I Want So Much

I've been thinking a lot about what I want, and I want so much.

I have things I want to accomplish.
Habits I want to form.
Habits I want to break.
People I want to meet and befriend.
Existing relationships I want to nourish.
Places I want to see.
Skills I want to gain.
Work I want to do.
Qualities and attributes I want to develop.

I want so much and I'm determined to get some of it.


Alex Trebek

Today, this happened.

And I'm heartbroken, but I'm hopeful. Jeopardy isn't Jeopardy without Alex.

Good luck, Alex. I'm praying for you.


Nothing Feels as Good

Nothing feels as good as knowing you have a delicious dinner waiting for you after work.

As remembering something exciting that's coming up.

As checking off every box on your to-do list on a Monday.

Nothing feels as good as the first shower after a haircut when you've used way too much shampoo.

As keeping up a good habit even when you don't want to.

As going to sleep instead of watching the Super Bowl.

Nothing feels as good as watching Cinderella (2015).

As a stranger on the train asking what perfume you're wearing.

As going to a ballet by yourself.

Nothing feels as good as the first taste of spring.



The House is Too Quiet

This morning, I got back from taking my brother to the airport, and now the house is too quiet.

I hosted my parents, brother, and sister for the Thanksgiving holiday. I have an absurd amount of leftovers and groceries in my fridge and pantry. I've just finished washing all the sheets and putting away all of the blankets.

And I'm terribly sad about it.

I had never hosted a lot of family before, and while it wasn't perfect by any stretch, it's a holiday memory that I'll cherish for the rest of my life.

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It's Sunday Morning

It's Sunday morning. I've crawled back into bed since it's my favorite place to be. My hair is wet from the shower and has created a puddle on my sweater. My bedroom is finally clean after weeks of putting it off. There's a book on my bedside table that I'm halfway through, and truthfully not really enjoying and probably will not finish. The Stone Roses is playing on my phone, and I feel like that part at the beginning of Roman Holiday when Anya lays in bed and looks up at the corners of the room.

It's Sunday morning and today is a good day.

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New Things

I have locked myself out of my office twice this week, and it's only Tuesday.

Every bad mood can be turned around with a little Leather and Lace.

I met one of my biggest goals for the year this month and I'm really proud of myself.

There's a farmer's market every Wednesday right by my metro stop and one of these days, I'm going to lose my resolve and buy all of the baklava from the nice man in the corner tent.

I've just finished reading Jurassic Park and it was thoroughly enjoyable.

Teaching Sunday School is one of my favorite things about my life right now.

The other day I fell down a YouTube black hole of videos of The Killers inviting fans to play the drums on their recent tour (which is an oddly specific black hole but I couldn't stop myself). This one is my favorite.

31 days until College Football. 154 days until Christmas.


Like Old Friends

Rereading a favorite book feels like an encounter with an old friend.

You run into each other (in the library of all places!) and immediately make plans together.

And at some point in the middle, you find yourself so so grateful for the friendship. For the comfort and happiness you feel from this small interaction. You realize that even though you haven't spoken in ages, everything feels the same, better even, than you remember it.


Sharing Enthusiasms

There is something wholly satisfying about sharing something I love with someone else. To show them something that means the world to me, and that somehow makes me love it more.

A few years ago, I read a biography of Vincent Van Gogh, in which the authors wrote of Vincent, "for him, enthusiasms had to be shared to be fully enjoyed."

I feel very much the same.


Memorial Day

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead; short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high!
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.


A Normal Amount

I'm starting to lose some of my enthusiasm.

Actually, no.

I'm starting to be more selective about my enthusiasm. I am, for the first time, learning to like things a normal amount.

Not obsessed, not a fanatic, but somewhat interested. Liking it and then moving on with little thought.

I sometimes feel like I'm required to be all in or else entirely uninterested, and, while that's sort of my nature, it would be far less exhausting to simply like something.

Just like it.

Just enjoy it.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

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