I wanted to sit down and write a blog tonight. I wanted to rock my gray CMU sweatpants, burn my Pink Lady Slipper candle from Yankee Candle, prop my pony-tailed self up on some fluffy, feathered pillows, and write a good ole’ new-fashioned (because it certainly isn’t old-fashioned to write a blog) blog.
But I couldn’t.
To give myself some credit, I tried to type out a few things. First, I tried writing about social media and how we are always connected. That wasn’t flowing. Then I started writing about my dad, but it ended up being a rambling blurb of words that had no point.
I tried to write about the time I thought I was going to die in a tornado. But it was boring, even to me, and a story about almost dying in a tornado is supposed to be interesting, so I cut and copied that sucker, the words vanishing-poof! like Mac magic-and I was left with a computer screen as blank as my mind feels right now.
However, I am stubborn. I decided I would just start typing for the sake of typing.
So here I am. Writing, typing, pushing keys about nothing, trying to fight the fact I have nothing to blog about that sounds good to me.
It’s strange I have nothing to say because my mind is usually full of thoughts bouncing around, bobbing up and down like mini-marshmallows in a cup of hot chocolate. Ironically, it’s the times I actually want my mind to be blank that are the times my thoughts won’t shut off, particularly at night, which makes me think my deep, worrisome thoughts are nocturnal. Like feathery, baby nocturnal thought owls. I need a “Thoughts Off” switch. Or a Clap-On, Clap-Off for Thoughts. But that would get confusing, especially at sporting events and concerts, all that clapping and cheering. I would be the epitome of dazed and confused.
When my mind isn’t consumed with thoughts of “What if?!” (because yes, to my slight dismay, I am a “What If?” girl, not a “Why Not?” girl) my thoughts tend to be of the Very Random variety. The other day, I spent my entire drive home from work trying to decide what my entrance music would be if I was a WWE wrestler. I went with “Push It” by Salt-N-Pepa. Or Eye of the Tiger. But I still think those might be too predictable, so I continue to marinate my mind on that one. Plus, let’s be honest, no entrance music can beat Shawn “The Heartbreak Kid” Michaels’ music anyway.
I think about where the guy who invented Beanie Babies is now. Could he advise me what to do with Garcia the tie-dyed bear, Tabasco the red bull, or all the other Beanie Babies locked in a Rubbermaid boxed-prison in my basement? I think about how I need to start cooking more. Or baking. I wonder which one’s easier.
I think about my first grade teacher and how she’s a yoga instructor now, and I wonder how she decided to make that switch. Is she still off doing downward dog and pigeon and monkey and moonflower poses, becoming in tune with her inner chi? Does she remember me, the girl who read “The Rainbow Fish” and was scared of Mr. Klenk, the gym teacher?
Last week, I was thinking about how I could incorporate ketchup in a classy way at my future wedding, assuming I find a schmuck that decides he wants to keep me around forever. Then I went back and forth on whether I’d want a fall wedding or a spring wedding and started to agonize about it –fall or spring, fall or spring-until I asked my mom what she thought, to which she replied while continuing to nonchalantly wash the dishes with the bright green liquid soap:
“Honey, you are not engaged.”
Oh, yeah. That’s right. I’m not.
“So why does it matter right now?” She puts down the bottle of soap.
True. It doesn’t.
Through my constant stream of random thoughts about weddings and Beanie Babies and yoga instructors (oh my!), the constant thought in my mind these days is how life seems to be moving at warp speed. I scroll through Facebook (Side note: Why do people always post pictures of awesome things they are doing, like going to Italy or some fun themed party, right when I am conveniently at home in my pajamas feeling lame? I always sign off of Facebook thinking other peoples’ lives look so much cooler than mine, even though I am appreciative of my life experiences) and I see pictures of engagements. Weddings. Babies. Lots of babies.
And I think, “When did this happen? When did we get to be old enough to be parents, professionals, moms, dads? I almost did Mock Rock with you in middle school, and you’ve been married for two years? We were in the fifth grade rendition of the Tom Sawyer play, and you have a baby? You were that one guy dressed as that one Care Bear at that one Halloween party at the Yooper House, and you’re a successful lawyer?”
Where has the time gone? When did we become full-fledged adults?
The good thing about growing up is we all are doing it together, even the grown ups who are all “grown up.” I think, at the end of the day, we have no idea what we are doing when it comes to living life, regardless of what age we are. And the older I get, the more I realize you can’t control what happens. Life’s a big game of “Fake It ‘Till You Make It.” Timing is everything. So is time itself.
Often, I feel like time is slipping away, smooth and silent like satin over my fingertips, and that scares me. I want to do as much as I can, live a full life, learn and grow, and yet I feel the clock ticking away with each passing day. I look in the mirror and still see someone who has a lot to learn. But to be fair, as I sit here, looking at my 24-year-old self and mulling over the Fast Times of Lindsay’s Life, I realize I have actually learned some lessons over the years of awkwardness and “figuring myself out” that have helped me to not make the same mistakes twice. Things such as:
1. Don’t talk behind people’s backs, especially if you are a 7th grade girl. 7th grade girls are vicious.
2. People show you their true colors, especially when times are tough.
3. Quality is better than quantity.
4. Ketchup isn’t good on everything. Even for me.
5. Not saying how you really feel is only hurting yourself.
6. Worrying is a waste of time, but don’t worry about worrying.
7. Ex-boyfriends are ex-boyfriends for a reason.
8. Bad dates make for great stories.
9. Talkings is better than texting 95% of the time.
10. Do what you feel is right for you, not what’s right for someone else.
11. If someone makes you happy, keep him or her around. If someone makes you sad, don’t keep him or her around.
12. At the end of the day, you are never in complete control of your life. One must embrace the craziness. And the ridiculousness. And the randomness.
I think it’s okay we don’t know everything, even about ourselves. I think it’s okay if we are scared, or uncertain, or worried, or hopeful but afraid to be hopeful. I think it’s alright to still feel upset about things that happened in the past, to not fully get over an event that has scarred you. Scars make us real. Our uncertainty makes us human. All we can do is try. Even if we don’t try our best because we don’t know what our best is, or we don’t think our best is good enough, at least we are trying. And failing. And getting up and trying again because the result is worth it, really worth it. Or at least worth more than the fear of not having it, whether “it” is doing well at your job. Moving to a new place. Making new friends. Earning a lot of money. Getting huge bicep muscles. Standing up for yourself. Falling in love.
So that’s it. I’m still bummed I couldn’t come up with something to blog about. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow. After all, it is another day.
And the beat goes on…