Suddenly I see

Here are my daily and fairly mundane realizations of the last two weeks (for reading when you have no new facebook notifications, or the timer's going to ring in five minutes, or you're waiting for so-and-so to call - not for important, deep, wonderful reading. I've been short on deep, wonderful ideas lately!)

After listening to a new Pandora station for a week - Sufjan Stevens, the indie wonderchild and claim-to-fame of Hope - I realized that Sufjan's music has never made me smile, made my foot start tapping, or brought a look of deep, satisfied contemplation to my face. (As much as that labels me as musically tasteless, I have to be honest. Sorry, Sufjan.) I'm just not a fan!

After battling my stubborn waves all week, I realized fully that the afro-style curls of my middle school years are gone and that my new long style means a lifetime of waves. I also realized I miss longer hair; thus, get growing, limp waves!

After my second trip to Meijer this month, I realized shopping for a plethora of snack food is silly and dangerous to my budget, especially when my parents pay the equivalent of the price of feeding a third-world country for a week every day for my 21-meal plan at Hope and I can pilfer fruit (and sandwiches. And bagels. And more.)

After volunteering at a thrift store this morning, I realized I want to add thrift-store browsing to my list of "to-dos" for the near future. Because the prices are lower than the snacks I buy at Meijer, and sometimes the quality is amazing.

After having several beautiful coffee and lunch dates, dinners out, and just nice conversations with my friends, I realized that true, real friendship is a gift. Yes, that's cheesy, but making friends takes time and effort, and finding those people who will laugh at the stupid things you say and refill your water glass time and time again at a restaurant without you asking - that is priceless. Friends get on their knees and do gritty work next to you and crack jokes in the process. Friends leave you the last two cookies in the plastic box. Friends tell you you're beautiful when you were just thinking, "I want to crawl in a hole and never come out." Friends are precious.

After trying to sign up for/commit to too many things in my life, I realized that I am not superwoman. (The cape is in my closet, yes, but it's several sizes too small.)

After being told that Justin Bieber has incredible talent, I realized that judging anyone before you know much about them is terribly dangerous - even male celebrities with skinny jeans and baby faces. JB, I may convert one of these days. For now, I will listen to a few of your songs and bob my head politely and refrain from making sarcastic comments.

After staying up too late bloggin, I realize it's time for bed :-) goodnight, world

Spring's Victory

I burst into the battle running,

bare arms nearly numb.

Sunshine takes the

edge off the wind.

Rotting pumpkins on porches,

and on every door a

wilted evergreen wreath.

A straw man submerged in snow,

bound to the mailbox post.

Everything is

melting, and the

rivers drench my

tennis shoes.

There is a

sunken snowman

slipping into the earth with

hands stuck straight up

like a drowning man.

The excited commotion from the

storm drain is enough

to scare away winter.

I see blue in every

piece of puddle, the earth

drinking desperately from the sky.

This is

spring's victory.

Reflections from Lemonjello's

I understand why coffee shops are the Mecca of writers.

When I walk in here, I enter a communal living room of sorts. Except this living room has one blue wall, one yellow wall, and one red wall, and the tabletops have three-dimensional stars.

You are talking about credit ratings with two other people, heads bent close together, eyes lit: learning is taking place. The girl and her boyfriend - brother? - are playing Scrabble at a two-person table. I wonder who's winning. And where she got her shoes. They are so different, old-fashioned, laced, maybe suede. People in here always have footwear like that. The guy over there is reading and sipping his drink. From behind I think he's a dad, but his red backpack and tennis shoes suggest otherwise.

There's artwork on the wall for sale, scones behind the glass for sale, something called maté with a special straw for sale. People come, people go, and I sit with my novel, less-immersed than usual because the novel in front of my face is real life.

When my drink was ready, he said, "You, in the purple. Did you order summer?" If you didn't check the menu and see that summer is the name of hot chocolate with blackberry and strawberry, perhaps the question would be a bit absurd in the middle of Michigan winter. But when you're standing in the middle of a coffee shop with dwarf statues in the corners and a barista that looks like Confucius, anything is possible.

A little poetry

Boarding the plane alone

“Final boarding call for flight 457 to Minneapolis,”

says the lady behind the desk.

In line, someone taps me on the back.

I spin around to greet the kneeling knight,

Mr. Tall-Dark-Handsome.

“You dropped this,” he says with a smile,

presenting a glittering ring.

And now, in the middle of Terminal A

I believe the Disney movies, and the dress-up,

and the messages on the candy hearts.

Rewind: look again.

Tapping is the habit of polite passers-by, not princes.

Mr. Tall-Dark-Handsome says,

“You dropped this,” and holds out my boarding pass.

“Thank you,” I say.

I realize that the white stallion is a scuffed beige suitcase,

and the prince is Mr. Dutiful-Stranger,

checking the monitors to find his gate,

somebody’s baby flying home for Christmas.