So, despite the fact that today was a nationally recognized holiday, and most everyone I know was out grilling hot dogs and eating watermelons, I stayed home and started school.
Which means... senior year has officially commenced.
There's definitely mixed emotions that come with being a senior. On one hand, it's exciting, but on the other hand all I can hear are words such as "homework", "ACT", "Scholarships", "college", "car", "insurance", "job", "bills", "mortgage", "marriage", "children", "more bills", "kid's college", "kid's weddings", "retirement", rushing through my head. All at once, I tell you. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you have a near death experience. I believe this is evidence that your senior year of high school is one such experience.
But at the same time, it's all so exciting. My entire life stretches out before me like a blank book. You know, the kind that you see at the art store... the ones with the pages all perfect and white that crinkle a little when you open them. This may be something only I experience, but when I open a blank notebook, so perfect and empty, I immediately begin to imagine what the page could be. How I could manipulate a black pen across the page and create a tree or house or face, and it all seems so wonderful and exciting.
But there's always that little bit of fear that holds me back when I have the pen in hand, ready to make my first mark. The first line is drawn, and there's a finality and commitment to writing and drawing on the page. So it begins, and there is no turning back.
My diary was like that. It was an amazing blank book... tall and thick, with a hard blue cover. I think I owned it for at least a month before I even touched it, afraid of messing up and having a less than perfect book.
But I took the pencil in hand and drew on the first page...
...and now I have a book with less than perfect pages that didn't go according to plan. Words I have scribbled out because, though they seemed so important and precious at the time, now only remind me of how ridiculous I can be. Pictures that didn't turn out as I saw them in my head. A girl with green skin and blue hair... believe me, it looks silly. Scribbles and lists and notes and just plain ridiculousness.
But now I can write anything in it, because I'm not afraid anymore. What can I do that's not already been done? There is freedom in my mistakes. Freedom that tells me I have tried, I have failed, and I can try and fail again, and it's OK. Freedom that tells me I can keep trying because one time I might just succeed and create a small masterpiece.
So too with life. It stretches out before me like a blank book. Waiting for that first scribble, but ready, too, for the masterpiece. All I have to do is dive in and make that first mark.
Hoping everyone has a good school year. :) ♥