popular to contrary belief:
i am alive.
i just, always find myself reading her blog or her blog or laughing my butt off at her blog.
i somehow feel inspired and enchanted by all of your witty blogs,
but it always makes me feel like i am not as cool.
like my ramblings aren't really worth displaying on the world wide web.
i start thinking maybe i should just write them all down in my journal.
thing is, is that writing isn't something i can do well when forced.
for example, for months i haven't known how to begin my farewell talk and last night i was lying in bed trying to sleep and blam i had an idea and about 7 minutes later i had written 3 handwritten composition notebook pages of my speech. its something that comes to me sporadically. and when it does, i'd better have a pen and paper to jumble it all down. the best way i can describe it is "writers diarrhea".
when someone asks me to post something new on my blog i don't feel inspired to just post something for the heck of it. i have to be in the mood.
sometimes i feel like blogs turn into a place for people to either complain, or pretend that their life is something wonderful that it really isn't. i get sick of people begging me to "follow" their blogs, or that they're sad that their blog isn't listed in my links. what does it even mean to follow ones blog? i just want to hear about you. i want to know you, even if we don't hang out in real life. but i want to know the real you. and, if we do hang out in real life, i want to keep in touch.
i want my posts to have meaning. i don't want to brag. i don't want you to think i have the perfect life. i want to be real. i am real. and i thank you, my fellow bloggers for being real. not edited.
and so it goes:
i was driving today. and the sun was shining on the red rocks.
it looked so bright against the blue blue sky.
the rain was indecisive today.
so the clouds were bursting from the back of the rocks like a volcano erupting.
half sunny, half raining.
i took the long way home. and i was listening to this.
and i just couldn't help but think.
everything's just the way it should be.
i believe everything happens for a reason.
there was a snowy mountain to my right, rain spots on my windshield that i refused to swipe away, and a horse gnawing on some grass to my left. when up ahead on my right i see a biker. in an electric bright yellow jacket. and in bold green letters on his back read the word:
i know why i was meant to go this way.
nothing ever happens the same way twice.
for a second i wanted to honk and wave and shout hoorah for brazil! but he wouldn't understand why.
i know that the events that have lead me up to this very moment are for a reason. a plan. a wonderful and glorious plan that i will be sharing with the people of Sao Paulo in less than 30 days.
i am leaving this red hills blue sky place that i love so much.
a job that i absolutely love.
and parents that take care of me as if i was still a kid.
i haven't even been a drop of nervous until now.
last night i even started packing my big suitcase.
its finally hard to think of leaving. reality has hit.
i'll be home next october, that sounds like it will go by so quick.
he never said it would be easy, he said it would be worth it.
and i know without a shout of a doubt, that it will be.