I suggest we learn to love ourselves before its made illegal
I haven't written in weeks but I've thought about it. I go through each day and something will happen that makes me want to write. I'll even start it in my head...think my thoughts as if I were writing them. Little tidbits that I'd like to think were clever...they usually never make it to the page though. I need to carry around a tape recorder.
Actually, I'm lying. I did write down two things this week. Two things that I had never seen before in "real life." Two things that made me feel better about being a human being living in Wilmington, and two things that brought me down a notch on the belt of cynicism about mankind. All this drama to lead up to a very anti-climactic ending, but I'll do my best.
I just started a new job, and I have a little hike to the parking lot because, well, as everyone that lives anywhere south of Castle Hayne in New Hanover County knows that parking is always scarce, even when you have an assigned space, which I do. Anyway, as I was walking across a little bridge to the parking lot, I noticed the beginnings of a construction site next to the road. It's so early on in the plans that there is still freshly cut grass, and the schematic of the building that "should open in 2012," cornering off the site. I happened to look down and saw a beautiful Bradford Pear Tree with bright orange, plastic fencing around it and a large white sign that shouted, "Warning: Tree Protection Area."
I nearly stopped in my tracks.
There is a development company that actually cares about the flora and the fauna?
A few days later, I'm traveling on my way home on one of those delightful downtown roads with the wrought iron fencing and pastel Victorian mansions with bragging historic foundation plaques on the front of it. The sky was perfect blue and the air was bright and light and the trees were just as poetic. There was a woman sitting out on the sidewalk with an easel in front of her. She was painting. It was so Mary Poppins. I didn't know people had time for art anymore.
It inspired me and reminded me. To slow down. To take time. To keep hoping.
We live our lives thinking we have to prove something. Perhaps that is the American in us because I really believe folks in other countries live with much less stress. I want to prove that I matter. That I mean something. That I am capable of doing something important. That I am worth loving. Isn't that what we all want? If that's true, I wonder, and my heart aches, thinking about how much we complicate things and mess them up and hold things back and stay so diplomatic. Diplomatic is good, but there is a fine line between diplomacy and being afraid to say what you feel. To anyone. A friend. A boyfriend. A parent.
When you figure out who you want to p r o v e things to, you see just who it is you are living for. It's an out-of-control place to be when you let your emotions be affected by others. Fair-weather superficial friends, a selfish and possessive boyfriend, or an overbearing parent. It's hard. But I'm sure I make it harder than it has to be. Seems to be in my blood line.
Eh.
I'm sitting at home watching House and Meatloaf is a special guest. Yet another thing I've never seen. My throat hurts more than ever as I have been diagnosed with Chronic Tonsillitis. I'm tired of there always being something physically wrong with me. My neck and face are swollen. I'm tired. Constant headaches. And it hurts to talk the later it gets. Wah. I hope the drugs work because neither me, nor my wallet can handle another surgery this year. It really does amaze me the high threshold of pain women have though. I amaze myself. I have been pretty miserable for three full weeks with this and still I started this job, played with friends, and mustered the strength to think and write this blog :) But it is waning.
I just started the drugs yesterday, so hopefully pain will subside. It would just be nice to carry on with life without it. Another Wah. Please people, feel sorry for me. :)
Well, this post is all over the place, as my blog posts tend to be. I guess this is as close as you can get to being inside my head. It really is a good thing to help process...to write things out. For me anyway. What I'm getting at is I hope I'm reaching that point in life where I realize I don't need to live for other people or strive for approval. I know I am the last to get anything and slower to mature in certain areas and that I am slightly ridiculous to care as much about this kind of stuff as I do...but I want to give it up. I don't want to give my time or emotions to anyone who doesn't have as much at stake as I do. If you are in any kind of relationship with me, you have to know that you're getting all I got. When you don't reciprocate, I have to back off. I know everyone's doing the best they can, but I'm not wasting my time anymore. I have to remove myself from hurtful situations. Even if nobody but me understands.
Wow. And all of this from seeing that there's someone in the world that still cares about saving trees, and that someone has time to paint on an easel on the sidewalk.
Actually, I'm lying. I did write down two things this week. Two things that I had never seen before in "real life." Two things that made me feel better about being a human being living in Wilmington, and two things that brought me down a notch on the belt of cynicism about mankind. All this drama to lead up to a very anti-climactic ending, but I'll do my best.
I just started a new job, and I have a little hike to the parking lot because, well, as everyone that lives anywhere south of Castle Hayne in New Hanover County knows that parking is always scarce, even when you have an assigned space, which I do. Anyway, as I was walking across a little bridge to the parking lot, I noticed the beginnings of a construction site next to the road. It's so early on in the plans that there is still freshly cut grass, and the schematic of the building that "should open in 2012," cornering off the site. I happened to look down and saw a beautiful Bradford Pear Tree with bright orange, plastic fencing around it and a large white sign that shouted, "Warning: Tree Protection Area."
I nearly stopped in my tracks.
There is a development company that actually cares about the flora and the fauna?
A few days later, I'm traveling on my way home on one of those delightful downtown roads with the wrought iron fencing and pastel Victorian mansions with bragging historic foundation plaques on the front of it. The sky was perfect blue and the air was bright and light and the trees were just as poetic. There was a woman sitting out on the sidewalk with an easel in front of her. She was painting. It was so Mary Poppins. I didn't know people had time for art anymore.
It inspired me and reminded me. To slow down. To take time. To keep hoping.
We live our lives thinking we have to prove something. Perhaps that is the American in us because I really believe folks in other countries live with much less stress. I want to prove that I matter. That I mean something. That I am capable of doing something important. That I am worth loving. Isn't that what we all want? If that's true, I wonder, and my heart aches, thinking about how much we complicate things and mess them up and hold things back and stay so diplomatic. Diplomatic is good, but there is a fine line between diplomacy and being afraid to say what you feel. To anyone. A friend. A boyfriend. A parent.
When you figure out who you want to p r o v e things to, you see just who it is you are living for. It's an out-of-control place to be when you let your emotions be affected by others. Fair-weather superficial friends, a selfish and possessive boyfriend, or an overbearing parent. It's hard. But I'm sure I make it harder than it has to be. Seems to be in my blood line.
Eh.
I'm sitting at home watching House and Meatloaf is a special guest. Yet another thing I've never seen. My throat hurts more than ever as I have been diagnosed with Chronic Tonsillitis. I'm tired of there always being something physically wrong with me. My neck and face are swollen. I'm tired. Constant headaches. And it hurts to talk the later it gets. Wah. I hope the drugs work because neither me, nor my wallet can handle another surgery this year. It really does amaze me the high threshold of pain women have though. I amaze myself. I have been pretty miserable for three full weeks with this and still I started this job, played with friends, and mustered the strength to think and write this blog :) But it is waning.
I just started the drugs yesterday, so hopefully pain will subside. It would just be nice to carry on with life without it. Another Wah. Please people, feel sorry for me. :)
Well, this post is all over the place, as my blog posts tend to be. I guess this is as close as you can get to being inside my head. It really is a good thing to help process...to write things out. For me anyway. What I'm getting at is I hope I'm reaching that point in life where I realize I don't need to live for other people or strive for approval. I know I am the last to get anything and slower to mature in certain areas and that I am slightly ridiculous to care as much about this kind of stuff as I do...but I want to give it up. I don't want to give my time or emotions to anyone who doesn't have as much at stake as I do. If you are in any kind of relationship with me, you have to know that you're getting all I got. When you don't reciprocate, I have to back off. I know everyone's doing the best they can, but I'm not wasting my time anymore. I have to remove myself from hurtful situations. Even if nobody but me understands.
Wow. And all of this from seeing that there's someone in the world that still cares about saving trees, and that someone has time to paint on an easel on the sidewalk.
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