Living with Providence -

The Power of a Question

On April 3, 2025

Questions are souls taken shape
Screaming out for someone to put them to form in a way that might breed understanding.

You can look at someone and see the color of who they are,
The spirit of them,
The soul,
But the tragedy of man
Is that you’ll never be able to paint a perfect picture of your own.

I ask questions all the time.
Selfish questions,
Ones that put color on my skin
And warm my bones.

“Do you love me?”

I hold my breath, your response suddenly the difference between life and death

Even though the answer has been uttered countless times before and no doubt will be said countless again

That is the power of a question.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes”

Starting Somewhere

By Providence

On March 4, 2025

In Blog Posts

Do the ups and downs ever slow down? I assume they must—or maybe they just do for people who actually reflect and recognize their patterns. Who knows?

I was about to write this whole post about how aesthetics run my life and how having an aesthetic room is the difference between productivity and getting absolutely nothing done. But here’s the thing—that is completely and utterly false. You know what’s actually true? Change, in any form—small, big, good, bad—is what empowers us.

Lately, I’ve been discovering the value of small, seemingly worthless changes. Like how an office chair should be adjusted to fit you, not just your desk. I’ve been using the same chair for years in a way that made it impossible for my feet to touch the ground. No wonder I hated doing anything at my desk—I had made it actively uncomfortable for myself! And honestly, if that doesn’t sum up so many aspects of my life, I don’t know what does.

There are so many internal things I’ve made harder for myself than they need to be. Take self-love, for example. People always talk about mantras and sticky notes, but you know what no one talks about? Setting yourself up for success tomorrow. Put a K-cup in the Keurig before bed. Buy a tiny notebook for work—because guess what? It is more convenient than a notes app. Move your desk out of the office and into your room if that office space has become a storage warzone you’d rather die than step into. (Okay, maybe that last one is just me and my personal procrastination tendencies.)

In all honesty, though, I’m tired all the time, and I feel stagnant. But that chair thing? That rocked my tiny world today.

I’ve been telling everyone I’m going to start dating soon. I’ve been collecting advice, and let me tell you, it’s a lot. I need to have my non-negotiables, but I also need to be open-minded. I shouldn’t date here, but long-distance is too complicated. I should meet someone at a conference, but actually I should go to Bethel College and meet someone there.

All I really know is that I’m a hermit who’s terrified of taking the first step. And why? Because I haven’t even figured out what the first step is.

Do I try dating apps? I don’t want to hook up! Christian dating apps? Blegh. Work? Have you ever MET a Christian libertarian engineer in his 20s? Maybe, but am I ready for that much introversion? (Have I become that much introversion?)

And then there’s the fact that I’m 21 and have never even been on a date! Driving somewhere new to meet a complete stranger is scary enough, but what if he wants to, like, kiss me or something? I feel like a 12-year-old girl. I think I’d actually pass away.

But that’s normal, right? People kiss their dates goodbye or whatever. Is that a first-date thing? A second-date thing? I’ve seen people who waited until marriage for their first kiss, and let me tell you—NOT PRETTY.

And to top it all off, what would I wear? I dress like Adam Sandler—not because I love the look but because I’ve completely given up on enjoying fashion and would rather disappear into a pile of shapeless clothes. My roommate wants me to try boho? Maybe? I don’t know?

I swear, if I ever manage to get a date, I’m going to have at least four people coaching me on what to wear—maybe more if I get my hairdresser and his wife involved.

I think I need to stop thinking about being ready. If I do that, I might never start. I just need to start.

Maybe today?

…Maybe not. xD

(I’m definitely a bit too neurotic to be considered ready)

Leaving Space for Melodrama

By Providence

On January 9, 2025

In Blog Posts

I have trained myself, through example, to shrivel up a bit inside whenever someone says something a bit out of place, a bit too open, a bit too unguarded.

The only place that I actually feel open to really feel shit is probably when I am confronted with media. Not social media or the news or the things everyone uses to escape from the humdrum chaos of their own minds. I’m talking about cinema, music, books, a really, really good joke, or an unforgettable performance.

Sweeping melodies, heartfelt speeches—oh God, I could fling myself off a metaphorical cliff for a good speech.

The other day, I saw a clip of Neil Gaiman talking about what it takes to write. He said you need to walk down a street completely naked. Not literally (thankfully), but stripped bare.

And for six whole minutes, I thought, Hell yeah.

I thought about all the messy, awful stories I have, the kind I’d share with a stranger just to fill the silence. I was so sure I’d sit down at my computer, pour all that vulnerability out onto a page, and become a total rockstar for how raw and open and honest I am.

And then I remembered: consequences exist.

I realized maybe there are other ways to get at the kind of nakedness he meant—ways that don’t involve shocking GamGam. But honestly, this isn’t new.

I have flights of fancy like this all the time. Big ideas about how I’ll share my genius with the world. And then I remember I’m just one of the rabble, and if cold calling makes me physically shake, I’m probably not built for any of it.

But still.

This year, I’m leaving space for melodrama. I’m not going to shrink from what stirs me, even if it feels ridiculous.

It kinda is ridiculous.

Frosted Glass | Writing Amateur Poetry

By Providence

On December 3, 2024

In Poetry

Have you ever tried to write poetry? I bet you have. Maybe it was for an English class assignment, and afterward, you either wrote it off (haha, get it? Because writing) or really got into it—like full-on MCR-levels-of-got-into-it.

I had never really gotten into poetry, so color me surprised when a group of prophets (really weird story) told me that not only was I supposed to write songs and stories but also the ever-allusive genre of PoEtRy~.

Fast forward seven years. Not a Haiku to be seen, I found myself in the shower and decided, on a whim, to come up with some kind of poem right then and there. You know, as you do.

Here’s what I came up with. It’s amateur, don’t worry—I’m fully aware:

My shower door is frosted over

Images of a world I’ll never see

My most frequent visitor

A woman

Naked

Falling from a precipice

The height still undetermined.

So… let me know if you hate it. For some reason, I even submitted it to a zine—maybe just to prove to myself that I could.

The First Step

By Providence

On November 28, 2024

In Blog Posts

Does anybody even read blogs anymore? You Google the best way to get into blogging, and the advice always sounds the same: ‘Pick a niche! Something weird and specific that only a few obsessed people will care about.’ Of course, only a select few actually manage to latch onto that sort of fan base.
I have exactly one reader, and I’m pretty sure it’s my mom under an alias.

Hi, Mom!

Anyway, as silly as it sounds, I know I’m supposed to be writing. It’s my calling, or whatever you want to call it. What I’m supposed to write, I’m not entirely sure, so I figured I’d just start. This is probably going to suck—like, a lot. I’d apologize, but hey, you can totally click out of this whenever you feel like it.

A little backstory: I’m in my very early twenties, working a remote job (woot, living the dream!), except for the fact that I’ve been homeschooled from the start, which means I’m so isolated, it might be considered kind of sad. I do have a roommate though! And some cats. Very cute cats.

Have I endeared myself to you yet? Because I’m pretty goddamn endearing. So, so, so endearing.

I promise I’m not always this self-deprecating.

If you somehow managed to find my quiet corner of loud thoughts, thanks for taking the time to read through my late-night musings. Feel free to comment if you want, or don’t—I’m not your mom.

Signing off,
Felt cute, might delete later.