Someon Told Me Once

Someone told me once I was moody. In offense, I denied all allegations and shrugged off any thought that they could be right. But I kinda wonder if they're right. Is it normal to be moody? Or maybe most people just don't express themselves. I've never been very good at covering up how I feel.

Someone told me once I had eyes that communicated more than my words could express. I've watched other people's eyes. Almost all eyes communicate something: sadness, excitement, boredom, pain, lies, hope. How are mine any different? Or is he seeing in my eyes the words he wants to hear?

Someone told me once that they loved me. Did they even know me? How much did they love me? What kind of love was it? Was it the kind that changes your soul forever, heals all broken pieces, and becomes an addiction that only they can satisfy? Probably not.They left. But they told me once...

Someone told me once that I have a really loud laugh. I hate it when people say that to me. Every time someone says that to me, I picture myself putting my mouth right next to their ear and laughing so loud, and so hard, that they instantly become deaf. Aren't laughs the ONE thing in this world that should be loud?

Someone told me once that I will be successful. I don't even know what that means anymore. I've analyzed, planned, and fought so long for success that it's become distorted. I don't recognize her anymore. Where is she? What does she look like? How will I know when I find her? Success. Failure. Who can tell them a part anymore? How do you know if you're flying...or falling?


I love this painting. It's by Taras Lobodas. He's Ukrainian. I think that makes me like it even more.

A Re-Goal!

Reader, I think I may have over estimated myself. I set a goal that I would do a blog a day. A blog a day?! I couldn't even go a week before I messed that one up! So much for that streak, eh?! Ha!

Oh well...

But hey, I think every other day or perhaps 5 times a week is still an accomplishment and very do-able. BESIDES...if I do one post a day, my readership (3 people) will grow accustomed to my entries. My blogging genius will become another part of their everyday lives...like brushing teeth. So expect a lot of awesome new entries to follow...just not everyday.

summer chats

One of the beautiful things about life are conversations that leave you hopeful, confident, and stimulated.

I've had 2 today.

I'm one lucky girl.

Death Be Not Proud

I have always been afraid of death. Always. When I was younger, I was obsessed with the idea of a permanent separation from this life. It seemed cruel to rip a person away from this world, away from family and friends. I couldn't help but think, I LOVE living! Why would I ever want to die?

Every funeral, made me think of my own; every casket seemed ready to display my remains; and every headstone appeared ready to etch my name in it's stone.

I became curious and fascinated:
What would the headstone say?
Would anyone really come and visit me?
Would I care?
Where would I rest?
Would I even like where I ended up?

Over the years, I have grown to not only fear death it's self, but all earthly resemblances of death; to fear all the euphemisms we have appointed to those who have left this earth. You know: the caked on make-up which covers their faces and hands; super glue used to glue the mouth shut; flowers that cover the smell of the dead; the hearse that slowly creeps toward the cemetery; the bright green grass that appears lush and beautiful as it creates a facade of life while covering death and decay; and the embalming process - removing all semblances of life - is something that I have always hated to think about. CREEPY!

Anyway,

This has led me to ponder my own death and what I want. Naturally.

For me, I have decided that the least creepy post-death ritual I would like to endure is cremation. That's right reader, I want to be cremated. I have decided it's the most sanitary processes, the least ritualistic, and the most likely choice for me. I feel good about it. I would like my ashes (dust to dust, right?) spread around rather than in some creepy shrine for people to come and "visit" me in.

A shrine of death? Yuck!

Here's what confuses me though: everyone (and their mother!) thinks it's there responsibility to try and change my mind about cremation! Why? Why are so many people freaked out at the thought of removal by fire, and NOT freaked out by the thought of removal by earth worms?! I have most likely thought about the whole death processes more than most people, and I have decided that this is what I want; so then why are so many people disturbed by it?

Good Question Right?

Well, I have thought about this for awhile and the only conclusion I can come up with is that for most people the idea of having a wake (creepy!) and then being buried (super creepy!) is what brings them comfort. The process and the ritual is what allows them to let go. Perhaps the normalcy of the sales man at the funeral home, complex family arrangements, and the tombstone of accomplishments is what makes them feel like all is right in the world. Their loved one is gone, but they are still here. The world hasn't completely changed just because their personal world has been permanently altered. I get that.

I just don't get why they don't get me...or cremation for that matter. And I'll never understand why, without fail, everyone appears more disturbed by cremation, than by the death...or the rituals that surround us.

Day 1

Hello Summer. I feel as if we are finally being introduced. My name is Ashley and I'm ready to take a BIG bite out of you.

Bite number 1. I woke up to my greek god texting me. I found out his name (finally!) which is quite a relief; unfortunately i just found out that he's off to Hawaii in celebration for graduating. Which means our first date will have to be in at least another week. Somehow I'm going to have to balance J in a limbo state for a few more days. Poor guy. I really do like him. I think he's just amazing...

I think...i'm ready to be in love again (perhaps admitting and then posting it on the internet will somehow make it more real.)

*side note: included in bite number 1 is the mere fact that I told the greek god that i found him attractive and then asked for his number. He promptly admitted that he had been trying to find a good way to ask me for my number. OH YA! I still can't believe I told a guy he was attractive and then followed that up by asking for his digits. That is SO NOT ME! Perhaps that should tell you reader just how attractive he was!

Bite number 2. While i was at the NULC i was inspired to once again write. When i was a girl i would pull out our old typewriter (remember those things? what horrid contraptions!) and spend hours upon hours writing stories. Most of them were rather ridicules, but a few would make my mother laugh and comment on my skill and imagination. But that's not even the point. The point was i LOVED writing. i craved opportunities to sit down and write. it didn't even matter what i was writing about, just as long as my thoughts could escape my head. Then when i was in 4th grade i took a stupid standardized test. i didn't write a 5 paragraph essay and consequently they gave me a low score. I had thought i was so good at writing, but there it was in front of me - my low score screamed up at me that i sucked at writing. I was embarrassed and left vulnerable; i believed them - i was a horrible writer. So i gave up. 15 years later, at the conference, i realized i had stopped writing because i had allowed them to tell me what i was good at. How stupid is that?!
I want my 15 years back.

I want to be a great (not just good) writer.

So i'm starting now: everyday i'm going to write in my blog. I need to find my voice...and the practice! You know the 10,000 hours rule? I feel like I'll be taking a BIG bite out of that one this summer. Hence, this is bite number 2. And I apologize now reader. Sometimes i may write crap. But as writer Ana Menendez said at the NULC, "don't be afraid of writing crap! We all have written crap!" I don't think i'm afraid anymore Anna.

Bite number 3. Reading lists only seem to grow. Do you ever get to actually scratch a book or two off the list and see the list shrink? This summer I sure hope to! I am going to read: Anna Karenina, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, The Road, The 3 butterflies, 3 cups of tea, Weakness is Not Sin, The Infinite Atonement, and a work or two by Whitman, Emerson and Thoreau (my hero's).

Bite number 4. Trips to Oklahoma (be a bridesmaid in a friend's wedding) and California (northern NOT southern! Beaches, shopping, and San Fran here i come!) I am obsessed with traveling and since my funds can only take me so far (in the states)...this is where i'm gonna go!

(sigh...)

Summer, welcome back. I have missed you.