Photo of the Day

Here are some photos of the day from Yen Magazine. Enjoy their beauty.

and then I realized....

The past few months have been so interesting. 

For the longest time I felt like I couldn't breath,

like I was going to drown in my challenges and heartache,

today I don't feel that way. 

When I realized that bruises on your knees are called strawberries

and that being happy is a choice

and that sometimes love is all that matters

and that the truth is hard to hear

and that junk food is delicious

and that muscle and courage take time to build

and that coffee shops don't solve all problems, 

I realized that I love a boy

with all my heart, 

and right now, he is what matters. 

I Do

Today I needed a little Andrea Gibson.
My friend Michelle showed me this poem, and it has inspired me for over a year now.
Although I still don't know exactly how I feel about gay marriage,
I do know that love it true.
I hope you enjoy Andrea's words.

Home

Recently I have been reminded of home. Now usually I consider myself sort of homeless. I claim Seattle as my home base, but honestly, I have rarely returned since my departure in 2004, and my connections in the area are limited. Late 2005 I moved to Elk Grove, CA. I was not excited about the move as I had spent the year previous trying to make friends and connections in Stockton CA. None the less, I moved and started my sophomore year of high school. Elk Grove was a nice community and I remember feeling safe and welcome there. Although many people were kind to me upon my arrival, nothing was more exciting and kind than when I was invited to ride in the Muncy astro van from seminary to school. Stephanie Muncy's astro van holds countless memories of talks, last minute homework assignments, and laughs shared between the few girls that rode in it every day. I made some of my best friends in that van.
Elk Grove quickly turned into my home as my doors started opening up to the wonderful youth in the community. Chelsea Tall and I drank bookoos and snuck into a hotel swimming pool. Muncy, Dubray, Corndog, and countless others danced all over town with me on the hilarious humps and indulations spread out through town. Jordan Tall talked to me on my sidewalk till four in the morning almost every night one summer, and Mehul ditched school dances with me to sit at Starbucks and talk. My 3 years in Elk Grove  were full of countless TP runs, late night hangouts, breakfasts, kisses, and memories exchanged between the numerous people that opened their arms and hearts to me.
Today, my desire to return to CA to visit or even live there is extremely small. Elk Grove has become a thing of the past for me. Most of the people I was closest to have left and rarely return home. But even though my love for Elk Grove is hanging on by a thread, Elk Grove and the people I met there hold a piece of my heart. I wouldn't trade anything for my memories in the astro van, or breakfast with Dubie, or making lots and lots of Mac N Cheese at Corndogs house.
 When it comes down to it, I have started to spread little pieces of me all over the world. My adventurous side is in Peru, my caring side is in Mexico, my desire for family is spread throughout Utah and France, My roots are in Seattle, my outgoing side is in Elk Grove, and my heart is with me, being shared with whoever I may meet.
Although I don't quite know if I consider Seattle, Elk Grove, or Utah home, one thing is for sure. Each place has helped create who I am and who I will become. To my future homes and friends, I look forward to meeting you.

Step On a Crack and You Will Break Your Mother's Back

Sometimes I purposefully don't
step on cracks
so that I don't
break my mother's back.

I remember as a young girl
walking to the bus stop,
and dancing across the sidewalk
as I jumped and leaped
over the cracks and imperfections
created by natural disasters
 that ripped lives apart.

I remember thinking it was funny.
My mom is dead, I would think.
Could I hurt her back in heaven?
What about my step mom?
Do I care if I break her back?

But really it was just a game.
A simple saying that all grade school kids
sang as we double douched
and hop skipped

Gracefully watching my step
was my way of showing my mother I loved her.
Today I was reminded of this
When I purposefully didn't step on any cracks.

Sum Up

Finals are approaching rapidly and I am trying to steer clear of my desire to procrastinate. It's crazy to think that I will finally be done in July. So much has happened since I started my college career in 2008. Although I am graduating late for my grade, not all of my time has gone wasted. The last five years have been wonderful yet challenging. I met a boy who I thought was the one, married him, and then got divorced less than a year and a half later. I spent four months in Mexico. I spent two months in Peru. I made some amazing friends. I have been working at a job I love for three years now, and I am dating the boy I hope to marry one day. With our one year anniversary, finals being over, and Christmas all around the corner I would have to say that I have a lot to be grateful for.

Please enjoy this musical treasure.

A Humble Boycott

Here is the thing,
I love to write,
like I love to write.

Writing is my outlet
and I do it daily for my own pleasure

Today I am avoiding writing.

I have a 10 page paper
and another 5 page paper
a presentation,
a book report,
and 3 final exams
all within the next two weeks.

So today,
I am avoiding writing
I am using my power to say no
and boycott one of the loves of my life

Who ever needed words and writing anyway?

Oh wait,
I did.

Enthusiastically Supporting

Yesterday I had a major interview.
I prepared, and I felt like the interview went well.
I was informed today that the committee enthusiastically supports my candidacy
Now they are passing it onto the head honchos
It's a waiting game,
but I think I got in.

What do I do?

Towers

I have been so grateful for this past week.
I feel like my life is finally on a normal stable path
and I love that I am with the love of my life.

Although life is always challenging,
I am choosing to be with my love,
to be happy,
and to make the most of anything that comes my way.

No one can make me feel or choose anything but me,
and I choose happiness with the silly boy
that skateboards, cooks, and makes me stronger.

Yo Soy Un Bebe

Okay, I must apologize for my previous post.
I am just in a ruff spot.
I thought it was getting better,
but when it comes down to it
I still feel as lonely as I did last week
and keep fighting back the tears to keep
me looking professional
and from making my make up look zombiefied.

I have this small aching hole in my heart that is starting to expand
to my lungs so I can't breathe right
and is spreading to my eyes
so I can't see right
and is spreading down to my large legs
so I can't walk right

My whole body is in so much despair that waking up
seems like the worst thing my body
could ever imagine to do,
but somehow I always get up because waking up,
is not nearly as bad as going to bed,
because going to bed means that I
am going to be alone
and have no defense against the dark shadows
that hide in my closet and under my bed

When I go to bed,
I lay there and lay there
and think about
what the hell I am going to do after I graduate,
how I can keep myself fully occupied the next day,
what I can do to stay happy and not feel so damn lonely

I know I am being a big baby,
but babies are loved
and cuddled and have
that wonderfully weird baby smell.

I just want to know that somebody cares
that we are not going to run if things get hard,
and that you will hold me
and be there emotionally for me when I need to be a baby.

I promise I am not a needy person,
in fact, I can't stand needy people,
but right now I need to be,
so I am going to be a baby
and hope I can teach myself to grow and mature
and move on to walking right,
seeing right,
and developing my body and soul.

Hopefully that has happened next time I write,
or who knows what I could turn into next.

Stupid

hmmm... let me see...
What do I write about today?

Let's see...
I'm pissed!

I'm just mad at the world today
It's snowing!
Stupid!
Even though the mountains do look insanely gorgeous,
I can't feel my ears!

Stupid!

Pick Up Trucks

We all have hearts

that wanna be old pick up trucks

permantely parked

in someone’s front yard.

I’m gonna keep fixing mine up

and someday

my love is gonna be sure as the sun

it’s never gonna run.

-Andrea Gibson

Humans Are Not Meant To Be Alone

My dad always tells me that humans are not meant to be alone
This past week I have felt more alone then almost ever before.
My dad has received countless phone calls from me this week
and has been more then willing to comfort my shifted soul

Going home at night is quite possibly one of the worst things in the world
I do fine in the day but nighttime,
the dark
no one to hold you
and nothing but a large cold space
to great you seems all to much to handle right now

I know that in reality we are never alone
we all have our god
and I for sure do not want to take his power for granted anymore

My dad keeps telling me to pray
one of the things I have struggled most with in my life.
When I was young I blew kisses
to my mom, grandpa, and my brother's best friend Luke
in my humble prayers.

Now I laugh at the idea and crawl into bed angry that their gone
rather then get down on my knees and thank my maker

So last night I prayed
I let out a few tears for the 5th day in a row
and then climbed into my abyss

My thin blankets layered softly on one another
held me last night

I still felt unbelievably sick last night
and my heart ached till it beat in the depths of my throat
but, it was okay

Someday I know I will be okay
and the dark, and my bed, and my home
won't seem so scary anymore.

Eventually I won't be alone anymore
and I will have someone
like all humans are supposed to

Humans are not meant to be alone

The Affects of Books, Crying, and Coffee Houses

What do you do when you heart is telling you something
and you know its right but
you just can't seem to follow through
because life is easier without that decision?

What do you do when you don't want to end up with that decision
but executing it would crush your whole world
and cause it to come crumbling down around you
like little pieces of damaged hearts and lungs?

You see, I have been meaning to write for a long time
In fact I have been craving alone time for a few days now,
but I just love being with my loved one

Now, I am actually going to write out how I feel.
which is the best way to tell anyone that I know
what I actually think about something.

This time next year
I could very well be on the other side of the country
or on the other side of the world
Both sound amazing to my eager heart

So what am I going to do?
Who do I choose and what do I do
with the rest of my life?

Yes, I am young and life
can change at any moment
but I have a fairy tale in my head
of a loved one that appreciates the arts like I do
that can read a book by my side,
loves to spend time in coffee shops and listen to people's art

Because sitting in a coffee shop all day
reading books and learning and
breathing and being
doesn't sound so bad to me.

I'm almost as anti social as they get
and although I am not awkward
I enjoy and need my alone time
in ridicoulsly large amounts.

Maybe I will move to New Zealand
and open a coffee shop
Serve over priced drinks to travalers and locals
and allow a giant room full of fall smells,
an ambiance of peace and serenity, and a
little Jose Gonzalez to their day
and allow them to read my books
and steal them and be okay with it
because I gave my book to someone who
was so in touch with the semantic symphony inside
that they stole it from me.

And before that, maybe I will travel the world
and sleep on benches
and feel unbearingly lonely
and cry
just because I can and because no one has to feel bad for me
and because I got to cry and be a peace with one
in India, or the Alps, or Kenya.

Maybe I will cry when I find a beautiful book
and buy it
and cherish it
and then cry again
when it's not on my coffee house book shelf.

Yes, maybe I will do that.

Goal

Goal: Write a book of poems

Be honest with my words

Enjoy the sound of silence

Spread it. 

Keep writing meaningful words

After the Storm

And after the storm,

I run and run as the rains come

And I look up, I look up,

on my knees and out of luck,

I look up.

Night has always pushed up day

You must know life to see decay

But I won't rot, I won't rot

Not this mind and not this heart,

I won't rot.

And I took you by the hand

And we stood tall,

And remembered our own land,

What we lived for.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.

Get over your hill and see what you find there,

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew

I saw exactly what was true

But oh no more.

That's why I hold,

That's why I hold with all I have.

That's why I hold.

I will die alone and be left there.

Well I guess I'll just go home,

Oh God knows where.

Because death is just so full and man so small.

Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.

Get over your hill and see what you find there,

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

Mumford and Sons

The South

The below excerpt was posted as Andrea Gibson's status on Facebook. I thought it was really beautiful so I wanted to share. Enjoy

I used to live in New Orleans. I followed a girl there. We met on a road trip in Wyoming. We fell in love wearing hunting hats. We were both vegetarians. I was with her in Flagstaff, Arizona the first time she saw snow. She was with me in New Orleans the first time I saw a boy glue bottle caps to the bottom of his shoes and tap dance like he was chasing the hurricane that filled his grandpa’s

shot glass. I drank like a fish back then. I hadn’t found poetry yet. At least, I hadn’t found its voice box. I thought poetry was a quiet thing. I thought I could write poems in coffee shops. I thought the train was something that would find me. I hadn’t learned to hop. I worked with a guy who drank like a shark. He called my girlfriend my “old lady.” She was 24. We were so in love I gained 30 pounds. I couldn’t stop smiling. I had an old bike and a lawnmower and a radish garden. I knew nothing about politics. I knew a little about my tender heart. In the south, you never stop sweating. In the south, people hug you like you’re worth holding on to. I’m in the south tonight. People have been hugging me like I’m worth holding on to. I’ve been hugging them back the exact same way. Feels right.

Old Photograph

I have a picture in my bedroom 

on my night stand of my parents.

They look like newlyweds. 

The picture is paper and 

was printed and copied for me 

from a close relative

The frame is a light wood, and broken

I believe I have had the frame since grade school

There is no glass or plastic covering the photo

just mere paper bearing the faces of my parents

The photo is faded

and water spots grace sections 

of it's surface

As I was cleaning my room the other day,

I noticed the sound of a slight pitter patter 

from soft raindrops falling from the gray sky

and I made eye contact with my mother's fading hazel eyes.

You see, this old photograph is below the window

my window was slightly open

The thoughts went rolling through my head

The photo

What would happen to it if it were gone? 

If it disintegrated beneath the heavy rain?

And what would happen if my dad didn't remember that photo? 

Would the memory have ever existed? 

And what would I put in the decayed wood frame

That has held countless photographs,

and is merely holding on for dear life 

since the tape holding it together is loosing 

it's stickiness?

What would I do with an older wooden frame? 

The thought of filling it with something else 

feels like betrayal burning in my chest

How could I ever forget that photograph

and fill the frame with something other then this sacred memory

What is really sad is that 

I, Megan, will be 23 next week. 

and I still can't seem to fight 

or get over the fact that 

I need to write about my mom

That I need to not talk about it,

but write about it. 

Because writing heals my heart. 

So instead of thinking long countless 

sad, sobbing stories,

I rushed to my window and slammed it shut. 

Then I wished I could spend the day 

thinking, 

reading, 

writing ,

and being

But I went to work instead. 

JR

I wanted to share some of JR's photos. He really is amazing and I am so glad that our group in Peru decided to be apart of the Insideout project.

Titles and Such

Titles and Such

What do you call a poetry book? 

"Shit I wrote that time when I was pissed"?

"Years of notebooks and thinking"? 

Something abstract, 

formal, 

 simple? 

And once you pin down a title, 

who do you dedicate it to? 

Your hands for cramping through the drafts of shit? 

Your head for coping up with all the poetic crap? 

Or to the people that inspired your love poems

or hate poems, 

or your sex poems?

Or do you thank God for giving you the gift to write? 

Or do you thank your heart for allowing you feel everything? 

Or your first grade teacher Mrs. Hunt who taught you how to write

real words with meaning and truth? 

And once you dedicate your nameless book to something

What if you say "Oh crap! My poetry sucks! 

Like really sucks"? 

This is just some jiberish I wrote when I was 20 because 

I was lonely on a Friday night. 

What if you really do suck and nobody knows it 

but you? 

What do you do then with a nameless book

dedicated to nothing

full of shit? 

What do you do then? 

                                                                      -Me

Call It Off

Maybe I would have been something you'd be good at. 

I won't regret saying this
This thing
That I'm saying
Is it better than
Keeping my mouth shut
That goes without saying
Call, break it off
Call, break my own heart
Maybe I would have been
Something you'd be good at
Maybe you would have been
Something I'd be good at
But now we'll never know
I won't be sad
But in case
I'll go there
Everyday,
To make myself feel bad
There's a chance
I'll start to wonder
If this was the thing to do
I won't be out long
But I still think it better if
You take your time
Coming over here
I think that's for the best
Call, break it off
Call, break my own heart
Maybe I would have been
Something you'd be good at
Maybe you would have been
Something I'd be good at
But now
We'll never know
I won't be sad
But in case
I'll go there
Everyday,
To make myself feel bad
There's a chance
I'll start to wonder
If this was the thing to do
I'll start to wonder
If this was the thing to do

A Little James

I often wonder how my life would be different if my mom was still alive.
What would it have been like to only grown up with 3 siblings instead of 7?
Would I have gone through the same trials?
Would I be as strong as I am now?

The interesting thing is that although my mom dying has left a gaping hole in my life, I have been so blessed because of it. The things that I have been able to experience and do have made me into who I am. I am still always a little lost, but don't we all get through? We can all do hard things, but sometimes if things get extra hard, listen to James 

Jibber Jabber

For those of you that know me, you know that on occasion I like to be creative. My good friend Audrey has always been supportive of my creative ideas and for that I am grateful. Audrey is an artist herself and taught me how to draw basic 3D objects on Macaroni Grills paper table cloths at dinner two years ago. She constantly checked my drawing projects when we lived together and has always been willing to help me out when needed. It’s through Audrey that I have felt comfortable really expressing myself artistically the last few years. 

Usually I’m not a drawer or a painter, but a photographer. Photography was my major for about two seconds of my college career, but it was a wonderful two seconds where I was able to keep my eye behind the lens and click thousands of photos in hours. 

I feel the most inspired through writing and music. Writing to the beats and sounds of Bon Iver or Regina is always what helps me get through hard days. Not to mention that carrying Andrea Gibson’s poetry around and reading it over and over is nothing but a miraculous blessing. I have learned through my few years or rapid journal keeping and my poetry writing that keeping a notebook with me at all times is the best way to keep my mind flowing. Hopefully one day I will be able to edit my jibber jabber into something realistic, insignificantly wonderful, and touch someone else’s soul. Until that day comes though, I will keep my notebooks close, keep reading, keep writing, and keep trying to photograph.  

Starbucks and a notebook. Is there anything better? 

Gipsy Kings

As most of my close friends know, my dad is Spanish. He was born in Spain and then moved to France as a young boy. It was in France that my dad gained 3 brothers, joined the LDS church and served a mission for the LDS church. After returning home from his mission he made his way over to the States where he met my mom at Ricks college. (This reason alone was why I attended BYU-Idaho in the first place.) Although English was my dad's third language I rarely ever heard him speak Spanish or French growing up. But even though I was not very exposed to languages when I was young, my dad did like to put on a little foreign music from time to time. Listening to the unfamiliar words started my desire to start learning a foreign language. As an adult I still love to listen to music from all different countries and cultures thanks to my adorable father and the Gipsy Kings.

Typical

There are certain times in life that call for Bon Iver
Only the sweet voice and melody's of their songs make me feel better sometimes

You see, I am trying to make some hard decisions.
I am trying to figure out how much I care about certain things.

I am not going to lie that being home has had it's ups and downs.
One moment I am so happy to be home and wrapped up in a blanket with my love,
and the next I am sad and lonely and wishing for my friends in the southern hemisphere.

You see, I am pretty easy to get to know,
and I try to be an open book.

Mom dying: I will tell ya about it.
Evil step mom: I will tell ya about it
Family problems: I will tell ya about it.
My divorce: I will tell ya about it

The problem is though, is that all of these things are in the past and i'm in the present.
I can't figure out if I already know the answer to all of my problems
and are hiding from them,
or if I really am as lost as I feel.

Maybe it's my depressing music,
or the fact that I want to curse up and down but i'm not so that my superiors wont think so low of me.
Or maybe,
 I am ungrateful
or depressed,
or need therapy,

Or maybe, I am just messy on the inside and out.
My shirts, undergarments, and jeans all have holes in them and I can't seem to ever
bring myself to buy new ones.

Or maybe I just need to give a darn about something for once in my life.
Like literally feel passionate about something
and breath it in all day and decorate the walls of my life with it!

But until I feel passion, or figure my life out
here I will be.
At a coffee shop,
not drinking coffee
writing my life out when I should be writing a paper.

Typical.

Daily Life in Peru

I must admit that the following blog is copied. Although I wish I could say I wrote it, I will give all the credit to my dear friend Heather. She seems to sum up life in Peru quite well. Enjoy. 

Getting Down and Dirty...

I'm sure many of you are curious about the living conditions in a developing country like Peru... How am I sleeping, what am I eating, how am I getting along without the substantial luxuries that the United States has widely (but, of course, not freely) available. Well then, let me tell you!

Exhibit A: The pre-disrobe warning call... 

When people live together here, it really is living TOGETHER. It's more likely due to the fact that more space equals more costs, rather than Peruvians generally being smaller people as some may initially conclude, but houses here are not large. If you have a large house, it means you have money - which effectively puts the majority of Peruvians, regardless of family size, in a smaller sized house. What does that mean for us, a volunteer group ranging from 8-17 people? Three bathrooms, but only two that function at any one time! A clothing line that hardly ever seems empty (until recently, when we’ve all gotten smart and started wearing things one, two, three… four, five or six days a week)! Two to three sets of bunkbeds per room, letting you relive grade school summer camp (or even every day up until college, like I did)! Getting to hear your bunkmates talk in their sleep, sometimes in Spanish! And finally inadvertently mooning your roommates, which happens despite the pre-disrobe warning call of “I’m getting naked!”

Exhibit B: Thermarest what??!

Special note needs to be made about our mattresses. As I lay in the middle of the bottom bunk, imagining the damage the termites are wreaking on the second set of bed boards above me, my entire right side slopes downward. You know those awesome ‘memory foam’ mattresses, that conform to the shape of your body when you get in, cushioning you with “just the right support” as you count sheep and dream of fluffy clouds? Meet Memory Foam’s estranged hick cousin. These mattresses also conform to your body… except they don’t bounce back when you get up. There is a permanent indentation on the right side of the mattress where I lie at night. There’s another one halfway down and farther left where I like to sit and read. Yet another one is at the end where I put on my shoes in the morning. I’m positive not all mattresses in Peru are as such, but unfortunately, these mattresses are proudly stamped with “Hecho en Peru”. A smart producer might have slapped a big ol’ “Made in the USA” sticker on it, and let someone else take the heat for this awesome piece of backbreaking technology.

Exhibit C: Mi espacio es tu espacio...

The general sense of shared communal space extends outside the home, especially to public transportation. Poverty-stricken countries typically don’t have vehicle capacity and road regulations high on the priority list. One more person in the bus, collectivo, taxi, mototaxi, or motorcycle means one more sol to take home at the end of the day. If there’s an extra inch to spare, there’s room for one more. Similarly, don’t let that single dashed line fool you. The roads here actually accommodate three lines of traffic. Despite this, surprisingly, amazingly, and perhaps understandably (norms tend to find their own internal logics) accidents don’t seem to be very common.

Exhibit D: Cold showers aren't just for the guys...

There’s one water temperature… whatever it happens to be in the large holding drum on top of the roof. As it’s winter here in Peru that would be: cool, cold, and colder, depending on the time of the day. For those poor cleanly souls who brave it every day, the bathing process consists of, 1) deep breath in, 2) jump under the water, trying not to shriek and gasp too audibly, 3) vigorously, and quickly, soap and rinse, and 4) jump out. Another process, advocated by one of our country directors, Ibada, consists of the first two steps, followed by 3) one good spin (or a few depending on the water pressure), 4) turn water off and suds up, 5) turn water on and spin to rinse. Shampooing was purposely left out of this process, as it only really happens one to two times a week. Needless to say, not all of us brave the cold shower every day. Piura is located on the incredibly dry northern coast. Think dirt and sand everywhere. And although it is winter, it never really drops below 60… at night. Why take a shower every day when you’re just going to get sweaty and dirty again?

Exhibit E: A culinary adventure for the entire digestive system...

If there is one thing that nobody can deny, it’s that the food here is delicious! Ceviches (fresh raw seafood dishes drowned in lime juice), various mixtures of chicken, potatoes, and rice slathered in innumerable different kinds of tasty homemade sauces, fresh bananas that are grown minutes away rather than a 500 miles away, a number of different fruits I’ve never seen before and I am only now being able to pronounce… this is comfort food, Peruvian style. Unfortunately, Peruvian food goes the same route all other food goes, which, combined with a delightful case of traveler’s diarrhea – inevitable, no matter how careful you are to wipe glasses, keep your mouth closed in showers, and apply hand sanitizer – makes for quite the digestive adventure. Luckily, because everyone gets it, there is no shortage of understanding among your fellow roommates. What receives no sympathy, however, is accidentally forgetting that you can’t flush toilet paper and flooding the entire bathroom during said process.

Exhibit F: It's okay, the mototaxi drivers still think you're hot…

So you find yourself 3 days out from your last shower, trying to remember the last time you washed your hair, hunched over from last night’s “sleep”, suffering from another bout of digestive fun, and trying not to inhale the dust kicked up by your trek down the street. It’s okay, you will still be whistled at like you’re the most attractive thing on those mototaxi drivers have ever seen.

I don’t want to leave anyone with the wrong impression. There is no resentment or contempt in this sarcastic narrative. In a rather strange and beautiful way, there is no better way to find personal growth than in experiencing life outside one’s sheltered and comfortable existence back home. At the very least, it makes you more appreciative of what you have, as little as it may seem relative to those around you. It shows you how little you actually need those comforts. Life goes on without hot water and daily showers. You will not perish without your grande mocha frappuccino, your X-Box and Wi, and your king size bed with its 1000 count sheets. After living like this, it all might even seem just a little bit silly.

Blessings

Sometimes it´s oddly strange when I realize I am in Peru, but alas here I am. I have now been in Peru for six weeks and the time is starting to fly. I have learned so much since I have come here and met some of the nicest people.

 Being in Peru has also enriched my hunger for travel. A few weeks back I got the chance to travel to Manchu Picchu with a few of the girls. There is no sight like Manchu Picchu at sunrise and Gods beautiful earth enriching your day.

 Not only have I been able to live in a house with 10 beautiful girls and 2 great guys, but I made so many friends.  The people of Peru have been so loving and warm towards us. Our landlord has become our new best friend, and her children have become our little brother´s. Our cook is darling and I must say I am proud to be one of her niñas.

The only thing that is keeping me from not wanting this experience to end is that Oliver is patiently waiting for my arrival. The distance between us really has made my heart grow fonder. At this point in my life I really can´t not see him in it! He has been on the biggest blesses I have stumbled upon. 

Inside Out

One of the projects I am in charge of here in Peru is called Inside Out. It´s a global art project that we have decided to become apart of. We are trying to show the people of Peru how beautiful their women are. Today I went out with a few of my fellow volunteers and had the opportunity to shoot a few photographs of some of the nicest ladies this world has to offer. Our plan is to send them to the inside out website, receive 3 and a half by 4 feet posters and post them in public places. I can´t wait to get them up and get this project up and running! I really hope that the people of Piura appreciate these women as much as I do.

I´m in Peru!

People, I am in Peru.
It is actually a little hard to actually believe. It does not seem like I am in Peru.
So here is a quick update.
 I am learning a lot about project research and needs assesment.
Our team is trying to figure out where to put our time, energy and resources.
I am getting to see how other people live and am feeling grateful for my circumstances.
I painted a school
 My feet will forever be dusty from all the sand.
I got to sit in the back of a truck all day and go to the beach.
I have not tried any food that is to die for.
I am buying tickets to go see one of the seven wonders of the world tomorrow.
The people I live with are fabulous
I am missing Oliver like crazy
I am planning on coming home early
I am getting used to cold showers

Gone Going Gone

Well, this might be my last post for a short while because tomorrow I am leaving for Peru. I will be in country just shy of four months, and I am having mixed emotions. I am excited to be out of the U.S. again and to work on my Spanish and experience new things, but I am loving my life right now. I am having extreme mixed emotions about leaving Oliver. It has been totally terrible. Yesterday and today I have been on the verge of tears at the thought of leaving him behind for so long, but at the same time it hasn't even hit me yet that I am going to be in Peru....TOMORROW! It's going to be an interesting two months, but, my bags are packed, I am homeless, my plane ticket is bought, Ollie has a skype account, and I have said my goodbyes. Hopefully all goes well. See you all in Peru!

Seattle

A few weekends ago I had the opportunity to visit Seattle to spend time with my Dad. It was really nice to be able to spend time with my Dad since I only get to see him a few times a year. It's been so great to see him so happy since he married Jodi. We spent the weekend lounging around, and it was a much needed break from school and work. 

Happy

This boy has kept me so happy lately. 

Sunday

Oliver and I had a perfect Sunday together

We did almost absolutely nothing and it was bliss

Sam and Jen were kind enough to feed us, 

and we got to play with sweet Lizzy and Brenna

It was exactly what I needed. 

So, I Go

Lately, my blogging habits have been a little out of whack because of my sheer lack of time. I am leaving for Peru in a mere 27 days and I am starting to FLIP OUT! I have a huge list of “To Do’s” and “To Buys.”  School is starting to crash down all around me, and honestly I could kind of care less about my grades right now. I am ready to finish and move on to olive shoulders, coastal Peruvian desert, skype dates with Ollie, and Spanish all the time!

What is currently keeping me sane is Ollie boy. We go skateboarding a lot and he has been beyond patient with me trying to learn. Even if he holds on to me while I continually complain about a ramp, or goes extra slow for me when we go street skating, he is always trying to help me out. He always cheers me on and compliments me for my progress. He has even been watching “Cake Boss” with me on Netflix. We have officially decided that we can make any cake out there as long as we have cereal treats!

I got to spend last weekend in the Provo area, and I can’t tell you how much it meant to still have so many people in the area that I care so much about. I also have the opportunity to go to Washington next month to visit my Dad and to go to Dubray’s wedding! I have been so blessed with the family and friends around me.

So I am going to go for it! I am going to conquer my Spanish test tomorrow, and rock the rest of the semester. I am going to knock out my “To Do” and To Buy” lists and still have extra time to play. I am going to enjoy my last month with Ollie for a while, and I am going to keep reciting my poetry to Gibby. She has been so good as being my poetic friend. So, I go! 

I have decided that homework is completely overrated,

but Starbucks never is! 

AJ

Darling AJ asked me to take a picture of her for her Disney audition.

Isn't she just lovely?

18 Years

One of the few things I hold dearly to my heart is my mom’s journal. Buried amongst my small pile of books, my mom’s journal from her junior year of high school gracefully collects dust between readings. I honestly don’t know how I became the owner of this treasure, but I do know that certain boys liked to walk her to class and call her after school, and I know about her friends and loved ones of that year.

Having my mom’s journal inspired me to first write in my journal. One of my new year’s resolutions for 2011 was to have a journal entry for everyday. Thanks to my mom’s example, I am now on year two of writing every day straight.

I don’t know what it is, but it seems like I have constantly been homesick for my mom the past six months. I find myself trying to remind myself of her constantly. I even put on her plum clip on earrings the other day just so I could see if I could see part of her in me with them on. I find that I try to listen to her favorite bands, and keep pictures of her near by at all times.

My mom has been gone for almost 18 years now, and I feel like the pain of her loss is barley setting in and taking over my emotions.

So, I have been dealing with it any way I know how.

I am so grateful for the few years that I got to spend with her, and for all the kind words and story’s that her friends and family enjoy telling me. I’m grateful for her possessions that continually get passed down to me through the years, and I am grateful for her ability to inspire me even from above.

Tate and Sara

My lovely roommate Sara is getting married to her love Tate in May. They were gracious enough to let me take some pictures of them on Friday. Here are just a few samples. Enjoy.

Ghosts

This song is beyond beautiful

And my current obsession

I present you with “Ghosts”

By: Laura Marling

Please enjoy thoroughly

And remember it’s beautiful outside

And that all things happen for a reason

So it goes.

Talents

We all have talents

Some are useful and some…

Not so much

For example, my brother Nate can do this crazy thing with his lips

That he swears up and down that no one else can do.

It’s kind of a shaking, funny sound thing.

It’s hard to explain.

Anyways,

Ollie has a cool talent

You know those stuffed animal vending machines?

The ones that NO ONE ever wins a stuffed animal from?

Well,

Ollie wins stuffed animals from them all the time!

In fact, I am the proud owner of five stuffed animals!

All of which are won from one of these vending machines!

It literally blows my mind every time he wins!

And it makes me love that kid even more every time.

Another one of Ollie's many talents!

I think it might be his dream for me to do a kickflip like this one day

But for now,

I will just keep letting him skateboard over me

and photographing,

and of course skating.

Another Language

Ever since I was a little girl, dance is something that I have always needed. Now, I have never had the skill, talent, or flexibility to be good, but somehow I have never been able to shake my love for it. Dance for me, is a way to get everything out. It’s so real and understanding. It’s a different language. No once cares what you are doing, as long as you are telling your story through your movement.

Recently, I have been needing to dance. I didn’t have time to fit a dance class into my schedule this semester, and it’s killing me. I don’t have time, and can’t afford public or private lessons, and so my living quarters have had to suffice.

Tonight, I wasn’t feeling whole. I needed dance. I found this lovely video on youtube and absolutely made my night. I think it helped fill the little gap in my heart tonight. The talent, grace and beauty of these girls is spectacular. Please enjoy.

Woman Holding A Balance

I've hit that wall

The wall that says no more studying

No more working

Relax.

Take some time for yourself.

I just took a test,

have another one in a few hours,

have to work late tonight.

Have 36 Spanish assignments to do by Friday.

Have a Spanish test on Friday

Spring break is next week,

but,

I'm working 40 hours

taking engagements,

writing a paper,

doing a take home midterm,

and trying to get my life organized

The above piece is a work of art I am studying for my art history midterm in just a few hours. The piece is entitled Woman Holding A Balance.

I thought it was appropriate

for the gloomy weather,

my undone hair,

my desire to do good,

but my lack of motivation to currently study.

Pray for me.

A Little French in Me

About ten years ago was the last time I saw my Dad's side of the family. My Dad took my two older brother's and I to Europe, and we were able to explore a little bit of the life that my Dad grew up in. To give a little history, my Dad was born in Spain, but spent most of his childhood in central France. My Dad joined the LDS church as a teenager, and eventually served a mission in Paris. After he returned home, he came over to the states, met my mom, and the rest is history.

I have always been a little sad that I have missed out on the cultural experiences and family that have awaited me on the other side of the world. When my Dad took me to Europe I fell madly in love with it. I remember coming home and telling my grade school friend Nicole literally every single detail of every single day. I loved playing with my cousins, trying to communicate through their broken English (Since I didn't know any French or Spanish in those days) and the unfamiliarity of the culture. I longed to be apart of it. My cousins were longing to come to the United States, while I was longing to move to Europe.

Since that trip ten years ago, I have yet to return to Europe. My Dad returns about every year and a half to see his family, and I am always secretly hoping that he is going to surprise me and bring me with him. (Although I know that this is never going to be a reality.) Since I have been single again, Europe has seemed more like a reality. I am dying to experience the sights, experience the culture, and explore more of my Father's childhood.

Currently, my best friend from high school has been studying in Milan Italy and has been skyping with me about all of her adventures all over Europe. I know it's weird, but it almost makes me homesick. I am dying so bad to go.

The sad thing, is that I currently have a lack of money, and although I keep leaving the country, I keep going to South America not Europe. Although I cannot wait for my upcoming summer in Peru, South America was never my dream. Europe was.

Tonight I am in the library studying for the two treacherous tests that await me tomorrow. I was listening to the Mumford and Sons Pandora station when Louis Armstrong's La Vie en Rose popped onto my playlist. I can not tell you how "homesick" it made me. This song always makes me think of my few days spent in Paris; probably because of the 1995 film French Kiss which uses the song as a sort of theme for the lovesick relationship I am currently having with Europe.

Pray for me that someday I will make it back and that I will be able to experience everything I want to. Until then, I will continue to put La Vie en Rose on repeat and daydream away until I realize the library is closing, I will never be prepared for my tests, and that travel will come one day.

Reaching for the light

I feel like i'm reaching for something, but i'm not sure what yet

Actually, I think I know, but I am to scared to admit it

You see, sometimes life is really hard

And all you can do to stop from crying is take deep breaths,

disappear into a corner for a few minutes,

or suck it up.

But I can do hard things!

Right?

Haven't I always done hard things,

Or

Did I glide through those moments?

I haven't really decided yet

But I do know this.

It's tax season which means that my Father is currently detained

I need to talk, but my selection of people that would understand is low

And, I feel like I am wearing myself thin.

So today,

I skipped school

I photographed some pictures

I finished a book

I am going to shower and get looking sexy

Work and make some dinero

And

Stay in a positive mood

Because, sometimes we go through hard times because of our actions

And sometimes it's because of other's actions upon us,

But,

That doesn't mean we can't succeed!

Because,

I can do hard things!

I'm going to go reaching for the light

Thank you Sara, Dubray, and Leanne for the continued strength and encouragement you give me.

Sandwich

My beautiful roommate Sara decided today to show me just how much she loves eating sandwich's. Enjoy!

Poetry is..

Poetry is real.

is honest.

is true.

Tracks in the Snow

Thank you Civil Wars for getting me through my Monday night

I needed you tonight.

A Little Bliss

Sweet Ollie got me flowers for Valentines Day.

We spent the night with his parents.

They took us out to dinner and schooled me in bowling once again.

So grateful to have this kid in my life.