I’ve been struggling with what to say now that I am back on familiar soil. In the last two days, I have not seen a single tiger, zero tall ships, dipped my foot in any lakes that are as blue as an ocean, or closed my eyes and raised my head as fresh raindrops fell from the sky, kissing my cheeks. All and all, it’s been a pretty uneventful few days.

I’ve been observant, though.

I’ve been watching people. Or rather noticing them. There are a lot of us, all with our own motivations for getting a point across.

I’ve encountered “the parent.” She wants to be happy for her child, she wants the best for them, but the only way she’s able to express that love is through anger.

There is “the lover.” He is lost without his other half; broken, if you will.

“The complainer” can’t keep her mouth shut—she always has an opinion, and it’s never a positive one. (And she has something to say about everything! Does it really matter that the logo on a box of Kraft Dinner used to be different? Does that really change the fact that the stuff is just over-processed noodle-shaped poison in a box, despite how tasty it still is?)

Then there’s my favourite so far—the “pace setter.” (I wanted to call him the pacemaker, but I know how that sounds—I’ve spent a lot of time in a senior’s home.) The pace setter knows what he wants, and he knows what he doesn’t want. He goes after what he deserves, he accomplishes his heart’s greatest desires, and he loves the whole time through.

And that’s who I want to be. Not an angry, complaining, can’t stand on my own two feet kind of gal, but someone who knows just what she wants and goes for it.

With or without a plan.

I was told the key to success in life is planning. And trust me, I love to plan. But sometimes, you just need to close your eyes, raise your head to falling rain, and take a step forward. (Preferably not into traffic of course, unless that was your plan. Hmm (insert *tsk, tsk* here).)

I know I will still complain about things (hopefully worthwhile things, and not trivial items like how awful a certain vampire book series is (seriously, just stop already! It doesn’t matter that you don’t like something, someone out there does, so stop professing to the world your pure hatred for all things Twilight and let them have it already!)), and I will of course continue to lose my temper (preferably only at haters—do you know how juvenile you sound? Oh, and also at winter. I really don’t like the cold, so expect some yelling come November/December.). Heck, I will even have days where it just seems impossible to move forward because I feel so lost without my other half. And if that means that I would rather stay in and spend the evening with the love of my life who I haven’t seen in a week than go to a concert that I never wanted to go to in the first place, well, deal with it. Because at the end of the day, like everyone else, I’m just me. Blind at times, angry at others, and always in love with something or someone (most of the time it’s my husband I’m in love with, but man, when I’m having a good hair day…look out mirrors!).

I’ll keep trying, keep searching, and keep making mistakes. But most of the time, I think I want to work on keeping my feet warm. Even in the summer, it’s very cold in my basement. But then, it was also cold in Chicago, so I can’t even say the basements are warmer across the border. They’re not. At least not that far North.

With this in mind, I could be the complainer. I could go on and on about my poor little feet, blame my parents for poor genes, yell at my husband for turning the heat off in May (really, who does that?), and cry over why people would insulate a basement with cement.

But I’d rather be the pace setter. I know I have cold feet; I’m going to go put socks on. Or better yet, cute slippers that make my short legs look long. Hoo boy, I know what’s coming—LOOK OUT, MIRRORS!
 


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