Back to my swing

If I was asked to sum up my week with a picture (I honestly can’t come up with a good reason why somebody would ask me to do that but lets just pretend someone just did), I would probably pick this one…

You know, you were in your little swing, enjoying the view, having a nice time, actually looking forward to a few things, and all of a sudden you found yourself in the air, looking like a fool, having nothing to hold on to, not really sure of what to do, not really knowing how did you end up there, only certain that you will eventually land on the floor, get a few bruises, and inmediately will need to stand up, all covered in dust and a bit confused, pretending nothing happened and trying not to cry, to go back to your swing and give it a try one more time, even if the damn thing didn’t behave the way you expected. That’s how life works, I guess. Fortunately enough, I’ve never been in the middle of a really tough situation (knock on wood, hey), this has just been a badish week at the playground, but still, I have realized that some pretty average earthly setbacks can actually dislocate me a bit and even bring out a good bunch of insecurities and fears I don’t feel particularly thrilled about. I embrace them, of course, and try to face them and learn whatever I can in the process, but I really wouldn’t mind them to get the fuck out of my head and never come back.

When they stay, I try to deal with them the best way I can. Sometimes I smile and it works, other times I smile and I kid no one. I hate when that happens. I hate being there, looking California and feeling Minesotta, but at the same time, finding myself in that state of mind usually puts things in perspective and pats me on the back, giving me that bit of extra hope I need to tell myself things are gonna be alright. I’m sure they will.

I’ll go back to my swing, it’s Friday.


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