The one thing that bugs me about keeping a blog is all the navelgazing.
I know, that’s the point of keeping a personal blog, right? Document, revisit, evaluate, move life forward, remember the past, appreciate the moments worth writing about. It’s a beautiful thing, really.
But this whole introspection thing…I’m over it.
I’m doing NaBloPoMo again, which means I post every day. So I asked my husband what I should write about today. He showed me a video of a guy talking about living your dream life, voiced over images of people climbing mountains and big trees.
In a vacuum, it would have inspired me to go out and try bullfighting or something.
But as it were, I’d seen a million videos like it and read a million blog posts and quotes and even books – meant to challenge you to follow your passion. Meant to inspire you to go forth and make your mark. Maybe I’m feeling overfed with the follow-your-passion hype because that happens to be what one finds among the outlets I’m choosing to consume.
I don’t know what else to say – I’m just over that stuff.
I think it frustrates me because I don’t need to strap into a harness and climb a big tree.
I’m fine with the mundane.
Don’t get me wrong, I like the exciting things, too. We had family visiting this past weekend who watched the kids so that we could go out for New Year’s Eve. We went to a fancy-pants restaurant. Good food, quiet time without having to be responsible for anyone…it was a much-needed night out, and wonderful.
But I take times like those as what they are. They are special. They are treats. If I had quiet, fancy meals every day, I would come to expect them and I would no longer appreciate them.
I think the key to life is to recognize the highlights for what they are, and to be able to relish in the day-to-day.
Memories of “special” days are automatic. But you have to make memories of the things that happen in between the special days.
I’m talking about the little things – those microscopic moments – the little blips that you blink and miss.
Like when my daughter brings my husband’s shoes to him every time she sees him putting on his coat. She’s one and she’s taking care of her old man already. And it’s adorable. It costs nothing, it happens every day, and there’s no adrenaline.
And it’s something we’ll remember fondly, forever.
I like turning my son’s socks around after I find that the heel seam is on the top of his foot. I like when my little girl asks me to sing the ABC song, because it’s the only one she can request by name with her limited language.
I hate laundry. But there are mothers out there deployed overseas, and someone else is scrubbing that marinara stain out of her daughter’s new white shirt. I’ll do everything else under the sun before laundry time, but still, I’ll take the laundry. Sometimes, I’ll even remind myself that I am capable of enjoying folding, and I can shift my mind to make myself enjoy it.
But that’s not automatic. Like I said, I have to remind myself.
Maybe I’m just boring. But I’ve run from a bear before. I don’t particularly like the life-on-a-string feeling. You can keep your adrenaline. I’ll take my laundry.
Ugh, there I go navelgazing again. That’s quite enough of this post.
I’m so annoying.
I really have run from a bear before. Maybe that’s tomorrow’s post…