One of Them Days

I’ve had a really great morning so far.  I woke up and looked in the mirror and looked exactly like Charlize Theron…in Monster.  I’m a total gremlin.  My allergies have been so bad, I can’t get through thirty minutes without sneezing and they’re coming in threes.  They say sneezes are like orgasms.  Um, they’re not.  How about no?  Okay Scott?  Different kind of endorphin release.  My face is swollen, my head feels clogged, my mouth wouldn’t know the difference between mashed potatoes and mashed bananas.  So what does one do?  Spend the entire morning shopping online for fragrance oils for my new diffuser…obviously.  All I wanted was a cinnamon diffuser oil.  That’s it.  And then I saw they made a snickerdoodle and it was really all downhill from there.  Not a slow and steady slope but more of a 90 degree angle drop.  I even googled Wisteria – turns out it not just a lane of desperate housewives.  Who knew?  You learn something every single day.

I’m aiming for that dream life and some days I’m just not feeling my best.  I’m working a job that predominantly makes me crazy.  I have a giant list of things to do and there isn’t nearly enough time in the day to do it.  This will be the third day in a row I’ve worn my glasses.  I feel like a slave to my bank account.  When do I get to the part where I get to do all the things I wanna do?  I feel tired.  I’m always tired.  Is that just a part of life?  To be forever tired?  I feel like that’s just a given anymore.  We’re all tired.  I have a whole basket of things in my bathroom that are supposed to help me look less tired.  I should probably ask for my money back.  Pretty sure these wrinkles on my forehead aren’t going anywhere.  They seem quite content with themselves.  Of course, living in the land of botox only makes me look that much older.  Someone said I looked like I was in my twenties last week.  I cried tears of pure joy.  I don’t – I know that – but it was nice to hear.  Tell women all over the world how great they look!!!!  Turn around and do it right now.  Text a friend.  Let them know how beautiful you think they are…and not just because of their face but because of the soul that radiates straight from their hearts.  It’ll make your world a better place, I guarantee it.

I’m beginning to think we all had it wrong growing up.  I spent my entire childhood wanting to be a grown up.  If I only knew what a trick it all was.  The older I get, the more I realize how dumb I am.  I mean that in the nicest way.  I was smarter in high school than I will ever be.  I don’t know what sine or cosine even are anymore or why I would possibly have ever had to know that.  I know there is mitosis – no idea what it is though.  As far as presidents all I can really remember is that Taft was so fat he had to have a special bathtub made for him in the White House – I used this fact to win a debate in class.   I knew a whole lot more on these topics at one point in my life.  It makes the phrase ‘losing my mind’ all the more valid.  And yet still know every single word to Ghetto Cowboy.  How is that even possible?  Google is my jam.  I use it more than I would care to admit.  I’m constantly googling and who knows if what I’m reading is even correct.  There is so much information out there.  Too much.  Way too much.

I have a million reasons why I haven’t been my best me lately.  It’s weird how you can be in a mood and not pinpoint why.  I just feel what I feel.  Feelings are such a strange like that.  They show up out of nowhere and want ALL of your attention like an unwanted houseguest.  Please take your bags and find the nearest exit.  Ugh.  But there’s the thing.  You can’t win the crusade every single day.  Nobody’s invincible.  No one is at 100 every day.  So maybe if I learned to like myself a little bit more, I could come up with a million reasons why I’m enough.  Funks happen and I’m hoping the end of the tunnel is near.  But here’s a thing about hope:  this guy asked me how much longer I had to work yesterday and I said, “A few more hours.  I hope.”  He responded with, “Hope isn’t a strategy.”  Touché, sir, touché.  So thank you to the gentleman in the salmon button up for that sage advice.  I’m not going to sit around in the dark and hope for the light anymore.  I’m going to find it.  ‘Cause happiness and being real and loving yourself is a strategy I can always get behind.  xx

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