The Social Porcupine

I began speaking a couple years ago shortly after returning from Germany, mostly at political events to share about the girl who doesn't exis t.  As someone who loves words, it felt horrible to stand in front of people and ramble on toward ideas. I refused to have written speeches to rely on. I wanted to be "a real speaker". But the writer in my also groaned. . . and so I joined the political speech and debate club, and when it was discontinued, the leader took me under his wing for a few weeks and pointed me toward Toastmasters.  I didn't really have time to join Toastmaster, though. I went to the meeting, a raveling, but spirited crowd doing its best to draw in more members by being the very best themselves, and although I only had a couple weeks left in Montana before leaving for a long road trip, I paid my dues and joined the club.  That's how it's been ever since. Not once have I truly had time for this spectacular club. Life remains always relentlessly f...

*Disclaimer, I'm writing about an exchange with a large twitter account because it's a prime example of the culmination of struggles in my heart right now, and she likely won't see my post. If she does, I would hope she would at least appreciate my perception of the event and that I'm willing to be honest. We have all these terms we throw around about people to justify our perceptions of them as toxic. Truth is life isn't as simple as that, and we're too complex to be the pure victim or the total perpetrator.  A couple months ago it came to my attention that there was deep tension between two acquaintances and myself. I'd known of it for a long time and didn't know what to do about it... until I realize I could just be honest, accepting, and kind.  Within two day I'd reached out to both young women and reconciled.   Something unexpected happened. They reciprocated. We forgave each other, the misunderstandings were shattered and forgotten, and we now ...

Our life reflects the good decisions we make long after the moments are done. Years ago I went to Germany and realized my community was stifled because it was isolated to a single building, like a tree growing inside a greenhouse, unable to branch out and reach to the sky. I do not advocate forfeiting original roots, and yet when I turned that new leaf over I flourished. The fruits yesterday:  Three of my friends joined me and we visited the Holy Rosary in Bozeman for Easter service.  My heart is constantly drawn closer to a good catholic mass these days (I know of two catholic churches nearby that are not good).  We arrived just on time, therefore could not sit together but found random empty spaces and split up. And yet such services aren't meant to be experienced any other way.  The wholesome, rose-colored light, the incense, the hymns and abundant scripture reading predominantes the senses. It's all my favorite part. And then a small word ...

The first thing one usually likes to do when they get home from a long trip is look into their closet and wear the clothes they haven't touched in months. And of course, I did that. But what I'm wearing above I had with me all those months... and yet never wore that combination together. Odd how that is.  Except the mittens. I've found them in my drawer, a birthday gift from years ago that I thought so lovely yet was unsure of how to wear.  Until my fingers were too cold to quilt and I wanted to quilt.  I've done a lot of road tripping. And yet this last one was truly the best one. I'm still glowing. How good it is to be a gypsy, woke on all the right day to the surprises, gay and because I was homeschooled and learned my words from old books and could care less what those who've never read have to say about my vocabulary.  To have dreams is one thing. To witness the advent of your visions is another. And that's where I'm at. ...