Monday Musings

Monday, September 30, 2008

05:15

WAHN-WAHN-WAHN!!

…Dammit…It can’t be five already.

*glances at clock*

Wrong. It is. Hit the snooze button. No, no. The wieners have to go out.

*yawn, stretch*

I’d rather cut off my arm and beat myself with it than go in today. Oh wait, that’s right. I’m broke. Well, let’s get at it.

The thought of getting up this morning and going to work sickened me slightly. I was so comfortable: sheets soft, familiar smells, perfect arrangement of the four pillows I sleep with, cool breeze off the fan, and that wonderful sunk-in feeling. I don’t know if that makes sense to anyone else. But, “sunk-in” is the only way I can describe it; that wonderful feeling of being gelled to the mattress, muscles relaxed and tension gone. I meant to go to bed early. I always mean to go to bed early. Never happens. Damn TCM, and showers, and laundry, and preparations, and date books, and-and…on and on.

Stop bitching. It’s time to get dressed. Now, where is that other shoe?


06:15

I’m walking down the deserted corridor; it’s the only time of day it’s deserted. I miss coming to work at 5am. Not the whole getting up and having to be here—that was awful—but, I miss the absolute eerie silence of this city. Very few people are about even at 6:15; however, you have the buzz of operations: doors opening/closing, elevators, and the occasional industrious intern. At 5, there’s no one. No one. My old position was one of the firsts to start operations here. They were always cleaning the floors at 5, so the halls were blocked off. No people. No sounds. It was peaceful. Very much unlike 9am when you can barely squeeze down the corridors, bumping elbows with the entire spectrum of lives. I make my way to the coffee shop. I don’t always frequent it. It’s expensive and the coffee’s not so great. Although I can proudly say I’ve been coffee free since May. I wanted a hot chocolate. I wanted something warm to fill this chill I seemed to possess. HC in hand, I made my way upstairs. It’s not time to go into the office just yet. So, I make myself comfortable on the couch outside my office. Lobby is empty this morning; I find some rest; little pleasures that make the morning a little brighter. I pull the packet of loose papers from my bag. I bent the corners.

For the love of Pete, I hate bent corners. This isn’t MLA format…Honestly, self, shut up.

Editor mode shut down. We’ll do that later. So with hot choc in hand, I settled in to read him as is my usual 6:45am practice. Today is a little more exciting. This time I’ve got my hands on something new: exclusively him, though a softer attitude, almost genteel. Or maybe its seemingly genteel veneer to to hide something much more sinister—the innocent vulgarity of an affair of this kind. Hmm, I may be thinking to hard. The tone of the piece seemed to mirror its title.

…Coffee mug…brilliant...

I almost wish it was the whole pot. The hot chocolate and the short story compliment each other and I wonder if that choice was serendipitous.


09:00

The world of preggos is bustling. I finally get a chance to make the web rounds. My top 5 sites I visit daily: Gmail, Facebook, Blog scenes, Internet banking, and Hulu. Facebook is more active than usual, many a message to read from those I haven’t talked to in awhile. I find it intriguing that people go for weeks, months even, without contacting you and then, all a sudden, folks come out of the woodwork at the same time. It seems as thought the realization of my continued existence dawns on people; a strange occurrence, but a pleasant surprise from most. Which reminds me, I am the worst at keeping in touch with people, and that realization (*twinge of pain*) reminds me of the long list of people I should call and check up on. These feelings are preceded by the even crueler sting of missing my best friend. That’s a toughie. We’ll skip that for now.

Just received a message from Jay (name has been changed for blogging purposes). He’s sent me the link to a very amusing post. Let’s just say I found it very…uh…refreshing. It put a smile on my Monday morning face. Hmm, that could be a song lyric.

10:08

I’m working with complete morons! If she doesn’t get out of my office soon, I may loose my paycheck…Grrrr!

No, I’m sorry I can’t help you. See, I don’t use that program, never have. So you see I can’t fix something I don’t actually use. I don’t know who to call. So stop yelling at me to fix your error and leave my office immediately before I start stapling things to your forehead. :o)

Okay, breathe. Find your happy place…

10:42

I just received the first call of my shift to report new life.


13:28

It’s after lunch, which consisted of left over lo mien and too little time. I got very busy for awhile there. People in the back didn’t help that situation much.

This place might not function with out me…Wait, no it’d do just fine.

However, I reported a coworker to the supervisor—

Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha!!

--she decided she’d yell and act completely unprofessional in front of customers and other employees. Those other employees complained even without my knowledge. So, there’s some salvation in that :o) Woot for the little guys!

14:59

Do it. C’mon, just do it. You know you love them. It’s not that much; plus, look! Free shipping!

So, I went to American Apparel online and splurged on a pair of black leather leggings and a black hoodie dress. Now, I didn’t spend ten-tons of money—no worries. But, I’ll have something fun to expect in the mail instead of just bills.

15:50

On the road again…

2 S’s
A Spud
And, a Fajah = squishy

I will call him squishy, and he will be mine. And, he will be my squishy.


17:30

In route, with the Fajah, to run errands: Walgreen’s and Gahanna Pizza Plus. Ah, Gahanna Pizza Plus that fine establishment, which was my first job. I was sixteen. I worked there two months before I was fired…ahem…quit.

I stopped showing up. That’s quitting. So, when they called to fire me, I just didn’t disagree. Well, at least I got a cell phone out of that experience.

And, I learned that I never, ever want to work with food again. I’m ashamed to say that of the jobs I’ve held two were food related; I just kind of stopped showing up in both cases. Maybe because it sucked: hours, people, and pay. However, I do miss the little snacks I used to create. My favorite snack from PP involved a thick slice of mozzarella cheese, pepperoni, and Italian dressing. That place still has the best Italian sub in town. Anyway, needless to say, I have conformed quite a bit since 16—at least where employment is concerned.

Thank God that I’ve changed a whole lot since 16.

Although, I wish I had my 16 year old body back. That’d be nice. I weighed a whole 105 lbs. Those were the days. I could wear anything I wanted.

Not the case these days, missy.

Which reminds me, Lifetime probably thinks I’ve died; however, theater has replaced the workout slot. It’s back to business once the show closes. That and choir starts. Oh, and that bugger the GRE. The time to hesitate is over (Anyone know that quote? Anyone? Anyone?)!

I should look over my lines tonight and internalize those notes on mood and attitude…


18:22

…Or, I can watch Major League on On-Demand with my Faj and bro.

Wild Thing, do-doo do-do-do

20:00 pm

I decide to watch Dancing with the Stars with the Madre. It’s the only T.V. that I’ve watched lately, which isn’t in black and white. I watched Gilda the other night; if I could look like anyone Rita Hayworth would be in the top three. Maybe in my next life.

Man, these people cannot dance. Find-the-beat…1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8...it’s a lost cause this week.

Rhythm. You either got it or you don’t.

22:00

I was going to go to bed early. However, I’ve decided to dick around for the past 45 minutes. That, and making preparations for another day of work. Lunch—packed, clothes—selected, and bag—ready to roll. I guess it’s time to get ready for bed:

Shower
Wash hair
Wash face
Brush teeth
Floss
Toner
Under eye cream
Anti-aging serum

Yes, I realize I don’t have any wrinkles. By why do you think that is, huh?

Eye drops
Chapstick
Coco butter lotion
Brush hair

These are all the things it takes for me to actually look decent…so sad…I’m a collection of chemicals. Well, that’s actually true even before the additives. Gah!

Time for bed.
Night everyone.
Sweet Dreams.

23:30

…I have been arrrround the world. Looking for that woman, girl, who knows love can endure.

I awaken to the phone ringing. Though groggy, I know who it is. He’s returning my call.

**Yawn**

It’s about time…

**Glances at clock**

Ha, right on time.

For an instant, I consider not answering, but I know myself better. I’ve been waiting. I’m more awake now. We talk. It’s good to talk. It was a good choice to answer. And, a scene plays repeatedly in the forefront of my mind.

Back to bed.
Dreams commence…

And, I've been a little better than I've been before.

Status check

Mood: Controversial

Desire: To Leave

Relationship: Near miss. Yeah, miss.

Emotions: flat

Music: OAR, Vanessa Carlton, Maroon 5

Quote:

How many times can I break till I shatter?
Over the line can’t define what I’m after
I always turn the car around
Give me a break let me make my own pattern
All that it takes is some time, but I’m shattered
I always turn the car around
All that I feel is the realness of faking
Taking my time but it’s time that I’ve wasted.
Don’t want to turn that car around
I’ve got to turn this thing around.

Job: Working OT. I have nothing to say about pregnant people today.

Health: I can actually move. Yay.
Theater: Ghosts, Henrik Ibsen, Regina (the maid). Finished blocking. I’m still working on my voice, seems like it’s just out of reach. Line almost memorized…it’s coming.

Half empty: Self-doubting. I need to get the hell out of here. I need to leave Ohio, immediately.

Half full: I’ve got health, and family, and friends. I’ve got time; at least I think I do. I can turn it around.

_________________________________________________________

They say the best things in life are free, but I’ve yet to find a descent top-shelf margarita or a descent man that hasn’t cost me. Of course, all relationships have their price: transactions of time, energy, emotion. However, those relationships in pursuit of that allusive apparition, love, seem to have their hidden fees.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting upon my relationships past. I rarely do that. I believe that each relationship had its own merit and its purpose was to teach me a lesson. I use my tools, intellect and insight, in the academy of dead relationships; I can actually see the progress of my growth and where I still need work. Yes, I made mistakes. Tons of them. Broke some hearts, very true…stings a little. But, I find if I focus too much on how it went wrong—try to dissect it—it can drive me crazy (in all honestly, I can probably pinpoint the very moment the relationship died, save one or two). My only ability to substantiate, rather snuff the gag reflex and swallow, the facts of all my failed relationships is the optimism that I am learning from this process. It was what it was; when it was; for whatever purpose it was. I think…

But what if I’m full of shit? What if I’m simply meandering, aimlessly—pointless—from relationship to relationship, making the same mistakes, ignoring the same problems. It’s like doing an algebra equation repeatedly with the wrong formula and being surprised by the same wrong answer. I realize that I’m a stubborn, and, I’ll admit, I often have to learn the hard way. Let’s try to make sense of all this:

-Does love exist?
-Yes.
-How do you know?
-I know God loves me.
-Who can argue with that? Does love exist between a man and a woman?
-Yes. I’ve felt it.
-Is it only a feeling?
-No, I’ve given it.
-How?
-Through honesty, my time, and attention. Compromise.
-Compromise. Have you compromised yourself?
-Sometimes I think I have.
-How so?
-I’ve compromised my feelings, values, others’ indiscretions.
-Why?
-Because of love.
-Can you do both, love and compromise?
-Love encompasses compromise.
-No, no, you misunderstand. Can you compromise yourself and love someone else?
-No.
-So, Why have you?
-I thought I was making a worthy investment.
-Can you tell the difference?
-Between?
-Whether it’s a worthy investment or not.
-I’d like to think so.
-You don’t sound very certain.
-That’s because I’m not.

I’m not a hopeless romantic as much as a hopeful romantic. I think that was said in a movie somewhere. Currently, I cannot recall which (and, it’s not important enough to Google). I’ve often said, “Love may be blind but it doesn’t have to be stupid” Meaning? I know plenty of women who fall for complete morons, and these are smart, beautiful, driven young women. They seem to justify every inexcusable bad behavior with the same sentiment, “He’ll change.” In my experience, I have found that a man is the same from first date to last. In all honesty, I am the same first date to last. He, or I, will not change unless it is motivated from within our own selves. I don’t want to change anyone. I eventually want to meet a man whose little annoying habits and personality flaws don’t drive me to the brink of insanity. Oh, and of course, they have to put up with me. But, I’m no ogre. However, I have been told that I ruined someone’s life. Yooouuuuccchhh!! Yet, if I indeed ruined his life then he didn’t have much of one to begin with. I don’t believe I can say that any man has ruined my life (knock on wood).

Some girls love with their heart. I love with my head, primarily. Oh, I’ve been stupid over a guy: blond hair, blue eyes, daring smile, athletic body, who says all the right things. Yeah, how can a girl resist? And I didn’t. That experience was dually exhilarating and terrifying. There’s something so beautiful about being young and carefree: ignoring consequences. Fuck consequences, I’ve got life to live, is the mentality of the moment. There’s no room for rational behavior, not when you’ve got electricity pulsing through every nerve ending. Vanessa Carlton may say it best: “Love or something ignites in my veins/ And, I pray it never fades.” Trust me it was more of lust than love. I wonder, as I consider the girl I was and compare her to the woman I hope I am today, what I was thinking. Answer is simple; I wasn’t. Although I feel far from her, I can’t help but envy her freedom—wild abandon. And I hope that I haven’t lost that quality completely. I hope I never do. I need to find the balance between whim and wisdom, for wisdom isn’t the fuel for passion or whim the footer for commitment. Can I have it all? Passion and commitment, danger and comfort, new and old….God, I hope so.

Sometimes, I think I live, I love, to carefully. Neat. Proper. Orderly. In a manner very linear, which compliments my perfection-driven nature. I realize no one is perfect. I realize I am far from perfect as well. But is it wrong to want to get it right? Rather to get us right? On second thought, to get what’s right for us? Whatever right is and whoever ‘us’ are. Have I lost my expectations? Are they really the vice everyone seems to make them? Expect nothing and you won’t be disappointed; yet, it’s disappointing to expect nothing. Shouldn’t we expect something of those near to us, and shouldn’t they expect something of us? Why shouldn’t we hold each other to a more noble level of living—a higher level of compassion and consideration. This doesn’t necessitate that people become infallible, rather the opposite. Typically, failure meets critique; but by holding ourselves to a higher expectation than what everyone else thinks, we view failure as a triumph and to be met with encouragement and empathy. And even if someone fails us personally, should we give up on our expectations? On ourselves? I would think not. I don’t think we should sell out just yet. What do we have to lose?

Maybe this is what I need to hear, more for myself: other’s expectations have allowed me to live outside of myself, outside of my comfort zone, which I recognize is a personal struggle. I wrestle with vulnerability and openness. Yet, no matter a failure or triumph and most have been failures, I have stretched. I have changed. Despite the end result, I am better from the experience and that keeps me hopeful. I shouldn’t dash all my hopes, desires because of a few broken relationships, nor should I second guess myself.

-Never compromise your desires…never compromise you.
-I know, I know.

Expect nothing…gain nothing. I happen to want it all. And, why not? I deserve it. We all do.

Phenomenal Cosmic Powers...itty-bitty living space

If you know from what source the title is quoted, you get an immediate 2 point increase on my like-o-meter. Your welcome.


Moving on...




I've decided to add a "status check" section to my blog. I want to keep everyone update of my latest moods, tastes, and other pointless, superfluous information.


Status check


Mood: Inquisitive


Desire: Warmth


Relationship: Complicated


Emotions: Indifferent

Music: Third Eye Blind, Ode to Maybe


Quote: "This death of thought just goes through our lives blowing out lamps. But it's so easy to sit in the dark and keep the shades drawn when we're all so deathly afraid of the light." This quote brings back flashbacks of Plato's allegory. However, I can't decide if Ibsen is purposefully making this allusion or if I'm just thinking too hard.


Job: Preggos, preggos, everywhere


Health: Fit as a fiddle (knocks on wood). Except for a cavity (AHHH!). I really do have good dental hygiene but when you haven't been to a dentist in 6 years (damn insurance...) issues are bound to arise.


Theater: Ghosts, Henrik Ibsen, Regina (the maid). First read thru went well. Headshots finished. Shit, I forgot about my bio, again.


Half empty: Lacking motivation, dreading having to face reality, procrastinating, broke, and feel old.


Half full: Glad to be back in production, fairly peaceful day, healthy, young, anything is possible, blessed, beautiful day, I can and will change my world.




Last Wednesday, August 20, 2008, was an exceptional day in my little life. I was relieved for my lunch break at 1pm. Mind you my pathetic "break" is a half hour only; this is what happens when you opt to become a day slaver to the preggos of the central Columbus area. So, there I was, 1:00pm, debating where I should dine. My deliberation in determining a dining destination did not include discourse about, "what foods I desired," rather, "what does my time limitations designate?"

**Wow, look at that alliteration. Taking a moment to soak it in**


I finally settled on Chinese. Maybe I was inspired by the Olympics. Or, chopsticks. Who knows. All I knew was that Mark Pi's is close and quick. So, I ordered my fried rice, lo mien, and general Tao's like every other time. Sat down to eat, make that gulp; there's not enough time for actual chewing. And finally after finishing, it was time for my fortune cookie. Everyone's favorite part. I am surprised by the many variations, rituals if you will, of fortune cookie eating. I have determined that one's character may be deduced from this simplest of acts. Now before you think I'm crazy, I don't presume that one's entire being is summed up by their fortune cookie eating habits; however, the 'ritual' does reveal something. For the purpose of supporting my argument, I will site the following examples:

1. Best friend--'A' is her codename

After the meal, A opens her cookie, removes the fortune, and proceeds to eat the entire cookie prior to reading her fortune. She states that her fortune will not come true if she does not eat the cookie first. My insight: A is disciplined, which is shown by her ritualistic cookie eating. Never have I seen her vary from this structure. Also, it takes discipline to not look at the fortune straight away. This is true to A's character. She is a very disciplined person in many aspects of her life (unless we're talking pizza pringles). In addition, her ritual suggests optimism and submission to fate. She wants her fortune to come true prior to reading it. This shows that she hopes for the best possible outcome, and her willingness to live with the consequences of the cookie's predictions or assertions. All these traits are testament to her optimism, and her 'live and let live,' easy going nature.


2. Ex-boyfriend #8

This particular person had the philosophy that when waitresses bring fortune cookies to the table, they should bring one more cookie than there are people seated at the table. He concluded that the waitress predetermined everyone's fortune by not allowing each person to choose their own. He determined the prejudice fortune cookie operations of restaurants a hoax. This opinion reflects his all too practical character, which leaves no room for fanciful or whimsical goings on. And, by all other accounts, he was an idiot.


3. Brothers 1, 2, 4

This fun, loving cast of characters make opening fortune cookies quite an amusing event. They are the sort that add "in bed" to the end of every fortune. Pointless, and fun, these gentlemen love to laugh and find the joy in the little things of life.


4. My self

My fortune cookie habits are as follows:


a. Break open cookie

b. Read fortune

c. Wait for the inevitable


Firstly, I do not like the taste of fortune cookies, which is why I do not eat them. If I did, we'd have another story on our hands. So, the fortune is the whole point of this minute event. I desire to see immediately the scrap of wisdom on a 4 centimeter long strip of paper stuffed inside a cookie. Most likely typed out by an automated system rather than some Buddhist priest endowing his enlightenment upon the masses, so that they may live more enriched and explored lives (okay, that's a Dominican thing). My wide-eye optimistic and naive side likes to think that's still a possibility, but then my realist side kicks-in shouting, "this is a load of bunk!" However don't get my intentions wrong, this isn't a fortune cookie bashing blog. Quite the contrary: Life decisions can be based upon the guidance of a mere fortune cookie. Sounds insane...I know. I think the concept is a crap shoot, but I must admit that little cookie has motivated me to action before. Don't worry, I can't deduce it either. Quite possibly that makes me a strange, complicated, irrational person. And, that's probably not far off. However I'd like to think not. The incident I'm referring to is in relation to, well, a relationship. My boyfriend, not the one mentioned above, and I had been seeing each other for about 6 months: the getting serious point. I couldn't decided if we were moving forward or just standing still. Again, stagnant. I hate stagnant. I came to the realization that my feelings were not going to progress further; however, this person was a very decent, good person. I don't like hurting people, though I realize it is inevitable in this life. We were dining out at a Chinese restaurant in honor of our anniversary (aha! You see where I'm headed). At the end of the meal, I read my fortune and it was like a slap to the face. Everything that I had known for weeks, thoughts I was tug-o-waring with, became simplistic in light of that little piece of paper. It read: "Be prepared to meet the one that you have been waiting for." HELLO! Can we make it any more apparent that this wasn't going to work? Obviously, if he's still out there-uh, your not him. I knew it. My friends knew it. And now, the cookie blatantly knew it. I was waiting for Mr. Miyagi to appear from out of nowhere and say, "Use your head for something other than a target and move on, Daniel-san" Needless to say, that relationship ended shortly there after. I'm not quite sure how I justify that decision; but, I'd like to believe that at crossroads when we can't decide which way to turn, we look for anything that will help. In my case, the decision was made; I just need the confirmation, the motivation, to commit to the difficult task of ending a relationship. These sort of things are never easy. Rest assured I have not taken any more relationship advice from a cookie (although maybe I should; it couldn't turn out much worse). But, they have made me more curious, and I probably give them more thought than necessary (ha, thus the blog)--more in the spirit of fun than anything. It's the whimsical side of me. My romance with fate.

Anyway, back to last Wednesday. That fateful day when I opened my cookie, I received two fortunes!! I'm still deciphering the meaning of the two fortunes. Factory error or maybe something else, something more serendipitous. I'm daring to live dangerously optimistic today.

I feel it would be just plain selfish not to share what they said...so here they are:


1. A long time admirer thinks highly of you


2. Your genuine talent will find its way to success

Neither are foreboding or ominous, which is nice. Overall they are quite pleasant, which is happy. So, who knows what the future holds; I'm going to take a page out of my friends' and brothers' books. I will look for life's simple joys; I will be optimistic; I will hope for the best; I will let the experiences of life "wash" over me; I will live with consequences; I will work to better myself; and, I will not worry about those things I cannot change.

Today, I choose not to fear the future, nor fret it. Fate--fortune--will be my friend and not my foe. That's today. We'll see how tomorrow goes. But, I will say...I'm looking forward to the possibilities it holds.


'till we meet again...

Touché, Mr. Churchill

"Success is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm"

-Winston Churchill



I happened upon this quotation the other afternoon, thanks to google, and it has become the source of my most recent musing. Oh, what to write? I am sitting in my office with the door shut; however, I do not have the luxury of privacy. Large windows make me highly visible to both patrons and coworkers. Luckily, though, I am alone. It's quite for once. Of course, spoke too soon...

(brief interlude, while I do my job. Talk amongst yourselves)

I don't want to jinx myself by expressing the current situation of my environment; however, it is safe to say that I am able to resume writing (this job is causing me to become superstitious). I am still accessing my current mood. Not tired, for once. I am curious about what the day holds and what sort of day this will be; today holds many unknowns and that excites me in some small way, in some small place. I feel young today, as if on the verge of something, but I do not know what. And that, makes the feeling all the more intense. It's affect on me is not nervous or foreboding, but rather calm and peaceful. It's change; I desire change; I need change. And, all of a sudden the monotony of my job becomes surprisingly apparent. When this happens I usually wallow in self pity. Today, I choose not. I will let my optimism reign. It's Friday, why not?

I've become a spectacle here in my office: swiveling in my chair, idly, while tugging on my bottom lip (a habit I've formed while thinking). The faces of my colleagues express their internal dialogue, "what on earth is she doing?" You probably are too. Hell, add me to the mix and we've got a party.

Let's get to the point; I want to leave--not my location but my everyday everyday. I need a vacation of the mind. I want to move to a level of higher thinking, higher existing, higher living. However, I must wait. How I hate to wait.

**At this point The Bravery starts playing on repeat inside my head**

I never had a 'Summer of 69'

Never had a Cherry Valance of my own

All these precious moments

You promised me would come in time

So where was I when I missed mine?


Time won't let me go

Time won't let me go

If you gave me back those years

I'd do it all better I swear

Time won't let me go


I am impatent. I need to work on that, right now (haha...no?). My control-freak side has been overactive lately. I keep trying to plan the next four years of my life in my head. Problem is--I've been stagnant to actually put anything into action. To quote Van Wilder, "I'm looking for that dare to be great moment." Ha. But, I don't think that's exactly the problem, which leads me to Mr. Churchill. Oh yes, we are coming full circle now.

The above quote resonated with me. But, not in the way one might think. It neither touched me in some sentimental nook of my heart nor did those words cause my cup to overfloweth with joy. Rather, that quote petrified me. It made me sickly aware of my motionless existence. To fail enthusiastically isn't scary to me. To fail tragically isn't scary either. Not taking the opportunity to fail is the most ominous aspect of that quote. The most ominous aspect of my current situation. I would love to fail; I hope to. But, not to try--to lose my motivation--that frightens me. Lacking the courage to follow through on my dreams is failure to me; failure to live. I feel like I have all these plans made, but my failure to act upon any part of them is becoming ever more apparent and ever more disheartening. "Snap out of it!!"

Maybe it is the time of year. It's August; time to start a new semester for many. This is the first fall I have not been enrolled in class for the last 16.5 years. Needless to say, I struggle with that realization. Even worse, dear friends are leaving to follow their dreams, and I can't help but be a little jealous. I am extremely excited for them. But, would like to be in their shoes in some small way. However, my current path dictates that I wait. I wait, I wait, I wait.

It's time to prepare. It's time to get ready to fail. Time to try. Time to (should I dare say it?) succeed? And if I don't? That would make me one of those lucky few who can reflect on their life, with both confidence and satisfaction, knowing that I gave life my best effort and never backed down from a challenge.

And with the above sentence, I believe I've found my own advice. I've never backed down from a challenge before; so, why would now be any different?

...It's simply not my style.

A New Beginning

The title "Dwell in Possibilities" is a quote from Emily Dickinson. I find the fact that she wrote such a phrase slightly ironic. My reasoning? She did not become well known as a writer until after her death. Not to skew history, she was published in her time; however most of her famous works were discovered after her death. That sets up, sort of a comical scene in my mind. I wonder how her family reacted to her unseen work. Maybe some was never meant to be seen. The ironic part for me, is that I feel people never really knew her until she was gone. And the question it raises for me, personally, is will the same be said for me? Will the people that are the closest to me wonder if they ever really knew me? Am I willing to leave that impression? Today, I say "no." But, it is not for them that I write. It's for me. Maybe underneath all of this verbiage, I wonder not who I really am (I think I have descent understanding) but where I really am, and the person I want to make the greatest impression on is myself. Thusly, this has been the motivation in creating this virtual space of me-ness.



For the moment, let's digress. I've gotten ahead of myself, as usual. Maybe the events leading up to today are of more importance. Hell, I don't know. Let's start with what I am; I am a woman in my youth (try not to judge me too harshly), college graduate, employed, and living financially almost comfortably. Almost. Should we dare ask who I am? On that subject, I'm afraid we've barely scratched the surface. However, even that sounds contrived. I've heard it all before; countless blogs of people trying to find themselves. Although noble, often mundane. But then again, that seems to be my current self-afflicted mood: mundane and melancholy, which is a new emotion for me.

..wait...again, ahead of myself. The fingers are always ahead of the mind. It's a curse.

So, yesterday I started writing. I have not written in so long. My brain felt (still feels) out of focus. Clear thoughts come. Making connections, though nothing is clearly connected. Thoughts are disjointed; they lead here and there. Six months out, and I feel like I've been in a coma--think apathy. The experience of holding a pencil in hand to produce words was painful. I used to do this hours everyday I thought to myself. Yet, the pain felt gratifying. It felt foreign and familiar all at once. What I was writing about you may ask (or maybe you don't give a shit)? Writing about writing. The art of it; its purpose. In technical terms--the narrative imagination. That phrase so coined by Martha Naussbaum in her book Cultivating Humanity: A Defence of Liberal Education (that's right, I said liberal. Judge away). It's a beautiful concept about the dialogue between readers, writers, and characters. It explores the gateway opened between them, and the knowledge that flows through that gateway. The idea continues forward asserting that this world of ideas allows individuals to know themselves better; know their world better; and most importantly, know their own humanity. Furthermore this knowledge develops virtues of compassion, empathy, respect, and love, which in turn, develops a moral responsibility of every writer. And, that responsibility is to tell the truth.

Of course this is a very vague and watered down version of the idea. I do not have the time to do it justice. However, if you get the opportunity to read the piece...do so. And now we ask, what's the point? Who cares? I guess the answer is selfish. I care. I've never ever considered myself a writer of any kind or talent. It's a hobby. But, when I put down my pencil last night. The decision was immediate and resolute. I must pick it back up. I must tell the truth about me. The whole truth. I do this in hopes of knowing where I am with the goal of finding out where I'm going. Too often I am a destination-focused girl. I don't want to miss the journey: its lessons, trials, and joys. I want to squeeze all the life I can out of each moment. This is an attempt to account for it.

So it starts now. It meets here. And we'll see how it goes.