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15 minute posts, crazy stuff, gardening, Life Lessons, Moody Blues, place holder posts, rando bits, Slow News Day
Everyday is the End of the World as We Know It
Lately I’ve been waking up at 3 in the morning to worry. Not on purpose of course. It’s probably that I’ve gotten back in the habit of drinking a few cups of coffee in the afternoon AND having a glass of wine when I’m cooking dinner at night. This is not good for me. Coffee and wine mess with my sleep but sadly, I’m not always on my best behavior and sometimes these vices, disguised as treats, sneak in. Sometimes might be all the time.
Super early yesterday morning, after ruminating in the dark for what seemed like hours, I finally just got up and decided to walk the dogs at dawn. I love doing this because there are less people out and lately it seems like there are people everywhere. Running into people with three not-so-well-behaved dogs (I still have my mom’s dog, Spreckles) AND navigating social distancing etiquette is challenging. I’m always finding myself taking weird routes I had no intention of taking just to avoid people. Hello, stranger. I guess I’ll just take a right turn here to avoid you! Doesn’t it seem like everyone is always out these days? Not that I blame anyone. I’m sick of my house too and sunshine and space are all that’s keeping us sane these days.
I often listen to books on Audible while I walk. I also listen to podcasts and I call my dad regularly. This is a good thing and a bad thing. The books I’m reading are often stories about social injustice and while they are super educational and meaningful, they often make my habit of over-worrying even worse. Podcasts are great too but the health and wellness spectrum that I often find myself in also tends to make me over-worry. And even though I love my dad to pieces, sometimes talking to him and absorbing his problems ALSO makes me worry too much. I am just the worriest worry wart there ever was.
This worrying tendency makes me think of my grandma who passed away forever ago. She was known as the worry wart of the family. I miss her so much. I wish we could talk about this worrying habit. But maybe it’s good she’s not around today to see all the things that are going down. It is not a good time to be a worrier.
The other day, I walked out into the orange light of mid day (due to all the fires burning in California) and there on the wall of our entryway was the biggest green bug I have ever seen. I looked it up and I think it’s a green Katydid. I’ve seen small bugs like this a lot. Small finger-nail sized versions but this thing was HUGE! It was as big as my palm. And then later I walked out into the backyard and there in the track of our sliding glass door was the hugest slug I have ever seen. All I could think was, it’s the end of the world! Giant bugs, heat waves, weird orange light, pandemics, crazy political scenes, the country on the brink of a civil war… I just wanted to hide like Chicken Little.
I decided books and podcasts and phone calls were just too much for my poor stressed-out brain. (I know. Eye-roll-worthy.) I often walk without listening to anything but I decided to turn on my favorite “chill” playlist and a Moby song came on. I don’t know why I don’t use music to calm myself more often. I don’t remember which song it was but as the softly repeating base line echoed around the inside of my head, I felt my cortisol levels lower. I gazed up at the trees that line the sidewalk path and I started to notice how they were pruned.
Every tree was pruned differently. I know a lot of this is dependent on the tree and how it grows but the more I examined the branches of each tree, the more I thought they looked like individual works of art! Some were trimmed to flay out symmetrically in all directions. Other trees were pruned to turn in on themselves in spirals. Some were weirdly pruned to grow over the sidewalk…It got me to thinking about who pruned them. I bet there is a tree-trimmer on our neighborhood route who decided to create his own masterpieces on every tree he comes across! How cool is that?!
I’ve always thought our neighborhood was a little over-aggressive with their gardening (seriously, it seems like every day is a new and different very loud gardening task: blowing, edging, trimming, mowing…) but today I actually appreciated it. In a community where everything looks the same, I thought, how cool that it actually isn’t!
Then I started to imagine the cool animated graphic I would create with long willowy purple trunks and branches spiraling around each other to pretty music and wished I was an animator with 3d graphics skills. But that’s just a typical Brenda rabbit hole to fall down.
But let me tell you, it’s a whole lot better than all the other worry rabbit holes I’ve been falling down lately! A whole lot better than worrying about civil war!!!
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Sorry, Blorry
I’m going to have to be a little more creative in my posting these days. I’ve been writing a lot because I started to use my morning time (where I used to journal in my moleskin journal and read a few pages in a book I’m trudging through) to blog instead. It’s working brilliantly for creating more blog content and helping my peace of mine but the problem is: it’s PUBLIC! Doh. One-big-eye-one-squinty-eye-tongue-out emoji here.
Of course I knew that but I took comfort in the thought that this blog had sort of fallen by the wayside AND I have been writing so much that most of the world doesn’t read that much. You know, we are all just scrollers these days thumbing through countless articles on our phones, skimming just the bare minimum until we get to the nugget of information we are looking for. In fact, I know Payam doesn’t read this blog for that exact reason! Ha! I actually like it that way.
But I forgot about my parents. My mom is so sweet, she reads everything I write. I love her so much. And my last post kind of made her sad and she shared it with my dad. She read it to him while he was knitting a pair of slippers. He has an etsy shop. Yes, my dad is that cool. So you can imagine how my last post hit my parents ears, who tried so hard to give me the best groundwork for a good life that they could.
I think they did an excellent job. They think they’ve failed me. It breaks my heart.
The thing is I love to write. My favorite kind of writing is descriptive writing and specifically writing about things I know. I know I should delve into fiction but it gets sketchy for me because I don’t have the organizational mind at keeping facts straight. I’ve always been a terrible liar. Writing fiction is like work. Whereas writing about a memory just flows out naturally without even thinking.
I’ve often thought I would write a hilarious book about my life and my family and the way I was raised in a conservative religious upbringing but I would have to be like Mark Twain and wait 100 years for it to be published so that those super juicy chapters wouldn’t hurt anyone.
I just want to say that I’m sorry these last few posts have been so navel-gazing. It’s self-therapy sort of. I’ll take the more personal stuff back to my moleskin. I want to keep writing though. It does make me feel good.
Also, today is tax day. Blarg. Send out your payments and/or extensions folks!