I have been avoiding doing the dishes in our small kitchen sink since Saturday. Every cereal bowl from then until now is awaiting me (though in this moment I am kind of admiring myself for having such a serious and consistent cereal habit), along with a smoothie cup and some other really fun ruminating pieces that held our meals from the past several days. My dog is bored and not yet old, this means he is scouring the house for any and all socks, underwear, and small pieces of anything to fit in his mouth and trot around with, the ultimate attention-seeker. It’s tedious to keep up with this routine of his, though my heart goes out to him. In a desperate attempt to sleep in--a hefty week of working late on my shoulders, I had John take the car making an educated guess (in its rightful context this term means completely uneducated and swelling with insomnia) that I’d be able to find a ride to work this afternoon with a family member (those teachers and their summers off, am I right? Nope, teachers begin to work prior to Labor Day and their family members never remember this). Thankfully a kind friend and a nearby one at that is loaning me her van while her babies sleep. This is bout 1/100 of the grace I am sure I will mostly subconsciously experience today. And tomorrow I will likely fail just as much as being a good human. This is how it goes.
I am past due for a hair cut, mostly because I don’t feel like paying for one right now, though my lovely hair dresser definitely deserves the money. While my ears continue to become completely covered by my lengthy sideburns, I am eating a block of pre-sliced cheese (yes! That’s right! I can’t even cut my own cheese) while still finishing my coffee. Here I am, writing you, my neglected blogosphere, fresh from watching the Social Network for multiple nights, and how lucky you are that you get to experience my fresh Aaron-Sorkin-influenced writing style of the week.
I suppose if I were keeping up with the style and subjects of this past years’ content I’d let you know we’ve moved *again*, went to Maine *again*, saw great friends in from out of town, discovered that John’s body is sensitive to dairy, have begun to pursue a couple exciting non-work-related projects, have thoroughly intrigued a whole nursing home of elderly folks across the street with simply existing, and are anticipating the explosion of one of our laptop’s batteries (heeey 09’ MacBook, yeah the white kind they don’t make anymore, we know we’ve neglected you for the past few years, but guess what? You’re our most reliable source of portable computers now).
I have hesitated to return to this space because I know I want it to be something different. I don’t want to write about my life in an overt and complete manner, because I don’t like the fake pressure of needing an interesting life--or trying to invent one, and because I personally run the risk of being an over-sharer. No no, that’s not good for either of us. I also don’t want to try to reinvent the wheel either, and try to deliver you a gorgeous domain of the cycling mother who sells patchwork jeans online and has a pretty huge Tumblr following (seriously I’m not mocking, I just know I’m not up for it).
I’m going to try to figure it out. Feel free to offer up any thoughts.
For today, I’m thankful that I get to live these days even as a very far from perfect human. I have to keep believing that some of this internet is for the greater good, and that at least is reason enough to keep writing.
Leaving you with one of my current favorite quotes. It is worth reading many times. I love all of you--whoever you are, how ever many few of you there are, whether or not you think Meryl Streep is the single most important female actor of our lifetime. Be a friend, and be well.
“It can be easy to romanticize a passion or a social cause or a marriage or raising kids with tons of posed pictures and flowery words-- but all such things are gritty, raw, rough, and painstakingly sculpted from our fully-invested hearts. There is a lot of standing around and sweating through our shirts and seasons of self-doubt and all the frustrated parts that no one else can see. We fall in love with highlights but these were formed in the valley. Please don’t be seduced by sound bites and filtered photos and bow tie daydreams. Real joy actually hurts, but that’s why it’s real. It was carved from the best of us.” j.s.