D R E A M

Thinking can be a beautiful thing. When I sit alone in my car, sometimes my mind takes me to the most fantastic places. It just seems to go deeper and deeper until somehow I just lose myself. I get lost inside myself.

It can be so beautiful, but so horrible sometimes.

As an artist, I can get frustrated because my mind explodes into so many incredible ideas; things to paint, scenes to describe with a pen, and places to bring into life. Yet, I know that my thoughts will never be fully conveyed the way I wish I could express them. I can't ever get another person to see EXACTLY what I see.

I envy movie directors. It seems like a dream to have the kind of resources to bring your own ideas into such a tangible reality.

But isn't that a strange thing? The things I see deep inside... the things I see without my eyes... you'll never really see that. I can do my absolute best to try and bring it to life for you to touch and smell and listen to. But it will only ever be a skewed copy of the original. The splendor of the raw imagination is only something we can have to ourselves.

I hate it sometimes. But then again, I love it. You. Me. The person sitting quietly across the room. We have these breath-taking worlds pulsating within each of our imaginations, yet we are bound by reality to keep them within us. You can leak out bits and pieces and snippets of your dreams, but never the entirety. It's magical, but it's a quandary filled to the brim with woes.

I think we should do our best to share dreams with one another. Although I will never fully know and see what you imagine, there's something so wonderful about getting a taste. It's as though the fullness is too much to handle, so we only get  a drop. Yet that little drop resting on our tongues is the best thing we've ever had.

Share your dreams with one another. Explore your mind, expand your mental reach, and then take someone by the hand and welcome them to taste just a drop. Our own dreams can be amazing... but what would happen if we all began to feed on one another's dreams more? Just one little bit of your dreams can cause a stirring inside someone else to dream even further. To think even deeper. To ponder just a little bit longer.

Don't ever stop exploring your own mind. We need dreamers. In a world so filled with darkness, we could use a few more drops of light here and there.

Here We Go!

I love this.

The rumble of the van beneath by body is comforting as we journey along. Uncountable pines fly past the rain-streaked windows. A dreary, grey sky welcomes us forward. The deepest kind of fog comes and goes now and then. As eager as I become with each glowing green sign that passes by, I'm growing fond of the simple adventure of the present.

Is there a secret to the way I see the world? Is it strange to find a browning field a vast expanse of beauty? Why is it that I linger longer in the rain while others would rather protect their hair? Am I stuck in an unrealistic world...

or have I truly tasted reality?

I'm probably the only one in this bumpy vehicle that's pondering something like this. Oh well. I'll just sit here and smile to myself like a goof.

I don't know what to expect; I've never been where we are heading. A nervousness resides in the depths of my abdomen, edging on the side of nausea. But the thrill of the unknown keeps a bright and cheerful smile playing across my lips.

The idea of being squashed into a van full of 11 other people sounds disastrous. But no, its a little bit wonderful. I'm surrounded by incredible people. These are dear friends who have become family.

We share little snacks and sips of coffee. We play electronic games and borrow one another's books. We express dreams. We discover new ideas. You'd think we would get tired of each other, yet many hugs continue to be given and received. And the longer we ride together, the more my happy levels seem to increase.

4 hours have passed.

3 more to go.

Here we come Seattle, I can't wait to meet you.

New Places - Day 5

My grandmother goes to yard sales.

When I was young, oh say about 7 or 8, I would cringe at the sound of "garage sale". I had this terribly bitter taste in my mouth from being dragged all throughout the bleakest city on the face of the earth, while my grandma picked through piles of worthless junk.

She had this room near the back of her house with stacks of bins. Each bin was labeled as to organize all this stuff.

So she bought things I had no interest in, and when we got back to her house, she stored it away for the day that she would use it. The catch is... I don't believe she's used anything she's accumulated in the last 40 years.

But who am I to judge? Some people collect junk, others are addicted to butterfinger candy bars.

As I grew up, a new love was birthed in the belly of my heart. I don't think hearts actually have a belly, but you get what I mean.

I have this weird new way of seeing something for what it could be in the future. There's such joy in finding incredible treasures for less than a dollar. In fact, a lot of my room decor is made up of wonderful things I found at a garage sale or thrift store.

I've had people say things such as "OH MY GOSH WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?"

My reply?

"Oh, just a yard sale. The lady actually just gave it to me for free."

On my journey throughout this week of exploring new places, I stumbled upon something quite grand. I didn't even mean to go there today, it was an accident. It just so happened that when I parked, I was staring into the face of a glorious sign...

The Collector's Market

Oh my.

Once I had finished what I had drove there to do in another store, I made the decision to embark into the unknown world of this market.

When I walked in, I was happily greeted by what I had expected. Tons of treasures. The first little bit that my eyes began to sift through could be summed up by one word. Soft.

Everything was vintage, and white and cream and pastel. Hand knit blankets, antique children's furniture, white lace curtains, 50 year old lamp stands and fluffy pillows galore. The whole place was divided into these little cubicles full of items from a specific vendor. So every time you took another three steps, the scenery changed again and again. And again. But for the better.

Just when I thought I was in the 5th dimension for the yard sale lover, I saw something so exciting.

There was more to this enchanting world. There was a lot more. A BUNCH more.

An entire warehouse full of probably a hundred booths!!!

So there Taylor was. Walking slower than an elderly man with a broken knee. Skimming and digging and taking in all of the wonderful items. She made sure to look at every little thing she possibly could. She would sometimes stand there in total awe of some painting, antique stool and Native American Rug.

She was so careful as not to miss a single thing. Every little button. Each aging telephone. All the different leather shoes and jackets.

Surrounded by the wooden and the worn. Enveloped in antiquated jewels.

Not only was everything so impossibly marvelous, but there were so many things that breathed inspiration into my soul. My bones began to dance within me at the sight of such potential.

As an artist I soak things within me for later use. I have dreams of creating things, and a place like this is more than fuel to a flame.

           It's the dream behind the vision. The vision that sparks reality.

I couldn't help myself. I must have circled through each and every booth at least three times. I didn't want to leave. Nothing inside of me, except the to-do list awaiting my attention, wanted to depart.

So I guess the moment unfortunately came when I had to go. Plus I don't think the owner would really appreciate my spending the night there. That's a bit over the line.

Of all the dazzling things my eyes grabbed hold of today, I only walked away with one item.

I got a lovely gold-colored watch with a woven chain.

              For two dollars.

New Places - Day 4

This is such an amazing place.

The whole day has been filled with fog. The ground has been frosty, the bushes frozen in place, and the clouds just won't life higher than the rooftops.

It seems like it's bound to continue in this slow, gloomy way.

I have a half hour or so drive from my home to where I attend college. I find myself griping about this once in a while...maybe often. It's not a fun drive when gas doesn't have a reputation for being easy on the wallet. or easy on the pockets if that's where you prefer to stash your cash.

Oh, but today I actually found myself excited that I live a bit of a distance.

As I drove closer and closer to my home, the fog began to slowly lift. Higher and higher, the clouds danced away. Until...what is that I see? Blue? A blue sky?

It's been so long since I have seen something so gorgeous.

So I have to say, the drive to this distant, far away land I call home put me in a very good mood.

I drove along the sunny roads that run along with the river, until I found exactly what I was looking for.

I pulled in to the gravel - it's not exactly a parking lot - and come to a stop.

And then I was finally there. The old, historic, Butte Creek Mill.

I've literally drove by this place for years and years. I've seen it out the backseat window as my parents zoomed by on our way to the middle school years ago. I've even walked by the old, wooden structure and wondered to myself what it's like inside.

I've heard the stories of those lucky ones who've already dared to enter. I've seen people with items from the Mill Store in their pantries and on their counter tops. I've even attempted to make cookies using their flour!

But now, my friends, the day has officially come. Taylor has visited the Mill all on her own.

Once I am released from my car, I just stand and look up. The roof is so tall, so wooden, and so ancient it seems. The point reached so far into the beautiful, blue winter sky. And right up at the top it reads "Butte Creek Mill". No, ladies and gentlemen, not the BUTT creek.

I could have actually been happy to just observe all the great treasures on the porch. I mean, there were old signs everywhere that kept me intrigued for quite a long time. The rustic, soft blue bench beckoned for a picture to be taken. The large covering gave the perfect amount of shelter from the wintry breeze, while the sun shone down and warmed my body.

I was so intrigued that I almost forgot to go inside.

Just when I seemed to be getting used to the atmosphere, I was blown away again.

The rich smell of aged wood rushed into my lungs. I was sure I walked straight into the 1800s. I was completely surrounded by some of the most gorgeous antiques I have ever seen.

Gas signs, indian statues, rusted mail boxes, post cards, wheat barrels.... and about a thousand other treasures.

There was this little white door with a sign that said "milling room". There was a window imbedded into the door that I soon found my nose pressed against.

What I found literally filled me with wonder. There were men working around like little bees, all wearing masks. They were carrying big bags of flour around and filling bins full of oats.

       They reminded me of oompa loompas.

But that wasnt all there was to see....

To my left there was an even more exciting door to pass through. When I walked through the glorious threshold, I was greeted by a wonderful array of goodies.

Organic flour, oatmeal, cookie mix, corn bread, molasses, loose leaf tea, olive oils, and basically every seasoning ever known to man- women too.

Each and every detail was authentic, inspiring, fresh and on the healthful side of life. There was a huge and incredible wood stove that was heating the little place. There was even a pot of cinnamon on top that painted the air with a delicious aroma.

And oh..OH. There was an ancient refrigerator with some of my most favorite drinks in the whole world. Martinellis, jones soda, and... Henry Weinhard's rootbeer and cream soda. Cream soda!!

So I grabbed myself an ice cold beverage and carried it to the giant counter. There was only one older lady working. She had short, blonde hair drizzled with gray. She wore glasses that I'd expect on a librarian.

It was truly one of the greatest places I have ever been. So historic. So great.

And the greatest part about it... its right down the street from my home.

If im missing....you know where to find me.

New Places - Day 3

Golden.

Soft, golden tones seem to float around this place.

The lighting is just perfect. The colors drenched upon the walls are inviting and calm. Even the ceiling is painted as the sky. What a wonderful escape from a foggy, bitterly cold winter.

The fresh, soothing smell of roasted coffee surounds my senses and fills me with delight.

When we first walk through the gently open doors, we scan for a place to sit. Tables and chairs? The bench beneath the window? Ah yes, the cozy leather couch near the fire place. Unfortunately the fire wasn't lit, but the view was spectacular- a large, stone centerpiece in the midst of an Italian themed cafe. Just perfect.

We set down our book bags and purses to save such a splendid spot, and eagerly head for the counter.

Typically I'm the kind of person who spends an unnatural amount of time deciding what she wants to order. It doesn't matter where I'm at...the grocery store, the coffee stand or a vending machine.

Hopefully I'm not so bad when the day comes and a man asks me to marry him. Imagine that...the guy on his knee for 20 minutes while I stare off into the distance pondering what to say.

Anyways...

Today was one of those "once in a lifetime" moments. As we approached the counter, there was a HUGE sign that advertised a beautiful cup of steaming hot spicy chai. Oh goodness, I knew exactly what I wanted before I got to the counter.

I liked the girl at the counter. She was kind of short, with straight brown hair and super great glasses. And she had a kind voice.

Both the girls working were strangely familiar. That's always an odd feeling when you can't seem to place where you know someone from.

Well, sadly, the spicy chai was a little...too...spicy. Oh lord, it seriously burned my throat. But! No fear! My darling friend ordered a regular chai (made with chai powder, which is obviously the best in the world) . So I drank off of hers instead.

Not only was the chai delicious as it rolled down into my belly, warmed my insides and made my taste buds sing, but we also ordered a feta spinach croissant! Oh my gosh, it was heaven on earth, angels dancing on our tongues. Literal angels...dancing.

Overall, it was a lovely afternoon. I always adore spending quality time with my sweet friend. The atmosphere was friendly, quiet, and all around spectacular. The decor was beautiful, the staff friendly, and the other customers seemed at ease.

And oh my, the music playlist was right up my alley. So comfortable. I also discovered some fantastic new music artists thanks to my SoundHound app!

I'm so happy we went to Mellelos Coffee Roasters today.

We even saw a young woman laying down, curled in the corner on the bench beneath the window, reading a book.

She wore sneakers.

New Places - Day 2

Oh no. Oh no.

I repeated this to myself as I groggily opened my eyes. There's nothing like feeling yucky and realizing you have a thousand things to get done for the day.

Among all the other duties, one stuck out to me - what am I going to write about today? I mean, I'm not exactly in prime condition to go out and find myself a nice new adventure. No thank you, I think I'll pass.

But at the same time, I committed to going somewhere new every day for the next week. And today would mark only the 2nd day. Oy.

Well, lucky me, I got to drive to wall mart tonight to pick up a prescription. Which, in and of itself was a bit of an adventure. I can't say I've ever picked up a prescription from there before. And I'm not exactly fond of pharmacys. They kind of creep me out to be honest.

As I waited in line, I thought about possibly writing of the pharmacy. So I began to soak in all the little details that I could. Thankfully they were going pretty slow.

I stood there awkwardly. I'm actually pretty good at this, I have to say. I do it often.

   There was a woman in front of me. No, she wasn't standing like I was. She was rather large, sitting in one of those motorized shopping carts my mom used to tell me not to touch when I was young. The back of the seat had some fabric with painted tire treads. Strange, I know.

She wore a large hat. She owned a very large purse. And when she spoke, her voice was very large as well.

As I was taking this all in - the whole thing - a man turned and looked at me. He was in another one of those motor carts, parked right next to the woman. He was quite the opposite though. He was very skinny. Even his cart was smaller it seemed. And he didn't have a purse.

They were both older, I'd say in their 60s or so. But I'm kind of bad at estimating ages.

He looked at me for a substantially long time while the woman continued to talk to him in a seriously loud tone.

I was slightly uncomfortable.

So rather than staring back at him with a goofy look on my face (this was a tempting thing to do) I began observing the isle I was standing in.

Ewe, I really don't like pharmacys.

There were rows and rows of neatly displayed bottles and boxes. Not the kinds of bottles and boxes I'd prefer. You know, bottles of root beer and boxes of animal crackers? No, just a bunch of medications, pills, supplements, eye drops and awkward pregnancy tests. Rows of accumulated remedies for weird bodily functions.

Everything was clean... too clean. It was like someone with an official looking badge on their chest dowsed the place with Lysol.

There were also hexagonal-shaped boxes filled with different kinds of 'necessities' like Carmex lip balm and Pepto Bismol. They were so neatly displayed that I couldn't even bring myself to dink around and touch the chap stick in the box.

Why was I so bothered by this place? I mean, I see this kind of stuff every now and then. Yes, I'll admit I've even had to take things like Pepto Bismol. I'm sure you have too. But maybe it was because it was all accumulated in one place. It all reminded me of sickness. It's crazy to me how much our country deals with disease and bad living habits.

When I looked straight ahead, I saw behind the counter. There were rows and rows and ROWS of prescriptions that had been filled and were waiting to be picked up. My goodness, are there really that many people on their way to grab yet another medication?

How many people just in America alone live day to day having to pop another pill or three?

These thoughts were overwhelming. And the longer that time went on, I kind of wanted to yell "Let's all just go eat our vegetables!!"

But I didn't.

When it was finally my turn and the motorized customers zoomed away, I tentatively walked up to the lady at the counter. She looked flustered and stressed, so I did my best to be kind. I even made her giggle a little when I made fun of myself for not remembering my pin number. Score!

Right after I paid and was eagerly turning to leave, the lady told me to wait.

Oh no! She is going to stuff me in a chair in the back and shove medicated syrup down my throat as punishment for not liking the pharmacy!

"We just have to go over your prescription with you over at the window over there. Just to explain how to use it."

Oh.. I guess that isn't so bad.

I was greeted at the window - wait no, I wasn't greeted, I was looked at - by a very tall man with a pure white mustache.

     "Have you taken this before?" His voice was so monotone.

"Uh, no."

      "Take one pill every four to six hours with water."

"Okay, thank you."

Really? I couldn't have just read the bottle? Oh well, at least I got to encounter a bright white mustache.

And then the moment came. I was free. Free I tell you, free!!

I don't want to ever have to go back there.

          I'm sorry if that's not very nice.

New Places - Day 1

      Just to give a brief introduction: Now that I have written for an entire week about meeting some incredible new people, I've decided to start a new week-long series. This one should be pretty cool, and I REALLY hope you enjoy! I am going to try to visit 7 new places these next 7 days. And then I'm going to scurry to my clackety keyboard and share my adventures with all of you. So, jump in the car with me! Let's take a drive and find some new and wonderful places to visit! Maybe we'll grab a bite to eat on the way? I'll buy - my treat.

_____________________________________________________

The Bookmark

I drive by this little place every now and then. It's such a small town; I'm surprised I ever noticed it.

The building is a bit worn out and aged. Ancient white paint all cracked and weathered clings to the exterior. Which I actually prefer... I feel invited.

I usually wonder what it's like inside and I'll ponder stopping by once in a while. But I never do. At least, not till today.

I drive down the street slowly, trying to find a spot along the sidewalk to park my gas-deprived car.

I'm so excited to get inside, but I calm myself and slow my walking pace as I approach the door. I wouldn't want to scare the people inside.

I'm not really sure what to expect from a tiny second-hand book shop. Well, obviously there's bound to be some books. Otherwise I'd be a bit nervous.

When I open the slightly heavy glass door, that's exactly what I'm greeted by. Books. No, not tidy rows of neatly organized genres.

   Piles.

Shelves, rows, rooms, stacks, bins, counter tops - even the floor. There are books everywhere.

And what's even better? They all look like they've certainly been used. They've been held, and cuddled beneath small lamps. They've traveled from here to there, store to home, hand to backpack, grandfather to grandson... all to end up here in this wonderfully dusty pile of a place.

I swear I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. For some weird and silly feeling, this was all so beautiful.

Beautiful.

Oh! There must be billions of words surrounding me! All of them so still and quiet as they sit among the others, yet so loud and obnoxious as they call out for my eyes to feast upon them.

I probably looked absolutely ridiculous as the lady welcomed me to her paper-filled wonderland.

"Hi there, young lady. What can I do for you?" She was so short, and round, and I was sure her smile came straight off the cover of a Betty Crocker cookbook. She even had poofy hair.

"Hello, I'm just looking, thank you." I tried to make eye contact, but my wandering eye balls just wouldn't obey.

       "Well, what do you like to read? Maybe I could help you find a good book?"

A good book? I stood there imagining all the incredible stories I could get my mind wrapped around.

         "I love to read just about anything. I think I'l just look around."

She laughed  warmly before responding. It was a laugh that seemed to say "I've seen this before."

         "Well you go on ahead and wander around. If you follow that arrow, just keep walking through the         doorways to each room until you can't go no further."

I thanked her as I found the big, yellow arrow she was pointing at. I figured there was only one more room.

I was so wrong.

The store seemed so very tiny and filled to the brim with books, but it never ended! I slowly walked through the first door. Then the second. Then the third. Then... oh my golly gosh a fourth! I was afraid I'd get lost!

But it was all so incredible. With every step, I fell deeper into a new kind of typed and printed, bottomless world.

I don't exactly know how it happened, but I soon found myself sitting cross-legged on the musty carpet reading through random books that grabbed my attention.

It was lovely.

After a while, the kind, round lady came and found me there on the floor and talked with me for a little bit. Her name is Madeline. I really adore that name. And that place. And all the stunning piles of books.

I also discovered one of the best things ever: I can bring in my old books and trade them for new ones from within the store.

It changed my life today.