It's Not Plagiarism If It's Your Own Writing. I Think.

Sometimes when I'm in need of inspiration I revisit the archives of my old blog. Today is one of those days, and, conveniently enough, something I wrote on this date in 2008 really resonated with me. Last night was a terrible night in our house, sleep-wise, and I realize I've gotten astoundingly bad at keeping up with household chores like dusting and I run and run and increase my speed and distance and incline and I'm no closer to my bikini-wearing goal (though I have gotten faster and increased my stamina, which I can't deny is really the point but bear with me). My frustrations were multiplying and conspiring to take over. So it was very helpful to be confronted with these particular words from my past. So much has changed in four years, but only in the little details. The overall picture remains comfortingly the same.

Here's an excerpt from the entry so you know what I'm talking about (original text in italics, 2012 notes in regular text):

I'm at this point in my life where I think I really, really get it: nothing is perfect. Everyone's got their troubles and headaches and I am no exception. That's never going to go away. So here's what you have to do to have the best life possible: stop waiting for it all to magically go away. Change what you want to change, to the best of your ability, but everything else, just eh, you know? Who really cares? When you take a handful of your life and examine it and say oh yeah, in the back of my mind there's always that feeling that once this thing or that thing is taken care of everything will be perfect? It's a fallacy. That's stuff's there, but it's just stuff. It's OK to be happy even with all that. I have a crushing mortgage (a little less crushing now thanks to Obama) and pervasive job dissatisfaction (that was a big thing with me back then but I've since taken the reigns and figured that out) and three years later my house is still largely undecorated (mezze, mezze) and these are all things I plan to address at some point but it doesn't mean I can't be happy while they exist. It's not either/or. And it doesn't meant that I won't always want more out of life. I'm a restless spirit and a bit of a chaos junkie, it can't really be helped. 

Oooh, yes child. 

But I don't live with pent up anxiety. I can sit here on a random Friday morning in March being annoyed with my coworkers and digesting half a brownie and wondering when I'll ever ever get to be a mother (that last one was an old recurring question of mine that has obviously since been answered) and still, still, I can't help but embrace the moment. Everything is just so damn good. We're making a great dinner at home tonight and I'll play laser tag with my nephews tomorrow and I nailed bakasana this week (oh, I fully intend to do this once again) and my brother started a scrabulous game with me on facebook and I'm really looking forward to Skye's wedding (Skye's long married and has a gorgeous little boy and now I'm looking to my aforementioned laser-tag-playing nephew's bar mitzvah) and I've been disciplined with my writing lately (er) and it's these little shining grains to be plucked out of that whole overwhelming handful that matter. This is how I am how I am.

I mean, it's all pretty obvious. I'm not telling you anything you don't know. And I think I am also one of those lucky people who is wired to be in touch with my happiness. But it's just so freeing to say it to myself. And to re-read it at just the right time.

I had no intention of getting this philosophical, but come to think of it, I never do. Philosophy happens.

Now let's all take a moment to go dance around to some prefab pop trash. 

Now, as ever: YEAH.