Atmosphere of Hiding

As a kid, one of my favorite things in the entire world was finding the perfect spot to curl up out of view and read. A feeling so comforting, yet elusive, visited me when I came upon a superb reading corner. Some days the ideal space would be found perfectly situated behind the living room chair in the corner. I spent countless hours in that particular spot, traveling the world, the pages of the book as my sails.

Other times I would climb my favorite tree out back and haul my book up after me by way of a basket tied to a branch with a jump rope. A purely ingenious invention, I thought. The sounds of nature around me as I sprawled out among the branches and the fresh inspiration that my childhood home’s backyard contained for me made reading out there like therapy.

If the Christmas season happened to be present, I could often be found on the far side of the Christmas tree, reading, where no one could happen upon me unnoticed. The holidays spread such magic in my young mind, and I felt the desire to still be a part of the spirit while enjoying my own little space for reading. Of course, the Christmas tree provided just that.

No matter where exactly the nook was, I knew I had found a good one when I couldn’t wait to get back to it and further immerse myself in worlds that I could visit only through reading.Though my teenage years differed greatly from those of my childhood, I still had my bed at an angle that created a perfect little crevice next to it for talking on the phone or simply laying there in thought. Even though disappearing behind a chair became less feasible, I still had a hideaway of my own.

These little spaces were my hideouts. They were spots where I ran when I felt overrun with emotion or when the world became too much to handle. They were places I could call my own and find some level of comfort that none of the places that contained other people offered. I found safety and comfort in those secluded spaces and moments.

Reading itself creates a crevice of its own, so it was only natural for the child version of myself to find a location conducive to this idea as I sailed momentarily away from my own world and into someone else’s.


Window Into the Imagination

This is a poem that I wrote a long time ago in high school. I think it marks the true beginning of my obsession with words.

Can you see it in there?

Look within your own heart, care

About things not seen,

Try to see what they can mean.

A land of elves dancing,

Of blue unicorns prancing

Across meadows streaming with light,

Watch the condor about to take flight .

Look deeper, and deeper yet,

It lingers within you – never fret.

See? The tiny fairies are spreading their wings,

Ready to fly freely ’round the land of kings.

Magic sparkles in the majestic breeze

Sweeping the land by way of the trees.

You or I would notice this delight,

And taste so sweetly it well might,

But not the dwellers of this place,

For them it’s become their daily race,

Fully filling in every way,

So they notice not the passing day.

Now have you found it?

Can you see a bit?

Within your own self you must look,

Before you don’t need to open a book.

Look over this way.

See the elf children all at play,

And listen – the bubbling laughter

Of the crystal clear stream, after

Her life-like water has purified

The wader with her tide.

Enchantment rides on the sea-fairing wind,

Enriching the dwellers deep down within.

Gnomes mount upon birds of great might,

They look down, and know that they’re right

In choosing the simple life,

With so little strife.

Raindrops compose their own unique song,

Playing on rooftops made only of leaves, and long

Quiet hours they pour down, down, down,

But not so much as to make the land drown.

Can you taste the wonder yet?

Do you wish you could say these things you’ve met?

Travel these places inside your mind,

And joyous tranquility soon will you find.

Only one thing remains better than this,

And that is to visit yourself, and not one thing miss.

The Art of Making Lists

Exploring the art of list-making

For this week’s WordPress challenge, I decided to include all three lists in one post. Making lists has always been one of the best ways to declutter my mind, and making lists of these three topics was really fun to think about.


Summer Recollections

  1. reading in the peace of nature out on the back deck
  2. the sensation of the ocean’s sun mixed with salt water on my body
  3. falling in love
  4. long walks in the heavy heat of the night air
  5. iced tea
  6. green foliage as far as the eye can see
  7. wading through creeks
  8. happy, bright colors
  9. bringing back memories of past summers
  10. vacationing in the mountains


First Love in Five Bullet Points

  • Young and lively. He got me out of my shell the very first time we met.
  • Hilarious. I’d never met someone with such a witty and unique sense of humor.
  • Caring. Definitely different from any other guy I’d ever met.
  • Cute. Captivatingly so.
  • Passionate. He was so dedicated to the things he loved–music, friends, and soon, me.


Bucket List

  • Be dangerous: go white water rafting
  • Live vicariously: befriend an elderly stranger and find out about their life
  • Commune with my saltwater heart: go surfing
  • Show love to strangers: volunteer
  • Explore: visit an island
  • Conquer fear of heights: go paragliding
  • Overcome something I’ve hated: be able to enjoy running
  • Live a movie scene: Ride a gondola in Venice
  • Be romantically cliché: eat at a sidewalk cafe in Paris

Nine Things I Miss About College

I graduated college eight months ago. Looking back, I cannot BELIEVE how fast those four years flew right on by me. I walked into my empty, depressing dorm room that first day as a timid 18-year-old who had NO clue what college life looked like. I was completely unprepared for the years ahead of me. I can still feel the subdued excitement and nerves that radiated throughout my hall on that first move-in day. It was crazy!

I fully believed that I wouldn’t make one friend during my time there, and I KNEW that I’d probably give up after the first semester of this nonsense. Luckily, my fears turned out to be unfounded.

College taught me an incredible amount about myself–who I really wanted to be and who I did NOT want to be, how to think for myself, how to turn bad situations into better ones. I made some great friends and made some really incredibly stupid, ignorant decisions, as well.

As I look back on those years that are somehow now locked into the past, a few things stand out that I seriously really do miss. A lot.

  1. Knowing that sweats and t-shirts are life — no explanation needed.
  2. Freshman year — oh man. How on earth did I feel a need to be stressed out that first year? I don’t even know. But I DO know that it was the most relaxing and spontaneous time of my college years. So much free time to hang out with friends and enjoy pretty near everything college has to offer.
  3. Naps — these are acceptable little pleasures in college. No one tells you this, but once you’re NOT in college anymore, their acceptability somehow greatly diminishes.
  4. Knowing that Nutella is life — it is! Was? It just is, alright?
  5. Being surrounded by people my age — campus was a never-ending opportunity to make friends and be around people who were up for anything at any hour of the day. Those were some great times.
  6. Having to study — Let’s be honest. The ever-present prompting in the back of your head telling you of your need to do homework and write papers and practice is death. It is not nice. But now, after knowing for the first time since I was like five years old what it feels like NOT to have school as the major part of my life, it’s a little sad. And I kinda miss having to study.
  7. Feeling like the future is a blank page — I love my life now. But there’s something I miss about that question of the future, like What will I be? Who will I become? Where will I go? I know not all of these questions have been laid to rest, but things are definitely more set in stone now than they were then.
  8. Being able to justify eating at any time of day or night — snacks at 1 in the morning? No big deal. I mean, you do what you have to in order to get through those cram sessions.
  9. Having energy — I don’t know why, but my energy has left me high and dry. College was a wellspring of endless energy allowing me to stay up all night and be fine the next day. Now? Is 9:30 an okay bedtime for an early twenty-something?



on journaling

Buried deep in the crevices of this my friend

Lay unspoken dreams, and shadows therein.

White pages have patience the living do not;

Words cannot utter the comfort they’ve brought

Me while wandering silent through unlighted woods,

While in quest of knowing logic the best I should.

The nonsensical ramblings I now call my own

Have inside only me: They’re my own home.

Daylight Persists

Home in lightless sorrow, she 

Dwells among the empty white 

Walls--They hold her secret so

Softly. Perfectly blissful her

Sorrow lives now, closed to all

Outside pity. 

Once a day, routine brings her

One illusion of light in

Hiding: Everlasting Sunshine--a

Bottle of shower gel sits

'Gainst the cool, marble-like wall,

Its odor filling the air. Taking

After its label, it colors the 

Marble's blank stare with its warm, 

Purely golden aroma of daylight.

Try as she may to escape any

Relic of warmness once touched,

Everlasting Sunshine, in various

Forms, continues to tap

  -subtly and secretly-

Into her heart frozen in 


Dominion of Darkness

My soul at all times lurks dangerously close to

The abyss flooded, seeping with darkness, through

Which no mortal can see light, but the abyss creates

Its own deceptive glow. Darkness, delicious, flings wide its gates

And gropes for my soul. Blood, edged in strange glows,

Appears deceptive, yet inviting as so smoothly it flows.

Evil prowling about seems not wrong, but cold

As it brushes past, freezing but bold.

Like moonless night holds protection in dark,

Or the black, darkest dream is sweet, in part,

So feels this evil, this nightmare, abyss. But somewhere deep inside says something is amiss;

I feel it within the presence of blackness felt so long,

But is this really all so wrong?

Why is my very being drawn with passion toward

What I know all mortals should strongly abhor?

Black is lighter than all things white,

But it takes also on a more dizzying height

From whence I could fall and plunge toward ground

Without even uttering the slightest sound.