for Pete & me

Autauga County, AL (2016)

The picture above was taken in South Alabama last summer, on the side of the road. This is one of my favorite pictures, not because it is very impressive in the way of amateur photography, but because the morning I took it, I got to spend the day doing one of my very favorite things, riding around with my husband way down south, listening to the radio, and taking pictures to bring back home with me to remind me of a perfect day. I get all these thoughts in my head about harvesting happy whenever I think about this, but I should probably try and focus on my original reason for posting.

I started writing this post over a month ago before I abandoned and left it for dead. When I woke up this morning, face down, body in a giant x-shape on the mattress, I had exactly 2 thoughts. 1) Oww–my face. 2) I think I wrote myself into a corner again.

In case you’ve never heard the idiom I’ve painted myself into a corner, it pretty much means to do something that takes away all your other choices or to put yourself in a sticky situation, limiting the way you can act from that point forward. As far as painting myself into a creative corner, well, I’ve done it before and I’ve done it again (cue the ellipsis overuse and abuse)…

To the best of my understanding, this happens more than not whenever I’m thinking too much about the way other people will react to my creation and I let that, or the FEAR of possible ridicule prevent me from telling the story I truly want to tell. I set out troubleshooting, trying to follow all the steps they tell us to follow, clear out clichés blah blah blah blah, and so on. Honestly, I can’t even bring myself to form a proper list at this point, because I’m too mentally exhausted to bother. That should say a lot.

Because this trouble always seems to find me (or do I find it) and yes it is TROUBLE in none-other-than shouty caps, for sure, this post shall serve as a reminder to myself. You are not telling his or her story. If  ‘they’ read it and don’t like it, so what? Let them tell their own story, if  ‘they’ feel so compelled.  You are telling YOUR story. For Pete’s sake, tell it.

the sun but with an ‘oh’

Orange Beach, Alabama | Thanksgiving 2015

Disappointment. When you reach out and try to connect with someone on a serious level and their reaction is to laugh when you’re not laughing, to shift the subject, to make assumptions (the WRONG assumptions) and happily move on in blissful ignorance because let’s face it, he or she didn’t really care what you had to say in the first place. And there it is. (It felt like) He or she didn’t really care what you had to say in the first place. Connection failed. Disappointment.

Definition of disappoint (Merriam-Webster)

:  to fail to meet the expectation or hope of :frustrate

I read that Alice Walker said, I try to teach my heart to not want things it can’t have.
Maybe I taught myself at an early age to not have much in the way of positive expectations from people. Life taught me that that was a good idea. And on the surface, I’m not sure much has changed, but the dirty truth is (drumroll please, and cue the ellipsis abuse)…
I don’t expect people to be good and kind or open or loving. I don’t expect anyone to listen when I speak. I do expect my words to be ignored, twisted, disregarded at (unfortunately) best. Somehow that’s perfectly okay with me. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m not made of stone, here. It’s not okay with me, but I can accept it. But there’s still this big ball of radiant light burning bright in the center of my core, and it never has and hopefully never will allow me to stop hoping for big, bright, beautiful things to come out of each and every relationship I ever form. Maybe it’s a fool’s errand, squinting, straining, breaking a sweat always trying so hard to extract a mess of loveable and good qualities in each and every human, but it’s just something I’m going to do. Not sure I could stop if I wanted to.
What’s the lesson to be learned in the what-a-bummer feeling you suffer after what feels like a miserable (EPIC FAIL) missed connection? Well, there’s something to be said for trying and you tried. Okay, I tried. Genuinely, with nothing but honest, true intentions, I tried to bridge what I felt was a gap. Didn’t work. That’s okay! 🙂 Take note, keep hope, and try again should the opportunity ever again arise. Might as well. What else am I doing with my time and energy? I’m terrible at crochet.

word.

pretty photo via unsplash

I really hate the word ‘abhor’. I know that’s funny because the definition of ‘abhor’ is to regard with disgust and hatred. So go ahead and mark it down, folks. I abhor the word abhor.

It has to be due to the fact that people abuse and overuse such a powerful word, so often. Like an example? I abhor waffles. I abhor traffic lights. I abhor hangnails. I absolutely (because don’t we all love alliteration) abhor absurdity. But then, who other than yourself can truly know whether or not you actually feel as passionate about the subject matter as the definitions of your words suggest?! Maybe a person can ardently despise sneezing.

I saw an episode of Dr. Phil. This lady was fed up with her son’s rebellious behavior–horrific, she called it. And Dr. Phil did his usual thing when he thinks people are being too dramatic or throwing powerful words around too loosely. He said something like, “I’ve been to the hospitals where there’s children burned on over 75% of their bodies. THAT’S horrific. Your son misbehaving, talking back, that’s not horrific.”

Look, I can’t match the quote word for word and maybe he used ‘horrible’ and not ‘horrific’, but you get the point. I hope. You know, I abhor when people don’t get my point. 😉 Kidding! 🙂