Wish You The Best

This song has been stuck in my head for about a week... I think it is beautiful. Hauntingly beautiful, but amazing nonetheless. It makes me think about a lot of people. My birth parents. My adoptive father. Too many friends to count. Some of the people have found their way back, and I am grateful for that. But some of them... well I wish them the best.

Miss You

We walked past each other in the parking lot a few days ago and we didn't even realize it until we were stepping past each other, feet away. I had to look especially close just to see who had called out my name.

Because you aren't you anymore.

The last time you were actually you was August 25 and we spent the night talking about dirt biking and I dropped everything to bring you ice cream after you got out of the hospital.

I was always scared you would finally leave, but the day it happened I didn't even notice. I had already shut you out because that is what I do best when my emotions are paralyzed with fear.

It would be easy for me to say that I am simply afraid of people leaving me, but since I have been given up and passed up and looked over and passed under so many times I am not afraid of that anymore. I have talked myself into convincing myself that everyone is going to leave, the only variable being when.

No, what I am more afraid of is so much harder to say and yet so much more cliche. They empower me, and they break me into a million pieces.

But the best thing to do is face fears, isn't it?

I am afraid of my emotions. And I will do anything to keep someone from using them, from knowing I have them. Because they are powerful and are the very thing that could destroy me. So I fight. I fight feeling them, fight acknowledging them, fight sharing them, fight showing them.

Did you leave because I didn't keep the connection? You got too close to the flame that was my emotion riddled heart and I didn't want you to get burned so I pushed my hand in the flames instead. I bit my tongue and let you walk away to find another heat source.

I wish I could tell you that I miss our late night talks and spontaneous drives. But you aren't around to hear my apologies anymore. Just because I couldn't let me burn you.

We Won't Forget

I'm worried that when the snow falls, we will forget all about the orange leaves.
I don't want to forget the smell of the earth we walked on.

I'm scared when we all finally walk across that stage, we will forget each other.
I don't want to be tossed aside like yesterday's newspaper.

We don't need empty promises and long goodbyes.
All I want are small smiles and gentle kisses on my cheek.

I won't need a fancy sports car or a date to prom.
I'll be satisfied with spontaneous sleep overs and 6 am hockey games.

And even when the air begins to warm again, and the sun once again shines
I'll still be only one phone call away, ready to take a last minute drive to your old neighborhood.

So when the clock strikes twelve and we leave this magic ball behind,
I won't be ready for it to end.

But I will be ready to hold each of your hands and face our future.
And I have a feeling when the time comes, we won't be afraid.

We won't have a reason to be.
Because together, even separate, we can do anything.

Trapped

I'm trapped. Trapped by walls of self doubt and silence.

All I ever wanted some closure and a second chance. And just when I thought I was going to be able to get them

you are too busy

too tired

too far away.

And I start to worry over every little thing, every detail, every word.

I don't know why I worry, you said yourself that I have done nothing wrong. It's because I'm trapped. Trapped but those looming, intimidating walls of self doubt and silence.

They make me analyze over and over again each message before I send it. They make me worry that every time you say I'll see if I can you really mean I don't want to.

And worst of all they make me scared that you'll read this post and know that I am talking about you, that it will make me seem obsessive and pathetic.

When all I really want to say is that I have no other voice that is brave enough to scale the walls I am trapped behind, no other voice that is strong enough to try and break through to you.

And the walls last defenses is to laugh at this small, daring voice insisting that you will never read this anyways. This almost stops me.

But then it's my turn to laugh and scream back at the walls What the hell! There is no harm in putting this out there if you never see it.

So here is the last voice willing to try. Throwing itself out into existence and hoping that I am not too late. Hoping that I am not just in love with someone long forgotten in the past.

Things I Have Never

I have never been asked to a dance.

I have never traveled east of Colorado.

I have never been to Disney World.

I have never spent a night in a haunted building.

I have never touched the Atlantic Ocean.

I have never spent a night alone in my house.

I have never met somebody famous.

I have never broken a bone.

I have never liked spicy food.

I have never had a television in my own room.

I have never smoked a cigarette.

I have never owned an Iphone.

I have never lived anywhere but Utah.

I have never visited my grandmas grave.

I have never been to prom or homecoming.

I have never seen a dead body.

I have never made more than $8 an hour.

I have never been camping without a parent.

I have never been in a car accident.

I have never liked kids.

I have never been 100% completely honest in any relationship or friendship.

Regret To Inform You

I regret to inform you that I cannot actually tell you how to do anything.

I can't tell you how to fall in love because every time I do, it is not returned. I can't tell you how to piss someone off because I do it without even trying. I can't tell you how to fry a fish because I prefer baking. I can't tell you how to dance because my dance moves are limited to awkward shuffling and spinning in endless circles.

I was not born to be a teacher. When something finally makes sense in my head I can't tell someone else exactly why it does or how to understand it themselves. I can't tell you how to write a good English essay, or how to solve a radical equation.

I can't tell you how to drive a car because I drive mine much too fast. I can't tell you how to succeed in business because I've never made more than 8 dollars an hour. I can't tell you how to make friends because the ones I have somehow found me and I'm not even sure why they are still here.

I can't tell you how to look your best because most the time all I wear is jeans and a hoodie. I can't tell you how to believe in a greater being because I am not religious. I can't give you instructions on how to become a poet or tell you step by step how to make a good blog.

So I'm sorry this wasn't informative or instructional.

Actually, I'm not. I'm not sorry that I can't tell you how to do something. Because in my opinion, nobody can tell you how to live. We learn and discover by our own trial and error. So if you are having to rely on someone as insignificant as me to give you instructions on how to do something,

then you are doing it wrong.

Used To It

I am used to being used.

I see it happening.

Feel it happening.

But I continue to let it happen.

Because I think I am good for nothing else.

That's a lie.

I know I am good for nothing else.

Sometimes it bugs me.

But most the time I just don't care anymore.

Because the way I figure it...

It's better to be used for something, than nothing at all.

Cooking for the Soul

I recently had an awakening of my soul. I know that sounds cliche and all, but it's true. I remembered why I cherish cooking so much. The flame inside me, my passion for the culinary arts, was renewed by a gust of ferocious wind caused by an intriguing movie, The Hundred-Foot Journey.

It reminded me that the reason I cook is not because I want to impress somebody or win an award. I cook because it makes me happy, it reminds me of home. There is just something about cooking that is soothing to the soul. It fills all the senses, and for it I am very grateful.

"The table is a meeting place, a gathering ground, the source of sustenance and nourishment, festivity, safety, and satisfaction. A person cooking is a person giving: Even the simplest food is a gift." -Laurie Colwin

"I'm just someone who likes cooking and for whom sharing food is a form of expression." -Maya Angelou

"Cooking is about passion, so it may look slightly temperamental in a way that it's too assertive to the naked eye." -Gordon Ramsay

"Cooking is in an honest profession where you cannot hide and let others do the work for you. You have to show up, work hard and prove you can do it faster and better. And find a mentor who will recognize your talent and push you in the right direction." -Marcus Samuelsson

"Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all." -Harriet Van Horne

"Promises and pie-crust are meant to be broken." -Jonathan Swift