I'm still so much talk with not enough action
I can ride the length of this diverse nation
but I can't recall what I promised to others
In old cities that have never seen my face
A small token of this generation that desires to do it all-
and maybe I'm not so much a flawed person as I am confused
Trying to make better use of my time
As I mend my past and come to terms with my chaotic state of mind.
Maybe it's just a part of this life
It's just part of this age
But I cannot help but feel that no matter what I do
I will not find the voice to explain that I am real.
Well, actions are stronger than words, they say
and I've seen it proven in many ways
It's so hard to move past your fast moving lips
Your heart full of hope that you can ease the pain
Though you can write in eloquent phrases
You still get caught up in the words flowing out of your mouth
Reaching and grabbing but hands cannot catch
That which has already been given.
So here I lay in pieces on the floor
Tempting to get me back
I'm not trying to change the person I've become
I'm still searching for the things I lack.

Every step and push to propel myself forward this past year has brought me places I could have never imagined. Outside influences could see where I was going and what may come of it, but they were difficult to listen to. As I am experiencing new moments, I have a difficult time looking at it from the outside and feeling comfortable.

For about a week now, I have been a pedicab for the city of New Orleans. The feelings I have found for this are overwhelming as well as strongly calming at times. Yesterday I was able to take the cash I have made peddling across this town countless times, and hand it to my new roommates. for the first time in what feels like a long time, I have a dependable bed to call mine- mine for now.

There is beauty in the things I used to find chaos and fear in. Maybe from the outside it was obvious I would one day be here. I still find uncomfortable feelings in my stomach when others predict what may happen in my day to day routine. Some things still make me want to pack up and keep moving, and others make me want to settle down just a little more. 

I have faith I can accept the things I cannot change, and support those in my life without a judging tone. I will continue work on myself everyday. I will find comfort in my aching body. I acknowledge that I have a support system I can depend on as I give back.

Keep moving forward. Keep giving back.

hello you beautiful creatures

Please accept my formal apology for my significant lack of writing as of late. I could use excuses such as "writers block", "I've been so busy", etc.

On Sept 27th 2016 at two p.m. central standard time, I reached the "end of the road". The sight of the Mighty Mississippi was out of reach, hidden behind a "no trespassing sign" and a water treatment plant. Though the sight wasn't as glorified as the mouth of the river, her soul welcomed me with open arms. 

I danced, I cried, I stuck a button on the sign and took pictures, and cried some more. Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now" was in my ears, and I snacked on the closest thing I had as a desert- a twinkie from who knows how long ago. 

That's the short version, the long version is much more enjoyable and incredible, but nearly impossible to put into text on a blog. I plan on writing more about this incredible journey whenever I can sit myself down.

I've decided to stay in New Orleans for as long as her gorgeous buildings, kind people, good food, and pot-holled streets will have me. I have picked up a job pedicabbing, and am depending on Miss Zippi to still get me around everywhere possible. It may be some time until I own a car again.

Thank you all for the support you have written, spoken, and thoughts you have sent. I could not have done this without each and every one of you cheering me from near, far, and helping me along the way. 

I love you all so dearly. I am dedicating more time to writing, and aim to post much more frequently than I have been.

May your days be cooling down but your hearts full of warmth.

The talk of saints fall off their lips
In a city built on sin
Around every corner is a person to fear
The way you hold your glass makes it clear
You're not here for forgiveness
But strictly for love
And you'll rip through the fabric just to get above
But the chains around your ankles hold a different fate
You're an artist with your fragile soul on display
But you walk with your shoulders held back, square and taught
Putting up a front that you won't be bought
Hold onto your ideals and remember your name
In a city filled with "do not enter" or "one way"