Something Like the Stars

Reminders of opportunities missed hang heavy around my neck this morning. The days race away from me like a moving target and my day to day goals, sometimes hit, sometimes miss, leave no time to attempt an aim at something beyond. Something like the stars.

A million years ago I had dreams of being a photographer, a singer and musician, a world traveler. There was a time when I lived only for these dreams. I have journals filled these ambitions, the struggles to acheive them, and the dissapointment of them being out of reach.

I am an adult numerically, but a child spiritually. I have more dreams than responsibilities. But because I'm easily overwhelmed by dissapointment, I move forward at a snails pace. I'm stuck in a rut.

My world has been shaken up a bit these last few weeks, and I'm starting to evaluate my accomplishments. I'm a bit dissapointed with myself. 

It is imperitive to be an active participant in one's life. And surprising when you think about how few really are. Some let decisions choose them. Riding out deadlines like a game of chicken until choices are made for them. I'm guilty of this. It's very easy to wait for things to happen. To see where the day takes you and pray to the universe it's something you've been hoping for. Easy to deal with dissapointment when it's "beyond your control". But there are others, people with a better grasp of their abilities, that wait for nothing. Ones that make things happen, who don't wait, and don't care if the universe had them on it's agenda today. And those are the ones who gain it's favor, because they don't need to be led by the hand and comforted or  guided through each step.

Is it fair that some of us are given the tools early in life and shown how to utilize them, while others of us are not? Hell no. But it's the responsibility of the individual to find time, the energy and the motivation to be trained. Few people have it in them really. I refuse to be one of them.

I was told early in life that I could do or be whatever I wanted, but I was never told how.  I was never told how hard it would be. How much effort it would take.  I just assumed that if I wanted something bad enough, I would get it.  Well I can safely say that for people like me, the stars don't fall in your lap. And if they did, they wouldn't be worth nearly as much.

Old song I wrote... couldn't remember the tune, but I wrote it after waking up from a dream about my first love.

not unlike a summers day
when love was still poprocks bursting over out tounges and hands helping hands

you remembered me
in an instant we were back to being meant to be
you belonged to me
and yesterday didn't hurt anymore to see
you remembered me

I spent too many hours
waiting to belong to you and I still do
I sometimes hate that I let you go
even though I was too young to know that I could ever belong
belong to anything not just anyone

but there you stand with grown up hands
not needing mine to guide them but they do
because they remember you
and what it felt like to be known by you

you remember me
I remember too
we smile like we know
like we always do
like it's new

and in my mind i cross through time
to where she wasn't where we are
and your hand never held hers, but only mine
but you cant bend time
so I let it cleanse my mind

erasing memories and moments it might hurt to find

Signs of Aging

Warning: This post contains content that may cause followers older than I to groan collectively and roll their eyes, and those younger than I to furrow their brow in dismay at what is to come (but don't because it causes wrinkles).

This coming month will be the third into my 28th year. It was brought to my attention by a close friend's mother that I am no longer "pulling twenty" but "pushing thirty". I attended my 10 year reunion. Pictures were posted to facebook that revealed the aging process in all it's graphic horror to me and 245 members of my friendslist. The calls of "girls night out", "let's hit the town" and "dude! Party at so-and-so's house" are becoming less and less appealing.  No longer can this girl pull an all-nighter and drag her sorry behind into work the next day. I've experienced two out of the top three worst hangovers in my life these past few months from a few nights of social drinking at the house with friends. My alcohol tolerance, once something to boast about among references to my irish heritage, has been replaced by a "light-weight-Mconebeer" reference.

Could I be getting *gulp*.............old?!

I suppose the previous paragraph may lead one to conclude that heavy drinking was once ranked in the top of my priorities...but in all honesty, I'm the mother of a 7 year old. I've been lucky if I made it out once a month, though once every two or three is more accurate. I must confess however, that after every stressful workday or the end of a long week, I was known to bemoan my responsibilities and express longing for a night out. Now, I just pray for a nap during evening football practice, and look forward to the quiet between my son's bedtime and my own.

The flip side of these shocking revelations being, that the swiftness of the passing time no longer goes unnoticed. I have taken stock of the velocity of my life and google mapped my progress.
I'm only about oh........a billion miles from where I had intended to be.

That being said, my path may not have been paved with shiny gold stars proudly pronouncing my worldly accomplishments but I will tell you what I did stumble upon along the way.  A Scarecrow, a Tinman, and a Lion! Just joshing... But no really (and here comes the gooey stuff), I was met by an amazing individual who taught me how to overcome the insidious giant of discontent. One who gazed at me with assuming eyes, and ordained me something awesome. I was entrusted with the care of a child grown from naivety and narcosis, who in turn granted me the experience and clarity that I lacked. And in return, I gave him my heart entire.

That and financial support for the next 11-15 years. Then he's on his own.
The point of my blog being this really, that the color of young adult-hood blanches over time, to be replaced by something amazing and oftentimes as painful.

The end.