I.  Being Kind

It nice having a variety of blogs to follow.  Since joining Twitter and About Me, I have had a plethora of opportunities to meet new individuals, in person or through the ether, but learning about who they are and what they are about.  I enjoy reading their perceptions and picking up on their unique voices.  Those who do, write.  They express themselves in their own fashion and highlight their styles.  Ms. Rojas’ blog, Everybody Loves You, has a new post entitled Be Kind to Yourself.  It’s an anecdotal to-the-point post, and it’s a great reminder of the little things that we may overlook when it comes to taking care of ourselves properly. 

There are so many little necessities that we ignore on purpose or on accident.  They are meaningless when you first think about them, and can easily be postponed for a later time.  It’s the little things that should be habitually involuntary–like putting on your seat belt, these should just simply happen–that we have tendencies to shrug off. 

For instance, she mentions flossing.  Luckily, I am not sure how, this has become a necessity for me; I want to floss for some odd reason.  It’s my favorite part of the teeth manicuring process.

I can go on, but please check out the blog/post at the link above.  Read.  Follow.  Enjoy.

It has been an interesting few days.  Life has been busy as usual, writing and working has been consuming the majority of my time, and improv is always on the back of my mind.  There have been steps taken for a healthier outlook.  I have been eating better and healthier, running more frequently and farther, and starting to work out a bit more. 

In the grocery store, I frequent the health food section more often than not.  I pass on the Oreos and opt for Kashi oatmeal cookies with the dark chocolate chips in them. A craving for something unhealthy may rise, but the option for hummus triumphs instead. I look for locally-produced/grown products when they are available.  Produce of the United States is purchased 95 percent of the time.

I still cannot pass up on my peanut M&Ms.

Questions have been asked and statements have been thought, pertaining to the taking proper care of oneself.  It’s not questioning on if these steps are correct–they are known to be correct–but the concern lies in overdoing them.  For instance:

My mother tells me I need to eat more, but the smaller meals at family dinners yield more leftovers to space out through the week.  Unfortunately, my mother’s food is beyond delicious, and it’s often hard not to sneak in a few more bites after the seconds are finished.  However, this is a once-a-week ordeal, which happens on Sundays.  The meal is usually followed by a run. 

Time is needed to be bided properly before The Walking Dead or The Killing episodes come on. 

It’s reassuring to take a look at these list of accomplishments when they are simple aspects to daily life.  Distractions to get the best of us, however, as stated.  It’s best to take a few minutes out of the day to recognize these aspects; it will only reassure you, keeping you in the right direction. 

Wait.

I was looking at notebooks.  I know:  go figure, right?   

Empty notebooks sit on the bookshelf, and a personal vow has been made to write in them this year.  Trips to Chicago and New Orleans are in the planning.  New York and Scranton are going to happen come Hell or high water.  The desire to explore bubbles in my blood, traveling throughout my body, creating such an itch beneath my skin to drive a madman sane.  Yes, cliche.  I just received a new one for my birthday, Pagan symbol and all, from my good friend and improv troupe member, Emily.  This, along with another notebook that I have contain the soft, recycled paper.  Just seeing and touching the paper makes one not want to write in it. 

With notebooks like those, making every word count is important.  The notebooks–of such caliber–are more than just sketchbooks.  The lined Moleskine notebooks are one thing.  Yes, the generic looking books range in sizes, and they can withstand any type of shifting or physical abuse.  These books, I tell ya, you pick ’em up only to put them down.  You want to know the perfect time and place for them, which obviously have not occurred.  You want to scribble observations, and the thoughts popping into your head. 

But you want the words to count.  You want the pen to write flawlessly.

I keep a notebook on my trips, and–to my belief–these blank books are not good enough for New Orleans or Chicago.  However, this is too early to tell.  A new park bench has yet to be found.  Environments have yet to be described.  Teardrops, coffee trips, and food have yet to stain and enlighten the sleeves.  Couples and individuals have to be applauded and kept on record, acting in their raw prime, because photos will not do the justice that words capture.

The pursuit to find a new pen has begun.  My first test was a Uni-Ball fine tip pen.  It worked really well; so, I may be consistent wit the first-time-is-a-charm.

However, the glorified discovery was a picture of myself and my ex tucked between the pages somewhere in between.  She had bought the green notebook for me, so my doing so–the placing of the photograph in the book how many months ago it could have been–is justified on many levels; not only was it placed because of the sense of a gift, but there was a method to my madness–this picture did remind me of the one that I had loved as well as put her on a pedestal as a muse, generating hopeful thoughts to put down upon the pages. 

Although, my writing was never really encouraged with her and the interest in her reading was never there, it was ironic that I had done so.  Inspiration does generate through outlandish frustration. 

This caused me to revisit the memory box, which has not moved and its contents not removed or destroyed.  Two years piled up fast.  Time does fly when you have fun. 

No regrets.

Easter was a blast.  I invited a few friends over for dinner, because their families live out of town, and my mom–if you know her–insists on accommodating others.  It’s how she rolls.  However, games were played, spirits were consumed, and great times were had by all.

Until… The Walking Dead season finale, but that’s a whole other story.

I stayed at my parent’s house that night, because I was just too exhausted.  The getting up at the ass crack of dawn to attend Sunrise Mass did me in that day.  I know I shouldn’t use ass crack and mass in the same sentence… but, hey. 

Sitting in my old bedroom with my legs deep in the covers, my yearbooks are within an arm’s reach beneath the nightstand.  It’s was a blast flipping through pages and reading the signatures/comments written years ago.  The pencil marks have not faded.  The old inside jokes still make sense.  Some of our penmanship in high school showed that our writing had not changed since elementary school. 

We–as a whole, my West Genesee alumni–have not changed. 

We have changed in the sense we are constantly growing up.  However, from those who I have seen within the last few years, we still look the same.  That’s a good thing. 

My SUNY Oneonta photo album sits with the yearbooks.  All the memories, the people, the activities still shine in the photographs.  The personal struggles, the stress, and the arguments still live as well.  The latter list does not contain bad elements–speed bumps are what they are.

And then there are several social media outlets, which make keeping up with everyone much easier. 

We do want to go about our lives at our own pace and through our own style.  However, some higher power or whatever you want to call it does intervene, distracting us for the better and sometimes for the worse.  It’s easy to adhere and give into what the universe wants to show us.  We just want to look away.

Whether the choice is made to keep going your own way or not, the decision of free will is granted.  Either route is a a path to an adventure.  Perhaps listening to the universe a bit more is a good thing, no matter how crazy or terrifying or uncomfortably too-good-to-be-true relaxing the stretches that one comes across may be.  The new path probably will lead to genuinely worthwhile learning experiences, yielding fun.