Take that.

THE DAY: June 30th, 2007
THE TIME: 10:38 AM
THE MUSIC: Permanent; Colbie Cailliat and Jason Reeves

THE MOMENT: Slow Breeze

vernalization (vûr'nə-lĭ-zā'shən) The subjection of seeds or seedlings to low temperature in order to hasten plant development and flowering. Vernalization is commonly used for crop plants such as winter rye and is possible because the seeds and buds of many plants require cold in order to break dormancy.

I refuse to let my heart die with this. I loved you with every moment inside of me and did so with a fighting conviction. I will never be ashamed of you; I will never banish you to silence as you have me. I will break the confining ceilings of my hibernation with the strength to become whole. I will trudge out of weary shadows not with a biting hate, not with a glowing banner of valor to catch outside eyes, but with a solid reverence for my struggle. I am a strong woman. I will not watch over my heart with a cowardly vigilance. I will trust again, unbounded, without inhibition. There is a nightingale in me. I will be triumphant in spaces where I can fly free from your wirey cages. Watch me float away. I go into a sunrise, leaving it to set on you, to fold you up into faded colors, a twilight to finally disappear. I can feel you. Right in this darkness of mine. I know you're there. But you cannot have me anymore. These are my days. I will have a family. I will write out my soul. I will find new freedoms through this resilience I fight faithfully to gain. I could not do these things in the presence of your fleeting words and hesitant love for me. I wish to grow away from you in beautifully ripped seams and stitched patterns of stories unfolding.
From Wednesday June 6th into Thursday the 7th 12:29 AM



I will never again be captured in a way that inhibits my natural freedom.

Flop.

THE DAY: June 28th, 2007
THE TIME: 12:32 AM
THE MUSIC: Blackbird; The Beatles
THE MOMENT: Like Original Flavor Bubble Tape

Hellooooo time to talk about some life.
And by life I mean two problems that are actually not a big deal and may be annoying to read about.

There was a time in my life when I began to hate shoes. Since that day, I have almost completely eradicated them from my life.
New thing. Now I hate pants. I cannot chuck this preference into my life and still be a functioning member of society. No one wants to hire Lyndsi-no-pants. No one wants to give her a sandwich for lunch. And so, I am shackled by local clothing expectations. This is my life: Work, Pool, YMCA, Katies. To remedy this problem I mostly walk around in my bathing suit and my Dad's massive t-shirts... which goes over fine for 2 of those places. Its grunge nast lookin, but I love it. Also, I have recently bought 2 pairs of pants that are so huge I can't even tell I'm wearing them. I feel obnoxious for talking about this, but its honestly less obscure than half of the other things I've said.

New topic. There is a boy in my summer. He invaded it. Slightly against my will on account of I was going to avoid summer boys, And I was doing that... and then all the sudden... I'm not anymore. I'm not gonna shaft him either because I actually like him and the rockin things we've done together. At the same time he kinda barged in on my no-boys plan so I'm feelin a little violated. But then, since when are summer boys a problem? Why do I feel like I'm being conned into something that I actually pretty much want? Bahhhhhhhhhhhh.

Its been a while.

THE DAY: June 26th, 2007.
THE TIME: 3:50 PM
THE MUSIC: Permanent; Colbie Calliat.
THE MOMENT: A present yesterday

Green seeps through these trees that stretch and strive as the black night overtakes their colors like a deep insomnia. Though routine darkness overcomes them once again, they stand unabashed through the silence. A prominent strength runs through roots that cling relentlessly to banished truth beneath the surface. I am in these trees. My shadow precedes me.

* * *

Yesterday my best friend came home, heartbroken. We went to our favorite place to get ice cream. I forgot my shoes. We ate in on a dock over a part of the lake I've never seen before. We went back for more and ate it layin on the sidewalk. And then it came.

Rain like unashamed drops of life
one
at a
time
And I surrendered
There was the truth falling from someone else's sky.
I ran through it on someone else's street.
I lay and let it swallow me.

Something big is happening. I can feel it.

Today I walked into work at 11:45, and they didn't need me. Walked OUT. For $1.90 I bought some markers and a green apple. I have this bag full of papers that I've scribbled on at one time or another since I moved away to Utah. I got back into my pajamas, sat on my bed, and surrounded myself with them to write in my new notebook.

Something big is happening. I can feel it.

Rupture and repair.

FIGHT.

... and release.

Pills & Plastic,

I am STILL who I am.

(even without you.)

THE DAY: June 10, 2007.
THE TIME: 1:08AM
THE MUSIC: Pop lock and drop it.
THE MOMENT: My mouth is Mmmmm vanilla mint toothpaste.

thoughts about work.

Today two men sat in my section to eat some big burly man burgers. After their check they asked which city they would come to if they turned right and kept goin down the main road. They didn’t want to take the interstate because it was “too rough on a bike.” My eyes must have gotten pretty wide. Their next words were something like “Well girl, get yourself a helmet.” But I didn’t go. I really would have hopped on the open road with two middle-aged Harley guys in about two seconds. But I need my job. So I lent them my pen, explained how to get to a good lake spot, and regretfully walked away. The good news is I survived three doubles this week. I made friends with some kids at work. I can tell we’re friends because I got invited to go crunk it up at the expo guy’s house after I got off Friday night. But alas, I’m not really a crunker. They said we can still be friends though. Tongue ring kid even tattooed a heart on my arm. He says that our bodies may be temples after all, and so we should maybe decorate them. Needless to say every one seems to be adapting quite well to my Mormon obscurities. If we’re slow at night sometimes they twirl around with me to the sad songs. This is nice, because there is something undeniably lonely about being a late night waitress.

thoughts about other things.

I would like a baseball hat, the kind that’s worn-in and dirty because it actually is, and not because american eagle roughed it up before they sold it so little polo boys could appear rugged and manly. I would then like to wear it with my bathing suit and one of my dads massive t-shirts, which I have been using as make-shift sun dresses. Yes, I wish to resemble a puddle-jumping mud child. For that is truly where my soul lies in the afternoons of my life.

I have put no effort into summer boys. I mean, there’s only so much I can handle these days. I confess to having this idea about macking some of the ones I always wanted to in high school, which is great in theory, but I really just don’t mind one way or the other. And that, is a beautiful thing.

thoughts about the last hour of my life.

Tonight I went to gas up the Buick on account of it’s been just chuggin that stuff down these days. After that I went to buy some sprinkle cheese for potluck after singles ward tomorrow because I only had 20 minutes left of non-sabbath wal mart time. I went in my cheeseburgery-milkshake pajamas that Stephy J picked out for me. Wal Mart was surprisingly NOT bumpin for a Saturday night in Big Mo. Sweet relief. Get in. Get cheese. Get out. This is the part where I become impulsive. I float from the dairy products, through the hats and bags, past the lotion and birthday cards and right into my section of choice… office supplies. YES. I bought some of the pens that I love love love. How well you write can indeed be affected by the attachment you have to the pen in your hand. So I got 4, for 5 dollars. How’s that for spontaneous living?! What man wouldn’t want a reckless woman in DI pajamas at midnight just goin buck-crazy over colored ink and notebooks. I let them ride in the buick’s cup holder on the way home, because they’re going to write out my soul, and should be treated as such. The cheese, though also glorious, had to stay in the bag.

two more.

One. Wednesday night I had a word breakthrough. I listened to the best instrumental song I’ve ever known and let it seep out of me. I am almost free.

Two. I’m not a BYU girl that’s all about getting married right this second. Just a disclaimer. Moving on. A guy walked out of the restaurant the other day. He was younger, but I could tell from something in his demeanor, that he was definitely a Dad. I thought that I hope whoever I marry has an air of fatherhood about him. And then I had this three-second flash of me and whoever he is, in a really beat up truck drivin down the road eating peanut butter out of the jar together. Not sure where it came from, but I loved that.

I decided today calls for a little-me-in-the-bathtub picture.

4

THE DAY: June 6, 2007.
THE TIME: 7:00ish PM
THE MUSIC: Stupid Boy; By Keith Urban
THE MOMENT: Eighths of an anticipation

“Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience…

your eyes have their silence.
In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near.”

--e.e.cummings

A few nights ago I stuck my head out of a passenger’s seat window and closed my eyes to the night spinning past me. I waited for truth to rise and conquer all of the day’s passive resistance.

Next: I saw an impenetrable stretch of shadowy pine trees, and yet a sunken red moon shone through unknown dusty openings.

then, there was hope in me.

...moment...