turquoise tuesday

thank God Monday is over. i know life is about appreciating each day and the moments we have, but sometimes some days just have to end. that's my opinion, anyway.

from house of turquoise

because my thoughts are often consumed with what i can't do, i thought today (a day on which i am wearing no less than 6 different shades of turquoise) would be a good day to think about things i CAN do. and not just that, but things i WANT to do. sometimes the logistics of life turn my imagination into a cramped, stuffy room, and when my imagination is suppressed, my whole outlook is bleaker than it needs to be.

sometimes i have to cram myself into that room that's been shrunk to 2 inches tall and put my shoulder against the ceiling. then i have to stand up, slowly (because this kind of exertion takes all my strength, sometimes), and strain against those shrinking forces. and if i'm lucky, my shoulder blade will crash through the ceiling with a great breaking sound, making way for my head and the top half of my torso. and i'll breathe the clean air on the other side of those walls, and use my elbows to cave in the rest of the ceiling. then i'll climb out of that box and out into the world again. i'll dance. i'll play. and probably think to myself, "oh! i've been reborn." you know. something like that.

so without further ado, the things i want to do:

1. learn how to make lemon bars
2. see Despicable Me and laugh at those yellow tic-tac guys until my stomach hurts
3. visit Paris
4. carry my beloved turquoise Kors bag for the rest of autumn without spilling on it or scraping the leather against a wall or marking it with a black pen or something ridiculously silly like that
5. okay, i want to prove i'm the caliber of woman who can responsibly own a really nice purse. is that just shallow of me?
6. wait, this is MY list.
7. clean my room. like, really clean it
8. let my hair grow past my shoulder blades
9. make black bean soup
10. write 2 letters per week (minimum)

and i want to do whatever i can from this list in that kitchen.
i realize after a grandiose metaphor about breakthrough and rebirth,
you may have expected a proportionally epic list,
but sometimes, some days,
i just have to start small.