enough for this.

And finally, welcome to Optimistic Outlook. This balcony overlooks all of Cloudwatcher's heart's most spectacular views. Over there you can see the orange forests, be sure to breath in all that pumpkin spice. And over there you can see the launch pad being prepped. This look out is my personal favorite part of the tour because of the clear skies. Perfect for stargazing and cloud watching, wink wink.


Thank you for joining me on this tour. You have read my mind and seen my heart. Thank you for giving me a place to explore and create. Thank you for going with me this far without a face to the pen name.

Now it's time to take off the mask.

I'm doing it now because I don't want to find myself as just another face in the mass reveal. I don't want to be so crowded that I'll just be alone.

So, here is the real Cloudwatcher.

Hello I'm Allie.

I'm a dork who wears viking hats to Walmart to see how people react.

Who dances when there's no music just because I can.

Who went parasailing even though I am scared of heights.

Who loves clouds because I joined marching band, and clouds were the only thing that would change during the hours I spent on the field.

I'm a weirdo who went to France and got an unholy case of the hiccups in Notre Dam and was judged by French people. It took the romance out of the visit but gave me a pretty funny story to tell.

I guess that's my welcome to Paris.  

                              

Welcome to my heart blog. I look forward to the rest of the tour. 

I'll just be a minute.

Ten Easy Tips For Quick Nostalgia

1. Sit and remember the good old times, completely ignoring the bad memories about the thing. 

2. Moan and whine to some completely oblivious person about how much you miss the thing.

3. Look at old photos.

4. Read old journal entries.

5. See old friends.

6. Visit old places.

7. Put on an overly dramatic frown and pretend to sob while saying, "Noooooooo."

8. Wear one of the million stupid t-shirts you got from the thing and cry every time you look down.

9. Try to find a way to go back or to relive those memories.

10. Finally accept that you can't go back and move on to make even more wonderful memories.

Repeat.

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." Dr. Seuss

Thanks doc, I know you're right, it's just hard sometimes.

I Am Not Afraid

No one is afraid of anything. 

You're not afraid of dogs, or not getting into college, or drowning, or the dark. 

No one is scared of heights.

Absolutely no one is afraid of failure.

You're afraid of the bite mark the dog tore into your skin. The blood turning red when it hits the air, when it should be safe in your veins, running to and from your heart. The horror of the red teeth coming back for more.

You're afraid of the word "denied" on the letter back. Of the endless hours behind a fast food counter trying to make it to the end of the week. The empty boxes next to the dreams on your mental checklist.

You're afraid of your lungs burning and the darkness closing in. Of your body betraying you and forcing you to breathe in water and only making the pain so much worse. Of the people you love screaming just above the surface.

You're afraid of sitting in your bed in the middle of the night, completely blind to the potential monsters around you. That creak could be a murderer. That shadow could be a phantom. Your racing heartbeat could be your heart's grand finale.

You're afraid of no ground under your feet. Of your insides churning in free fall. Of the complete helplessness as you crash through nothing but air, the earth coming up fast to meet you.

You're afraid of the disappointment in their eyes. The potential you all thought you had ending up to be nothing. The pain of telling yourself over and over, "It's done. I can't do anymore. I. Can't. Fix. The. Broken. Past."

I am not afraid of anything. I'm terrified of what comes next. The aftermath. The aftershock. 

I am not afraid of dying.

I am afraid of ghosts.

To Feel Alive

It's why we go skydiving.

It's why we watch the rain patter onto the windowpane.

It's why we dream of Paris

and New York

and Everest.

It's why we watch horror movies and go to haunted houses.

It's why we create masterpieces and doodle on our homework.

It's why we climb trees.

And why we take risks and throw our hearts out there like a bowling ball into the pins.

One chance to get a strike.

Second chance to get a spare.

Praying it won't be a gutter ball.

It's the reason we dance.

It's the reason we kiss.

It's the reason we fear death.


Because we love to have new experiences but hate being pulled out of our comfort zones.

Because we want to run away and abandon everything and move to Switzerland but we love our home and the people we know too much to ever leave them.

Because we want to learn new things but are too busy watching TV.

Because we want to have adventures but are afraid of getting hurt.

Because we want to travel the universe but don't want to leave our beds.

Because we are mostly water but have to learn how to swim.


Because we are creatures of contradiction.

Because we want to feel alive.

Because we are alive.

I am alive.


And I know you are too.

School vs Sleep vs Life

For the average person, 8 hours of sleep is recommended. For teenagers, 10 hours are expected. To get this much sleep and to wake up at 6 to be able to get ready for school at 7:45 every teenager would have to go to sleep at 8 PM every night. But, the average teenager is still expected to do homework, extracurricular activities, and have a social life.

I'm tired.

I'm so, so tired.

I've got bags under my eyes most of the time, and am always longing for my bed.

I flop on the couch as soon as I get home from my three hour practice, try to give my mind and body a break for a couple hours, then do homework until I slug to bed later than I "should have".

I spend too much time on my phone and watching TV partially because I'm bad at time management and partially much I need to give myself a mental/emotional break.

I want to write a book and cultivate my art skills and have friends, but I'd have to give up either grades or sleep for that.

So much is expected of me, and I'm 17, with only 24 hours in a day and I'm expected to sleep for a good chunk of that time. Who invented this system?

I want to learn, but so much stuff is being fire hosed at me I'm being dulled so that I don't care about quality work anymore. Now it's get stuff, finish stuff, get more stuff, finish stuff, get more stuff... But don't forget the dances I want to go to, the books I want to read, the movies I want to see, the friends I want to visit, the places I want to go. Having a life has suddenly been labeled 'unimportant' and filed away from the sunlight. My brain is being pounded with numbers and facts and so much stuff I'm exhausted and I can't keep doing anymore stuff.

I'm sorry I'm not a machine that will keep going and going and going. I'm sorry that when I fall apart you just can't replace a part then I'll keep going again.

I need more time to sleep.

I need more time to live.

I need more time.

I've got enough time.

I 

just

need

less.


Please, give me less.

Dear Crush

Dear preschool sweetheart,

I still remember the day I asked you to kiss me. You did. Then I asked you again. You did. Then I asked you again. You did, but you told me to wait until after the movie. I did. The movie was the very hungry caterpillar. I was a very hungry caterpillar.

Hugs and Kisses (or just kisses),
Me


Dear second grade cutie,

I wrote you a anonymous love letter for valentine's day. I went to school early to slip it into your desk. I was so excited I started talking to some random girl on the playground and told her. She promised not to tell anyone. She told someone. Who told you. I was humiliated.

Awkward...
Me


Dear fifth grade new kid,

You had a cool name. And a nice face. I saw you cheating in the game at PE. I ignored it. I really stopped liking you when you saw the book I was reading one day and started making fun of me.

Still kind of angry,
Me


Dear seventh grade friend,

I'm not sure why I liked you. You were nice. You were fun. You were, a guy. My feelings just kind of dimmed for some reason. I'm glad they did before you randomly became a totally different person.

What the heck man?
Me


Dear eighth grade obsession,

I liked you a lot. I was really happy when we worked on our history project together and we had to hang out. Then you moved. We saw each other when we visited occasionally. We emailed a lot. Then you stopped one day. I haven't heard from you since.

Still confused and a little sad,
Me


Dear ninth grade "I kind of like you",

You gave me mixed signals. I got jealous of the girl who sat next to you in the class we shared. I found out you did have a small crush on me once. Now I'm even more confused about what happened.

Still your good friend,
Me


Dear ninth grade high school boy,

You were seventeen. I was fourteen. So were the rest of my friends who were obsessed with you that weekend. Except for one of us. She was fifteen and you choose her. That was an awkward couple of months.

Crib robber...
Me


Dear sophomore stake dance true love,

My friends pushed me into you during a slow song. We danced. You were cute. I got your number. We texted for a while. I found out you were using me to get with my friend the whole time.

Thanks for the confidence booster,
Me


Dear double whammies,

One of you was in ninth grade. The other was junior year. You were both cute, so I admired you from a far for a while. Until I actually met you and you turned out to be jerks.

Maybe I should like people based on their personality and not their face,
Me


Dear high school 'off and on',

Sometimes I have a crush on you. Sometimes I hate you. Sometimes I really don't care. All the time I want this cycle to end. Either my heart needs to make a decision, or you need to stop leading me on.

Ugh,
Me

A Letter For Everyone Who Has Rejected Me

Dear people who never bothered to acknowledge my existence,

Dear people who find their phone more interesting than what I have to say,

Dear boys who never texted me back,

Dear friends who decided "I wasn't cool enough",

Dear teachers who don't remember my name,

Dear anyone who doesn't remember my name,

I'm moving on to better places. And someday, when I've reached my potential, you'll wish you had noticed me and treated me better. 

Now, if you will excuse me, I'm off to the stars.  

Sincerely, me

I Refuse to be Robotic

I want to be happy.

Error. Request not found.

I want to feel real.

Error. Request not found.

I need to feel alive.

Error. Request not found.

Am I alive?

Error. Request not found.

Sleep. Eat. School. Work. Repeat.

Sleep. Eat. School. Work. Repeat.

Wait.

Sleep. Eat. School. Work. Repeat.

Please, stop.

Sleep. Eat. School. Work. Repeat.

My feelings are gone.

Sleep. Eat. School. Work. Repeat.

My creativity is draining.

Everything is blurring together.

Sleep. Eat. School. Work. Repeat.

I’ve got to do something before my world is colorless.

I am breathing. My pulse is pumping. My eyes are working. So are my ears, voice, legs, arms, etc. Trust me, I checked.

But am I alive?

I’m still surviving. But have I stopped living and I’ve just got some time before my body catches up?

No.

I refuse.

I refuse to believe everyone must follow these empty patterns.

I refuse to believe that anyone wants to.

I will not just be a robot with working functions but without a functioning soul. I’m going to find the things that keep me aware of the fact that I am here.

I’m going to dance in the rain and lay in the grass and blast music and have a dance party with myself.

I’m going to notice the bones in my hands, the roughness of tree bark, the things that light up someone’s eyes.

I’m going to spend less time staring at screens and more time with people. And more time with myself.

I’m going to stargaze on a perfect night.

Climb a tree and see how high I get before I begin to panic.

Run and then focus on my pounding heart.

Look at photo albums and get filled with bitter-sweet nostalgia.

I’m going to get lost in a book.

I’m going to get to know my family better.

I’m going to get up early and have a moment alone with the sunrise. 

And if my bed is too comfortable for that, I’m going to stay in the covers and let the soft warmth fill me.

I’m going to get my heart broken and cry away the pain.

I’m going to hang out with my friends and laugh until my ribs hurt.

I’m going to feel things in this heart in my chest and think things in this mush in my skull.

I’m going to sit in silence and wonder how crazy it is that I’m just a pinprick on a speck in a universe filled with specks and I’m still sitting here worrying about feeling alive with my mind that is more complex than cosmos.

Because that’s why we’re here. To be curious. To create. To make discoveries. To discover ourselves.

That’s what separates humans from robots.

Robots just try to stay alive.

Humans find the reasons why.

Lightning and Boyfriends and Me

It's interesting.

Lightning.

The electric veins of the sky.

If you're not terrified of it, you love it.

The thunder rumbles your bones. Each flash of lightning caught in your eyes makes your heart beat a little bit faster.

We only see lightning on the way back up. The electricity shoots through the air, ready to grab onto anything. And when it does, we can see it. Making a connection visible for everyone.

I am lightning.

I am reaching out for something. Someone. Anyone.

My inner screams are thunder.

Can anyone hear me?

I see the couples holding hands in the hallway.

I hear the first kiss stories from girls younger than me.

I feel my heart ache as I fade into the background.

Will I even be seen until I make a connection?

I don't want someone to kiss and then avoid in the hallways forever after.

I don't want someone who is expecting to be my only love and has figured out our wedding colors and how many kids we're going to have and each of their names and blood types and-

I don't even want a boyfriend.

I just want someone who understands me and likes to talk to me and thinks I'm funny.

Someone who I can laugh with.

Someone who I like just as much as he likes me. Which is hopefully a lot.

I just want a connection.

Is a spark too much to ask for?

Orange Season

Autumn. Fall. Call it what you want. But I call it this.

Hot chocolate warming fingers through the mug.

Smelling pumpkin flavoring in almost every store.

The satisfying crunch under your feet.

The mountains rusting into a beautiful orange and red. 

Finally wearing a sweater without feeling like you're about to die from the heat.

Halloween filling yards with cheesy decorations that make the season.

Corn mazes and haunted houses.

Trick-or-treating nostalgia.

Stuffing your face on the fourth Thursday of November, and quickly thinking of something you're grateful for when Grandma asks everyone at the table.

"Um, mashed potatoes?"

Day-dreaming about Christmas.

But still getting irradiated when it's October and Walmart thinks it's December.

The last couple months before it takes looking like and Eskimo to go outside.

The air becoming cool and crisp, reviving your soul with every sharp breath.

Raking leaves and diving into dew filled piles.

The trees making their huge year finale, bursting into fireworks on the branches and letting all their hard work finally be harvested. Giving us a beautiful moment of beauty before the chill of winter robs the world of color.

"He looked from the high window at the land where the crickets were strewn like dried figs in the creek beds, at a sky where birds would wheel south now through the cry of autumn loons and where trees would go up in a great fine burning of color on the steely clouds. Way out in the country tonight he could smell the pumpkins ripening toward the knife and the triangle eye and the singeing candle. Here in town the first few scarves of smoke unwound from chimneys and the faint faraway quaking of iron was the rush of black hard rivers of coal down chutes, building high dark mounds in cellar bins."

Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

Now entering FEAR

Now entering Fatal Energies and Anxiety Restraint (FEAR). Proceed with extreme caution. 

Ear plugs, heart protecting vest, and comforting object (blanket, sweater, plush bear, etc.) required. 

For your defense, Logic Rifle must be on hand at all times due to frequent escapes.

Courage Guards always on watch. Find one if encounter with escaped prisoner occurs.

Contentment supply always available after an encounter.

Missing Person

Sorry for troubling you, but have you seen this little girl?

Who is she?

She's the little girl who could never keep her crazy curls in a pony tail. By recess they were always down.

She's the little girl who would write stories about her adventures as a superhero, or a spy, or an explorer.

The little girl who would have story time with her toys, and set each one up with a friend so they would never be lonely when she was playing with someone else.

The little girl who believed in magic long after everyone else stopped.

She's me.

She's been gone for a while and I'd like to have her back.

When did she go missing?

I'm not sure. It could have been sixth grade, it could have been eighth. Maybe she never went missing and has just been hiding in my closet this whole time, busy having a tea party with the teddy bears.

If she did disappear it might have been because she wandered off into the forest in search of the world she made up in fifth grade. Or the dragon she had finally picked her up to save the earth. She might have been defeated by her evil robot clone.

I dearly hope it was one of the first two options.

But I doubt it was any of those. Chances are she vanished when the sketchbooks started collecting dust. When I got a Facebook and forgot the password to my Webkinz. When toys stopped looking like friends, and more like pillows in the shape of animals.

The limits of this 'grown up' life are getting to me. I need a more optimistic view. A younger view.

I need to find myself again.

I need to have the heart and mind of a five year old to help clean up this seventeen year old's head. It's got a lot of murky stuff and if the little girl I used to be came back, things would be a lot clearer in here.

What do I need to do?

Do I need to start coloring again? I have dusty crayons in the office.

No?

Okay, we can play dress up. I've still got some of those costumes, but I don't think they will fit.

No?

Do you want me top pull out the play dough? It might be kind of hard now, but we can buy more.

I'm sorry I abandoned you and grew up. Where did you go?

You never left?

So you signed me up for creative writing. You're the one that's got me drawing more. The one that cranked those book ideas out of me. The reason I did NaNoWriMo so many times, even though the adult knew I wouldn't succeed. You're the part of me that squeals every time I read a good book. The piece that throws the phone when I've been on it too long.

What do you want me to do? How can I get my crayons back?

Keep growing? But I'm trying to unlearn all of this stuff! I'm almost done with the growing up thing. I'm almost an adult, and I don't know if I'm going to like it very much. So I need you to stop me.

What do you mean growing up isn't a bad thing? It's okay to become older?

Can I still be an adult and think like a kid? Can I still be innocent without being ignorant? Can I learn more without forgetting what I've already known?

Can I become the new me without losing the old one?

It'll take some work. I'll have to keep society out of me and keep this heart young. I can't go missing again. But,

Yes.

I think I can.

You're Okay

It's okay to cry.

It's okay to laugh.

You'll be fine if you left your phone at home today.

Don't sweat it when you're not sure how to continue the conversation.

It's okay to make mistakes.

The world will keep turning if you forgot to do the homework.

Or failed the test.

You will go on if your boyfriend dumped you.

Or you lost your best friends.

It's okay to be "just okay."

For now.

If you feel like your drifting through life and darkness with no way out, no light at the end of the tunnel, no rope waiting to pull you up.

Don't stop.

The light will glimmer into view.

The rope will come.

But you have to look for it.

If you don't control your life your life will control you.

So take charge.

Stop drifting.

Decide now to be happy.

Because you deserve it.

Please, believe me.

Please, stop telling yourself that you don't.

You are amazing.

There is wind in your throat and thunder in your chest.

Your mind is a universe all to yourself.

Who couldn't be happy knowing that?

A girl of many hats

To get inspired for this post I put on every hat in my closet. Every one. I'm wearing them all right now. My family was a little startled.

I'm wearing ear muffs (I'm saying those count).

Two beanies.

A fluffy beanie thing?

Four baseball hats. One is a Christmas present. One is from Yellowstone. One is from Venice. One I inherited from my grandpa.

A Santa Clause hat.

And two bomber hats. (Like, cliche Canadian hats.)

I feel pretty fabulous and I look like a psycho. And my head is a little warm.

These hats tell me places I've been. Things I enjoy. People I care about. Little pieces of me.

Everyone is made of pieces. We're like big, deep, impossible puzzles that make something beautiful. But few people get to see the whole picture, if anyone. In different situations different pieces come up to the front. My writing piece is in the center right now.

Calling someone two faced is a lie. All of us have a thousand faces. Thousands of us-s ready to be pulled out for thousands of situations in the amount of time it takes for the conversation to switch topics, or to say goodbye to one person and hello to another. In a step. In a breath. In a heartbeat. We are transformed.

There is nothing wrong with this. I've spend hours struggling over 'who I really am' because I'm a different person in class than I am when the bell rings to go to lunch. But it took me a long, long time to understand that that is okay. I still down really understand it. I might never fully understand this fundamental part of human nature.

People are just too complex. If every part of us came up to the surface at all times, we'd be to freaked out by everyone to talk to anyone. So pieces get pushed back from time to time, and parts get moved forward now and then, and it keeps us balanced.

So don't freak out if you don't feel comfortable talking deeply about your Harry Potter obsession with someone you've known for years. Don't be nervous if suddenly you find yourself in deep conversation with someone about philosophy, then laugh uncontrollably about something stupid you did with someone else an hour later.

We've all got sides to us. Different hats in our closet waiting to be pulled out.

We are all just werewolves waiting for the moon to go down. Bruce Banner's waiting to take a chill pill.

Cloud watchers that, after sunset, become stargazers.

Child in the driver's seat

I went to a party the other day. I drove there and back on the freeway all alone. I usually don't drive very far on my own. I felt so old for a moment. So grown up.

Then I felt like a toddler who got thrown into the driver's seat.

Senior year has finally come. I've been waiting for this since kindergarten.Now it's here and I'm so excited.

But every once and a while it hits be like a freight train.

The only life I've ever known will be over in less than a year.

My feelings on that change. Most of the time I'm so ready to get started on life. Sometimes I'm in shock. How am I going to survive on my own? How am I going to pick a good career and support myself and future family? What the heck is going on?

Those thoughts usually come during financial lit. 

Seventeen sounds old and young at the same time. College seems like forever away and tomorrow. High school only started and now it's ending.

How did that happen? Could someone explain that to me? I'm confused.

As soon as I hit my eighteenth birthday I'm an adult. But the only things in life that happen that sudden are earthquakes and snapping bones. So when do we become adults? When do we shed off the baby to become the child, the child to become the teenager, the teenager to become all grown up? Is it age? It is experience? A little bit of both? Some children become adults way to soon because of tragedy, war, illness. Some adults are still children and haven't learned anything since the day they enrolled in preschool.

Am I ready to be tossed into the real world in a moment? Can I deal with what gets throws at me without running to my mom? Will I be prepared to balance my own life? 

I like to think I will be.

But we'll have to

wait

and

see.

Please Introduce Yourself

"Would you please introduce yourself to the class?"

Awkward shuffles. I'm at the front of the class room. It feels like every eye is on me. But we all know during this part no one is really paying attention.

But when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. I suddenly have forgotten everything I've ever done, everyone I've ever talked to, anything I've ever enjoyed and everyplace I've ever been.

These "classroom introductions" tell people almost nothing about us. These things, our hobbies and our travel experiences, are kind of important, but not really.

It's what they do to us that are important. The little nuances they create in every person. The habits, the personality traits, the things we now notice.

These are the things that set us all apart.

So I'm going to let you see the true me. Here are the building blocks that make me different from you.

I'm always on a teeter-totter of out-going and shy.

I usually pysch myself out about some movie, book, trip; then come out disappointed, promising myself not to raise my expectations too high next time. But then I do.

I'm an optimist. I try to see beauty when most others see pain.

But I still get out my good cry every now and then. 

I'm addicted to Pinterest, but I ignore the recipes and the DIYs.

I'm a girl with a million hoodies. 

And, like, four pairs of shoes. 

I've come up with dozens of book ideas, but have only finished one rough draft. You don't want to read it. I wrote it in seventh grade.

I want the most out of life, but often forget that that needs work.

I love words that make you feel alive. Sentences in a book or lines in a song that make your skin tingle and you just need to take a moment, step back and say, "Now that was good."

I'm one of the few people I know who loves people. I mean we're such adorable creatures how could you not?

I overthink something everyday.

I love the mountains more than the beach.

But sometimes the beach is the only thing my heart needs.

I never eat healthy. I'm probably going to die really early. But it'll be worth it for all of the chocolate.

Sometimes, I hate technology. I mean it's amazing and makes life easier. But it still distracts and steals people's minds. Thoughts. Creativity. Personality.

I hate all sports that involve a ball. 

My friends claim I hate romance. They're wrong. I hate bad romance.

I love nature. But I really don't care about flowers.

I love a good book.

A good meal.

A good friend who makes you feel more like you.

I love it when I start writing and I feel like my fingers know just what my mind wants to be on the page.

I am infatuated by the simple beauty of the clouds. Always floating there. Always changing. Not trying to please anyone, but still pleasing everyone.

Filled with silver linings. 

I can't get my head out of the clouds, because I've gotten a taste of the view.

And it's become part of me.