Coffee and Conversation

.... So today--as is my typical routine--I headed to the coffee shop to sit on my computer and get some work done. Only to find, that this day it seemed people just wanted to talk with me. Maybe it was my decision to wear a cute red dress and put my hair up in playful fun?

Whatever it was, I had a full conversation with a girl who asked to share my table. We sat for an hour talked about random life stuff. I learned about her boyfriend and her endeavors to find work in phlebotomy and she listened to my retelling of my earliest childhood memory (watching the "King and I" with Yul Brynner) and my philosophy that the more education you receive, the more you realize there is a lot you don't know.

After she left, I set to work and after about a half hour (yes I can sit and sit, and sip and sip at a coffee shop for long hours) a gentleman began talking with me, asking what I was researching and if I was in school. You know all the basic questions without the invitation for a date. I find it funny that if you are on your computer at a coffee shop everyone assumes you are studying for school.

But the point of this story--at least I hope I have a point--is that it was nice to talk with strangers. For some reason we pack ourselves into our little bubbles and try to hide from conversation. When the truth is, conversation is human nourishment, it's education and awareness, it's our nature. And every now and then a stranger can realize all you need is a "Hello" with your coffee.

So I send a thank you to Annalynn and Tony today. :)

Dusk to Twilight

The conductor steps upon the podium, raises the baton, and taps upon the music stand to get the orchestra's attention. Only the conductor finds as each musician turns, they have the conductors face. More than this each player is the conductor, and the violins, violas, cellos, and basses have all been playing out of tune, off timing, and with no lead.

I bring this image up because it was what came to mind when I began to get my sanity back.

For those of you who know me, you know I haven't quite been myself. I however only recognized my personality had changed last month. I placed my mood on a few events, but the reality was that depression had been creeping in on me for a few months without my knowledge.

My depression hit a high low a few weeks ago, when I found myself on my evening walk, crying in uncontrollable sobs for reasons I couldn't fathom.  I forced myself to a bench and sat, reflecting. I realized I had been wearing many faces, all the same, and yet each playing to different tunes. They were out of sync. And my focus was waning. So of course--me being me--I decided to document it.

When I arrived home and went to bed, I realized I wasn't conducting my life. I was instead allowing the orchestra to play without my lead. It was time to take my baton and get all the musicians attention and lead myself on the song that is my life.

Somehow, this idea awoke the changes I have made, which have thankfully allowed the light to turn back on, focus has been regained, and you will find me dancing, instead of crying, upon my evening walks. But of course--me being me--I keep documenting myself and that bench mark. It reminds me that no matter how heavy the depression, I am the conductor.




Currently walking to the songs:

How it Ends-- DeVotchka

553 W Elm Street, Logan Illinois Snow-- Max Richter

Living Room-- Tegan&Sara

Dog Days Are Over-- Florence & The Machine

Heart Break...

I would like to be able to write this in some eloquent fashion, but the truth is....
Being heart broken SUCKS!!!!

It just sucks, there is no other word for it. It sucks the energy from you, it sucks away your appetite, and it just plain sucks. But what I'd like to know, is why, when heart break arrives, does it make you do ridiculously foolish things?

Take for example my past two weeks. After having my heart stomped on...(this may be a bit of an exaggeration)... I have begun doing things that are out of my character. One, went on a few dates within the past two weeks, thinking it would make me feel better, and all it did was make me think.... "where do these men come from." The day after being heart broken, I was on a band wagon of becoming the person I want to be (or think I am, or am, I don't know), so I finally submitted my picture book to four publishers. This was a good thing, but now I am in the long waiting process of possibly not hearing for not only the boy that broke my heart, but also the publishing houses that may or may not read my writing. I hate waiting. I'm not patient (as I have said once, or twice, or maybe three times before).

Being heart broken has also made me feel as though I need to be continually active. As such, I had a night of drinking and singing to the tree that resides in my front yard. I at least recognized it wouldn't sing back (I mean it is a tree people), but none the less, it made me feel a bit better to be out of myself and releasing all my vocal cries to an object that couldn't talk back, but could only listen. I can't rest and as such, instead of punching the walls around me, I decided ripping out the carpet in my bedroom was a better option. This, though, has left me with 3/4 of a hard wood floor (that needs repair) and a 1/4 of remaining disgusting carpet on the floor because I'm too tired to take the rest out.

Being heart broken makes you take long walks listening to your iPod and singing at the top of your lungs not caring who hears. It makes you recognize how many couples are out there, how many love songs are on the radio, love stories on T.V., in the movies, and that love never really is like that in real life.

But most importantly, being heart broken makes you think about all the good times you had, and how you were willing to open up, and how you want to have that feeling again.

The floor will be repaired, the drinking and signing to trees will stop, maybe I will hear back from the publishers--that would be cool--and you know what, if I keep dating maybe I'll be able to open up again and do this all over again. (Though next time, I'll have to find a different rug to tear apart).

So again I will say, "Being heart broke sucks."

Doors

I have always been fascinated with doors. They are one of those things that for some reason inspire me. I continually think, "what adventure awaits behind that door?" All you have to do is turn a handle, push or pull a latch, and presto a new image is before you.

As of late, I have been trying to open the figurative doors around me. Some have opened easily, some have slammed in my face, others have been locked and I'm awaiting their key, and a few I have snuck through. The point is: I'm fascinated with doors and want to experience as many adventures as I can.