Comfort

The wind forces creaking from the soul of character outside my window. While the breeze sweeps in, coating everything in a cool air of refreshment, the creak screams out in the night yearning to hold on to the only thing it knows. Not old, comfortable. 

But the wind cares not. It compels change. And the creak goes on, knowing its in vein. Neither can help itself. 

As the air swirls and stirs everything in its path, it recognizes not the obstacles, only the pressing force that it must continue on. And though small things may move  with it, the larger obstacles stand firm. Unmoved they let out their creaks, wanting nothing more than to remain unchanged. Alas they are helpless, eventually yielding to the pressure they will become different. The creaking reaches out into the night in feabke attempts to hold on all the while knowing it had already lost. 

And as the building holds fast but eventually gives way, so must we when the wind blows change. Let the breeze refresh you. Enjoy the breathe if something new. Creak if you must but the comfort you had is floating on the breeze. 

Paradise Realized

Vacation. All I ever wanted. The escape from the every day has been some how engrained as a necessity to get away. But after my most recent escape, I think that it does quite the opposite. The time away from the grind of daily life gives us the time to truly appreciate what we are able to experience- not only in the days we spend away, but also in the grind we have left behind. 

It is not innovative to say that we take what we have for granted. But it is to think about the luxury of stepping away from that going to make you appreciative rather than losing something that makes life harder to realize all that was at your disposal prior. While gaining the amazing experiences that a break from the norm has to offer, many slip into that world of responsibility-less freedom. They may or may not be living in the moment, but they sure aren't thinking about getting back to the daily life from which they came. I found this break an amazing chance to realize how special that grind is. It's not glamorous. It's not fun. It's not vacation. But it is mine. 

It forms reality. Give perspective. Providers a sense of self as well as a sense of the world around you. When it's joyous, it's special. And even when it sucks, it's special. Because it's yours and no one else can have it. We spend too mush time focusing on what we could, should, would have rather than appreciating reality for all its joy and sucky-ness. Especially in this world of constant communication and sharing, we forget the giant sections of life left in the shadows. We compare ourselves to a standard to which even those creating it cannot live up. 

We return the favor to them and perpetuate to others- sharing out greatest moments while hoping no one sees past the joy to the suck sitting in the 99 pictures taken to get one worth sharing or the years of struggle behind that 1% success. 

I spent a week in paradise. And instead of just taking a week of memories with amazing people, literally 1,000 pictures, and an extra suitcase full of trinket-y souvenirs (all of which, mind you, I am definitively taking), I also get to take the fact that the grind that I am returning to is perfect. Because it's mine. And quite frankly it's not a grind that I would trade for much... Except another week in paradise. I'd take that in a heartbeat. 

Winds of change

It's a blustery day (to say the least). I lay awake unable to sleep as the winds howl outside my window; forceful enough to disrupt the comfort of the typically calm night. There has been much devastation today, but we have to see past it. Rather than mourn the loss of a quiet night, we should look forward to the excitement of a fresh tomorrow swept clean by the winds of change on which to build the greatest of dreams. 

Rather than wallow in the worry of today, why not revel in the possibility of a better tomorrow? As terrifying as the potential for damage is, it is not without risk of facing tragedy that we could ever experience something better. 

I don't know what it is, but I should be scared of the eeirie sounds and the wind relentlessly pelting my window with the debris of yeterday. But I am oddly calm. For some reason I am anticipating greeting a clean slate of tomorrow. Forget the potential of the mess created the past swirling around itself. Time to focus on the better days that lie ahead. 

A Pettiglio Christmas Eve Eve

Twas the night before, the night before Christmas and at Camp Pettiglio,

Every creature was stirring – just one day to go!

With two kids in college and two out on their own,

Time for traditions has shrunk with the kids fully grown.

But traditions are strong and family is tight,

So we’re doing what it takes to get it done in one night.

The fish needed prepping, the tree needed trim,

The gifts needed wrapping, oh where to begin?

At least cookies were made at a night with the cousins,

With Nonni and Nonno we’d already made dozens.

So we'll start with the figures- LEDs line each hall,

Though I’m still not so sure how we power them all…

And now for the ornaments – we need 95,

One for each child for each year of their lives.

Then our seasonal game- new tradition of sorts,

A little competition makes sense as we’re all lovers of sports.

And with cocoa for all, though now some spike their drinks,

We clean the whole house from bedrooms to sinks.

Tomorrow will be filled with prepping all over,

Luminaries for the driveway and final trips to the grocer.

The trains must be set and the nativity placed,

The playlist queued up – not a minute to waste!

With cut-off sweatshirts, stained with years of grease,

We will then begin to prepare the seven fish feast.

We’ll dress up and take pictures, though that will end in a fight,

But now we are ready to party tonight!

So we’ll open the doors, our home fully prepared,

Ready to see droves of friends and family there.

And Santa will come bearing scratch tickets and gifts,

And the BARTENDER makes sure college kids all get their wish.

Another great Christmas Eve will have come and gone,

Proving even with life's changes, tradition still lives on.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve!

i used to... but now...

Hope. Future. Possibilities. Was it really only a few short years ago that the world was my oyster and all this sand was nothing but pearls in the making? Where did that go? 

Fewer than five years into true adulthood, that larger than life, can-do attitude has faded into the shadow of fulfillment hiding in the lining of a briefcase that now get tossed idly around. That briefcase was once a goal, the dream. Countless all nighters researching markets, proofreading papers, putting finishing touches on (read: starting and completing the entirety of) the presentation, all to get to the day that I would have that briefcase. And now I cannot wait to stash it in the trunk of the car on a Friday. Did I fail to cultivate the passion I once had? Or rather, did the passion just shift and my stubborn mind refuses to follow my heart (and honestly who can blame the brain? Does that heart even know what it wants anyway? Hint - no.). 

I read all these listicles, because the internet has now expanded from cat pictures and baby videos to include these too, abut what your 20s are supposed to be like. And sometimes I find comfort in the fact that more than a few individuals spend a solid decade of their lives wandering aimlessly. But sometimes it makes it worse. How do we take a bunch of briefcase-idolizing go getters and turn them into a bunch of lost children in a few sort years?

I get it. I'm not going to know all the answers now. And that is precisely why life is such a confused mess. But some days it would surely be much easier if I could at least see the light.

blahh

What do you do when nothing is wrong? When you are going through life, there are going to be times where there are obvious challenges ahead of you and your task is to think hard, work harder and do whatever it takes to get through it. From these challenges, we learn and grow and become generally better. And hell, more often than not we find a way to roll some good times into that process. But what do we do when nothing is, in fact, wrong?

You would think this scenario is a near nirvana, the utopia that we constantly search for throughout our lives. But just because nothing is wrong, does not mean that everything is right. Or anything for that matter. When things are wrong, we push ourselves. When things are right, we work to maintain that same level of satisfaction. But when things are neither, there is little reason to work for any reason; you have dug yourself a rut and you are safely trudging away in it.

The monotonous back and forth of daily life only deepens the lame state of being. And the only way out is to identify your place in that rut and strengthen yourself mentally and physically to remove yourself from it. Little is going to present itself as a means of forcing new behavior or reinforcing existing ones. 

Sometimes I find myself waiting for a sign. A sign that I am doing something right, or wrong, or anything. Because, frankly, this rut is killing me. I have worn away the ground beneath me in my frantic pacing. The walls grow as the ground sinks, closing me into the chamber I have put myself in; a physical representation of the feelings whizzing around my being. But I am not so sure the sign will show itself. 

So I must pick a direction and force myself to travel thusly. Even if it is not right, it should be wrong enough to force me to want to make it right once more.

you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover...

... but you can, and you do.

We all know the adage about the inside being what matters; that the content trumps the package in which it is delivered. But what happens when we grow up and realize that the cover actually matters. Of course we know we need the substance, but dusty books with odd covers are often left on the shelf regardless if the content. And what good is even the greatest story when it never reaches eyes because it's fate was dictated by the facade that supposedly matters little compared to the value within?

How unfair is it to the complex and fulfilling stories to have to sit idly by as their shallow and unimpressive counterparts fly past them off the shelves simply because their flashy exteriors announce (false) promises to the world? And even when those promises fall short it is somehow ok because they "appear" to deliver? How comforting is that simple adage then? Not very, and it sucks. But the thing about books is that they got stuck with their one unchangeable cover. Us people, we can enhance our covers.

Now I am not saying that we should have to break ourselves only to squeeze the pieces of our former selves into a mold shaping us into an unrecognizable being. But I am saying that if the story is great, so should be the cover. And if the story sucks, then so should the cover. The cover should be an accurate preview of whatever (insert adjective here) is contained within.

We always try to be ourselves, displaying as much of our story on the outside as we can (or know how).   But the things with people is that sometimes we don't realize how awesome our story actually is. We don't necessarily give ourselves the same chances of having others want to really invest themselves in our story because we keep the dusty jacket of yesteryear. And we should change that.

Sometimes our stories change. The way we presented ourselves yesterday might have been a perfect advertisement of the story within at that point, but our stories are constantly evolving with each experience. And sometimes we forget to update the outside to make sure our current story delivers on the promises of the outside, which we know really matters.

So look at your cover and listen to your story, and make sure that your story delivers on its cover promises. And when your appearance isn't as awesome as your story - refresh it. And when your story isn't as awesome as your cover - go live your life and write the story that delivers on those promises.