Lost And Found

Boy, life can get overwhelming can't it? It turns out that life can suck the exuberance right out of a girl leaving a gaping hole that is then filled with a fairly blankety blank attitude, along with a fine mist of sarcasm. Not that life is bad, or has been bad, just... as I mentioned... a bit overwhelming.

Picture yourself in a job where you really aren't doing what you're meant to be doing. Somewhere where you (perhaps) hyperventilate all day. You go there, because for a brief period of time you forget that you have choices in life.

Finally, you release yourself from the situation in order to not die and wait for the expected results. You know, as in...breathing again and well, living. They don't come. You continue to wait, babying yourself along with plenty of rest and some nice self talk about how you're going to reclaim your life and your aforementioned Exuberance with a capital E. Still... nothing. Confusion sets in. Really? You expected to feel better the moment you walked out of the stressful place that did not feed your soul because it was too busy sucking it out. Did I mention the possibility of being covered by a fine mist of sarcasm?

Finally, after you've actually acknowledged that something might be seriously wrong with you, the breathing finally kicks in, the babying begins to take effect and you are on your way back to your former exuberant state.  You take some pretty pictures, you read some good books, you cook some delicious food, you tell someone a clever story that gets a laugh. And you hit your yoga mat and breathe like you've never breathed before, gasping a bit with thankfulness that you are beginning to feel like yourself again. And... finally... you write.

Ahhh.... Memories

If I've learned anything, I've learned this. Everyone... has a story. Not all are willing to tell their story, and not all stories are totally fascinating and mesmerizing, but nevertheless, we all have a story. And some of us actually tell those stories.

It's no secret that I am a bibliophile. I've been reading since the age of four, and perusing the pages of a good book continues to be one of my greatest pleasures.

In recent months my reading time has been cut back dramatically due to the busyness of life. I find this lack of book time seriously affecting my attitude and my well-being, and frankly, I'm not too happy about it. I need uninterrupted time with a good book, stat.. preferably under a tree, stat... on a nice summer day, stat.

When I do find time to read I find myself gravitating towards memoirs. Perhaps this is because I'm writing one. Or, trying to write one... or actually two. Did I mention that I was also too busy to write?

I have picked up a couple of recently written memoirs that were brilliant bits of storytelling. Stories that make you thankful for who and what you have in life. Stories, that make you wonder about the strength, the fortitude and the undying tenacity of our brothers and sisters. Stories that explain how someone came to be just who they are. Stories that will make you laugh until you pee... and stories that make your heart hurt so bad that you wonder how a person could ever survive the memory of their own memories.

I'm hoping to find the time to read more captivating stories... and to write some too. But more than either of those things... I'm hoping to live life, and make more memories. Care to join me?