I sing to my fish

Today I was talking to a friend, who like me, is living away from her family and friends. We talk often about our struggles with finding a "home" where in fact, a home isn't. We both realize we should be able to feel comfort and contentment since we are with the person that we love and both have talked about our guilt for not being the best at adjusting to new places. And we also tend to talk about the end of the world and how we are at a weird place in our lives. On Fridays, we both make up award ribbons for our significant others for dealing with us. Okay, not really, but maybe its something I'll ponder when I finish pondering 3,243 other things.

Come on give me a break. I have two very demanding dogs, one fish that won't eat his food unless I'm singing to him, borderline hypochondria (says some...I vehemently deny this), germophobia, fears galore---including natural disasters, life after death, and choking my husband on the dry chicken breast I gave him for dinner---On top of these, I try really hard to be semi-normal for at least 3 days a week in the presence of my husband. You try living in my world and see if you don't sit in the corner drooling.

Anyway, the point of this blog is because my conversation with my friend today included worrying. She was worrying about what the future will bring. I worry about everything too, maybe that's why we are friends? No, I'm friends with her because she is pretty. Just kidding! Lawdamercy, calm down.

I worry about whether the world will ever have peace. I worry about the fate of animals and children in sad situations.  I worry about if Louie the First (our fish) has a big enough bowl or is happy swimming alone in his bowl all day. I worry big and small. I also am worried at this particular moment because Husband thinks that the Krispy Cream doughnuts that we bought on Saturday are no longer good. There are two left and he wants to throw them away. So today, I am worried that he will beat me home and chunk the little pieces of bliss before I can get home to save them. See? It's a jungle in here. (meaning my mind.)

I've gotten off topic again. Geez. The point is!!!...**now I'm stopped to remember what the point really was**...Okay, so about worrying: Worrying is not something I feel that I will be able to ever stop. As I'm sure many of you have finished this thought for me and added the thought that I should probably be committed to a room with cushioned white walls for the remainder of my days which is valid. But, shockingly enough, I don't worry about the future of my life and where its going. I think about it. But I can't say that I dwell on it much. I know my husband is shaking his head as he reads this because he is quite the little future-planner. Which can account for why he had to teach me what an IRA was and how I should have a lot more money in my non-existent one at this point in my life. IRA? or IRS? Crap.

Anyway. Pretend we are in a jungle (which = life in this example, not my mind as refered to in the example above). I tend to float about through the trees kind of like one of those fluffy little white things that float through the air and go where the wind blows them, bouncing about and saying "Wheeeeeee" and only stopping to enjoy a quick nap on a glorious tree limb with my koala friend. While Husband brings an army, a backhoe, an oil drill, night-vision goggles, an architect, a 7 year supply of food and water, and a Chuck Norris pocket knife with him. So as you can see, there is a slight bit of a difference here.

I have gotten to where I am in life not because I planned it out to the minute, and truthfully, I am quite lucky to be where I am especially with my dreamer mentality. During my conversation with my friend, I was telling her that I used to question that saying "What's meant to happen, will happen." I mean, it sort of makes you want to karate-chop it most of the time doesn't it? Especially when you're sitting on the side of the road with a flat tire...in the pouring rain...when you should be at an interview....for a job that you need...to buy bread. BUT, I *think* that I believe the saying. I don't know what my life holds for me. I don't know where its going and where it will lead and what I'll have to go through to find out. And right now, it really doesn't necessarily make sense to me and I ask myself a lot what I should be doing and what the point of all this is. But, a little tiny voice in the back of my head tells me someday it will. Someday I'll know. Now whether or not that voice is one of my undiagnosed split personalities, I do not know. Its probably another thing I should ponder though.

If you find yourself in a situation or a part of life that is totally confusing and you wonder why you even came through the birth canal...know that you aren't alone. At least two other people on the planet feel the same way as you! (me and the other person that whispers to me...just kidding!! don't call the mental health authorities!)

I am a firm believer that your plans for life are just that...plans. Just because you plan every step out doesn't mean that's what will actually happen. I think God has a plan (or Mother Nature..or the Universe...or Buddha..I mean, I can't go on forever people, just insert your higher power here and don't be offended). My Grandma would drop her cinnamon bun and do a flip in her recliner if she knew I included all those names. :-/ This blog has an open-mind, Grandma!!

Finishing up, I look back at my life the last ten years; a life that I am often criticized for and poked fun of a little, mainly for taking forever to finish college, hiding under beds when there was a decision to be made, avoiding choosing a career, eating Cheetos for lunch, and not planning for my future. Sounds bad, I guess. I stayed in relationships longer than I should have and went out at night when I should have stayed home and read books like "How To Be An Adult 101...for Dummies...I'm looking at YOU, Jenny" I know I didn't plan, but even with my floating through my twenties, I am exactly where I probably should be even if I don't understand it.

 (Not saying I wouldn't love to be a famous writer already husband-who-is-appalled-at-my-IRA-account-balance! Err, uhh hmm, love you. See you when I get home. What would you like for dinner? Perhaps some extra dry chicken?)

But if I would have changed one little thing about my past, I wouldn't be who I am now. I wouldn't have grown into the person I am. So I try to keep that in mind these days, as I sit, staring at doorknobs in my house and worrying about the fact that they don't match the towel rods in the bathroom, wondering what the point of all this is. I know life is taking me somewhere. And I know I'll figure it out when I get there.

Now, I hope you feel better about your life. That's my good deed for the day. Carry on.