People like to talk about things they’re passionate about, things that fill up their heart and make it overflow. So if someone does nothing but talk shit all the time, well, you know what their heart’s stuffed full of.
I used to hate the time of the year my birthday fell on. It’s usually cold, windy, and dreary, and people often busy with winter break, midterms and general winter blues. It’s either still snowing and cold, or gross and slushy.
But I guess that explains me. I’m muddy but full of potential underneath all that.
Falling a week before the spring equinox, it is a time of change, cleansing and rebirth, which is a fitting way to mark another year. I always become very reflective around this time, often lamenting over the things I have not accomplished yet. I’m surprised it took so long to appreciate the significant and positive time this actually is. I feel refreshed by spring cleaning and enjoy getting rid of unnecessary items, but when it comes to my emotional being, I often hold onto thoughts and beliefs that no longer serve me. I think it’s time for me to grieve the loss of the person I once was, as winter lets its grip of the land, and let the thaw nourish the inevitable spring bloom. I appreciate what I have now, and as the daylight grows longer I look forward to future summer abundance. I have no idea what I’m going to be doing beyond the next few months, unlike the 18yo me who thought she had it all planned out, but I’m excited about creating the life I want, with all the experiences and blunders it will take to figure it all out. Nature does not keep what no longer serves her. I will mold myself after nature and her cycles.
Whenever I start a writing blog I inevitably kill it, sometimes before I ever show it to anyone. Partly because I get freaked out by the idea that I’m sharing parts of myself for anyone to see, partly because I hate my own writing, and mostly because I think “who gives a shit?”
And I don’t mean that in a self-deprecating way. I mean really, who gives a shit about anyone’s writing (or social media posts) unless it’s interesting enough, offering a chuckle over a cleverly written life story or practical advice from a cautionary tale or something we’re all thinking but written in beautifully profound words. So bear with me while I think of a way to humorously write out my life experiences or become a mama bear offering wise words.
Or I can talk about how I looked through my hair for the past 10mins to cut off split ends.
I had a dream that I was on a hike up a trail in a heavily wooded, dark forest. It turned into a chapel with the trees as its walls and canopy as the ceiling. The congregation was made of the forest creatures. Munchkin was there and asked me “Mummy, why do these rabbits smell bad? Are they homeless?”
I love when he visits in dreams He’s so silly.
I used to record my dreams on here and I need to start doing that again because re-reading them has brought me back to those worlds. But this one made me tear up. I miss him.