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.  

Celebration: Writing Because I Like It

Sometimes it feels like there's a deadline on success. If I don't get a story published in the next year...if I don't get a higher paying job by the end of the summer...if I dont, if I don't. Sometimes it sets my mind into a whirl and even when I'm standing still I feel like I'm running around. Sometimes it is hard to remember that I can choose to be at peace and to be happy. Sometimes I can't figure out how.

Sometimes I forget why I want to be a writer. Sometimes I contemplate how much work it is going to take to make a story or a piece of a story really good and my knees start to quiver with the weight of the imagined burden. Sometimes there are too many distractions, too many things that I must be or do, and writing becomes one item on my list of responsibilities, one more thing to avoid doing. Sometimes I forget that I write because I like it. Sometimes I forget that when I open myself up and write what comes from my core I feel beautiful.


Sometimes I have to sit down and force the distractions out of my head. Ignore my homework, my list of unanswered emails, the mess of clothes and dishes and old homework papers growing in my already cluttered apartment. Sometimes I have to sit and stare at a blank computer screen until I have something I want to say, until I can open myself up and write what I want to. Sometimes when I do this, even though I may not have put on any makeup that day, my head may be pounding with leftover sinus pressure from my cold, and I may be wearing my pajamas and yesterday's socks, I feel like the world is one big bundle of happiness ready to envelope me. That's why I write. Sometimes it's nice to have a reminder.

Celebrations: or THE GREAT LIST OF HAPPINESS!!!

Going out of town and being wicked ill can really put a damper on one's internet communications. I have encountered so many things to celebrate in the past couple weeks but there's just not enough time to expound on them all. Here is a list and maybe I'll expound on some of them later:

• Legs
• Lavender-colored finger nail polish
• The free samples that come with online Sephora orders
• Open mindedness 
• Charity
• Self forgiveness
• Being mostly likeable
• Letting myself by happy
• The changing of the seasons
• Emotional tenacity
• Sleep
• The power of believing in hope
• The combination of taste buds and a clear sinus passage
• My professor saying something I wrote was "so, so good" and knowing that she's right
• SISTERS!!!

I've encountered many more things recently that are worthy of celebration but I can't remember them right now. Stay tuned for more celebrations.

Celebration: Hair Grows!

Hm. This actually doesn't give a good angle on the CUTEST part. Maybe next time.

When I got bored one time I cut my hair. Or rather I got my hair cut. I like the woman that cut it, but I guess I didn't communicate well and, though still cute, I didn't get what I wanted. As it's been growing out I've touched it up a little and it is finally getting to a length and shape that I love! As my sister would say, WOOooWOO! (Or something like that.) It's amazing what a good hair style can do for your strut.

Celebration: Being Friends With Someone Appreciative

Out of all the regular, free museum-like locations in Washington, DC, the one I have probably been to the most is the United States Botanic Garden. (Or maybe the Natural History Museum, but let's just say it's the Botanic Garden for the sake of this story.) This weekend I had to go back to the gardens to do some research on Brazilian plants for a story I am writing and my friend Emily (see here and here) went with me.

 These topiary bears always remind me of the book The Children of Green Knowe

There is something about going to the Botanic Garden in the winter that borders on magical. You walk in from the cold and are nearly overwhelmed with warmth and the smell of thriving plant life and COLORS. This weekend they were doing a show on orchids so the entirety of the main corridor was brimming with them. It was like scented happiness.

And the Chinese dragon added some color too

The Botanic Garden is the sort of place that can reveal who your real friends are (okay, okay, that's a big exaggeration/made up story). So far I've managed to always go there with people who like it as much as I do. This is key because otherwise they wouldn't understand why I would get so excited about the fact that the garden sports a real live mandarin orange tree:

Or that they have trees that look like hippy hair:

(Only, it's really lusciously beautiful hippy hair.)

Or plants as adorable as this:

(Don't you want to take it home and keep it for your very own?)

   

Emily and I had a lot of fun. At least I did and I'm guessing that Emily did because who wouldn't, am I right? I'm glad that she appreciates the same sorts of things that I appreciate. Being so far away from most of my family, it's nice to have good friends.