.date-o-phobia.

guys, i think i have date-o-phobia.
actually, scratch that, i know i do.

like, going on dates? it’s fine. whatever.

“hey what’s your name, where ya from, what’s your major…

k, cool – have a great life! see ya never!”

but when it actually comes to dating someone?

ooo… now that sends shivers down my spine.

why, pray tell?

well, it all goes from the superficial spectrum to the serious.

there’s the cliché been there done that.

i tried being vulnerable once.

well, truth is, he made it real easy to be vulnerable.

his words were keys that opened up all the locks to my secrets.

and he embraced my light and my dark quite beautifully.

in fact, maybe too beautifully.
cause it’s been hard to take that standard off its pedestal.

i can’t even fathom how some people have had multiple boyfriends in their life.

how they get so close to someone over and over again, cut off all ties,

and hop on the next dating wagon again.

i see why they do that, and why it’s probably normal and healthy to do that,
but i don’t know if i could ever do that…

but then again, i have date-o-phobia.

i think it also comes down to me just being plain ‘ol picky.

not like the 'oh, he has to be tall dark and handsome, blue eyes' kind of picky.

sometimes i’m even picky about them being too attractive (i know, whatta weirdo)

quite frankly, i don’t even know what “the one” is supposed to be like.

i gave up on the idea of an ideal many moons ago.

i think i’m just picky who to tell things to.

i’m picky about who i will let in my life, my heart, my home.

i’m picky about my time and who i’d like to spend it with, if anyone at all.

as someone who recognizes they’re a people pleaser,

i think i assume that maybe the things i’m picky about

are things they wouldn’t care to hear about anyway.

i know i shouldn’t assume what i think people may or may not want,

but maybe i’m just afraid.

i’m afraid of someone… er, a male… letting me in their life, their heart, their home.

i’m afraid of spending substantial amounts of time with that male,

because i think i know what will happen if i do.

when i say i know how to play the dating game,
it’s not that i know the in-n-outs of relationships by any means, (clearly not)

but what i do know, is that if i spend a good amount of time with anyone (male or female)

and i get to know their life, their heart, their home…

i’ll become closer to that person.

and specifically with a tender flame, not only does one become closer,

but they become attached.

they become twitterpated.

they become consumed.

they start saying four letter words.

and then from there, you’re at a fork in the road
to either keep moving forward with that person

or part ways and try to figure it out all over again.

i guess i just don’t know if i’m ready for all that.

i guess i’ve gotta still figure out if my life, my heart, and my home

are things that i can share with someone else.

i guess it all boils down to wondering if i’m something that’s worth sharing.

the sad part is, is that i know the cure to this self-proclaimed diagnosis of date-o-phobia.

i don’t think the answer is going on more dates.

it’s not reading relationship manuals,
talking to therapists,
or analyzing everything your significant other says to you.
it's not venting to your friends about it,
it's not seeing the end before the beginning...
it's just taking it one day at a time.

it's embracing every relationship for what it's worth.

it's hoping to eventually see the heart beyond the surface level.

because even if it doesn't work out with one person,

good news, there's always someone else.

until you're happy with the someone right in front of you.

it all works out. 
always has, always will.
*sigh*
i just gotta have faith.

.wednesday wisdom.

more patience requires more understanding of others.

.cheer on.

one of my absolutely most favoritest tv shows is “the voice”
not only are contestants chosen based off the pure talent of their pipes
instead of their “image” as an artist,

but there is just something so magical to watch beyond just the performances.
last week, i caught myself with goosebumps while watching miss holly henry.
( proceed to watch the musical magic below please and thank you ⇣ )

sheesh… needless to say, that voice of an angel has been on replay the past week.
but did you see her cute brother crying?

did you feel the urge to fist pump in the air when blake hit his button after 5 seconds?
did your fist pump turn into jumping up and down like a hooligan

when ceelo and adam finally turned around as she hit those high notes?

were you biting your nails just waiting for christina to come to her senses?
and then when she did, were you filled with sweet and utter euphoric joy that all 4

coaches would be honored to have her grace their team?

did i mention her cute brother crying?

goodness gracious heavens to betsy.

those 5 minutes always send me on an emotional roller coaster.

but why? i mean, like i said, the performance was amazing

but i think there’s more to it than that.

there’s power
there’s chills

there’s love

there’s support

there’s altruism

there’s spirituality

in being the cheerleader.

it’s inspiring to see others and want with every fiber of your being

for them to be successful.

to do their very best and beyond.

i think part of the magic of that show

is that we each get to be the cheerleader too.

we’re right up there with the family and coaches crossing our fingers

jumping up and down, and mentally wishing they’ll hit all the right notes.

and when they do? we keep cheering even louder.

oh, how i wish i could always cheer for others

like that sweet little boy cheers for his sister.

i think everyone needs a cheerleader.

a high-five after every test.
a treat after a long day.

a trophy for exercising off the treat. (heh)

a note letting someone know they are more than they think.

a standing ovation for every soul who keeps goin when the goin gets tough.

i hope one day i can have sore hands from high-fives and clapping
a tired voice from hip hip hooray-ing

be broke from buying treats and trophies

and have arthritis from writing bajillions of notes.

truly, three cheers and a toast to you, my friends.

ra ra ra.

go get your pom poms, people.

.remarkable friends.

dear liza.

in this letter, i want to talk about a few things. the first one is remarkable friends.

remarkable friends are friends who sacrifice.
what makes them remarkable is their ability to lay aside whatever is personally plaguing them, listen to another, and without any selfish incentive, offer love, concern, and advice. they put off homework, personal time, and comfort to make themselves available when someone they know needs help, or just someone to listen to them.

remarkable friends are loyal.

they remember the ways that they connected with each person, and go to great lengths to preserve every relatable conduit between them. they worry about others and their welfare. they pray for them. even when they rarely see or hear from some people, they think of them fondly and often, and hold special places in their heart and mind for each.

remarkable friends listen first.

they always turn the conversation back to you, no matter how hard you try to stop them. they try to place themselves in your shoes and tear up when you tear up. they laugh at even your silly and less-than-clever jokes. and they make you feel like being honest about how you really think and feel is not only ok, but valued. they see the darkest sides of you, but only offer to light another candle in the corner rather than decry the lack of light. they make you feel not only good about who you are, but that being you is one of the world’s most desirable blessings. their love for you often exceeds your own love for yourself, and in many ways, they show you real love, forgiveness, and Christianity in a way that transcends pulpit-doctrine and bleeds into emotional and conversational interactions.

have you ever had a remarkable friend? they are pearls in your life that you hope never end their selfless affection. i have had very few. you are one of them.

…

oh, my my my.

it’s one thing to have a boy tell you that he loves you.
he whispers flattering words of your beauty, talent, wit, intelligence.
but it’s hard to forget a boy who knows your essence.

he speaks to, treats, and sees you like the person you’ve always wished you could be.

you’re wondering how you ever got so lucky.

because, in reality, they are the remarkable friend.
it’s hard to forget a boy who knows how to compliment your soul.

.grateful day.

today is a grateful day.

i'm grateful for retrospect.

i’m grateful things haven’t worked out according to plan this year.

i’m grateful dreams i didn’t even know i had came true.

i'm grateful for the "never would i have ever thought..." moments.

i’m grateful to work for the rad-est of rad recording artists.

(seriously, if you haven’t heard her stuff, click here

and you can have a grateful day too. you’re welcome)

i’m grateful for her music and the example of her gracious life.

i’m grateful to play with her cute little boy.

i’m grateful when he pretends to shoot me

and then says ‘good morning’ to bring me back to life.

i’m grateful that he’s only two and knows what a weed whacker is.

i’m grateful he calls to play saying ‘com’ere you lil stinker.’

i’m grateful for a roommate who sees the beauty in everything

because she is and blesses with beauty everywhere she goes.

i’m grateful she likes to eat beet salads with me.

i’m grateful for our PT.

i’m grateful for her chauffer services.

i'm grateful she is da PA of da PA.

i’m grateful for an understanding family.

i’m grateful to be exhausted on the 45 minute stretch of concrete

because at least i have a car.

i’m grateful for letters.

i’m grateful to get 2% on a quiz in a program

i didn’t think i could get into.

i’m grateful and excited i have so much to learn.

i’m grateful for new friends you meet

and you wonder how you ever lived without them before.

i’m grateful to live without loved ones each day

because every day after i get to love them a little bit more. 

.i mean it.

i was thinking a lot about this week about why things mean so much.

or why they meant so much.

or why someday they might mean something.

i read my old journal.

about what?

duh, a boy.

page after page, he meant everything to me.

he was all i thought about.

all i talked about.

i wrote down every text/email/phone conversations/wall post/comment he ever said to me.

i glued and taped in anything and everything that he was associated with.

altogether, you could say i had a nice lil picture book (well, actually novel) on my hands.

but like fickle boys do,
he passed.
time passed.

the picture novel passed.

until that trip down memory lane,
part of me forgot why he was so meaningful.
in fact, part of me felt silly for feeling the way i did.

old clothes are meaningful too.

every six months, i make a semiannual trip to the DI.

and every six months i wonder why i can’t bring myself to throw away the gray wildcats t-shirt from when i was on the set of hsm3.

it’s a size xxxxxxxxxl.

and it’s got yellow stains on it now too.

at this point, all rationalization to keep it lies solely in the fact that it was given to me just inches away from zac efron.
so, therefore… gotta have it.

the band perry got it right when they said,

“a penny for my thoughts? oh no, i’ll sell ‘em for a dollar

they’re worth so much more after i’m a gonner.”
when my mom passed away, i couldn’t write down memories
and scan in old pictures fast enough.
i still keep her nappy hot pink sweater too that doesn’t match with anything
and is borderline socially acceptable to wear in public.

why? cause that’s what she wore every morning making scrambled eggs.

even now, i concoct potentially meaningful scenarios.

i do and say things for the sake of their possible future significance.
why do i keep a penny i found from 1956?
beats me…

what if it’s worth 5 dollars someday?

is there anything that keeps its meaning beyond today?

will i still think about it later?
will i care about it tomorrow?

i’d like to think so.

as Hebrews 13:8 says:

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever.”
thank goodness for consistency.

praises and jubilations to a rock of hope in an ever-changing world.

with the gospel of Jesus Christ as a guide, He’ll let us know what matters most.

fickle boys, nappy sweaters n all.

i mean it.

.stay.

it was always 21.
i always thought i’d cross that bridge when i came to it.

come last october… WHAM-O.

great, i’m already on the bridge.

girls and boys head off like hot cakes for the noble cause.

my lack of present content-ness becomes even more restless.

am i suppose to go? was the 24/7 prayer.

He said i couldn’t go wrong with whatever i decided.
two good decisions… thanks?

i started my papers.

i stopped my papers.

why am i lacking clarity for a righteous desire?

how could the answer be no?

maybe it’s not no, but it’s not yes right now.
ah, a few more gone.
why am i still here?
i hate talking to people about it.

every reason to not go just sounds like justification.

“i’m serving, making a difference, and changing the world!”
vs.
“i’m just going to school and working…”
wish i could say the cool answer.

maybe i’m too cool for school.
i just wish i knew.

agency and indecisiveness do not work well together.

right before my friend left, she said:

“you know, maybe you have enough faith to go.
but do you have enough faith to stay?”
wise words.

sometimes it still feels like justification but…
i still have to tell it to myself everyday.

i still don’t know.

i do know i have a desire to serve Him though.

it’s almost a greater sacrifice to not have a cultural experience, learn a language, eat weird food, face rejection, get along with difficult comps (bless their heart), consume food to physical harming capacities to avoid offending anyone, golden investigators, cloud nine spiritual highs, miraculous miracles, catchin the wave and savin souls …

sheesh, that sounds more way fulfilling when the only wave i’m catching is boiling water for ramen alone on a friday night.

but, i’m trusting there’s a higher purpose in “just going to school and working.”

i’ve never felt so courageous and anxious all at once planting my feet when i wish i could move them so badly.

i’ll go where He wants me to go. 

even if it is right here.