What is it?

What is it? That one thing, what is it? The one memory that you try so desperately to bury. That one regret that you periodically and often unwillingly replay. Was it the moment you let him walk away? That one time you forgot to say I love you? Did you hit the cross bar in the championship game? Did you quit? Was it that one thing you said, that ruined everything? Was it the mark you left on her face? The one point you needed on your test? The time you choose not to put forth the effort? Was it that one night? The moment you stood still, when you should have moved? Is it the friendship you no longer have? The love you vowed would be for better or worse? Did you snap? Now you’re thinking about it, so what is it? What are you holding on to? How much time have you spent burying those memory cells deep within the solitude of your Neocortex? What is it, and why does it still exist? Why is it still swimming around your cerebrum tattooed as a regret? And what are you going to do about it? Whether it happened ten years ago or yesterday, there is one thing that is for sure – It will swim around for the rest of your life, and occasionally poke it’s head above water to send you a piercing reminder that it's still there. But that’s your choice, to let it exist. That memory cell didn’t label itself as regret, you did. Why? What is it? What is it that you can’t let go? You shouldn’t let it go, you should never try and let a regret go, because you won't be able to. Regret isn’t buried or overcome by “letting go.” It lives within us until we realize that the antidote isn’t letting go, it’s holding. Replay it, get angry, scream, fight, cry your eyes out, feel sorry for yourself, feel depressed, just feel it. Live it again, and then breathe. Hold on to it, feel it, face it, and then breathe. Just breathe. It’s okay to make a mistake, to lose, to fail. But it’s over, done. You can’t get it back, and that’s okay – it’s okay. So just breathe and don’t look back, because there’s nothing left there for you, and your clenched hands aren't holding on to anything but air. What is it? That one thing? Do you even remember?

I'd Rather Run A Marathon

No one likes to be first, have the first crush, initiate the first kiss, be the first to tell them you really do actually care, and that hitting them is really just going back to playground affection, be the first to say something more than just a favorite movie or color - because then you might just be the first one embarrassed, and no one wants to have their foot be the first one forward. It’s funny how that small six inch slide forward of your foot can be harder than running a 26.2 mile marathon in flip flops. Because that fearful little foot slide could mean that you actually are falling for this person, and that if nothing else you’re willing to be the first, knowing full well that there is a chance the shoe next to you won’t follow your lead, despite how much you want it to, or thought it would. And that hurts. The first step just hurts, because it can mean everything, or it can mean absolutely nothing.

And So It Goes

The dictionary defined grief as keen mental suffering or distress or loss or sharp sorrow. I've been taught to rely on books, definitions and definitives. But in life, strict definitions rarely apply. In life, grief can look like a lot of things that bear little resemblance to sharp sorrow. 

Time of death

I've had to explain to a little girl why Grandpa won't be around tomorrow, I've held back tears listening to a loving wife say the Lord's prayer while I prepared to wrap her husbands body. I've done CPR on someone's husband, wife, child, friend. I've held family members in my arms because I'm the only thing they have left. I've watched parents lose their children, and children lose their parents. I've been a part of a team that saved a life, and I've been a part of a team that failed. We'll spend hours doing all that we know how to do, minutes explaining to the family why it didn't work, and days re-playing it silently in our head trying to figure out why. So in case you ever think that we don't care about those we lose, know that It takes everything we have to continue our day. To not stand in the bathroom and cry our eyes out. To take off our gloves, and start over.. And continue to start over for the next 10 hours knowing that we failed, and we may fail again.


In school, we take 100 classes on how to fight off death, and not 1 on how to go on living.

Good Morning

People are afraid. They’re afraid of being alone, afraid of falling in love with the wrong person, afraid of falling in love with the right person. Having to be alone is scary, love is scarier. You have something to lose when you’re in love. You have something. You have something that you can’t make stay, but pray to God that it does. You have someone. Someone that loves you unconditionally, someone that you can count on when you can’t count on yourself, someone to be your #1 fan, someone to do laundry with, someone that gets your inside jokes, someone to say good night to. But saying good night to someone is hard, because then you have to trust that they’ll still be there when you wake up. So we run. We run so we don’t have to say good night, because we don’t want to risk not hearing good morning. And we convince ourselves that we’re fine, and that it wouldn’t have worked out anyway. We convince ourselves that fear is an acceptable reason for giving up. But fear is not an answer, it’s an excuse. We excuse ourselves from trying because we're afraid of it not working out, but more than that, we’re afraid that it will. What if it does work out, what if we fall in love? Then we have to do something, then we have to say good night. So you have a choice, you can choose to walk away, you can choose to let distance, or doubt, or fear make your decisions, or you can choose to stay. You can stay, and be scared, and love. Fear doesn’t last forever, and running is tiring, so you can wait until the day your legs give out, or you can step up, get a treadmill, and spend your life giving someone a reason to say good morning.


Good morning.

If you work it, make it worth it

Yesterday I worked hard.
Yesterday I made good plays.
Yesterday I cut harder, ran faster, and jumped higher.
Yesterday I encouraged my teammates.
Yesterday I played with maturity.
Yesterday I fell, and got back up.
Yesterday I ran through the pain.
Yesterday I was a leader.
Yesterday I didn't give up.
Yesterday I gave 110%.
Yesterday I pushed myself to the limit, and then past it, and then to my absolute breaking point.


Today I pushed myself further.

In a perfect world

Today was the first day of the class I teach.. It went well I think, I love to teach and be involved with the students.

On another note, I was completely judged by my history of creativity professor. I wrote him an email asking for permission to be in his class even though it was full (and had permission from the advisement center to do so.. I really just needed the access code) and he wrote me a really rude email back saying that he was concerned with my level of commitment and amount of effort I was going to put into his class; and that he was concerned that I wasn't going to read or do the big semester project to the best of my ability. And finally, he was concerned that I had "put off" my last Gen Ed credit until I'm graduating.. but that he "felt" he should give me the code based off of the expectation that I will attend class, do the reading, and start the project now.......In a perfect world I would say something like this..... Well Professor, although we've never met or spoken before I appreciate the fact that you have the audacity to make such assumptions about my academic reputation. At the very least that either takes a lot of courage, or a lot of stupidity. Now let me correct you; you're absolutely right about the nursing program being a serious commitment. However, with that said, this is my third and final year in the program and I've gotten very good at handling its demands, as well as the demands from my other classes and personal life. Also, I did not in anyway procrastinate my Gen Ed requirement, some semesters allow for classes outside of nursing and others don't. I consider myself very lucky to only have one left at the start of my senior year; and hard work has definitely paid off because I will be able to heed the recommendation of the nursing professors and enter into my capstone semester Gen Ed free. Finally, you will not have to waste your time mocking my scholarly career with your "expectations" because that is the standard that I hold myself to every semester. My level of academic commitment does not waver for any class, and nor does my amount of effort. I do not, and will not compromise my education just because I have a busy schedule, or the class is outside my area of expertise. So please, consult me before you make anymore judgments about my academic character.



......My actual email will be a little less rash.