I don’t know if I have ever kept up a good habit for as long as I’ve kept up with this one. I truly hope it sticks. I don’t think anyone is reading this and I don’t really care either. I’m just glad to be writing. Tonight I went out to see two of my favorite writers tell stories at a storytelling event. It was an out of the ordinary evening for me and I was very glad to be there. I love doing different things, only I don’t do them that often. Anytime I get the chance to do something out of my usual routine of work and meetings, I feel blessed. But when that something out of the ordinary inspires me, then I feel unusually blessed. 

I’m inspired tonight but I am also tired. I need to start taking better care of my physical self, as well as my emotional self. I get wound up pretty tight these days and things don’t roll off me as easily as they used to. I’m overwhelmed and feel less in control of my emotions than I have in a long time. Writing is supposed to help. I’m not sure if it does.

Maybe I’ll have more to say tomorrow.



Today was supposed to be a better day than yesterday, but it was not. Well, I didn’t get in a terrible fight with my boyfriend, so I guess it was a little bit better. But I woke up to knocking on my hotel room door at 7:20am, 10 minutes after my report time. For some reason, I forgot to set an alarm on my phone and the ringer on my hotel room phone was turned off. I had five minutes to scramble and get dressed and get on the van. We barely made it to the airport in time to board our plane and leave on time. So, on top of losing my company ID yesterday, I have officially made every stupid mistake you want to make as a flight attendant in less than 24 hours. 

I like to believe that God has a sense of humor and likes to teach me lessons on humility whenever they are necessary. Yesterday, I went to work with an ego the size of Texas because I was going to be flying with two girls younger and way junior to me. I have been put in my place. Thankfully, they are nice and think I’m a bit of a hot mess, but we have still had a pretty good time working together.

And tomorrow is another day.

I was just getting ready to go to bed when I realized that I hadn’t written yet today. I’m not sure that this will stick longer than the 30 day stretch, but I do like how good it feels to write, even just a little bit, every day. 

Homeward bound in the morning. Hooray for that. 



I’ve had the worst day and the last thing I want to do is write. But write, I must. I can feel it in my bones, as much as I can feel the need to go to bed and hit the reset button on the last 24 hrs. 

It’s interesting how taking care of yourself and finding outlets that are good for you, can pull you away from the people that you love. I have been finding it hard to make the time to write when I have been home, because it pulls me away from the man that I love. I know that he doesn’t like it, but he also always supports me and whatever “thing” I decide to do to make my life better. But we went to bed last night and I could tell that something was wrong. I have listened to every person who has ever told me that lovers shouldn’t go to bed angry, so I asked what was irking him and we had to talk some stuff out. And then we had to talk more stuff out today. 

How you can love someone so much and yet focus only on the glaring differences between the two of you? 

My biggest struggle in life is teaching myself that I am Okay. No matter what. I am Okay. It does not matter that there are difficult things surfacing in my life right now, that there is an uncertainty to my future, that there are things about myself that I would like to change. None of that stuff is in my control. What I can control, is the way that I handle these things. 

Writing helps. So does good literature. I do not know if writing will ever be IT for me, but I know that it is something for me. Something good, something healing, something that makes me feel worthwhile. I woke up today and saw that I had 20 new blog followers. Hello to those of you who are new! Please stay around awhile. 

Day six. A love letter.

I’m getting closer to the end of a love story with a city that taught me everything good that I know now. A city that taught me how to be a grown up. How to get my heart broken. How to love myself. How to be comfortable in the skin that I am in. How to stay up late and watch the sun rise over the greatest lake in the world. A city that had a cold heart at first, but in spurts taught me about beauty and love and friendship. A city that walked me home safe on whiskey soaked nights. A city that bought me shots after I peeled myself up off my apartment floor from crying over a boy who didn’t know how to love a drunk like me. A city that taught me that shots make everything worse. And that nothing good happens after midnight. A city that taught me that bicycles are the best ways to get over broken hearts, lost jobs, and the fear of change. And when bicycles won’t work, milkshakes often do.

Some need to run away to find God. Some need mountains, ocean, or desert. Some need the anonymity of travel, or the comfort of small towns. Others need a city to feel at home and a balcony apartment that they can call their own.

I will miss this place.

The noisy street I live on, the summertime drunks, the wintertime blues, the colors of fall leaves, the electricity of spring, and the rooms in which I have found a way to live and love.

Thank you.

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart).


Day five.

We wake up in our comfortable bed to the sound of my alarm. It’s too early for both of us, but I’ve made a commitment to get out of bed and meet someone for coffee, so I try to fight off the desire to stay wrapped up with you a little longer. Desire wins, as it always does with us, and I roll into that space that we both love so much. I don’t know how you got here and sometimes it might seem like we take more work than we are both used to exerting, but in these quiet morning moments, all the work seems well worth it. 


I am struggling. Struggling with this writing challenge, struggling to believe that I have anything good to say. Struggling to not feel like a waste of space, struggling to feel like I’m doing something worthwhile with my time. So much struggle, yet I am aware that I bring on most of it myself. I’ve been asking for strength to take on the things I’m supposed to take on, and to let go of controlling those things (and people) that I am not in charge of. I would have to say that one of my greatest struggles in life is the idea that I can control other people’s emotions, actions, and opinions of me. It takes a great deal of pain to see that I am NOT in control of the world and people around me. There is only one thing I’ve got control over and that’s my response to the things happening around me.

I’ve been getting a lot of examples of what I don’t want my response to be when I am dealing with frustrating situations, especially at work. Maybe it’s because I’ve been asking for help in this department, or maybe it’s because it’s true what they say, everyone out there IS fighting the same battle. Either way, there are a lot of grumpy people in the world and I have to keep fighting really hard to not be one of them. I have to keep doing things like this and other things that make me feel alive, in order to really be alive. Once upon a time, I really believed that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I am supposed to do. I don’t necessarily feel that way anymore, but there is no reason that the people I meet everyday need to know that. I’m grateful that I’ve seen so many negative people doing work in the service industry because it reminds me and gives me such a clear picture of who I don’t want to be.

However, knowing who I don’t want to be is not the same as knowing who I want to be. That’s where this writing stuff comes in. I can wake up every morning with a clear picture of how my day might look and by midday, I’m doing things way differently. But whenever I am doing something every day, as if my life depends on it, I usually start noticing changes in other places too. Sure, it’s only day four, but I am feeling confident that this will help me conclude a summer of radical change and help me sustain that feeling of change as we enter in to my favorite time of year, which is always the season of big changes for me. 

As for right now, I want to put on my running clothes and go eat breakfast somewhere fabulous. I know I won’t work out, but putting on the running clothes always gives me hope that I might. Instead of getting out of my hotel as soon as I woke this morning, I’m here writing, so maybe the shift that is happening will shift my ass right into the gym. Or at least maybe in to a solo hotel room dance party, which is the cardio of choice for me these days. 

Have a blessed day, friends. Namaste. 

Day three.

Today the writing challenge suggests to write about the paradox of darkness and light. How our darkest places can become our brightest lights.

I decided to spend this morning with pen and paper, instead of heading straight to my computer. I’ve gone in spurts of using writing in the morning as the biggest and most important part of my spiritual life, but I’ve gotten out of the habit in the last year or so and it felt really nice to write away the morning. What else is there to do in Grand Rapids? Anyway, I want to keep up with writing here as well. 30 days in August, 30 entries. It may be hard, because I am going on two vacations, but I would really love to complete this month with a firmer grasp on how important writing is to my life.

It is easy to find strength in yourself when you do the things that you love. I’ve spent a lot of time this year asking myself the question of whether or not I love what I am doing anymore. The people closest to me must have grown sick of hearing the damn record playing, because I know that I have. I have wasted so much energy talking about what I can do differently, instead of actually doing things differently. I am grateful for this writing challenge because it’s making it clear to me that I have some interesting ideas about priorities. Writing has not been my priority for a while now, because every time I sit down to write, I find myself writing about how unsure of my place in this world I am.

This morning, my place in the world was at a desk with a pen in my hand and a notebook. This afternoon, my place in this world is on an airplane in a blue dress, with a smile on my face. And tonight, my place in this world is in a hotel in Indianapolis.

I don’t know much beyond that, but I do know that if I keep showing up to my notebook and get the words out, something good will come to me. The happiest people that I know do what they love everyday. Even if it scares the ever living shit out of them. They show up.

This is me. Messy, full of run on sentences, bad punctuation, unsure of where this writing will take me, running late, and anxious about everything under the sun. But I am showing up. Day three.