Now I’m back, and I’m determined to finish healing through words.

So…

Day 6
A song to match your mood. 

I consider music to be an extension of my emotions. I am constantly cleaving to music that I feel more aptly portrays my emotions than I could honestly hope to.

Music brings me hope. Hearing songs from artists that I feel completely align with my circumstances is a little bit like being discovered by a passing ship after years of being stranded on a deserted island.

I struggle a lot with sharing my emotions, because I feel misunderstood the majority of the time. I feel like no-one else in the world understands exactly what I’m feeling in my heart. I feel isolated, and different, and a bit ashamed of just how different from ‘normal’ people I am.

So, I turn to music.

Music and Lyrics give a solid idea to the abstract nuances of my mind.

Finding my emotions in a song after an emotional draught is a beautiful Nirvana.

My latest musical obsession is this little English Folk Band called ‘Mumford & Sons’. (Well, maybe not so little.)

I'm in love with these blokes.

I love the honesty in their music. The brilliance of that raw emotion in the instruments, the lyrics, the melody.

The true musicianship that is readily apparent with every strum of the guitar, or pluck of the banjo (Yes, BANJO. Stick with me here.) is breath-taking. They OWN their music. They’ve lived it.

And it’s beautiful.

To make a long story short, I love them. And their song ‘After the Storm’ literally brings tears to my eyes.

No other song that I have EVER heard so correctly describes the hopeful, almost hauntingly fragile, feeling that comes at the end of the storm.

The feeling that comes when, after you’ve been treading water for what feels like eternity, always afraid that you would drown, you finally break your head above water and see you are only one final stretch away from the shore.

The feeling you get when you realize that you are STRONGER and BIGGER than your trials, and you WILL NOT let them overcome you.

THAT feeling.

This song gave me hope, and light, and direction.

So, I would like for you to give it a listen.

I would hope that, even if this music bores you, you could understand the beauty of the emotion.

~*Post Title from ‘After the Storm’ by Mumford and Sons. Obviously.

I stare at the floor.

I stumble over my words.

I rush to find the greatest thing to say, and end up making a complete fool of myself.

It’s just what I do.

This has hindered me on many levels.

MANY LEVELS.

I think I just get so nervous or anxious that I will be misunderstood, or that I will cause a conflict or confrontation, that I clam up. I literally can’t speak the words on my mind.

So, naturally, my preferred way of communication is NOT verbal. It’s text-based.

It is much easier, to me, to write what I’m thinking than speak it.

I can carefully consider my words, their implications, the way they roll together.

I’ve heard it called Word-smithing.

I prefer to consider it an art.

A creation.

That being said, I also am very protective of my work. I hate to let people see or hear me work. I think its because I definitely hate questions, and I will always feel that they are judging my accomplishments before I’ve finished them.

I hate rough drafts.

I hate sneak peaks.

It gives me a great deal of anxiety.

So, I work and work and work to put my thoughts and feelings and emotions into words and music. And I think a lot of what I have on my mind goes unsaid, because I never have a finished product.

There will never BE a finished product.

Life is dynamic, and people are too. We change to suit the ever-arcing ebb and flow of life.

Thoughts cease.

And entire wars are fought in our minds in the space of a few moments.

I am utterly incapable of capturing those moments.

But, I try.

The hardest things to share are the things I feel leave me raw, and unprotected.

But, its usually some of my best work.

So, here is my favorite song I have ever written.

About my inability to lay myself bare. About how protecting myself usually prevents me from what I really want.

It’s very rough. It’s very raw. It is loaded with technical and musical problems. But, this is me laying myself bare.

*~30-day blog challenge will continue at another date. Life took me and threw me around a bit.

Mi Familia (circa 2009)

I typically avoid spending a lot of time looking at pictures of myself.

Not that I have a problem with myself, it’s just that I don’t recognize myself in these photos.

Wait. Let me explain before you call me a psychiatrist.

I find this hard to look at.

Most women I know have their own mental picture of themselves.

Most women have a skewed mental picture. Most of them assume they are fatter or uglier than they really are.

I feel like I have the opposite problem, which is just as damaging to self-esteem.

My mental picture of myself is an attractive, well-proportioned, sensible woman.

And when I see pictures of myself, or even when I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize the woman I see.

In fact, I kinda hate her.

May 2009

Clearly the impostor in the mirror isn’t me. I’m not that round. (Read: Fluffy, grand, rotund, or any of the other euphemisms for ‘FAT’)

I’m not that tired.

I’m not that sad, right?

I think this probably qualifies as a form of lying to yourself.

And I’m good at lying to myself.

But, I’m learning to be honest.

Which is why this shrewd way I’ve learned to look at myself has helped me try and make a change.

I’m unhappy with my body, so I’m starting to exercise. I’m eating healthy.

I’m trying to bring back the light to my eyes. I am filling my life with things that make me happy.

And, I think it’s working.

Harry Potter Premier 2010

~*Post Title from “Easier To Lie” by Aqualung.

Ok.

I have a confession.

I’m kind of a bad friend.

I mean, I’m not bad. It’s just that I always tend to get caught up in my own problems, and I completely miss the subtle hints from my friends that indicate they need a shoulder, or a hand.

Admittedly, this has turned into a self-fulfilling problem, because I have these AMAZING friends that have always been there for me.

Even when I haven’t been, or couldn’t be there for them. They are pretty forgiving.

And I have this one friend.

She’s been with me through the most.

She’s the one I can pick up a conversation with after forever, and feel like no time has passed at all.

Sorry to admit, I haven’t always been the greatest friend to her.

But, because she’s such a loyal and forgiving person, we’ve managed to erase the past, and create a stronger relationship than ever before.

Yeah, I love her.

And I owe her so much more than my life.

"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart, and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words."

And I am so proud of her. She is such a strong person. She takes the lemons that life gives her, and makes Bacon Cupcakes. She is a rock.

I want to grow up to be just like her.

~*Post Title taken from “Friends” by Band of Skulls.

Here’s the thing about me and dating.

…

…

I don’t date a lot.

I think there is something about me, some personality quirk that causes me to be labelled as ‘unapproachable’ by the male species. I think it has something to do with the way I freak out and stare at the floor instead of having a normal conversation. Or, maybe the way that I tend to over-compensate for my shyness by acting like a complete, certifiable, bi… erm… crazy person.

Yeah. I don’t get out much.

That’s not to say that I don’t have my own idea about the perfect first date. Just saying that I haven’t had much practice at them.

I’m trying to make this post less pathetic, I promise.

So, when I think about first dates, I can’t help but think about how sometimes they are 100% awkward. I mean, really. Obviously you are attracted to each other, because you are on a date. Someone asked. Someone accepted. That’s mutually assured attraction.

The problem is, once on the date, sometimes people can forget about that mutually assured attraction, and completely clam up. (Ahem… judge as you will. This blog is auto-biographical.) And that, boys and girls, is a sure-fire way to ruin a date. (And any chance at a future relationship.)

So, my idea of the perfect first date, is a date that will break both nervous, hormonal, and (let’s be honest) over-whelmed individuals out of their respective shells. And, since I consider myself a creative-type, the perfect date would include an opportunity to create something.

THE PERFECT FIRST DATE:

1. Dinner at an interesting restaurant. Somewhere that invites interesting conversation. My current personal favorites are: Malawi’s Pizza, Bombay House, Jasmine Thai, Happy Sumo, and La Jolla Groves.

2. Painting at Color Me Mine. Or some similar creative activity.

And then, if the date is really going well.

3. Dessert at a fun, and delicious dessert spot. (Might I recommend The Chocolate?) Get some Hot Cocoa, or some cookies, and enjoy the wrap-up to your date.

And that simple night is my recipe for a perfect first date.

Of course, if your date has no personality, or isn’t interested in creative projects, this date will not go well.

~*Post Title from “Falling Slowly” by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova (Of The Frames fame)

Also, this song contains my most favorite lyrics:

“You have suffered enough, and warred with yourself, it’s time that you won.”

There is this Bakery that I am absolutely in love with. They have the most amazing Cannolis that I have ever had. (Read: The only Cannoli I have ever had.) And if you get there at the right time, their Hot Chocolate is to DIE for!

I am, of course, speaking of THE CHOCOLATE!

The cafe is located in an old house that has been remodeled. There are couches and chairs and tables all through all the rooms in the house, and there is even a working sink in one of the dining areas. (I’m assuming that that particular room used to also have the wash room in it.)

Their cupcakes are amazing! Their sugar cookies are heaven.

…

And their chocolate cake is something I don’t share easily.

I always love to go to The Chocolate. I’m pretty sure any excuse will do.

So, today I went to the Chocolate with my friends Aimee and Heather. We got there late, so the pickings were slim. (*Sniff* No Cannoli!) But, they did have a really good looking brownie…

Warning: Objects in Picture are slightly more disappointing than they appear.

And I couldn’t say no to a Giant Hot Chocolate…

Still the best ever, when you get it hot.

I think the universe knew that I would be doing a blog post about my visit to The Chocolate, because the stars aligned, and I had the worst experience there I have ever had. It took forever for them to fill our orders. And we didn’t order anything that needed to be specially cooked. (Did I mention they make a mean Cazookie?)

When we received our orders all of our Hot Chocolate was, at best, TEPID.

Not warm.

Not hot.

TEPID!

Aimee’s Hot Chocolate was so cold that her whipped cream formed a clump in the middle of her cup.

My scrumptious brownie was slightly dry and hard. Not what I look for in a brownie.

I am actually a little wary of going back to my beloved cafe of wonders. I’m afraid I’ll have a horrible experience, and I’ll hold it against my favourite little Bake Shop.

I’m going to assume that the bad experience was due to the fact that we arrived shortly before closing, and they were obviously under-staffed.

I highly recommend you try The Chocolate for yourself.

But, please!

Try the Cannoli!

~*Post Title taken from “Chocolate” by Snow Patrol.

I can’t back down from a challenge.

Yet, I also hate to be one to just simply follow the crowd.

There’s got to be a phrase for that.

Uniquely Predictable?

Whatever.

We’re deviating from the point.

I was visiting a good friend’s blog recently that I hadn’t visited in a long time. (I’m horribly good at putting things off. Even things I like to do.) I saw she had posted a 30 days blog challenge and then completed it.

Which, set the niggling in my brain off. I had stumbled upon a challenge, and by golly, I was going to complete it!

So, this is me completing the 30 day blog challenge.

DAY 1:
A picture of yourself and a description of how your day was.

So, without further ado…

Heavily Photoshopped. Not Pictured: My Superflous Ego

My day was… a day.

I can’t adequately describe to you my day without first giving some context from yesterday. (Is that cheating?)

Yesterday I was trying to survive on around 4 hours of sleep. I sludged my way through work, and made it home where I was certain I could have a productive day.

Fast forward to the point where I’m waking up on my couch after a four hour nap.

Suffice it to say, that I had entirely too much sleep yesterday. So, today I have been running around with the energy of a young child. Woo!

I flew through my responsibilities at work.

I felt productive and all grown-up when I got a call from my Dad asking me to pick him up from his mechanic’s.

I vegged out a little in front of my TV.

I spent some time revamping my blog.

I spent a long time perfecting my Header, only to have someone instantly tell me she didn’t like it.

I have this weird clarity of thought, that I haven’t had in a long time.

Maybe all I’ve been missing all this time is sleep, but boy are the chemicals in my brain waaay in balance today.

But, the best part of my day was driving all around town with the windows rolled down, enjoying the cool almost-spring breeze, blasting Simon and Garfunkel on my radio.

“Cecilia! You’re breaking my heart! You’re shaking my confidence daily!”

I took a wrong turn. Ended up in the wrong lane. And instead of Orem, I found myself meandering through Lindon. I was unhurried to correct my course, because I was enjoying the beauty around me.

It has been entirely too long since I’ve done that. I suppose I should take more time to be grateful for what I have.

~~~~~~~
Post Title from “Let That Be Enough” by Switchfoot.

Then, I proceeded to enjoy the most glorious year of my life.

Somehow, with my happiness running rampant, I forgot all about my plea for the Lord to break me. Because, when I made that plea, I was in a dark place. A dark in between place.

Back then I had this theory that you could spend your whole life in a mediocre state. A state of perpetual meaninglessness. Without Conviction. Without an Ultimate Concern. In this state, your not living for anything, or anyone. You’re just existing.

And that idea scared me.

Something about the idea of trudging through an inferior existence, of spending day after day with the same nothingness, the same blah, just terrified me.

I did not (and still don’t) want to reach the end of my journey and realize it was a wasted existence. I want to look back and see a life of conviction, compassion, and Love.

And since there is opposition in all things, and we are taught that without that opposition life would have no meaning, I figured that if I had the Lord break me, and break me completely, I would appreciate life and religion better.

I figured that in order to have my many emotional wounds heal completely, I would need to allow them to break completely.

Because in that dark, dysmal, time in my life, I was ignoring the cracks in my emotional health. The things that hurt I ignored, or covered up completely.

I took all my stressors, and pretended that they didn’t bother me. I convinced myself that I was stronger than I actually was. And because I’m extremely good at anything contrary to my own well-being, I convinced myself that being ‘Strong’ was what my family and friends needed from me.

And then I had a moment of lucidity. One brilliant moment where I realized I couldn’t live that way.

So I asked the Lord to break me.

And He didn’t.

Because I didn’t let him.

I fell back into the habit of pretending. Of plying on the spackle to cover the cracks. And I had good reason. For the first time in a good, long while I had something worth living for.

And it was good while it lasted. For those glorious months, I was able to keep myself together. I was able to convince even myself that I was complete. Content.

And maybe I was. Who’s to say that I wasn’t happy? That I didn’t for one brilliant, shining moment manage to center myself completely, and find the inner me that I’ve been craving?

But life is dynamic. Nothing stays the same. I lost the thing that I was living for. I probably never had it.

Sadly, I’ve spent the last 6 months sliding back into mediocrity.

And here I am. One and a half years after I began this journey, back at square one.

Except, not.

Because, inevitably, you learn more from the journey, then you ever will from your destination.

Does that even make sense?

I suppose what I mean to say is that through this experiecne I learned a lot.

I learned I can live for something.

I learned that the first person you should be living for is yourself.

I learned that I’m still half-broken, and that there is nothing all that extraordinary about that. Lots of people are half-broken. That’s life.

But, most of all, I learned that when I’m ready, the Lord is ready.

He knows the desires of our heart, and He will do everything in His power to grant us our desires, if they align with His plan.

And you know what?

Sometimes, you don’t need to be completely broken. Sometimes, you just need to work on being completely healed.

…

Challenge Accepted.

~*Post Title taken from “C’est La Mort” by The Civil Wars. Lyrics can be found HERE

One step, then another, I’m going further than I have before.
Now you have me stumbling, hopelessly fumbling, hoping for more.

Boy, I hope you sing me a song.
Boy, I want to sing along!

If I could I’d stand outside these walls and I’d reach for you!
If I could I’d stand outside myself and I’d be strong for you!
I’d be strong for you.

Here’s the thing about you and me.

I’ve been running the distance, echoing thunder,
most of my life.
I’m expecting your resistance, So I wrote this letter,
In three-quarter time.

Boy, I’d love to sing you a song.
Boy, I hope you sing along.

If I could, I stand outside these walls and I’d reach for you!
If I could, I stand beside myself and I’d be strong for you.

I’d be strong for you.

Here’s the thing, about you and me…