Lavender

My head is pounding and the world has taken on a different sort of tincture.

Everything seems to be shaded in lavender tones- but not that pretty sort of lavender- the kind that goes along with summer dresses, and cotton pillowcases and mom hugs.

Instead it's the lavender that goes along with Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls.

The lavender that makes you want to sleep for the duration of 1000 sunsets, and 1000 moon falls.

The lavender that makes you feel everything and nothing all at once- and you feel like you've got those Breakfast at Tiffany's mean reds.

You're frightened and you don't know what you're frightened of- except in this case, you do. That's why it's lavender instead of red.

And what you're frightened of is beautiful, even in the wake of its unfamiliar terror. And even though you're frightened- you cannot look away.

That old devil feeling of forthcoming change is the only monkey on your back tonight.

Transitions are far more emotional than physical- change isn't half as upsetting as it's temporal lobe associations are.

It all kind of just hurts right now. Everything and nothing are welling up into an overwhelming tidal wave of what's to come.

And it's all lavender.

The knots in my stomach and the pounding in my head and the memories and the possibilities the exchanges and the unspoken promises and the music.

It's all a whirling spectacle of lavender lights and lavender smells and lavender memories.

"And I don't want the world to see me, 'cause I don't think that they'd understand.

When everything feels like it's broken, I just want you to know who I am."

Bells Will Be Ringing....

Lovers,

As I write this I'm still in my pajamas, with my hair tangled in extremely messy blonde knots (Yes.  I did.), sipping on a strong cup of Christmas Espresso roast, in my favorite Christmas mug, which is big and comfy and red and has a painting of Ebenezer Scrooge on it, his arms full of Christmas cheer and a stuffed goose,  with a banner overhead proclaiming "God Bless Us Every One."

Because, you know, every family should have themed A Christmas Carol mugs for the holiday season.

I don't even read Charles Dickens.  Except for A Christmas Carol.  That's the only one I could ever actually get through.

I digress.

So it's December 4th, which means there are 21 days left until Christmas- and the world is slowly turning into a flurrying spectacle of silver bells, fake snowflakes, Nativity scenes and overwhelming emotional nostalgia and regret and happiness mixed in with burdens and burdens of ancient traditions being jam-packed into a wild, crazy 3 week rush at the end of which I will probably have gained at least 5 pounds and will be extremely blessed and fatter and happier than normal.

Or so I dearly hope.

It's been an insane past month, my loves. I've been working like a dog and overdosing on sweet nephew and niece cuddles and missing everyone who is far away a lot more than normal.

I guess that's what happens during the Christmas season but it still seems difficult.

Starbucks has been such an amazing transition and such a welcoming place to end up in- but the work is long and exhausting sometimes and I seem to find myself falling asleep all over the place these days because my busy life has turned me into a hopeless old woman.

But that's not so bad, either. Catnaps are great, too.

Today is the last in a series of 3 consecutive days off and so far it has been the most relaxing.

The kiddos and company are off visiting some of their relatives today and so it's just me and mom at the house, putting around, watching Footloose and playing on our new iPhones.

Which, by the way, are phenomenal.

I discovered this new app last night that essentially lets me take university courses on my phone for free.

No required homework, no stress.

Just loads of lectures and videos and information to be had from Oxford and Yale and UC Berkeley. Which is right up my alley of nerddom.

Also WordsWithFriends.

That is sublime.

Mostly today I'm thinking of my sisters and their wee kidlets.

I love those children so much- sometimes I think that I cannot wait to fill my own house up to the brim with little ones... They bring so much joy and so much fruitfulness and meaning to your life.

Sometimes I realize I'm much closer to being ready for that than I think I am, and that scares me, because there is still a part of me who is seven years old and screaming: "travel the world and learn 7 languages and never get married!!!!"

But that seven year old is overpowered, thankfully, by the calm voice of reason that speaks: "but you were born for this."

And so even though it's unnerving, it's happy, too. And still a long way off, for those of you who are going to read this and then freak out. ;)

Which is what days like today are for: quiet bliss and contentment in the fact that someday I will have many littles of my own, but today I am still young enough and carefree enough to just be the auntie- so I can still go out at the end of the day and live my own life.

Family.

Having them around you always makes you realize stuff that you didn't foresee happening.

Blessing or curse?

Ask me again tomorrow, but today- today I feel it is a blessing through and through.

Love you, lovers.

Xx.
Hannah

Thankful

Lovers,

It is Thanksgiving.  Officially.  As of...... 51 minutes ago.

I just got home from working the closing shift at Starbucks, and even though we shut down the lobby and drive-through early, we still didn't get out of there until ten after midnight.

Something about Black Friday prep and the next 72 hours being absolute madness at our store.

Anyways, I'm sure you all know what's coming, so I'm not going to waste any more words on an  explanation.

I am thankful for:

• The fact that this year has been the best year of my life to date.
• Coastal wind storms.
• Rainy afternoons spent tucked up on a couch, reading my Bible, hearing people that I love laugh.
• Ecola Bible College
• All of the amazing, unique, inspiring, funny, beautiful people I met this year and all the many ways they impacted me.
• The overwhelming moments when my Savior brought me to my knees before Him in supplication, mercy and love this year, and for the beautiful and wholesome location for those moments to take place in.
• The way the Prom smells at midnight in the middle of Summer.
• Sam's Seaside Cafe and all of the countless dollars and hours spent there, in moments of weakness, exhaustion, togetherness, happiness, laughter, comfort, peace, eating homecooked food for unbeatable prices, listening to the greatest collection of 80s superhits nonstop, and surrounded by colorful walls and twinkle lights. 
• The way the ocean changes colors.
• My second mother, Vange Alderrman, whom I met early this year.  She became the best manager I've ever had, a dear friend, and someone who took extremely wonderful care of me every day this Summer- she nourished my dreams more than anyone else ever has in my life.  She used to tell me everyday that all she wanted was to see me get there someday- to Ireland, to culinary school.  Every single day she would tell me that. I miss her.
• The beautiful and rare collection of older ladies I worked alongside at Sesame and Lilies.  Not a day goes by when I don't think of something wonderful that they taught me about life, about housekeeping, about being fabulous.
• The glorious, challenging, sometimes exhausting gift that is working outside in the elements for a natural preservation program, and the way HRAP sharpened and nurtured my mind and thirst to learn new, fantastical things about our world.
• The way my loves smile at me after I have fed them.
• The fact that my boys used to bring food over to my house just so I could cook it for them. 
• The fact that everytime I bake cookies I am reminded of my Brooklyn, and how we would bake cookies together and watch Disney Movies, and how many wonderful times we went grocery shopping together. 
• The fact that my friend Zachary Matthew Ricks is the grandfather I've never actually had. 
• Nights spent sitting on the kitchen floor, drinking tea and talking about puffins and boys with my beautiful roommates, Nikki and Lynn. 
• Fridges that you can write messages on.
• How candles light the darkness.
• The gift of being taught by my favorite people how to do exciting and crazy new things like longboarding.
• Adventure Levels
• No-Maintenance-Mondays
• Falling in love.
• The 3 mile drive to Indian Beach, and the greatest selection of music that always played while rolling into the parking lot, surrounded by many beautiful, tan surfers who drove fantastic VW Buses and for the cheap thrill that that can bring to you when you're having a crappy day.
• Remnant bible study, and how it grew me and forced me into relationship with my most favorite people, and how it made me trust them- and depend on them. God is good.
• People in my life who love me enough to stay up until very late at night playing trivia with me. I'm always going to need those people.
• The way John Mayer sounds to my heart.
• My Wesley, my farmboy, and how he loves me so.  
• Roman Candle Fights on the Fourth of July with the happiest bunch of crazy people I know. Favorite memory.
• The way your feet ache after a long day, because it means you have worked hard.
• Burns and scrapes because they mean that you are getting your battle scars.
• My one and only Becca, because she always is there to laugh with me, to listen to me, and to remind me ever-so-sweetly that love is, indeed, patient.  And it is, indeed, kind.  And that no matter how rude the customers are to me: I can't send her mini-rants via text message describing in minute, expletive detail just where those nasty customers can stick their arrogance, because it's not right. God knew what He was doing when He gave her to me.  I couldn't live my life without her.
• Forgiveness of sins and wrongdoings
• The Cross
• My mother and the way she will continue to hold me until the very, very end.
• My father, and his emotional strength after many years of sitting solidly through..... silt and smudges and ungratefulness.
• My sisters and the woman they challenge and prepare me to be.
• My nieces, Lily and Allie, their difference in  size, age and personalities. Their existence blesses me daily. 
• My nephew, Aiden, and his inescapable smile.
• My soul family- my Raelyn, my Natalie, my Benjamin and my wee baby Keller.  The way they push me.  The way they accept my every flaw willingly and humbly. 
• My Lexis, and my Zoe- without them I would be lost, for they are my compass. 
• Funny, sweet coworkers who I can laugh with and who I can dance with, in the drive through window, and who will hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay when people get especially mean and the job gets especially exhausting. 
• For my Mi Famiglia family.  For Patty, and Lisa and for my Travis. All of whom I need.
• Tips, and how they pay for gas money.
• The ability to breathe.
• Excellent health which I do not  deserve- and a lifetime full of sweet, incredible, magical, priceless memories.  

I am an extremely blessed person.

There is so much more to be thankful for.  

Let us all rejoice and with gladness in our hearts give thanks for this day, which the Lord has made, for each and every one of us.

Blessings to all of you on this holiday.

I pray you stay safe and warm and happy and that you are loved by your earthly family as much as you are loved by your Heavenly family.

XoXo lovers,

-Hannah

All You Need Is Less

November, November.

I always say my favorite month is October, and then November sets in and I'm hard-pressed to find a more unrivalled beauty.

I was rereading the notebook I kept over the Summer last night, and it's strange, because it all feels so recent- like I've only left just yesterday- but the dates on the entries are from so many months ago.

I've been home for over 2 months now.

And as much as I would have hated to admit it when I first got here, I've started to settle in again.

Starbucks is going very, very well.  The people I'm working with there are unique and opposite and funny and I feel a wealth of inspiration to write about because of their quirks.

My boss calls me Lisa Loeb and I've already gained respect for my sharp tongue and quick sarcasm.

I started working again at Mi Famiglia, which has been more than enriching.

Going back there, to those faces that I love, and those people who brighten my life, felt more like coming home than coming home did, in some strange way.

Especially when one of them whom I hold very dear to me smiled when he saw me and said, "Oh, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." and then pulled me in for a great hug.

I'm always going to feel like I belong there- and in the middle of a strange upheaval and overwhelming change of scenery and feeling a strong sense of loss, I have something that is never, ever going to change. Mi Famiglia is family.  When I'm there, I need less from the rest of my life, because I feel like what I need is in front of me.  The people, the food, the atmosphere.  It's what I want out of life.

So I've been working a lot, lately- and I've been taking one day at a time.

Right now, my sister and her kids are in town for a month, and so I've been spending a lot of time with my family- which is good.

I've been thinking about dying my hair blonde- and trading in my hipster glasses for contacts and leather skinny jeans.

I just want to change a little bit.

Attraversiamo.

I'm ready to cross over.

Lovers, I miss you.

I hope all is well.

"No matter where you are, I can still hear you when you drown."

Sometimes when we meet people, we know within the first moments that someday they are going to break our hearts.

When you find yourself in this moment, the choice is yours to make of it what you will.

I've been writing a lot of really great pieces this month, and I owe pretty much all of it to these weekly writing sessions with Nat and Rae.

I've written pieces about sisterly betrayal, humorous post-death "second-world problems", books that changed my life, a woman who worshiped her own self-hatred, a man caught in the middle of practicing a cult sacrifice, a woman who is uncontrollably drawn to desiring a man whom she initially finds overwhelmingly repulsive, and poems built from uncomfortable and awkward phrase exercises.

I find myself building ludicrous and inescapable plot elements.

I want to write monologues about a doctor convicted of homicidal malpractice.

About how it really feels to be stuck in the frightening crime syndicate that is the Russian Mafia, as a hopeless  and helpless mobwife.

I want to write a drama scene about a man with early onset multiple personality disorder- where one actor portrays the man, and the other portrays his alter- and they must play two different sides of the same brain.

I want to write about Heathcliff and Catherine.  I want to be able to capture how I feel when I hear words quoted from Peter Pan.  I want to write step by step directions on how to make me fall in love with you the way I've fallen in love with Holden Caulfield.

I want to explain what it means to me to listen to Drown-Smashing Pumpkins on repeat.

Mostly I just want you to read the words I have written.  That's all I really want.

I want to know what you think.  What my writing brings out in your mind, in your soul.

Oh, but I am afraid.

The distance is long and the years are longer, still.

I want to give up, and run on to the next one, flighty whippoorwill, without looking back, but I am not allowed.  I am uninvited there.

Here is where I must stay.  Here is where I'm told things are waiting for me.

The back and forth is beginning to grow tiresome- but the writing, oh, the writing.  I have never been this liberated by my words.

Creatively, I have blossomed.  I have felt the depth of inspiration this month, and to tell the honest
truth about it, I think I like who I'm becoming as a writer.  Finally.

I don't feel confused, or guilty, or ashamed of my writing anymore.  I don't feel conflicted about it the way I used to.  I don't tell myself that my words try too hard, or that my words are a mindless imitation and shadow of the styles used by the great writers I have studied.  I feel  that they are real, and that they are my own.

Honestly, I don't question why tragedy moves me so heavily anymore.

I've always been  drawn to sad and dark things and for the first time in my life I'm not questioning why.

It's like this past month, through the words that I have crafted together, I've realized that tragedy, and the way I view it, is a gift.   A gift uniquely and passionately crafted for me, to me.

I found this quote the other day:

"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.  It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift."

I thought about myself.  I thought about how I write.  I thought about what I dream of writing about.

And then the clouds parted a little bit, and something shifted within me.

And not to mention, I realized exactly why it is that I should never be allowed to write children's books.

Sarcasm aside.

In those moments where you know your heart is about to be broken by this perfect stranger, you have the same choice that you have when you are confronted with the realization that what you are about to write has the potential to break you or break someone else.

The possibility is humbling enough.

The choice is yours.

You can go, or you can stay.

You can do, or you can do not.

There is no try. There is no escape clause.

No matter what happens, I promise myself to write it down.

Whether it is for the purposes of being read by others, or only by myself, does not matter.  What matters is that those words, the ones floating like souls in the river Styx outside the realm of my conscious thought, are picked up by me- and that I breathe life into them once again.

This is what I have been given, this is who I am.

Slide.

Tonight was my weekly writing sesh with Nat and Rae.

We sit at Starbucks and we flail our hands wildly for hours, we talk and motion and laugh and dream and we practice writing with the arduous and exciting exercises found in the book The 3AM Epiphany.

Tonight, during one particularly involving exercise, which I'm not going to explain for my own reasons,  this came out.

 Not sure from where, not sure how, but I know that it's perfect to me and for me.

Moments like these, as a writer, mean the world to me.

And in a weak moment of pride, I will admit it's probably my favorite thing I've written.  Ever.

Lots to think about tonight.  Probably won't sleep a wink.







"Slide"

A glum chiasm-

All hail common lies-

Humming.  Slumming.

Sags his skin- sad his soul.

Hugs like a god.

Holds like a child.

Slug back gin.

Lack all sense.

Come, big dog.

Come, black cub.

Lay your head on me.

Sing, soul.

Sing, nickels.

Sing, dimes.

Sail on.

I'll come soon.

Dreams

I had a dream last night that my dad wanted to buy Rod Stewart's new Christmas album so badly, he went to stand in line waiting for its' midnight release.

My dad doesn't even like Rod Stewart.

I logged onto Facebook a few minutes ago to find out that there is now available a sneaky leak of one of the songs on the album.

Listening to it now.

Sometimes my dreams interact too closely with my everyday life.

Last night I also dreamed I got lost in a sudden snowstorm, on foot.  Last night I fell asleep reading Wuthering Heights.

Today I'm dreaming, too.

Not of Rod Stewart, though.  Instead, dreaming of memories, and favorite people, refurbished, restored barns at the end of quiet country lanes, snowflakes, rainfalls, pitfalls, and the liquidy, sticky, dreamy sequences brought on by the combination of homemade pancakes and Avett Brothers songs.

Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered Am I.

Also, suddenly extremely tempted to cut my hair in this fashion, though I know that's a terrible, terrible idea.

Mostly I think I need to write.  Really write.  I need to walk and to write and to lock myself in that dangerous world of raw inspiration, and not come out for a very, very long time.  It is late October, and the familiar insomniac insanity is starting to settle in.