I’m happy.

And that is the general state of affairs over here, but…this is different.

This is Happy. Capitol H Happy.

There have been some very interesting developments in my life lately, some of which I’m not yet at liberty to share with you…they will have their time…some of which are just mundane, daily, I feel like I’m “winning” things…one of which is…not mundane or a daily occurance…

I’ve met someone.

And he is all of the adjectives one would use to describe everything that is right and good.

I think that we are both knee deep in wonder and amazement. That’s just the way of things, right? When the unexpected appears and takes you out at the knee and you’re flat on your back looking at the stars and thinking…”I have no idea how I got here…”

Time and it’s random non-linear-ness have been playing tricks again…because it feels as if this has been…longer than it has been.

So we laugh about that.

We laugh about a lot of things.

If you’re running around this Sunday afternoon, doing the things you do, or prepping for a storm, or still in your pj’s, or sipping coffee or roasting tomatoes or doing laundry or having a Sunday Funday cocktail…and you wonder in a brief moment how I’m doing since I’ve been kind of off the radar with school and work and life lately…

I want for you to know that I am happy.

This kind of happy.

 

 

For Happiness is anyone, and anything at all that’s loved by you…

 

Feel free to step away and gag now. I know. Seriously. I totally support you. I’d probably do it if I were you. So go ahead. Here wait, Watch this. This will balance out the cavity inducing ridiculousness that’s running amuck over here:

One of the things that I’ve been trying to do when I find myself in the middle of a situation that is steeped in anxiety and panic is to go to the worst scenario, and walk backwards.

You’re not dying.

They can’t eat you.

You never have to do this day over again.

Step by step I proceed until I can breath calmly and move forward.

I had a sorta kinda panic attack today. It started from about 11am and worked its way through my day coming to a head about 3ish? 4ish? I dunno.

I didn’t go to my first class today, but got notes from my study buddy friend. I tried to sleep it off. Tried to think it away. Focus on the giddy. Focus on the music. Focus on upcoming plans.

Yet there it was. This funky thing just kind of sitting on my shoulder.

I had my first major exam in Literary Criticism tonight. This is the class, as I’ve said before, that all of the master’s students say wrecked their 4.0.

I know that I’ve got it written in big colorful letters on my Desire Wall/Goal Wall/Dream Wall whatever the hell I call it, that I don’t have to be perfect. I am not required to stay at this level of perfection. It’s okay.

. . .

My stepdad, last week, found out that he has a mass on his lung. He’s been seen by three doctors, and the thing shows “signs” of cancer. He went to Little Rock to the VA hospital there and this morning they did a biopsy. We’ll get those results in a week or two. I haven’t said anything because there’s just not much to do until we know something for sure. Pragmatic approach. Me. Pragmatic.

Yeah, it’s weird. I know.

So. The biopsy was today. Mom kept me posted with texts throughout the day. It went well. The lung didn’t collapse, as was a possibility, and he should be leaving the hospital tomorrow. We should get results within the next few weeks.

There’s a lot of stuff swirling about. And I promise you some…a lot…is good, new, shiny, potentially delicious stuff. But today was one of those days that tried to get the best of me.

I finally just breathed through it, and got centered. This post that I wrote for the Lenten season this year popped up on my sitemeter, so I went over and re-read it. 

That was not an accident, friends. Not an accident at all.

Sometimes the reminders are subtle, and sometimes they come in the form of highlighted text that says CLICK HERE AND READ ME.

The day has wrapped up nicely.

Pretty sure I owned that literary criticism test.

Burl is going to be okay.

I made a wish at 11:11 tonight.

I’ll let you know when it comes true.

i fear hurt

that it’s all in my head

merely a manifestation of my hearts longing

rather than what

actually

is.

because who would want that, right?

how could that-this-be really desired in real life?

and that truth-proven

is more painful than living inauthentically in a fantasy

behind a wall

under a rug

hiding feels easier

but not better.

it does not feel better. 

 

 

just some words I found in a notebook that I thought I’d put down here. 

it’s interesting what changes over time. 

and what does not. 

 

I’d like to tell you about my friend.

 

She’s more than a friend really.

Best friend doesn’t cut it either.

Sister is closer, but not that either.

We’re really too different to be soulmates.

We’re really too alike to not be soulmates.

My girl Talaura turns 40 today. She’s…I think…one of the last ones of us to get here. And honey, we’re welcoming you. All of us on this side of that age box, welcoming you with open arms.

Here are a few things you should know about her:

She likes her hot drinks cold and her cold pops room temperature.

She will, at any given moment, have the ability to dig into the trunk of her car, into her closet, into her desk drawer, and put together an amazing costume.

She has a wit that is sharp and fast.

She has a heart that is ginormous and welcoming.

She sometimes mixes up her Dayquil and her NyQuil and will sleep through her soap operas on a sick day.

She’s a lot nicer than she used to be in regards to nicknames.

Girl can see something, then make it the next day. She has an eye for creating.

She can string a line of words together that will make you weep, or sing, or weepandsing.

She loves you back.

If you’re feeling lonely, in a new city and a new state, she will stay on the phone with you and talk in a character voice opposite of your character voice and play out the Redneck Boyfriend Scene until you’re both crying from laughter.

She will hold you when you cry.

She will pick you up when you fall down.

If your marriage is dissolving before your eyes, she will pack you into her car, and she will drive you to a place where you will be ok.

If your marriage dissolves and she happens to be living with you at the time, she will, without judgement or malice, live with you in a one room/one bed rent by the week motel for the rest of the summer.

And she’ll make it fun.

She’s one of the most talented shoppers I’ve ever seen.

She remembers. Everything. Everything that I do not.

Her laugh will light up a night.

She will totally support you when you order that next bottle of wine.

If your plane is late and she’s picking you up, and it winds up being 1assoclock in the morning before you get there, she will make you a peanut butter sandwich and bring sunchips and a soda for when you get off the plane.

She gets a serious case of the nerves. Sometimes.

She is as strong as she is fragile.

She lands on her feet.

I know, without a doubt, that this leap into the new decade can be a wonky one. And we all have our own experience with it. I also know that while there may be a day or two where we all go HOW THE HELL did this happen??- that this girl, our girl, my friendsistersoulmate is going to OWN this decade.

I’m forever grateful that she’s kept me along for the ride.

Happy Birthday sweet girl. I love you with my whole heart. We shall celebrate with uncommon levels of the ridiculous when you come home for Christmas. That’s a dang promise.

I’ve been behaving like a 16 year old girl this week.

Staying up late on school nights, putting off homework until the wee hours of the morning…because.

Listening to music and burning cd’s and daydreaming.

Lord.

I think I’ve Freaky Friday’d with someone’s kid. Anyone out there have a daughter that is unexpectedly grown up…wait wait. You probably can’t tell the difference. Nevermind.

I’m not mad about it though…

Yesterday at work tried to eat me. 10 clients. 10 hours of work. No time to pee. I finally ate my apple I brought for lunch..at 6:30 pm. But I’m not going to complain. I’ve been living like I have all kinds of financial security, so it’s time to get back on the horse. So to speak.

Tonight I get to see my family and my boys and hang out at The Frontier under the stars.

I betcha I wish on a shooting one tonight.

My wish is to still be the 16 year old…but with a little more sleep.

Happy Friday ya’ll.

 

 

Can someone be good at letting things go and not be good at forgiveness?

Can someone be good at making friends and connections and not be good at letting down their wall?

How do all of those contradictions live inside of a person without making them just batty as a june bug?

I had an email on Facebook today. From someone that was once very important in my life. They were important because they made someone that I love very much very happy. And then they didn’t. And that is the way the story goes. I had an email today from this person that began with:

I’m sure you’re not jumping up and down to get a message from me and I understand that, but felt the need to say thank you

Turns out they read my blog. They read Ruint Blessings and for some reason it struck a personal note with them and they wrote to tell me about it. It was one of the most kind and generous things ever written to me, moreover, it was about something that was personal to me and that I’d put down here.

I’m still kind of sitting here with my mouth open. Dumbstruck.

What a generous thing. To be kind enough to reach out to someone that you clearly think doesn’t like you, and to give compliment after compliment…

And I am a little heartbroken because I’ve never done anything to change the mindset that I disliked them. I just kind of blessed it and let it go…without clearing the air. Or asking for forgiveness for the part I played in the debacle.

I want to be someone that is authentic and honest and genuine. I want to create that for myself and attract that into my life. I am absolutely bumfuzzled as to how I can walk on this planet, with the Bless It And Let It Go motto, yet have someone still carrying the weight of my actions around. That’s just shitty. Shitty boombalitty. But I’ve since cleared the air, and there is forward motion and amends are made and moving on…

But it got me to thinking about the other dichotomies that I’m built on…

When will I be able to really let down this wall that I live behind? I mean, I know I’m pretty transparent as I lay most everything down somewhere on the internet, or in my daily relationships, or monthly confessionals to whoever the lucky person is on the phone. I feel like I’m doing a good job at being real. And at owning it, owning my choices. But…it’s not all open. Lord. Ya’ll should see what I’ve got tucked away in this attic of mine…stuff that I keep from you to protect you. I promise you that.

And I’m not suggesting it should be all out in the open. That’s just indecent and messy and no one needs to go slipping around in that muck and mire. What I’m wondering, what I’m thinking about is the act or process of revealing ones self. Opening up to another. It doesn’t come without risk.

sharing stories.

We’ve all got them. We’ve all got stories that made us who we are now. Some good. Some fabulous. Some tragic. But they’re ours.

Ours.

I think real connection comes from sharing. From risk.

That…that right there…makes my palms sweat.

It is a real fear that I have, to tell you the truth. That the people new to me, will be halfway through my book and slam it shut. Retreat. Back away slowly.

It’s happened before, but it was covered up in lies and deciet and I was none the wiser until they told me.

This is too much. I don’t like this. I’ve been lying and going along with you but I don’t like this at all.

Yeah. So. Well.

I am a lot.

I own that.

What I’ve discovered today, is that what I thought I figured out…was not. There is work to be done. Holy hell is there work to be done. Connection is risky. Forgiveness is an active thing. It’s not stagnant. Blessing it and letting it go is one thing, but really REALLY doing that, and making sure everyone involved understands where you’re coming from…well that’s another thing.

So it’s constant, isn’t it? This thing we’re all doing? This Once Around?

The email ended with:

 

… But that doesn’t stop me from appreciating your gift of writing and being grateful for the lesson you taught me in your “Ruint Blessings” post.
So thanks. I hope this season treats you and those you love, well. You’re a cool cat Misti…

Rock on.

 

Thank YOU, friend.

This lesson, you taught ME.

 

My friends and I circle things.

We circle things that need focus, that need support, that need energy and prayer and love and light.

There’s more to it, but let me just begin today by asking for some circles.

I’ve got two friends across the country who are dealing with parental health issues. It’s strange, when we get into this demographic, to think that THIS is what we are thinking about. Worrying about. Dealing with.

I’ve got another friend who is the pillar of support for a family member dealing with Fucking Cancer. It’s exhausting and weary.

Kikimama’s lump has returned. When we had it removed this year, it too was fuckingcancer. So I’ll schedule an appointment and get her in to see the doc.

Life, I think, has a way of giving us the extra whatever to deal with this. It levels a whole lot of shit out, so that we’re able to deal with the bigger shit.

Maybe that’s just ridiculous logic. Maybe it holds water. Either way,

Put us all in your healing energy love power praying support circles today.

 

I think that sometimes after a big big event, where I am just completely blissed out and refueling for the days ahead, I think I go into a slight depression afterwards.  I miss being around the people I’ve been around. I miss their voices and their laughter and their energy. I get a little nutty in my head because I think I’m going nutty when really, all it is is that excess bliss I’ve absorbed trying to find space and get comfortable inside of me.

I worry that the connections I’ve made are all in my head, that they aren’t really real and that it was all just a dream…so I hone in on something…latch on and just focus on it to keep it all alive. Seeking validation, affirmation…putting one foot on the floor to stop the spins and make sure there is something solid underfoot.

I’ve been that way today.

Last night, really.

I felt just incredibly lonely. I was sad for my classmate at school who unloaded all about her fresh break-up and imminent divorce the minute I removed my ear buds and quit listening to music.

I was sad because it was so quiet here and the laughter that I was so used to seemed so far away.

It’s all connected to this time of year. It’s my power time. I feel more in tune with the energy around me during these months on the calendar than I do during the rest of the year. All of my senses are at attention, my witchy blood starts to boil a bit, things seem achievable. Like I can just manifest whatever I’m focused on.

Sometimes my focus skews a little left and manifests some wonky shit.

Why yes. Yes I will give you an example.

While the energy crackles and I seem to really have it all together,  the loneliness can sometimes be palpable. So of course, thoughts go to rectifying that situation, daydreams happen, whatever.

I got asked out yesterday.

By someone who I’d already been sort of set up with years ago. And for reasons that I will only give as “I came in 2nd place” and “whew” I absolutely knew that this was a song that I wasn’t about to sing again.

It felt icky. And I felt icky. And compound that icky with the icky from my classmates divorce story and toss in the feelings of withdrawl from my mountain people…

I was a hot mess on the way home last night.

But I got an A- on my literary criticism paper with some quality remarks on it.

And my friend’s lesbian aunt gave me some sweetass compliments online yesterday.

And I had a great conversation with another friend who said perhaps some of the nicest words to me I’ve heard in a very long time.

So the loneliness went away. And it felt like all was right with the world again.

The same and not the same.

I do think that’s called balance.

 

 

 

 

In a year that started out worse than any that I can remember in my 41 years on the planet, I have somehow managed to take every opportunity to travel, or to do something new or different, everything that came my way I figured out a way to say yes to it and to find the lesson in it. I’ve had moments of guilt, though. Like I shouldn’t be traveling as much as I did, or seeing the people that I’ve seen, or laughing as much and loving as much as I have this year because I should be grieving. It’s a strange break in my brain. I know it’s a ridiculous thing, but please note the name of this blog.

I rest my case.

—————————————————————-

 

I went to Harvest Fest for Fall Break. It is a bluegrass/folk/indie rock festival that takes place atop Mulberry Mountain in Ozark, Arkansas. This is the same venue, the same producing company that puts on Wakarusa, the fest that Trish, Gabe and I went to last year. Trish and I had this planned and on our calendars since the early Spring, and then when they moved to Florida this summer, it was solidified. We were going to meet on our mountain in October. We were going to camp and listen to great music, and enjoy Fall weather and de-stress from Life. The plan went from great to BRILLIANT when we added in Gabe’s best friends, the Twins, and Brad and Lisa who are Trish’s friends and mine through her. Mark finished up our group. He is a longtime friend of Brad and Lisa’s, and had hung out with Trish maybe four or five times previous to this. I didn’t know him but for a brief meeting at Brad’s birthday party early this summer.

SO. On Wednesday afternoon, the Twins arrived from Norman at my house, loaded their stuff in with mine, and we three headed West. Trish and Gabe had left Florida early that morning and we were planning our early arrival to the campground to stake our claim. Traffic jams and a variety of delays later, we met, we drove, we claimed our spots and proceeded to set up a campsite that would befit JayZ and Beyonce. The setting up is the worst part. It’s after 10pm, it’s dark, we’re among the group of people who paid for early admission, we’re excited to see our friends and just want it to all BE DONE! I couldn’t remember how to assemble my rain tarp that goes over the tent. I forgot one of the lanterns. I didn’t remember to charge up the automatic inflating device on my mattress. I forgot my rain boots. I was tired. My brain and my heart and my body were being held together by stress and I just wanted to be finished with this part and having fun. Trish killed her car battery. Seriously dead. Phones were dying, my car has to run to charge a phone, and service was sketchy to non-existent and we needed to know when our friends were arriving the next day.

Farfughumph.

A good night’s sleep in the mountain air made things so much better. We had morning coffee from the best most amazing propane camp coffee maker ever designed. Our friends drove up and I saw the moment it happened so that connection happened easy. We took their gear over and help set up camp, and decided that since we had appropriated about one and a half extra campsites to ourselves, that we’d make our place the base camp.

With everything settled and set up, it was time for some fun.

 

We got some beer,  got to the venue and proceeded to make one of the most epic group trips in history come to life. There was music and bands that took us completely by surprise. There was tentative initiating of friendships and reconnection with those already in place. The stage was set for something special to happen. I made the statement, “we will leave this mountain forever changed.” Which was pretty bold considering we were 2 hours in to a 4 day festival. But I had a feeling…we were on the precipice.
And then the rains came.

 —————————————————————

I was cruising through the channels last week, or possibly cleaning out my DVR and came across an episode of Oprah’s Last Chapter. She was interviewing T.D. Jakes, a pretty well known tv preacher. I haven’t ever watched him, someone bought me one of his books at one time but I’ve never read it. So I paused and took a listen. He was preaching on the scriptures that tell the parable of the loaves and fishes. The story says that Jesus and the disciples were among a crowd of 5000 men, not counting the women and children among them, and the time came to provide some nourishment, something to sustain them. When all that was procured were five loaves of bread and two fish, it is written that Jesus took what was offered and gave thanks to God for that. It then multiplied and fed the crowd.

Now, I’m not interested in your belief system with this post. I’m not asking you to suspend any kind of disbelief and buy into it. I read it now through a lens that is colored by my reading of Christopher Moore’s Lamb, so I’m coming at it from a different place, too.

What I want to point out, what the tv preacher also pointed out that stuck with me was the part where Jesus gave thanks for the five loaves and two fish. He gave thanks for something that was not enough. He gave thanks for something that was not enough, it was not what he asked for, not what was needed. 

He was thankful for that which was not perfect. 

It then, and only then, became enough.

It became what he asked for.

It became what was needed.

It became perfect.

————————————————————————–

The rains came.

And they stayed for about 5 hours.

And I had flip flops, a pair of Tom’s, and my good Nike’s. No boots. Gabe forgot her’s too.

I had the foresight to bring my NorthFace and ponchos. I chose the flip flops.

Everyone geared up, suited up, did the best we could with what we had, and trudged out into the slanty sideways rain and saw what I will forever believe to be, the best day of live music in the history of music festivals. Mark and I “rushed the stage” and got up close to Brown Bird, thus making way for the first of many new talent crushes I would develop over the course of the festival. We then slogged our way over to the big tent, and while there was nothing beating down on us, we were in mud.

How many of you have traipsed across a mountain in ankle deep mud…wearing flip flops?

There is no traction.

There IS, however, pretty amazing suction.

I reached a point where I gave up and took them off and walked among the hippies as one of their own.

It’s a good damned thing I’m not a prissy girl because that in itself would’ve made me cry. The porta-pottie situation on top of that would’ve sent me to the hospital.

The rain didn’t let up. It was after one really random set with a song that had the lyrics: “I peed on a bird. I peed on a bird. I stood on the edge of a cliff, and I peed on a bird.” that I decided to just bend. Accept what was being offered and give thanks for it. This was going to be something that we could either embrace and be in the moment or it could be ruint.

RUINT.

Ruint is the new YOLO, by the way. *inside joke what will forever make me laugh*

We chose beer. And we chose fried oreos. And we chose dancing. And this group of people metaphorically pushed all of our chips to the middle of the table.

All. In.

I got to see Shua and hug him. I saw wish lanterns lighting up the big sky. I danced in the mud under a giant lit up octopus puppet. I sang Gin & Juice at the top of my lungs, and laughed at our camp revisions to the song. Trish’s car got fixed. We ate amazing brisket that Brad brought. We laughed and laughed and laughed. I made a new friend in Mark, someone that I’d never met before this and bless his heart, he was the one closest to me when I cried…you knew that was going to happen. I cried because I was so full of love for my friends, old and new, and because the music was so beautiful and the moments that made up the day were so perfect, so brilliantly perfect that it hurt and I had to make room for more to fit inside of me.

There are many stories that happened to make up the moments, and many moments between moments that will forever connect this group together. Random, crazy, laugh till you cry kind of moments.

My favorite one was towards the end of this water logged, mud squished day, during a set by honeyhoney when I looked over and saw a guy dressed up like Jesus surrounded by a group of people and he was holding the inside bladder of a box of wine above each of them and giving them a drink.

It wasn’t the most random thing that went down on that mountain, but for me, it certainly was the most vivid, most obvious sign of the lesson I was to learn.

You must surround yourself by true, authentic people and those relationships will sustain you. You should take risk and seek out new experiences as often as possible. And sometimes, sometimes when you bless what is broken, and give thanks for what isn’t enough, you have a day that changes you.

Forever.

Well it’s over. I got up this morning, took my test, came home, started some laundry and slept for three hours.

I didn’t do fabulous.

I did well on the verbal. I could do better. I don’t get the scores to the analytical until they come in the mail in a few weeks. The math, the quantitative reasoning? I scored 8 points higher than the lowest possible score.

I have no idea what any of that means anymore. The numbers and the lines and the letters.

So I will be taking it again. I will spend some time really working on my verbal and analytical and take some practice tests. I’m going to schedule some help with the math. I have to. Because seriously, I don’t think anyone believes me when I say, if it is any step higher than basic math, then I’m out. I don’t have it.

I may need to schedule my test for the afternoon next time. This morning, I was really aware of how sleepy I got mid-way through. How my brain quit absorbing the words I was reading, which in turn ate up time when I had to re-read for comprehension, which in turn stressed me out because the clock was ticking down. Ugh.

But I can do it. I haven’t quite blessed it and let it go. It’s still in my mind, wiggling about and poking. There is some disappointment though I knew full well that there was no preparation time given to this round. Someplace up in that brain of mine, was some random thought that I might just pull it off and be successful the first time.

Now, I’m not knocking the verbal scores I got. Those are good. They could be better, but they, as it stands, would get me into grad school today.

But I’m not applying to grad school.

I’m applying to ph.d programs, where everyone applying is better.

So. Now the list includes study time for the next round of testing, which I believe will all fall in the week of my birthday. That’s just fine. Bring it.

For now, I’m prepping to leave it all. I’m going to get up tomorrow, load the car, fill it with gas, go to class for a 20 minute writing assignment, go to the salon for an hour and a half appointment and bang a little hair. I will pick up the twins, Gabe’s friends and we shall reload the car and hit the road.

Four hours away we will meet our girls, go up that mountain and build our campsite. We will gorge on the outdoors, on the music and on friends.

There will be a little work each day, as coming back on Monday I’ve got things due. But for the majority of the time, I’m going to be.

Just be.

I’ll use the time to disconnect. To focus on the last part of this semester. To make a plan to attack the tests again.

And I’ll come back fighting.