Monday, December 21, 2015

Recent Events

Due to recent events
I plan to write on this blog

For now at least

Enjoy the last 6 years of my life

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

The Longterm Thing

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to backpack Europe
Well, I spent 5.5 wonderful weeks abroad and couldn't
have had a more flawless trip.

Now it's back to the real world and I feel even more lost
then when I left.
I feel like I really know where I am when I'm discovering.
The rest is just motions on motions.

Now I'm thinking about how to go back to that place
of wanderlust and discovery

What really scares me though is that you don't
ever spend substantial time with anyone.
You play for a few days and leave.
Find a new fuck buddy,
find new drinking buddies,
and 9 new roommates.
How do you ever maintain a longterm relationship with that?

Good thing I'm scared as fuck of
all of that.
Sorry folks.

Lonely Sad You

Before there was ever a me
or an us,
there was a you.

A sweet sad you.
A lonely you.

And now I want to talk to you more then ever,
make sure you are okay,
rub your head and
just hug you with the purest of intentions.

But there is just a you,
and a me
separate from so many other things

I wanted to cry today for you
but I couldn't.

Remember that time we danced under the stars,
the wind swept my bangs across my
pale cold face and you kissed me
through my hair anyways?

We both had hair stuck to our lips and
we laughed.
We laughed so damn hard we cried.
Then our abs began to shriek and holler
because of overuse

and laughing was overwhelming
and breathing took concentration
to make sure we stayed stable
and didn't drink too much,
or kiss too much,
or just down right play to much.

We sure did love to play
like kids hearing reese's bells and
grasping those fifteen minutes of
immense freedom and joy

gaining calluses on our hands from monkey bars
and running to flip off of tree stumps
and kicking the soccer ball for the final goal before
the bell.

Remember those times
when it was us
and not lonely sad you
and lonely sad me?

Good times.
I think I'll pray for you tonight.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015


I  have just finished a conversation
where I have purposefully left feeling
unworthy, not enough, and powerless
because my machinery is saying that is who I am

Yet, I know this to be anything but the truth.

But, I'm sitting in Starbucks (typical)
doing nothing about it but running
on everyone.

I'm not ready to own up and make it stop
My always listening is winning
and now i'm angry.

Sunday, August 16, 2015

Eraser Goodbye

I can't seem to write a paragraph about this

But it's been a year since Ollie and I
packed bags separately,
hugged awkwardly,
and said goodbye

He loaded up the moving truck
goodbye furniture
goodbye sam

I packed my car
hello brother
hello futon

So much has changed since then
and I can say this;
I have never been happier
and I hope the same for him too

I hope he finds the world in a girl
who loves every quirk and crevice of him

Just like I wish to find a man one day
who adores and cherishes me.

We both deserve that,
we just couldn't be it for each other

Good luck Ollie.
It's time to erase you.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

On This Blog

Lately I have felt a little grown out of this blog. I mean blogs aren't really a thing anymore. When I log onto my Blogspot home page i'm following at least 50 blogs, and the only one that is actually updated on a regular basis is Hey Natalie Jean. Let's be honest though, no one actually really reads my posts anymore, and i'm no longer writing to inform all my Facebook friends about the fabulous life i'm living. I'll continue to write for at least a little while longer, but there will probably be some small changes put in place.  Have fun searching for them.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

The Many Places I've Called Home

The following is a list of positive memories I have gathered from each place I have lived in the past eight years. Some very personal, some not so much. Enjoy some of my favorites 

Apartment 2B Home (Rexburg, ID)
- Writing everything we loved about each other on the milk gallon that was purchased weekly 
- Studying in the quite section of the library next to my boyfriend 
- Playing on a coed futsol league
- Nightly walks to the park so I could make out with my boyfriend even though we were surrounded by every other Mormon couple plastered to the grass for their individual make out sessions. 

The Basement Home (Rexburg, ID)
- Sharing one shower with five girls that was made for a midget. I almost had to kneel to have water pour over my head
- Planning my wedding to Pablo
- Having a landline that actually rang on occasion
- Sharing a room with two girls instead of one

$325 Rent Home (Rexburg, ID)
- Waking up each morning to make Pablo lunch for the day 
- Running from the frozen outside to my bed on chilly Sunday afternoons for naps after church 
- Spending Christmas with Pablo in an empty Rexburg and five feet of fresh white snow to play in
- Making the 30 minute drive to Idaho Falls just to go to Starbucks and sip a warm chai 

The Elk Grove Pool Party Home (Elk Grove, CA) 
- Having my nieces over weekly to swim at my complex with me
- Going to the temple with Cameron and Stephanie on an early Saturday morning
- Purchasing my long haired chihuahua Podi.

The Mountain Home (Provo, UT)
- Staring down at all of Utah County from a lush green field while Podi played
- Walking up steep snowy roads in the winter that my car couldn't climb so I could get home

The Branbury (Provo, UT)
- Sneaking in and out of Pablo's room using his patio so his roommates wouldn't catch me spending the night
- Catching my roommate Hillary borrowing my clothes daily 
- Long conversations with my very European roommate Jelka
- Longboarding down Provo Canyon at any hour of the day 
- Walking to Alex's apartment on Saturday mornings just to sit in bed and talk 

The Audrey Home (Logan, UT) 
- Placing every stupid thing we said on a postcard and taping it to our living room wall 
- Enjoying homemade dinner by Audrey every Wednesday while we watched Modern Family on the big screen on campus
- Walking the dreaded steps up Old Main hill to get to class while others turned it into their personal mountain 
- Taking that last minute trip to Las Vegas for Thanksgiving and walking the strip from start to finish

Tere's Home (Tehuacan, Mexico)  
- Taking Sunday walks around the city with Gina while we photographed the world around us 
- Playing soccer with the locals every Tuesday evening
- Walking to my favorite taco stand every night.
- Long talks around the long wooden table in Tere's kitchen
- Skype dates with Tennessee 
- Walking home in the flooded streets of Tehuacan 

The Boat House (Logan, UT)
- Moving a living room wall just to get to my hidden bedroom 
- Sneaking up the creaky staircase to Brandon's room just to snuggle at night
- Listening to the Sound Of Music coming from Cia's room at all hours of the day 
- Meeting Gibbs for burritos at Beto's on Sunday's at midnight

The Yellow Home (Piura, Peru) 
- Taking showers in the middle of the day for hope of a drop of warm water
- Doing laundry by hand with 311 blazing in my ears 
- Making the biweekly trip to downtown Piura to Skype with Oliver
- Befriending a stray dog and watching her raise her pups in a cardboard box 
- Riding in the back of a truck to the beach 
- Walking to Starbucks in the hot sun for free wifi 
- Manchu Picchu 

The Forget Me Not Home (Logan, UT)
- Coming home to find my roommate and her friends playing live folk music in the living room 
- Going through the endless boxes of stuff left from previous tenets 

Ollie and I's First Home (Logan, UT)
- Skateboarding to the grocery store just to buy candy bars
- Walking around the Mormon Tabernacle on warm summer nights 
- Constantly refilling our ridiculous water fan that never cooled anything or anyone 

The 2 Month Home (Orem, UT)
- Painting at Color Me Mine with Oliver and Mehul 
- Leaving suddenly and screwing our landlord over

The Final Home (Murray, UT) 
- Purchasing Sam from the Humane Society one Saturday morning 
- Spending Friday evenings after work at Gracie's 

Nate's Home (Salt Lake City, UT) 
- Waking up to fresh pancakes and Luke pounding on my bedroom door for breakfast every Sunday Morning
- Dinner at the Copper Onion with anyone 
- Watching Survivor with Nate 
- Weekend sibling dates with my brothers 
- My beautiful commute up to Park City 
- Sunday Brunch with Michael 

Current Home (Galt, CA)
- Evening chats over a glass of wine or bottle of cider
- Saturday morning coffee in the backyard oasis 
- Dinner on the patio with friends and family 

I still think the best is yet to come. 

Sunday, July 5, 2015


I was looking through some old files and found a paper I wrote back in college consisting of a series of distinct memories in my life. I thought I would share one.

"Megan?" My fragile Grandma called. "Can you do me a favor? I need you to feed your mother this melon. Just give her one at a time," her wrinkled hands shaking, pointed towards the bowl of melon placed on the rust colored tile countertops. I quickly grabbed the stained plastic bowl, a fork and headed down the dark narrow alleyway leading to my parent's room. Mom lay there quietly and smiled when I walked in. I pranced around the foot of the bed and sternly sat down nudging my bum back and forth back and forth in order to be far enough along the bed that my simple feet could dangle in content. I stabbed my first piece of ripened cantaloupe and gracefully placed it into her mouth. While I waited for her to chew I joined in the festivities of deliciousness and speared myself a piece of melon. I bit down and the sweet juices emerged to every crack and fold of my mouth. I grabbed another piece and fed it to my Mom then quickly replenished my own mouth.

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Pretty Okay

I told someone this week that I was pretty okay.
I was so pissed afterwards
I'm not pretty okay!
I'm fantastic!

Sorry for misleading you!
The world is my oyster
and my cute brain couldn't be happier about it.

Monday, June 22, 2015

What Would You Do?

What would you do if you knew you could not fail?

Would you jump off the barn into that stack of hay,
or would you sneak out your bedroom window for a goodnight kiss?

And what would you do if you knew you would fail?

Would you still show up to the audition yelling
"I think I can!" in your head?
Or, would you still slide your phone number over on a napkin,
wink, and walk away?
Probably not.

Life is the biggest jokester sometimes.
You never truly know what you might get
Pass or fail

Do you remember that time when you told me
that I was the gosh darn prettiest thing you had ever seen?
You looked at me like I was a final three point shot in an
NBA final,
like I was a peach tree that just produced my first fruit,
and like I was the only face that existed in a sea of
green eyes and brown hair.

Boy do I miss that look. What would I have done
if I knew we could not fail?

Baby, I'm missing you, and I hope you're missing me.
I sit outside at night and just stare at my feet
thinking "I could walk to you." or 'You could walk to me."
Isn't that a thing?
But it's not because I live in a country town avoiding country things
and who the hells knows where you live. Maybe in a city,
or a town, the ghetto, or way out in the boondocks.
Probably not walking distance

But I will tell you this.
We can go on walks together
shoot, we could chase the moon together and I don't think I'll ever
get tired of the way you place your hand around my waist
or the way you push my hair behind my ear
just so you can stare.
Look into my eyes and watch
basketballs go flying through the midnight sky
like astroids trying to catch the blazing epic sun

Our steps would go one, two, one, two
and I would salsa, and sing
typical me
And you would shake your lack of hips
and bite your lips

Well at least that's how I imagine it will be
Here's to praying that life turns organic
that when the clock strikes midnight
and the planets align,
that I meet you, and we succeed.

Thursday, June 18, 2015

In That Case...

I have had so much to say lately, that I can't even fathom about putting it on this blog. To much information. So, in that case, here are some recent thoughts.

-Northwest! Northwest! Northwest!!
- Road trips
- Weather that requires a rain jacket
-Photographing the sunrise everyday
-The idea of living off of a credit card
- Writing confidently
- Avoiding conversations
- My brothers
-Alcohol consumption
-Sex :0
-Obligation vs responsibility vs success
- Really living the life I want

I'm working on it all.

Friday, June 12, 2015


I must say that I had a perfect night with my brothers. 
Good food and laughs, 
NBA finals
soccer in the basement, 
lots of shoving and pushing
The "You should have never left!" comments 
and long lasting hugs. 

Boy have I missed these men. 
Boy have I missed Utah. 
Now I'm wondering why I left. 

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Child Kisses

Yesterday I found out that my last living grandparent passed away. 
It was semi expected 
and for the most part painless 

It was weird

I said goodbye to her earthly body months ago 
and hope to one day get to know her outside of 
"Well, when you were a baby you never wanted to spend time with me. 
Your mom was sick and you only wanted her." story. 

The only thing I imagined yesterday was 
Mom hugging her mom,
then me gripping my mom.
in white. 
Like a celestial room,
with double mirrors, 
and fresh flowers,
and old ladies everywhere 

I don't know what happens after life,
but I do know that I believe in it

As a child when I would kneel 
by my bedside and roll back and forth 
from side to side so as not to push carpet lines 
into my tender knees
I would ask God to give 

I would blow them each out individually. 
One, two, three, and four. 

I think I'll add another two this evening 
for my two grandmas that I have lost 
in the past year. 

Let's see if I even pray. 
Until then. 

Monday, June 1, 2015


Excuse my language.

Fuck Megan,
You are better then this!

Rock Me to Sleep Will You?

Well, I'm doing it again.

I just returned home from another
over the top weekend in the city of
Lost Angeles.

I regretfully packed my bags,
and jumped on my once again
delayed plane back to the
City Of Trees.

Not that I want to live in LA
I can hardly see myself there,
but I'm in my lonely phase.

I'm pushing everyone away that cares about me.
I'm telling myself that I am strong, that I
have always been alone,
that I don't need them.
I got this.

It's total bullshit, and I know it.

But here I am near tears
hoping that William Fitzsimmons
will rock me to sleep.

I'm thinking about running
and it sounds so sweet.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Billy the Musical

Music is one of the very few things 
in this world that remind me that i'm human. 

When I think about why I'm here my brain 
becomes cloudy. 
Religion? God? 
Well Yes, I've always known that 

But where does truth live, and who says 
what you say is truth and what I say is not? 
Who says that this is not real, not full expression, 
not authenticity? Who says? 

You see, music makes me human because it possesses 
me without ever talking to me. 
Music never yells, 
and it makes me cry. 
Boy does it make me cry
Usually on long car rides
when i'm so insanely happy my cheeks hurt from
rambunctious smiles 
or so incredibly alone that five people don't answer their 
phones in a row
and my eyes droop to the back of my head with silence. 

Today I heard a song and imagined sweet sweaty hands holding 
my small round head singing it to my perfectly chapped perfection lips

Then I sat next to an artist and we harmonized over ukuleles 
and skittles 

Music has me so strung out that I could model my whole existence off of it
Become a musical and dedicate my life to it. 
Have a dream and say "I'm Fantine! Now let me sing!" 
Then Die. 
I hate that Fantine dies. She was such an important part to Jean 
and his future, their future. 

I'm sorry if you don't get my references by the way. 

Thanks Billy Pilgrim for being you. 
Reference again. 

But at the end of the day, I look at myself and am so god damn 
happy that i'm not strung out on perfection, 
that I don't fully know what I believe,
that life is not close to a curtain call 
and that pretty pictures and laughs, 
and especially music make me human. 

Thank goodness for that
and to the opportunity for moments to be stuck in time. 
Thanks Billy. 

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

The Floor

When I find myself most alone
and vulnerable,
I find myself on the floor

If i'm ever sitting on the floor with you
i'm uncomfortable about something
and it doesn't have to be a bad thing,
it can be a very good thing.
It's just a thing.

Ask me.
I probably won't tell you
but go ahead,
ask  me.
Now that you know my secret

Floors are my friend
Sometimes the comfort of a
hard chilling wood floor
is exactly what I need for the sweat
pouring off of my brow
streaming down my oily face
to that chilling wood floor

I'm so uncomfortable right now
so I'm sitting on the floor
criss cross
apple sauce
ankles bruised
sloppy hair
black eyes
saggy sweats
shaking hands
running nose
screaming voices

Just waiting for this floor to wrap
his wet skin bone arms around me and
eat me up
I love the floor

Monday, April 27, 2015


There comes a time in everyones life where
time stops

it just stops.

For me, my time stopped this past weekend
I couldn't have been surrounded by more beauty
then if God himself walked in the fields next to me

The moss covered trees shined green all weekend
and welcomed me into their arms like they were calling
me to their home for dinner.

The waterfalls pounded with such brute force that
black rock walls faded into beautiful carved stone art
sharp as isicles and pretty as fresh flesh

Then you felt the mist and the rain,
the wetness
of being alive and being real,
and singing till your lungs give out
and your stomach aches from that laugh
that makes your teeth shine white.

It just stops.

That was my weekend.

Sunday, April 12, 2015

My Opinion

A had an ex that claimed that one of the 
reasons we didn't work out was that I wanted 
to travel and he didn't. 

This past weekend this statement pounded my chest 
like I needed to be cracked in two. 

Here is the story.
I stepped out my door at 6:30 AM 
on Saturday
with a very simple idea. 
To play for the day at a national park, 
to visit somewhere near by 
and bask in the glory that God placed on the earth. 

My day did not go as planned. 
After four hours of driving 
I ended up at a dead end
but a wasted four hours. 

I think I laughed so hard I even cried
I think I listened to so many beautiful songs 
I cried. 
I think I cried because I could and I was alone
and vulnerable 

After finding an information center 
I asked if there was anything near by 
the sleepy tourist town I had wondered into.
I found the beauty that is Mono Lake.

The Lake...

On my way home 
my mind ran rapid past cliffs 
sliding in and out of turns 
like socks on a wood floor. 

The statement cracked me. 
It's not that I wanted to travel and he didn't
It was the mere fact that I wanted more than simple. 
Simple didn't cut it for me, 
I wanted adventure
a partner to experience it with, 
and the hope that someone would enjoy 
the beauty of the earth, the great outdoors, 
spending eight countless hours in a car with me 
and still need more. 

I need a partner with an outlook on life that 
tops mine
That is grateful for everyday given 
and never wants to stop exploring with me

I need a partner who can spend all Saturday in the sun
get drunk with me, make mad love, 
and still not get enough. 

That's why we didn't work out. 
My opinion 
My story. 

Thank Goodness

It is officially 3:30 AM and my mind is racing.
I can't seem to calm it with anything
Some things good, some things questionable

Thank goodness for Macs,
and Spotify,
and the Internet.

Thursday, April 2, 2015


The summer I fell in love with John Mayer
was the summer my dad took my brothers and I to Europe. 

CD's were still the rage and we had all brought a 
select few to share. 
Nate pulled out Room for Squares. 
First thing, first CD in.
We listened to it all the way through. 

Thus began the next two weeks

My dad lusted after City Love, 
we blasted 83, 
and I memorized all the words to 
3X5 and My Stupid Mouth. 

Room for Squares was probably the only CD 
that the four of us agreed on. 

My grandma sat in the front seat and 
sun burned her arm from having it float
 out the window,
whistling the tunes.

John memorized us into Spain, 
serenaded us into Switzerland, 
and carried us safely back to France. 

I have forgotten the sights and smells 
of the cities we visited, 
but I don't think I'll ever listen to John 
and not think of my first European adventure. 

Until next time John. 
Thanks for singing me to sleep tonight. 


You should know that If I ever say that I'm editing
or writing drafts,
you'll never read it!

Just an FYI. :)

Sunday, March 29, 2015

Sunday Afternoon Brain

Recent Thoughts:

  • April 29th is creeping up and it's starting to haunt me
  • I should start shooting B&W film again 
  • Kurt Vonnegut always knows what to say 
  • Where can I go skydiving again? 
  • PDX
  • What is my next tattoo? 
  • Leanne's 60th birthday 
  • Feeling a little SLC homesick 
  • Camping and bonfires 
  • Budget for Thailand 
  • Home decor? 
  • ERAC career options 
  • What is my dream job? 
  • I didn't do my Landmark HW again
  • Visiting Sea-Town 
  • Writing on this damn blog 
  • Sex 

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

What I Wouldn't Give

What I wouldn't give for a few
secret things tonight.
Boy, what i wouldn't give.

Guess we'll never find out.

Friday, March 13, 2015

Aaahhhh Freedom

I was texting my oldest brother tonight. He asked me what my plans were for the evening. I told him I had just come back from exercising and that I was going to grab some coffee and write. He texted me back "Aaahhhh freedom." I couldn't help but smile and nod. "Yup." I thought.

Writing for me is a type of freedom that I don't think I feel anywhere else in this life. This blog has been a huge part of that for me over the past 6 years. Lately I have been thinking about how I owe this blog it's own personal post. I just can't seem to come up with anything appropriate and generous enough to show my gratitude to this little sight.

My oldest brother is an avid writer himself. He has written in a journal everyday for at least 15 years years, and has had his own blog for the past eight. It's been wonderful to read his memories about living in Japan and New York City, witness his views on technology, and books, and read about his view on family life. Tonight as I was catching up on some of his posts I came across this little gem. I liked the way he thanked his blog so I thought I would share. He can always say it better. Enjoy

Eight Years Running

I clearly remember when I started this blog. It was eight years ago this month. I was sitting in my office on the 32nd floor of the historic Equitable Building in lower Manhattan, where, if I stood up and looked out the window from the right angle, I could see the hole created by the tragic events that occurred five years earlier on a sunny Tuesday morning. I don’t occupy that office any more, but am sure the view of the Hudson I used to have is blocked by WTC 2 and 3 rising majestically into the sky, only shadowed by 1 WTC.
Those were good days. I was so eager, ambitious, so free. I remember my walks at lunch, my old friends, the job I worked so hard to get. Some days were definitely busy, other days were less so. And it was during one of those less busy days that I felt like writing. I felt like I needed to share my thoughts, experiences, musings and insight with whosoever cared to read. Blogs were all the rage back then and so I created one. Over the last eight years, the frequency of my posts have varied, but one things has been consistent: I have posted at least once a month for the last eight years, regardless of the lack of readership or response.
Since this blog’s birth on that November afternoon in 2006, I have owned three homes in three states and have had four daughters. I am working at my third job since leaving the one in lower Manhattan and have had the chance to travel to various countries and cities. I have managed to develop some professional skills, have walked thousands of miles and sprouted plenty of gray hairs. The title of this blog does not make as much sense as it used to when I lived in New York, but the title has remained through the years. And despite the lack of visitors, this blog is still what I intended it to be – a place for me to write and share.
Thank you for the last eight years. I have been truly blessed.

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Skinny Love

I have always been in LOVE with the song "Skinny Love" by Bon Iver. Yet, I never really knew what the song meant. The song became an international hit when Birdy redid it back in 2011 but the question remained the same for me. I found the most amazing live version of the song by Ingrid this past weekend on Spotify, and have been on repeat ever since. Needless to say, I decided it was finally time to figure out the meaning to this beautiful song. I found this quote from a blog that Justin Vernon said about the song.  Beautiful right? Please listen to and enjoy every version of this song

Somewhere Permanent

The following post has several grammatical errors, just like the rest of my blogs. Enjoy them!

I grew up in the pacific northwest. I loved it there. The green lush trees 365 days a year gave me an endless forest playground. The never ending rain taught me the importance of layers and to never care about my hair on a day full of the beautiful drizzle. When I moved to California as a teenager I remember always wanting to move back to the northwest one day, and  for some odd reason Oregon was always my state of choice. It wasn't my hometown of heartache, but it was literally the same thing. I remember watching this TV show that came out as a teenager that took place in Portland. I could totally live there I thought. Ever since I left, my desire to go back as been oozing inside of me.

Recently I took the plunge and moved from Salt Lake City back to Sacramento. Sacramento was never supposed to be a long term idea for me. My intention to move to Sacramento was to get a fresh start but to still have some sort of support system surrounding me. Or as some of my family members put it, I didn't have the balls to actually move to Los Angeles. Yes, that is very true. With LA being my initial intention when I was looking to move I ended up chickening out after my trip to the small town and decided on Sac. Sacramento has been so good to me. I have a great job, have great roommates, my fabulous sister and sister-in-law down the street, and a few random friends spread out in the local area.

With my terrible moving history the past eight years I am feeling ready to settle somewhere. Yet, once again I find myself in a temporary living situation. I haven't lived in a single apartment for longer then ten months the past eight years and i'm sick of it. With my recent life purge I can literally fit my entire life in my car now.  Okay, so I am looking to settle down, but Sacramento doesn't feel like that place, It feels so temporary. Part of me can't figure out if it is temporary or if my machinery just makes everything temporary and keeps me in constant motion because consistency is scary and I am really good at change.

So lately my obsession with Oregon has come back for multiple reasons. My best gal pal and I threw up the idea that we should go play in Portland one weekend and I bought a ticket the next day. With everything not panning out for my dear friend, I ended up with a trip to Portland by myself. I couldn't be more excited about it. This will be my very first trip all alone. I'm not visiting anyone and no one is going with me. I am couch surfing for the first time with a gentleman that was gracious enough to actually accept my request. I got a list of things that I want to see, want to experience, and zero agenda besides that.

But, I always do this, I go somewhere and check it out first to see if I could end up there. Mehul pointed this out to me. She said that is exactly why you came to visit me in December, and that is why you wanted to go to Portland. Mehul is already begging me not to move to Portland because she knows me way too freaking well. She keeps sending me pictures of gorgeous two bedroom condos off of Manhattan Beach in Los Angeles and talking about how we can finally work on Sumatrii, and live the best fucking life ever. Although this does sound amazing, something about Portland seems permanent to me. I want to live somewhere and actually feel like okay, I got a job that I can work at for the next few years and not look for pay raises doing the exact same job over and over again. I actually feel at home with the trees, and the rain. I actually live in an apartment where I can commit to being here long term because there would be no possible reason for me to leave.

 Now if you are reading this, which I doubt anyone really is, don't think I am throwing the idea around for anyone. If I told my family about what I was actually thinking my dad would probably just tell me to come home to Seattle, my brothers would shake their heads and hug me and say come back to SLC. We can be silly and eat treats together and go to PG-13 movies together. I can see it now. Then my sister would probably say are you sure you are not looking into Portland for anyone?  But let's be totally honest, no I'm not. This has always been something in the back of my head, and something that I have explored the idea with on several occasions. Now I could very well get to Portland and literally hate it. Say that it is way to hippie for me and screw keeping Portland weird, let's fuck it! Who knows? All I know is that I know me, and I know what I do to myself and I know that I am leaning a certain way. I guess we will see what happens.

How about I just say I am keeping my options open.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

The Book of Awesome

When I unpacked all of my books last weekend I found The Book of Awesome. Pretty sure I won this book in a white elephant game one year and have never really given it any attention. This morning I threw my belongings into my backpack for a Starbucks session after work, and I decided to bring The Book of Awesome with me. Here are some of my favorite awesome things I found this evening.

  • Locking people out of the car and pretending to drive away
  • The sound of rain from inside the tent 
  • Bowling celebrations
  • Using q-tips the way you're not supposed to use them (My daily routine) 
  • Rain hair
  • Adrenaline
  • Hanging your  hand out the car window
  • Sleeping with one leg under the covers and one leg out
  • The smell and sound of a campfire
  • When your suitcase tumbles down the luggage chute first after a long flight
  • Perfectly popped microwave popcorn 
  • Remembering what movie that guy is in 
  • Using rock-paper-scissors to settle anything
  • High tens
  • Seeing somebody laugh in their sleep 
  • Sweatpants
  • The smell of books (Yes!)
  • Getting in line before it gets really long
  • Getting into a bed with clean sheets after you shaved your legs
  • Snow falling on Christmas Eve
  • Paying for something with exact change
  • Intergenerational dancing
  • Illegal naps
  • When you get the milk-to-cereal ratio just right
  • Picking the perfect nacho off someone else's plate
  • Peeling an orange in one shot
  • Using all the different soaps and shampoos in someone else's shower
  • The five second rule
  • When you're really tired and about to fall asleep and someone throws a blanket on you
I am pretty sure I could pick awesome things out of this 400 page book for days. It has really made me think of all the things I have to be grateful for. 

Here are a few of my personal AWESOME experiences today

  • The perfect amount of ice in my Starbucks
  • Getting a good morning text from my best friend
  • Singing country with my boss
  • Having the service agents start calling me Meg 
  • Nate and Lindsay sending me pictures from the Pentatonix concert
  • Having Mehul read my flipping mind while Skyping 
  • Bouncing my feet to Young Folks by Peter Bjorn and John 
  • Having the guy next to me laugh at my personal conversation 
  • Leaving work at 6:05 PM
Yup, today I'm WINNING! 

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Semantic Symphony

Someday I hope to write a
semantic symphony
for you and I
whoever you are.

I hope you read it and cry
from it's beauty

I hope you read it
and appreciate
the tears poured into it,
emotion evoked in it,
and the inspiration
splashed on every cream colored page

I hope you're okay if it's not
dedicated to you,
or if there is not a poem about you

I hope it's okay if I write about myself
It's the only thing I know how to do.

I hope you love the word semantic
and the meaning you give the meaning

You see I use a lot of repetition
because it's easy and cool,
but really,

I wish that I was Andrea, telling trees
that new leaves will come around in the spring
and that icicles can be kept in your freezer for gifts

Someday I hope to write a
semantic symphony
for you I.
Whoever you are.
I can't seem to write anything today without regretting it. I've started 5 posts today, and even published a post and erased it. I'm not feeling safe and secure in anything that is happening right now. I'm playing small in my life, and that scares me.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Let's Chat.

Music has always had some magical power over me.
It has a way of roping my emotions into an air tight jar
and shaking so quickly my tears jump when they fall,
and my words constantly turn into lyrics.

You said that music could be my hero,
could be a link
for everything that I wanted possible

Well, you spoke truth.

It's the reason why we had the following conversation.

You asked me about
Ingrid Michaelson-You and I
I said, I sing this song with so much damn heart
that I can't wait till I sit on the beach in the
south of France
and joke that you and I could do anything better
then sit on the fucking beach in France counting
the pebbles to a million.

Then there are the songs so beautiful that
just a quick listen makes you somber.

Here are a sampling of my favorites

Glen Hansard- Leave
Mumford and Sons- Timshel
Bon Iver- Skinny Love
The Head and The Heart- Down in the Valley
James Taylor-Fire and Rain

Then you ask me if I speak Spanish.
Of course I reply back ashamed
of my gift of tongues.
But then I laugh.
I do speak Spanish.
Every time I listen to Spanish music it comes back.
I find myself having conversations with verb conjugations
long forgotten and never used.

Then you ask me about my harder tunes.
I proudly whisper that I listen to Rage.
I got three CDs for my birthday from the friend
that taught me to be a renegade of funk,
and that sweaty July nights were worth
the effort when you kissed on top of a mountain
under mounds of stars and sparkles called fireworks

Then I decide to tell you that I love Sufjan Stevens
for the mere fact that he recorded Chicago
 in four different versions.

Then I tell you there are only three people
in this entire planet that have had the pleasure
of singing every single word of
Saints and Sailors by Dashboard with me.
Always in a car, head banging, wishing that
bitter pill was next.

Then I told you about how much I love Regina
and the way her songs make me feel dirty and vulnerable,
and how I actually hate CocoRosie

Then I tell you about the time I saw Modest Mouse
and they finally sang Float On and I literally died of
happiness from the beat melting my ear drums.

Then I ask if you ever imagined your life to a song?
You don't answer... you're not here.
But I say I have.
I image it to Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap.
Liten to it. Think about it. You could see it right?

Then you say you love country.
You name your favorite artists and I say
I love Drunk on you and American Kids.
They play in my head like i'm constantly clicking
my boots together, in a plaid shirt, trotting my fucking horse
down memory lane,
Man, I miss my damn horse Orvile.

Boy could I go on for hours about this shit.
I have so much to say it's terrible

But I do have to say that From Eden by Hozier makes
me think the hell out of you.
and you totally ruined Lupe Fiasco for me
in a good way,
and I can't even begin to listen to the radio

So yes, you are not here, the above never happened,
 and I talk to myself.
It's a disease I've gained thru the years.
Mostly from the somber mellow tunes I fill
my pretty mushed brain with.

It's ok though. I have gotten really great at
snapping my fingers and doing a two step across
any freshly cleaned floor
in an oversized tank top

Good chat.

Monday, February 16, 2015

Like Sisters of the Moon

Life is so damn interesting sometimes.
It throws the biggest hoops and loops and
literally sometimes takes a fucking poop on your face.


Is not always gushing with happiness,
but life is always there with endless

I spoke to an old friend today
and she spilled her shit out there
for me to take, process, love, and embrace.
We talked like the moon was our sister,
and we could bounce for days off of the
laughter and joy and laugh cries and terrible memories
we had witnessed together.
We told each other we loved each other and said see ya one day,
or never. Who knows, but I love ya friend.
Thanks for a great 12 years moon sister.

Life is interesting how one second you
are lost in a crowded street invisible
to the cluttered world around you,
and in the next moment,
someone smiles, and they catch your eye
and you think of all of the posters
you see on middle aged ladies cubicle walls reading
You is kind.
You is smart.
You is important.
And you thank God you actually read that book
and didn't just see the movie.

Life is interesting in how it mends and breaks
the people we become.
How we never actually have to do anything
and how we actually create the world
we live in. It doesn't create us.

For me, i'm pretty damn simple.
I tend to try and stay that way,
yet I have created a complicated and complex life,
so life is interesting
Just the way I like it.

Friday, February 13, 2015


So I have evolved
Into something that I never thought was possible

Who I was and where I was a year ago is total night and day

If you would have asked me a year ago if I thought I would be living in Sacramento,
not going to church,
have a tattoo,
get divorced again,
chop off all my hair,
be drinking coffee,
be drinking alcohol,
swearing up a storm,
and loving life,
I would have judged myself so harshly.
I probably would have spanked my own bottom,
and would have never given myself the room to
grow into a complete person.

Now, I am not saying that the above mentioned create happiness.
In fact, most of the above mentioned has complicated my life to an extent.

What has made me happy, is the opportunity I have given myself
to grow into something that I never thought I would allow myself to be.
The above mentioned have opened up my eyes to see a world different
then the one that I had strictly polluted my world with.

I've learned that I create my own happiness no matter the circumstance
that I either place myself in,
or am placed in.

It's Friday.
I worked my ass off this week.
With my weekend plans ending in an epic cancellation,
I am now free to do whatever the hell I want.
So tonight, I bought fresh paint, paint brushes galore,
and canvases to work with.

I think I'll take a hike this weekend,
place some ear buds in my awkward ears,
bump my tunes,
and paint my worries out.

Then of course have a personal dance party on my way home

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

An Exercise

Today I did an exercise with 130 other people
We walked around a room in silence and looked at each other.

My first reaction was a self conscious reaction
How did my make up look?
Did I have food in my teeth?

My second reaction was a shallow reaction
Their hair was fumbled, and their beard too scruffy

My third reaction was peaceful
I became okay with looking at people
because I could look at people

I didn't have words to create meaning, I just had people
who had lines on their faces, scars on their chests,
and teeth in their rose colored mouths.

I shared a new found understanding of what beautiful really was,
and what it means to say that we are all individually unique

I hope to one day color my face with lines of stories well told
Dimples so worn in they sag
Scars visible from my fortunate mistakes
and teeth so individual they shine

I want to be that.

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Excuse me

Please excuse the following post.

This post is for me in five days, or two months, or six years down the road. I decide. 

You little fucker. 
Here you are six years after you started this damn thing, still writing at Starbucks. 
Haven't you realized that if you just became a gold card member you would get free chai every two weeks? 
Haven't you realized that going to Starbucks at 3pm on a Sunday is the worst idea ever! There are always no seats, and it's crowded as hell. Learn something! 

Girl, you are crazy! Remember that time you jumped out of a plane, and then did it again two months later? 

Girl,  remember that time you said stick that needle into my body and ink me? Leanne read mom's journal entries, and we laughed at the boys that called her. Leanne held your hand and you squeezed so hard. You can't take any pain. Pain scares the shit out of you. You scare yourself out of experiences just because of pain. Change that. 

Girl, smack that smirk off of your face. Remember that letter you found the other day that said open January 1, 2009? You laughed your ass off because you wrote this hilarious letter to yourself when you were 14. It said you should either be married or living in Europe. Boy did you have great dreams, and boy did you get married. Maybe one too many times. Or maybe not one enough times. Who the hell knows. 

Girl, I hope you grew the hell up. Stopped dreaming of a what if, or a could have been, and start living in reality. Take a look at your life and figure out what is real, what is not, what is obtainable, what is your passion, what is important. 

Girl, remember that time you walked out on your then love and called your sister with tears down your face screaming "I can't do this anymore!" She walked you in and out of your hard times. Don't forget that. 

Girl, remember that time you looked at Leanne and told her you were going to do x,y, and z? Remember when she hugged you crying because you did x,y, and z? She told you good job for actually sticking to your guns, for not giving a shit about the always listening, and for being the daughter she lost. Girl, you better remember that. 

Girl, you better remember to love yourself the way that others love you.

Girl, you better remember to keep writing. One day I expect notebooks filled, a book of poems covered with your most inspirational and disgusting moments, notes taken in the margins of your favorite books, and a long list of people who loved to read your writing. 

Meg, I expect a lot. Remember, remember. Just be. So it goes.