onward and upward.

dear reader,

the screen name purpleastoria was born out of two things i loved most: the color purple and belief in a universe beyond the one currently known and occupied. now, however, i am more of a pink-preferring girl and finding peace in a nebulous compressing sky has been long abandoned for the comfort sought right here on the ground; the earth below me moves and breathes mysteries and open-ended questions constantly.

i think i have outgrown purpleastoria.

but never you.

i will no longer update this blog but cannot delete it. purpleastoria is not my persona anymore but i would be betraying myself to deny the personal significance of what i've posted here.

the need to share my experiences creatively has led me to establish a new home for my writing:

murriedlife.wordpress.com

i hope you'll find me.

-a.

dear x: begin again

dear x,

i began my journey of over-sharing to determine if i am capable of feeling love. i knew by doing so that i would resurrect reserved memories and expose some of you in the process. while i will admit that my love letters were not as productive as i initially hoped, i am so overwhelmed with a range of emotions for you-- and for the future.

perhaps it is too easy to blame my unwillingness to open up to new potential x's because of you. you, x, after all, lied to me, said crushing things, changed your mind, and left me-- in some way-- alone. you have helped create this psyche, this outlook, this worth, this self,






until i realized it's time to take ownership of my past, and that means you, x. you happened. i will never be the same. but at the end of the day, or at the first morning yawn, you are stagnant; ever effacing; past. writing to you this month has brought me some closure by materializing (as much as an internet blog post can do) my feelings and allowing an audience to empathize with a rarely deeply discussed sector of my life, body, and mind.

thank you, dear readers, for working through my love letters with me; maybe you have reflected on what has brought you to this point in your own life-- and who you do and don't share those experiences with now.

i suppose what remains is acceptance. dear x, i know everything happens for a reason. i can't deny how empty i feel at times, as if my ribs are parentheses bearing a dull heart that pitters listlessly and patters unfulfilled. but capturing some of those moments with you in these entries lets me relive and acknowledge what once made me happy; and what is love if not to share joy with and for someone. while simply stating that i forgive you and you are eternally free from the prison of my darkened mind is just not possible, i do however, x, agree to start letting go.

of what was.


of what could have been.

and perhaps releasing the bitterness and sadness and jadedness will generate space for someone who will see the fingerprints you left on my heart but who will surprise me by sailing away with me on the tide that gently slips over those grooves-- dispersing your memories into the swells that carry us into the horizon, enchanted.

love,

a.







i almost brought him up

but you start to talk about the movies

that your family watches every single christmas

so i won't talk about that

for the first time

what's passed is

past

wrap up

hello, readers:

yesterday was the end of one month of new. I found it to be lamer than I expected, but doing new stuff costs money-- and I don't have much extra these days. I hope you've enjoyed reading my adventures, but I think my blogging will slow down now as I venture into the realms of tumblr...

some things I didn't get around to trying this month that are still on my list of "news" to complete:

- making a fabric kitchen apron-- I have the pattern and access to a sewing machine... just have to cut and stitch!

- cooking Indian food

- piercing my ears again. I want to wear rhinestones forever. (there's something too Miley Cyrus about that statement.)

- reading the entire bible. my bible app for iPhone (the world is truly at my fingertips) has a "read the bible in 90 days" reading plan, which I plan to start soon-- it's a big commitment, but I think I would really benefit from reading the text myself instead of rely solely on someone else's interpretation.

- training for the YMCA race on January 1. subzero temps: check. extra vitamin c starting now: check. hosted by the ram restaurant where good food is bound to welcome my freezing butt: check!

- finding a running partner. and racquetball partner. and maybe even a skiing partner for midweek. (yes, I said ski. yes, you can freak out now.)

- selling my betsey Johnson dress. it's too big and too expensive and seriously I'm tired of it taking up so much room in my closet. but it is pretty.





- reading the last few harry potter books. I don't know if Harry even dies. and don't tell me!

- purging the old crap I've moved with me over the years. just get out of my life and stop weighing me down already!

- updating my resume. you know. just in case.

happy evening, readers. and happy new readings.

summer day 91

mope city today. perhaps being the last one in my different circles of friends to be engaged/married has affected me in strange ways. perhaps my break from the gym tanked my energy levels. perhaps feeling alone--and not wanting to be alone anymore--means looking alone and that means being alone.

also, the end of this newest blogging venture saddens me a little. here's to the last 3 months.

think think... think think...

my head feels cluttered lately, as if the useless thoughts are impeding budding questions from breaking through the ever-rising compost pile.  so let's dig a little, shall we?

- currently, boise is experiencing 70 mph winds. KTVB just reported a fire and power outages in the area.  almost 2 years ago, dear mary ellen ryder passed away in a house fire due to strong winds on an august afternoon.  god and i were on tenuous terms prior to ME's tragic death; i fear that now i may never be able to accept someone as my savior who would allow (will?) such a brilliant, inspiring, and bright woman to perish in such a violent and disturbing way.  yet, makers and sellers of child porn will sleep soundly in their beds tonight, mildly perturbed by the sounds of rattling wind chimes and leaky doors.

- after a recent conversation with a self-proclaimed liberal (*insert rolling eyes*), i am even more convinced that elitism suffers unfairly from society's gradual assignment of its negative connotation.  aforementioned a-hole-- i mean, "liberal dude"-- mourned the absence of certain activities in the world olympics.  he maintained that skateboarding was truly worthy of olympian sport status.  isn't curling embarrassing enough?  think about it: one 14-year-old girl can run, catapult herself over a gymnastics horse, twirl mid-air, twirl again mid-air, and land on her feet-- all in a matter of 2 seconds-- and yet she is just in the company of a curling olympian who shares a medal too.  sweeping... flipping and twisting midair on snow skis down a steep slope of ice... sweeping...???  congratulations, mediocrity.  you've made excellence a bad word.

- i love my iphone 3g, but i think apple has purposely gutted its very life from my loving palms; rosie is noticeably slower and stupider, and i attribute her slow assent from the technology pedestal to iOS4's 15 minutes of fame.

- while i admire lady gaga's dedication to her music career, i cannot help but continue to doubt god's so-called dominion over the world's affairs after reading gaga's reaction to her record-breaking 13 VMA nominations: "God put me on earth for 3 reasons: to make loud music, gay videos, and cause a damn raucous."  like, thumbs up, lady... but we could really use someone to, oh, you know, cure cancer, solve food shortage problems, and bring back grammar lessons as the cool thing to do.

- if one claims to be an unique individual and another one claims to be an individual and so forth, does that mean that all those individuals are just part of one giant conglomerate mass of uniformity-- thus negating their individual status?

- each day, i become more and more comfortable with my refusal to breed.

summer day 26

turns out this is the last night with the kitties. I've learned a lot about myself (ie I think animal poop and vomit are rank and I never want to see either again, I really really really like sleeping at 4 am, and I harbor this foreign warm fuzzy feeling of peace feeling an animal cozy up against my back at night) and I think I will be lonely for a bit when I go home.





these animals just ask to be loved. they like me when I'm sweaty from the gym or when I'm grumpy because I won't cheat on my diet or when a rough cat tongue scrapes across my elbow and I say, "STOP!!!" in that whiny voice that drives my mom insane. the cats don't threaten me with my job and demand I never touch their account ever again when all I did was offer to help just short of ripping out my ovaries and squeezing out some of my hormones so some kid can have her back-ordered birth control RIGHT NOW.

I will miss them, and I'm glad those feelings have not disappeared from my emotional spectrum quite yet.

May reflect

Remembrance Day started decades ago to commemorate military men and women who died serving their country. Cemeteries, parades, and properly posted flags could be observed in towns all around the US today. I respect the people that voluntarily enlist knowing the risks and benefits, the rules and the freedoms, the comraderie and the honor. The wars they fight in and may die for require us to demand explanations and justifications for armed conflicts; as Pres. Lincoln so eloquently stated, we do not want others to die in vain, so I suppose formally remembering and reflecting on the positive changes brought about by national and world wars--and those that helped fight for those changes--is really the least we civilians enjoying a day off of work can do. In recent years, Memorial Day has come to represent a general day of mourning for all that have passed--veterans or not. Today has been set aside to remember the dead and reflect on the effect on the living.

I do not know anyone in the armed services who has died on duty, but I have experienced the loss of loved ones. I have also experienced the loss of innocence, dreams, and faith. But what is the point of living in the past--of dwelling on what we have lost? Yes, to lose something or someone you love is tragic, and the void may be irreplaceable. However, what have you gained from those losses? Knowledge? Courage? Perspective?

While today may remind us of goodbyes, I think today also prompts us to move forward and see the present and future not as a blank slate of annihilism but as empty boxes waiting to be filled with experience. Good and bad experience. Unknown experience. Our experience.

This past month has forced me to remember and reflect, experience and ponder, live and imagine. The last 31 days have prompted me to celebrate each day, mourn the casualties, respect the experience. I remember.

Will you?

may forget you.

a non-maleable we.

not meant to be.

anomaly.

a dear student

i complain a lot, don't i? it's such a misrepresentation of my life; i am continually reminded of the many blessings that enrich and complete me.

for example:

1. i have a fabulous new apartment all to myself. i can set the heater at 62 (please believe it, because anything else is a waste of money; that's why God invented fleece zip-ups and socks), i never have to look at a dirty dish collecting mold on the kitchen table, and i have a great view of several trees and an empty pond.

2. i love my peers, and i almost cried tonight when i walked to my car after saying goodbye to jessica after our last 561 class of the semester-- of ever.

3. i realize that no phd program will ever accept me based on my lack of scholarly research, publications, etc., but at least i don't slander the literary name like jodie foster did in "the brave one": she used robert frost's line of poetry "i could not stop for death so he kindly stopped for me" as her justification for her vigilante killing spree.

4. on the last day of 101, one of my students came up to me afterwards and said he was sad that our class was over. (insert my heart breaking here.)

then he asked if it was okay that he signed up for an hour block to go over his portfolio with me during conferences. he said our unit 3 conference helped him a lot and he wanted to make sure he had enough time for the portfolio conference. both unit 3 and portfolio conferences were optional. (insert pieces of broken heart breaking into smaller pieces.)

and then during our hour long conference going over two of his poems, he said, "can i come back later this week to talk about my short story? this is so helpful. i don't know what i'd do without you."

i thought my students had stolen my soul, tortured it with their eye-rolling, taunted it with their finger-guns silently blowing out their nonexistent brains, and crushed its vibrant desires into runny pulp and squelched dreams. but this student's comments reminded me that i do indeed still have a soul.

and that soul will miss teaching.

i'm not in denial... i just refuse to listen to your truth.

i graduate in approximately 9 days. in 9 days, i could drive across the country. in 9 days, i could listen to "brighter discontent" by the submarines over 3,103 times. in 9 days, i will be unemployed.

my impending poverty makes me question my recent purchases that could have provided 6 months of groceries, like the above betsey johnson dress. add the ed hardy watch and you're approaching 8. add the nina shoes and you're at 10. add my diamond necklace and you're at 2.5 years. all for one outfit. (i'll insert here that the black shrug was only $6 on clearance at vanity!) the occassion that calls for such extravagance: the 4th annual english majors association banquet.

nevermind that the theme of said banquet was "the great depression." boxes of baking soda, mac and cheese, and canned corn were the centerpieces. a brown, worn boot accepted donations.

two of my friends' fathers have been laid off in the past week. another friend works 2 jobs and complains about the whiny "masters holders" that work at starbucks with her. the career center rep from BSU bemoans the sudden dearth of off-campus job postings.

i'd like to think that even albertson's needs someone to arrange the red, shiny apples just right. or some lazy CEO needs a girl to staple his revised budget reports and proposed productivity increases. or bath and body works needs an "elf" in a green apron to offer product scents and squirts of lotion.

leave me to my denial. let me bask in the glory of unfulfilled expectations. it's nothing that i'm not used to.

i can't be who you are.

i just woke up for the last time at my lovely little yellow hillview house. my room is bare except for my (gutted) desk, bed, and computer. some of my landlord's furniture lines the walls-- all empty. i feel like every keyboard stroke shatters against the bare blue paint, echoes glaringly off the gold curtains (now limp and pulled taut across the windows), and weighs heavily on the floorboards that creak with my last footsteps across the knots and separating planks.

i won't lie-- i'll miss pieces of you. but for the pieces i won't, i've boxed up our memories, sealed them tightly in a circular, green box and left them for you in the corner. parcel them out yourself.

be warned: you'll find cobwebs of wide smiles, dusty lint that whispers late night conversations stuck on repeat, and many, many pictures of regret.

goodbye, you bastard. may you reign here as unhappy as you were when i first shook your hand and fell for the mask they all still ignorantly accept.

i suddenly understand:

i heard a line somewhere (perhaps read a line somewhere) that's something like this: "at the precipice edge we stand alone." sounds pretty dark, right?

but that's where i am right now.

in many aspects of my life, i've reached the end:

-the end of my student days at boise state
-the end of my masters degree
-the end of my conversations with fellow TAs about the meta-meta-metaness of rhet/comp theory
-the end of my teaching faithful yet heartless 101 students
-the end of my cohabitation with a guy i used to really admire and who seemed to emulate all those wonderful bookish-writerly things that i never was
-the end of living with roommates.ever. (husbands don't count)
-the end of purchasing spendy (and now very mainstream) ed hardy items online, since i now have a rent payment/utils to pay for SOLO
-the end of vacillating freely in the far-off notion that someday i'll have to make a decision

because i've reached the edge of the precipice. and i am alone. i won't have my student peers to remind me of how english studies dumb i am, or students to email me frantically in the middle of the night so that the first thing i do in the morning is check my "teacher" email, or loudly thunking footsteps outside my door in the AM.

i wish i could describe the view from here, but i'm afraid of opening my eyes. i wish i could dance and sashay my hips a little to celebrate that i've made it. i'm here. i've arrived.

just please tell me it's not a dead end. i don't have wings to fly. and i don't have the guts to jump.

another chapter closed:

since the beginning of june-- june 4 (the day after the rush concert), to be exact-- i have been a professional dog-walker. well, maybe not so "professional," but i am now rather skilled at handling a particular 70+ pound rotweiler puppy named kobe (beef), of whom i have become quite fond. kobe's family is really busy (and 75% of them are vacationing outside the country right now), so i was his creative and physical outlet for the day-- a break from the quiet and boringness of the backyard so that he could have his "visual orgasm" (i'm using kim's term) with a 45-minute daily walk around the neighborhood 6 days a week.

at first, i was really scared. his rawhide bones for chewing were bigger than my forearm. the first day that kim and i practiced walking kobe, he took off after paper products and we ended up mostly yelling at him. so it went for the first few days. he bit my left hand (which gripped the leash about 6" from where it connects to the choke chain collar) several times until it was swollen pink with small dots of blood. i also stunk of dog drool.

one day, we approached a freshly gardened front yard with new flowers and plants in loose dark soil. kobe stopped to smell some small purple flowers, which he quickly uprooted in his mouth. shaking the plant around, i was sprayed with dirt while shouting, "drop it! drop it! drop it!" but it was too late: he ate the flowers. he also likes to eat pine cones.

but it got better. much better, in fact. about two weeks into my dog-walking, i realized the routine we'd established: i park in the driveway (with my music usually blasting), open the garage door (and while it opens, i roll down my car windows-- save for the driver's side one...), and exit my vehicle. everyday, i see kobe's gigantic black nose and two front paws reaching under the wood fence, sniffing and softly whining. i open the side garage door to go into the backyard. kobe sits in front of me. i put on his chain collar, connect the leash, tell him "stay" until i'm through the door (a tip that shows kobe i'm in control and that he cannot run ahead of me), and ask him to "come." then our walk starts.

like clockwork.

for the past month or so, my duties expanded into a professional dog-companion. each day after our walk, i sip on a juice box (provided by kobe's owner) and kobe cools down by laying on the floor while i watch a movie or tv for a while. yes, we hang out.

since june, i've learned many things about kobe, such as:
- even though he looks like a meaner, he's really a big softie inside (i.e. he likes to smell flowers and is scared of loud noises)
- he protects me, as any object moving towards us in a faster-than-normal fashion makes him tense and alert and sometimes he growls
- he hates sprinklers, and he gives me this incredible look of scorn anytime we have to walk through them
- i know every single rock and pole that he will pee on (and trying to get him to stop sometimes means that he will pee on you... trust me)
- if kobe was a human, he would be a bulky 17-year-old boy who listens to loud rock music and rides a crotch rocket
- his most ticklish spot is right on his bark box, and scratching there makes his back foot thump
kobe has become the one thing that i see (and who sees me) on a regular basis these days. but, his family gets back on monday, so kobe will no longer need me to save him from solitary confinement; he will experience sensory overload when two little girls return from vietnam to find their little puppy isn't so little anymore. i am happy that kobe will have someone to play with him all day-- instead of just an afternoon playdate.

but i will miss him and our hang out time. goodbye, kobe koberton. your walk was mine, too.

welcome back

goodbye, house: your silent floors, your humming boxes of life (stocked with guinea pigs, frogs, and sea monkeys-- separately), your messes which were only mine, your comfy and roomy brown suede couch that was home to my afternoon naps and movie-induced trances (occassionally a purse or two strung about).

goodbye, house: your sunny and spacious skylit bathroom, your cozy robin's nest tucked away under the front porch, your gently sloping yard with verdant lawns, your looming basketball hoop that i tried to avoid backing into (mostly successful). . . goodbye, house: your towering and fragrant basil plants, your childlike swingset that made my feet feel like they could poke a hole in the moon, your abundance of daisies and other colorful flowers that replenish my lungs with crisp oxygen and pollen, your shiny green cherry tomatoes on delicate and prickly vines that scale their white lattices with hopeful vertical energy. . .

welcome back, total. fucking. disaster.

(your days are numbered.)

Farewell, ANTM... for now.

My week consists mainly of school, teaching, and watching ANTM on Wednesday nights. Well, last Wednesday was the season finale of ANTM Cycle 9. Congrats to Saleisha, the winner:

although I have to express my extreme disappointment (to the point of tears) that my girl Jenah didn't win.

I feel like my week will be devoid of skinny-girl drama and the oh-so-fierce Tyra Banks. But, here's the great news: the new cycle starts on February 20!!! YES!