This year was the first time I didn’t take time off from my job to celebrate myself at the time of year when we should all do so. (Celebrate YOURselves on your own Birthdays I mean.) So I’ve just had the two days of my weekend (Sunday/Monday). It’s ok, I like my job. I’m not miserable anymore.
Yesterday I attempted a Walkabout as one of my Birthday outings. Turned out it was just brunch, then kind-of boredom. I mean, I know a couple of us had a good time, I did. For the others I think it was just nice. Hot, a little boring, but the margaritas were good. Regardless, I had a pleasurable day and I am grateful to my friends; I hope they had a good time and do not regret the hours they gave to me! The afternoon did not turn out as silly or adventurous as I’d hoped, but they gave me a gift… their time and attention. That alone makes me smile and feel happy.
So far it seems walkabouts are best successful when there are not more than two MAYbe three very close friends (or, if you’re just totally alone), who are into finding silliness and interest in humorous (oftentimes artistic) photo opportunities from things slight or grande as you walk about. Then you go home with camera memory cards filled with some beautiful, some wholly unattractive, and probably many hilarious photographs. It’s like when people plant grass on a hillside so rain doesn’t erode away the land. Time doesn’t fade the memory of the day you made lovely by the connection of friends, the things you did, the fun. (As a bonus you probably also end up with at least one social network profile photo, which EVERYONE enjoys having (whether we admit it openly or not).
I have had a lovely Birthday, ALL the days of it. It’s marking isn’t quite over yet, I’ve a couple more people to share a meal or drink with, hug and thank for being my friend.
But today is the last day of my weekend so I thought to sit, sip my morning coffee, and try to write a little blog post. It used to make me so happy to write things out of my head. Like a message placed in a bottle and put out to sea. I don’t know if these things will ever be read, I’m perfectly happy thinking/hoping that they aren’t. I place them adrift online, it somehow makes them more alive than the ones handwritten into my real pen & paper journals.
Sometimes, when I go back and read a few blog posts from years ago I am amused, sometimes sad, always pleased at having them. Like photographs capture memories in image, journaling captures time-capsules of thought.
It’s who you are. The story of you, of course it is worth saving.