spring, spring, goddamn spring

Spring has sprung! Oh god, punch me. Like we need more cliches or analogies to the more obvious oddities that come around every few quarter months. I’d love to smell the new budded roses but my nasal cavities are swollen from the pollen saturated air. These days of gloom and nights of boom-in-the-sky are making me feel achy and I wake up as if recovering from a bipolar episode pondering my emotional state.

Ok, but for real, I’m a big fan of spring. It’s my third favorite season.

I like that the streets I drive down are now covered with bright green leaves overhead. They’re almost neon lime green, my favorite color. Just a week and a half ago I was looking out my window at the bare tree branches slightly swaying in the wind. Mind you, they were only swaying because this past week has been super windy, branches aren’t usually great swayers. And today, those branches are full of half-grown neon green beauties. I’ve got my window open so I can feel the wet air and hear the birds chirping. The paper drawings I have hung up on the walls are slightly wilting, worth it though. I’m a big window gal. I hate air conditioning, especially in my car. Most of the time no matter where I end up, my hair is a tousled mess from all my windows being open, and that’s how I like it…it’s also why I wear hats all the time. So, spring brings me several little joys.

I was pondering as I was driving through this particularly early grey and gloomy morning, thinking man, I would prefer that the sun was out thinking my drive would be more pleasant and enjoyable. I found it difficult to fully wake up, and my eyes remained in a half open, half closed, crescent shape. But then later, something happened. The damn sun came out, and it got hot. Like whoa humid hot compared to the chilly morning where I had my heat on in my car. This is when I noticed the trees. The past few days have been all rain. All gloom. All wet. Now, I could watch a thunderstorm for hours completely content, but when grey wetness continues for days, I find myself wishing for the sun and dry pavement. But this is the part of spring that is so important.

Spring needs those dark gloomy rain ridden days. That’s what makes spring, spring. Because without the rain we wouldn’t get those pretty yellow dots that cover our yard after one rainfall, even though they make my allergies go bazerk. Without the rain, our streets wouldn’t be singing. Without the rain, we might forget what plush feels like under our feet.

My point is, we need those dark days. I’m talking in one of those cliche metaphor voices now—in case you didn’t realize that I switched it up there… 

What makes things beautiful, what makes us beautiful, are the dark days. There the days of doubt, of sadness, of boredom, of hurt, of whatever not pleasant feeling that we feel sometimes. Becuase those days give us the nourishment that we need. I realize this is borderline contradictory, stay with me here though. Those days give us the urge, the power, the desires that we need to get to the place of neon lime green.

Spring has sprung, and so can we. Ha ha now THAT was a good one. People will tell you, give it time, it might take awhile. But also, if nobody has told you yet, one rainfall can bud some pretty badass flowers.

me for you

I lay my ambition at my feet so I know what direction to go.

I wear my heart on my sleeve so it becomes part of my identity.

I write my dreams on my skin so I don’t forget.

I wear contacts so I can see more than what is in front of me.

I do things with purpose, with drive, with love, with question, with loyalty, with aim, with intention, and with wonder.

I speak in metaphors and similes so others can understand and relate to me. My life is mine, and yours is yours. I leave things open to interpretation because that’s what it’s all about. Finding out what works for you, how I can relate to you, and finding the perceptions you need to move forward to the person you want to be.

That is why I write. I write mostly what I feel and experience, and if what I feel touches on your life in any way, then every silly word or thought I write is worth the vulnerability I feel as a writer.

You hope it isn’t you

I’d hate to burst your bubble so let me elevate you to a level of understanding.

You’re so quick to the tongue that your teeth are in the way for words to find a landing.

 

You are a tie-dye kept together with the rubber bands of someone else’s bindings.

 

You spit out words of a person before.

It’s so quick that you don’t even notice their reflection in your mirror.

 

I bet that rotten taste in your mouth

is left over from when you went south.

 

You have your bubble and world of mime.

Let’s play bumper cars, I know I’ll have a good time.

 

That damn twitch

So my right quad muscle has been hurting recently. I ‘ve been working out every day, probably to an excess, and when I took a week off of going to the gym I realized that my leg was sore even though I was doing diddly squat. It also would do this weird twitching thing when I would lay down in a certain position. So one night sometime around two in the morning I’m trying to fall asleep and my quad won’t stop twitching. Now it’s not like an aggressive twitch, but I can feel it and my mind already has a difficult time falling asleep as it is. So, what do I do? I blind myself with my phone as I googled “why is my leg twitching?” Ooo this did not help me fall asleep. It came up with a whole lot of reasonable answers but I focused on one. I came across a very rare disease where leg twitching is one of the symptoms, and right there at 2am, I diagnosed myself with a “death in 2-5 years” disease.

So, I laid there for another 30ish minutes letting my leg twitch. Feeling every minute of my “last 2 years.” Gah so dramatic. The next day I continued my google searching and continued to over-worrying to the point where I couldn’t concentrate on my job. Good thing serving has become completely second nature to me, I only forgot about one table. It got to the point where I would intentionally bend down so my leg would hurt so I’d think “yup, there’s the disease.”

Ridiculous, I know. I put this disease in my head and I couldn’t shake it. It got me seriously freaked.

The next day after I talked myself out of this improbable rare disease, I looked at my “scare” and saw something else. No, not that life is short blah blah blah blah...

…I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’m going to make the wrong decision and I’m going to miss out on something that could potentially be exactly what I’ve been looking for. So when I thought that I wouldn’t be able to make any decision, good or bad, right or wrong, I freaked out. I over obsessed.  I thought of literally the worst scenario and ran with it. So now I’m annoyed with myself to the point where I have had enough of the goddamn worrying. In fact, I’ve had enough with a whole lot of things. Geeze, this is getting out of hand. I”ll wrap it up…

I’m done. When it comes to my happiness I’m done waiting for something to happen, for the time to be right, or to feel a certain way. I’m done pretending I don’t care about something when I really do. I’m done saying I’m ok when I’m not. I’m done being nice to people who don’t deserve it. I’m done laughing at the slightly sexist dumb old man golfer jokes when I still get that 15% tip they’ve been giving me every golf season—cheap bastards. I’m done saying “no thanks, I’m good” when I’m offered a cookie or something from a stranger that I actually really do want. I’m done being the person I don’t want to be.

Because, there it is again, that damn leg twitch.

New sight

It hit me like a slingshot to the neck. It has been something sitting in the back of my mind along with the other maybes. Occasionalally I’ll pluck one of those ideas up like a claw machine. But, often like a claw machine does, the idea is dropped as soon as it is picked up.

The aim of this slingshot was so particular that I couldn’t help but look at it with intrigue. As I delved more into the idea, I found my interest rising as if I was on a hike and getting closer to the summit. I found this idea offered a purpose worthy of being more than just a thought.

When this happens, intuition had found its way up through your guts. You have a decision to make. You allow your guts to lead you to a place you don’t know yet, or you let the feeling subside, just as you do when overcoming a hangover. As you ignore this new vision, the idea will loom with you, making you uncomfortable and even sick. But, it will pass, and the intuition that once held you lets go. But take a drink again. Intuition has a possibility of rising up and being there. You just have to drink the right juice, play that claw machine enough, and turn your head when something hits you in the neck.

move on.

 

It was the day when you said nothing that spoke the loudest.

In that same day, I felt a chill pass through me. It must have been your ghost.

The words stuck on the tip of my tongue toppled over the brim of my lips and fell.

Heavy like a weighted lure, they found the ground quick.

I walked right over them, lifting my legs high.

I felt a cold push on my back, and I propelled myself forward.

We’re all jealous of the flying dragon

Do you know the level in Spyro where you have to fly through hoops and when you do a sound that you would image magic sounds like echoes through your speakers? Yeah, I want that. I want to have a path outlined for me reassuring me along the way that I’m doing the right thing. I actually fantasize about this image often. I can hear that magic ring as I get closer to the finish, and the best part is if I mess up I can try it again. And again. And again until I get what I want. Oh, wouldn’t that be nice?

But unfortunately, life isn’t as magical as the world of Spyro. The dragon in me is a little less cute, and a lot more realistic.

I think part of me has been waiting for the resemblance of a lit up path to appear to me guiding me to a destination, but no such path has materialized. So, understanding that this is not the way to go I look for other things. Possibilities. And there’s a lot of those which is good because I like options. Realizing that there’s no one right way is part of the battle, another part is following through with the moving part of it. You have to move your feet, move your mind, move into a mindset that will get you somewhere you want to be. I’m only now realizing that your destination doesn’t have to be an end all situation. Hell, you don’t even have to know your destination. It’s the journey that’s important. It’s the journey that takes up your time, it’s where you put in the effort, it’s where things matter.

You are actively creating your journey as you go whether you know it or not. You move from the punches being thrown at you, you leap to new places, you find new people, and the whole time your path is changing. Every encounter, every dream is taking you to a place that you don’t know yet. And that’s the real beauty of not having a path.