Usually

As per my usual, I have a long list of things I should be doing that fall much higher on the priority level than blogging. But, it's a form of exhaust for my brain and it's capacity, so I claim this as a necessary step before delving into my tasks for the evening.

Most parents, love their children dearly. Big events like scoring a goal, graduating school, landing a big job, tend to evoke a sense of pride that they often audibly share with their children. Wonderful.

There's another angle that pride should come through, that for me so far, it has not. I'm busy and crazy and over achieving, and somehow, in expressing this to any friends or romances, there's a sense of jealousy, competition or otherwise. Never pride. Never appreciation or admiration.

My most recent romance, one that I like very much actually, recently listened with wide open ears as I shared of my plans for the day, which, let's be real, were ridiculous. There are never enough hours in the day. He replied with "I am so proud of you".

Floored.

Fall over the your chair.

Really?

Yeah. Simple and honest, and somehow more meaningful than most other things anyone could have said. Knowing someone is "proud of you" evokes a much different inner feeling that knowing someone "loves you" or knowing someone "cares about you" or "thinks of you". They take pride in knowing you, in calling you theirs.

I like that, someone takes pride in knowing I'm theirs.

Brains

I have trouble with the idea that the brain is this infinite locket of space and understanding. We were fearfully and wonderfully made, and it is a masterpiece, don't discount. BUT, I hate the fact that we so often need to "make room" for other things. Other feelings.

I've done a bit of that. Really I think it's much more rearranging than getting rid of things in order to replace them.

Keeping that preference in mind (that it's more of a rearranging, than forgetting in order to let something else in)...then, yes.

we are fearfully and wonderfully made. And I'd like to welcome the new addition to my crowded house. It's been awhile since everything has felt this right.

Bones

I work in a very casual corporate type of environment. We have a handbook because our HR company makes us, and the whole content of it is a bit of a joke. For example, you get 10 days paid vacation if you donate bone marrow. Really? Who does that? It's extremely painful.

I read an article about a 19 year old girl who donated her bone marrow to an 8 year old and saved her life. She was a part of a program where you could sign up as a donor, and if your cells match, you could be called at anytime in for surgery. Truly inspiring. Truly, a painful process.

Looking at this in the scope of life as I so love to do, how often do we have to let go of a piece of ourself, to better something else?

Sometimes, saying goodbye to a very deeply rooted, core piece of who you are and what makes up your entire structure, despite how rivetingly painful and entirely consuming, is in actuality, a necessary step to save another piece, or at least help it.

There are so many metaphors one can utilize to view life in this light...without the rain the flowers won't grow. Without the rain there is no rainbow. No pain, no gain.

Without ever having seen flowers before, or without your eye on a prize to make that pain worthwhile, the pain simply doesn't seem worthwhile. And thus, I am reminding you, and me.

I know

He laid down on the bed and then invited me over, head cocked to the side with a challenging half smile. Raised one arm as if to say “Look, here, this is where you should be….now where are you?”.

I climbed over the suitcase and across the bed and rubbed my head right into that little corner above his shoulder, under his chin…right where my head fits perfectly.

He grabbed a handful of my hair in his hand and played gently with it as he sang in a half whisper into my ear.

“You know, I don’t want anything else. Only be in your arms…”

His lips sang into my forehead as the song turned softly into a kiss.

With closed eyes, I melted. I breathed in deep the first boy unafraid to love me.

Wave

New York is experiencing a heatwave to the tune of 100-110 degrees fahrenheit. Oh it's good fun, I can assure you. We are in day 4, and expecting Day 5 tomorrow.

As I was driving along, windows down (my AC needs a good re-charge, and hey, a little sweat is good for the skin, right?) sweating uncontrollably, I realized that we all were. And that was that.

Sweating on a hot day is the only naturally occurring bodily function that we don't need to apologize for or feel embaressed about because honestly, we all get it...it's hot. When generally any other bodily function without clear explanation is seen as a flaw, walking into a grocery story with sweat stains on my back and arms is completely normal, and nobody gives it a second glance. I find this absolutely fascinating. First that there is ANY bodily function that society can grant an excuse for (excuse yourself after you sneeze, burp, yawn...don't even think about flatulating...), and second...that it is SO completely forgiven. Completely. Maybe society isn't quite as jaded as I had pinned it for after all. Every once and again, it comes up with somethin to remind me it has a sense of humor.

Something

I think I might be onto something.
I haven't sat still since I was six years old.

Honest, since age six, every day of my life has been thoroughly planned out.
I'm a productivity monster with blonde hair,
and somehow managed to complete every task and challenge set before me.

Strangely enough, in my old age (hah)
things seem to be slowing down almost...
easier....
For a moment I felt very much less alive
very much like I needed to fill some sort of time void with SOMETHING
But when you line the cards up
This girl's gotta full plate. How can I possibly feel like I'm breathing properly?
Like I'm actually having time to think and be still

I felt lazy. I felt like I was missing something.
Then I realized....
I'm just a well practiced do-er.
I'm just good at this.

And something I've added into the mix seems to be giving me a new sense of self
a new air to breathe and rejuvinate.

I think they call it following your heart.

Make Me Laugh

From: New Jersey
Sent: Monday June 27, 2011 9:55 AM
To: Leighann
Subject: Make me laugh

Tell me a joke...please
___________________________________

OK well I don't really know any good jokes,
Except for blonde jokes...
Which I just feel funny about telling.
A bit of a conflict of interest, wouldn't you say?
So how about this,
I'm really much better at rambling.
I mean I could probably talk to you for like 2 hours non -stop.
I mean I might stop to take a sip of water or something.
So maybe I can talk for 119 minutes straight.
And really about anything.
I could talk about a door handle for 119 minutes without stopping.
I find it to be a bit of a gift.
So in deciding to ramble to you
Rather than tell you a joke,
Which really just simply wouldn't turn out well,
I find that...
Taking up the 15-20 seconds of your time to read this
You will hopefully turn up the edges of your lips...just at ouch..
Or if not...if you're a stone-faced reader...
There will be little chemicals in your brain shooting off saying
"Yeaaa man we like what we're hearing (reading/computing)"
And you'll get a little lighter in the mind.
A little "redder" if it was my mind.
That's something I always found funny.
Most people, when they get angry,
Say that they "see red"
I believe them...because that phrase comes from
People bursting blood vessels out of pure pressure and frustration,
and literally seeing red.
It's a fact ;)
BUT. When I get angry, I don't see dark red...
I see dark gray.
When I get happy I see light red.
Like...first coat of red nail polish red.
Like...see through balloon red.
I wish I could relate colors to colors of fireworks.
Then maybe we could see eye to eye..
I wish we could see eye to eye...RIGHT NOW.
hehe. I'd kiss you I think.