Heartland.

I've been glued to the news since 3 p.m. yesterday afternoon when a coworker hesitantly asked, "Um...do you know anyone in Moore, Oklahoma?"

And since then, everyone keeps asking...why would you live in a place that's been struck by tornadoes multiple times? Why would you put yourself in harm's way and submit yourself to the potential heartache of losing everything? And why, oh why, when it's all said and done...do you come back?

I might be a born Texan, and I might have only lived in Oklahoma for five years...but I learned something about that state when I was there.

Oklahomans don't give up. 

Ever.

If you think about Oklahoma City, the news probably makes you believe a lot of bad things happen there. Building are blown up for no good reason. Tornadoes with the highest winds ever recorded on the Earth's surface occur there, destroying lives and killing those in its path. Then they come back and tear everything to shreds again. Hell, the state literally blew away in the 1930s.

And every time it gets hit Oklahoma might sit for a moment, stunned by what's just transpired...but then it picks itself back up, dusts itself off and gets right to work fixing everything so life can go back to normal.

Why do they do it? How can they do it?

Because Oklahoma - and Oklahoma City in particular - is the very heart of this country.

Look at it on a map. No other city is so dead center in the United States with highways flowing through it in every direction like arteries connecting it to its body. OKC has to be strong because it's our heart - and if our heart fails...

I have two friends in particular in Oklahoma - one who just barely escaped having her whole life decimated yesterday - that I think about when wondering about the tenacity and strength of that state. These two girls taught me more about being resilient (and just when I needed it most) than they'll ever know simply by being them, the product of their home. 

Oklahomans, whether born or bred, are built a little bit different from the rest of us. Their skin is a little bit thicker, their hearts a little bigger and their ability to stare down disaster and dare it to strike them twice unparalleled. They don't scare or back down that easy. They don't give up without a fight.

You wouldn't want your heart to give up that easy, would you?

One week.

A little more than a week ago, I was holed up in a Tulsa coffee shop on a cold, foggy morning trying to hold myself together because I didn't want to leave behind that city I love so much yet again.

It's amazing how much perspective you can gain in just a week.

That's not to say I've changed my mind about anything I felt last Monday morning...I think I'd still rather be tucked away in a magical city no one gives a second thought than just trying to get through a day in the fourth largest city in the country. But I've realized a lot of what I feel for Tulsa I can feel here. And in very simple ways.

I love that city because it feels like mine. I know all its secrets, good and bad. I know it inside and out - and Houston is just too damn big for that. I'll never know it like I know Tulsa.

But I kept thinking about it all week - what makes that one city so special? Sure, there's tons of local coffee shops, restaurants and boutiques...enough to keep a girl busy and wandering for at least a year's worth of weekends, if not more. It's quiet and unassuming - has big city and small town charm.

And it also symbolizes independence for me, which is why it has such a hold on my heart. I went there knowing no one, and I conquered. I felt at home there in a way that I know I'll never feel for Houston.

Then my life got derailed, I didn't try hard enough to stay, and I moved back home to live with my parents. I've been here four years, and though I am beyond forever grateful to have parents who were willing to let me invade their empty nest space...I need to be back on my own again. I'm ready to have my own space, do my own laundry, make my own dinner...I'm ready to get back to that independence. It sounds so silly when I write it down like that, but it makes all the difference.

I might not like Houston nearly as much as Tulsa, but I have faith I can create that sense of independence here. I can find a place to live - in town or inner suburbs, I'm still debating. I can find a cute coffee shop to live by where I can go write, be a touch closer to music venues, decorate my walls however I want.

It might not be Tulsa, but my life is here in Houston and I can't leave it all behind.

I can't wait to rediscover that independence.

Home, let me come home...

I should probably be in a car headed back to Houston right now, hightailing it away from this gloomy, cold
weather we've dealt with all weekend. Instead, I'm tucked away in the back corner of Coffee House on Cherry Street in Tulsa...savoring a few more precious hours in this city I love.

On this trip I wanted to come here for the sake of research - in the book I want to write, my main character works at a cute little coffee shop in Tulsa...and though I never actually stepped foot inside this place during my five years in this town, this was the spot I picked for my inspiration. So I figured if I had some extra time this morning, I'd come plant myself in a chair, make some notes and maybe, hopefully rejuvenate my need to tell this story.

Yup. That was the original plan. But now? Now I'm here because I can't bring myself to be pulled away from this place yet.

There's a certain magic in this city that goes beyond my love for a library or a silly little band that resides here. There's an energy and excitement I haven't found anywhere in Houston. I felt it when I first moved here - every day was an exciting new adventure. I sat in on a writer's group whose membership included S.E. Hinton. I met a girl who knew that silly little band, gave me music no one was supposed to have and introduced me to them. I wrote a lot of beautiful flash fiction to capture the moments of life that mattered in my world. It was all happening.

Remembering that magic brought me to tears Saturday night as I sat on a couch at Dwelling Spaces, flipping through yet another Tulsa publication I picked up over the weekend. There's so many people here just doing their own, artistic thing - and it has room to grow here. No one is shutting it down or ignoring it or saying it's stupid. Everyone has a chance to create.

I miss that. I don't have that. I want that.

I want to be able to pick up everything and head to one of this city's many, many amazing coffee shops (I'm on fantastic latte #3 of my extended weekend) to sit and write and feel connected to a muse - any muse at this point, I don't care. I miss that excitement of creativity.

So how do I get it back? I don't know just yet. And I know I can't sit around and wait for a chance to move back here to feel that creativity...because I simply do NOT feel that in Houston. Which is hard because just about everyone I love lives in Houston. So what wins out? Creative needs or personal needs? If I'm going to do any of what I want to, creative has to win that battle. I know that - but I'm not quite ready for that yet.

So I guess my best option for the moment is to absorb Tulsa's magic as much as possible when I'm here - through the food and music and cute boutiques and vibe of the city.

I need to remember what it felt like: standing on those library steps and feeling infinite - like everything was possible, nothing was silly or too far out of reach; walking into Cain's for the first time and feeling like I'm home; discovering new restaurants unique to Tulsa that I couldn't wait to share with my family on their next visit; sitting at Shades of Brown, reading books and writing in journals.

And then I have keep writing about it all so I don't lose the feeling until I can find a way to get back here.

Happy Birthday to...me.

Today I turn 29 and for some reason this age feels like a milestone to me. I guess because if you think about
it, technically today launches me into my 30th year of life - and 30 is a milestone birthday.

But I think it's also because there was a time I couldn't even foresee being this age, much less what my life would be like. It seemed far off, unattainable, impossible even.

Yet here I am.

It’s been a crazy decade. Just a few months after turning 20, I moved away from everything I knew, everyone I loved, to go live in a city where I knew no one. I thought I might be crazy for doing it. I spent the entire summer before awash in self-doubt and second guessing my life-altering decision.

But in the end? It was the best decision I’ve ever made for myself and led me to learn so much about who I am, who I wanted to be and – perhaps most importantly – who I didn’t want to be.

I am: quiet, soft spoken, big-hearted (to a fault, sometimes), eager to please and observant. I let people make me feel bad for being a number of these things because it didn’t make me a strong person. But I realized not everyone needs to be loud, outgoing and the best at everything. The world needs people to sit back, observe and give us insight on how it works. I’d much rather be the quiet one in the corner than the loud one talking just to fill the silence.

I wanted to be: a published writer, a “good” groupie, an independent woman who could take care of herself and maybe someday a girlfriend/wife/mother. Some of these I’ve accomplished in pieces, but I’m still working on all of them. Now instead of just being a published writer, I want to redefine the rock novel. Instead of just being a good groupie, I want to be The Good Groupie. I think it’s pretty cool how these things evolve and your goals grow bigger as you realize you can do it.

I don’t want to be: overbearing, manipulative, uncompromising, inconsiderate, a bad listener or just flat out mean. No one is perfect. We all have our moments when we are these things, whether we like it or not. But I try my very best not to be these things because they are ugly characteristics I see in others and dislike.

So as my 30th year of life starts, I feel like I have a pretty good handle on me. I know who I am and what I want from life – and I’m working towards it. That’s what your 20s are all about, right?

If so, mission accomplished. Let’s celebrate and get on to the challenge of turning 30 in 365 days!

Today is The Day

Today is The Day.

For someone out there, this is the day that changes everything. As you watch a TV screen, read a Tweet or hear it from a friend, it's the day that means your world will never be the same again.

Because you realize how horrifically evil humans can be to one another. You realize there are terrible people out there who do awful things to purposely hurt others, often without reason or rhyme. You realize you're never safe because monsters will lurk into the shadows of your world and will completely destroy it when you least expect it.

I hate that for someone out there, today is The Day.

My Day was September 11, 2011. When my anatomy and physiology teacher first told us the news, I laughed. In hindsight, I know it was an absolutely awful gut reaction, but yes. I let out a small chuckle that morning. Because who could be blind enough to accidentally fly into the top of a huge building in New York City, much less crazy enough to do so purposely? Surely my teacher was making it up.

But he wasn't. And the rest of that class period I felt myself slipping further and further away from something. A news junkie since age 13, all I could do when I came home from school each day that week was sit and watch the news and cry. I couldn't understand how a person could have so much hatred in their heart that they would be willing to do such a horrible thing. I'm still not sure I understand. In fact, after December 14, 2012 I know I don't.

That something I felt slipping away from me? I realize now that was the week, the day, the moment I went from being a child living in this world, dreaming of changing it with my writing and knowing perfection was a possibility to becoming a young woman who realized there's no such thing as perfection because sometimes bad things happen and you can't explain or change them. It's just a part of life.

That day changed how I saw the world and my understanding of my place in it.

That day was The Day.

And that's what I think of every time something horrible happens for no apparent reason. That for someone out there, today is Their Day. It's the day that changes their world and makes them see it a little more clearly - for better or worse.

We should be able to do better than this. Can't we do better than this?