theamyjoy

a song. a story. a headline.

~

the house i grew up in was huge.
beautiful powder blue and white shutters, 6 bedrooms, 2 and 1/2 baths. two story. built specifically for my family, as the new residence for my father, the pastor of a church. i lived there from age 2 till just-turned-13.
so… in reality, we didn’t own it. but it was our home. we moved overseas, into a two bedroom apartment with large family room, dining room, living room, office and eat in kitchen. everything was very european. lots of rugs and water heaters and mismatched fabrics in a stained and grey soviet apartment high rise. it was a lovely, wonderful home for all of high school. not a house. but it was home.

i moved to college. the first dorm - too dark. depressing.
the second dorm - three different rooms in three years. the last year was the best - best roommate, best suite, best memories, best friends. it was a warm, comfy, girly, sparkly place to call ours. all those years living in an apartment made me realize houses were overrated. i moved to an apartment. a duplex really. it was near-perfect, great location, huge rooms, lots of independence… but held up by too many crumbling factors. bad roommate. crazy landlords. too much time alone. i moved back east after a particularly bad week.

i’ve spent the past year in a two bedroom apartment. with my parents.
smaller than my duplex. but warm. comfy. home? sort of. more so than ye olde duplex.this month my parents put a bid on a home.
MY parents. a real life home.
they asked me to live in it for them while they finish the next few years of their overseas term.
me? live in something they own? like… a house?
it’s… permanent?

seriously? seriously!it’s sort of… not real.
after just making home wherever i am, the thought of an actual one…
i haven’t had a permanent place to think of as home for… almost 12 years.

it’s kind of a shock to the system. ~

in other news…it’s may?
it’s one week into may?!
where did this past year go?

hopeless dreams?

not that new.
but timely.
~~~

the clock strikes the hour
and i’m still awake.
waiting for my restless soul to settle
waiting for my tired heart to rest. the only light illuminates only shadows
in my chosen prison
finding it harder to see who i am
finding it harder to see who you are

but i crave you
and without you this trivial body
dies in the face of all my vanity
dies in the light of all your deityand the emptiness will last forever
without my willing surrender
so i stretch out my fingers toward yours…
and i find the only warmth, truth, rest and love.

alexithymia

Don’t try to wake me up
Even if the sun really does come out tomorrow.
Don’t believe anything you say anymore in the mourn,
in the morning….
Are you where you thought
you would be?
So beautiful and only 23…
Opposition rests in the hearts with no, with no,
with no opportunity.
It’s not that we don’t talk,
It’s just no one really listens
and honesty fades… like a politician
whose lost in the course, all smiles but no one remembers our names. With downcast eyes, there’s more to living that being alive…
Don’t try to wake me up
even if the sun really does come out tomorrow
Don’t believe anything
I say
anymore
in the mourn, in the morning.

~today i had pictures taken
for my upcoming international travels which require visas.
so much lately has been making me crave escape.
so much lately has been chilling me, instead of warming me.

not that i can put my finger on it,
because most everything is going well. but my heart…
it needs more. more than this.
i just pray it comes quickly.

~a·lex·i·thy·mi·a

ice in my fingertips

like a cold shiver, freezing slowly from the inside
sliding down down down my throat
down my arms
down my fingertipspulling me down to the ground
pulling my face into my hands
and my shivers turn to the trembling
of silent tears

trying to turn the sadness to anger
trying to work up a rage instead…
asking myself.. i fell for… that?
i fell for… what?
but it all just seems so… and that’s just it.
the words are so quick to escape me
and i’m just left with the cold
holding myself to keep warm,
holding myself to hold someone.

top five.

in the next thirty years…top five places i want to live:

1. Paris
2. Seattle
3. A coastal city in California
4. London
5. Portland/Minneapolistop five accomplishments i’d like to have:

1. published novel/memoir
2. completed term of mission or social service overseas
3. strong ties with family and friends
4. mastery of Adobe CS: design premium
5. one continuous haircolortop five things i’d like to be known for:

1. genuine, steady faith
2. laughter
3. honesty
4. willingness to serve.
5. style top five things i’d like to have in my home:

1. a writing/painting studio
2. orginal works by close friends
3. a worthwhile library
4. furniture that feels like home
5. an open door top five things that would be nice to see happen:

1. become a well known public speaker.
2. marry the one…the one for me.
3. have a puppy. a bitty one.
4. have a baby. a bitty one.
5. have a rockstar worthy car.

Remember tonight, for it is the beginning of always.

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?When joy comes, look into your heart.
you will find that your source of joy is the same that brought you sorrow.
when sorrow comes, look again. see - truly you are weeping for that which was once your delight.
you say joy is greater, and another says no, sorrow is.

I say, they are inseparable.
Together they arrive,
when one sits alone with you at night,
remember the other is asleep on your bed.
in truth, you are hanging in the balance
between your sorrow
and your joy.
Only when you appreciate both
then you stand up right. Khalil Gibran/Amy Sturgeon

april rains.

it’s raining. an early spring thunderstorm complete with balmy warm windy everything. last year at about this time, i was in another rainstorm.
in highland park, st. paul, minnesota.
you can see a picture and storyline right here.

hard to believe that was a year ago.

spring days like this make me want to wander around late at night.
and i would. if i wasn’t a girl.
last may, while i was still living in minneapolis, an old friend came to see me late one night. we went for a walk before driving out to lake nokomis and sitting on the banks till the early hours of the morning. not many words spoken, just the soft drift in and out of water rolling near, then pulling back again. and now i’m back near my birthplace, near the place i called home for so many years, near the atlantic’s chilly waves.
spring, with all it’s beautifully wet storms and surprising days of sun, spring is calling me to the shore.
i need to hear the rhythym of the waves… feel the slow creep of the warmth, the soft grain of sand underfoot.

perhaps there is yet a reason for me to be here, in this place, at this time.

because everything’s downhill after wednesday; … it’s the hump you have to get over.

wednesday. today i woke up with less than an hour to get ready before work.
you don’t need an hour or more to get ready?
well… i do.
i’ve gotten into this bad habit of lounging in front of cnn or fox news for about an hour while i check my email and eat breakfast. then i finally get up to do my hair and makeup and get dressed. in all, it’s about a two hour or less process.
because i’m not really high maintainence. i’m more like… super low maintainence.
i need time to get around to getting ready.
like for instance, i have about thirty minutes to be AT work right now.
but… i’m still trying to convince myself to brush my hair and find clothes.

ugh. wednesday.

time to get over the hump, i suppose.

clover.

i wish st. patrick’s day was a national holiday. it’s one of my favorite, non-holiday celebratory days.

a stranger to love

this past week i was really sick. some of you knew, some of you didn’t.
i’m better. not perfect. better. i live with my parents. did you know that? maybe not.
it makes me sad. i don’t really know why - i hate telling people. i know that a lot of people do at my age, so i really shouldn’t have a problem with it.
but i suppose having already lived on my own for years, it just irks me to think of myself as the kind of person who lives with their parents.
probably mostly because my parents don’t really believe that a girl my age should live on her own if she’s “not married.”
which puts a sort of weird pressure on me.

i definitly don’t see myself getting married anytime soon.
i don’t really like to think about it - it just seems an idle use of my time and thoughts.
not that i’m opposed to it. not at all.
i’d love to be married.
i just … haven’t met anyone yet to marry.
and it could be years. a decade or more even. and i for sure will not be living with my parents till then.
but while i am, i just want to feel like there is nothing wrong with that.
i’m 23. it’s normal.
right?

a few weeks ago a friend of mine told me we had to go to paris before we got married. {which was awesome. i love paris and i’d love to go with anyone anytime.}
it got me thinking.
why is it that we think of marriage as a sort of … end.
no matter how much i know that i know marriage is definitely just a beginning and not the endgoal of anything… it does seem like i have made plans of what to do “before” i ever get married.
like, as if once i do, i won’t be able to do any of that.
and maybe that’s why i haven’t gotten married.
i don’t know… i’m still so young.
and when i hear about people my age, or younger, who get married… i just think… why?i can’t even think of myself married. i just can’t picture it.
crazy thoughts.

sometimes i wonder if i’m not quite the person i need to be before i find someone.
i had one sister who got married right out of college.
two got married at the age of thirty.
thirty for me is a little less than seven years from now.
is that a long time or a short amount of time?
i like to travel. i like art. i like music, museums, movies, bookstores, coffee.
i like sharp wit. i like clever lyrics.
i want someone who likes all of the above.
i don’t want to educate anyone on anything. i want someone to just… get it.

and sometimes, that makes me wonder if i’m already getting set in my ways.
and if that makes it just a little bit harder to not be… alone. and when i think about being alone, i know why my parents don’t want me living on my own.
because… it’s nice to have someone there. when you are sick. when you need someone to bring you nyquil and hot tea.

it’s a bit of crazy talk. i know.
i know this was a strange topic. but i have to be honest. i have to share, because… who knows? maybe you understand. maybe you needed to know someone else felt the same way. i’m here. just in case.