I am planning a road trip up the coast of California and Oregon and then over to Portland with my first, college roommate. We were only roommates for one semester but she's a keeper. And the first person I traveled abroad with. Luckily this time we're smart enough to know about alone time and she's cool with booking separate rooms for the entire vacation.
I come from a starring role as 'victim' and it's refreshing to finally understand that that position can look like many things, including ways that I hadn't really thought of being a 'victim'.
I see my work progressing in a way that I'm surprised about. The ideas that began back in October in that workshop when I learned mind mapping, have unfolded quite differently, with work that I'm both proud of and excited about, even if the original idea is still nagging.
I love that I'm getting tattooed on Monday and that my holster, (which I now see as a timeline), will be finished, no. 64 on my list.
I trust my old belief that staying on my own yoga mat, not worried about what anyone else is doing/being/saying, is the best way for me to operate.
I believe in myself.
I find myself accepting what I can't control.
I wonder what miss A wants to do for her 13th birthday which is fast approaching. Teenager. So amazing and so quickly we've arrived here. I was thinking about her as an infant in the public bathroom this morning as I pulled down the baby changing table to hold my bags. She used to fit there, my little beana, and now she's 5'4" and will certainly surpass my 5'5" this summer. Holy Balls.
I found out that I'm just as much a gossip for listening and encouraging secrets to be told as the person doing the telling. And sharing my own secrets with someone that tells even one secret from a friend, in confidence of course, is assurance that my secrets are being shared as well.
I call in and upon my inner strength because as I get older, tattoos hurt more and more. And while one would think the belt line might not hurt so much, I can assure you it does. A lot.
