Dear Body,

Dear Body,

It's been a long time coming for me to sit down and write this post for you. Quite frankly, you scare me and you'll have to excuse the fact that I had to take a shot for luck before I could stand and face you. Down the hatch, to the page.

You're beautiful. You are wanted. You are loved. You are even loved and wanted by the one person who matters most: me. I love you. I want you. I am so sorry that at times I make you feel unappreciated or low, but I am genuinely in love with you. All that you are.

Dear Hands,

I love the way you frame these keys. I love how hard you are working as I stumble through these words. I love your sturdy nails that grow to a perfect half-moon crescent. I love to look at you and the way you move and flow so gracefully. Your knuckles don't crack and I truly appreciate that as you know how much I hate that sound. I love your pyramid birthmark perched so gently on my right hand, pointed towards my fingertip. You've convinced me that I am clearly an Egyptian Goddess reincarnated. Thank you for knowing just where to touch and hold me and thank you for being so delicate and soft. Hands are my favorite part of the body on others and I am so grateful that I lucked out with a pair as beautiful as you. I promise I'll be better about lotion.

Dear Wrists,

I am so sorry. I am sorry I left small kisses from the razor I was once desperate enough to use. You have to know I did not mean to scar you. I only meant to wake myself up, remind myself of the fire in my deep red blood. But you have taken that scar and embroidered it softly into my skin, creating a stitch that constantly reminds me of how hard you fought to hold me together. And I love my Gatsby tattoo. It reminds me of the great words that have come before me that hold up my own. It reminds me of the overpowering love can be and where it can drive a man. It reminds me of beauty and hope and loss. Thank you for your grace under pressure.

Dear Arms,

I know that I need to tone your biceps, but you are lovely and lean nonetheless. You aren't the strongest but you do give some killer hugs. And I love that you hold my second tattoo, a reminder set between the mirror of my two scars. A message that we made it on the other side unscathed. I wish you were a bit stronger so I would feel safer, but you are still great.

Dear Chest,

I love your collar bone. I feel so sexy when it is on display. I feel like a ballerina and you inspire me to stand up straighter to show you off more. I love your breasts. They hang perfectly and fit perfectly in my hands. Yes, you are probably home to a favorite feature of mine, and a few others, but I'm proud of you. My chest makes me feel like a woman and feeling like a woman makes me proud. I probably like looking at you more than the general public (this fact is contestable, eyyyoooo)

Dear Waist,

You are so tiny and I love that I can wrap my arms completely around you and hold you together. You grab me that hourglass frame that I always envied so much growing up. Keep up the good work.

Dear Stomach,

Sorry for all of the pizza and late night burritos, but also I'm not sorry at all because we both know that I have never ONCE felt guilty about eating four burritos in one sitting. But it is my fault for making you feel ashamed for your size. I suppose that I'm growing on your little pooch. We'll get toned this summer and when we do, it will be in a healthy way. (Speaking of which, I'm sorry for trying to convince you to be anorexic in the seventh grade. Those were miserable times, but now we can both work on not paying attention to societal standards and do whatever makes us feel good and strong and healthy.)

Dear Hips,

...........It's you I'm most scared of. Scared to face what has always been my greatest insecurity. Your ass is too big from the side, you have love handles, you are too much for how small I am. But. Lately I am seeing more from you. I love what you add to my shape. I am so happy to have curves strong enough to part an ocean. And you are an essential part of that plan and the hourglass I love so much. You have my promise that I will keep trying to see the best in you. Because in the end, you are comfortable and you are mine.


Dear Legs,

Thank you so much for being so strong. All of those years of Irish dancing really left your calves strong and toned. I wish your feet wouldn't get so sore from running but I would like to start slowly toward the goal of running. I know, I'm not excited about it either but if anyone can carry me over that finish line, it's you. (probably... I mean, a car would do much of the same thing. Or a piggy back ride)

Dear Head/Face,

Another spot of contention. I'm sorry for being so critical of you. And for trying to force you into changing. ALSO for waxing your eyebrows. Sorry, but on a much more real level, not sorry. I like your dark eyes, they are mysterious and they look serious. And seriously well framed by my eyebrows, which pop so nicely. Thank you for being my selfie secret weapon. And thank you for the best hair ever.

Dear Body,

Part of the reason I am so insecure about you is because people seem to believe that if you openly love your body, you must be vain and pompous. People seem to think that by loving myself and being able to take a compliment without doubting it later will make me a terrible person. I do not want to be viewed as arrogant. Or overly confident. Plus there is that risk that as soon as I appear confident, I'll get rejected or laughed at by being confident about something ugly. That I'll get rejected because as it turns out, I'm not pretty after all.

But I think I am pretty. And I think that fear is pretty dumb. I think I am powerful, and a remarkable collection of all of the most lovely and horrible and neurotic atoms around. If someone is rejecting you, it is because of them. NOT US. We are so beautiful and strong. And fucking resilient. You have been hit and hurt and violated and you still perform and support me. You have carried me to so many amazing places. Body positivity should be admired, not punished or questioned. Women's bodies are always under scrutiny. But do not let society, or me, devalue you. I love you and I will be better at showing it telling you more often.

Body shaming must stop on every level. Thank you for letting me be vulnerable and hopefully inspire more love for myself. And for more people to love themselves.

I love you and I like you. Stay sexy.

Emma Jane Phelps

Let's be open to nature like this more.

everything in its right place

I remember thinking refineries produced clouds, dream factories spilling fluffy hope into the sky. But then I grew up and saw that they were just fountains pumping poison down through our nostrils until they ate our lungs away. Still as I drive past, I see the smoke sloughing out of the chimneys and can't help but find it beautiful even as I breathe the death deep down into my veins. I watch them pass from my windows and can't help but be relieved that I am driving alone. My hands are made of human paper that has been bent into ugly origami so often in the past and they are so happy to be alone. They caress themselves, they hold each delicate part of my body so gently, they block my lips as I step outside and avoid the poisoned air of factories and the refined fallacy of people. My human paper hands and my tulip cupid's bow are blooming for themselves in haunted, February air.

via *

Sweet 16

Hi team! Good hell, it's been a minute! I'm sitting in my bed on my adorable new MacBook Air getting ready for my last first day of school. Although getting here has been quite the struggle and I would rather get my teeth pulled than wake up for class tomorrow at 7AM, I am excited to be going back for my very last semester of my Undergraduate degree!

I know it's sort of (10 days) late for a Happy New Year Here Are Some Resolutions post, but my blog my rules, yeah? I've been sick the past few days leading up to my last semester and watching Django Unchained 8 times to make myself feel better. But this year I truly mean to make a new me. Maybe that's not exactly true. I lost myself a lot in 2015, whether by my own choice or by letting horrid people steal me away. But I am back with a vengeance. And I have some resolutions, damn it. And I'm putting them here so I feel that odd sense of ~requirement~ that sharing things with internet friends makes you feel.

• Read 45 books.
• I've met every single reading goal I have set in the past 4 years and I have no plans to stop that now. I am up from last year but down from the dream goal of 50, to allow time for school to take over my life. 
• Write a blog post at least once a week.
• Duh. I promise to be better. More poetry, more thoughts, more flash fiction. More writing, more me.
• Continue with my daily writing exercises.
• I got a beautiful new journal from my best friend Niki this Christmas and every day this year I have written a ten line poem as an exercise to stretch and continue my writing. Hopefully some will be decent enough to share here but I'm just glad to be writing continually again.
• Read every book assigned to me in my last semester.
• Easier said than done. We'll see. But I gotta make those student loans worth it.
• Finish at least the first round of edits on my novel.
• I finished my first draft of my first novel this last August and I intend to have my first round of edits done as soon as I graduate. That's step one to my big published dreams. Let's get it done.
• Take more time for my own mental health and stop letting people who hurt my brain in my life.
• Again, duh.

And there is my 2016! Life has been a disaster lately but it is slowing getting better and better. I can't wait to reconnect with all of you and watch your lives blossom too. Here's to Sweet (20)16!

time

Time is the most precious substance in the world, isn't it? We are all fighting to control time and earn more time. Fighting to use our time wisely or waste it in better ways. I wish I had more time to do the things I love, but I don't because I'm stuck doing other things I love. School is so much. I'm writing papers, but not poems. I'm learning so much, but I miss so much learning from all of you and reading your writing and books of my choice instead of assigned documents.

I really don't have anything to say. I just wanted to check in and say how much I miss my little home here. And all of you. And just life when it was simpler but when the fuck was that anyway? Life will never be simple; it will always be broken and beautiful. I'm almost done with my semester and then you can expect more words once I'm not draining them into papers.

PS: While I was gone, I was published in an amazing new online journal. Please check out my two poems and the AMAZING and lovely work of the other artists who were featured. You can find it all here. Massive thanks to everyone at No Falling Ribbons for accepting my work as well. You've inspired me to find more time and write for me again. Thanks thanks thanks xx

to build a home

My room was shaped like a physical heart and painted bright red with navy blue trim and a blue door. I had a huge British flag on the wall by my bed, a Sweeney Todd poster, and a map of the underground that I'd use to plan my runaways to England when I couldn't sleep at night. When I was about 12 I put a picture of Gerard Butler as The Phantom of the Opera above my bed and that stayed there until I was 23. I found it charming, but none of the boys who came into my room felt the same.

In my bed, I wrote the largest part of my novel. I started this blog and met you beautiful people and fell in love with your words. I did midnight homework assignments and memorized monologue after monologue in high school. In my little twin size bed, I sobbed after reading Looking for Alaska and The Book Thief for the first time when I was fifteen and sixteen. I cried when I reread them, always making sure to finish them in the same bed where they both began. I loved words in that bed.

When Michael broke my heart, I slid down against my wall near the door and sobbed for hours. I laid myself out across the floor and listened to The Killers and let myself scream, keeping the music pounding against the heartbeat walls. I was sitting against my bed trying to get my tears under control when I got a text that my best friend's father died that same day. Suddenly my best friend, who was always the boy I should have kissed, had a broken heart bigger than my own and I didn't know what to do except to sit on my floor in my red room.

When I left for college and found that the new world I was a part of down at that campus was made of pain and burning between my thighs, I came home and barricaded myself in my room, laying on the floor with a pillow under my head and a blanket over both myself and the heating vent. I fell asleep in that little pod of warmth until my friends thought I'd killed myself and knocked against my window to make sure I was still breathing.

I almost kissed that best friend on my front porch. I did kiss the boy who watched the stars and ached for me to wish for him. I kissed him on the driveway and then turned my cheek against his lips when we stood on the front porch after I told him I was going to college and couldn't see myself dating someone who was 16 as I entered college. In that same driveway two years later, I told the boy who'd eaten my heart and then spat it up in my face to never contact me again. Then I burned him off of my skin in my bathtub, sitting in the dark water alone.

R walked me to my back door in the snow and we walked back and forth between my fence and that door five times, trading the final kiss goodnight before I finally went inside. I raced to the front door and watched him sitting in his car in the driveway before he motioned me back out. He pinned me against the garage door and we kissed with the stars watching. That night my red room seemed even darker while my blood thickened in my veins with new romance.

I had sleepovers with Niki and midnight slurpees while we watched shitty movies on Netflix that we both pretended not to like even though we both cried at the end and were clearly invested. We woke up early together and drove away from my house in the misty morning air. After all day play practice, I came home and passed out on the couch with hot chocolate slowly cooling on the coffee table next to long forgotten math homework.

After my parents divorced when I was seven, my mom woke me early one morning to tell me we had a new house to go to. She said it had a playhouse in the backyard, which turned out to be a wasp infested shed. But there was a jetted tub in her master bathroom and I spent hours each night sitting in that tub pretending to be a Mermaid waiting for my prince. Our first night in the new house, I had a coughing fit that is still unexplained that lasted for four hours. Once we got to the doctor's the coughing stopped and they sent us back home, where I crawled right back into that tub. The house was already where my lungs needed to be to feel calm.

I passed from first to sixth grade in what felt like minutes and then had my first day of Junior high. I wore stupid heels and had blisters for weeks after that first day. I promised myself I wouldn't do the same thing for high school and forgot that promise three years later as I reached into my closet for heels I felt made me look ready for high school. There were spots of blood on my carpet from popping blisters.

I stared at my gold graduation robe in the mirror on the morning I'd be graduating High School. My red room was so bright that day. The heels I wore did not leave blisters and I cried thinking I'd only have three more months in that room until I moved away. Then it would only be Christmas breaks and summers. I held out my hands and touched the walls before my dad honked to tell me he was here to take me to graduate.

Once when I was eight, I was so furious at my mother that I left a muddy handprint on the wall. Instead of getting mad at me, I came out the next morning and saw that she had painted flowers around the hand and framed it. Yesterday I had to say goodbye to my childhood home, riddled with my handprints and my memories. I sat in my empty room by myself weeping as I could hear the new owners already beginning the remodel. As I left, they handed me a few more boxes of pictures that had been forgotten. And just like that, I said goodbye to 16 years.

bulletproof, in black like a funeral

I told you once of how my breath melted and dripped down my ribcage. You told me that wasn't possible and said I should stop stretching my words until they had no meaning. Unsurprisingly, my words were right and you were wrong. You turned my breath to icicles that stuck all over my vital organs and made my skin feel like the unexplored Arctic. When the lights shut off and anxiety swarmed like bees in the cracks between my bones, the friction snapped the ice apart and let it all melt down until it was bursting and waterfalling down my ribs. Your ice box soul slammed my velvet heart into a corner and melted me away. I promise you my breath was melting.

But now my breath is growing and sprouting in the early summer sun. I'll wear black because it makes me feel like sex and power and home and not because I want to disappear. I'll listen to all the songs I thought belonged to you until they're mine again and your breath, your eyes, your jaw are dead and gone. I'll reclaim them one by one and seek a voice that's full of sunshine and not radiation. 

via *

the daisies

I shut the light off and bathed in the dark. I let the black velvet water come to nearly the top of the tub until only my neck and head were left uncovered. The music that was playing embraced me like you never did, seeping down through the water and sliding across my skin. It was like an underwater cathedral in my darkened tub and my body was the altar, finally learning to praise itself again.

When the humidity finally loosened my cough, I coughed up the daisies you planted carelessly along my heart. They were bright and sick and smelt like lies. After all of this, I have learned something after all. Don't trust the daisies; they keep poison in pretty packages.

via *

in restless dreams I walked alone, narrow streets of cobblestone

My mother used to come into my room while I lay completely still on my bed, letting melodies drift across my skin and tattoo themselves on my arms and legs. She asked me why I always had such sad music on, letting my room turn a dusty blue as each sad song crooned through the night. Why did I need Jeff Buckley to hold my hands? Why were The Smiths brushing my hair off of my face and out of the hot tears that were plastering themselves onto my cheeks? It felt good to feel so much. If felt good to lay paralyzed by pain, remembering all of their voices and their promises, watercolor tears streaming down my cheeks. It made me feel more alive, this addiction to nostalgia. I’d let the chords swell until nostalgia was sweating itself from every pore. That’s when I’d pick up my pen.

Everything went numb. It was like the blood in my veins stopped flowing and all I could hear were ghostly laughs bouncing off the walls, just out of reach. There’s only so long that a heartbeat can sustain you before the blood stops moving and you need more. My blood sat there in my nail beds, gathering in crystallizing pools and freezing over, waiting for the spark to set it on fire again and set my pen in motion. Letters lounged on my cuticles begging to leap onto the page. That’s why I needed their voices. I needed to hear someone sing sadness so I could get lost in my own head. It’s amazing the trigger moments that happen when you surround yourself with the art of others.

via *

5.27.14

The birds started chirping at about 5 AM. I know I'll regret staying up all night writing while sitting through seven hours of class today but this sunrise smells like sugar and summertime sings so softly in these pale hours. 

22 today

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

All age 22 photos by beautiful Shelby Richins

How I've changed. Happy birthday, little girl.

females of the world interview

Hello lovelies! Last week I was asked to do an interview about my writing over on an amazing blog called Females of the World. I talk about my inspirations, offer some advice to other writers, and talk a bit about my NaNoWriMo project. Please head over to their blog to see my full interview, but here's a little snippet :)

(1) When did you first realise that you wanted to be a writer?

I’ve always loved to read. When I was little my favorite part of my house was a corner nook wedged in between our bookshelf and the couch. I’d curl myself around my favorite pillow, snuggle under my blankets and read for hours on end. Words have always transfixed me and haunted me even from a young age. I remember writing little bits of my imagination on pages in my room and during school even when I was about 6 or 7.

I guess the real catalyst was in the fourth grade. Every day we had “writer’s workshops” where we had free time to write whatever we wanted, get two peer edits, and submit a final draft that was laminated for a portfolio. It felt so good and so natural to feel words spilling out of my fingertips and I always felt so proud to get those laminated pages back. I even wrote a longer book called “The Test” that was bound for me. Feeling a book that I wrote in my hand and being able to take it home and set it on the shelf next to my favorite books was the best feeling in the world. I’ve been writing ever since.

(2) We’ve read your novel excerpt on your blog and are already totally gripped by your story. Is this the first time you’ve taken part in NaNoWriMo? How long have you been working on this particular story?

Thank you for reading my blog! I always planned to give NaNo a try for years, ever since I heard about it. I tried my first year in college but couldn’t find the time to write among the drudgery of my actual homework. This is the first time I’ve given my all to NaNoWriMo. I decided to do it this year because this is probably the only year I’ll have that I am only working and not trying to balance school as well. It’s been very challenging but somehow I’ve kept my word count up!

I’ve been working on this particular story for a few years. I hadn’t written anything prior to NaNoWriMo but I’ve had the entire story on my mind since I was 17 and the events I’m writing about began happening. I knew it was meant to be a book. I’ve outlined the story and drafted the characters intensely since I turned 20. Outlining stories and getting characters exact before I begin the writing process has been a hard process. But now they feel so entirely engrained in my mind. They are more real to me than some people in my life.

Be sure to go check out the rest of my interview here! Go leave this great blog a little love and enjoy the interview :)

white flag

The white flag of surrender has been raised. The white flag of peace. Of no ill will. The white flag of clarity and goodbye. I've jumped back and forth between humiliated and jubilated. Sadness and relief. It's not as hard as I thought it would be to let you go.

My sister talked me down and after surrounding myself with family and light, I saw the dark cloud you brought with you. I was hugged this weekend. Truly hugged. I was believed in and praised. I felt like me again. I felt excited for the future instead of imprisoned in the past, reaching up between the bars and barely grazing the silver lining of a future cloud.

I gave you everything I had. All of my faith was thrust to you. All I wanted to do was reassure you about how wonderful you are and how much potential you have. Through that process I lost my own potential and my dreams too.

The saddest part is that you didn't take any of it. Not a word. You stayed self deprecating and difficult and distant. You want so badly to be the bad guy, but you need to understand that you are a good guy. You would be a winner if you let yourself. If you pushed yourself or cared about more than just appearing unfeeling, you could dig yourself out of this mess. Maybe I could love you again.

This is what I've realized. You've changed. You aren't who you were when you were with me and I needed to be told that no matter what I did, I could never make you believe in yourself again. That's not my job. If you choose to stay this dark and deviant, I have to let you. Maybe one day you will wake up and I will be able to smile at you again. Best of luck in staying sad and drunk. I'll be over here living my life and laughing in love.

I loved you hard. I loved your memory though. It took seeing a weekend full of funerals and and family for me to realize that if I were to walk back in to you, I'd walk straight to death. I wouldn't be happy and I'd be held back.

I was wrong earlier. I was right to get brave. I was right to call you and thank you so much for answering me. It helped me see that you weren't you anymore and to see my potential again. My love for you had turned phantasmagorical. I was chasing my past and if I learned anything from Gatsby, it's the danger of doing that. I need to chase a brighter tomorrow, not a 10 watt past. I'm ready to be alone for a while. To see myself before I see others. I'm excited to be me for a while.

I don't think you will follow through in calling me. And that's ok. I don't know if I'd go anyway. It would be for the wrong reasons now. Thank you for inspiring beautiful poetry, I'm sure you still will. Thank you for the beautiful past. Thank you for making me see that I want no part of that to intoxicate my future, no matter how beautiful it was. I'll always look back at it with warm nostalgia.

Good luck, love. Goodbye.

via *

don't wanna live in fear and loathing

I haven't slept in three days. I feel like I'm driving myself crazy. This situation has been a struggle, as to be expected.

I was talking with my mom about the events I last wrote about. She looked at me sheepishly and said "I hate making this situation about myself but... maybe she passed so that when others pass, she's there to lead the way. If she's there waiting to guide them, I'll be less sad about their loss. Is that horrible? I don't want this to be about me."

But we have to process death this way. We can never know the grand reasons, if any, for why people pass from this world. All we can do is make their passing meaningful for ourselves. We process things and internalize events in our own ways. We cope differently and that is beautiful.

Tonight, I talked with my dear friend Dixie, who is also a therapist. I told her that through all this, I have felt like I've really learned about myself and my observational focuses. This was a wake up call. It made me get brave. It's also driven me insane. It's made me lose sleep and pray and plead for connection. I said that I hated that I was making this situation about my love life and my messy mind. I said that it felt weird, that I wasn't normal. She said it was completely normal.

For whatever reason, every moment I witnessed of this past weekend was cloaked in connection. I watched my grandfather with my grandmother. I saw her friends saying goodbye. I noticed couples linking hands even through personal hardships. Some situations are bigger than every day fights. Sometimes all you can do is screw the past, move forward, clasp hands and share a heartbeat. 

That is what I've learned.

I'm sick of feeding off of my own doubts. About myself. About who I love. About things I will never have control over. I want to live my life in love and passionate embraces. I want my late nights to be full of liquid words spilling onto a page and shared discussions about every little thing.

I love who I love. Screw opinions from others. I'm not afraid of second chances. I'm not afraid of him. I'm wary of being caused pain, but I'm done staying awake hour upon hour feeling haunted by fears and doubts.

I'm not afraid of being attached. Acting unfeeling and convincing yourself that you are worthless or a bad person doesn't make you tough. It makes you a coward. I refuse to be anything but brave. I refuse to pretend my feelings don't exist.

I want my mind to shut down for a few days, but sadly I'll never get that wish. But you know what? I can turn those gears into a powerful machine that will move mountains and shatter barriers. I'll scream at the top of my lungs. I'll dance my ass off. I'll cry until I can't breathe. I'll feel with every atom I am made of.

Because life is so short. And this world is so beautiful. And love is so pure.

via *

This was all inspired by this song by Marina and the Diamonds. Who is everything. Please listen.

There is no crime in being kind.

Not everyone is out to screw you over.

Maybe, yeah just maybe 

they just want to get to know you.

Now the time is here,

baby you don't have to live your life in fear.

And the sky is clear. 

It's clear of fear.

Don't wanna live in fear and loathing,

I wanna feel like I am floating

instead of constantly exploding,

in fear and loathing.

she has a sparkling personality

via *

For as long as I can remember, I've loved horoscopes and personality tests; anything that let me get a glimpse into my soul or my future. Any clues about who I am and how to unravel my mind. Any cosmic help for any situations I may find myself in. Love them all.

A week or so back Vaida on her gorgeous blog Don't Tell Anyone Arts posted about a personality test she took as part of her Blogtember challenge. I jumped at the chance to get an in depth look at my personality.

The test is based on Carl Jung's and Isabel Briggs Myers analysis of personalities. You can find the quiz here. After taking the quiz it directs you to a plethora of information about you. I'd love to see your results so if you do take this quiz, be sure to let me know. I love getting to know people this way. ALSO I found a Harry Potter character map where you can find out which Harry Potter character you are based on your results. Find that here! I am Dumbledore. So. Doing great.

Here are my results:

ENFJ: Extravert Intuitive Feeling Judging
I have a slight (11%) preference of Extroversion to Introversion.
I have a moderate preference (38%) of Intuition over Sensing.
I have a distinct preference (62%) of Feeling over Thinking. (Which explains a lot.)
I have a marginal or no preference (1%) of Judging over Perceiving.


ENFJs are the benevolent 'pedagogues' of humanity. They have tremendous charisma by which many are drawn into their nurturant tutelage and/or grand schemes. Many ENFJs have tremendous power to manipulate others with their phenomenal interpersonal skills and unique salesmanship. But it's usually not meant as manipulation -- ENFJs generally believe in their dreams, and see themselves as helpers and enablers, which they usually are.

ENFJs are global learners. They see the big picture. The ENFJs focus is expansive. Some can juggle an amazing number of responsibilities or projects simultaneously. Many ENFJs have tremendous entrepreneurial ability.

ENFJs know and appreciate people. Like most NFs, (and Feelers in general), they are apt to neglect themselves and their own needs for the needs of others. They have thinner psychological boundaries than most, and are at risk for being hurt or even abused by less sensitive people. ENFJs often take on more of the burdens of others than they can bear.

My info from the Harry Potter chart says: 

The Teacher. Warm, empathetic, responsive, and responsible. Highly attuned to the emotions, needs, and motivations of others. Find potential in others, want to help them fulfill it. May act as a catalyst for individual and group growth. Provides inspiring leadership.

Sounds excellent to me! I'll take it! Also Johnny Depp and Julia Louis-Dreyfus are also ENFJs. In good company. 

Let me know your results if you take this test! I loved all of this information, especially knowing being a teacher is in my personality. One step closer to being a professor :) 

theme song

What do you hear inside your head all the time? What is the song that plays when you enter a room? What is the song of your heart? What do you hear buzzing in your ears when that fuzzy silence sets in late at night?

People are born with rhythm in their bodies. Bodies synchronize together and work together with the steady strum of the Earth moving beneath our feet. So what do you think is your theme song? Do you have a sweeping symphony full of violins and sorrowful strings? A power ballad from the 80s? A heavy bass blasting beat dropping with each footstep? 

First impressions happen quickly. Next time you find yourself face to face with someone new- or someone old that you are still trying to puzzle out- try to hear their theme song. Simple and sweet? Wild and pounding? Maybe your music will clash and maybe it will compliment. I love music and I love humans. 

I love simple songs with pretty words. I'd have an easy acoustic song following me, with a power chorus following right behind the sweet little verse, I think. It would be nostalgic and anguished and powerful and vulnerable. Like if Lana del Rey and Mumford and Sons got together for a night and then that baby was babysat by The Civil Wars and The Killers. That sounds about right. 

So what is your theme song? What do you sound like? What follows you into a room? I'd love to know, darlings. 

via WeHeartIt

Friday Favorites-Deserted Island Books

I'm a pretty passionate person, which means I love a lot of things. I have a lot of favorites and I have a hard time with questions about picking favorites. But... I'm also a masochist and I love discussing favorites with people. To borrow a quote from John Green, a favorite author, "Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than the stories and people we are quoting." Our favorites show a lot about ourselves. Next time you think about your favorite anything, think about what is says about you.

I want to start putting up some posts about my favorite things! It's the best part of dating and getting to know someone, seeing their favorites and what they love. So every few fridays, let's get to know each other with some favorite sharing, yes? If you have any ideas for what you'd like to see here, let me know! Movies, books, food, literary characters, you name it!

To start off, let's take one of the hardest questions to answer and hash it out! You're on a deserted island. What five books would you take with you to a deserted island? I saw this post on one of my favorite book blogs called The Midnight Garden. I love what they said about why this is so hard. It means forever with these five books. So what do you pick? The classics, the guilty pleasures? The books that changed you? GAH This is so hard. But so fun. It's like a horrible version of that game Would you rather? I love that game too.

So. After much debate! Here are my five deserted island books.

via WeHeartIt

1. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

This I feel is decently self explanatory. I love the romance, I love the words, I love the passion. I love Jay Gatsby. It's a book I can never get sick of and it would be a real comfort during any long dark nights. Something about this book feels eternal to me and it would be the first thing I would miss if I didn't have it with me.

2. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

This is another of my absolute favorite books; a book I read once a year. It is unbearably sad but it is also probably the most beautiful book I have ever read. This book changed me and made me a different person and a different writer. Zusak is incredibly talented with his words and this book has some of my favorite literary characters of all time. When I finish reading this book I miss the characters like I miss friends I haven't seen in a while. I would have to keep these characters close.

3. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

I have a box set, so I'm counting it as one book and bringing all three with me. K at The Midnight Garden counted her Harry Potter box set as one so this works too. These books make me feel strong and have pulled me through a lot. THey are exciting and full of adventure and if I was ever in a pickle on my little island I would just pull a Katniss and save myself. I'd need these books there to learn from. And also because they are too good to not bring. These books are perfect. I am Katniss Everdeen and I wouldn't want to lose my connection with her.

(I would like to point out that I am in PAIN trying to pick just five. This was a foolish idea.)

4. The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides 

Here is another book with some of the most beautiful writing around. I read this book for the first time this year and was enraptured by it. It's so unique and just fills your mind with thoughts and questions. It's a pretty book. It's so dark and sexy and haunting. If I have the rest of my life to be on an island, I want to spend that time pondering complex things. This book really makes me do that. Also I love Lux. 

5. Looking for Alaska by John Green

Rounding it out with one of my absolute favorite books of all time, by a favorite author. This was the first book I called a favorite and this book fell in to my hands when I was 15 years old and I still can't get over it. It makes me laugh, it makes me weep, it makes me feel, it makes me love. This book made me want to write more than I already was writing at the time. It's another one of those "contemplate life" books and it gives me a lot of hope. Can't leave hope at home when I'm stuck on an island.

Ok. Well that was torture but I'm happy with my list! Not all of my absolute favorite books made the cut, but I will be all set on my island. And these books do say a lot about me, don't they? I have quite the morbid streak. Ha I can't help but laugh as I count up the total casualties I'll be reading for the rest of my life on my little island. Ha. Awesome.

What are your five books to take to a deserted island? I'd love to know!

Liebster Award!

Hello lovelies! My sweet friend Maddy at Just Your Average Redhead nominated me for the Liebster Award yesterday! Also... Maddy is anything but average. She is incredibly smart and witty and kind. We go way back... like elementary school back and I was so happy to be mentioned on her beautiful blog. So thank you Maddy!

Here is the low down on the Liebster.

The definition:

Liebster is German for sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcome. How nice is that?

Blogging is about building a community and it's a great way to connect with other bloggers and help spread the word about newer bloggers and blogs.

The Rules:

1. Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog and link back to the blogger who presented this award to you. 

2. Answer the 11 questions from your nominator, list 11 random facts about yourself, and create 11 questions for your nominees.

3. Present the Liebster Blog Award to 11 other blogs of 200 followers or less who you feel deserve to be noticed and leave a comment on their blog to let them know they have been chosen.

4. Copy/Paste the blog award on your blog.

So here are Maddy's questions for me! 

1. What is your favorite clothing article? My Gatsby necklace for sure. I wear it every day :)

2. What is your life motto? "Vitality shows in not only the ability to persist but in the ability to start over." - F. Scott Fitzgerald

3. Paper or plastic? Plastic for sure. 

4. What color is your hair? Naturally brown. As of now, dark brown with some red ombre. HIPSTER 4 LYFE.

Did this last Friday. Best decision.

5. What is your favorite movie? Oh geez. All the movies. Hate to be super predictable but probably The Great Gatsby. I just found it perfect. Read my thoughts here.

6. If you could live in any time period, which would you choose? I would pick the 1520-1530s in Tudor England. I'm dying to meet Anne Boleyn. She's my hero. 

7. Is the glass half full or half empty? It is half full of water and half full of air. :)

8. What is your favorite physical trait about yourself? I've always really liked my small waist. That feels weird now that I've written it down... let's just go with my  hair.

9. Who is your hero? My hero is Anne Boleyn. Homegirl knew what she wanted and went for it. 

10. What is your favorite holiday and why? I love the Fourth of July! I like being outside and I like the celebratory and connected air everyone has. I wrote about that recently here!

11. What is your biggest goal/dream in life? I want to be a published author of Young Adult fiction books as well as a literature professor at a big University. 

11 Random Facts About Me!

1. I am currently working on two different manuscripts that I hope will be my first and second published novels.

2. I can't straighten my left arm all the way because I dislocated it when I was 18.

3. I was an Irish dancer for six years. I rocked it, if that was your question.

4. In college I got to play Regan in King Lear on an outdoor Shakespearean stage in Cedar City, Utah. For photo call we had to stay outside in freezing weather for two hours which led to me having a horrible ear infection.

5. I had four pet fish that all died within 24 hours of each other.

6. I am almost done with a dental assisting certification course that will help me pay the bills as I get back to my English education.

7. I feel like I am destined to live in England at some point in my life.

8. When I was younger I used to try to break my sister's arm by pressing her arm really hard against my head when she made me mad. She thought it was so funny and would slap me across the face until I would do it to her. Thanks, Leah. 

9. I first fell in love with someone when I was 17.

10. I feel naked if I don't wear eyeliner.

11. I still sleep with my baby blankets and I am 0% ashamed of that. :)

And now time for my nominations for the Liebster Award! I wish I could nominate more people! I tried not to nominate people if I knew they had already been nominated, or if they have too many followers. I would have nominated 2999 blogs if I could have. 

Nominees!

1. Sarah at As Far As the Eye Can See. Don't even get me started. She uses the most beautiful words and has amazing musical taste. Her blog is also gorgeous. 

2. Laura at in the midst of all this bliss, my world is silent. Another blog full of beautiful perfect words.

3. Carly at Macaroons and Moccasins. She's the cutest and her pictures are always stellar. 

4. Elizabeth Grace at The Ramblings of a New England Girl. She's so lovely and has the best musical taste. 

5. Jessica Sara at Oh the blissful life. She's so sweet. Go love her.

6. Olivia at Oh, My Heart. I want to be her best friend. She's so cute.

7. Stephanie at Owls in my Heart. I always get so excited to see a new post from her. Coolest girl around.

8. Amy at Seafoam Eyes. Can't get enough of this blog. It's one of the first I found and I just want to be her best friend too. She's smart and hilarious. 

9. Taylor at Stories from the Mountains.  Her blog is simple and lovely. The best kind of blog!

10. Ana at The Summer of June. She's just so good. She loves planet Earth and I love her.

11. Maite at you don't love me yet. This girl is unreal. So cool.

Here are your questions, beautiful people :)

1. What is your favorite book?

2. If you could go back in time to one day of your life, when would it be and why?

3. If you had $1 million, what would you do?

4. Would you rather be too hot or too cold?

5. What is your biggest goal in life?

6. Favorite quote?

7. If you could meet one person alive or dead who would it be?

8. What is love?

9. What are you the most afraid of?

10. What is your favorite smell?

11. Why do you blog?

I cannot wait to read your responses! Thanks again to Maddy for the nomination. Stay lovely :)

Mental Health Day

On Monday when my teacher was working with me on oral surgery, she leaned in and said, "Sooo... I have some family things to attend to so I won't be able to be here on Tuesday or Wednesday. So if you wanted to not come to school... that would be ok. I just feel like the other teachers aren't ready to teach you alone so if you want to take some time off... go ahead."

Don't have to tell me twice. 

I was in need of a major mental health day. I've been so stressed about moving and finishing school and  I just continually put so much pressure on myself. And now the day of my move is set in stone. I'll be in my new place on August 1st. WHAT EVEN?! I'm scared but I feel better after my last post all about my stress. Sometimes you just have to word vomit. And it heals.

But I took the opportunity today to rest and recover. I slept in, cuddled with my dogs, read a ton, ate a pound of mac and cheese. (Side note, can we all agree that shaped mac and cheese tastes 100% better than regular mac and cheese? This is science.)

Look at these beans. Lexi top left, Vo on the right, and Emmy lounging
like the Queen she is.

After I spent my day relaxing, Niki and I went and got snow cones and sat outside in the summer breeze. We wanted corn dogs but after that plan was foiled we settled on my favorite food, Pad Thai. Always the best option.

It was a successful mental health day. Everyone deserves one every now and then. Sometimes, contrary  to popular belief, it is the adult thing to do to blow off responsibilities and take some time to heal your mind and let your body rest.

Namaste, ya'll. 

A Bazooka in my Chest

So. I have finally torn my eyes away from Grey's Anatomy long enough to post something that's been pulling on my brain for weeks. More like... with help from Grey's Anatomy I finally have a metaphor that suits what I've been feeling for weeks.

Remember that episode of Grey's where the paramedic has her hand in a guys chest and then they find out that there is live ammunition just waiting to explode inside of him? Then Meredith goes and is the best human alive ever by placing her hand inside his chest when the paramedic freaks out. (Real quick... remember when that paramedic was Christina Ricci? What even...?) This episode had me crying like a child. Granted, I have cried about 95% of the time while watching Grey's. I can't with this show. I can't with life. It's all too much.

Image Via greys.wikia.com

I'm moving to Salt Lake in one month. One month. Not only that but in one month, I'm starting a new job, leaving an old job, leaving home, leaving my dogs, leaving school. All of this is awesome. All of it is exciting and I'm thrilled about it. I've been aching to move into Salt Lake since I came home from Cedar City a year ago. So why all this anxiety?

It's like high school graduation. You spend three years knowing it's coming and even in the last month of your senior year, it doesn't feel real. Then the next thing you know, you're standing in front of your mirror in your cap and gown.

That's what all this feels like. I've known it was coming and I've fought so hard for it to come. But now it's here and I'm so scared. I'm scared of leaving familiarity and jumping into a new world. More than living in the city, I'm afraid of starting a new job. I've trained for dental assisting for a year now and I'm good. I'm really good but I'm still learning. I now get to jump into an internship and continue to learn and then I'm working. I know they don't expect me to be perfect but what if I don't live up to the expectations? What if I'm not ready or capable?

And I have to relearn to live on my own again. I lived in Cedar by myself for two years and loved it. I loved the independence and the freedom to be an adult. But I've gotten used to coming home to the house I grew up in. I've gotten used to my old bedroom. I love the way it smells and I love my dogs being here with me. Now I get to live in a new house with new people in a city I've never lived in. I love Salt Lake and I've experience it a bit, but living there will be different.

I'm scared of not making friends in Salt Lake. I have some friends there but what if I'm not a city person? What if Salt Lake hates me and the people there don't like me? I'm afraid of being alone and unliked.

I've never been one to be afraid of change. I embrace change and I smile and work through it. So why am I so afraid this time? I'm just so tired. It's anew kind of adult tired. Stress tired. I am constantly in school and working and when I have any free time I just want to lay in bed and cherish my last days in that room. And rest my body in hopes that my mind will let itself rest. But it won't. It's on a constant loop of worries and things I have to get done before I move.

I just want to be ready. I want to move slowly and steady enough to embrace this new chapter while not missing anything of my old chapter. I want to slowly remove the bazooka in my chest cavity before the worry eats me up. Any advice as to how I can do this, let a girl know. I'm sick of feeling like I'm in limbo. I don't want the anxiety to overshadow the excitement and possibility anymore.

This was super rambly but I think my brain needed to purge. YAY PURGE BRAIN.

Also.. If you don't already. Watch Grey's Anatomy. It will change your world. K. Bye.

Image via Tumblr

Relaunch!

Hello! So as you can see, my blog has been pretty sparse, which is pretty sad. When I started blogging last year on an old blog, I kept up with it so much and it was so amazing to have that outlet and to share myself and my writing with the world. But that blog stopped feeling like me, so I created this new blog.

The problem I faced when I created this blog was that I created it in a state of transition. After that transitional time had passed and life was feeling a bit more normal, this blog felt a bit too dark for me. The color scheme was wrong, the layout felt lackluster, it didn't feel like me. It felt like my words sort of tiptoeing around in the weird living room at your grandmother's house where nobody is allowed.

I started looking at some other blogs of people I really enjoy. Their blogs looked like them. They looked like a safe space for those people that was a home for their words to lay back in and be admired. I wanted that feeling.

So with the help of my dear, beautiful friend Shelby (Who.. bless her heart, cannot work a Mac) my blog got a much needed makeover! It feels lighter and freer and so much more me. It feels like a safe space and I cannot wait to fill it with words and music and love.

I hope you follow me along :)

ALSO I have a blog where I review the books I read. The link to that blog can be found at the top of the page :) I hope you check that blog out too. Happy reading!