Because there's beauty in the breakdown

How many times has someone asked you what your favorite movie was? And how many times did you just tell them the first movie that came to your mind? Every time for me. I have never been all about movies. I love watching them, and I love the messages they give and the way they can make you feel a certain way, but I have never felt like I had an answer when someone has asked me that question until now. Garden State, over and over again and again Garden State. gah

I have seen this movie a handful of times, and the reason I feel so strongly towards it right now is most likely because I can relate so wildly to it in my current life situations. The recent past, the present, and whatever the fuck is in the future. 

I mean, the soundtrack. MY GOSH. woah.

(Insert huge chunk right here about me being all emotional and out of control and being medicated and unmedicated and confused and crying and not crying and then breaking the record...) bleep blop bop. 

So let go, let go, what are you waiting for? It's all right.

Natalie Portman, ugh. 

My lease is almost up at 617. The house that we reclaimed and made our home.

617. creaky floorboards. essential oil soaked walls. poochie pitter patters. mice. 8 million legged creepy scary bugs. Amazon Women. wine. coffee. a hammock. porch. emma. zoe. parenthood. cpm fuckboys. zipps. white comforters. stained white comforters. college. tequila. wine. class. skipping class. hangovers. cries. kisses. naps. minneapolis. time warp dining room table. the fort. pregnancy. ice cream. candles. poochie turds. love lost. love found. wine. netflix netflix netflix. late nights. taco bell. temptation drawer. tinder. coffee. tea. salt. broken windows. total wine. red. white. snacks. pasta. sunday smokes. stoop. city inspections. tea. garage. filth. heartbreak. family. bessie. night. upstairs bathroom dungeon. first dates. humidity. hot. wine. basmati rice. sober fish. credit cards. ranch. chicken. sriracha. Independence. kind of. thanks mom and dad. comfort. safety. handshakes. hugs. laughter. goodbyes. . . . . 

If 617 could talk. 

The stories it could tell. 

The emotions it could express.

Words it could create that I will never be able to.

If 617 could talk, it would tell you the story of girls, a dog, and the year that changed them. It would tell you about the hours spent worrying over guys and not that exam in the morning. It would recant the number of bottles of wine dranken in bed, the porch, or the dining room table. It would tell you about that one time Emma started a stove fire and stood there and stared at it, and the countless times Hannah left the oven on. It would tell you how hard Natalie worked while she was pregnant and that her other room mates weren’t doing half of what she did and still does. It would read you some of the poems Zo wrote while she hermitted herself in her bedroom. It would tell you about the friendship between Grace and Allie. It would paint a picture of what coming home from the bar looked like, and it would laugh when it told you how many times Hannah forgot her keys. And then it would tell you about that one time she broke a window. It would reveal secrets that otherwise would never escape its walls.

617, a building holding a home for women scared shitless of their futures, pushing them gently into the infinite abyss.

I hope that the next tenants of 617 make it their own, because it was not meant to be just a house. There is no such place as an ending, just a place where you leave the story.

So…to that weird yellow house on campus…yes the one with the cool stainless window...thanks for the mems. you rock, don’t ever change.

Come in, she said I'll give ya shelter from the storm.

hp.

 

 

 

 

 

The summer my skin turned to leather and my bank account never had a comma

Whether I'm in Central America, or good ol' Minnesota, turns out I'm chasing the sun everywhere I go. 

I went to my first music festival last weekend. I impulsively bought my ticket and camping pass off of Craiglist just weeks before, I know...so unlike me. 

Eaux Claires. It was both the best and the worst experience, mostly the best. But I could have gone without the extreme heat and massive thunder storm. Camping is fun, they said.

I have a college degree and I am a nanny. I have thousands of dollars in loans, and I have yet to fully commit to applying to "big girl" jobs.

You know that quote, "don't live to work, work to live."? This summer will forever ingrain that quote in my mind. This summer I have chosen to work to live. And I have not stopped living since June 1st. My days on Monday-Thursday are filled with babble amongst kids, rarely holding a sophisticated conversation with another adult between the hours of 8 and 5. Every other second has been filled with wildly awesome times with extraordinary people and poochies. Weekends on the lake, Thursday's in the porch, Monday nights with my sissy. 

The same weekend I bought my ticket to Eaux Claires, I bought a plane ticket to Washington DC to visit Savannah and Caroline (see basically any post from abroad to learn about these cool chicks). My dad, quietly poking me from the sidelines..."I don't mean to be a wet noodle, but how much money do you plan on having in your bank account by the end of the summer?" Two thousand dollars, I said...lol. 

It is almost August, and while my bank account is draining, I have never felt lighter and more like myself. 

In January, I died my hair red. Since then it has been every color of the rainbow...literally. And I am happy. Since May, I have been off of daily anxiety medication, and I am happy. Since June, I've gotten to kiss the same cute boy over and over, and I am happy. I have always been a big believer on spending money to make memories, this has never not worked out in my favor. I am broke and I am tan, and I am happy happy happy, boppin to the beat of my own drum. 

Beepbeepboopboop over and out,

Hp

A love letter to my dog.

(yes I know it's cliché, and yes I understand that she will never actually be able to read it.)

Last August was the beginning of what I would confidently consider the most challenging year of my life. And last August, this little poochie girl found her way into my heart. 

I adopted Bessie from my grandparents, who had rescued her from a small shelter in Wisconsin 3 years prior. We are unsure of how many homes Bess has called her own, how many litters of puppies she has had (at least 1 or 2), or even her age. 

Shortly after Bess became my partner-in-crime, we came to learn that she needed 15 of her teeth remove due to rot and decay that would otherwise kill her...an unfortunately common occurrence among Dachshunds. However, Bessie's lack of teeth has not stopped her from attempting to eat anything in sight, including, but not reduced to: crumbs, rocks, chocolate, garbage, etc. I thank my grandpa for Bessie's hefty appetite.

What parent in their right mind would let their daughter adopt a tiny dog, and then bring that pup to live in a college house with 5 other girls, her senior year of college? That's right, mine! I am lucky to have parents that have such trust in me. 

About 2 months after my time with Bessinator, I had to say goodbye to my lifelong friend and companion, my kitty Zeke. I sat on my kitchen floor with Zekey in my arms as he went up to kitty cat heaven, Moses following shortly behind him. And all the while, Bess sat not 5 feet away watching over the moment, not too close but not too far. 

Over the next 6 months, life as I knew it felt as though it was crumbling beneath me. Anxiety struck my life like a bomb. Panic and insomnia. All the while, Bess was quietly and calmly at my side. Snuggling into me on nights where I felt sad and alone, and walking along side me on days where I did not feel like getting out of bed. 6 pounds of poochie love held me together. 

To my Bessie girl, thank you for letting me be your mama. For letting me love you and suffocate you with snuggles. Thank you for pooping on the floor right in front of me to let me know that you didn't approve of the boy that I had over...and also making it clear when you have approved...and being a total dude magnet. Thanks for letting me dress you up in weird outfits (I'm really sorry...I never though I would be that kind of dog mom). Thank you for laying awake with me through sleepless nights and the month+ long period in the fort with wine and Parenthood (shoutout to my roommates for allowing the fort & supplying wine). Thank you for doing that crazy little dance every morning to help me get out of bed. And lastly, thank you for following in my footsteps and not caring where you are, as long as I'm close by.

It's ironic to think about everything that can happen in a years time. I'm not even close to near where I thought I would be, but I sure am happier than ever. 

I love you poochie, and am now an official member of the Dachshund cult following because of you. 

Cheers to the next year and another crazy ride around the sun. 

Crazy dog lady out,

Hannah 

Yes Bessie has an Instagram, and yes you should follow her: @Bessiegoes

Breathe in, Breathe out: A year in the making

Hey there party people. It’s been a minute. Poppin’ back in for a little recap on life…

So there’s this pesky little app called Timehop…heard of it? It is the best, and it is the worst. It shows what you were doing exactly a year ago at any given time. A year ago I was dying eggs in a beautiful house in Nicaragua over looking the ocean, with two of god’s greatest blessings in my life (Caro and Sav…miss you though).

A year ago I was craving Minnesota more than I could have ever imagined possible, I was terribly homesick. And one year later, I am terribly homesick for that moment in time with people that took such good care of me.

“Home is not where you live, but where people understand you.”

It is safe to say that the past twelve months of my life have been the craziest yet. There have been quite a few curveballs, most of which I did not anticipate. I struck out a couple times, but I did also manage to hit a few home runs (naturally I make a baseball analogy…did you know I’m a Pettersen?)

A relationship ended in my life that a year ago I thought would last forever. I held my kitty cat and companion since age four in my arms as he left this earth. I was forced to seek medical attention for anxiety that I wish did not exist in my life. I could focus on the negative all I want, pity myself, blah blah blah….

           

But HELLO! The amount of homeruns that I’ve hit outweighs every single damn strikeout. I adopted the most incredible little creature, Bessie girl, who lights up my life every single day, homerun. I moved into 617 with my best friends, homerun. AJ and Emily moved home and Josh and Kristen had a beautiful baby girl, HOMERUN!!! (I guess I didn’t really hit the last two, but I sure am glad that they did.)

           

In 5 months I do not know where I will lay my head each night. But I have people across this country that understand me, who love me, and who are rooting for me. There is no one else I would rather have in my line up.

“Turns out not where, but who you're with that really matters.”

Central America, Minneapolis, Minnetonka. And beyond.

The day miss Adelle was born, the most perfect baby in the entire universe (I dare you to question me on that), is when my life took a grand turn. When my niece was born, and I met her for the first time, something in me changed that I could not ignore. I made a major decision that day that stemmed solely from a “gut feeling”. And that was one of the best decisions I could have made, I freed myself from shackles that I did not even know existed at the time, and this tiny little being, without the ability to even hold her own head up, helped me do that.

A year from now, I will think back to the morning of January 8^th, when I was holding her tiny little body in my arms for the first time, and I will thank her.

And ten or fifteen years from now, when life’s pains might find her, I will thank her. For coming into this world and helping me realize my worth, and I will make sure she knows how much she is worth. I will tell her that she is a strong independent amazon women who can do whatever the hell she wants in this life, and she has an amazing mom and dad, and aunties, uncles, and grandparents, that will help her get there.

One year. Two years. Ten years. Twenty years. Breathe in, breathe out. Each year will hold new adventures, new failures. Strikeouts, singles, doubles, and home runs. Failing much more than succeeding, with a batting average I am not always proud of. There will be slumps, but thus is life…and I cannot imagine my life any other way.

I am a single 22-year-old woman with a bright, bright future ahead of me. Hear me roar!

Over and out,

HP