tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4902838581003685582024-02-07T19:47:12.116-08:00Vita Abundantior: A Life More AbundantA (not quite so recent) college graduate, I'm looking to live a robust life. I've got nothin' but a Woman's College education and a fantastic motto to use in life. What follows is my journey through my twenties.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.comBlogger159125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-60774416203599706122012-11-18T09:53:00.000-08:002012-11-18T09:53:21.949-08:00The Gift of a GoatA few years ago, I was introduced to a true children's book about the chicken man. Basically, the man lived in an economically disadvantaged country, and he was having a rough go of it. Fortunately for him, a group came in and gave him some chickens. Those chickens reproduced, and now he is the largest egg and chicken supplier in his area providing a sustainable income to him and his family. <br />
<br />
Fast forward to a concert I attended last November. My friend scored free tickets to see Lady A, so of course we went. While we were there, the groups were encouraging fans to donate to the group Heifer International. If you aren't familar with Heifer International, you can check out their website at http://www.heifer.org/. In a nutshell, H.I. takes donations for animals, and the animals are sent to needy families around the world. Not only do the animals provide food, but they provide a steady source of income. I'm all about this program because when you donate you aren't artificially inflating their economy. This is a way to help folks in need and teach them a skill. To me, it seems like a win/win.<br />
<br />
After a season of reading a bunch of books on volunteerism, I decided it was time to send the goat. I set aside some money and was able to send a goat AND a flock of chicks. I hope and pray these animals make a noticeable difference in the quality of lives they come in contact with.<br />
<br />
I've also been working on my 30 volunteer opportunities. As a teacher, each of us had to create a club this year. Since I have a passion for volunteering, I decided to start a Service Learning Club. So far we have made Christmas cards for soldiers and baked cookies at the soup kitchen. We also plan to send Valentine's day cards to kids with cancer and oragami flowers for seniors in a local nursing home. My hope is to get the kids out into the community as much as possible this spring, but for now we have a limited budget, so we're doing what we can close to home.<br />
<br />
Since we're getting close to Christmas and people tend to be more generous, I'm wondering what your favorite charities/organizations are. I'd love to hear about why you are passionate about them!Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-89194826862033409752012-11-17T14:12:00.001-08:002012-11-18T09:38:14.175-08:00Finishing My BookAs the year draws to an end, I am finishing up the books I had on my 2012 queue. Current read? The Happiness Project. As a writer myself, I was intrigued by the author's decision to leave law and finally follow her writing aspirations. I'm so happy for her, but for me, I need financial stability before I can leave my job. In her book though, she has a list of Adult Truths she shares at the beginning of the book. One, for example is "what you do every day matters more than what you do once in a while." If I'm being honest with myself, I am doing nothing to pursue my writing bug. You know this is a great source of conflict for me. So, I came up with an adult truth of my own. Are you ready for it?<br />
<br />
<i>It won't get done unless I do it.</i><br />
<br />
Yes. <br />
<br />
You may be wondering, what is "it" ? Well, "it" could be anything. The dishes, for example, won't get done unless I wash them. The mail won't be dropped off at the post office unless I drive the letters there. Sure, sometimes my boyfriend helps me out with my "to do list" (he truly is wonderful), but at the end of the day, I can't make anyone do anything for me. Everything in my life that I want to get done ultimately falls on me to do. (Geez, that sounds so responsible!) Not only does this adult truth apply to chores, it applies to my writing. My book will not get written unless I seriously find time to sit down and write. I often stop myself before I even begin because I think "everyone has already written about this subject. I have nothing new to offer." I'm realizing my crippling mental conversation is a lie. While there are people who have experienced similar events as me, no one has had my exact experience, and no writer will portray my experiences the way I would. <br />
<br />
So, does this mean I'm quitting my job to be a full time writer? Do you know me at all? Of course not. I like to eat, and I need to know where my next meal is coming from to feel content. This realization does mean, however, that I have been devoting time to writing. Every day this week I have written or edited a poem. Today I spent a good two hours working on my book. And, most importantly, I've set three very tangible writing goals for myself in the next month and a half. (Since I'm off Facebook until New Year's, I feel these goals are very attainable.) <br />
<br />
I'm wondering if anyone out there has read the Happiness Project, and if so, what stuck with you most. Also, do you have any adult truths of your own to share?Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-85738961259574813342012-07-06T11:47:00.000-07:002012-07-06T11:51:13.343-07:0030 Things Before 30A month ago I turned 26. I'm not entirely sure how I got here, but I am on the downhill slide to 30 (remember when 30 was old?!). I pretty much epically failed on my last 101 things list not because I wasn't doing them, but because I wasn't blogging about them. I have decided enough is enough. I am now going to get back to actively blogging. I want to make the most of my my twenties before I get saddled up with more responsibility, so I made a list of 30 things to do before I turn 30. They are on the sidebar of my blog, but for those of you following on your mobile device, I will list them just this once here for you.<br />
<br />
1. Finish my MFA in poetry<br />
2. Finish my book<br />
3. Travel to Iceland and see the midnight sun<br />
4. Take a Yoga class on the beach<br />
5. Try SUP (Stand up paddle boarding)<br />
6. Compete in a triathlon<br />
7. Visit and raft the Grand Canyon<br />
8. Finish a 1000 things gratitude list<br />
9. Backpack a week on the AT<br />
10. Volunteer 30 times<br />
11. Take a cross country road trip<br />
12. Save a down payment for a house<br />
13. Live somewhere else for a month in the summer<br />
14. See Opaekaa Falls<br />
15. Do a last minute trip somewhere cool<br />
16. Create a new travel blog<br />
17. Get a new stamp in my passport<br />
18. Read 30 books a year<br />
19. Send the Galax Goat via Heifer International<br />
20. Participate in Relay for Life<br />
21. Go on a mission trip<br />
22. Splurge on myself!<br />
23. See Third Eye Blind in concert<br />
24. Zip line<br />
25. Buy Christmas for an Angel Tree child<br />
26. Learn a new instrument<br />
27. Ride in a hot air balloon<br />
28. Make a quilt<br />
29. Get a tattoo<br />
30. Spend my 30th birthday in Australia<br />
<br />
Happily, I will be going to Italy in two days, so I will begin my list/count down with an amazingly good trip in the company of great friends. <br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-4044198660254870842012-06-02T13:56:00.001-07:002012-06-02T13:56:10.418-07:00baby steps in the right directionSince my post about my slump into grump, I've taken some steps to increase my happiness and pursue my writing goals. First, I submitted four poems to a literary magazine about two weeks ago. I am still waiting to hear back, but the magazine said it could take two months, so I'm trying to be patient. I've researched some other lit mags to submit to should this not work out, and I've compiled a list of five magazines that I think would be a good fit for my work. <br />
I have also contacted the MFA program that accepted me a few years back but for financial reasons I was unable to attend. They still have my application on file, and I can begin in January. <br />
Since it's summer and I'm done teaching for two months, I have been actively writing. I'm trying to write one poem everyday or at least every other day.<br />
I feel more content with how things are progressing. I feel like I'm leading my life again and not the other way around, and that is certainly a step in the right direction.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-41357553016606891062012-05-13T04:04:00.000-07:002012-05-13T04:14:49.337-07:00Happy Mother's DayIt’s Mother’s Day again. One of the worst days of the year for me. I am always made aware of this day two weeks before it actually occurs (thanks commercials!), and then, I swear, I hear “Holes in the Floor of Heaven” every day leading up to the dreaded Sunday. <br />
<br />
18 Mother’s Days have come and gone since her death. I was seven when she died, and I am very thankful for the years I had with her, but I’m also frustrated because I never got to know her. So many of my friends are entering that phase where they can be friends with their mothers, starting to know them as real people. Here’s what I know about my mom:<br />
<br />
1.She frosted her hair.<br />
2.She liked to tan in the sun with baby oil, frying like a chicken in southern heat and humidity.<br />
3.She wore yellow rubber gloves when she washed the dishes.<br />
4.She must have been a good friend because women were always coming over to wash walls or can beans.<br />
5.I think she was funny. In pictures, her smile looks like she had a sense of humor.<br />
6.She had a bit of a temper.<br />
7.She was competitive in sports (I only know this because Dad told me recently a story about playing doubles with Mom where she threw her racket in frustration).<br />
<br />
I have clearly inherited her love of the sun, her humor, her anger, and her competitiveness. Thanks Mom!<br />
Lately, there have been quite a few moments where I would give anything to dial up heaven and talk to her. I’ve wanted to ask her some questions. Here are some things I’d like to know:<br />
<br />
1.How do I curl my hair? I am almost 26 years old, and I still have no idea how to make my hair pretty. <br />
2.How do I get spaghetti sauce stains out of Tupperware dishes?<br />
3.How did you deal with losing a baby?<br />
4.How did you and Dad resolve fights? Did you ever want to leave?<br />
5.What was your biggest regret?<br />
6.How did you hold on to your faith in God during the hard times?<br />
7.What’s the recipe for those stuffed shells you used to make? Those were good. I liked them. <br />
<br />
I may never know the answers to these questions, and that’s going to have to be ok. I can’t dwell on the past and on the unknown forever. If I’ve learned anything these 18 years, it’s that you have to keep moving forward. So here’s to you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day from Earth.<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-53806063284154587852012-05-09T16:30:00.001-07:002012-05-09T16:30:15.510-07:00The Kid's Got ItAs I continue my struggle to write and be satisfied with my career life, I happened to stumble upon a student's paper today. I'm terribly behind on my grading, and I'm finally getting to grade a packet of original poetry my students wrote a week ago. Overall, I was extremely pleased with their work, but one boy in particular caught my attention. He wrote about how he isn't totally pleased with where he is, but he feels like he is heading in the right direction. I was especially moved by his insightful line:<br />
<br />
"I pray for the future, give thanks for my past."<br />
<br />
Yes. This sums up so much of what I need to be doing. Things aren't horrible. I've got a job, a place to rest my feet, a little change in my pocket, and supper on the table. I'm not where I want to be, but I'm still running the race towards my destination. I can wallow and feel sad, or I can have hope for the future. <br />
<br />
For now, I choose hope. Thanks kid. Today you were the teacher.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-76773044441025869802012-05-05T15:03:00.002-07:002012-05-05T15:06:20.419-07:00Crossroad to BlissToday I started reading a new book entitled <i>The Geography of Bliss</i>. As I read the introduction, I have to say the author’s plight registered with me on a deep level. Just today, I found myself crying over how unsatisfying my life has become. For the past fifteen years, all I’ve ever wanted to do was write. I scribbled poems on the inside of my binders and notebooks, on thin white napkins from restaurants, on receipts from local establishments. I kept a cardboard box full of all this writing from middle school and high school (which I eventually leafed through and discarded when I graduated college). And now here I sit, a quasi-adult, almost twenty six years old, and I couldn’t be farther from my dream. <br />
<br />
I wake up at 6:30 and go teach 9th graders how to construct complete sentences. I spend my afternoons assisting a soccer team (a sport I couldn’t master when I was in high school). I dream of students tying me up to the ceiling and leaving me for dead. There are whole weeks where I don’t even touch my blog because I’m too emotionally tired from work to put the effort into writing. <br />
<br />
Lately I’ve been irritatingly following “friends” on Facebook. Of course, everyone posts the very best of their life for the public to see. One friend is always going to parties, another is bouncing a joyful baby on her knee, while yet another is planning the adventure of a lifetime. And I have my happy moments too, but lately I’ve been feeling a pang of jealousy that embarrasses me deeply, and this jealousy stems from the steps I’ve taken that have put me so far away from my childhood dream. Most days I wake up and wonder, “How the hell did I get here?” <br />
<br />
Don’t get me wrong: I think my job is valuable, and in the past week I’ve experienced an outpouring of gratitude from a special group of students which has really given me a boost in morale. But the fact still remains that I’m not pursuing my talent with all of my heart and energy. <br />
<br />
I feel like I’m at the crossroads of some big career decisions. I’ve either got to Vita Abundantior or get off the pot, so to speak. As I begin <i>The Geography of Bliss</i>, I have to wonder where exactly my bliss will take me. To a new job? A new town? That M.F.A I’ve been wanting for three years? While my destination is uncertain, one thing I know for sure is that I’m ready to begin.<br />
<br />
Have you ever faced this problem? If so, how did you deal? Did you give up your dream or pursue it?Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-39064662477687424762012-03-24T12:19:00.004-07:002012-03-24T12:44:13.224-07:00Breaking up with Edward Cullen, or My Thoughts on Hollywood and Teen Movie SagasHollywood has not figured out how to totally appeal to teenagers. I discovered this nugget of truth out on Friday when I helped my librarian friend chaperon a trip to see the Hunger Games. While we were waiting for previews, we were informed by the theater manager that we would get to see the preview for the next Twilight film. The librarian and I assumed the whole theater would erupt in squeals. After all, it was just last year that all the copies of Twilight and the subsequent sequels were on a wait list at the library. Last year, students were wearing Vampire t-shirts and friendships were formed around whose team you were on (ie,"Team Edward" or "Team Jacob") Interestingly, I was the only one who seemed excited for the preview at the movies. As I watched the teenagers laugh with their friends and send text messages to people across the theater, it became apparent to me that they have long since moved on from being Twihards.<br /><br />I shouldn't be shocked by their waning interest in the last teen book/movie sensation. After all, as a teacher I know students want instant gratification. They can't stand to wait for an answer to a text message from their friends. They hate waiting for me to grade essays (if they want good comments from me, they best get used to waiting!). And if you think they get upset about those things, try making then two minutes late for lunch!<br /><br />Knowing all that I know about teenagers and the youth culture of today, Hollywood has got their movie release philosophy alllllllllll wrong. I think the big wigs in Hollywood believe that spacing popular teen films out will drum up excitement; instead, I think kids lose interest and move on to the next fad. Oh, but what about Harry Potter, you may ask. Well, HP continued to be popular in my opinion because the instant gratification of texting, Facebook, Twitter, etc. was only just becoming a part of youth culture. (I was in high school when the HPs began coming out, and I was almost a graduated senior before I sent my first text message.) As we progress into this age of "give me my news, music, and other forms of media NOW NOW NOW," I believe kids are becoming less interested in the art of anticipation. <br /><br />If Hollywood's main goal is to maximize their profits, my personal suggestion is that they just bust the movies out. I believe the box office would make a lot more money if they kept teen movie saga release dates 3-6 months apart. This waiting a year and half to see the next film business is, I believe, losing them major dineros. If, however, Hollywood is interested in teaching kids life lessons, like the value of patience, then by all means they should keep the release dates two years apart.<br /><br />Of course I could be wrong, but then again I myself have lost interest in Twilight since The Hunger Games became the new "it" series in young adult fiction. Sorry, Edward Cullen. Peeta just kinda does it for me.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-47234702007736211542012-03-01T16:44:00.004-08:002012-03-01T16:55:32.011-08:004/12So I was listening to the new Blink album (it's not my favorite of theirs, but I really love Snake Charmer),and while I was listening, I was struck with this idea of what it would be like to be a siren. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't want to murder anyone, but the thought of captivating men with a sexy song suddenly struck me as a skill coveted. Imagine: little ol' me, consistently bringing grown men to their knees with my voice. Ha! So I said out loud, "man, I wanna be a siren." There is was: first line stuck in my head. Given my physical insecurities lately, it kinda covers the desire I reckon most women want to exude, myself included. Enjoy!<br /><br />I wanna be a siren,<br />lure men in.<br />They’d come<br />a sure bet, <br />ears caught, beckoned.<br />They’d come <br />to the edge, tempted,<br />rowing to the rhythm <br />of my seductive hum.<br /><br />I wanna be a siren,<br />hair in waves,<br />the color of toffee<br />skin the scent of salt.<br />Sailors drawn to sharp rocks.<br />For me<br />they turn their masts<br />away from home.<br /><br />I wanna be a siren,<br />sink ships<br />with seemingly loose hips.<br />The men always ready,<br />wide eyed,<br />aching, panting to touch—<br /><br />A sure death each time,<br />Men turned cold by song.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-5031167683651302762012-02-16T15:29:00.000-08:002012-02-22T07:48:53.857-08:003/12When I met my boyfriend, he told me he was a photographer. I found this fascinating because when asked what I do, I've never said "writer." When I hear the word "writer" resound in my head, I think Keats, the Fitzgeralds, and of course Uncle Walt. Never does my name flicker in bright letters across the kiosk of my mind. For a while, I thought maybe this had something to do with me not making money writing, but the fact of the matter is, I have made money writing (although not enough to pay the rent). I've read to the public, been well received by other writers, been accepted to an MFA program, but I just can't pull the trigger on calling myself a writer.<br /><br />And tonight it dawned on me. <br /><br />I don't consider myself a writer because I don't do it that often. Once a month now, once every six months last year. At my best, I wrote twice a week in college. But what if I treated it like my job? What if I pursued writing like a career... doing it every day for a considerable amount of time? <br /><br />Food for thought, but anyway, here is my real reason for writing today's post: a poem.<br /><br /><br />"Juxtaposed"<br /><br />We see the same scenes:<br />a haunting silhouette<br />left by a crescent moon.<br />Newborn sheep gaining<br />their legs, curly hair still pristine and white.<br />A bee on a clothesline,<br />wings batting wildly, fishing wire <br />pinched by pins.<br /><br />For him, art is different.<br />He freezes the frame:<br />catches the dog forever barking,<br />two lovers whose lips never stop, <br />and the quilt, yellow,<br />hanging incessantly off a chair.<br /><br />For me, art is fleeting.<br />Two words juxtaposed,<br />Phrases slipping off the tongue,<br />An image —<br />Then gone.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-81474768843891491332012-02-10T16:44:00.000-08:002012-02-10T16:54:20.600-08:002/12 PoemThe first poem of the year wasn't worth posting, so I threw you a bone with the Halloween-esque poem. What follows is the official second poem of the year. <br /><br />If you write, maybe you will understand what I'm feeling. Sometimes I sit down to write and I feel like every word is utter crap, and then other times I sit down and the words flow from me quickly, so quickly that it almost feels like the poem is using me as an outlet. I imagine my poem floating around in space,undulating among airwaves, waiting for a writer to sit down with a little confidence and ink. <br /><br />Sometimes I start with a line and what follows comes as a total surprise to me, like tonight. I had a first line and nothing else. Perhaps a Field of Dreams reference is appropriate here. <br /><br />“Lover Seeks Kiss”<br /><br />One third of the photograph is bursting:<br />pink and green azalea bush in full bloom,<br />dainty stamen extending shyly,<br />like a lover seeking a first kiss.<br />Cheeks blushing as fingers creep<br />over dewy skin, goose bumps<br />spreading, exploding over timid flesh<br />covering the total topography of skin.<br />Connecting islands,<br />one freckle to another, quickly expanding<br />like diffusion in a controlled lab,<br />like the suddenness of spring.<br />Stolen kiss,<br />hands sneak around hips:<br />fire lit.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-52498572962324326282011-10-04T20:19:00.000-07:002011-10-04T20:32:20.741-07:00Ho HumHello readers!<br /><br />I apologize for my hiatus in writing, but I have been an unhappy bear the past few weeks. I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me, but I'm not satisfied. I would go so far as to say I'm bored with my life which seems crazy to me because my calendar has been full for quite awhile now. <br /><br />Maybe it's the monotony of work and the fact that summer has officially ended and the first cold snap has settled on us, but I want to do something different. I need to shake something up or I'm going to be in a permanent slump until spring.<br /><br />Maybe it's because I'm not writing. <br />or not drinking.<br /><br />Or is it the thing I don't want to say out loud?<br /><br />I feel a need to get rowdy. To travel somewhere alone. To dare and eat a peach before I have to wear my trousers rolled. To "vita abundantior" while I still can.<br /><br />I feel suffocated, and I desperately need to rip this plastic bag of discontentment free from my face. So forgive me for not posting, but I didn't want to burden you with my Debbie Downerisms.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-50358361268330033102011-09-06T17:35:00.000-07:002011-09-06T18:05:52.555-07:00Let's Review, ClassLately I've been getting a lot of messages about how I became debt free. (Recap for those of you who missed the first quarter of the game: I paid off $50,000 in a year and half.) From our conversations, I'm noticing that many of you are sick and tired of being up to your eyeballs in debt, and you're ready to roll up your sleeves and get serious about paying off your loans. <br /><br />So here it is--a crash course in becoming debt free. *Remember, I am not a financial advisor, I am an English teacher. If you want fo' rizzle advice, you should seek the help of a trained professional.*<br /><br />1. Dave Ramsey- This man was instrumental in getting me out of the gate. I read his book, Total Money Makeover, and learned how to budget. There are seven steps, and even today, I am working those steps (I am currently saving for retirement). While you are more than welcome to go out and buy a copy of his book (it's really terrific), I found my copy at the library because I didn't have enough money to buy my own personal copy. The month I read Dave, I had literally counted out pennies to have enough money to buy groceries (personal low). <br /><br />2. Mint.com- This little gem of a website is a great way to track where you spend your money. I used it for three months before starting Dave Ramsey to figure out where I was bleeding cash money. Answer? Barnes and Noble. Yes, I was a little bit ridiculous with my book and magazine purchases there for awhile. Mint allowed me an honest look at my finances because, after all, those cool little pie graphs don't lie.<br /><br />3. Recognizing a "Need" from a "Want"- I want lots of things. I want new clothes, I want to go on vacation, I want to decorate the walls of my house, but I only need three things: food, shelter, and water (and I'm not talking bottled Dasani). I stopped eating out all together, and cooked dinner every night. My big secret? Meal planning. I stopped wastefully spending money on groceries and made each penny count. I clipped a few coupons, but honestly planning out my meals and buying only those ingredients was what kept my budget in check. Grocery shopping became a game for me. I wanted to see how well I could eat for under $50 a week. <br /><br />4.Every last cent- I put every free dollar toward my debt. I did nothing that required money for a year and a half, and you know what? I became happier. I stopped focusing on what I didn't have and focused on what I did have. I cultivated a true heart of gratitude during this period, and I saw firsthand what God can do when we're willing to do a little work ourselves.<br /><br />5. Take advantage of free things- We live in a country where we pay a butt load of taxes. Take advantage of the few good things they provide for us. My library became my new best friend. I borrowed books, magazines, and movies from the public library instead of buying them. I also spent a lot of time walking the trails at the park and even took up a little disc golf during this time period. <br /><br />Paying off my debt was difficult. There were many times when I wanted to give up, but I kept pushing through. Like losing weight, if you want to see results you have to do something radically different. Being debt free has been such a blessing to me the past nine months. I will happily tell you about the benefits of being debt free in my next post, so stay tuned.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-42716046569019533452011-09-03T15:48:00.000-07:002011-09-03T15:57:09.254-07:00Writing BitsWhen I think about your eyes
<br />exposed to the bare flesh of another,
<br />my stomach churns into tangled knots.
<br />I use my fingers to untie them
<br />(same fingers with which I touch
<br />your skin alone)
<br />but they return, tight.
<br />You mark your territory on pretty doves,
<br />aim your metaphorical gun at them,
<br />but the only one left bleeding red
<br />is this brown headed robin.
<br />I want to horde your eyes selfishly
<br />so their lenses reflect only images of me,
<br />want to be the only one
<br />covered in your brand name.
<br />Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-23807469826101337902011-08-29T18:26:00.000-07:002011-08-29T19:28:41.784-07:00My Heart has a RipI am struggling. This is difficult for me to admit, but I know that if I don't deal with these feelings, I'm going to ruin a relationship that makes me very happy.
<br />
<br />My heart has a rip. Each time I think I have sewn the tear up on one side, the seam comes undone on the other end. I am angry at the one who put the rip there to begin with. It's like that T. Swift song "A Perfectly Good Heart. The lyrics go something like this:
<br />
<br />"Why would you wanna make the very first scar? Why would you wanna break a perfectly good heart?"
<br />
<br />Specifically, I am having issues with trust, and I am feeling insecure. I have been praying about these things, and I'm trying to remember that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. My worth has to come from a higher place and not from any one person here on Earth. This is difficult to do when all around me there are airbrushed and photoshopped images. I can't walk around with a professional hair stylist (it simply doesn't fit into the budget), and I am getting the angry teacher wrinkle at 25 (time is quickly marching down my face).
<br />
<br />When it comes down to it though, I've got to give up these feelings. I am living in fear that my current relationship will end the way my last relationship ended, and it's not fair to my beau to put this baggage on his back. He has done nothing to make me suspicious. I'm at the point where I have to ask myself: so what if he cheats? While I would be heartbroken, his actions are out of my hands. I have to take a chance and choose to trust him for what he says, and I have to focus on me. I have to continue to do the things that make me happy and let my worth come from within and from above.
<br />
<br />"Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Luke 12:7Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-50041900292467620842011-08-04T18:58:00.000-07:002011-08-04T19:19:13.438-07:00Joseph Cambell and 101 Ways to be Blissed OutI graduated high school on a hot and humid Virginia evening. There was heat lightening outlining a silhouette of the mountain, and rain drops splattered onto the top of my maroon cap. In order to protect our diplomas from being ruined by rain, the school handed out fake scrolls on stage, and we received our actual diplomas on a table inside the gym. On each scroll was the follow quotation:<br /><br /><em>Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls. </em>-Joseph Campbell <br /><br />At the time, this quote meant very little to me. I slid the scroll into the side of my white Pontiac door, and drove off into my unknown future. Over the past year, this quotation has become a light with which I view my life. Maybe it is selfish, but I have come to the conclusion that I don't want to spend anymore time doing what I find unpleasant. I want to do only those things that fill my life with joy and make me content. We only get one go on this ride of life, afterall.<br /><br />As you know, I started this blog to document my 101 things in 1001 days. Unfortunately, a lot of my 101 things had to do with someone who is no longer in my life, and so I stopped pursuing that list and instead pursued survival of the heart for awhile. Since the beginning of June, I've been considering what things would make my life full, and I started to write down all the things I'd like to experience and accomplish. I'm still working on it, but I have begun to establish a new 101 list. This time, each goal will be something for me because a person cannot base her life on making someone else happy. That's no way to live at all. I've found that making myself happy places people in my life who have the same interests and goals as I do, thus making my relationships with others more meaningful. <br /><br />and isn't that what life is all about? Genuine connections and love for people on earth: Agape.<br /><br />(101 List to follow. Stay tuned.)Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-17746242599156098232011-07-27T14:46:00.000-07:002011-07-27T15:07:08.955-07:00Twitterpated(I'm goin to geek out just a little, so please forgive me.)<br />Do you remember this term from the Disney classic Bambi? If we were to look it up in the Disney Glossary of Made Up Words, we might find this definition:<br />Twitterpated (adj) totally and completely smitten (as in "I am twitterpated over my new beau.")<br /><br />and girls and boys, am I ever! <br /><br />Montana came to Virginia and spent a fantastic five days at my house. We acted like kids and did everything from riding the ferris wheel to zipping down waterslides. I made him dinner, he fixed my dryer, we walked the dog, and in general did life together. <br /><br />Most everyone in my immediate circle of family and friends knows about Mr. Brawny Man Fantastic Pants, but I was hesitant to post him as my fo' realsies boyfriend on FB because I was nervous people would think it was too soon for me to be in a serious relationship. Then I decided to say the hell with what other people think! I am following my bliss, and this guy adds so much dimension and vibrancy to my life. Sometimes he will say things, and I'll think "my goodness...that's exactly what was going through my head." He always gets my jokes, is a wonderful kisser, and he makes me smile like none other.<br /><br />In the past, I've dated guys based on physical attraction. I even married the ex with physical attraction being 90% of the deal. With Montana it is different. Don't get me wrong, I think he is ridiculously handsome, and don't even get me started on those shoulders. . . but my attraction to Montana comes from our personalities being 100% compatible. He is active, likes to talk, and loves life. No surprise, but so do I! <br /><br />I can't wait until he comes to stay again. Call me crazy (and if I'm wrong, oh well), but he might just be it.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-65061854831173858492011-07-27T07:48:00.000-07:002011-07-27T07:58:48.431-07:00Untitled Poetry BitsHow do they learn to be men,<br />these boys without fathers?<br />Their hands clasped clumsily around baseball bats,<br />unsure how to swing a punch<br />or aim the cold silver of a bullet<br />at the pulsing throat of a deer.<br /><br />A shaky trigger finger<br />clutched tightly around a mother's hem<br />holding on until facial hair and embarassment. <br />Sneakers following blindly other sneakers<br />onto unlined courts or into danger,<br />willing to risk life to be included.<br />Together they figure out <br />how to say enough to drop panties<br />but not enough to keep the same pair of legs returning.<br /><br />When do they learn to kiss with gentle lips<br />to support the weight <br />of a family, to carry<br />the garbage out every Tuesday,<br />to unclog drains and pitch tents in the backyard?<br />To come home, turn the key in the same lock,<br />to do right in a world of wrong.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-43774971859022285162011-07-10T04:53:00.001-07:002011-07-11T04:16:13.046-07:00It Got Betterand by it, I mean life. <br /><br />Today is the day I will be officially divorced (provided ex does his part and goes to the court house). Even though the physical process of "goin through a Big D" was quite simple (writing up papers, etc), the waiting was awful (six months in my state since we had no kids). For months, I have been nervously anticipating this day. Even though I wasn't to blame, I've gone through the catalogue of emotions, these being the big three:<br /><br />Embarassment: How could I ever tell this to people I knew? Here I was, not even 25 and already "throwing the towel in." I could hear people's jaws smacking in the back of my head. I grew up Southern Baptist, and I felt shame and guilt for not upholding one of God's Covenants. But when the other person has already "left" the marriage and has no desire to work on it, what was I to do? Sit at home like a 50's housewife, drinking martinis and pretending like I didn't know my husband was screwing around? I don't think so.<br /><br />Anger: For awhile there, I wanted to bust some windows out of his car, light a match to his mailbox, have my dad rough him up, punch his skank in the face. But somewhere along the way, I realized he didn't deserve so much energy. I figure since he and this woman don't seem to take commitment seriously (and since I do), they deserve each other! Even in the early stages, I knew in my heart that I was loveable, and lo and behold someone has come along who is completely trustworthy and is as crazy about me as I am him.<br /><br />Peace and Contentment: I have built a life for myself in a new town. I wedged myself into the community, made a group of fantastic friends, and moved into the cutest little rental house. I overcame some fears (living on my own, traveling alone, cooking for one), and feel like this experience has made me more independent. <br /><br />I used to dread finalization like the plague, terrified that I would have a crippling case of depression and wouldn't be able to get out of bed, but instead I am (dare I say it?) excited. It feels like once I cut this ball and chain officially off, my life will finally spin into a beautiful state of opportunity, adventure, and happiness. I will no longer tiptoe dangerously close to them, pulling toward them as a metal chain yanks me back. No, I will run free into the deep waters and let out a sigh that only my soul can muster.<br /><br />If you're going through the Big D, rest assured (from someone who has been there) that it does get better. I can't tell you how long it will take for you to find the peace and contentment stage, but I promise you it is there. I am so thankful to be where I am now because my life isn't just better, it's at it's very best.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-36779117387245160442011-06-28T07:42:00.000-07:002011-06-28T08:07:00.309-07:00Life HappensI had spent the day of the trip like any other. I woke at eight, took a shower and dressed, then had barbecue with the Snowmonster in town. Unlike other days, I spent the evening on a plane to see my best friend and college roommate in Maine. <br />Being only my second flight ever, I was quite nervous. I boarded the plane and took my seat next to an older gentleman. Unfortunately for him, I had the aisle seat and separated him from his wife and kids. I offered to switch him seats, and found myself wedged between this older man and a fellow roughly my age. <br /><br />Can you guess where this is going?<br /><br />Yup. I met a fellow on a plane. A legit fellow that I am willing to go on the record with. How did this happen? Let me back up and take you from where I was to where I am. <br /><br />The week prior to this trip, I was sitting with Johanna having a drink and dinner. We were both depressed and singing "mirror in the sky, what is love?!" Between our lyrical shenanigans, we discussed how exhausted we were from dating a bunch of no potential suitors. Worse than disappointing dates, we were both dreading the work that comes with building a relationship. You have to bare your soul, listen as someone else bare theirs, pick up their baggage... I mean, like I said: EXHAUSTING.<br /><br />Not only is dating exhausting and disappointing, it's confusing. There are so many rules! Having read "He's Just Not That Into You", Johanna and I try to follow the "don't call him/let him call you" rule, but the crappy part is when you have a decent time with someone and then they follow the "Bro Code" which was explained to me by a male friend as "the 72 hours after a date where you are not to call the lady because you don't want to appear desperate." Like I said, confusing. So young ladies like myself sit at home waiting by the telephone wondering if a suitor will call, or not call. That night, Johanna and I had decided we were not waiting by the phone anymore. We were swearing off serious love because clearly it didn't exist in our world.<br /><br />Fast forward to me on this plane with a guy from Montana (who shall be referred to as Montana from here on out). We spent the two hours of the flight wrapped up in easy conversation. One thing led to another, and we spent twelve hours traipsing through shore and forest, eating ice cream, watching a film, and discussing particulars in a Portland park. With him, it is so easy. There is no exhaustion whatsoever, and it feels natural and right.<br /><br />I am scared because it hasn't been that long since my marriage dissolved, but I sense that passing this up would be a terrible mistake. So here I go again, believing in Beauty, Truth, and Love as the Bohemians do in Moulin Rouge. I may get hurt, and my heart may end up even more tattered and bruised, but for him, it's a risk I'm willing to take. :)Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-36141093491364091812011-05-28T14:30:00.000-07:002011-05-28T14:32:02.860-07:00Poem: The Good TimesSeparating you from this despicable act<br />is easier as hands spin round the face of a mantel clock.<br />Each day, I am increasingly reminded of the good: three times<br />and no luck on the chocolate pie with meringue,<br />the time the beaters ate the shell and you laughed<br />as filling flew through the air and stuck to cabinets and hair.<br />Or the day you were in the snow with a hammer<br />building our yellow shed.<br />I had the lemon pound cake baking, running to town<br />to grab stamps or pay a bill<br />and you forgot to take it out and I cried.<br />You smiled and ate the burnt bits anyway.<br />Or my 23rd birthday when you had to work.<br />You left clues around the apartment,<br />a gift hidden in each room: Edward Cullen<br />stuffed under the couch cushion,<br />a cd in the washing machine,<br />tickets to see Blink in the mailbox.<br /><br />Three days before you told me,<br />I came home to a dozen red roses.<br />How cruel of you to kill a fresh flower<br />to clear your guilty conscious, <br />and yet the day they arrived <br />I had never felt more loved.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-22355442395771100322011-05-28T08:55:00.000-07:002011-05-28T09:12:16.929-07:00Oh, Hi Networth. You're Cute.Getting divorced is expensive. I highly don't recommend it. It took a few months for me to get back on my feet, what with the fee to turn on my electricity, buying a bed, putting a deposit down on an apartment. Gah! I felt like I was bleeding money.<br /><br />Slowly but surely I've been socking a little money away each month, and I've finally got a small sum in my checking account as an emergency fund. It's not 6-12 months worth, but it would get me through a few months if necessary. And this week I did the one thing I desperately wanted to do before my 25th birthday: I started my Roth IRA. I chose to invest in a target fund through Vanguard. I've watched the target funds for about a year now and finally decided to give it a go. Since learning about investing, I've decided to take this lesson to heart: <em><strong>time in the market is better than timing the market</strong></em>. <br /><br />So now I am $1000 closer to retiring when I'm 55. I'm closer to having that river/lake/beach front property to enjoy, to traveling through Europe DEBT FREE!<br /><br />Financial goals for the remainder of the year? Pay my brother back the cash fundage he let me borrow when the Big D went down. My other goal is to have my Networth hovering around $9,000 by Jan. 1.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-40977189735546209042011-05-25T14:54:00.001-07:002011-05-25T15:31:28.877-07:00My Next 25 YearsThe other day I was playing a game of (Clean) Dirty Hearts with the gal pals, and I was asked where I saw myself in five years, then I went out on Sunday and was asked where I saw myself in ten years, and my boss wants to know where I see myself in twenty years. <br /><br />My honest answer? I. Don't. Know. In five years, I'll be the dreaded thirty. Interestingly enough, it doesn't bother me. Won't it be refreshing to stand firm in the comfort of a solid identity? Or will I continue to ask myself where my life is heading? If you'd asked me a year ago (heck six months ago) where I saw myself in five years, I would have seen myself as a married mother of 3.5 children. But now I'm not sure I want that. I want to fall in love again. I know I want that, but who knows if that will be in the next five years or in the next eighty? I want to pulse with anticipation when a certain person pulls into my driveway (who will that person be?). I want to share the morning paper with someone over shitty cereal. I want to make out on a beach, on a ferris wheel, in the back of a truck/car/boat. I want to laugh with someone until my side aches. I want to do all of this and more, but I don't know if I want to marry again until I'm 50 (or ever).<br /><br />and if I'm confused about where I'll be in five years, I'm even more at a loss with the ten year timeline. I'd like to have a Roth IRA that is performing. I'd like my networth to be over $100,000. I'd like to go to Greece, maybe get a master's degree, finish my poetry project.<br /><br />I'm turning twenty five in a short 13 days, and I'm faced with this question again: what am I doing with my life? I keep waiting for an answer, for something to hit me in the face and say WHAM! THIS IS WHAT YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING. But all I can focus on is the fact that I'd like to make and eat a chocolate pie. So that's what I'm going to do in my next 25 years. I mean, not make the pie (well I probably will bake), but follow all of my heart's healthy desires.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-91593802633047001722011-05-20T13:44:00.000-07:002011-05-20T14:01:44.332-07:00Divorce Poetry Part 4See? I'm dealing with it in my own way.<br /><br />Message R9K<br /><br />Tell him I go weeks<br />without the thought of his face.<br />I am able to forget the existence<br />of someone who for so long<br />held my blood red heart<br />in his guitar calloused fingers.<br />I focus on Marie Howe's<br />"What the Living Do."<br />I lug the trash to the corner,<br />fold my wrinkled laundry,<br />wash the eight glasses of water <br />left randomly in each room<br />(He always hated that.<br />I can hear him now:<br />"Can't you keep up with one glass?"<br /> NO!)<br /><br />Tell him I do fine<br />until I catch myself shoving<br />an empty pizza box under <br />the trash can <br />or breaking the white shell<br />of an egg only to return <br />the shards to the crate<br />the way he did.<br />I keep the swispers under<br />the sink for him even though<br />I know he will never touch<br />their round cotton ends.<br /><br />Tell him it's like a death, but worse<br />because he lives on without me<br />by choice as if I am someone forgettable,<br />as if he was the only one who gave up dreams,<br />the only one who deserved happiness.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-490283858100368558.post-24056002104856740892011-05-20T13:39:00.000-07:002011-05-20T13:44:25.008-07:00Divorce Poetry Part 3Again, rough and more free versey and conversational than what I usually write.<br /><br />Barren<br /><br />I turn a key to a door<br />that no longer leads to you.<br />The paint chips around the panes<br />dirt and webs crowd each corner.<br /><br />Our home was bright--<br />a cheery yellow in a world<br />blurring around the edges, gray and black.<br />I hold on to the dreams we shared: a deck<br />extended for years, a privacy fence for the dog and kids.<br />But I realize your dreams no longer match mine.<br /><br />How do I continue to move through this place with these old things,<br />these trinkets, lost and found.<br />A mirror, a clock, time <br />running out and me still here, <br />thin and frail.Ashleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06481683327189558732noreply@blogger.com0