whendeersfly-blog

[whendeersfly-blog]

11.25.17

This was a chance I never thought I’d get again.

But I’m different. I feel different.

I need to say goodbye (again) right now and mean it.

Wrapped in those sheets with that familiar skin inches from mine,

All the wild thoughts...

But I am calling myself and you to a higher standard this time.

I will not be interrupted this time around.

See the beauty, admire (enjoy the moment) + let go.

If my phone doesn’t light up, you might really be learning.

You, beautiful, messed up Soul, 

I love you so much.

Do the right thing this time.

[whendeersfly-blog]

BEFORE IT ALL

The space between, Inside of the music, Between decisions of yes and no The milliseconds we take for granted, You’ve got wrinkles on your hands you swear weren’t there before. It’s a little scary but there’s no way to stop it, the inevitable wear and tear on these finite bodies.

The gaps in time, you forget what you were here for.

It’s in being the passenger and seeing a freckled face girl of 16 driving us nowhere turning into a wife with crinkles 'round her eyes and knowing our hearts are intertwined. I used to fall asleep afraid sometimes. Afraid of the unknown, But the further we go, the more we know of what we used to be afraid of. There’s a dread that I can’t shake, it’s building in my bones, It’s going too fast and I can’t keep up. Stretching out my hands to grab anything passing by, out of a train my hair whisks all around me, and I can’t breathe, but I’ve never felt so alive.

When you see the sky and the clouds and the people you love most are sitting all around you, windows down, the song playing, no matter what is playing, it's the most beautiful song. And for a second, you have this infinite hope. The possibilities are still there. The ones that you grew to rely on as an 18 year old afraid of the next big thing. I’m in love with possibilities. I breathe them in and out like air. They swirl in and out of my lungs, and all the open doors look like gorgeous gateways to places I’ve never been, but I know I’ll be happy, beautiful and loved.

[whendeersfly-blog]

Things I’d Never Say

My mom screamed into an empty house,

“we could have been beautiful.”

and now they’re all alone. is it better?

I wrote and rewrote and read and rewrote ’til my eyes were tired, what I’d say to you if it mattered anymore.

That I believed you, that I’d never been so terrified in my entire life. Losing myself in another person. I can’t bring myself to regret or disbelieve the entire thing. Fragmented parts of those memories still stab me when I try to handle them. You let yourself off the hook, a million times. So, I guess I’m glad I caught you on a good day.

You were in my dreams last night. You sat across from me at that table we sat at that one night I cried because you said you didn’t know what May would bring. In the dream you told me I could ask you anything. But, I didn’t. I was mesmerized by your presence once again. Just so happy we were breathing the same air.

Last year around this time, you were my first Valentine. That night, in that bar, with no seating left at all, we stood at the bar, and you told me I had more drive than you, and told me I was beautiful, both inside and outside. You wore a suit and I didn’t know that Valentine’s meant fancy clothes, so I wore my favorite sundress and jean jacket. We went back to the place it all started.

Those big beautiful words that swirled in my head and spilled down my cheeks dried as I roamed the earth gladly distracted by anything it had to offer.

To the friend who stopped calling and shut me out,

I still wonder why and I still use your Netflix.

As I’m driving, I imagine the conversations I’d have with the asshole who broke my friend apart. I imagine saying the worst of the worst, but in the end, I’d settle on, the most surprising conclusion of all, God loves you.

I sit in a white room wondering where I’m supposed to go or what I’m supposed to do now. It looks hopeful and it’s my job to make it so.

[whendeersfly-blog]

December 1, 2016

I went to The Centre de Cultura Contemporània de Barcelona to visit the photo exhibit that was there for a few weeks based on a recommendation from a fellow traveler. It was a Canon competition of just this past year's world press photos. Just 1 year. There were some personal, political, sport and nature photographs as well as multimedia short films. 

The first one that hit hard was a woman who did a project following both of her parent's battle with cancer. They fought the cancer battle respectively together, then the dad passed and soon after the mom passed. I can't imagine the daughter being strong enough to put together a project like that. My mom went through cancer a few years ago and I think I manage to push away how absolutely terrifying that time was for us. As I looked at those photos of those faces and I think how amazing, incredible that my mom made it. You hope and pray for that result, but the story could have just as easily gone a different way. And the last photo was of the parents living room, they were gone already, but boxes and photo albums littered the floor. That's what was left of their legacy besides what is intangible. That made me indescribably sad. That will be all of us one day. Our photos will maybe be a little less bulky, stored in our phones and laptops and clouds. But, at some point, what marks where you were? What does the space that you once occupied look like? 

As I walked this long hallway, there were photos of boatfuls of people fleeing their war torn lands on boats that were not sea worthy. Hundreds die making trips like that every year. There were photos of fathers holding their dead children, or trying to protect their wounded family members. There were kids sleeping in awful conditions; under bridges, in the forest, wherever they could. I feel so incredibly guilty that I can't relate. Don't get me wrong, I am inexplicably grateful that I can't. But I can't be okay burying my head in my Orange County sand. I don't think I did that on purpose. But this is our world. Our world isn't the watered grasses and shopping malls and wondering where to grab coffee or dinner, it's this hard stuff. We must be willing to do something more than acknowledge that it's happening. I don't have a solution. I don't know that there is one, I think this honestly goes to show what happens when human nature is left unchecked. Our innate human nature is wreaking havoc and destroying everything in its path. 

I had a conversation with the Swedish traveler who recommended this exhibit, and the conversation just made me feel so hopeless, obviously one person is not going to alter all the world's problems... and I asked him, "But what CAN one person do?" Like...what's a positive real life action that I personally can take to alleviate some pain, anyone, any one person's pain and misery as one person. He said, "Go play with a kid at a refugee center." It has to be that simple. It has to be our goal to do what we can. 

I talked with a Croatian guy my age & when I was kid going to elementary school in Irvine (One of the safest cities in the USA) he was worried about war in Croatia. He remembers hiding underground and loud alarms sounding signaling the need to hide. We talked a little bit about politics. It's been an interesting time traveling during the elections, and he made a blanket statement about Americans not realizing how much of what we do affects the rest of the world and how we don't care. I remember being kind of offended, I care what happens to people, but his point is when you are safe or relatively safe, it's easy to put it out of your mind, it's someone else's problem. 

Today when I stared at photo after photo of this broken world; kids being literally chained up reading the Koran, or watching a movie about a little girl seeing a baby being thrown overboard as they were fleeing their country, or a father passing his baby over the border through a barbed wire fence, or stories of American women in the military being raped and sexually harassed--it WAS my problem. I wanted it to be. I'm not a bystander in this world. There's a lot of guilt associated with this for me, and I don't think that's necessarily right. I sat eating this amazing breakfast and had passed 5 homeless people on the side of the street. (Spain has one the highest unemployment rates in Europe) but like my friend so aptly pointed out, do a small thing. Fact: you can't save everyone, but why not do what's in your power to do? It was a lot to take in one sitting, we can usually take the atrocities a little at a time, we are desensitized, but today it was a year's worth of heartbreak and terror. I walked around openly letting tears fall down my face, I am grateful it affects me like that. I want to keep that. I want to be soft and loving and heartbroken for this broken world and try to do something about it even if it's just one person.

[whendeersfly-blog]

October 20, 2016

Edinburgh, Scotland

Last night I went to go get dessert and have some drinks and listen to music on the Inn on the Mile. I had been working all day, and I was tempted to not go out because I had an irrational fear about that crazy, schizophrenic lady I had met and then ran into again. But I went anyway. And this guy was playing. He was so good. Singer, songwriter style. And he had his friends fill in while he was on his break. I went and talked to them after, the main singer living here but from Canada, one of them local, and the others visiting also from Canada. 

They invited me to join them for a drink so I grabbed a pint with them. It was far away from the Royal Mile, a local area. The bar had old men sipping scotch in the corner with their old white dog sitting next to them. And we met another American in there as well, it was the North American hang out, apparently. Then, we walked over to the singer’s flat, as I was walking up the stairs and down the winding hallways to this person’s apartment… I’m like, is this stupid? I didn’t feel like I was in danger, but do you always know? I know we have that whole fight or flight reflex inside of us, but I think sometimes we don’t perceive at we should, especially with the travel bond that happens, it makes you trust people more easily. But we stepped inside and I was very relieved to find out, his girlfriend lived there as well. So I sat in their living room while they jammed and rolled joints and the flat was filled with weed. I passed on the offer to take a drag. I told them I’d never gotten high and this probably wasn’t the time. And they laughed and were incredulous that I lived in California and had never been high. It’s a really fine balance in knowing how and when to talk about who I am. Because when you’re traveling, you can be anyone. That’s amazing and also dangerous.

On the other side of town at 5 am, I decide I probably should Uber home.

Michael, the sweetest guy who played a mean guitar but couldn’t sing, walked me down to find the Uber. He loved Liverpool, the football team, The Beatles and had a sweet way about him.

Christian, the local Edinburgh guy, with crazy afro curly hair that he held with a hair tie, and had a pirate earring. He had also played earlier at the Inn on the Mile and he had this crazy scratchy voice, and cheekbones that looked like they could cut you. He made inappropriate jokes and showed me his cosplay costumes that he had made himself.

Brad, the main singer of the night, short, stocky, blonde and handsome. At first I couldn’t identify his accent. French Canadian, Polish Girlfriend, lilt of Scottish from living there. Husky voice. So charismatic. He remembered my name minutes after meeting me and introduced me to his friends and people we ran into on the street as if we had been friends for years.

Anna, Brad’s girlfriend. Soft and quiet. Her skin looked like cashmere. She talked about her family from Poland and how they immigrated to Canada and her stories about their Liverpool and being tired and cold and unhappy but knowing it would make a good story. She sipped on a tiny glass of Scotch Whiskey and took a drag of weed.

Enzo, like a teddy bear. We talked about how it’s okay to not be okay, how you can feel the vibe of a city and that the best writing comes from the rawest parts of human emotion. He played and sang at the Inn and also in the flat. He asked if I liked John Mayer, and was impressed when I requested “Love Song for No One” from his album years and years ago. 

I ended up being the youngest one there, which I could’ve never guessed, they had some young, happy souls. It was a good contrast from being the oldest in a group of 20-22 year olds like the other night. God love her, Michelle is amazing. That crazy Austrailian who was so sweet to include me in her plans. Mama Michelle, seven years my junior, I felt like I was constantly learning from her.

[whendeersfly-blog]

October 5, 2016

So, Oslo had a really bad vibe.

It felt heavy.

There was a creepy old man in our hostel dorm room. I cried as I was going to sleep, 

I felt homesick. All these situations I’ve been putting myself into, I love it! but it’s also taking a lot out of me.

So this morning, I packed up my stuff and got a train ticket to Bergen. It’s been gorgeous. So glad I got out of Oslo. I also booked an excessively expensive hotel. I got lost for over an hour and when I finally walked into the lobby sweating, looking like a wreck, I think they were surprised when I announced I had a reservation. The moment I got in the door, I ripped off all my clothes. Such freedom after a hostel! So stoked on the entire bathroom to myself.

I need some recharge time. Spoiled traveling problems. But I’ve been doing really awesome up until this point, so I need to be patient with myself if I have a freak out occasionally.

[whendeersfly-blog]

the art of letting go: a poem

September 30, 2016

Got lost in the shuffle and now I’m all caverns. All I felt was you, even when, I don’t want you anymore.

For all the distance, when my mind wanders to you, I’m so glad I. finally. feel. the. distance. Hair colors, miles, other people’s kisses, drinks, thoughts, countries separate us. Finally, I really feel myself breathing. Not wanting you. To be lost, is a wonderful feeling.

[whendeersfly-blog]

September 29, 2016

You learn to be less self conscious when traveling this way. Wifi is community space, so if you need to call someone or video chat your boss, you may very well do it with 3 other people in the room. And if you need something, you ask a stranger. It’s a pretty odd concept for trying to be self sufficient most of the time.

I sat in the common room upstairs at Kex. I sat in that old leather couch wrinkled and sagging from use. I listened to a middle aged woman talk to her daughter, she was solo traveling. I looked at her admirably, she was following her dreams for a bit. But still our hearts ache for the things we love and miss. I’m learning, maybe we can’t have it all, all the time.

I sat with 2 Australians and 2 English guys and we shared 4 pizzas. I looked around and they were all properly eating their pizza with forks and knives…. ok, I’m not going to look like the American Savage. I knew my Danish grandpa to do that, but, come on, pizza is for hands. I think the Italians even eat it with their hands.

[whendeersfly-blog]

Iceland

September 2016

Hugo, who drank Maker’s Mark like it was water, and had the craziest hair. He wore leather jackets and when he smiled, it was like a gift. Surprising and beautiful. He was sweet and tough. He showed me pictures of his day and described them as “so nice” in his northern English accent. He held my hand the first night we met as our little group hopped from bar to bar.

Arthur, tall and skinny, always with a remark. He might’ve kissed me a few times and caught me by surprise. I loved the way he said ‘Darling’ with his English accent, like it was a part of the landscape, not standing on it’s own. I like the way he touched me like I was a treasure. He loved to shock and to dig the knife in, but called out the good moments. “I was just thinking, ‘she’s quite pretty… and then I look over and you are pulling some horrendous face…’” or when he turned around suddenly when we were trekking through the forest and hugged me and said “you’re fantastic…” or when I spilled my guts about some heartbreak and he stuck around.

Luke, red haired and Australian, his friendship was slow. With intense eyes, he talked about what’s important, under the aurora borealis we became friends. He talked about his plans to walk El Camino del Santiago in Spain and the books that inspired him to travel.

I knew it would feel like this, like everything was far away, less real. But everything else more real. All the people I’ve met so far, and all the things I’ve been getting to see and do. Even though my last few days have been work days, it’s pretty incredible. I need to invest in some noise canceling headphones. That’s the only complaint I have, is that there is no where to be completely quiet. That’s the only part of the office I miss. Like a concentrated environment.

Renting a car tomorrow to explore the southern coast.

Aurora Borealis is unreal. I can’t even describe. And I can’t take pictures, so for future Dana reading this, it was incredible. Right above your head, the lights moving into greens and purples. Sitting on the rocks right by the water across from Kex. Cold and rocks digging into your ass, it didn’t matter. Love love love.

[whendeersfly-blog]

57/100

[whendeersfly-blog]

52/100

[whendeersfly-blog]

43/100

some thoughts. for my eyes. for your eyes. for no one’s eyes.

I want to write something or make something that defines this time or this hurt or this confusion. In prose, in poetry, in paint, in ink, in any way I can understand, So I can stand outside of it and judge it and accept it and show it to anyone who cares. But I can’t do that yet. I don’t even know how to. It’s still all tangled up. Maybe there’s art in the process of detangling and diagnosing each strand. Even if, by itself, it doesn’t fit in any context or make any sense at all.

No one is unscathed. It’s not how this works.

Because this isn’t a perfect place, we all have our scars and burdens and victories and triumphs. It’s the way it’s meant to be. None are exempt.

It’s special because it ends. You know… life. It’s precious because it doesn’t last very long. There’s an understanding that our experiences are important because we don’t get forever.

If we did, I think the value would decrease. We’d push off things even more than we do if we end up getting the average 80 or 90 years. I don’t want to live like that ever. I don’t want to work my whole life to get to play a little at the end. And without being morbid, who’s to say you’ll ever get there? What kind of a life is that? “What a strange way to be alive…”

If you’re open to love, if you live your life in a way that invites other people in, you will find it. I promise.

We can’t control the way time behaves. The way it speeds up when you are really happy or in love or the way it barely moves when you’re counting down the days to a trip or waiting at a stop light, or waiting for a broken heart to heal.

Lots of thinking. My journal has seen more action in these past 4 months than it has in years. 

Goodnight, world <3 

[whendeersfly-blog]

17/100

June 30, 2016

//Today was a Thursday that felt like a Friday. Pretty vodka from Iceland getting me excited for my first destination.//

The days are now marked as after that but before this. All the facets of this season, flipping over and finding new ground to conquer and maybe touching, if but for a second, where I’ve already been.

I imagine being away from here for a long period of time and everything kind of fading. It’s easier. Less in focus, less sharp, less scraping my heart. It won’t seem real. Because so much of the struggle is attached to being attached. I’ve never been gone from home for more than 3 months and when I have been, it’s been with my parents at “home” in Denmark. I want to see what I turn into in a different environment(s) I want to see what happens when I get to breathe. I can imagine that I’ll probably freak out at first. Maybe. But I think writing and photography will be a good way to combat that and embrace it simultaneously.

Note: I love seeing the date of events that I would like to go to, and realizing that I won’t be here for that date…. stoked. peace out, CA.

[whendeersfly-blog]

13/100

Sacrificing small things, feelings and places for something I’ve wanted for a long time is harder than I thought. It reminds me of how undisciplined I can be sometimes. It’s a good life lesson I’m inflicting on myself. It’s showing parts of me I’d like to work on. Selfish parts and weak parts, and has me desperately wanting to understand how to walk the line of being loving and kind while not being a pushover. I don’t have a handle on that yet. I’ve re-done my makeup 3x a day this whole weekend, lots of crying, the necessity of reminding myself of how blessed I am and returning to a Love that cannot fail. There are 87 days until I leave for my trip. I want to be somewhere different mentally, physically and spiritually by the time that rolls around.

[whendeersfly-blog]

10/100

June 23, 2016

I had this moment driving home from dinner on Monday. This band I hadn’t heard of before was on the radio, I didn’t know if it was new or old but it had that nostalgic (for me) skater punk sound and as I was getting into the song, I realized,

it’s summer.

(as a job having, fairly functioning adult, this means less and less to me… summer now means, when I go to lunch, I’m sweating on the way out to my car and my ankles swell from sitting all day and being in the heat. fun.)

I had the urge to roll down the windows and blast my music. so I did. All the way down Edinger.

There’s something about that, windows down, music blasting, reminds me of summers in high school. There was so much possibility and I felt it. I felt the possibility and it lit me up. I noticed everything and felt excited, like anything could happen. I can capture it sometimes, usually always in the same scenario, windows down and music blasting, but it’s less intense and less often.

Anything can STILL happen, the difference is, I notice it less. I have to be aware of other things, there’s no one looking out for me, I have to pay attention to boring, grown up things. Or I’ve been taught I need to. I know more now, and I think I talk myself out of it. I want that excited, fired up feeling more often.

I got it a bit last night too, I was staring up at the sky, at a plane, the summer air was cool and balmy, and I lost myself in the sky for a minute, anything could happen. Because anything CAN happen. At 27 years old, with all my bumps and bruises, I need to believe that.

I need to fight the good fight and KEEP the faith. Life is good. Life is just as good as I believed it to be riding around in my Maroon 1992 Ford Explorer at 17 years old.

“You took my hand and then we both started running Both started running There’s no place to go Another bullet and we both started running Both started running too Save yourself, don’t ever look back Nowhere to go and so we both spin around in circles”

-Pierce the Veil // the monday night song

[whendeersfly-blog]

5/100

June 17, 2016

[whendeersfly-blog]

4/100

June 16, 2016

Today my amazing artist and writer friend posted something that hit me hard. This is a woman who makes swearing sound beautiful and talks about Jesus in the most tangible way. She is an advocate for being real, messy, honest and showing up for life even when it’s hard. (I would follow her if I were you. IG: @molluskgrl - she writes these heart stopping pieces and does amazing watercolor)

In light of everything that’s going on in the world, she had such gorgeous words, to remind the light holders, the love givers, the hope havers, to keep lighting, loving and hoping. She talks about the fact that what’s going on in the world scares her of course, but it scares her more to think that “those with good things left to bring might stop bringing them”. This was my favorite part:

“One of my mission statements, which was founded in the throes of an illness that left me with little choice but to endure the path of pain laid before me, is that I must attend my life. I must. Because it is mine. For better or for worse, for joy or for pain, this is my life and I must give testament to it, even in – ESPECIALLY IN the dark hours.

Dear ones, we must attend this. We cannot go silent and still. We cannot look away because this is hard to look at. And should these words “But what can I do?” cross your lips, THIS is what you can do:

Hopers keep hoping. Hope loud. Hope relentlessly. And if someone laughs at your hopeful heart, you keep hoping at them. People laugh when they’re afraid. We must help others get comfortable with this pain. It isn’t going anywhere. There is always pain in the offering.

Also, bring you. Bring ALL of you. Attend your life. Attend this sorrow. Feel it and become responsible for it. Know that you are here, right now, for this very purpose.

And in this way, Showing Up and Attending Our Lives, may we be balm to our broken, bleeding, beautiful world.”

like are you serious? “...I must attend my life. I must. Because it’s mine. For better or for worse, for joy or for pain, this is my life and I must give testament to it...” 

holy crap.

This monumentally speaks love and life into how I’ve been feeling. Also, I honestly feel a little bit called out. 

What we have is precious. Like, okay, it’s totally completely awesome we are still breathing and all that good stuff, but you can have all that, and still kind of be checked out. Whether that be directly in your own life or if it manifests itself in apathy. I imagined my last few months of whatever that was--sadness, depression, “funk” and I know there are times when you need to let yourself heal and be down, and I’ll be the first one to tell you, you have to feel your feelings, but today, I had a thought,

I’m done with that.

I’m not saying I’m done as in I won’t still struggle or that I have complete control over it, but I am acutely aware and strong enough at this point to know that the thoughts and the habits I am creating no longer serve me or others. There’s no time out or pause. It’s time to show up even if and when I feel like my heart is broken into a million pieces. That’s important. We are responsible for each other, like Cara says in her post. We must be. Even and especially when it’s really hard to be.

Attend your life. Go to the party. Bring others along with you.

I was thinking about how I want to feel at the end of my life, whenever that may be. I think I want it to feel like coming home after a long day at Disneyland. You are tired. You have tasted, seen, heard, experienced magic, spent more money on food and drinks than really is acceptable, and it was FUN. You have all these memories dancing around in your head, but you are completely relieved to be home. To lay in your bed, to feel that lovely exhaustion settling in your muscles. 

I kind of imagine that’s what it feels like to “attend life”. Do it all even when the conditions are less than favorable. Love everything and everyone, talk to strangers, eat, dance, sing, run around like a kid. After all, that’s really what it is, a grand adventure before we go home. 

Be there. 

Whatever that ends up meaning. We know that even at Disneyland there are rainy days, screaming children and aching feet, go anyway. Hold the umbrella, help the lost child, we owe it to ourselves and to each other. 

On a larger, less frivolous scale, whatever it means to you:

Go to the party.

Go to Disneyland in all its horror and glory.

Show up and just be there, see what happens.

Attend Your life. 

It’s YOURS.