wednesday...and the living is easy (not really)

 
Practicing self-portraits via Instagram. Are you instagram-ing yet? If so, I want to follow you. I'm a tad more obsessed with Instagram than many of my friends, which means I'm posting more pics...which makes me look a little needy. But I don't care. Maybe I am needy. Or bored. But probably just thirsty.

I performed my super-woman routine today. I woke at 5, taught seminary, rushed home, picked up Becca and drove the carpool, rushed home, tidied the kitchen, showered, dressed, hurriedly looked over my notes, drove 70 miles to A&M, met with my dissertation chair, picked up a stack of books at the library, drove home just in time to meet the kids....and....cue the afternoon routine. I used to do this multiple times a week. Luckily, now, it's only every so often. Because I'm here to tell you, I'm getting too old for that schtick. (Also, I should mention, Debbie went with and entertained me. That's friendship for you...someone who'll do your dirty work right along side you.)

Recently I drastically edited my blogroll, meaning I deleted a bunch of blogs off of my GoogleReader. I did this in an attempt not only to curb my time online, but also to get rid of the fluff. I find myself drowning in fluff, except at the moment it feels not so much like drowning as it does like a really warm, tight hug. And if I burrow down deeply enough, then I won't have to deal with my real life (ie write real words on my real computer and turn them in to my real dissertation committee). What I kept, however, are things I find inspiring, those writers who are encouraging, who cause me to think, who make me feel like, perhaps, I should get off of my blog-reading duff and actually do something. This is helpful on those days when my own inspirational well is plumb dry. I just take a little scoop from here and there and put in just enough to prime my own inspirational pump. (I know. Enough with the lame analogy.)

Here are two things I found today.

First, a video. It's sappy...but it hits me where it hurts. (Found via gluestickgirl).

 

And secondly, a poem. YES, YOU CAN READ POEMS EVEN THOUGH IT'S NOT THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. Yes, I was just screaming. I found this poem via Superhero Journal...good blog.

Believe by Maya Stein

Maybe the camera crew is at someone else’s house,
a spotlight haloing over another’s fleshy story.
Maybe the mailman is delivering the good news
to your neighbor, or a different city entirely,
and you come home to a rash of catalogues,
the second notice for a doctor’s bill, a plea
from the do-gooders for whatever you can spare.

Maybe you haven’t cleaned your kitchen floor in weeks,
forgotten to nourish the front garden, spilled too much
coffee in your car, weaving through traffic.

Maybe you are 10 pounds heavier than last year.
Maybe your skin is betraying your age.
Maybe winter is ravaging your heart.
Maybe you are afraid, or lonely, or furious, or wanting out
of every commitment you entered with such vigor and trust.

Maybe you’ve bitten your nails down to the quick,
chosen your meals badly, ignored the advice of those
who know you best. Maybe you are stubborn as a toddler.

Maybe you are clumsy or foolish or hasty or reckless.
Maybe you haven’t read all the books you’re supposed to.
Maybe your handwriting is still illegible after all these years.
Maybe you spent too much on a pair of shoes you didn’t need.
Maybe you left the window open and the rain ruined the cake.
Maybe you’ve destroyed everything you’ve ever wanted to save.

Still.

If anything, believe in your own strange loveliness.
How your body, even as it stumbles, angles for light.

The way you hold a dandelion with such yearning and tenderness,
the whole world stops spinning.

She had me at "maybe you are 10 pounds heavier than last year."

 

Comments

[rebecca ellis]

Yes, it was sappy, but I loved it because it is soooo true.

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