A few summers ago, every morning I would go out in my backyard and bird watch.
I miss that simple silliness.
I have a new (read: old) camera that I need to go out and buy film for. I'm excited to get back into the swing of things. Once I have it fixed, I'm going to take a picture a day for the following thirty days. That's my new thing: thirty day projects, thanks to TED.
I miss that simple silliness.
I have a new (read: old) camera that I need to go out and buy film for. I'm excited to get back into the swing of things. Once I have it fixed, I'm going to take a picture a day for the following thirty days. That's my new thing: thirty day projects, thanks to TED.
One picture every day for thirty, one new poem or short story every day for thirty, no soda (which I shouldn't have to start up again, but do; having my brother home means there's a ton of soda in the house.... so gross, but I can't resist it. Time to put my foot back down). There's a number of other things, but I'm going to start small, and start with the one I know I can maintain: no soda.
I won't rant about how truly gross it is...
Ugh. But not drinking soda for however long, I felt so much better! Now that it's back in my life, I feel slow and sluggish and am sick more often. It's just not good news, buddies. Water, milk, lemonade, iced tea and occasionally coffee is the ticket.
On the whole, I've been feeling this weird mixture of better and worse, which probably doesn't sound too different from how I normally feel. But the last few days, I've realized (remembered) things about myself that I had forgotten in the fray of life. Like, I enjoy eating healthy foods, but don't because sometimes it's just so much easier to slap an almost ready meal in the oven or microwave. I miss walking everywhere, and once the weather isn't "oh my god, you're probably going to die the moment you step a toe outside hot," I'm going to do it more (read: locally, close enough that a car isn't necessary). I feel like a bum now that I'm not in school, I feel sort of useless and I'm now remembering how much of my identity comes from being 'that' girl; turning out A's almost every day of the week and taking notes like it's no one's business. I was going through my old papers and notes last night and I felt this gigantic pang of regret, but I know I'll be back to it once I'm on my feet again.
But most of all, I've remembered how absolutely okay I am by myself.
After Ronnie died, I needed constant attention and care. It probably seems like an exaggeration, but I was out almost every day and night, filling my time so I didn't have to feel anything while I was alone. It didn't work, not really; but I sort of lost myself in that need to constantly be around another person. For months, I've been running on empty constantly to please other people, because they are that type of people normally. They have no problem being sandwiched in constantly, they have no problem surrounding themselves with faces and people and places all of the time. I, on the other hand, love my alone time. I need it, crave it, will go days without seeing anyone outside of my family because I don't need to be out, doing something to placate my boredom-- I am a master in the art of self-entertainment.
Other people need to be constantly validated and reassured that their presence is wanted, that their friendship or love is paramount, while I'm content reading all day and doing family things. I'm just not that person who needs someone surgically attached to their hip to make-real the friendships I have. If I want to do something, I will more than likely do it by myself if someone else doesn't feel like doing it with me; I don't need someone to hold my hand or promise to be my best friend until the end of time every single day. I know the friendships I can count on at the end of the day, and they usually aren't the ones who constantly reassure me that they're my number one fan or whatever.
I just don't need other people, the way other people need other people (redundant as fuck). And sometimes I wonder if that means there's something wrong with me; if I'm cold-hearted or wrong because of it. Then I remember how deeply I feel every little thing... and I know without a doubt that isn't true. It just isn't who I am, no matter how odd it may seem to others. I don't think it will ever change (it's one of the reasons I'm so terrible at dating).
I won't be the person to constantly say, I'm your best friend. And I probably won't fall all over myself to tell you how much you mean to me, every second of every day. And on the days I need 'me' time, there's no reason to take it personally, it's just sort of essential to who I am.
However, I can almost guarantee you that if I love you, you will know it. That's the best I can.
Personally, I try to think of this as a strength rather than a weakness.
But yeah.
Other than that weird tangent, I went out last week to the dueling pianos bar I love. I had a really good time and it was all-around an incredibly fun night. I've made friends with the gay pianist; he absolutely loves me and he's the sweetest. He sat with us before the show and we girl talked, interacted with us all night during the show, and even stopped in the middle of a song to give me hugs and kisses.
Divorce is still in full-swing.
Jon goes back to school soon.
I'm just trying to do a collective overhaul on myself and my life; making things better one step at a time. Keeping the idea of Washington in front of me as a motivator for everything, and to remind me of the future I have planned when life seems to get too tricky.
I won't rant about how truly gross it is...
Ugh. But not drinking soda for however long, I felt so much better! Now that it's back in my life, I feel slow and sluggish and am sick more often. It's just not good news, buddies. Water, milk, lemonade, iced tea and occasionally coffee is the ticket.
On the whole, I've been feeling this weird mixture of better and worse, which probably doesn't sound too different from how I normally feel. But the last few days, I've realized (remembered) things about myself that I had forgotten in the fray of life. Like, I enjoy eating healthy foods, but don't because sometimes it's just so much easier to slap an almost ready meal in the oven or microwave. I miss walking everywhere, and once the weather isn't "oh my god, you're probably going to die the moment you step a toe outside hot," I'm going to do it more (read: locally, close enough that a car isn't necessary). I feel like a bum now that I'm not in school, I feel sort of useless and I'm now remembering how much of my identity comes from being 'that' girl; turning out A's almost every day of the week and taking notes like it's no one's business. I was going through my old papers and notes last night and I felt this gigantic pang of regret, but I know I'll be back to it once I'm on my feet again.
But most of all, I've remembered how absolutely okay I am by myself.
After Ronnie died, I needed constant attention and care. It probably seems like an exaggeration, but I was out almost every day and night, filling my time so I didn't have to feel anything while I was alone. It didn't work, not really; but I sort of lost myself in that need to constantly be around another person. For months, I've been running on empty constantly to please other people, because they are that type of people normally. They have no problem being sandwiched in constantly, they have no problem surrounding themselves with faces and people and places all of the time. I, on the other hand, love my alone time. I need it, crave it, will go days without seeing anyone outside of my family because I don't need to be out, doing something to placate my boredom-- I am a master in the art of self-entertainment.
Other people need to be constantly validated and reassured that their presence is wanted, that their friendship or love is paramount, while I'm content reading all day and doing family things. I'm just not that person who needs someone surgically attached to their hip to make-real the friendships I have. If I want to do something, I will more than likely do it by myself if someone else doesn't feel like doing it with me; I don't need someone to hold my hand or promise to be my best friend until the end of time every single day. I know the friendships I can count on at the end of the day, and they usually aren't the ones who constantly reassure me that they're my number one fan or whatever.
I just don't need other people, the way other people need other people (redundant as fuck). And sometimes I wonder if that means there's something wrong with me; if I'm cold-hearted or wrong because of it. Then I remember how deeply I feel every little thing... and I know without a doubt that isn't true. It just isn't who I am, no matter how odd it may seem to others. I don't think it will ever change (it's one of the reasons I'm so terrible at dating).
I won't be the person to constantly say, I'm your best friend. And I probably won't fall all over myself to tell you how much you mean to me, every second of every day. And on the days I need 'me' time, there's no reason to take it personally, it's just sort of essential to who I am.
However, I can almost guarantee you that if I love you, you will know it. That's the best I can.
Personally, I try to think of this as a strength rather than a weakness.
But yeah.
Other than that weird tangent, I went out last week to the dueling pianos bar I love. I had a really good time and it was all-around an incredibly fun night. I've made friends with the gay pianist; he absolutely loves me and he's the sweetest. He sat with us before the show and we girl talked, interacted with us all night during the show, and even stopped in the middle of a song to give me hugs and kisses.
Divorce is still in full-swing.
Jon goes back to school soon.
I'm just trying to do a collective overhaul on myself and my life; making things better one step at a time. Keeping the idea of Washington in front of me as a motivator for everything, and to remind me of the future I have planned when life seems to get too tricky.
