Scribbles from a bunch of notebooks that are too short for complete pieces

March 22, 2017

A few weeks ago I finally read Stephen King's memoir On Writing. Seeing how short some of his chapters are, I decided that random scri...

A few weeks ago I finally read Stephen King's memoir On Writing. Seeing how short some of his chapters are, I decided that random scribbles I put together whenever I feel like it can be blog-worthy. In fact, this post could someday become four chapters of a book I might publish (check part 2 of this post for more information on that).
My friends can tell you that I squeal with excitement when I find a crumpled up piece of paper that has a few incoherent thoughts written on it. So featured here are random thoughts I normally scribble in one of my notebooks - I have plenty, because even though I obsess over organizing everything, my notes are mostly just as disorganized as my purse and my mind. 

An old family friend once said that there are countless ways to live. 13-year-old me didn't quite understand what that meant, but the woman seemed smart with her calming tone and a low, slightly trembling voice. I filed that information under "check back when you're older".
Now, as I'm sitting on the bus that will take me back to college, I look around myself - I am usually unable to do anything productive while I'm resting my head on the window and the sun is finally seeping through the glass after what seems to me like an awfully long winter. So I look around.
I look at the other passengers and try to guess what brought them here.
Our lives are so different, but we're all going towards the same goal.
What is going on in their lives? What is going on in the lives of the girl that is reading a motivation book? Is she happy?
There is a couple that is very excitedly talking about traveling to Kenya together. Are they happy?
I always enjoy seeing people being genuinely happy and enjoying themselves.
Do you ever look around yourself and realize you're surrounded by a mosaic of different ways of living and enjoying life? Not two people are the same, yet we all find our ways of being happy. Every single person enjoys life in a different way. And shouldn't we cherish their happiness? Shouldn't we respect them, even if they're not the things that would make us happy?
Isn't it magical to think about all the countless things that make people happy?

I'd rather be baking. // I'd rather be cuddling my cats. // How to screw up most things. // How to scare away people. // Life is crazy (and so am I).

About once a week I get called childish. Of course, I know two definitions of that word. One would be acting immature and being an asshole. The other would be not letting go of your childhood wonder despite being mature in important situtations. Not letting your inner child disappear.
I am mature in situations where I have to be, I really am. 
But little things make me happy and excited.
When it rains, I sometimes jump in a large puddle.
I tell and laugh at stupid jokes.
I sometimes (often, actually) talk to myself.
I sing to myself on the bus (and when someone hears me, I pretend it wasn't me).
I draw.
I learn every day. I ask questions, no matter how stupid they might be.
I create things.
I spend time with friends that bring out my inner child.
So no, I don't mind being called childish. I take it as a compliment because life can get boring when you worry too much. There is too much stress and responsibility in our lives every day, so I refuse to let go of my inner child.

Riding the bus from home to college and vice versa. // Looking at random people and imagining their life stories. // Perfectly nailing the harmony when singing along to a song on the radio. // Super-stretch jeans. // Waking up two hours before my alarm. // Driving long-distance when I'm not in a hurry.

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