Some one asked "Are you who you are on your blog or are you who you are right now sitting in front of me sad and low?" The answer is Yes. I also told her that I was due for a big laundry-airing blog soon and that I was unsure of how to unravel all of the tangled kite strings in order to be coherent, encouraging and real. I was a bit "blogstipated".
I am not always idealist pie in the sky, or head in the cynical gutter of real-ism. I am sometimes potato on the couch... or yuppie in the park. A Dork on the dance floor or a Lonely girl under heavy blanket. I am always a Work In Progress. I don't want to be. I want to be done progressing so I can just chill out. So that the angry little anxiety monkeys that seem to take up residence on my trapezius muscles will get vertigo from being up there so high that they will jump over to some shorter person.
Cheesy spiritual analogy of the month: I am this garden hose. All my life I have been dreaming about and prepping for watering this one very specific type of plant. This plant is quite rare and no where to be found. Afraid that my well of water will dry up if I water anything else in the meantime has made me choke off the flow to the other thirsty plants. I look at their brown and dry leaves and say "What? Don't look at me! I don't' have any water...God is going to water you. What? Oh this? This kinked hose? You see this water, MY water, is waiting for something else. I can't spare a drop. As I wait for this plant, search for this plant, attempt to plant this plant myself... the water stagnates and grows moldy things.
Grrr... brownness, dryness, crackly-ness, is all I see...maybe I should just water the stuff around me. If the vegetation that grows up chokes out space for this plant I'm waiting to water.. then so be it. I'll still have a really awesome garden and the water that once bred mosquitoes will flow and be used. Because maybe that one plant doesn't exist anyway. Maybe I'd rather have a garden of randomness.
Maybe, just maybe, that water wont dry up.
I noticed that on another blog she consistently ends it with things she loves. I think that is grand. The cynic in me wonders if it's so she doesn't jump off a roof everyday. I can relate to the need to list my "happies" so that the monkeys don't choke me, mash my heart down to an unrecognizable pulp and then tap dance on my head. I have decided I shall do that more often to bust up the parties they have.
So here a bit randomly, is another sort of list.
Deb...I still think about you and Noah... a lot.
Steve.. I still think about you getting shot. It wigs me out.
D.. I still think about your mom.
Beth.. I still think about your brother.
A&M…I still pray for you.
A…I am praying like MAD for you.
Marc…I am happily jealous of you and live vicariously through you. Although that word isn't going to fit on the board.
G-ma Murl… You are gonna bounce.
Blazer...I think about your past few months.
Liz.. You just rock my socks off like always and I'm so proud of you like always.
Jodie...How you do what you do and make what you make in the time that you make it... is anyone's guess. I'm inspired and terrified that my kids, if they ever shall exist, will know nothing other than chicken nuggets until they are off to college and have only the photo they came home from the hospital with to show for their upbringing.
Babies of St. Louis. I don't know all of your names, but I somehow want you all to know that I am your Crazy Aunt Lindsey even if you have never seen me or if I wasn't around to give you an appropriate shower gift or hand knit you booties.
In my post-speech analysis. I did not mention Barack Obama's name in the previous paragraphs. I must want to run for president in 2012. I DID however use the pronoun "I" several times. So… that must mean that I think somewhere deep in my heart of hearts... that I just didn't want to type my name out again.
Cruz it's really not about "me". ;)