"It was like someone made it out of Legos when they were blind."
  - Judy H., at some point this summer, talking about a dog. This has nothing to do with anything else that's on my mind, but it made me smile.


Six months ago everything changed for the better, and it just keeps getting better. God is using my new life in the heart of downtown (okay, that part isn't better) to help me confront my fears, like giving presentations in front of strangers, or small talk, or telling other people what they should do. My fear of elevators still hasn't gone away, though, so my thighs are getting pretty buff. That's an added bonus that wasn't part of the job description. In one week I'll be directing my first video shoot, which I think means that I'm finally a grown up. Sometimes, still six months in, I get off the phone with a client or out of a creative meeting and think, "this can't be my real life." Oh, but it is. There is healing in being in a place where people don't put down your work all of the time. I feel free and I feel confident. And that's all I have to say about that.

This time last year I was coming off of the high that was seeing P.W. live, and transitioning into a season of spending too many hours miserably working on a Black Friday ad campaign. Which, hello, there are only so many ways to say "THIS IS A BIG SALE."

This time, well, this year, I'm ready to (potentially) start creative writing again, because I don't hate writing anymore. I'm ready to enjoy the holidays surrounded by such a wonderful family. I'm ready to venture out into the snowy mountains and discover a world that's so separate from my 9 -5 (except on Fridays) city living.

God is given me so much more than I deserve.

a small moment I want to preserve in my memory:

I reached in the freezer and grabbed black garbage sack full of ice. I dropped it on the concrete several times, but it wouldn't break. I picked it up and felt around the bag. There was a neck. It was a whole, frozen turkey. Two minutes later, I heard my mother in law go and do the exact same thing.

Life is interesting, and funny, and joyful. It's a wonder what three months away from a toxic environment is doing for my head and my heart.

after my little temper tantrum i'm feeling much better about pretty much everything (well, except getting murdered in my sleep, but that's just standard out here in the wild, wild west).

my sweet, sweet christian coworker texted me over the weekend and told me she'd been searching for jobs for me. in her free time. having another christian at work -- one that isn't immersed in the culture of my church -- has been so refreshing. we can bounce problems off of each other, share verses on rough days, quote dumb old songs, and even complain together. God shows his kindness in the most unexpected ways. like bringing a missionary's kid all the way to snowy utah to come to meetings with me and remind me to get before God in the hard times.

i think the best thing is just to stay put for now and savor the good days:
the days when an email makes me laugh so hard i cry
the days my boss schedules a 'summit' so we can go to starbucks together
the days i get to write about beer pairings and football
the days when lunch break is snowshoeing up the mountain.
the days i'm allowed to wear whatever i want and drink free coffee for hours.

and of course, the miles i drive closer and closer and closer to the mountains.

the anti-love letter

today, after nearly three years of writing for a living, i am wondering why in the world i am writing for a living. i woke up at 2 am and the dread sunk in:

i have to go back to this place in the morning. and tomorrow. and the tomorrow after that.

a writing job has killed my desire to write.
a writing job has killed my creativity.
a writing job has killed any thoughts i had that i was, in fact, creative.

but then i wonder if it's just the place i'm in.

two years of chaos (which is oddly where i thrive)
two years of second-guessing (which thrives in me, but isn't healthy)
two years of frustration and no direction.
two months of micromanagement.
at least two full days worth of ulcers and tears and a racing heart.

i think mandatoryfun.com is like a bad relationship, but i can't really leave because i didn't get any other schooling.
some days it's tolerable and i forget that i want to leave. some days it's so unbearable i can't imagine staying another ten minutes (much less eight hours).

Jesus, show me what to do. and if it's becoming a forest ranger or spending minimum wage days making cookies and cakes, that's just fine by me.

rant over.