i believe.

in ending a long day with a two-hour dinner with girlfriends, laughter, stories, and sass.

in sass. lots of it.

buying fresh flowers is one of the best things i do for myself.

getting back to my saturday morning spinning class IS the best thing i'm doing for myself right now.

the opening credits of friday night lights will never stop being beautiful. 

in coach eric taylor. any day of the week.

in having things on the books: lunches, coffee dates, plays, sunday afternoon movies, return trips to kentucky and tennessee, and drinks on a random thursday night. filling my days means i'm filling my life. no more idleness.

everything's better with hummus.

crossword puzzles can put me in the best or worst mood. (dear future husband, you are never to help me with them. i need to do things on my own. you'll see.)

i should've jumped on the downton abbey train when it first left the station. i'm on it now.

talking to strangers.

i collect things.

books, photographs, snow globes, coffee mugs. moments. moments when i feel so much love that i smile and pause and sigh out loud with gratitude.

i've never followed the rule "don't talk to strangers." we're all strangers until someone talks first. to think of the friends i never would've made had i not talked first is a scary and odd thought. i like to talk and sometimes i work up the courage to talk to a total stranger, especially if it's someone i see rather often.

his name is greg. i see this man at the clark and lake stop when i transfer from the orange to brown line. he waits for the green. greg=green is how i remember. greg is blind. his guide dog is a very cute and large black poodle. it takes everything i have not to bend down and pet that sweet pup. 

it started with me asking if he was waiting for brown or green because no one else was ever walking up to him and the color of the train is not announced on the platform.

it makes me sad to think how long he stood there without a single person talking to him.

after i knew he was waiting for the green line, the first few times i would say, "this is brown. two more and the third's a green." he would thank me. i would wish him a good day and fumble for not introducing myself. i'd get on the train and be mad at myself until the next time i saw him when i'd inevitably repeat the process.

last week, finally, i stopped.

"i'm rhiannon. i'm the person who's been coming up to you for the past few weeks. i'm sorry i haven't introduced myself before now," i said.

"hi, i'm greg. this is ruben," he said.

ruben. my cat's name is ruby.

i saw him yesterday.

"morning, greg. hi ruben," i said.

"morning. ruben's birthday was yesterday," he said.

"happy birthday, ruben," i said as i reminded myself not to touch him. i thought of my own dogs i haven't seen in such a long time.

we chatted about how much the weather had changed. i told him how many trains until his would be there.

"that's okay. we didn't want to go to work anyway, did we ruben?" he joked.

i laughed and told him to have a nice day. he wished me the same.

it was nice. i'll take it.

I can't stop wanting.

Lately, I've been on a Friday Night Lights kick. I'm falling in love with this show all over again and even more in love and in awe of these characters, their relationships and love between them, and Texas. 


Sweet Texas, I need to plan a trip.


This is a speech Tyra wrote for her college application essays. I remember recording this episode years ago when it first aired and pausing and rewinding and pausing and rewinding so I could get every word right. This speech is beautiful. This speech is how I feel today, in this moment, on this sunny and chilly March afternoon.


Two years ago, I was afraid of wanting anything. I figured wanting would lead to trying and trying would lead to failure. But now I find I can't stop wanting. I want to fly somewhere in first class. I want to travel to Europe on a business trip. I want to get invited to the White House. I want to learn about the world. I want to surprise myself. I want to be important. I want to be the best person I can be. I want to define myself instead of having others define me. I want to win and have people be happy for me. I want to lose and get over it. I want to not be afraid of the unknown. I want to grow up to be generous and bighearted, the way people have been with me. I want an interesting and surprising life. It's not that I think I'm going to get all these things. I just want the possibility of getting them.


This show, this speech, that complicated girl. All of it. 

on love. part 1 of 1,000.

i've never been in love.


i'm twenty-seven.


i've made peace with this.


i never made it a priority in my life. love was never on my mind. loving myself was never a blip on the radar. 


right now it's everything.


when i went to kentucky last july to visit my great aunt and uncle, within an hour of arriving, my aunt sized me up. she's good at that. 


"why do you think you're so unlovable?" she said.


this cracked me open. i sat on a wicker bench on her back porch. i bit my lip and my tongue and looked at everything i could to keep from crying: her beautiful black lab, raven, at my feet, the lake at the bottom of the hill, the flowers spread about the deck, and two glasses of water on the table.


this lasted about five seconds. 


i didn't have my first real relationship until i was twenty-six. 


it didn't work. and it ended six days after i got back from that trip.


i was never in a position to love anyone because i didn't love myself. it's as sad and simple as that. and yet of course it's not even close to being that simple.


time and distance are powerful things. 


my aunt did it again while on the phone with her this afternoon. her name is hope. i've never known another person with a more appropriate name. i feel lighter in her presence, so much is lifted, even during a phone call that lasts thirty-one minutes.  


"remember what grandma phyllis always said: please yourself and you'll please the world."


if only i could remember these words every moment of my life. 


it's taken me a long time to slow down in order to make myself the most important thing in my life.


i never stopped to take the step to try and love myself. because it really is something one must try to do. it takes work, but it is a job worth the effort, the time, the sweat, the heartache, and the tears-tears of both joy and sorrow.


i'm writing this from a good friend's living room couch as i dive into the third season of friday night lights on netflix,  and stare out the windows overlooking the south loop. we sat on this couch just hours ago and shared dinner. i ate whole wheat pasta and marina with mini meatballs. i sat next to yet another woman who said something that shook the very core of  me. 


"i feel like jim and working out are your medicines. you have to stick to them."


she's right. of course she's right. i keep strong women around me, constant reminders of the woman i am working on becoming. 


working.


working on letting go of anger i feel towards myself and working on being much, much more patient  with myself.


tomorrow, i will wake early. i will eat whole grain cereal and a banana. i will stare out her windows from the 31st floor and say a prayer. a prayer that i will believe in myself. a prayer of thanks to my legs for carrying me five miles through one of the most beautiful cities in the world.


i will remember that i have enough self-love to push myself this much.


i will remember that i love myself enough to take care of my body, my heart, and my soul.


i will remember that i am worth it.

She brought everything to it.

"She knew, of course, that there was something about her that was different. But it was more like a friendly spirit than like anything that was a part of herself. She brought everything to it, and it answered her; happiness consisted of that backward and forward movement of herself. The something came and went, she never knew how. Sometimes she hunted for it and could not find it; again, she lifted her eyes from a book, or stepped out-of-doors, or wakened in the morning, and it was there-under her cheek, it usually seemed to be, or over her breast-a kind of warm sureness. And when it was there, everything was more interesting and beautiful, even people."
-Willa Cather (Song of the Lark) 

wednesday morning list and my new obsession.

five reasons this day is going to be wonderful

1. i woke up at 4:30 to run. in shorts and a tank top. baby steps.

2. while hustling to the bus i didn't think i was going to catch, a woman said, "you have some beautiful hair." (it's important to note that my hair was soaking wet since i never dry it.) i still loved hearing it.

3. the universe threw me a bone and the bus sat at the red light at my corner. i ran and caught it. get it, legs!

4. i'm perfectly okay with a "spring break" consisting of running before the sun comes up, going to work, and coming home to watch "friday night lights" and imagine a life in texas. and learning to really like football.

5. i'm going to make it wonderful.

this song, this band, that trumpet!

Some days I feel like I'm wrong when I am right.
Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear.

a look.

this morning, the kid in front of me at einstein bros bagels was wearing this shirt.

i was jealous.

this is one reason why:



there's a good chance this kid got to see the black keys at the united center last night. i'm using the word kid because he couldn't have been older than fourteen.

as i opened the door for him, i said, "i like your shirt" and pointed to it. he had his headphones in and probably assumed i was saying, "after you."

he bought a bagel and an apple juice box.

when we were standing in line he turned, looked at me, and half-smiled. i smiled and for a second i thought, are we having a mrs. robinson moment here, young man?

it was nice. and it made me smile.

it feels good to be seen.

i want.

I am tired, so profoundly and unbelievably tired. In every sense of the word. I turned in final papers and portfolios and I’m unhappy with everything. I reached the point of being unable to look at another Microsoft Word file and being unable to stomach my own words, my professors’ words, my classmates’ words. Because I’m tired and overtired and annoyed. And sometimes it’s hard to be happy for people who seem to have wonderful things falling in their laps and of course this is not the case, nothing is falling in their laps, not all of the time, and of course the grass is not always greener on their lawn and of course tomorrow will be better and Sunday will be even better than that because it’s the one day you know how to really slow down. But sometimes you have one of those mornings when too many people email you and call you and need something from you and you want to scream. And you want more, more, more. Every second of your life, it’s never enough.

And you turn on Blue in Green and listen to it on a loop and you feel the bags under your eyes and you know if you just stopped being so tense all the time your back wouldn’t hurt and you’d sleep through the night, but these are not things at which you excel. So the second your lunch break starts you walk out the door and walk down the street and don’t even make the corner before you start to cry and you’re wearing broken sunglasses which just adds to the ridiculousness of your day, your life. And you can’t find the other pair of sunglasses you bought. And you sit on a stoop and call your great aunt in Kentucky because the sound of her voice makes you cry tears of love and tears of exasperation. But she doesn’t answer and you leave her a message and you ask how she is and you say, “I need some tough love. I love you. I hope we can talk soon.” And you feel so not like the person you’re trying to be, sorry for yourself. And you sit and you pout and you get mad. You don’t feel strong and that feeling has been the umbrella of this week, it’s been covering everything. And this is what happens when you do too much at once, when you have final papers and revisions and reflections and portfolios and early stages of a sore throat and a looming dentist appointment and all you want is your Saturday morning spinning class and all you really want is the energy to bike 100 miles during the week like you’re capable of doing. And you are too busy to see your therapist and push the appointment back yet another week and that's never a good thing, never ever.

I want to either understand Twitter or forget about it. Right now, I don’t get the appeal. I want to run instead of reaching for bread. I eat too much bread. I want to not worry about swearing on here. I want to get rid of the egg shells I place around myself. I want to go to sleep for the next two days. I want Mexican food: steak tacos with cilantro and onion, and strawberry margaritas. When I meet my girlfriend for drinks tonight I want to flirt with a stranger at the bar. I want to hold eye contact when men look at me. I want to stop craving mint chocolate chip ice cream. I want to stop having horrible thoughts about people on the bus. I want to have the energy to run four miles outside.

I want to stop expecting so much of people. I want to not be so annoyed when I send an email and don't get a response. I want to remember other people's laziness has nothing to do with me. I want people to give a shit. I want less attitude from baristas when I occasionally ask for "a little bit of whipped cream" on my lite frappuccino. I want to not crave so many sandwiches. I want to not have to go to the dentist tomorrow. I want baseball to start now. I'm tired of waiting. I want to stop saying yes to things I don't want to do. I want to remember how good it feels to sometimes say no. I want to be less annoyed by columns I read. I know I can write for these publications. I want to send pitches and hope for the best and shut up about it. I want people in power who are trying to take away my right to take care of my body stopped. I want the people who support them stopped. I don't care to understand them. I want peace for myself and for everyone desperately trying to find it. I want a weekend of Friday Night Lights, magazines, and running. I want to always feel the calm I feel while watching that show, seeing a life there. I can't explain it and I don't have to. I see it in my mind. I can see myself there, yes, in Texas. Alone and happy and not afraid. Strong and starting over without the enormous mistakes I carry with me every moment of the day. I want to not feel bad for wanting more.

amen.

(source: note to self)

one of those nights.

sometimes i have these moments of absolute joy, "pinch me" moments living in this city. i try to always stop, look up, literally, and say a prayer of thanks. i had one of those moments tonight while crossing a bridge.

how fitting.

i shared dinner with a friend, one of the strongest women i know, a woman who never fails to remind me of the important things. i left with a calm heart; she has this effect on me.

as i walked over that bridge towards greektown, this song started. i wish i could kiss this song, i love it that much.

i stopped and looked behind and above me.

the important things.



remember your soul is the one thing you just can't compromise.

i believe.

i never sleep better than when it's raining.

crying and smiling during the line don't you worry, don't you worry, don't worry about me at the head and the heart concert last week was the sign of something good on the horizon.

two of my biggest weaknesses are men with salt and pepper hair and television shows on bravo.

i am going to purchase the polaroid camera i found on amazon this morning.

anna saying, "this weather has me excited: pancho's margaritas, summer dresses, and us" makes me very happy. and has me counting the days.

finals week never gets easier.

having classes in the same building as a bookstore is dangerous. and a bit cruel.

no store with the word barn in its title has any right charging $70 for the cutest yellow trench coat i have.ever.seen.

sleeping lessons by the shins is the perfect song for running intervals.

i have a love/hate relationship with the fact that i can't find pastel candy corn. anywhere.

life, as of late.

professor's comments on the left, mine on the right. per usual.

i won tickets to see this band; it was heaven. i cried twice. i will elaborate soon. i am a lucky, lucky girl.


i'm looking forward to editing and finishing essays and projects, book club tomorrow, and a quiet sunday. happy weekend, everyone.

forgive yourself.

the list of things for which you need to show yourself forgiveness is a long one. and it's growing by the minute.

it's time to start, rhi. 

sit down with that list and take a breath.

forgive yourself the medium pepperoni pizza you ate last week. know that it was a bad day, not a bad life. forgive yourself for the reason why.

five years ago, you never would've asked yourself the question. realize you love yourself enough to be asking it now. 

forgive yourself the slip and move on.

continue to remind yourself how much you love who you are becoming. and sometimes that is someone who slips. slip and get up, sweet girl. your only other option is to stay in the holes you make for yourself. 

but these holes are not as big as you think they are.

forgive yourself the loneliness that sometimes is too much to bear. bear it. you are capable of bearing it. feel the beautiful quiet of being on your own and growing in that.

forgive yourself for not waking to go to the gym. when you add things to your life, you sleep less. when you sleep less, 4:30 in the morning is the last thing your body wants. your body is screaming for more sleep. and your body is screaming to run and spin. you're getting there. be patient with yourself.

love yourself enough to feel all of the bad and sad and heavy and ugly. trust that you are strong enough to get through all of these. because you are.

forgive yourself the times you doubted that.

forgive yourself the times you still want to numb your feelings with food. you are feeling things and sometimes that is hard. you've done it before. you are capable of doing it again. today, tomorrow, the rest of your life. remind yourself as often as you need to.

forgive yourself for taking on the world's problems. it is not your job to take care of the world. you are your own world. take care of your world.

this is your only job.

it is not your job to save anyone but yourself. remove them from the equation.

it is not your job to worry about who you may offend with what you write on here. this is your space and your church and if someone chooses to find one line and make it about them, let them. and leave them to it. you cannot control how other people react and rhi, that is one of the hardest things for you to accept. people who choose to walk out of your life have done you a favor. they are the ones who have lost. anyone who needs convincing that being in your life is a good thing is not worth the energy. it hurts even more when they are close to you, but there comes a time when you have to stop questioning why. this is that time, rhi.

you need to do it. do it and walk on.

forgive yourself for comparing your writing to other people's writing. they are not you. their path is not your path. write for you. sit in front of that computer or that note pad or that scrap of paper and write for you. sit in it and feel it. this is how you will get better. better in every sense of the word.

forgive yourself the days you starved yourself. forgive the days you ate too much as a way to punish yourself. forgive yourself the times you did this to yourself ten years ago. five years ago. one week ago. 

forgive yourself for crying on the bus. on the corner. those tears were a screaming sign from your body,  from your heart. stop doing this to yourself. you are more than this moment when you feel so low that every part of you aches.

forgive yourself for wanting to kiss the man who took you to dinner last saturday night, if only because he was the first man in a very long time who wanted to truly talk to you and look at you and see you. and it was a lovely feeling, this person wanting to spend time with you and make you laugh. lovely and unfamiliar. 

one day all of it won't feel so unfamiliar.

forgive that one dinner made things fresh again and you aren't ready for it. give yourself time. you will be. 

forgive yourself for not wanting to let him see you. you aren't ready yet. you'll get there. but you know something? you will get hurt again. you will, but next time, you won't walk into it blindly.

forgive the part of you that still assumes a man is thinking something negative about you when he looks at you. let him look.

be thankful for signs from the universe. that one of your beautiful friends chose the perks of being a wallflower for book club. if only for you to settle in with it on the train and remember the first time you read these words: "sometimes people use thought to not participate in life." so you could look at those words and remember that every moment of every day you are the maker of your life and you are fully present for all of it. you are thinking and feeling and participating. 

forgive yourself the days when the last thing you want to do is participate.

be thankful that the scale wasn't in the locker room this morning. forgive yourself for wanting to step on it only to make yourself feel bad. 

that was the old you. remember the woman you are when you walk through the city at night, on the bike, running through your neighborhood, in front of your computer, lost in a book: a woman who knows where she is going, and in no way does it resemble from where she came.

forgive yourself the days you are unkind to yourself. no one notices your mistakes the way you do. all of the time you spend looking at your stomach and your thighs, take that time and write. the time you spend being angry at yourself and berating yourself. pause. take that anger and write.

you know who you are, who you want to be, who you never will be again. keep walking towards that woman, run towards the woman you are turning into. listen to your heart and the voice inside, the voice you've only begun to find. and it's a terrifying and amazing thing. and you want to scream at this woman you're turning into and hold her and protect her. 

you were put on this earth to write. this is your calling. words are saving your life. the truth is saving your life.

you are saving your life.

you do not owe anything to anyone. say it again, you do not owe anything to anyone. 

you only owe truth to yourself. continue to listen to your truth, what you know is pure and good.

you are your own worst enemy, but more and more often, you are becoming your best friend. be gentle with yourself.

you're getting there.

our song.

dear love,

i want this to be our song.

love,

me

a list of letters.

dear winter,
you can go away now. scoot, please.

dear chocolate,
we need to take a break. i don't want/need so much of you in my life, truly.

dear bad energy/bad moods/pizza/sandwiches,
see above.

dear ruby,
i'm sorry i stepped on your paw this morning. it would help if you didn't circle my feet while i'm doing the dishes.

dear book club,
i can't wait to see all of you. this whole "meeting once every two months" thing is rather lame.

dear redbox at greektown walgreen's,
your selection yesterday was disappointing to say the least.

dear lifetime movies i've seen ten times,
you'll never get old. i love you.

dear copy of the other guys,
i have no idea where you are, but i hope you find your way back to me.

welcome to the human experience.

“when i get lonely these days, i think: so BE lonely. learn your way around loneliness. make a map of it. sit with it, for once in your life. welcome to the human experience. but never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.”
-elizabeth gilbert, eat, pray, love

expectations.

"if you hold on to the handle, she said, it's easier to maintain the illusion of control. but it's more fun if you just let the wind carry you."

-brian andreas

"the date," jim says.

"the date," i say. "it was nice. we sat and talked for three hours. he brought me flowers; i'm still processing that."

"so what happened?" jim asks.

"we sat down and i said we should agree to split the check when it came," i say.

jim shakes his head. "your generation."

"his response was, i'm not much of an arguer, especially when it makes sense. i can understand that. it's fine," i say.

it's not fine. i want someone who will argue with me, who will go toe to toe with me. every.single.time.

it's not fair that i do this.

"the words i'm not much of an arguer were a tiny red flag for me. he'd never fight with me," i say.

maybe we'd start to date.

he'd see how i am.

he'd run.

"you don't know that he wouldn't fight with you. there are different ways of calling people on their shit without being in their face about it. maybe he's a silent fighter. maybe he's a buddhist," jim says.

"he's not a buddhist, jim. i am a handful. i'm a lot, and i just think i'm too much for him," i say.

i'm too much.

"you expect a lot from other people, rhi," he says.

"i expect the most from myself."

"i know you do," he says.

i said yes to the date.

i had a nice time.

i don't want to do it again.

i can't. i throw myself into everything. i'd make him, any man, the most important thing in my life. i do it every time. this is how a person spirals and falls back into old habits. i'm trying to get these things under control.

"you need to find peace with yourself," jim says.

i nod. i close my eyes.

i want to be alone. i know this is a good place to be.

i'm tired and crabby and annoyed and cold and full of cramps and medicine that makes me feel so far away from myself i groan just walking down the sidewalk. i want spring and green and baseball and sunshine and to go back to kentucky, with a less heavy heart than last time. i want a break from school and things and places and people that grate on me. that i let grate on me.

i say yes to everyone else, which in turn, means i say no to me. a lot. 

i'm trying to stop.

it's hard.