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