Maybe Tonight...

A smile filled my face as I stood on the back deck, watching my breath swirl through the cold air.  Though I couldn't quite put my finger on it, something just felt right about the morning.  Life felt prospective, exciting- hopeful, life felt hopeful.

It's been a while since I graced the internet with my tempest of musings, and today felt like just the right day to bring myself back to this place.

To say that my moods have been intense as of late would be a tad of an understatement.  I feel like I've been running on a treadmill- stuck in place as I try desperately to escape the the emotional scarring left by the events of a few months ago.  My coping mechanisms have shifted, but in the end I realize that I just haven't found a healthy way to deal- at least not that I've managed to stick to.

Today, I've decided that I want to change that.  Today, I feel motivated, excited, and positive, and I want to take that positive energy and create a plan for something good.

Five months ago today, I got on a plane and made a transition that would change my life immensely;  and though I don't regret that decision for a moment, my life has been a roller coaster of its own kind since that day.  Changes have always been difficult for me, and such a massive change as moving across the country to a state where I knew only one person was bound to have some whiplash effects.  It's taken me time to adjust in so many ways, and not all of them have been easy.

Today, though, I finally feel settled in and confident in myself.  It's just coming up on December, and it's about this time every year that I start getting antsy and hitting planning mode- spewing ideas of what I want to change and do in the new year.  Last year I actually had a pretty solid plan...but then I moved- twice- and slowly my plans melted away into the aether of yesterday.

This year, I don't want anything to get in my way.  I want to start doing the things I've been wanting to do that I just haven't- things I've come up with excuses for.  I've always been an all or nothing person: it's so difficult for me to push through and keep going when I feel like I've already failed; but this time, I want it to be different.

Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in confusion and stress- sometimes it feels like it's all too much.  But someone gave me some advice recently that made me realize something important: sometimes it's we ourselves who are weighing our own wings down, and when we finally let go, that's when we can learn to fly...and that's exactly what I intend to do.

"Maybe tonight we'll start all over, like it's the first day of our lives...."  And maybe tonight, I'll finally get it right.

Fall Seven Times, Get Up Eight

The wind chilled my bare feet and the crisp air filled my lungs with a cool sensation, as I stood out on the back deck.  The ground shimmered wet from the rain, and the sky spread out above me like a grey blanket, enveloping the day in its melancholy.  My thoughts swirled like my hair in the wind, and I wondered a hundred things at once.

It's strange realizing that you've repeated a mistake- coming to an understanding, only to remember that you'd once stood in the same spot with the same thought.  I thought I knew all these things- knew what to be careful of, what footholds to use to keep from falling- and yet here I was again, fallen from the same peak in the same way.

To say that the last month and a half of my life has been a massive roller coaster is a significant understatement.  I have made sizable mistakes and screwed myself over in more ways than one.  When I finally figured out how to cut out the drama, the damage had already been done.

Allow me to elucidate: I got myself into a bad relationship, and the end result was a trip to an in-patient program to help recover my sanity.  Of course, it's a hundred times more complicated than that, but, for the purpose of this exercise, that's the jist of it.

It's funny, in the end I realized that I was simply relearning lessons that I had already learned in life, and that caught me off guard.  Ultimately, though, this lead me to an entirely new epiphany: lessons learned are not always lessons remembered.

They say that time heals all wounds, and what I've realized over the past couple of weeks is that sometimes time also makes you forget what you had once learned from those wounds- and why you learned it.  To me, this makes it all the more important that we remember how to get up when we fall: because we will fall, again and again.  

Life is a long line of falls, but if we get up more times than we fall, we will always win the battle.

"Get knocked down, get back up."- Octavia of the Tree People.

The Weather Inside is Frightful

War is coming.  It's always coming for me.  So many days I spend with my mind locked in a battle against itself: the one side aches to drag me down into the depths of depression, while the other side struggles to combat it's aggressor with words of wisdom and optimism.  Some days, though, I find myself in the eye of the storm, as something strikes me and clears the skies; and in those wonderful moments of clarity, I find hope.

It's been some time since I've brought my swirling storm of thoughts to life via the internet, and I must administer my apologies for that.  Adjusting to my new home has take its toll on my passion to write (backwards as that is, as I generally find writing a good release).  Today, though, I have found new inspiration in a beautiful set of words given to me by a dear friend, and I felt the need to write about it.

Like me, my friend has struggled with many emotional difficulties throughout his life, and like any of us, he has encountered situations that left him in an agonizing conflict of emotions.  While recently dealing with one such set of circumstances, in a sea of sadness, he somehow found a drop of hope, and I wanted to share that hope with you:

In so many ways I found this amazing.  There is so much negativity in what he's dealing with, and he's been filled with such sadness that my heart aches for his sake; and yet, he found a way to see the good.  And not only did he see the importance of moving on, but of learning from the situation.  It wasn't just an end to him, it was a means to an end- a tool to help him in his journey through life.

Bad relationships, financial difficulties, food shortage, family feuds: these are just a handful of the myriads of problems that each of us can and do face, and no one can deny the toll these things take on us.  And yet, despite the pain we are enduring, it is an infallible truth that we as humans thrive on positivity.  The question arises, then: how do we find this positivity?

Each day, the sun rises, and the sun sets.  Each day, we have the option of being angry that the day is over, or seeing each end as a new beginning- a chance to start over, while using the day before as a learning tool.  My friend fought for his mind to see this, and we each have that same choice.  And though my friend has had many a difficult day- both before and after he spoke these words- the fact remains that he recognizes the importance of learning from a bad situation, and that is a mindset we all can learn from.

Adventure Time

2:35am- oh god I have no time.  This isn't going to work.  But I can't back out now.  I can't break down.  I can't keep this from working.  No.  It has to happen.

It's been nearly a month since I last graced the internet with my not-so-sage words of sentiment.  I know that seems like a while, considering the frequency with which I was previously posting, but I assure you, I have good reason.   I've taken a big leap- made an impetuous move.

I've been wanting a change bad lately.  It's been an emotional roller coaster the last few months, to say the absolute least, and I was to the point of being ready to give up.

And then, it happened.  Something clicked.  Something changed in my mind, and when I was handed an opportunity, I took it.

This post isn't intended to be anything pretty or flowery- I'm sitting here in an uncomfortable chair in a Taco Bell because this is the only spot where they had an outlet; but I did want to update the blog on what's been happening with me.

Two weeks ago, I made a leap.  I took a chance, I made a plan.  Then two days ago, I enacted it.  And now, I live in Alaska.

"Polly...lens cap."

When I was a child, my mother would buy me a little disposable camera from Wal-Mart, and I would take pictures of any random thing I thought fascinating.  We would return to Wal-Mart and I would place the camera in a little paper bag, after my mom had written her name and the date and some other information on it.  I remember always being curious about the "magic" of cameras- how did they turn "wind wind click" into pictures?  That was a curiosity that would puzzle me until my late teens, when I thought find demystify this magic with a little research.  Turns out, not all magician's secrets are disappointing.

With my recent venture to start as a YouTuber, my eyes have looked upon many a digital camera in search of the right one (in the right price point) for my needs.  This search has, of course, given me some interesting food for thought.

I've been thinking on how technology- though certainly a useful thing- has progressed to the point that arts of days gone by are slowly being lost in the aether of time.  In particular, I was thinking of the art of photography.  Of course, this art is very much still alive, and flourishing; but so much of it has changed, and some aspects are virtually non-existent now.  When I mentioned to someone that I had been wanting a film camera, he literally replied, "does anyone even develop that stuff anymore?"  And that's the saddening part- not many places do.  Not many people do- or even know how to.

And that, my friends, brings me to this: I am overwhelmingly excited to show you my beautiful new acquisitions.  The first is a camera from the sixties- a Honeywell Pentax H1a.

This model was made from 1962 to 1968, and went for about $160 in its time.Whether it will work as a camera remains to be seen, but part of me hopes that it won't, so I can use it as an upcycling piece.

The second is wherein lies the bulk of my excitement: an slr camera from the nineties, with a couple different lenses.

In truth, my photography knowledge is minimal.  I can find a good angle any day, but I know squat about settings and shutter speed etc, mainly because I have never had a camera to play with to learn.  I am ecstatic to have this new piece of equipment to play with, and eager to learn to use it.

Sometimes it seems as though art is slipping through the cracks, disappearing with time, but it only takes a few sparks to keep a fire alive.  I am anxious to no longer be an ember, but a spark in the almost lost art of film photography.

Country Roads Take Me Home

We all have memories we cherish from our childhood.  Maybe it's hopscotch on the sidewalk, or swimming in the pond out back.  Maybe it's video games at your friend's house, or bowling every weekend.  Whatever it is we recall, we replay those times in our brains with a smile, and fondly recall our happiness in those moments.

I'm having one of those days where I over-think everything- where I turn thoughts round and round in my mind, questioning everything and anything.  I've been in a country mood- listening to a lot of country music, and of course it gave me more material to roll through my pensive brain.

I've been thinking long and hard about my childhood, today.  I remember a lot of things.  I remember some good things and some good times.  But honestly, what I remember the most is playing alone, and feeling alone.  I remember not understanding why I couldn't get along with kids at school.  I remember feeling left out from the group of kids my age in my Congregation.  I remember my sister telling me how fat I was, and feeling so self-conscious.  I remember going into puberty and learning to hate myself.  I remember never feeling like I had a place in society.

And yet, a few choice memories stand out to me.  Why?  I don't honestly know, but I do know how important to me the memories of visiting my family in Wisconsin are.  It wasn't perfect- I remember not always knowing what to do with myself, not always knowing whether I was going to be grouped in with my older sister or my younger.  But I also remember just feeling so in love with the life there.  I remember how much I adored the smell of the country, the feel of the small town, and the love I felt from my relatives.  No matter how long I live in New York, there will always be a part of my heart left in that small town in Wisconsin.

So today, I'm spending my day planning a trip back to that place- back to those memories, back to that happiness.  I'm planning a trip to remember the things I don't want to forget, and to make new memories.  I'm planning time to be with people I love that I've neglected for too long.

Today, as I listen to my feel-good country music about small towns and bonfires and good times, I plan for happiness.

***Photo Cred Gaia Pazzagli

The Most Loyal Friends

When I was eight years old, my parents planned a weekend away for themselves to celebrate their anniversary.  The babysitting plans they had fell through, so my sisters and I accompanied them to Maine for a few days.  It was on this trip that I truly fell in love with books.

My family had a tradition when I was growing up- we would all exchange gifts on my parents' anniversary.  My gift from my parents that year was a Great Illustrated Classics book- Alice in Wonderland.  (If you're not familiar with Great Illustrated Classics, they're basically abridged versions of classic literature, made more comprehensible for a child, with the added bonus of pictures.)

I remember how eager I was to age those crispy pages.  The moment I was buckled, I dove head first into the wonderful world of Lewis Carroll's imagination.  I opened the book, and I refused to shut it until the absolute last moment possible- the moment that my parents declared we were getting dinner and I had to leave the book in the car.  I thought of nothing but that book until the moment I could read it again.  I finished it before the trip was done, and my parents bought me a second book before we came home- The Call of the Wild.  I had begun my lifelong addiction.

It's strange how certain things can strike a particular person as so captivating.  I don't even have to be reading, just being surrounded by books makes me feel a sense of excitement and calm all at once.  It's like that feeling of knowing that you're right where you are meant to be.

As I walked aisle by aisle, gliding my hand across the book covers, I felt a surge of enthusiasm to read anything and everything, yet nothing at all.  It's like I don't even need to open the books, because the prospect alone of so much knowledge and so much imagination is exhilarating.

Of course, I do open some- I have opened many, and will open a great many more in the future.  I adore gaining knowledge, or just immersing myself in imagination.  But the fact that I can gain such effervescence purely by being in the presence of books is a curiosity, and I thought to wonder just how common- or uncommon- it actually is.

Whatever the case may be, I have long been enraptured by the beauty of the written word.  I think I echo the sentiments of many when I say that I hope there will never be a day that the enchantment of books is lost.  What I gain from them is far too valuable to see disappear.  Books are a gift to mankind- may we endeavor to appreciate that.

Poetry and Sentiment

These past few days have been harrowing, to say the least.  We gained and then lost a kitten, I accidentally ruined both my favorite jacket and my favorite mug, and I hit rock bottom again, being forced to acknowledge that I'm just not mentally stable enough to maintain a job right now.

While all that was both unexpected and miserable, I can at least say that SOME good has come of my weekend.  I had been keeping more active tabs on my medication intake (I'm sure that the lack thereof was previously part of my problem) and I was feeling less stressed without the job to deal with, so I decided to set out for some yard sales Saturday morning.

Once again, I met a local artist, though of a different kind than the last.  This woman- whose name is Annette- makes greeting cards.  She seemed a kind and happy woman, despite the loss she's experienced.  We chatted for a bit about animals and crafting and such things.

This is the card I bought from her:

Simple, I know, but I thought it was worth it to support a local artist.  The funny thing is, I won't be giving it away as a card.  I'll probably frame it and display it.

I didn't think to ask her if she does anything online, but through some sleuthing I was able to find her contact information, and it doesn't seem that she has any sites up (I would imagine that if she did, they would be linked on her Facebook or Pinterest).  I would like to see how she fares with her business, so perhaps I will give her a call down the line and find out.

I also bought from her this beautiful book, dated 1904:

If you're not familiar with the Robert Browning, he was a poet and playwright of the 1800s, whose last work was written in the1880s.  I find it both sad and beautiful that this book is of the early 1900s.  It means that it was one of the early publications after Browning's death.  But then, it's also sad that it was after Browning's death.  In any case, it's a lovely piece, and I shall certainly be adding it to my vintage and antique book collection.

After visiting with this lovely woman, I trotted on down the street to another yard sale, and as I approached, my heart skipped a beat.  There, laid out on a table, was a beautiful set of china- it was just what I was seeking!  The woman wanted thirty for the whole lot, but I only had twenty-three left in cash, so I said, "well, I'll take whatever you'll give me for twenty-three," and into a box it was loaded.  Had I been smart, I'd've visited an atm and come back for the rest, but I was tired and not thinking as I should have been, so on my way I went.  In all honesty, I don't even know what I didn't get- they packed the box while I brought my van over to load it- so I don't have any real reason to miss what I lack.  I'm perfectly excited with what I bought.

I had bought some teacups from the first sale I went to, though to be honest I don't really care for them.  I had only decided to buy them because I thought that I wasn't likely to find anything else at a good price, so I should snatch those up.  Turns out I was wrong, and the first set- which wreak of the 80s- will be going in my yard sale.  The box pictured above is much more the vibe I was seeking, and I'll have no need for the ones that aren't exactly my taste.

I did a little research, and managed to find that the majority of what I have is from a set that's from the 1940s.  It wouldn't surprise me if the other pieces were also, but I'm having a harder time tracking those down.  At any rate, I am tickled pink to have such beautiful vintage pieces in my possession.

My excitement at this finding lays mainly in my plans to hold a true and actual tea party.  Yes, I'm just that odd.  I had made it my goal to find a teacup set at a yard sale over the summer for that very purpose.  Little did I know that I would find my set before the summer had even begun!  I can't explain to you my exuberance over this.

The week began horribly, and had a miserable middle, but at least I can satisfactorily proclaim that it ended on a most positive note.  Tea party planning, here I come!

Let Freedom Ring

"I want to . . . but I'm not sure . . . but I really want to . . . but it would take so much time . . . but I want it . . . but I don't have everything I need for it . . . "

I think we've all been there- there's that thing we want to do or buy or wear, but we're "juuuuuust nooooot suuuure", so we procrastinate and debate and procrastinate some more, until eventually, we either decide "what the heck, let's try it"; or it gets put on the back burner, and over time, slowly fades away into nothingness.  On rare occasion, something smacks my brain in the face one day, yells "wake the heck up", and motivates me to actually commit to the thing previously in question.  Today was one of those days.

I'd like to say that I haven't procrastinated on this particular thing for a long time, but truthfully, it's been a very long time-  years, in fact.  About four months ago, I had decided that I was going to do it- it didn't matter if I didn't have the right equipment, I wanted to do it, so I was going to do it.  And then, life got crazy chaotic, and between moving and other personal life changes, I lost my steam to make it happen.  During the months since then, I've become that "I'll start next week" person . . .every. single. week.

And then, the unexpected happened (refer to my May fourth post regarding my finances), and suddenly I could actually afford to make it happen the way I wanted.

And so, today, I spent my time building accounts and concepts for a new adventure that I am immensely excited to begin.  Yes yes, I've kept you in suspense long enough, I know.  I shall explain:

Yep, I'm starting a YouTube channel.  As there's a hundred and one reasons people start YouTubing, let me explain my motivation- which is a long story, as it has shifted since my original incentives.

When I first had the dream to make YouTube videos, I didn't know what I wanted to do.  I kind of just wanted to make videos and get attention from people.  That, of course, is a horrible reason to do anything, and thankfully I matured and my thinking evolved beyond that.

Four months ago, when I decided for a fact that I would become a content creator, my initial intention was to make videos that followed my journey of learning to live a healthier lifestyle.  Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is, with my difficulty in making small changes, and habit of being all or nothing, it would be really hard to make that happen.

Enter the chaos of my life, and the project being pushed aside.

And then, today, watching one of my favorite YouTubers, it hit me, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

As I've mentioned recently, (refer to my May tenth post), I've grown so much emotionally and mentally in recent times, and that has changed my perspective on so many things.  For years I've watched these plus-size women on YouTube confidently strut their stuff, and for so long I wished and ached that I could have their confidence, their self-love, that I could put myself out there like they do.

Now, as time has gone on, I've gained that confidence, I've learned to love myself, and I've grown to appreciate the importance of projecting the confidence onto others- the importance of helping them learn self-acceptance and self-love.  I've realized that I want to be someone who inspires others to let go of that same self-deprecating fear that plagued me for so long, and know what it feels like to be free of that.  I want to do for others what those YouTubers have done for me- I want to help them see their worth.

And so, I set to work to figure out how to make it all happen.  I'm still working on the details, but I've set myself a deadline, and strewn it all over the internet, across the various social media platforms.

Today I realized that I have the ability to contribute to the world in a way that I never could before, and once again Uncle Ben's words ring in my ears.  I feel excited and nervous and overwhelmed, but mostly, I feel proud.  I am proud of myself for seeing my own potential, and realizing my duty to act on it, for the sake of others.

Today, I make a move to uproot the fear and oppression that society has planted in our minds.  Slavery has never truly ended- it only comes in new forms.  Today, I stand for the right of every human to be happy with themselves.  I stand here today, a free woman, and I am here to set free those now mentally enslaved.  Liberation is nigh!

"With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility"

I left the house today with the intention of paying my car payment, and then spending the rest of my day in a coffee shop, writing out my next blog post.  Unfortunately, between having to run an errand for someone else, and then getting sidetracked by things I remembered I had wanted to do, I lost that option.  I depleted all the time there was today to be in a coffee shop, and by the time I got around to sitting down to blog, the only place left to sit was McDonald's.

I sat down with my water and fries (I feel as though I should buy something when I go into a place to use its wi-fi), and proceeded to get completely sidetracked again.   I have been working on some projects that require research, and I had made the mistake of leaving the research open after my last computer use.  I am no good at all at resisting such things, and so there I sat, watching YouTube videos and pinning things on Pinterest, like your typical 2010s white girl.

Shortly after I finally had the discipline to start writing (surely you see, now, why I feared that writing more than once a week would be too much), the quiet restaurant suddenly became filled with noise, as a father and his four children piled into the building.   I cocked my head in confusion- what on earth would anyone be doing taking their kids to McDonald's at 10:30 pm?

I rolled the thoughts around, and came to a conclusion.  I decided that either of two things was likely the case: 1) the kids wear the pants in that house, and they fussed and cried until the father gave in; or 2) the father is a very busy man, but still devoted to his kids, and if night time was the only time he could take them out for fun, then by George it would be done!

I decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt, and commend him on his efforts to give his children a childhood worth remembering.  Sometimes it's the parents who work the hardest who get the most grief from the public eye, and I wanted to be a positive relief from that.

When I decided that I was ready to leave, I packed up my laptop and headed over to the family.  I complimented the father on how much time and effort he's giving his kids, and told him that I didn't want to leave without letting him know how I felt.

The response I got was nothing short of alarming.  (I may not remember with precision, but I'll attempt to be as accurate as possible.)

“You have no idea how wonderful it is to have someone notice that,” he began.  “These kids are my world, and I give them everything I have.  We've gone through so much- their mother took the money and ran, and then came back and got partial custody.  She's trying to say that I don't take care of them, and get full custody, but even they know that she doesn't care about them and that I do.   My youngest boy there, he's had three heart surgeries, and my girl- she doesn't even speak, and she has to be fed through a tube.   Some days I don't even know how it's all going to work out- I don't even know what I'm going to be doing tomorrow- but I want them to have the best life I can give them, so I try my hardest to make them happy and give them what I can.   It's not easy, but it's what I want to do- what I have to do.   You don't even know how much it makes my night to hear someone say that I'm doing a good job.”

We talked a while, and as I left, I felt certain that I was in that place at that time for a reason.  Driving home, thinking about all the crazy things I could be going through in life that I haven't had to experience, and wondering how on earth people can even deal with those things, I couldn't stop the tears from flowing.  I prayed a grateful prayer that I have not had to endure such things, and a request that the man and his children be able to overcome the hurdles before them.

Today, I realized just how true Uncle Ben's words are, even if in a completely removed context.  Each of us has the power to effect the people around us with the words we choose to or not to say, and that means that we have the responsibility to act on that power.  You just never know what people are going through, and you never know how positively your words could effect the person, if you just pipe up and say it to them.

Phoenix Risen

It's five am, and sleep has eluded me the entire night.  I've spent a portion of my night tossing and turning, and the rest on Pinterest, trying to amuse my frustrated mind.  Thankfully, random thoughts to the rescue, and here I am.

You see, I'm afraid I've been thinking (a dangerous pass time, I know).  As I stood in the bathroom this morning, I looked at my tired and worn down reflection, and I came to realize something that I hadn't given much thought to before.

Let us take a trip to yesteryear, circa 2008- September of that year, to be exact.  I had spent the entire year to that point meticulously planning out the details of my graduation party.  I had used every morning over cereal, every lunch break, and every tired evening to search for ideas and decorations and music.  I had sat at every graduation party over the summer, thinking, "mine will  be this good...mine will be better!"  I had spent hours cleaning out the garage and setting up the tents.  I had sweated and cried and panicked until there was no time left to do so.

And now, it was all gone.  It was all for nothing.  I had hated my party.  Why?

I was at a time in my life where I was lonely and insecure, and felt left out of everything.  I tiptoed in my sister's shadow and I feared that I would never be able to leave it behind.  I didn't like my body, my mind, or my situation.  As many teens are, I was plagued by a desperate need to prove myself to the youth of my age.  To that point I had been mostly left out or ignored, and didn't fit in anywhere.  I had a roof over my head, but in my heart, I felt homeless.  I had been so sure that my graduation party would be the way to impress everyone- my ticket to social acceptance.

And then, the unthinkable happened, and the majority of the young people in my age group left early to go to a yearly event in a neighboring town, completely omitting the dancing aspect of my party, as there was no one left to dance.  (Oh the cruel irony- I had a live band during dinner at my party, and they left to see live bands.  So glad I bothered inviting them- they clearly cared a lot about me.)  While other parties that year lasted until midnight (and some later), mine ended promptly at 10:06 pm.  That time is burned into my brain, because of how painful that night was for me.  I was heart-broken.

Flash forward two years, and I've now acquired a couple friends- one of which was my "unboyfriend", as I like to say.  He and I were in a relationship of sorts, but he refused to admit as much.  Reading that last sentence, one might immediately wonder why I didn't just dump his sorry butt.  The answer, put simply, is that I didn't know any better.  I had felt so unloved and so abandoned to that point by everyone in my life who wasn't blood related, that I thought- truly and deeply- that what he and I had was true and unbreakable love.  In my scared and lonely little brain, I rationalized to myself that he had a good reason to not want a public relationship with me.  And so, I stayed with him.

For two years the "not dating" status went on, until I finally decided I wanted something real.  I gave him an ultimatum, and he chose a public relationship.

Fast forward another year, and now I was broken.  There is no better way to describe it.  The reason we broke up shook me to my very core- made  me question everything about myself, including my need to even live.  I had been a fragile and unhappy mess before, but this was a whole new level of misery.  I did everything I could not to face it, but one day it hit me head on, and from that day forward I would be a changed woman.

For nearly two years after that, I went about life in a blur.  Looking back, I scarcely remember a thing about those couple of years.  Of what little I remember, I recall sitting on my bedroom floor, crying so hard that I couldn't breath- so hard that after a while of doing so, I couldn't cry anymore.  I had thought I had found my home- my place in society- and now here I was, feeling homeless again.  Worse than homeless- I felt outcast, unwanted, unworthy even.

What had once been a dislike of myself, and a constant need to change, had turned to a loathing of myself- a deep, dark hatred for everything I knew to define me as my own person.  I began self-harming again, and worse this time.  I barely ate, barely slept- barely did anything.  Depression had swallowed me whole, and I struggled to understand what was happening to me and how to stop it.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I happened upon a new friend or two, and things started to look up.  I began leaving the house again, being social, and trying to improve myself.

Flash forward another few months, and tragedy has struck once again.  The man I was interested in turned my world upside with an unexpected move that would haunt me for years to come, and the person I had been growing close to was on her way to moving out of state.  And then my closest friend unexpectedly lashed out and walked away.  I was left to, once again, try to pick up the pieces of myself that were always falling apart.  I began to question myself, and whether I was even meant to have friends, or a life worth living.  I could feel myself slipping again, and digging my way back to the top would be a long, hard struggle.

I spent a couple years searching for myself- spiritually, emotionally mentally.  I knew that I had changed- that my ways of thinking were now certainly different- but I didn't realize until just recently, just how drastically time has changed me.

Today, as I stared at myself in the mirror- at the messy, greasy hair, the melted makeup, the pimple on my shoulder, and the mole on my chin- I suddenly realized that I didn't care about those things anymore.  I realized that even in my most unkempt state, I find myself beautiful.  I realized that I'm an extremely far cry from the person I was even just a year ago, and that I've grown far beyond what I ever could have imagined.

As I stared at my reflection, I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, as I realized how blessed I am to have found a way to be happy with who I am, instead of always seeking perfection, and instead of relying on other people and their approval to make me happy.  Eight years ago, I was lighter in body, but so much weightier in soul.

Today, I want to celebrate how much I love me for me.  I want to celebrate the realization that I am the only human whose approval I need in order to be happy.  I want to celebrate how happy I am to be myself.

I love every roll, flab, stretch mark, pimple, dimple, and mole.  I love every quirk, oddity, weirdness, and crazyness.  I love myself when I'm wearing makeup and I love how beautiful I am without it.

Today, I am beautiful, and not because I meet some magazine-perfect standard, or because I'm the most successful business woman.  It's not because I have a lot of friends, or get invited to all the parties, and not because I get attention or compliments from other people.  I am beautiful because I am me, and because I love me.  Eight years ago I had a beauty I didn't understand, and yet an ugliness in my soul from all the hate.  Today, I celebrate being rid of that hate, and leaving only the beauty that I once failed to see.

Today I am me, and that's the best perfect I can ever be.

The Vision to See the Treasured Future

Funny how I thought writing more than weekly would be too much to put on myself, yet here I find myself writing again, for the fourth time in less than a week.  Yet again, I have encountered something worth writing about.

In my excitement over comics yesterday, it completely left my mind that the first weekend in May is also the the weekend when a flea market sets up in the park in the center of town.  Usually, this weekend also has a fair amount of yard sales, though I don't honestly know if it's the actual weekend for town wide yard sale.  I did encounter some good finds at the flea market this year- some jewelry, a purse, a jar of homemade jam- but what made my day truly memorable was the last yard sale I visited.

As I walked up to the tent, I saw a young woman- perhaps in her late teens- sitting at a table, flipping through a book of what looked to be artwork.  I thought to look at it, but decided to do so lastly.  I ducked into the tent, and immediately found something that was precisely what I had set out to find today (a teacup and saucer).   I scooped it up, along with a soup cup I knew a friend would appreciate.

As I perused the rest of the items, I heard the woman behind me talking to another customer about her daughter- the one with the artwork book.  I came to learn that the girl had an art teacher whom I had myself had as a teacher in school; and that she would be pursuing her talents in college.

I paid for my items and chatted with the woman a bit, then turned to the table with the artwork.  I mentioned to the girl that I had a friend who does YouTube videos about her art, and she in turn mentioned that she does as well, telling me her YouTube account to look up.

Listening to the young woman and her mother speak, I began thinking about my own passions, and how excited I get when others take an interest in my passion or my work.  I knew that it didn't matter whether I found a piece that struck a chord with me or not, I needed to buy something from this girl.  When even just one person gives me positive feedback on my writing or craftwork, it honestly is so motivating and thrilling.  I knew that I wanted to support and motivate this girl in that same way.

As she flipped through her artwork, I saw a piece that instantly caught my attention.  I expressed how much I loved the piece, and that I wanted to buy it, and asked how much she wanted for it.

She thought briefly before answering.  "Mmmmmm, no less than....five, for that one."

I was honestly surprised.  Hopefully she only asked for so little because she felt that not enough time or product had gone into it for a high price.  I, personally, though, felt it was worth more.  I felt talent was worth more.  I felt time and practice and devotion were worth more.

"Five?" I exclaimed, "Oh no, it's definitely worth more than that!"  I gave her ten, wished the homeowners well, and went on my way.

So, what is this artwork I purchased?  It is this:

A simple sheet of posterboard, artistically rendered with India ink.  Yes, I know, the way I spoke, one would expect something more color-heavy and intricate.  Allow me to explain the reason for my choice: I love the fact that this has no defined picture, no defined intention.  I love that the meaning of the piece is up for interpretation.  I love that it's simple, yet intricate.  And most of all, I love that the artist wanted to put it out into the world, and let others see what they wanted to see within it.

I, of course, came home and immediately found her on YouTube (Lightblade Absol).  I watched some of her speedpainting videos, and felt awed at the talent.  It amazes me how people with so much talent are often the ones who think they lack it.

Additionally, every video had fantastic music.  A couple songs in particular caught my ear, and of course I went and found them.   Searching for it lead me to finding an entire playlist worth of songs that are totally worth my time.  And as we all know, new music will always make me super excited.  Totally a happy accidental perk.

Each time I see a young talent unfolding, it excites me to think of how they could effect the world in the future.  I will continue to follow this girl on YouTube, and hopefully in the future I will find her out selling her artwork at shows, or perhaps in a gallery.  For now, I am quite content to hang my new artwork on my wall, and watch to see who perceives what from the picture.

And for any of you readers who are pursuing your passions, I want to encourage you to continue doing what you love, and to always do so with vim and vigor.  What is a hobby, if it is not done
passionately?  The more you work at your trade, the more joy you and others will gain from it, so please don't give up if the going gets tough- keep working at it!

I will close with a quote that I find a beautiful reminder of why we all started on our journeys of passion pursuit: 

You never know the positivity it could bring to someone's day, so keep washing away the dust and bringing your talent to a world that would be dull without it.

The Marriage of Art and Language

I couldn't stay away.  It's been a busy week, in the land of nerdery- May the fourth, Revenge of the Fifth, Civil War hitting theaters on the sixth- and I felt compelled to write about a new experience of mine in the nerd world.

Though I've always been a Marvel and DC fan, in truth, the majority of my knowledge was derived from a previous love interest, whose obsession with all things comics played a large part in drawing out my now intense nerd-love.  I'd read a couple books that were novels turned graphic novel, but- despite my superhero love- I'd never laid eyes on a Marvel or DC comic or graphic novel.  Recently, I declared a need to change that, and today seemed like the perfect day for it.

As many of you know, every year, on the first Saturday in May, comic book stores across the country participate in "Free Comic Book Day".  (I've been told by some that it happens in other countries as well, but never heard first-hand accounts.)  On this most sacred of nerd days, one can walk into a comic book store and walk out with a free comic book or two, depending on the shop's policies.  I had yet to participate in this madness, and decided that today was a good day to start.


As I'd never set foot in such a store before, I had no clue what to expect.  Frankly, I was a bit nervous, as my cluelessness made me feel vulnerable and silly.  But, I soldiered on, and into the first shop I went.

As I took my first step into my first comic book shop experience, the first thing my eyes rested on was a large wall of Pop figurines.  While I recognize the roll said collectables play in nerd culture, they aren't in fact my preference of collectibles, so I turned to the left.  The store was small, and crammed wall to wall with comics, graphic novels, and memorabilia.  What little space was empty was quickly being filled up with people, and I could feel myself getting antsy.  I made quick work of finding a salesman.

"Hello!  I have absolutely no clue whatsoever what I am looking for!" I declared awkwardly.  The man was happy enough to ask me some questions to discern what I might be interested in.

Ultimately, these are the graphic novels I came home with:

Obviously, in the wake of the recently released Captain America: Civil War, the first book should certainly be a very interesting read.  The second I know had been made into a movie some years ago, but I never saw it.

After picking out these, I wandered over to the free comics section, where I picked out a couple that I actually intend to gift:

While I like both of these, I have a friend that I think would like them even more, so they will be gifts (assuming she didn't happen to pick out the same ones herself already ha).


And finally, onto the buy-one-get-one-free bin:

I cashed out, and happily skipped to my car (and yes, I actually skipped).  Onto store number two!

While the first store was in a plaza on a main drag five minutes from me, the second was right in the center of town, about twenty minutes in the opposite direction.  I parked, and walked the couple blocks to the small store.

As I entered the store, I felt a bit intimidated by the high number of people who were milling around in the small space.  They all undoubtedly knew what they were doing, and I was clueless.  I noticed quickly that they had some good deals, and immediately picked up some Spider-Gwen.

It's not the first or second issue, so I will have to find those, but for a dollar a pop, I couldn't resist.

Then I grabbed two of the free comics:

I'm truly very excited for the second one.

Lastly, I decided upon some of these:

I'm not entirely sure why- they were just calling to me.

The second store was filled with interesting people, and I chatted with a couple of them for a good hour or so, before cashing out and heading to the coffee shop.  All in all, I'd say I had a very successful day.  Time to run a couple errands, now, but I am excited to head home and settle into the couch with tea and one of my new reads.  It is time to become a comic nerd.

This IS the Opportunity You're Looking For

Among the multiple conundrums that faced me regarding this blog, an important aspect to consider was: how often will I post?  Initially, in my "new adventure" fervor, I had thought, "I'll write every day!"  After some meditation over tea, however, I realized how unrealistic that was.  Some days I come home from work with so little brain power remaining that I wake the following day wondering how I even got in bed.  (Childcare- while enjoyable- is exhausting.)  Other days, I'm so scatterbrained that I'm lucky if I even remember to eat. To assume that I could concoct an interesting read on the daily would be absurd.  These things considered, I concluded that I might write once a week, gathering thoughts throughout each day to form into one interesting post by the end of the week.  That being said, one might wonder, "Why is she writing again after only two days?"

The answer, put simply, is this: I am excited, and I have something interesting to write about.

First and foremost, it's May fourth:

Second, the unexpected has happened- in a good way- and I'm out of my mind enthralled at the prospects it presents. 

Some backstory: I have some health problems that prevent me from working enough to support myself, and that being so, I receive help from the government to keep afloat financially.  There was a bit of a mix-up, and as a result, I was not receiving the full amount monthly that I should have been- for almost a year.  This problem was recently solved, and the government was slated to pay me currently the amount that I had been withheld previously.

Enter my facial expression of extreme shock, as I stared in awe at my bank account last night.  My thoughts spun in a thousand directions, and once I managed to emerge from the state of shock, my elation was indescribable.  In short, I am now considerably more stable financially, and that is a very very good thing.

So, what am I to do with this new found glory of finances?  First and foremost, I will be getting new glasses.

Yes, folks, I'm worse off than Harry Potter. 

Second, I will be doing some needed repairs on my car.  The weather is just beginning to warm up, here in NY, and I am aching to have a working driver's side window this warm season.  Flying down back roads with music blasting and my hair flipping in the wind is a favorite pass time of mine, and to do so currently means much frustration at the end of the trip, as I exert great effort to put the window back up.

Then comes the much needed clothing, and maybe a splurge on a pair of unusual shoes I've been eyeing.  You guys, you can put stuff in the bottom.

And lastly, I am ecstatic to think of the possibilities when it comes to my DJing hobby.  Ever since the complete flop of a graduation party I had, I've been longing to host a party that I actually like.  I'm not a crowd person, or frankly a party person, but I do so enjoy decorating and DJing, and to host my own party- wherein I don't actually have to interact with people, since I'll be working the music- would mean getting to enjoy both of those things.  To have money means to have a choice of buying a blacklight, laser lights, or maybe ocean mimicking lights, creating multiple party theme possibilities.  Who knows what I'll decide on.

Reading the above spiel, one might conclude that I am a rather materialistic person.  This, of course, would be quite incorrect.  I think it's fair to generalize that we all have dreams and hopes that are monetarily out of our reach, and may always be.  For me, I just happen to have been given the opportunity to realize some of those dreams....and needs.

A part of me feels guilty: what have I ever done to really deserve this opportunity?   But in truth, we all deserve to get what we want.  And the above mentioned things are only what I will be working on today.  In full disclosure, I will actually be using a part of the money on friends and family, just as I did the last time I had extra money.  Finding a balance between our own needs and that of others is sometimes difficult, and I can only hope that I am truly successful at accomplishing this.  For now, I'm going to revel in the excitement of a new opportunity, and a hope that I can better the future for myself and for others.  This is the opportunity I've been looking for. 

Ex-Me: Evolution

The sky was grey, and the morning unpromising, as I stepped out onto the wet porch, tossing scraps to the chickens.  The air was damp and the wind chilled my skin, bringing the scent of cold spring rain to tickle my nostrils.  I hurried back into the warmth, just as the kettle whistled.  Tea was just what I needed to calm my senses and center my focus.  I sat down to my laptop, excited and eager to begin this new project.  I had decided that I was finally going to be a blogger.

It's just past ten a.m, on a damp and dreary morning, here in upstate New York.  So far, the day has not at all gone as planned.  Truthfully, my day was not entirely stone-etched at any rate.  But still, waking hours before planned and being forced to abandon a relaxed morning on your day off is not exactly ideal.

On the brighter side of the hill, while enduring the unexpected this morning, I stumbled across a good read of a blog.  (You can find the blog here.) So good was the writing, that I was inspired to begin blogging again myself.

In a distant past- as a different me- I had tried to blog, but found myself lacking enthusiasm for it as time went on.  I abandoned the project in short order, though to be honest I don't recall precisely why.  I have a hunch that it may have been for lack of readers and feedback, as it was at a time in my life that I felt a deep-seated aching to be recognized by others as talented, and for that matter as existing.  At any rate, that blog has come and passed (though you can still find it at arpeggiatedthinking.blogspot.com, under an entirely different pseudonym).  I really quite liked my writing there, but life has handed me buckets and buckets of lemons since then- and occasionally some vodka to make the most of them- shifting and altering my perspectives and aspirations.  As the time has passed, my entire being has evolved in ways I never knew possible for me, and the plot of my story has changed to such an extent that it is no longer the same novel, let alone chapter.  That being said, the time has come for me to take up writing in a new forum.

If you're wondering about the content of my blog, the answer is: well, life.  I'll be honest, I lacked creative juices this morning while attempting to conceive a title for  my blog, and ultimately decided upon something that seemed all-encompassing, while still mildly quirky.  I'm a writer, a nerd, a makeup geek, a bibliophile, a plus size stylista (no, not fashionista, I don't give a pig's butt about being trendy); I'm a girl with way too many dreams and hobbies to fit into one sentence.  My blog will probably be akin to a journal, cataloging my struggles, as I attempt to be the best version of me.  Hopefully someone will stumble upon it and find it interesting.  Or maybe it will just be a way for me to see years down the road what I was like in years past.  Either way, I'm a writer, and I'm going to write.