unwritten

"Scars are little reminders for us that the past was real"

For as long as I can remember, which isn't very long (ha!) I have been a reflective person. I love looking back on what I was thinking, doing, or feeling at a certain point in my life. This means dusting off old diaries, pondering my pictures, and more recently rereading the blog I have kept for a year and a half. I guess you could say I facsinate myself.. okay that is another joke, but seriously. I have been home for a year now, and I think I am doing well (clearly it's all about me today), I am back at school, I am meeting new people, and tending to push myself in a more positive direction. So while I still reflect, I am curious whether this is a help or a hinderance. I get stuck in ruts sometimes thinking about the past, but more and more I think that to acknowlege it makes me more authentic now. This involves everything, the good, the bad, the ugly, the funny, the sad... a balance you could say. Then, as I acknowledge and remember, I may also forget. I can let it go and hope that I have learned from it in some way and enjoyed it.

This is not to say however, that I will ever let go of the past completely. The things that mean the most to me will always remain close.

Right now I am looking forward to more coffee breaks, the strike giving me time to get my work done, friends, family and laughter. Oh, and spring weather.

monkey wrench

Beware the Ides of March! They may make you feel restless, and that is definitely how I am feeling it right now. I have had a lot of fun in the past week, I met Sam Roberts at an after party (his autograph says 'love always sister'!) and I had a great time at Tim's potluck on Saturday. However, all this excitement has only left me with thoughts of summer. Now I can hardly focus on writing this post and making it worth while, much less with my school work. So I shall keep this one short and sweet. Perhaps next time I will be done with my work and able to write about all of the green beer I consumed! Hep hep.

live like you were dying

That is about the millionth time I have left my student ID in the copy machine. I am lucky there are usually people around me who have their head on straight and get it back to me.

On to more important things.

I was priviliged today to celebrate my step-grandfather's birthday. Mom told me that the first time she met George was when he brought Granny to the hospital after I was born. That is just about 25 years ago, and yet everyone in my family knows him as George, not Grampy or such. However, this is just an exception in name. I love him dearly and is the only grandfather I've known on that side. What makes this day interesting is not just the fact that George is 90 years old, but that he is so young at heart at his age. He talks about the war and his experiences, like almost being run over by a tank, and it is absolutely astounding that he is still here. But he is, and he is as vibrant as ever.

Since my great-grandmother lived to be 100, I once believed that I too would live to that age. Now, I just hope to live life well no matter what age I am. My inspiration is George. Okay... and Tim McGraw. I love that song and I am moved each time I hear it to try my damndest to really live every moment. That way I don't need to live to 100, a full life isn't lived in numbers.