Becoming less unsaid.

For ages random people who barely know me have been throwing the word "blog" at me.

They read a small blurb under a recent photo I post and they say that I'm real, and honest, and straightforward, and that they want to read more. I wonder what these people have been drinking to make them find my spurts of random enthusiasm or the lack of so interesting, because based upon the number of people who have brought it up in conversation with me, surely there is an epidemic of lack of better entertainment effecting the world in a sporadic pattern.

I digress. Obviously I've either grown tired of the connotation being presented to me as food for thought, or I've just become so bored that I almost find the idea appealing.

Which is not to say that I am an interesting person, or that I live an unusual life. In fact, I'm a pretty typical human these days. Every Sunday I leap yet again into another 40 hour week of working for 'the man' (or in my case, I believe it to be 'the woman'), each followed by a shockingly similar evening of making dinner, housecleaning, checkbook balancing, and trying to get the cat off my lap long enough to find the ever evading television remote.

Time passes quickly and I keep looking back, wondering where the time went and how I changed from that bright eyed teenager who couldn't wait to get out into the world and write books and get a career painting huge canvases and taking photographs to show the world how my mind works. Ten years later, I'm a cynical (which isn't to forget happy!) wife who stresses over stretching the monthly paychecks and dreaming of big houses and backyards and being able to skip the heels and business attire to stay home and feed mini-me's and change their dirty diapers.

Life is a rotation. We're all driven, some of us are just driven not to change. Some refuse to allow themselves not to.


I'm not sure if I was opposed to it, or if I wanted it, but I changed. I change everyday. And the ironic thing is, I wouldn't go back and change that for anything.
The person I am, become, and will be is a meld of all the little things that happen in my life, the people I pass in the street, the feeling I get when I bite my lip when someone is rude to me, the small sacrifices I make, and the bits of joy I find in a good cup of coffee when I'm having a bad morning.

Yesterday I didn't care for a blog, or for sharing anything more than my usual vents and blurbs that accompany my photos on a daily basis.

And today, well...I guess I changed, cos I'm sitting here with my coffee in my pajamas and bunny slippers that I will never feel too old to wear, thinking about that girl I was yesterday. I know that she is continually in change, and that if I don't uncork that voice that was hers by tomorrow or next week she may have converged into the actions and joys and disappointments that occur along the way and she might never get a chance to speak who she was.

No matter how insignificant and pointless her words might be. At least I will be able to say, I never left her unsaid.