life is great, and stuff: or, why being happy hurts so hard

To the Coloradans who wonder how I write and what about: Sample below.

To everybody I knew before Colorado who wonders how I’m doing: Explanation below.

I only barely know why I’m compelled to share this. Don’t think it’s too perfect. Maybe I need to remember myself; others feel this, too.


It’s a social media thing. We want to look perfect. But is it really that? Sure. We run into those people who are stuck on how lovely they look on their media and all. But some of us are just trying to remind ourselves how beautiful it is – because underneath it hurts – hard.

I take all sorts and kinds of photos and I sort them, cull them, edit them, post them, attach pretty words to them, and make them into something like art.


wpid-2015-07-25-02.11.05-1.jpg.jpegIt’s not bragging.

It’s clinging.

I’m not proving to you that Colorado has a trump-card view, or that my solitary hikes are peaceful, pensive plunges into wilderness. I’m not showing you that I’m braver, I meet more genuine people, I have a cooler church and a sweeter coffee mug (actually, this is true. Tiffany and I have the coolest coffee mugs.)

wpid-2015-07-25-02.20.10-1.jpg.jpegwpid-2015-07-23-03.28.11-1.jpg.jpegwpid-2015-07-25-02.17.07-1.jpg.jpegI’m holding on to those things. I need to know that the people I meet here are genuine because it helps the ache of missing my homies. I need to know that the mountains are as beautiful as the plains – that they can be home too: sweating and straining towards some summit combats the pain of not staring across the lakebed of my state towards the sunset for hours, in a single evening.

I always look for beautiful things. Now though, more than before, I document them because I need to see them again and again – I need to look at the provision of the past to see the potential of tomorrow. It’s a choice, some days. Cling like hard and smothery to this present beauty and its Giver, or give up and wear out the roll of tp I keep by my reading chair, in case of runny nose and eyes. (I’m too cheap/lazy/happy to buy Kleenex.)

wpid-2015-07-25-02.21.44-1.jpg.jpegwpid-2015-07-24-09.20.14-1.jpg.jpegDon’t look at things I say and photograph with a jealous eye (idk – do you?) But then don’t look at anybody’s profile life like that. It’s never easy. The leaving, the severing, the growing, the newness and immersion and the quiet (lonely) nights at home, or the energetic, bright (numb) nights away?

These. Things. Hurt.

We all crave that peace and that excitement and that rare moment on our camera and those fresh words we find. There is a funny dichotomy between the perfection we hope we can grasp at – even for a moment – and the hurts we are trying to cover – even for a moment. It’s there in every sentence. Every photo. Every text. Every smile, every tear, every of just about anything we do.

wpid-2015-07-26-06.14.19-1.jpg.jpegSo, all ya’ll. Thanks for sharing a bit of my life. Thanks for being excited about it. Thanks for letting me share and be excited about your life. Let’s us keep clinging to and remembering and sharing lovely things, yeah?


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