little thoughts


Maybe we stop trying to read between the lines and figure it all out. Maybe we stop trying to decide if we should trust our instincts. Maybe we stop putting ourselves through the heartache of wondering. Maybe we stop looking for problems, because, at this point, we’re creating them. Maybe we just relax.

Maybe we enjoy life.

Admire it for its face value; enjoy it for what it’s worth.

If you’re spending time worrying, you’re not spending time loving.

And your time is worth so much more than that.



Words are pure magic.

When I first moved in with my boyfriend, I felt like I no longer had a place. I felt like everything in our apartment was his; all I had was a bathroom and my bookshelves.

Did I blame him at first? Absolutely.

Was it his fault? Absolutely not.

He had lived by himself for something like 3 years, and I had lived alone for about a year. We had both collected our own things over those periods of time, but mine were all hand-me-downs. Rightfully so, we moved most of his stuff into our new place. When I walked in for the first time at then end of move-in day, I thought ‘Well, it looks like I just stay here on weekends.’

I’ve gotten upset about it more than once.

I’m silly.

To think that all I have are my bookshelves? Are you kidding me?

I realized, after 6 months, that my books are the most magical things here.

Words are pure magic, and so are the souls who put those words on paper.

I’ve gotten braver over the years, and I know now, that no matter what happens in my life, I can get through it. No matter who walks in or out of my life, I can handle it. Whatever stones are thrown at me, I can handle them.

But only if I have books!

Our apartment is great, and I shouldn’t need things to feel at home. There are things of mine here. Home is a who, not a what.


Here’s to you, Mom.

To the one who has taught me all of the most important things in life, like how to make homemade mac & cheese, and that I can always say “Sorry, my mom said no” when I don’t want to do something… Even at 25, I’m still using that one.

She taught me that what may seem like a disaster at the time will always turn into a memorable adventure. (You remember? Von Maur circa 2004.) She taught me not to take life too seriously, to work hard, to laugh as much as possible, and that there is good in everyone – even the ghost in the upstairs bedroom. No, especially the ghost in the upstairs bedroom.

She taught me that heartache does fade over time, and that a cut on my arm was not going to kill me. (“It’s a long way from your heart,” she would say.) She taught me that pining and moping over something I wanted was not going to get it for me. She taught me to be passionate in everything I do, and to never quit until I was sure I had given an honest attempt.

She always wanted me to do what I wanted, even if it broke her heart when I told her I didn’t want to play guitar anymore. If I wanted to write, she wanted me to write. She always bought me a new book for any given holiday, and she never made me put it down when I spent the rest of the day finishing that book.

She continually told me I had a great voice, as I belted Christina Aguilera songs out at age 9. My taste in music hasn’t changed much, but my ability to hide the notes I can’t hit definitely has!

She has supported me in everything I’ve done, from quitting college to dating some of the losers I’ve fallen for. Even when I think I could have done more, or I could have done better, she thinks I tried as hard as I could.

I will hug my mom a little harder today, because I know a few out there who can’t do that anymore. Here’s to my mother and yours, wherever she may be. Happy Mother’s Day.


Thoughts of the week of June 19, 2017

I’ve had so much to say lately, yet I’ve had so little time to say it. I realized earlier today that I just had a pile of Post-It notes of ideas on my desk. None of them had made it off my desk, let alone into my purse and home. I’m finally in front of the computer and ready to go, and I’m realizing that all of my notes almost correlate with each other. I’m going to put them in what I think is the correct order, and hopefully it comes out as one major thought.

Everything I’ve been through has molded me into the person that I am now.

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