slow progress

So i am in the midst of painting my room.  I have been in the midst of painting my room since approximately the end of May.  I wish i could say i was surprised it was taking this long.  Not only am I working with 2 extremely detail-oriented OCD parents, but I myself (As I discussed in my past post) am not exactly a "go-getter".  So I am happy to report that with one more coat of paint on the doorways and windows, my room will be complete...at least the painting part of it.  But still, as I sit in my incredibly hot, unfinished space, staring at a table of paint brushes, electric sanders, and extension cords in the middle of my room, I am once again discouraged at how long things seem to take.  (hint: now is the point where I take an everyday life issue and make it all "life lesson-y"...how annoying.

I was recently talking to a friend who I haven't seen in a while.  We haven't had a real heart-to-heart in about 4 years.  She happened to ask me about a particular friendship with which i was struggling four years ago.   This is when I realized, that while we always complain that life moves too fast, sometimes things actually move slower than we would like--much slower.  As I sat there, facing a friend who cares deeply about my life, I realized that my relationship with this particular friend we were discussing has gone absolutely nowhere.  Sure, we have seen each other through 4 more years.  We have had our ups and downs.  But ultimately.  no where.  It kind of reminds me of that Antique Car ride at Hershey Park.  You feel like you are driving.  You are pumped about the "open road" ahead of you.  But you just keep on passing the same cheesy signs and terribly-dressed employees.  Our relationships has passed the same obstacles over and over again.  How freaking frustrating.  (now is the part where I tie it all together)

My motto lately has been "it is what it is"...In an effort to ground myself and look at things for what they really are, I adopted this motto to always remember that (once again) I cannot dream unless I am anchored in reality.  If I don't acknowledge what something is or has been, then I can't acknowledge the growth that has taken place.  So.  I remember my painted room.  And how much I treasure my dad's obsessive painting habits.  And how much time and effort he put into each stroke of the paint on my walls.  And I remember my friendships, and how much time and effort we put into our relationships with other people. I am learning to enjoy the process.  To be actively present in the moments of construction and chaos, and yes...to be present even in the moments of nothing--of completely and utter stand-still.  

This doesn't mean I want my room (or my friendship) to stay like this forever.  My bedside table is a turned-over laundry basket for goodness sake!