is that I can’t wear nailpolish.

As far back as I can remember, I’ve been in love with nail polish. And most people that know me well enough, know this about me. 

“She has gentle hands and beautifully painted nails, I believe almost all of the time.” - Lucia Villa

The color they are without the soft polish is a stained yellow, as if I were sick or did drugs.

They are that way because over the course of most of my years I have so consistantly worn nail polish that my actual nails hardly have space to breathe. But they adore being beautiful.

It’s such a fun thing about being a girl. My clothes are multicolored. Stripes and florals. My hair can be cut a million different ways, highlights, no highlights. Bright orange lipstick.

And nail polish. My mom always had every essencial item to properly grooming your nails. And almost every day I would come home from school, sit on the couch watching TV and refile, clip, cut, and color that weird plastic like material on the top of my fingers. Some days they would be one colour: a bright red or a deep purple. Other days they would be mutilcoloured. Yellow, orange, green, blue. Each finger painted different. Or I’d do designs like polka dots and stripes. And they changed almost every day. Sometimes twice a day. I was always the girl who painted nails for her friends. I would be at someones house for a sleep over and within the hour they would ask, “Will you paint my nails?” I mastered the art of painting with my left hand in 4th grade. Manicurists at salons would always compliment me or ask me if I got my nails done regularly. It is something I can easily say I’m proud of.

I cannot go to Urban Outfitters or Forever 21 without buying nail polish. I see a colour I love and I grab it. Realizing, of course, after the purchase, when I finally get home, that I have three other bottles of the exact same colour. 

When I started working at Target, having to wear a uniform (red and tan) everyday was a challange. But at least I had my nails. One day, I was so dreadfully not wanting to go to work (definitely during the holiday season or one of my over night shifts) that I painted one single nail a new bright blue before I left my house that day, for hope, that soon it would be over and I would be able to go home and peacefully paint the rest of my nails that bright blue that had been acting as an angel during my whole shift. 

So, having this be such a huge part of who I am, you might be able to understand how detrimental it is to my soul to not be aloud to wear nail polish on the days that I work, which is most often five days a week. It’s rather sad revealing to people my naturally yellow tinted nails. Feeling bland and monotonous as I wear the same outfit everyday, hair pulled back, black cap on. 

But the rest of Today, Tomorrow, and Monday are mine. I am a free bird, a workless wonder, and as I type out this poetic piece about my love affair with pristine polish, I wait for my nails to dry. I stare at them, gleaming, both myself and the colour combo I’ve created. For hope, that one day I won’t be working in uniform. I won’t hate people and I won’t come home smelling like mocha and passion tea lemonade. I’ll be able to wear whatever I want to work, say whatever I want, and most, oh, most definitely will I be able to paint my nails whatever damn colour I want! Every. Single. Day.

Until then, I’ll live for the hours I have absolutely no obligations except to my hearts desire and the nail polish. 

The End. 

Life is exhausting. Being a human, having to make decisions, and then explain those things to everyone - having a justified reason or a selfish one or one that doesn’t make any sense at all. Getting advice from others, love from others, disapproval from others. It’s so exhausting. 

And yet so exciting. 

A little over two years ago I made the decision to move to Tempe, Arizona after high school. I decided to not go to college right away and I decided to live. I decided to go back to California the summer after and contemplated returning. I wanted a purpose and a reason and a good life. I thought going back to Tempe would be useless. I didn’t have plans of going to school in Arizona, nor did I want to. I had people, but I didn’t think they cared for me a whole lot. I wanted to know that my life would be meaningful if I moved back. When talking to a friend that missed me over the summer, I asked him “What would I do out there?” and he simply responded “Live.” And that was just what I needed to hear. My decision was made. I moved back and I lived. It was tough and sad and my depression caught up with me again. I felt unloved and dead. But right before my blind eyes, Jesus made me alive.

That Spring I met a man named Matthew Caleb Wilson, with whom I am now in a beautiful relationship with - a man I never would have looked twice at if God didn’t turn my head in his direction. And had I not come back to Tempe that second time around, I wouldn’t be nearly as happy as I am in this moment, sitting in his room, typing away on his laptop as he folds clothes and takes moments to kiss me on the forehead.  

I still wanted purpose in life though. I wanted to feel alive. I thought the solution to that was going to school finally, studying my dream of dreams (filmmaking) - and I still think that is how I will feel alive, but it isn’t the only way. I had planned on going to school this coming October since last year, without really praying about it - honestly being afraid that God would say no and my dream would be crushed. 

I wish I would have just been brave enough to get the “No” a few months ago; I think that would have made living life a little bit easier on me right now.

But instead I waited until He flashed it in front of my eyes. I had a conversation with a lady in a ministry and without me telling her my secret thoughts of maybe putting school off for a little bit, she suggested that I do that very thing. She told me that out here there is love and life and resources for my heart that needs healing. And I cried, knowing that I wanted to stay but being fearful of having tough conversations with everyone involved in my leaving.

My parents were beautiful (are beautiful). I cannot thank God enough for allowing me to be birthed under their name and love. “My biggest concern with you leaving was that you wouldn’t get the community out in LA that you have out there. I want you to grow spiritually the way you need to. You’ve become such a wonderful young woman in these past few years and we’re so proud of you.” So I decided with my father and mother, to move forward with trying to stay in Tempe.

Plus (and to those of you who have been in a long distance relationship - you can feel my heartache when I say), being in a long distance relationship is the worst and most frusrating thing I’ve ever experieced. And I would like very much to not ever have to do that again. I love this boy. He is beautiful and caring and has a heart of pure love from our Father in Heaven. I have never been loved as well as I have by him and I never thought I could be until he showed me I’m worth it. I want to date him. In the same state as him. 

I also have a best friend with whom I do not want to part. I know that when I move out of Arizona we will most likely never live by each other again. I need her and I think she needs me. I’m not ready to say goodbye. 

So it’s settled, then. I am indeed staying in Tempe until Summer shows up. I get to date my man-boy through Winter and around Spring and I get to bike over to my best friend’s apartment late at night when she’s had a bad dream or just wants to watch Buffy. 

And I get to spend a little more time caring for myself. 

This is where I really need your help though: if you live near me, I need love. I need to be loved and have friendships that are meaningful and I need to heal. I need prayer and I also need a place to live (pray for that).

I don’t want to waste these months. I want to be free and kind and unafraid. 

And I cannot think of a better place to do that than right here, right now - on my own, with all of you. 

So. There’s that. 

again, again. I walked in and the soundtrack from a movie I quoted earlier in the day was playing. It made my soul smile. I sat down, by myself at this empty table, in a different outfit than I wore when I spoke that quote, but the same shirt. I did some business, for a love. I looked up my life. I remembered that I rented a movie yesterday that I should return if I don’t want to be charged an extra dollar. Though, I think I don’t mind. I’ll watch it again tonight. I think I’ll order a drink in an hour, at half price. And I think I’ll try to have a conversation I’ve been afraid of. Though, I don’t want to be here for another hour. Though, I do love this place, indeed; I fear it doesn’t love me all that much. Today has been a day of that: loving something and discovering it doesn’t love me, like singing. Oh, how I wish I could. Dance. And I am thinking of more art to permanently get on my body. And that makes me happy. Fifty-seven minutes. I don’t want to spend them here. I think I’ll leave. I think I’ll create. And then I’ll probably wander or clean. And then watch a movie I rented yesterday, with commentary. Five minutes have passed. I am still here, again, again. I got sidetracked. Eight minutes since the last five minutes and I’ve been offered some grape fruit. I don’t eat grape fruit. I can honestly say, I do not think I have fully tried it in a way of wanting to appreciate it. Tonight, that will happen. Shortly. In a few minutes or less. That will happen. And I will probably type up the results. The music that is now playing is time-warping me into a place I have never been and have always longed to go: the heart of the 1940s. In a dress. Red painted lips. Unbelievably beautiful silk wavy hair. Champaign. The results are in: the fruit is…sour. Interesting. Different. It makes me miss peaches. It doesn’t taste a thing like peaches, but eating fruit reminded me of my favorite fruit which I haven’t eaten in a very long time. Now there’s a taste in my mouth of a fruit that isn’t my favorite. I appreciate the freeness of it and the offer and the sharing. Thirty-three minutes until the next hour, in which a drink will be half than it normally costs, if the employers remember that they have a sign on the door that says just that. I’ve got new shoes on. They are shaped for dancers and my feet aren’t singing; they are sighing. But shining. Do you ever see something and think that they are another version of yourself? You’re looking into a mirror. A mirror of a wish, another reality. I think watching more SciFi makes me believe this is true. It’s easy to look across the room and see a sophisticated, cleaner, taller, lovelier person you feel a kindred spirit with, but only because your inside spirit wishes to appear as they do on the outside. That isn’t healthy, is it? No. But I’m living in SciFi these days. I’ll jump out of it once my reality decides to wake up and be more exciting and lively. Remember earlier when I had fifty-seven minutes until I spend a dollar on one drink? Now I have twenty. Which will easily become ten, and five, and zero. So, I don’t feel waiting is so bad. This place might be somewhat of a time-warp, with the toe-tapping, banjo strumming, fiddle playing music and the way minutes seem to zoom by so quickly and how you see different versions of your same self living in a meshed reality of two dimensions. (Oh, yeah. My mind is there.) It makes me want to jump into a painting and land in Narnia. Or be a cartoon. But not really. I mostly just want to fly. And eat some sliced peaches. And sing a song of my own. I usually don’t mind being by myself in public places. But lately, I’ve wanted people. I want to laugh out loud at hilarious blogs when no one is at my table. But I keep it quiet. And I wish I had someone to talk to. And I wish that acquaintances made themselves more acquainted. Though, I cannot think of anything I would rather be listening to. Hey look, it did soon become ten minutes. And now (because of mulitple distractions) the time is six minutes passed the hour, and I can order and go. Ironically, I’ve settled. But not entirely; so, I will get up, order, and leave. Thank you for your time, here, place, this time, this music, the fruit, the words, the searches, the time, the SciFi, the reality. I am going now. Goodbye. 

*Twenty minutes passed the hour: even more ironically, I did go order a drink - at full price, because they did forget about the sign, and I wasn’t in the mood to be stingy. Another night. 

I have a pretty solid plan of my life for the next year. 

That…scares me. Only for fear things will change in a way I cannot cope with. 

But we will take it one week at a time.