"... I just wanna feed people..."

...These are the words of my new friend, Todd, while he talks about his reasoning for starting a street outreach group. The teen shelter he worked at for years came close to closing it's doors recently, but was thankfully bought out by another organization. That shelter is still open and daily providing help to people in need, but that close call was enough incentive for Todd to start his own volunteer funded group. Knowing how state funded programs work, and how tricky the workings of a non-profit organization can be, he set out with only his own funds at his disposal, and set out recruiting volunteers on craigslist.

Tonight was a big group, and a very successful feed. About twenty of us crammed into the lobby of Todd's apartment building as we ran an assembly line of bag packers. I lost track of how many bags were packed, but we divided into groups of 5 or 6 and hit the streets with bulging backpacks.

He instructed, "If anyone asks what group you are with, just say you're a concerned citizen."

And that's the way it should be. Nothing more than people helping people without all the red tape.

Our night ended when we ran out of bags to distribute, even though five sets of hands were still outreached towards us. Todd promised more bags next time when we head out like the mailman; rain or shine. Let me know if you'd like to join.

Snow Camping (minus the snow)

Twice a week in yoga class, my instructor leads us in a few moments of meditation after we're done exercising. She tells us to "release the conscious effort of breathing" while we relax. This is a weird concept to me because I'd never thought of breathing as a conscious effort. And of course, while I'm supposed to be clearing my mind, I can't stop the snowballs of thought from falling freely in my head. It's like a snow globe that someone has shook up, and I can't force the thoughts to settle until they are ready. But after this weekend, I think I finally understand what she's talking about.

As tradition calls for, my friends and I went on our annual snow-camping trip up to the Snoqualmie Falls area. We had a great time even though the weather didn't cooperate and there wasn't snow at our spot. Shortly after arriving on Saturday, after the tents had been set up and the fire was roaring, five out of our group headed up into the hills to go shooting. I stayed behind to hold down the fort with the two remaining guys. After sitting around the fire with the guys for about 15 minutes, they decided to go hack down some trees for fire wood, and I was left alone. I walked out to the river and perched myself against the natural rock ledge by the shore, slid down into the dirt and started writing in my head. An undetermined amount of time passed as I stared at all the nature around me, somehow thinking and feeling everything all at once, but at the same time, nothing at all. My mind was lucid but empty concurrently. I don't know if that makes sense or not; maybe it's something you have to feel for yourself.

I was so lost in vacant thought that I didn't even hear the guys walking up behind me-scaring me unintentionally. Ryan asked what I had been doing out here, and my response was met by strange looks from both after saying that I was writing in my head. Maybe that's weird to some people.

We trooped back to our campsite and the three of us romped around the fire for an eternity until the rest of our group returned at dusk. Upon returning, Trevor proudly displayed an enormous snowball that he had brought down from the top of the mountain for me. Trying to show my appreciation, I promised that "If it snows here, your snowball will be the head of the snowman I plan on making."

But it didn't snow, and the snowball melted in the bed of the truck where I left it waiting. Night fell over camp as we proceeded to plow through 16 hot dogs, about 20 little bags of chips, two cases of Coors Light, a case of Pabst beer, a fifth of Jack Daniels, and a half gallon of vodka. I think a detox diet is in order.

Although everyone physically went to bed around 10pm, the night promised no sleep for most of us. My tent consisted of Trevor, Broncheau, Monica and I. Three out of the four laid shivering while counting down the hours until daylight. I was one of them. At 6:00am I retreated on the idea of getting any sleep and wandered into the dark morning to get the fire started.

I putzed around for awhile, kicked some soaked logs across the frozen ground, and scratched my head a bit, I finally stood dignified in front of a warm, crackling fire. As heads began peaking out of tents and vehicles, I made sure everyone knew that I had made this grand fire all on my own.

The hours passed by and before we knew it, night was almost upon us again. We were now out of food, out of wood, out of alcohol, and sleep-deprived. It was time to pack up and head home, but not before agreeing to come out again this weekend. Hopefully then we'll be greeted by snow.

Making something out of nothing.

Life has been very dry and static lately. Math class is still kicking my ass and I'm currently clinging to the lowest grade I've ever had. There have been a few low points where I'm just ready to throw in the towel, knowing that I will never need this skill... maybe that's why escaping on a forever-vacation to Europe appeals to me the way it does. The monotony of life here dries out my mind and leaves me feeling like there is nothing new or creative to say. [Sorry for all you blog readers out there.]

Well... okay, now that I think about it, I have a confession... I have posted a few times but decided to save my readers the wincing, head-shaking, painful read that they were in for. Truth be told, I am in love with the fact that one glass of wine always leads to another, but for some reason, my brain under the influence seems to think it's a good idea to share my feelings on ex-boyfriends and unrequited love. I continually delete these miserable posts as soon as I come back to my senses. The ramblings are rather entertaining for me to look back on, but probably incredibly pathetic in the eyes of anyone else.

But even with a clear mind, it still awes me how someone could have left such an impact during the short amount of time that our paths crossed. I also don't understand why/how people get stuck caring about someone that never reciprocated the feeling. Even though the whole fiasco in mention was months ago, old emotions were teased into resurfacing out of a simple chat with an ex, and then spiraling me into a level of self-destruct mode that has never been seen before. I need to stop doing that. I joke with Brad that drinking should only be for leisure, not to drown the sorrows of my failing track record with relationships.

And the thing that keeps me going, that keeps inspiring me to dream big are thoughts about Europe. Every night while I'm falling asleep, I imagine what kinds of new experiences lay within this adventure I'm planning. It's starting to feel like I'm looking for something. Maybe I'm hoping to find a world that will finally make sense to me, yet I know people are still people no matter where I go.

I'll letcha know if I ever find it.