Random Thoughts

I yearn for the pulse-racing excitement you feel when you first meet,

The infinite feeling of driving with the windows down,

The humbling experience of standing with water crashing on your feet,

The hunger for the stage, the lights, the penetrating sounds.

I feel it lingering there, my purpose, my calling, if you will,

Fading in and out of my life and mocking me as it disappears,

I'm finally back in touch with these feelings that I feel,

But something has changed, and I blame it on the years.

In Need of Inspiration

Note: I wrote the following years ago, but I felt compelled to post it in light of Sam Davidson's Trust 30 prompt this morning. It's long, but hang in there; I promise it gets better.

so when i'm outside, i'm very inspired to write. when i'm in the library, i'm very inspired to write. when i'm in my car, i'm very inspired to write. when i'm in my room, i have nothing to write about. i like to be out. i like to be in, but i mostly like to be out. i can be out and be alone. i can be in with good company. i can be in and be alone. i can be out with good company. so what is it exactly that makes me inspired to write? seeing suspicious couples kissing in a library study room. hearing strange, spanish songs from the mouths of crazy teens. listening to random bits of conversation. witnessing drunken events and late-night stupors. watching a girl balancing on a curb in heels. being aware of people who clearly know each other clearly avoiding each other...or at least waiting for the exact right moment to acknowledge each other's existence. a good song. an unexpected compliment from an unlikely source. a new friend. a life-enriching conversation. getting lost beyond belief. meeting up with people who evoke feelings of nostalgia. attending family celebrations. staying up much too late. waking up much too early. the golden hour of the setting sun. a romance that has just begun. the leaves of fall upon the ground. a friendship once lost now is found. the rain that dribbles off the rail. countless attempts that only fail. concrete heating up with light. yelps resounding through the night. echo trav'ling down the hall. being up against a wall. trying hard just to be cool. realizing you look a fool. sweatshirts sweaters jackets pants. nothing but a failed romance. mascara wiped off in a storm. hopes ripped up, ideas torn. jeans with holes right on the knees. trying much too hard to please. first true love so far away. keeping others far at bay. pumpkins witches goblins ghosts. you will be the perfect host. innuendo sarcasm. baby sucking mommy's thumb. trick-or-treating, apple bob. eating corn right off the cob. barbecues, tortilla chips. jumping diving doing flips. running slipping falling hard. showing off the perfect scar. trading songs exchanging looks. commenting on favorite books. learning quirks accepting flaws. driving fast and breaking laws. kicking balls over the fence. appreciating the suspense. because the journey's half the fun. we've already half-way won. leaping dancing singing songs. proving right what's proven wrong. drawing pictures belly laughs. kangaroos and big giraffes. toys-r-us and jungle gyms. book of psalms and book of hymns. church on sunday, school the next. sermons leaving one perplexed. pulses quickened heavy breathing. feeling chests as they start heaving. freckles moles and scars alike. walk ride run, pedal a bike. wheels are turning body, mind. intellect is quite a find. even more so, mate for life. but it is possible, said his wife. no more looking, no more tries. no more seeking out the lies. no more sneaking no more peeks. or analyzing week by week. let it go, love will prevail. step one reads, "hey, kid, exhale."

Who Cares?

"Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people."

- Eleanor Roosevelt

The other day, I posted a link to a story about the passing of the gay marriage bill in New York on my Facebook page. I thought about not doing it. I have a lot of people I love who disagree with my thoughts and feelings on this particular topic, and it was probably unnecessary to post. The last thing I mean to do is put a divide between anyone I love and me. Honestly, I was just surprised that no one else had been posting about it like mad on Facebook, and I thought the news deserved to be shared. I thought about deleting it later so as to avoid any conflict, but my aunt had commented that she was proud of me for posting it.

Tonight, I noticed that someone I am almost certain I was friends with on Facebook is not currently listed as one of my friends. I have a strong feeling this person may have deleted me as a friend once I posted that link. I may very well just be confused; perhaps we were not ever officially friends through Facebook in the first place. I hope that's the case, but I fear that it's not.

I didn't say anything offensive on my post. In fact, I wrote nothing. I merely posted the link to the story. I understand deleting a person if they write things that are personally offensive or call groups names, etc. However, I don't understand deleting someone simply because they have a different viewpoint on something.

Why am I still writing about this, you ask? Well, I suppose I'm writing about this for two reasons. For one, it hurts me that posting that story may have resulted in this person's deleting me as their friend. Secondly, I am troubled by the fact that I let something that insignificant and petty hurt me so much.

I can't believe how often I've let things on Facebook hurt my feelings. One time, an old co-worker played this game on Facebook where you answer yes-or-no questions about people, and he answered "no" to a question asking if he thinks I'm "hot." I really don't care if he thinks I am and certainly don't expect him to, but it hurts that he would answer that. You can skip any questions you don't want to answer, so why would a person answer something hurtful that they know you'll see?

I deleted him as one of my Facebook friends that day. I usually hate having any unresolved issues with anyone in my life, but I felt like his complete disregard for my feelings was the real thing that hurt so much. Why would I want to forgive someone who didn't apologize in the first place? I'm one of those people who would sooner forgive someone than they would even seek forgiveness simply because I want everything to be okay in my world. This was the first time I didn't want to let myself be a doormat.

Still though, I sometimes question whether I was just overreacting and start to get sad that I may have alienated someone and made them dislike me. Why am I so terrified of things not being perfect? Why do I worry so much about any one person's opinion of me? Am I just being self-absorbed?

Again, petty. Such a small, silly thing. So why do I care so much?

All of this makes me realize how difficult it is for me to have people out there who don't like me. I've always been an extreme people-pleaser. As the youngest, I've always tried really hard to impress people and have them think well of me. In turn, I think I'm fairly slow to judge (at least not aloud) and give people many chances. I always prefer to find the good in people and like them rather than point out things I don't like.

All of this makes me realize, though, that there are also times when I say things that are unkind and that, quite frankly, I may not truly even think. I know I'm not perfect and that I can complain or tease or have judgments about other people's actions. However, I often wonder whether I would say half the things I do if I didn't put myself in situations where gossip is growing. I don't know why I ever give in to watering that weed. It has been something I've hated since I was very young. I remember one time in 7th grade when I made an extremely conscious effort to never speak ill of anyone. It was very difficult, but I succeeded for a time. It felt wonderful. Yet, here I am, twice the age I was then, still struggling with the same old thing.

I'm not even writing this because of a specific thing I've done or said recently. It's just more that I was worried at first that I may have done something to offend this person whom I'm worried deleted me because of that post. And it got me thinking how I'd like to be more like I was for that brief period of time 12 years ago so that I'd never have to worry or wonder if I had hurt or offended someone.

It's too bad because sometimes I think I'd be a lot more fun or entertaining if I let myself speak more freely. I'm just always so worried about saying the wrong thing that there is a lot I choose not to say. Hence my starting this blog almost a year ago. I'm getting there, but it's hard to choose what to be genuine about and what to just leave hidden.

If nothing else, writing out this silly stuff has made me feel a little more at ease. Tomorrow is a new day.

The Thing About Blogs

Here's the thing about blogs. You always wake up the next day wondering what in the world possessed you to write something that sounds so pathetically emo the night before. You don't recognize yourself in the words you wrote less than 24 hours ago. And you can delete them.

Today, I'm not going to delete last night's blog. It makes me look silly and dramatic and downright ridiculous, but that is how I felt at the time. It's a part of me.

Hello, Friday. You sure are looking up.

Previous Passions

Things I Thought I Wanted to Be OR Things That I See Other People Doing Successfully and Get Jealous:

1. Actress

2. Singer/Songwriter

3. Writer

4. Motivational Speaker

5. Greeting Card Designer

6. World Traveler (I realize this is not an occupation that typically pays.)

At the moment, #2 is hitting me hard. Why didn't I keep taking piano and guitar lessons? Why? I was afraid. Afraid I wasn't automatically the best. Afraid I didn't have hands that were big enough to be skilled at playing. Afraid I didn't have enough of a range in my voice to wow anyone. Afraid I was already too old to start and have a chance at getting any good before it was too late. Afraid.

Lazy. Too lazy to work through all of my fears and prove myself wrong.

Now I'm just tired. Tired of letting the lazy give way to the fear.

I just want to find my voice, my passion. Where did it go?

Time for bed. Wouldn't want to be late to my 9-5 tomorrow.

Passion. Purpose. I guess I'll find them when I have more time, huh?

No, I'll make time.

Tomorrow.