James Patterson

"I'm comfortable in my own skin, but I'm certainly not impressed with myself."

Lover Of The Light

My favorite part is when he's picking out the tie. So simply elegant.
Also: Mumford (+) lyrics = A+++.

Baba W

She was so much older than my grandmothers, because my best friend's parents were so much older than my parents.  But with the age, perhaps, came the wisdom. 

And peace.
She was peace, personified.
She was joy.
She was graciousness.

How can I describe her?  How can I give you a taste of this beautiful slice of my life? A person wanted to be around Baba, felt better around Baba, couldn't help loving Baba. Baba was so much at rest with who she was and what the world was. She is what comes to my mind when I think about who I want to be. I miss her rolling Russian accent. I miss hearing her pray in her native language. I miss her roses and her back house and her kitchen and the little jar of candy on the coffee table. I'm glad I knew her, and grateful that her memory is almost as strong and fresh as her presence even years after her passing.  It...she...reminds me to hold on to peace and let myself give grace.

God, that I might be like Baba.

Storage

Well, it's happening. The infamous storage unit in Oregon is being emptied and its contents reunited with their owner.  The truck won't get to me for another two weeks, but two weeks is a short wait when I haven't seen my things in three years.

(Things.  In French, directly translated, les choses.  I said this a lot in France, because I say it a lot in English.  Months and months into my stay a friend finally said, "Rachel, we just don't say les choses like you're using it.  Say, maybe, mes affaires instead."  Way to teach me not to be so vague, Cyril.  Your voice will be in my head til I die, correcting me every time I use the word "things." Kudos.)

So tonight I am listening to All Good Things Come From the Desert and rearranging mes affaires yet again, anticipating the tight squeeze it'll be once my second half arrives.  Half my wardrobe.  My favorite books, to be added to the almost ceiling-high stack in my closet now.  Dishes I still won't need for a while.  A bike.  My desk - that last one so important and greatly missed these passing years, but I find it a bit painful to think about fitting it into a crowded bedroom that already has to make room for my niece's toys, a bed, and two dressers.

My things.  Mes choses.  Mes Affaires.

And Christopher Miner.

The rearranging, the anticipation, the music...I feel like I'm 26 again.  I feel like I'm neurotically in like with T.J. and discontent with my life.  It's funny how just the right combination of things can throw you back like that.  I'm not discontent, and I no longer like T.J., and I'm certainly not 26.  But music can rub on your heart scars sometimes, pulling them just the right way to remind you there was once a wound.  It's not bad.  Sometimes it's nice to remember what life was, even to enter the emotion for a second, like watching a sappy movie.

Did you now scar tissue can have its own blood supply?  Scar tissue is not, as so many assume, dead tissue, but living. That's why its still sensitive sometimes. But the little pinching reminders are good.  They say, "This is what your life has been; this is what you've been through.  Remember, and be grateful.  Embrace the growth."

Nerd Love

I'm baaaaaaack!

Well my dears, I privatized for a while and thought about deleting, but here I am again.  I like this outlet.  I like looking back at old posts and remembering my life.  It is good.

You know what else is good?  My life.  I've had a good life.  I've lived, and that has made it good.  Kierkegaard talks a lot about venturing and risk; I think, as a young man, he did not risk enough in life and later regretted it.  I, however, am a master at risk (with both success and failure) and have no regrets.  (Well, very few, and the ones I do have would be silly to most people.)  I don't think you can live with regret and live with heart at the same time.  Risk and venture are part of life and we can only work with what's been built before.  So if I step out and risk something and it fails, what have I lost?  Nothing.  I have gained everything.  I have gained knowledge from my failure, I have gained boldness by learning how to fail.  I have been broken of perfectionism because failure has taught me I am imperfect.  I've learned to give grace to others in their failures, and I've learned to let go of the ideal for the sake of the real. 

I love risk and I love failure.  Because of this, looking back, I love the life I have thus-far lived. Even in the hard times (Endo!) I have lived fully, and to die today would be no loss.  What a lovely life I have been given.  How beautiful life is. I am content.

(Of course I must acknowledge my parents, cause they never held me back with fear or caution.  This is a great rarity among parents, I think, and I am blessed.)

LDs (Long Distances)

I want to hold you. Put my arms around you  and squeeze tight for a moment.
I want to kiss your forehead and tell you, "It's gonna be alright."
I want to cook your dinner and tell you, "You are loved."

Oh friend(s),
would that my arms were long enough
to reach across the miles!
Would that I had seven-league boots!
I'd be there in a minute to
hold the baby when he cries
or
hold you when you cry
or
simply do the dishes.

You carry my heart in
Texas,
Carolina,
Michigan,
Georgia,
Paris,
and Kentucky (to name a few),
and I carry yours.
As yours hurts,
mine hurts.

It is so hard to be far away while you hurt.