little sarah Big World

Tag: sensitivity

Home is Where


I Once Was Lost But Now Am Loster


God Bless America

God Bless America

First meal stateside, PDX. Followed by a mocha, of which I drank maybe a third. Bought a book from Powell’s (Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird) and felt more myself than I had in a long time–reading about writing, thinking about reading and writing, writing about thinking and reading and writing. Also buzzed on northwest caffeine.

Portrait of Jet Lag

Jet. Lag. Stayed up til 2 the first night, slept til noon. All of the no-nos, all of the puffiness and confusion.


Sammy and Kendra’s wedding. Only as stressful as to be expected, and also: beautiful, intimate, simple, funny, light-hearted, warm and easy. I played viola and made a toast to the best of my abilities. Little brother is married, and a step-father. What a world.

Every Day

Weddings on the brain. Every time I go to the bathroom in my Moms’ house, I see this. I miss this guy. I miss this wedding.


Burritos on the brain, and in the tummy. All I wanted for the first week.

Pre-Sun Runners

Runners under the spotlight, 4:45am, waiting for our 6am start to the Deseret News Pioneer Day 1/2 Marathon. So many fit people, so little sleep, so much time to wait.


Pioneer Day / Pie and Beer day. Sparkling with close friends, not making a big deal, but having a great deal of fun.

Mornings at B&J's

Coffee and pie. To-do lists. Writing. Emails. Catching up. Mornings alone, at B&J’s, watering plants and easing into the day. Sometimes eager, sometimes anxious. Always slow and steady.

Sister Sleepover

Family time. Sister sleepover. Sharing a bed with Natalie, and all we did was read, then sleep. Sometimes, just being together is the thing. And afterwords you have lovely toenails.

B & D

Pool days with Espy, burgers at B & D’s. Getting tan, reading books. It’s a lot like last summer, only completely different.

*       *       *

The thing about being a sensie (one who is sensitive, in all respects), is that life tends to overwhelm me. It floods me with feelings, thoughts, ideas, emotions, worries, and wonder. It takes me a long time to understand what I feel, to “process.” I tend to dwell on the past, to try to understand. I tend to feel swamped by the present, and anxious about the future. I tend to take a while to get from one place to another, needing to swim through an ocean of tears as I adjust to even the smallest changes.

And, oh, it gets old.

Being home is great, and it is not great. Because it is home, and it is not home. If home is where the heart is, then my heart is split into dozens of pieces. My heart is in Salt Lake, and Ogden, and California, and Brooklyn. My heart is in Anchorage. A big chunk of it is in Tokyo, Japan. We were just getting settled there, just starting to feel at home in our apartment and our routine, starting to make friends and have regular hangouts, and explore Japan a bit. I was finally not homesick.

But now I am home again, except that home is no longer home, no longer even a fixed place, but an ever-moving target and I am slow to adjust. The most confusing to my head and heart.

The food, however, is amazing.

Things I Have Not Been Telling You

On a Windy Day

It’s not just adjusting to a new life, Friends. It is everything all at once. It is a new life, new country, new apartment, new job(s), new marriage and new definition of myself. Who is littlesarah, after all, without her friends? Without her family, or her coffee shop job, or her perfect apartment in the Avenues? Who am I in this Big World?

Better question: how am I coping? (Answer: not perfectly. Not as well as I had thought/hoped).

Historically, I have not dealt particularly well with Changes.Yet, as my mom so astutely pointed out, “I don’t know anyone who places themselves at the epicenter of change more than you.” (And I did appreciate that little earthquake reference).

So. What I’m trying to say is there are many reasons I’ve been distant, silent, cryptic, etc. But I’m back, and I want to let you know why I was gone and what’s been going on.

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True Love Means Getting Up Off Your Ass


Now That I’ve Got Your Attention

Shinjuku, Tokyo

Sometimes we all need a kick in the pants, and I’ve had nearly nothing but, of late. My ass is sore as hell. Life is kicking me in the pants, so is my job search, so is my husband, so is Japan.

Meaning: there will be no resting on my laurels, no getting comfortable, no easy way out. If you want to be a writer, littlesarah (the world seems to say), then you’d better dig in and make it happen. (But be prepared to go through hell for it, first).

So just as I’m getting back into my writing–prioritizing it (for once)–Cousin Misty nominates me for a Versatile Blogger award. “Put your money where your mouth is, Cuz” (she seems to say).

And who better to give me the push that I need, than someone who takes writing seriously, who makes it her business. Her blog, Surviving in Italy, is a no-holds-barred, honest look at what it really means to be an expat, to be in love, to make art, to get bruised…with cynicism and humor, in equal parts. She also dedicates herself to beautiful, brutal memoirs and essays (plus the occasional work of fiction) at Dirty Filthy Things. And she makes high-end clothing. And she’s a model/spokeswoman. Probably she has laser eyes, too.

What I’m saying is: it’s a lot to live up to, but I’ll try. Also, thank you for this nomination.

Harajuku Fleurs

Without further ado, Friends, here we go!

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