Nibble On This One For A Bit

Many of you have mentioned books being in my future. 

I am not mentioning this to toot my own horn, even though sometimes that can be fun... I am mentioning it because I have seen it in my future for years. 

Ideas come and go, some better than others, but mainly all just ideas. 

I decided, maybe just a month ago, that I needed to stop putting myself in a box. 

I needed to stop with the plots, stop with the character development before I even have a plot, and just write. 

That's honestly when I get my best "attitude" or "personality" across through my words... And personality is what gets people. 

Anyways... I have lifted the box and I have just started to write, editing away, making sure there is direction in that editing... but not editing the flow. 

The flow is very important. 

So here is a taste.. Here is my latest introduction to the ever changing, all too many, ideas floating around in my head. 

It might change tomorrow, it might even change the second I submit it...

But I like feedback. 

I crave it in fact.. 

Nibble on this one for a bit. 

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Dear Diary (Or whatever else I should be saying),

Holidays seem to bring out the best in people. It really doesn’t matter who, or what even, but give a family a holiday and you are sure to get an adventure. Although, I guess that could potentially only apply to my family. Funny how you seem to think things are written strictly in stone, across the board for everyone, just because you personally have experienced it. Almost like, because you have seen things, then surely everyone is just like you, seeing the exact same thing. I guess that’s the egotistical side of me talking, just assuming everyone is like me, because well… They are, or at least pretty close, in a round about way. When you have this many humans in one place, with as many problems as we seem to have, then yes, surely they must all want to be perfect like me, or at least have perfect lives like me; a perfect family like me… Perfect, perfect, perfect, right?

I hope you can sense the sarcasm here because it is literally oozing from every finger as I sit and try to tell you my story, whatever story that might be, because at the moment, I have no idea what to say in here. I've never come close to journals before. They seem to make people cry, and I vowed at 12 that I would never let tears see my face again. I keep my vows. 

No, I am not bold enough to think you would even want to know my story, nor do I think you would care enough to even still be reading, but I think every story must be told and every story has something to learn from it. Possibly, the lesson could just be for me and even if that was the case, then this could be considered a success. So I am sitting here, writing my feelings down in this little tiny journal thingy, writing my experiences down or however this is supposed to work, and really, even I am thinking this is pointless. I honestly feel like all your eyes are on me at this very moment, letting me know you think this is stupid too. But you would be at least be trying to write if your Grandmother’s life depended on it. And not the depending on it in the sense that my Grandmother’s life is at stake or that she might be dying, because honestly my Grandmother is fine and I just like to over exaggerate my feelings sometimes. It’s really just me. It’s me who needs the life perspective and the learning and the growing. It just so happens that it is her who is almost forcing me to grow up, and when someone literally shouts in your face to grow up, even if that someone might be frail and old and wise so you feel bad and you think you have to listen, you would just listen anyways. There is something about shouting that really makes anyone listen. I guess it also doesn’t hurt that she shoved this shiny journal at me in the process. I have been known to have a thing for anything shiny.

Although, I guess it’s about time that I grow up. I mean, I am turning 30 tomorrow and that has to mean something… I just didn’t think it would come this fast. In fact, I think my running-away-from-ever-wanting-to-be-close-to-growing-up attitude has all been in an effort to push this exact birthday away from existence. This must be proof I wasn’t too good at that, because here it is… Less than 24 hours away from me and I cannot do a thing about it. No matter how stubborn I might be though, I am grown-up enough to know when it’s finally time to stop the games, no matter how fun some of them have been over the years. I just don't think I need as much changing as that yelling tone of Grandma seemed to implicate. I honestly cannot be that bad. 

I know my body is officially in the adult phase of life, now let’s just try to get my mind to feel the same way, to get fully into that same zone... None of this half-way stuff that hasn't seemed to get me far. Regardless, welcome to this really weird brain of mine that over thinks everything in front of it, seems to have the strangest social life, and clearly no grandchildren to add to my mothers most prized picture wall, although her mentioning it billions of times isn’t really rushing me. I am thirty, I am single, I love being single, and no man could handle what they would be getting into… And that is not just me I am talking about, though that’s a lot to handle on its own, it is my family too. We are a full package, very very full.

I haven’t even gotten past the first entry and I already hate this journal thing. Emotions aren’t pouring out like people seem to think they do. Shiny or not, I really don’t think this is helping. There are so many other productive things I could be doing right now, like watching television… Or playing with my dog… Yes, I know, I really have nothing else I could be doing.

Ready or not, I am here to learn my “lesson of life” and I dare you, journal, diary, whoever the heck you are to me. I honestly dare you to change me.

This could potentially be fun Grandma, even though you gave me a time limit. Who can honestly put a time limit on pent up frustrations and emotions and love? Aren’t those things supposed to just come naturally? But try telling that to an Italian. Grandma is giving me a year, and I doubt she would budge on that one. Remember the yelling?

So, operation change-in-365-days-if-you-so-dare, we’d better get started fast because apparently we have some work to do…

And maybe that work just needs to be focused on Grandma’s anger.

Always, Magnolia