In the Thick of It

     For all you currently non-existent readers out there, I apologize for my absence. My laptop had the misfortune of coming down with a nasty virus and I am still awaiting it's much anticipated arrival back from my Computer Genius Cousin. Something that I keep hearing lately is that the success in writing comes when you do it constantly and consistently. Thus, I decided I should steal some internet time from a friend and be as regular as possible in this situation; although the true rhythm of my blog will not be returned to full health until my laptop is back in my loving arms.

     In the meantime, here is some background music for your day:

The Stops by Elbow

The Ocean and the Sun; A Winning Combo.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

     What is the point of optimism but to constantly and consistently enable us to be dropped back to reality in a state of disillusioned despair when we realize once again that life is not what we hoped it to be?
     And yet – I have the innate curse of being one of those people who is an eternal optimist. There is not one situation or circumstance that I have come through recently  where I have not had a thought such as, “Well, if God closes a door, He opens a window,” or “Every cloud has a silver lining,” or “There are always more fish in the sea,”. I am the type of person for which those clichéd remarks exist. If I am not repeating them within myself for my own peace of mind, I am repeating them to others with the premising statement of, “I know this sounds cliché, but...,”. This has been true when my once good friend started dating the only boy I had ever truly liked and when my dream of living a fabulous life as an international model became nothing more than a topic to dodge at social functions. Even when my best friend was diagnosed with cancer, I gulped it down with a simple, “Everything happens for a reason”.
     Is it wrong to want more angst in your life? To want to dwell on the negatives vs the positives that saturate the reality of every day? Perhaps it is that deep down, I know I prefer to believe in that illusive hope. Deep down, I do believe that there are silver linings, and reasons, and that ultimately what is meant to work out will, in fact, work out. Is that the folly of youth? Maybe; and maybe that is what is so greatly coveted of the young. Since I am just recently able to classify myself as an “adult”, I still very much feel that the world is my oyster and I can go with whichever wind’s breezes are most persuasive. There is nothing to hold me back except for my modest bank account and my over-fondness of my prairie-residing family. It is a daunting and exhilarating feeling full of no expectation except for the wish that maybe in a few years I will have found my bearings and become more grounded in who I am and where my future is headed.
     So, even though there is no great line up of “other fish” to choose from just yet for the great come back (or commencement) of my love life; and the fabulousness of any career I am currently in pursuit of is questionable at best - with all that truly defines who I am inside, I am forced to state...

...and I know this sounds cliché, but...

Never Stalk a Boy with a White Truck

            Some people might tell you never to stalk a guy. Period. In many situations, this is probably an incredibly valid and potentially superior option to the former. However, in the case that you are prone to the occasional stalking-spree, I will give you this word of advice – never stalk a boy with a White Truck. At first knowledge of finding that this boy does indeed drive a White Truck, you might pat yourself on the back (like I did) for finding a boy manly enough to handle a truck, but sensitive in a way that would choose the color white which naturally requires greater attention and care. In the same way that he is dedicated to taking his White Truck to the car wash more regularly than the average “Blue Truck Joe”, you are certain he will be more attentive in caring for your little needs and desires. As this boy, who you have only subconsciously decided to stalk at this point, drives away, there is an instant mental note made of the brand of the truck, and the overall size of the vehicle;  you are certain this will be enough to identify the stalkee (the boy)  to the stalker (you)  in any given time or place.

            You are wrong. 

What you have never noticed before is that everyone: male, female, confused, dead certain, and otherwise, drives a White Truck. What started out as a beautiful metaphor for the type of guy you were hoping to build a picket fence with, turns into something of a nervous tick that gives you whiplash every time you desperately search out the White Truck passing you by for signs of the one boy- the one with the chiselled abs – that could secure all your future happiness. 

The summer that I stalked the beautiful boy in the White Truck was anti-climactic at best. As the summer came to a close, I did get my chance with him, no help from my obsessive search efforts. He did not become less gorgeous than he had been at first glance. His abs did not become less economical to dry my clothes on than at the beginning of our brief encounters; but I realized that he had not been what I was looking for.  Yes, I had finally identified the right white truck to the right hunky owner, but neither of these rights ended up being right for me.

 Maybe the only helpful anecdote to take from this - at least helpful to my own amorous future - is that there are always more White Trucks on the highway of life. It is up to us whether we choose to pass them by, or maybe hitch a ride in one of them for a mile or two.  

Or three.

An Introduction to an Aquaintance

     I feel as if this post must be something of an introduction. Being that I want to keep these postings as anonymous as possible, I will start by saying that I am a citizen of the world - but to avoid the appearance of being pretentious, I will also go so far as to say that I am an aspiring writer (aren't we all?), and I enjoy passing the time either with friends who possess an equal obsession with random adventure as myself, or contentedly alone with perhaps a book, magazine, movie, or paper and pen to pass the time. My family are my friends, my friends are my family, and all in all my life is generally of and/or pertaining to "the norm".
     As I embark on this new project, I am fully aware that it has greater potential to fail than succeed and nonetheless am marching straight into it with a spark in my eye, and a bounce in my step. I have more spirit than talent or intelligence; but I am determined to put that gumption to good use. Thus, without further ado, I welcome you to the humble abode which is my life, and hope to see you around here more often.