SO MUCH LAUNDRY
SO MUCH LAUNDRY
I wonder what life was like for 25 year-old women back in the 30′s, 50′s 60′s or even early 90′s. I imagine it was much different. More domesticity before the 50′s. More pies and home-cooked meals. Less tattoos. Then things shifted. Somewhere. And those women would have to look really hard to find similarities to today. Things go so fast now; cars, microwaves, jobs, relationships, happiness of any kind, communication…..Life.
I wonder what romance and dating was like. My Gran told me that when her and my Bapa were dating, they dated 2 months and got married. They were like, 21. On the other side of the family, my Grandma married my Grandpa when she was 16. They are still together. They didn’t have Facebook or cell phones. They didn’t have working toilets until my mom was older….I mean, things were different then.
And I can’t help but wonder, if they had something right. Taking their time when it mattered, and not just giving up if things got tough. Sure they married young, but they had huge families too. Nothing was perfect, but you never heard of half the crap we do now, about baby mamas or kids drinking Mountain Dew from a bottle. Families were dysfunctional and messy. But they managed. Fashion and technology were not as important as today’s kids make them out to be-I mean look at me, trying to live off of blogging about my own pathetic life. Years ago women would just live their lives not write about it so publicly.
That’s another thing, I guess. In that I am not afraid to be so open here. I am not worried. Because I am being honest. I once took a Media Theory class in college that stated we are not our true selves on places like Facebook or Twitter, we are who we want others to see. But this is different, this is MY PERSONAL BLOG. MINE. ME. I am snarky and mean on Twitter, I am barely ever on Facebook, unless I am promoting rhaimi. I enjoy letting people see my thoughts, and share my life, because I truly feel as though if it reaches enough people-people with anxiety or who are lost or lonely, and something I say resonates with them, I am helping in a way. I am showing others they are not alone. That people just as flawed or depressed or small are out there, just like them. I am not afraid to show my weaknesses, or fears. I don’t wear them like a badge or anything, but if I am honest, I am helping.
It’s okay to not have it figured out, times are different. This is something I am working on, daily. Women my age are busy with careers, kids or traveling, enjoying life. Speaking up about it. Relationships are fast, and hard. Messy and sometimes painful. But that’s how it’s been since the beginning of time. Looking back, the only thing that’s changed is us…and technology…We’re all tender and fragile in some small way. We’ve all been loved, felt lost or betrayed, we’ve all been scared or happy. Basically, we’re the same. Just a faster generation so eager to grow up. For what, I may never know, but it’s okay.
Life is the most uncertain thing I’ve ever imagined. And there are always questions to be pondered.
When my anxiety is really bad, my hands shake uncontrollably and I get self conscious.
I was shaking in the grocery store and dropped 3 boxes of, ironically, Shake N Bake. The lady across the isle looked at me like I was a lost cause.
But I smiled and got myself a York Peppermint Patty. Which is quite yummy. And I am safe at home, with Tucker and my books.
I have ads on this website for a reason. I haven’t reached the payment minimum of 100 dollars, as in not enough clicks, so I am still not making any money here on rhaimi. In time I have faith there will be enough clicks, but it’s just not happening yet.
Today feels like a bust. I’m just looking for some silver lining.
Conversations held in the dark are so much more than us. More than the air and dim lighting, more than the spaces between. They are heavier with emotion and feeling. They are just simply more.
Tucker had to go out at 11:30 last night, and it was so humid, I could feel the weight of the fog hugging us. It was utterly quiet and miserable, scary. I felt so small.
And sleep didn’t come easy. I had terrible nightmares and fitful moments of peace. Every noise woke me up and those trains. Those god forsaken trains with the horns and the wheels grinding.
I woke up feeling alright though, feeling brighter, more. I woke up feeling ready for today, despite the lack of sleep I am excited. My birthday is this Friday, and I am not worried about it anymore. I have so much to do this week, but I’ll do it with a smile. I am looking forward to writing, and ice cream. I am looking forward to conversations with friends and photographs, picnics and as the summer fades, I am truly looking for when the are gets crisp, and the leaves turn, I am excited for the fall. It’s my absolute favorite. Always.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ve used the same blog titles over like second hand stores….
I’m moving on. I can’t dwell on regret and mistakes. What I need to do is use that emotion constructively. Creatively.
After all, I can’t be starting my 25th year off in a slump. This Friday, my birthday, I shall eat ice cream like I did when I was 5. With pleasure and happiness. I may even get it in my hair with excitement. Okay, probably not, I’ll be an adult, but you know what I mean. Zeal. I shall have that sprinkled on top.
I shouldn’t spend anymore time wallowing on things that already happened. I move on. Keep going. Smile. Write. Laugh. Drink tea and let it go. Because there’s so much more to look forward to.
Yes, I like this theme much better.
Sometimes I want very much to have an old fashioned pen pal. With stamps and faded letters and everything.
It’s a quiet Sunday, save for the train rumbling by. The bugs and birds are chirping and humming and there’s a sweet breeze. I’m drinking tea and ambling around on Tumblr. So many beautiful photos to scroll through and beautiful followers there. With fragile lives, and tattoos, with kids or not, so many from Australia and LA or Portland or who knows where. So many “friends.” I wish I had followers like that here. C’est la vie.
I’m slowly working on more of my novel. It’s fun because it’s coming along in bits and pieces, like a puzzle. Sometimes I really like what I write, and then reread it and hate it, so I toss that and start over. Slow. Taking my time. Getting it right.
I had a dream last night that everything I got close to, fell apart. A water park slide, a car, relationships, and that water slide again. Who knows what that all means, but it doesn’t sound good.
Sometimes I wish my life were different. Someplace else. With different people. Sometimes I wish I was more brave or prettier. I wish I was more extroverted or able to say the things I have inside to the people I want to say them to. Kind and lovely things that I’m too chicken to get out. Stupid.
But this is what I have. These cards. This life. And maybe it’ll change. Or I’ll change. Maybe I’ll try to be more. But then I wonder, isn’t me just as I am good enough? Even though I never feel good enough for anything or anyone.
Whatever. If you’re reading this, just know, I care for you. And I thank you for reading my silly rants. It means a lot to me.