until they sparked.

i looked down the line. faces from my past rushed at me,
some with their smiles, some with their hands shoved into the pockets of their jeans.
i saw brunettes and toe-heads,
their heights and eye colors ranging from one end of the spectrum to the other.
i don't repel guys, i realized with slight surprise, scratching my head.
quite the contrary; i attract them and then have no idea what the fuck to do with it.

a world full of first kisses, both drunken and sober, a stomach full of butterflies, the awkwardness of intimacy, and the heart shattering moments of secrets exist amongst this group.
it is what ties them together, permanently bonded by at least one thing:
me.
i am what they have in common, whether our time together ended well of with jagged edges, dropped like a careless glass bowl.

i run my eyes over their faces, locating where each of them hits me;
my heart, my brain, my fingers. feelings lighting up in patches all over.

they are waiting, for something.
not for me, but for me.
what is it? i rack my brain as they wait, patiently, for me to understand.
they are not waiting for me. i don't want them, and they sure as hell don't want me.
yet still they stand there, feet shoulder width apart, looking like they know, just know,
it will come.
and it does.

it hits me like a truck, nearly knocking me off of my feet; i lose my breath, my existence temporarily suspended.
they are not waiting for me. they are waiting for me to realize that they are not waiting for me.
i should not be waiting for them. i should not be waiting for anyone.

smiles crease their faces.
they turn and shake hands, like doctors who have finally diagnosed a patient after years of not understanding the symptoms.
as i watch, they file silently out the door; some throw a wave, some don't even look at me, some give a lingering glance,
and my breath comes back to me as they leave me, as much as they can.

this is where i find myself slightly giddy at the thought of having no one in the room with me.
what have i been waiting for? what am i waiting for? have i just been too damn stubborn to listen?
yes, i answer softly, with a chuckle. of course.
and i stand here, on my own two feet. this is me, and you know what? i am damn proud.

i hear life is a journey, not a destination. my anziety riddled days have been haunting me, leaving me speechless, wandering aimlessly down streets and avoiding eye contact with those who have discovered this lesson.
i am young; but not so young that i should be here still. so what?
tomorrow is a whole new day. and really, that's all i have to worry about.
time to take part in that journey,
throw my hands up like a rollercoaster and remember to breathe.

define the passage of time.

pick a bad experience.
let time blur the details and shift the focus off the pain.
write about it in a new voice.
mature the wisdom of understanding.
see what was once a mistake as an invaluable part of life.
view what was once ugly from a new angle,
so that it becomes beautiful.

our words are our past.

i want to collect all my words, written and unwritten, spoken or unspoken, finished and unfinished, words held captive in drafts being erased and jotted back down in different ways over and over again and slip them into your mouth, make you have a taste of what you never knew, what i need you to know. i want to take every consonant and vowel of the alphabet yet to be strung together and turned into something that makes sense to you from me and make you listen to the sound of each syllable you need to hear in order to feel what i feel. i want to take all these dear-you’s and dear-me’s and dear-us’s of the future and past and pack them away in one huge envelope filled with all the hugs and sealed with all the kisses we missed out on having when you decided to walk away and have you read the thump-thumps of my heartbeat. i want to have my language be your language and to understand what i mean when i say all this.. or do i have to spell it out for you? my words are no longer meant for you.

past. future. now.

lately i have wanted to go back in time.

i would hitch hike to woodstock.

i would tell andy warhol we were soulmates.

i would cry on august 16, 1977. and stand outside the gates of graceland, candle in hand.

i'd go to a janis joplin concert.

i wouldn't wish to do anything drastic and change history.

just meet people who have influenced me.

just meet an inspiration.

lately i have wanted to go into the future.

i would tell my children i was just like them once.

i want to tell them i can't wait to meet them.

someday.

i want to see a classroom full of students.

all waiting for me to teach them.

i want to be sure i wake up to a nashville sun and fall asleep to a nashville moon.

everyday.

i would like to know that all i want is possible.

since i cannot have all of this, i suppose i will live for today.

go to lunch with my dad and thrifting with mom.

curl up on the couch with roxy.

maybe sneak in some time to re-read ryan adams' poetry book.

and play scrabble with my parents.

drink margs with my fire friend.

and maybe this is all i really need to make me happy.

fire.

i am overly excited to be driving 117 minutes to see someone that completes me.

 when i'm sinking in quick sand, there's a short list of people i would call to rescue me.
she's no doubt one of them.

{although, we would stop the life saving process to put on some good tunes just to make the story a little more interesting}.

i'd like to say it was fate that put us in the same psychology class in high school. but truthfully it was probably my lack of motivation my senior year+sarah's ideals of looking more intellectual her sophomore year. regardless that child has been my life boat since then.

 you know when all things seem to just make sense after a while? when things come full circle?
{our friendship is my full circle moment.}

we talked the first day of class because we had to decide what we would do+bring on a deserted island..

..6 years later she is the first thing i would bring.

she knows my every secret+i am a locked vault filled with hers.

{boys driving my lime green bug in boxers. big momma sausages. woodmoor lake,  boyfriends. fire. cereal in the back of trucks. rice hall. underage drinking. porch swings. leather chokers. fold out couches. multiple boyfriends. just one particular boy. painted fingernails. art. home cooked meals. shared beds. music.}

without those memories and sarah, i wonder who i would be..

the cars have changed, the boys have changed, ages of changed, but not our friendship.

some friendships do indeed last forever.

and for your listening pleasure.

"when we first met we were young, we were wild.."

23.

Hi. My name is Sydney. Sometimes just Syd.
I am twenty. THREE. 23.
Just trying it on.


I believe 23 means I'm an adult. Or maybe something else means I'm an adult. And maybe I'm just supposed to be one by age 23. But I think I was adult-ish when my best friend&I took the train to New Orleans. We even got off the train and ate by ourselves. We even left a tip. Twenty percent probably. We were 16. I felt the same again as I got on the interstate all alone at 16 and three quarters. And again as I walked out of the MC coliseum, high school diploma in hand. And again as I sat on a bare mattress in Rice Hall with the same train riding partner, mapping out patterns of our room arrangement. And again as I said goodbye to my grown-up friends. And again when I made my first fake ID. And again when I got my first legal ID. And again as baked ziti sizzled away in my very own oven in my very own house. And again when I sat in my screened in porch. Drinking beer and smoking cigs with my roomates. And again as I mended my grown-up friendships. And again when I discovered I don't enjoy "radio music". And again when I decided I am not where I'm supposed to be.
And again.And again.

But then, I'm not so sure I know what an adult is. I may or may not be getting there. Because my TV never strays from the Disney Channel. And I'm afraid of the dark. And Disney World is still my choice of vaction. Because I still feel like I'm going to be in trouble if I do something my mom told me not to do. Sometimes I believe Miley Cyrus&Taylor Swift are my best friends. Because I choose to play Thomas the Train with my nephew instead of engaging in adult conversation. I refer to Joe Jonas as my boyfriend. I'm happiest when I wake up to the smell of breakfast cooked by my Big Mom. A breakfast feast big enough to be considered a last meal for someone on death row. And she cooks it just for me. I paid for my drug&paid for&forced my best friend to go see The Jonas Brothers Concert 3-D. I get happy hands when I see a cupcake. Because I have a secret obsession with dinosaurs. I enjoy telling my nephew all about them. Hannah Montana is a rockstar. And although the majority of my best friends are engaged/married/with children(s), I know I would be a terrible wife right now. A great mom, terrible wife. And undoubtedly, the best concert I've ever been to was Hannah Montana/Jonas Brothers.

So here's to 23, whatever that means and whatever I am. I feel like an awfully inadequate, insane, incredible 23-year old.

Here's to 23 cupcakes. To 23 Hannah Montana episodes.

To new dreams, new grown-up friends, and alot more baked ziti.

To 23 more years with these girls..

{circa 2002}

{circa 2004}                                                                                                                                         {circa 2008}

never say never.

Tonight I was thinking about a lot of things that have happened recently. so many things are changing.. and honestly, I don't want them to. Content is the best way to describe how I feel right now. Maybe a little misplaced. I think back to where I was two years ago. I was unbelievably happy. I was surrounded by amazing friends, never a dull moment with that group. My heart was in a great place with my boyfriend [and YES he really was my boyfriend then!]. I had my plans set. I made so many plans. I had mapped out every single thing that I wanted. Who I would marry, where we would live, what I would do with my life, where I would work...

Now fast forward to present day.

Literally every single thing that I had planned for myself then is different than what I thought it would be. It's like I laid my planned life out to God and He karate chopped it. Pieces flying everywhere. Then he forced me to trust Him and His will for my life. I have spent the past year picking up the pieces of my so-called "perfectly planned out life" trying to figure out where to go from here. I gave up trying to figure it out and I think I'm starting to see His way. I realize that no matter what I have planned for my life, God's plan is better than anything I invent in my head. He has given me everything I need and, even better, things I didn't even know I needed. Giving and receiving trust has shown to be so completely rewarding and I can't wait for more.