Shining light upon ordinary

How I long for inspiration. Someday, I'm borderline begging for it. The kind that awakens another side of my being. Forces an out of body experience. Instills empowerment and weightlessness, butterflies and spine chills. That "no one can stop me, I'm going to make it, you may not know my name but you will" kind of feeling.

Once in a blue moon, the universe surprises me. Shining light upon ordinary. Sparking questions amongst routine. Inviting itself into my heart and is graciously welcomed with open arms. I become more appreciative of these moments more and more when I'm longing and wishing and hoping for inspiration and it is nowhere to be found. I go to write and I have nothing. Fingers tapping and clicking, itching to write, only to find that they're still riding the last burst of inspiration's coattail.

I question if inspiration is attainable when desired. I've flirted with this idea through days of predictability. I trust that inspiration is all around us-- with the curiosity to explore it. Snuggling teary-eyed babies who miss their Momma. Candlelit showers on a Saturday morning. Fresh fruit smoothies at breakfast. Cracked windows on unseasonably chilly nights. Girlfriends belly laughing over glasses of white Zinfandel. Cool grass tickling bare feet that dangle just beyond a blankets edge.

Inspiration. We're unknowingly drowning in it.  Societal embedded blinders keep us from enjoying the beauty. Suffice our hunger to bask in the sun of inspiration. The beauty in the ordinary, beauty in routine, beauty in the predictable. I'm starving for it more often than not. All I have to do is seek and I will find. Beauty is all around us.

Giggle sweet nothings

One of those I'm-in-a-funk-and-have-no-idea-why kind of days. How badly I want to write something wonderful; something I can sip in at a later date and love it. How I'm convinced that will make this bad  weird indescribable mood more enjoyable. Well today, I've got nothing.

A day where I long for my sister. Not sorority sisters. Not best friends. Pure flesh and blood that knows what and how and when to say exactly the right thing. She never has the answer and she knows that. We talk things out; we talk life out. Memories reemerge to link us to better days; to happier times. We giggle sweet nothings and we hold hands. Hold tight, linking not only hands but souls knowing, we're never alone.

Regardless, today I feel a little something like that. Alone. Disconnected. Lengths of time from my best friend; my greatest confidant; my other half

humble & hungry

'Be humble and hungry.' I've heard it more times than I can count or have I?

In, what I like to call my old life, I heard that phrase as frequently as the words 'focus.. breathe.. concentrate.. listen.. kick faster.. yell louder!' I say I heard it but did I really listen to it? I grasped the whole be hungry part. All I wanted to do was kick faster and yell louder than the person standing next to me. I was hungry all the time. Figuratively. Literally, too. I never felt as though I wasn't humble until tonight.

This royal blue bag at my feet holds an unimaginable amount of memories and emotions and life lessons and accomplishments and hurt. I cringe at the thought of it. I've tried to get rid of it so many times but I can't. I woke up this weekend and I am ready. I am hungry. I am humbled. I roll my eyes at the thought of having that conversation. The one that means the world to the girl delivering and essentially nothing to the one receiving. Guts will be spilled. Emotions will surface. This girl will speak the words naturally. Inside, she will choke. I have to humble myself. I sat outside that gym tonight and starred. Starred for nearly an hour. I'm sure they noticed. I was paralyzed. I could gather myself enough to venture to the door. It made me beg and wish and long for my old life back. Routined. Familiar. Predictable. Easy. That isn't what life is all about. It's about being humble and being scared. Confronting my gear and holding myself together. It's about picking up the pieces and moving forward. If we stay where we are, that's the only place we'll ever be. I want to live the length of my time and the width and the height. I want to feel it all.

The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.

Where I don't let success get to my head or failure get to my heart.

Be humble and hungry.

Do one thing everyday that scares you.

Well, this girl let this day pass without being humble enough. She wasn't hungry enough. She certainly and most definitely bailed like a complete coward when she had the perfect, beyond perfect, opportunity to conquer something that is scary.

Tomorrow is another day. Another chance to be great. I will have that dreaded conversation and enjoy it for the end result, will be success. Will be humbling. Will kick off a new adventure. They may not know my name but I assure, as I have before, they will. The day will come where they ask about my past because they care. They'll respect me. I will work for it. In the meantime, I will be hungry and humble. Look fear in the eyes and giggle.

Giggle in my short, blonde, girly-girl self and pursue that passion; light the fire and end the night knowing, I did one thing today that scares me.

Better Friends

You have friends and you have better friends. Most importantly though, you have core friends.

They laugh with me the way my sister and I giggle till our abs ache; have witnessed, first hand, streams of tears when my feelings are disregarded. Core friends understand my tough exterior is merely that, an exterior, and their reaction to the vinyl wall quote I hold up in the middle of a Target isle at 8:00 on a Tuesday night asking, "how do you feel about this?" is "not bad... well, the beige bothers me." I put it back on the rack. Not because she didn't like it but because she inconceivably pin-pointed the reason I just wasn't sold on the vinyl quote. It was all the beige.

I once read that a woman should never have a 'best' friend. Friends should not be ordered, for each serves a unique purpose in life. I do however, recognize that fact that I have core friends. We talk about our lives together. There are many 'when we have children, promise me we will do that with them' and even more 'tell me right now our husbands will be friends, too.'  That promise was made. Those men have no choice, now. That's the best part about it though: we'll wait for those men. For that time. For our time.

There will come a day when we will pick up the phone to a screaming voice saying, I'm engaged, and another day it will be, I'm pregnant. We will celebrate the happiness of our friends. We'll drool over diamonds. They will hold me together when I walk down that isle and I will, without question, reciprocate. There will be afternoons where we'll rub growing bellies and find humor in the bellybutton poking out.We will love one another's children as if they are our own. We will kiss them and hold them and love them and celebrate them.  We will celebrate.

There will be days where we look into the eyes of these God sent woman and say I can't do it. I will hold them with no intention of letting go. Only then, when they find the strength within themselves to keep going, I will unwrap my arms but never will I let go of their hand. I wish I could say that we will never have days or weeks or even months where we feel that monkey jumping on our back. The weight on our shoulders that is too heavy to carry alone. Times where we feel like we just can't. At 20-something-years-old, there will be those times. The sun will rise again and we will celebrate. Celebrate another victory; an obstacle overcome.

We will celebrate with pink drinks in fancy glasses, high heels and the unspoken admiration for one another.

We will celebrate.