Last day of summer, once again. It’s a weird feeling every year. I can’t even be that sad that it’s ending, I haven’t done much. A couple little trips, that’s something. It was kind of fun while it lasted.
I was going to watch the sunrise today but I woke up too late. I used to watch the sunrise often, it kept me sane. I haven’t been in a while, I don’t really know what’s keeping me sane now. But anyways, I drove 30 minutes away to the big city to pick up a new record player. It’s bright pink, adorable. I never loved the color of my other one, it’s not bad, just doesn’t go as well. The pink will go with the pink of the flowers on my couch. That’ll be really cute.
Now I’m in a really cute cafe, working on a book that’s going to be published soon. That’s a crazy thing within itself, something I’ve dreamed about since the day I could have dreams. I’m almost done with it, too. A whole ass book. It seems so… vulnerable.
My 2 hour parking is going to expire in about 10 minutes so I’m about to head out of this place. Maybe I’ll go thrifting, I need some new school pants. I hate all of my clothes right now. I have that feeling every couple of weeks, I’m sure I’ll get over it soon.
After that, I’m definitely going to Trader Joe’s. I love Trader Joe’s. There’s none near me, so I need to take advantage of it being 5 minutes away while it can, ya know? I think I’ll pick up some flowers, even though my boyfriend is going to be sad because he loves to get me flowers, but I’ll remind him that there is no limit to the amount of flowers that I will let into my room. If I had too many flowers that they were even taking up the space on my bed, I would just sleep on them. Honestly.
Anyways, I’ll go to Trader Joe’s and then I’ll probably just drive home. Unless I have time to go buy another vinyl for my new record player. I’ll have to play it by ear. I have my nephews birthday party tonight, I can’t be late. I got him some cute black converse for his tiny, little feet.
And then, I’ll go to sleep and wake up and go to school. I’ll move on from summer. I didn’t do much this summer, but I did write a book. And I actually love school. I’m actually pretty excited. 3rd year of college, that’s crazy. I definitely need new pants, though. I gotta go now, before I get a parking ticket.
Trees fly past us and my eyes are captured by their beauty as if I had never seen a tree before in my life. As if I had never even seen the color green. The rain is making the scene even more beautiful, even if it’s making my boyfriend slightly more anxious on this drive. He’s no longer driving ten over the speed limit, and I cannot help but giggle at the focus on the road he has discovered. The focus that was definitely not there an hour prior, prior to driving into the rainstorm. I look at him and wonder if fate is real, but I don’t really care either way. He makes me happy and that’s all that matters. Honestly, it is. Not a lot of men have made me feel happy, it turns out. He understands me when I don’t even request to be understood. I never thought anyone could make me feel so comfortable.
The drive we were making is from Northern Utah to Portland, Oregon. Not my first time going to Oregon, but my first time to the big city within the state. My boy gave me concert tickets to one of my favorite artists for Christmas, and months later we were finally making the trip that we had been waiting for.
After the ten-hour drive, we finally arrived at our cute, little Airbnb. By little I mean little. I didn’t mind much, though. We giggled and joked about this being the real test of our ten-month relationship. Although we were joking and laughing, I think we both felt some truth within the jokes. We fit our suitcases and backpacks in the small, open parts of the ground, while still leaving room to walk from the bed to the bathroom. “I’m lucky there’s a window in the bathroom, cause I just know you would stink up this whole tiny home if there wasn’t,” I tell him. He jokingly pushes me and we continue to laugh.
That night we planned to dress up all cute and go to dinner, one of my favorite things to do, mostly because of the dressing up part. That plan went down south when the rain started to hit the windows that laid all over the front of the Airbnb. The sound of rain is one of my other favorite things. We decided to order pizza, get into different comfy clothes, and watch Jane the Virgin while also watching the rain drops trail down the windows. The fourth time watching the show, but now he has to watch it with me because it’s the best show ever. I love the way he gets invested in the storyline and knows all of the characters’ names. I fell asleep at some point and he must have turned off the T.V. because we didn’t wake up to an “Are you still Watching?” pop-up.
The next day was very planned out. I knew there would be a flea market that morning, I freaking love flea markets. I also knew we needed to try out Voodoo Donuts, ‘cause duh. We got me coffee, headed to the donut shop, and stood in line for a little while. The donuts were amazing, but I was slightly sad they weren’t more ‘picture worthy’. I know, I make fun of myself, too. We then headed to the flea market and my boy followed me around, supporting any purchase I wanted to make, even though I only ended up picked up a couple things.
I thought it was so interesting how different the styles were here compared to what I’m used to seeing at Utah flea markets. I really like how diverse each place is, that’s why I love traveling. Each place I travel to is not like the next and none of the ones I will travel to will be like the last. The people, the atmosphere, the style, it’s all different. We finished up there, went to a couple more stores, got a couple more things, and headed back to the tiny home for a little nap.
Then……. it was concert time!! I let my boy sleep a little longer, fixed up my hair and makeup, and ditched the outfit I had brought to wear for a sweet denim dress that I picked up at the flea market that day. I woke the boy up and he was instantly complimenting me. I had him choose which shirt to wear under the dress and we both agreed on a tan one. I helped pick out his outfit, and all of a sudden we were headed to the concert. I was so ecstatic, and he smiled at me like he was falling in love all over again. I love when he does that, it’s so cute. We find our seats, listen to the first act, and waited for Ella, aka Lorde, to come on stage. I’m pretty sure I was shaking. Finally, the crowd starts screaming as we see her silhouette through a screen. The girl next to us tried really hard to get Lorde’s attention, yelling, “I LOVE YOU ELLA,” every couple of songs. It, sadly, didn’t work. I hugged my boy with everything in me as I let my smile be as big as possible.
We sang and swayed and listened to the beautiful words. And then, the song Ribs came on. As soon as I heard the music start up for this song the tears started streaming down my face. I could still remember the first time I had heard this song. I had just drove to my best friend’s house, parked outside of it, and climbed into her bright red Jeep with her. We had just recently got our licenses. We felt like we had just got our freedom. It was a summer afternoon and the top of the jeep was off so the wind was allowed to style our hair however it wanted to. We were driving away from her house, just down the street, when she told me, “I have a song I have to show you.” Prior to this, I knew who Lorde was and listened to some of her music, but this one was new to me. I giggled at her as she screamed the lyrics that I was considerately listening to.
“You’re the only friend I need
Sharing beds like little kids
And laughing til our ribs get tough
But that will never be enough.”
I wasted no time learning every lyric to that song. We screamed it together often. Not only was the song just beautiful to listen to, the lyrics were equally as beautiful. They were still beautiful as I listened to them live, in similar and different ways. As I stood there, I felt like she was singing individually for me, even though I knew hundreds of strangers surrounded us. I felt like I was in that red Jeep with the top off and the windows down all over again. And then she sang,
“And I’ve never felt more alone, feels so scary getting old
I want ‘em back, I want ‘em back
The minds we had, the minds we had
How all the thoughts, how all the thoughts
Moved ‘round our heads, moved ‘round our heads.”
And I was instantly brought back to reality. I was no longer 16, instead, it had been three years later. I was an adult, I was no longer in high school, I was no longer chasing boys who would never understand me. I hadn’t seen that friend in months. I knew these lyrics, I had been singing them since I was 16, but all of a sudden they related to me more than they ever had before.
My lover laughed at my tears in a caring way. He wiped them away and kissed my forehead. I didn’t stop crying until the concert was over.
The next day we drove out to the coast and I admired the rain-covered trees while sitting in the passenger seat once again. I understood that I will constantly be changing. That things will affect me differently than they had before. That things will change and that is okay because it has to be okay. We have to grow and learn and experience. For the next couple of days we explored the coast, more of the city, rose gardens and book stores and coffee shops. We got churros and more pizza. We headed back home. I don’t think I was the same person coming home as I was going there, and that was okay.
I stumble into a sushi restaurant in the nearest big city to my hometown. About 30 minutes away. I’m alone and I have a panic attack parallel parking on the skinny street. Although I am fairly decent at parallel parking; I would say it’s the party trick that I rarely get to prove. Just merely brag about. I always mention that it must be inheritable since my dad can parallel park a truck and trailer. The truck we take into the mountains with the trailer lugging behind the ATV’s. The trailer would also, usually, happen to also hold the massive Carhartt jackets and fishing gear. Although during those time I would not allow any of my true emotions to show through words or facial expressions, if I died the autopsy would show the dread I would have every early Friday morning we were piling in the truck. I never liked freezing my ass off in the mountains. Even with the Carhartt jacket, the Utah air still stung the skin enough for the goosebumps to appear. Even in the midst of a summer afternoon. I enjoyed the time with my dad and the rest of our family, but it never felt right to me.
It was the summer of 2019 when I went to New York City for the first time. Prior to this trip, I knew in my heart that I was being yanked out of my small town, but my feet always felt stuck in mud. NYC was the breakthrough my heart needed. And by breakthrough, I mean that my heart physically felt like it was so throbbed that it was near to ripping through my skin. My heart felt full. I knew the city was what had been pulling me. Everything about it just seemed… good. right.
So now it’s the spring of 2022 and I find myself driving 30 minutes just to feel whole. Just to sit at the bar in a restaurant with the only thing near to company is the strangers that ask if they can borrow the soy sauce that accompanies the space in front of me. Just to sit at a bar and not order a single drink to sip on. Although I wish I could, my 19 year old self knew that they would ask for my ID. The tattoos might help with making me look a little more mature, the voice gives it away every time.
But out of no where, the stranger next to me with a British accent decides to strike up a conversion. What do you do for work?
Tonight I am a stranger to myself, too. I work at a carwash, but without hesitation the words I’m a writer slip through my lips too easily. I am a writer, but that’s not my job… yet. At this point I figure it would be more worth it to run with the lie than confess that I’m just manifesting a future. That I’m telling him about a future version of myself. The man’s British accent talks about his very real marketing job. It is a good thing he is a little self absorbed and slightly tipsy off the five wives vodka that he keeps ordering. He continues to talk about himself and his job for the few minutes we talk before we get our checks. He asked how I made money as a writer and I continue to fib. I work for a literary journal which publishes poetry and non-fiction work. He didn’t question it, maybe he will in the morning.
I pay and leave a hefty tip, because sometimes I pretend like I can afford that. One day I want to be able to leave random $100 tips to random nice bartenders that keep asking if I’m sure about not wanting anything to drink. Tonight I just did 30% and felt pretty good about it. I walk out to my car on the skinny street. I ponder about how tonight was the dream I have often. The dream I’ve had since I went to NYC in 2019. The dream I had when I was dreading going one every one of those camping trips. The city and big dreams always pulled me.
I’ll get there someday. This game of tug a war will be over and I only hope for it to go one of the two ways.
I am currently sitting in a cafe reading Frankenstein for the third time. At the age of 19, I think reading Frankenstein three times might be a little much. Especially when it’s not necessarily enjoyed by that 19-year-old. That being said, a lot is being learned still. The things being learned are not just from the words of the book, but from the person reading it. Me.
Sometimes my brain surprises me. Today, while reading Frankenstein for the third time in this cafe, it’s racking itself with a lot of ideas and realizations. The first time I read Frankenstein I was in my 10th grade year in my honors English class. I had a big lack of confidence, in all aspects of myself. I knew I loved English and that I was good at it, but in junior high I opted for the “normal” level English classes. Going into high school I wanted to see if I could accomplish things in a higher level class. I get into the class with my teacher Mr. Warren. He explained what we were doing that year in class and I was terrified. Scared shitless. I didn’t believe in myself. But, I didn’t drop the class either.
A couple weeks later I was struggling with reading everything that he was assigning us and I was failing tests. I didn’t believe in myself. A couple months later I got a little more hang of the course. I turned in an essay, feeling okay with what was written, and Mr. Warren told me, “you could do better.” He gave me another chance to turn it in. I was surprised by the reaction. But I redid the paper and I turned it in again, and he handed it back to me with an A on the top of it. I could do better, and I did.
I’m reading Frankenstein with the book that Mr. Warren had given us and assigned us to fill with annotations and comments. I didn’t want to read Frankenstein and I didn’t want to write annotations and comments. But now I still have that book and I’m reading through the same pages I read through about 4 years ago and I’m realizing that perspective changes overtime.
I’m realizing that I was missing some points while reading it now that 10th grade me had caught. I’m realizing that Frankenstein might be a little easier and a little more enjoyable to read when you have the annotations that Mr. Warren made you fill out 4 years ago. I’m realizing that I probably should’ve listened to Mr. Warren a little more. I’m realizing that sometimes I really can do better and I should try to push myself more. I’m realizing that the yellow high lighter from high school and my purple high lighter from now don’t have to overlap while reading the words in Frankenstein, but I can still learn from what the yellow high lighter shows me.
Maybe this is just becoming a place where I can write out my difficulties in life until they seem like lessons; until I can make the negatives turn into positives. I think that’s the reason I love writing so much. It’s the only thing that can repeat and repeat and repeat and I never get sick of it.
Everything else that repeats makes me want to dig myself my own grave sometimes. Either that or fly away from them.
I can’t fly away right now, though, so I’ll write them out.
Every day is the same. Just going through the motions. I told my boyfriend that today, that I’m just going through the motions. I also told him that there’s a difference between surviving and living. I told him that it’s a choice you make every day, but recently I’ve just been choosing to survive. It’s funny how advice for someone else usually relates to your life in one way or another.
I’ve written on this blog about living life to the fullest before, and it looks like I need to take some of my own advice. It’s weird how that happens, when the version of yourself that lived in the past knows better than you. I was looking through old pictures and that bitch really knew what she was doing. She was LIVING. Now she’s having a hard time getting out of bed in the morning because she knows there’s nothing to look forward to except for an angry customer at work and an exam at school. It’s not like I wasn’t doing school and work back then either, though.
So here we go. To the few of you reading this, I’m promising you and me to start living again, or trying at least. At this point, there’s nothing to lose except for just coming back in a full circle to where I already am.
That being said, I just got out of a nice bath and I’ll be waking up in 6 hours for a sunrise tomorrow… it’s been a sec : ) How are you going to live today, or tomorrow? Let’s make life more about living and less about surviving. We got this.
I need to sit back and be able to view the world in a beautiful way, the way it’s supposed to be lived and observed, rather than as a stressful and a never ending routine.
A couple weeks ago I took that break a couple states away in sunny California. It wasn’t all too sunny since we actually found ourselves on this last minute trip in northern California, in San Francisco. Since this trip was so last minute, the Airbnb be found did not get that much research before the booking. Soon we realized that maybe that wasn’t the best idea. As we arrived and an Uber driver picked us up he was quick to acknowledge the neighborhood we were staying in and why we picked that area. We immediately got a little worried, but nevertheless we made it to the house and the neighborhood and realized the drivers concern. The sketchy 7/11 on the corner, the homeless people sleeping on the ground across the street. We made our way inside and decided to not let it affect us yet.
So we got dressed up and made our way to the train station to head to a sushi place for dinner. We stuck out like a sore thumb in our skirt and dress as everyone around us was clearly staring with confused looks, probably wondering why these 2 girls were alone in this area.
We make our way to town and find the restaurant. It was about an hour train ride, which was basically how long it took us to get in and out of town every day. We immediately realized how much more we “fit in” with the people around us as we were more in the main city.
We went to dinner and to the store and found ourselves, in the dark, back at the train station. This is when the conductor of a train pulls up and tells us that we were not going to get on a train that night and to call an Uber. As we talked to him further he told is to never ride the train to where our stay was at night. More fear found us as we hurried onto the app and got a driver to take us back. That night we looked for other hotels, and with no luck we just decided to pray for a safe trip and accept the fact that 2 girls probably shouldn’t be staying in this part of town, but they were and they were going to make the most out of it.
The next day we got up, got ready, and happily went to our sketchy 7/11 for Dr. Peppers and walked to our sketchy train station where people looked at us confusingly. We made our way across town and had the funnest day of shopping, laughing, memory making, and even made our way to a baseball game that night. Afterwards it was dark so we ditched the train and got an Uber, and without fail he asked us why we were staying there and we just laughed. Of course we were still scared, but we weren’t going to stop that from making our trip fun. We continued to laugh and talk to the Uber driver and as he dropped us off he said, “Now if you get hungry don’t walk anywhere, order UberEats.”
The next day, without talking about it together, I think we both realized that this trip would have not been as fun if we weren’t in this part of town, which sounds weird and scary and worrisome, but every 7/11 trip for snacks, drinks, tampons, and advil turned into more laughs and memories.
The next day and a half were not a disappointment as we went to all the touristy spots in town on our train and were even able to give directions to confused travelers after we figured out how to make our way around. We made sure to get home during the day if we were taking the train and we made sure to not acknowledge the guy who was trying to show us his abs at the train station.
The moral of the story is NOT to purposely pick a sketchy part of town to stay in on your trips, but instead to not let, let’s say, unwanted situations to ruin your time.
The moral of the story is to make the most of it. Whether you’re on a trip or you’re just sitting at home with nothing to do, make the most of it.
On June 11 I received an email from FutureMe. A website that allows you to send an email to your future self. I vividly remember driving to my boyfriends house when the notification popped up on my phone. The memory of writing this had completely disappeared from my mind until I saw the title of the email. “A letter from June 11th, 2020.”
Tears were not shy to quickly fill my eyes. Before even getting the chance to read the email I tried to remember who I was and my life at that point. I already knew so much had changed since then. I was so confused (not saying I am not still a very confused young adult) and ambitious (..also not saying I am not still so ambitious) and I was so excited to see where life would take me.
As I drove I was so eager to read what I had to say, but reading while driving was not ideal and I didn’t really want to entertain the thought of reading it while reaching the destination of my boyfriends house. Instead I waited until I returned home that night. As I returned home and finally read the letter, the tears also returned (I guess I’m more of an emotional person than I thought).
The aged version of myself jumped straight into asking questions about the future. Since I technically cannot send a letter back to myself, instead I decided to answer the questions in a blog post, and then write another list of questions for the girl I will be in a year. One month later, I’ve finally contained myself into finally writing this blog post.
With nothing else to mention, here are the questions and answers:
“right now we’re in the blm movement! how did that end up turning out?”
I was first struck with the realization of how it had already been a year since the Black Lives Matter movement. I don’t have much to tell her except that equality does not happen overnight and I will never stop being an ally to people of color. I love how eager this girl was to hopefully hear good news, and the news I have for her is that we are still fighting for equality, for as long as it takes.
“yesterday i watched THREE psychic reading videos that said that a relationship was on its way this month. idk how much i believe that because i am so content with being single BUT we will see what the future hold ! hahahaha”
I can only giggle at this one honestly. I’m always believing in some astronomy, psychic things.
I think the only relationship that I found was only strengthening the relationship with myself. I had just had a heartbreak before writing this and I really started to try and love myself (with the occasional side hoes;) lol).
“anyways this summer seems like it’s going to be a lot of fun! i have a lot of trips planned and i’m working with my best friends! does this summer come ANYWHERE near close to how fun last summer was??”
Last summer was tons of fun! I don’t think there were as many trips as she thought there would be, but nevertheless they were still very fun, exciting, and spontaneous. It may have not gotten quite as close to the summer prior, but I still hold the experiences of the time close to my heart.
“how’s college going?? are you still just going to get an associates?”
If my memory is not failing me, then I believe I had JUST decided I was going to college like just before writing this. To the past me’s surprise, I loved college. The weirdest part of me loving college so much was that it was in the middle of the pandemic and I rarely had in person classes. And no, I decided to go further than just an associates. I actually finished my associates and decided to go further and get my bachelors. (who knows, maybe i’ll get my masters one day)
“and are you any closer to van life?! HOWS THE BLOG????? holy crap life could be so different a year from now. hmm i bet you’re still living at home huh. cool ig LOL.”
This is when the letter from my past self started to completely crush me. I am not much closer to van life if I am completely honest. It was something I really yearned for a year ago, and it slowly became less of a goal for me. I just pushed it to something I will hopefully still do years from now.
I had just started blogging when I wrote this and I was so excited. With school and life, the excitement slowly fizzled out. Instead I decided to get my bachelors in creative writing and started writing a book. I hope to get better at writing here still even though my writing goals have slightly shifted. But, for the sake of my past self, I do want to make writing here a bigger priority in my life.
I am still living at home lol. I am very close to moving out, though.
“OH! are you working on the river this summer?? or in lake powell??? i hope so! that would be so cool:)”
Sadly, I did not end up doing either of those summer away jobs. Instead I stayed home and stayed at the same job. This was another question that made me sad towards all the dreams that past me had that just didn’t turn out.
On the bright side, I love my current job and all the opportunities it has giving me.
“lastly, please tell me miss rona is gone by the end of summer.”
Nope. Corona Virus was not even close to being done with by the end of summer and only recently has started coming to a slow and long end.
And with that, past Natilee ended the letter saying,
“hmm i don’t think i have much more to say except for I LOVE YOU!! i really hope you make it to read this note… and the next note and the next note… i know it gets really hard sometimes but i believe in you! me? LOL hahaha anyways see you soon!”
Recently I’ve come to a strong realization of the way I tend to get very attached to things, people, ideas, quite possibly anything. I’ve formed this idea that obsession follows any strong attachment someone feels towards something; this idea is really rooted in the amount of trust you put into that something.
An item I become very attached to are my dreams and aspirations, my hopes for the future. The past year I found myself feeling lost in this world. 2020 has been inherently pretty crazy for, what I can assume, most to all of us. The obsessive hopes and dreams for my future have been tossed, turned, a full 360, and changed so much that they have somehow actually become closer to my idea of perfect. Through this year I was so frustrated and overly upset at how things changed and how it felt like everything was slipping through my fingers.
When one becomes so attached, it’s hard for them to loosen their grip on what they’re holding onto…
Through the crazy year of 2020, I found my safe spot: a little hidden cafe that sits 15 minutes away from my home. It’s hard to explain, but somehow walking through the doors felt like I was escaping the crazy reality that I often tried to ignore. Whether I was reading books, trying to pass my online classes, or meeting up with friends, I soon got attached to this cafe (not to mention, the best iced white mocha I have ever had).
Fast forward, and they announce the permanent closure that would take effect at the end of 2020. Slightly heartbroken, I realized how attached I was to this place: the atmosphere, the people, the coffee, the days and days I had previously spend there.
And that leads me here, to writing about attachment.
I realized how we become attached and accustomed to things. Another realization was that another 2020 effect on me was how I have grown this fear of becoming attached. Through 2020, I realized how easily the things we love can be taken from our grasp.
As this year had come closer and closer to coming to a close, I saw my effort in trying to become numb towards things to avoid the strong attachments; assuming you cannot get hurt if you never cared in the first place. But I suppose my created fear behind attachment is really coming from the fear of abandonment.
“attachment is the source of all suffering”
buddha
But are we going to assume that feeling numb is better than caring? Being left is better than having in the first place?
We could, but let’s take moments in life and love them for the moment, not for the future. Don’t avoid attachment, but remember that the future is never guaranteed.
Embrace change and find lessons within it.
So, in 2021 I’m going to work towards embracing the way I get attached, and embracing the change that will no doubtingly come with it.
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