Thursday, August 30, 2012
Day Two Hundred and Seventy Nine - Shut Up, Shut Up, Please Just Shut Up
New Fall Resolution: I will not give my opinion on someone's life, or their choices, unless I am asked. Please, for the love of all that is good and sugary, do the same for me.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Day Two Hundred and Seventy Eight - Life Is...
Life is walking on pavement in crocheted slippers. It is full of strange sensations. It hurts sometimes, but mostly it feels pretty good. It's oddly cozy and yet freeing because there's just some twisted yarn between your toes and the ground. Something about it makes you just want to slow down and appreciate it, the walk, the sounds, the feelings. You can feel the leaves crunch beneath you, not just hear it.
Life is getting thrilled at a random text message from an old friend. Life is crying because the feeling of freedom is overwhelming. Life is a whole lot of hyperbole. Life is missing someone and knowing its not the time to reach out. Life is knowing you have to do some things on your own even though it's scary. Life is learning that you have to wash your washing machine. Life is screaming at your checkbook. Life is keeping all your less than perfect crochet projects for yourself and giving them perfect ones away. Life is breaking up and never speaking again. Life is breaking up and laughing together a month later over a bonfire.
Life is making stupid decisions on purpose because some lessons need to be learned first hand. Life is not making other stupid decisions because watching someone else do it is lesson enough. Life is realizing you're the one person you know that's allergic to alcohol. Life is loving more people than you heart can hold, and adding more each year anyway.
Life is believing in fairy tales, even when your heart is broken. Life is being happy for someone else telling you the beginning of their happy ending and trying so hard not to be jealous. Life is refusing to fall back into safe and familiar arms no matter how hard it is to stand alone.
Life. Real life. Is choosing to not be afraid anymore. Well. Of choosing not to let fear stop you from really living.
Life is getting thrilled at a random text message from an old friend. Life is crying because the feeling of freedom is overwhelming. Life is a whole lot of hyperbole. Life is missing someone and knowing its not the time to reach out. Life is knowing you have to do some things on your own even though it's scary. Life is learning that you have to wash your washing machine. Life is screaming at your checkbook. Life is keeping all your less than perfect crochet projects for yourself and giving them perfect ones away. Life is breaking up and never speaking again. Life is breaking up and laughing together a month later over a bonfire.
Life is making stupid decisions on purpose because some lessons need to be learned first hand. Life is not making other stupid decisions because watching someone else do it is lesson enough. Life is realizing you're the one person you know that's allergic to alcohol. Life is loving more people than you heart can hold, and adding more each year anyway.
Life is believing in fairy tales, even when your heart is broken. Life is being happy for someone else telling you the beginning of their happy ending and trying so hard not to be jealous. Life is refusing to fall back into safe and familiar arms no matter how hard it is to stand alone.
Life. Real life. Is choosing to not be afraid anymore. Well. Of choosing not to let fear stop you from really living.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Day Two Hundred and Seventy Seven - Bubble Bath
I took a long bath yesterday. I sat with my neck up to the bubbles and soaked. I splashed in the water. I giggled. I put bubbles on my head. I sighed deeply. And suddenly felt a year younger and a hell of a lot less stressed.
Water is soothing to the soul. It's necessary. It flows over you and takes with it all your cares and thoughts. It brings relaxation, and deposits peace. Water is so much bigger than you. There is so much of it. And that is somehow helpful to know as well.
It's deeper than you, wider than you, both smoother and rougher than you. It brings wisdom in its hidden currents, and can turn you back to right after a number of wrongs.
Conclusion: Need to find a place with a bathtub. I know it'll be next to impossible in the next year, or next few years, but someday, maybe when I am able to buy a house - it is an absolute must. And when I move to Des Moines, I must find a park or a lake or somewhere that has water for me.
Water is soothing to the soul. It's necessary. It flows over you and takes with it all your cares and thoughts. It brings relaxation, and deposits peace. Water is so much bigger than you. There is so much of it. And that is somehow helpful to know as well.
It's deeper than you, wider than you, both smoother and rougher than you. It brings wisdom in its hidden currents, and can turn you back to right after a number of wrongs.
Conclusion: Need to find a place with a bathtub. I know it'll be next to impossible in the next year, or next few years, but someday, maybe when I am able to buy a house - it is an absolute must. And when I move to Des Moines, I must find a park or a lake or somewhere that has water for me.
Day Two Hundred and Seventy Six - Things I Cannot Change
Once, a very long time ago, I had a boyfriend who went to Basic Training for the Air Force. This will become important later.
There are certain things about myself I cannot change. No matter how hard I try, it's never going to happen. Being a talker is one of those things. I need to talk to communicate. Not always me doing the talking, of course. I'm all for listening. But the very act of talking to another person, face to face or via text. Personally, I'm half convinced God invented text just for me. It's perfect for my disposition. I prefer the written word over the spoken one, and this way it's instant rather than waiting for the post. But in all earnestness, it doesn't matter. Text, talk, face time, I need to communicate, and often with those I love.
Don't get me wrong, it doesn't have to be a constant thing. I have so many people I love and deeply care about that if I tried to stay in constant contact with all of them my phone would give me the finger and roll over and die. The majority of them I can go weeks or months without talking to and then suddenly, in a fit of remembrance, a flurry of communication will happen as we get caught up. However, for those in my inner circle, communicating deeply and often is essential.
Remember that whole, 'I dated a guy who went through basic' thing? That is important because even though he was locked away by the military and I couldn't talk to him, I wrote him a letter every day. Not a little note card. A Letter. Telling him what I had done, what I missed about him, what I had learned or thought or enjoyed. I told him about my good days and my bad. I told him how much I loved and missed him and what I was planning for us when he got back. It didn't matter that I couldn't hear his response, I knew he wanted to hear from me. And he did. Although it vexed his mother more than I could express, both of his calls home went to me. He told me how much he loved me, how much he loved the letters, how they helped him feel connected and loved and not forgotten. I'm not saying every guy is like that, but... I have to communicate. That I cannot change.
I learned that over the last few weeks. I have so much to communicate, so much I want to hear and be heard. I need it. I need it. That is all.
There are certain things about myself I cannot change. No matter how hard I try, it's never going to happen. Being a talker is one of those things. I need to talk to communicate. Not always me doing the talking, of course. I'm all for listening. But the very act of talking to another person, face to face or via text. Personally, I'm half convinced God invented text just for me. It's perfect for my disposition. I prefer the written word over the spoken one, and this way it's instant rather than waiting for the post. But in all earnestness, it doesn't matter. Text, talk, face time, I need to communicate, and often with those I love.
Don't get me wrong, it doesn't have to be a constant thing. I have so many people I love and deeply care about that if I tried to stay in constant contact with all of them my phone would give me the finger and roll over and die. The majority of them I can go weeks or months without talking to and then suddenly, in a fit of remembrance, a flurry of communication will happen as we get caught up. However, for those in my inner circle, communicating deeply and often is essential.
Remember that whole, 'I dated a guy who went through basic' thing? That is important because even though he was locked away by the military and I couldn't talk to him, I wrote him a letter every day. Not a little note card. A Letter. Telling him what I had done, what I missed about him, what I had learned or thought or enjoyed. I told him about my good days and my bad. I told him how much I loved and missed him and what I was planning for us when he got back. It didn't matter that I couldn't hear his response, I knew he wanted to hear from me. And he did. Although it vexed his mother more than I could express, both of his calls home went to me. He told me how much he loved me, how much he loved the letters, how they helped him feel connected and loved and not forgotten. I'm not saying every guy is like that, but... I have to communicate. That I cannot change.
I learned that over the last few weeks. I have so much to communicate, so much I want to hear and be heard. I need it. I need it. That is all.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Two Hundred and Seventy Five - I Am More...
I am more than what I make with my hands. I am more than what I write. I am more than the thoughts I think about myself. I am more than where I live. I am more than who I date. I am more than my habits or hobbies. I am more than what I think I should be. I am more than where I thought I would be. I am more than my clothes. I am more than my style. I am more than my smile and more than my tears. I am more than my fear. I am more than my triumphs. I am more than what you think of me. I am more than my good days and more than my bad. I'm more than my virtue and vices. I am more than all of my parts combined. Because I'm me, I'm unique, and I'm alive, and each day is made of infinite possibility. I won't let anyone keep me down; including myself.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Day Two Hundred and Seventy Four - One Perfect Moment
In the last week, I have had one perfect moment. There has been a lot of work, and a lot of working outside of work, and a lot of not sleeping enough, and a lot of hormones and emotions and facepalms. But yesterday, I was lucky enough to have one, perfect moment. I don't know how long it lasted, I think it was for almost two or three hours. I was in a big fluffy bed, eating a warm apple pie topped with crumble, sipping coffee, looking through a Christmas themed craft and recipe book, while listening to Christmas music, and sharing this perfect moment with a good friend. I was in heaven. I was perfectly and totally at peace, utterly relaxed, without a care in the world. For that moment, everything was perfect.
I think I need those at least once a week. Because lately, with all the change, and all the preparation going on with the change and for the change, I'm having a really hard time getting enough down time. I work all day at work, and then come home and work until I collapse in bed and haven't been getting enough sleep. But I also stress too much and have to remember that everything will get done and I just need to let it happen. This is a happy time, I haven't been this excited in years. I've just got to remember to take a break now and again, enjoy the life I lead, and remember why I'm doing all of this.
For me.
I think I need those at least once a week. Because lately, with all the change, and all the preparation going on with the change and for the change, I'm having a really hard time getting enough down time. I work all day at work, and then come home and work until I collapse in bed and haven't been getting enough sleep. But I also stress too much and have to remember that everything will get done and I just need to let it happen. This is a happy time, I haven't been this excited in years. I've just got to remember to take a break now and again, enjoy the life I lead, and remember why I'm doing all of this.
For me.
Day Two Hundred and Seventy Three - The Incredible Mrs. B
This one is gonna hurt a little but try and stay with me. I've known Mrs. B for 6 years, long before she was Mrs. B. When people write about the term 'ethereal' I've always imagined they must be something like her. She's a waif of a girl if there ever was one. Rarely do I feel husky, but being around Mrs. B makes a mouse feel heavy. But the point isn't how small she is (and I don't mean short here, people, just waif-ish), it's about something I struggle to find words for. Mrs. B has an innocence about her that I've always sort of revered. Not that she's never done anything wrong or that she's some sort of blushing nun. No. She had a loser boyfriend in highschool, and too much drama her freshman year of college, but... even so, her innocence remained. Part of me has always... wanted to protect her. And some part of me... has always wanted her approval.
I'm laughing derisively at myself now, chuckling really, under my breath. Oh silly me. See, I saw her the other day, the incredible Mrs. B. She's blissfully recently married, well employed, and all around just enjoying life. She is everything a 24 year old ought to be. Did I mention she's also stunning? Yea, just in case I left that out, she's just breathtakingly gorgeous. And never more so than when she isn't wearing an ounce of make up. Anyway. She's everything a 24 year old ought to be. And I... I am none of those things. I am not married, not even close, I do not have a job I love, and my life is in the midst of a giant upheaval. And instead of doing what I planned, which was putting on a brave face and turning most of the conversation to her, instead I just couldn't shut up and drank too much wine.
It literally makes me wince to remember. I haven't been that embarrassed in a long time. Why on earth would she want to hear about my ponderings, upheaval, and lingering confusion and heartache? Dear Lord, I really try not to think about it. I'd like to erase the entire night. I just never shut up. And now, now I fully plan on not seeing her for years, just so I don't have to face it. I don't want to see her until I have my life together, because next to her I just feel... well it's not good.
And I know, she didn't always have it so together. I remember just two years ago, she'd call me at 1:45am, needing a ride home. So I'd go get her, and as soon as she got in my car she'd burst into tears, begging me to let her crash at my house because she couldn't face her mom while this drunk. And I did, I always did. And woke up at 7 to drive her home. But I'm still ashamed that I'm so incredibly dramatastic. Not in that 'did you hear what that %(@^ Rhonda said to me!?' sort of way but in the 'it's been years and my heart still hurts' sort of way. I'm mortified at my inability to fake it, even for a single night. I'm mortified at my tendency to dull my nerves with wine. I'm mortified that someone I wanted to see only the bright sides of me knows so many of the dark ones.
Yet writing this out has made me mostly get over it. I can't judge myself through what I imagine are her eyes. I had a bad night. It happens. And my life is in the middle of a giant, consuming upheaval. I can't change what happened, but I can learn from it. And I can take her off a pedestal, and stop trying to put myself on one. I don't have it all together. In fact. I never, ever will. I'm still gonna send her a Christmas card.
P.S. Mrs. B, just in case you ever read this, feel free to keep the shirt. After 2 years, it's yours anyway. I'm really very glad you're so happy, even if I am a little jealous.
I'm laughing derisively at myself now, chuckling really, under my breath. Oh silly me. See, I saw her the other day, the incredible Mrs. B. She's blissfully recently married, well employed, and all around just enjoying life. She is everything a 24 year old ought to be. Did I mention she's also stunning? Yea, just in case I left that out, she's just breathtakingly gorgeous. And never more so than when she isn't wearing an ounce of make up. Anyway. She's everything a 24 year old ought to be. And I... I am none of those things. I am not married, not even close, I do not have a job I love, and my life is in the midst of a giant upheaval. And instead of doing what I planned, which was putting on a brave face and turning most of the conversation to her, instead I just couldn't shut up and drank too much wine.
It literally makes me wince to remember. I haven't been that embarrassed in a long time. Why on earth would she want to hear about my ponderings, upheaval, and lingering confusion and heartache? Dear Lord, I really try not to think about it. I'd like to erase the entire night. I just never shut up. And now, now I fully plan on not seeing her for years, just so I don't have to face it. I don't want to see her until I have my life together, because next to her I just feel... well it's not good.
And I know, she didn't always have it so together. I remember just two years ago, she'd call me at 1:45am, needing a ride home. So I'd go get her, and as soon as she got in my car she'd burst into tears, begging me to let her crash at my house because she couldn't face her mom while this drunk. And I did, I always did. And woke up at 7 to drive her home. But I'm still ashamed that I'm so incredibly dramatastic. Not in that 'did you hear what that %(@^ Rhonda said to me!?' sort of way but in the 'it's been years and my heart still hurts' sort of way. I'm mortified at my inability to fake it, even for a single night. I'm mortified at my tendency to dull my nerves with wine. I'm mortified that someone I wanted to see only the bright sides of me knows so many of the dark ones.
Yet writing this out has made me mostly get over it. I can't judge myself through what I imagine are her eyes. I had a bad night. It happens. And my life is in the middle of a giant, consuming upheaval. I can't change what happened, but I can learn from it. And I can take her off a pedestal, and stop trying to put myself on one. I don't have it all together. In fact. I never, ever will. I'm still gonna send her a Christmas card.
P.S. Mrs. B, just in case you ever read this, feel free to keep the shirt. After 2 years, it's yours anyway. I'm really very glad you're so happy, even if I am a little jealous.
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