Saturday, March 14, 2015

I thought about how we could die any day, any minute, and how nothing on this earth but the souls it nurtures will matter, and that's always a sobering thought. I looked over an old draft for that novel I want to write but can't seem to piece any of it together again. And I thought. I always think. I think too much. We all have secrets, right? Is it ok to have secrets? Probably not, because they eat you alive. I know. But they happen. 

Life is like that, a lot... pieces that don't make sense. And deep, scary feelings that make you uncertain of there source or reliability or legitimacy.  Feelings that breed secrets. We hide inside ourselves, mixing things, like the galaxy mixes stars, in our middles that can sit there and sprout, take root, and keep on growing until we have enough clarity to either weed or prune them.

It's nice to not be sad. To just be still, and accept what you can't change, even though it can be one of the most frustrating things known to man. Can it be possible to be in pain, yet be healing, at the same time?

I turned 22 last week. I don't feel any different. Maybe I should. Maybe I will in six months because maybe I'll be somewhere I never thought I could be. And again, I'll find myself in gaping amazement at the sly, subtle ways God pieces together the broken and the senseless pieces. 

A cage may be golden, but it is still a cage. Trust me, and always remember that.

Wednesday, February 12, 2014


:: reading The Hunger Games. finally. i haven't even finished the series yet but guys, i'm hooked.
:: friends, cupcakes, games around the table. i love my local people. i love that we can be ourselves around each other and talk about anything from chickens to God to The Lord of the Rings to hilarious childhood mishaps.
:: watching the Olympics. i'll admit i'm obsessed with figure skating right now. i kinda sorta might know everything about my favorite ice pair/dance teams. this is probably awkward. maybe i should watch skiing and snow boarding to get some balance and because um, i want to snowboard someday... 
:: warm food on cold mornings. why does this make me so happy? gluten free oatmeal with chia seeds... yes. happiness.
:: i went wild over cake this week. giant pieces of absolutely beautiful, decadent chocolate cake. hey, with three family birthdays in one month, you give in at some point. and besides, there was cheesecake between the layers, and it's hard to turn down anything involving cheese cake, so yeah, i went wild with it. 
:: raw spirulina chips. they are soooo good. (wait, did i just say something about chocolate cake?)
:: longer days, waking to bird song, sun on frost. the only thing that can happen now is Spring. 
:: loosing yourself, finding yourself again... or not. being human is weird.
:: wearing two braids and fuzzy socks. cozy is always a good idea.
:: clear, starry nights. people ought to breathe in starlight more often. the world would be a better place if they did. 
:: jamming alone in your room, even though one of the ear buds is blown out. 
:: people will observe, guess, wonder, assume and settle for what they see. but that's all. seeing is not always believing.
:: freaking out because i have so many books out from the library right now but am leaving for Michigan in less than a week and don't have time to read them all.
:: the Disney Peter Pan sweatshirt i bought on Amazon. it's hideously tacky but i love it to smithereens. 
:: my twenty-fourteen word: fearless.

- anna

Monday, January 27, 2014

"hi, my name's Anna, and I like warm hugs"

the cold never bothered me anyway.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

behold, all things are become new.


I've held my breath for this moment since July rains, waiting for that season of aliveness to start, praying things would change. I held it throughout autumn, and still no change. Winter dropped white gifts in the corners of my little world, and finally, as the calender pages diminished, I found it easier to let out a few tired, hopeful breaths as a seemingly endless year ended. Now I can breathe in full again, happy to hold twenty thirteen instead of my breath, stuff it into a box and throw away the key.

2013 was the year the locusts ate. Some of the broken-off, molded pieces still find a home under my pillowcase, behind my eyelids, in the grass cracking through melting snow. But I'm no longer holding my breath. It's over and gone I'm never going back, not ever. And I'm glad, so glad.