With Great Courage…

12545398_1091554427544235_645378415_n
via @pegandawl

No, no, it’s not a “Spiderman” post. That phrase is just the first thing that came crossed my slightly nerdy mind.

Lately, my battles have been fought making sure all my bases were covered in case of staggering losses. It’s who I am, how I was raised: pay your bills, save a chunk, then be happy with what’s left. Nothing wrong with that – unless it stresses you so much that you can’t actually be happy with what you’ve got left.

I’m completely spoiled by living on my own. There’s just me.

It’s nice…

Very nice.

The challenges come when I find myself anxious to do something extraordinary. Sometimes it’s buying an overpriced concert ticket, then spending all the gas and half the day driving to the grounds, then splurging on garlic fries and t-shirts. Sometimes it’s buying the latest iPhone, or treating myself with a new instrument, or flying to Texas for an outrageous music festival, or picking up the latest Fossil watch. And I’m guilty! A lot of this is material.

Moving across the country? That’s an experience, so many new places, new people, new music, new food! This has been the source of my anxiety. While I find myself too careful, clingy to my community, attached to family, comfortable in what I’ve made for myself these two years in California, Jean-Paul Sartre couldn’t have said it better.

Each day, we are given new life, in order that we might live abundantly. We are given too many good things to enjoy. I personally believe that an abundant life is valuable enough to risk it, “once in a while”.

Short-Leashed

FullSizeRender

There are countless roses to stop and smell. Each day is a new rose garden, every happening a new rose.

Roses have never really been my favorite. Before you catch your breath, let me clarify: I am woman (if you’re around long enough, I will roar), and I DO very much love a good rose from a good man. What I mean to say is that I’ve always been more partial to wildflowers. Wildflowers are exactly that – wild. They can grow and flourish anywhere.

My little dog, Blu, like me, tends to be a lot more like a wildflower than a rose. Blu always anxiously anticipates what’s up the road, just ahead. The Mister and I like to hike on days off or walk the neighborhood in the late afternoon while the sun goes down, and taking Blu along usually proves to be quite the endeavor. She hasn’t exactly learned to “heel,” and to be frank, I’m not sure I have a problem with that. Blu tugs on her leash wanting to see what’s next, smell what’s ahead, arrive at wherever it is we seem to be going…. Unless she’s short-leashed, Blu remains six feet ahead of us at all times.

I have a mile-long bucketlist. It makes me instinctively tug at my leash. Living in California these last two years has widened my horizons, and while I have lived, really lived happily, I’m anxious for what’s next.

Here’s to enjoying the wildflowers wherever they may bloom.

Nearly 24 Years Have Passed.

Nobody is quite “old”, until they are quite dead.

Leaving home for the first time really teaches a person a thing or two about appreciation for surroundings, whether it’s the people, family, and friends around you, or cash flow and job opportunities available to you, or most importantly, the music and art scenes alive and waiting for you. Coming from Texas into California, I have experienced a livelihood very different from what I was raised in (as I’m sure can be said of nearly every Texas-California transplant).

It’s been two lovely years, and my only regret is that I didn’t actively catalog where my feet have traversed, what my ears have heard, what my eyes have beheld, what my fork has lifted, where my thoughts have perused… As I am sitting here contemplating the fact that 8,645 days have been lived by yours truly, I am thinking about how many new things I will possibly be able to accomplish in the next 8,645 days. I believe wholeheartedly that I have experienced more in the last two years of my life than I have in the entire 23.67 years of my existence.

Thus begins the pattern of my existence. The Waverly that comes with every new Dawn.