My Birthday was Two Days Ago.

And this is my 100th post.

I know I think this every year for every age, but I don't know what twenty-four is supposed to feel like. So far, it's better than twenty-three. So far, it's different.

Twenty-three gave me these gifts:

Two road trips
The Avett Brothers
Surgery
Eight bloody months. (Gross, I know.)
Hashimoto's Thyroiditis
New Year's Day
Hives
Loneliness
Marita (Although, I suppose that was 22)
An AmeriCorps position
Sadness
Acceptance
Celexa
Self-Reliance
Justin and Natalie
A boyfriend
Zombieland
Visits from Triina

Twenty-three was a bitter sweet year. My birthday party was a concert. I fear that most of the people at that party are people I may never see again. But that's growing up, isn't it?

Twenty-Four has given me these gifts so far:

No cold until after my birthday
A growing support system
A boyfriend's parents
Potential road trips
Two upcoming Avett Brothers shows
A visit to come from Stephanie and my sister
A growing like for Phoenix
People who let me down less than I let myself down.

I know I have more to learn and experience. I'm aware of that. But Twenty-Four has so much more promise than Twenty-Three ever did. Shortly before leaving Kalamazoo, I took an informal survey of about ten people. All of them said that twenty-three was a bad year. In no way am I glad to hear that I'm not the only one.

Dear friends,

I still miss you.

-Theresa

Yesterday was Zac Hanson's birthday.

So, it's about that time. You know, where I start to feel a little guilty for not having updated in awhile. More, I feel guilty for not having written in a little while. Sort of. Here's an up to date list of truths:

I don't hate Arizona nearly as much as I used to.
This has largely to do with the fact that I started working.
And I have friends now.
One of those friends happens to be my boyfriend.
Yes, it weirded me out to actually write that.
I still don't know what I want to do with my life.
My job is getting better with each day because I've asked for stuff to do.
I'm not sure the thyroid medicine is working but the crazy pills certainly are.
I haven't cried in over a month.
The last time I could say that was a long time ago.
My range of emotions is fairly limited at this present time.
I'm not sure I really like that.
I'm really glad that I've made myself be a person who tries to make the best of every situation.
Do I want to be a teacher?
The high temperatures were in the eighties for a week and it was perfect.
I wish I could run my toes in the grass.
The winter grass is growing but it still houses roaches.
I met my first scorpion a few days ago.
I still don't like them.
There are multiple cases of the flu (regular and swine varieties) at my school.
I haven't changed anything I do for that.
I love probiotics.
I still miss my scattered friends.
The friendships I have cultivated here lack a certain amount of depth.
I still don't know how to be in a relationship.
I've become one of those people that stops to say hello to every dog I meet.
Before acknowledging the owner.
I've driven on the freeway quite a few times now.
Alone (not following anyone and with no one else in the car) too.
These schools make me sad.
These kids deserve better.
I'm tired all the time.
In fact, I wish I was asleep right now.
But all in all, my life is pretty good right now.
And I believe I'm making the most of it.

-Theresa

Dear Body, (Part III)

I've been sitting on these words for awhile because I just wasn't sure what was going to happen. But I have to tell you, I never thought I'd be so happy to hear "you have an autoimmune disease." A few days ago, I was going to sit down and yell at you for having such ridiculous problems that no doctor could seem to piece together. But one finally did. Body, I was too distracted by what was going on in my head to pay full attention to you. Oh, of course I was still annoyed with you. But I think you already knew that. So I went to see Miss Head Doctor and man did she seem mean with all those blood tests she ordered. AND THEN ONE MORE. But that last one did the trick. That last one said all the crazy in you and in my head was largely because there's a problem with my thyroid. I'M CRAZY FOR A REASON! No one ever gets to say that and not be blaming someone else. I want to thank you, Body. Not for causing all those problems but... No, I don't want to thank you. That was a mean thing to do.

Body, we've been through a lot this year. Hey, it wasn't my idea to cut you open and poke around. I was just fine with saying "no" anytime I was asked if I'd had a surgery. I think this year will forever be known as The Year I Bled. Literally and metaphorically, it seems. It was the year I finally decided to take care of myself and you rather than just being in fight or flight mode all the time. I understand that you're probably as fed up with me as I am with you, Body. I totally get that. I'd been running you on an average of thirty hours of sleep a week and a diet that mostly consisted of cheap coffee and cheaper food. I've tried to rectify that in more recent months. I slept more, stopped drinking coffee for the most part and went gluten free. That didn't work. Because you're a jerk. Okay, so it's not entirely your fault. The nice Family Doctor said that you have something called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. She could tell because one of your thyroid hormones was way off the charts. The normal level is supposed to be under 35. Yours was 780.

The symptoms:

Fatigue (check)
Drowsiness (check)
Forgetfulness (check)
Depression (check)
Difficulty with learning (It's been awhile)
Dry, brittle hair and nails (Okay, you don't have this one. Yay!)
Dry, itchy skin (Not really a check either)
Puffy Face (check)
Belly problems (check)
Sore muscles (check)
Weight Gain (this was a check until the gluten free thing)
Sensitivity to cold (check)
Menstrual problems (CHECK.)

That nice Head Doctor said that my symptoms sounded like depression but weren't fully consistent and that's why she ordered that extra blood test. Body, I want to say I'm sorry for all that yelling I did and all those mean things I said. I meant them at the time but I was just really frustrated. The Family Doctor said I have to take a pill a day for the rest of my life. As my peace offering to you, Body, I'm going to take that pill and I'm not going to complain. So, get better damn it. The best part about that pill is that it has a generic so that even when I don't have insurance anymore, it still only costs $4 a month. I know it's not entirely your fault either. It turns out that Hashimoto's is hereditary. Do you know what my dad said when I called to tell him what was wrong, Body? Of course you do. You were there. "Oh, your mom has that too. And I think my doctor said I have it too. And your sister might have it too." I didn't know any better, Body. It seems my family didn't think to tell me THEY HAVE A HEREDITARY DISEASE THAT CAUSES ALL THE SYMPTOMS I HAD. You and me, we made do with what we had.

I'm going to stick with the gluten free thing. It does make me feel better. Plus, I now weigh as much as I did in high school. Now, even though I'm making you be gluten free, I'll happily give you as much beer as you want, Body. And I do hope that's a lot of beer. I'm going to take that pill everyday. I'm going to try and get you normal amounts of sleep but you're going to have to meet me halfway on that one and stop being so tired all the time. It's just not fair. I want to do things. I kind of need your help with that one. I might not take a second job. I don't really need it. I mean, I did in the month of August but that's over in a couple days. I like weekends. It'll be good. I'll shave your legs every now and then and maybe we can go swimming in October or something. Yeah, I'd do that for you. Body, we've really got to work together. We could have a good thing going for us, I think. If it's less hair you want, I can do something about that. I was thinking about going out and buying you new pants today. You deserve them. Body, I do want to thank you for having something easy to fix wrong with you. I know it could've been much worse. An autoimmune disease sounds scary but it seems like an easy fix. We've been through so much more together, Body. We can totally do this. Let's do this.

Most Sincerely,

Theresa

Who put this breadth

behind my perspective?

I went to a Southern Baptist church last week and kind of liked it. It was the friendliest group of worshipers I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. It was quite obvious that they had a "greet the visitor" thing going but they were very welcoming. The music was okay and the message wasn't anything especially profound. But it's churches that I've been to that have made me this jaded, I think. Any true word of Jesus should be profound. I'm going back because of how friendly the people were. I've bonded with a septuagenarian named Irene. She took me to lunch and convinced me I should come back the following week (tomorrow). So I will. Because I didn't do any research on any other churches and that's just fine. I don't need an edgy church. I just need Jesus.

I've made a few friends out here. Mostly, they're friends of my roommates but they're starting to be friends of mine as well. I'm learning what it means to be an introvert. I hate it. I really like being with people. I like feeling busy. I enjoy it. But I've always known it.

The psychiatrist put me on medication and had a fancy way of saying "your family has a history of bipolar disorder and depression so I can't just call this something simple." It hasn't kicked in just yet but I am starting to feel a little less helpless each day. That's good. That's what it's supposed to do. I just have to keep reminding myself that asking for help isn't giving up. With this situation or any other.

Operation Get-Over-It is in full effect.

-Theresa

Sitting on the balcony

But I'm not making any promises.

I spend most of my days alone these days. That's the hard part. That's what hard about being here. I love being around people and talking and communicating and sharing. And I'm not getting to do that. So why don't I? It's hard being in a new city alone. Legitimately alone. I'm not talking about being a part of a married couple and both of you being alone. I'm talking about being the only connection to yourself. I am the only person here who knows me for who I am. I want to change that. I do. But how? I think I'll go to a new church tomorrow. I might go to a show tonight. I should be able to drive within a couple of hours.

It's not hard having nothing to do if you have someone to share that experience with. It's not nothing then. It's a shared experience. I don't have those right now. Yesterday, I spent a drive being made fun of for reactions I can't control. That's what I have. I have letters I write because it gives me something to do. It's a level of communication. Today, I wrote one letter. I don't do well with bored. I don't do well with lonely. I'm hardly doing well.

Tomorrow, I'll go to a new church. I might write new letters. I'll think about buying groceries. I'll reconsider. I'll think about playing guitar. Or doing laundry. Tomorrow, I have another chance at a new start that I seem to be having such a hard time putting into action. Monday, I have a job interview. The training doesn't start until September.

I need to get out of this place.

Yeah, where?

It's okay. I'm not here. I'm on my way out. God, I hope I'm on my way out. I BETTER BE ON MY WAY OUT.

Yes, I've been drinking. But that's not a fair assessment. I've been praying. And I've been hoping. And I was really hoping it would get me somewhere. No, it will. Maybe not right now. But it will.

At this point, I can only think that getting over you would be the better choice. In this case, what good is hope doing? None. Yes, I miss you. Yes, I've told you. I'm afraid to call you because what if you don't answer? Then, I'll know. It's the best timing you could've hoped for. I reached out. And I still don't know what I'm grasping for. If you want me to wait, I will. If you want me to move on, I'll certainly try. But couldn't you just tell me? Just tell me where I stand.

I would say I couldn't handle this. I would. But I seem to be. I wouldn't say I'm doing fine. Because, clearly, I'm not. But I'm surviving. And that seems to be enough.

Keep it together. Keep. It. Together.

I hate it here.

Metaphorical.

Literal.

Does it matter?

I didn't think so.

I recognize your voice immediately. But we both know that's not enough. I'd keep writing but I've said too much. Tomorrow, I may go through this again and take it away. Like it would make a difference.

-Theresa

Take your hands out of pockets

and hold me.

You may or may not know these things:

I've been in Arizona for two weeks and one day.
I haven't "adjusted" yet.
That's my cop out way of saying I think I might've made a mistake in moving here.
I've never been on a date.
Of the two guys I "dated" in high school, one is gay and the other is married.
I get complimented most on my skin lately.
I've spent a lot of my life being told I was fat and ugly.
I have a hard time believing otherwise because of it.
I'm seeing a psychiatrist on Monday.
It makes me sad because I think I need to.
I have never had so much nothing to do in my life as I do right now.
I've spent most of my life being busy so I wouldn't have to think too much.
The last "good" night of sleep I had was on a Saturday afternoon almost four weeks ago.
Things are what you make of them.
Things are what you make of them, baby.
I worry that I'm never going to be enough.
I worry that I'm never going to feel like I'm enough.
I think my mom did a good job teaching me what she needed to for me to be a good wife.
The liberal college student in me isn't supposed to feel that way.
I want to feel like I belong.
Like I'm necessary.
Wanted.
How did I take so many steps backward?
I know I'm supposed to, but I don't really like Daniel Johnston all that much.
For three days this week, I worked for free.
I didn't mind much because it gave me something to do.
I miss having people to talk to about God.
My life story is starting to feel manufactured and impersonal.
It's okay, I stopped reading too.

-Theresa

Hey, Arizona.

Well, I'm still here. And so far, I'm not impressed. Really, it's that I miss the level of comfort created by a relatively steady income and friends. I miss knowing where I'm going and knowing where I can go. Okay, and I kind of miss long sleeves. I'm trying to make the best out of this situation. I am. I'm applying for jobs. I'm driving around. I'm looking stuff up when I have internet access. I'm trying. But it's really hard to make friends while not working or going to school. Put me near people and I'll make friends. But when there's no one I know but the people I live with, it's difficult.

And I sound like I'm whining.

I don't think I made a mistake coming out here yet. I just wish I didn't feel this way. I'm considering a fast food job just so I have somewhere to go during the day until my job starts. Anyone want to fly out and play? I'm pretty much free until September. I hear flights are really cheap right now. If I had the money, I'd fly to you. But that seems a little like giving up at this point. Although, I'm still considering the four Colorado shows in as many days thing.

I should've moved to Colorado.

-Theresa

I'm leaving Michigan

With my heart on my sleeve.

"My wife and my friends, we became a family here."

I'm in Tempe now. And how am I doing? I'm adjusting. I don't think I've ever had an especially difficult time with change but I'm having a difficult time this time. More than I expected I would, anyway. It's because I'm not busy. My job doesn't start until September. You had better believe I'm going to get a second job. I'm having trouble staying asleep in the morning and awake at night.

The heat doesn't bother me. It just doesn't feel like home. I guess I wasn't expecting it to but I was hoping to have a place that felt like home by now. And I guess I do; they're in Colorado.

I miss you more than I care to admit. But what am I supposed to do with that?

The sun is constantly shining out here. And I don't mind. But I've always found that the most beautiful pictures also have shadows. Somehow, even the night is too bright. I'm not complaining. I think I'll grow to enjoy the life I have year. And if I don't, it's only a year.

It's just... Shouldn't I know who I am by now? At least a little?

People I hardly know read my face. They read what it said and they understood the general sentiment. Regardless, I didn't take the time to correct the errors in translation.

I suspect that I'll feel more stable when I'm distracted during the day. I have a meeting on Tuesday to sort of figure out what I'll be doing at work. Monday, I think I'm going to go get a second job. I just don't feel like I belong here yet.

I might spend the rest of the evening writing letters. But I also want to go see 500 Days of Summer.

Soon, I'll try to have a more substantial update. We don't have internet at the apartment. It may take longer than I would like. Anyway, thanks for any encouragement you've thrown my way. Know that I've needed and appreciated it.

Greensky Bluegrass is playing in Mesa at the end of August. A little piece of home.

-Theresa

In our days, we will live

like our ghosts will live.

I am never so comforted by discomfort as when I am with you. There is always more to say but no need to. There is always more to understand. More to feel and see and want. But no need to.

I know what I would say now.

To be loved.

But me? To feel loved.

-Theresa

He's winning on the telephone

I maybe shouldn't post right now. But I need to do something to distract myself from everything that's going on. I kind of want to talk or be around people but there's no one around. My roommate is gone for the night with her now-husband. Most of the people I want to see are not anywhere close, busy or asleep. I need someone comfortable right now. Someone who would pray with me instead of asking questions I don't know the answers to. I need someone to talk to me and tell me that it will all work out for the best, even if it won't. Instead, I have a lease on an apartment that echoes because the furniture is gone.

When I get a mosquito bite, I can't tell until about fifteen hours later. My head knows that I was surrounded by mosquitos and my extremities were exposed so I was bound to have a bite or two even if I can't feel it. The problem is there but I can't tell yet. It's my body's delayed response. Eventually, I realize what happened and I'm really better off not knowing. I start to itch so I start to scratch. And I scratch and scratch and scratch until it doesn't really feel that good anymore but I just have to. I have to keep going because if I stop, it itches again and I'd rather scratch than itch.

You are my mosquito bite.

I feel ill at ease and out of place.

-Theresa

Brand, brand new

For Christmas last year, I included a mix CD with the gifts I gave my immediate family. My dad has mentioned a few times over the last few months that he still listens to it and it still trying to figure out exactly what I was trying to say. That was the point, I guess. I picked each song for a reason. It's how I make all my mix CDs. It's why they take so long to make.

I digress. I guess he sort of figured out what I was trying to say. He sent me a seven page poem in the mail to let me know. A friend I hadn't seen in a while came over right after I read it (coincidence) and I hadn't wiped all the tears off my face yet. By far, this is the best gift I have ever received. My dad understands.

Small excerpts:

"Music has been my salvation,
but don't tell Jesus."

"I've never loved December.
The truth be told,
I have a harder time with June."

"When we meet again,
we can compare notes."

"You're anything but ordinary.
A distinct and unique
Individual."

"So whoever will love you
should always
count their blessings.
Sort of like I count mine
when I think of your mother.
So whoever loves you
will dwell in triumph
and abandon their pain.
Whoever loves you
will wonder where you were
all of his life."

"Time for honesty.
Remember honesty?
I'll miss you.
But there's worse things
than that.
Like seeing an open door
that is meant for you
but never entered.
Enter!!!
Live. Right. Now."

I love my dad.

-Theresa

Dumbed down and numbed

By time and age.

Today's list of facts:

My roommate gets married in thirteen days.
I'm going to Manistee, MI for 4 July weekend.
I'm not sure if that's a good idea yet.
I feel like I'm being replaced.
Does that really matter if I'm leaving?
I wrote a bit yesterday.
I went to a show alone last night and wrote a whole lot more.
If I played guitar well enough, the fragments I wrote would become songs.
I've been drinking Kava Cool Complex.
It works well enough that I wonder if I need something stronger.
I thought The Crazy had leveled off.
I forgot that going off of birth control has just as many side effects as being on it.
I've been doing the gluten free thing for a little while now and I definitely feel better.
This is my second-to-last Thursday of work in Kalamazoo.
I miss having someone to talk to about Jesus.
I miss days of prayer.
I miss you.
The pieces of a million puzzles have come together at the same time and I'm doing my best to figure out what goes where.
Even though I rarely see my family now, I'm going to miss randomly being able to catch rides to see them.
Moving to Arizona is finally starting to seem like a good idea.
I don't know where I belong. Or how or with whom or if I do at all.
There's supposed to be a going away party for me but it's just another summer excuse to drink.
I don't really like Dave Matthews all that much.
Every time I admit that, I feel like I'm committing a sin.
If you ask me to tell you who I am, I don't know that I would be able to do it.

In your words, I begin to understand myself. Please, don't take them away.

-Theresa

I could be

There's no limit to the things we can and cannot not be. Right?

I could be:

a teacher.
alive forever.
a writer.
someone with a career.
a best friend.
somewhere else.
anywhere else.
a wife.
a mother.
less intimidating.
in love.
better.
a strong swimmer.
taller.
tall.
better dressed.
alive at all.

I have these plans to start something new. I'm going to follow through with them. My head is full of words and words and sentiments. They keep me company.

-Theresa

Make your own kind of music...

We use all sorts of factors to try and define the world and people around us. I never get more confused than when I have to answer the question "So what kind of music do you like?" It's not a particularly difficult question to answer. I know what I like when I hear it. But it is hard to define with a word or two. So I've stopped trying.

These are my preferences:

I prefer the sound of stringed instruments over wind instruments. Even though I was in band for nine years and played a variety of wind instruments in that time, I am more drawn to the sound of strings. Piano counts. However, I will probably turn into a puddle at the sound of a well-played bassoon or oboe. That being said, I love strings and double reed winds.

While it is the sound of a song that draws me in, it is good lyrical composition that holds my attention.

I have more respect for musicians who write their own music and lyrics than those who don't.

When it comes to bass, I prefer upright over electric and bowed over plucked.

Similarly, I prefer acoustic guitar over electric. However, I appreciate strummed songs just as much as picked ones.

I like songs without a chorus but don't necessarily prefer them.

If someone's song seems earnest but doesn't sound the best, I appreciate the effort and probably like it. (See: Paul Baribeau.)

A voice breaking in a song automatically earns it points if only for the singer's sincerity while singing.

Strong vocals are good vocals. But they are not necessary.

I've never met a song with cello accompaniment I didn't like.

Fast or slow doesn't matter as long as the tempo matches the intent of the song. Regardless, I like sad songs that sound happy and happy songs that sound sad.

I do prefer the sound of a strong melody over rapping or screaming however, I do like some rap and some hardcore.

I prefer real percussion instruments over drum machines, even if it's just a xylophone.

I was raised on Peter, Paul & Mary and will always appreciate their music. However, I think they sound better on vinyl than mp3.

There is no style of music I don't like.

If I tried, I could say that my favorite kind of music at the moment is indie-folk but that's not a full definition.

Off the top of my head and with no filter, these are the bands I can remember seeing live in the order I can remember: Peter, Paul & Mary, Hanson, Backstreet Boys, Nine Inch Nails, Tool, A Perfect Circle, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Avett Brothers, Michael Beauchamp, Garbage, Alanis Morissette, Mates of State, Chris Bathgate, Breathe Owl Breathe, Queens of the Stoneage, Ben Folds, Rufus Wainwright, Guster, The Fray, Ben Lee. There are more, I'm sure. It's not a very wide variety but it's wide enough that they don't all fall into the same category. Yes, I'm a little embarrassed by some of those. But not Hanson.

My ears tend to lean toward male vocals but not always. (Regina Spektor, Tegan and Sara, A Fine Frenzy, Rilo Kiley, Loretta Lynn...)

"A good song" is defined as a song that makes me feel things.

While there are some bands I don't have a taste for, I appreciate all types of music.

While there are distinguishing characteristics of the music I tend to prefer, I have a difficult time choosing just one type of music I like because I like so much of it. So if you ask me what type of music I like, I may tell you that I don't know. If I respond with "a little of everything," I sort of believe that.

-Theresa

Few words could open me

But you knew them all.

I'm as confused as you are about what happened. But I didn't make any assumptions. And I didn't take any action. And I've made no reaction. The hang up is that I'm as genuinely confused as you say you are.

I wasn't angry. I'm still not angry. I could define what I am now as hurt. I could but I won't. There are no winners or losers in this situation. You declared your confusion with practiced strikes of a keyboard. I understood that "..." meant that you wanted some sort of response. You wanted closure or reconciliation. I refused to give you either. All I wanted to do was tear you down and I made promises to myself that I wouldn't do that anymore. I'm no longer in the habit of blaming others for the things that happen involving me. I'm no longer in the habit of blaming myself. Though you and I are no longer friends, elation doesn't begin to describe the feeling of again speaking to someone whose loss I didn't understand. I understand now. I am comforted by my decisions to neither tear you down nor offer friendship. While I do not hold your actions against you, I don't want you in my life. And I think that's okay.

While I could say these things to you instead of typing them here, I won't. While these words are not hidden and could be considered a passive-aggressive gesture, I believe you already know all these things are true. On some level, you understand.

It feels like I'm running away. But I'm not. I have to keep reminding myself of that. Just because I'm happy to leave things behind does not mean it was not the natural course to take. Yes, I'm leaving Kalamazoo and moving to Tempe. But it's because my heart is not in this place. And I know what that means.

I know where to be looking. Why am I not?

-Theresa

Grab the Kids and the Cats

And let's go.

I had thought The Crazy had leveled off. Yesterday, in a moment of weakness and frustration, I found myself curled in a ball, eating Mexican dip, trying not to cry while watching a Nickelodeon movie I had rented from the library. Ah, let the good times roll. Rather than waiting for my real life to begin, perhaps I'll just attack the life I have head on and demand the best out of it. By putting the best of myself into it. While feeling sorry for myself last night, I wondered what of me there was left. Dramatic, I know. Ten hours of sleep helped a lot.

I've been reading quite a few teen books lately. Books written for a fifteen year-old aren't much different than books written for adults. I suppose there's only really one storyline to follow as opposed to multiple ones. To be perfectly honest, I don't need multiple story lines. There's enough going on in my head. And I read lots of "smart books" when I was in school. And even after I graduated. But my mind needs a break. I'm happily reading The Princess Diaries series by Meg Cabot. I'd heard many good things about it. The main character is in her teens and even though I'm not a princess or a princess in training, I still worry about the same things: The food I eat, the people I consider friends and for the love of God, why are boys so stupid? I also finished The Giver today. I don't know how, in all my years of education, I managed to miss that book. I shouldn't give in to the Sameness. But I suppose that's never been my problem.

I really enjoyed my guitar lesson this week. My left hand hurt a lot afterward. We worked on picking. More specifically Freight Train and The Ballad of Love and Hate. I still suck. A lot. But I'm loving every minute of it. I'm going to miss these Thursday nights.

Things I'm worried about:

Driving to Arizona.
Having saved enough money for the two months I'll be unemployed.
Actually moving.
Worrying too much.
Packing.
My appointment with another specialist in July.
The Crazy.

Things will get better. This is just a valley. Right?

-Theresa

Everything Trying

I couldn't fall asleep last night. And then when I finally fell asleep, I couldn't stay asleep. I woke up at five from a dream that shouldn't have seemed as bad as it seemed. Heart racing.

I don't know if I actually hurt you but if I did, I'm sorry. I rarely defend myself in circumstances such as these but you gave me nothing to go on. I acted. I reacted. I tried to move on. Someone else offered me something Good. And it seemed like it would be good. So I chose to follow a path that I thought might make me happy. Regardless of the fact that everything in me told me not to. I needed a little something to go on. I made the wrong choice. I know it. Now. But I have to tell you, it felt pretty good to make a choice. I mean, it didn't feel so great when that choice later came back to haunt me. Continues to haunt me. Words mean just as much to me as actions. I am sorry. I did what made the most sense at the time. I won't make excuses. I guess I already did.

I realize what drives me is love. Love for friends and family and life and Things That Matter. It's what keeps me going. Even in times and places when it seems there is a severe lack of love, I am driven to pour more love into the world. Because of this pseudo-pursuit of love, I often find myself empty. I put too much in. But is that possible? Is it possible to put too much love into the world? I don't think so. I think, however, that not all love is unconditional and that not everything that looks like love is love. I'm not saying I'm a great person. I get angry and sad and I often have to talk myself into not falling apart. Sometimes I don't agree with my boss or my parents. I use a microwave to heat up rice. I don't always drink my coffee black. I think steak is DELICIOUS. But never, NEVER have I kicked a puppy. In fact, if the option is available, I will always rub a puppy's belly as long as said puppy wants a belly rub. What's my point? Even if our intentions are good, even if the things that drive us are inherently good, our actions are not always pure or perfect. I am not perfect. I will never be. But I am learning. I am learning to be better. You know, again. Or still. And I am trying. I am learning what love is and isn't and is supposed to be. I mean, maybe it's taken the process of elimination to teach me, but everyone learns differently.

I know I've learned things about myself this year. I don't know what those things are but I'm sure it will hit me at the most inconvenient time possible. Maybe I should just buy a GPS for my car and drive to Arizona alone. That will give me lots of processing time. I just really prefer talking to people more than I do robots.

-Theresa

Looking for Inspiration

Reasons why doctors are full of shit:

or

How if the doctor had done a blood test, we could know what's wrong with me:

Last night I went to bed with a few suspicious looking spots on my left hand. This morning I woke up with many, many more suspicious spots covering my extremeties. The spots are spreading and getting worse. They're on my belly and neck now. What does this have to do with the doctor and lack of a blood test? I think I have a systemic infection. One of the many symptoms is allergic reactions to things you're not actually allergic to. I haven't introduced any new food into my diet recently. Although, I did reintroduce Doritos. Those so don't count as new. Or food. I'm itchy all over but I'm breathing just fine aside for the waning (hopefully) cough of death. The thing about the infection is that it causes all these symptoms that look like other things but are just symptoms of the infection. And then it looks like everything is unrelated but isn't. So cough and allergic reaction and feeling crazy and all that other stuff is probably connected. If I'm right.

I guess I'm just frustrated.

Arizona update? Umm... Still don't have anyone to drive with. I haven't set a leaving date yet. Just some time after 8 July and before September. I want to stop in Little Rock and Dallas for sure. Probably Chicago too. It's a fifteen hour drive from Dallas to Phoenix. I never saw myself living in Arizona. But I'm going to make the most of it. It's a new start. I've learned that that doesn't mean that my problems won't follow me. They only define me as much as I let them.

All witticisms aside? I know I screwed up. I am sorry. But I think I told you that. I miss you. More than I would soberly admit.

-Theresa

My life is different now, I swear

I bought tickets to see The Avett Brothers. It's going to be at the Frederik Meijer Gardens in Grand Rapids, which is pretty exciting because I like outdoor shows. And The Avett Brothers.

I think I know what's wrong with me. I read two websites and two books and now, I think I may be an expert on the matter. All they needed to do was run a blood screen. Which they didn't do because they decided to run the STD screen instead. Which was SO NOT NECESSARY. I printed off some charts to fill out so I can show my doctor how all the strange and seemingly unconnected things wrong with my body are all very connected. Even the stupid cough of death. I've decided to self-medicate through nutrition. This means no (okay, less) drinking (for a bit), lots of probiotics, stopping my current medication (it's okay, the doctor gave me that option) and cutting down sugars as much as possible. It sounds like a freakish diet but I think if I stick with it for a few weeks, I may even get better without treatment. My post-op appointment is 29 May. Just a couple more weeks. I'm hoping this works because I'll have different insurance once I start my Americorps position and I don't think they do preexisting conditions.

I still need to find people to drive with me to Arizona. It was going to be my roommate and her sister but my roommate is getting married and moving to Little Rock. Hey, want to drive with me to Arizona?

I can clearly see myself not living in the U.S. I'm not sure where. I've got to think that all these weather extremes are preparing me for something. I'm trying to look forward to Arizona. In preparation, I've decided to try and learn Spanish again. Yesterday, while helping patrons, I realized I can still understand what people are saying to me but I have trouble finding the words to respond. Story of my life.

Dear Guitar-I've-Had-for-a-While-and-Still-Haven't-Named,

I'm sorry I have not spent enough time with you lately. It's just that it hurt to sit up for a couple weeks in there. Now that my belly is mostly healed, I promise we'll spend more time together. I even cut my nails, so you know I mean it. Maybe I'll even get around to naming you.

Dear Roads to Arizona,

I'm kind of a nervous driver and it's gotten worse lately. My request is that, if no one comes with me, come July, the roads are free of construction and the days are long and sunny. I think it's going to take me more than two days to drive twenty-nine hours if I have to do it by myself. I appreciate what you've done so far. Except for that snow storm in New Mexico. But I'm willing to forgive and forget if you help me get to Arizona without too much damage to my well-being.

Dear Kombucha,

You taste okay. I don't mind the vinegar taste but that could have to do with the large amounts of pickle juice I drank as a child. You're kind of expensive but if you're going to help, I guess I won't complain too much. Well, you're cheaper than a large amaretto latte with an extra shot of espresso. Plus, you don't deplete all my B-vitamins like that jerk caffeine. And no matter what flavor I get, if there's a little bit of ginger, it tastes like I'm drinking ginger tea. It's a good thing I've acquired a taste for ginger. With your power and my resistance to showering and shaving on a regular basis, I'm well on my way to being the hippies I've always made fun of.

Dear Cold Weather,

GO AWAY.

-Theresa

It's just like a girl to feel

I really don't like the way I've been feeling lately. It's an unfortunate combination of sad, tired, overwhelmed, lonely and useless. Oh, and cold because May in Michigan means forty degrees. What am I doing to combat this? Sleeping, not drinking alcohol, drinking more tea, calling friends to spend time with and there's not very much I can do about the last one. I haven't been allowed to carry anything over twenty pounds since the surgery and let me tell you, that's a lot of things. And man do they mean it.

I'd ask for your forgiveness but it seems fruitless.

I haven't been writing much because I haven't been thinking anything I haven't thought already. I haven't said anything I haven't said already. What's the point in repeating sentiments?

See? Not only do I feel sad but I sound whiny and a little pathetic. I like to keep that from the general public when I can.

-Theresa

If I live too long I'm afraid I'll die.

I always feel like I need a title. Sometimes it relates. Sometimes not. I was watching Darjeeling Limited today.

I need new music if only for the fact that every time I hear music from you, it makes me think of you.

So, it's not Endometriosis, which is great. But I'm still having the same problem and there's not a clear solution it seems. Which is not so great.

Pushing the moving date back a bit. My roommate is getting married 8 July and I kind of want to be there and she kind of wants me to be there. I hadn't put in official resignations to either job yet so it wasn't a big deal. Plus, making more money seems like a great plan. And getting to see friends I probably won't see because no one seems to like Arizona. What'd Arizona ever do to you, huh?

My throat hurts a bit but seems to be getting better. It's a good thing I love fruit because I'm eating it in abundance to make the sickness go away. Which reminds me: I'M GOING TO BE HERE FOR BLUEBERRY SEASON! I put that in all caps so that you could understand my excitement, not to yell at you. I LOVE BLUEBERRIES. If I wanted to hurt all the other berries' feelings, I would call blueberries my favorite but that seems cruel. So I won't. (But really, they kind of are and I think they know it.)

Of all the parts of me that hurt the most right now, I think my soul is in the lead. It's missing something. It needs something. I haven't given it enough attention. You.

The only ways I like chocolate:

In its hot, liquid form.
As part of a Kit Kat bar but only the normal-sized ones.
Wrapped around a peanut and with a candy-coated shell. With a little stamped "m."
Wrapped around peanut butter.
From boys.

Vampire Weekend, I've been meaning to tell you for a while: I give a fuck about an Oxford Comma but only because I hate it so much. See what I did there? I showed you some of that English drama.

Oh, and those "like" options at the bottom don't notify like Facebook does. I'm not sure how I feel about it.

That all being said, I didn't really have very much to say.

-Theresa

The Tylenol speaks for me.

I'm okay. Not Endometriosis. They took out something that looked suspicious looking. I'm healing. Two scars. Follow up appointment in a month or so. I guess my insides look good. I remember freaking out when I woke up. But then I was okay. Longer update later. There is ice cream to be eaten and friends to love. Thanks for your support.

-Theresa

Overheard

More accurately, I participated in this conversation.

Overheard (in whispers): I don't know. Go ask her.
Young Patron (YP)(in whispers): How do you spell "shawde?"
(T) Me: What is it?
YP (still whispering): "Shaw-dee."
T: Can you tell me where you heard it?
YP: Well, Soulja Boy was talking about it in a song. "Shawde."
T: Oh, I think you mean "shortie" but I'll write that down for you.

She seemed satisfied with my answer.

A moment later, Young Patron's friend needed my help writing down "Little Scooter." I can only imagine who sings about that.

-Theresa

Green reminds me

Julia and I went to the East side of the state on Thursday planning on only staying for a day. We just got back yesterday. It's been the best time I've spent not working in a long time. Under the saddest of circumstances, of course. We went with no plan and it worked out for the best.

The stars would never hurt her never lie never desert her painted on her body.

I forget what it's like to be around people who are good for me. I knew I missed them. I didn't realize how much I missed them. These are people who call me out on the stupid things I think in order to help me rather than embarrass me. These are people I've had a difficult time functioning without.

I've only been a shadow of myself. If it's Endometriosis, I'm getting a side piece. I may as well be a canvas.

Lately, it's taken all I have in me to keep from falling apart. Thank you for trying to help. Tonight, after work, I'm going to clean while drinking. It's how I clear my head. Of course, there will be abundant amounts of praying that everything is okay. I don't really want a side piece anyway.

-Theresa

This is not my tragedy.

A friend's dad passed away. I'm going home for the funeral. You know you're grown up when it takes a death to bring you back to the people that have mattered most to you. I want college back. When all that mattered was ways to avoid doing homework. When homework was an excuse to get out of anything. When life understood that you had something that needed to get done. But we're older now. I don't have a real job but I guess this is real life.

I don't have much to say on the matter. I knew Tom. He was a good man, as far as I knew. His death is not my tragedy. The pain his death causes is partly my burden to carry only because it is carried by people I care so deeply for. I wish I could carry more of it. I wish I could do more for you.

I think I broke the wings off that little song bird.

If life's taught me anything it's that nothing is ever how you expect it to be. Nothing. We make things better or worse in our heads. To cope. That space inside our heads is what keeps us standing. That space inside our (cheese alert) hearts that we let people into is what keeps us going. It's the reason I haven't stopped trusting people even though I've been given ample reason to do so. I'm sure most people have. But we do what we can.

I've spent a lot of my life teaching myself to stop feeling. I stopped doing that. This whole feeling thing sucks. But I think it's better. Not feeling was my coping method. My cousin has been dead for nine years as of Monday. Nine years is a long time. I only let myself begin to acknowledge a loss about four years ago. It's what I needed to do. And then I learned that with a support system, I could deal with things right away, relatively. But I still don't know how to ask for help. I don't know how to depend. And so I don't. So if someone is there to care for me, I let them. If not, well, my methods of self preservation have been well-cultivated. I know, there are better ways. I know. But sometimes I can't make up for my shortcomings.

Being a grown-up sucks.

-Theresa

Here in Right Field

It's easy, you know.

Moving day is ever closer. I think it's safe to say that my feelings of nervousness are actually anxiety. And my overwhelming sadness is probably depression. And I'm leaving soon so there's no point in finding a doctor before I go. But I'm losing my insurance pretty soon here. Oh well. Lots of crazy people don't talk to anyone about their problems and aren't on medication anyway. It's going to be great.

Bob Loblaw. Mmmyup.

I'm going on walks. It helps.

Pop Quiz

Because surprise pelvic exams are my favorite.

Surgery is two weeks from today. I had my pre-op appointment. That was... fun. I didn't actually see the doctor until about forty-five minutes after I was scheduled to. The surgery should only take an hour. Two scars. Dissolvable stitches. Tylenol with Codeine.

To make myself feel better, I bought a milkshake. I wanted vanilla. They gave me chocolate. I gave it to Kristalynn.

Student from hell is in the lab. She wanted Kristalynn but her shift was over. She ended up with me. She asked for an example. I gave her three. She said I wasn't being specific enough and she needed more examples. I told her I had given her some and she just needed to write about her experience using those examples. She flipped out and said she was reporting me because I wasn't helping her and that she was failing her class because of me. I went and told my advisor what happened. She said I was fine. About three minutes later, the student and the advisor walked in. Advisor asked me to tell her what happened. I told her exactly what I had told the student. Advisor says, "well, that sounds like examples." Student declares that it's not enough and I need to break it down more. That we're being unprofessional. That she's going to stay in the room and type her paper. Advisor informs her that there is a computer lab one floor up where I'm not. She decides to stay anyway but doesn't want me to talk to her. She then says she's failing her class because I listen to music while I'm at work. Oh, she's apparently also failing because I told her she couldn't just write down exactly what I said, that she needed to come up with her own ideas and words. She yelled at my advisor. And at me. And she could go ANYWHERE ELSE but has decided to stay here anyway and tell me to turn my music down. I informed her that upstairs, there is no music and she wouldn't even have to see me because I don't work there. She's decided to stay here anyway. I'm thrilled.

So I'm having a bad day. Kathy is sick. I took her some bagels. Kristalynn is gone. Everyone else is at work. And I'm sad and kind of want a hug. But I'm at work for six and a half more hours. And I'm trapped. I don't like feeling this way. More and more, I'm aware that I can't live my life alone. And I don't want to. More and more, I'm realizing I kind of have to.

*Edit: The student came back to apologize for the way she acted. Said God had convicted her and that she shouldn't use excuses for her behavior. She invited me to her church.

-Theresa

Let's see...

Surgery is on 29 April.
I am still scared.
I still like guitar a lot but I wish, like I'm sure many do, that I was just natural at it.
I'm going to be a teacher's assistant starting in September.
I am also going to be leading after school programs.
Moving day is still 20 June.
I have put in notice at both of my jobs.
I don't know if I am more scared of not succeeding, driving or surgery.
Very little surprises me anymore.
I like doing nice things for people.
I wish I could function past midnight.
I wish I could stay asleep at night.
I seem to talk about myself a lot.
Watching movies rented from the library seems to be a sufficient distraction.
The internet bores me.
I would say I wish I had a life but more, I wish I could hold onto it.
I'm okay being the scape goat on this one. So okay.
But you... You, I miss a little.

I'm not yet the person I wish I was.

I've never known myself to be passive aggressive but I'm willing to try, just for you.

Winter just wasn't my season.

Since winter in Michigan lasts well through April, I'm not the least bit surprised that things haven't turned around.

In some ways they have, I suppose. I'll be moving. But I know that a change of venue doesn't change the quality of the music: just one's perception of it.

Some time this week, I'll be getting a phone call to schedule a surgery. It's going to be out-patient and I'm going to be asleep while two procedures are performed but the thought of it is making me sick. I'm scared. I'M SCARED. Stoic exterior be damned. I'm not sure I can handle this alone.

They're not sure what they're looking for. If they find nothing, I have to get more invasive procedures done. If they find that it's Endometriosis, I have to further experiment with birth control and suck it up because it's something I'm going to deal with for the rest of my life. Oh, and it leads to infertility. I've been assured no more than a quarter inch scar on my belly and another one hidden inside my belly button. These pamphlets are doing very little to help.

I can't do this alone. I'm asking for... Well, I don't know what I'm asking for but I have a hard time asking for help when I need it and I think I need it.

In the mean time, I'm giving myself today to dwell on it. I think I'm going to go to the bar after work. Tomorrow, I'll still be scared. But I'll be sober and I'm going to try to pretend like everything is okay because I'm so fucking sick of it not being okay.

-Theresa

Phoenix, AZ (Part Two)

I guess I neglected this for a bit. I guess I'm okay with that. I'm back in Kalamazoo for the time being. These are the facts:

I wrote my essay for my position for Americorps while drinking.
I was offered an interview and a position in the same day.
Pending a background check, I have a position with Americorps.
I signed an application for an apartment in Tempe, AZ.
The moving truck leaves Kalamazoo 20 June.
I might already have a subleaser in Kalamazoo.
Even though I know I could, I don't want to share a room until I'm married.
I'm scared to go.
Even though we're moving in June, the Americorps position doesn't start until September.
I'm going to get a part time job and then keep it while volunteering.
My dad didn't seem disappointed in my decision to take a low paying position.
I still really hate driving.
I should look into the possibility that Xanax might improve my daily life.
You're reading this so you know I'm moving. Otherwise, I don't think I'm going to advertise the fact.
That's not to say it's a secret.
I don't know why I even said that.
Do I need to put in a two month's notice?
I'm a little nervous too.
Right now, I'm tired.

-Theresa

Phoenix, AZ (part 1)

I'm putting this in parts only because I'm still going to be here for a little while longer and I figured it didn't make any sense to call this post "Phoenix, AZ" when I'll probably write again. Woah. Holy self-explanation.

Let's see. I saw Triina and her boyfriend. It was pretty great seeing her. She got a onesie. I got a dress.

Went to Tempe for a day. It was exactly what a college town should be. TONS of bikes. And there was a brewery. It was okay. But it wasn't too hoppy and my beer was three dollars and they didn't charge me a cover so it's better than Bell's in all of those respects. I met Nate and Sarah's friend Ryan there. He's our potential fourth roommate. He seems nice enough and he doesn't mind that I don't shower often.

The first night we were here, I was taken to In & Out burger. Also okay. I know they make the fries there but they were skinny fries and I like a little potato to my fry. The son of the people we are staying with took me there. He's Joey. We're all hanging out with him on Tuesday. I felt like a creeper because my mom's friend, Summer, took me for drink at the place he works. We didn't see him so I felt less like a creeper.

Hanging out with Summer... Well, she picked me up from the certification test (which sucked) and we went shopping at a market. She bought my mom a ton of stuff but I feel really weird about it. We went back to her house where she filled me with food. Man, was it great. I was tired since I'd gotten up at six and was running on fumes. But there was Turkish coffee involved so I didn't mind too much until later. Her son came home at one point and we talked. Well, he talked. But he offered to help me get a job since he has so many connections and I can't express my gratitude accurately. When I say job, I mean a $34,000 salary. Yeah, what would you say? In return, I've promised to offer dating advice upon his insistence. Hey, he didn't ask what my history was. Anyway, I went with Summer to see a Flamenco show. It was okay. I was dead tired and I felt bad that she had to keep driving me around and everything. Nothing is really that close here and there's always tons of driving. Like, she didn't mind driving forty-five minutes for drinks.

I might have more insight but I think I'm addicted to coffee again. So I'm going to go satiate that desire.

-Theresa

Elk City, OK

Why can't I get you out of my head? Fields and fields. Empty and full. And all I can think of is you. It's not fair. It's not fair because I can guarantee without a doubt that the sentiment is not mutual. Please. Stop.

I'm tired and all I did was ride as passenger in my own car. I mean, I did it on two hours of sleep and I navigated. Apparently, I'm not in a good mood. Shit.

I can't remember the last time I had a hug. Weeks, maybe. I have to tell you, watching a married couple function in close proximity hurts. It hurts a bit more when they ask things like "What's it like to be single?" and "Is it hard for you to be single?" And you know, I don't think it's the single. It's the feeling of loneliness I can't seem to shake. It's the overwhelming feeling of being meaningless I can't seem to escape.

Melodramatic much?

If I called you right now, you wouldn't be obligated to answer.

Maybe I should just go to sleep, huh? Tomorrow, we drive the last nine hundred miles to Phoenix, AZ. I will meet up with Triina, see my mom's best friend and interview for a position I can't really afford to take. Or not take.

Why couldn't I just have the teaching job? I think I would be able to accept it more if I had at least had a chance to interview. But I didn't. And now I'm whining. And you're not reading anyway. So I'm not going to apologize.

I will continue to be the person that I am: always striving to be better. Nothing can change that. No one will change that. I don't want that to change.

The sunsets you drive into are always the most beautiful.

-Theresa

Regardless of you, I am exactly who I am and will remain so.

I write these words because my voice often falters.

One Line Wonder

I love you but I can't remember why.

Lately, I've been trying to look more... presentable. I'm just tired of not caring. So every few days or so, I put in my contacts, draw on some eyeliner, wear "outfits" instead of a hoodie and live my day. I feel a little better about myself. I think it's because it's one more way of taking care of myself. Of course, today, I kept my glasses on, am free of makeup and get the response, "Now, you look like yourself." I know what I've been looking like. I'm not sure if I should be offended or not.

Visiting daytrotter is... Just go do it. There's so much to discover.

I don't like feeling like I'm annoying people. If I feel that way, I do what I can to stop feeling that way.

I don't like being lied about. If I feel that that is happening, I do what I need to do to make it stop.

There's quite a bit swirling in my head right now but I don't think it matters.

Chris Bathgate is playing in Ann Arbor tonight. I mean, he plays in Ann Arbor often but he's also playing tonight. The music fiend in me really wants to go. The tired, gross-feeling me wants to get back into bed once she gets back from work.

Of course, I might also spend the day at ChocolaTea.

-Theresa

Please, pick one.

If you deciphered from my last post, all of the positions I was going to interview for in Arizona have been filled. They don't need anymore English teachers. I was offered the option of changing my focus to Special Education. I said I would consider it. Here's the thing: I can see myself as an English teacher. I can taste it. The idea of getting a Masters of Education with a focus on language was so endlessly thrilling that I feel like I'm settling for a job with Special Education. Those students deserve someone who wants to be there. Besides, if I do Special Ed, I would have to get my Masters in Special Ed in addition to passing the teacher certification test. I have a few options, I think.

1. Go for Special Education. This would require a three year commitment to Phoenix Teaching Fellows and to getting a Masters in Special Ed. In the future, it seems it would make sense to continue to work in the area I would have my degree in. Otherwise, it's a waste of money on a degree.

2. Take the English certification test anyway and call to see how long it will last for (the certification). If I pass, I'm going to see if I can reapply to the PTF program the following year. After all, I have a degree in English.

3. Move to Phoenix, go to ASU and get my Masters of Education without going through PTF. Work part time.

4. Substitute teaching?

5. Move to Phoenix and look for a new plan. This would happen regardless of whether I get a job before going or not.

6. Apply to jobs everywhere again and go where I get a job, regardless of the fact that I might be going alone.

7. Pick somewhere. Move. Settle.

8. Reader's choice. Be specific.

You know what's not an option? Staying in Kalamazoo. Or Michigan as a whole.

The catches lie here: I got the phone call about them filling the position on Friday. I was wallowing in self-pity (as you may have glossed over) and so I didn't read the follow-up email until the next morning. Well, that was stupid because, apparently, I had to change my certification test. And, of course, the last day to do that was Friday. Registering to take the test was $105. In the grand scheme of things, that's not very much. But that represents about ten percent of my current monthly income. I would hate to throw away a potential future. Or $105. I'm calling Monday morning to see what I can do about that and see if the test will still be good later. If it is, I'm going to call PTF and see what the process of reapplying would look like. Also, if I don't go through PTF and I do decide to get my Masters degree anyway, I would have to pay out of state tuition.

I'm just disappointed. It was the first time in a long time that I was really excited about something. I wasn't just settling and I was going to go for it. And I wanted to. I really wanted to. I had reservations. But I always do. I have until 10 August to figure out the next year now. I have about ten days to figure out what I'm going to do in Arizona while I'm there.

Allow me to reiterate: staying in Kalamazoo is not an option.

Hey, friend? Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm meant to stay here and help you.

I asked my current roommate. She said she'd consider randomly moving somewhere with me. I'm not sure it'll happen. The thing is, when I moved to Kalamazoo, I moved alone. I did okay, I guess. But I don't really need to do that. I'm not really running away from anything this time. But maybe I need a fresh start and should do it again. We'll see. I've been sending resumes out again. I'm going to try to do at least one a day. But damn, that's a lot of cover letters.

Anyway, tell me your thoughts, please. Encouragement, criticisms, insight, more choices... Whatever. I need the feedback, I think.

Thanks, friends.

-Theresa

Fuck you, 2009.

I had hopes for you. I had dreams. And you've managed to piss them all away. You're like a dramatic comedy. You sucked me in with the part about the comedy. I always think they're not going to be as dark as the last one or that the comedy will far outshine the drama. That is never the case and I never learn.

2009, you've set up everything for me and gradually took it away. The first day I spent with you seemed like a dream. I should have known better.

Here are some ways you have let me down:

1. My health is in general disarray. Have you and Body joined forces?
2. I am as alone as ever and reminded of it almost every day.
3. You made it clear that I no longer belong in Kalamazoo. Or Michigan.
4. All of the seventh and eighth grade language arts positions in Phoenix, AZ are full. My interview is not for two more weeks.
5. My haircut is stupid.
6. The Last House on the Left.

But before you let me down, 2009, you tend to present an opportunity and then take it away. On 1 January, 2009, every single thing on that list had promise, except for maybe number 4. I didn't know about the positions yet. (And I knew number six was going to suck but man, that sucked way more than I thought it would. Don't even bother.) There seemed to be potential for happiness. Joy, even. I've got to tell you, it's heartbreaking. It hurts to be teased like that. It hurts to see the potential of something good right in front of you and watch it disintegrate and be able to do nothing about it. There is a way to feel good and it's eluding me.

I tried, 2009, to do what I could. I'm only two and a half months in and I want a new year. Things are supposed to be better. Our president isn't a complete sack of shit. I'm a college graduate. The country I live in is impoverished but it's all its own fault. My roommate is great. But dammit, I don't want to be here anymore. I can't be here anymore. I've got to get out of here.

I'm so disconnected, I don't know what to do. I don't know who to be or how to be. And I am selfish.

How do you think I would fare as a special education teacher?

2009, I am not only not impressed: I am disappointed, hurt and broken.

-Theresa

Dear Body, (Part II)

I was really hoping I wasn't going to need a part two, but here we go anyway.

I stopped taking the little blue pill, Body. And now, I'm on a slightly larger green pill. Or maybe it's yellow. You don't seem to care. I had a week, one whole week, of glorious, blood-free freedom. I didn't have to take my purse to the bathroom at restaurants. I didn't excessively nap. I went for walks. I didn't have to plan my day around you, Body. That was a good week.

But then yesterday happened and you decided to rear your ugly head again. I don't get what more you want, Body. I mean, I know it was a whole week between showers that last time but you just weren't smelly and I needed to be to work on time. Doesn't that get any consideration? Any at all? But I decided to nip your insolence in the bud this time. I called that lady doctor back right away. She says to stay on that slightly larger pill but that I was going to need to see a GYN and hormone specialist. Do you know how scary that sounds, Body? No, of course you don't. Because you're all "I don't want to function properly. WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" And I'm all "Shut the fuck up and start acting like you should be." I thought I raised you better than that, Body. I guess not.

A hormone specialist, though? Isn't that for ladies who wanted babies yesterday to go see? Body, I don't want babies right now. I want to be married before we start thinking babies. Besides, there's no way you could be thinking babies. No. Way. If this is some sort of internal clock thing, I'm going to be pissed. That's not to say I don't want babies ever, Body. I just don't want them right now. So you'd better be ready to make babies when I want them. I hope this isn't some revolt for the future.

I'm holding nothing back. I'm asking anyone who might know something about how I can get you back in line. Today, I emailed a friend of a friend to ask what natural steps I can take to fix you. I hope she has some answers because, for the love of God, I am at my wit's end with you, Body. It's just not fair. I stopped putting holes in you. I only got one tattoo. I don't do drugs or smoke. WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A JERK? You'd better have a better reason than "just 'cause" or I will punch you. Or make you work out more.

All I'm saying, Body, is that a little willingness to cooperate would make a world of difference. I don't think that's too much to ask for. But I suppose I've asked for that before and you seemed to think it was too much to ask for. At the risk of sounding insensitive and insincere I need you to know that feminine hygiene products are expensive and when you make me use three times as many as I'm supposed to, that gets even more expensive. We are in a recession. I think it's time you started thinking of me instead of stimulating the economy, Body. And I need you to know that I am tired but I need to get things done. It doesn't help that I constantly feel sick and drained and cranky and tired BECAUSE OF YOU. I have an interview to prepare for and a seminar to create and lead and a decision to make. Body, whatever is going on in there, just sort it out, okay? I don't have anymore time or energy to dote on you. I just want you to be better and I've done everything I know how to do.

I'm sorry, Body. I wanted it to work out too. But things don't go according to plan. I guess I don't need to tell you that. Do you think you can join forces with me on this one? Don't you want to be a part of a team? I mean, I think I'm pretty cool aside from the weird sense of humor and big hair. Body, I would cut that hair for you and find Team America: World Police funny if you wanted me to. At the very least, I would try. I know I can't do this all on my own, but well, I'm all you've got. You're all I've got. Imagine my dismay to find you don't want to work for this team. So, Body, if you're not going to cooperate with me, at least cooperate for the GYN and hormone specialist, who will probably be looking for problems. Just be obvious with them and tell them everything they need to know. I'm a little scared, so the more you cooperate, the better. I mean, it would be ideal if nothing was wrong but that doesn't seem to be the case anymore.

If you could clear up your issues before 25 March, all the better. It seems I'll have to just accept it if you don't. I thought I'd mention it on the off chance you were taking suggestions. Body, I've said my piece. Again. Take the hint. Suck it up. Get better. Or I'll start praying for a return policy.

Most Sincerely,

Theresa

I hate Facebook.

Yes, I said it.

Facebook and Myspace, neither of those two networking sites are reasonable facsimiles for a real friendship. Yes, the connections made and acknowledged are made with what the websites calls "friends." But I have to say, these websites have bastardized the meaning of friendship. It's no longer necessary to call a friend and see how she is doing. In fact, I can not speak with a person for a year and still know the everyday happenings of his life. And I can call that a friendship if I want to.

I tell people that the reason I am on Facebook so often is that I sit in front of a computer for forty hours a week and wait to help people. That is true. That is also an excuse. I use Facebook because I am just as much of a voyeur as everyone else. But I also like being able to stay connected with people I normally would not have. I like that it's an easy way to get a hold of someone. But again, the connections made and kept do not a friendship make. I am just as offended or hurt, in some cases, as other are when someone deletes me or blocks me. I have gone through my list of contacts and deleted people I have never met or couldn't remember meeting. There was no point in keeping those lines of communication open.

I hate Facebook.

I have wasted too much time pouring over the daily, one-line musing of people I barely know. I want real friendships. Since when, in a real friendship, can a person decide to delete you? No, memories fade and people drift but in real relationships with people, there is no "delete" button. And I liked it better that way. As much as I don't like confrontation, I don't necessarily mind doing it. I mean, there's something to be said for severing all ties but I've always been the kind of person to let people know why. I have stopped talking to people and I have cut people out of my life. If those people are honest with themselves and honest with you, they know exactly why. It's because real lines of communication are open. Whatever the consequences, I choose honesty. Whatever the outcome, I choose to try to be a better person than I am.

The thing about me is that I don't like to be angry or at odds with people. People do shitty things, myself included, and deserve forgiveness. Don't get me wrong, I am not stupid. Well, maybe I am. But if someone say, constantly asks to borrow money and doesn't return it, I learn. That person is not a wise person to loan money to. But I do not want to stay angry with that person. I'm sure there are people out there who think I hate them or am holding something against them. It's just not true. I sometimes take time to "cool off" if I am angry but I prefer to choose forgiveness. I prefer to be on good terms. I prefer to try.

I like talking to people. I like having conversations. I like the tangible aspects of relationships like hugs and a note that is written using pen and paper. I like being given the opportunity to clarify confusion. I don't mind how awkward some conversations can be. I love that I can tell what a person means based on body language and vocal inflections. Facebook doesn't provide those things. Facebook provides a forum we can attend in order to maintain connections with people that are too many steps removed from what healthy relationships are. Facebook is a perversion of what friendship should be.

I choose to make and keep my friendships and other relationships real.

Tokens

I had to put you in a drawer in a desk because the image of wishes and dreams falling through my fingers was just a little too much today. So I did. The image remains.

Feeling vomity. Perhaps body needs to have another talking to. Maybe?

I switched from blue to yellow and I do not feel at peace. I do not feel settled.

In less than three weeks, I will be on my way to an interview that may determine up to three years of my life. A little scary. A little welcome.

I'm sorry that the person I used to be makes you sorry for the person you are. I wish I could take it back.

I could be a teacher. I can be a teacher.

I made a new mix CD. It'll be in the mail soon. I swear. Really. Oh, and thanks for the postcard.

I'm like a passenger to my own life sometimes. I still don't understand what happened.

It hurts. Stop, please.

Don't worry about the suitcase.

Timeline? I could be gone by early June. I have no plans to be here past August. That, I know.

Contact, part two

I feel it necessary to say that I haven't stopped calling people in order to test anyone. And I didn't write the last post to make anyone feel bad. I was just feeling too connected. Like I was pouring too much of myself out. So I drew back. I think people get used to the roles they have in relationships. I was the Contacter. So I knew if I drew back, I'd have a few days of introspection to myself. I don't like being in that role all the time. I mean, everyone likes to feel invited along every now and then. Actually, it's worked out really well, the not calling. Sometimes I think I really enjoy being social and with others so I don't have to be introspective. It's been time well spent. The time "away."

I need to find the happy medium. I need to find it in time spent with others, time spent thinking and over thinking, how much I call people... All that and stuff. This isn't coming out eloquently. I guess I just wanted to say that I wasn't doing this as a reaction to anyone but myself. This is all in the hopes that I continue to grow. And I think I am.

In other news, asparagus really does make your pee smell funny. Huh.

Contact

I stopped calling people as of Saturday night. The thing about not calling the people I'd been spending large amounts of time with is that none of them have called me either. I'm not really a one-sided kind of person.

You and me, we're not good for each other. Or at least, you're not good for me.

I've always wondered about people who don't call others. I used to be one of those people. I would just wait for people to call me. I'm not sure if it's a level of control or a relinquishing of control. I mean, it could be that you don't call people because you want others to call you will fully thought-out plans that you can then decide if you want to be a part of or not. Or you want nothing to do with the decision making process and take some of the better sounding opportunities as they arise. Or perhaps it's the ability to blame one's social shortcoming's on another person. I think that's why I used to do it. I thought I was too awkward and people didn't really want me around and that was proved by no one calling me. Really, I think, I didn't want to be rejected. Really, I think, it's just one more excuse.

Right now, I don't feel bad about myself. I think it's a testament to the relationships I've built. Both past and present. I think I'm okay with it. I think I'm okay with who I am. I'm not perfect and neither are you. But I know who I am. For the time-being, of course.

I wanted to write some profound thing about how if you want to matter to me, you should let me know. Or if you want me to care for you, you should do something about it. But that's not how it works. If you want me to care for you, continue being the person you are. If you want me to appreciate that person, keep doing the things you do. If you want me to tell you, well, there may need to be some level of contact. No, that's not even true. Not really. I've got my drawer full of letters. To you and to everyone else. Whether you get yours on not depends fully on the necessity of that letter being sent.

In the wise, oh-so-patronizing words of an old friend: "the phone works both ways." I'll be leaving soon. If we can't stay in contact in close proximity, there's little hope for later. It's not cynicism. It's experience.

I think.

I am not even

A reflection of myself. In your presence, I am indistinguishable. For better or for worse or whatever.

I tried to get away from here but I had to ask you to drive. Ironic? A little. Unfortunate? More so.

I am lost inside of my intentions. More, my intentions are lost inside of me. They are lost on you. The opportunities for clarification are lost or not presented at all. Watch them all wash away.

But this? This is outside of you. Let it go. It is not a part of you. It is not you. And if you do not let it go, you are letting me go. This is the letting go.

The thing about rainy days

Is that they just drag you down. You follow each rain drop like you think you're supposed to. All of the sudden, you're being sucked down a drainage hole like it's where you belong. The news? It's not where you belong. The world's residue belongs there. Each of us as individuals might be made of things we don't want to be made of but we are not residual. We belong here.

I belong here. I belong Home.

قلبي بيتي

I forgot. How could I forget? I'm the only one looking at my back. Looking for it. You will have the option of watching it go. Because I've decided to. Go, I mean. I've decided to go regardless of whether I get the teaching job. If I have to work at a Starbucks, I will do it. If I have to figure something out with the university there, I'll do it. It will be where Home is. There, I must follow.

There are no grand gestures or glowing signs leading the way. You just have the take the steps forward. I have to take the steps forward. I will not be sucked down. I've been inscribed on because the words there are true. My words are true. I've always looked for subtleties. I should continue to do it. Though, I wouldn't mind a grand gesture on my way out of here. It just wouldn't be my direction. It wouldn't be Home.

This Home here? It's growing. It's always ready to take more in. Take more on. I hope that remains true.

It's snowing today.

Overheard

I couldn't be more elated at overhearing a girl who can't be more than seven say the following when she discovered she had been logged off the computer when she reached a two-hour time limit:

Oh no it di'in't.

She asked if she could have more time. I had to tell her no. She informed that it was time she bought her own computer.

Here's hoping.

I've been doing a lot of apartment cleaning lately and I love it. I can't tell if I'm burned out in general or if I'm burning out on certain things but the cleaning helps. The roommate is gone for a few more days. I am looking for a subleaser so I can pick asparagus in May.

Arizona plans are under way. We're going to schedule times to look at apartments while we're out there. But scorpions are gross. In my head, they are like cockroaches that inflict paint. Yeah, think about that one for a minute.

I'm really, really ready for this next phase in my life where I have a big kid's job and I feel like I'm accomplishing something. I've been feeling rutted for far too long.

My favorite place to be is inside of a hug. I'd buy the land if I could. It's an added bonus when your head sits perfectly on top of mine. It's a perfect way to breathe a person in, I think.

With each passing day, the fingers on my left hand look more gross. I couldn't be happier about it. Actually, I could. I'd be happier if my ability as a guitar player came naturally.

Dear Body,

I kind of hate you a little bit right now. I've been doing the best I can to take care of you by feeding you and walking you to work and cleaning you on occasion. That being said, I expected a little more out of you. I understand, times are hard. But I don't care! That's supposed to be my excuse!

Body, we've been through it all together. I'm just asking you to meet me half way on this one. Fine, get sick. I'll put up with that. I'll give you tea and keep you warm. You can even have a pimple or two. But for the love of God, stop bleeding. A nice lady-doctor put me on a medication that she thought would be strong enough to set you straight. But no, body, no. You had to be stronger. So, after three months, each only allowing me a one week break, I called that nice lady-doctor back. And do you know what she did, Body? She put me on a stronger version of that tiny pill that seems to be defenseless against your insolence. But I have to wait for three more weeks to see if it'll do any good.

So Body, I don't think I'm asking very much when I'm asking you to stop. Please, just this once, cooperate. I'll keep feeding you. I swear I'll shower more regularly if that's what you want. I'll even shave my legs and wear shorts if that's what it will take to get you to behave. I will. I'll do it. For you. Because that's the kind of person I am. If this plea doesn't do it, I will turn to threats. Make me love you, Body. The world doesn't need one more woman out there who hates her body. Be the Body I know you can be. Be the Body I can love. Thanks for listening. I know you're tired. You and me, we're in this alone together. Or whatever.

Sincerely,

Theresa.

Wondering

Why do I keep writing in this thing?

Change in Plans

I'm only going to go to Arizona for the second week planned. It ended up working out for all of us. I have to take the teacher certification test the day before my interview as well. So that works out and stuff. We'll just need a place to sleep during the twenty-nine hour drive.

I don't have much to say. There's a first.

I started working on a poem I think I'm going to like. It's not about the weather.

I can't figure this out or seem to let it go. I really need some peace.

I've been sleeping like crap lately. I can't fall asleep and then when I do, I'm consistently waking up well before my alarm goes off. This leaves me feeling tired and a little out of sorts for the entire day.

I feel like I'm coming together and falling apart at the same time. How does that work?

I wish I had a mango tree

In my backyard.

Soon here, it might be an orange tree.

Today's thoughts or whatever:

I have been invited to interview for the fellowship in Phoenix.
I can't get the song Mango Tree by Angus & Julia Stone out of me.
While looking up the MySpace link for them, I realized that they are going to be playing in Phoenix with Brett Dennan while I'm in Arizona the second time.
I'm going to Arizona with the people I would be moving with on 28 Feb until 6 March.
We're taking my car.
I would have to go back again on 29 March for an interview. I think I will spring for the plane ticket.
I might pick some asparagus.
I'm always amazed at how things turn out, good or bad.
I am worried that things are working out too well for the Arizona thing.
Since trying to play guitar, I pay more attention to strum patterns and it makes me love songs even more.
I like that I still love music and appreciate it more now than when I was in band in school.
I wish I could understand what happened.
I still miss you.
What if I don't get the position?
The calluses on my left hand don't look gross yet.
I am making it my goal to cross things off my proverbial life list. This year.
I'm not sure what I want. But I know that whatever it is, I don't want it alone.

Interview?

Yeah, I got one.

Wondering

Is love ever wasted?

In the works

or whatever.

The more I talk about moving to Arizona, the more excited I am. There may even be a fourth person living with us. Of the apartments and houses I've scoped out on Craigslist, the only thing I notice lacking is scenery that can be described as lush. I might miss grass. I don't think I'll miss the snow.

I'm just about done with my Phoenix Teaching Fellows application. I finished writing the essays and am now in the process of editing and fine tuning them. I'm hoping to submit everything today. Here's hoping. Sarah, one of the people I would be moving with, said that where the school is located is a bit further away from where they wanted to move. I figure it's not going to hurt me to apply and maybe request an area that's closer to where we would be living.

I have to figure out if I'm going to move down there even if I don't get this job. Thoughts?

As far as my moods have been going, I'm not sure I like them. I woke up pissed this morning for little to no reason at all. Okay, there was some reason but I'm usually not that annoyed by it. Maybe it's this whole feeling like I don't belong. Or something. I really need to find my niche.

Maybe I'll just go into hiding.

Everything but sleep

I slept twelve hours last night, thinking it might help. But I always forget the real world is right there waiting for you when you wake up. I got a bill in the mail last night for my allergy testing for $701. I called this morning. They said that the insurance company didn't cover it. After I stopped crying, I called the insurance company. After the guy was done being a dick, he let me know that a subdivision of the company had covered part of it and sent a check to my permanent address. I've decided to cancel the follow-up appointment. I don't want to have to pay extra for things I know like don't breathe in mold or dust mites. Thanks. Here's seven hundred dollars. I can turn around if you'd like. If that would make this easier.

I'm looking into this whole mental health thing. It's about that time. I realized that the crazy in my head has been there forever but I'm not as busy now as I was in school and so I have more time to dwell on the crazy. I left a message. We'll see where that goes.

I'm still having ridiculous girl problems. I've giving this prescription one more month before I call the doctor and two more before I give up on it.

I realize now that I really didn't do anything wrong. If someone doesn't let you in, that's not your fault. If you let someone in and they throw shit all over your house, that's very minutely your fault but mostly not. I'm done blaming myself for the shitty guests in my house, so to speak. Done.

I really appreciate what my friends do for me. They support me in their own ways and I don't think I would have gotten this far without the people in my life. Given, I might have gotten further without some of it. But the ones that help me pick up the pieces are wonderful. And thank you. Besides someone to listen and an understanding. Oh, and sleep. I really needed a hug yesterday and Kristalynn kept dishing them out. I guess I needed a lot yesterday. The shower waited until this morning.

I feel like I should be telling myself to stop trusting people. Instead, I need to just be cautious and continue to love and trust because without those things, it would be a sad world, I think. Regardless, everything with a grain of salt.

I have another guitar lesson on Thursday. I'm going to the store to get ingredients for dinner after work. I'm not sure what I'm making yet. I'm mostly just out of food. Paying for lessons with food is like a dream. I know a scale now (g major) but I'm still not good at switching between chords. I've practiced quite a bit, I think, which is how I got the scale down. But I haven't practiced the chords enough, it seems. I hope I don't suck.

Inspiration, you are a cruel and fickle bitch.

Don't you know?

I'm the biggest idiot to gracelessly exist on this planet.

I'm not making apologies for who I am. Just what I've become.

God, I'm sorry. So, so sorry.

Arizona or bust?

How did that happen?

Some friends are moving to Phoenix, AZ and invited me to move with them. Already, the job market is remarkably better than Michigan's. I'm almost done applying for an Americorps teaching position. We'll see.

I've been internalizing a lot lately. I really want to ask the questions I want answers to. But the last time I did that taught me not to. So here I am stuck, wondering.

I've written a few poems. I think they're trash. I've learned a scale and I'm working on chord progressions next.

Minimalism. Okay.

I'm just trying to get an understanding. Does it seem odd that anyone "just" anything? To be or do just whatever is a strange concept.

Oh, hours at my school job were cut and then brought back so I don't have to go looking for another part time job in Kalamazoo. On the bright side, it did light a fire under my ass and got me to revamp my resume. It almost looks good now.

You don't have to love me. It's okay. I think I'm supposed to figure this one out on my own.

My ear hurts.

Yeah, it's overwhelming

But what else can we do

We all have different things that kill us. For many, it's internal. It's our thoughts or hopes or dreams that we ignore or take too far. For many others, it's external. It's the alcohol or drugs or recklessness. Some people can control it and some can't. Some can choose to and some cannot. And whatever happens, most of us want to feel like we're not in this alone. I think, anyway. Maybe that's what drives us to keep things in or force things out. Maybe I'm not sure what I'm talking about. But maybe that doesn't matter. There's always more. To feel or be or have or want. Always more.

Isn't it overwhelming?

I miss.

Loneliness, oh, what you do to me

For about a year and a half, I've been feeling an overwhelming sense of loneliness. Actually, that's not true. I think it's something I've felt my entire life. Of course, there are times when it's not as bad and I feel like I have some sort of support system. Then, there are times when it's worse and I feel like I can't support my emotional self. For the last few years, it's been worse.

Last November was the last time I really felt loved and accepted and wanted and needed and all those things people say but it's hard to feel. This November, people came to my birthday parties but I felt alone anyway. I know it's one of those things where I may be the only person who can change. Damn it, I wish I didn't feel this way.

Maybe it's feeling this way that drives the people in my life away. Maybe it's that I can be intense. Maybe it's just the person I'm supposed to be. But maybe there's something more. I just get this nagging feeling like I'm intended for something more than the life I'm living. There's a weight on me and I can't push it off. I don't go out of my way to make people like me. I am who I am and I do the things I do. And is that not enough?

There are a few people in my life that see me for the person I am and the person I can be and the person I want to be. There are a few. Two of them are in New Zealand. Another one in Seattle. There are a couple around town but I feel like a burden. And I don't know how to get past that feeling. Every now and then I get validation from people I don't expect it out of and I'm floating for a period of time. And then it goes away. Because those people go away. What do I keep doing that makes them go away? I really should start looking within myself and all of that. But everything in me tells me I'm in this alone. I will get from point A to point B alone. Should I accept that and move on?

Because I don't want to. What is life but something to share with others. God, I'm drowning here and it's all I can do to keep my head above water. My dad was right. I've got to take care of myself.

-Theresa

I like American Music, I guess

They tie into each other and as a whole. It might not be what it meant to the writers but it is what it meant to me. I'll link what I can.

1. Violent Femmes- American Music

When I was younger, and even now, there was often a battle over the stereo. No one ever wanted to listen to the same music. However, the one thing my siblings and I always managed to join forces on was, for the love of God, put on the American music. Understanding Arabic music was difficult as a young child because of the differences in dialects. And I didn't like it.

2. Paul Baribeau- Ten Things

I think we needed to be reminded of our mortality in positive ways. Yes, we're going to die. But there's so much you can do and appreciate in the meantime. It's a reminder.

3. Coldplay- Violet Hill

As a child, I thought saying "good night" was a huge commitment and I had trouble saying it. I favored "I'll see you later." "Good night" seemed like even much bigger commitment than loving someone forever. But I can wish people good nights all the time now. Now, I sometimes have trouble letting people know I love them. And hearing or feeling that people love me. Also, that one year, the only thing that was white was the snow.

4. Iron & Wine- Boy With a Coin

God left the ground to circle the earth. I think this song is full of sorrow. I think a lot of the sorrow in our lives is an absence of faith and love.

5. Neutral Milk Hotel- In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

It's important to remember, like with "Ten Things" to enjoy the good things while we have them and to not dwell on what's coming but just to accept it. When we meet again, things will be good.

6. Page France- Finders

I think it behooves us to look for meaning every now and then. It can bring peace. All of the finders will clap their hands.

7. John Mayer- Victoria

I moved away from home when I was seventeen to go to college. I had talked about it a lot when I was younger. I know that's not really that big of a step but I come from a culture where you don't move out unless you're getting married. It's not appropriate otherwise. I went anyway. And I didn't look back. I piled on what I could to keep not looking back.

8. Rocky Votolato- Uppers Aren't Necessary

The chorus mostly says it. We are a family driven by guilt. Unfortunately, I still live by this. But we do what we can to get by. Of course, the rest of the song says quite a bit as well. Eventually, there will be a way home.

9. Sufjan Stevens- For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti

We've been through hard times. But I would still do anything for them.

10. Nickel Creek- Doubting Thomas

My last name is Thomas. The irony is not lost on me. It was a few songs ago while making this CD I realized that most of the songs had themes of loss of faith, death and a search for home and love. I've never had enough faith in my family. I often felt like they didn't have enough faith in me. Regardless, faith extends beyond the people around us. A lot of this song speaks for itself.

11. Obadiah Parker- Hey Ya

Okay, so this song doesn't seem to fit. But when I moved away in 2003, this song had just started to gain popularity. Even my dad recognized it. I think we're a family that lives in denial. We're not happy with our actions and the outcomes and we just keep going. Sometimes, that can be good. Sometimes, not.

12. Chris Bathgate- Sun Moon

My dad used to play guitar a lot more than he does now. He'd write a song for everything. He's written songs about most significant things that have happened in his life and through the course of our family's history. We used to shout out requests without knowing the full story.

13. The Weepies- Can't Go Back Now

Things were easier, in some respects, when I was younger. I didn't have to worry about money or how I was getting somewhere. Sure, I hated my life being dictated for me but it was easier. Or something. But now I'm alone in this world and I can't go back. It was my dad who told me I was alone in this and needed to take care of myself because no one else would. And I can't go back to a time when someone else could do something and make it all better. I've got myself to count on. And that needs to matter.

14. The Corn Fed Girls- Pearlie

People change, of course. But we don't always know why. We can't always see the history. I've kept quite a bit of things in my life from my family. We are a family, or were a family, that doesn't talk about problems. Things happen. In 2004, I found out what made a little boy so mean. I've still held my secrets.

15. The Avett Brothers- Murder in the City

Again, I moved away. But I never wanted them to worry. I remember asking my parents, as I think many kids do, which of us they loved the most. And I remember them saying they loved us all the same, that there was no measure. There is nothing worth sharing like the love that let's us share our name. This is my letter in the desk.

16. Ray Lamontagne- Empty

As a family and as individuals, we've been through a lot. And I get the sense that we often wonder if we'll always feel the way we do. We also had the tendency to relive our hauntings. It is difficult to let go. And so we hold on.

17. The Format- On Your Porch

About ten years ago, my dad was sick. The doctors weren't sure if he would recover or what he had. I spent a lot of time hiding in a tent that summer. I didn't pull the weeds out of my dad's garden and it became overgrown. That was the year we got a computer and the internet and I started writing what I'm embarrassed to call poetry. But my dad got better. He still isn't exactly like he was before. He doesn't have full feeling in his hands and is constantly tired. I'm convinced that he is better because of the love my mother poured on him. And those years were hard. And they still are. My family isn't the most encouraging. I think they mean to. They've never told me that if I fail, I wouldn't fail to them. I imagine it comes down to pride. I imagine they would keep loving me if they could. But I do know that if I fail, it'll still be okay, because I don't think there is much more to lose. At least I gave it a shot. Here's to stepping into the sun. Alone.

18. Eef Barzelay- Lose Big

A continuation. I've decided that regardless of whether I'm supported or not, I'm going to go for the dreams I have. If I'm going to lose, oh, I'll lose big.

19. Death Cab For Cutie- I Will Follow You into the Dark

Part of being Chaldean is being Catholic. Regardless of what happens, I would do anything for my family that is bad at expressing love.

20. Foo Fighters- Home

I have a strong desire to feel like I'm home. Most of the things I do pull me further away. But it's the people I've loved and the things I haven't regretted. Echoes and Silence. Patience and Grace.

21. The Avett Brothers- Will You Return

I am the pretty little gal, with pretty little curls. It's hard to see the beauty sometimes. My parents often ask when I'll come home next and all I can tell them is that I don't know. It's often hard to say the next time I'll be there. It's harder to say the next time I'll feel there. Will I go again? It's hard to say. I surely hope so.

22. Sufjan Stevens- Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

With faith lacking, it is important to remember the things that matter. And I can't always feel at home with my family, there has to be some place. I am quite prone to wander. But I think we all are.