because i'm an adult

I'm trying to transition out of Blogger, and I apologize for my absence. But check out the new site:

http://ameliawallace.wordpress.com/

It is still much a work in progress, but it's a little bit more professional.

Because sometimes there are things that I wish I could tell you.

But I just can't.

because fate is a wicked tease

I ran into Sol tonight.


My heart skipped a thousand beats


and then I had to remind myself to breathe.


All I wanted to do was look at him.

Not stare.

Not leer.

Just look at him.

Look in to him.


So deeply that he would feel the race of my heart beat

and look up

and our eyes would meet.


And I would just know.


Our eyes did meet.


I saw him steal a glance.


And then another.


And then he was gone.


I walked home, arm in arm with Johnson, and we talked about how we always expected that one day everything would finally settle. But that in reality turmoil will always be around and within us, but that doesn't mean we aren't at peace or content. And Johnson said something that hit me in my now weakened heart: that our reality never becomes our fantasies.


And I guess I just thought he would be there when I got home.

because ivan. and. alyosha.

Trying to find some peace in this hectic week.

Realizing that those moments might not happen, but I can still feel calm while working through it all.

Desperately grateful for the background noise.

"Does your woman take your dreams,
Shine it up and give it some wings?
You have found a beautiful thing,
a beautiful thing.

...

And there's a bridge
That we're crossing.
There is a life we should be living;
Everything is burning.

Did she get inside your head,
All the stupid things that you've said?
She's the only reason reason you get out of bed.

...

She brings me back among the living.
And I guess I am learning,
Everything is burning."

because here and now

I sat in my room last night, the small rectangle I call mine, waiting for my roommate to get out of the bathroom and wishing for the day that I didn't have to wait anymore.

I began to wonder if on that day I would be happy and then worried that even then it wouldn't be enough.

Suddenly I realized that maybe I should be careful what I wish for, because one day I will be there and the person I can walk in on and won't have to wait for may be messy.

And he may leave toothpaste all over the sink and cupboards open, and he may hang up his shirts in the wrong direction.

And some days, even though I may love him and the little beasties we created together, there might be days where I don't like him and I will get angry.

There will be days that I am bossy and mean, and other days where I might cry over spilled milk and cereal, and there will be days that we don't do anything and I will feel like a failure. And days where the kids tell me I'm the worst.

There will be the day that finally comes where my life won't be my own anymore.

And my body won't be my own.

And maybe it really is about enjoying what we do have

Here

And now.

And maybe I should be ok if God continues to answer my prayers in ways I don't expect or necessarily want.

music on a monday pt 7

Tryin' to fit your hand inside of mine

When we know it just don't belong

Why don't you be you and I'll be me

his site

pick yourself up and get on with it

It's possible that at times I am a masochist.

Feeling pain reminds us that we are alive.

And it helps us enjoy the good parts all the more.

Some times, though, I need to fall apart and just cry.

My mother always emphasized the fact that we need to allow ourselves time to grieve.

Grieve over a lost love, a lost day, a lost dream.

But grieve.

I remember a day seven years ago when I found myself sobbing in my room, in the apartment of my brother's where I lived that summer.

I was heartbroken over Riley.

I was barely 19.

But as I lay in the depths of despair, my brother came into my room and said "Cry, and then let's go get some ice cream."

All I could sputter out was an ok, because well, I could never say no to ice cream.

But that has become one of my philosophies in life (no, not never saying no to ice cream, although that kind of is my number one rule) but rather just feel it.

Feel the pain and sorrow all within and about you. And then pick yourself up and get on with life.

Grant yourself that small bit, but don't lose yourself in it.

Feeling great sorrow allows us to feel great joy.

because tomorrow is a new day, with no mistakes in it

I told myself I couldn't go to sleep until I had written something

This week has seen many late nights full of homework and reading, seeming to never end. Always one more thing to do. And by the time morning comes there is just another load.

On top of the homework and studying the to-do lists have still been full to brimming. Little things that don't seem like that big of a deal until midnight hits and I've realized I have gotten nothing done.

I've not been productive at all. My time seems to have been wasted on a hundred other things that came up, or just a lack of self-discipline.

As I finished up the third paper I had to write tonight, I checked Facebook for the umpteenth time tonight and saw this video Chloe had posted:

I recognize that my life is nowhere close to a mother's and that I had not done anything today for anyone except for myself.

But this video made me realize the importance of service and that fact that some days, I won't get everything done on my list because other things (like life) were more important.

It also reminded me that those little things that aren't on my to-do lists, but are forever in the back of my mind are truly the most important ones.

to be thought of

What's it like to be thought of?

I know in my daydreams I imagine conversations, moments in time and how I want them to go.

Other daydreams involve more intimate moments, hands touching. Kissing.

When someone says they've been thinking of me, do they mean the same thing?

Do they daydream of future days spent in bed together?

Or adventures, hiking boots strapped tight, soaking wet from rain. Miserable together?

Are they good thoughts? Indiscreet? Warm?

Is there love and respect somewhere lost in the folds?

music on a monday pt 6

I'll take the mess you are
And you'll take the mess that is me
And together we will live in beautiful chaos.

Vance Joy

because i forgot what it feels like to feel beautiful

We trudged up into the wilderness a couple weekends ago and camped.

It was miserable and wonderful all at the same time: miserable because sleeping in a hammock is a nightmare and let's be honest, I'm still a little afraid of the dark. Wonderful because nature is a love affair of mine.

Jacob put up with me complaining, tossing and turning all night. Eventually switching hammocks just so I could get some semblance of sleep.

He repaid me for my crabbiness with some beautiful photos.

I often look at myself in the mirror and wonder how I've gotten here, wonder if I'm pretty, wonder what other people see, wonder if anyone would ever want to keep me around.

Sometimes photos catch me by surprise. I was exhausted, moving on a couple hours of sleep after running 18 miles the morning previous, and was now making breakfast for a whole gang of ragamuffins.

I credit all of this to Jacob- because of his talent he captured a moment of me that has never felt more true to how I feel lately. And it wasn't because he told me I was ok to look at despite the grass and grease stains.

Despite all the exhaustion, smelling like smoke, the crankiness, stress of school and work, and all the turmoil hiding behind these eyes he uncovered some beauty that I have forgotten about:

That somewhere deep down I am ok to look at, because somewhere deep down I'm an ok person.

Even if no one tells me ever again, I can still believe that.

photo credit

because it's so much easier when they're jerks

I have spent the whole summer defending him.

Believing in his goodness and everyone's ability to grow.

I don't think I pined away. Yes, I spent many nights asleep in his shirt, but I still put myself out there.

I dated, I flirted, I teased the emotions.

And I found hope in me and the idea of someone loving me for the mess I am.

There were some nights I cried, missing him, but as the days and weeks and months wore on those memories faded.

Only now when I read through past texts and remember him whispering in my ear as his hand found mine in the dark do I cry again. So maybe as long as I don't let that bittersweet taste of moments past linger I may not cry at all...

Or maybe the truth of it all, the truth that nothing has changed for him (that he still feels like breaking up was the right choice, that dating me isn't right - a new thought) hasn't fully sunk in.

Confusion still creeps in.

I'm forever baffled at how easily people can change.

I thought so highly of him, trusted him, believed those tender moments and sweet words he said.

In a way I never really understood until now, my heart breaks anew as I see someone I cared for so immensely change to something less than what I had hoped they were.

And yet, that little part of me, the one tucked away in the corners of the heart beneath my chest, the shy girl who hides there waiting...that little part of me who had fallen in love with him still might have wanted something different to have transpired tonight.

She still mourns her loss: a short-lived relationship that held more joy than any of the others. A beautiful possibility so near "what should have been."

But the logical voice in my head notes the almost 4 months of nothing. No note, no text, no call. And with that thought, the process of moving forward continues, almost at a breakneck speed.

Because it's always so much easier when they're jerks. When you tell yourself there's no way you would want to love or be involved with someone so thoughtless.

It's always easier when the person you cared for confesses to making it all up, to lying. That really they never meant any of it, because in your heart you want someone who would love and choose you and they are bluntly admitting that they are too rude and unkind to even stoop to that level.

And by some miracle, our hearts confront this truth and, like a slap in the face, wake up.

The rose-colored glasses fall away, all the signs we ignored begin waving their red-stained hands, and with that...suddenly it is so much easier to let go.

Because we believe we deserve better.

And we do.

We deserve someone honest.

And mind you, that person, that jerk may one day change and become that honest person. But not for you. For someone else.

And that's ok.

So though I may mourn the loss of what-ifs and maybes, I find myself content in understanding and facing the truth (and remembering that there is nothing wrong with me, sometimes it just doesn't work).

I just hope I looked damn beautiful as I walked away.

this is not one to trifle with

It's been a rough couple of days.

A song line keeps playing over and over again in my head, "when you think of love do you think of pain."

I openly admit to the fact that I am not perfect.

This weekend I realized how disgustingly bossy I can be, especially when frustrated. I can be snide and quick to anger at times; sarcasm flowing from me like a molten river of destruction.

There are times when I am not kind, when I am too stubborn and proud to admit my mistake or own ignorance.

Other times when I am so blindly selfish I do not realize the hurt or pain I cause to those around me, most especially the ones I love and the ones I am meant to help.

Jacob and I had an interesting conversation the other night, in which these two thoughts came to me:

1. I am tired of being selfish. I want someone else's problems to deal with and I want someone to help me deal with my problems.
2. We date to fall in love.

I've grown weary of friends calling to update on life and their first question always posed to me: "Are you dating anyone?" When do they start asking me about my writing, or my babies? Oh duh, I don't have any babies.

I don't date to get married. I'm looking to fall in love, marriage tends to just follow...

Marmee and I spoke last week. She told me my brother's concern was that I was desperate to be married and that because of that I was driving the men away.

I wrote to my sweet younger sister, serving a religious mission in California following that conversation and I write here some thoughts I shared with her. Please bear with me, it's the most exposed I have been:

"Marmee and I spoke the other day. She mentioned my brother's worry about my need for the next guy I date to be the one, but how can they worry about that and then turn around and stress the importance of marriage and its influence in our faith?

I have such a lovely belief that in the end it is only the two of you: your children will have their own spouses, and their children will have their own, and so on.

No, you cannot take the search for an eternal partner lightly, and no marriage does not solve any problems. It is only a new set, and I may one day miss having the struggles of single-hood. But how often I feel such a strong desire to be in love and to give of all this love I have.

I think loving someone is one of the most sacred, beautiful things - the ability to love unconditionally  might be one of the rare times we come to being Godlike.

So then why am I judged for wanting to fall in love? Why am I looked at as a crazy heathen for it? For speaking of it so often?

My patience is wearing thin. I feel my prayers becoming more and more shallow and small. I know that I will find someone I love and who loves me, but when? Why have I not been blessed with something I so righteously desire? What more can I possibly learn?

I hear the voice inside my head tell me the cure for my loneliness: service. Yet sometimes I do feel that there is a tiny little hole that can only be cured by the loving touch of someone you love embracing you. And I am ok with that thought."

I finally called Sol.

I told myself back in May that I would give him the summer.

As of today, summer is over.

He wasn't sure how he felt about meeting up, so he will be dropping my things off later this week.

I expect the worst, yet I'm not sure I would even want the best at this point.

My fight was ignored.

All those small feelings that could have been something so much more never had a chance to grow.

I was never acknowledged.

No thank you was ever given for the small tokens I gave.

I deserve more, do I not?

I want to believe that I only seek closure. An explanation, even a bogus one might sate my need.

I think I just need to hear it. To hear that there is no chance fall from his lips and allow me to completely and finally walk away.

And no longer feel the need to hope or even want it anymore.

But if that is so, why do I still dream of him kissing me so firmly and intentionally?

music on a monday 5

"I will remember your face, 'cause I am still in love with that place"

I do not know where to begin or end. So many tiny thoughts are erupting inside of me.

Words dance about in my head as I think about love and the future.

Where has this excited wonderment approached from? Such tender feelings toward someone I hardly know make me wonder how desperately determined my heart is to fall in love.

But is that aching desire something to be so ashamed of?

Oh no! Love is all inspiring. Should we not be praised for our wish to give all to another human being? Does not loving another soul bring us closer to being godlike?

Seeing past all imperfection, loving unconditionally despite sins and mistakes? Taking someone for all that they are: the rashness, innocence, folly and insecurity, passion and forgetfulness.

It cannot be a dreadful thing to want love so fiercely. And it must be accepted that love truly is the way to happiness.

Oh even just the idea of it makes me feel as if my body does float above the ground. Tingling with such ardor.

Is not loving someone a way of giving them wings? To know you are loved, that someone has so severely and wonderfully latched themselves to you forever gives one such a feeling of security and vigor. That anything is possible, even the chance to defy gravity and all laws of physics and soar above the earth.

What delight there is to know of a force so perfect in the world that it not only grounds us with sturdy foundation but also opens the heavens of flight for our souls.

What silliness, I know, but never have I been so eager as to say those three words to someone (when all the timing is right) and put their heart at ease as I confirm to them my ever-present desire to be theirs and have none else, as they so earnestly feel for me.

Oh what exuberance, what youthful folly has slipped into my blood. Such excitement for thoughts and feelings unknown, so premature in nature yet so intentional in purpose.

Though such tiny seeds have been planted, I yet find myself embraced in excitement. The same kind I feel as I get to that part in a book where one must flip through to the end, begging for a glimpse of a word or sentence that confirms that all hope is won and love has conquered all.

But oh the journey there is just as delicious and I find myself longing to be in the middle of it, rather than the beginning. To be past the divide between the sure unknown and the birth of emotion and love.

Oh that I could jump that chasm and fall into the arms of assurance and routine. To find my hand constantly lost in his. My name breathless on his sleepy lips, our lives so clumped together that to unwind ourselves would create a mess and be foolhardy.

Oh to have that all again - dreams that we've painted together with the hope of our words. A future built with sacrifice and frustration and the knowledge that without one another we would cease to exist.

"May you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days

And out of that love, remake a world."

~Ray Bradbury

music monday on a wednesday

Because I forgot.

Because it's catchy and fun, and for a girl with hips I do so love the message.

A phone call.

A text.

A message.

An email.

A letter.

A single word.

Anything would have been better than nothing.

"love is not a fickle thing"

Love is not a fickle thing

to brush off with time

or the age of ease.

Love is not a weakness,

laughable, nor demeaning.

Love does not explode in immediation,

does not shut off with the lights

or escape away with a fancy.

Love does not twitch

or fade

it is not a kiss

to be wiped off.

Love is not a pillar of salt

to be washed away or forgotten,

shoved aside or gagged.

Love stands for always,

crumbling only when the physical

vessel that protects our vulnerable hearts

begins to decay.

Love is a mountain that falls

only when the waters of forever

have washed away the memories and pain

the heartache and shame.

Love continues to grow

in patterns and forms unrecognizable.

Limbs of souls stronger than our mortal imaginings,

roots of creatures more corrupt

than our most feeble moments.

Love is forever changing

with a bitter taste

or crooked smile.

Into resentment.

Or acceptance.

(I've never been good at revising poetry. I tend to just sit and do, scribbling it out as fast as it will come. Never really thinking to move or fix. All my poetry is rough draft poetry).

as long as you're mine

I finally had the chance to go see the Off-Broadway production of Wicked in Salt Lake last night.

I went alone.

Hitched an early train up, spent a couple hours doing some school shopping and eating, and then headed over to Capitol Theater.

It was as wonderful as I had expected, with a few twists on a plot I thought I knew so well from so often listening to the soundtrack.

Seeing the characters perform the songs also brought me a new perspective on those words that I could almost perfectly sing a long to.

Most importantly was the relationship between Elphaba and Fiyero. I mistakenly had believed it was always a moment of unrequited love, and that in the song As Long As You're Mine Elphaba had cast some spell on him. I never got to see his transformation, his love for her, that began from the start.

So as I sat watching them kneel there together singing about a love they knew couldn't work ("say there's no future for us as a pair, and though I may know, I don't care"), but it didn't matter because in that moment they had each other.

And suddenly I realized how very brainless I can be in relationships. How very brainless everyone can be.

Because even if there's the smallest chance that our tiny or momentous relationships might work out - the relationships with that the boy from the coffee shop, the best friend you've always known, the one who came back - if there's a sliver somewhere, or if there isn't, we should enjoy it.

Enjoy every tiny and big moment. It doesn't matter if it might end in a week, or three months, or three years, because in that moment you are his and he is yours.

I do such a good job at spending more of those precious moments wondering and worrying and sometimes even being immensely frustrated because things aren't going how I thought they would.

But wouldn't it be so much more magical to be in awe that he is there with you? That your "wildest dreaming" could never have imagined lying there with someone who cares about you?

And when you're lucky enough to meet the one who chooses to stay you can make up for all that "lost time" when you were both floundering around in the swamp of single-hood.

Yes, this is a sappy post, a call to action, a call to enjoy the little things.

And I apologize.

So maybe don't think of it that way.

Maybe just be grateful that you're lucky to have the chance to have someone. That you're lucky to love and be loved.

That somewhere there is a place (whether here and now or in the future) where someone who knows your name loves you and cares for you.

And in that place you will be holding each other.

As long as you're mine.

Image via katenikolas.tumblr.com