Ever since I was young, I've had a deep desire to be black. Instead I look in the mirror and see a white-ish, olive-ish skin covering my black-souled body. Why couldn't my mom just hook up with one black guy that just happened to have the sperm used to create me? I mean she hooked up with everyon... Ok mom bashing is extremely unacceptable, moving on.
I've always hated socks. Let me rephrase, I've always been disgusted with socks, yet recognize my dependence on their existence. Socks are like tampons, I get pissed when I have to spend money on them, the sight of them makes me shudder in disgust, yet at the end of the day, they are there to get a very specific job done. Their willingness to do that job saves me from being shit out of luck and in a very uncomfortable physical situation. If I lived in a perfect world, they're be absolutely no need for either socks or tampons.
Brown is the ugliest color, and yet my favorite. If you reread that sentence over and over and really chew on it for a while, I'm pretty sure you could figure everything else about me out. Yep, it's all wrapped up there for you.
I'm an internet lurker. Want to know the name of Dick Van Dyke's father or Judy Garland's birth name? I'm your woman. I strive to learn the random facts of famous people who already lived or are currently living the dreams I'm too puss to live myself. And you totally wish you knew Hilary Duff's favorite yoga posish.
I'm wondering when I will realize that things like staying up way too late, slacking on my house work, or getting in funks when I don't interact with anyone over the age of 3 for a few days, makes me suffer more than anyone else. I hand myself the short end of the stick, and then I'm like "thanks. (what an asshole!)" But is there a certain age when that stops? Like 36? 71? maybe if there was a timeframe I'd feel better.
When you become a mom, the word "bathroom" becomes extinct and gets replaced with "potty." The best part about that is saying to your husband, "I'll be right back, I've gotta go potty" on your date. So hott.
I don't understand why some things are attractive, while others are not. I remember being asked in high school by a boy I liked, "you don't have pepperoni nipples do you?" I don't know?! What are those? Are all nipples compared to pizza toppings? Are olive nips better than pepperoni? What about pineapple nips? Should I order a pizza with everything on it and have a compare and contrast sesh in front of the mirror? What if one person hates pepperoni nips, while the other one votes pepperoni nips all the way? Is that how you find your soulmate, by matching his favorite pizza nip shape? And what about HIS nips? Yeah, what shape are your nips boy from high school? Probably has sausage nips.
I'm really into the holidays. Like really into them. And when I say holidays, I mean October 1st to January 2nd. Everyday between those dates is a holiday, and should be celebrated with an abundance of expensive cheese and alcohol. I'd replace each piece of furniture, appliance and decor with a festive one if I could. Which makes me want to invent holly berry toilet paper. No dingle berry toilet paper!
One time, last night, I shared with my husband my fear of sharing what I write because people might find it inappropriate or offensive. He calmly and cooly replied, "I don't even know what you're talking about right now babe, ever since I met you, you haven't cared about being inappropriate." well ok then.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
rivers and roads.
having a horribly sentimental heart is something that can be good or bad, depending on the day. there are days when despite what that heart is feeling, it expresses a joy that overflows and brings joy to everyone else around. or there are days when it aches so enormously, just the mere achievement of feeling joy seems at a loss. on those days the carrier of the sentimental heart, might be walking alongside the road, heart pulsating with undefined pain, wondering "what would allow me to feel happiness in this moment?" would finding 150,000 dollars rolled up and bound by a blue rubber band make me happy? no. would a cup of my favorite coffee make me happy? no. would finding out one of my dreams came true make me happy? no. would hearing that the people I love are all sublimely happy. that would help, but no. would reaching a mirror and having nothing but love and acceptance for the girl I saw staring back at me, make me happy? no. the only thing that could even begin to clear away the fog that is pain and allow the tired heart to feel a glimpse of happiness, is gratefulness.
gratefulness is a sly little trickster, because it doesn't come natural to us. in fact, it is a current flowing rapidly in the opposite direction we are sailing. there are ideas in our minds that have been planted either a long time ago or even seconds ago, and those little ideas have not-so-little power. those ideas bleed into dreams, that bleed into expectations, that bleed into letdowns, that bleed into sorrow. what those ideas are, are ideas. and that is all. ideas we birthed into our own minds. which can be reality to us, we think them, we feel them, they are real. or are they? what we have is what we have, and chances are we have an awful lot.
but oh those sentimental hearts, they tell you what you long for and they scream it so loudly. not only do you feel it emotionally, but it rattles you physically. all I know is that although the sentimental heart is strong, I have to be stronger. I have to keep walking against that tide. I have to keep focusing on what is real, and I have to keep expressing joy for those around me, because if I don't, I'm simply just dying.
this video, rivers and roads, wraps me up in a nutshell today.
gratefulness is a sly little trickster, because it doesn't come natural to us. in fact, it is a current flowing rapidly in the opposite direction we are sailing. there are ideas in our minds that have been planted either a long time ago or even seconds ago, and those little ideas have not-so-little power. those ideas bleed into dreams, that bleed into expectations, that bleed into letdowns, that bleed into sorrow. what those ideas are, are ideas. and that is all. ideas we birthed into our own minds. which can be reality to us, we think them, we feel them, they are real. or are they? what we have is what we have, and chances are we have an awful lot.
but oh those sentimental hearts, they tell you what you long for and they scream it so loudly. not only do you feel it emotionally, but it rattles you physically. all I know is that although the sentimental heart is strong, I have to be stronger. I have to keep walking against that tide. I have to keep focusing on what is real, and I have to keep expressing joy for those around me, because if I don't, I'm simply just dying.
this video, rivers and roads, wraps me up in a nutshell today.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
it's been a while. (it's been a hott minute)
I really get upset when phrases that should be common phrases in my life are in fact not common phrases like the one used to title this blog post. "it's been a while" has been ruined by that song by... who are they again? oh yeah stained. they are forgotten, while the phrase is forever ruined. much like "you're beautiful". I saw your face in a crowded place, and I'll never be the same. yeah, those songs can all die. I guess it's time to come up with some new phrases. like, it's been a hott minute. wait, that's new right?
well anyway, I haven't had the time nor the energy to write in my own blog in quite sometime. however tonight I find myself alone in my bed, both kids asleep, my husband in Seattle, and nothing but an old Eddie Vedder tee and hot cup of tea (tee & tea) to keep me company. I did a little youtubing, but all that did was either make me angry at the people I am not a fan of and jealous of the ones I am a fan of. ha, and so it goes. I also have a stack of books beside me I have been meaning to read. slacker!
there has been a lot of change happening in our household. in our lives. in my being. what I have come to realize through this process, which I have realized before but not quite to this extent, is that I really suck at processing things. like REALLY suck at processing things. I've known this about myself for a very long time, but I also have never been as busy as I am now. so add change, processing change, and business, and you will find a girl who thinks she's ok, until one day she's on the couch on auto pilot wondering what the hell is going on. so I guess major life changes need to be processed. they need to be thought of, dealt with, and not just put on the back burner, left to boil over and spill all over the floor. (the killers singing about being on the back burner does not ruin the phrase, ten points for them!) I am grateful for people who know me and continue to love me as I figure out how to process the things that are coming at me.
while I am confessing what I suck at, well if I were being nice to myself, I'd say "things that don't come natural to me" but really I'll forgive myself, anyway, I also suck at grieving things. lost relationships, things that I wish were different, (ah, grieving fantasies, those are always the fun ones, here's a hint: grieving from things that actually happen is the way to go, it's called reality, maybe even sanity) grieving any type of loss really, even life change. alas, knowing these faults is the first step towards healing right? right. again I find myself grateful for those who love me through it, and even help pull veils from eyes that I would otherwise not even know were there.
today I facetimed (this vocabulary is fun, "facetimed", "youtubing") with probably my favorite human after my own little kin and she pointed out the huge zit that I currently have between my eyes. that's a highlight from my day. you think I am joking but I am not. we laughed so hard about that blemish that I am actually quite glad that it's there making my face throb, because I will probably always remember our conversation about it. that's how sentimental I am. it's the little things that bring us together. and really, the zits between the eyes are the worst. you can't hide them, they are there for everyone to stare at, hence their nickname as "the third eye." third eye blind. I'm convinced this thing isn't blind, but in fact can see and probably even has a soul.
I suppose I should end this rambling sesh right about now before what I am sharing turns from slightly disgusting to overly inappropriate, I can feel myself heading that way.
well anyway, I haven't had the time nor the energy to write in my own blog in quite sometime. however tonight I find myself alone in my bed, both kids asleep, my husband in Seattle, and nothing but an old Eddie Vedder tee and hot cup of tea (tee & tea) to keep me company. I did a little youtubing, but all that did was either make me angry at the people I am not a fan of and jealous of the ones I am a fan of. ha, and so it goes. I also have a stack of books beside me I have been meaning to read. slacker!
there has been a lot of change happening in our household. in our lives. in my being. what I have come to realize through this process, which I have realized before but not quite to this extent, is that I really suck at processing things. like REALLY suck at processing things. I've known this about myself for a very long time, but I also have never been as busy as I am now. so add change, processing change, and business, and you will find a girl who thinks she's ok, until one day she's on the couch on auto pilot wondering what the hell is going on. so I guess major life changes need to be processed. they need to be thought of, dealt with, and not just put on the back burner, left to boil over and spill all over the floor. (the killers singing about being on the back burner does not ruin the phrase, ten points for them!) I am grateful for people who know me and continue to love me as I figure out how to process the things that are coming at me.
while I am confessing what I suck at, well if I were being nice to myself, I'd say "things that don't come natural to me" but really I'll forgive myself, anyway, I also suck at grieving things. lost relationships, things that I wish were different, (ah, grieving fantasies, those are always the fun ones, here's a hint: grieving from things that actually happen is the way to go, it's called reality, maybe even sanity) grieving any type of loss really, even life change. alas, knowing these faults is the first step towards healing right? right. again I find myself grateful for those who love me through it, and even help pull veils from eyes that I would otherwise not even know were there.
today I facetimed (this vocabulary is fun, "facetimed", "youtubing") with probably my favorite human after my own little kin and she pointed out the huge zit that I currently have between my eyes. that's a highlight from my day. you think I am joking but I am not. we laughed so hard about that blemish that I am actually quite glad that it's there making my face throb, because I will probably always remember our conversation about it. that's how sentimental I am. it's the little things that bring us together. and really, the zits between the eyes are the worst. you can't hide them, they are there for everyone to stare at, hence their nickname as "the third eye." third eye blind. I'm convinced this thing isn't blind, but in fact can see and probably even has a soul.
I suppose I should end this rambling sesh right about now before what I am sharing turns from slightly disgusting to overly inappropriate, I can feel myself heading that way.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
postpartum brain damage.
Many of women, some of whom I know personally, have struggled with postpartum depression. Postpartum depression is a serious case of sadness, anger, and fear that one can experience after giving birth to their baby. It can be very extreme in some cases or seem rather subtle in others. I have not personally suffered from postpartum depression, but I would like to birth a new diagnosis called postpartum brain damage, which I have suffered from greatly.
I have been asked by many different and very gracious people to write guest blogs or pieces for various different things on various different topics. However I have found it quite difficult to find the time to sit down and actually write anything at all, let alone something someone would actually want to read.
Ok, that was a little tiny lie, I have had some time. But what I haven't had, is the ability to connect one thought to another, or even have more than one thought in my brain that would even need to be connected to another thought, as the first thought probably wasn't even in itself one whole complete thought in the first place. Since having my second child, I have been missing something in my life that I love even more than my husband. It is called sleep. With sleep being erased from life, I have noticed little pieces of brain activity being erased along with it.
"Pregnancy Brain," yet another symptom that is totally real among moms (shit aren't we just the luckiest?) had bled over it's time frame. I was not pregnant anymore. I was supposed to know why I was standing in front of the open fridge, and I was supposed to be able to remember how I had gotten to the open fridge (teleported?). Well here I am eight months later, and I am still trying to get back on the sanity bus. How come no one ever warned me about postpartum brain damage? How come no one ever said, Natalie, you just might fall off the damn horse, but you'll find your way back on. Perhaps if someone would have spoken those words to me, I'd be feeling pretty damn peachy right now.
Well anyway, my second born has FINALLY learned how to sleep through the night. He so graciously gives me from 8pm to 6am, which is a better gift to me than if God himself were to hand me a purple unicorn. I am desperately chasing after my thoughts, catching them in a clenched fist, wrestling them to the ground, and shoving them into an airtight jar where they will find it absolutely impossible to escape me. After I have accumulated a few, I shall string them together into a sequence of excellence, double knot the unpromising end, and throw them over my shoulder until I can add to them again.
If you are suffering or ever have suffered from postpartum brain damage, I tip my glass to you. Here's to regaining what was originally ours.
I have been asked by many different and very gracious people to write guest blogs or pieces for various different things on various different topics. However I have found it quite difficult to find the time to sit down and actually write anything at all, let alone something someone would actually want to read.
Ok, that was a little tiny lie, I have had some time. But what I haven't had, is the ability to connect one thought to another, or even have more than one thought in my brain that would even need to be connected to another thought, as the first thought probably wasn't even in itself one whole complete thought in the first place. Since having my second child, I have been missing something in my life that I love even more than my husband. It is called sleep. With sleep being erased from life, I have noticed little pieces of brain activity being erased along with it.
"Pregnancy Brain," yet another symptom that is totally real among moms (shit aren't we just the luckiest?) had bled over it's time frame. I was not pregnant anymore. I was supposed to know why I was standing in front of the open fridge, and I was supposed to be able to remember how I had gotten to the open fridge (teleported?). Well here I am eight months later, and I am still trying to get back on the sanity bus. How come no one ever warned me about postpartum brain damage? How come no one ever said, Natalie, you just might fall off the damn horse, but you'll find your way back on. Perhaps if someone would have spoken those words to me, I'd be feeling pretty damn peachy right now.
Well anyway, my second born has FINALLY learned how to sleep through the night. He so graciously gives me from 8pm to 6am, which is a better gift to me than if God himself were to hand me a purple unicorn. I am desperately chasing after my thoughts, catching them in a clenched fist, wrestling them to the ground, and shoving them into an airtight jar where they will find it absolutely impossible to escape me. After I have accumulated a few, I shall string them together into a sequence of excellence, double knot the unpromising end, and throw them over my shoulder until I can add to them again.
If you are suffering or ever have suffered from postpartum brain damage, I tip my glass to you. Here's to regaining what was originally ours.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
just today.
today keeps unfolding into tomorrow
somebody forgot to tell me that's just life though
from your hand it slips out like sand
and a trail softly falls back into the land
it blows away quickly, without sound
if you remember to stop, you might look around
but I couldn't remember, in fact I forgot
I kept forgetting to wind up my clock
I'm surprised that I'm still in shock
I'm surprised that I'm not on top
my hands lie empty, I tried to hold tightly
I tried to try trying and gave up tiredly
time is wasting, I'm just now tasting what'd it be like if I wasn't just waiting
my eyes grow heavy, I'm thinking of bailing
I try to stay focused but my mind is trailing
yesterday just keeps bleeding into today
someone told me that this was the only way
nothing ever changes or rearranges nothing ever seems to engage us
but what if I woke up and spoke up and told you to shut up?
would tomorrow be okay, would today be just another day?
would I remember the way things were just yesterday?
today keeps unfolding into tomorrow,
what are we planning on doing about it though?
somebody forgot to tell me that's just life though
from your hand it slips out like sand
and a trail softly falls back into the land
it blows away quickly, without sound
if you remember to stop, you might look around
but I couldn't remember, in fact I forgot
I kept forgetting to wind up my clock
I'm surprised that I'm still in shock
I'm surprised that I'm not on top
my hands lie empty, I tried to hold tightly
I tried to try trying and gave up tiredly
time is wasting, I'm just now tasting what'd it be like if I wasn't just waiting
my eyes grow heavy, I'm thinking of bailing
I try to stay focused but my mind is trailing
yesterday just keeps bleeding into today
someone told me that this was the only way
nothing ever changes or rearranges nothing ever seems to engage us
but what if I woke up and spoke up and told you to shut up?
would tomorrow be okay, would today be just another day?
would I remember the way things were just yesterday?
today keeps unfolding into tomorrow,
what are we planning on doing about it though?
Monday, July 25, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
rose goes greetings 2.
what's up ladies and gents? I haven't had a free moment to sit here before my bloggy blog in quite some time. today I am... wait you'll never guess... tired! I know, it is shocking. last night Moses woke up at 3, he seemed a bit warm, maybe teeth are on the way. what joy.
today a very dear friend of mine is in the hospital about to have her baby, I am very happy for her, as I remember being 15 and making each other mix tapes. now we're mamas. what a magical thing it is to journey through life with people. for an old nostalgic soul like mine, it's my favorite treasure of all, the relationships I have with people and cruising through the currents of life with them. before I know it we'll be entering the grandparent stage, wondering what the hell happened to time. sigh. one day at a time.
now that I am older and a mother, I can remember all the scoldings that I now give my daughter being given to me. the most infamous ones: "quite down", "not so loud", "please be quiet", "don't scream", "you don't have to yell", "please for the love of god be quiet!". I remember these well. I remember being in junior high and getting my report cards that read: less talking, too much socializing, less talking, chatty cathy, LESS TALKING! I suppose I had a lot to say. it was good when I became a crabby teenager and was selective with who I chatted with, though those few were still enough to get me into trouble. I feel a bit guilty when I am giving those scoldings to Vae, as I do not want to break her spirit. I remember well what it felt like to hear those things all of the time and I remember feeling so full of energy and excitement (much like Vae) and it would just burst out of me. loudly. I hope to not silence Vae, although my mental health might benefit from doing so. :)
I have a few more Rose Goes Greetings to share with you as a departing gift.
today a very dear friend of mine is in the hospital about to have her baby, I am very happy for her, as I remember being 15 and making each other mix tapes. now we're mamas. what a magical thing it is to journey through life with people. for an old nostalgic soul like mine, it's my favorite treasure of all, the relationships I have with people and cruising through the currents of life with them. before I know it we'll be entering the grandparent stage, wondering what the hell happened to time. sigh. one day at a time.
now that I am older and a mother, I can remember all the scoldings that I now give my daughter being given to me. the most infamous ones: "quite down", "not so loud", "please be quiet", "don't scream", "you don't have to yell", "please for the love of god be quiet!". I remember these well. I remember being in junior high and getting my report cards that read: less talking, too much socializing, less talking, chatty cathy, LESS TALKING! I suppose I had a lot to say. it was good when I became a crabby teenager and was selective with who I chatted with, though those few were still enough to get me into trouble. I feel a bit guilty when I am giving those scoldings to Vae, as I do not want to break her spirit. I remember well what it felt like to hear those things all of the time and I remember feeling so full of energy and excitement (much like Vae) and it would just burst out of me. loudly. I hope to not silence Vae, although my mental health might benefit from doing so. :)
I have a few more Rose Goes Greetings to share with you as a departing gift.
Friday, June 3, 2011
lies.
there are reasons people lie. they lie to protect themselves. they lie because they think they are protecting you. they lie because they are afraid. they lie because they don't want to appear to be afraid. they lie because they are broken hearted. they lie because they don't understand why their heart had to get broken.
oh people. we are a funny breed. there have been some awkward situations going on in my life lately. I have constantly been wrestling through the "meaning" behind said situations. basically, I've been carrying around a load that isn't mine to carry and need to learn how to not waste energy on things that I cannot change. I am thankful for prayer, and that I can constantly remove these loads and hand them over. sure, they come back again. but I keep trying to let them go.
I never thought I cared what people thought about me. I had a very punk rawk attitude growing up. I was under the belief I could do and say whatever I wanted, dress however I wanted, and that I didn't care what people thought about it. oh I thought I was so sure. I was so far from right. The older I get, the more I realize I do care. and I find it safe to say, I care way too much. In fact, I seem to care too much about what people who I don't even like think about me. people who are mean, bitter, and think everyone in the world is wrong and they are right. yes, even those people I wish think I am a sweet and awesome person. I guess we all do. I have heard the older you get, the more those expectations fall away. if that is the case, bring on the 30s because I am ready! my goodness.
today a friend told another friend, you never give up. I want that to be true about me. I want to fight for what is right. I want to have victory over lies. I want my children to grow up knowing the truth about who they are and I want them to love others more than themselves. I am realizing more and more how much I am robbed of my joy and of my freedom by worrying about what people think about me. then there are all the barriers. the christian and the non-christian. the republican and the democrat. the liberals and the conservatives. the feelers and the thinkers. on and on it goes. certainly you can't please everyone. and you can't be sorry for who you are. I won't be sorry for who I am.
I am someone who hates when people put down others. I hate when people blab and blab out there asses about stuff they don't know the first thing about. I hate when people are closed to other ideas, other opinions, when they are closed to the very idea that their own way isn't the only way. I hate division. oh but isn't that the way the world works. let's see how many ways this world can be divided. let's see how many ways we can tear each other down. even within our own groups we do this. our own families, our own churches, our own schools, our own campaigns for things we strongly believe in, our own political parties. it's everywhere among us. how are we supposed to be encouraged? how are we supposed to feel good about raising our children among this? my brother would say, don't have children. there's the answer. let's stop making families.
oh goodness.
I could go on and on. I don't want to be stuck in the slum of this shit all the time. which brings me back to, thank God for prayer. thank God for my faith and the fact that I can give my burdens to him.
I will have victory. I will learn. I will teach my children how to LOVE, if that is the only thing I do. and people will say, that natalie rose, she never gives up.
oh people. we are a funny breed. there have been some awkward situations going on in my life lately. I have constantly been wrestling through the "meaning" behind said situations. basically, I've been carrying around a load that isn't mine to carry and need to learn how to not waste energy on things that I cannot change. I am thankful for prayer, and that I can constantly remove these loads and hand them over. sure, they come back again. but I keep trying to let them go.
I never thought I cared what people thought about me. I had a very punk rawk attitude growing up. I was under the belief I could do and say whatever I wanted, dress however I wanted, and that I didn't care what people thought about it. oh I thought I was so sure. I was so far from right. The older I get, the more I realize I do care. and I find it safe to say, I care way too much. In fact, I seem to care too much about what people who I don't even like think about me. people who are mean, bitter, and think everyone in the world is wrong and they are right. yes, even those people I wish think I am a sweet and awesome person. I guess we all do. I have heard the older you get, the more those expectations fall away. if that is the case, bring on the 30s because I am ready! my goodness.
today a friend told another friend, you never give up. I want that to be true about me. I want to fight for what is right. I want to have victory over lies. I want my children to grow up knowing the truth about who they are and I want them to love others more than themselves. I am realizing more and more how much I am robbed of my joy and of my freedom by worrying about what people think about me. then there are all the barriers. the christian and the non-christian. the republican and the democrat. the liberals and the conservatives. the feelers and the thinkers. on and on it goes. certainly you can't please everyone. and you can't be sorry for who you are. I won't be sorry for who I am.
I am someone who hates when people put down others. I hate when people blab and blab out there asses about stuff they don't know the first thing about. I hate when people are closed to other ideas, other opinions, when they are closed to the very idea that their own way isn't the only way. I hate division. oh but isn't that the way the world works. let's see how many ways this world can be divided. let's see how many ways we can tear each other down. even within our own groups we do this. our own families, our own churches, our own schools, our own campaigns for things we strongly believe in, our own political parties. it's everywhere among us. how are we supposed to be encouraged? how are we supposed to feel good about raising our children among this? my brother would say, don't have children. there's the answer. let's stop making families.
oh goodness.
I could go on and on. I don't want to be stuck in the slum of this shit all the time. which brings me back to, thank God for prayer. thank God for my faith and the fact that I can give my burdens to him.
I will have victory. I will learn. I will teach my children how to LOVE, if that is the only thing I do. and people will say, that natalie rose, she never gives up.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
salsa and sentimental hearts.
I am considering a few things. one of which, is I hope that when I am a grandmother, I have garage sales every weekend. I am pretty sure I want to scout out random treasures and lay them out on tables, serve chips and salsa, and garage-sale-it-up as much as I can. I might even wear a visor. I am pretty excited about this. my family has always made homemade salsa to sell at our garage sales. it is one of the random little things that I love about my Mexican family. we have a bowl of it out with some chips for people to try, and then we have about a dozen jars of it for people to buy. they'd always sell out literally within minutes. we've got that magic touch. it is called "nana's salsa". my nana has the greatest salsa recipe ever. or at least I thought she did until chris got his hands on it and made it better. no offense nana, that's just what chris does. at least you're not married to him. anyway, next weekend we get to contribute jars of salsa to a friend's garage sale and let's just say I'm pretty pumped about it. pumped, do people still say that?
it has been said that one can make any house a home. I am learning this, as I move from one location to the next, always waiting for that house. the house that is in my mind. this house will surely be mine one day. until then, this apartment is my home. that is ok with me. it is roomy, it is warm in the winter and cool in the summer, it has our totally amazing decor keeping it real. the kids each have their own room, which is vital since Moses still wakes up quite a bit and if they were in the same room waking each other up, I might just run far far away. ah yes, I am ok here. I am sure of it. even the sound of the kid upstairs running laps has become apart of the coziness. ok not really, that dude needs a leash tied to a tree if you ask me.
for those of you who don't know. I am an extremely sentimental person. like seriously sentimental.
sen·ti·men·tal [sen-tuh-men-tl]
–adjective
1.
expressive of or appealing to sentiment, especially the tender emotions and feelings, as love, pity, or nostalgia: a sentimental song.
2.
pertaining to or dependent on sentiment: We kept the old photograph for purely sentimental reasons.
3.
weakly emotional; mawkishly susceptible or tender
you can define me with number 3. just call me mawkishly susceptible from now on ok? I am so sentimental, I'll keep a piece of toilet paper if it really means something to me. (I am not a hoarder, do not confuse sentimental awesomeness with hoarding, don't do it. do I need to post the definition of "hoarder" as well?)
today I glanced down at my wedding rings that my mother had passed down to me and started thinking about passing them down to Vaelyn. I thought, what if none of my kids end up being sentimental? not all people are sentimental right? as a super strong feeler, (I am not a thinker. I think a lot, but only about what I feel) I can not imagine what it would be like to not be sentimental. Vaelyn might find the rings ugly, old fashioned, she may want something totally different and not even care if they end up in a pawn shop somewhere. Moses might not care about them either. they might not care about their scrapbooks or about anything that I've kept for them. (although I can't imagine moses not wanting to show his girlfriends his first-haircut-whispies in a plastic bag) what a strange thought. I've always been that way too. I remember being four and carrying stuffed animals around the store, explaining to them that I couldn't rescue them but reassuring them that someone surely would. I remember getting new shoes and telling my old ones "don't worry I won't forget about you, I'll still wear you". I suddenly feel like I'm sharing too much.
"what can you do with a sentimental heart?"- S&H
it has been said that one can make any house a home. I am learning this, as I move from one location to the next, always waiting for that house. the house that is in my mind. this house will surely be mine one day. until then, this apartment is my home. that is ok with me. it is roomy, it is warm in the winter and cool in the summer, it has our totally amazing decor keeping it real. the kids each have their own room, which is vital since Moses still wakes up quite a bit and if they were in the same room waking each other up, I might just run far far away. ah yes, I am ok here. I am sure of it. even the sound of the kid upstairs running laps has become apart of the coziness. ok not really, that dude needs a leash tied to a tree if you ask me.
for those of you who don't know. I am an extremely sentimental person. like seriously sentimental.
sen·ti·men·tal [sen-tuh-men-tl]
–adjective
1.
expressive of or appealing to sentiment, especially the tender emotions and feelings, as love, pity, or nostalgia: a sentimental song.
2.
pertaining to or dependent on sentiment: We kept the old photograph for purely sentimental reasons.
3.
weakly emotional; mawkishly susceptible or tender
you can define me with number 3. just call me mawkishly susceptible from now on ok? I am so sentimental, I'll keep a piece of toilet paper if it really means something to me. (I am not a hoarder, do not confuse sentimental awesomeness with hoarding, don't do it. do I need to post the definition of "hoarder" as well?)
today I glanced down at my wedding rings that my mother had passed down to me and started thinking about passing them down to Vaelyn. I thought, what if none of my kids end up being sentimental? not all people are sentimental right? as a super strong feeler, (I am not a thinker. I think a lot, but only about what I feel) I can not imagine what it would be like to not be sentimental. Vaelyn might find the rings ugly, old fashioned, she may want something totally different and not even care if they end up in a pawn shop somewhere. Moses might not care about them either. they might not care about their scrapbooks or about anything that I've kept for them. (although I can't imagine moses not wanting to show his girlfriends his first-haircut-whispies in a plastic bag) what a strange thought. I've always been that way too. I remember being four and carrying stuffed animals around the store, explaining to them that I couldn't rescue them but reassuring them that someone surely would. I remember getting new shoes and telling my old ones "don't worry I won't forget about you, I'll still wear you". I suddenly feel like I'm sharing too much.
"what can you do with a sentimental heart?"- S&H
Thursday, May 26, 2011
rose goes greetings.
hi friends. so I started a little hobby making "cards" with my photos on my phone. it's just a fun little something I can be creative with while taking care of my two busy babies. I call them "rose goes greetings". my intention for them is if anyone wants to send a short but sweet greeting to a friend, they can email or post one of my little creations to their FB page. feel free to steal them and use them if you want. let me know what you think of them. :) so far, I only have birthday ones, but have a lot of ideas for all sorts of occasions. I will be featuring them every once in a while here on my blog.
here are my first little samples. I am not sure how to make them links or anything, maybe if you're super computer savvy like that you can give me some tips? :)
in other news, I love this city. I love living here so much. maybe it is because I've only lived in southern california and las vegas. one I could not afford to live in again and the other I'd rather be shot than move back to. Reno is perfect for our little family. this city really inspires me in so many ways and I am grateful for this season where we know we belong here.
until next time, I hope you find yourself having a splendid day!
here are my first little samples. I am not sure how to make them links or anything, maybe if you're super computer savvy like that you can give me some tips? :)
in other news, I love this city. I love living here so much. maybe it is because I've only lived in southern california and las vegas. one I could not afford to live in again and the other I'd rather be shot than move back to. Reno is perfect for our little family. this city really inspires me in so many ways and I am grateful for this season where we know we belong here.
until next time, I hope you find yourself having a splendid day!
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
holy bajeezus.
I have two words on my brain.
they are...
HOLY HELL.
the last two days have been a whirlwind of craziness. and what is the craziest is that it hasn't even been busy, I've just been so preoccupied with children, that I literally was lucky to have time to pee. I had heard about these kind of days, but I highly doubted that they existed until I became a mom of two.
I had a bit of (another) identity crises the other day and texted one of my very closest friends and said, "I don't know what happened to me, I've turned into a bitch, I used to be so carefree and energetic and happy". she replied, "actually you've always been a bitch". HAHA! I needed that response more than anything else she could've said. But in all seriousness, I have gotten WAY too caught up in the way things are "supposed" to look. I mean seriously, I have gotten so wound up about such little things, I'm like Cameron from Ferris Bueller and that is NOT ok with me. I am supposed to be Ferris. I'm supposed to be awesome.
yesterday I literally tried to get out the door to the grocery store all day, finally we left around 6:30 pm. We drove to the store and parked. I sat and stared at my gas light that had turned on, rubbed my temples, talked out loud to myself a bit, and then drove right back home. I thought about everything that was ahead of me. the list (that I had forgotten on the counter at home), the adding of the products on the calculator on my phone, all the people that would stop and ask me questions about my kids (age, sex, name, future college plans), checking out and striving to be friendly to the lovely checker-outer, loading up the car, unloading, putting everything away. I decided I just couldn't do it. If just thinking about was making me feel slightly violent, it probably wasn't a good choice for me. but what the hardest part for me was, it was OK.
what? it was ok for me to not be able to do what I felt needed to be done? I noticed I had, and who knows for how long, been operating like someone was watching me and grading me. watching me and waiting for me to fail. but no one is. the world will not shit a brick and think, "oh myyyyyy Natalie couldn't get her shit together and do the shopping today, BAHAHAHAHA!!!!" how did I end up putting all this pressure on myself? where did I go so wrong? I certainly don't want my kids to go through life putting that ridiculous pressure on themselves over stuff that just doesn't matter that much.
do we have things we have to do? yes. do we have people that rely on us that we need to consider? absolutely. but making sure we are making the right choices for ourselves, our health even, is what is going to make everything flow much better.
today was pretty similar to yesterday, nothing has been looking like how I'd like. the kids aren't sleeping well, Moses is at yet another transitional period where I am stumbling pretty much 24/7 trying to figure out what the heck the kid wants. if I don't let myself get caught up in what everything "should" look like, I feel so much better, and stress has nothing on me. that seems healthier to me. it is surely easier said than done, as there will always be things going wrong and poops you have to clean (in my case anyway). my greatest inspiration is my kids. everything I am doing, they are watching, and that very fact lights a very necessary fire under my butt.
I had to make a similar decision just to sit down and get this all off my chest. I've been trying to get Moses to nap for about 3 hours now, not exaggerating. Vaelyn too. Finally I just let Vae get up, and I'm letting Moses fuss in his room just so I can get some time to myself to process. again, something that is hard for me to do, but I just have to.
it is also hard for me to remember I someone besides a mom. it is so consuming. so fantastically challenging in every way. I remember being young(er) and making fun of women like me. women whose status updates were about breast feeding and their clothes had stains and they didn't know what to talk about except their kids. but that seriously is my life. it is exhausting in it's own right just trying to not lose sight of who you are, as if us moms need another thing that exhausts us. well anywho, that's all the time I have for verbal regurgitation today.
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
-Ferris.
they are...
HOLY HELL.
the last two days have been a whirlwind of craziness. and what is the craziest is that it hasn't even been busy, I've just been so preoccupied with children, that I literally was lucky to have time to pee. I had heard about these kind of days, but I highly doubted that they existed until I became a mom of two.
I had a bit of (another) identity crises the other day and texted one of my very closest friends and said, "I don't know what happened to me, I've turned into a bitch, I used to be so carefree and energetic and happy". she replied, "actually you've always been a bitch". HAHA! I needed that response more than anything else she could've said. But in all seriousness, I have gotten WAY too caught up in the way things are "supposed" to look. I mean seriously, I have gotten so wound up about such little things, I'm like Cameron from Ferris Bueller and that is NOT ok with me. I am supposed to be Ferris. I'm supposed to be awesome.
yesterday I literally tried to get out the door to the grocery store all day, finally we left around 6:30 pm. We drove to the store and parked. I sat and stared at my gas light that had turned on, rubbed my temples, talked out loud to myself a bit, and then drove right back home. I thought about everything that was ahead of me. the list (that I had forgotten on the counter at home), the adding of the products on the calculator on my phone, all the people that would stop and ask me questions about my kids (age, sex, name, future college plans), checking out and striving to be friendly to the lovely checker-outer, loading up the car, unloading, putting everything away. I decided I just couldn't do it. If just thinking about was making me feel slightly violent, it probably wasn't a good choice for me. but what the hardest part for me was, it was OK.
what? it was ok for me to not be able to do what I felt needed to be done? I noticed I had, and who knows for how long, been operating like someone was watching me and grading me. watching me and waiting for me to fail. but no one is. the world will not shit a brick and think, "oh myyyyyy Natalie couldn't get her shit together and do the shopping today, BAHAHAHAHA!!!!" how did I end up putting all this pressure on myself? where did I go so wrong? I certainly don't want my kids to go through life putting that ridiculous pressure on themselves over stuff that just doesn't matter that much.
do we have things we have to do? yes. do we have people that rely on us that we need to consider? absolutely. but making sure we are making the right choices for ourselves, our health even, is what is going to make everything flow much better.
today was pretty similar to yesterday, nothing has been looking like how I'd like. the kids aren't sleeping well, Moses is at yet another transitional period where I am stumbling pretty much 24/7 trying to figure out what the heck the kid wants. if I don't let myself get caught up in what everything "should" look like, I feel so much better, and stress has nothing on me. that seems healthier to me. it is surely easier said than done, as there will always be things going wrong and poops you have to clean (in my case anyway). my greatest inspiration is my kids. everything I am doing, they are watching, and that very fact lights a very necessary fire under my butt.
I had to make a similar decision just to sit down and get this all off my chest. I've been trying to get Moses to nap for about 3 hours now, not exaggerating. Vaelyn too. Finally I just let Vae get up, and I'm letting Moses fuss in his room just so I can get some time to myself to process. again, something that is hard for me to do, but I just have to.
it is also hard for me to remember I someone besides a mom. it is so consuming. so fantastically challenging in every way. I remember being young(er) and making fun of women like me. women whose status updates were about breast feeding and their clothes had stains and they didn't know what to talk about except their kids. but that seriously is my life. it is exhausting in it's own right just trying to not lose sight of who you are, as if us moms need another thing that exhausts us. well anywho, that's all the time I have for verbal regurgitation today.
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
-Ferris.
Monday, May 9, 2011
next steps.
now that I have aged a bit, (I'm no longer 18) I have a new found fear of getting old. I never used to be afraid of getting old. if anything I was excited about it. but since I have transitioned from my teens to my 20s, I have noticed so many changes physically and mentally. some of them I welcome with open arms, others are what bring on that very fear I already mentioned. in my head, I still feel 18. I still feel young and hip and energetic. but the fact is, I'm not. I was hip... 6 years ago. I was the youngest out of my friends, now I'm older than some. and energy? what is that? any and all energy goes to my kids. what is left over goes to my husband a friends, and when it is just me and me alone, I'm lucky if I can keep my eyes open long enough to slurp down a cup of joe or write a 20 minute blog. I don't mean to sound like I am complaining, as I am not, I am simply noticing these things for the first time. along with new lines on my face. oh yes, they are called WRINKLES. I'm not trying to scare the youthful and childless, saying your future is doomed, as I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. I just wouldn't.
sometimes, like when I go into plato's closet, hipster girls are bitchy to me. I'm obviously above grabbing them by their little mullets and telling them about my lush past. but sometimes I'd like to. I must rest in the very fact that I wouldn't trade my current life for anything, or things start getting confusing. and it is a fact that I wouldn't trade any of it. it is not a maybe or a what if.
this june I will be 25. that is not old. that is not bad. but it is not 18. or 19. or so on. it is 25. what do I want for myself now? where do I see myself going the next 10 years? I am no longer in high school asking, where do I see myself in the next ten years, as I am already here. this is a girl, no a lady, in her 20s, wondering where she sees herself in the next ten years. my babies will be in school all day. what will I be doing? hmmmmmm.
"I must create. only then am I escaping just simply living or dying."
creating is the only thing I've known since I was a child I absolutely NEED to be doing. it's just as vital as eating and breathing to my health. as long as I stay in tune with my own ideas and believe I can actually make them come to pass, I think I will be ok no matter how old I am.
I have peter pan syndrome pretty bad, although one might argue that as I am a stay-at-home mom. (the classic opposite of peter pan right?) but being a wife and mother has been the greatest, most rewarding adventure ever, so I think that still qualifies me as peter pan-type. it's all in the adventure. I don't ever want to lose sight of adventure or what it is to feel "young". in fact, that is the very thing that has been tripping out lately, I feel a certain way and when I look in the mirror it doesn't match. in a snap I'll be 63, looking in the mirror feeling the exact same way. I am bit terrified of that, but I'm trying not to be.
ah, there are adventures to be had! it makes me excited.
"the world is your playground. you know that as a kid but somewhere along the way people forget." - yes man.
speaking of yes man, chris made me a cd of all Zooey's music from her band in that movie, Vae and I listen to it in my car and it is amazing. although I had to start skipping the "late night booty call" song as Vae was starting to sing it haha! oh dear. "you can call me at 10:59 but don't call me at 11 cause that's my rule now".
sometimes, like when I go into plato's closet, hipster girls are bitchy to me. I'm obviously above grabbing them by their little mullets and telling them about my lush past. but sometimes I'd like to. I must rest in the very fact that I wouldn't trade my current life for anything, or things start getting confusing. and it is a fact that I wouldn't trade any of it. it is not a maybe or a what if.
this june I will be 25. that is not old. that is not bad. but it is not 18. or 19. or so on. it is 25. what do I want for myself now? where do I see myself going the next 10 years? I am no longer in high school asking, where do I see myself in the next ten years, as I am already here. this is a girl, no a lady, in her 20s, wondering where she sees herself in the next ten years. my babies will be in school all day. what will I be doing? hmmmmmm.
"I must create. only then am I escaping just simply living or dying."
creating is the only thing I've known since I was a child I absolutely NEED to be doing. it's just as vital as eating and breathing to my health. as long as I stay in tune with my own ideas and believe I can actually make them come to pass, I think I will be ok no matter how old I am.
I have peter pan syndrome pretty bad, although one might argue that as I am a stay-at-home mom. (the classic opposite of peter pan right?) but being a wife and mother has been the greatest, most rewarding adventure ever, so I think that still qualifies me as peter pan-type. it's all in the adventure. I don't ever want to lose sight of adventure or what it is to feel "young". in fact, that is the very thing that has been tripping out lately, I feel a certain way and when I look in the mirror it doesn't match. in a snap I'll be 63, looking in the mirror feeling the exact same way. I am bit terrified of that, but I'm trying not to be.
ah, there are adventures to be had! it makes me excited.
"the world is your playground. you know that as a kid but somewhere along the way people forget." - yes man.
speaking of yes man, chris made me a cd of all Zooey's music from her band in that movie, Vae and I listen to it in my car and it is amazing. although I had to start skipping the "late night booty call" song as Vae was starting to sing it haha! oh dear. "you can call me at 10:59 but don't call me at 11 cause that's my rule now".
Friday, April 29, 2011
rant.
I'll speak to you through lies and videos
I'll play that horn like I know how it goes
You've turned the corner into what you would be
I'm still here with my feet as roots from a tree
There's no straight answer and no final place
Common understanding is an unbeatable race
I start back where we first could relate
Wishing now we could make it the same
I thought time had no effect on love
Now I know it wasn't what we originally spoke of
It was a deal I made by myself
A hand that I shook for the sake of my own health
I'll come back to your profile page
And see how you haven't changed
I'll wipe your technical tears and try to sooth your robot fears
Motionless as you walk further away
Trying not to roll over back on to the old days
I'll lift my hands in wonder and shock
Asking where the time went on our clock
I'm the unsound one, the wrong one
Im the person you're running away from
I'll take my foot off of the pedal, slow down till I come to a stop
I'll turn and take with me all the moments you brought then forgot
I'll play that horn like I know how it goes
You've turned the corner into what you would be
I'm still here with my feet as roots from a tree
There's no straight answer and no final place
Common understanding is an unbeatable race
I start back where we first could relate
Wishing now we could make it the same
I thought time had no effect on love
Now I know it wasn't what we originally spoke of
It was a deal I made by myself
A hand that I shook for the sake of my own health
I'll come back to your profile page
And see how you haven't changed
I'll wipe your technical tears and try to sooth your robot fears
Motionless as you walk further away
Trying not to roll over back on to the old days
I'll lift my hands in wonder and shock
Asking where the time went on our clock
I'm the unsound one, the wrong one
Im the person you're running away from
I'll take my foot off of the pedal, slow down till I come to a stop
I'll turn and take with me all the moments you brought then forgot
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
nothing much.
I am not sure where April is going, but where ever it is, it is heading there fast. too fast for me. seems like just yesterday chris attempted to April Fools me by saying he crapped his pants and needed me to bring him a new pair to work. and now it is the 26th. 25 days gone in blur of foggy memories. phew. so much has gone on this month. we had chris's parents stay with us for 4 days to celebrate his 33rd birthday. then my mom came for a week while my sister was in mexico for her spring break. now it is just back to us 4. bittersweet, because life is about 151 thousand percent easier when grandparents are around. after my mom left, I walked into my kitchen to the sink full of dishes and realized I hadn't rinsed or washed a single dish since she had been there. so naturally I took a picture of my messy kitchen, sent it to my mom and asked where are you?
when Chris's parents were here, they paid for everything. dinging out, groceries and even gas. but I guess that would be pretty rude if I had them around all of the time, using them as maids and sugar daddies. mmmm sugar daddies. remember those? they hurt my teeth, but they are good.
my in laws bought chris a BBQ for his birthday, it has been the greatest thing since moses to happen to our family. chris knows how to make the most amazing food on that thing, it is literally changing my life. I also am cooking less and less, and quite frankly that's just fine with me. and it is mighty fine with my tummy too.
my tummy is (very) slowly but surely shrinking, little by little. I've been getting up early to walk/jog around the lake behind my house, which helps me take on the day with these two little ones much easier. it feels so good to have the cold morning air slap me in the face and wake me up, I get to clear my head, cuss out loud about the 17 hundred times my sleep was interrupted, pray for my upcoming day and prepare myself for a day full of needy babes. I've also been trying to eat better, although the easter bunny tried to sabotage me. I now have a drawer full of chocolate coconut eggs, my favorite, how come it couldn't be a chocolate candy a day keeps the doctor away? sigh. oh well, all in moderation I suppose. all I know are these lumps and bumps are really starting to piss me off, and summer is coming. I think it is coming anyway, sometimes reno forgets summer. whether it comes or not, I'd like to resemble beyonce soon.
it was really nice to have such an amazing visit with my mom. growing up, I was almost sure her and I would never have a good relationship. we always argued, made each other cry, and pretty much loathed each other. ever since I moved out over 6 years ago, things have just gotten better and better. to get little glimpses here and there of the relationship I've always wanted with her is something I will never take for granted. I love her so much, and will be damned if I let all the shit that has been thrown at us over the years steal away any of the time I can get with her. I wonder how different our relationships would be if we looked at all of them that way. I wonder how different we would treat the people in our lives if we constantly acknowledged that one day, any day, they could be gone. I bet there'd be a lot less time for pettiness. anyway, going to get off this subject before I get too disney movie on you.
well, I have one crying baby, one toddler running around as if I gave her crack, and a very obnoxiously loud elmo in the background as I write this. I think my thoughts are done for today.
when Chris's parents were here, they paid for everything. dinging out, groceries and even gas. but I guess that would be pretty rude if I had them around all of the time, using them as maids and sugar daddies. mmmm sugar daddies. remember those? they hurt my teeth, but they are good.
my in laws bought chris a BBQ for his birthday, it has been the greatest thing since moses to happen to our family. chris knows how to make the most amazing food on that thing, it is literally changing my life. I also am cooking less and less, and quite frankly that's just fine with me. and it is mighty fine with my tummy too.
my tummy is (very) slowly but surely shrinking, little by little. I've been getting up early to walk/jog around the lake behind my house, which helps me take on the day with these two little ones much easier. it feels so good to have the cold morning air slap me in the face and wake me up, I get to clear my head, cuss out loud about the 17 hundred times my sleep was interrupted, pray for my upcoming day and prepare myself for a day full of needy babes. I've also been trying to eat better, although the easter bunny tried to sabotage me. I now have a drawer full of chocolate coconut eggs, my favorite, how come it couldn't be a chocolate candy a day keeps the doctor away? sigh. oh well, all in moderation I suppose. all I know are these lumps and bumps are really starting to piss me off, and summer is coming. I think it is coming anyway, sometimes reno forgets summer. whether it comes or not, I'd like to resemble beyonce soon.
it was really nice to have such an amazing visit with my mom. growing up, I was almost sure her and I would never have a good relationship. we always argued, made each other cry, and pretty much loathed each other. ever since I moved out over 6 years ago, things have just gotten better and better. to get little glimpses here and there of the relationship I've always wanted with her is something I will never take for granted. I love her so much, and will be damned if I let all the shit that has been thrown at us over the years steal away any of the time I can get with her. I wonder how different our relationships would be if we looked at all of them that way. I wonder how different we would treat the people in our lives if we constantly acknowledged that one day, any day, they could be gone. I bet there'd be a lot less time for pettiness. anyway, going to get off this subject before I get too disney movie on you.
well, I have one crying baby, one toddler running around as if I gave her crack, and a very obnoxiously loud elmo in the background as I write this. I think my thoughts are done for today.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
soulful splendor.
many people don't believe they have a soul. for instance, Edward Cullen. poor bloke. I beg to differ. ever since I was a little girl, I feel I have been very aware of my soul. I know what makes it full, what makes it hurt and I know when it is empty. I think of my soul as a "tank" that holds all the fuel that makes me who I am. there is a reason for who I am, there is a reason I am the only me, there is a reason I love certain things and dislike others. there is a reason I get some things and don't get or care to get others. there is no hiding when my soul is low or empty, and everyone around me suffers when it is.
this weekend, the question of what breaks someone's spirit arose in conversation. what makes a dog walk away with their tail between their legs? what makes an extraverted child seem timid and scared? what makes a confidant person afraid to speak their mind? it's when people aren't careful with their soul. they aren't careful with what makes them who they are. they don't handle them with gentleness, considering who the person is. there are all kinds of abuse, but I think the most common are the words we speak and our selfishness. thinking of ourselves before others and speaking without thinking are the most common ways we abuse each other. I see it every day. thinking we are better than anyone else is the worst abuse we can cause on our own soul, it damages us and puts our sight into extreme tunnel vision. until we see ourselves as beautiful, and except ourselves for who we are, we will never do anyone else any good. it's plain, it's simple.
my husband knows my soul better than I do. I often get myself into a funk and won't get myself out. he always notices and makes suggestions. oh to be known is a beautiful thing. what fills my soul? a good book, amazing music, nature, my family, art, people watching, the sound and sight of water- to name a few. what fills your soul? or if you don't believe you're an owner of a soul, what makes you feel alive? what makes you feel content? what gets you through the days?
the other day chris suggested I go for a walk around the pond behind our house. I didn't want to. I was tired. but I knew it was what I needed all the same. I took some pictures. I threw some rocks into the water so I could hear the water splash. I took my sandals off and felt the brisk air between my toes. I sang out loud to myself. I thought of people I loved. I listened to the birds and geese talk to each other. I felt peace in my soul. like a breath of fresh air right there in my center. sigh, I needed it so bad.
take time to take care of yourself, even when you are tired, especially when you're tired and disheartened. if we don't start there, loving others gets too difficult and what are we here for if it isn't to love others well?
the world is a richer place because of who you are.
this weekend, the question of what breaks someone's spirit arose in conversation. what makes a dog walk away with their tail between their legs? what makes an extraverted child seem timid and scared? what makes a confidant person afraid to speak their mind? it's when people aren't careful with their soul. they aren't careful with what makes them who they are. they don't handle them with gentleness, considering who the person is. there are all kinds of abuse, but I think the most common are the words we speak and our selfishness. thinking of ourselves before others and speaking without thinking are the most common ways we abuse each other. I see it every day. thinking we are better than anyone else is the worst abuse we can cause on our own soul, it damages us and puts our sight into extreme tunnel vision. until we see ourselves as beautiful, and except ourselves for who we are, we will never do anyone else any good. it's plain, it's simple.
my husband knows my soul better than I do. I often get myself into a funk and won't get myself out. he always notices and makes suggestions. oh to be known is a beautiful thing. what fills my soul? a good book, amazing music, nature, my family, art, people watching, the sound and sight of water- to name a few. what fills your soul? or if you don't believe you're an owner of a soul, what makes you feel alive? what makes you feel content? what gets you through the days?
the other day chris suggested I go for a walk around the pond behind our house. I didn't want to. I was tired. but I knew it was what I needed all the same. I took some pictures. I threw some rocks into the water so I could hear the water splash. I took my sandals off and felt the brisk air between my toes. I sang out loud to myself. I thought of people I loved. I listened to the birds and geese talk to each other. I felt peace in my soul. like a breath of fresh air right there in my center. sigh, I needed it so bad.
take time to take care of yourself, even when you are tired, especially when you're tired and disheartened. if we don't start there, loving others gets too difficult and what are we here for if it isn't to love others well?
the world is a richer place because of who you are.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
cloudy.
I don't have any answers.
As I sit perplexed and alone in my cold and dark living room, each member of my family is fast asleep. They are rested, they are warm, they are dreaming of lucky charms and bunnies.
Or so I hope.
But not me. I feel with my feelers too much feeling. I used to spend every night like this. Sitting, contemplating, unable to sift through my thoughts and organize them alphabetically, put them away and call it a day. They have become further and farther in between. I have gotten older, I have gotten my excess energy stripped away by tiny people, I have gotten more and more exhausted. Not tired, not sleepy, not doneskies, but exhausted. In every sense of the word. But tonight, not even the exhaustion can consume me. All that I feel is the sunken ship that is my heart. Heavy within my chest, weighing me down, suffocating every breath I attempt to take. There might even be a few anchors that have been thrown off the sides, giving me a little extra ache and a little extra depth. Go ahead and dig yourself out of this one, it teases.
I want to be known. I want to be heard. I want to be loved for every last molecule that makes up my being. I want to be needed. I want to know, if I were to be gone tomorrow, would the world be different, or would it go on all the same? Don't we all.
How do we coexist with one another, when we are needing and yearning for these things, yet we are all so radically different? We are wired uniquely, we are all taking different directions to the same place, hoping to see each other there. We are speaking words to someone who is hearing something different, even though it's the same language.
There are mountains we all have to climb, some of us run, some of us even run away, avoiding the mountains as if they aren't even there. Some of us are panting, arms hanging heavy as we fall by the wayside. We're in a corn maze, guessing which way we should be going, until we run into a wall and have to turn around and try again. I feel tired. I feel tired of attempting. Attempting and failing. Attempting and gaining. Attempting and then attempting again. And thus I find myself here again. I might as well be fifteen and have morrissey blaring in my ears right now.
Come tomorrow the sun will rise, I'll get up and try try again, and all will be well with the world. As for now, I just want to go jump on my husband, make him hold me and listen to me and fix me. But I won't, because that's just plain rude.
Someone said to me, we are addicted to depression and stress. We don't know how to function without it in this society. I want to prove him wrong and say, nope not me. The heart that pumps sorrow through it's veins is called doubt. Worry. Questions. It's all the same thing. If we didn't have so many questions, we'd all be speaking the same language, holding hands around some campfire somewhere.
Tonight, I have no answers. I feel unsure and lost.
Sorrow may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning. and thank God for that.
As I sit perplexed and alone in my cold and dark living room, each member of my family is fast asleep. They are rested, they are warm, they are dreaming of lucky charms and bunnies.
Or so I hope.
But not me. I feel with my feelers too much feeling. I used to spend every night like this. Sitting, contemplating, unable to sift through my thoughts and organize them alphabetically, put them away and call it a day. They have become further and farther in between. I have gotten older, I have gotten my excess energy stripped away by tiny people, I have gotten more and more exhausted. Not tired, not sleepy, not doneskies, but exhausted. In every sense of the word. But tonight, not even the exhaustion can consume me. All that I feel is the sunken ship that is my heart. Heavy within my chest, weighing me down, suffocating every breath I attempt to take. There might even be a few anchors that have been thrown off the sides, giving me a little extra ache and a little extra depth. Go ahead and dig yourself out of this one, it teases.
I want to be known. I want to be heard. I want to be loved for every last molecule that makes up my being. I want to be needed. I want to know, if I were to be gone tomorrow, would the world be different, or would it go on all the same? Don't we all.
How do we coexist with one another, when we are needing and yearning for these things, yet we are all so radically different? We are wired uniquely, we are all taking different directions to the same place, hoping to see each other there. We are speaking words to someone who is hearing something different, even though it's the same language.
There are mountains we all have to climb, some of us run, some of us even run away, avoiding the mountains as if they aren't even there. Some of us are panting, arms hanging heavy as we fall by the wayside. We're in a corn maze, guessing which way we should be going, until we run into a wall and have to turn around and try again. I feel tired. I feel tired of attempting. Attempting and failing. Attempting and gaining. Attempting and then attempting again. And thus I find myself here again. I might as well be fifteen and have morrissey blaring in my ears right now.
Come tomorrow the sun will rise, I'll get up and try try again, and all will be well with the world. As for now, I just want to go jump on my husband, make him hold me and listen to me and fix me. But I won't, because that's just plain rude.
Someone said to me, we are addicted to depression and stress. We don't know how to function without it in this society. I want to prove him wrong and say, nope not me. The heart that pumps sorrow through it's veins is called doubt. Worry. Questions. It's all the same thing. If we didn't have so many questions, we'd all be speaking the same language, holding hands around some campfire somewhere.
Tonight, I have no answers. I feel unsure and lost.
Sorrow may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning. and thank God for that.
Friday, April 1, 2011
confessions.
hi, I'm natalie and I'm a complainer.
hi, natalie.
there are two kinds of complainers. there's the kind that piss and moan, pout and drag on their vowels when they whiiiiine. then there's the kind of complainer that is nonchalant about it. in other words they don't really know they're complaining, but everything they say is negative. I suffer from both, but I am a profesh at the second kind. here's an example.
how are you today natalie?
I'm good. I mean I haven't slept well in weeks and have had this shitty cold for two weeks. but I'm good.
see the sneaky-ness of it?
what did you think of that movie natalie?
it was great, except the beginning was kinda slow, then the middle was a little strange, and the ending was so predictable. but totally good.
I'm starting to realize more and more that I'm hearing, oh I'm sorry, a lot. I'm sorry you're sick. I'm sorry you're tired. I'm sorry I picked out a lame movie and you could write a better script and make a better one. bottom line is what on earth do I have to complain about? no one should be saying sorry to me. I have everything I could ever want or need. I have an amazing marriage with a saint of a man, two healthy kids who also have everything they need, a kitchen full of food, we all have beds to sleep in. If I wanted to go out to dinner tonight, I could. If I wanted to buy a life size cut out of Zooey Deschanel for my living room right now, I could. I mean...
who'd want to do that? :)
how can we alter our thinking to where what comes out of our mouths is more positive? I don't want people to be feeling compelled to apologize to me. that is not ok with me and I want to change it. I am not saying there aren't going to be times when I'm just going to have to be honest when someone asks how I am, but how do I change the percentage of positive so it outweighs the negative? perspective. I gotta keep on keepin on. when something gets brought to my attention about something that bothers me about myself, only I can change it. and I want to.
in other news, I hope you're having a glorious friday. happy april!
hi, natalie.
there are two kinds of complainers. there's the kind that piss and moan, pout and drag on their vowels when they whiiiiine. then there's the kind of complainer that is nonchalant about it. in other words they don't really know they're complaining, but everything they say is negative. I suffer from both, but I am a profesh at the second kind. here's an example.
how are you today natalie?
I'm good. I mean I haven't slept well in weeks and have had this shitty cold for two weeks. but I'm good.
see the sneaky-ness of it?
what did you think of that movie natalie?
it was great, except the beginning was kinda slow, then the middle was a little strange, and the ending was so predictable. but totally good.
I'm starting to realize more and more that I'm hearing, oh I'm sorry, a lot. I'm sorry you're sick. I'm sorry you're tired. I'm sorry I picked out a lame movie and you could write a better script and make a better one. bottom line is what on earth do I have to complain about? no one should be saying sorry to me. I have everything I could ever want or need. I have an amazing marriage with a saint of a man, two healthy kids who also have everything they need, a kitchen full of food, we all have beds to sleep in. If I wanted to go out to dinner tonight, I could. If I wanted to buy a life size cut out of Zooey Deschanel for my living room right now, I could. I mean...
who'd want to do that? :)
how can we alter our thinking to where what comes out of our mouths is more positive? I don't want people to be feeling compelled to apologize to me. that is not ok with me and I want to change it. I am not saying there aren't going to be times when I'm just going to have to be honest when someone asks how I am, but how do I change the percentage of positive so it outweighs the negative? perspective. I gotta keep on keepin on. when something gets brought to my attention about something that bothers me about myself, only I can change it. and I want to.
in other news, I hope you're having a glorious friday. happy april!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
lover love me.
"I'm not in love with the Robbie now, I'm in love with the Robbie six years ago. The lead singer of final warning, spandex pants, silk shirt unbuttoned, singing into the microphone like david lee roth. - the wedding singer.
last night during our ritual pillow talk dialogs, I began thinking about how much chris and I have changed in the last 6 years. I find it safe to say we are both completely different people then the person the each of us married. Chris has become a father, a more developed artist, a better friend, he has had events change and alter his thinking, how he responds, how he acts and speaks. it has all been for the better, and considering all the differences, I love him more today then I did when I first fell for him. How is it possible to love someone who will be forever changing and shifting, growing and learning, attempting and achieving or failing, all while life is going on at an extremely fast rate all around you? what if he were to come home today and tell me, "babe, I realized today I can't live without country music. I'm totally into it. I want a cowboy hat."? Would I still love him? Of course, even though it would hurt. :)
having said all this, I began contemplating "unconditional love".
un·con·di·tion·al
[uhn-kuhn-dish-uh-nl]
–adjective
1.
not limited by conditions; absolute: an unconditional promise.
2.
Mathematics . absolute ( def. 12 ) .
to see unconditional love actually unfold before my eyes and pour out of me through the years, is possibly the most magical experience I've had. in the culture we grow up in, conditions seem to be attached to everything we do. watching someone grow and change so much, all while loving all of the transitions, is something I have enjoyed embracing. it is also exciting, meeting all of the new sides of chris and getting to know them.
there is also the other side, how he has continued loving me through all of my transitions, commonly known as female breakdowns, and the changes I have made intentionally and unintentionally. loving a woman who is not a mother, I know first hand, is completely different then loving a woman who is a mother. and so on.
basically, I'm in love. more so everyday, and realizing I'm in love with a new person from the person I originally fell in love with, yet in the same body, is quite fascinating. not that it isn't hard work, because it is, but it is such an amazing adventure to be on. if you choose to love someone, love them whole heartedly, without expectation, and a readiness to take all the curve balls life throws at you. remember to keep the romance alive, don't let questions go unanswered (especially the hard ones), and take the time to look into their eyes and embrace who they are that day.
you could be in love with a hot lead singer of a band, but what if he or she becomes a wedding singer?
last night during our ritual pillow talk dialogs, I began thinking about how much chris and I have changed in the last 6 years. I find it safe to say we are both completely different people then the person the each of us married. Chris has become a father, a more developed artist, a better friend, he has had events change and alter his thinking, how he responds, how he acts and speaks. it has all been for the better, and considering all the differences, I love him more today then I did when I first fell for him. How is it possible to love someone who will be forever changing and shifting, growing and learning, attempting and achieving or failing, all while life is going on at an extremely fast rate all around you? what if he were to come home today and tell me, "babe, I realized today I can't live without country music. I'm totally into it. I want a cowboy hat."? Would I still love him? Of course, even though it would hurt. :)
having said all this, I began contemplating "unconditional love".
un·con·di·tion·al
[uhn-kuhn-dish-uh-nl]
–adjective
1.
not limited by conditions; absolute: an unconditional promise.
2.
Mathematics . absolute ( def. 12 ) .
to see unconditional love actually unfold before my eyes and pour out of me through the years, is possibly the most magical experience I've had. in the culture we grow up in, conditions seem to be attached to everything we do. watching someone grow and change so much, all while loving all of the transitions, is something I have enjoyed embracing. it is also exciting, meeting all of the new sides of chris and getting to know them.
there is also the other side, how he has continued loving me through all of my transitions, commonly known as female breakdowns, and the changes I have made intentionally and unintentionally. loving a woman who is not a mother, I know first hand, is completely different then loving a woman who is a mother. and so on.
basically, I'm in love. more so everyday, and realizing I'm in love with a new person from the person I originally fell in love with, yet in the same body, is quite fascinating. not that it isn't hard work, because it is, but it is such an amazing adventure to be on. if you choose to love someone, love them whole heartedly, without expectation, and a readiness to take all the curve balls life throws at you. remember to keep the romance alive, don't let questions go unanswered (especially the hard ones), and take the time to look into their eyes and embrace who they are that day.
you could be in love with a hot lead singer of a band, but what if he or she becomes a wedding singer?
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
a pile between two stones.
A Pile Between Two Stones.
By: Natalie Rose.
A pile between two stones
One of flowers, one of bones
To each a mound I belong
Torn between a current strong
A pile between to loves
One of ashes, one of doves
To each the wind carries on
Torn between here and gone
A pile between two shores
One of meadows, one of doors
To each a narrow path I see
Torn between another me
A pile between two dreams
One of fire, one of streams
To each a journey I do fear
Torn between a closer near
A pile between two trees
One of twigs, one of leaves
To each a nest can there be
A pile of nothing, a pile of me.
this is a poem I wrote, birthed out of the constant battle within my own thoughts. just, you know, testing the blogging waters. spreadin my wings a bit. :)
By: Natalie Rose.
A pile between two stones
One of flowers, one of bones
To each a mound I belong
Torn between a current strong
A pile between to loves
One of ashes, one of doves
To each the wind carries on
Torn between here and gone
A pile between two shores
One of meadows, one of doors
To each a narrow path I see
Torn between another me
A pile between two dreams
One of fire, one of streams
To each a journey I do fear
Torn between a closer near
A pile between two trees
One of twigs, one of leaves
To each a nest can there be
A pile of nothing, a pile of me.
this is a poem I wrote, birthed out of the constant battle within my own thoughts. just, you know, testing the blogging waters. spreadin my wings a bit. :)
my first go around.
I used to be very internet savvy. I've been a regular on diaryland, friendster, livejournal, makeoutclub, myspace, and facebook. but this whole blogging thing is intense. not sure what I'm getting myself into. and as I listen to my little son squawk in his swing, I doubt I'll be spending countless hours messing with my html codes, like I so loved to do when I was 15.
I'm not 15 anymore am I? feels like I am. well anyway, wanting to put my best foot forward, here I am.
I'm not 15 anymore am I? feels like I am. well anyway, wanting to put my best foot forward, here I am.
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