Archive for March, 2010
Alright folks, the time is here – I’m sending my new little .com out into the blog world. Are you ready? No really, are you ready? I’m so excited, I’m nervous!
So without further delay…
Excuse me while I do a happy little jig 🙂
So for all of you subscribers (all 3 of you – hi mom!) it’s time to make the switch. Click on over and hit subscribe – it would just make my day!
Thank you for all your love and encouragement here at fingertipsy. I hope to see you over at my place in this big, crazy internet world. Oh it feels good.
PS – I’ll probably be closing up shop and deleting fingertipsy here within the next month, so I sincerely hope that you all make the switch over to CarolinaThinks with me. I’m so excited it hurts. Thanks again!
March 21st 2010 marked the addition of one syllable (and year!) to my age – 27. I had gotten used to the sound of twenty-six quite early in our relationship, but I have a funny feeling that twenty-seven (that extra syllable! BLAST!) is going to take quite a bit of time before I feel buddy-buddy with it. So until then when asked my age, I’ll probably sound a little something like, “I’m eigh – no, twenty-tw – no, wait, I know this – twenty-seh – I can do this – twenty-seh-ehv-vehn. Yes. Twenty-seven, all four syllables of it.”
I don’t have any hang-ups about getting older or being closer to thirty – most of the time – but I’ll tell you what, that extra syllable is a real doozie.
And in non-birth-anniversary related news, I FINALLY have a .com! It’s up and I’ve even imported all my posts to it, but it’s so plain and dorky looking (think the early days of myspace page customization…egh) that I’m not sure if I’m ready to unveil it yet. But let me say I am so excited about it that I smile to myself every time I look at it – plain dorkiness and all. It’s on blog-world, oh it’s on.
I hope spring is in full swing for all of you because I don’t know about you, but I’ve been dying for the sunshine.
The last few weeks for me have been a bit tougher on my emotions than I would like to admit. I’ve been having a hard time keeping positive about certain aspects of my current lifestyle and I let them make me feel stuck.
Stuck inside these walls.
Stuck with a sponge in one hand and a vacuum in the other.
Stuck not knowing what I want or what I need or what to do.
Just stuck, in an ugly place that left me feeling exhausted and had me at the edge of tears more often than is characteristic for me. It wasn’t pleasant for me or Eric, and I could sense the growing impatience for me, from the both of us, and I could feel a perpetual knot of discomfort and fear and awkwardness in the pit of my stomach. This wasn’t what I wanted.
And so I wrote and cried to myself and reread it and read your words of comfort and understanding and encouragement and I realized it…
This is completely my choice.
I’m choosing to look at certain circumstances of my current lifestyle as bad, uncomfortable, not what I want, instead of taking full advantage of them and living loud and proud and sucking up as much life as I can.
Because it’s so different. It’s outside of the realm of the practical, the normal, the standard – all invisible bars which I have always denounced. Expectations that I said I would never subscribe to living by; only living up to my own expectations count in this life.
And my expectations?
To choose to wake up in a good mood and keep that mood throughout the day.
To laugh as much in one day as is humanly possible.
To create things with written words, paints, pencils, seeds, spoken word (or the sung word – even if I’m not at all good at it), and daydreams.
To stop choosing to be sad and miserable and lonely and realize that there is a world at my fingertips, outside my door, inside my heart, mind and soul.
To know that there is absolutely no reason for me to be bored or feel unproductive – I have a laptop, paper, huge piles of art media, books and my imagination, personality and feelings; a world that is endlessly inspiring.
To realize that the writers I admire, the ones that are turning their typed words into new lives, jobs, dreams come true aren’t just lucky; they fought to make this happen. They braved the looks, the disapproval, the confusion, the potential to fall on their faces and they acted anyway. They acted on passion and courage and love, and I can too.
To remember to learn everyday; the mind is as important a muscle as any other.
To stay aware of and start acting on my wants, desires, needs and stop acting on fear, insecurity and the need to please others before myself.
To love myself, inside and out, and to recognize all the beauty in me and not shy away from it, dull it down, or be afraid of it.
To grasp the fact that what I have to give, however unpractical, abnormal, or as far from the standard as is possible, is valuable and worthwhile and meaningful.
To live life as a major player, the star, and not some sidelined extra. I’m the only person I have to answer to and I will forever wake up and go to sleep with me, and it matters that I lived large, and boldly, and authentically, hungry for all that life has to give.
And how much would it take to live up to these expectations? I mean really?
All I can think of is just being myself; boldly, wildly, authentically, without apologies but with all the hunger and passion and sparkle that I can. Just being the person that I know I am, the person that I hide, and dumb down, and put after so many other people and things.
And I have all that I need – here – and I don’t need to come up with anymore excuses, or bad moods, or expectations that aren’t my own to keep me from living the life I want; right now, right here.
So here’s to spring cleaning out the negative and putting the most important things first – myself.
Not the “figurative” alone; the kind that leaves you feeling like no one understands you, or loves you, or wants you. I’ve never had an issue with that. My life has been gifted enough with a handful of people that I’ve never doubted understood me, loved me, or wanted me in their lives. That has never been the issue.
What is the issue for me is the physical alone; the kind of alone that leaves you looking around at an empty house, hearing the words you spoke out loud to yourself echo off the walls. That is the issue.
I’ve never been the person who wanted to be alone. I like looking at peoples’ eyes, and hearing them laugh, and touching their arms, and feeling their warmth. I like being with those that I love. I like them surrounding me with who they are; no words need to be exchanged, just having them there is enough.
I do enjoy my mental alone time, I think most people do. Sometimes I need to just be separated from the people and the noise and the whirlwind that life sometimes becomes and just be with my thoughts, in my head; alone. But never in my life did I ever want being alone to be a full time job, and that’s what it is right now. A full time job that pays me nothing, and takes from me so much sparkle.
I don’t like being alone for too long. I don’t like watching the clock to see just how many more minutes I will have to be.
Maybe it’s about choice though. Maybe it has more to do with that I have no real choice but to spend time alone for now, for the most immediate future. Maybe if I had the full feeling of people in my life right now, people that are a phone call, a quick drive away, the full time job of being alone would be different. But right now the choice isn’t my luxury.
And I realize that there are so many things that I could be doing to fill my time: writing, reading, drawing, exercising, building, cleaning, streamlining, creating, thinking, preparing. A million things that I could do that could keep me from watching the minutes slowly tick by until I see a car pull up.
But I would still be alone.
And I just don’t know when I’ll be okay with that; when it won’t be chore and thief of my sparkle.
Hopefully soon. Hopefully.
I’m in the middle of baking chocolate chip cookies with chunks of Andes mints in them – I know, I blow my own mind – and after the week I’ve had, I’m really just not focused enough to do much more than tell you what you should do – in bullet form, of course.
You can thank me later.
– Read “The War of Art,” by Steven Pressfield. I read it in one sitting, neglecting everything on my To-Do list that day and you know what? I didn’t even feel a teensy bit guilty about it. It’s a great book, especially for those with an art they love to pursue. Read it. Then read it again. Then tell me how much you love it.
– Watch this video by Ok Go and try not to laugh. No seriously. I giggled so much the first time I had to watch it again. Now, watch this one. Entertainment factor = immense. The Husb and I enjoyed them so much that we bought their album – not too shabby.
– The West Wing. That’s all I need to say. Lah-huv.
– Don’t trip up stairs (especially marble ones!) holding a glass bottle. Just don’t do it. Aside from the nasty, glittery, all-too-dangerous mess you’ll have to clean up, you will suffer cuts – many of them. And as if almost slicing your digits off weren’t enough, 5 days later you’ll find out that a tiny piece of glass had silently and painlessly been taking up residence in the palm of your hand. And you know how you’ll find out it was there? Because, very conveniently, it will pop to the surface just as you’re rubbing your face. It will be so un-awesome you’ll need to break down and make chocolate chip cookies with Andes mint chunks.
– Help me come up with a domain/blog name so I can buy it and make it mine and have LiLu design it. Think of it as an early birthday present to me (March 21st, if you’re wondering). C’mon, I just know your brains are bubbling with something that can help me out.
I’m going to go get myself a carton of milk and put my face in a plate of cookies now.
PS: Thanks to everyone who responded to my recent post, The Reluctantly Domesticated. Your words felt like warm hugs and it was just what I needed. I feel much better ❤
Here’s the thing – “domestic” used to be a four-letter word to me. Stay home? Clean? Not WORK? Kill me slowly, just not as slowly as the domesticated life.
And after months and months of a lifestyle that bears absolutely no similarities to the one I lived prior, I finally get it. It’s not the domesticity that kills me – it’s not the staying home, or the cleaning, or the not working – it’s the fact that I feel like I am helping no one. That’s my hang-up; that’s what has been making it hard to call myself a Stay-at-Homer.
I have always felt an enormous sense of pride when I’ve helped someone. No matter how small the gesture, how unappreciated it may have been; it was important to me. Even at my ho-hum jobs that I knew were never going to go anywhere, that didn’t do much for me except give me a paycheck, I found I could enjoy the job as long as I could feel like I was helping someone.
You don’t know where the sprinkler timers are? Well right this way. or The invoice is missing a part number? Let me get that for you. or Just a straight deposit? I would love to help you.
I felt like I was a part of something bigger; like I was a part of the axis of the earth and I was helping this big, crazy, sometimes totally messed up world spin a little smoother. And that made me feel good. It made me feel worthwhile. It made me feel like I was doing something. And that is all I’ve ever wanted.
To make the world a better place – that’s the only thing I’ve ever been sure of when it comes to what I want to do with my life. And from the confines of my walls, and responsibilities, and lack of people that can seek my help, I’ve felt like I’m falling so short of the only thing I was so sure about; so passionate about. And that dims the sparkles in my eyes and muffles the songs in my heart. That’s what makes it so hard for me to be a woman domesticated.
So maybe I need a bigger picture, a reality check, or some reassuring words to help me understand that despite my domesticated lifestyle, I am making the world spin a little smoother. That this, right now, will only lead to bigger and better, grander and greater ways to make a difference, to help, to give what I have and want to give.
And while I’ll never truly enjoy not always being out and about or washing dishes or clothes or the fact that my job doesn’t come with a paycheck for the time being, maybe I can feel a little better about this whole staying home thing…
And stop feeling like an animal in a cage.
Alright, let’s just get right to the point – I’ve slacked off in a major way. It’s been over a week since I’ve posted anything and I have no real acceptable reason for not having written. Let’s just say I’ve had a major case of the funks and I’ve found any excuse to ignore most of the things I should and want to do. It’s been wretched.
That being said, it’s time to get over it. I could blame the funks on a million things: the weather, my lack of social life, the frustrations of living abroad, the never ending pile of clothes that need to be washed, my incessant need for things to be “perfect” that is immediately followed by the realization that perfection is impossible sowhyevenbother, the fact that I haven’t had a hair cut in a year and am too afraid to have someone here cut it because of the language barrier AND the bajillion hair-cut horror stories I’ve heard. And like I said, I could blame the funks on all of the above, and in fact I may have already, but it’s time to just suck it up and make life magic happen. Who’s with me?
I’ve got plans people, and no bout of the funks should hold me back.
Time to get busy.