On my mind, and now on my blog.

1. "Sorry." What is that? Is it really an apology? I think its actually a word that you use to cover yourself. It's a cop-out. In other words, its your signature move.

2. When did the boys stop becoming men and start becoming guys?? MAN UP.

3. I will no longer make up excuses for where I am right now. I'm here. God put me here. If it's good enough for him, it's absolutely good enough or me. And I think it should be good enough for you too.

4. "Nothing will behave in the logical way you have come to expect. You will understand things only with your heart, and that can be a little frightening. For a long time, the journey will seem like a Dark Night, but then, any search is an act of faith."

Dennis inspires me.

I know this man named Dennis and I kind of think he is the coolest guy ever. Dennis is a middle aged man in my nursing class. I learned today, after attending class with him for at least six months, that he never even wanted to be a nurse. He is married to the love of his life, has a son, and is a pilot for the military. Unlike most of us, Dennis has already built his life. His goals and dreams were in the works already, and have nothing to do with Beth-El or hospitals or white uniforms or stethoscopes. No, being a nurse was not his dream, but the dream of his best friend. When Dennis's best friend, also in the military, died in combat, Dennis took this endeavor upon himself as a way to honor his friend.

Wow. Talk about love and loyalty. I cannot ever imagine putting myself through something as horrible and expensive and competitive as nursing school for the soul purpose of honoring my friends memory. I'd like to think that I'm just as loyal of a friend though, maybe. And that I have loyal friends like this. There are a few girls that share a permanent mark on their body that match mine and few other girls besides that I'd do anything for, and vis versa, I think.

And Dennis is going to go back to being a pilot in two years when he graduates. Dang.

Work in Progress

My life seems to be one big experiment of trial and error. I either try and succeed, and move on to try something new, or I try, fail, revise, and try again.

Today, I feel like I had more errors than I’ve had in a long time. I don’t really know how to try again right now, so I’m giving up for an hour or two.

My sister always tells me that I can start my day over at any time, and as many times as I need to. I plan on starting my day over at 2:00pm MT.

I always tell my sister that its okay to not feel mature enough to be your age. Because nobody tells you that when you’re twenty years old, you are really 20 and 19 and 18 and 17 and 16 and 15 and 14 and so on. Right now the 20 year old part of me is beating myself up a little bit, but the 16 year old part of me feels like I deserve a break, and maybe to cry a little bit.

Sometimes I don’t think that I’m brave at all, maybe just a little too accepting of my own failures.

I guess we shall see in two years time

Today in school, we learned about the health of a very important organ: the skin. My professor told me that one of the reasons that the skin is such a vital organ is that it feels everything. Everything from pleasure to pain, and warmth to cold.

Funny, because I always thought that my organ that does that is my heart.

... and therein lies the reason I will always struggle with this sterile, rigid, detached environment that is necessary for my education

... and therein also lies the reason that I think I will be a good nurse one day

The Adam Gang Quartet

Last night I saw and heard one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever encountered.

My friend, Adam, has a jazz quartet. He is so very talented. Adam is the kind of kid that lives each and every moment with his whole entire heart. When I was seventeen, Adam taught me to meditate at the Grand Canyon. We climbed over the fence that says “Do Not Cross” and down below the cliff into this alcove created by the canyon, because it was raining and also because it had a perfect view of the canyon. Then, he and I and our friends Amy and Lauren meditated and prayed. This is just the type of person he is.

Last night Adam had a gig that I went to and I saw him play his tenor saxophone with so much soul it almost made me want to cry. With eyes closed tight and moving with the music and crinkling up his forehead with concentration. He loved the music he was playing, and the music was his. It was in him and through him and part of him. I wish I had that much passion and love for anything in this life. I remembered why I love jazz music so much—because jazz musicians love the music they make more than anything. It’s almost impossible to not love something a little bit when you see how and why someone else loves it entirely.

Beautiful.

As a side note, I miss music so much today. I miss performing. It’s something about being a small part of something really spectacular. Something that makes people happy. Something you have to work towards. But most good things in life are like that, and I know there are more good things in my life now and to come. Stay tuned.

Swimming

Kim and I go swimming Thursdays.

Unlike Kate Nash, we’re not that good at it. However, LIKE Kate Nash, I do think about numbers and count the laps when I swim. All sorts of numbers. I think about how the pool gradually goes from 5 feet to 10 feet. I count the ceiling tiles when I do the back stroke, too. But I also think about how certain numbers feel different than they really are. Like how two sometimes feel like one. And when you subtract 1 from 2, the answer is 1 but it feels like a half. Because it belongs with the other 1 that it lost, and it should be called "two". I think some very strange things sometimes.

However, mostly I count or think nothing at all, and it clears my head in such a refreshing way. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday my head is so full and busy and noisy. Something about the water all over my skin and my head submerged underwater where all I can hear is the swishing and splashing of the other swimmers, just purges my mind of all the messiness.

And there I am in the raw, with my hair a mess and no make up on and I don’t care.

I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care…

(Well, at least, not about this. Other things that I say I don’t care about… that’s a different story.)

It’s a very freeing experience, and the ironic part is that it doesn’t come for free. Leaving all of your inhibitions at the door is something that has to be worked at. Earned, maybe.

More often than not I think I probably write about nothing. I try to put words to those half formed thoughts that lie around in my brain, and the result is confusing or abstract or altogether uninteresting. I end up relying on the words of other people (like Kate Nash). This is a crutch, I know. But, here you are. These are the things that were swimming around in my head this morning while I was swimming around in the water.

Short.

Joy.

It may be fleeting, but I swear I won’t miss a beat.

Shining bright sunshine-y yellow all through my mind, on everything I see.

Radiating tingly warmth from my eyesnosesmileyface to my feet.

(I think God creates moments like this to show that he loves me)