I want my imagination back

I want to crawl back in bed and let the world move on without me today. I want to dream happy dreams. About making snow angels. Talking with my brothers. Reading novels. I want to dream about intercession and all the joys that come with 5 school-less weeks.

I want my imagination back. Because my imagination was easier to live in.

I want to be Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Standing in a world where me and things don't quite fit together. Because that life is easier to live.

There was a point in my reality not too long ago where me and things didn't go together.

That life made sense.

I want my imagination back. Because my imagination lets me control things.

I decide who to love.

Where to turn.

When to run.

I don't want this confusion.

These restless nights.

This fatal attraction.

I want my imagination back. Because I used to imagine who people were without ever really knowing. And life was easier that way.

I want to have conversations with my best friend.

About how much love we have to offer

but have no one to give it to.

How our hearts are too big for this world we live in.

I want my imagination back. Because in my imagination people jump at the chance to be loved. And love isn't scary. It's simple and easy and right.

I don't want to be scared.

This uncertainty is no good.

I want to know.

To be confident.

Unafraid and ready.

Ready for whatever reality wants to throw my way...

Unfortunately though, I want my imagination back.

Happiness.

I'm trying to figure out what happiness is and what it entails.

USD has got me reading too many depressing books. Homelessness. The Penitentiary System. Oppressed women of color. My God... way to kill a perfectly enjoyable Sunday evening guys.

In the midst of this sadness and inequality I started thinking about what happiness is... what is this thing that every one strives for. That we claim to have at random moments in our lives. That is both temporary and long lasting.

When I think of happiness a few things come to mind:

Smiles. Coffee. Cuddling. Jumping off of curbs. Margo. Spinning is circles. Laughter. Bright colored nail polish. Reading amazing novels. Inside Jokes. Getting lost in thought. Children. Peanut butter toast. Hugs. Surprises. Best friends. Rain. Letters in the mail. Good conversations. Traveling to new places. Road trips.

There are plenty more, but I'll stick with those for now.

One of my life goals used to be (or perhaps still is) to laugh until I pee my pants. I felt that this would prove that I was in the most true state of happiness. But I'm pretty sure it would just prove that my emotions are in their most excited state and my bladder is painfully full. And maybe laughing that hard wouldn't mean that I was happy but merely that I was in an awkward situation that required laughter, resulting with me wetting myself, which, in turn, would just make it that much more awkward, causing more laughter...

...yeh. Too many commas.

I still have never laughed that hard. I came close once. At Disneyland. With my best friends from high school. Chubis <--- the topic of a future blog entry.

Anyways. What is happiness?

Right now I would say I'm pretty happy. I'm perfectly content laying on a friend's bed (which is way comfy by the way) putting off homework and blogging about something beyond my understanding. I have a silly smiled permanently planted on my face and song lyrics stuck in my head.

But how do I measure happiness?

In how long it's been since I cried? In how many times a day I laugh? When and where I get the butterflies and good kind of goose bumps? In compliments that make me smile, in conversations that challenge me, in my pouring out of love?

Do I measure happiness in how many people I positively effect, places I visit, circles I spin in? In contradictions I figure out, in moments where my world is still and peaceful, in hours of sleep I get at night? In how much education I have, what grades I get, what I do after college?

Who defines happiness? Better yet, what defines happiness?

Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe all that matters is that I feel good. That I am smiling. My eyes are telling a story of their own. And I'm permanently (for now) seeking out people to be in relation with or deepen my relationship with. Maybe it's enough that I have people in my life who test me, challenge me, love me, and continually hug me and affirm me (I'm a creature who seeks validation and affirmation).

Whatever happiness is... well, it fascinates me. Because I know when I feel it, and when I see it, but I don't know what it is. Because it is different for everyone. Our happiness is unique to our own being. What drives us. What excites us. What saddens us. What gives me the goosebumps, the butterflies, and makes me laugh until I pee my pants.

But our happiness also lies in the hearts of others. I don't know. Something to think about further I guess...

Challenges and Love

Things I love about today:

Watching Titus battle the hiccups

Left over chicken and rice for lunch

The way the cold weather makes my hair the perfect kind of curly

Seeing happy couples in Aromas

Flip flops and rain puddles

Hilarious voice mails from my roommate

Receiving advice from my fellow CASA workers

Laughing during horrific videos about bunnies in class

English breakfast tea, compliments of my favorite San Diego family

Study sessions with Anjuli in Aromas

Thinking about last night's conversations

Unexpected hugs from Kendra while standing in line to buy coffee

Staying after class to get clarity on confusing concepts

Making plans to talk with my favorite mentor

The heaters being on in Olin Hall :)

Teachers who show genuine interest in how you're doing in other classes

Long phone conversations with my mommy

Peanut butter toast with applesauce

Text messages from my soulmate

Going to the doctors and finally getting medicine!

Today's been rough.

Not only because Piper vomited all over my pants this morning, and the fluid build up behind my ear drums, but because I've been thinking more than normal and my head feels like it's spinning off it's axis.

I've been challenged lately.

Challenged to question who I am as a person, why I believe what I do, and what I plan on doing with my life.

I think this challenge comes from the best possible of places, and I'm feeling good about justifying my intentions and recognizing that I have so much to learn and so much to still figure out, its just coming at an incredibly busy time.

I love challenges and people who aren't afraid to ask difficult questions, therefore I am thankful for this, but frustrated all the same.

So in an effort to make today pleasant I decided to find everything wonderful about today : )

So there you have it.

There is always something positive in a shitty day.

Soulmate

Last weekend as we were leaving Moondoggies, Kara claimed that she had found her soulmate (read about it here), which then sparked a semi-intense, semi-hilarious conversation about soulmates.

I don't know if I believe we ever find our soulmate, or that soulmates even exist for that matter. I don't know if you only have one soulmate, or a plethora of people whose hearts could fit in your very own chest. I don't know if when you find your soulmate you are supposed to marry them, or if your soulmate is supposed to be of your same sex. I don't know. I really just don't know.

But doesn't it seem odd that soulmate is a word, but soulmates is not? Meaning, that according to my computer's spell check function you only have one soulmate. Totally bizarre.

So last night (this soulmate stuff tends to like Saturdays) a random comment on this topic got me thinking, so I Wikipediaed 'soulmate' and found this:

"One story about soulmates, presented by Aristophanes in Plato's Symposium, is that humans originally consisted of four arms, four legs, and a single head made of two faces, but Zeusfeared their power and split them all in half, condemning them to spend their lives searching for the other half to complete them."

Pretty cool huh? I'm obsessed. And because I'm 22, currently not in love, and still wearing spinny dresses and side ponytails I'm allowed to use the word soulmate lightly. Therefore, I'm going to claim that I've already found my soulmate. The person Zeus rid me of - the person who shares my heart and my brain.

This person knows me better than I know myself.

She gets butterflies in her stomach for me when she I give her the play-by-play of my night out with a super cute boy.

She responds with, "you'll just need a sweatshirt" when I tell her I probably cant go to breakfast because I'm not wearing a bra.

And knows exactly what I'll order at Santanas (mainly because we go there far too often).

We read the same books, love the same movies, and share the same passion for social issues.

We lack self control when it comes to desserts, facebook chat way to early in the mornings, and don't go a day without talking.

We give each other the same advice (whether its good or bad I haven't decided yet) are both mildly obsessed with hiking, and cannot keep plants alive for the life of us.

We belong together. Who else would I share my random fits of excitement with, dance away my sadness with, and rate people's'squishy-ness' with? (Probably no one because people don't tend to understand that squishy does not mean fat, or chubby, or anything bad, but is in fact a wonderful wonderful quality and you'd be happy if we referred to you as such.)

We have wayyyy more fun than you! : )

A Beautiful Wreck

You know the scenes in movies where the main character is standing still but the rest of the world is moving at an accelerated pace? Like seasons change, years pass, new generations are born all in a matter of seconds?

Well, welcome to my morning!

I was the only form of a constant this morning. I spent 4 1/2 hours sitting in the same chair, at the same table, drinking the same Pumpkin Spice Latte, eating the same yogurt, and reading the same study guide in an effort to pass my Classical (or is it Contemporary?) Sociological Theory midterm as the rest of the world sped on without me.

I'm pretty sure I watched the seasons change because when I walked outside there was lightening, thunder, and rain... Which in turn would mean that those 4 1/2 hours were actually much much longer... And by the time I got up to leave I didn't even recognize the Starbucks staff, so it's possible that their children were the ones who sent me off with warm wishes of a pleasant day...

Maybe not, but still...

Once the blur of bodies rapidly moving past my stoop seized, I stopped studying Mill, Weber, Marx, and who ever the hell else was on my midterm this morning and began reflecting on the last few days and decided that people would probably get a kick out of watching my life pan out.

I'm utterly and completely a mess.

Not only do I revert back into a 12 year old girl at the thought of my current crush, but I have this wonderful ability to inappropriately ask my professors to tell me their life stories along with this amazing tendency to reveal my juvenile thoughts to my superiors. I find myself in horrendously awkward situations as a result of my constant curiosity and devotion to knowledge. But hey, I wasn't born with a social sensor, and I'm finding that it makes my life more interesting than yours.

I run around in the rain like it's the first time I've ever seen drops of water fall from the sky, and I trip walking anywhere and everywhere. It appears that I have two working feet, but I'm convinced otherwise. I get really really excited for free frozen yogurt which results in spilling half of it down the front of my child's size sweatshirt but I continue on with my conversation because I really just don't care...

My heart skips a beat when I see the edge of a certain teachers mysterious tattoo, and I turn around every time he says something charming so I can say exactly that to Anjuli... charming! (Okay, so for you professors out there who have told me you read this, I apologize. That might have been too much.)

I wear high socks with running shorts when I'm having a bad day. This doesn't actually make me feel better... in fact, people usually comment on my attire asking if I have been or plan on going to the gym. My response is usually that I just didn't feel like showering that morning.

I randomly break-in (okay I still have a key) to the house I lived in this summer and sit at the kitchen table waiting for my old roommates to come home so I have someone to talk to, complain to, jump around in excitement with, and scream ROOOOMMMIIIEEEEEE to at the top of my lungs. Because I miss them, and that house, and our summer adventures.

My dining room table and I have a really great relationship. In fact he feels very loved this week because he is completely covered in objects as diverse as the thoughts in my head. I have mental break downs late at night with him. I sit here and cry and yell in a whisper about my hectic life but calm down as soon as I see a nice cup of coffee sitting in front of me. I'm addicted to coffee, if you didn't already know.

I wish someone would secretly video tape me for a week (not in a creepy way of course) because I'd love to see just how ridiculous my conversations with Kara are, how much I over think and freak out, and the extent of the awkward situations I find myself in. Maybe no one would be thoroughly entertained by watching my life pan out... well my mom definitely would, and maybe my Aunt Kelli too, but I'm finding myself to be fascinating lately (this could be because I really haven't slept all week, and I broke my beloved coffee pot, so I'm probably 87% delirious right now).

My life is a beautiful wreck. A roller coaster of emotions in their most excited state. A story unique to me. :)

Because I have a paper to start, write, re-write and turn in by 5pm tomorrow and because I'm really good at procrastinating, I'm once again blogging about something trivial at the most inopportune time. But I think Dr. Sprinkle from the counseling center would say this is a healthy stress reliever. So Dr. Perez, your paper on Anzaldua's Borderlands is going to have to wait til later, much later, as in after I go out for froyo and coffee and pretend I have a social life later.

Excitement.

I gave up studying for Dr. Reifer's impossible midterm well before 9:00pm.

(I got as far as defining 4 terms)

So I attempted to learn the lyrics to Tupac's Changes but then gave up on that too.

(I originally figured it might be beneficial to dictate these words on my midterm. Bonus points anyone?)

Because I epically failed at both the above I figured I'd make tonight productive by consuming half a box of wheat thins in less than 10 minutes and listening to Donavon Frankenreiter on repeat.

Life. Love. Laughter.

I had a good conversation with my best friend Saturday night about life and death. Which soon turned into an even better conversation about love. Which ultimately ended in laughter.

He pretends he doesn't know, but I adore him.

And I am forever thankful for our honest conversations even when they do happen at 2:30 in the morning.

Anyways. I also made tonight productive by thinking of everything I'm excited about.

Which wouldn't be tomorrow.

(There is nothing good about Tuesdays, they are the worst of my week every week. In fact, if I could eliminate any day it would be Tuesday. I hate Tuesdays.)

But I love Wednesdays!

I can't wait for Wednesday morning coffee with Rob.

(Although I'm probably gonna have to order my summer beverage of choice because of this out of place weather.)

For Wednesday afternoon playing with Titus and Piper.

(I missed them today :/)

And for Wednesday night spent in the library with 90% of my classmates frantically cramming for the midterm none of us believe we'll pass anyways.

I'm excited for Thursday after 10:45 am.

(my midterm will be over by then)

To watch a movie in my controversial english class and play in the computer lab during Stats.

I'm excited for a really good conversation with Kara during dead hours in CASA.

And I'm excited for the possibility of going out Thursday night.

I'm excited for my 10 yoga sessions with Doodle.

To go to Boston for the Resolve Conference in November.

For my (yet to be planned) trip to DC in January.

To push through the intimidating applications for life after college.

For my sister to visit me in the near future.

To find out if James really got housing through the 100,00 Homes Campaign.

I'm excited for cold weather.

For Christmas lights, pine trees, and fires.

I'm excited for Pumpkin Spice Lattes,

Jumping in rain puddles and spinning in circles with my arms stretched wide.

For trips to the snow, good books to read, and New Year Resolutions.

I'm excited to get to know someone new,

to relinquish my awkwardness, and embrace the unknown.

I'm excited and ready for so much.

I just need to get through tomorrow :)

Now that I have exhausted what little energy I had after spending an hour and a half in Dr. Reifer's office begging for test answers I think I'll go to bed because I'm excited for that too.

100,000 Homes Campaign

I'm a girl of many words, so when assigned to reflect on my experience with the 100,000 Homes Campaign I struggled immensely with the 1,000 word limit. But in an effort to not spend my whole weekend writing about registry week, I am simply posting my reflection assignment here for you to read. Surely I have more to say, more feelings I'd love to express, and more questions I'd like to ask myself, but here you have it... what I have offered my classmates and Dr. Schlichtman about waking up at 3:00am, surveying homeless individuals, and finding out the results of this particular campaign.

9/22/10 – 7:15PM

I am tired.

No.

I am exhausted.

Totally and utterly exhausted.

I am detached.

I feel unaffected.

I cannot process.

Why?

“I think it just means you are tired Taylor.”

“Give it time. Let it sink in. Sleep. Then process.”

Yes.

That is what I will do.

Sleep.

Then think.

Process.

Sleep first.

9/19/10 – 10:30PM

Waking up at 3:00am is too much to ask of an already sleep deprived girl.

I’m nervous.

A little scared.

I’m excited.

I’m curious.

Always and forever curious.

Who will I meet?

Try not to cry Taylor.

No.

Don’t cry.

It’s not okay to cry.

Dress warm.

Be safe.

Don’t get too close.

Don’t get too attached.

Be brave.

Be strong.

JAMES!

God, let us find James.

Let me find James.

Let SOMEONE find James.

I woke up Monday ready to take on the morning, but I was scared and timid. Part of me didn’t want to find anyone on the streets, part of me wanted to find everyone. We walked along the water in Sea Port Village.

9/20/10 – 4:30AM

No one is here.

Why did we get assigned to a section where no one is?

Wait.

There!

Three people!

The first day was by far the hardest. I don’t know if it was because I only slept for 4 hours or if I hadn’t prepared myself for what I would face, but my eyes watered profusely all morning. I felt relieved to not have to survey the first 4 people we encountered. I wasn’t ready to hear their stories. I wasn’t ready to sit down with them at 4:30 in the morning and have my heart shattered. I wasn’t ready.

Why is this so difficult?

I’ve worked with homeless people before.

JAMES.

Reach out, Taylor

It’s okay.

You can do this.

I think Martha sensed my fear, my uncertainty, my uneasiness, and therefore encouraged me to sit down and survey Jay (the first person who agreed to take our survey).

9/20/10 – 5:30AM

Jay.

Not James.

22 not 79.

Wait?

My age!

No.

This isn’t fair!

I tried to keep my voice as kind as possible. I tried to remain professional, but I’m pretty sure I failed miserably. I allowed myself to be affected. I allowed myself to be broken by his story.

22.

Homeless for 3 years.

All he wants is food.

Love.

All I want to do is love him.

Does he know?

Does he know how much I care?

How much we care?

Jay is a face of homelessness I hadn’t seen before. He is merely a child, he is me. Yet less privileged, less loved, with less life chances. I find myself questioning why he is homeless and why I am not. We are the same. White. 22 year old. We live in Southern California. We have families that we grew up with, homes where we lived, high school educations. But while I have been studying Sociology at USD for the past three years he has been sleeping in parks, on street corners, under overpasses. While I have been working he has been begging. While I have had an abundance of food, he has had an extreme lack of it. We are the same. But we are completely different.

The last two days of the survey I found myself completely unaffected by the individuals I encountered. My heart wasn’t broken by their tragic stories. My eyes didn’t well with tears. I marched around downtown with a purpose. My purpose was to survey as many people as I could in the allotted 6 hours. My purpose was to gather their information in an effort to get them off the streets. My purpose was to do something - to make a difference.

9/22/10 – 5:15AM

Housing.

Survey everyone.

The one you miss could be the most vulnerable.

James.

Keep going.

Faster, Taylor.

Faster.

There are so many more people out there.

I can’t make sense of homelessness, and I don’t know that I ever will. The most I can do is keep an open mind. Keep stereotypes and negatives out of my thought processes. Love and fight for each individual equally, regardless of their situation or reason for being on the streets.

Who are we to judge? What gives us the right to deem someone lazy or deserving of the tragic life they live on the streets. Homeless individuals are as diverse as housed individuals. We are all unique in our stories. No two people I interviewed were similar. Everyone came from a different place, made different choices, has different life chances.

The number of spotted homeless individuals is infuriating. 1,040 people are sleeping outside in downtown San Diego. Yes, subtract 125 people from that number, but what about the remaining 915? The amount of work still to do is overwhelming, and quite frankly disheartening. Housing 125 people is a big step, but is nothing if considering the problem as a whole.

Homelessness isn’t going away, if anything, it is growing – spiraling out of control. Seeing first hand how large this population of homeless individuals is in a condensed area of 450 blocks makes it that much more real for me. Nearly 80% of the surveyed people reported being chronically homeless. How is that possible? We have to do something. I have to do something!

I think the brief-back session was the most telling for me. The images of the 125 individuals who will be housed in the near future renewed my sense of peace that was obliterated by this process. Three of the 22 people Group 21 interviewed appeared on the screen.

9/24/10 – 12:00PM

Jay.

Lupe.

I surveyed them!

I helped them!

Look!

JAMES?

No.

It’s not possible.

JAMES!

That’s James!

Last winter James was 79 years old, weighed no more than 80 pounds, and was suffering from a terrible cold. James appeared on the screen. Or who I believe to be James. I’m not ready to know if it really is him or not. But he is being housed along with 124 other deserving individuals and I, therefore, am eternally grateful for 100,000 Homes.

I am still processing what I saw, heard, and experienced on the streets this past week. And I can only imagine that I will be processing for a very long time. But I am thankful for such an experience. I am thankful I got to see different faces of homelessness and that I witnessed heartbreaking moments. I have a lot of work still to do, on my own and in the community. But this week left me with a new perspective and a new sense of what I need to do as a community member and as a child of God.

We are one body, one body in Christ. And we do not stand alone.