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Sometimes you just need to pull your hair back, change into comfy clothes, eat some chocolate, and freak out.

Do some quick yoga, relax a little.

Watch some Joy of Painting because it really doesn't get any more chill than Bob Ross painting happy trees

Think of everything you have to do and everything that could go wrong and how little time you have and what really is the meaning of life

*possible anxiety disorder

Eat more chocolate, feel bad when you realize you've eaten every bit of junk food that crossed your mind in the last twenty minutes.

Realize you've done nothing productive.

Wonder if you even know what productive is and if you've ever actually done anything like it

*possible obsessive compulsive

Cry 

Cry some more

Wonder why the world hates everything beautiful

Cry some more

*possible mood disorder

Get in bed and try to keep from thinking about things, pray, fall asleep while praying, feel guilty about that later...

Things I'm Glad I'm Not

Due to be decapitated
Lazarus
A wench
A pamphlet
Cursed to forever speak ye olde english
Canned meat
Alone in the universe
A mannequin
The queen of some tiny, hardly noteworthy country
Dumb as a rock
A rock
A rock star
Bacon
Sir Francis Bacon
Named Francis
A bowling pin
The artist behind a political cartoon
A goldfish
Indebted to the mob
In Antarctica
Being held hostage
On a pirate ship
Buried up to my neck in sand
Stuck in a bottle
Allergic to chocolate
A clone
A dodo bird 

Goosfraba

Sometimes I think there's a part of my brain that's always deeply relaxed and is really good at giving advice. I just don't always listen to it. It's like this little Yoda/Tibetan monk figure sitting calmly in a corner somewhere watching as I run around frantically like a chicken missing something.

I really do give myself good advice.

Try to be more forgiving and patient with people. You don't know what it's like for them.
Be appreciative of all the wonderful things in your own life.
Try not to worry about the future; you'll wind up somewhere eventually, and then just try to enjoy wherever you are.
Think of nice things you can do for people instead of thinking about what you'd like.
Yeah, you probably shouldn't eat those leftovers.

I think of these things and I realize, hey, that's not a bad idea...

and then I flap my little chicken wings and fly/flop into another feathery tizzy. Because I figure with my deep coordination deficit I'd probably be a really terrible flier, even for a chicken.

Red

My family tree, or what little I know of it, roots mostly in Northern Europe. The only things I've heard have come from family stories. I have a truly impressive compilation of ancestry composed by a relatively distant something-or-another that details her lineage, tracing it all the way back to an Englishman coming across the water in the early 1600s.

Elsewhere in the book she makes a brief mention of the Williams side, which is quite a bit closer to me individually, whose North American founder traveled from Ireland. 

That might be the part I enjoy mentioning the most. I'm not sure why, but there's something about the country that makes you want to belong to it. While the thread I have to tie me to that land is tiny and by no means a well established connection, it is a live nerve. I know very little about Ireland, but I still think of it fondly. I want to embrace probably more of it than I'm actually at liberty to.

I've also been told that there was American Indian added to the melting pot at some point. 

I myself am an American. I would like to take pride in that. I cry when I hear the national anthem and I want to hug every person in uniform I see and I think bald eagles are quite majestic. But it's a strange relationship really because some days the flag makes me weep with pride and appreciation and other days I want to hang my head in shame. I am an American though, for better or worse.

I come from tough people. People who worked the land and people who worked for other people and people who just worked. And I'm very proud of that.

There are multiple Confederate officers in my tree. Many many farmers. A couple people who founded Primitive Baptist churches in southern states. At least one doctor. Too many John's to count. And one guy who killed a bear with his pocket knife. 

I enjoy researching my family tree. I know some people think it's pointless because it's a bunch of dead guys who didn't do anything of major importance to the world and what does it matter now? But it's interesting. I think it's neat to be able to see the census from 1884 that's shows your so many greats grandfather as a little boy. His father couldn't read or write, but he worked as a hired hand or farmer or railroader and kept food on the table for his family.

It makes me proud, and it makes me believe in myself. To know that there were good, smart people mixed in there no matter where they came from. Somebody somewhere down the line is going to point to my name in a book and say there's soandso. She did this and that and she was great.

I never thought one picture could sum up an entire person...but wow...this is the closest thing I've ever seen...

Goofball

I have a certain subject that I like to talk about anytime, anywhere, to anybody...which is a big deal for me because I don't like to talk just a whole lot to most people. I'm always afraid that I seem rude or callous when I try to talk to people. I just don't know how to do it right. I'm about as clumsy verbally as I am physically.

But strike up a conversation with me about Ta and prepare for a deluge. I hope you brought popcorn. Not that it's that interesting, I just figure you'll probably want a snack at some point over the next three days.

I can honestly say I've never loved anything the way I do him. I adore that boy, and it's not an overstatement.

And I know that I'm young and (probably, although I'm not going to completely admit to it because I'm also a little stubborn) foolish, but when you know you just know right?

They don't have a word for what he is to me. In common vernacular, he's my boyfriend, but I don't like that word. He is my best friend, and he does happen to be male, but he's more than that. He's my confidant, my knight in shining armor, my go-to and support. He's my sounding board, one of my biggest fans, and my reprimander when need be. There are other people who hold some of these titles, other people who are terribly dear to me who love me very much, and I them. But he's just different.

There are certain fundamental things that you just live accepting. The sky is blue. Somebody told you that once and you didn't question it, you just accepted it. You breathe air. You eat food. For me another one is Ta. He's just a part of normal.

And he's the best whatever he is that I could ever want. 

He makes me laugh. All the time. Almost constantly. I know part of it is my absolutely dreadful sense of humor, but he also tries really hard to amuse me, and that in itself makes me smile.

He wants to make me happy. And I know this both because he's told me many times and because he shows it so well. I, among others, have accused him of being about as romantic as a root canal, but he really is a big sweetheart if you know how to look for it. 

We've grown together, and I mean that both like we've each grown in the time that we've been together, and like the way two branches of a tree can fuse if they're held together long enough. We've both changed drastically, and it's exciting to look back and see it, and it's exciting to look forward and know that we will continue to do so. 

He's not afraid of talking about the future anymore. In fact, he brings it up probably as much as I do. He'll rub my feet and let me have a sip of his drink and I'm pretty sure he'd hold my hair back if I ever had to throw up around him. Which are all really big things for him. And I've changed too, but I think mine were in ways a lot less openly evident. 

He makes me stronger. He makes me feel beautiful even when I don't want to. He makes me believe in myself.

He makes me feel closer to God for many reasons. Not the least of which is that he really is one of the best people I've ever met. And for all of you saying "uh huh, yeah, that's what you think," you are correct, I do think it. He is well-behaved and respectful of me. He prays. He has his shortcomings, and I'm equally aware of them. But he's a truly good person, and I admire him a lot. It makes me try harder to be a little better myself. And it makes me happy to know that we both try to put God first in everything we do. I feel like that makes us stronger every day.

And I'm not going to lie. I have wondered before if I'm absolutely sure. But every time I have, something's made me sure again very quickly. I know he's not perfect, but neither am I. He loves me a whole lot and that makes me happy. And I love him a whole lot too and that makes me very happy. 

Four years isn't really a long time. It's very brief in the overall span of things, but a lot can happen in one day, much less 1,495 of them. And I like the days he's in. I'd really like a lot more with him, that goofball I adore.