I heard a word today that reminded me of you even though I didn’t want to be reminded. It just came up unexpectedly. Bother is not the word to describe how I felt when I thought of you, but the memory of you was still unwanted. I am no longer bothered by the mention of your name and I am happy I am at this step. It’s been a long time coming.
Maybe it was unexpected, but maybe it was to serve as a reminder that I am a strong person and ironically you helped me get there. A reminder that I can do this. That I still have so many things wrong with me, but I can march on and say that I’ll tackle anything that is thrown in my path.
I think it’s time for a love letter. I’m wearing a peachy pink sparkly sweater with a heart in the center and that may have something to do with it. I also just watched Natasha Bedingfield’s music video to “Angel.” The song is all about standing up for your man when others are ragging on him and being his angel to protect him from pain and being there for him. I’m really glad this song was made because there are too many songs out there about jerks.
Despite all of the pain and heartache, miscommunications and socially awkward situations I have found myself in the past few years, I know You are out there. I still believe we shall find each other and be together in the end, not like a fairy tale, but together nonetheless. Perfectly compatible in our own way, not perfect.
I used to think to be with You, I have to make myself perfect first. Someone once said that so many girls are looking for the perfect man, but are doing nothing to be the perfect woman. But after trying so hard to please everybody, I have finally realized that being myself is enough. That said, I would like to mention the kinds of things I would like to be or do once I am with You. (And, no, I’m not talking about anything kinky.)
I want to be your personal cheerleader. I want to make you feel good about yourself, like the man that you are. I want you to have a delicious meal ready for you when you come home from work. I want you to be able to rely on me when you’ve had a bad day at work or when you’re going through something rough. I can give you a really good back massage for that, or something else, whatever you want. You let me know. I will be obedient to a certain degree, but I’ve also got to be free to do my own thing. Let’s not fight or yell at each other, but we can act out heated scenes to spice things up every once in a while. Let’s not ever put each other down, but instead listen with love.
Even so, I still desire to be your personal cheerleader and even if you should lose your job or all sense of who you are, I will not leave. You can count on me even more. I want to be there for you if you ever turn into a monster right before my eyes and forgive you and hold you should you need to cry. Because every man needs to cry at some point. You may be a tough cookie, but I know you’re a sensitive guy deep down. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a part of what makes you a man.
Please teach me about baseball, football, basketball and any other sport you are passionate about because I really want to learn from you. These are things I crave. And if you’re not into sports, that’s OK. I’ll just hope my love of basketball rubs off on you and that will be enough.
Despite all of the confusion in this hearty mess I’ve let myself endure over and over, I want you to know that I want to love you unconditionally.
The Girl With A Broken Smile
Life is so freaking short, yet we still let fear hold us back. What are we so afraid of? That we’ll die if we tell the person we’re crushing on how we feel about them? Because isn’t that what it all comes down to? Telling that one person how we feel, all the while unsure if they feel the same, opening a whole new can of worms that could be the start of revealing our true selves or a rejection of who we are. In this life we can be completely confident of who we are as people, but as soon as we are subjecting ourselves to judgment for it in front of a person we really care about, our opinions of ourselves can be shattered in a matter of seconds.
It doesn’t matter who you are or where you are in your life, I think we all search for love, even those of us who love money. We all desire that validation that yes, we are good enough and we are compatible enough to spend the rest of our lives with a partner who understands us. But what happens when we never get that validation or let every single opportunity for that validation to be achieved pass us by? I’ll be the first to say that I am almost three decades old, yet because of how I grew up and a part of who I am, I still get scared about going up to my crush and letting him know how I feel. How juvenile, right? But I know who I am and I own it.
We can be afraid of skydiving, we can be afraid of roller coasters and we can be afraid of going to law school. But I really think the underlying fear holding us back is the fear of dying without loving. When you’re looking at your past, there are going to be a lot of things you don’t remember, but I bet you’ll remember your first crush. What you said. How you acted around them. If we go skydiving, we can be afraid of something going wrong and not being able to get the parachute to open or what have you. And if something really does go wrong, we’re thinking these are going to be the last moments I am alive, have I done everything I have wanted to do before I disappear from this world forever? We probably think of our loved ones.
So knowing this, why do we still let fear hold us back? What exactly are we so afraid of? What’s the worst that could happen? If you end up all alone and no one loves you, couldn’t you start over somewhere? And if you’re not loved, don’t you want something to cure the loneliness? If there is at least one other person there with you, over time wouldn’t you learn to love each other even if you were strangers when it all began?
Life is so freaking short. Love is all that matters. So don’t let moments that could turn into something great pass you by.
I made it home yesterday, after a two-hour drive with my caterwauling tabby in the single digit weather. I woke up today and it didn’t feel like Christmas. We don’t have any Christmas decorations up around the house. We don’t have Christmas music playing (though I did play my one “Nutcracker” CD on the stereo today). We’re not going to have a big family reunion. We’re not exchanging presents either.
It didn’t feel like Christmas. Instead, it felt like Stress. And the thing is, it shows on my face. Yes, I have broken out. I am also acting like a person who hasn’t gotten laid in a while. (You get the idea.) So what am I stressed about? Two different career paths I have to work on, getting more into shape, lining up my life to be more like what Jesus would want and relationships that need repairing, letting go, or starting. Well, I guess when you get Stressed, you get Pimples Galore. Yeah, I look like a toad right now. It’s not pretty. What’s really sad is I probably got this way from overanalyzing people. I know, I know. A writer overanalyzing people. What a shocker.
But no, really. One of my strongest strengths is the skill of observation. It’s a blessing and a curse. I can do detail-oriented work, but I can’t be around people for too long. In addition to my Pimples Galore, I have tired eyes that say I’ve been losing sleep on everything I’ve been thinking about. I’m not sure I even have a point to this post. I have a lot to work on and Christmas has got to feel like Christmas again.
I was reading an article about reviving a language this morning. Apparently, a language becomes extinct when the last person who speaks it dies. I did not know that before reading this article. Well, at least I never thought about it so I guess that classifies as not knowing. So anyway, La Gomera is a Spanish island, one of the Canary Islands, and Silbo Gomero is an ancient whistling language the citizens are required to speak. The local government wanted to make sure it doesn’t become extinct.
Rewind. A whistling language? Yes, a language where the spoken part is based upon different whistling sounds. First I had to wrap my head around the fact that such a language exists. Then I had to wrap my head around the fact that languages can go away forever. Like dinosaurs or something. And finally, now I’m wrapping my head around the fact that there are so many articles out there I haven’t read. There’s no way I’m going to read everything ever written. Which means there are so many things out there I’m never going to find out about. So how do I know what’s important? Let me rephrase that. How do I know what I should be reading?
Maybe it’s healthier not to want to know everything about everything and everyone. Just the fact that there’s no way you will find out everything will kill you. I’m also sure there are some things you just don’t need to know. The question is, will you be able to selectively read?
The only person you can be is yourself. You can’t control other people’s actions and reactions. Simple enough instructions, but no one follows them. If people really did follow these instructions, there’d be less fighting in the world.
I need to follow these instructions. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart. It’s like every other problem in the world just doesn’t compare to me and my bad luck with love (totally not self-pitying here, in case anyone’s wondering). I have become consumed by it all of a sudden and I’m not exactly sure why. Am I so afraid of ending up alone? But it’s just that I believe no matter how much money you make in the world, if you don’t have that special someone to love, it doesn’t mean anything.
I probably have more on this topic, but not now, later.
Recently I’ve taken a liking to nail polish. Before you start judging me (or maybe you already have), I’m not talking about the “omg, I broke a nail!” kind of liking. I’m talking about the I-just-figured-out-how-to-paint-my-nails-correctly-so-that-the-polish-covers-all-of-the-nail-no-more-no-less-and-stays-shiny-for-at-least-a-week kind.
I don’t even know exactly how long this took me. I have a YouTube channel and I follow a couple of beauty gurus. When I started watching their videos, some of them would do nail tutorials, including one channel specifically dedicated to the cause. As a word artist, I appreciate visual art just as much as I do the written word, sometimes maybe even more because I am a visual learner. Watching these nail tutorials opened up a whole new nail art world to me in a way I never imagined. (I know I sound like a cliché right now, but work with me here, please.)
It was so magical to watch that I wanted to jump right in and do the prettiest design that I saw—unfortunately the prettiest design also turned out to be the most complicated one that required dotting tools, tape, multiple colors, etc. For someone whose only experience painting her nails was as a little girl (no idea how old I was) with like a 50₵ sky blue glitter bottle of polish that was bon bon size (anyone remember those from the drugstore?) trying to paint her toes in the backseat of a car on the way to a family vacation, this was bad news.
I wanted really intricate nails too fast. Needless to say, my nails did not turn out to be flawless-looking like the nails in the tutorials. They were sloppy, bubbly, colors running together and out of the lines. Insanity is when you do the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. Well, I went a little insane, trying one intricate nail design after the next. Then one day, I decided to go back to the basics.
I decided to do just one color for a change. I learned that while most layers need maybe a minute tops to dry, you really should let them dry about 15 minutes or so in between to really make sure it is dry before adding another layer. Also, you want to do one coat at a time and try not to make it thick so there are no bubbles. If the color doesn’t seem dark enough after one coat, add another coat until you are satisfied, always making sure to let each coat dry for a long time in between. Once your coats are dry, then you can take a cotton swab and some nail polish remover and clean any excess polish outside of the lines.