|Hey, could be worse! At least I’m not Wendy Darren trying to save the farm in perpetuity…|
Today–is a beautiful, beautiful day.
I have a about a week left of my involuntary vacation, and still so much to do. All good things, but things.
I met some girlfriends for lunch yesterday. This group was part of my Master’s program, and an amazing group of women. We are all about two steps to the left and right of one another in terms of age and demographics, but have more things in common than not. Of this group, there are five of us, I always feel like the oddball. A bit too far left of center. I am the only one who does things a bit differently, and while they all share common professional goals, mine are always a bit off. When it came to my turn to catch up on what was going on, I tried to tell a funny story about how a 70-year-old Vietnamese man saved me from disaster*, and then it came out all wonky and I burst into tears.
Every single time I feel I meet this group, about once a year with promises, “We should do this more often!” I seem to have to stop myself from crying, or feeling kind of derpy. But this year in particular, I thought I had allowed myself time to “get over some stuff,” but apparently, my emotional reaction belied my true heart. Sometimes there’s no ‘getting over it,’ but there is healing. I guess I just picked at the scab too soon.
I am mad at myself, too. I had grand schemes, big aspirations, and barely any of it was reached. Like a mountain climbing expedition, I am still at base camp loading supplies. The peak is a long way away, and that mountain is not coming to me.
I made promises to JD which will be fulfilled today*. I made promises to others which will be fulfilled. And I made promises to myself, which seem to be getting packed up again and ignored. But every time I pack up those promises to myself, they get heavier and heavier, take up more space, and demand more attention.
If you see me in Azeroth today, I welcome your whispers and waves. Thinking about recent events and how uniquely we all express ourselves is a wonderment to me. I choose to tell a story. I wish I had tenacity of Bear, or the fiery passion of Effraeti, or the diplomacy and gentle reminders of Faye, but alas, I don’t. But–heroes, take heart. I do have the power of stories, I am a true shaman after all, and have the abilities to help teach others how to ‘play nice.’ That is one promise I can keep.
*You will just have to stay curious.
*Dammit, Tome, wish I had thought of that!