New Years Resolutions: Just be me

Sorry, I'm a procrastinator. Sorry, but I'm not really sorry.  

I decided to approach this year a little bit different. Maybe it's over-compensation for having no real motivation to better myself. But I also don't believe that's entirely true. 
I do want to better myself, but I don't want the new year to tell me that's what I need to do. 

So instead of goaling myself to lose 10 pounds, something I'd love to do. I'm not setting myself up for disaster with January 1. The reality is, I probably will lose 10 pounds but not because of a resolution. 

I just want to be me. I want to look at myself at the end of this year and recognize the woman I am and think, "this year, she was finally herself, not trying to mirror someone else or beat herself up for not being perfect when everyone else seems to be living this fabulous life." 

This years resolutions will go a little something like this. 

1. Eat more Chocolate 
2. Shave my legs less 
3. Snort 
4. Go out of the country. 
5. Search for home. 


You get the point. In the coming of the new year, I only want to be me, something I feel is a goal in itself. 

I also decided if learn something, that will be an accomplishment for 2014. 

On January first, I learned how to make a successful poached egg.  Score!!! 

Things I've already done since January 1. 

1. Learned to make a poached egg.
2. Gone out of the country. Mozambique. 
3. Had more family's dinners. 
4. Learned about a coconut 
5. Read 2 books, almost done with a third. 
6. Applied for three jobs. 

I'm sure there is more, but I'm blanking at the moment. 

A seasoned traveler

who manages to always, ALWAYS have a mishap. 

Smooth Sailing- i breeze through the ticket counter thanks to my muscleman. That's boyfriend in case you didn't catch on. Grabbed a cup of coffee, said the suppressed tearful goodbye, breezed though airport security (although, this is Africa. I'm not sure if that really is a good thing.. what else is new) saw my terminal was A1. I went and sat and waited- then waited. Boarding time was 7:30.

I glance at my phone, it's 7:28...hmmm not too much going on down here, looked at my gate. A1. Seemed to be in the right place, then i start seeing attendants and not in the correct airline colors. 7:35, I get up and decided to ask an attendant once i hear jabbering from other people sitting next to me about Munich. I looked confused, the attendant looked confused. Finally I was told I needed to be at A11 which is all the way down on the opposite side of the airport. Well shit. 

I call the boyfriend running down and around screaming I've been at the wrong gate for the last 40 minutes. As if i'm already drawing enough attention to myself, i realize my boots give the appearance that there is a galloping horse in the airport.  I hang up the phone and arrive at A11. It's desolate, NOONE is there. No signs saying anything. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. 

I run and ask someone. they have no clue. Run into a lounge where a woman tells me my gate is A30. Just go back the way you came, take a right at the escalator and down there ramp. Say what, I have no idea waht you're talking about. 

"Well you better run, because boarding started 20 minutes ago..." 

Frantically running and finally finding an escalator hidden in a secret corner. Sweating. Out of Breath. I made my flight and 30 minutes later another group of people rush onto the plane. 

I ran for this ?

What's in a name?

A few years back, I was training my leadership team at the time for the upcoming school year and what their job really looked like. Leadership teams are always very diverse. If they aren't diverse than there is a huge gap that allows narrow-minded perspectives to royally screw the overall point of leadership-- that's another tangent. One of our biggest goals was to understand our team and allow our team to understand each other including their bosses. 

One of the training sessions was "what's in a name?" I might be making up the title but for this purpose it doesn't really matter. The point of the exercise was to understand where our names came from. We wrote our names on a huge white board and shared. At the time, I didn't really understand the point of the exercise. With most things, my approach is humor. I took the assignment with stride and turned it into a joke. Sharing what my almost name was. Based on other team building tasks, my team understood why it was an ironic thing.  

Although, I didn't feel like I had anything worthwhile to share, my team did. I learned so much about them. Some of them knew the heritage to their names, some were named after great influences in their family, some came from cultures where names meant things. I felt really blessed to hear what their names meant and I'm glad I learned that there was more to the exercise than what I could have imagined.

Looking back, I'm pretty sure I was naive. The meanings of names source back to the ancient of days. When reading the bible, I always take note when a name is mentioned followed by the meaning. It is everywhere. 

This is where my struggle begins. 

I have been aware of what my name means since I was a wee little one in missionettes-- t's like girl scouts for christians. I remember at my graduation into my next level, or some type of ceremony I was given a card that had my name on it. In big bold letters, "Samantha" means "listener." 

source: name meaning

I took note and found it a great reminder but also a great struggle. Looking in my prayer journals I would write words. "I just want to hear God's voice." "Let me be attuned to discerning what is God's voice." The pleas continued.  For the most part, I felt like I understood God's voice. I could hear him, sometimes audibly. I could feel his presence allowing me to know that I was where I needed to be. I knew when I needed to be more discerning that there is usually always more than one door or road to take. 

Nothing new under the sun really. 

But I think I've come to realize why I often times struggle. My name and it's meaning. It engrained in me, it flows in my veins. I used to want to be someone else. I would tell people my name was Jasmine or Arial, sometimes Sarah. I'm not really sure where Sarah came from. But now, I wouldn't want any other name. I want to be what my name means. I want that to be who I am. It's important to me.  I want to be that girl who understood what her name meant for the very first time. 

Source: Photography by the Flowerchild Dwelling

For the first time in a very long time I don't hear anything anymore. And I keep going back to the concept that God's favorite voice is silence. But coming from a girl whose name means listener, it makes it really hard to see and listen to things that I know are true. Especially in a time when I feel like I need to hear God's voice more than ever. I'm at this stand still and I have no more moves. I have no more plays. I have no more rationality or an understanding of where I'm supposed to be. I'm a girl who is lost, who can't hear the next thing. I'm a girl whose thoughts are loud lies and overtaking faster than I can process before the next idea takes over.  

apathetic + restless

If you give a girl a thought... 


The last few days I've been in one of those moods. The kind where you don't know what you want to do but you don't want to do what you're doing. Television and movies didn't suffice. Reading, eh. Crafting, not so much. Nothing really sparked anything in me. 

Then to add to the entire thing, I haven't been sleeping. Either crazy amounts of strange dreams or being wide awake until four in the morning, then I have this RLS type things that happens to me where I feel like my leg feels really heavy and I can never get comfortable. Depending what I'm wearing I have to change a bunch. First, it's the socks that make me uncomfortable. Then it's the leggings. On any normal day I live in leggings but something about nighttime, I start getting really claustrophobic and have to change into baggy pajamas. Then sometimes the covers become too much and I have to take them off my leg. Then I remember it's winter and cold. So, the covers come back on. Repeat. 

Then I start thinking, I start thinking how I only see glimpses of myself these days. Then that makes me sad. I start thinking about my friends and how I feel like I'm hiding out from all of them because I don't necessarily have "great" things to report to the mainland. Then I start reading news articles about planes crashing, children dying and my level of fear becomes a heightened train wreck. I check my facebook and a friend's friend and wife, colleague died on a freak accident while visiting the United States. They were CEO's of a non-profit and then you start thinking about all the people involved. Then what's next.  It's not even your life and you can't help but feel for them. 

Then there are moments when you find out one of your best friends is engaged and you are so happy for them but the only thing you can do is cry. And think, that would have been nice to have been there to share that moment. For them to be face to face or voice to voice, sharing that the love of their life has just proposed and they are getting married. Then you start thinking about how everything that you thought would be isn't as planned. Which is fine but then you start thinking more and the conclusion is an existential existence where you just don't understand life.   


.... she will run away with it and join the circus. 

Organizing: mind, spirit and life.

Do you ever have the problem to where you have one thing churning in your mind?  

You want to release it but lack of energy, motivation, or even tools seems to win. Then in conjunction, corresponds with the rest of your ideas, existence, or being. That this one thing manages to manifest into the simple, less thought-provoking things and that fixation that you still haven’t done the one thing you were wanting to do in the first place hasn't been done. Yet somehow,it effects the day-to-day and everything else manages to be placed on the back burner.

That’s how I feel with most aspects in life. Not just metaphorically but the physical, the spiritual, and the emotional.

I decided to put the one big thing that’s been churning at me, the one thing that I want to get out and explain, I decided to take the pressure away and start working on the little things.

Besides, isn’t it the little, small things that begin to add up? It’s the small things that become overlooked until we’re drowning in small issues and tasks that just originally needed to be pruned and maintained a bit. But they add up, and then restoration has to happen. Often times stripping the entire piece just to get to the core of what it is and start over.

Wow, I wasn’t intending to pour all this out.

I wanted to take the time to show you some of the details in my room in South Africa. Nothing fancy, just a couple visuals. 

please note the crooked lamp. it just doesn't want to stay straight. 

some random crafting + painting. had some bad dreams one night and decided to paint a dream catcher. 

postcard from time spent with my friend ashley in boston + a note for Jayde's wallet

tink the cat + perfect window lighting 

The Elephant in the Room

The elephant in the room. Literally. Figuratively. Oops, maybe I gave too much away.

For a while now, I’ve felt like there was an elephant in the room. I shove it under my bed every so often, sometimes in the closet, never near a mirror. Mirrors reveal too much. And I’m not speaking of only myself. Everything is shown in a reflection, everything. Sometimes distorted depending on which way it’s looked at. 

I think that’s why I haven’t written with as much substance for a while now—give or take a few posts.

Trust is a really big issue for me. I don’t trust a lot of people. I’m an open book about most things unless I haven’t figured something out in my life. I’m rather reserved until I’m mad, then I’m an untamed animal. This only happens once every blue moon. Unless you’re my boyfriend, then you experience this more frequently. (If you’re reading this, I’m sorry.) On top of me not trusting often. I’m also overly hyper-aware of people and how ones actions could affect their life. So, I find myself constantly wracking me brain trying to do the right things, say the right things, keep my cool but mainly try to take care of others before myself. I think I learn that last trait from my mother. But I find that not everyone shares those same traits. Which confuses me. And hurts me.

There it is. The elephant in the room.

Hurt. I feel hurt. betrayed. And more than a little sad.

I’ve had friendship breakups before. They are always messy. Especially the ones that so much trust is invested. Maybe too much. Most likely.  Friends often times tell me how guarded I am.  So, I give more. I trust more. More times than not, in my opinion, I get the short end of the stick. It is just a reality.

But what hurts the most is when you’ve placed these people as lifers. They aren’t just the day-to-day, out of convenience because there is no one else. (Although, maybe this was their thought.) They are the ones that you picture in your wedding, standing next to you because your trust them with sharing this happiness with you and witness these intense life moments. And in the blink of an eye, that future memory fades and morphs into another future memory without. 

I think that adds to the hurt.

I speak fond memories of you. Often too.

They make me sad.

Maybe it’s the reason I don’t like elephants in the room so much anymore.

I changed to giraffes. 

Airplane epiphanies

Something about airplanes. 

They always get me thinking. I'm sure it's because I feel trapped in them and have no control over my life at that point.i also think flying is a foreign concept. I wasn't made with wings. Therefore how am I in midair.i tend to pray a lot on planes and ponder god more frequently that I normally would when not flying. I think that has to do with vastness. I look out the window and I see the ground below and the sky above me. Nothing new under the sun. But in this case it's a different perspective.

Everything on land is so small compared to what is above me. On ground everything looks like giants and far bigger than it really is. But once I take myself from that life, it looks different and a lot less big and scary.

Then I start pondering the vastness of the creator.thinking why me, why was I created. Why any this? Then I start thinking about the sunrise. Dawn is a new day, new Beginnings and a color palette of beauty. I think we could learn something if we experienced more dawns.

Coming from the mouth of a girl who hates mornings. I hit snooze a million times because I can't get out of bed. Then I finally end up rolling out of bed and run out the door.
But dawn. It Is a calming concept. no, it is a calming reality. It's slow but well worth the outcome. A perfect example that our beginnings matter just as much as our endings. The beginning is where we begin to understand waiting.

Acts 2

“‘I saw the Lord always before me.
    Because he is at my right hand,
    I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
    my body also will rest in hope,
because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
    you will not let your holy one see decay.
You have made known to me the paths of life;
    you will fill me with joy in your presence.’^[e]

///please excuse if it doesn't make sense, it was about 6am when I wrote this

thankfulness and light

This time of the year always makes me sad. I mean, like, really sad. Most things have the potential to set me off and I could be in near tears. I'm not really sure why. Everyone else around me appears to be a bundle of joy. Seeing everyone else happy makes me cynical. I know what you're thinking. Who is this girl that wishes sadness upon everyone she comes in contact with. This is not true any means. I would rather everyone else be happier than I was during this time. But my cynicism sprouts through jealousy of everyone's joyfulness. Jealousy and joyfulness. . . which if you know the definitions to those words at all... you should know that those words should never be in a sentence together and I have CLEARLY missed the point of it all. Well, my you are right my friends, I have missed the point completely as I do every year. 

Once upon a time I thought my sadness came from the fact that holiday tradition doesn't really run in my family, stockings weren't stuffed and I never really got what I wanted. Christmas was another looked over day. Then through a random conversation a few years ago with friends and family... I voiced my opinion.  Things started changing. I still felt empty. Go figure. 

Where every year around this time, I still feel filled with sadness and a chronic jealousy of other people's joy.  Where has my joy gone? 

Around this time I spend a lot of time alone. Taking various drives and means of escaping just to declutter my thoughts and values.The other night I went to this holiday concert with some awesome artist(pawnshopkings, tim timmons, molly jenson, to name a few) at my church singing christmas songs and carols. But all of them filled with joy overflowing even in dismay. They have found what they are looking for. 

Coming back to the idea that I have missed the point of what joy is and what this day means. It's not about stuff. Yes, gifts were involved but not like we understand them now. The wise men brought Jesus gifts all with extreme value and extremem meaning. 

Gold, frankincense and myrrh. Gold representing royalty and kingship on earth. Frankincense, a sweet smelling smoke, representing that He is divine. Myrrh, an embalming oil, that foreshadowed what was to come. Death. Jesus would sacrifice his life to redeem our souls.  

My soul has been redeemed. hallelujah. 

So I ask myself again. 

Where is my joy. 

I am saved. The Mighty One died so I would have life. 

For in this moment, I have missed the point that I have only looked at a small portion of the story. 

There are far greater things ahead. 

thoughts on prayer

quick hello's

Just wanted to drop by and say "hello." 

I've been super busy and will be for the next few weeks. So, if you can't find me, you know why.  I can be found in various coffee shops, various planes and hiding under the desk in my office taking catnaps. Places you won't find me: yoga or the beach. I miss all the above. I have enough things to write at the moment to equal my college thesis. That might be an over exaggerated statement but not far off. 






1.milk+honey= the lavender latte is to die for /// 2. this little gem found me by spotting the back of my head /// 3. christine stephens loves me  

>>> no worries though, I have mixes like this to get me through.
and things like this to make me giggle. It's like my childhood and guilty pleasure all mixed into one.

Hoarding.

Hoarding. 

I would call myself a mild hoarder. I try to save everything and attempt to find a use for it. But eventually, I get tired with all the mess and just start throwing stuff away. Often times I regret my decisions. Usually a week or so later, I will decide that I truly needed--------- (insert object here). 

But then there are those times that I'm so glad I hoard things. Like last night. I was going through all my old college papers/notes. Yes, I still have most everything. In my defense a lot of it is various writings and things that I would hopefully deem useful if I went to grad school. Sometimes I dwell on the idea that I used to write. Here is one of those findings. 

It's that time again. Wednesday. Three O' Clock. Screenwriting 2009. There is a classroom and a handful of students sitting in the second row, closest to the aisle-- Sam sits. Medium height girl with grey eyes and constant out of control wavy hair. She stares into space. Maybe another world, maybe another universe.  

          "Sam," said the Professor.  

No sound, no response.  

          "Sam, are you present?"  

Still nothing.  

Sam blinks. She is sitting in Zimbabwe. The sky is pitch black and all she can see are the stars above her. Sam is a meidum height girl with grey eyes and her hair is even more out of control because she hasn't showered or touched her hair in five days. She gazes at the stars and ponders.  

         "Sam," said Jayde.  

Nothing, no response. 

        "See any shooting stars yet?" 

Sam blinks.  

        "Ever wish you were somewhere else," she murmurs. 

Just to give you a little back story. This was written months after I met this boy. This was written almost 2 years before I started dating him. I think I've been rather smitten for more than a little while. 

Uncovered

Amongst the darkness and the tainted I look deep. Falling to the bottom of the pit, I search deeper. I go to the deepest darkest place, to the place of disgust. I find within something magnificent. A heart. Not just any heart, but my heart. A heart that beats. fights. loves.

One that clings to what is good and disgusts at what is evil. Even in darkness. Deep down at the bottom of the pit, there is a glimpse of light that grows brighter, stronger. The heart becomes more vivid, more vibrant. There is life. 

“Wake up, sleeper,
    rise from the dead,
    and Christ will shine on you.”  

Source: Uploaded by user via Samantha on Pinterest

more of you, less of this.

I can't help but think something is brewing.  Our desires are stirring and this world knows there is something more. We want peace. Our soul won't rest until there is change.

This is a hope that I continue to hold on. If I don't, I find that I've lost a motive to keep going.  Have you noticed how when everyone seems to get on board with something. Bandwagon or whatever it may be, it becomes tainted. Whether from the cynics or from the root of a potential shift. Something always goes wrong. My hope is that someday, change won't become tainted. No ulterior motives. It is what it is and it becomes beautiful. The journey becomes worthwhile.  We begin fighting for the garden of Eden rather than fighting for a more extensive hell.

From a confessional booth.

Pulls the curtain back. Sits in the chair. Turns video camera on. Clears throat. "Am I doing this right?" "Is this thing on?" Here it goes. Nervously looks away from the camera.

Don't worry folks, there is no scripted material here. 

This is reality. Not a false reality. Although, more recently I feel like I'm living in a false reality or secretly hoping that things aren't really as they seem and this was just a practice year. 

I have come to the understanding that I am neither here, nor there. I seem to be experiencing a discontentment in my existence.

It brings me back to Lewis Carroll's I picture Alice going through the rabbit hole learning her lessons of the "Coming of Age" and what the really looks like.  As her adventure ends, she wakes up from her dream. She is ready to grow into a lady, for she has gained wisdom in foolish ways. The foolish and childish ways are what will make the journey stick. She will always remember that she will never be old to dream and never be too old to learn something new.

home. A little background, I have always struggled with the idea of home. From the time of being a babe to the early stages of being an adult, the consistency of the same red, brick house is what I considered home. Six years later, when any person asks me where home is,  I find myself unaware of how to answer. My only response is "I am homeless." There is a constant confusion.

Years of analyzing home and what do I have to show for it.  A lot of slight understandings. And the most frustrating. I don't know if I will ever feel connected. I seem to find a little but of home where I go. Then manage to leave a piece of my heart. So as time progresses, I feel more and more scattered. Wondering how I'm supposed to be reunited with my pieces of home.

lost. Last January if you were to ask me, where was next the next step. California was not on my list. After some struggling with God. I realized he called me to stay and be still. In my opinion, I find I am in wasted time*. But, perspectives seem to be different.That's okay. Looking back, I'm sure I will reminiscent on that time saying, "Hey, remember that time that I felt like I was floating with no real direction, yeah that was fun." Being lost is not really fun for me at the moment. Especially, when I can't even figure out where I am. All I know is when I am sitting in church I get this feeling that I don't want to be here.

x marks the spot. Where is here. Here is there. There is here. Here is where.  Figure that one out. Then get back to me. Here, spiritually. That's a loaded question. Just give me Jesus. Here, physically. When I close my eyes, this is how I seem to picture myself. Photojournalist style in the field somewhere. Writing wherever I can find a place, mainly busy places. In some sort of trance or zone that whatever I am working on is powering itself. That words are spilling on the screeen. Images are speaking for themselves. That the story of whatever it is wants to get out. It must get out. I can picture myself so driven.  Then I open my eyes, look around and I see a living room and a couch that I am all too familiar with that seems to get more of my time that anything I am actually passionate about.

Source: facebook.com via June on Pinterest

confession. I live in fear. Almost everything in my life brings fear. I want to plan everything. I need to plan everything. I am a controller of time. This is an oxymoron of what I believe in. Especially what drives the woman, I feel I am becoming or am striving to become. The woman that I believe God is privileging me to be.

moral."Stay foolish, stay hungry.- Steve jobs. 

Looks at the camera. "The best is yet to come." Turns camera off. Walks away.

Source: i113.photobucket.com via Samantha on Pinterest

 * To my friends and family,  who I get to experience life with. I just wish we could experience more together. You are not wasted time. Talks over cups of coffee, friends being united, African adventures, Scotland love, good beach days. I do cherish all of it. The moments of loneliness and anxiety and me not being a good steward of my time. That is where my regret lies.