In Your Waters

You are the horizon.

A place where sun and sky meet the water’s surface.

Beauty long in the distance.

Water rolls on

hoping for a chance to touch the heavens.

Glorious mural each rise and set.

Yet when the sun is at its height

or the moon has taken its place

Water and sky blend to no end.

It is no expectation to reach the horizon

yet I am a mermaid in your waters.

Unique and beautiful.

We each have our own

and somehow I still find myself swimming

Toward the horizon.

Unintentionally,

in one direction or another

I’m facing you.

Under the surface

My scales shimmer

Imitating your beauty to the fish.

I may fool them,

But we know the truth.

I rise to the surface laughing with you,

As I chase your endless border.

A separation of beauties

forever ruling the sea.

I'm interested to hear interpretations of this poem. Obviously I know who I wrote it for, but I just wonder what it looks like from a different perspective.

Good Irish Women

"Here's to good Irish women. May we know them, may we raise them, may we be them."

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I took a second look at this quote. For a moment I realized why every woman in the Quinlan family has a decoration of some sort starting that very thing. When I think of good women, I think of Quinlan women... and they so happen to be Irish.

Before I start my mushy gushy rant, my disclaimer is that just because I'm only talking about how wonderful the women are, doesn't mean the men aren't too. I happen to be female, so they get the blog for the day. Plus it is mostly the wonderful Irish women of my family reading this blog!

What does being a "good Irish woman" mean?

It means that when your Godson needs to come home, the United States Marine Corps doesn't stand a chance against you.

It means you move across the country to chase your dreams and take chances.

It means you house nieces and nephews while they get on their feet or before their mother's want to cut off their feet.

It means at 60 you are still plotting cross country trips.

It means you cry when you want to cry and you don't wear a bra if you don't want to.

It means you get kicked out of hotels in Las Vegas for laughing too loud.

It means you publish books, read poetry, make quilts, craft cards & produce movies.

It means you still have weekend long sleepovers with your sisters.

It means you protect the virtue of the ones who can't on their own.

You teach, you empower, you tell it like it is, you cook for your family, you laugh at things that aren't even that funny, you wear purple.

Being a good Irish woman means you take risks, love until it hurts, and always, always, always look after one another.

Each aunt, cousin, sister & mother in my family took a part in raising this Irish woman. I have had the honor of growing up around good, strong, powerful women. I know them, they've raised me and therefore I can only hope to be one like them.

Childhood Confessions

Childhood Confession #1: I threw away whole pieces of food after dinner, because I thought the homeless dug through our garbage and I wanted them to have a quality dinner.

Childhood Confession #2: When we corrected our own papers in elementary school, I would mark some wrong even if they weren't because I thought my teacher would think I was cheating if they were all right.

Childhood Confession #3: SOME PEOPE LIKE TO ROCK SOME PEOPLE LIKE TO ROLL BUT MOVIN AND A GROOVIN'S GONNA SATISFY MY SOUL. &REPEAT &REPEAT &REPEAT

Childhood Confession #4: I pretended that orange was my favorite color because I felt bad that no one else liked it.

Childhood Confession #6: My sister said if I drank a jar of pickle juice, I could hang out with her and her friends... and I did.

Childhood Confession #7: I told my parents that if I died before them, I wanted them to stuff me and mount me on the wall like a deer so they wouldn't miss me (or maybe an attempt at becoming immortal?)

Childhood Confession #8: I sang the lyrics “piece of my Heart” by Janis Joplin as… “what’s love Dr. Do-Dr. Do-little” instead of “what’s love got to do, got to do with it?”

Childhood Confession #9: I was confused as to why people would die in movies just to make money, when they would be dead once they got paid.

Childhood Confession #10: I was convinced I was going to marry my dad and live with my parents forever.

Childhood Confession #11: I would steal my mom’s Vitimin C tablets to put in water to make “c” (tea) for my stuffed animals and me.

Hope is my middle name.

After two hours of making valentines and several nagging voices putting down my efforts, I began to question why people hate Valentine’s Day so much. I think Valentine’s Day holds a lot of expectations. A big show. Twelve dozen roses. Secret admirers. Five Star Dinner. Undying admiration. When it doesn’t fit expectations, “Valentine’s Day” becomes “Singles Awareness Day”.

I have never had a boyfriend or “valentine” but I adore Valentine’s Day nonetheless. I spend hours making Valentine cards, trying to think of everyone I want to recognize and how I can make it special for people I love. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I get a little bummed. I still get a little bit of an ache in my heart when I see beaming girls and their doting boyfriends. A piece of me will always be envious, but I have been changing that envy into hope.

Hope that one day, I will be that giggling girl. Someone will love and adore me. Hope that someday I will get a stupid love poem or handmade card. One day I will wake up to breakfast in bed. Or I will lay around, watch movies and eat chocolate with that someone who makes me laugh. I have hope that a day will come that I will be able to love someone with all my heart and get love in return. This is a day of patience for me. Not being mad about 20 years of being single, or how I got my heart stomped on or how he stopped calling or that I don't have it RIGHT NOW, but holding on to a hope that one day I will... and all this waiting will be worth it and I will have a love that won't let me down. Valentine’s Day gives me hope for the future, because it shows me that love is real. I will look all around and see that love is real.

No matter the condition of my heart, a sprained ankle and on crutches, it’s going to keep trying, even if it is limping. Because I know that at this moment, my future love is walking on the earth. Since I don’t know where he is right now, sleeping, studying, making Valentine’s, or playing xbox but I am going to do my best to love everyone in my life, so maybe the love will trickle down to him. You may roll your eyes and say: Naive. Unrealistic. Sappy. Pathetic. No. It's hopeful.

Hallmark holiday or not, I love Valentine’s Day, even when it is a little painful. Because without pain, there can be no joy.

i carry your heart with me

E.E.Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

**Hope really is my middle name... metaphorically and literally... in case you didn't know that.

Just a Saturday afternoon at CMU

Love God, Love People and Love Yourself.

As much as I would love to take the day to pursue the corners of my mind for a poem or short story I have stored, I just don't have the creative inspiration. I still feel the need to write up a little something about what has been distracting me from rambling on about boys, schoolwork, roommates and the like. Hold on to your hats! I think about more than that.

I attempted posting a video of myself, but it turned out wacky. Basically, I am still in college, still having fun and still "discovering who I am". I just thought that "finding yourself" was a cliche piece of going to college, but lately I have been able to relate to it more than ever. The only words I can use to describe what I am currently "discovering" is: spiritual turmoil. What do I believe? More naggingly: Why do I believe it?

Things I know for certain? Love God, Love People and Love Yourself. The second and third portion of that sentence is easy, just takes practice. The first part has some strings attached. I am trying to figure out the best way to Love God. I have alway been taught that Jesus is the only way to God, because the Bible says so. But why do I believe the Bible? Because I have been told it is the Truth. All these things I believe because I have been told to believe them.

I don't question God because I can't accept that such a beautiful world just existed, not created for us. That the inner workings of human beings is just science. I believe there is more substance to human life than DNA and barbaric survival. That a soul, love, sincerity, beauty, hope, poetry and peace cannot be manufactured. I believe in the supernatural love of a God. Because it feels true to my heart and I don't want to believe anything different.

I want nothing more than to follow Jesus to God whole heartedly. But I am not going to blindly follow just because I always have. I am not going to just because I am scared of going to hell, losing friends and changing my thinking. Jesus offers hope and forgiveness that I haven't seen anywhere else and I want to genuinely believe in it. Which I think starts with questioning it. Questioning if this Man was who He said He was, the Son of God. Is he the ONLY way to God's Kingdom? If I choose to believe in Jesus and the promise He offers, do I have to accept all of what the Bible says?

Love you neighbors. Don't steal, cheat, lie, or murder. Respect your parents. Nothing in the 10 Commandments teaches me about doing wrong. But many of the things the Church teaches me about what the Bible says, doesn't line up with how I feel. That women should submit to their husbands. That being homosexual is a sin. That women can't be powerful and aggressive but sit back and be should be soft spoken and subservient. Am I allowed to throw out those teachings and not throw out Jesus? If it's an all or none approach-- do I want to be part of a religion like that? Do I have to accept the Christian church if I want to follow Jesus?

I am stuck in this grey area of my spirituality, trying to dig myself out. As I write and write about all the questions I have, I realize there is no answer. It is faith. Faith is believing in something you cannot prove. Can you force faith? I know I want faith, but I don't know if I can make myself have it. Or should it just be? If you know me, you know how I can worry about something 'til the well runs dry. The case of my eternal life isn't a different story. But my sister, Lacy, gave me peace of mind: I don't have to choose. Spirituality shouldn't be stagnant, but you should be ever growing and should be ever questioning and ever changing. The key is be ok with not knowing all the answers.

So my blog is about to end. With no conclusions made. Left only with questions that I hope one day to answer. Or the hope to one day have peace with them being unanswered.

Fast forward to "2:58" if you are impatient. I recommend watching all ten minutes of it. This guy is amazing, I would know, online Slam poetry is what keeps me constantly distracted from more productive things.