Why I’ve Been Gone (in monster terms)

Something has been going on with this little human, me. So much has been going on, actually. I want to tell you about my adventures in college, the people that have appeared on my doorstep (new best friends and new love interests, alike). Each day, as I'm putting on my lip gloss or laughing too loudly in the hushed Student Center with my friends, I think, "Golly. I want to tell them about this."

I've been gone for a bit, not writing for you as consistently as I did in the summer or early fall. And, in a sweet second, I'll tell you why, but for now, just know that even though we haven't talked every Monday and Friday like we used to, I think about you all the time. You're my friends.

Now. Why have I been gone?

I’ve been happily overwhelmed. The last few seasons of my life have been like that scene near the end of Hercules where all the big, bad guys are chomping and stomping on the Earth.

MUNSTER ONE

That tornado guy is my confusion about this blog. The truth is that I haven’t known what to write or how to write it. I've felt the pull to change this blog. And I mentioned that a few posts back (about how I wanted to be more vulnerable, raw, emotional), but what I've come to realize since then is that what I've been wanting to write and publish is a journal. And when that first dawned on me, I laughed, because it Want the first time.

In the sixth grade, I was infatuated with a boy named Ethan Marshall, and I had also just created my first email, stinky Gmail, of course. Do you know what Gmail invited me to do? Create a Google+ account so that I could connect with all of my sixth grade friends, and then create a blog on its connected platform, Blogger. So I did, and what I published was very journal-entry-esque. Actually, it was diary-esque. I went on and on about how in looove I was with Ethan Marshall, and Google+ shared it with the great majority of my classmates.

So, yes, I've already done a journal-style blog and aired my dirty laundry for the town to see. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson, but I haven't, because I live for journals. The podcasts that I listen to, the blogs that I read, the people that I love to speak to most are out-loud-journalers. I am an emotional human being. I live to feel, and I speak to connect over feelings.

Seriously, I don't have much else going for me! I do not know how to be funny—not at all. No, the three magic gifts that God has bestowed upon me are the abilities to:

have loved The Walters, Mellow Fellow, Take Me Over by Ari Roar, Mac DeMarco, No Vacation, and Good Morning, all before they were cool,

Back when I listened to music on YouTube

take good care of my two little, angel plants,

and see the world with romantic, starry eyes, then passionately talk about the dreamy scapes before me.

I have such a thing about the B-Roll of life: the way that it's 12:51 A.M. and Moose is curled up in my side after I've just taken him out. He never leaves mom's side, especially at bedtime, so this means that he missed me.

That's what I want this blog to consist of, bits like that: a collection of the sweet stuff, the most touching, fleeting, insignificant snippets that I fill my journal with at night.

Because the truth isn't just that the B-roll holds my heart, but that the main events scare me. I’m not quite ready to divulge my cherry red secrets. Drops slip through my lips; They aren’t watertight, after all. But the big things don’t seem right to post for the whole world to see. Not right now, at least. Maybe, someday, I’ll give you my whole life story, but for now, it’s only coming out on coffee shop dates with close friends and to the moon that rests outside of my bedroom window.

MUNSTER TWO

This is my journal, now, but not my little, black book. And the rock guy is gone now. He came from the kind of stuff that stays in my little, black book is, but I’m sure that you’ve put it together by now. If you have, just know that I took care. It was a whole rush of hectic heartache and weird, messy, abrasive junk that punched me in the tummy. I was doing a lot of healing for a while, and it was splendid. I got everything that I needed: sleep, answers, Half Baked ice cream, sweet chats with sweet friends, fresh flames, and a whole new adventure. Which happens to be the third reason that I’ve been a bit ghosty.

MUNSTER THREE

The hot monster, he’s my vice, my favorite flavor—a molten lava cake that’s shaken up my every day. And he is my new world: waking up in my new home in my sugar, sweet college town where I have bagels for breakfast and run with my mittens on to the gym, where some angels have miraculously discovered me, and taken me under their wings to go to Sam’s Club for brownie sundaes and to the little bakery for mouthwatering bread—to the Student Center for homeworking and rolling our chairs to the middle of our little room for whispered family meetings—to house parties at flirty friend’s houses for the biggest slice of brownie and water from the Brita instead of the tap because I’m the new girl and flirty friends love new girls—to their sweet little home, where ladybug colored records hang on the walls.

The next truth is that I’ve been so busy living in this lovely world, that I haven’t piled my memories together to share with you. Except I have. I’ve kept them all in my paper journal, messy and unorganized and un-pretty in conventional standards. I just haven’t dressed them in flowers and poetic language yet. That’s what next week’s post will be: the collection of my college memories. And they are splendid to say the least. But for now, I’ll just keep giving you this other update on why I’ve been gone...

MUNSTER FOUR

Ending with the ice man. He’s my little, inner imposter, the voice that says, “Ally, you embarrass yourself by sharing your writing and life online,” “You aren’t good at this,” and “You don’t make any sense.” I’m just trying to ignore him for now and keep trying to continue creating despite the fact that he's right. I do embarrass myself by being open and silly and honest. I’m not a pro and when I look back on old posts, I often cover my eyes and shake my head. And I never make sense. It‘s all true, but it has nothing on the reason that keeps me coming back to this blog—the reason that I started it in the first place: because I love to write it, and it feels like it’s exactly what I should be doing.

That’s where I’ll say goodnight, at this spot where I am in love with my four little monsters, because, truthfully, they have all been splendid. I have loved not knowing quite what to write, and thinking about it all the silly time—spending so much time making plans for my sweet little space. I have loved the stage of life spent eating two pints of Ben & Jerry’s, and driving all around my hometown in reflection. I have loved learning that I’m just a silly wacko who‘s spilling feelings everywhere. And I have absolutely loved spending the great majority of my time walking around campus with pink cheeks and a cherry for a nose, on my way to Huntsman hall to blast through finals and fill up entirely on Skinny Pop and Cheez Itz.

I’ve loved it. And I hope you have too. I hope you’ve been having the time of your life this fall and winter.

I’m here now, to spend the rest of it with you. It’s 11:40 on Monday night and I’m determined to put this post up on a Monday, back to our sweet, little schedule. So here I am.

I love you <3 Goodnight

(Published at 11:53 [We did it!])