I never kept a journal when I was little, because I never thought there was anything in my day worth recording.
But now that I’m older, I realize that not every adventure is paved with heart pounding excitement. Not every life changing moment is lit up with neon lights and singing angels. Sometimes they slip past quietly, and we don’t realize how important they were until a decade has passed, and we find ourselves wishing like hell they were as crisp in our mind as the day they happened and we didn’t think they were particularly important.
My everyday adventure: I have usually been friends (or at least pleasantly conversational) with my neighbors, but I’ve never loved a neighbor until now.
I don’t think the lady next door understands that I took a new job father away, just that I’m not home as much as I used to be. Yesterday morning as I left for work, she saw me from her doorway and said “You’re working a lot lately. Everything okay? Do you have enough food?” It seemed a strange question to ask, probably because I’ve never been that kind of hungry. I’ve always had enough to eat. But I have been lonely, and am especially so lately. So this small act of love was incredibly meaningful for me. I smiled and thanked her, but said I was doing okay. It was a one-minute dialogue at most; not the kind of thing most people would write home about. But for me, it was a moment of that everyday magic I used to feel so frequently as a teenager, but has become less intense and less frequent as the years pass.
Maybe those everyday adventures seem so rare now because I stopped paying attention to them. I stopped savoring the moments — stopped letting myself be vulnerable in them as they happened and stopped joyfully, or painfully, playing them over and over again in my mind days, weeks, and months later. At some point, I must have convinced myself it was silly to romanticize those little joyful moments. It was masochistic to relive the little painful ones. After all, no one else probably thought it was a big deal.
But they were big deals to me. And Wrath is right; if we don’t pay attention to them as they happen, we’ll find ourselves yearning for that magic later and wondering what the hell happened…
I don’t know how to strike a balance between acknowledging all the horrible shit in the world that needs to change, and leading a life that doesn’t constantly involve me being catastrophically depressed about all the shitty things in the world that need to change.
I don’t care if people believe in astrological signs. Do your thing.
However, if you talk about some shitty personality trait you have, then giggle and add on to the end, “But that’s just because I’m a virgo,” then I’m gonna want to stab you.
I won’t of course, but I’ll REALLY want to.
But that’s just because I’m a leo I guess.