Tuesday, June 28, 2016


i wonder
how in the world
i was born
of all the places
all the times
all the lives
all the breaths breathed
this is the air
I'm breathing now
these are the sunsets
painted for me
the humans
made for me
the words
meant for me
this is the life
I was made to live
so why would
I let it
pass me by

Sunday, June 12, 2016

ordinary day

in case you were wondering what I do while working at the library everyday THIS IS WHAT I'M DOING EVERYDAY. dreaming about this actually happening. and psh no of course I'm not in love what are you saying.

it was any other ordinary day
I walked into the library in the back entrance in the early morning light and the fresh air after rain
to quiet nods and good mornings and tossed my keys and bag gently into my locker
wheeled the cart full of books to the right out of the back, into the elevator, and up to the next floor
I’d already been in my routine for a while before I saw you
or rather I subtly sensed or heard or felt you, I’m not sure which one was first
maybe it was the creaking of the old wooden floors beneath your feet
or a breath of air brushing imperceptibly past your lips
or a careful scuffing through the rows on rows of books
maybe it was the touch of your eyes when my back was turned
but my first sight of you was through the shelves of books
just a glimpse of a pair of hands
strong and tanned and rifling through my books without infringing
what a better combination than well-muscled hands and a well-read mind I thought
and then felt like hitting myself cause I felt like I was already falling
and cause I’m such a wishful thinker when I don’t want to be and such a cynic when I don’t want to be
I kept returning the books to their homes on the shelves
embarrassingly aware of his presence on the other side of the row
and living in anticipation of the point when I’d have to put a book away on the same row in which he stood
as I reached to tuck a thick novel in between it’s two neighbors on the highest shelf
he entered the corner of my vision, neck bent over and brows furrowed in complete concentration on the book in hand
I focused much too single-mindedly on the task at hand
as he looked up from the back of the book, his eyes searching aimlessly
till they found me
I determinedly avoided them focusing on the way the light played with the dust failing to settle on my books, the way my ring was twisted too far to the left, how I needed to cut my nails
I felt the movement of you turning down the aisle and remember turning towards you much too vividly
tucking my hair behind my ear self-consciously
everything was sharp and clear to perfection at the same time surrounded by a haze
I remember a thousand things that I noticed in that first glance
the soft dark unconcerned hair
the firm jawline
your eyes were all the colors of the ocean
slightly bleary from morning and framed by thick lashes
your skin was the shade of a working man
and was that a spray of freckles across your nose?
your eyes widened fractionally as I turned, as if taken slightly off guard
my heart fluttered annoyingly. was this stuff not just for, like, YA fiction or something?
you bit your lip self-consciously and asked politely did I work here
I responded with a smile and didn’t remember what I said
you asked something about a book on military history,
moving closer to show me the author’s name on the book in your hardened hands
“it was written by this same guy, but I didn’t see it over there”
“what did you say the title was, again?” I said, moving towards the computer, even though I knew he hadn’t
he told me, laughing a little at the drama of the name
I wanted to turn and look at you but I was facing the computer and you were behind me
I wanted to see what you looked like when you laughed
I typed it into the search engine, my hands a little too flighty, 
and sought it out for him in the new arrival section, explaining his mistake to him
he apologized and I tripped over my words in an effort to relieve him
“oh, no problem, don’t worry about it- it happens to me all the time”
you actually looked slightly amused by this as I handed the book over to you
“does it?” I hesitated and you laughed and this time I saw
your face light up and sunshine pour out
and your slightly crooked, imperfect smile
“well, I kind of work here, so I’ve kind of gotten used to it, but it used it to happen to me all the time. so don’t feel bad- I know how you feel.”
you laughed some more at this and looked me in the eye. “well, good I feel better now” you say, still looking me in the eye.
“good” I reply with a smile playing on my lips and I can’t stop it
then you say thanks and I say no problem
and in my mind I think
I like you

12:45 am

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

oh it's too late to be writing this

its late on an early june summer night
it's actually almost morning
the thunder sounds like the thunderstorm in the sound of music
and the rain sounds like my childhood pounding on my tin roof
my lights feel like christmas lights
and i should be sleeping
my sister's moving out soon and i don't know whether to think about it or not or if it matters either way
she's living close by and i'll see her often and i'll visit hourly i'm sure and
oh it's too late to be writing this
oh well

but it won't be the same
we won't be having a sleepover every night
i won't be the one she randomly decides to watch lord of the rings or disney movies or netflix with
we won't be able to send each other pins from the next room over and hear the other laughing at them through the half open door
we won't be able to fall sleep to the sound of the fan in between our two rooms, muffling the sounds of our laughter, not quite smothered
we won't have our bathroom seshs, getting ready for bed at night
singing in the shower
she won't randomly come in my room and slouch into a chair and sit in a silence so at rest that comfortable sounds too obvious a word for it
she won't be here to harass me about cleaning the bathroom, to tease the younger kids, to cry silently laughing over inside jokes from when we were twelve
to discuss books, to stalk on instagram, to do and talk about every thing with
to be together
i don't know

it'll be good
but it'll kinda suck

i keep feeling like maybe i should be crying when i think about it but for some reason i'm not
maybe i'm too tired
maybe it's just okay
and i realize that
but maybe i just still haven't realized it
and it'll hit me that last night that last minute before she walks down the aisle
and shoot.
she's there. and it's over. and she's gone.

ya know what maybe i should just not think of the fox and the hound song. when you're the best of friends. maybe if i just do that i'll be okay. maybe not though.
i still don't know what i think, but God's working good and he's turning us to gold and it's all Good.

man, thunder's loud when it rumbles. maybe that's God rumbling quietly reminding me that he controls the storm. ooh. that was a crash. maybe it's more important than a quiet one. He's holding it all in His loving, scarred hands.

just went to my devotional that i was supposed to do today as i closed all my tabs down and the first verse on there was proverbs 1:33 "but whoever listens to me will dwell secure and be at ease without dread of disaster" well now i'm crying

Saturday, June 4, 2016

team waffle | a tag

  1. thank/link the person who tagged you.
  2. answer the questions.
  3. tag 5 people.
  4. include your favorite waffle/pancake recipe. (optional!)
shout out to rachel for starting a full out war underneath my simple tweet of "I want waffles". head on over to her blog for a little run down of how this all actually got started. also thanks to dslfkj lskdfjdlkjf lskdfjldsk slkdfj for tagging me. ^-^
// ideal pancake or waffle in three words //
 light and not pancake. just kidding. i'd like to clarify that i eat both, but waffles are so blatantly superior in my mind that i had to participate. i have yet to eat a pancake that doesn't leave me feeling gross afterwards. < my life is basically a tragedy. or a tragicomedy because in the end i get waffles.
// if you could eat pancakes or waffles with anyone in the world, living or dead, fictional or real, who would it be // 
either c. s. lewis or julie andrews. tough stuff. refusing to let myself think about fictional characters because i won't be able to constrain myself. although i feel like dumbledore could really appreciate a good waffle.

// top three condiments to put on your pancakes or waffles //
wow. these are too difficult for me. recently was introduced to the idea of cream cheese on waffles (this basically like combining bagels and waffles and i almost started crying. my two favorite entities in the universe combined. wow.) and that was good. also cool whip and any berry. i've also heard fried chicken ??? on the bucket list to try.
// why pancakes or waffles are better than the other option //
*prepares master thesis presentation* waffles have special boxes to store syrup, butter, cream cheese, berries, etc. it basically makes you feel like you have an organized life. they are infinitely more aesthetically pleasing. you can hold them to eat on the go. much more difficult with pancakes. at least for me my waffle maker divides them up into quarters so if you don't want much then you can just take half or a quarter, or if you want more but are unwilling to commit to eating a whole one, you can just take a little bit. or take four different quarters and use different toppings for each. also their name is a WAFFLE. like are you kidding me just think about how great that word is. it just makes you want to eat one. 

// if you could make your pancakes or waffles into any shape or size how would you choose // 
a hand making a peace sign. who even knows why. oh or sunglasses. i would feel so cool.


how do i recipe i've only ever used like two different ones so i'm not even gonna put them on here but autumn and abbiee both had gorgeous waffle recipes so go find those. probably will end your life long search for happiness.