30 Day Music Challenge

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I was searching online for blog challenges in an attempt 
to give me something to blog about, something that would
keep my interest and give me a way to share about myself
something that I wouldn't have shared otherwise. 

I came across this challenge on themusicalpoet's WP site. 
I love music, so it seemed like a good place to jump off
and possibly also a way for me to really dig into the 
12,000 or so songs on my iPod that I've been neglecting
lately. 

I realize that a lot of these questions will be nearly
impossible to answer, but I'm going to give it my best
shot. 

Today. Day one. My favorite song. I don't have a favorite
song, so I'll go with one of my favorites, which is this 
one by Florence + the Machine. 


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my quest to claim myself again

I’ve always been a dreamer, one of those girls who spends time lost in her own head, always thinking about something bigger and brighter. The future used to always shine. I could get through whatever was in my present because the promise of a tomorrow that was bright and shiny and new was always there to keep me wanting to go forward.

Somewhere along the line, though, I lost that forward-looking optimism. I suppose there was one blow (or ten) too many, and dreaming became something that I set aside and walked away from.

I was talking with a friend of mine a couple of weeks ago, and he said that we get to choose what we carry with us and what leave behind. We were talking about negative things and the importance of leaving them behind and walking away, but I just realized that this can apply to positive things too.

I set aside optimism in exchange for always seeing the gloomy, grey side of life. I thought that it would be what was best for me. I’d been disappointed and hurt so many times that I thought it would be best to stop hoping simply so that I’d stop being so disappointed and blindsided by naivety.

I do think, though, that maybe optimism is just what I need right now. Maybe it is a tool that I can use, within certain limits, to help me improve my view of life, of my present and of my possible future. I want to dream again. I want to believe that the things that I want to accomplish are within my grasp. It’s a scary thing to admit that, to admit that I want to hope and dream and even laugh more. I’ve been melancholy for years.

An example: for over five years, I wore only black. Everything I owned from my shoes and socks to my shirts to my bras and panties. Everything was black. It started when someone I loved died and I bought black clothing for the funeral. I wanted to honor her and express my grief, so I kept the black trend going for a week or so which turned into a month and then months and, finally, years.

I realize now, looking back on it, that it was this slow slide into depression. I let myself go, and along with that, I let go of my hopes, my dreams, my passions, my desires, let go of everything that made me feel alive.

Today, as I sit here typing this, I am wearing a mint green top and charcoal pants. My flip flops are pastel pink. I brought color back into my life, but I forgot to bring back the other more important things that I let go of. I forgot to bring back the dreamer me, the one who wishes on stars, who goes for walks just to watch the sunset, who picks wildflowers and berries and who constantly wants to learn something new.

It is that me that I crave. It’s that me that I yearn to get to know again, the me who makes her own soap out of lye, coconut oil and other essential oils, who goes for drives just for the pleasure of getting lost in the country, who isn’t afraid to try new recipes or talk to new people.

I know I haven’t lost her for forever. I know she’s still here somewhere. This is my quest to claim her for myself again.

in the dark, dark sky

night sounds-
the owl's low hoot,
the rustle of lace curtains
shifting in a slight breeze,
the creek of the mattress
as she turns to face the window,
the moon's light spilling 
onto her face
soothing her like her mum's 
quiet hush.

She sucks on her finger,
drowsy and on the edge 
of a dream-filled meadow
where she'll rest
in a field of wild violets
as the moon hangs
round and full 
in the dark, dark sky.