I have been thinking lately that this blog is me being self-indulgent and narcissistic, and that's ok, because no one has to read it. I write it mostly for me, so I don't have to feel guilty about writing too much about me. Just a thought.
Today is one of those days. I feel like writing, I feel like typing, but I have too many things to say and the thought of trying to make sense of them all, of trying to incorporate them in one post, is dauting, and so I feel the need to write and I feel as though it's a burden all in the same emotional cycle. And these are the moments in life that, I believe, I should push through...and do it anyway. And so, in the closing sentence to this paragraph, my assurance that this will not be the last paragraph in this post.
As I sat down to write today, I vaguely remembered writing something around about the time of february the 14th last year, and so I looked it up...and had one of those moments in life that I really love, of looking back at where I was, and thinking of what I was thinking when I wrote something, and wondering what I would have thought if I would have had the ability to access what I think now. It is a lovely thing, I think, because of my tendency to be my worst critic...when I look back, I am able to put those criticisms aside. I look back with fondness, at who I was and what I didn't know, and I feel happy for myself for struggling through things, and it reminds me to be kinder to myself today.
I have many thoughts of Valentine's Day. I have many opinions, biased, for sure. I have a lot to say about the holiday and the way it affects people, and relationships and its supposed meaning, and what it can be turned into, and the good that can come from it and the bad that is often the outcome of it. They are not completely encompassed in bitterness. If you would have asked me three or so years ago, my thoughts would have been (that goes back to the previous paragraph, of looking back at the way I used to feel about things and the reality that those feelings change and grow and morph), but today, the thoughts are encompassed in a relative amount of peace. And all that to say, I have a lot to say. But, I don't want to litter this post with those thoughts. So that's all I am going to say, today, about Valentine's Day.
I am forming a post about motherhood. I debated going there today, but these words deserve their own space. I had the thoguht the other day that I really should take the time to sit and write about it, while standing in Starbucks, building a caramel latte, because there was a lot of inspiration in front of me. Not the latte. A mother with her two little ones...the boy that is quiet and shy and his sister, that talks enough for the three of them. This is something I have a lot to say about as well, and something I don't mind littering a post with. A significant portion of the inspiration comes from my cafe friend Kara, the mother of Ella and Olivia and Savanah and Emerson. My heart swells when I type out those four lovely little names, and I can't think of any other way to convey to you their significance in my life's story. And so that is a snippet of what is to come, a little trailor, if you will.
This paragraph will have nothing to do with anything else...just so you know. Just a piece of the practiclity of my life, coupled with sheer joy and excitement. Today is day thirteen of a fifteen day working streak. Not a complaint, just a necessary detail. I have had two days of in a row probably twice in the last four or so months. And on Sunday (eek!) I will be going to an airport, something I love to do, and getting on a plane and flying, something else I love to do, to visit a friend, something else I really love to do, in the midst of four...that's right...four days off, in a row, back to back, consecutively. I would say the feeling are akin to the way I felt at about the age of nine on Christmas eve.
And in keeping with the trend of going in no particular direction in this post, I will say a tiny bit about my person, and change. I had a hair appointment yesterday with Tracy. Time between hair appointments usually lingers for me, mostly because I don't like paying for them. Not because I don't like them. Quite the opposite, actually. I really, really enjoy changing my hair's shape into something else. After being seated, cape applied, I told Tracy, who had never cut my hair before, to basically have fun...the sentence went something along the lines of..."I am not too picky becasue it is hair and it will grow and I like things that are different and I trust you and believe you know what you are doing, so basically, have fun..." Those, my friends, are golden words to a hair stylist. They are allowed to do what they do best, without constraint, and giving her the freedom to create without worry made whatever the outcome worth it. And as she began, with razor in hand, and I felt her taking chunks of the length of my brown hair away, I started to get excited and admitedly a little nervous, and because of that nervousness, a little more excited. I told her that hearing and feeling her taking my hair away, and the thrill of knowing there is no turning back now, made my heart skip...and those little moments in life that are seemingly insignificant, but that actually bring to light pieces of the core of me, are actually incredibly significant. Put simply, it makes me happy that I am choosing to live the way that I am choosing to live.
Doubt? check. Sadness? check. Nervousness? check. Occasional random squeals of excitement? absolutely.
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