Top 8 Things I Adore

Enough with the navel gazing.  All quasi-inspirational gleams of lint have been uncovered and it’s time to quit ruminating on the emotional challenges and upheaval, and just get on with it!

So, in the spirit of gettin’ on, I decided to make a list of 8 things I adore.  These are listed in no particular order, and I reserve the right to extend, edit and apologize as needed.   (And, yes, it’s 8.  I feel the need to rebel against round numbers today.)

1. Shoulder Rub – I could expound on the tension and physiological trends of my body, but let’s just suffice it to say, the way to this girl’s heart is through her shoulders.  I melt, and worship all skilled massage therapists. 

2. Cuppa Joe – Potentially pure addiction, but my friends know there needs to be some coffee readily accessible when I come to visit.  Add a newspaper and some time to kick back and I’m one happy camper.

3. Impromptu Picnic – This is a new addition, but we went to a local park a few weekends ago armed with fresh seafood from across the river, and I realized as I sat sprawled out, stuffing my face and enjoying the sunshine and kids playing, it couldn’t really get any better.

4. My Family – This isn’t your average group of doctors, lawyers and Indian Chiefs here.  My family is one of a kind – intellectuals, theologians, doctors, general servants and savers of mankind.  They set the bar pretty damn high, but I love ‘em for it.

5. Southern Gospel Music – It follows on from the family somewhat.  Being a big part of my childhood, there’s a real gut nostalgia feeling.  But it’s also incredible harmony and emotion you just can’t replace (if you can get past all the blood and dying).

6. Rain – There’s just something about it.  I've always loved it, ever since I was a kid.  Whether I’m walking in it, splashing through it or enjoying it from the dry side of a window.  Magical, peaceful, a beautiful moment for reflection.

7. Mashed Potatoes – Favorite food of all time, hands down.  Whether I’m sick, hungry, or just in the mood for some home cooking, nothing compares with a serving of good homemade mashed potatoes.  (Be forewarned - don’t you dare try and serve me anything that came out of a box.  It just gets my hopes up and I can’t handle the disappointment.)

8. The Airport – I love to travel.  But I also love that feeling when you arrive at the airport: the bustle, the sounds and faces of the world, all wandering through the halls together excited to be going somewhere.  And when you arrive, that feeling of walking out of those sliding doors to greet a brand new destination.  Thrilling!

Ah, makes me smile just thinking of these things... much better. 

Just an average kind of gal

Do you ever have those moments when you realize just how squarely you reside in the land of mediocrity, and feel… disappointed?

I have a hard time listening to my own album.  I cringe because I hear and focus on everything that could be better about it.  It doesn’t match my vision of singer/songwriter creative genius unlike the world has ever seen.  It’s just ‘okay’.

See, in kindergarten they told me I could be an astronaut or the next president if I wanted, and the problem is, I believed them.  Maybe it’s the eternal optimist in me, or the bootstraps can-do attitude.  (Don’t get any crazy ideas here – pigs will fly around the time I start voting Republican.)  But I do believe in the human spirit.  And apparently that translates into ridiculously high standards for myself.  I should be able to do it all and be the best at everything!  (Putting your thoughts in writing is the best way to realize your own ridiculous-ness, as proven time and time again in this blog.)

And then it hits me right between my ordinary eyes on my strikingly normal forehead, that I’m just average.  Should I be okay with this? 

Insert ad to buy my album:  It’s great… really!

www.brittneal.com

 I think part of the issue is that I truthfully know I can do better.  And there’s really no excuse for not reaching your potential.  It’s like trying to hold in a cough in church – you’re just annoying everybody with those dainty little unproductive grunts that are just as loud in a giant, silent sanctuary.  Just get on with it and go whole hog! 

Insert funny analogy:  You know I’ve been trying to get back on the exercise fitness bandwagon of late.  And between my fair skin and my lack of training, and an unfortunate closeness of my capillaries to the skin, within 5 minutes of jogging, I tend to look like I’m dying.  Like Santa Claus, but in distress.  It’s embarrassing, but I can’t let that prevent me from ever exercising again.  And I don’t.

So even though the old adage has proven itself more true every day – ‘the more you know, the more you realize you don’t know’ – and I feel like a smaller more insignificant spec on this earth with each passing day, I have to get over myself and keep trying.  Live my life, as average is at may be. 

And I have to quit being so negative.  You know there’s a fancy psychological name for this.  (There’s also a fancy psychological name for students of abnormal psychology such as myself who self-diagnose based on the myriad of symptoms they have to read and digest.)  It’s called cognitive restructuring, and it has to do with the fact that the messages we ‘tell’ ourselves are, it turns out, incredibly important. 

Therefore I, the uncertified doctor with zero credentials, prescribe a tall dose of restructuring my cognitive.  I’m not ready to become a cranky old biddy just yet. 

I think I can, I think I can… chugga-chugga chugga-chugga choo choo!