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!  

Want and have

    This post went from a self-reflection to a bit of a sermon and then back again.  That will happen. I told you I'm writing my thoughts as they come. beach banner, remember?  I'm also distracted by the attractive barista behind the counter in front of me.

     What is it about small, locally owned coffee shops that makes me feel  this particular way.  It's really quite hard to explain the feeling.  I almost feel like a different, less inhibited version of myself.  It's like I'm who I want to be.  I remember at school I would sit at the Gryphon (before I was driven out by hipsters and people that are way cooler than me) and I would dream of a life where I got all my work done on time, and where I was self-motivated, listened only to Iron and Wine and Ani Difranco, became a vegetarian, did yoga everyday, let my hair just go insanely curly like it wanted to, and where everything worked out perfectly.  And then I realized, once again, these daydreams of mine all had their deep, penetrating roots in one of my truest faults.  I lack self-control.  Now I don't mean I have uncontrollable rage or can't stop myself from doing things I don't want to do.  My issue isn't severe or urgent.  I'm not going to go spend thousands of dollars on shoes or something.  It's more like a subtle undertone in everything I do.  Notice the things I dream about in my coffee shop daydreams.  I dream about being a self-disciplined person. Sure I can physically do yoga--in fact, I enjoy it.  But after one morning of doing it, I get bored, uninspired, and cranky with the idea of sticking with it.  What is it within me that has to keep moving?  Is it insecurity, is it lack of focus, is it the deep belief within myself that i really never will finish something I started?  Am i simply giving up?
      I remember last summer, I got the idea to make a quilt.  It was brilliant.  I can cut, I can sew, I can do it all (thanks to my brilliantly talented) home-economist mother).  And you know what--I was committed.  I cut all those dang squares and, wouldn't ya know it, I sewed them all together.  I finished something.  Just based on the fact that I am telling you about it now clearly means that it not only sticks out in my mind as a huge accomplishment, but that quilt also proved something to myself.  That with some determination and focus and a genuine will to start, finish, and enjoy something, I can do anything.
    As I sit here, sipping my vanilla latte (that is so strong it is likely to keep me up until Monday), I finally realize why places like this hit me in my very core and soul with this intense punch of reality and  also of my dream world.  Aside from my real desire to own a similar coffee shop with my mom, it is within places like this that I see the true meaning of community and a vision of what I want my life to look like.  People are talking, music is playing, coffee is brewing.  There is sharing of stories, pastries, laughs, looks, and life. I long to be a part of this, even just as a witness if not a participant.  This is community.  This is church.  Time spent dreaming has to be balanced out with time spend in the real and the now.  Without an intricate combination of both, we are simply get lost.  Me dreaming about the person I want to be means nothing without me acknowledging the person that I am.  So what if I only do yoga when I feel like it?  So what if one day I eat only hummus and bran muffins and the next day I eat a cheese steak?  What's it to you?  I'm not hurting anyone.  I am a combination of flake and realist.  It is what it is. I keep things interesting.  Though I will always be genuinely "Adelaide" (Lord knows I can't deny my personality), you will most likely be meeting a different version of myself every day.  I kind of like that.  If we aren't changing and growing, we are dying.  I'm living.   This is the life I want.  This is the life I have. 

First impression.

There is always a constant chain of thoughts running through my head.  It's kind of like those banners that they fly from low-flying airplanes at over-populated beaches, except my banner just keeps going and going.  This blog, in my mind, is my attempt at writing down some of those thoughts.  This is certainly not because I think that highly of myself that I think you all are waiting for me to post my little thoughts, but simply because I, being an extremely nosey extrovert, will take any opportunity to read other people's thoughts and feelings.  And, since I'm drawing heavily from the well of "blog people-watching", I figure I better pour some back in-- you know--so people can snoop on me the way I snoop on them.  Thus, my own personal blog.  I really am not quite sure what this blog will be.  I do, however, have strong opinions on what this blog will not be.  This will not be a place where I write every. single. thing. I. do. every. darn. day.  Nothing is worse than reading a blog about someone eating three (boring) square meals a day, dusting their living room, and giving their cat a bath.  That's not why we're here.   Please assume I am always going about my normal life.  If I have a fabulous dinner, funny story, epiphany, or life changing moment, I'll let you know.