||{ plans in progress }}|

monday is always a tidying day, i think. a chance for a miniture spring-cleaning every week. here we are, sweeping out closets. [sorry 'bout that.]i wish i could tell you that the next time you see me i will be well-rested and well-dressed and well in body, and not considerably rumpled in spirit, and sexy, and put-together and gracious, and all sorts of lovely things like that. but im not sure i can promise that. ill most likely be running late, and my clothes may or may not be ironed because im running late [although, admittedly, since the advent of downy wrinkle releaser, the wrinkles in my clothing have been far fewer. such a lovely invention.] and ill be unsettled about something or other, and i probably did something stupid 6 minutes ago. [:some advice from lizzie mcguire which i had the pleasure[?] of watching with my sisters, and which i thought was remarkably insightful for something which involves hillary duff:
things to do when the girl is not happy:
1. notice shes unhappy
2. pretend not to notice
3. ask her carefully and calmly about something else
4. back into the question of why shes unhappy--but only if shes speaking to you in complete sentences and making eye contact. if not, try again later.
5. then--its possible that she'll really talk to you. just let her talk, and you just sit there and take it. then things will probably be happier.

im halfway embarrassed to admit that this works with me. usually anyway.but i cant promise anything. ] some things are simply disheartening. i think i make a little progress with something or other, and then oops no i didnt. forward, backwardsbackwardsbackwardsbackwardsbackwardsbackwards forwardbackwardsbackwardsbackwardsbackwards forward backwards and i cant be a writer: im scared to death, and uninspired, boring and unoriginal. and my house would be a mess. i cant be a mother: my kids will be starved on accident and im far too selfish. [not even dialogue like this can convince me that it would be fun, except for sometimes it would be:
molly [age8]: so, did you go anywhere this summer on vacation, or to your grandparents?
alex [age3]: huh?molly: did you go anywhere?
alex: yeah!molly: where?
alex: to the potty! ]
im dreading the day when i may begin to carry a purse callender. and what if my kids arent cute?! i never thought there was such a thing as an uncute baby, but ive recently been proven wrong. o dear.i cant be a supermodel: im a smidgen to short and bit too pudgy and nothing fits exactly the right way cause im exactly the wrong size. exactly. [this causes no small amount of frusturation, let me assure you--ive been shopping lately, so im frusturated with the process in general at the moment. boys do not understand this, i believe. actually, i dont think that boys even understand what its like to be a girl.] also: i dislike the days where i start out being a failure. its more pleasant for me to reaquaint myself with that thought as the day goes on rather than being faced with it first thing.i do have to be something, you know, because im becoming something. i already know that. but goodness--what is it?and im so afraid that i dont have what it takes to be what i want.[and let me take this moment to say that my goals are being simplified constantly. i think im learning the value of that--i try to overly complicate things, you know. but not everything should be overly complicated, just somethings. new goals as follows:to smell like flowers. to get rid of some stuff. to be gracious. to not clomp in heels. [a lady should clickclickityclick, not clompclompclomp. what a worry it is that i might clomp.] to enlarge my mind. to grow. to be sexy, in the good way.] doing what i ought is harder than i want it to be, let me tell you. but trytry again, eh? i need criticism tempered with encouragement. i need truth with love. i need You and the rest of you. i feel like a snake or caterpillar, itching and itching to get the old skin / cocoon off, and its just slowlyslowly coming off but it hasnt quite yet. then, i think of that part in the voyage of the dawn treader where eustance turns into a dragon but he cant shed the skin until aslan punctures it way down deep. either way: i guess im about to be peeling like an orange or banana or something [it seems like theres a saying for that but goodness knows what it is.]. and: only after the dragon skin comes off can the jeweled braclet be put on the arm properly, you know, without getting stuck or looking ugly.
apparently, he gives us just what we need. his grace is enough for even me.but: tell me how: i dont know.and be the center: im all off-kilter.and notice me: i need you to.
yes, notice me, please.

Posted 8/8/2005 12:02 AM