Someone please remind me to invest in a tablet so that the next time I'm in bed, dying of post-wisdom-teeth-extraction pain and movies with Sisqo on Netflix, I'll be able to blog on something bigger than my phone.
Having a bit of trouble writing lately; it seems like I can only focus on one thing and that one thing is totally unrelated to these pictures from home.
I have a feeling that good things are comin'.
Not that they haven't been already, you know.
Today I feel thankful for a dentist who's 4 blocks away (a man who switched around his schedule and stayed late last night to help me, AND texted me today to see how I was doing), a pharmacy that's 2 blocks away, and a grocery store across the street for all my soft-food needs (how much soup and yogurt and applesauce can a girl eat before she goes apeshit and eats 500 bagels?!?! ABOUT TO FIND OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS!). I feel thankful for people that text me and distract me and I feel thankful for kitties that perch on top of me and purr when I don't feel well. I feel reeeeeally thankful for a comfy bed and a million episodes of Doctor Who to catch up on. But I feel the MOST thankful that they decided to pull teeth on a Friday night so I don't have to miss 2 days of work, cause lemme tell you, I am so content with not doing a damn thing for the rest of the weekend.
Franklinville was nice. My parents gave good hugs, the lasagna was tasty, lots of laughs were had over the phrase "ball gobbler," etc etc. I spent some time wandering in the woods, but not enough. I had one beautiful 40 degree day to explore and the rest were just too cold for me (Franklinville had a high of 1 on Friday, HAHA). I got a new tattoo while I was there too.
A few days ago I read something on Tumblr that said, "listen the secret to pulling anything off—be it red lipstick or shaving half your head or wearing something ridiculous—is to literally just fucking do the thing and immediately adopt an attitude of giving no fucks, even if you have to fake it" and I laughed because I had just had a rare moment about an hour before that where my brain went, "YOU HAVE TOO MANY TATTOOS YOU LOOK LIKE A WEIRD CONFUSED PINUP GIRL WHO'S TRYING TOO HARD DON'T GET A SLEEVE NOOO." The one I got on Monday is pretty big, and I love it. It's silly, how conditioned we are to feel nervous about anything we do that isn't already done by everyone else. The man who tattooed me said something that really resonated with me because he summed up what I've never been able to articulate: everyone is concerned with the meaning behind tattoos and how it's permanent and how it's important that it has sentimental value, and no one remembers that finding something visually beautiful is meaning. Especially to someone like me. We're all just walking around with big collections inside our heads, full of the things we consider important. This is just on the outside of me instead of on the inside.
I wish I could convince more of the people in my life of their worth. I had a few scary conversations last month with people who I love so much; people who are intelligent and interesting and beautiful and have a lot to offer the world but I'm afraid that they don't see any of that. What do we even do in situations like that? Remind them daily? It's a nice thought and it's always appreciated, but it doesn't work. Plan big romantic gestures to prove their meaning? That definitely doesn't solve the bottom line issue. Make sure they know we're always here? It's probably the best option, but it doesn't feel like enough. People only see what they want to see. Even that statement gets misconstrued because these same people believe that if they're unable to see their own worth, it's just another thing that they can't do right. It's not that they won't see it, it's that they can't. It's worrisome to watch words that I've placed so carefully teeter on the edge of getting through to someone but still fall into a bottomless pit.
I didn't think I felt like writing at all, but then I had a whole lotta thoughts. Thotz.