"dancing skeletons"

thursday
december 29th, 2011.

i recently went to see a christmas musical one of my coworkers was involved with. she and many other portlanders had long raved about the various shows the theater troup, the portland revels put on. knowing her talent and seeing all of her hardwork, i knew i had to buy a ticket and support her artistic endeavors, whatever they might be. sharing my opinion two of my other coworkers decided to join me. we all met for preshow drinks at our local after work watering hole, saucebox. after three or four of their famous ginger cosmopolitans and a plentiful plate of my favorite tofu pad thai in the city, i felt readied to attend the show.

as we walked up the concrete steps into a grand hall, i couldn't help but relive my own memories of my theatrical debuts. i was involved in many plays and musicals throughout my high school and college years and loved every minute of it. the feelings you experience in the last half hour before the show are unlike any other i'd had before: the tingling sensations budding in your stomach, the building of voices in the hall and all of the anticipations begin to rise. this is what your months of dress rehearsals, line memorizing, costume alterations, stage marking and set designing were for - the chance to entertain.

and that, the portland revels did with a musical reminiscent of a madrigal age with gallant knights and intricate headpieces for the ladies. all of the characters met the audience with bright smiles and joyous voices. i remembered the rise of nerves from my stomach to my throat as the curtain rose. and even now on the receiving end, i still felt the magic and allure of the stage.

as i'd learned on my first theater going experience when i was a grade school child so many years back, some scenes become etched into your memory. they are a single flash: the look on an actor's face, a specific line or song lyric that replays in your mind, a single moment between actors that touches your heart - it's for these brief flashes that the theater becomes tolerable for those that struggle to find its beauty. for me, those flashes aren't that few and far between. ever since that first play, i've been held in awe by the stage and all that goes with it, good or bad. and as it has before, for this portland revel's show, the king and the fool - one such scene has been looping in my mind.

it is the scene immediately following the intermission. you've come back from the bathroom, from outside smoking or have found respite from a screaming child. you're sitting in your seat, feeling refreshed, simply patient for the next scene to enthrall you and this particular scene, did just that. it is a scene preceeded by the main character, the hero, the king dying. it is a turning point in the musical just as it would be in real life, complete with the drama, heartbreak and sadness. the next scene, the first after the intermission, depicts the fool sitting lowly on the ground while the king's skeleton sits in his throne. they are there, sitting in the silence, he the living and he the dead. the morality of the moment comes to fruition and you as the audience member are aware that even in death, no matter where you stood in life, we are all the same. no one before the other. the scene continues on with the fool convinced that the king is still there, that he is his old self. the fool repositions the skeleton, mimics a waving motion, but the skeleton falls flat. there is nothing there to hold him up. he tries again, this time to stand him up and again, the skeleton falls. his next few motions to move the king are in vain as the king is dead and no longer there. it is a scene that reads more depressing then when it plays out, the actions live create a rather sarcastically humorous environment and following in fashion, the audience laughs. it is a scene held rather tightly in the character of the fool, the joker - so of course, his failed attempts are funny. the scene hits a hilarious high note when the fool attempts to dance with the skeleton. arms linked around his neck, feeting matching his own, the fool dances with a skeleton -- and again, the audience laughs.

i was not one such audience member. i was too wrapped up in my own thoughts, in the moment and what it meant specifically to me. i was filled with thoughts about life, love, loss and letting go because that is the climate with what my life has been surrounded with lately. these are the four l's that plague us all. the scenes where the fool idly tries to prop the king up, refusing to accept the inevitability, the simple fact that his king, his hero is dead: it's these denials that i witness myself dealing with (slash full out ignoring) in my own life. i know that some situations are lost causes, that some times the clock simply runs out. logically knowing all of this, there are still times this optimistic and naive heart still hopes against hope. there are times i refuse to give up, still times i find myself unwilling or unable to simply let things go. i see in my own life and riddled on the sea of faces i find myself in. as it's been said to me before, "life is a balance of knowing when to hold on and when to let go." this scene never more clearly depicted that struggle - and i found myself fighting back the tears.

then comes the dance. the fool striding side-by-side and cheek-to-cheek with the king's skeleton. you can almost feel his hope, his belief that the king is alive and that things will return to where they've come from. but as i'm sure you're already of, life can move forwards. sometimes it does slowly, like when you're in the middle of a boring lecture or sometimes it moves too quickly, like when you're having fun on a beach vacation. life can move forward, but it does not, cannot move backward. nothing can be undone once it is done. words cannot be unsaid, promises cannot be unbroken, deaths we've endured cannot be undead. what has been done cannot be undone. in this scene, i was reminded of all of the many things i have long held with inside myself. there are many things i refuse to let go of, because somewhere, some part of me longs to go back to that time before. hoping against hope, that from the ashes, life can come back from death. in the sea of laughter of the audience members around me, my heart began to break. i was reminded of the beauty and the overwhelming heartbreak when you finally begin to let go.

i will say this, the pain of letting things go is never an easy burden to bear. it shakes you, rocks you and utterly wrecks you. it is a beginning again and everyone is afraid of change, but i will also say this, that first breath after finally breaking away from the pain and letting it go is the freest breath you will breathe. it is truly worth it. and so, in the middle of that musical, on some idle saturday night, i began to let go.. and i will dance with my skeletons no longer.



*this post is dedicated to you, my monkey
a little less than a decade later, on our date
which has been etched into my heart, as have you.

oldies but goodies.

as many of you can tell,
i've begun to transfer old things
i have written on other sites onto this site.
this is a temporary stop-gap until
my website is up and running.

as always, i love you all
and hope you're doing well.

denial. (di-niel)
noun.
1. the action of declaring something to be untrue.
2. the refusal of something requested or desired.
3. a statement that something is not true
4. failure to acknowledge an unacceptable truth or emotion or to admit it into consciousness, used as a defense mechanism.

oh denial, my old friend. you've been coming 'round more often than i'd like to admit. but isn't denial just a drug we all need sometimes? a false belief that things are getting better, that the tides will turn. it's a similar drug to hope. it fills your head with subtleties, tiny dreams that you want to come true - and maybe, you're edging yourself off of a cliff, but what if it all does work out? ah, what if it does!

What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

 "ode.

intimations of immortality from

recollections of early childhood."

_william wordsworth.

there are these things that i have gone through,
i've had to try to put back together.
pieces of my self, my memory, lying scattered,
these things i have shoved into boxes,
scribbled onto black and white pages.
i have swept them under the rug,
trying to forget, trying to protect.

screams and haunts, around every corner.
you ask me to excise them,
but the truth is,
i find my strength within them.

sincerely, tiffany.

"i didn't want to tell anyone,
because the minute i do, 
it becomes real.
and when it becomes real,
people get hurt
and i always run from getting hurt
i don't wanna run away anymore,
not from you."
_from criminal minds
season three, episode 17
"in heat"


because sometimes a girl 
can't put her feelings into words.

ex-pend-a-ble.

expendable.
adjective; 
1. (of an object) designed to be used only once and then abandoned or destroyed.
2. of little significance when compared to an overall purpose, and therefore able to be abandoned.

i never needed you, never asked for you.
but there, suddenly, upon my doorstep you were.
i never asked anything from you,
never had any expectations,
but in the blink of an eye,
i was swept off my feet, enveloped in trust,
thinking that this would never end,
could never end.

it wasn't just one time.
if it were, i would have just walked in the other direction,
soaked my hands and washed it all away.
i could have admitted defeat,
accepted that i wasn't what you were looking for.
but no, over time, it just grew and grew.
well, mine did.
you can change your feelings.
i can't help mine.

so i'm the one left sitting on the road,
looking up to the stars, the heavens,
screaming out to some foreign deity,
one i don't even think exists,
but you told me to believe, to just have hope.
so here i am, drenched in my sorrow,
in the wetness of the sprinklers,
in all of my doubt, your lies.

what was it worth.
i can only be curious.
i hope replacement me feels just as good,
fills all of the holes you're trying
to convince yourself you don't feel.

it's fine, i'll be okay
i don't need an apology,
or even any pity.

i've got this,
i'm used to being on my own.
i know i am strong
and that i do not need you.

i just hope it was worth it.

there's this thing called love.
true, mad, passionate, all-consuming,
inconvenient, inspiring, no-holds-bar love.
and i've felt it once and it broke my heart.
i've held back and hesitated so many times,
and i'm just wondering,
if maybe,
i could open myself back up.

because every girl deserves to hear this:

"i've got to say something cuz,
i don't think i've made it clear.
i'm in love with you,
powerfully, painfully in love.
the things you do,
the way you think,
the way you move,
i get excited every time
i'm about to see you.
you make me feel like
i've never felt before in my life,
like i'm a man.
i just thought you might want to know."
_xander to anya.
from buffy season five, episode 10
"into the woods"

frail.

adjective.
(of a person) weak and delicate.
easily damaged or broken. 


this word, 
generally associated with weakness of self,
i find to be misleading.
i am frail.
i am delicate.
but no, i am not weak.
i am easily damaged
and can break easily.
but no, i am not weak.

the mountains have moved,
the seasons have changed,
but so have i.
no, i am not weak.

i am still here, 
standing, breathing, living.
you said it couldn't be done,
you said i'd fail, that i'd give up.
you were wrong. 
i am not weak.

it has taken me awhile
and maybe i do not run the course you'd like me to,
the seas have fought against me,
the cuts on me are deep,
the wounds, still showing,
but no, i am not weak.


you protest 
and still i stand.
no, i am not weak.

just a simple letter.

dear
extravagant you,

we keep running in circles,
trying to stitch these worn-out fabrics,
mending these frays, trying just to
bring them together.

in held back breaths, i keep these secrets
hidden within the crevices.
i long to whisper these simple words
into your ears, sinking straight
right, down
into your heart.

things are topsy-turvy
and the ground feels like
it is not our's to walk upon
but when will consistency
ever be consistent.
one cannot judge the weather,
she is a flighty sneak.

so let us run away,
dream up our own town,
sketch out the trees and the buildings
leaving space for you and space for me.

i want to believe
that these broken things can be
mended.
stitched.
brought together.

sincerely,
simple me.

i believe there are people out there,
in the world, walking next to you on the street
that are put there specifically to make you feel bad.

for some people:
it's their parents.
for others:
it's their spouse.
someone setting guidelines,
endless ladders with endless stairs,
a constant battle to become better,
to succeed, to keep reaching
to attain some unattainable nothing.

for me, it's everything i can't become.
things you want me to believe,
ideals you want me to hold,
the me you want me to be.
ITSTRANGLESME.

stop trying to change me.
that isn't love;
love doesn't perpetuate conditions.
love just is.



so either,
love me
or
let
me
go.


because i can't keep pretending
and i can't keep coming back
to what i'm just never going to be.

and if that's what needs to happen,
then i'm totally okay
with
g
o
o
d
b
y
e.

prove me wrong.

i've been feeling like nothing but a fool as of late.
silly me for thinking that stability could be just around the corner.
i thought i found it in you, but instead, i found nothing but troubled water.
i don't feel as if i asked for too much,
i didn't think those expectations were too high,
and right now i wish i didn't know any better.
silly me for thinking things between us were mutual.
didn't you know i left my heart in your hands?
maybe i pushed you away
but i guess a part of me wanted you to push back.

i know it's silly, especially since i've compiled
this mile-long list of reasons of why you're no good for me.
i know that i was right to walk away,
that maybe we were doomed from the start.
i thought i knew you,
but nothing seems familiar anymore.
silly me for thinking i could turn your heart right around.

i keep reminding myself that you won't be coming back,
that you won't be knocking down my door anytime soon
but too often, i catch myself, sitting on my stoop,
hoping you'll prove me wrong.
silly me for thinking you'd prove me wrong.

"I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited."
_sylvia plath.




i keep wondering where it is that i am, who it is that i am.
every answer leads me to just another question.
every road leads me to yet another u-turn.

i wish i was constantly moving.
because i can't keep from asking,
"are we there yet?"

simple as it should be.

i've felt a sinking feeling these past few days,
mostly surrounding my feelings of insecurity.
i've felt as though there is some measurement ladder to life
and my hardest efforts have not even come close to stacking up.
i constantly feel as though i'm trying to catch up,
trying to fit into the mold of the life i "should be" living.

but after a rather truth-filled message at church tonight,
i found myself reciting one word over and over again.

simplicity.

it's easy to get caught up in the details,
in the unchecked boxes on a to-do list.
but there it was tonight:
 
"this is the gift of life that i have given to you.
i know you think that you are not worthy,
but i gave this chance to you because i love you,
because i think you are worth it.
so why are you wasting it?"

it's as simple and true as that.
there is no catch, no reading between the lines, no fine print.
this is my life, my gift, my chance.

and life is too short to be anything but happy..

i'm sitting in a crowded coffee shop.
bill paying, resume updating, line editing,
facebook surfing, music downloading, cappuccino sipping.
all of these mundane acts to perpetuate the inevitable,
thrusting myself into this life, into this innocuous reality.
and the only thing i can think to myself is:
"someday, this will all be worth it.
someday, this will all make sense.
someday, someday, someday."

but a part of me hesitates.
why someday? why can't life be what i want it to be now?
it seems the last few years have gone by in a blink
and somehow, i feel like i missed a step. i took a wrong turn.
life isn't what i want it to be. i'm not where i should be.
i haven't finished college. i haven't even filled out my application yet.
i say i do these things. i say i'm motivated. but truthfully?
i'm feeling a bit stuck, feeling a little bit disjointed.
like this life is not my own, like the ground is not mine to walk upon.

i don't know if its this rainy weather
or the ending of yet another failed relationship,
but for some reason, today, i'm feeling rather... lost.

does anyone ever live the life they set out to live?
do we sacrifice our dreams to protect our days?
i cannot even begin to explain the things i have given up,
in order to attain financial security, emotional stability.


and i cannot help but be frightened over the person i might become
if i keep making excuses, if i fail to believe i can achieve the things i want.
so here it is. the root of the root and the beginning of the beginning.


these are the things that i refuse to give up:
publishing a book of fiction.
traveling europe.
someday living in europe.
a solitary road trip.
a road trip with friends.


these may seem small to you,
or maybe they are insignificant and hold no weight,
but to me, they are the world.
they are the cornerstones, the small puzzle pieces that add up to a big picture.
so here it stands. here i stand (or sit).
i refuse to give these up.

i refuse to give up my dreams
in order to protect my days.

i hope you never lose your childish innocence.

i remember a time not so long ago..
(okay, maybe a little bit longer than i'd like to think ago)
i was standing in the chapel of my k-8th grade baptist school,
in a sea of tacky red, vinyl cotton blend graduation gowns,
singing out leann womack's tacky "i hope you dance" hit song.
several minutes later, we each made a commitment to honor those lyrics:

"to never lose our sense of wonder,
get our fill but never lose our hunger,
to never take a single breath for granted,
to give faith a fighting chance
and even though love might be a mistake,
that is was one worth making."

as i was sitting in the car with maddison this morning,
in the middle of a deep, heart-wrenching conversation,
these lyrics flooded back into my head, like the waves crashing onto the sand.
i remember the conviction with which i spoke each syllable,
letting each one wash over me, sinking into my soul.

maddison and i both, on the same page, spoke about
the importance of childhood innocence.
each of us desperately long to protect our's:
to never lose the sense of wonderment,
the desire to discover, learn, embrace and be fascinated,
and at the bottom of all of this,
love: irrevocably, inconveniently and without hesitation.

and this is my hope for you, as well.
i hope that when you see a flower on the sidewalk,
you take a moment to notice it's beauty.
i hope that when you see a child laughing,
that you too laugh.
i hope that when it rains, you take a moment to dance in it.
i hope that when you see a stranger crying,
you feel no second-thought, no hesistation to comforting them.
i hope that when you wake up, turn on your pot of coffee,
brush your teeth, jump in the shower and make breakfast
that you are filled with the excitement and joy of the day.
i hope all of these things for you and so much more.

because, like i've said and i'll say again,
life really is a beautiful, gorgeous thing.

i hope you take time to notice.
and as always, love, t.

lather.
rinse.
repeat.

that's all my life has been comprised of lately.
go to work. sleep. eat. go back to work.
there's not much space for much else,
especially on this whole overnight schedule.

i am a total night person,
but for whatever reason, especially lately,
i find it so difficult to wake up in the morning.
unmotivated. disorganized.

it seems as though my life, at least for the moment,
is defined in large part by my need to pay bills.
and in order to do so, my blanks are filled in with
work, work, work and more work.

i've been looking into new jobs that will
hopefully turn over and provide a more
positive profit to frustration ratio.
because right now, starbucks just ain't cuttin it.
(it's time to get out.)

on the upswing though, i do finally feel more alive in portland.
a large part definitely due to friendships i am forming.
slowly but surely, i've found my home.


well, at least, some semblance of a temporary home.
unfortunately, i must go back to work.
until next time.
always, tiff.

I slept in til noon and then Sarah and I spent the day outside.
The trees' flowers were in full bloom, the petals filling the swirling air,
whilst the breeze danced in our hair and then sun melted on our skin.
We walked along the riverfront, people watching, picture taking.
And all of those stresses that have been piling up,
all of those emotions I've felt choking me lately, they suddenly disappeared.
I forgot how soothing the summer can be, how sweet the simple things are.

The truth is, life is hard, curve balls come our way all the time,
but if you take the time to notice, the smallest things can change your world.

For me, it's the scent of summer air, the windows rolled down,
smiles on stranger's faces, the cling and clank of dishes at a coffee shop,
even a corny 90s pop song that we sing at the top of our lungs.

"Can't you see I'm free. Can't you see I'm free. I am free. I'm not going back."
not going back by maddison williams, my lovely glorious friend.

So I challenge you to embrace life's little surprises.
Because it's in the smallest moment that you notice your life changing dramatically.
and as always, love, tiff.

flashbacks.

For the past three nights, I've had these rather intense dreams. sometimes i'm in some magical land made entirely of candy, sometimes i'm surrounded by nothing but blankets, pillows and long streams of fabrics - but in every single dream, i've been made to face a bridge i've burned somewhere along the way. oftentimes more often that not, it's been a boy i was involved with at one point or another. if it was me who wronged, i attempt an apology in dreamland and suddenly i find myself without breath, without speech and without recognition of the self. if it is them who has wronged, i find myself free-falling into a dark abyss.


it's generally at this point, i find myself abruptly awoken by the shaking of my own body- terrified, anxious and out of breath. it's as if my brain is trying to work out the missing gaps of the past; as if the act of settling things in dreamland could equalize things in my actual waking life; but as we all know, dreams are not reality. there are still questions left unanswered, hearts that remain broken and things left unsaid. a lot of blank spaces filled with the emptiness and longing. 


they stated it best in the movie the virgin suicides:
"no matter how we tried to put the pieces back together, gaps remained. like countries we couldn't name."


but i can't help but wonder what life might be like if i ever perchance ran into these "bridges burnt" -- if maybe one day, we might be able to reach a place of healing, of forgiveness. i guess a part of me will always be trying to solve the unsolveable, answer the unanswerable -- i am constantly trying to fit the pieces together.

This may sound a bit new age of me, but after a long talk with Bethany last night, I'm pretty much okay with sounding a bit new-agey. We were each of us talking about how we are generally optimistic, happy people. The world is at our fingertips, so to speak. We've got jobs that pay our bills, roofs over our heads, food in our bellies and friends to call upon for company or sympathy. When you look at the big picture, we've each got it made.

And that for us, is enough.

Now granted, things aren't perfect and each of us struggle with lots of extraneous factors - but on the whole, we find ourselves generally pretty content with the lives we lead. The root cause, we both noticed had one underlying factor: happiness is a choice. You can choose to be happy or you can choose to be sad. Yes, sometimes over-the-top situations force sadness (ie, death/loss) but at the end of the day, you choose to curl up into bed and let those negative emotions rule over you. Don't get me wrong, it's perfectly normal to grieve a loss and be sad and take time for yourself. It is of the utmost importance to feel your feelings, but believe me when I state that there is a definite point in which the feelings you feel begin to overtake you and your capacity to be happy.

Take today for example.
It is a gloomy Portland day. I am running on five hours of sleep and am quite exhausted mentally. I have several extraneous stressors in my life. Then when I go grocery shopping, I fell into a mud puddle. One of my grocery bags ripped on the way home and at that exact moment, it began to rain furiously. I was soaked, head to toe. Now for all intents and purposes, today has made me its bitch and is determined to get me down -- but my spirit remains intact.

The simple fact: happiness is a choice. And instead of letting my stressors and pains grab hold of me, I have chosen instead to embrace the crap and laugh. I put on some happy music, ate a yummy cookie and now the world is right again. Yes, sometimes it's nice to curl up in bed, hide under the blankets and take a nap - I am all about the loveliness and comfort of a nap - but at some point, you've got to wake up, go for a run and kick the crap out of life and it's stressors.

Because this is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time. ;)

Every time a nighttime breeze sweeps through the 4:45am Portland air, I find myself like a little kid on Christmas: filled with excitement, anxiousness and the belief in the possibilities. I take deep breaths, letting the cool air overtake me, the tingle reaching its swirling point down in my toes. Then I exhale out all of my insecurities and anxieties, letting go of all the things that haunt me.

I remember feeling less secure three years ago. I remember being lost in my swarm of blankets, pillows, doubts and longings; the emptiness blossomed in my inability to navigate lonely seas. I felt as though I was an island. I even recall telling a good friend that I didn't believe "I had any start up left in me". I look back on that past Tiffany and wonder how differently I might have turned out had I not been surrounded by such an amazing gaggle of friends.

And now, hearing that phrase stream over and over in my head once again, I realize the start-up power I thought I had once lost forever is now overwhelming me. I am filled up to the brim in excitement for the future, for the road that lies ahead. I find myself itching to experience more than what is within my grasp. I want to truly feel the expanse of the land beneath my feet and I want to drink in more of its wild air. Portland is just the beginning.

Because though I've lost my way from time to time,
I am constantly reminded that I truly am: in love with the entire world.


I hope you never lose your sense of adventure,
your longing for passion or your desire to explore the open roads.
And as always, love, tiff.

i am sitting here at panera, with my cup filled with diet pepsi and lemon slices within my grasp. a cold breeze surrounds me and i'm waiting for my newest youtube video to upload; the topic: sex industry workers. "mercy me" by london sings on in the background. 


"mercy me. how can this be? 
i let you down. you let me go.
yeah, you let me go."

i've been wondering a lot about my role in this world, wondering what it is that i have to bring to this table of life. my writing, my voice, my opinion, my inhibition and my confidence - these are strengths of mine, components of myself that i have developed over time. when i think about the minor success of my youtube channel, the interaction of people across the seas and on different continents - i am inspired. there is a connectivity that the internet brings us that no other form of communication has even touched. i want to do more. i am thinking about starting up a "portland speaks!" segment which would incorporate the voices of people in and around the portland metro area. i am going to take the issues i am passionate about, issues that are in current media and approach people about their own opinions regarding the particular topic. 


i've been thinking about this series for a long time and have hesitated on it for awhile, mostly in part due to my own shyness, but a part of me feels a strong urge to involve people into my channel. i want to report on the issues, not just offer up my own half-hearted opinions. i am quite excited to see where it leads and the things that will unfold with it's birth. 


stay tuned to my channel for more videos and the new series!
http://www.youtube.com/user/tiffstatic

and as always, love, t. 

 

a white blank page and a swelling rage.
"white blank page" by mumford and sons. 


no line in a song has better described the exact chasm i've found myself in these last few days. i have this bright future ahead of me. a new city to explore, friendships to be made and dreams to chase - and yet. i was standing in my apartment at 4am the other night, in a white wife-beater tank top, my favorite pair of royal blue toned boy short underwear, grasping a cup of vanilla rooibos tea. i stood looking out at the world passing by my window and all of a sudden, i became filled with anxiety, with the pressure of the road ahead. 


it seems these days i am left with nothing but questions and answers that eventually lead to more questions. it's as if chaos is the method and nothing will ever steady itself. every time i feel as though i have a handle on it, something blows up in my face. friendships lost, hearts broken, parents divorcing, lies being told, bridges being burned. 


i'm standing completely still but the world is spinning faster and faster. life keeps moving and doesn't stop for anyone, of this fact i am aware -- but couldn't it slow down for just a moment?


i need to find my footing.

As many of you know, my birthday is right around the weekend corner: Sunday, February 27^th. The entire philosophy behind February seems to hold so much meaning in my life. It was named after the Latin word februum, which means purification. My explanation of choice hails from the Finnish version, whereby February is helmikuu, the month of the pearl. This idea spawns from the common deceptive February weather. I myself oftentimes forget that after January, where I assume winter is at it’s chilliest, that February holds it’s own place card. February taunts us with the sun of springtime, but still retains the icy wind that chills to the bone. The month of the pearl idea originates from this exact occurrence: whereby in the sun, the snow melts on the tree branches, forming droplets. As those droplets re-freeze in the icy cold wind, they form pearls of ice. It’s gorgeous imagery at its finest. The ideal pearl is round and smooth, but many other shapes occur – kind of like with people. There is an ideal, but there is so much beauty outside of the cookie-cutter.

But as we continue the onion of complexity that is the month of February, I find myself intricately wound within it. Generally it is mispronounced because FebRuaRy has the dissimilation effect of two R’s so closely put together. And if nothing else, I am a lover of language and insofar find the lack of attention paid to this word one of my biggest pet peeves. It is the month to celebrate Black History and it is also full of important dates. We’re all aware of the big ones: Valentine’s Day, Groundhog’s Day and President’s Day – but there are so many more. The Chinese New Year. Abraham Lincoln’s birthday. George Washington’s birthday. Liberation Day in Kuwait. Dominican Republic’s Independence Day. And those are just a few. It is also the shortest month of the year and every fourth year is a leap year and includes long-forgotten February 29^th. There is also a bunch of symbolism and ideology behind the month of February. The birthstone is the amethyst, which signifies piety, humility, spiritual wisdom and sincerity.

Although I may be hesitant and unwilling to accept the idea that the month I was born in thoroughly dictates my personality, I am however, willing to state that the month of February and I are intertwined. For the better or the worse, I have learned so much about myself as of late. And to be honest, even though I’ve been going through a rough, lonely phase as of late, I am falling in love with this whole experience of life. The pain, the frustration, the happiness that sneaks up on you – it’s all a part of the mystery and the fun. I truly am in love with the whole world. :)

valentine's day thoughts.

My first one was spent, caught off-guard by a guy blasting Deep Blue Something’s “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” from his car speakers in the school parking lot. One year it was that same guy at the bottom of my staircase, holding a simple rose accompanied by his simple, sweet smile; a reminder that good things do,  in fact, last. The following year was filled with the soundless noises that accompany a heartbreaking phone call. I think the world was trying to remind me to enjoy every last second, because who knows when it would all be gone. There was the one I spent with my closest girlfriends, guzzling cheap wine, modeling ridiculous costumes and quoting Disney movies. A few years later, it was alongside the man I wanted to spend my life with. He fit the mold perfectly, with a stuffed puppy and a bouquet of flowers in one arm and in the other he gripped a list of reasons why he couldn’t wait to spend his life with me. Last year, it was a candle-lit dinner and a box of handmade vegan truffles – a reminder that romance is not dead, that chivalry is still alive and well. And this year, it’s spent on my own, celebrating a promotion with a glass of vanilla tea and a soak in a hot bath. I’ve had all sorts of Valentine’s days. Some I’ve been single for, some I’ve been lucky enough to share with that special someone. Some have been filled with total happiness and some have been filled with unimaginable pain.  I’ve had the ability to experience it all.

And now, sitting back, wondering about where it’s all gotten me – I can’t help but ponder about how quickly a year can completely change a life. Hearts can be broken. Friendships can be made. Promises can be forgiven and wars can be started. Things are constantly changing, constantly evolving. As am I.

Last year, I thought I was stuck living a life I didn’t have any say in whatsoever. I was a slave to the job, to the expectations of those around me. Nothing felt like my own. I felt like I was losing my voice. And now, here I am, breathing deep, embracing an entirely new life. I am making my own decisions, writing a book and accepting a promotion. Living my life, on my own terms. A dream fully realized came true. And for me, that is the best valentine’s day present to date. Because nothing is more romantic, more exciting or more long-lasting, than the love you have for – YOURSELF ;)

choice.
[ch ois] noun
an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities.

my life has been all about choices lately.
trying to make the decision between left or right,
up or down, around or over.

there have been choices defined by the emotional and the mechanical.
things i needed to weigh heavily on and things that were more fly by the moment.
but as i write this particular entry, i can't help but wonder if
almost all of our choices are heavier than they seem to be.

yes, some of our choices are banal and will have no effect on our lives.
but others might set into motion a set of events that define, change and develop us.

a recent job opportunity is one such choice.
i have accepted the promotion to shift supervisor at starbucks.
it will open up the doors to more hours and more money
and logistically, at this time, i feel this is the best move for me.
i am excited to see where this will lead.

and then another decision, of the more emotional nature.

i won't go into specifics, let's just say that choices were made.
things happened. some of them good, some of them bad.
and now it has led me to another choice;
to leave it all behind and move on.

sometimes you make decisions without knowing what is right,
you just take it on faith, blindly hoping that things will pan out.
i may not know all of the answers and maybe i've chosen wrong,
but all of it will lead me to a life i want to live.

because while i may not know everything,
i do know myself and the kind of person i want to be.
and for right now, that's all i need to know.

i hope things are going well for you.
and as always, love, t.

A little update; because I've missed just talking to you.

So as many of you know, I've been hard at work, writing my second novel. Originally it started as an idea about the life of a schizophrenic serial killer, wondering about the paradoxes that sort of paramount might dredge up. I have always had a fascination with the morbid, or psychologically disturbing. So the idea of creating up my own serial killer seemed to be a logical progression. However, somewhere in attempting to write said story, I got lost in the creation process. Feeling the weight of insurmountable writer's block, I decided to take a break and explore other stories.

That's where the beginnings of my MAX Musings book came about. I began writing in a smaller, bound journal I found whilst thrift shopping in downtown Portland. Inspired by all of the curious people around me, I felt their stories, in conjunction with my own, needed to be told. And so a new idea was born. MAX Musings is a book comprised of entirely real-life events and so, in order to dissuade any fictional intricacies I might be tempted to bore into it, it has been a slow writing process. I carry my small bound journal with me at all times, jot down stories I feel might be relevant and then edit them later that same night. However, the creative side of my brain is always furiously at work, whether I am aware of it or not.

And so, armed with a new project, I was motivated to take up new ground on existing projects. I fell in love with my serial killer story all over again, but this time, in a new light. Instead of writing it from the actual serial killer's perspective, I decided to trek new ground -- telling the story from his wife's perspective. There have been so many books derived of the serial killers themselves, but so few literature exists in the realm of the people they are surrounded by. I wanted to breakdown the truths of a relationship in a way people could relate to, but still keep an element of elusiveness to it. And so, here I find myself - sitting in coffee shops, surrounded by six cups of coffee, a pack of cigarette, furiously typing away on my pink covered Macbook.

This breath of fresh air in the writer's realm has inspired new direction into my own life. It has awakened and reminded me of my passion for writing, for creating and for dreaming. I feel the best I have ever felt and have loved sharing this journey with each of you. I hope to continue writing for as long as my brain can stand it.

Thank you to everyone for your love and support.
and as always, love, tiff.

MAX Musings.
January 21st, 2011 - "L'amore e cieco."

On the way home from a particularly rough day at work, I was trying to keep myself from dozing off on the MAX. Across from me were two girls that couldn't have been much older than eighteen. All dressed up on a Friday night with nowhere to go. One mentioned calling her ex-boyfriend to see what he was up to. Apparently he was the love of her life and she didn't want to let him idly slip through her fingers, whilst "whore bags like Jessica were looking to snatch him up". I tried to sequester my giggles with a fake cough. They glanced over in my direction and I'm sure some sort of awkward moment came to fruition, but thankfully it was quickly dismissed and they went back to their conversation. "He's the best thing that has ever happened to me. Sure, there's drama there, but man, he makes me weak at the knees. I love him." I couldn't help but hold in yet another giggle. "You're only eighteen. What do you know about love?" I silently mused. But no sooner than that thought came to me, did I question my own knowledge of love and it's intricacies. One almost marriage. One ex-boyfriend that I was currently in a fight with. One current overly complicated fling. And one new stranger that was interested in me. My own relationship with love was a tangled web of distress that left me with a hundred questions and absolutely zero answers. So, who was I to judge these girls? Maybe it really was true love between her and her ex-boyfriend. Maybe they really were soul mates. Or maybe it was just a teenage excuse to get laid. Who knows? Certainly I was in position to make comments or pass judgments. The truth is that no one ever really knows about love. Even when you're in it, you're constantly wondering if you really are or if it's all in your head; if it's the real thing or just some elaborate fantasy you've carefully constructed. I started thinking about the fine line between love and lust. The real thing versus the illusion; how to distinguish what your heart is projecting versus what is really in front of you. "L'amore e cieco." Love is blind. It's true. Love makes fools of all of us. It makes us hold radios over our heads, throw rocks at windows, stay up all night texting when we have to work early in the morning, karaoke awful 80's songs, all of these things. It lifts us up to the sky and sometimes, drops us to the bottom of the ocean. Love is messy, it's tricky and complicated. You'll inevitably spend nights alone, pacing back and forth, wondering if she or he really likes you. You'll talk endlessly about them to your friends, perking up any time someone mentions their name. You'll look at your phone a hundred times, willing them to call. And you'll look like a fool doing all of these things. But maybe all you can do when you find the person that sends your heart all a'flutter is to simply just hold on and try to make the ride last as long as possible, remembering to cherish every moment. Maybe that person might break your heart, but maybe, just maybe they'll be the one you spend your life with. Love is like a book with the ending ripped out. You never know how the story ends, but let's be honest, that's part of the excitement. ;)

Excerpt from MAX Musings.

December 29, 2010
"i know, riiiight?"

i had just left work and as i was walking up to the blue line, i called my friend mikel for his address. i was about to ship off his christmas present but realized i had the wrong one. as per the usual, i had missed the first blue line and was forced to wait for the next one. mikel and i chatted on, killing the wait time. overseeing a couple in an argument, i made a comment about my own relationship fears. mikel then interjected and expressed his opinions on my fear of relationships in general, not just those romantically-entangled. he was worried that i had begun to build up a wall so high that barely anyone would be able to break it down. stunned by his honesty, i sat down on the nearest bench and began to explain my side. "i've been hurt so many times, walked all over so many times, isn't it only natural to build up a wall?" the girl who had also been sitting on the bench perked up and scooted closer to me. i figured she needed to stretch her legs or readjust her position, so i continued, "part of me just expects people to screw me over and if they don't initially, it seems to be only a matter of time before they do." at this point, the girl that had been scooting closer and closer to me, finally broke down, put her hand on mine and as i looked up, her smooth caramel eyes met mine and she hollered out, "girrrrl, i know, riiight?!" we shared a quick laugh and then she went on, "these people be hatin' all the time, so it's instinct to self-protect, especially when it comes to them boys. best idea is to use 'em, then lose 'em." it must have been the honesty in my eyes or the emptiness in my smirk, because then she automatically knew. "i know girl. when you fall for someone, you give them your whole heart. the ones that mean the most, you can't just throw them away." i smirked and gave out a sigh. "it's hard being an optimist in a world that's trying so hard to turn me into a pessimist. people are constantly proving that there isn't much good left out there, so yeah i've built up walls. like you said, gotta self-protect." mikel snickered at both of us, upset that we would even question other people's motives. the eternal realist in him stated, "there are people out there that are worth it, but you'll miss out on them if you're stuck behind your own fears." the girl next to me overheard mikel's "pearls of wisdom" then rolled her eyes and said that it was tiring wading through all the bullshit to find the good eggs. to which i said a resounding, "i hear that sistaaa." she laughed, half at me, half with me and said, "girl, you're so white!" then the long-awaited blue line met us at the station and we went our separate ways. i hung up with mikel, afraid i'd lose cell phone reception on the commute. while i was staring out at rainy ol' portland, a few women approached me, apologized for eave's dropping on the previous conversation and agreed with what was said. "it is natural to be on the defensive.." then there were several men in the next seats over that joined the conversation. the men seemed to take the same stance mikel did: "give it time, there are good people out there. you've just got to be open to these sorts of things." the women did not agree. it seems to me that apparently as women after a certain number of failed relationships, we're bound to close off, shut down and forget about even trying. we build up walls and commit yourself to the ways of self-preservation. we learn to depend on ourselves and ourselves alone. and it's there, in that spacious emptiness, where the original optimism used to reside, that's where doubt, pain and pessimism begin to flourish. as we were nearing the 82nd street stop, our heated debate simmered somewhat and i was left there to sit by my lonesome. as i turned my attention back to the window, one final woman sat down next to me. after taking in a few deep breaths, she somberly said, "you know, maybe i was too quick to judge back there.. it's true, i've been hurt in irreversible ways, but i wouldn't call myself a pessimist. sure, i can get on the defensive, but it's easy to shut down once you've been hurt. it's harder to keep believing." and with that, she seemed to have released some of her own pain. as she was about to step off the MAX line, she looked back at me and said, "i hope one day you'll open up again, because love really is worth it." then the doors closed and the MAX continued on its way to the 60th stop, where i was getting off. the rest of the ride, i couldn't help but think of my own inner pessimist. maybe i do shut down in fear, maybe in doing so, i end up taking the easy route. maybe we are all of us afraid to get hurt, but then, maybe that woman was onto something. maybe if we always stay clammed up, we could miss out on something truly great. who knows? lightning could strike.

hope you guys enjoyed
and stay tuned for more!
love always, t.

rewrite
[r-rt] verb.
1. to write again, especially in a different or improved form; revise.




my life has been a process of writing, rewriting, scratching out lines, filling in blanks, rewriting it again, crinkling the paper, throwing it in the trash and then going back to retrieve it, just to edit it all over again. i think, double think, triple think everything, especially when it comes to matters of my heart. 

i've had several previous failed relationships that left me broken, without an instruction manual telling me how to go about reassembling the broken pieces. for so long, i left myself to marinate in that pain, in that sorrow. it's in that space where my doubt and frustration began to flourish and so brick by brick, i began to build a wall so thick around my heart that even those closest to me couldn't break it down. i continuously taught myself to think with my brain and to just ignore my heart, because yes life is scary alone but a broken heart was scarier. 


it wasn't until recently that i realized just how thick that wall actually is. i will say this of time spent alone, you have a lot of time to be alone (and think). it's in these quiet moments, you can end up revealing yourself to yourself. the good, the bad and the downright painful. i have come face to face with some of my own personal demons, things i never wanted to face head-to-head. but now having come out of those battles alive, i have gained a full-circle knowledge of my view on relationships, of trusting people, letting people in and that pesky thing called love -- and i can confidently and proudly say, i am beginning to rewrite my stance on matters of the heart.


yes, my ability to trust others is easier said than done and yes, i am deathly afraid of having my heart broken yet again - but, and maybe this makes me a bit of a hopeless romantic, but i believe in the beauty of a warm embrace, the thrill of kisses, the mystery of a secret glances across the room and all of the stomach-flipping, heart-throbbing, fingernail-biting excitement. i have noticed one undeniable truth: the moments i've held onto the longest time, the moments i've felt most alive and felt the happiest are moments where i've thrown caution to the wind, put myself out on a limb and ignored my head and listened to my heart.


it knows me better than i know myself. 

ps, i listened to: "ready to love again" by lady antebellum whilst writing this post. 
it's lovely and i hope it inspires you to break down some walls of your own. 
as always, love, t.

perfectionist
[per-fek-shuh-nist] noun.
1. a person who adheres to or believes in perfectionism.
2. a person who demands perfect of himself, herself or others.
adjective.
1. of, pertaining to or distinguished by perfection or perfectionism.


it's become ever so clear to me as of late, my extreme fear of failure, of disappointment. i'm not so much afraid of letting other people down. i already am fully aware i will never be the daughter my parents want me to be. i will never be the girl the world is trying to make me into. of these facts, i am fully aware and at peace with. don't get me wrong, a part of me strives to meet other's expectations, but not meeting them doesn't send me hurling into some sort of existential crisis. but what keeps me up at night, what literally holds me full of anxiety with is not meeting my own personal standards. i'm terrified of disappointing myself. this may seem like a normal problem. everyone sets personal goals, things they wish to achieve and everyone is afraid of not meeting said goals. this in turn they define as a failure. and then there are some, so plagued by the anxiety of failing, we stand on the sidelines instead of playing in the game. i have found myself on several occasions, weighing the options at such great length, listing every pro and con that i find myself missing out.

i guess the biggest arena of potential failure right now involves this whole concept of going back to school. i play it over and over again in my head. i am a perfectionist, fact. going back to school should be only second nature to me and yet, here i am, deferring another quarter. seems silly, right? yes, especially if you actually know me. i am the sort of kid that loves going to school. i love office supplies. i love back to school shopping. i love note taking. i love learning. these are all well-known truths about tiffany and yet. and yet. and yet. i keep making excuses not to go back because the truth is: i'm afraid. i'm afraid of failing at the one thing i feel i know how to do. i'm afraid some teacher is going to put me in my place. i'm afraid that my dream of writing until my dying day will be shot down by some failing grade. i'm deathly afraid of failing grades, of not being able to get a handle on things. so here i am, deferring yet another quarter. like i said, sitting on the sidelines.

but if there's anything i've learned in life, it's that: the time for hesitation is through. i can keep making excuses until i'm blue in the face, but if i'm continuously making excuses, i will end up eighty years old, wondering where my life went. i refuse to sit here (or there) and wonder what if.

so, hellooooo summer quarter.
time to put up or shut up, tiffany.

connect
[kə-nekt] verb.
1. to become joined.
2. to have or establish rapport.




an excerpt from my MAX Musings Book.
"December 21st and 22nd, 2010 - Mini Skirts Are Better Than Pants"
Just leaving work, I was walking up 102nd toward the MAX stop when a sprightly older gentleman asked me how on earth i could be texting on my cell phone and not be wearing gloves in the unforgiving 30 (degrees farenheit) weather. I shrugged it off, blaming my thick Chicago skin. "30 in December in Chicago- that's a heat wave!" We shared a giggle and then I noticed he was clad in shorts, a far colder option when compared to glove-less state. He noticed my downward gesture, "I just finished working out so I'm a bit warm right now anways." I smiled and made note that things are not always as they seem. To which he said, rather flamboyantly, "Oooh, girlfriend! Don't I know it, I have to wear pants in December because it's too cold for mini skirts!" Never being one to judge someone on their lifestyle choices, I simply smiled, "I hear that sister. Tights don't keep a girl warm in 30degree weather!" It was at that moment, the walk signal appeared and we were off in different directions, but not before sharing a hearty laugh and a series of conspicuous winking. I decided to cherish the moment in the "much needed laugh" category in the filing cabinet of my mind. I continued on my way home, thinking I'd never see that jolly ol' man again.


But then came the following morning. Being that this was the first Christmas since my favorite oma (grandma in german) passed away, I knew this particular trip home was going to be a rough one. On the day of my departing flight, I kindly asked Sarah to drive me to the 60th Avenue MAX station so I wouldn't have to lug my thirty pound suitcase behind me for a half mile. She cheerfully obliged, reminding me the two Australian couch surfers that had been staying with us needed to be dropped off there as well. Upon reaching the MAX station, we said our goodbyes to Sarah and Kiri, Tess and I headed down toward the rails. Just as we hit the first stair, that same sprightly old man appeared in my peripheral and started telling Tess her outfit was inappropriate for such weather. "Girlfriend, it's too chilly out here to be wearing that tiny coat with just leggings and a dress on. That's why I can't wear my mini skirts! Winter is just too damn cold!" He then met my eyes, gave me the biggest bear hug I'd ever had thus far and excitedly exclaimed, "Oooh You're the girl from 102nd yesterday! How have the last 12 hours been for you? Snuggle up close to a sexy man last night, because that's what I did! Ooh, look at your fierce self with a bright pink suitcase, where are you going?!" I regaled him with my Chicago Christmas plans, about how I needed to go home, see my family. There must have been a somberness in my tone because immediately picking up on it, he said, "Seems to me like this one won't be the same as last year's. You okay little girl?" I held back a few tears that were forming in my eyes and being the intuitive man he was, he quickly changed the subject to his love of all things Chicago. He talked about his fascination with the Bears, with Michigan Avenue shopping, with the gorgeous skyline and then before we knew it, his MAX line appeared and he had to leave. He gave me another big bear hug and told me to have a very merry holiday. Kiri and Tess stood in awe, he hadn't stopped talking, not once. They were a bit put off by his sheer friendliness but I found it comforting. Five minutes later, I found myself alone on the Red Line MAX en route to the Portland Airport. On the way, I started thinking about the inevitable and surprising connectivity of life. Here was this man, someone I thought I'd never see again, right there in front of me not ten minutes ago. We barely shared more than five minutes of conversation the previous day and yet he greeted me with the enthusiasm you reserve for an old-time friend. Then there were Tess and Kiri, who had only spent three days with Sarah and I, but there we were, making plans to visit each other in the future. And then it hit me: this is what life is about. Making connection. Reaching out to those around you, even if they're strangers. To remind us all: we are not alone. And sometimes, when you least expect it, life surprises you and some of those strangers turn into friends, lovers, family. It's the stringing of those small connections that make up a life, make up your story. Make up my story.