An ode to definitely thought before thoughts.

I’m going to take the time to preach to enormous the music loving choir and remark on how unbelievable music has the potential to be. I’m not sure it’s even fair to use the word potential, because even the worst of music serves a purpose. Music snobs often write off catchy pop music as easy and uninspired, but at the end of the day the likes of Ke$ha, Katy Perry, and Miley Cyrus have us singing their melodies nearly subconsciously with a skip in our step. On the softer side of pop, Bruno Mars and Demi Lovato pull at our heart strings. Then, we have Justin Timberlake and Daft Punk to groove to. We make our way into a heavier rock influence like Coldplay and Muse. And this is merely in today’s top 40! There’s country that makes up a significant portion of the U.S. music fans. Musicals, singer song writer/folk, old rock n roll, the blues.  There is an entire universe within ours made up of solely music. 

I am by no means a music expert, and I have no intention to make this any type of informative essay about the music world. However, I need to have a conversation about a feeling that you’re a robot if you haven’t had. And that, friends, is the feeling of overwhelming emotion when you hear a song.

In recent months, I have frequently been caught off guard by the slightest nuances of greatness in unexpected iPod plays. A specific note will float through the speakers and my heart catches. Sometimes it is with immense sadness. Others, with hope and even triumph. And as silly as it seems, it makes me want to take time out of this blog recognize the song-writers and musicians for giving me the ridiculous and honestly not even real gift of understanding; for giving me a soundtrack to exist to. So thanks, you guys. 


Fluffing my feathers because I’m a girl, and I deserve it.

People let me think I’m a model from time to time. Image

I think it works out okay.

ImageI don’t mean to toot my own horn.Image

But I’ll certainly toot Sarah Foss of Your Photography in Minot’s

ImageBaby Tod made a cameo.

ImageThe kill shot.




Beer Friday

I have spent the last four Friday’s amidst the comfort of warm weather, a pool, floating in a tube complete with cup holder for my alcoholic beverage, in the company of my mom and a few of her good friends. These ladies call it Beer Friday, and it is a weekly gathering where they laugh, gossip, and drink. Despite being two to three decades younger than these women, I always have an incredible time.

However, of all of these women, my mother is the only still happily married. Conversation reeks of an almost teenage caliber including boys, beauty, and gossip. Every one of these women are on Now, don’t get me wrong, I think that’s great! Everyone deserves love. But I can’t help but feel a little saddened by the group; As if I’m looking at a potential future for myself.

“No, no, no!” My head screams. A hopeless romantic until I die, I’m determined to find my soulmate. Divorce is not and never will be an option. I do not want to be fifty-something years old trying to pick up my life after a break-up. To be living a saga built for those in their twenties.

And although these women are happy with where they are, immensely confident and in a way almost inspirationally independent, I never ever ever want to be them.


40 days.


“Body cells replace themselves every month. Even at this very moment. Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.”

― Haruki MurakamiA Wild Sheep Chase


I cannot wait for the new to replace the old. To move on to a life that isn’t laced with memories of love and friendship lost. I cannot wait to be unrecognizable. For my old life to have no inkling of what my new entails. I cannot wait to shed the skin of heartache and be someone else.

You are the only exception.

On a broad spectrum, this is true. A very broad spectrum; like if you want to point out that no one person is the same or has the exact same experience. However, categorically speaking, a lot of people do experience the same things. Most opportunities, emotions, situations, etc are universal.

And yet, when we’re going through something difficult, it seems like the world is viewed through tunnel vision and no one understands. Most recently, I’ve fallen into this blur in an effort to deal with my ended relationship. My mind is capable of reasoning that I, indeed, am not the only person that has been heartbroken. I can also reason that considering there are actually nearly 7 billion people in the world, there will be someone else out there. 

But then, what if there isn’t? What if somehow my gut is more all-knowing than everyone else’s? That this person is actually my soulmate? Well then I should just trust that things work themselves out, right? Wrong. Because it isn’t real. Literally every other brokenhearted girl believes that their one is the one. 

An arsenal of cliches pour into my focus: “If you love something, set it free, if it returns to you, it was meant to be.” Yea, maybe, or most likely you spend the rest of your days settling until it seems like an okay option to be apart. “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket”, even if all the other baskets have holes in them. Okay, fine. Or the ever important, “God never gives us something we can’t handle.” Explain suicide to me, then.

Can’t. Never. The devil’s words are swallowing me whole. As much as we want to believe it, most of the time good things don’t actually happen. The greater majority of humans are suffering. People are taken too soon. Soul mates spend their lives apart. The most deserving have the least given to them. And everyone is forced to just deal.

We/I must give up the delusion. There is no exception. Everybody hurts.