The last three days have been spent doing the following: Working out (coming back from a ten-day absence due to severe bronchitis and other happenings that were mentioned in previous blogs). It's amazing how only two weeks ago, running felt fabulous. Now, it feels as though someone is playing a sick game of "hide yo lungs".
Finishing the Jim Morrison book. (More on that later)
Watching the NWSL (Twitter) wheel and deal.
Wondering why my mom (and I assume many moms) saved the Welch's jelly jars and still uses them as drinking glasses.
And finally, watching soccer games on TV.
Coming next… my thoughts on all of these things.
First, working out. No, actually there's nothing more to say in that area. It can only go up from here.
First, Jim Morrison.
"When we became a concert group, a record group, and were contracted to provide so many albums per year, so many singles every six months, that natural spontaneous generative process wasn't given a chance to happen… "Do I think my work has suffered? Yeah, I do. If we did nothing but record, it would probably be alright. But we do other things, too, so there's not the time to let things happen as they should."
This is what Jim said when he realized his creative juices weren't flowing like they used to. He was experiencing life as "giving the customer what he wants", which meant things were forced. Songs weren't happening naturally, like they had in the past, and for an artist, I imagine (though we are all capable artists in my opinion) this must be the worst.
This really lit my fire. (Had to.)
We try to force things a lot. And this brought me right back to a Huffington Post article I read several weeks ago asking what we are willing to suffer for. We all want things. We all want things really badly. But what are we willing to suffer for? (I highly suggest reading the article.)
So, naturally, I put all this together. For over 25 years, I've been willing to suffer for the beautiful game of soccer. I've lived all over the world. I've put in well over my 10,000 hours. I've let it rip my heart out of my chest (emotionally and physically) and bruise my body (and ego) and like an abusive boyfriend who loves you when no one is watching, kept going back every time. Because it was always worth suffering for. And to me, it always will be.
But there are so many things that I've tried (applause for trying) and failed miserably, simply because, I realize now, I simply didn't want it bad enough.
I think that's a hard realization to come to for a lot of people. Because that ideal life is so appealing. It's so tempting, yet it's just not appealing enough for you to want it sometimes.
For me, and yeah it's a bit personal maybe, but I always had this idea that I could be a huge socialite. It's comical to me now, because it's really not what I wanted at all. I truly dislike being in big groups of people. I tried to love it for a long time. I convinced myself I needed to learn how to dance and "do what everyone else was doing". For five years, nothing changed. During 2013, mostly through my journaling and reflecting, I realized that I didn't want that at all. I really enjoyed solitude and being in small groups or one on one with people.
I had played with that idea a few years ago when I was living in Brazil. I read Walden (Thoreau) around that time and remembered being around people constantly (I lived in a house with almost the entire Santos team- almost 30 people) and rarely had any time to myself. This is when I truly learned to appreciate it, but later disregarded it because I was in a foreign country.
I'm very content knowing I'm a loner. I don't have a group of "girls". I don't attend happy hour. What I do have are incredible human beings placed all around the world that I can sit down and have a cup of coffee with and feel completely consumed with every word they say and every thing that they do.
I think that's enough for tonight. The other stuff can wait.
Except … if I was more of a socialite, I probably wouldn't even notice that my mom still has those Welch jelly jars… because I doubt I'd be okay living at home at 30 years old. But man, I just don't mind it at all.
When you figure out what makes you happy (and what you're willing to suffer for), and are okay with it, everything starts to come a little more naturally. It really does.