Windy

I don't know why my brain does this to me. Sundays and Mondays are the hardest. Nights are usually difficult, too. I'm stressed about living, and I'm constantly concerned about the things over which I have little to no control. As my emotions rise to the surface, my mind collapses under the weight of my heart. My head - my sanity - is jeopardized by the strength and tenacity of my ever-growing need to love. I can't do it alone, and I refuse to go any further until I know where I stand.

My consolation tonight is the wind. The turbulence I hear outside my bedroom window is a direct correlation to the whirlwind in my head right now. I know that all of the fears I have are nothing compared to the peace and love I have felt. If only I could tie a kite string to my heart, letting myself get carried away with the gusts and gales of life. I'm ready to take flight.

Imagine

No. Not the song by John Lennon.

I watched Lars and the Real Girl again tonight, and I was impressed by how much my own imagination plays a part in my day-to-day interactions. I'm always struck by the part in the film where Lars reads a passage from Don Quixote to Bianca. Just like this master, Quixote, we all - in our own ways - enact fanciful situations into our normal lives. Forgive me if this post seems a lot like all of my other ones; this is just something I think about a lot, and it's always interesting for me to express these thoughts in the imaginary world of the internet. Here are a few of my Lars-esque moments as of late:

Planning perfect dates with a boy whom I'm still unsure likes me.

Imagining that I have enough money to buy things from anthropologie, like this.

Even better, thinking up the places I'd wear the aforementioned item, seeing as my life as a socialite is not very notable.

Thinking of all the fun places I'll walk, ride my bike, or explore once it warms up enough... and as soon as my foot heals.

Writing the book that I know is inside me, the one for which I have a title and nothing else written.

All the other stuff.

I am Lars. I'm a girl who imagines. I think too much, and I don't feel enough. I worry a lot, and I'm beginning to wonder if as soon as others believe in my fantasy I'll have to kill it off. Who knows, but I'm trying to mesh my own fantastic Bianca moments into something more real than a giant plastic doll. I guess I'd better get off the internet in order to figure it all out, though.

Fear You Won't Fall

I never knew that such a perfect song existed, but it does. It came on my itunes today, and it was either the first time I'd heard it, or it was the first time I'd actually listened to the lyrics. I'm continually impressed with the perfect scenarios that seem to enhance my mundane existence into something extraordinary. This moment was one of those extraordinary ones; I sat hovered over my giant journal, writing about how my life is turning into something so much more than I ever imagined. Then, the song. I am astounded, still. I have listened to it at least 10 times in the past few hours, knowing that my feelings are exactly what Joshua Radin describes with his gentle voice. I want him (no, not Joshua Radin... another him) to express the sentiments in this song to me. I feel it. This is my song. For today, everything is good, but I'm still afraid of what I don't know. It is much harder to express this than it is to feel it, but I'm going to get better at doing both, so I can understand what's going on inside this crazy heart of mine. That's all.

{A picture of my giant journal, the best graduation present ever.}

Rehearsals

Last night as I read a chapter from my newest favorite book, I came across a line that describes my life uncannily well.

"We live each day as if it were merely a rehearsal for the next..."

Last year at this time, there was no where I would have rather been, and I was happy living each day to its fullest. Since then, graduation and the mundane working world leave me in search of something else, and I spend my days at Bridger Elementary planning for secret rendezvouses, hypothetical situations, and that all-too familiar imagined future. I rehearse each action as if I'm just trying to get through the motions of today in order for the performance of tomorrow. Just yesterday, I played with a child outside and wondered if I'd be good mother or not.

Why am I worried about these things? There is nothing in my life right now that points to me having children within the next five years, but I still treat these sweet kids as if my own were watching me from Heaven. While I believe that my future children really do wait and anticipate having me for a mom, worrying and wondering about them does not do me any good. I need to be content with the life I have, instead of acting as if it all came down to some sort of final performance. Each day is its own. We don't get do-overs, and we certainly don't get much heads-up about the scene and line changes in the future. I'm going to use this wisdom to stop acting and just be. I'm going to stop rehearsing and live.