Tag Archives: life


“The best way out is always through.”
-Robert Frost, “A Servant to Servants”

That is the quote from which I chose the name for my blog. I also have the word through tattooed on my body. Forever. It is there forever, and I will never be able to get rid of it. It actually says “through.” Period included. Because to me, the period denotes the finality of the quote. It indicates the presence of something before the word throughAfter all, the word through alone is not a sentence, and sentences end in periods, so there must be something before it that is unseen in the tattoo. Thus the period.

Through in the sense that I interpret it is an adverb. An adverb describes the manner in which one does something. To me, through is how to live. Live through. It carries a connotation of transience – of motion and activity, which are all good things that I like to associate with myself, and to associate with living. Through reminds me to keep living by doing, acting, and throwing myself at opportunities. To take advantage of time and manipulate my life around a clock. To make it difficult for the days to turn because I force so much life into them. Not in the sense that I have a jammed schedule and tons of friends and so many places to be, but in that I make good things happen and I embrace all of it. I drink up every chance I have to create myself – to create my life through. That’s what through means to me.

However, the connotation of continuance that I associate with through has a different significance for me. I am fortunate enough to have had almost nineteen years of truly blissful happiness, and I know just how lucky I am. But, you know, the going gets rough sometimes for everyone. There were times when I was genuinely concerned about my own mental health, there were times when people betrayed me, there were times when I couldn’t face myself for betraying others, and there were times that were just unnecessarily shitty for no other reason than that life is not fair sometimes. During those times, I need to close my eyes, hold my breath, and just blindly push forward – push through. Those times always end. There is always a time after those when things look up. I can’t spend every minute trying to fill my life with awesome things, so during the times when it becomes difficult to focus on getting through something, I have to remember that it’s exactly that – getting through the place I am now, because there are so many better things to look forward to after the not so happy times are over. I’m never stuck, but I’m also never helpless. For me, it’s never a matter of “letting it pass,” it’s a matter of taking an active role in pushing the bad times behind me so I can fully enjoy the good times.

So that is my through. It reminds me to actively push the bad behind me, and actively embrace the good. I try to live my life through.

United We Stand

Sad things are happening. Facebook and Twitter are exploding with people offering prayers, demonstrations of support and solidarity, questions of why, accusations of who, and hatred for whomever is responsible. Some people are also criticizing those who seem upset by these events, because “things like this happen everyday in some countries! You don’t care about those people! You’re so selfish! You’re only paying attention to these people because they’re Americans and it’s on the front page!”
That’s not true. 
At all.
I cried. I cried for a really long time when I heard about the shooting in CT a few months ago. Tears still well in my eyes when I think about it. I cried when I heard about the explosions in Boston. And I just cried when I heard about the explosion of the fertilizer plant in Texas which may have killed up to 70 people. Maybe it’s because I am a hormonally volatile teenager, but maybe it’s just because people are dieing, and that’s always really sad.

When I was in 8th grade, a family friend had passed away and my mom told me to get my brothers and go to his funeral at lunch time. So I did, but it turned out to be the wrong funeral. We sat there in our uniforms in the back of the church, at a strangers funeral, and I cried my eyes out. It was so sad – there was hardly anyone there. I thought about that for a while, and I felt so embarrassed for crying at the funeral of a complete stranger, but I remember that day when things like this happen. And all of a sudden everything seems much more personal to me. I think about that man whose life I cried about, simply because the people who were there loved him and lost him.

All of those people had lives and futures that are now gone, and they have been taken from the people who love them. So I cry about that. And I think shedding some tears is the least I can do. I know it’s completely irrational and not true, but I feel like the more emotional burden I try to bear, the lighter it may be for some of the people who were actually affected by these events. I don’t know if they would consider it offensive or supportive that I cry, but I feel sad, so I cry about it. And then I say a prayer and carry on.

People are dieing. That’s always a reason to cry, offer prayers, and show support. But people are dieing all the time. Innocent, good people are dieing every second. The reason that everyone is showing support for these losses is not that we are “selfish” and “ignorant” and only care about the deaths that make headlines, but because these are the ones that hit home. These are the ones that could have been us.
When we hear about these tragedies occurring in far away places, it’s hard to imagine ourselves there. It’s hard to imagine living in a war zone and being a victim of a roadside bomb. It’s quite easy to imagine waiting at the finish line for the runners to finish their marathon in a city that, if you live in the US, is probably not much unlike your own.
Minneapolis is definitely on the smaller side of major US cities, so I’d like to believe that moving here was a pretty low-risk decision on my part. But my little brother goes to school in one of the same cities that was attacked on 9/11. My aunt and uncle both work in Manhattan. My other uncle lives in Boston. It is all too easy for me to imagine these things happening to me, or much worse, to one of them. That’s why we publicly offer support and prayers and love and well wishes. That’s why demonstrations of solidarity are important to us in times like these – because it could have been us.
I’m not one to argue on Facebook. If you want to share your own invalid opinions and reveal exactly how much of an idiot you are to all of social media, go for it, I won’t stop you. I also won’t make myself look like a tool and try to correct you on Facebook. But if you’re one of those individuals who is trying to appear to be more globally-aware and superior by demeaning the efforts of your friends to offer support and solidarity, then you’re wrong and you should stop.
The last thing this world needs is pretentious college students furiously typing away at their Macbooks about how their peers just need to be more “aware” while behind the comforting veil of l’internet.
Oh, wait…

This week though.

Like seriously though. If I get through this week in one piece, I will call it a success. Also, I am wearing my last pair of underwear, and they’re always the last pair because they’re my least favorite, so I have to do laundry after this concert tonight while I am studying for my exam tomorrow.



We are all equal. If you don’t believe that, then you make yourself lesser.

There are four posts in progress. Lots has been going on. But I would just like to take a minute to acknowledge the fact that right now, in this moment, we are making history. We are living in a time when we can see the past in the future…we know that whatever happens in terms of the Supreme Court’s ruling, it will be historic. And I think that’s so cool.
When Obama was running, we were in a similar situation. We could see the past in the future, we could taste the history books that our kids will be reading in however many years (or like…websites? holograms? Google glasses?). However that election of 2008 turned out, we knew that it was going to make history.
I suppose the only thing that still confuses me is that some people believe they’re fighting a battle for the good, when they are really just on the wrong side of history. They’re on the side that is pretty much comparable to the “separate but equal” folks…the ones that most of my generation looks down upon.


“It’s just where your paths are leading…his is going in one direction, and yours is going in another direction. They probably won’t end up in the same place, but that’s ok. That did not sound the way I intended. It was supposed to sound encouraging. Now it just sounds sad. Ok, that did not go where it was supposed to. Sorry.” So said Eva Thomas.

I can’t use my own words right now, so I will use someone else’s. This isn’t supposed to be super cryptic. It’s not like I am trying to reveal some hidden emotion or anything – I am not broken. I am not sad. I am not looking for anything. It’s just that everything seems to be up and I am a bit down, and these words work better than anything I can come up with right now.

There you were 
in your black dress
Moving slow
to the sadness

You’d hate the dark to prove the dawn
Need me no more and I’ll be gone

And our days pass like autumn wind
And the world spins around me again

So make your siren’s call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say

Because I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it’s meant to be

And I’ll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I’ll know my name as it’s called again

Dream of ways to make you understand my pain.

Push it in and twist the knife again.
Watch my face as I pretend to feel no pain, pain, pain.

Once you want it to begin, 
no one really ever wins.

I saw sinners making music
I’ve dreamt of that sound, dreamt of that sound

I was walking far from home
But I carried your letters all the while
I saw lovers in a window
Whisper, “Want me like time, want me like time”

Saw a boatful of believers sail off
Talking too loud, talking too loud
I saw sunlight on the water
Saw a bird fall like a hammer from the sky

I saw flowers on the hillside
And a millionaire pissing on the lawn
Saw a prisoner take a pistol
And say, “Join me in song, join me in song”

Saw a car crash in the country
Where the prayers run like weeds along the road
I saw strangers stealing kisses

And a pair of hearts carved into a stone
I saw kindness and an angel
Crying, “Take me back home, take me back home”

Saw a highway, saw an ocean
I saw widows in the temple to the law
Naked dancers in the city
How they spoke for us all, spoke for us all

I was walking far from home
Where the names were not burned along the wall
Saw a wet road form a circle
And it came like a call, came like a call
From the Lord

You will hear
The shrillest highs and lowest lows with
The windows down when this is guiding you home

Look at us spinning out in the madness of a roller coaster
You know you went off like the devil in the church
In the middle of a crowded room
All we can do my love
Is hope we don’t take this ship down

The space between
What’s wrong and right
Is where you’ll find me hiding waiting for you

Three cheers for the humanities.


The Nightingale.

The congratulatory Snapchat. (Sorry, Eva)

The sock bun. And my clean bed. And Santa.

Thank you, professor.

Wear your retainer and don’t drink, they said.

The best way out is always