Young at heart

I think I'll always be young at heart. A tent over my bead, bright colors, song and dance, banners. I hope this never stops.

My Thing.

I could start this blog post off with "a lot has changed since my last post!" but I'll spare you.

I'm sitting in the Lakewood Public library in the Non-fiction part of the library, which to my excitement is rather large. Where I'm sitting, on the second floor, overlooks the first floor. The first floor has a long and heavily staffed circulation desk and the children's section, which to my dismay, is not quiet. There seems to be a child banging on some books and a father asking over and over for them to stop, as this progresses a tightness wells up in my chest and my breath become's shorter and shorter, this child, it seems, it making me anxious. When I have these reactions I wonder how I could ever have children of my own without withering into a tight ball of anxious lock down, but then I realize it's probably just other people's kids, because I have no control over how they're behaving.

I sat down in this library un prepared, you see, usually in this case I would put my ear plugs in, I would be listening to music, I would be chewing on almonds, but I forgot all those things at home in my rush to try and be productive. In a case such as this where I desire quiet for concentration, I have figured out the remedy to my anxiety, snacks and the absence of outside stimulus. But after some frantic searching in my "Mary Poppin's" bag, ear plugs or ear bud's are no where to be found. A couple deep breaths and a steady stream of consciousness will just have to do.

We all have our tricks and routines to get us through the day, maybe you drink coffee in the morning to seem normal, or you meditate, or smoke pot or cigarettes, drink kombucha, or like my sister, drink a slimy green concoction every morning. Everyone has their thing, mine just involves cutting my senses off from the real world.

With this blog I do not ask of others to read it, although they may, I simply ask of myself to use it, it's another thing to help me get through the day, a steady stream of consciousness that isn't blocking up my thoughts.

And knowingly, I say this only as some one who has been a nanny and not someone who has been an actual parent, but my kids sure as HELL will not whine in public, at least not any longer than a single word coming out of their mouth, because as patient in nature as I am, children whining is like nails on a chalkboard to my ears.