.daunting.

                          daunting.

                    that blank page.

  even moreso, a book of pages.

              waiting for genius to spill.

       waiting for life.  for blood. for hope. for sorrow. for pain. for ecstasy. for grace.

i am afraid to write sometimes.  afraid of what i’ll find out.  having an expectation for everything written to be a revelation.  scared to find out that i just might be full of it.

new relationships are like blank pages.  but they are far more terrifying.  i am my own worst critic in someone else’s eyes.  when i put myself in their shoes and look back at me, i can’t imagine what they like. 

sometimes i feel needy.  i need them to tell me that i am, in fact, worth something.  that’s why it’s so easy for me to pull away.  i retreat.  waiting for a reaction.  do they like me because they have to?  because i’m there?  if i wasn’t, would they look for me?

i have pushed so many people away this way.  if you don’t work for my friendship then you won’t get it.  but i’m a hypocrite.  do i work that hard for anyone else?  no.

                                     really, how selfish am i?

       i am in this sick cycle that i can’t break.

but what scares me the most is that i’m comfortable here.  this dysfunction is normal and i’m afraid to function outside of it.

.tembo.

I’m wearing my “where the wild things are” t-shirt today.  Adam noticed it and mentioned that he really liked the book when he was growing up.  I did as well…hence the t-shirt…

But, his comment got me to thinking about some of my favorite books when I was growing up, what lessons they taught and what I really enjoyed about them. 

My absolute favorite book was “Horton Hatches the Egg”.

I know, I know, not as popular as the “Horton Hears a Who”, but I think it’s the better story.  I could be biased, but let’s not think about that.  (c; 

One thing that I loved about it was the way my mother read it.  She was always very animated and made us giggle at her psycho Lazy Mayzie impression and made us smile with her warm, slow impression of the ever faithful Horton.  But the thing that really stuck with me was heart of the story.  Horton made a promise.  It was a promise to a liar, but a promise none-the-less.  He stuck by his word and was dedicated to fufill his promise despite the fact that it was made to someone who was selfish and just wanted a vacation from responsibility.  He also kept the promise amidst mocking from his peers, then a kidnapping (or would it be elephantnapping?) to a circus freak show and was mocked by crowds of strangers.  But thru all these trials, he remained faithful to his promise.  As he says “I meant what I said, I said what I meant.  An elephant’s faithful one hundred percent.” 

In the end, his faithfulness is rewarded by a little Horton (with wings!)….so, that might scare the bejezzus out of me, what with my bird phobia, (I might actually crap myself if I saw a flying elephant), but all that aside, I just love the lesson that is presented in the story. So how about you?  Do you have a favorite story from childhood?