snowed in

When imagining the best present in the entire world, I might first picture something like a mountain of cinnamon rolls, a Mac desktop, the camera of my dreams, coffee by the truckload, love, or the boxed set of Gossip Girl on dvd.What I don't imagine is the impossible gift of time because in Montana, when they say it's going to blizzard, you never allow yourself the indulgence of imagining a SNOW DAY. It doesn't happen. I learned that two days into my first Montana blizzard freshmen year when my roommate and group of friends holed up in our dorm room (throw back Sunday to me four stinkin' years ago). You simply survive through it, in as many layers as you can fit in and over your down jacket.

So when I woke up Friday morning at 6am to a text saying that school was cancelled, I can say without a doubt, it was the best present the world could have provided. After my less than optimistic attitude that lasted so many weeks, a text that explicitly said, "DO NOT GO OUTSIDE!" I took that to mean that I should soak up every single second of free time to stay indoors. 

Heaps of dishes were completed tag team style while listening to the new Lake Street Dive, naps were taken, three movies were watched, pizza was consumed, fuzzy socks were worn, cell phones were ignored completely, snuggling was a necessity, and acknowledgement of a world outside a 2 bedroom apartment were ignored.

It was a stress free happy day that made up for a month of never ending to do lists. 

The blizzard lasted a full 48 hours in which I went outside twice: once to unbury my car and the second to take pictures of the snow for documentation because, really, how many times is this going to happen? The last time a blizzard in Missoula closed the University was in 1996.

I think I might be prepared to conquer the rest of this winter now. It's amazing what two days can do for the head and the soul. 

the most pretentious thing I've ever done

Wanna hear a joke?

I am writing a memoir. For class. It seems absurdly out of the question to be expected to produce a memoir in a semester's amount of time as an undergraduate creative writing student who is barely twenty one and a half years old but there you have it.

We've started writing them. I spit out four pages, without really thinking or concentrating about what it was going to be "about", which was my creative writing professor's best advice.

"Let the story come to you," he said.

It seemed silly at first. In an obtuse way, it makes sense, to write the story that wants to be told thumbing around in your head, but it's never been how I do things. I always seem to have to form a plan in my head before I write something. I always need to know what direction I'm going in before I start something new. Otherwise, I end up writing 12 pages and it's only around page 11 that I figure out what I'm REALLY writing about.

In my time at the University of Montana, I've learned how to make every single word I write count. I've learned to tell a story in 50 words. I've learned to obsessively nit pick over one word for twenty minutes until I find the right one. I've learned to cut out the 'fluff'. I've also learned how to write without thought, for pages and pages and pages, without editing because my professor believed firmly in the roughness of a 'first draft'. I've learned to get everything on paper before reading something twice. I've learned to write every day.

But this class has a different approach that isn't one method or the other. It's new to me. There is less instruction and fewer guidelines than I've ever used. Even though it took a week and a half, I think I finally am latching on. I'm not producing word vomit until I figure out what I mean but I'm also not reediting the same lines over and over again. I'm, as corny as it sounds, trying to find the words within my own voice to tell whatever story is in my brain that is bursting to get out. I've heard the best writers write stories they are obsessed with and I'm trying to embody this idea that my professor is forcefully shoving down our throats.

I thought this class would be a joke but now I sort of see that if I wasn't forced to do this, I probably wouldn't do it. Ever. 

I'm trying to embrace it. Trying, trying. Come at me, stories of my life. 

Yellowstone and Bozeman

This weekend I decided on a moment's notice that we should go to Yellowstone National Park. I loaded up on the pistachios and hats for this occasion, piled into my boyfriend's car for our second "road trip" together, because seriously, what else is there to do with a six week long winter break? Are you going to go to Yellowstone or are you going to go to Yellowstone!?

"I'm going to bring my new camera and take so many cool pictures!" I said to myself. Until I realized into day two of our mini vacation that I'd left it on my living room floor. And without cell phone service and a forgotten phone charger, it was a completely picture free weekend spare the photos I took of the hot springs in Yellowstone, my boyfriend's cat, and the most epic Billiards team you've ever seen. Because obviously.

So, no pictures were taken to document the weekend. And all I have are the memories of eating a lot of breakfast food with views of some of the prettiest mountains I've ever seen, voyaging downtown Bozeman being shown favorite local bookstores and music stores, meeting the parents and seeing old stomping grounds, and being within 3 feet of a full grown elk.

It was the best weekend. I have nothing but a few crappy iPhone pictures to show for it. I was fully immersed in the moment all weekend long and I loved every second of it.

let me tell you the truth about -20 degrees

Okay, so maybe it's only -3 currently. But with the gusts of wind, the news is telling me that it is currently -24 with windchill.

-24 degrees. Twenty degrees below zero.

For those of you who have never experienced such disgusting subzero Arctic temperatures and might have an inkling that Montana is a dreamy paradise you'd like to visit, let me tell it to you straight.

-24 degrees means that the moment you step outside with damp hair, your hair suddenly becomes crunchier than fall leaves. Speaking of crunchy, -24 degrees also means that while you're walking outside, after about five minutes you suddenly scrunch your nose and wonder why you have so many crusties all up in your nostrils. I know this is gross, but this is a true record here. My boogers quite seriously froze in my nose.

And yet, somehow, snot still ran down my lip which was quite a weird experience. Frozen boogies while my nose also acts as a human faucet? I don't know, man.

-24 degrees means spending fifteen minutes scraping the inside of the windshield. It means requiring minutes to let your engine run. It means everyone starts to think that $2 suddenly becomes a very small price to pay in hourly parking on campus in hourly parking if it means not having to walk 3 blocks.

-24 degrees means every exposed piece of skin WILL hurt by the time you get to your destination. Even if you only walk five steps outside.

-24 degrees means that every little thing suddenly becomes so much work. Putting on shoes, tying shoe laces, unzipping your pants before changing into sweats, unlocking doors, wearing glasses- everything.

Oh yeah, -24 degrees also means needing to finger scrape ice off of your glasses after your condensation freezes to them.

Montana! I have nothing more to say to you right now.

Except that I just bought Head and the Heart tickets for a show in Seattle in February. Reuniting with my favorite city to see my favorite band with some of my best friends in the world? I'm pinching myself, both to check that I still have feeling where my limbs are freezing and because I can't believe I"m finally seeing my favorite band in the world live.

Who gave me a gun...?

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.

"you're better than you think you are"

Long time no blog!

I know, I know. I suck an enormous amount. And I'm not apologizing to those who read my blog, but rather my future self who will have no record of what happened between October 18th and October 23rd. I even neglected my journal so quite seriously no written documentation of my life was recorded for a solid week minus two pathetic blog posts that really just kind of scratched the surface.

And now I'm going to mostly ignore everything that happened minus one thing, because all of those other things do have photo evidence of happening and deserve to be accompanied by pictures because I can't do them justice with only my words.

Last week, just before I hopped on a plane to Virginia, I finished my midterms and applied to creative writing workshops. And I realized mid way through revising my pieces I chose to submit that I was applying to 400 level workshops. Which are the last creative writing workshops I can take.

I remember the first time I ever took a workshop. I needed some writing in my life. I needed to be forced to write so that I would write something other than lab reports and complaints about people that were annoying me in my journal. I didn't really know at the time, though I think unconsciously I knew I also wasn't just taking "one workshop for the heck of it" like I told myself I was, that it would result in changing my major. I know now that what I was doing was trying it out to see if I was actually good enough and as good as the other people in my classes. After a semester, I didn't feel like I was, but my wonderful teacher at the time told me to apply to apply another. So I did. And I still didn't feel "good enough" at the end of that one, but I kept going because it was so much more fun than the classes I was taking. And I've learned and grown and been humbled many times by the words of my classmates. But this time around, applying to my last workshops as a creative writing major, I am not sure I can say I felt "good enough" but I felt like I deserved a slot amongst my peers I've been writing alongside for two years. I may not be better than any of them, in fact I don't think any of us are better than anyone else, but I felt like I could stand among them finally. I wasn't nervous. I submitted my best work. 

And then I made the dumbest mistake. THE dumbest mistake. Of all things you could do to mess up your chances of getting into the quasi-competative workshops taught by the best faculty in the program, I did the worst thing. I didn't read the flyer completely. I turned in my submissions three hours late. THREE. I didn't read the bold writing that said "late submissions will not be reviewed or considered". I was sleeping on my living room carpet at the moment they were due taking a pleasant unnecessary nap. When I realized I, excuse my language, FUCKED UP SO MAJORLY, I sat in my room and wrote lists of what I would do with my time to continue writing. I could make myself continue to write, but workshops have made me better. Honest feedback has made me see my writing objectively and welcome critique. I couldn't imagine life without a workshop. 

.... And then I went to Virginia. And came back. And my friend texted me and said we both made it in. I made it in. I got in even though I shouldn't have and deserved not to have a slot next to the other names that did turn in their work on time. At first I jumped up and down and then I felt sort of guilty when I looked at the long list of people wait listed. I texted my mom and she said something that was sort of perfect in the moment. She said that for whatever reason, the professor thought my writing was good enough and chose me for a reason. She said I needed to give myself more credit. I really fucked up, but for some reason this professor thought I deserved a spot nonetheless and chose me to be in his workshop. So now I'm saying this, after two and a half years in workshops pushing myself to the point of tears and frustration at 3 in the morning the night before a 500 word essay is due that I swear I hate, after misses and nose dives, and after a few minor successes- I do deserve my spot. I can stand among those other square glasses and sweater vest wearing classmates of mine I have grown to love and respect. I will probably never fully believe I am better than I think I am, but I need to think I could be to get there. I have to challenge myself and be better than I think I am. It's the doubt that pushes me further with every piece I write and I know I'll never look at another classmate and think I am better. I finally have the confidence that I fit. Rather than thinking of myself as less than everyone else, I can think of myself as equal and start to believe in what I can do to make myself better than I was yesterday. I made a mistake. But I'm here for a reason. I'm still here.

misSOULa

As I adapt back into the routine of being a regular 21 year old college student again in Montana, my time away from Seattle and my life with an "adult" schedule has given me so much more perspective about my life in Missoula.

A month into my summer, I was ready to take a year off of school to establish residency, keep my internship, work like a maniac, and become a permanent "adult". I loved my summer. It was absolutely the internship of my dreams and being in Seattle was undoubtedly the place I was meant to be for where I was in my young adulthood. I have no doubts about why I was meant to be there when I was. 

But coming back to Montana after spending a summer with more responsibility than I've ever had has made me see, too, that the real world is always there. It's never too soon to start on your dreams and I definitely couldn't agree more on that front, but there's also something about enjoying this time in my life that's important, too. I was so anxious to find some sort of direction for myself and felt such a strong urgency to get started on some sort of idea of what I wanted my future to look like. Now that I've gotten that sense of direction for myself and know that the "real world" is there, I don't feel the same urgency to fret about my future. I have everything lined up for myself set in a direction I'm excited about. I'm working the hardest I've ever worked in school because I'm excited about what I'm learning. I value my education more than I ever did, too. And instead of being worried about what happens after college, I'm excited. But I also don't really feel myself counting down the days until it's over or want it to go too fast.

Missoula has been a treat this semester. I've enjoyed this little city more than I ever have in 3 years of living here. I missed the intimacy of this community. Leaving Seattle and coming back to Missoula has allowed me to value so many things about Missoula I didn't see as being a luxury before. Like having a 15 minute bike ride commute to school but still having a Target and a strong music culture. Like having mountains in my backyard to hike at a moments notice. Like a downtown that's small and cozy. Like a group of friends that are fun and easy to hang out with. 

I love this place. I still love Seattle. I still want to move back there. Just not yet. 

bikes and dates

On the list of things I never thought could be used to describe me are two things I have seemingly become this week. These things include (a) being a biker (b) being a dater.

*GASP*

No, I can't say anything more. But I sort of have a few quasi-dates that actually barely count as dates this week and if I talk about it anymore I will back out right now by sheer force of anticipation and pressure. (Spoiler alert: I don't think I'm going to be a good dater.)

I will say that becoming a biker this week has solved so many problems. In the area of appearances, in particular, makeup is suddenly irrelevant. Put it on in the morning before my 2.5 mile bike ride and by the time I walk up the two flights of stairs to Spanish after my ride, it's like a just got out of the shower with a freshly washed face. Except, those aren't beats of water. In the area of being a newly reformed frugal college student, there is no need to spend money on gas! You mean not spend forty dollars every 17 days on gas!? By golly, I can't imagine anything better. In a month, that's like a month of groceries!

This week, my friend wanted someone to go with her to do her field research homework assignment. She was like, "There's a cool abandoned homestead with old barns and you have to have a code to get through the gate and I have it!" Sold. So naturally we brought a puppy and I explored some really neat abandoned barns. I actually remembered to bring both my battery charger AND SD card, too, so I could prove I was there.

Wish me luck! That I.... don't flip upside down on my handlebars. Or hit another curb and fall over sideways on bike. Or jam my gears again. And, wish me luck... on those other.... things....

Lastly I feel like I should mention this is the exact spot where Kate Bosworth got married last weekend. You heard it from me first.

outfit: shop ruche // dress urban outfitters // shoes

weddings, Saturday nights & Sunday mornings, and favorite dresses

There's something about waking up at noon on a Sunday on your living room couch. There's something about the contrast of thundering pummeling rain and the sounds of a friend snoring softly next to you on the floor. Call it some sort of contentedness or warmth of being surrounded on all sides by LIFE and the noises it makes after a Saturday night of board game playing and thunder storms- but it was the most contended way to wake up.

So, I'm ombre again. But this time I'm a blonde one. I know ombre quit being cool months ago and it's not even worth my time to try to defend the two second decision I made to do it or act like it was really hard to go against the masses here in Montana telling me ombre went out a long time ago. Boring brown mop no more, I say!

On to other things, yesterday I woke up at 7am, loaded up a buttered english muffin and protein bar for the road, and drove 100 miles to a part of Montana I've never seen completely on my own in my little Subaru. How have I never really noticed how BIG and expansive and huge and pretty Montana is? Because I've only gone as far as Missoula, that's why. Which is a darn shame. There was this splendid moment where the sun was coming up as I crested the pass going 45mph without another soul on the road that the chorus to Pompeii began that seemed almost too perfect to be something not contrived by my imagination. Then, after arriving at a big red barn that is an actual historic landmark, for four and then some hours I got to shoot my very first wedding with another photographer in Missoula and I had an adrenaline rush the entire time. Is that possible? I'm saying it is. Were my fingers and wrists sore after holding up a six pound camera for that long? They're still sore today.

I guess that's all that's new for now. I really enjoyed blogging almost every day this week and lugging my camera around felt less like lugging for once in the past three months so it could just be that I'm feeling blog inspired again. No promises, but I hope it's here to stick. 

OH, and this is my favorite dress. I know everyone was wondering. Also, it's definitely still summer. I'm not over summer yet even as I sit here with a pumpkin spice flavored tea.

Also, this is Danielle. Who I managed to steal from our old stomping grounds in the Palouse to go to school in Montana. She makes me laugh like no other and is prettier than the sea and you'll probably see her a lot for the next two years.

mustaches and ugly christmas sweaters

...just because it's been my goal since i started college to go to an ugly christmas sweater party, i'm going to document it. i don't know why, but it seems like talking about "parties" is taboo stuff in the blog world (regardless of whether someone does/doesn't engage in "party activities") so i hope you'll bear with me. i won't lie, 99% of the time i pass up a night out to skype or watch HIMYM or even do homework because those are things i prefer after a busy college week. but sometimes the opportunity presents itself and you're able to knock a college bucket list item off your list. plus, you can't stay in all the time can you? in terms of college parties, ugly christmas sweaters and mustache parties are prime and not to be missed. because sometimes it provides you the opportunity to meet a lot of true montana hipsters that are older than you and funny and entertaining and some of them are seven feet tall and you're able to say you have met someone an entire two feet taller than you. it was a night for the books. and the perfect last night in montana with a few of my favorite and best friends (and nerdiest, science majors make for the best friends).

perspective is my new best friend

I've learned at the ripe old age of twenty (aha, old...) that perspective really is what just about everything is all about. Perspective. It's my new favorite world, new favorite way of living, and new best friend. Space, distance, distractions, thinking, new experiences... It's all gotten me to a happy place and a healthy place. I was texting my good pal and one of my best blogging buds Kylee a few weeks back and she said the smartest thing I've ever heard: the only way to get over something is to go through it. I mean, really, perspective has probably changed my year for the best and even my future. I'm an officially declared double major in creative writing and biology with an emphasis on pre-medicine. When I graduate, I want to go abroad and teach English in Korea or something of the sort and write all about it and if I get the inclination, go to medical school or get medically licensed to the point that I can volunteer in health sciences abroad. Missoula has one of the best writing programs in the country and even offer a degree in Science Journalism which is pretty much exactly what my majors set me up for. I want to study abroad and I want to do all of these things. I can't help but ask myself why I wasn't thinking about these things earlier and I really do think it all boils down to perspective: taking courses in both subjects, deciding I couldn't pick just one, actually talking to people who have careers along the lines of what I want to do, and knowing my options. It feels good. It finally feels like the pieces have fallen where they should.

...Is it weird to shop online for bras in a public place? I did that. Is it weird to ask a guy in your class for his number using the excuse 'so if I miss class I have someone to reach'? I did that, too. Is it weird to love going grocery shopping all alone and wander the aisles aimlessly and decide it's the most relaxing way to unwind in the middle of the week? Um, incredible. I've done so many weird 'adult-y' things lately I think I'm going to have to write about them shortly because I've surprised even myself.

P.S. These pictures are unedited because, well, Montana is pretty stinkin' pretty if I do say myself.

dress & shoes: Urban Outfitters // necklace: tiffany&co

missoula

i'll be honest, all summer i kind of dreaded coming back to school. i didn't want to come back to reality. i wanted to live in the safety nest i had built for myself all summer at my parents' house with my sister by my side each and every night. i was scared. missoula thus far has been a place i've come to as a freshmen not knowing a single person but always having one person to have my back when i was lonely and again as a sophomore with an entire life i'd made for myself and with that person there physically.  i came back this time as a junior to the life i'd built here for two years, but very differently than the previous two years. on my own maybe more noticeably than ever before. i was scared.

ten days later, and while i've discovered that, yes, it is in every way as lonely if not more so than i expected, that loneliness is kind of welcoming. i had no idea what it was going to be like to move into an apartment nor how different it would feel than a dorm. in the nights i've had alone, the apartment all by myself, i sincerely felt like i was alone, with only myself for entertainment. unlike the dorms, where i always felt like i was surrounded by two hundred people even in my own room. initially it was weird and involved a lot of talking to myself and the occasional phone call to hear another person's voice, but then it slowly became invigorating and exciting. i finished my homework by 4pm, i read a book for an hour every night, i made myself dinner, i assembled my own furniture and began tackling some pinterest DIY projects for my room (SO EXCITED), i cleaned my bathroom and did the dishes, i drank a lot of tea, and i wrote a lot. alone can be lonely, but hanging out with myself has become my favorite new hobby. it's a little bit like getting to know myself again.

another thing i realized this week as well was just how much missoula (and montana) has come to define me lately. i was skeptical about how much life i had, in fact, left for just myself and how much of missoula was still all my own. i guess when you build a life for yourself over the course of a year and then another person becomes a part of it the next year, there were a lot of gray areas i wasn't sure were still just "mine" anymore. what a silly thought. 

the thing about montana is that i went into it as a freshmen expecting a lot of the same culture, people, and experiences i have in idaho. i expected hippies galore, outdoor recreation aplenty, and a whole lot of coffee shops, but nothing very new or different. missoula definitely didn't disappoint my expectations, in fact, missoula has by far exceeded them and surprised me in so many ways. there are hippies galore, but they are 1000% hippies who are genuinely and passionately themselves, not a select few playing the part. in fact, i don't even think i knew what a true hippie was until i came to montana. there's outdoor recreation, but the mountains are bigger and the rivers are closer and you'll never cross a bridge in town without spotting kayakers or rafters in the river who will wave with the biggest grin you've ever seen plastered across their face. the "outdoorsy" don't just love the outdoors, they are the outdoors and don't just spend the occasional weekend out in the woods, they are in them every single day. everyone here is filled with a passion tenfold of what i've found in idaho and you see it in the eyes of missoulians that they love their lives and best of all, themselves. montana can't be described except to say that it is just so far and beyond what comes to mind when you think 'montana' and it is truly a place of crazy, happy passionate people that are full of so much life. i mean, where else in the country do classes get cancelled when the mountains get a foot of powder, a sixty degree day in the sun long after spring was supposed to arrive equals the entire pasty population of missoula coming out and laying out on the still-snowy-in-places beach, and festivals happen just about every single weekend dedicated to hemp, tye-dye, and music?

missoula has become a home, a different one than the one i was born into, and a special home because it's the first one i chose for myself. while the gray areas of what used to be 'my world' are still there and there are memories scattered on every street block, it doesn't feel any emptier or anything less than it was.  i'm growing to know myself again in a way i couldn't at home and loving the space that being alone provides. in fact, i think for a while, i might be my favorite person to spend my saturdays and tuesday nights with.

scalloped

Any outfit that allows me to move around however I please and bend down to pick up the five thousand pencils I drop in a day, has either mint or a bow involved, and makes me feel like a cross between peter pan and batman is a winner. Seriously, let me wear this every day and I would. I think I found my dream pair of shorts and I never want winter to come so that I can continue to wear them obsessively (I do this, frequently). The scalloped hem, color, high-waisted fit... need I say more? It's true love.

School started on Monday and I have to say... I feel like the biggest slacker in the pre-med world. While I'm taking physics, I opted out of anatomy and physiology until summer school and I'm finishing up my pre-english requirements so that I can declare myself a double major in english which means that the rest of my classes are writing and english related. Not to belittle the english world in the very least because I know that I'll be busy with my required twenty hours of journaling a week and many, many papers to write... but after only taking science classes every semester I'm kind of excited for a change of pace.

I promise as soooon as I'm done with my bedroom and putting everything together I'll take pictures but right now I'm missing a bedframe and sleeping on a mattress in the middle of the floor and my walls are completely blank.


also... just pretend along with me that hanging out on mountain peaks in montana is an every day occurrence dressed up like this and it's something i do with my best friends when school is slow all the time.

top: anthropologie // bottoms: ruche // shoes & hat: urban outfitters