Work in Progress

Days have been blurring into weeks. We’re into June now. A whole new month is before us. Fresh. And squishy.

I’m actually feeling a bit squishy; and I’m not just talking about the perpetual pudge ‘round the waist. It’s not a blah, blobby feeling. No random floating around. I’ve actually been moving in a very focused manner. I feel like one of those soft, smooshy stress balls: often squeezed into a tight, unrecognizable shape that eventually bounces back to normal. Like the foam stress ball, I’m not really bouncing back but sort of returning to normal in that slow-mo way. What’s more, I’m not sure if I get back to my original shape!

Wait…I’m just as doughy as before. Stress ball analogy still stands! Sigh.

What am I trying to say? God, if I could only just spit it all out without sounding 15 all over again. Forgive me for writing is nothing like riding a bicycle! I think that I am possibly forgetting the little I developed while feverishly blogging every night during the school year.

I guess what I want to do is publicly declare war with myself. Maybe war is not the best way to put it. I am forgetting how to write but I have not forgotten my aversion to violence and love of peace.

It’s not really a declaration of war. It’s not really a manifesto. It’s just a seed that I’m determined to make grow.

No more half-assed living.

The only thing holding me back from living my every hope and dream is typing these very words.

Why am I still telling the Internet that my flabby middle bugs me? Because that squishy stuff has been defining me for my WHOLE LIFE and I’m equally scared and undisciplined to do what it takes. I don’t really know. I have been out of therapy for about three years now.

The thing is, I’m thriving. I’m working hard at something I truly believe in. Everyday I feel like I contribute to the universe and in turn lap up the abundance I get in return without collapsing under the guilt of my Catholic upbringing.

Incredibly, I—possibly the most sensitive person on the planet–don’t let myself cry when people look me straight in the eye and spill their broken hearts open after years of inordinate suffering of unimaginable magnitude. Instead, I do my best to help alleviate their suffering by making their goals and my capacity meet in the middle.

I am never satisfied because in this line of work, nothing is ever enough; and yet, I know that I can only do so much. The universe is at once so cruel and so kind. I haven’t figured it all out yet. I hope that I never do. I do like the discovery. And really, who likes a smug S.O.B.? Nobody.

So the daily work makes my soul dance until it is weary. That means that sometimes I complain about the unimportant. I mope. I sit idle. I consume to the point that I become annoyed that I cannot find storage space. The clutter engulfs me and I get angry. With myself.

And so here I am reminding myself to live fully and happily to my ideals. More and more I embrace the challenge, but I recognize that I’m not doing enough.

No more half-assed living.

Tales of full living to come. The stories have already fallen into my lap. Glorious bounty, I tell you.

I was digging around my messy, messy room the other day and ran into all kinds of old goodies like my pacifier from PLURtastic raver times to old school agendas (as in, high school-issued agendas) that told the story of my past life. Anyway, for a few years my agenda was covered in everything that was me. I didn’t need to write my name on the first page because the covers said it all. “Racism. Stop it!”-stickers from the March 21st campaign. A picture of Felicity with a blurry Ben in the background. Teletubbies stickers. Doodles. Poetry. And written in blue permanent marker were three magical words that I almost forgot: Life. Eat it.


5 Responses:

  1. gnome G Says:

    Oh A. Isn’t this journey through life a trip? All the things we fixate upon, large and small, are a part of the big picture we paint for ourselves. It’s really an amazing journey, all of it! Looking forward to hearing all the tales of bountiful living. And the soft middle bit–I’m there with you. Been soft around the middle since I hit 28. Meh. Take good care, eat all the life you can fit!

  2. red wings Says:

    it’s so hard to maintain that “capitalize on life” attitude. Kudos for you for maintaining the delicate balance of acceptance and ambition. I have yet to master it and have been throwing punches to the left and silently nursing my hurt pride to the right.

    June feels so gross in nyc right now. It’s not the fresh bambi start that i was anticipating, but like you said, you gotta go out there and eat life, eh? Even if it’s soggy crackers. Lay some velvety cheese on that shit and POUND! hahahaha.

    i’m looking forward to the stories you have budding on your fingers! yay!

  3. hayden Says:

    Yay on your declaration! It is so very brave, and so what I need to think about right at this moment (which, by the way, one of those ones where you’re trying to remember to breathe, at all).

  4. Jules Says:

    You’re amazing, and I love you! 🙂

  5. mintchoco Says:

    At least you’re happy…time to find a new job…go somewhere that I’m wanted…