You're always you,

Thursday, May 8, 2014

and that don't change,
and you're always changing,
and there's nothing you can do about it.

Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book 


I had this whole melancholy post chronicling my recent bout of blogging ennui planned for today. But then today is a new day, as all days are, and I feel differently. There is no point in waxing poetic about those posts imagined at the most inopportune times; times when my hands are in a sink full of soapy water and dirty dishes. I can write and rewrite entire posts, inspired posts, in those quiet moments. Times when my conscious mind is occupied by the mundane and my thoughts are free to flow. Unfortunately, those things that were thunk don't tend to loiter, and I'm left with just an outline when I finally sit down to write them out. Exact words, so brilliantly thought, I think, are lost. Perhaps I could record my words and transcribe them later, but I'm not sure they can be translated in the same spirit they were spoken. You know what I mean?

Last night, desperate to write something meaningful, I sat in front of my computer for two solid hours. Forcing the writing process is the kiss of death for creativity, as four years of writing formal lab reports demonstrated, but I was both determined and fearful that my mojo may be permanently on hiatus. I thought about making it a goal to write a post every day for the next 30 days, then decided I was just setting myself up to fail horribly. Instead, I tweaked my blog's exterior. New fonts, new header, re-orientation of the date...I spent that chunk of time streamlining its appearance. No fluff, just simple and modern. And I feel better. I chalk that up to change. I've experienced a lot of little evolutions in the relatively short time I have blogged, and the aesthetic of the page where I lay my words is no exception. Sometimes a haircut can help you rediscover that bounce in your step, no? My hope is that by setting aside the design that inspired me a year ago, I can set forth from this day with a fresh relationship with this platform. That I can write with the same voice, but coming from where I am in this world now.


This has been a weird week full of coincidences. Or signs. The jury is still out on my belief in signs, and how best to interpret them; but sometimes, when grouped into a short span, they seem like a signal sent from the ether. 

On Tuesday I took my car in for a state inspection and oil change. I left it at a place in the heart of downtown so I could spend the morning camped out at my local coffee shop. About 45 minutes later, as I was just getting into the proper head space, I got a call from the shop saying my tires failed inspection. Four new tires, a serpentine belt, an alignment, an inspection, and an oil change later, my car was ready. The price? $666. I'm an agnostic when it comes to believing bad omens as well, but what are the odds? Then twice that same day someone walked up to me and said they knew me. But they didn't, actually, and couldn't explain why they thought they did. Each encounter was odd and slightly uncomfortable. This morning I grabbed a quick breakfast at a local diner before meeting a friend for coffee. The cost for my huevos rancheros and cranberry juice? $8.88. Did I mention I keep finding dimes on the ground? Dimes everywhere. Enough of them that my parking meter fund has grown with some significance.


I'm buying a lotto ticket today. Because something is in the air. It's also Thursday and Thursdays have been kind to us the past month. We found our new home and Kiddo's new school on a Thursday. We got the house and Kiddo's magnet program acceptance letter last Thursday. What will today bring? Tough telling. But it is a new day, after all.

I have also decided to become a more optimistic person. A more cheerful person. A person who sees the joy in the everyday moments we often observe fleetingly; the moments that get buried too quickly when the undesirable occurs. Without realizing it, I had already joined the 100 Happy Days movement unofficially. I was posting photos on Instagram that struck my fancy with some frequency, but I decided to make it a goal and signed up. I read an article asserting the impossibility of this project, as no one could possibly find something that makes them happy every single day for over 3 months. I say why not? I saw a blossom on a tree yesterday morning that brightened my spirits. I picked up four dimes just walking to and from my car today. They are there if we want to find them. I do. Such a thing is so unlike me at first glance, but my continual aspiration is to step out of my comfort zone and improve my outlook. What do I have to lose? We have a lot going on in our lives, sometimes too much, I think, and I don't want the stress that comes with colossal life changes to overshadow the really rad things happening 'round these parts.


I took these pictures in our friends' beautiful backyard in Vancouver, Washington. It took Mario and I a whole afternoon to put our finger on what was so different. Color. There was color all around us. We haven't seen natural color in almost 8 months. All of these were shot in manual...and I haven't done a lick of editing. No filters. Pinky swear. If the color saturation isn't enough to convince me to stay away from auto, I don't know what is.

3 comments :

  1. This is a great post! Thank you for sharing.

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  2. Oh my goodness those pictures are insane!!!! And all on manual with no editing??? That first pic is possibly my favourite....amazing! I might have to get it tattooed somewhere on my body!

    I love the new look of the blog... funny enough, I have been going through the same minimalist process, with my blog, with my home, with myself. It's liberating!

    Natalie

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  3. And a final thought... yes, the colour.... we desperately miss the colour too. I look outside right now and although the snow has melted, everything is still grey, and brown, and greyish brown. I need green, and blue, and pinks and reds!!! Soon enough I'm sure! But it makes it hard living in this part of the world...

    Natalie (again)

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