Monday, November 23, 2015

in order to get through the second paper of my senior thesis...

...i have had play with fire by the rolling stones on repeat since 7:00 AM!

still not sick of the song, and hoping that it will help me finish. i find it humorous that for each paper i have depended upon a single song or score to get me through the writing process.

this song happens to be part of the darjeeling limited soundtrack, 
so perhaps that's why it is helping so much!

take a listen & happy monday!

Friday, November 20, 2015

a letter to future husband:

promise me you will never try to "contain" me--trust that i am yours even when i give my whole heart to the whole world. know that in my mind i will always think of you first and last. don't let me tell you that i won't dance--i can't dance, but that doesn't mean that i don't want you to make me. don't believe the protests i will make when we are at a wedding and the music is to your liking.

stubbornness gets me in a rut every.damn.time. chances are, if i give any indication of being stubborn, the very thing i am "fighting" for will become more for the sake of pride than of relevance.

i gave my heart to jesus a long time ago, and i will fight for that relationship most of all because it means that, though you come second, you are a valued second that i can only love to full capacity when i am loving him foremost.

i want to bake you treats and cook you hardy dinners.

let me steal your shirts and socks, and i'll promise to do your laundry.

teach me how to compromise. remember, i told you i'm stubborn.

my hot-headedness is best cooled with honesty. so, be honest, don't hold back and tell me how you feel. that always brings me a sobered perspective.

take me on adventures. costco and a car full of screaming children and every day life constitute as adventure, but just because we become accustomed to life's rhythms does not mean that mountain tops, air planes, coffee shops, ocean views and forests will go extinct. show me the world when our own world needs mending and perspective.

i like to be pulled in close, so you have my permission to hug me tight and kiss my forehead at any time and place.

insist on driving the car, even when i seem apprehensive about it. i like it when my hand is held while you're in control of where we're going, even if i flinch at any sudden stop or criticize that you're driving too fast or too slow.

write to me. and please never stop. i'll take a hand written letter over chocolate and shoes and restaurants any day.

but if you insist on buying me something, fill my countertops with flowers and greens, and fill my shelves with books. or craft me things that come from your mind and hands.

read the bible to me, or with me. vow to say prayers with me whenever we can. hold my hand in church, but most of all raise your hands to jesus.

laugh at whatever you find funny. chances are i will join in on loving your humor.

promise to at least listen, even when you're angry.

let's make a home in all its glorious, unconventional flaws. i don't care if we move miles, states, oceans away--just call me yours and i'll call you mine, and the roof over our head will be ours.

don't stop dreaming, ever.

I've come to a place of falling quite a bit in love with my life.

And for it to all change in a matter of three weeks has my heart out of sorts--

I want to peek around the corner to see what is ahead, and yet the current view
has just come to my liking. There are too many conversations that I want to have,
too many faces I am not ready to look away from, too much I have come to love and don't
desire to leave.


Tuesday, November 17, 2015

the people i have seen lately.

There is a girl I know who has written several books. Currently, she has allowed me into her fictional world, and I am reading one of her novels. With every word I read, I cannot fathom her talent and distinctive voice as a novelist.

I see this one man around campus and occasionally we get to talking before and after our much too early class. I don't know him well--just a little. He is one of those rare men that has such a beautiful face, though in no way does that hinder from his masculinity. He exudes kindness, too, which is an added bonus for the woman who gets to call her his someday.

There is a woman I have only met twice. Sometimes I look into her world through social media {which makes me feel somewhat weird about my curiosity} just because I find her life simple and oddly familiar, though I'd never wish to speak with her in person for the mere fact of such similarities.

There are a hand full of men that I see around campus weekly, and I swear the combination of them could make up the dreamiest closest of men's shoes.

There is an older woman that I am slowly coming to know. She says the sweetest things to me, but I have yet to work up the courage to ask her to meet me for coffee so that I might engage in her life for once.

I recently met a very talented individual. He made me excited for the slew of talented individuals that I might meet at film school.


Look around you, every now and again. There are beautiful people everywhere.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Wednesday Musings

Lately, I see this one girl around campus. She's absolutely beautiful.
Her style is so effortlessly classic, with a hint of urban flare -- I admire every piece of clothing that I see her in.

She also has a boyfriend. And, together they make a beautiful couple. I'm actually intrigued by them.
Times when they are sitting in front of me or ahead of me in a line, I can't help but stare.

Again, they have this old-school look to them that I just admire entirely.

Lately, I've had more of a complex about relationships and how they look from an objective perspective. Even today, I expressed to a friend that everyone seems as though they're in perfect relationships - though I realize that perfection is an unreachable feat.

Friends of mine are married, engaged, pregnant, graduated, working...adulting...

And, it's not that I envy these things that my friends have (I actually love them for it!), but I also don't know what I would consider myself other than student and girlfriend. And this isn't to diminish my roles as student and girlfriend, but I can't help but feel that people are doing something more right than I am, and I wonder at the way this makes me feel.

Social media is no help, but that's a beast in itself.

Anyway, my relationship at the moment is very flawed. And, this isn't something that I am admitting without having discussed so with my boyfriend. Both of us see the flaws, and we're continually weighing them. It shouldn't matter to either of us what others think, but--for me--I often catch myself caring.

I feel like a bad girlfriend. I could give you a million reasons why.
And long distance feels so strenuous on love. Rather than engaging in romance, boyfriend and I work hard merely to keep up a texting conversation throughout a single day. We are no longer fazed by the dazzling feelings of young, new love. Instead, we are active participants in making love a choice -- and, let me tell you, in spite of it's importance it is so freaking difficult.

Back to the girl I was telling you about: I obviously have this impression of her. And it isn't necessarily a bad impression -- but it's a limited impression. However, today as I sat down at the coffee shop, I happened to sit near to her by coincidence. As a result of sitting so close, I overheard pieces of her conversation.

Now, I can't say that I was pleased to over hear her venting her struggles and worries at the moment, but I did admire her more.

You see, I sometimes deceive myself into thinking that a beautiful exterior masks my mile deep worries. Same with others. I think that perhaps if I look the part, then I will become the part. And yet no matter how many days I receive compliments on my clothes or whatever else, I don't feel better about myself at the end of the day. I still go home and unload all of my worries from the day. Those don't go anywhere. They don't wash away with the change of an outfit or the wash of my face. My relationship could look so ideal to an outsider, but that doesn't deny the fact that there's an underlying struggle.

I'm not saying all of this to be pessimistic, rather I'm hoping to encourage the embrace of imperfection. I think that too often we feel more comfortable settling for the lies we tell ourselves and the masks we wear because everyone else seems like they aren't freaking the hell out. This conversation isn't anything new. And yet, why do I have to constantly remind myself of its value?

I think that my biggest, greatest flaw is my ability to wear worry as a cloak. I'm an open book, I'll tell people anything that they want to know about me. I am not easily offended, nor am I opposed to conflicting conversations. But when it comes to me? Well, that's where I'm the queen of lies because worry is the throne of which I often sit on rather than putting God first.

I tell myself that I'm the only one in the room who doesn't have it figured out, and by doing that I self-isolate...I am therefore the only one to blame.

I think what I am trying to tell myself is that admiration can be a wonderful thing, but it can quickly enter the realm of envy, insecurity, comparison, judgment or falsity of self. I think that we all owe ourselves the freedom to look at ourselves just as objectively as we look at others.

And to do so with the mentality that knows that others are just as flawed and probably hopeful that they're not the only ones.

I think that there's something beautiful about owning one's imperfections. I also think it's beautiful when it can be owned publicly, in the presence of listening ears and eager hearts and safe individuals.

I didn't need the girl with the pretty clothes to admit to her struggles for me to know that she does indeed have them, but I know that by hearing her utter just a few sentences, she's already become more admirable in my sight because she indirectly let me know that I am not alone in my worries.

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

ALSO:

To correspond with the list from my last post, here's my other set of "goals", if you will. I just want to write them here--I'm sure they're already listed somewhere in this blog's archives--as a reminder to myself. The end.


+++


The list–in order–of the Ms I strive/hope for in life. To be…
  1. Madison — the Madison that God designed me to be; as humble a servant as I can, for the rest of my life. I'm all for embracing my excessive list of imperfections.
  2. Married — a wife to a God-fearing man; a wife that serves and loves her husband unconditionally.
  3. Missionary — in whatever country, city and context; for however long or enduring; even when I want to say “no” but God says “yes”.
  4. Mother — I dream of boys and one girl. Lots of boys, noise, adventures, mischief, messy meals, daring feats, creative endeavors, belly laughs, lessons learned, music danced to, trials and growth, and love, love love. I don’t want conventional motherhood. My famous line for as long as I can remember: “Only put me in the suburbs if we don’t yet have a baby. That way, I won’t get stuck. If you give me a baby, give me a city, a shack in another continent, give me countries, a small apartment, a village, a shared space — whatever is unconventional." (I say this now with complete ignorance to the longed-for-ideals that accompany motherhood, but I mean it nonetheless).
  5. Movies — I want to write a movie. I’d love to win an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. I’d love to represent women–a Hispanic woman at that–and win that damn category with a piece of art that I am proud of. But this is a dream of all dreams, so we'll just have to see. 

Angus & Julia Stone // "Just A Boy" // Such an old song in my life, but it just came on the radio & I wanted to document it.

I bit my tongue in the arc of conversation
I don't know why, I don't know why
I met you once and I'd fallen for your notions
I don't know why, I don't know why
Do you believe that there's treasures in the ocean?
Did I say I'm just a boy?
One kiss from you and I'm drunk up on your potion
That big old smile is all you wore
Girl, you make me want to feel
The things I've never felt before
Girl, you make me want to feel
Did I say I'm just a boy?
Did I say I'm just a boy?
You hold me to that
No lonely hands grab my suitcase full of nothing
I don't know why, I don't know why
You took me in gave me something to believe in
That big old smile is all you wore



yay for new love, yes? 

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side note: i wrote this nearly two years ago. lately i have been feeling myself change yet again, but this brings me peace knowing that my goals have not wavered --


"so maybe i'm stubborn, and even a bit crass about that stubbornness.
i'll have to learn to adapt a bit better, but for now there are things i will pursue 
whole hearted and remain passionate about achieving them.



1. i want to always be impacted by the lives of those around me. i want to see through my own life and never find myself too comfortable. 

2. i want to be a mom. and i never used to want this. and i don't want this for a very long time. but recently i have gained more of an appreciation for child-like perspectives, and the love that comes from caring for someone incapable of caring for their own self.

3. i want to teach people how to write. how to express themselves. and i want to watch them grow in the beauty that is found between paper and pen contact, and the deep crevices of a book about one's own life.

4. i want to forever keep my heart in the act of be still & know

5. i want to travel. to take in the world--explore it, learn from it, grow from it. i want to collect people and allow the goodness of new relationships with people and places to fill my life.

6. i want to write. for forever. 

7. i want to marry my best friend. in spite of life and the obstacles it throws, i want a blessed marriage, overflowing with love and joy and humility and respect. 



i want these things and i want to remember, as i go into a new year, that these things are very possible.


happy almost thanksgiving."



yay for seeing things from retrospect. 
also, how has time gone this fast?
i swear i feel like i'm still twelve living a life ten years too old for my own good.