Saturday, November 30

ready for December

Tomorrow is December.

December is one of my months. I have special relationships with the months of May, October, and December. They are my jam. Or something. And whenever we get to December, I can't help but start to feel a bit nostalgic that my favorite month of all is here and it's going to be over before I know it. Usually that makes me a little sad; like another year has come and passed by again before I realized it had even arrived. Sometimes I get sad before things even begin because I'm not ready for them to feel over.

This year feels a little different.

No, it's not the end of the year yet. But the fact that Thanksgiving is now over and winter break is just two weeks away, I'm already in the "winter" mindset. There's snow on the mountain tops of Missoula surrounding the valley and this year, it feels like winter should be here. It actually feels time for a new season. It feels like I experienced every season this year completely and as much as I could. I lived in the present and didn't let the days pass me by too quickly so I enjoyed the heck out of every day of every season as much as possible. This year feels so complete. Like I can kick back this month and enjoy it before time restarts.

How great of a feeling is that to be able to say going into the end of the year? To not feel rushed or thrown into it, but rather relaxed and happy to come full circle to what was maybe one of the best and most rewarding years of my life?

How great does it feel to feel capable of embracing next year as a new year and not needing to look at it as a fresh start, but as another opportunity for even more things to find and conquer?

I feel armed and ready with what I've gained this year and ready for the next.

I ended November with one of my favorite people in this world who is one of those parts of this year that was simply magical. DEBOOBRAH, this year wouldn't have been half of what it was without you.


Thursday, November 28

Happy Thanksgiving!

There's nothing like a solid Thanksgiving spent with my mom watching episode after episode of Parenthood, introducing my dad to The Hunger Games ("Oh, wait, Jennifer Lawrence is in this movie!?"), skyping my sister who is across the country spending her Thanksgiving in Virginia with our neighbor who is also across the country for school, and realizing a project worth 15% of my grade is due on Monday.

Solid. SOLID. 

This year has given me so many things to be thankful for. I can't believe all the things that have happened this year for my family and I. Between my sister's college dream come true, my parents' good fortune in having a mostly stress year for the first year in too long, and the summer of a lifetime for me spent in Seattle. 

Good things happen in time. I like to think we are all out of this slump we've been through and never before have I felt so thankful for the small things. We may not all be together this year, but we are all happy. We are all healthy. We have each other. Bad things happen and this year has shown me more than any other year that it's important to be appreciative of the good because it's not always so easy to push past the tough things to notice the small good details. When it's this easy to see the glory in just sitting in bed with both my parents sipping coffee, the happiness in it is so easily magnified when there's nothing bad to worry about. It's important to cherish this. 

Now is a gift.

Tuesday, November 26

you're allergic to coconut...?

I was sitting on his striped battered couch the other day with his massive owl printed blanket over my shoulders when he asked me, "Maggie, have you ever had a Somoa?"

"Like... the Girl Scout cookie?" I said. I tilted my head to the side and sighed.

"YES!" he said.

"Can't eat them. I'm allergic to coconut," I said. His eyes widened like it was the absolute end of the world that I have never and can never have the cookie that suddenly appeared to me was some cookie sent from heaven to him, but alas, it was the truth. He shook his head and professed how tragic that was before saying how weird of a thing that was to find out about me.

A couple days later, I figured out that he was so bad at sports in Junior High that when he didn't make the 8th grade team, he was put on the 7th grade team for the season. I laughed until I felt guilty, which took all of two minutes.

This is the strange thing about dating someone without having been friends first. This relationship snuck up on me so quickly that there were only about three weeks that we were hanging out before it moved into 'more than friends' territory. It made me nervous. I didn't know what skeletons were hidden in his closet and he didn't know that while I am overflowing with an obnoxious amount of energy in the middle of the day, in the morning it takes me three cups of coffee to wake up. I am not the Maggie everyone loves in the morning. I am CRANKY and I am messy. I didn't know what his past looked like. I only had what I knew at the present and it terrified me to sort of go into it not knowing what I'd learn about him or the things he would find out about me.

But, a couple months later, I think I can safely say that I sort of love how I get to add layers and more layers to what I know. I love getting to know someone in such a pure sense. I love that it's innate and sort of raw. It feels genuine because of the curiosity it takes to learn new things about each other. I love getting to know someone as I date them. I love the way little details are learned about the other, like the way his arms are so ticklish and that when he's in a bad mood, he simply grunts occasionally. It's nearly impossible to diagnose his crankiness any other way and it took me forever to realize his grunts meant something was on his mind. I like that he doesn't know my secrets and it's up to me as to when I disclose the things about myself I'm not proud of instead of them already being known. I like that we can navigate those waters together. I like that some things are a mystery and that he has no idea that I blog. I like that I can create my own picture of who he is for myself without anyone's opinions getting in the way of that.

This is fun.

Sunday, November 24


Recently I've spent my Friday afternoons at the Humane Society holding kittens and chasing puppies outside wishing I wasn't a college student in a teensy apartment who could adopt one. I've pretty much given up on trying to eat 'healthy' and commit to a working out schedule. If it happens, great! If it doesn't, eh. There's always Christmas break to get myself back on track, right? I've been to two jazz concerts and I might be discovering an inner jazz enthusiast somewhere inside of me. I've edited a lot of pictures of other people in love doing cute things.

I've spent hours deciding what camera I'm going to 'invest' in for the weddings I'm shooting next summer. I've also decided using the word 'invest' is sort of silly and I hate when I read the word on Instagram or blogs because it always reads like a person is trying to validate themselves for buying whatever they're indulging in. I feel exactly that way when I say that I'm investing in a crazy expensive camera body over Black Friday and when I say that I invested a pair of genuine leather boots after I nearly bought a third pair of Target ones in that many months. But, truly, I expect I'll be wearing these puppies until I'm 35. And just one wedding will return the price of my camera so, #yolo and stuff.

I've spent afternoons writing. Really writing. 18 page essays galore. And I've been proud of my work.

I've spent more time out of my apartment than in it.

I've spent almost no time taking pictures with my SLR and my life this semester exists in my iPhone photostream. I've realized I'm really okay with this. Life behind the lens can be wonderful and make me slow down to see the details of a moment, but it can also lead to forgetting the big picture of things. Lately I've been really happy in front of the camera in the moment, remembering these vivid details of happiness while they're here. 

Wednesday, November 20

Who gave me a gun...?

DSC_0193 DSC_0181DSC_0198DSC_0208
In retrospect, didn't we all know this was coming?

Can you live in Montana and like, not shoot a gun at some point? I can't lie and say I wasn't excited about the idea. I was very excited. Albeit, I screamed every time I pulled the trigger and squeezed my eyes shut at the same time. I definitely only hit one target one time that was four feet in front of me. And I can't say I went with people who I had met before and knew anything about.

... But we lived to tell the tale?

And if you're going to shoot a gun with anyone you don't know, chances are if those people are from Montana, your chances of survival should be pretty high considering the ratio of guns to people in this state?

These are things I'm telling myself to sleep at night. But seriously, I held a gun. I shot a gun. I wore a Carhart and my Uggs.

In retrospect, no one should have let this happen.

Monday, November 18

A Sunday Tale at Jazz Martini Night

It's Sunday night and it's not like I went to the football game the day before and indulged in a bit of tail-gating or anything.

But in Missoula, a thing called Jazz Martini Night* happens every Sunday evening and it's about as classy of an opportunity for college students to add some sophistication to their weekend without dropping $30 on two drinks at John Mayer's favorite bar in Montana. And there's nothing better, if you ask me, than an adult chocolate shake after completing an entire ecology "semester long" project in just an afternoon. Some things just have to happen and showering for the first time all weekend, putting on a dress, and listening to jazz is sort of the best way to let the weekend simmer down a little more slowly than breezing through three episodes of Pretty Little Liars. 

Walk into the bar. Get ten feet before I spot the Bouncer who is nodding off on a stool and he leaps out of his chair to chase me down.

"ID, gimme your ID," he says, grunting. It's already in my hands. I've just learned by now that my chances of not looking like a sixteen year old with a fake are nonexistent. I hand it to him. He looks at me, wondering I'm sure what sixteen year old is allowed out on a Sunday night and who my parents are, but lets me pass with an eyebrow raise. Nothing unusual.**

Find our friend who is waiting for us. Be introduced to a gal I sort of think I know because I'm pretty sure someone told me my ex hooked up with her and stuff. She's really awesome and watches Supernatural and seems to genuinely enjoy my excitement over the One Direction album leaking on Tumblr. Bond over other girl things and I remember that her article in the school newspaper this week was about wanting to have more friends that are girls and how hard it is to impress other girls when you want to be friends with them. Think to myself, I'm down with being this girl's friend and maybe we can talk about how uncomfortable my ex's stubble was. Maybe. I'm now not on a double date with my boyfriend, she is my date and how on Earth do I impress this girl enough to be friends by the end of the night?

Slurp on chocolate shake. It's so good I want to stop at the Liquor store on the way home to buy a bottle of this Godiva chocolate stuff, just to top off my Sunday night right. Girl gets up and also orders a chocolate thing. When she comes back, she mentions Seattle and how she's from there and I die inside and she becomes not just girl, but Girl Crush.

Boyfriend ordered some sort of concoction that has garlic flavored vodka in it. Reaffirms that I am no longer on a date with him but with Girl Crush.

Suddenly, turn around at the sound of... a child crying? Sure enough, it's like Baby's Day Out if they included a bar scene. A baby in a fluffy Patagonia onsie snow suit is sauntering around the bar. Two seconds later and a lady at the bar looks under the counter to see him missing and springs after him. Baby. At. A. Bar. Is this an "only in Montana" thing?

Be introduced to boyfriend's jazz playing friend. "Oh, you're THE Maggie. You're famous in the music building."

After a half hour, Girl Crush says she has to leave. She gets up to shake the hands of the dudes and when she gets to me, she hugs me. Facebook Friend request sent the next day. Success.

*dating someone who is a music major is awesome because you discover things like Jazz Martini Night because he knows the people in it and sometimes performs in similar things that happen around Missoula. 

**I really did get ID'ed to go to an R-rated movie last week, so I seriously do look 16 to people. 

Tuesday, November 12


Is it so bad that I sort of have come to the conclusion that I never want to live anywhere else except Missoula for fear of letting anyone else change the oil and vacuum the floor of my Subaru than the pair of sexy brothers who are Subaru experts and own their own auto-repair shop across the street from my favorite pizza place and ice cream place in Missoula? Their attractiveness and proximity to my two favorite foods has nothing to do with it, of course. It's entirely due to their steady hands when dealing with my car *cough cough*.

Is it so bad that I curled my hair this morning and less than two hours later, I was twisting my hair up into a bun in the middle of class because I just couldn't with my hair today?

Is it so bad that I am so hopelessly smitten with my creative writing professor that I'm working on our school's literary magazine next semester that he runs so I can devote my every Monday night to receiving every helpful word of advice he has to offer? And stare into his eyes through his 1960's retro glasses despite him being old enough to be my dad's dad?

Is it so bad that I finished a bowl of captain crunch as an after dinner snack and am heading out the door for a bar of chocolate?

Is it so bad that I haven't done any real homework in three weekends? (Yes, yes this one actually IS bad as I discovered when planning out everything I need to do in the three weeks of the semester that are left.)

Monday, November 11

blue skies have arrived

A full day spent in my bed watching TV. All. Day. Long. At least eight hours of television/movie watching in one sitting. Mulan, American Horror Story, and America's Next Top Model. 

Captain Crunch for breakfast, an appetizer before dinner, and dessert. Grilled cheese. 

Coffee at three in the morning. Russian Rummy, speed, and hearts. A bottle of wine for one. Leather jackets and beanies. Crocheting hats in front of the TV. A group of the best friends sitting spread eagle on my living room floor. Cards against humanity. Driving home at two in the morning. The Conjuring. 

"I like you a lot. And I like making out with you a lot."

Crashing a 20-monthaversary dinner with iHop cheesecake pancakes, finishing two whole pots of coffee between two people, a Target excursion that included picking out a cardigan for someone else's boyfriend, and a girl movie date to About Time. Actual tears. Ginger love. Babies. Ben Folds. 

Finishing an entire book in one evening, Me Before You. So, so good.

Waking up alone in an empty apartment with sun seeping through the blinds. A 30 minute call from Dad. 

A run on the mountain through breaking fog escaping the valley. Dance running to Lorde down the trail. Remembering Norah and the Whale. Realizing the blue skies have arrived. 

Sunday, November 10

"realizing I deserved better changed everything"

New relationships.

It's like my friend Debbie said, "I've been in three Facebook official relationships in my life. After each one, I've thought to myself NEVER AGAIN."

And then, you know, it's been a few weeks and and you find yourself doing the thing you swore you wouldn't do it again unless you thought really hard about it and reached the point where you expected at least a 6 month long expiration date into the future at minimum. Because isn't it the most embarrassing feeling in the world to change your status back to single and slam your computer screen down only to receive three texts in the next hour about it? Once everyone KNOWS, there's no going back.

But but but.

Here it goes. Square one. Public and fearless and armed with a don't-even-care who knows attitude. If my life were a TV series, I would be Seth Cohen standing on a coffee cart declaring my affection wanting everyone to know that I'm in this. Did I just say that? I'm in this. I've gotten really good at listening to my gut. It doesn't mean I always follow through with what it tells me to do and it doesn't mean I always back out before I get myself into corner, but when I do, I'm usually right. I was scared, I was scared, I was scared. But I was right. I was right about it being good and I was wrong when I thought I knew what being treated right felt like. Maybe that's sort of the best part about starting over with someone new- you forget about all the rules and things you told yourself you would do next time. The type of guy you are attracted to may have evolved into a floppy haired music major who in your first week of dating received calls from his mom twice when you were together and texted you THE DAY AFTER you hung out the first time, but when it comes to the rest you forget about the risks and bad parts of old relationships. You swore you'd never blog about a relationship EVER again, and there you have it. Facebook Official and blogged about in the same week. It's NEW, baby, and it sparkles like a firework. Or something dumb like that.

Also, as if I needed better proof than my gut instinct was possible of curating a happy bubble that can't be burst, I'm a lot closer to my TV series dream life than I even realized before I started dating my sort of real life Seth Cohen. And this morning I was notified that our celebrity couple name has two impeccably beautiful options: Saggie or Meth.

Saggie. Meth. 

That says it ALL. 

Wednesday, November 6

first snow

On my to do list for the night is to fit in a shower. Laura, are you reading this? Are you proud?

It's one of those weeks, I guess. Not that I'm complaining. It's just one of those weeks where naps are taking precedence over showers and breakfast is a muffin and protein bar in class.

Still. Not. Complaining.

Thankfully Avril released her new album and it is head bangin' and everything I could have wanted from my main girl. (I called my dad this morning to ask if he'd downloaded it yet. His response, "No, because I don't know how to put it on my music player since you still haven't taught me." Noted.) It's almost good enough to make me forget she married someone from Nickleback, which is coincidentally my dad's other favorite musician.

I also finished editing 900 photos from the wedding I did in late September and I definitely feel like that justifies a glass of wine before dinner. But wait, there's still a test to study for, a discussion question to post with 75 pages of reading I have yet to do, and three workshop critiques to finish before 11pm.

I really have nothing meaningful or even interesting to say about my day or my life this evening. But the way I figure it, not every blog post should mean something. Sometimes it's okay to say that today I haven't showered because there was two inches of snow on the ground when I woke up and I decided to stay in bed an extra fifteen minutes.
Decisions like those sometimes mean the difference between a day feeling like all you did was run around doing a million things and feeling like though you had a busy day, the stress of it doesn't feel so tangible because you got an extra fifteen minutes to prepare for it all.

Monday, November 4

October and I aren't done honeymooning yet

No one knows how to welcome November like Montana.

Sunny 60 degree sun one afternoon with blue skies, and just two days later scarves are triple looped around necks and hats are yanked to eyelash level. A single windstorm overnight blows every orange and yellow leaf off of every tree so you're forced to walk through foot high piles on sidewalks covered in a crackling layer of frost and a snow dusting.

It's enough to make a person miss October, just four days after it's over.

But, but- dearest November! Try as you might, this October was too good. I woke up thinking this morning that, well, here we have it. Winter is here. But then I considered the fact that although it might look a bit different, those October vibes hadn't left my soul quite yet. You can take the October out of the November, but you can't take the October out of the girl who didn't just smile for a month straight all for nothing. 

Dear October,

Thank you for your pumpkin spice lattes. I'll never really be above the PSL's. I may have worn my Ugg sweater boots a couple times while sipping on them, too, so there. You did this to me and I'm not ashamed. Thank you for showing me something even BETTER than the PSL- the pumpkin chai. 

Thank you for a month of leaves that I swear lasted longer than they ever have before. Thank you for morning walks to campus that made me late to class by five minutes every single day because I walked extra slow through the University District admiring square houses with brick eaves and cobblestone walkways. 

Thank you for bestowing the Target buyers with the genius of stocking their shelves with all of the best hats in the world this season. The ones I picked out gave me a valid excuse not to brush my hair in the morning and you know, like my dad always swore, my head stayed extra warm.

Thank you for the best creative writing non-fiction workshop that ever existed and people in it that I sort of want to know forever. It made this month extra full of fat genuine laughter. 

Thank you for all of your good music this month. Head and the Heart, most noticeably. But also Wrecking Ball. That gem will live down in 2013 history.

Thank you for giving me my October back. My faith in our relationship has been increasingly rocky for a couple years now.

Thank you for reminding me it's okay to live on the idealistic side sometimes, if only for a moment. It's okay to love those simple dumb things. It's okay to be obsessed with the leaves and the lattes and the hop in your step because it's all sort of fleeting. It's okay to stop and be obsessed with the present for a moment even if it means self-knowingly living in a fog. Nothing is guaranteed, it's good to enjoy something in the moment while it's there. What better time is there to do just that than the prettiest season of the year?

October, it may be November, but I think we can keep honeymoon-ing for as long as it sticks- until I decide not to forget about how much I hate scraping my car windows in the morning and not being able to see behind foggy glasses for a while. October and I are still honeymoon-ing.

Saturday, November 2

over thinking is BAD, I repeat, it's BAD.

Here's where I admit that I haven't logged into blogger or even read a single blog since Wednesday.

Here's where I admit that I have actually been seeing a boy for a couple months and while you probably figured that part out, I left out the part about seeing him nearly every day and sort of temporarily putting all of my hobbies on hold. I guess I'm that girl. And I'm fine with it? At first I was uncomfortable by the incessant need I felt to hang out with him so frequently because I told myself at the beginning I would "twice a week, at most". But after talking to a few friends and rethinking the whole thing I decided I didn't care. I decided to roll with it. I decided to hang out with him every night that I wanted to, even if it meant an episode of New Girl at 11:30pm when I was done with homework. I decided that every reason I had to sort of shy away from spending so much time with someone was related to my own issues and insecurities. Giving too much of myself and my time again so freely is scary. It's scary when in the past caring about someone too much came back to bite me hard. Caring about someone more than they cared about me is not an experience I want to relive. But that's sort of what this whole silly dating thing is about, right? Giving it another go, over and over again until it's "right" in the end?

But whatever this is going to be or what it will be is not what I'm concerned about, and that's truly the most exciting feeling for another person I've felt in the long time I've spent single. Being relaxed about the future, not over thinking anything, and not constantly wondering whether "he likes me back" - those feel like adult feelings. They feel like progress. They feel like a natural and mature beginning to something. Hanging out with someone because I can talk to them until 5am, and that's not an exaggeration, feels easy and like it speaks for itself. I feel comfortable with the relationship but even better, I feel comfortable with myself in it. No matter where it'll go or how long it'll last, I am happy with the beginning of everything and that says more about how much I've grown in the past couple years than anything. I don't need to hang out with him every day, I just want to. That difference means everything.