Celebration: Letting Go, A Self-Help Therapy

Pride

This week I turned in one of the worst stories I have ever written. It may not be the absolute worst, but it is pretty bad. And it is a testament that I cannot write well when I am stressed. (It took me nearly one full day of shirking responsibilities and letting myself play before I was ready to write the last story for my Literary Journalism class. A story that is shaping up to be one of the better stories I have ever written. Kudos, me. Kudos.) When it came time to hand over that mangled little story to my fellow fiction writers I nearly couldn’t stand to do it, but I managed to let go of my pride (and that stack of papers) by reminding myself that whatever critiques come back to me next Thursday will help me learn (if I let them.)

Blogging my Blog

You may have noticed that for the past couple weeks my blog has lain dormant, abandoned, lonely. And it probably will do it again for the next couple weeks. I admit that I have become sucked into the addictive world of blogs and it can be hard sometimes not to push some of my responsibilities aside in order to take time to write posts, but when I get as busy as I am right now, something has got to go. And this time that thing is my blog.

Other People’s Blogs

For the same reason that my blog has been set aside, I have not been able to follow the blogs of all the interesting people I know. This, I think, is much sadder than shirking my own blog. I feel slightly detached from my friends and family. It’s funny that blogs have become my main contact with (way of stalking) my friends. I will be back, friends. My comments will spam your blogs again soon.

 Other People’s Ideals for Life

I think for most of my life I have tried to live up to the ideals that have been set out by other people. I’ve talked a lot about wanting to live for myself but I always feared that if I didn’t fulfill other people’s expectations I would one day find I had failed at my life. This week I think I finally got a clear view of what I want, unmitigated by the ideals of others. I don’t know if this clarity will last, but it is one of the absolute best feelings I have ever experienced. Some day maybe I’ll expound on all these thoughts. Unfortunately I don’t have the time now.    

Letting go is a very therapeutic process, especially when you’re so stressed to the max that your temples throb and your throat feels like it is turning into granite. Of course, I don’t think we should let go of everything. For instance, I plan to hold on pretty tightly to Jordan. Also, my family and my friends. And my favorite jewelry and accessories, and my favorite shirts, and my favorite shorts, and my favorite skirts, and my favorite dresses, and my tights, and my shoes, and my really pretty knitting needles, and my adorable fancy dishware, and all of our books, and this laptop, and the light-up mouse that goes with it, and our car. And if we ever have the money to buy the bikes I want, I’ll hold onto those too... 

Celebration: Parents (in particular, mine)

Game Night at my grandparents' house in UT. I miss those nights.

My Dad:
I imagine being a dad can be hard sometimes (almost every parent in cyberspace is thinking, "Well, that's a given"). My dad puts a lot of effort into making his kids a priority. For instance he reads my blog. Last week on the phone I expressed some of my fears and worries, which included feeling like a tiny, little baby in comparison to some of my friends and colleagues, and my dad reminded me of my blog manifesto: "I will allow myself to be silly in public. And I'll LIKE it." When I am the most happy I do act a little silly. I hop as I walk, I jump up and down, I sing nonsense songs, I tell dorky jokes. When I get really excited I run in place and squeal. My dad reminded me that some of the things I do that make me worry I might be immature are things that I like about myself.

The next day my dad sent me a very detailed, careful, and loving email with suggestions on how to live in the moment and find greater peace in life. I loved this email because it showed that he was thinking about ways to help me even after we'd ended our phone call. Sometimes knowing your parents are thinking about you is just as helpful (or more) as the advice they give.

My Mum:
As long as I have been cognizant (and I'm assuming longer) my mom has wanted to be an Author. She has always worked hard to achieve her goals. While she was working full-time, attending graduate school full-time, being married, raising her children, serving in the church, and taking care of other responsibilities she would still find time to focus on her writing. Sometimes she would do something I can't imagine doing: wake up in the wee hours of the morning so she could write in peace and quiet. Recently all her hard work has begun to pay off in very tangible, exciting ways. (Click here to see her book that will be coming out in paperback soon! - read it, love it, share it with others! Click here to follow her blog and get updates on all the exciting awards she is winning.) Sometimes I have a hard time believing that any of my wilder dreams can come true. My mom reminds me that they're possible.
There are times that I feel like I need to take care of my life on my own, that as an adult I've got to be able to handle my problems and avoid running to mom and dad when things seem tough. I like it when I step out of those lonely stages in my life and remember how much my parents love me. Let's hear it for parents!

My dad rides too, but I don't seem to have a picture of him with a bike. They ride together; isn't that sweet?

Celebration: Legs. Plus a BONUS Celebration!

I have met with but one or two persons in the course of my life who
understood the art of Walking, that is, of taking walks — who had a
genius, so to speak, for sauntering...

-Henry David Thoreau

 

Across the way you see a building which Jordan and I have walked by several times, but never entered. Some day, Mr. Jefferson. Some day.

When the weather starts to turn tentatively into spring I remember why I like my legs so much. It's certainly not because they are pleasing to the eye; they seem to me uncomfortably close to resembling albino chicken legs, and no matter how much sun they get this will never change. My reasons for liking my legs are completely utilitarian. They walk good. Meaning that with them I can take long walks.

In the past few weeks my legs and I have enjoyed some really great walks. And we have had some really great company. My favorite walking companion is, of course, Jordan. Last Friday we took a break from our homework and job searches and walked down to the tidal basin (pictured above) to see the Cherry Blossom festival. We took the long way around the basin because there were slightly fewer people and because we wanted to walk. 

Check out the way Jordan's face is reflected in my glasses. Trippy. 

There is something so satisfying about seeing the world at the pace that a saunter allows, when you are not headed anywhere in particular but are walking for the purpose of walking. Everything seems closer to you, touchable, understandable. At the same time things seems bigger and more entrancing. I wish I knew how to take all of life at a saunter. Maybe there is some sort of support group. Maybe we could make one. Anyone else want in?

BONUS CELEBRATION: Other People's Flowers

 Does everyone look like a granny when they bend over? A discomfiting realization to have about oneself.

We don't have a garden of our own. Though last year our landlords planted a lush garden of edibles (basil and rosemary bushes almost as tall as my own self right outside our door) which are growing back this year, we don't have any flowers in our yard. When I take walks I love to see other people's flowers. And smell them. Thank you for planting flowers, Other People. Your hard yard work is much appreciated.