when love is wilder than the wind

sometimes we hurt people.
mostly we don't mean to.

i'm probably the most selfish person i know.
somewhere along the lines, i've stopped thinking about other people before myself.
i don't remember when that switched happened.

but here i am, today, declaring that all that bullshit stops now.
it's gonna be me and him against the world, if we have to (though we hope not). it's gonna be me and him making this life better in whatever way we can.

we'll start off tonight with taking a long evening hike.
perhaps, we'll talk about the next two years and what that means for us and what they hold for us and who might be coming along with us.
the thing is,
i'm sorry.

and i'm happy about so many things.

is this love that i'm feeling?

i haven't felt stable in months.
it's probably more like "years". so, let me re-phrase, "i haven't felt stable in years".
now that that's established, it goes without saying that every decision i've made in these years has been made with an unsound mind. seems a little crazy. or a lot crazy.
i need to find something that makes me feel like a person. a real life person and not a dumb idiot.
i need to be good at it.
it needs to cost no moneys.
it needs to hurry.

i'm so tired i can't sleep

i'm lonely.
and tired.
and uncomfortable.
i want someone to buy me coffee.
or want to hang out with me.
or reciprocate conversations.

so much i don't understand.

i told you to be kind

i have a restless heart right now. i have a healing tattoo right now. i have voids in my life and lots of dirty clothes. i occasionally have serious chest pains, i have unfathomable doubts about myself and really bad skin. i have two cats, one who loves me like i'm the only human on earth. that's a nice thing to have.
i have feet that are spreading with age, i have tits that aren't. i have a sky, and some ground and some blood.
i have friends who are moving on, i have some friends who aren't.

i know i'm not.

the good earth

let me tell you something, i like the scars on my face. i do. i suffered with extreme, adult on-set acne my sophomore year in college. i cried every day, or about every day. i wasn't vain, it was just so bad. mostly, too, the big bulbous pimples would ache, some of them were purple and broke like glass when they popped. it was awful. my dermatologist and i tried everything. finally, i was put on acutane. it took a while, but it helped. but honestly, i cried every day. but now, i don't cry everyday. i do have scars on my face every single moment of my life, reminding me that, yes, in fact, I was a victim of acne.
i actually hate the scars on my face. I know about 6 sentences up i said i liked them. but i don't really. i suppose i like what they aren't.
skin is weird.
everything about it. it's size and weight and shape and the varying cells and the ailments and the healing factor and the pores and sweat glands and hair. just so weird. it's teeming with life.this beautiful protective casing. i love it. i love that i came from the dirt.
and that my husband, sitting next to me, came from dirt. and together, we're weirdly functioning carbon piles full of ancient atoms. walking and communicating with oddly sounding utterances, and being. just existing. going and doing.

it's not the same without you around

i used to have a dad. i was a teenager when he died. i wasn't even a real person. never had a beer with him, never asked him questions about life or boys or cars or building cabinets or how he made his roses so amazing.

after 11 years, it's still bullshit.
but he was a man before dust and dust before a man. i love that we loved.

Slave to my artistry

let me tell you about my family.
like all of us, i have two sides to it. my mom's side is from England. all of it. i have some native american heritage, too, after the english came over. my dad's side is crazy. we have polish, swedish and norwegian. german, too, maybe. for some reason, i've always associated my self with the Scandinavian roots. it could be my name. i mean, my name doesn't get more scandinavian. maybe it's my build. (let me echo, my build doesn't get more scandinavian). it doesn't matter why, but i've always felt like a viking.
two months ago i decided to honor that with a sweet ass tattoo. had my consultation in april, and last night, got it. the initial plan was to have a viking long boat fighting the ocean. that fell through. even though i line myself up with that tier of my ancestry, i can't have a VIKING longboat on my body forever. honestly. there was lots of raping, lots of killing - that's not my style.
so, my very swedish grandmother had a tea pot. a gorgeous teapot. and so, that's battling the waves of immigration. all together, i'm showing my lust for the ocean and my roots and the big journey. nick fabini, the tattoo artist, is amazing. amazing. amazing. i recommend him to everyone i know.
i'm excited. and nervous. and i love it.
my grandfather, the Anderson, the person who has influenced me from the get go, well, he's going to hate it. but, i basically did it to honor him, his parents and our history.
all that to say, omg, i love this tattoo.

boring post, huh?

I'll be fine once I get it; I'll be good

Sometimes after a few days of meeting someone you know. You know it's going to be a good thing.
Then after 7 months, it's affirmed: it is a good thing.

I'm one of the lucky ones

I am. Really. This guy is low drama, low key and wonderful. He may have obscure tastes in music and he may be way too smart for me, but he chose me anyway.
One spring day, we both got a little dressed up and decided we should promise, in front of family and buds, that we'll love each other even when we're pissed.
so far, it's been an amazing promise.

Did I mention, he's been on Dean's List every semester since going back to school?
Did I mention, even though we're broke, we both work hard for our tiny family?

plentiful

Today was good.
On days when everything smells sweetly fresh, it almost makes a person forget about the pain.
Soon, nearly everything will be different. By September, my life will be vastly different and I'm not sure I like it.
I can't think about my life. I need a new gig, something long term and stable.

Today, my husband said, "it's difficult to think about the rest of our lives." Except it wasn't difficult to decide on him. Why can't everything be so solid?

I'm not good at anything, really. Nothing that means anything.

At least today was content. The air was sweet with copious amounts of life and hope and I had my favorite person in the world with me. That's always something fabulous.

everyone knows where you go when the sun goes down

I've been a busy person. I don't mean that as an excuse, but I can barely hold that ass up. I'm sleepy. And broke. That's okay. I live a luxurious lifestyle. I mean, Luxurious in that I'm comfortable, not the elegant kind. I'm too awesome to be elegant. You know, I fart a lot and also, cuss a lot and also, eat too much pizza.
The heat is overtaking my life, too. Traveling and heat. Neither which is a bad thing. I like them both, really. I might complain in a few days, but now, I just want to soak it all in.
Since I last thought about it, I haven't figured out what I want to do with my life. I think that's okay.
Today, I'm okay.
We'll see how long that lasts.

"Charlie Guiteau done shot down a good man low"