Writing a Blog

I think it really is time to start being an adult. Yikes. I feel like Friends (the tv show) is the only friend I have outside of my family. I spend more time watching that show than with other people.

Today I went up Mt. Lemmon to photograph some things. My brother Reagan came over in the morning and thwarted (yet again) my plans to go to church. Thankfully. I don't know what keeps me going back, or why I let things keep me from it too. I don't really want to go, but my mind continues to focus on it as the only option for Sunday mornings. But this morning I was up on Mt. Lemmon by 9:30 and out hiking by 10 ish.

I walked down the paved road that had been sectioned off due to icy conditions and found my way through to a path that wasn't so icy. I don't trust myself on ice AT ALL, especially when alone, so I kept it easy and took the path till I hit a place with snow and shadow enough to keep the ice (even in 70 degree heat). I took pictures and sat down for awhile, soaking in the essence of the earth as much as I could.

The 1975

I want to interject here that I have come to rely on writing to earth me, ground me to what happens during the day. It's almost like a drug. As soon as I get to writing I need the noise to stop, my stomach can grumble and have gas all it wants while I let my mind wander along the trails of the day, kicking up the dust, remembering the people's bodies and souls as they poured out their eyes onto mine. It's a way for me to feel connected and like I have a threadthrough. I honestly don't think I've had one for such a long time, with each day sort of disappearing into the next. I kept myself hanging by a thread, and that thread frayed at the ends each day and I had to spend the next making it ok again.

After my hike, on which I saw a few people and each time my mind attacked them like rabid dogs, I drove quickly down, listening to 1975 as loudly as I could. I spent all of my gas, which surprised me. What a whole chunk of gas I must've spent just driving around randomly all the time. So sad. Then I went to Whole Foods and had fun making small jokes with the cashier whose name I can't remember...Ian or something? Then I ran to pick up Kaitlyn, a half hour late. (We're supposed to hang out tomorrow and I feel so much pressure because I don't even know what the heck is going on in my own self, mind, and body, let alone to try and support another being.)

I thought mostly about:

selfishness, kids-not wanting them, my digestion, creativity, photography, getting a camera, how I like nature, how I have a hard time with people sometimes, how my muscles felt, how dirty I was, being tired, etc.

I want to thank God for making the football game possible with my family. Yes, I had bloated gasiness, yes I didn't feel very energized, yes I almost fell asleep, and yes, I headed home after the Broncos game, but I also was very ... content with the fact that I could enjoy THAT much! I didn't die. Nobody has died. I don't know what animosity still exists between Megan and I. It isn't something I can put my finger on and I just get angry when I think about broaching anything with her because I know there's no "winning" or making it stop, so I leave it be.

Regan hasn't called me back, and THIS is the very reason I don't think we need to be in contact, because I don't really feel like talking with her, and I don't think she wants to try so hard with me. I understand how hard it is. It's like walking uphill with a pack on your head...hard on your neck, your arms, your body and back...it's just hard. Add some rocks into the mix and you get ... me.

Maybe I should get an antenna for the Bachelor. I might like that.

So now I sit here watching Friends and typing...I turned it off to type. It's the one where Estelle dies. It helps me try to accept my body. It's hard man! And it also pushes me to want to work at a coffee shop again. ..... Starbucks?? Noooo. I want a mom and pop store. But I don't want it to be bad quality and I don't want to feel alone...I miss Scott and working with him. I really do. He's my favorite boss ever. EVER.

I'll end with a John Green quote:

Every single day, I get emails from aspiring writers asking my advice about how to become a writer, and here is the only advice I can give: Don’t make stuff because you want to make money — it will never make you enough money. And don’t make stuff because you want to get famous — because you will never feel famous enough. Make gifts for people — and work hard on making those gifts in the hope that those people will notice and like the gifts.

Maybe they will notice how hard you worked, and maybe they won’t — and if they don’t notice, I know it’s frustrating. But, ultimately, that doesn’t change anything — because your responsibility is not to the people you’re making the gift for, but to the gift itself.