Life Bubbles

Do you ever have a pretty great day at work or at school and you come home to disarray, your child with blue hair and someone yelling at you? It’s an emotional punch to the gut and it hurts MORE because the drop from high to low is greater.

Like, come ON. You’re dancing on the way home to BPM and chuckling at yourself at how wrong you are with pronouncing the words and life in that bubble makes total sense.
Then you’re walking in the front door and that bubble pops.
And air is bubble so you don’t just stop having air. You’re in a new bubble and this one is fricken SUCKING in making sense.

But friends, I’ll have you know:  that is lifes’ format.
Bubble after bubble, burst after burst.
and you must keep bubbling along accepting the crap ones as what they are while figuring out what to do with the idiot bubble remnants on your clothes. Sometimes we dust them off, sometimes we take the clothes and place them straight in the washing machine, other times we get completely new ones.
Whatever way it is, the quicker we do it the less time it takes for a bright, pretty great day of a work bubble to float into our life cycle.


Changing the Ups and Downs

There’s still an air of change that the strands of my hair can feel. This is one of those braver, launch out to the world posts- where as two nights ago I was on my bedroom floor, my eyes leaking a fresh batch.
It is not a rolling lawn, hilly field scene. It is cliffs, jutted out rocks, grass and sand.

I walk the grasses of eager and strength and without even having time to lose my footing, I’m falling down a hole that has sandpaper walls.

I’m getting tired of these frantic and draining surprises.
It’s not like I’m getting better at them.

I’ll have to make the necessary adjustments, realign my path and try something different. I cannot continue doing the same things and expect a different outcome.
Hence, the change my hair strands can feel.