Reflecting
First, I have 2 New Year's Resolutions. I don't normally nominate 1 specific day to resolve new life tactics; I like to leave that option open for the whole year. Still, I'm feeling inspired by all the people who are flooding gyms right now. My first one is to be a nicer person to those near and dear to me. My second one is to get places on time, which actually entails trying to get places 30 minutes early, which subsequently means that I need to start preparing my posse about 2 hours in advance of travel. It's pretty monumental.
The real reason for putting my thoughts on paper is that I've been considering what a gift the past few years have been from a purely personal standpoint. The gift of my thirties has been some semblance of peace with who I am. I am bossy. Believe it or not, this has caused me serious angst in the past. It still causes me angst, but on a more lower, less frequent level. I don't want to be pushy or domineering, and I still aim to curb those tendencies, but I've also accepted that it is just a part of who I am.
I am also persuasive, compassionate, deeply grateful, and constantly late for things. I make fun happen. I get stuff done. I'm not traditionally beautiful but I am happy with the body I've been given. My style can best be described as rock n' roll mixed with lots of colors (which, as you can imagine, doesn't always work), and I also talk really loud. I have a tendency to control conversation even though I am infinitely interested in what other people have to say - I just can't stand silence. I sometimes make definite statements based on very little fact, and I'm working on that. I see the world in shades of gray. If you tell me that your breast cancer was caused by drinking from plastic bottles, I'm going to think less of you. It was probably a mixture of a few of things, including genetics. Don't make that poor bottle your scapegoat, just accept that you were never guaranteed a perfect life and shit happens. Hopefully you have some really awesome people in your life to make up for the crap.
I used to get really embarrassed about stories from my childhood that generally painted the picture of a pushy little brat. I hope that's not the case. I hope my big heart showed through. I've decided to accept that as part of becoming who I am. The end.
The real reason for putting my thoughts on paper is that I've been considering what a gift the past few years have been from a purely personal standpoint. The gift of my thirties has been some semblance of peace with who I am. I am bossy. Believe it or not, this has caused me serious angst in the past. It still causes me angst, but on a more lower, less frequent level. I don't want to be pushy or domineering, and I still aim to curb those tendencies, but I've also accepted that it is just a part of who I am.
I am also persuasive, compassionate, deeply grateful, and constantly late for things. I make fun happen. I get stuff done. I'm not traditionally beautiful but I am happy with the body I've been given. My style can best be described as rock n' roll mixed with lots of colors (which, as you can imagine, doesn't always work), and I also talk really loud. I have a tendency to control conversation even though I am infinitely interested in what other people have to say - I just can't stand silence. I sometimes make definite statements based on very little fact, and I'm working on that. I see the world in shades of gray. If you tell me that your breast cancer was caused by drinking from plastic bottles, I'm going to think less of you. It was probably a mixture of a few of things, including genetics. Don't make that poor bottle your scapegoat, just accept that you were never guaranteed a perfect life and shit happens. Hopefully you have some really awesome people in your life to make up for the crap.
I used to get really embarrassed about stories from my childhood that generally painted the picture of a pushy little brat. I hope that's not the case. I hope my big heart showed through. I've decided to accept that as part of becoming who I am. The end.
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