It seems that it’s around this time during the month that not only do I feel obligated to write again, but I feel the words bouncing and tearing around inside me looking to ricochet across a broader space than my mere insides can provide. They want the room to roam and be free, so here I am yet again.
That being said, I come to you today with a literary title rather than a musical one*: The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf by Gerald Morris.
*To be honest, and despite what it may seem with my running title theme, in the war for my affections, it’s often hard to tell if music or literature is winning. There are worse situations to be in. Continue reading “The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf”
I am scared. Contrary to what it seems with my penchant to travel alone; jump out of airplanes; and voice my life’s trials, tribulations, experiences, and beautiful embarrassments in this very public space… I really exist in an anxious and largely scared state of mind. Maybe I am like the Bruce Banner of anxiety… Maybe it’s my superhero burden to bear (wow, self important much, Liz? Though, green is my favorite color…) Continue reading “I Can Change”
[“I Ain’t Done” – Louis Barabbas & The Bedlam Six]
*I should have posted this earlier, but since this is my birth-month I hope you kind people will allow me a pass. It’s been a busy week in the most spectacular way possible.
Ladies and gents, I am now 28 years old. As of Monday, 3/19/18, I have entered my 29th year of life. My dudes, I am getting old. But, as they say, age is just a number right? Just an arbitrary counting system to assign a numerical value and therefore more coherent concept to the passage of time and, outside of the body’s obvious physical trek, upon each human’s progress through existence. “Growing old is mandatory and growing up is optional” as they say but there has to be some sort of comfortable balance I can reach, right? Somewhere between young/feckless and old/immovable.
Continue reading “I Ain’t Done (Being Young)*”
“Decide what to be and go be it…”
From the Desk of…
My mom has gifted me a desk. This simple sentence brings me more joy than I can possibly express. I have not had a real desk for the better part of a decade and even then it was that piece of my college furniture that served more as a resting place for books, sweatshirts, and sundry nonsense than it did as a useful writing surface. I already love this small wood structure an unreasonable amount and have great plans for its physical improvement (someone did this beautiful piece the disservice of “up-cycling” and painting its ornate solid oak surface a “shabby chic” distressed and dusty baby blue with seashell motif knobs – not exactly my style but there is a lot of scope for the imagination when it comes to putting it all to rights again). A writer needs a desk, and this one, with its current imperfections, is a reflection of the writer in question; a work in progress, as it were. Continue reading “Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise”
Being sick sucks y’all… Here I am saying that I need to stop laying on the couch feeling sorry for myself but this is literally what a stupid cold is forcing me to do. The weather needs to get itself together and stop being a moron so that some of us can actually breathe. Anyway, in an effort to overcome, as always, I am here with more topics for consideration since I literally can’t take the sullen introspection anymore.
Continue reading “Lost in My Mind”
I feel as though I can be comfortable with the expectations I have set for myself this year. Last year didn’t kill me, so if that is my base line, I at least know I can survive this one given nothing actually, physically, disastrous happens (I am currently knocking on every form of wood I can reach). I have said the purpose of life is to survive it, but that was admittedly during one of my darker moments. Right now, I can see with the foggy realization, the general though occasionally begrudging acceptance that despite the difficulty, the purpose of life is to live it—with some damn VIGOR where possible.
The tragedies of last year are of the past, I am clinging to them as a bad dream, lest I forget all together, but I now intend to live with some kind of intention after a really rough six months (at least, you know, until all the enthusiasm wears off and everyone leaves the gym again—kidding, mostly). It was all a bad dream (sorry for bastardizing the words, Biggie), it’s now time to wake up.
Continue reading “All Will Be Well”
I think I discovered this poem at exactly the right time: Continue reading “Is it Ever Gonna Be Easy?”
[“Hold On” – Green Sky Bluegrass]
“I know everything for all that I know,
But there’s always two sides to the way both of the stories go.
Sometimes things better left unspoken,
Should be shouted, written down, and quoted.”
I am a superfluously apologetic person, I always have been. I apologize for things that don’t really require it, feelings I have that I am entirely entitled to, even the actions and hurts of others. I think it comes along with anxiety that, at a point, I feel like a burden on the world and so I have always been one to apologize if anything around me is going wrong because I take it on myself, I internalize it, and assume it is a reflection on me.
Someone is unhappy? Obviously I am not doing my job to make them happy.
Someone stubbed their toe? Why didn’t I have the forethought to move that box to a more convenient location? Even though the box was not mine to move.
Why can’t I tell the future and change the past?
Continue reading “Hold On”
Surprisingly enough, I did not start out an avid reader. Many people would be shocked to learn that I initially hated reading because I was quite slow to learn and, to be honest, I don’t deal well with being bad at something I have worked so hard to master. The first books I read and truly enjoyed were from a series, by Gerald Morris, about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table (fantastic “YA” books, still very accessible to regular ole’ “A”s). These books, plus my Navy Brat upbringing, helped create a solid belief system based around the importance and necessity of armor; of personal protection from the things that wish to do you harm.
As we know, life quite frequently seeks to do us harm. Coping mechanisms, sarcasm, and a solid concept of self worth are our mental versions of armor; but there’s nothing wrong with decking yourself out in physical representations of your strength, when necessity demands it. Continue reading “Glorious You”
As I believe is made evident by my writing here—sharing my hurts and feelings—I am a fairly open person. In fact, I believe openness and the ability to empathize are my two best personality traits. That being said, I also am a bundle of flaws who realizes that perfection is an aspirational state of being, not a reality. Therefore, I pride myself on being an incredibly forgiving person who understands that flaws are inherent and can sometimes come out, despite best efforts. This combination of beliefs means that I rarely hold real grudges and therefore I hold no real regrets. I thoroughly believe that everything is a learning experience and I can rationalize myself out of most anger. Actually being angry makes me feel nauseous, like my body is literally trying to physically reject the emotional experience. I may become frustrated easily on occasion but I let it go just as quickly. I try, adamantly, to go with the flow and spread good vibes in my wake. Continue reading “Whatever Forever”