life's real big prizes

It appears that people become concerned now if I don't post on a somewhat regular basis. That's kind of nice to know. Or maybe they just become concerned when the last post revealed possible mental health issues and then there was a lack of communication.

Regardless, I don't really have a lot on my mind right now. Since Thursday I've worked at home, bought yet another pair of boots, got a free pair of underwear, been told I'm an interesting combination of creative and analytical, read some blogs, gone to Home Depot and been surprised at how excited the store is about Halloween, realized yet again how great my friends are, made meatloaf, watched the Astros, been asked to do laundry... All in all, a pretty normal few days. I haven't watched any news, preferring instead to live in my own tiny little world instead of the greater one. I haven't delved too deeply into my head or anyone else's--a rarity for someone who majored in psychology. I haven't felt any real theme to discuss. And part of me is glad. Part of me is thankful for the seemingly boringness of my life these past few days because that also means there isn't a lot of drama.

I've kept a notebook of quotes for several years. When I read or hear something that strikes me as interesting I write it down. In my own handwriting.

I'll digress a little here to share a weird bit of information about me. Despite the grief that my life has held and all the circumstances that surround it, I feel like I've turned out ok. I feel like I've made it through without too much scarring. One way it has impacted me, however, is to want to leave something behind when I die. I don't need a dynasty or a building named after me or fame. What I'd like most is a family. I'd like children to carry on a part of me. Since I was very young (like elementary school age) I have kept journals. I called them "diaries" back then. I wish I could say that I wrote in them religiously and that I have boxes and boxes of information to document my life. Instead, I wrote much more sporadically. In adulthood I got a bit better about writing, at least at times. This is one reason I'm pleased about blogging. I'm enjoying writing. And knowing that someone is reading it helps keep me writing sometimes. Anyway, part of the reason I write is so that my future children will be able to read it one day. Like I said, even as a little girl I thought this way. I wanted to document how I was feeling so that when my 8-year-old daughter said she was fighting with another girl in school I could hand her a diary with 8-year-old cjh handwriting talking about the same thing. My 15-year-old daughter could read about her mother's trouble with boys. My 18-year-old daughter could read about what it was like to go to college. My hopefully very old daughter could re-read tales of her mother's life long after her mother is no longer around to share these things in person. Yes, I've probably done this because I wish it were done for me. No matter how old you are, you still have questions for a parent. You still wish the answers were easily found in a book somewhere.

So, like I was saying, I have this notebook where I write down quotes. In my own handwriting that someone besides me will appreciate one day. Some quotes are by famous writers, historians, scientists, actors, athletes. Some are by less famous people who are going through this journey with me. Usually, I just call them my friends. (See, once a psychology major, always a psychology major. You can't make it through the entire weekend without getting a bit philosophical.) I'll leave you with one of my favorites. It sums up the frame of mind I was in when this post started and maybe the blog as a whole.

Most of us miss out on life's big prizes. The Pulitzer. The Nobel. Oscars. Tonys. Emmys. But we're all eligible for life's small pleasures. A pat on the back. A kiss behind the ear. A four-pound bass. A full moon. An empty parking space. A crackling fire. A great meal. A glorious sunset. Hot soup. Cold beer.
-Anonymous