“why is my font so weird,” she thought…

Peanut season rush hour is over, along with the sickening Christmas blood sugar-edge-of-a-coma digust, and New Year’s hangover, giving my head and body a chance to breathe and slowly return to a somewhat “normal” state. Or at least as normal as I can get….

It starts off quiet: I’m sitting at work adding a few new contracts to the system, typing out a spread sheet for taxes, which reminds me that I need to type up the lease agreement for the apartments, which then gets me to thinking about my apartment, and lighting, and color swatches, and washing machines, and the next thing ya know, I’m searching for Turkish rugs on eBay…again.

Or I’m checking emails when I suddenly realize that I might need to pin a few things. As I scroll through the ecstasy of DIY’s on Pinterest, my “painting itch” starts to creep up and the next thing I know I want to bake a soufflé, try to prepare chicken seven different ways, and “pick” a massive amount of chalk board for little to nothing. And somehow I still haven’t realized it…the bubbling matter that has been stuck within me for so long that is trying every way possible to tell me to LET IT OUT! I brush it off again, assuming that it must be getting close to my time-of-the-month, not even stopping to consider the amount of time that that has passed since I last wrote a full anything besides my “notes to self.”

I hop in the shower to rinse off the day, eager to clear my head before crawling into bed. That’s when it hit me. Instead of freeing myself from anything, the thoughts and inspirations that I’ve kept locked up inside me (attempting to hold them off until after peanut season and the holidays, when I would have ample time to properly compose them) began to spill. It’s like the heat from the water was seeping the words out of my pores and suddenly I was afraid of their vulnerability. When I push thoughts to the back of my mind and refuse to think about them, they are safe until I’m ready for a creative brainstorm to perpetualize* (Yes, I believe I made up the word perpetualize. But it works nicely.)them on paper…or the computer. But when they start to erupt on their own, I am always afraid that I will think them and immediately lose them (like most NORMAL people do with weird thoughts).
So, I half-a**ed the rest of my shower to get out as quickly as possible before my thoughts (literally and figuratively) washed down the drain with everything else. I threw on a borrowed robe and rushed into the bedroom, stealing “play school supplies” from a 3-year old to scribble down the thoughts as fast as they came to me. Note to self- don’t go this long without writing. Ever. Second note to self- keep notebooks close by so you don’t have to steal Josie’s paper anymore.

Creativity is not something that can or should be withheld. It will find it’s way out eventually. Even if through another channel like Pinterest or apartment shopping. It’s like screaming, or pooting- you just gotta let it out. Or else you’ll explode. Possibly in the shower.

It’s not even like I have profound thoughts that really need or should be shared with anyone. Kameron and Payton followed me to the bedroom last night after watching me run like a banshee out of the shower, making sure I was ok. I explained to them that I had to write my thoughts down. I felt very philosophical saying it, but the looks on their faces quickly made me feel like a drama queen. Big surprise there. Then when they asked what I was thinking that was so important I needed to write down, I re-read over my short-handed notes and almost laughed. Because nothing about it was important. But not writing it down somehow made me feel like I was going to lose that part of myself in that very moment. I guess I like to write because I can make little, nothing moments seem so much bigger, at least to me. And from then on, every time I re-read my thoughts, I can reflect and know exactly where I was in that moment.

I’m in love with words. And language. And cues. I’m not very good at using them and often times make them up, but I love to read them. They’re like music because they can make you feel. Or interpret. Or both. I love to write because it’s somehow an appreciation of the things I love the most. (Or possibly a depreciation from anyone else’s point of view after reading the things that I write.) When I don’t have time to really write the way I like to (in a non-rushed manner–the way I like most everything), I make stupid little notes to myself to return to later. I’m weird because I don’t like for people to read my notes in rough draft form. It’s like I am wary of them until I finalize and read over them again to make sure I still like what I thought I liked..I thought…. Because of this, I (purposley and subconsciously) write my notes in a cave-man like manner that makes simply reading them hard, and understanding them like trying to focus inside of a kaleidoscope. Sometimes I find the notes and can’t remember what on earth I could have possibly meant. Other times I read them and instantly know what I meant by “I wish I was strawberry cake.”

Nevertheless I need it like a drug therapy. (Yeah, we’ll go with therapy because that’s definitely more relevant in this case.) Some people enjoy hunting and the sanctity of nature, others enjoy the beach or retail therapy, while others simply prefer the burn of bourbon. I can’t say that I dislike any of those “therapies”, but my primary one is and always has been writing. I can remember sitting in my room as a child, mad at the world for who knows what, and unable to write my feelings because I couldn’t spell to save my life. So I started scribbling as hard as I could, sometimes ripping the paper and breaking the pencil lead or forcing in the marker tip beyond use. Then I started drawing. But I’m not a very good artist. But once I got the basics of language down, I started writing. And it’s all downhill from there. (I always wonder why we say it’s all “downhill” to explain something that’s easier/better. I get the easy part, but if something is better shouldn’t it be “uphill”. When I say “We finally made it to TJ Maxx and it was all downhill from there” it sounds to me like it went “down” in a negative sense, but in truth it went wayyyy up, because seriously, what’s better than TJ?!)

I am pretty sure that I use writing as an outlet because I cannot speak. Those that know me might initially disagree about me claiming to be shy, but after they thought about it for a while, I’m pretty sure they would agree. As bold as I would like to be, and as many awesome come-backs and introductions and speeches and prayers and probably-not- so-witty remarks that I have composed in my head, I cannot find the courage to vocalize them. Which is pretty dumb because I can write some of the weirdest things in this blog and publish them on the Internet for virtually anyone in the world to see, but to say the actual words out loud to even a tiny audience gives me the heeby jeebys. If my voice is paralyzed, at least my thoughts aren’t. Maybe it’s an accountability thing. Maybe I’m afraid that people won’t like what I have to say or will disagree with me. Maybe I’m afraid that they really will like it. Either way, writing lets me be more anonymous with the placement and usage. And the best part is, I don’t even have to be part of what’s going on in your (the reader) comprehension process…I think I just had an epiphany- my New Year’s resolution need to be to speak more. That includes having the courage to speak. What a good one!

Now that I have taken up all this space to express my undying and unnatural love for words and creativity, I think it’s time to draw this post to an end. I have formalized my bubbling thoughts in another document on my computer (and feel much better), which will be added to future blogs. Soon, I promise. But this one is getting weird and needs to stop. I think I think too much. Or maybe my ADD is getting worse…I wonder what I thought about in class when I was a small ADD kid that wasn’t paying attention….

Yeah, definitely time to stop.

See you again soon.

Love always,

Addie

“I wonder…if the rent in the canvas of our life’s backdrop, the losses that puncture our world, our own emptiness, might actually become places to see. To see through to God. Through the earthly trappings into glorious moments beyond. Through which His light is bursting through the openings. This was a see-through place, but until I opened my eyes, I would not see God.”– Daily Devotional, Girlfriends in God

sweet, sleepy dreams…

When I came home for Christmas break I never had any intentions of taking a break from this blog…however the negligence is obvious in fact that I only have one blog for the entire month of December as well as the comment made by Aunt Laurie last weekend: “Everytime I go to your blog it’s the same hair flipping one.” That said, it’s time to get back to business…

I could bore you with my endeavors over this seemingly endless break, or tell you all about my Christmas presents, but I would rather skip the junk talk. I don’t figure anyone really cares that much anyways. But I do have to give a shout out to a very reminiscent Christmas Eve dinner with the cousins at the “kids table”: we all laughed for about an hour over the goofy things we used to all do as kids. A few of the notable memories were the ridiculous games we used to make up and the extent of the holiday madness that fell upon Nan’s house with 12 grandchildren all under the age of 10. “Spence is the Monster”, “Around the House Tag”, “Lego Wars”, “Hide and Seek in the Basement”, “Yahtzee Pool”, and “Disappear” were among the favorite games we coined (aren’t the names so original!?). As for the holidays that we experienced growing up in my family, I cannot simply explain them in one sentence. Instead, let me paint a picture for you:

Christmas Eve night at Nans approximately 1998: KIDS EVERYWHERE. Presents stacked as tall as the giant Christmas tree in the tiny living room that was bursting at the seams with stressed out parents, hormonal teenagers, groups of little heathens in a panic over the excitement of the presents, and one set of overly active grandparents (Nan and Papa). The energy in the room was indescribably amped and the parents forced each child to sit in their “designated area” on the floor and wait patiently while the gifts were dispersed. There was always a little dispute when one  kid got to climb under the tree to get the presents in the very back…of course that was always the “favorite kid” which tended to cause a bit of hostility among the overly stimulated youngsters. Then all at once, the paper shredding began. Sparkly bows, pretty paper, and nametags were flying through the air while screams of joy and well-practiced “oohs” and “ahhs” rang throughout the room. Parents pretended to be excited about the noisy new toy that their child just opened, while figuring out to do with yet another tractor (or in my case, Barbie doll) that will obviously not fit into the already overflowing toy box. After all the toys were open we were all forced to be silent while Papa called “Santa’s secret phone line” and one by one we all took turns listening to Santa. Eventually we would all make our way home where Aunt Laurie would call with an update on Santa’s whereabouts according to the radar and we would all tuck into bed, secretly scheming ways to catch the fat man, until sleep overtook us and ruined the plan.

This was the typical Christmas for us for many years until we finally moved the holiday festivities to Aunt Sandy and Uncle Marks (at the time) new house. By this point, the heathens were all a little bit older, however no more mature- meaning that they now fought over who got the privilege of passing out presents. After opening the gifts, instead of calling Santa we played one of the most infamous original “cousin games”- Around the House Tag. It actually began as a game we played inside the house, which was absurd considering the number of people that filled the house, leading to multiple collisions and accidents. Needless to say, we were forced outside in the freezing cold, but everyone knows the resiliency of a kid is out of this world so the temperature was no threat to us. We would run as far and fast as we could for hours on end, eventually having to create very specific rules and guidelines because homemade games always present those tricky “gray areas” where no one really knows who is “it” anymore.

I know that was a little much to take in, but I thoroughly enjoyed our reminiscent moment and just wanted to share just one of the many crazy experiences that I had growing up as a child in an over populated family.

I will throw this out there one last time: sitting at home in Sikeston while everyone else has already returned to Stark really makes me sad. But in the end, I know that I only have one more semester at dear ole’ Murray, so I better get excited and soak it all up while I still can. (I promise I’ll eventually stop complaining about this….a surprise visit from Kelly last week helped get me excited for the return as we considered all the trouble we can get into our last semester in the MKY!)

Martin Luther King’s birthday is coming up so get excited….whoot whoot…

“Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, Tune my heart to sing Thy grace” and “When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul.” Look them up…love them both.

Ok, now that I got all the BS out of the way, it is time for the list of the memorable moments of 2010:

1. SEC brought home the national championship
2. Alice in Wonderland, Twilight Eclipse, Inception, Toy Story 3, and Facebook finally gets a movie!
3. Antione Dodson- “Hide ya kids, hide ya wife”
4. All of Katie Perry’s songs and Jason’s new album
5. Rescuing the Chilean coal miners
6. H1N1 epidemic is declared over! (or at least back to normal)
7. The International Space Station surpasses the record for the longest human occupation in space
8. Lady Gaga’s outfits
9. CERN scientists actually trap antimatter…Angels and Demons flash back
10. BP oil spill
11. Earthquake in Hati
12. Bret Michaels and Hugh Hefner get engaged (not to eachother, of course)
13. Oprah’s last show…
14. WAYNE IS REALEASED FROM JAIL
15. Lynard Skynard came to the rodeo…yeah, I said it
16. Murray is a buzzer-shot away from the Sweet 16
17. State makes it to the Gator Bowl
18. Prince William popped the question…finally, a royal wedding in my lifetime!

I’m sure there were many more noteworthy events that I am overlooking, but I am drawing this blog to an end. Sleep is creeping its way into my body and is quickly taking over. I promise to write again soon!

Love always,

Addie

“You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you, Peter Pan. That’s where I’ll be waiting.” -Tinkerbell