melanie kristy · musings · Uncategorized

March & The Individuality of Moments

Clearly my aim to write every day in March just didn’t happen.
I’m sitting here thinking about how it’s almost APRIL. Spring is here (Though the weather doesn’t quite know it yet), and we are all alive and the air is crisp and the clouds want to rain. I’m listening to Mayer Hawthorne in attempts to be familiar with some music that I will hear at the Hop Jam Festival in May.

I am trying to rediscover blogs. I deleted a bunch from my dusty old Feedly feed, and I’ve been intentional about opening the website and clicking through to actually read things. I’m looking for soul food in the form of words, aching for thoughts to seep right into me. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt words just come out of me. A long time. To the point where The Daily Grind, aka LIFE, just took over and I was left with all this time passing. It gets to a point, if you’re a creative soul, where you wake up and wonder: where did all the time go? What did I do with my waking hours? And, for me, if the answer consists solely of work and eat some food and attempt to be healthy, maybe see some friends, watch YouTube and Netflix  well then … I’m doing something wrong.

What is it that I’m doing wrong? I guess I mean, what could I be doing better, wiser, other? These late night feelings that something is missing, the anxiety over not doing enough or being enough aren’t new feelings. For three and a half years those feelings were clouded over with looming grad school papers and group projects. Then I started seeing someone, and who the hell needs to be doing something creatively when your heart is so bursting with love? That was my other. I didn’t need more.

But now I’ve graduated with a Master degree in Library and Information Science (I AM YOUR MASTER), and that relationship is no longer. So what am I left with? The empty nights where I’m watching YouTube, growing increasingly bored with the content and aching for something more.

More. More. More. And this is where blogging comes in. This is where I ask myself: What did you do with the girl who used to spin stories and love fiction characters and take walks that inspired entire word-created lives?

I’ll tell you now, I don’t know that answer.

In the past month I’ve watched life be sucked away. I’ve attended wakes, looked at bodies whose souls have left them, spend time in Church at a funeral service and cried a whole fucking lot. In this past month I’ve also seen Beauty and the Beast twice, booked plane tickets to Memphis, seen my friends more than usual, and bought an essential oil diffuser. I can’t seem to find my essential oils, though. I also pulled my back, ate tons of chocolate and started doing desk yoga in attempts to feel less stiff. I bought an aloe plant and started re-growing spring onions from the white ends that I cut off when making dinner. Life is in everything around us. It’s in these little details. It’s hard to imagine all this has happened (and so much more. Snow days. 70 degree weather. Many macarons consumed) just in one month. And yet at the same time I feel like March should be just beginning.

It’s all a blur. And if we (I) don’t stop to document and reflect and smell aloe plants and taste lip scrub then it’ll stay a blur. Something we (I) don’t remember for the individuality of moments.

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