I'll Stand Back Up

I have been taking some time the past few days to reflect on some possibilities for my life. I have tried to remain realistic and rational, two qualities I don't seem to carry when I need them the most. Usually, when faced with such decision making, I find myself feeling overwhelmed at each prospect and tend to stay where it is I at least feel safe, even if I know deep down, in the end I will not be happy with the result. I then feel like grabbing my hair with ferocious frustration and run screaming for the hills before anyone has the chance to stop me.
This time, I am trying to approach life more peacefully. It seems I have yet another chance to change the course I've been taking for the past almost 10 years. I feel it's the universes way of telling me "Hey, remember those dreams you've been dreaming and yet not focusing on because you have a job that pays the bills and gets you through? They're still here. Take this chance NOW before another 10 years passes you by and you're too old to accomplish whatever it is you want to get out of this life that is so very short in all  reality."
Ok Universe. I hear you loud and clear.
So when I find myself getting distracted and discouraged over the fear of failing, I try to take a few moments to meditate and truly focus on what it is I truly want. Here is what I've discovered thus far: I have no need or want to be famous. I just want to be heard. I want to make a difference and if my story somehow touches another soul in some small way, this is achievement enough. I find that I have been letting all of the distractions and excuses of everyday life get in the way of actually living my life. I watch people go out with their friends or do meaningful tasks after working the same long hours I have worked. I tell myself over and over again that I will accomplish one small task in a day and seem to be coming up empty of late. I have no motivation or energy and I can't quite pinpoint where the lack of feeling any sort of emotion other than exhaustion is coming from. I can usually shake it and fight against it, but lately. Nothing. I'm numb and feel more like one of the extras in "The Walking Dead" rather than being the star of the show called My Life. Hope seems so far away even though I know I still have some. I just don't know how to bring it back up to the surface. I don't know where to begin.
So I breathe. In and out, out and in. Doing so merely to bring myself back to the situation at hand. I know myself enough to appreciate the fact of if I don't do something now, even if I fail, I will regret it for the rest of my life.
I need to forget the whole concept of being accepted or worrying about what everyone else does or might think. Who cares? Why do I care so much about statistics and acceptance? I try to hide how much it affects me but it comes boiling up to the surface again each time I try to ignore it in hopes that age and wisdom will win out this time. Slowly, but surely, I'm starting to realize that it doesn't really matter. I'm losing sight over what does matter and it's this and this fact alone; so many of us have a dream and more often than not, we let fear take control and keep us from doing the things we want to do. I can't let fear control me anymore or I'm going to go insane with worry. I can't do it anymore. I have to find a way to stop. I have to find a way to make my life my own again.
I just wish I knew what to do and how to make this happen. I feel like I'm full of so much and the threat of  exploding could happen at any given moment. But I just keep holding back. I don't feel like I used to hold back as much. Maybe, just maybe, I'm scared of the person who will be revealed should I actually say the words I'm thinking or share the feelings I'm feeling.
I feel lost in the crowd. I guess, in a way, I've always felt like this in some form; like I'm invisible and no one can truly see me or the person I am and who I want to be, just another face with no meaning, shrinking away into a tiny existence that holds no relevance.
There are so many pieces to me and my life that I feel I need to pick and take apart, then somehow reconstruct them into a work of art I can simply call my own. I don't want to create a story based on small facts I've lived throughout my life. I want to write my story. Yet it seems to be so much harder than creating a character of fiction. I've spent so much of my life focusing on everyone else and can somehow muster up enough positivity to throw in their direction, but when it comes to dealing with myself and my pain, I don't seem to have enough positive healing left over.
So I wait for a new day, letting each hour, each minute, each second pass me by when deep down I know that I could have used that time to create something wonderful.  I do hear the words of encouragement coming out of everyone elses mouths preaching "you can do it" and "we believe in you", but it isn't until I can say these same words to myself that I can truly change and succeed.
I'm tired of waiting and I have to start somewhere. So this is it, the beginning of a journey I thought I had started when I created this blog. In truth, I've only been procrastinating, hiding behind the small glimpses of my story that I have offered to you here.
Today is the day I start to follow my dreams. Today is the day I spread my wings and fly. I may fall more than once, but I will get back up and try again. The only truth in failure is if I don't try at all.
Here it goes.

"I've been beaten up and bruised,
I've been kicked right off my shoes,
Been down on my knees more times than you'd believe,
When the darkness tries to get me,
There's a light that just won't let me,
It might take my pride, and my tears may fill my eyes,
But I'll stand back up"
-Sugarland

Judgement Day

I struggle with judgement every day.
Perhaps we all do.
I find myself hearing/listening to tid-bits of people's conversations, learning that they are mostly filled with discussions/representations of another person(s). I am notorious for over thinking everything I say or do and upon hearing such conversations, tend to revert the position of the person(s) being talked about onto myself. Some might say that in doing this, I make everything about me. Perhaps I do in a way but I don't view it as being in a selfish manner. At least, this is not my intention. I believe that I do this because I fear that judgement is being passed onto me and I have no control over it. I find myself feeling empathetic to the people who are not there in the room to defend themselves over being spoken about secretly. I find myself feeling horrible for not speaking up for them. And, I confess, I find myself feeling horrified that these sort of conversations take place about me while I'm not around to defend my own self.
All this being said, during the instances when I do find my voice and speak up against the words being said to defend a person I care about or a community I stand strong with, I find that while speaking, I feel this breath of insecurity creeping into my veins, knowing full well that as soon as I walk away, I will be the next topic of conversation. I tell my inward self that I don't care.
But I do.
I care how and what people think of me even if I hold no respect for a word that comes out of their own mouths. Just like most of us, I want to be liked and looked up to. I want to be known as being someone who stands up for the people and beliefs that she stands for in this world filled with cruelty and dishonor.
Then there are the days when I find myself synced in with the gossip. I hate myself on these days because it stands against everything I work so hard to avoid. I know there is a time and a place to vent/talk/scream about the moments in life when you just don't understand why something was done a certain way or why a person reacted in a certain fashion. But the last thing I want to do is pass judgement onto a person because of how and who they are. In most instances, I don't even know the person well enough to even begin to understand their actions. So what gives me, or anyone else, the right to speak out against them so negatively just because he/she didn't do what I might have done in the same situation?
I am a sensitive soul who tends to see most circumstances as more than just black or white. There are so many different scenarios and my mind often goes back and forth in all different directions, trying to understand each different perspective. It can be exhausting which I guess is why sometimes I do join in with the norm of most people just getting irritated with someone because he/she didn't react in the same way I would have. It's the easy way out.
It's a horrible excuse and I try so hard to stay away from it even though I'm surrounded by it every day.
Who needs to fear Judgement Day when we put ourselves through it on a daily basis simply by being human?
Think about that for just a moment.

"Now I have a lot to learn and I'm starting tonight,
Got to stop looking at things like they're black and they're white.
Got to write more songs of a little more, treat my friends better.
Got to stop worrying about everything to the letter.
And sometimes when it's too hard to get up,
It just might be a little call apart.
But I find it hard to believe, but if anything
That's what's going to save me
That's what's going to save me"

 "New Years Eve"- First Aid Kit

The Story

We all have a story to tell.

Some days, it seems more than others, I find myself staring at a blank page aching to find the words to get it all out, coming up with little to no result in representing the facts about my life. Most days, it's all a jumbled up mess and I find it hard to distinguish adequate details and relay them on a piece of paper in a mild attempt at making sense of it all.

Andrew asked me yesterday if I remember when I was 8. I looked at him blankly for about 5 seconds before I answered "no." I honestly tried to come up with some link, some minor detail to define that year in my life and I came up empty. I just don't remember. This is strange to me because ask anyone of my family members or friends and I guarantee they'll tell you I never forget. I remember everything.

Except when I was 8 years old.

I remember small details around that time period, playing school and nurse with my dolls and having tea parties with my daddy. He was my favorite guest to have in my little tykes kitchen. And my Mom was the best nurse to have at my side, creating elaborate hospital charts containing vital signs of each patient that entered our make-shift hospital in our garage. She often came home from the morning shift as a pediatric nurse, barring extra bandage scissors and smelling of alcohol swabs. The more she brought home, the more equipped my little hospital became.

Sometimes I crave these memories and I often wonder if some of them are derived from the millions of pictures my parents took of us when we were little. I now own a scanned copy of every pic I could get my hands on from the mountain of photo albums my parents still keep underneath the bookshelves in their den. I silently stare at some of them now, knowing that it's a younger version of myself within, but not truly remembering the actual event. It's kind of sad in a way and I'm not sure why my memory fails me when it comes to some of the happiest moments in my life.

My birthday is in 14 days. It seems the older I get, the more I think about the amazing fact of life. It's quite remarkable that our lives are based on a string of events and decisions made long before we even came into creation. The line continues once we are born and it's odd, almost scary at times, to think that one decision could have changed wherever it is we end up. It also makes me realize how truly out of control and out of my own hands my life is. Call it God. Call it fate. Whatever. I know the decisions I've made, good and bad, that have lead me here. But  it was never just me involved in any given situation. When we decide upon any given action, we not only affect ourselves but anyone else remotely involved, perhaps not even as involved as they'd like to be or think that they are. But in thinking so, it still affects them because they care about you.

One is never quite as alone as she thinks.

I have a tendency to push people away when times get rough. I'm not sure why I do this. Perhaps it's because I feel it's my burden and mine alone to deal with. I don't want anyone else to feel the pressure, pain and worry that I might be harboring at any given time. I'm slowly learning that I have no control over  how anyone else feels about me or anything I do or don't do; say or don't say. I have found that my paranoia in thinking people think the worse of me is indeed just that, paranoia. And I couldn't do anything about it should they really feel that way about me so I'm not sure why I let my brain go there. I've dealt with low self esteem my entire life, never feeling completely part of a group or like I belong. I like to chalk all this up to the fact that I am an individual and I don't need anyone's approval.

But in truth. I really do.

About a month ago, my first ex-fiance' (Yes. There's more than one unfortunately) deleted me from facebook. I know this act sounds so silly and trivial but it really bothered me, not because I want him back but I felt like he was deleting the memory of us being together too. Deleting me and our time together. I wrote him about it and he apologized, claiming that his new fiance' didn't like him being friends with exes. (Don't get me started on the negative connotations I began to form within my brain over how jealous of a person this girl must be and how her insecurity will surely one day drive them apart. It's not like I'm any sort of true threat anyway.)That's what it comes down to now. I'm just "one of the exes". We were never friends before we started dating 13 years ago, so I suppose it's naive of me to think we could ever be friends now. But I can't deny the fact that the sudden blow of being cut off from his life completely, doesn't affect me in some small way.

I guess it's normal to not want to be erased. Every person that comes and goes within our time here has some sort of affect on us whether we choose to let them or not. I know I will never forget the people who have come and gone or stayed with me. I am grateful to all of them because they have all helped, in some way or another,  to form me.

Me: The shy girl sitting in the back of her class, hoping not to be called upon by her teacher in fear she would actually have to speak up in front of her peers. The little girl who enjoyed making mud pies and rolling down banks with her older brother, just as much as playing dress up. The teenager who lost her favorite grandparent to a horrible smoking habit when he was only supposed to be having a minor surgery; the same teenager who delayed getting her first car because he was supposed to be the one to sale it to her. The girl who ran around with her friends, singing at the top of her lungs and making silly home videos about soap operas and fairy tales. The girl who was going to wait for marriage and somehow lost her virginity in five seconds, found out two months later she was pregnant and miscarried the very next day. The same girl who is scared shitless it will happen again.The little girl who could, and still can, attract a cat within a 5 mile radius. Somehow they always know. Never took a whole drink of alcohol until the age of 23, never did drugs and only smoked 2 cigarettes in her life, not even inhaling so it really doesn't count.  Lover of music and movies, musicals and reading. Met her best friend and true love on May 17th 2007. Married him on May 15th 2010. Still doesn't know what she wants to be when she grows up. Carries her heart on her sleeve, feeling empathy even when she wishes she didn't. A jumble of memories, some good, some bad. Me. My story.

It's only just beginning.

"All of these lines across my face tell you the story of who I am." -Brandi Carlile

Time Management

This is the first weekend since Christmas that I have had off with no plans in the working what so ever. This opportunity gives me the chance to catch up on reading the 2 books I've started in the past couple of months, doing some things around the house and checking off the few million items I've written on my to do list and haven't had the time to accomplish yet. They're miniscule tasks such as hanging the wine rack Andrew got me for Christmas and stringing up the white lights and cute lanterns along our back screened in porch that I ordered months ago from Amazon.

It both excites and intimidates me when I have any extra time to spend. This is usually because I often find such time spent catching up on what I like to call "fluff" shows (aka Pretty Little Liars, Switched at Birth or whatever I happen to find on my Netflix cue.....in other words, shows I can watch when Andrew is not around and I won't feel judged because I can watch them in my own privacy without feeling embarrassed.)

I stand by Bunheads though. It has graduated from a potential fluff show to one I thoroughly enjoy. Yay for Amy Sherman Palladino! It's not quite Gilmore Girls but it gives me the same sort of fix.

Forgive me, I have strayed, which ironically, is my point. I get distracted too easily during these days and many times end up doing nothing remotely close to what I would have liked to accomplish because it's so easy to get caught up doing absolutely nothing. Then I feel guilty and lazy. I admit, it is nice to have complete lounge days but it's so easy for me to get stuck.

I have always been a procrastinator. I eventually get it done but I work better under pressure. All of my book reports, projects, ect that I had to do when I was in school were done last minute and I always did well on them.( Ask my Mom why it has  taken me years not to cringe every time I see an otter ...another story for another time.)

I also work better when I have a set deadline. It's so easy to keep saying, "I'll just do it tomorrow" when the tomorrows never end.

My main obstacle is that I have a tendency to over plan. Ask Andrew about our upcoming trip to Oregon and the multiple post its I have stuck onto nearly every page in the 2 travel books I bought. There is no relaxation when it comes to vacationing with me. When it comes to traveling, "Adventure" is my middle name. I want to see and do everything. You only live once and when opportunity comes knocking, open the door and fly high with invisible wings. 

I can have this frame of mind when I have something to look forward to, but when it comes to everyday life, it's so hard for me to get motivated. There are so many things I want to be and do when I grow up.The list just keeps getting longer and I find it so damn hard to figure out what it is I want to do first. My brain goes in every different direction possible and I get flustered and annoyed with myself, therefore doing nothing.

My focus is so obscured. It  takes me forever to figure out what it is I want to do with my time and I find myself spending more time thinking instead of doing. The funny thing is that I feel so much better about myself and so much more accomplished when I do small chores around the house, other than cleaning, or if I learn a new song on guitar or finish an art project. Somewhere along the way I have convinced myself that I can't do it all therefore I have to choose just one.

I'm coming to realize, 32 years later, that maybe, just maybe, I can do all of these things. I don't have to be the best at everything. It's not a contest. The only person I really compete with is myself. I enjoy doing all of these things so why can't I just do them and enjoy every moment of every breath used to fulfill the daily cravings of "something more".

The truth is, I'm so very lucky. Nothing so traumatic has occurred in my life to stop me from being the person I want to be. I've climbed many up hill battles but came out stronger because of them. I truly have no excuse though on any given day, I'm sure to come up with one in an instant should I not feel brave enough to face my fear of trying something new and failing. I just watched a movie where a similar conversation happened between father and son,  From Take Me Home Tonight:
Matt Franklin: I'm... I'm just messed up, OK? I don't know what I want to do. And I'm sorry I'm such a fucking failure!
Bill Franklin: You haven't really failed, son, because you haven't really tried to succeed. So don't credit yourself as a failure. You're worse than that.  

(Yes. This is a perfect example of another fluff movie. I admit I was surprised to find the hidden message within these few sentences.)

The only difference is that I have this conversation with myself every day. Now you're thinking I have multiple personalities. This may be true, but I think in reality, we all have multiple conversations in our minds on a daily basis. It's which side we choose to listen to that counts. Today, I choose to listen to the more challenging side of my personality.

Today, I'm going to go outside and take in the lingering Winter air slowly turning to Spring. I'm going to play guitar and sing my heart out. I'm going to hang those damn lanterns.

Today, I'm going to live.

"It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things." -Leonardo da Vinci

Silent All These Years

So my last blog post was in September and I can't tell you why exactly I fell off the map when it comes to blogging or even writing in general. I could sit here and offer one excuse after another but it would do no good. All I can offer is the truth, so here it is.
I'm afraid.
The past several months I have found myself contemplating over and over again what it is I would like to get out in my writing. Yes. I have a story, don't we all? But in looking back at previous texts I have offered up to the public, I have a huge confession to make: I'm very censored in what I'm willing to share.
So just to shake things up a bit, here's a few things you may or may not have known about me: I wasn't a virgin when I got married. Once, when I was 6 I let a blind girl's brother convince me it was OK to throw rocks near her to scare her and I accidentally hit her in the forehead. I used to be (and still have tendencies to be) anorexic. I haven't always been faithful in relationships, if you count kissing another boy while dating a different one.
Just to name a few.
I'm not proud of any of the situations above and none of them are subjects I like sharing or talking about, but they're a part of me, take it or leave it and it doesn't change the person I have become. Perhaps, I am saying this more to myself than to you, considering I cringe every time I think of any one of these things and I cringe at the thought that you just might too.
Maybe you did.
Do you feel different about me now?
Maybe you do and that's OK. My point is that I can't control how any one of you may react to the events which have occurred in my life.The whole idea of this project is to put my story out there in the best way I see possible. After this is done, it's out of my hands.
I like to give off the impression that I am a happy, free spirited sort of gal. And yes, most days this is true. However, I do have a dark side that I keep hidden from most people. Consider yourself lucky (or perhaps unlucky) if you have caught a glimpse of said personality.  I have to admit, there are days when she comes out and I'm like, "oh dear, it's you again" I'm not necessarily fond of this person nor am I happy to admit that she exists within me, but she's there just the same.
Along with all of the censorship I have noted that I also censor my audience, that is, I stifle who I share my stories with. I didn't even realize that this was something I was doing and have done all along not only in my writing but in my everyday life. I do have a voice, shy as it may be, and I have so much to say, but I also hold back on most occasions in fear that I might offend someone with my own opinions and thoughts. I mostly offer up the side of my personality that hates confrontation and would rather stand in silence, nodding at her audience in what I can only assume appears to be in agreement when in all reality I could completely disagree and am fighting the urge to chew off my own tongue.
I have a hard time with judgement and yet I judge myself on a daily basis. I am my worse critic and it's unfair to everyone else to assume that they will do the same when in all reality, does it really matter? Yes, I am very sensitive and yes, I truly care what people think of me and of my writing. I thrive from feedback or lack thereof and I find that this want or need for acceptance holds me back.
One could say I have a somewhat obsessive quality constantly ticking within my soul. For example, I checked to see how many people "liked" the status I wrote on facebook regarding the new blogs I will be posting in the coming week. I checked 10 times in the first 5 minutes, getting no results and when I came home from work, I checked once more to find there were two.
Two.
That's it. (By the way, thanks Mandy and Alexis:).
Needless to say, I got a bit discouraged.
Why does this bother me? Perhaps it's because I take it as a reflection of how few people are interested in me and my life. I realize deep down that this isn't fair or even remotely true. We all have lives to live and time to spend elsewhere. It just matters to me and I know I have to stop caring what everyone else thinks or doesn't think or how much or how little time is spent evaluating the inner workings of my mind. In all reality, I do enough to make up for everyone else.
All this being said, I have made a new promise to myself and in doing so, I have made a promise to you, the reader.
I will write.
And I will not let the fear of not being liked get in the way of the stories I want to write about. In doing so,  I will always offer up the truth, no matter how much it might hurt.
No more holding back.
No more silence.

" Cause sometimes I said sometimes I hear my voice And it's been here
Silent All These Years" -Tori Amos

I Am Not A Pretty Girl

The first time I heard the lyrics to Ani Difranco's "I Am Not A Pretty Girl", I remember thinking to myself, damn, that's me. It in no way contributes to my history of having a low self esteem. It in fact, has the very opposite affect.
If you have never heard it, and have even a smidgen of feminist pride/stubbornness in your body, I highly recommend downloading it from iTunes ASAP. If you don't want to buy it, at least take the time to read the lyrics here:http://www.metrolyrics.com/not-a-pretty-girl-lyrics-ani-difranco.html
I have often struggled with being the odd girl in the room. However in being so, I have always blended in the background, merely invisible. I actually prefer this. It makes me feel as though I'm a character in a Harry Potter book, wearing my invisibility cloak so as to be able to meander and observe my surroundings without the bother of someone else stopping to notice me.
My husband would disagree that I harbor the trait of being invisible, but he's biased so his opinion doesn't count.
I'm a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. Throw me a pair of converse over heels any day. I never learned how to really apply make-up, so when I do actually wear it, I struggle with whether or not I'm doing it correctly. I don't know my true bra size...in fact, I often go without one, just because I can.
Growing up, and even now, I was much more comfortable around boys than girls because boys never challenged me in a way that hurt my self esteem; until I got older and one after another, they stood in line to break my heart over and over again. This being said, their genetic make-up is still much less cruel than that of a teenage girls'.
When boys did start taking notice, I was oblivious to the fact. Once it was brought to my attention, I would become obsessed with said boy just because he took the time out of his day to tell someone else he thought I was pretty. 
Obsession apparently draws the boys away instead of towards you.
Suddenly, I felt as though I couldn't fit in anywhere, even with the friends I grew up with. I took every comment to heart, only hearing the negatives, "you're ugly, you're chubby, you're immature....you're too sensitive". I heard it all....and I still hear their words on days that I'm struggling with my overall outward appearance.
The truth is, I am not a pretty girl. "That is not what I do". And no matter how much words said have hurt my feelings, they haven't been able to stop me from being who I am; dressing how I want and simply blending into the crowd. I have never wanted to be rescued or saved. Every girl has moments when they want their prince charming to stand with a boom box outside of her window and call out her name. I'm not denying the fact that I too fantasized of this at one time.
The fact is that I'm too stubborn to accept such hospitality.
"I am not a kitten, stuck up in a tree somewhere."
Over the years, one might say I became slightly jaded when a boy actually noticed me. I chalked it up to him somehow having some secret agenda, wanting to break me and my battered heart in any moment of weakness. I was never able to accept the concept that instead of me always breaking my neck to try to help a guy to "become the very best person he could be", that he might indeed be trying to do the same thing for me.
But it was never about me. It was always about them and how they were feeling. I spent so much of my time trying to fix everything that was wrong that I didn't even realize until almost too late that I was slightly broken myself. I became so frustrated in my lack of results in trying to help. No one ever listened to what I had to say because I was honest with them and said what needed to be said.
"I am not an angry girl. But it seems, I've got everyone fooled. Every time they find something that's hard to hear, they chalk it up to my anger and never to their own fear."
It was no one's fault but my own.
In all honesty, before Andrew, I never felt the balance of two people simply being there for one another no matter how they are feeling. Before Andrew, I was always the "strong one", having to hold  both myself and the other person up during the hard times. I didn't realize that a relationship should be based on equality and each person being there for the other in every time of need, even if that meant giving up some of yourself to make ends meet.
I gave up so much of myself that I lost my identity.
I lost me.
The truth of the matter is I always strayed towards the slightly "broken" individuals, wanting so desperately to change them for the better; craving that sense of accomplishment in helping someone through a rough time and making a difference.
I never thought twice that I was the one looking for "damsels in distress" so to speak.
It was exhausting.
And suddenly, I did want to be the prettiest girl in the room, just once. It just seemed easier.
But that's not who I am. I'm the girl who shows up to work with no make-up and wet hair thrown up in a bun. I feel awkward when I dress up; almost like I'm at a costume party and no one else decided to participate. I have my own sense of style that is unique and I'm happy with that.
But I'd be lying if I said I didn't have moments when I wish I were more like everyone else or even like the girl who just stands out from the rest or turns a head or two when she walks by.
In the long run, I prefer to be the outsider. That's who I am and I can't deny this fact. At least now, I am able to find some comfort in being the person I have become and strive to be, not trying to pretend to be someone or something I'm not. I think we all possess the  ability to save our own skins. Sure, we might have some help along the way, but it's ourselves that decide to stay a certain way because we want to or to change because we feel we have to.
I never wanted to be saved. I never felt the need to be saved even in my darkest times.
I taught myself a lesson in that most of us feel this way. As much as I wanted or felt the need to help any given individual, the truth is, if he didn't want to be helped in the first place, I was really just wasting my time. I don't necessarily see this as a defeat, though at times it does feel that way. I guess it's a good thing that I realized before it was too late that should the situation(s) have been reversed, none of these people that I tried to "save" would have done the same for me. In knowing that, it's much easier to let go and to accept that I was never meant to save them anyway.

"And what if there are no damsels in distress. What if I knew that and I called your bluff. Don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down, whether or not you ever show up?"
-Ani Difranco

Weekly Gratitude Update: 8/27/12-9/16/2012

Wow! I am such a slacker!
I haven't written a weekly gratitude update in 2 weeks! (Or is it 3?)...
This is how behind I am. I don't even know how long it's been. This being said, it in no way means that I am any less grateful. I've just been lazy and having a hard time getting all of my thoughts together.
I'm lost in one of the many moments in my life where my thoughts are so scrambled, roaming from one topic to the other with no common boundary between them.
I am Lorelai Gilmore.
Just to give you an idea, here is an actual rambling thought moment of Mary Will:
Now I'm thinking of monkey monkey underpants because I thought of Lorelai Gilmore, and now I'm wondering if I should use punctuation within the ramblings of this blurb. I'm thinking it doesn't really matter because my brain doesn't really speak in sentences, just long run-ons about what I need to be doing, or hope to accomplish today or this week or this month. We should really order our wedding album. It's been over 2 years and I'd like to have something concrete to show off because we love pictures so much. Oh my goodness, we have so many pictures. I should make albums of everything. Why are the cats meowing? It's only 9:30 and they don't get fed until 11...or is it 10? I forget since I'm not usually home during this time of day and Andrew takes care of them in the mornings. Awe. Andrew. He's so awesome. I love that he can now work from home and look after the pets. I wish I could work from home and write all day. I guess that's the goal in writing this book...of which I haven't really worked on in weeks. I should really be working on my book. I looked through several old writings of mine the other day and am currently trying to incorporate them somehow within the chapters of my memoir. Why do I smell cat pee? Did someone pee on the couch again? Mmmm. Muffins. I would love a cranberry orange muffin from Pannera (Does Panera have 2 'n's or 1?) and a pumpkin spiced late from Starbucks. I used to never drink Starbucks because of the whole big corporations thing. But when so many closed down and so many people lost their jobs, I felt bad for them and the only way I could think of showing my support is via drinking an occasional coffee from the remaining establishments. I wish I could still eat marshmallows. Damn gelatin. It's so sad. I used to live off of marshmallows, bagels and Twizzlers when I was in college. This of course was when I was anorexic and would work out in front of a mirror, noting each and everyone of my flaws, making a mental list of everything I would love to change about myself. Those were dark times Harry, dark times. Awe. Harry Potter. I could watch any one of those movies every single day for the rest of my life and still want more. It's such a great story. Ohhhh! We have a new Doctor Who episode DVR'd! I can't wait to watch it! Dinosaurs on a spaceship! That was last week. Hee hee. Matt Smith makes me chuckle. Seriously Dip, how can you be hungry? You'd think that we starve you guys. I love fall. We have been keeping the door open to our screened in porch and the subtle breeze coming through this particular morning is very refreshing, which reminds me, my feet are cold and I should probably put some socks on and do some laundry......

Welcome to my world. It's a scary, yet fun, place to live in....

Now for what I'm grateful for the past 2 (or 3?) weeks:

1) We went on our yearly beach trip the weekend of labor day. Lots of fun was had with the family. Favorite moments of the trip: Driving and listening to good tunes with Andrew, Dropping off Leira at his parent's house and getting to see our nephew Thomas, Peach Margarita at the Mexican restaurant we always eat at, the meal at the Mexican restaurant, sitting by the pool, finishing my book, walking on the beach, great conversation with everyone, playing games, watching Fresh Prince of Bel air.... (Just to name a few:)

2) On the way back from the beach, we stopped by my old work and I got to see a lot of my old co-workers. I felt very loved and missed and grateful to have been a part of such a wonderful group of people.

3) My 10 day work stretch went by very fast this time. I've been trying to keep in mind all of the positives in my life and it has helped when the going gets tough.

4) I have gotten a few compliments from clients at work. This always makes for a good day.

5) Apple festival in Hendersonville. I always forget how big Hendersonville is. I mean, it's not New York obviously, but it's always a lot bigger and more maintained than I think it's going to be. It was a very cute festival outside of the random, creepy clown walking around.

6) Fall is almost here!!! I LOVE this time of year! Great weather, beautiful scenery, fantastic t.v. shows, snugly blankets, outside fires, colorful leaves, warm drinks, Halloween, pumpkin spice, beginning of Hoiday fun...I could go on and on and on.

7) Andrew and I stayed up until 2:30 the other morning talking about everything from Religion to childhood memories. We listened to several Pandora stations and found one with old show tunes from musicals and Disney movies we both grew up listening to and watching. We danced around and sang dramatically to one another, acting silly and just being ourselves. I'm so lucky to have married my best friend.

8) I have come up with several crafty-like projects that I'm hoping to accomplish by the end of the year. I usually get discouraged and try to do too much at once, finally relinquishing whatever small effort I've made towards said project. I'm determined to stick with it though and to somehow get something artistic and creative out of it. We'll see.

9) The pets have been extra snugly and clingy with the oncoming cooler weather. I have woken up several mornings with at least 4-5 of our 6 pets strategically placed around me and Andrew.

10) We're planning to have lots of people come visit in the coming months and I'm so looking forward to seeing and spending time with everyone. I just love this time of year, filled with family and friends. I am so very fortunate for everyone and everything in my life. Thank you all for making it that much greater.

Love, hugs and peace.