Friday Not Very Random At All

... I think this speaks for itself.



(if the above doesn't work, please go here. )

Moving Forward

I'm at one of those places you get to in life where you're not entirely certain as to where you're going. You know you're going somewhere, but you're not precisely sure where that is.

In the wise words of a friend, though, "You're going forward."

Because -- you have to, right? Face forward, keep walking. Even if you're not sure where the road is going to take you. The road may fork -- it nearly always does -- and you may choose one path (or the correct path may choose you, because sometimes that's how it works), but you keep moving forward.

If there's one thing this hellacious year has taught me, that's it. As I've noted before, if you keep looking behind you, the only thing you'll ever do is trip and fall. Sometimes, even looking forward, you'll fall down (which is another thing I've learned this year) but you're much more likely to land on your ass if you don't even look in front of you and keep your eyes is coming rather than what was. You have to let the past BE the past. You can use it as the legend on your personal map, but you keep moving forward.

Just keep moving forward.

So I don't know which direction I'll end up going. The path has forked. The good thing about this is that I have options and opportunities and either way? I keep walking.

I'm going somewhere.

And so, dear reader, are you. So are you.

Midnight Muse

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with these fabulous ideas for blog posts. This is a great thing. Unfortunately, I frequently fail to jot them down, which is a less great thing as it results in a morning spent staring blankly at the screen, waiting for that great idea to come back and smack me in the head so I know what I'm doing here.

You can probably guess which one happened today.

But it leads me to two important questions:

1) Why, WHY WHY WHHHHHHYYYYY do the greatest, most inspired ideas strike in the middle of the night? Are they even really great ideas or do they just seem that way because you're only partially conscious and so everything that your brain presents to you seems brilliant? What's up with that? When I come out of a deep sleep in the wee hours, I am convinced that I could cure all of the world's ills and then make sure that the entire planet is fabulously accessorized and looks amazing.

I probably can't do that. But I have no guarantee of it, because I can't remember all of my ideas -- just the fact that they were completely brilliant and outstanding.

Which, of course, brings us to ...

2) Why don't I write any of this down? I mean, the likelihood of me being able to jot a legible note when I am only 15% awake and don't have my glasses on is not very high, it's true, but I should be able to read enough of my scribbles to know what I was trying to say.

Or, maybe not. Because I have to confess that I frequently find work related notes on my work desk and have no idea what they mean due to the fact that they say things like this:

"swingset
Pennsylvania
squirrels."

"OMG GIANT BEES. Ramp."

"Customer service yell yell angry."

As a result I think that anything I wrote down in the middle of the night would look like this:

"Camp? Moooo cow moooooo. With cookies."

"Garfield hahahahahahahaha not with balloons."

"Government sillies. With clowns. But not horses."

I'm just saying. I don't think it's going to work.

But maybe I'll try it anyway.

Friday Randoms

I

"When I was a little girl, I wanted to grow up and marry Hawkeye Pierce from MASH."

"Dude. That show was like, totally old when you were a little girl. Alan Alda is waaaaay older than you."

"So? It could still work out. It's important not to give up the dream, I say."

II

"When I got divorced, I didn't get custody of the tent."

"Me either."

"But I DID get custody of the air mattress."

"OH MY GOD ME TOO!"

(in unison): "Have fun sleeping on the ground, asshat!"

III

"Lizzie, want some food?"

"mrow."

"Lizzie, want to play?"

"mrow"

"Lizzie, want to be my sidekick as I try to take out Inspector Gadget and Pesky Penny and her little dog, Brain?"

"MROW!"

"That's what I thought. Bwah hahahahahaha."

IV

"You know how, when you get older, all of the days go by super fast except for the ones you want to go by fast, like when you have a doctor's appointment or something?"

"Yeah."

"This afternoon has been about 100 years long."

"But for someone who's over 100 years old? YOU LOOK MARVELOUS."

"I knew I kept you around for a reason."

V

"That's when I asked myself, when did the 'it's perfectly acceptable to scream at other people' memo go out? I did not get that memo."

"Me either."

"I mean, if you need to yell at me go for it. But realize that within 2 minutes my brain's gonna shut off and I'm not going to actually hear you."

"That makes people even more angry."

"I know. That's one of the reasons I do it."

Operating Systems

A few weeks ago, a friend asked me if I had upgraded to the new operating system for my phone. I said I had.

"Do you like it?"

"It's okay."

"How is it?"

"It's like the old operating system. But different. Not wicked different? But you notice."

*****

After I lost Beansie, I wanted to get another cat, but I was worried that I wasn't ready. I was worried that I wouldn't love another cat enough, that I would unfairly expect some poor, unsuspecting kitty to be Beansie 2.0, when I knew that wasn't possible.

Lizzie B, the new kitty, is not Beansie 2.0. She is Lizzie 1.0.

And yet. While I don't expect or even want her to be Bean, there are obvious similarities. Lizzie is smarter than Bean was, but she remains adorably silly. Unlike Bean, Lizzie is not interested in being in the shower when it's running, but she does want to snuggle up with me when I sleep. She likes the exact same kind of toy that Bean liked and ignores other ones. And, like Bean, she will stretch her head back so she can look into my face and make sure I'm still where I'm supposed to be.

She is very like Beansie, but wholly different.

"Do you miss Bean?"

I will always miss my sweet girl. But Lizzie makes my life better.

Different. But better.

*****

This year has been difficult. Like, knock me down and kick me around difficult. As a result, I am not the same person I was on December 31of 2012.

And that's okay.

Because the truth is that 2012 Danielle -- even June of 2013 Danielle -- had a propensity to be selfish. She wasn't generous with her love or her time. She thought she was; if you had asked me if I was a good person then, I would have said yes, of course I'm a good person. But I was a fearful person. I held a lot of things close to the chest that were better shared. Friendship, and honesty, and tenderness. I wasn't as open as I am now. I didn't trust other people because I didn't trust myself.

I didn't know how to ask for help. I didn't know how to receive it.

These are flaws in the system. When you can't tell people when or where you're at, you are alone all of the time; alone is not ideal. We're not meant to be entirely solitary, I don't think. We're meant to live in a community, functioning within it, not separate from it.

I am more uncertain of life than ever, but I'm not afraid of it now. I'm feeling my way through the center of it rather than clinging to the walls and doors.

I'm the same in many ways. I didn't lose or forget the fundamentals of who I am. That would be wrong.

I'm different. I'm running on a different system.

Not wicked different. But you'd notice.

Rescued

Beansie Boo wasn't technically a rescue in that I didn't get her at a shelter. However, since she was near death at the time I got her, I consider her to have been rescued. And, like all rescued animals, she saved me every bit as much as I saved her -- she made me smile when I didn't really feel like smiling, she made me laugh when I was crying, and she made every day of my life better. When I was at my lowest points, she gave me someone to focus on and care for so I had a reason to drag myself out of bed in the morning.

When I lost Bean, I pretty much decided I wouldn't get another cat because I would want a new cat to be Bean 2.0, and that wasn't fair to anyone.

No more cats.

Okay then.

It was very quiet in the house. My pants were free from cat hair for the first time in years. I didn't have to clean a litter box, or smell stinky food, or step on squeaky toys in the middle of the night.

It sucked out loud.

Because I didn't have all of those other things? But I also didn't have someone joyfully greeting me at the door when I came home. I didn't have a warm, purring, fuzzy bunny curled up with me in the night. I didn't hear any curious chirping noises when something new and previously unexperienced was discovered in the house. I didn't have someone curling up by my shoulder to fall asleep while I sat in my favorite chair and read a book.

Cat hair on my pants, as it turns out, isn't nearly enough to make not having a cat worth it.

So over the weekend I went to Another Chance Animal Rescue in North Berwick, Maine (and you should go there, or donate, because they're amazing) and ended up with Miss Elizabeth Bennett (or, as I like to call her, Lizzie B). She's a tiny little kitty with extra toes, tiger stripes, and my heart in her fuzzy paws.

The thing about rescuing an animal? Is that they rescue you right back. I will always miss my Beansie Boo, but Lizzie made me remember that love is not a finite resource. I've got more to share, and now I have someone furry to share it with.

If you've been thinking about rescuing an animal? Please do. It won't be only the animal that will be blessed and thankful -- it will also be you.

Friday Not So Random

"I feel like everything in my life is negative. I can't find the positive."

"Create it."

"What?"

"Look, I've had a kind of shitty year. But I learned something and that is this: people and circumstances sometimes suck. We've all been down in the hole. But when you're down there, you need to decide how much power you're willing to give people and circumstances. You need to decide if the person who is determined to eff up your life is ALLOWED to do that. Usually? They're not... But if you give them permission, if you give them the password to your psyche, they're going to do whatever they want. So stop doing it. Take your life and your joy away from them and hold it in your own hands. You get to own it. They don't."

"But it's hard."

"Is it harder to say, 'I am the writer of my own story, you don't get to dictate it' than it is to look around and see nothing but bleak negativity?"

"I guess ... No?"

"I mean, it IS hard. Life can be pretty fucking brutal. But also? It can be beautiful. You have to see the sparkly and the pretty in the middle of the ugliness. Think about it this way: sea glass was once just broken, jagged shards that could cut and wound. It became lovely through time. Life's like that. Just decide: is this broken? Or can I make it something amazing?"

"But. I don't know how."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You will. You just have to try. You have to remind yourself that you own your life. That other people who want to hurt you don't get to tell you how to feel. That circumstances that suck are just a hash mark on your life's timeline and they are surrounded by hashmarks that make you smile and laugh and sing. You have to remind yourself that you deserve to see light and that, when things are dark? You can carry a flashlight and surround yourself with other people who have lights and candles and who believe in you and want to help.

It's not always easy. Life isn't. But it doesn't have to be so damned hard either. Just remember: your story. You write it. No one else."

"I think... I feel better."

"Better is better."

"Better is always better."