Dive On In

Water has always held influence over me. I am an Aquarius, and I embrace it-- nothing describes me better. And I have always loved the ocean and the intrigue that surrounds it. Give me miles of lonesome surf and I could live off of the quietude of the lapping waves for all of eternity. Dory was right when she said, Just Keep Swimming; life, love, and everything moves with the tides of the universe, and the ebb and flow of my life has shown me that, if you just keep swimming, you'll do fine. Knowing this, please know that what you're about to read is, in my opinion, one of the finest metaphors I have ever come up with.

I have arrived at the pool, toting bathing suit, sunscreen, and a towel. Maybe a good book, and an even better mojito-- if we were to get really fancy.

In other words: I have arrived on this earth, I've got all these qualities, elements of my personality, aspects of my life that I both can and cannot control.

I take my time to settle down. Roll out my towel, rub in my sunscreen, sip on my mojito. I'm finally in my groove.

In other words: I grow up, I become who I am today. I traverse the world until I know something about it, and something about who I am.

I look up; there it is. The high dive. I see other swimmers diving off it, laughing and splashing and being thrilled by it's excitement. Not the only reason I've come to the pool, but the idea has squirmed it's way into my head: "I want to dive off that".

In other words: Love. There it is. It has towered above me for long enough. I have seen enough of my friends fall in love to crave it. I've seen enough romantic comedies to be envious of those Hollywood starlets.

I stand up. I march up to the ladder that leads to the diving board. I step up and climb. Each rung I ascend, the lighter my head seems to feel. With each inch closer to the top, my feet slow, pausing at each step to breath.

Do I go on? Maybe I'm not ready. I haven't even gotten to the top and I'm doubting myself. What if I get up there and can't jump? What if I make a fool of myself? What if I belly-flop right in front of everyone? What if I jump and hurt someone in the process? Or hurt myself?

My mind is whirring with worry but my feet still push on and up. My mind whispers it's concerns in the ear of my pounding heart but the pounding drowns out the doubts. But with every rung the whispers get louder until my mind is screaming "STOP!".

At this point I've reached the top of the ladder. My arms lift my body up and onto the diving board. I can feel my legs unsteady, as I teeter slightly. I take my first step towards the edge. The rush of adrenaline pumping through my body finally hits my head and I feel woozy. My feet slide to the edge of the board and I look down.

They always say never look down. You never wanna see how far you have to fall. But I already did. I couldn't help it. I needed to know. It was a reflex. And now I realize the gravity of my precarious situation. This could really hurt. If I don't do it right, this could really, really hurt.

And then, through all the adrenaline, foggy-headed-ness, and self-doubt, hope comes crashing to the surface of my consciousness. But what if I do it right? What if I slide effortlessly into the water, gracefully, beautifully. I mean, people wouldn't be waiting in line to jump off the high dive if it wasn't fun. They wouldn't love it if the initial hesitation didn't pay off. If they can dive, certainly I can. The first time is always the hardest, then it will get easier. Diving in will be only natural.

My toes curl around the edge of the board, I take a shaky breath in and out, and I hear someone yell, "Dive On In".

I Do Not Have Writer's Block

I do not. I have plenty of ideas.... I'm also not in denial. At all. I just have no time to write. Really. That's all.

I have got to say today I have thought about my free evening with one goal: to write. So I might have also had a glass (or two) of wine and cleaned the kitchen and chatted with the neighbors (God I sound like a middle aged house wife) along the way but now I sit down and write.

I need to write more fiction. I have fallen off that horse. Or whatever the phrase is.

The only problem is I don't know what to write about. But that's not writer's block. That's just... oh shut up.

So here's what I've just decided to do. Free write the shit out of some fiction. How does that sound? Like a terrible idea? Well, no one asked you. Oh, I did didn't I? Shoot... Well I'm going to do it anyway.

*Deep Breath*... Write what I know.

If her notebook could talk it would say very nasty things about her. Words like "Negligence" and "Ineffectual" would be thrown around like baseballs in a little league practice-- frequently and with not much care for the person on the receiving end. She felt so guilty about the unmarked pages that she resorted to leaving the notebook under other things. Such as other books, or pillows, or glasses of wine.

If her computer could talk it would say very blunt things about her. It would probably say she spent far too much time checking facebook and not enough time using thesaurus.com. It might also add that it doesn't like having wine spilt on it and that it wouldn't mind her spilling wine on the notebook for once instead of using it as a coaster--

Fuck. I can't do this. I have writer's block. There. I said it.

.... Fine. Bye for now.

Somethings are Better Sweet

I am a fan of bumper sticker-isms. Anyone who's seen the back of my car knows this. Something about one-liners regarding everything from cats to politics just cracks me up.

Today I saw one that I thought was funny at first but upon further thought there is a better bumper sticker that could've been made out of it. At least I think.

It said: "Coffee, Chocolate, Men... Somethings are Better Rich"

Funny right? But I think I rather have my coffee, chocolate and men sweet. And you might be like, well yeah, we all know what a fucking romantic you are from your last post. But its not just that. I put two sugar packets in a small coffee. I could eat my weight in Hershey's milk chocolate. Richness isn't what I'm going for in coffee or chocolate. Sweetness is.

And yes, same for men, but that's besides the point. Shut up.

On a side note, that bumper sticker reminded me of my long lost lovely roommate. She loves rich dark chocolate that her dad buys her from Europe. And she likes rich men. She would've loved that bumper sticker.

Not much else to say as of now, sorry this isn't very in-depth. Just needed to get that tid-bit off my chest. More to come soon.

Waiting for Love

So I'm driving home from work today and I'm thinking about things. Okay I'm thinking about love. I'm a girl, give me a break. We like touchy-feely emotions. So I'm thinking about love, specifically that heterosexual kind that hopefully lasts a long time.

I'm not sure that there is a specific, fated, "one" that everyone is magically assigned to. I think that people only believe in one true love because they stop looking after they find the first. It's like people who say, I lost my keys and of course they were in the last place I looked. Well OBVIOUSLY! After you find your keys, you don't have to look any other places. So I don't think it makes much sense to say, "I found my ONE true love". You just found THAT one, and stopped looking any further after that. Tim Minchin put it very well when he said, "If I didn't have you, I would probably have someone else".

That doesn't mean I don't believe in true love. True love for me isn't about that one perfect, flawless, connection that you have to search out. It's about a love that lasts a lifetime. That lasts longer than a lifetime.

I'm not in any hurry. Because, as I said before, it's not about the perfection of the love, it's about the longevity of it.

That's what I realized today during my commute home. Why am I SEARCHING? What do I think I'm going to find him under a pile of firewood? Or behind a tool shed? This isn't an Easter egg hunt. This is love. It's a natural human faculty. If the weirdest of people can find each other... Then a lovely person like myself surely... will find... someone out there. Right?

He could be anyone. I don't have Mr. Right pictured in my mind's eye. He doesn't have a specific height, he doesn't have a specific inseam, he doesn't have a specific hair color or occupation or hobby. He doesn't necessarily like white wine over red, blackberries over blue.

Certainly there are some THINGS that I would prefer. Someone who isn't possessive or denies my individuality (look, my feminism is showing). Someone who likes to cuddle. Someone who likes... reading and watching movies. Someone who is gentle, who is caring. I mean pretty simple stuff like that. Oh and someone who thinks my feet are cute. And who doesn't mind that I eat popcorn like a crazy person. And who likes to eat tomatoes off the vine. That'd be nice.

I will admit, right now I am in love with the idea of being in love. Maybe you think I just sound like an adolescent girl. Maybe I am an adolescent girl. But here's what I think: This is proof of my healed heart. I'm not frustrated, I'm not bitter, I'm not sad, I may be a little forlorn, but I don't feel broken. I feel like a normal girl yearning for a normal boy to sweep me off my abnormally adorable feet. And that makes be happy. Feeling normal again. About love and about life.

I Have a Big Day Tomorrow, I Should be Sleeping

Hi all.

It's almost midnight, and I haven't had anytime to write recently so here I am about to got to bed and somehow I find myself writing. Why? How? I don't know. I got the itch. I got the writer's itch and I GOTTA scratch! I've been working like a mad woman all week and soon I will fill in the details on how I feel about being a working hack, but I can't muster it. Not tonight. Work is the last thing I want to think about right now. Too. Tired.

Have to wake up bright and early tomorrow and work. Surprise. But it will hopefully cool down in this next week. Also seeing Horrible Bosses tomorrow night after work and that I will also fill you in on, I'm very excited.

Saw Tim Minchin live tonight. It was... AWE INSPIRING. OUTSTANDING. EXTRAORDINARY. I'm basically speechless. Go look him up!!! LOOK TIM MINCHIN UP! I'll process the show a little bit and get back to you.

Tired. Need to write. Need to read. This totally didn't satisfy me but I need sleep. I'm sure it wasn't a great read but at least you know what's up.

I Pledge Allegiance to the Flag...

First off, know this: I'm very patriotic. And a Democrat. Yes. They exist.

Hello.

It's Fourth of July. AKA, Independence Day. 235 years ago, the founding fathers declared independence from Mother England. Then one of the most influential revolutions (if not THE most influential)began. The only war I've ever been excited about learning. The only revolution I made it my passion to study. I don't know jack shit about the Cold War (who were we fighting again?) or know anything about the Cuban revolt, but I could whip out some fat knowledge about the American Revolution.

It has been romanticized significantly as the American ego has grown, and I DRANK THE FUCKING KOOLAID BITCHES. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. I love the revolution. I love everything about it. The idea's behind it, the philosophy, the strategy, the impossibility of success-- in which we came out on top. This know-nothing, punky, underdog that took on one of the biggest world powers of it's day. We were doomed to lose. But we didn't.

That's what I love. With no chance of success, we succeeded. We did the impossible. America came out of the war on top and it's potential was heard around the world almost as loudly as the shot at Lexington and Concord.

I think I have said this before, I am in love with America's potential. We may not be a perfect country. Okay, we are not a perfect country. But we have the resources and will-power to do amazing things. The people of this country are strong. We will prevail and someday we will reach our potential.

People who have little or no hope for our government forget that our government system has forgotten themselves what our founding fathers set out to do. 235 years is a long time, and our government has strayed from the initial ideas laid out in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. But that doesn't mean that those documents aren't still there. And maybe we will have an administration soon that remembers what they really mean to the people of America.

I keep a copy of the Declaration of Independence with me at all times. It's a tiny little pamphlet style booklet that I keep fortune cookie fortunes in. When I am feeling lost or ambivalent I crack open my copy and let Jefferson's words wash over me. A document like that could cure existentialism; that is if the hipsters didn't think that it was too "mainstream" and were smart enough to understand the implications of a document like that.

I went to DC when I was in eighth grade and I swear to God it was the most interesting and amazing trip I have ever taken. I cried--CRIED-- when I saw the original copy of the Declaration of Independence. There it sat, so faded it was barely even readable, in it's dimly lit room, under it's bullet-proof glass. I could've spent hours looking at it. And weeping. But our tour was moving on too fast. "Wait! Wait! Don't leave! I'm not done! I--"...

I don't think I could stop loving America. I don't think all the stupid Republicans in the world would make me give up. No governmental conspiracy theory would make me think that we are anything less then amazing.

Yes, I am niave. No, I don't think that there are not a million and one problems with this country. Yes, I live in an idealized world where America still has teenagers spending their free time at Soda Shops and that people get their most reliable gossip at the Barber's. No, I don't think that our current state of affairs should be trivialized. Yes, I know it is going to be a long hard journey to fix them.

I just believe in us. I don't think enough people believe in us. Someone's got to root for the underdog. Someone's got to believe we can do the impossible. We did it before.

Happy July Fourth Everyone.