"As for me, I am a watercolor; I wash off."

Wednesday at 7:30pm I will be underway to meet my love.

X x x

There's a certain irony to the fact that the first three letters of your name type out "9-1-1" on my cellphone. It always feels like there's a sense of urgency in the midst of you. Like trying to hold onto sand.

SO EXCITED!! Always get stoked during the planning stages of a new tattoo. Revamped the memorial tattoo for my Grandpa into a traditional Norwegian folk-art piece and it is looking FIERCE!! Stay tuned for pictures :)

The human heart is an amazing muscle. Measuring no bigger than your clenched fist, and capable of doing so much. When I woke this morning that's exactly how my heart felt, too: clenched in my chest like a team of trapped wolves that wanted...out.

My mind wandered to the first time we kissed, the first time we fought, the first time we made-up. None of these things have happened of course because we've yet to meet.

And I am waiting. Patiently.

Sometimes I wonder if I have been built the wrong way; capable of feeling *too* much; loving *too* much. But if the alternative is not loving enough I choose this.

step inside.
it's warm and sweet--
this insanity.
i love to dwell here
with my thoughts
to see what will become of me.

- kaite

It's hard to feel like an outsider of a group that you were once such a huge part of. On Sunday I went to my friend Romina's for the naming of her son's Godparents -- Tella was named Godmother. There, surrounded by Tella, the guy she's currently dating, and all of "our" friends who, more or less, dropped me once my relationship with Tella was over, I sat quietly poised trying hard to swallow through the apparent lump that had formed in my throat.

I faltered when Tella read a short speech, intended for Joaquin (Romina's son), with movie recommendations, a book she'd like him to read ("The Little Prince" which she followed with one of my favorite excerpts from the book) and a wish that he had gotten to know her mom before she passed away. I let the tears fall freely down my cheeks as the lump grew bigger in my throat. Tella's face contorted when she talked about her mom and I felt myself clutching the pillows underneath me just to stop myself from getting up from my seat to rush to her side to hold her.

Still, days after, I find myself waxing nostalgic and thinking about her. I miss her. I miss her smile. I miss *making* her smile. I can silence these thoughts long enough to realize that she and I don't belong together; we don't fit...but a great deal of time and love and energy was spent on that relationship and I'd be foolish to think this feeling wouldn't linger for a bit.

I know someday I will find my other half; my missing piece. In a way I feel I am already well on my way there. And I am trying to be patient and strong and positive. But it's hard to wake up in a Queen-sized bed every morning with no one next to me. Night after night I go to bed alone, and have been for the better part of the last 6 years. After that long you start to wonder if maybe you're not worth waking up to.

The day she decided to learn how to walk over hot coals, she began by carrying a basin of water on her head.

Slow, deliberate steps and eyes always focused forward, as if to defy the heat; as if to prevent stumbling by looking the world in the face.

Even after all this time

the sun never 

says to the Earth 

"You owe me."

Look what happens

with a love like that;

it lights the

whole sky.

- Hafiz