fourteen.

it's been storming to beat the band, and something about the way the wind whips around my room has been keeping my up with pen to paper nearly every night this past week. so easily i slip into my alter-ego, the one who falls asleep with ink stained hands, snuggling close to notebooks and paper tablets, and who wears dark rimmed glasses (despite my perfect vision) just to have a disguise to hide behind. tea mugs line my dresser and my bed hasn't been made for days. there has been time to ruminate. ...uh oh, i fear we're getting philosophical here... no, these are not erudite or sapient musings of a brilliant mind, but none the less, here we go.

life, if nothing else, is undoubtedly about connections. this seems basal enough, in fact i'm kicking myself for the use of such a cliche, yet every few years something happens that reminds me i've all but forgotten this simple truism, and remembering it seems to hit me like being whacked upside the head with a proverbial "duh". the ties that bind us strongly to one another in this crazy spinning world are the only things we can depend on to keep us from flinging off into the abyss, to keep us grounded, to keep us alive.

i know i'm blessed- my connections are strong. my "soul mates", as i call them, make everything make sense. they are undeniably indicators (if not constant reminders) of what LIFE is. although it's a rare thing, the effortlessness at which truly extraordinary people have made their way into my reality and under my skin always remains so distinct and poignant in my mind. it's these moments that make us, and i'd even venture to say they are the signposts on this road of life--- i would be so lost without those instances where i just knew, unequivocally, that embarking on a relationship with that certain person was integral in living a fulfilled life.

i seem to remember these moments with a kind of mental acuity that is rare for me, as my memories lately have been as hazy as the weather. in these instances though, i always feel like the world shifts off-kilter ever so slightly and leaves me stumbling to re-plant my feet in balance. i think this in itself is what adds to the potency of the memory- as though an acute sense of disorientation in reality somehow breeds a forever firmly affixed memory. i covet these memories in my mind as one might snippets of newspaper or photographs in a scrapbook- they are the things i'd hold most dearly, for reliving them is a breathtaking reminder that, oh yes, whether we choose to acknowledge it or not, the universe most assuredly has a plan.

i know the significance of any such memory to anyone other than me would fail to be conveyed in its recounting...... laughing at ourselves til we couldn't breathe over spit contests in the lakehouse bathroom as little girls, playing snake on our phones and gel-penning our favorite vans sneakers after school, the very real jolt of energy that coursed through my being when you kissed my forearms that night northbound on the 5, when you cried with me after practice and then bought me a candybar to make it better, reaching back into the crowd for your hand at that concert of our favorite musician, knowing we must share dna when you told me with such conviction that "that. was. real.", the first moment we locked eyes when you walked through the door at our friend's house that summer evening..... i guard these moments as though they are the very fibers that make me, because afterall, they are.

lately life has given me exactly what i didn't know i needed right exactly when i needed it. effortlessly, things just are. and that is exactly how they should be. without asking, someone enters your life that can see straight through all your silly facades and whose friendship has no choice but to take root. before you can open your mouth to object, someone will love you so fiercely it makes you stumble over words and tremble to your core for fear that this might just be enough. these are reminders that the path you never chose has chosen you.

so, sure, i can go about toting that i've "cut myself free" of so many obligations, but the fact of the matter is this: i am (and always will be) inextricably and firmly affixed to you, my dear soul mates. there is no quota, my heart knows no boundary of "we're full-up here", and life has a funny way of tying the tightest ties when i'm wanting or expecting them least. so, thanks, for being unexpected, for throwing me off kilter, for reminding me to live my life, for keeping me from flinging off into the abyss, and for making me.

(and in the likely case i lost you awhile ago, in sum, just see this at around the 25sec mark)

thirteen.

i'm scathing, writhing, fuming, ouching right now. there is something rotten in the state of denmark, and it's your piss poor communication skills. say what you mean, mean what you say, and be accountable for it all. it's not difficult, yet it's a seemingly impossible task for so many of us. how did we get here?

i grew up in a household where what wasn't said was the most deafeningly loud thing in my life. to this day, my father can clear his throat in a certain way and i will break into a cold sweat as my brain races to figure out what i've done wrong. as for my mom and all the martin women, we can hold a grudge and give silent treatment with the comfort level to the targeted victim comparable to that of being waterboarded or having your fingernails slowly pulled off one at a time. if you think this is a gross exaggeration, you are most certainly not one of my uncles nor have you been around any of us when a) we are hungry or b) you fucked up. generally, the accepted school of thought is the: "i'm upset with you, so without a word i'm gonna make damn sure you know i'm upset AND i'm going to require that you not only figure out WHY i'm upset but also HOW to make it better. and lord help you if you think an 'i'm sorry' is going to cut it!"

then there are these kids that i grew up with (living life like it's going outta style). these are there are my friends, this is who they have been for always. they are extraordinary human beings without whom i would not have lasted one single day of my high school years in a suburban town. our hearts tick in beat with one another and more often than not, we talk in complete code and song lyrics (catch the 4 in this paragraph?) where everything said verbally is a stand in for the real conversation. it's more than talking in code, it's an inside joke taken to the umpteenth level: it's an inside language. i often imagine that getting the gist of just a single of our lunchtime conversations would have required subtitles for any outsider- the words passing our lips were very rarely related to the meaning of what was really being said. and the best part? we all understood.

but, alas, language exists because the majority of the world can't interpret the intimate jargon of a select group of dear friends or easily figure out precisely why my aunties and cousins are giving that deathstare. i wouldn't have made it very far with this majority (and thus wouldn't have made it very far in this world) because i had grown up miscommunicating. and i didn't have any idea. until i met travis.

i owe all, yes all, my healthy, present day communication skills to travis. he and i, by pure happenstance, fell effortlessly and instantly into being the most inseparable, best of friends. to this day, i am never ceased to be amazed by the realness, depth, and genuineness of our conversations. i started college with a very false, yet very settled security in how i interacted with others, and i will never forget that after "opening up" about myself in one of our first (of many) dinner discussions, travis so eloquently called complete bullshit on everything i had just said. "you have a huge wall built around you," he told me, and he was right "so can you just tell me what you're really trying to say?". that was one one of the most "naked" moments of my entire life. all the bad habits i had accumulated to manipulate the world around me and to hide my fallibility would have to go. it took time. it's still a conscious effort. but i've found that making the effort to say what actually needs to be expressed is one of the most rewarding, healthy, uncomplicating things i could ever do for my life.

i believe in honesty. i believe in putting myself out there, despite how vulnerable it makes me to know there is no guarantee what i am trying to convey will be received well, properly, or even at all. and trust me, on days like today when boldly saying what i needed to say causes a shitstorm more strife than had i just kept my big mouth shut, it's really hard to not lay those old bricks and start reconstructing that wall. you see, whoever said "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" was a big fat fibber and i'd go as far to say was questionably human.

sometimes, words. do. hurt. and that's ok, because today i learned that they can un-hurt too. a lousy, loathsome misplaced sentiment can bore its way deep under your skin, making you "scathe, writhe, fume, ouch", and then a gleaming glimmer of honesty and truth can swoop in and rescue you.

communication is king. it is "a lonely world when that's deficient/missing". but going to bed with knowledge that between me and those i love most it will never be a lonely world, especially not tonight, is pretty damn awesome.