Houston is Charming

I have already expressed my love for my pet turtle, Dallas.

But this is different. Here is Houston, my sister’s adorable turtle. He was actually found on a playground when we were in elementary school by a little boy with the last name Houston. At that time, he was about the size of a quarter and could turn circles in the bottom of those little fruit cups that elementary schools like to use to serve kids “healthiness” at lunch.

I had a wonderful mother that allowed us to keep him.

My sister inherited him when she moved off to college, and now that she lives back up by me, I get to hang out with Houston again. I hate to admit this, but he is so much more personable than Dallas. Houston will come to you. He likes to be pet. Dallas is a grumpy fellow who likes to be fed and swim… and that is about it.

Isn’t he charming?

 

Silly Girl

If you ask me, people take fashion way to seriously. So here is me, just having some fun rocking out today. And now that neon colours are in, expect to see me coming from miles away everyday. (That may or may not be an exaggeration of truth.) So I dare ya’ll, take a jab at some fun colours or an outfit you normally wouldn’t wear. It’s not like you are going to die because of a fashion mistake or anything.

[Top: Target 

Jeans: DKNY

Sunglasses: from Mom? Found in our dress up clothes box last time I was home.

Shoes: Candies]

 

A Reminder

Welcome to springtime, love. The warm sunshine misses you, and will continue to miss you as you march right on through antineoplastic agents, leukemias, and lymphomas. A gentle reminder to take time to smell the flowers. And a reminder that it is not the end of the world to miss the bus once because you stopped to take pictures of the flowers. Lovely life.

 

Stealing Ideas and Fears

While surfing around the lovely land of WordPress, I recently ran across an interesting post on a wonderful young lady’s blog that I loved. After mulling over it about a week, I think I have finally decided I can do this.

To just steal the quote right off Miss Docimo’s page, this “is a blog-writing challenge to break through the mist of this shiny happy pretty blogosphere and tell the real truth about your life—the things you’re afraid to tell because you think they might shatter who people think you are. I have talked about this idea often with my husband—I think the internet is a blessing and a curse—it is amazing to be able to connect with people from all over the world and inspire each other, but it can also be down-right depressing to go around to one blog after another that makes the blogger seem like they have everything all together, and success is literally raining down upon them while they take bubble baths and drink champagne in a beautiful beachfront home. Even though I realize that people are representing only part of the truth (I’m a blogger myself and tend to focus on inspiration), I often find myself feeling depressed and jealous as I make my blog rounds, and tend to avoid reading blogs when I’m in a certain mood.”

1. I’m terribly afraid of growing vain. I would much prefer struggling with insecurity issues than be blinded of my over-confidence issues. On the same note, I’m not comfortable with my body size and shape, with how thin my hair is, with my fingernails, with my lingering acne, with my hunchback, with the stank of my feet, with my awkward incoordination, and with me in general.

2. I’m afraid of people really getting to know all of me. I have no idea why I don’t like anyone knowing everything about me, but I feel it may have something to do with vulnerability.

3. I’m afraid of being held responsible for other people’s lives in my future. I think this is for obvious reasons, though.

4. I’m afraid if I tell you that I don’t have many fears, you will think I don’t care. That you will think my lack of fear of dying means I don’t understand the meaning of life. That you will think I don’t feel anything when I tell you I’m not afraid of heartbreak. That you will think I am stupid for not being afraid of heights, spiders, snakes, rats, etc. That you will think my lack of fear of failure means I haven’t ever failed. That you will think I’m fearless, when in all reality I’m not.

5. I’m more scared of meeting my significant other’s parents than sky diving. Don’t translate this as me rather jumping out of a plane than meeting his parents. It’s a little bit different than that.

6. I’m terrified of having children.

7. I’m afraid to tell you I have this drafted since Tuesday and just haven’t been able to push the publish button until today.

 

Running in Circles

Here I am, full circle back to you. My bags packed, I left you. Reluctantly at first, but then I felt free to run. So I ran. I ran and I danced. I didn’t dance with you because, even though you knew you couldn’t dance and only kind of liked to dance, I didn’t like when you flailed about so helplessly. I’m not helpless, and I never was. I told you that. That is maybe why it was so easy to walk away. I found out that you walk a smaller circle than me. You made it back to remind me that I once said “I love you.” I reminded you that you once said you loved me, and at the same time reminded myself that was then. This is now. And now you tell me you still love me and you were stupid to let me go. I didn’t want to tell you, but I did anyway. I was walking in line with another, someone who was able dance. He made me smile like you made me smile. I sent you walking away, bags packed, out on another path. It took me too long to realize that his path wasn’t right. I found out he was good at focusing on us, our happiness, our dancing, our mirror lined tunnel. When I see light at the end of a tunnel, I think sun. Life has told me there will be sun at the end of a tunnel, so I ran and danced on, forward through his tunnel. One day, I heard a rumor there was no light. She told me she was in the tunnel, too, and there was no light at all. I didn’t believe it, so I looked hard. I looked so hard I saw there was no light. The light shone in from the opening of the tunnel, the path I came from. The path from you. I ran back, panicked, to see if you were still standing at the opening. And not surprisingly, you walked away. Now again, I felt free to run. I didn’t run quite so fast this time, being careful that I didn’t fall or disrupt someone else’s track. I’ve been running for a long time, and I feel like I’m getting tired. And here I am, full circle back to you. Have you come back around, too? And now its me telling you I still love you and I was stupid to let you go, even if you can’t dance.