whirlwind.

I thought I'd get back to myself a bit while I was back east or something. That I'd find myself or get back to who I think I am or just remember why I left in the first place. Something, you know? Like, give me some fucking answers, Universe. I feel I've gotten so far from myself lately that I am struggling to get through anything except the bare minimum of going to class and writing papers when necessary. Motivation feels minimal and not in the end-of-the-semester way I remember from undergrad.

All I really got out of my trip personally was to feel like Indianapolis was suddenly huge. Sprawling, climbing into the sky, whizzing past. Parts of that were okay, I like to drive fast on the grids of street that stretch in all directions. But you know, I've never felt intimidated by the size, the number of people, the way the suburbs span on forever and ever past the belt that sucks in the cities' waist.  Until now. There's so much of it, you know? How quickly we forget. How badly I wanted to when I left. And it's not like it's even close to the biggest city I've lived in, it's not. It's just what I went back to is all. 

And then there were other moments where the places that used to offer me comfort only served to make me want to chain smoke and drink heavily. Whenever, whatever. Not all of them, but enough that it wasn't a balm for my soul.

To be around the people who hold your context, who know you that well, with that longevity, and still love you forcefully and protectively when you need it, it's good. I think maybe it will always feel good. It's good in a way that feels frenzied and forced, though. Like you have to make some epic times or have some life-changingly meaningful conversation. Like you have to find a way to express to them how much they mean to you. But, you can't. Not really. The secret to it is in the way that you live. And it's not even really a secret, it's just a sucky truth that I usually deny or ignore. You can't really search for something that hard if you expect to remember where you put it in the first place. It just seems to make me doubt everything.

It is in the way that you live, though.  It's in picking up the phone, even if you're only going to say "I have to call you back later." It's in driving five hours for a hug, because you finally can. Because it's ONLY five hours. It's in doing the right thing, I guess, even though you don't want to. Listening when you have a million of your own things to say. Your hurt parts that need bandaged. 

Anyway. My niece turned a year old and she got baptized and I am her god mother and I can't wait to tell her about love and trusting herself and how faith can (and maybe should) look different for everyone because we are all experiencing life in our own beautiful and terrible way. About how church can look a million different ways. About how, for me, church feels like listening to someone you like talk about something or someone they really, really love. Even though I don't go to the actual building with the steeple anymore, I have faith. I think that's right for me. I'm new to the whole godmother thing, hopefully I do an okay job. 

My sister is having a tough time and my grandparents are taking care of each other and my parents are still a safe place to bounce ideas off of. My friends are still hilarious and supportive and reaching and striving and making things happen. And I think they're happy, too. Which makes my heart a little less heavy. 

I got back to Montana and I was exhausted. I feel like I really never stopped moving the entire time I was out east. And that's okay. But 12 days is a long time to be in motion. To worry about what other people want more than you. To feel like if you spend time with one person, you're disappointing all the others. I needed to come home to the mountains to think straight. To be alone. To get back to myself, I guess. Maybe I shouldn't have looked so far. At least I got to get back to some of the people I love for a little bit, who for now are fully in the east. Who are not far from themselves. Who are home. 

And now I realize my home is not theirs anymore. But they still are mine in some ways. For me, that feels fine.  

hodgepodge.

this is my new light switch cover. i put it on myself because i am a regular handywoman.  also, it was a gift from my friend brie who is amazing and knows me well. 

I don't understand running skirts. I've been thinking about them a lot this week for whatever reason, and they actually really irk me.  I chafe when I sweat, man, and when I run, I sweat. I need leg sleeves. Aka pant legs. And don't even get my started with skorts. Why do you want to LOOK like you're running in a skirt? You're not being tricky. You look ridiculous. 

I've been watching a lot of The West Wing. I love that shows to bits. I love it TO DEATH. Enough that I didn't leave my house last night (Saturday) because I was watching it. I'm a Saturday night kind of person, but my love for this show kept me hunkered in. That's some serious love. It makes me wonder what my life would have been like if I'd gone to public policy school like I planned. But you know, I didn't. So now I'm going to talk about feelings forever for the rest of my life and I think that's pretty okay too. Also, real life isn't like the West Wing, real life is way less witty and has a lot more sleep.

I tried out the new doughnut place in town this morning. They had some really damn good doughnuts. I had a glazed and a maple bar. I don't eat enough doughnuts. Maybe none of us do and that's why people are such assholes sometimes. I never want to act like an asshole to someone when I'm in the act of eating a doughnut. Unless they're trying to take my doughnut, and then I'm like, "Back off, buddy." But instead of 'buddy' I am thinking in my head 'fuckface.'

I got into a screaming match with my best friend's ex-boyfriend on the street on Friday night. I probably needed a doughnut to calm me down. But seriously, that dude sucks and the world needs to know it. So now the crowd that witnessed our altercation knows exactly what I think about him. Which is that he is an untalented wannabe cowboy man-child. And also a sociopath. And also a piece of shit. They also know that he finds me naive and petty. Touche, sir. It just got to the point that I couldn't hold it in anymore, you know? I just had to say something. And one thing led to another and next thing you know, you're nose to nose telling a grown man that he's a shitty writer and that he only cares about himself and it's pathetic. What can I say? I speak the truth.

I got a new job and it pays more than minimum wage. Like, double what I've been making almost. Thank goodness, I'll be able to buy bread and wine in bottles instead of boxes again. I'm really getting my shit together, obviously.  Have I mentioned how much of The West Wing I've been watching? Adulthood, guys. It has its perks.

Oh, by the way, I also went back east to visit family and friends for twelve days. It was a long trip that flew by in mere moments. I'll write about it soon. I didn't get to spend enough time with anyone. That's kind of what life is like for me all the time, though. I'm back in the mountains, now and it snowed last night. There is still snow up in the mountains, but it's melting and dripping off of roofs and cars hoods and lawns as I type these words. Nothing comes out of me eloquently right now and I'm sorry for that, but mostly for myself. My record player is on the fritz, the speakers won't play. I haven't unpacked my suitcase yet, though coming home to a spotlessly clean apartment with new sheets and fresh towels was the best thing I have done for myself all year. Easily. 

I'm going to watch The West Wing and take a bath now. Happy Sunday. 

my niece and i during my visit home. i can't believe she's already lived through an entire year on earth. wild.