Carpe Diem

Untitled drawing (11)

Isn’t it funny how the past is always being brought up? It could simply be about this past Christmas or who said what last week- or even just yesterday. But the way back past, the “olden days” are brought up so often as well. I had a Social Studies teacher who said almost daily ‘The only thing new is the history we haven’t read yet.’ meaning history repeats itself. I for one pray that my 6th grade days don’t come and bite me in the butt when I’m 30. But that is slightly besides the point. I am a huge advocate for living in the moment but I just as often love sitting and talking about memories and comparing the details.There is something to say about living in the moment but appreciating the past. I can’t remember 25 biology definitions but I sure can tell you about the puppet shows my nannies used to put on for me when I was 4. I can’t tell you what presidents died on the 4th of July but I can share about the first time I had sweet tea (best sonic trip EVER). The time I left that letter in the bathroom will stick with me way longer than how to conjugate irregular verbs in Spanish. But isn’t that the point? Isn’t that the point of the past? I thought it was supposed to work like that, the good and truly meaningful things stick with you. They stick on you like a fly to molasses. They fly in full speed- not stopping- and quickly they stick and don’t move. Stuck for years to come. Luckily they are no mosquito because who knows some Jurassic Park may come to life. Memories stay in the past- stuck and in a weird way they live on in our heads but that’s where they stay. If I decided I wanted to re-live a moment that I so vividly remember and loved how I was feeling at the time then when it happened again it wasn’t as fabulous wouldn’t that memory be ruined? That fantastic day would be ruined just because I wanted to live it again instead of bucking up and making a new moment. We hold on tight to those moments- those days that are merely stories now- we have such a strong grip on them we often forget to make new memories now. So tonight I am having to tell myself to loosen my grip a smig and live my life for now because I don’t want history to repeat itself. I want to create history- be apart of it. Everyday I have 24 hours; 1440 minuets; 86400 seconds to make my history. Why would I waste that precious time reliving history? Why do I hold on so tight to what is already done and over? Because I am slightly (or very) afraid of the future. Duh. My past is sweet and comfortable. It’s like sleeping in my Dad’s t-shirt again, the familiar smell and soft texture. Old, comforting, and safe. Oh so safe. The past is safe, it is familiar, it is recognizable. But the future is new and exciting, it is slightly uncomfortable and scary, but it is new. Some days it will be the new like smell of a new car and other days it will be like that new shirt that gets ruined the first time through the wash. But it will all be so worth it because tomorrow could be end up being one of those memories you want to hit pause and rewind on. So wake up live the day until the 86400 second as best as you can. Every minute you waste is a minute that won’t be apart of those awesome memories. So live each day for the future so that you can look back and want to recreate the moment but know that moment is there because you didn’t recreate another. Carpe diem my loves, carpe diem.

Love, hugs, and many new memories- Molly


Your constant.



3 things make me think. Hannah Brencher’s words, long showers, and late nights. Combine those 3 and a some Broadway show tunes you get a whole lot of words. Words are my sweet spot. I may not be the most athletic. I may not be able to achieve a 4.0 or go for a long run but I can write. So on nights like tonight where I am thinking things unfit for a 15 year old. When I am talking to myself about what defines me. I write. That is a part of me that wasn’t a part of me until a few months ago. A lot has happened to me in the last few months. I went from being the girl people guessed as younger than she is to older. I went from being the girl who thought for sure she had found her corner of the world to the girl who has no clue. 9 months ago I thought I had it figured out. I thought I would tackle high school without a hitch. I thought I was stronger than I truly was. But now I sit here and write realizing that all of this is wrong. Maybe I have digressed but really I think I have just matured. I think I have realized that getting through something without a hitch doesn’t happen. I see that I have no clue what I want to do with my life and I don’t need to. I see that the world is my canvas. I see that I need to starting creating a piece of art that we all create. A life. Our lives. We all paint this picture of ourselves through out our lives and don’t even realize we are doing it. Everyday when we get out of bed we have the potential to make that day something. To make that day pink in a world of grey, screw black and white– nobody has time for that. When we are gone do we want people to day “So and so was a good person, they will be truly missed,” or do we want them to say “The world just got darker because they aren’t here. The world lost a little bit of color, a bit of spunk in a dull day.” We want people to see something else in us. Hannah’s words today were “I live in the space of the world that makes me crave the “girl on fire” moments.”  We look for the moments where we can dump a whole bucket of glitter down in one place instead of leaving a little trail of it wherever we go. Sure dumping it all will give us temporary recognition for our deed, but leaving a trail will give us long lasting recognition. It is the kind of thing people notice only after you have come and gone from that moment. It sticks with them a little longer. I want to stick around a little longer. So once again a Hannah B reference– I am to be your no frills girl. Not saying I don’t want to enjoy pretty things but I want to be the girl that just shows up. I don’t appear with a big flashing sign that says “Hey you! Over here! I want to make a difference in your day!” I want to just show up. Be there. So that someday you may look back on that moment and think not about how grand it was but about how small it was. How raw it was. How it was (now a John Green reference) a small infinity. It was a moment that will live on forever– not because it had a major lead up but because it just happened. Like that local coffee shop you had no plans to stop in but then you did. And you went back everyday that week, but when you stopped going you didn’t forget about it because it was quaint and cute and small and something fun and different. It was’t a big chain with fancy cups; it was small with cardboard cups and one man behind the counter. I won’t remember the Starbucks down the street but I will remember that little place walking distance from where we stayed in Colorado. So let’s be that place. The place that is there and will always be there but doesn’t need a flashing sign to show people it is there. It just stays constant. Let’s be a constant in a world that changes faster than we can adapt. 





I just keep hitting that button. That curved arrow. Again and again. The same song playing, running through my earphones, charging into my brain. It’s not even a fun, up beat, cheerful song. It’s slow. It tells a story I have never experienced. Yet this song speaks to me, I could listen all day. “Spinning you ’round and ’round in circles” . I don’t listen to country on my free time. But here I am. Right now even, I’m listening. And why? Why can’t I get enough of this song? This song that has nothing pertaining to my life right now? Why must I just lay here and listen? Normally I could think for awhile and come up with some answer that a normal 15 year old wouldn’t. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to tear apart a song and decipher why I like it so much. I do that all too often. I think too much. I speak too much. I need to just listen, sit back and listen. Watch for a little while. Hold all judgments back, keep opinions to myself. Just let life be life. Let myself be a teenage girl who doesn’t know all the answers, because even though that scares the hibbie-gebies out of me, I can’t expect myself to always know why. To always know what to say. I can only expect myself to accept myself. But that can be just as hard as knowing all the answers.

I could sit here and try to explain that last sentence, tell you that for me the path to accepting is knowing the answers. Tell you that for me to accept myself I need to reach this impossible standard of perfection. But that’s not entirely true. Sure knowing the answers and the facts help but I am still sometimes going to be oblivious to the world around me. Acceptance of anything happens one step at a time, not all at once. So this is especially tricky when it comes to ourselves, because we change in a daily basis. Sometimes it feels  we take 2 steps forward 3 steps back. Again and again. So what. So what we aren’t perfect. So what we can’t master the strange and difficult task of acceptance. We are trying, people get places by trying. So, we’re gettin’ places. I don’t know where, or when but we are gettin’ there, and once we are there a new task will meet us at the door. Flying 90 m/h straight in the gut. And you know what? We will keep going. Why? We are just like this song. We:




Almost there.

Untitled drawing (9)

You know it’s bad when Summer by Calvin Harris comes on and tears well up in your eyes and all you can think about is that warm sunshine on your face in the middle of July with a sweet tea in hand , getting to go out and conquer your day the way you decide. Tears, real tears roll down my checks all for what? A few tests? Literally 7 hours. I am crying over 7 more hours, and yet they kept coming. 1,2,3, “Stand up and walk away, at this point that is all you can do” I whispered to myself. I needed a serious pep talk. I needed someone to look me in the eyes and say “Hey girly, you are worth more than those numbers on the top of your paper. Your life is more than that. There is more to you than memorizing a few thousand fill in the blanks and vocab words. There is something else behind that brain of yours. Sometimes you just have to work with what ya got, and let me tell you, you have a lot. You have a soul and a heart. You have a personality. You are no robot. No one can expect to just feed you facts and hear them come out perfectly. Why? Because you are no machine. You can’t expect that out of yourself. Be super proud of yourself because you are something better than a non-stop machine. You are a non-stop living, breathing human. A human who has thoughts outside of Interrogated Concepts of Science. A human who laughs more than she studies. A human who loves more than hates. But sweetheart, you are human. You can’t expect perfection out of yourself. Allow a little room for error. Don’t expect yourself to win every time, to get an A+ every time, to love as though that persona has never hurt you. Doing that will only disappoint yourself and the most important thing right now is to be proud of yourself. To walk into that school tomorrow like you have this in the bag. Believe in yourself because never has anyone walked into a test saying ‘I’m gonna fail this thing’ and come out with an A.  You made it through freshman year. Props to you hot stuff. Now there is only 7 hours. That’s all. You’ve been in a car longer than that. Soon that sunshine will be here. Soon you will be wearing over-sized sunglasses, sundresses, and sipping on sweet tea. Soon you will be pool side,  smiling as you feel that sunburn settling in thinking ‘This won’t hurt as bad as that Spanish final, plus this has a positive outcome– a TAN’. Soon my dear. It is all in arms length. You are in the final stretch, 9th inning, 90th minute. That finish line is just 7 paces away. ”

So this one is to all of you crying at the thought of summer. This is your pep talk. Pass it on. Pep talk your bestie into finishing this one out strong.

Hugs, love, and much much support- Molly

Just a few words.

Untitled drawing (8)

Homework strewn about, laptop screaming some overly cheesy love songs, and my heart full of motivation. I sit at my desk, comfortable in the chaos. Feeling like a magician with all the tricks I had up my sleeve. Fun stationery and sharpies. Words and secrets. I was ignoring my world in hopes of making someone else’s a little better, a little sweeter.

My black sharpie hit the paper and motivation poured out as water pours out of Niagara falls. Fast and hard, almost too much to take. The words fit together, held hands, weird and awkward, yet perfect and inspirational. They fit. The words I needed someone to tell me were staring me in the face. They said ” You don’t need someone to tell you these, you need to tell them to others. Don’t let other people dictate your life. Don’t need their approval. Approve for others. Help others. Your call is for others.” These words were raw. They were bare. My heart sat on the cardstalk in front of me, and there was no going back. I decorated the envelope and dropped the letter in my purse. Those words were sent on mission impossible. They were on their way to change the world of teenage girls and for the better. To make them think more of themselves because they are worth it. They are so worth it.

Desensing down the steps the next morning I had my heart hitting my side. Bump, bump bump. The words someone would read today no one had ever heard from me before. It felt as though a ticking time bomb was sitting an waiting to go KABOOM and tell the world how I really felt. Soon I could make someone’s day, or crush my little spirit. Since when did innocent feelings feel like poison?

All day I looked for the perfect opportunity to drop my bomb. Tick, Tick, Tick. Is there ever a right time to just let a little piece of you go? Just set it down and walk away? Probably never see it again? No, not really. But the moment I came to terms with the fact I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Other girls had to sympathize with me. In all reality all it is just words. Just 26 letters combined to mean something to me. They may mean nothing to anyone else. I think that is what was so scary. I was worried my feelings weren’t valid. I was the only one. Little did I know that in a world of 7 billion people that is quite impossible. So I dropped it off. In that big stall. On the toilet paper dispenser. Then I walked out as nothing had just happened.

Two hours later, sitting in the car, twitter open. I see my words. There they are. They found their way back to me. A tweet consisted of an exact sentence from my letter. Someone agreed with me. I made a difference. The emojis by that sentence resembled two hands facing out agreeing with whatever I had said. Me saying my feelings were valid, they validated someone else’s. My words. My thoughts. My heart. My difference. Scrolling down further I find a picture of my note. 9 favorites. 4 retweets. A couple replies. This worked. Somehow I made someone feel as though they were worth it. I gave someone the courage to say “Hey. I am more than the rumors. I am more than society’s image of me. I am a work of art, a piece being enhanced everyday. An unfinished product. I am loved by someone who doesn’t even know me just because I am me.” The feeling I had was like no other. I made a difference. Do you know what that feels like?


To see girls except the words of a stranger was great. They have no idea it was me. It could have been the “weird” girl sitting in the corner etching some pretty amazing sketches in the corner of her paper. It could have been little Miss popular with the perfect hair and dainty hand writing. Or it could have been that girl everyone passes in the hallway. Letting her mind her own business lost in a million thoughts. I bonded with strangers. Now I look around and act as though every girl has read one of my letters. Agreed with it. Kept it. Shared it. I have a secret little bond with people now. One they don’t even know about. All thanks to that little piece of cardstalk covered in words.



Untitled drawing (7)



This is a question we ask ourselves on a regular basis. How do I make that work into my schedule? How do I answer that? How do I live my life in the eyes of others?

OK so that last one may not pop in your head all the time but shouldn’t it? Or maybe not? I am always torn between not caring what others think of me and yet caring a little too much. I see the faults in both of these. Not caring about what others think could lead to me being rude and becoming self centered but yet caring too much could leave me relying on other people’s approval. I don’t need other’s approval on how I live my life but I still need these people to keep me grounded. How on earth do I keep it all balanced? And how do I balance out what everyone around me is saying? How do I stay meek but not become a wall flower?

This question has sat on my mind for a good week. It has left an imprint in my mind. There is an indention from this question. How do I be meek but stay strong in all I believe in? Meekness has such a negative connotation and why? I have no clue. It is something we all should strive to be, I mean right? But what comes to my mind when someone is called meek is that they are walked all over and don’t take a stand for anything they believe in. They stand on the outside. But soon I came to the realization that being meek is none of these things, actually it is quite the opposite. Being meek is standing for what you believe in the LITTLE ways. That is where the little comes in. It comes by actions, not personality. Meekness is not physically or mentally being small, but it is living and bring joy to people’s everyday life in the small ways, the ways no one notices. That is why the Bible tells us to be meek. Not to be walked over, not to be told what to do. But to live in a way that our actions may not be huge but where they make a difference. A way where are actions are not seen by those around us, they are almost invisible. One of my all time favorite quotes is by Mother Theresa ” We can do no great things, only small things in great love.”

Can I just leave it at that?

Love, hugs, and many smiles- Molly.

Out Loud


I talk to myself. When I am alone and the house is quite I do it loudly. I talk with an extreme confidence, I don’t hold back any of my crazy and/or wild thoughts. I just let them go from my busy brain to my non stop mouth filling the empty silence. I speak with a confidence I only have when no one is listening. When no one is judging. When there are others around and the house isn’t so silent, I mouth these words. I don’t stop them because, why would I? Once they are out out in the open ( even if it is only my open, in my little world) , there is no taking them back. Saying it makes it so much more real. Almost tangible. I feel like I could reach out and grab those words. Hold them. Cradle them by my chest and care for them as if they were my child. Sometimes we think so profound things but yet never share them with the world because we never get the courage to actually say them. We worry about being judged. Being told whatever thought we just had was already thought by someone greater than us, more important. That we aren’t as original as we may want to be. But here’s the thing. You thought that thought. No one put it in your head. You did. Props to you my dear. So say it. Say it to yourself. Feel those words pour out of your mouth just like water pours out of a waterfall. Feel those beautiful words free themselves from the jail cells inside your brain. Let them go. Let that combination of 26 letters come from your mouth. Look yourself right in the mirror and say it. Because you will feel good. Confident. You will feel as though you rule the world. 

Saying it out loud makes it so real. Once you say it it has been said. You used the oxygen that the trees so graciously made you to say whatever it was. It makes you stick to it. It makes you believe it a little bit more. Say it out loud and it becomes more than just a thought. We all think. We think all the time. We think some pretty amazing things. Why not say them? Maybe once you say them to yourself you could gather the courage to say it out loud to someone else. What if that thought really is perfectly original? What if your below the surface thinking triggers someone else to think a little harder, a little deeper? You could start a beautiful chain reaction. Let’s do it. 

Love and hugs- Molly


Late night thoughts.

We all have role models, whether they be realistic ( moms, cousins, nanas, teachers, etc) or crazy ( pop stars, designers, authors). And the odds are you have both, 15 or 43, you probably have both. We are always striving to be just like someone else. To live in someone’s foot steps. To be just like them.  I am just like this, sometimes I combine people in my head and think ” If I could have blanks style and  so and so’s personality but throw in joe smoh’s faith” etc etc. But I am oh so fortunate to have so many people to look up to in my life. Both sides of my family are full of inspirational women and I love every single one of them to pieces! But all the while shouldn’t I be my own inspiration? Shouldn’t we all want to leave our own footprint on the world? Role models are crazy super duper important so we can model after them ( I mean it’s in the name isn’t it?). Do I want the courage my Nana has? Yes! Do I want the love my Mama has? Of course! Do I want to find the positive side to everything like my best friend? Who wouldn’t?! I should take the beautiful bits and pieces of the amazing women in my life and MODEL my life after them. 

   But where to even start? 

One day at a time. 

How else could you even begin to manage all of this? Oh and quick question (that I honestly have no answer to), how do we become the people we are? How did I become the way I am? I don’t ever remember waking up and thinking…I am going to love anything that sparkles, I am going to smile when ever I can, classic movies will be the way I spend my Friday nights, pink will rule my life, I will be too competitive for my own good, and a giggle will never be far from my mouth. 

I never decided that but uh….hello! That is who I am. 

Did I get that from the people I look up to? If so when? 

Am I rubbing off on the people around in a positive way?

What late night thoughts are creeping in your mind? 

Love, hugs, and many smiles – Molly