Saturday, February 4, 2012


Living, for me, only masquerades as something it isn't for a short while.

Eventually the real me creeps out of the hole I've burrowed.

I usually come out dancing as though nothing happened.

When I get over my insecurities for a brief moment, living really is like a dance to me.

Generous heaping's of goofiness overwhelm me, most of the time, when I'm not so serious. Behind closed doors to my neighbors, I have wildish dance parties with my Boy and laughing is my regular ab work.

To keep it real means I tap my toes to the sound of the beat--
Watching a movie. TV show. Or even a commercial.

To keep it real means I feel shackled when my voice won't allow me to sing along with the music. 

Lately I've been dehydrated. Of self confidence.

Questioning a career will do that, or inconsistencies of a manager.
Or even the buzz of child gossip and bullying, or confusing coaches.

Life, in general, can extinguish confidence. 

Along with that, I had three days with a voice barely at mouse-like pitch, though some moments I sounded more like a baby gremlin.

Allergies will do that to a person--building up to a sinus infection and then closing off the larynx.

Life, in general, can make a body sick.

In my comfort living these past few days--legs horizontal on the couch and mug of tea in my hands--I've enjoyed the stillness and quietness.

I've begun to appreciate who I am a little bit more than I had been in a while. 

The real me thinks through things, and then thinks them through again. And again. Over thinking every thing.

When I look around and see how decisions seem easy for some people, I want to kick myself for making the simple so complicated.

But, when I am able to sit and relax without the chaos of life *whirling and twirling* around me, I am grateful for the real me who knows a decision of any kind is torturous for me.

Ask me my favorite any thing and you'll probably get a dissertation on how I don't have "favorites"--and it's because I just can't decide.

Maybe my decisions are based on my mood.

Or, maybe it's because I like {most} every thing.

One thing is for sure, I have a real passion for life. 
Most every thing about it excites me. 

And it's why I never have writers block or have angst about my writing.

For me, there is always something real to share. 

: : 

This was going to be a Five Minute Friday contribution at my friend Lisa-Jo's place. Friday became Saturday. And five minutes became 15. 

The sound of B.O.Y. banged from upstairs and the stillness of downstairs invited me to type a little longer...until said Boy crashed my quiet with his loud and didn't have an ounce of awareness. 

The irony is how *real* this moment is to me--my longing for quiet and the Boy's indulgence in loud...and how later I notice his head slowly and quietly peeking around the corner into my space and I think, he really does hear my ranting and he really does care!

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1 comment:

  1. Hi! Your post was brilliant. It really grips me and I hope you get self-confidence gets better. I have the same problem and I really wish you best.