Tag: life

Hope Floats

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Most people’s hope floats. Most people’s happiness is a boat on smooth waters, chugging along until…

It springs a tiny leak. But then that person plugs it right away. And it’s all better and they can keep chugging along, even though the boat is floating a little lower in the water. And everything is fine, until suddenly the cork comes out, and they have to plug it again, although now the boat has really taken on water and it’s wading a little lower. But it’s okay — most people just pick up the bucket and bail the water out. The boat is not the same as before, but they have confidence it will get better (or at least not any worse). 

But that’s most people. And by my tone, I’m assuming you know that that’s not me. 

See, my hope is a submarine. It’s cruising along the bottom of the ocean. It actually belongs at the bottom, so that no one sees it coming. And to get it to the surface, you’ll need a lot of weight pulling it up. I mean, a lot. You can add one weight at a time, pulling on it, but you won’t notice much of a difference until it’s fully up. It’ll just be at the bottom, moving along. And you can see out the windows, but that’s really it. You only have a small space to move in, to see in.  

That’s my day and my life. My hope is a submarine. And a few weights are added each day, a few good things happen, but not much to make a difference. And that’s the hardest part. Because I want my hope to float, in spite of everything. I want to feel bouyant and happy. But I just feel dragged down. 

At any rate, I’m learning that it’s okay to have a hope submarine. As long as your propeller is intact and you keep moving, it’s okay if your submarine doesn’t resurface or if your boat takes on water. As long, as you keep moving, you can still see the world. 

Bad Love Poems

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I love Valentine’s Day. Unabashedly and without remorse. 

But the chocolates and teddy bears aren’t the reason. 

It’s the bad love poems. The punny heart jokes. The corny movies. I just love when people put their heart into something, even if it comes out bad. 

So, here’s some short poems that I’ve come up with for fun. No judgments here, I hope. But if you feel so inclined to outdo me, feel free to leave it in the comments. 
Your love for me is like a bad haircut. It isn’t what I asked for but I’m living with it. 

Your love for me is like French fries. A little salty and usually bad for me. But I crave you anyway. 

My love for you is like a cold. My chest is full and it’s hard to breathe. 

Your love for me is like the sun. Sort of blinding and it makes me sweaty. 

My love for you is like a little black dress in the back of my closet. Always waiting for a special occasion and not fitting like I remembered. 

Our love is a wrinkled curtain. It doesn’t look good, but it does the job.

My love for you is like lip balm. I’m always losing it before it’s quite done. 

My love for you is a different language. You don’t understand it. 

Our love is a pickle. A little sour, but served on every plate. 

Happy Valentine’s Day! 

Looking for relationships in all the wrong places 

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I have an important announcement to make: 

You don’t have to be friends with the people who are in the closest proximity to you. 

(I know, I know. In other obvious news, your waitress doesn’t actually care how you’re doing today.)

But seriously. Just because you’re rubbing shoulders with your classmates, roommates, coworkers, or clients, all the time doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be friends. And you don’t have to be. 

I mean, is it nice? Yeah, of course it is. It’s great to have a support system wherever you are. It’s so wonderful to have a “work wife” and a “bff” as your roommate. But some people aren’t going to check off every box for you, and that’s okay. 

Take me, for example. I’m very, very blessed to have a loving and supportive and tight knit family. But I know people whose family doesn’t fill the love needs that they have and they need to go outside that unit. They need to go to their friend groups or their coworkers or what have you. Because sometimes, the people that you’re supposed to “be friends” with don’t always work out. 

And while it’s a little less convenient to go out and throw all of your personality traits outside of your immediate area (sometimes literally) and see which of your acquaintances “sticks” (aka, “who sticks around”), these friendships will be more meaningful when you have more in common than that you share a house or a cubicle or a classroom with them. 

Be unafraid to look past the obvious to find a true friend. You’ll be surprised at whose looking for you too. 

A Do Nothing Night

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When all of your plans get cancelled, normal people usually allow themselves the excuse of doing nothing. 

When my plans get cancelled…

“Okay, so we’ve been to all of the grocery stores and picked up everything we need and we’ve taken a walk and there’s no wedding stuff to take care of right now and we’ve just eaten dinner and I finished the chapters for my book club, so we can probably just sit on the couch—OH, let’s bake cookies!”

To which my loving fiancée so sweetly replies: “you know, you don’t have to do something every night.”

And he’s right. Sometimes it’s okay to just come home from work and stop. And it’s also okay to just exist sometimes.  And most times, I totally forget that sometimes it’s okay to not to be completely productive. (Ugh, that even hurt to say.)

But he’s still right. So, I’m passing that onto you. 

Don’t do anything else tonight. Don’t even read this blog. 

Okay, you little rebel. NOW, go do nothing for the rest of the night. Thank me later. 

Refusing Help

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Two juxtaposing scenes that both happened to me today:

Two separate gentlemen (not conjoined twins) offered to give me their seat on the  train. Even when I refused vehemently, one of these men got up anyway. 

An older woman stopped me to ask where the “hilton” was but she didn’t know the street name or where it was exactly. In a humongous city. (It dawned on me waaay too late that I could have looked it up on my smart phone.) 

Two completely different situations. Two times I completely refused to be helped or (accidentally) refused to help. 

The moral of these two stories is the same though: let them and let yourself.

Let them help you. Sit in a seat when someone offers it to you in earnest. (Not any of that “let me offer this but not actually get up” shenanigans). 

And stop and let yourself help someone else. (especially if it’s an old lady. But don’t help someone who has bad vibes to you. You need to stay sexy and not get murdered, ok? Karen and Georgia from My Favorite Murder say so.) 

The point is that you should let yourself be helped and pay it forward sometimes. Don’t get too proud. Because the world needs more nice in it, and you definitely shouldn’t refuse it when it appears. 

The “W” Word

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My sister was describing a friend of hers to me, and she used me as a reference point. 

“She’s just like you,” she said, “just not as unique.”

To which I replied, “you mean not as weird.” 

She pulled a face and kept talking. 

But I knew I was right. And I know I’ve been throwing around the “w” word a lot lately on this blog but I can’t help it. It strikes me and fascinates me so much that people see being weird as a bad thing. That they sort of unconsciously or consciously avoid it. I know people don’t like to be called weird to their face, and I know my sister was just trying to be as diplomatic (and honest) as possible, but what’s wrong with being weird? 

Isn’t it a good thing to not be like anyone else? To be different? 

But that’s not enough anymore, is it? You can be different but still fit in pretty well. Still be in the in crowd. 

What we need is weird people. That make you see something in a new light because you’ve never thought of it that way before because it’s so out there. People who scare you (but don’t terrify you). People who are unafraid of themselves. 

I love being unique and different and quirky. But I also claim my weirdness. I like having opinions and beliefs that are unlike anything that I’ve ever come across. (And I like coming across other opinions and beliefs too.) But I fully recognize that I’m weird. And that not everyone is going to enjoy that aspect of me. 

So, whatever you are, just make sure you own it. Which, I think, will inevitably make you weird too. 

Almost

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Close only counts when it comes to horseshoes and hand grenades.

Which is harsh, I’ll admit. But it’s true. 

Like I did really well with my diet today. I ate the right things and didn’t eat too much of anything. And I felt good. 

Until I got home and put everything that even remotely looked like food in my mouth. 

Now, you might say now, “well, at least you tried.” Or “there’s always tomorrow.” 

But that’s not always the right attitude when it comes to goals and dreams. It can be important to stick to your guns when there’s something you really want. In my case, I want to be fitter and healthier. But apparently, my brain just wants chocolate and peanut butter.  

And yes, I will try again tomorrow. But I’m tired of starting over. So I’m not going to try. I’m going to do. 

So that’s why getting closer is not always getting better. And it’s worth it to hold yourself to a higher standard than just almost. 

Life Isn’t A Poetry Reading

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This is what normal small talk is like:

“Nice weather we’re having.”

“Yes, but I heard there will be thunderstorms on Thursday.”

“No? Well, I knew it couldn’t stay this hot.” 

And this is what small talk is like when you talk to me:

“Change either upsets me or thrills me. I cried when my childhood swing set was taken down, but have dyed my hair blue, black, blonde, and red at different times in my life.” 

“But I’m not afraid of change. I’m afraid of being here, being alive, for years and years but then realizing that my life hasn’t really been worth anything.”

As you can see, I’m pretty comfortable talking about anything with anyone. (This blog is evidence of that). I wouldn’t really consider myself an open book because I’m still fairly shy, but I do let it all out there when I feel safe. 

I mean, I’ve been reading my own poetry to crowds ever since I can remember. I’ve been revealing some of my innermost thoughts to a live audience for most of my adult life. 

So, why shouldn’t it be any different in my everyday life? 

Oh yeah. Because it 100% weirds people out. 

My mom has always said that I “speak my own truth.” That is, I like to tell you what I think about something. But not in a Simon Cowell way. Just in a “and that’s my take” kind of way. And I can’t really be any different. 

But like I said, people find that weird if it’s not in blog format. 

But do you know what I say? I say let’s cut  to the chase. Let’s be brave. And say what we really feel. Let’s tell our own truths. 

So, when someone starts talking about the weather…

Don’t say “isn’t it nice out?”

Say, “isn’t the sky so blue and beautiful today?” 

The Difference 

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Look, I’m me and you are you. 

And I love thunderstorms, and flowers, and vegetables, and cider, and incense, and black clothing. 

And you? You may like sunny weather, and grass, and fruit, and beer, and candles, and bright floral prints. 

And that’s totally and absolutely okay. Because this is a gentle reminder that diversity is not only okay but necessary. 

We need different things, different opinions, different beliefs, different people. We need difference. We need it to challenge the status quo. 

What we don’t need is hate. What we don’t need is ignorance. 

What we need is different things, but we need acceptance too. 

So if there is someone different than you in your workplace, your school, or even in your family, get to know their differences before you make a final conclusion. Before you treat them the same as others you’ve met. I promise that you’ll enjoy that your world has gotten bigger because you learned something new. 

And us different people? We’ll appreciate it too. Because even though we’re different than you, we’re still human. We still love and wish and hope and dream that someone will see us for what we are: different. 

You Suck (and so do I)

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You’re human. Inevitably, you suck at something. Maybe it’s cooking. Maybe it’s public speaking. Maybe it’s skydiving (so don’t do that.)

And probably because you’re not so good at this thing, you probably don’t like to do it. Hell, you may even hate it.

For me, it’s coloring. And I don’t hate it. I loathe it.

I’m serious. Ask my mom. She actually watched me throw tantrums when I was asked to color. I mean, in high school, my classmates cheered when they could color for their extra credit. I actually groaned out loud once.

I mean, there’s just no room for error and there’s too many rules when coloring. It’s inside the line or it’s not. It’s too dark, too light. How exhausting!

But weirdly enough, now that I’m older, I like to color in adult coloring books. It’s soothing, and I can actually color the colors I want. Do I need a blue sky? Darn tooting, I sure don’t. It’s purple now. Because I say so.

But why do I like it now? I mean, I’m definitely no better at it. I can’t keep the color inside the lines if I had a gun to my head. It requires all the patience I don’t have.

What’s different? This: I’ve accepted that I suck. That I’m not good at it. That with some things, practice doesn’t make perfect. But that’s okay. Or at least, it’s not the end of the world, like it was made out to be in my childhood.

There’s something to be said for being able to tell people about your accomplishments. But you should also understand your limitations and weaknesses. And you shouldn’t be ashamed if you can’t do anything about them. What you should do is accept yourself for who you are. And if you do that, you’ll succeed in life with flying colors.