bright pink balloon

Just now I closed my eyes and imagined the happiest most exhilarating object. I imagined a bright pink balloon, the joy I felt when I was a child and I got one of these after an auspicious event. I wanted to remember that jolt of happiness I felt because I have lately been in the trap of putting myself in a closed confined space in my mind. Sadness has washed away the memories of bright pink balloons. Instead of feeling instantaneous, unadulterated whee! I now see a wall of black, and every time I try to get past it I am reminded of its presence, looming over me like the great impossible.

I am still in transition. I am forming new relationships with friends, continuing to push through a new workout program, starting a new job, applying to graduate school this fall, learning so many "news." I'm finally taking the responsibility to become the person I have always wanted to be but felt too lazy, too scared, or too overwhelmed to become. I never had a good reason to start becoming before, but now I have no other choice. I must become the best version of me right now. Every day. With every breath I take and every choice I make I will become her, the person who smiles through her struggles and tries again, over and over, until persistence yield optimum results.

I like this Taylor Swift song right now. I relate to the lyrics, and I believe in them.

If you are in my life, I love you, and I can't wait for you to see the real me.

Love,
Saira

shameless shame

Night times are hard. I think about everything in my life I'm dissatisfied with and fixate. I've found a solution, though. I play a host of embarrassingly dorky songs and listen to my heart's content. You've probably heard Gangnam Style. Well, it's making me laugh and smile and be really happy right now. Before this I checked out Taylor Swift's new album. Some of the songs are rather catchy. As much as I'm embarrassed by these choices, I'm really not. They make me giddy, and I am learning that I don't need to apologize for what brings me joy. And joy is exactly what I need right now. Other than my own issues I'm dealing with, I have this horrible dinosaur cough from hell. I've been hacking and nearly vomiting from the exertion almost all day. I hope I get abs of steel after all these shenanigans.

I want to add a special thank you to the people in my life right now. Even those who are hanging on by a spider web thread. You mean the world to me, and right now you are giving my life meaning and validity.

Love,
Saira

a frenzied fall

Hello Beautiful World! Did you miss me? I'm happy to return to the land of the blogs after a super extended leave of absence. Since I've been away I have accomplished muchos with my life and then tore away parts of it and stepped back to examine what hid in the crevices. I've met amazing people with amazing stories. I've listened to friends cry and babies squeal in delight. I've become more family-centered, more balanced, and more loving of myself as a unique and special person. I started my non-traditional teaching track, and I eagerly await this summer when I start applying for open positions in junior high and high school English classrooms. As joyous as this past year has been it's also been painful and incredibly personal. I felt myself slip from God's Grasp, though I discovered God never left me. Some nights I lay in bed sobbing, wondering what would become of me and my life; was the journey over? In moments of desolation and hardship I found a maternal comfort in silence, and I felt nothing in particular stroke my back and smooth down my disheveled hair. I am strong and I am beautiful in my vulnerability. I honestly have never felt so accepting in my life!

What lies ahead is yet to be uncovered each day. I can only pray a prayer of gratitude and continue walking straight ahead calmly and surely.

It's good to be back.

The Flying Snail

As I once said, "I am a snail on a highway," I now believe I am the snail's much slower cousin with a bad case of The Humdrums. The Humdrums is a chronic condition that makes a snail believe it is much slower than it actually is, hence the place on the hypothetical highway, so to speak.

I have had a productive week and I got to see the Foo Fighters in concert, which was a colorful highlight of the week. A streak across a foggy window. I do have The Humdrums, remember? :-)

All right, all right. This needs further explanation. Lately I've been looking at a pond as if it's a ocean and flapping my fins miserably when I reach the shore no matter in which direction I swim. I have a humongous, fantastic, wildly imaginative dream that sometimes takes up as much of my brain as I can use. I squeeze my eyes really tight and click my bare feet together three times and whisper, "Please someday come true."

How does it come true, though? How do I graduate from a pond to an ocean? When do my fins morph into wings so I can set sail across the world and find my ocean?

I swim in my despair. In my dreams I fly.

One day at a time, hour by hour I work and I wait. And I pray.

What a funny looking snail I must be. Snaily discharge to travel to fins to wings. Maybe all at once.

something different

Longing for anything other than what I hear. I'm not upset. I'm not rejoicing. I'm troubled. I pray that peace is on your mind. And his mind. And her mind. I hope that we can learn that one death does not history change or make. Life continues as before until the leaves fall and the new trees grow where their parents fell.

musings

I am writing a book. So I'm listening to 80s cult classic heavy pop music to get me in the mood. It's interesting because I didn't go to junior high in the 80s, yet the music is where I draw some of my inspiration. My protagonist is in junior high and she's based somewhatish on yours truly. A little daunted by this undertaking, because it's my first full attempt at a YA novel. I figure that this summer, should I go summer jobless, I'll devote much of my time to novel composing. And 80s music. Lots of the 80s up in hur.

The move to the married people house is done in small doses. I grabbed a section of hangers, some with clothes still hanging for dear life, from my closet and shoved the armful in my passenger car seat. Another drive back and forth. I did get to watch The King's Speech at my parents' house though. thunder. <--That's what I just heard. I have headphones on, the TV on, yet the thunder still creeps into conversation. I like using creeps as a verb. It's less offensive than the noun form.

I may get to spend some of the night in the company of a good friend. Once I got married my time was spent more in more staring at the walls of my new house wondering where I was going to start--unpacking or cleaning? Cooking or laundry? So, it's nice to get to stroll about the town in the evening and leave those concerns for another day.

Always something there to remind me.

Random tip: Let your husband sleep on the couch when he wants to. It's one heckofuva couch.

One of THOSE Days

When I woke up this morning I didn't look any different. In fact, I walked in the bathroom and looked in the mirror just to see. Nope, still the same remnants of mascara and small team of pimples scattered randomly on my cheeks, as if someone spread them out as if to take over my face, slowly and stealthily. What I felt was different than what I saw. I felt a crash of the waves in my stomach against a distant shore.

I picked up the phone and dialed a business, in search of summer employment. Happily distracted with good news, I shimmied into clothes that created confidence and carefully drew on gold eyeliner that sounds scarier than it looks. I marched out the door in Jessica Simpson red suede heels that would later draw an "I like her shoes," from a passerby in a parking lot. I arrived at my destination and later left the building with my shoulders slightly slumped; I just filled out an application. No impromptu interview.

With the ominous start to my day, yet perhaps I dramatize, I should not be surprised that many things I saw that day upset me. Why could I not be like so and so? When would it be my turn to do such and such? Whatever I saw became a cause for bouts of anxiety and a lowering of my self-esteem. Had I forgotten my ability to light up a room, at least my rooms at both my house and my parents' house, with my loud laughter? What about the girl who throws words across a computer screen with the quick action of her finger tips along the keyboard? qwerty squared. My skills were long past my recollection. All I cared for was an ugly sort of sulkage.

Yes, I suppose I still sit sulking, slumped over in bed, typing this little account. I suppose my spirits are only slightly lifted. But my chin lifts when I think of the papers to grade and the pictures I will soon take. I am an educator. I am a photographer. I am talented, though the world has yet to see my full value.

I am a snail on a highway.