Be a little braver

If someone asked me to describe myself in 5 words, I'd probably give a safe, socially-acceptable answer. For instance, I might say that I'm responsible, caring, book-addicted, geeky, and overly introverted. There, that's me. Nutshell.

A more realistic and authentic answer would be that I'm searching, compromising, conflicted, indecisive, and timid.

I'm searching for something meaningful in life. I know what I'm supposed to find meaningful; my religion, my relationships, my work, my passions. But I'm still searching.

I compromise too much. If I can't have what I want or need, I accept the next best thing. I give in. I bend. I give people what they want or expect, even if I don't feel like it's what I really want or should give.

I'm conflicted. People speak with authority towards me about a myriad of things and I listen. I am not much for arguing. I take it all in and ponder, and leave conflicted. I disagree deep down with people that I love, but I don't argue with them. I tell myself that it's better to have inner conflict than to have arguments with people I care about.

I am incredibly indecisive. I overthink everything, mostly because I have entirely too much time in my own head. One minute, I think I've made up my mind, 100% yes or no, and the next minute, I'm in the opposite corner. Apparently I don't mind arguments in my own mind, it's much more civilized. And once I commit to a decision, I agonize whether it was the right one. I have regrets that I made too hasty of decisions. I wonder if it's too late to change my mind.

I'm too timid. If I could change one thing about myself, I would be a little braver. I would take more risks. I wouldn't be so afraid of failure. I would remind myself that every day is an opportunity to grow and change. I would be brave.

If I could change one thing about myself, I would be a little braver:
I would go dancing.
I would laugh louder and not worry that my laugh sounds ridiculous.
I would speak up, even at the risk of being wrong.
I would wear high heels.
I would drive to an unfamiliar area of town and let myself get lost.
I wouldn't make excuses every time a friend tries to set me up on a date.
I would always say yes when my friends invited me to hang out.
I would plan trips out of town two weekends in a row and not worry about being tired.
If I saw a cute guy looking at me, I would look right back and smile.
I would learn how to snowboard.
I would make plans on weekday evenings all the time.
I would plan a trip to Europe by myself, just so I could go.
I would go hiking by myself.
I would buy a house.
I would try online dating.
I would buy a bike.
I would take a yoga class and not worry about looking utterly ridiculous.
I would get involved in community theater.
I would say "yes" more to babysitting for my friends and not worry that I'm going to accidentally scar their child for life by putting them to bed wrong (i.e. wrong bedtime story, singing off-key, etc).
I would talk to people I don't know.
I would give more hugs.
I would allow myself to be open to the possibility of love, and not worry about heartbreak.
I would sing loudly and not worry whether I sound excellent or awful.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

A rainy day . . .

It is a rainy day in Portland, OR.

One of my favorite kinds of days.

I was definitely born to live in this place. Either here or Scotland, that has yet to be determined. Since I haven't yet been to Scotland, Portland is looking more and more likely.

I know that I am in the minority about the rain. I hear a very vocal contingency among friends, family, and strangers who long for the sun, long for it to dry out, long to go do things out where they won't get drenched. And I get that. Summer time is beautiful here too, the light in the trees, the unending green, the hikes in the Gorge.

But I have this little love affair with the rain.

I love it's soundtrack. The unending background of it, so constant yet uneven. It's soothing and dreamy, melancholy and calming. I love to nap on a Sabbath afternoon when it's raining. There is nothing quite so cozy. And I never feel guilty wiling away hour upon hour of reading when it's raining. No one really expects that I'll be doing anything else. And just now, as I'm writing and drinking tea, the rain is the perfect counterpoint.

I even love to walk in the rain. It's just water after all, and when it's not really cold out, who care about getting wet? I just got back from a long walk and everything smelled clean, wet, fresh, and alive. The view from the top of the hill was slightly blurry and mysterious, like a veil between me and the rest of the world.

I actually love the feel of the water dripping off the tip of my nose and the slight squish of my shoes. I love knowing that all this water is going to make everything beautiful in the next few weeks and months.

I enjoy the puddles and don't avoid them. You should never grow up so much that you're too dignified to jump in puddles. You can always wash those clothes.

I do understand why some people dislike the rain. It's rough on picnics, creates mud, and the clouds can get a little gloomy after awhile. I wouldn't want it to rain every day, that would get a bit monotonous.

But I do love a rainy day.