Home's Lessons.

What I learned after spending 8 days at home:

I'm an adult now. If you didn't know, that's okay because apparently I didn't either. How did I come to this realization you ask? Well, my mother found it appropriate to remind me three times, "Taylor, just remember you're an adult now" before I opened my one of my presents Christmas morning.

Regardless of what you may have heard... bowling does not increase my sex appeal. I was in a bowling league during 5th grade and was mighty good might I add, but apparently my expertise diminished over the years and all that's left to show for such greatness was a measly score of 71 after 10 frames.

Maybe it isn't as appropriate to show up in your pjs when visiting friends at home as it is here in San Diego. I went to have dinner and play games with my best friend (since I was three) and not only did her dad (my second dad) ask how much wine I consumed because I'm a "light weight" as he put it, but questioned my attire when saying "Taylor, it sure was nice of you to dress up for me. Gosh." - Sorry Mike, I'm on vacation. You're lucky I showered before coming over. Love you! Night!

Apparently its cause for great concern in my house if I refuse to dress myself in discarded ribbons and bows on Christmas Eve, and even greater cause for concern if I'm not wandering around the house with an alcoholic beverage in my hand. What have I created of myself?!

Seven loads of laundry only means I have wayyyyyy too many clothes and am way too cheap to buy my own laundry detergent and pay 3 dollars per load. Transporting all this laundry back to San Diego was quite a task. Dirty laundry fits in one hamper while clean laundry fills an extra two trash bags.

It really doesn't matter if I put on a vintage dress, heals, make up, and curl my hair... I still look like I'm fourteen. You don't believe me? Well, heres a real life conversation between one of my mom's co-workers and me Christmas Eve day...

"Jodi! She looks just like you. How old are you honey?

"Oh, I'm 22"

"Oh my gosh! You look so young! I thought you were 14. But you're beautiful!!"

"Oh, thanks"

My dad and I are closer now than ever before. Perhaps its because of our daily trips to get coffee (where each time I lie about how good my coffee is and throw it away before he realizes I haven't finished it), bonding over our favorite U2 songs in the car, and endlessly shopping together for the perfect Christmas presents.

No matter how old I get... 20... 21...22, driving eastbound on the 91 freeway will always make me feel giddy, and no matter how old I get, Trey will always seem 16 and sharing a bottle of wine over dinner with him will always seem strange. (Also, my families awareness of my seeing said boy is pretty hilarious)

Home is my sanctuary. With a full size bed, cable TV, home cooked meals, and lots and lots of cuddling. Plus endless reasons to make my parents question my sanity, my intelligence, and my being in general... did they really give birth to such a politically incorrect, crude, and impolite child? Well yes, but parents, I only act as such around you... for the very reason of forcing you to question my sanity. It's quite entertaining :)

My Uncle Gary is quite possibly my favorite person alive. Not only does be buy me books for Christmas (he totally understands my need for fiction, oh, and overpriced clothing stores), but he sends me text messages about how pretty I looked the night before and humiliating videos from Thanksgiving which I would share but my roommate advised me not to, plus it wouldn't upload... maybe another time

I sincerely hope everyone enjoyed their time at home as much as I did!

Happy Holidays : )

The contents of a tiny box

In my dresser I keep a box that I pull out on rare occasions to remind myself of how loved I am. Inside this floral stationary box are my most prized possessions dating as far back as the day I was born. To an outsider it would appear random and meaningless... but each item inside has a story of its own and a reason for being stored in a special place.

In the midst of studying for finals and wishing so desperately I were home in Chino with my family, I pulled this box out for the first time this year and spent a few minutes reflecting on the contents of it.

Here is what I found...

* A total of 5 pictures

* A birthday card from the early 90s

* A strange pencil drawing

* "Why you are the apple of my eye"

* A prayer card

* A house key

* Random pieces of jewelry

* A candy bar wrapper

* An oval shaped piece of crystal

* Return address stickers

* "It's a girl" button from St. Joseph's hospital

* Yellow victoria secret underwear

* Varsity pins from my cheerleading days

* And an assortment of hand written letters, notes, and poems

* A guitar pick

I read the letters and notes and poems and cried. I looked diligently at the pictures and laughed. I tried on the jewelry and ran my fingers across the random objects and smiled.

I think everyone should have a little box of memories. It makes for a wonderful surprise and serves as the happiness you can't seem to find on gloomy days during finals week when your favorite new friend moves away and the only thing you have to look forward to is a week and a two hour drive away...

I love this little box of mine :)

And all the people who have contributed to it's existence.

Mommy

Daddy

Grandma and Grandpa Don

Grandma and Grandpa Gailing

Trey

Uncle Jeff

Amanda

Ryan

Uncle Gary

Fredo

Chubis

Matty

Rob

Sanjay.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Treyber

Once upon a time I fell in love with you...

Now you are 1,000 distant memories crammed in a cardboard box on the top shelf of my closet at my parents house two hours away.

Now you are an essay I wrote in 12th grade english stored in an envelope at the bottom of my dresser drawer addressed to you so one day when we are 40 I'll find you and send it to you.

Now you are the pajama pants your brother gave me for Christmas that I still wear even 6 years later because I refuse to get rid of them.

Now you are the stories I recall on Thanksgiving and Christmas to the people who once thought of you as one of us because you were so much a part of my life and they loved you for that.

Now you are a name I speak often to people who have never met you but know that I loved you first, before anyone else had the chance and that I had the privilege of experiencing my most awkward years with you.

Now you are a sadness I carry around in my heart because I was silly and made a terrible mistake that severed our friendship and put a distance greater than any 6 hour drive between us.

I'm sorry.

More sorry than you know.

You loved me first.

You broke my heart first.

Thank you for forgiving me.

Thank you for putting up with me.

Thank you....

Because my 'once upon a time' really did end with 'happily ever after.'

I Need You To Know

I need you to know that I can't do this alone

And alone is how I'm doing it

I need you. I need your unconditional love

your constant support, your friendship

Please don't judge me

Because I really need you to accept me

Maybe I am making a terrible mistake

Setting myself up for tears, and hurt, and regret

But maybe, just maybe... I'm not

Maybe it will all be worth it in the end

But let's say you are right and my heart shatters

You pick up all the pieces and sew them back together

You hold my hand, dry my eyes, help me to heal

I will remember your kindness forever

And one day down the road, once I'm whole again

I bet I'll be able to tell you that it was worth it in the end.

It was worth it in the end.

It was worth it in the end.

I need you to know

that I understand you are in a difficult situation

Because all you know is what I tell you

The contradictions, the sadness, the confusion

But you don't see what I see

And feel what I feel, and know what I know

Because sometimes words can't explain these things

And when I try they come out messy and jumbled

But I need you to know

That he looks at me with a curious sadness in his eyes

And it feels so right to be wrapped up in his arms

I need you to know

That I get the butterflies every time he kisses me

And when I'm around him my heart beats so fast

that sometimes I can't even respond to his questions

I need you to know

That he has an honesty I've never known before

And he isn't afraid to tell me what he's thinking

I need you to know

That he stares at me because he thinks I'm beautiful

And I fight off the goosebumps when he holds my hand

I need you to know

That we have conversations that last for hours

About life, our passions, who we are, and who we want to be

I need you to know

That he challenges me in a way I've never been challenged before

And that these challenges come from the best of places

I need you to know

That he scares me, really scares me

But it's exciting, and new, and different

I need you to know

That I catch myself smiling when I think of him

and that I've never felt more brave in my life

I need you to know what I can't explain

I need you to see what I see

Because I need you to support me

to process with me, to listen to me

Because sometimes I think I'm crazy.

But there is something that keeps me coming back.

And until I know what that is, I need you by my side.

Love me for me. Because I can only be me.

This is what I choose. So choose it with me.

Any maybe, just maybe... it will be worth it in the end

It will be worth it in the end.

iPhones and Heinekens

Last night my cousin recalled the first time I ever drank alcohol. And then proceeded to attempt to bring me back to the state I was in that summer night over international waters crammed in a tiny room with the 4 boys I love the most in this world. (I allowed him to because 1. I haven't been out in a really long time and 2. it was my brothers birthday so we were celebrating for him). It worked for the most part, however 151 desguised in a shampoo bottle does something to your brain/body that 3 heinekens and 1/2 an AMF can't do to you. Thank goodness.

But being here in the states instead of in the middle of the ocean on your way to Jamaica, or Mexico, or the Grand Cayman Islands or wherever we were headed that particular night allows for the use of cellphones - my worst enemy on drunken nights.

My name is Taylor and I'm a serial drunk dialer.

This started the second time I ever drank alcohol (at home in my brothers room the summer before college). I called nearly everyone in my phone and left wonderful messages for all of them. Now 4 years later I've moved on from drunk dialing to drunk texting... ohhhhh technology. I usually remember to delete phone numbers before going out, or to give my phone to someone to hold, and in the worst of cases I delete all my text messages before reading them in the morning... but last night I braved carrying my phone around and then proceeded to read my text messages this morning.

The winning texts of the night:

"adios mother f*****"

(without the asterisks... that would be the name of the drink my cousin handed to me when I returned from the restroom)

"hes cute but kinda looks like a horse"

"your taking up 60% of my brain"

The first two were sent to my mother who responded with "hahaha oh God" and called me this morning to ask if "adios mother f*****" meant that I had a bad night.

The last was sent to a boy I shouldn't be texting sober (let alone drunk) and received no response until much later this morning. I was utterly terrified upon reading it, threw my phone across my room and rolled over to go back to sleep.

I'm an honest drunk.

My deepest most darkest secrets come out while intoxicated.

If I miss you, you're going to get a text message that says so.

If I think someone looks like a horse, well... I'll probably just tell my mother that.

If I've stalked you on Facebook in the last week you're going to know within a few minutes of me reciting your life story back to you based on the information I've gathered from your public webpage...

Sometimes this is problematic, other times it makes for some REALLY good stories once the embarrassment has subsided.

My mom and I had a great conversation when I finally crawled out of bed and the boy whose was in 60% of my brain apparently had me in some % of his and we had an awkward coffee session this morning (awkward only because I'm awkward, and don't do well with my heart telling me one thing and my brain another... but my coffee was good, and conversation was good, and seeing said boy was good, and it got me away from my Christmas tree that is brutally attacking my eyes, throat and skin for about an hour).

The moral of this post is that if you receive a random or intensely honest text message from me late at night assume I'm intoxicated, delete it, and then pretend I never sent it. Because that's what I'll do and we can all live happily ever after.

The end.

Turkey Day

"I never realize how much I like being home unless I've been somewhere really different for a while." - Juno

I love San Diego. In fact, I love San Diego so much that I think I've decided to stay here for another year after I graduate in May, but I'm not quite ready to be back here yet... after only 2 and a half days spent at home.

I was thoroughly enjoying laying on the couch watching cable TV, not freezing my butt off because of the lack of a heater, and sleeping in a full size bed. I loved waking up in the morning to the smell of french toast and bacon and then squeezing 6 people around our tiny kitchen table for breakfast, having long conversations over coffee with my Daddy, and spending a full day arguing and laughing with my baby sister. I would trade almost anything for nights sitting on the floor in the loft playing hearts with my siblings and watching America's Funniest Home Videos, forcing my parents to question who raised their four children because of our complete insanity, and spending 20 minutes in the car trying to figure out the name of the store that used to be on the opposite side of Diamond Bar Blvd. I already miss cuddling with my Mommy, listening to my brother talk about nothing but politics the whole way home, and being able to do laundry for free.

I'm so thankful for the past three days, but wish so desperately I were still in Chino.

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday, and probably always will be... Because there isn't the choas and excitement of opening presents on Christmas Eve or the laziness of breakfast and gin fizzes on Easter. Thanksgiving is enitrely centered around conversation... and alcohol. This year was different though... for starters it wasn't at my house, so my mom wasn't swearing, and my dad wasn't hiding, and no one came over at 7:30am or ran off to a movie to escape the stress of getting dinner on the table by 5.

We spent the afternoon at my grandma's house where everyone swormed around the kitchen counter and waited for my grandpa to make their drinks. Then proceeded to crowd around the appetizers with their drink of choice in hand and laugh together... all I remember hearing was laughter.

I made circles through the kitchen and stole potatoes when no one was looking, drank a little too much wine, and told everyone my plans for after graduation (which I don't currently have?!).

Conversation usually turns to whose dating who and I'm usually the one everyone targets, but it appears that once you reach the age of 22 in my family, people are genuinely interested in your love life, and not merely ready to make fun of it? And since I'm naturally not dating anyone, hanging out with my cousins and meeting their friends became the topic of conversation in which everyone became involved... apparently I should be dating?!?!

But something was missing from this night full of wine, and laughter, and trying to find Taylor a boyfriend... Thank God for techonology, because we were able to still feel connected to the three people who were hundreds of miles away.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because the house is soooooo full of love. And I truly never really recognize how much I miss home until I'm back in my house, laying on the floor wrapped up in one of my dad's giant Patagonia jackets, enjoying how loud my family is when we're all together.

I'm not ready to be back in San Diego... but it's only another 4 weeks til I'm back home agian. Plus, I have a family here too, and I'm thankful for that as well.

11.22.10

I love today.

I love today because I finally had the chance to sleep in until 8:30.

I love today because it is currently 60 degrees outside and the sun is shinning. My absolute favorite kind of weather. It is perfect for the boots, coat, and scarf I'm currently wearing and doesn't call for an umbrella to be lugged around or a hoodie to be worn.

I love today because I didn't have to work this morning so I'm currently sitting in Aromas listening to Jim Brickman on Pandora and leisurely reading over my theory notes.

I love today because it is the day before I get to go home and see my family, and two days before Disneyland with Margo.

I love today because yesterday was a great day. I sat in Starbucks enjoying every bit of my time there studying for my theory test and people watching. And then I got to see a friend I've been secretly missing.

I love today because there's left over pizza for lunch and crack cookies in the CASA office.

I love today because despite my midterm and quiz I have to take tomorrow, I don't feel an ounce of stress.

I love today because I feel pretty and smiley and relatively happy. And I haven't felt this way in a while.

I love today because it's only 11:ooam and things can only get better from this point on.

The only thing that could possibly make me love today any more is if I had a giant pile of leaves to play in :) I miss Chicago!

Happy Monday Everyone. I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am.

SEARCH XXVI

I've attempted to blog 8 times in the past 5 days and came up with nothing. I've seemed to have lost my creative energy, but because I felt a weekly update was necessary this is what I've managed...

I wish it were April 23rd today, and that I was packing my bags in nervous excitement eager to board the bus that would mark the beginning of the most amazing weekend of my life. A weekend full of more love than I knew what to do with, more tears than I believed I could ever cry, and more community than I realized I had.

I'm jealous of the 60 or so students who are frantically packing their business casual clothes without any idea of why they have to bring them, who are reminding themselves over and over to keep an open mind because that is what they've been told to do, and who are battling a small amount of anxiety because they've been warned that this weekend will change their lives - or at least the rest of their time spent at USD. I'm jealous of these 60 students because these are the feelings I wish were running through my body right now instead of this bad energy I can't seem to shake.

I've had a perfectly pleasant week, perhaps even better than normal (I semi-crashed my dad's car and didn't get in trouble, got 105% on my Stats midterm, and finalized the plans for Hunger and Homelessness Awareness Week!) but I'm bitter, and angry, and sad, and frustrated, and a multitude of other things I can't name. I wish I could turn my brain off for 30 minutes, take a break from thinking, and wondering, and talking myself in and out of feeling a particular way and just sit and listen to witnesses, hold the hand of my best friend, and stay up late at night sitting on bunk beds talking about the weekend we're experiencing.

I'd give almost anything for it to be the weekend of April 23rd today (like being yelled at by my dad for crashing his car instead of the understanding response I received).

I can't go back in time and re-experience the weekend of April 23rd, but I can drink wine and pray for everyone who decided to open their hearts to the experience of SEARCH XXVII. And I can reflect back on my experience, what made it so amazing, and how exactly it changed my life.

T.B.I.Y.T.C

Waiting for cabin assignments!

Family Group reflection!

The perfect group of people to experience the perfect weekend with!

Meet Matty

I don't know what I would do without this boy... or his family for that matter.

At 6:30 I told Matty I needed a friend and by 8:00 I was sitting on his couch holding his new puppy surrounded by his family. If ever I felt more loved by people I'm not blood related to I don't recall. Not only did they occupy my brain with pointless conversation and snap random pictures of me playing with Chubs, but made me a full dinner (steak, salad, corn, bread, and peppermint ice cream!) after I grabbed a water bottle and some crackers to snack on.

I could see how tired Matty was but he talked to me anyways. Listening to every pointless thing I had to say and adding in awkward comments here and there to make me laugh. He reassured me that it was okay that I feel nothing right now and that he would be around when the time came when I faced the sadness I can't seem to find.

We are very different people, Matty and me. I'm affectionate and emotional and he's basically a rock (I'm constantly telling him he gives terrible hugs, and make him hug me until he does it right). But he gets me. He knows how to respond to my manic moments and my ridiculously depressive ones. He picks up the pieces when my life falls apart and grounds me when I need it. He doesn't spit advice at me or tell me how to respond in situations, in fact, he is constantly trying to empower me to figure things out on my own.

Matty is my person.

I don't know where I'd be without him.

Actually I do...

I'd probably be in the library

because after all

I used to be library girl.

Six People With One Thing In Common

Recently I've been the recipient of so much love.

I've realized that each person in my life expresses their love in a different way.

I don't mean love in the romantic kind of way.

Rather, the love of friendship, of family, of showing someone how important they are even in their worst state.

I am loved.

By more than one person.

In many different ways.

The six people pictured below helped me survive my weekend.

They expressed love the only way they knew how given the circumstances.

I am forever thankful for each one of them.

Because today the sun is shining.

I have a smile on my face.

And my stress for the week is non-existent.

I feel alive and I am free.

Thank you for carrying me to the parking lot, giving me 3 minutes, and screaming back at me. Thank you for listening to me cry, dragging me out of my house, and making me dinner. Thank you for letting me borrow shoes, share incredibly detailed stories with you, and curl up in a ball on your couch and watch romantic comedies. :)

Thank you for your simple words. They put a world of love in my heart. "I didn't want to be there with them because I only wanted to be with you. I only like being here with you." Also, you are probably the funniest person I have ever met in my entire life. Thank you for keeping me laughing. For helping me pick out shoes and dresses and making my room smell like alcohol. :)

Thank you for recognizing my sadness but not questioning it, for putting your arms around me and holding me, and for being silly at the perfect times. Thank you for wanting to be near me, for making me smile, and for challenging me. Thank you for distracting me from homework, for being a positive stress reliever, and for phone calls :)

Thank you for your kindness. It is unbelievable. Thank you for dropping my homework off for me, for driving with me to pick up my sister, and re-watching Modern Family with me every week because I haven't seen it yet. Thank you for letting me choose movies, for morning messages left on the bathroom mirror, and acting like a puppy when I leave for class or work in the mornings. You are the best roomie I could have asked for! :)

Mommmmmmy! Thank you for skyping with me 3 times in 2 days, for answering my 100 phone calls, and getting me to calm down. For helping me create a halloween costume, finding me shoes on your lunch break, shopping for dresses at Free People, and knowing me better than I know myself. I can't wait until Thursday when we spend the day together, and giggle about how ridiculous my life is. I miss you so much, and I love you even more! :)

I am filled with love right now.

It is emanating out of my pores.

And shining through my eyes.

Thank you for your love.

And allowing me to love you back.

Words of Wisdom

I wanted to wait until the end of the semester to post this blog... unfortunately my utter lack of self control has taken over and I can no longer resist.

Against my better judgement I signed up for a second Ethnic Studies class after my horrendous bout with one last semester. To my surprise, this course is full of rich unbiased conversation among individuals who are not afraid to obliterate this idea of political correctness.

I think I fell deeper in love with this course because of the professor who teaches it. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful individual who not only has the coolest tattoo but is beyond hilarious without even trying.

Below are a list of quotes I've frantically scrawled down in the margins of my notebook over the last 8 weeks. Perhaps they aren't funny out of context or appear utterly inappropriate, but that pretty much defines this particular professor. Out of context and inappropriate. I am in love.

"Crazy dykes on bikes"

"There's my mother who is sacred but the rest of you are bitches"

"You're the butt or you're the mother"

"She's some scary shit"

"Everyones an essay, now the nation is falling apart"

"Oh hell, I'm running off to the mountains to shoot guns and stuff"

"Its like hell no... you don't even know"

"Yo mama's so fat when she stands on the corner the cops drive by and say 'break it up! right?'"

"I got a whole bunch of yo mama jokes"

"Shut that shit off"

"I feel like were in hell"

"People would throw my book against the wall and say, 'you're fucked up'"

"Fuck you too"

"Its like, all right, go to hell"

"Their gonna be like oh hell, and were gonna be like CULTURE!"

"I don't wanna say balls.... VAGINA!"

"I'm gonna get you dyke, I'm gonna get you"

"I saw that one getting out of the shower all naked!"

"Its spreading seeds like a giant penis right?"

To be continued...

Thank You For Listening

To you, I appear indifferent

My brown hair, hazel eyes, and pale skin automatically define me

Being privileged means I don't understand

Means I will never understand

You think I don't listen to what you have to say

That I sit with my knees to my chest and drown out your words

Counting down the minutes until class is dismissed

When I can continue on with my perfect pleasant life

But you are wrong

So very wrong

I want nothing more than to absorb your thoughts

Accept your experiences as valid

To learn from you

You don't see this

Because to you, I am indifferent

Today, you silenced me

I pointed out your contradictions

And you faltered

Unprepared to hear the thoughts in my head

You would never know, but I've been listening

Hearing every word you've spoken these past 4 weeks

I am not your enemy

You are your enemy

Proven by your countless contradictions

And unwillingness to see them

I just want to help

Help you understand

I am not against you

My words are just as valid as yours

But you don't recognize this

Because I oppress you with my indifference

But I am not indifferent

You do not have the right to reject me

To blow over my comments, my thoughts, my concerns

Who are you to decide what is significant

Your words or mine?

I am the outsider

Without allies in this 'safe space'

Listen to me

Hear me

Because I've been listening to you

Not judging you

Accepting you

My brown hair, hazel eyes, and pale skin don't make me indifferent

They make me white

You are black

They are hispanic

But I am white

And brave

And open

And curious

I am listening

You are the contradiction

And I am not indifferent

Angel

I'm a certain kind of emo at 1:21 am on a Tuesday night after 3 classes, 7 hours of work, a rainy day, and two pages to go on Dr. Schlichtman's essay on the agency and structural causes of homelessness, therefore I'm going to leave you with this...

I want nothing more than someone to feel this way about me someday

I'll blog tomorrow or thursday when sleep and sanity have returned to my life

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.