It's probably a bad sign when you forget the login to your own blog.
I'm just sayin.
If you're still checking this, I'm touched but wonder about your sanity. ;)
I equally wonder about mine for writing this. I'll think of it as an entry to myself - as I do most of them - and if anyone finds it, well, then all the better.
Change is afoot, my friends. It's nothing I can share definitively as of yet (THAT would be far too convenient and helpful, right?). But indeed, change is on its way like a faroff summer thunderstorm one spots across a mountain pass or out across an ocean sound.
It's hard to think in oppressive heat, I'm finding. It makes sense really. The body goes into a bit of overload and one's brain goes into default, power-down mode while your body sets about attempting to cool itself. It's a a very primal way of being, even with air-conditioning. I realized today that I haven't even thought much about how frickin hot it is because, well, I just don't have the capacity to think about it right now. I'm just powering through. I DO briefly contemplate what clothing is closest to naked each morning and I try to park in what little shade we're afforded at our parking lot at work (there's one tree. it's fierce competition.). Other than that, I think my brain is protecting itself by not thinking about it. I find I'm genuinely surprised when I have a sweat-soaked shirt or my shorts are stuck to my legs in such an attractive fashion. Again, my brain isn't allowing me to think about it too much. Our bodies feature fabulous, fabulous design.
Turns out the triple-degree heat of summer also isn't conducive to having bangs. Who knew? I picked them up as a hairstyle last August and didn't really know if i'd commit to them. Here we are nearly a year later and there still here - and hating the heat. Again, something I didn't think about at all. Luckily, I don't have much brain power left to consider or care about such things. See prior paragraph.
It's nearly my half birthday. Even being a huge birthday person, I never gave much thought to half birthdays until befriending Megan Talley, who loves them. The past year or two I've remembered in a bit of a passing way when the date has come and gone. This year it seems pretty prominent. Maybe because I have a half-year left until 30. Cry me a river, I know, I know.
I'm way behind - as in all things - with the painting. I have a wedding gift painting that needs to get done, an engagement present, a whole host of greeting cards that I plan to paint and sell on Etsy.com. Then there's this thing here, which has been neglected for months on end. Ah, I'm a poor excuse for a communicator.
Speaking of, no one really tells you when you're growing up that communication is all-important. I mean, it's implied. But so often, just as with the no metal in the microwave rule, no one says anything until you suck at communicating or you're trapped in a verbal tug-of-war with a communication midget. It's life, I guess. I'm not saying I'm a communication pro. I'm not. I talk a lot. I vomit my feelings. But that does't mean I don't avoid things, fall off the map or act passive aggressively to avoid conflict at times. Still, I'm always taken aback by hthe communication-disabled among us.
And it's only going to get worse. The more iPads, Tweets, BlackBerrys, Droids, Flickr, SnapFish, Facebook, face time bullshit that comes out, the more I shake my head. We're doomed. It's not easy to imagine a time when dating is done ENTIRELY online because no one knows how to conduct it in person anymore (even in spite of the phsyical ramifications). I get cards from people and it's like I won the lottery. I write my own cards and wonder when the hell my handwriting ever went so far south that it now looks like a completely different language.
I'm starting to think that I THINK better when I type. Once an all-handwritten writer (yes, very old school), I'm now such a versed computer writer that it's as if my brain and the keyboard are intextricably linked. (Even if I'm not on here using it.) It scares the shit out of me. I'd like to think my brain is free. I don't want these tools to own me and my thoughts. I fear that's quickly what's happening. I hold a pen and sometimes struggle to recall words. God help any children I might have. I hope they learn how to write on paper at all.
I didn't mean to get off on all that. Fruits of the fake cool of the air-conditioning, I guess.
Just signed on here after seeing snarky Dan's comment. Rather, signed on after I put together what my password was. I won't promise future updates. We all know where that has gotten us. I'm hopeful, however, that I'll have more time and mental space to provide more updates in the near future.
Hoping all are well. Happy Friday and nearly end of July. xo
p.s. Am weighing a half-marathon. Have to commit by next week's issue as I had contemplated adding it to the health issue. I don't think my knees will thank me but it would be fun. I've never run anything longer than a 5K. We'll see. I missed the registration for the Boston Half in October, which has me pissed. There's a half Sept. 11 in Plymouth, Mass. which looks weird except you finish at Plymouth Rock, which seems like interesting symbolism. We'll see.
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