214: A Toyota Matrix.

Congratulations on your new car, Chelsea.

I am really sorry I could not be a better person and tell you that today when you called.

Day 213: An encouraging banner.

http://www.learningtoloveyoumore.com

The only thing I hate about this website is that someone else thought of it first.

Day 212: A pile of kleenex.

I hate the smell of kleenex, cough drops, and medicine. It makes me smell like a hospital.

Day 211: A very cliche, ridiculous pictur of music notes dancing around animated sunshine.

Music is so good!! That's really all I can say about ACL. The overwhelming smell of pot, my cough, and my excellent sunburn really did not matter because music is so good.

Day 210: A terrifically awkward group hug.

I am sure I will never know how to demonstrate unconditional love. It is too complicated and beautiful for me to truly extend. However, there are a few people I believe I am on the verge of loving unconditionally. Perhaps it is because they do nothing that warrants not loving them. They know and I know-- that is not the case. We have let each other down and raised each others hopes higher than we could deliver. Still, we love each other.

It is hard for me sometimes being the one away from a group of people I've been so close to for so long. I worry that they think I've turned my back on them and I worry that if they do indeed think that they may be right. Because my mind is so wrought with worries like these, I love days when I get to see them and remember what connects us and allows us to be(come) who we are without neglecting what we are to one another.

These feelings of connection and comfort only increase tenfold when I get to share these people with my friends who are equally dear and spectacular people. When I was little I would never mix groups of friends because I worried that they would hate each other, or worse-- like each other more than they like me. Now, in my old age, I can appreciate who people are and who they are not and that we have the capacity to love whoever we meet with warmth.

Day 209: A long stretch of road.

I could never spend my life in a car, but I do not mind lengthy intervals in one. I love being in the car. Everytime I remember how much I love riding in the car, it reminds me of "Perks of Being a Wallflower"-- a delightful coming-of-age story I read in my "angsty" days. However, parts of it are still pertinent to my life. A prime example is when the three main characters are in the car listening to "Asleep" by The Smiths and reveling in how infinite they feel. While I am aware of how small I am in the grand scheme, it is an equally awesome concept to feel infinite.

Day 208: A disco ball.

Going to dance-type events in college has helped me realize how very seriously (to the point of being ridiculous) we (or at least I) took ourselves in high school. College takes the edge off of social interactions . . . not in an apathetic way. Rather, people are more comfortable being people. Specifically, they are more comfortable being their own people.

Day 207: Me . . . drowning . . . in a sea of paperwork.

I am terrible with organization, paperwork, and any other administrative task. I have not filled out reimbursement forms, program evaluations, and I have forgotten to do half of my weekly reports. Who do I think I am?!

Day 206: Leaves falling off a tree.

Because today feels like leaves should be falling from a tree. Sweater weather is drawing near and I have never been so excited.

Day 205: Rain.

In seventh grade, I entered this poetry contest and I won. What I won, I am not quite sure-- there's a chance that a million other seventh graders won too. I think that is the last time I ever seriously wrote a poem. I do not even remember the poem, really. I think it was about rain-- either rain or my intense crush on Glen Hunt (these are really the only things that interested me in middle school). Anyway, I was reminded of this poetry writing while reading for English (because it was too rainy to go outside and play) and I decided I would write a poem about the rain again. I did it with two motives: 1) To see if writing poetry was as much fun as I remember it being and 2) I could then digitaize said poem by putting it on here as my "picture" for the day.

So I wrote this poem. I read this poem. I decided against letting anyone else see this poem.

Rain launched this lofty goal of writing something beautiful and delicate. Rain made me ambitious, but it also made me wet. Essentially, I ended today with wet clothes and crummy poetry, which in my opinion is an excellent day. Genuinely.

Day 204: A smoky room.

Because today I am obsessed with the sultry light jazz sensation that is Norah Jones.

"Like the desert waiting for the rain.
Like a school kid, waiting for the spring.
I'm just sitting here, waiting for you . . .
To come on home and turn me on."

That is so suggestive and ridiculous. Love it.

Day 203: A green-tag special thrift tee.

Thrifting is when some of my better conversations happen. Something about pouring over discarded and disintegrated clothing that has seen better days and washes opens us up. Not to mention, where else can you find a shirt that reads "Accelerated Reader," perfectly accented by a bookworm? Nowhere.

Day 202: A clock.

This clock is supposed to signify patience and how seldom I demonstrate it. Today required patience. All I could offer was passive agressive silence. It was a viable substitute, but not nearly as gracious as the former.

Day 201: A guitar in the floor.

Today I woke up to "Ticket to Ride" by The Beatles. It was the best way I've woken in a week or two . . . Just laying in bed tapping my toes between tossing and turning. It made what is a completely mundane and current experience feel nostalgic and lazy-- both of which I enjoy. Waking up totally comfortable and at peace with the day is marvelous.

200ish? MAYBE.

I keep telling myself, "If only I had a camera cord . . . I would be posting pictures." I am starting to wonder if I really would. I am a chronic sufferer of, "I'm this far behind, why try catching up now?" syndrome. The usual remedy is not to fall behind. It is pretty beneficial until I fall behind; then I say, "Fuhgiddibodaht" . . . otherwise known as "Forget about it." However, in lieu of my proactive solution failing-- I am going to take the retroactive approach. I am going to be the little writer I know I am (or once was) and will paint a few key images with a few key phrases and sentences. It will not be forty, but it will at least make a dent in the ever deepening hole I have dug. This is really all for posterity's sake; I would like a medium to look back on 365 days through.

1. Hitting my head against a wall. Frustration has always come easily to me. Lately, I have been self-righteous and indignant and ridiculously proud as though it were my job. What's worse, I am completely closeted about it; my frustration never reaches its source. Ultimately, my flustered fits end with a headache and without progress.

2. The toothiest grin imaginable. Between bouts of frustration, there have been some of the most wonderful moments. If I had ever had cause to doubt my faith in humanity, I have had experiences that would completely restore it. People are conflicted, both beautiful and flawed. I am beginning to find conviction in that as the greatest gift God has endowed us with.

3. Pigtails. There would of course have been days in the past month+ that I did not feel like making an effort at creativity or thought. That is why this picture would be taken. I wear pigtails 80% of the time. I like them because it requires no effort on my part and I feel five-years-old when I do so.

This is a start and by no means a finish.