I think that I was depressed for a while, but maybe I’m too quick to label things. Maybe I was just sad and scared and overwhelmed by all of the changes in my life.
The sun is shining again. It came out from behind the clouds about a month and a half ago. The sun is shining and life is beautiful and they call me “Sunshine” again at work, instead of “Miss OCD” and “Baby Brat.”
I’m Sunshine and Baby Girl and Sweetheart again, and it feels good to hear those names after so many weeks of being “Bitchy Jami” and “Bratty Jami.”
I’m writing every day again, where I hadn’t before. And it helps. It helps me stabilize; it drives out the static in my brain.
Words are magic.
You can use them to build entire civilizations, just to turn and reduce them to rubble and ash. You can use them to make people fall in love and out of love. You can use a pen tip needle to sew up a broken heart with black ink thread. You can use them to reopen a wound just to heal it again, all in the same paragraph, even the same sentence.
You can create literally anything out of them, and they’re magic.
I am re-falling in love with the piano, with music. I keep finding myself pulled towards my piano, and the college’s pianos, and it’s like visiting an old friend.
Music is almost as magical as words are, I think. Maybe just as magical because sometimes music can express what even words can’t.
I’m not waitressing at the grill very much any more. I only work two shifts a week because I need so much time for classes and assignments and piano students and church, so I’m working in the kitchen on Thursdays and hostessing on Friday nights. It’s been a strange transition; working in the back with the same faces on Thursdays, and then jumping to the front with the myriad of people coming in and out, and having to share my smiles with them.
I can’t decide if sharing smiles and laughter and love with strangers is more or less difficult than sharing smiles and laughter and love with the people I am close to. It’s easier in some ways. I don’t risk anything by being kind and joyful. They won’t ever have the power to hurt me. But, good grief, it’s draining to give so much away to so many people all in one evening.
Part of the reason they have me bouncing back and forth is because I don’t care much where I land. I enjoy every second that I’m there.
NaNoWriMo is kicking my butt this year. I started out writing a story idea that I’ve had for two years, one that I’ve already tried to write once, but I hit a brick wall on Day One and went to bed crying.
I woke up the next morning with an idea that I’m completely in love with, and loving what you’re writing is probably the most important thing about NaNoWriMo.
I’m behind on my word count by about five thousand words, which is terrifying. But I’m cheating a little bit; I have a story that I’m writing, but I’m counting any blog posts in my word count, too.
They’re words. That I wrote. During November. I’m saying that they count.
At least I’m not trying to throw my essays in there, too. I’d be finished by the end of next week.
I’m happy. I’m healthy. The sun is out and shining bright, and life is just a beautiful thing.
That’s basically all that I’ve got to say at this point.