put your hands up.

I love roller coasters but I’m ready to get off this one. Quick plunges, even faster ascents, twisting corkscrews. I’m ready for something a little more tame. But that’s not happening. No way. Every day is buckling that lap belt and pulling down that suffocating harness that hurts your ears on the turns. I’m just hoping that somewhere along the track things might even out a bit, just a wee bit.

I wouldn't describe myself as an overly moody person, emotional maybe, but not a roller coaster. [If this assumption is false, please, tell me. For my sake and those around me-if I don’t even know that I’m crazy moody, we have a serious problem on our hands.] Despite my perceived "consistency" I’m currently very agitated at the emotional roller coaster I seem to be on as of late. It’s quite amazing. Frightening and bizarre really. One minute I want to crawl into my bed, lower the shades, and stay there. Forever. And the next minute I’m feeling like I could run a marathon, paint a masterpiece and save some babies while doing it.

Example one.
I just bought a hiking pack. I probably looked at a thousand packs. No joke. Making decisions for me is hard enough, throw in a bazillion options and a substantial amount of money and it’s a recipe for disaster. Buyer’s remorse up the wah-zoo. I finally decided on a Mountainsmith pack. The price was right, the aesthetics were right, fifty recycled plastic bottles were used in it’s creation, and the size was right. Well at least I thought the size was right. I was stoked when it came in. I sliced open the box and slowly lifted it out of the box. It was too small. I mean, my blue jansport seemed to be equivalent. Heck, I should have just packed a month worth of clothes into my purse. Okay, so I’m a little overdramatic. I actually had to fight back tears. It is way too small. I have no other options. I don’t have time to get another one online. And they’re expensive in the store. I don’t have any money. I’m going to end up living in a van down by the river. Eating only Ramen noodles. Again, overreacting perhaps?

Example two.
I was driving up to Pentwater after work. The sun was cutting through the pine trees, dancing on the curving pavement. Daisy May’s soft twang was lilting through the speakers. The wind coming through the open windows was giving me perfect car-with-the-windows-down-cruising hair. There were even feathers, yes feathers, swirling around inside my car. [remnants of the best bridal shower ever] And at one point a loose paper that threatened to throw itself out the window decidedly landed in the passenger door side pocket. Amazing. Things could not be more blissful. I felt euphoric. All was right with the world.

Now here’s the crazy thing. These are two separate events occurring on different days. The reality is that I’ve been vacillating between these extremes about every sixty seconds. It’s out of control. And I’ve decided to blame it on the transition. [it’s certainly not because I’m a crazy basket case, obviously]

As wise friend said with brutal honestly, “Everything we have ever known is about to change.”
Alright. Was that really necessary? It sucks, but it’s true. Things are about to change. I’ve been a student most of my cognoscente life. I don’t know what it’s going to be like not to have homework and be surrounded by hundreds of people who are sharing a similar experience at the same stage in their life.

While I’m packing up my new backpack [which by the way is much bigger than I initially anticipated] with the necessities for the next few months-I’m also packing up my memories over the past four years. As I roll up my sleeping bag, and stuff it in that impossibly small bag-I’m also rolling up relationships-which can I just say, is exponentially more difficult than even those blasted sleeping bag sacks. Looking up maps to Denver and San Diego while trying to plot a course for the next few months and years of my life. This is epic. Sure, right now I’m riding on an emotional roller coaster that is unparalleled in its scariness thus far, but it’s epic all the same. And even though I will most likely scream all the way, my hands are going to be in the air.

static cling.

Keds and scrunchy socks were standard issue at age six, along with side ponytails and patterned turtlenecks. The piece de resistance* however were the leggings. I specifically remember a purple pair, complete with black elastic stirrups that went around the bottoms of my feet-you know, just incase things got a little crazy and they started to ride up.

This fabulous article of clothing has made a comeback, most sans stirrups much to my dismay. I hated them at first. Wearing them under a short dress was cute. And then somehow things got out of hand and dresses turned into tee-shirts. Then the hundreds of girls sporting them end up looking like they should be on a jazzercise video. yikkes.
So naturally I bought a pair. [See, I do this thing where I rebel against what's popular; like ipods and texting for instance. But eventually I end up wanting it and by that time I'm too late and there is something else that's "in". I'm crazy I know.]

It was going to be a fantastic day. A spring day that felt like summer. It doesn't get any better than that. A dress was in order. But the last time I anticipated a nice day and wore a dress I froze my butt off. Solution? Leggings. They were brown and I wore them under a peach polyester dress. You may be thinking, "Polyester? Really Jen?" but it's vintage with some hand embroidery so let it go okay. Well, I left the house, looking like a hippie according to my roommate, loving life.

Except for one problem. I had a serious case of static cling. The polyester was reuniting with the leggings apparently. It was terrible. It kept sticking to my legs, making it look like I was wearing wrinkly, peach shorts. I kept tugging on it, discreetly of course, only to have it suction right back to my thigh. After a couple blocks of this I firmly told myself, "Jen. It's not going away. Stop messing with it and leave it alone." Which worked.
For two seconds.
I became even more self-conscious as I started entering the business district. All of those giant mirrors created by office buildings and the business professionals all ironed and crisp on their way to their cubicle. Nightmarish. I continued to tug and pull and the static continued to win. I kept telling myself to just let it be, but my fingers were grabbing the skirt of their own accord.
I reached the blue bridge over the river and realized I had missed my whole walk. I hadn't noticed a thing. My precious walk, wasted, and on a beautiful day no less. All because of a little static cling. All because I was worried that I looked stupid. I was uncomfortable and annoyed at a piece of fabric. I probably missed out on something really epic in the twenty minutes I spent wrestling with my skirt.

So this got me thinking...what is the static cling in my life? What distracts me? What pulls me away from what's really beautiful? From what is true. noble. right. pure. lovely. admirable. What takes my attention away from what is excellent or praiseworthy? What's distracting me from "such things"?

I know I've got more than a few, and if I had to guess you've got a peach dress clinging to your leggings too. I want to get rid of mine. I want to enjoy the walk and I don't want something as silly as a little static cling get in the way.

*[excuse my lack of proper accent usage]

if it rains.

The air was thick in my throat as I made my way up Fountain. It felt heavy, pressing down on my skin. The dense clouds hung full above, their droplets palpable. The large billows covered the sun, muting the brightness of the fresh green leaves and new blades of grass. The sticky sweet scent of the flowering trees overwhelmed my nose, reminiscent of a purple scented marker from the sets they have in grade school-the fat ones with the wide felt tips. Between the flowery perfumes a wet, dusty smell-the smell of damp spring sidewalks and worms-filter through my nose.

The evening was ominous and beautiful at the same time. Bloated and anticipatory. Foreboding and full. It felt a lot like the future.

I'm overwhelmed with excitement at what the next few pages hold.
And I also stop.
mid-shampoo.
because I'm afraid.

My heart leaps at the thought of adventure. New people. New places.
My eyes water and my heart quickens. New people. New places.

Everything could change!

Everything could change...

Bring it on. I want to smell it even though it's too strong, too flowery. I want to carry the heavy air in my lungs. I want to live life to the brim. On the edge of overflowing. Even now, as I write this my pulse is beginning to beat a little faster. The air has since cooled and it is softly brushing across my cheeks, carrying that oddly comforting dusty wet scent with it. The sun is painting the sky peach behind the big green tree in our front yard. Ha. Wow. My pulse is slowing after typing those two sentences. Just take it in Jen. Take a big drink.

The breeze will cool, bringing refreshment. The sun will peak through the heavy clouds. There is a sunset ahead. Acknowledge the manifestation of something bigger in the small moments. Turn your focus Upward, keep your feet on the ground, pray for sun. And if it rains, throw your head back and laugh.