I’ve been struggling a lot with choices lately. They scare the shit out of me to be honest. I don’t believe we’re predestined. I think we get to make our own decisions. So there’s a great potential to make amazing, wonderful decisions but also really awful ones – choices that have the potential to haunt us for the rest of our lives. So how do we make sure it’s the right one?

People often say to be true to yourself. I get that, but what happens when both options seem true? No one wants to do something and wonder for the rest of their time on this pretty little planet if they made the wrong one. I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t concerned with missing out on something. Literally, anything. I wanted to be involved and in the middle of it – whether it was what was happening in my personal life, what was going on with projects at work or even getting involved in something I have little to no knowledge about. It didn’t really matter, if I was interested, I wanted in on it.

This brings me to the second part of my argument about choice. Why do we have to make them? This is a silly question, and I understand that – but I want everything. I want it all. And it frustrates me when people tell me I can’t have it all. Because if I work hard and am a good person and put as much love out into the world as I possibly can, why doesn’t that mean everything works out in a pleasing way? I wonder if somewhere along the way I made things more complicated than they need to – my list of things I need is actually pretty short, but I want absolutely all of them. I say that knowing full well that I probably don’t have everything. I know for a fact that I don’t. But I still want to travel and see things and do things and wander about, and make dumb decisions in the heat of the moment and spend too much time thinking about others. I want to let some things go easily and obsess over others. There’s a moment in every single day where each of these options seems like the right one for me tomorrow.



I wonder if we’re all just a little confused about this idea of soulmates. We spend all of this time running around trying to find one person who’s responsible for all these pieces – for keeping us grounded, for inspiring our passions, for making us smile, for encouraging us to cry, for making us think, for being comfortable letting us just be, for loving us and understanding when we just need someone to listen – among other things. They’re supposed to be genuine, exciting, funny and serious, and know exactly when to be all of these things. But maybe that one person doesn’t exist. Maybe our soulmates are scattered about – each piece housed in another person that makes up our life.

I wonder if maybe we find someone we can get along with then have other people fill in the empty spaces. Maybe some people have fewer empty spaces.

Maybe this is what I’m telling myself because it’s easier than thinking I might be looking in the wrong places.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe this idea of soulmates is misguided and is actually just settling for someone who fills in a few of those empty spaces instead of just one. I wonder if a little bit of life is knowing how to settle a little bit, and why I don’t know how. I don’t know how to not care when someone isn’t everything.

Maybe that’s also while I spend so much time alone.

Maybe we’ll meet someday in the middle of the street…

“…but I know I’ll never see you again.

The Santa Ana’s blowing in the lullaby at dawn, same one I’ve been listening to all night,

I’ll wake up in them same place tomorrow and you’ll be gone, and there won’t even be a fight.

There are train lines, there are bus rides, that will take you back and forth from bad to better lives

There are love songs, there are desperate lies,

But none of those things will keep you here, ’cause none of these things will make you love me.”

This afternoon, I drove down the highway going 80 with the window down and a ballad blaring. My soul felt full. The 40-degree air whipped through my hair, a smile appeared and my heart overflowed. I couldn’t imagine a moment that felt more perfect.

Life couldn’t get any better, if just for that small moment where everything made sense. Mostly because it didn’t. It rarely does, and I guess that’s why I find it so beautiful. It might’ve been the song. It’s beautiful.You can buy it here. It’s called “None of These Things.” It might just be because life is good lately. I feel loved, wanted, appreciated and in some cases, needed. Confused by it all and what I mean to most everyone, but happy to be confused. Excited to know what’s on the horizon, if only because I have no idea what’s up next.

I hope everyone has something that makes them feel that way. For me, it’s words and the way they sometimes sound together – the way they can rip into me and also create so much joy in the exact same moment. The way they can remind me of really awful times and also make me thankful they’re over. The way they can make me miss, to the very core of my being, something I don’t have.

And I hope everyone has something that makes them feel so incredibly alive like I did. It’s a shame  not to notice it.


Sundays are always a little rough. Besides the obvious assumption that I’m discussing hangovers, they’re just hard. Sundays are full of emotions, and not usually the fun kind. The introspective kind. The ones I ignore all week until Sunday when I sleep in late and never want to get out of bed. So I think. And I wonder what I’m doing. If things will ever work out. If life will ever make sense the way I want it to. If I’ll ever shake this feeling in the pit of my stomach. The one I forget exists – even momentarily – during the week. The one that says things won’t work out. And it’s all my fault. Because I’m not good at this. At people. At knowing them, at knowing myself.

So I plan. I plan my escape plan. And I wonder when the next time I’ll run will be. Because that’s what I’m good at.

I’m still learning how to bend.

The end of 2013 was pretty magical for me. I felt an amazing sense of joy and hope – along with confusion, fear and probably a little bit of pain. Mostly hope, though.

I’m not sure what I expect out of 2014 at this point. Actually, I have a few expectations. I don’t really know they’ll work together yet, but I’m also trying not to plan as much this year. Planning is my specialty. It’s my happy place. It’s what makes me calm. But I’m trying to back off. To let go. To love the moment for what it is and not what it could be – or will be soon. Just for what it is. I suppose I’ll extend that to people, as well – I want to love people more for exactly who they are. Not who they are to me or what I’ve decided they are, but who they innately are. Their very core. Because that’s what everyone deserves – lots of love for no reason other than they are another soul walking this earth who’s trying to make the best of what they have in front of them. I think that’s what I’ll probably work on the most.

I don’t know if I have any resolutions, or maybe I have too many. I want to be in the moment. I want to worry less. I want to love more. I want to follow my heart. I want to help you follow yours. I want to be proud of the person I am. I want to cry just a little more. I hope for lots of laughter. I hope for more learning moments. I hope for more teaching moments. I hope for more moments where everything makes perfect sense, if only because it so beautifully doesn’t. I pray for peace in my heart. I pray for happiness. For me. For you. For those people I couldn’t make it through a single day without. Most of all, I pray the good moments outshine the bad. I pray we all look back on this year and rejoice because it was so beautiful.

That’s probably asking for a lot, but nothing ever happened with low expectations.

I hope we all do this – and I want to show off my new tattoo. In the words of Kacey Musgraves, follow your arrow and such.