happiness – Page 2 – hannah ananas

Self-expression followed by rejection?

Have you ever truly put yourself out there, honestly and in the open, and then been rejected? I have, and in many situations and circumstances. However, as much as it hurts to receive that rejection – and, believe me, it really hurts, because that is the best of and the truest of me that is being rejected – it is always somewhat of a good thing. A really good thing, actually, because, you see, if that situation, or those people, or whatever, rejects who I truly am, rejects the inner and outer me, then I find it best that I not be around them – that is clearly not the place for me. And so, despite the pain, it is always relieving and good for me, because, as important as it is to find where I belong in this world, where I am nourished and where I nourish my surroundings in return, it is equally important not to be where I don’t have that. So, the pain is a good thing, after all.

I guess I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently, though I hadn’t really noticed it until just now. I’m preparing for something, something I plan to have happen soon, and I can see that I am afraid of it, because of how people might respond to it, how they might reject me (or, as is incredibly likely, and already common for me, anyway, so I’m not sure why I’m even worried about this part in the first place, misunderstand me). But, just as I’ve shared here, I suppose it is actually a good thing. I need not put it off for fear – if I will be rejected for that piece of my self-expression, even if it is someone misunderstanding that piece of my self-expression, then perhaps it is best for me to have that happen sooner, rather than later, so that I can create the space to be surrounded by the people and the world that are good for me and for whom I am good. My waiting around for this serves no one, it seems, and my going ahead with it actually has potential benefits for many. Huh… wow.

Post-a-day 2018

Delighted, though iffy

Have you ever gone through with things that scared you, but that you knew were merely all potential outlets for your own greatness (that being the main reason that they scared you in the first place)? And have you ever had them all line up in a row for you, showing you the extreme degree of possibility that you have developed for yourself in pursuing them? And were you terrified, yet simultaneously proud, when you saw them so lined up in front of you?

And then, from somewhere in the background, did you grow just a little sad that this was the first time you’d done something like this, because you suddenly saw how much more you could have been doing for yourself and your own potential, starting long, long ago?

Yeah… that is tonight for me.

Post-a-day 2018

Delta your life, daily

I’ve begun brushing my hair again. I started it a few days ago, and it has been long enough that I don’t remember what day was the start of it. I just remember that I thought about it for at least a few days, if not weeks, and then finally went and pulled out a brush I’d found, cleaned it out, and used it. I brushed my hair three times that day (meaning occasions, not strokes). And I’ve done it at least once, if not two or three times each day since.

My old flatmate had a mirror-markered message on her bathroom mirror, and it has always stuck with me in my low times. It read:

You’re never going to Δ your life
until you Δ something you do daily.

I originally had a secret affinity for it, and therefore for the not-yet-flatmate, because of her use of delta for the word change. I love math and language, and I slightly nerded out at that casual use of delta. Naturally, I liked the message, too, but it was really the deltas that had the image stick so well in my mind. Not going to lie, here. (lolz… as I sit on my bed, just before I go to sleep…)

Anyway, that message has been a sort of stick in my side, whenever I get down in life. So, after probably a year of not really brushing my hair regularly (slash almost at all), I began brushing it daily. And it looks great, of course, because I’m not in the drier Japanese climate in which I previously lived – it gave me curly-type wavy hair, if I didn’t brush it…, but I also stopped brushing it, because I couldn’t justify the effort… which I find sad, because it is extremely easy to brush my hair. Anyway, I’m doing it again, now, and I’m glad for it.

Every little step along the way not only improves the outcome, but beautifies the journey, which is where we spend most of the time, anyway. 🙂

Post-a-day 2018

Singing to the unprepared listeners

My mom and I pondered the questions, “When did you last sing for someone else? For yourself?” the other night at dinner together. She chuckled when I first read it aloud, and answered how I had sung to a kid at school. I sing a lot, and hum and whistle often, too. But that one was a special one.

It was an odd day, with only about half of my students in class, and I had already done the lesson with the missing half the day beforehand, so I knew it was and easy and short lesson. I let the kids take their time for the warm-up, leaving them to chat around the room, as well as around my desk. When I sent the kids at my desk away to go do their warm-ups, one of them said, “I’m so tired,” with a it of emphasis on the last word. Without any hesitation beyond the appropriate amount of timing between the phrases in the actual song, I responded in song.

…of fallin’ in love
I’m finding it easier,
to fall out
I can’t deny it,
I feel it inside
I’ll keep its fire,
Oh, you can’t hide

I’m fallin’ in love again
Ain’t nothing I can do
Fallin’ in love again
And this time its with you
When I fall,
it’s always the same
And I’m so tired
of playing this game

Been so long now
since I gave up my heart
I’ve kept it locked down
I don’t want to get it harmed
So let me tell you now
I just want to be sure
that you won’t hurt me
Can you promise me that?

I’m fallin’ in love again
Ain’t nothing I can do
Fallin’ in love again
And this time its with you
When I fall,
it’s always the same
And I’m so tired
of playing this game

The kids asked me questions as I sang, but I just kept on singing to them, and even danced around a tiny bit, too. Who knows what they thought about it, but they weren’t upset by the incident, nor were they mean about it. They seemed really joyful and somewhat giddy from it all.

I played the actual song via the computer after I finished my own singing, and my brief explanation as to why I even knew the song (my college neighbor in the dorm my freshman year always played it on her guitar). Then we continued on with the lesson, having music playing in the background every time they got up to do practice problems and the likes. We had some Moana to go with our Eagle Eye Cherry, and it was good. 🙂

Post-a-day 2017

Family and music

I love my family. And I miss getting to spend time with them. I had somewhat forgotten the existence of one of my cousins, because I hadn’t actually seen him in so long. I knew he existed, of course, but it was as though I had accepted that it wasn’t ever an option to see him. And so, it was a wonderful surprise – though I knew in my head that he would be here ahead of time – actually seeing him and spending time with him tonight.

One of the things I love about spending time with him is his musical gift. He can be given any instrument, and, whether he has ever played it before or not, can be playing lovely music on it within a maximum of a few minutes. We always end up humming and whistling and singing beautiful music together, whether we have an instrument or not (though we often have at least a guitar).

Tonight was no different. He pulled out one of my favorite songs, and early on in the visit. Oddly enough, I hadn’t listened to or sung/played the song in years, and so it was a fun surprise. I had to look up the words, because it had been so long, but it was too good of a song not to get all the words right (“White Man” by Michael Gungor Band).

As he fiddled around on the guitar, my mom and I sat with him on the porch, listening to him play, and working on our puzzle/mystery boxes we were creating for his brother’s wedding reception this weekend. The kind of music he was playing reminded me of why I ever wanted to learn to play guitar in the first place. I want to play John Denver and Jim Croce music, and other things similar in style. It has always been my long-term, distant future goal, since it really isn’t the easiest music, but there are plenty of things I can learn as stepping stones (and I have learned a good bit of them). I just don’t play when I don’t have the company of someone else’s music.

When I am with my cousin, we almost always take the time to sit down and teach me something new and, of course, beautiful to play. Now that we are back living in the same country, we might actually be able to set up semi-regular music meet-ups for the two of us. We’ll see.

Gosh, I love my cousin.

Post-a-day 2017

Sometimes…

Sometimes, things fall apart, free from control or attempts to do anything else with them.

Sometimes, things come together, free from control or attempts to do anything else with them.

And sometimes, the difference between the former and the latter is that action was desperate and limited in the former, but honest and free in the latter.

Life sure is beautiful, ain’t it? 😉

Post-a-day 2017

a place in our world

Sometimes I wonder about whether there really will be a place for me in our modern, developing world. There so many things that are becoming commonplace that go against so much of who I am. From the simplest tiny things to morals to lifestyle to core beliefs and thinking patterns, I notice a difference between so much of how the society functions around me and what is in me, myself. I realize that, somehow, I will have a place in the world, but I wonder if it is in the part of the world I already know, or if I will find myself in an entirely different society, somewhere else in the world… not in what I consider my home.

I just wonder…

Post-a-day 2017

my childhood bestie

I talked with my childhood best friend tonight. It was wonderful. We haven’t talked much in the past year, simply because she’s been busy as ever, and I’ve been over in Japan. We still weren’t in the same place tonight (Facebook Messenger video chatting), but being in the same city really helps with the timing thing.

Talking with her always brings up loads of memories from my early childhood, most of them wonderful. There are only a handful of not-so-good ones, though they were all rather impactful. Mostly, though, the good memories come to mind.,. Like the time she and I watched “Lake Placid”, shortly after seeing “Deep Blue Sea”, and we ended up jumping all around on her furniture after the film, somewhat joking, but also somewhat paranoid that a gator would pop out from under the sofas and eat our legs off… Or the time my mom was at work, and my friend invited me to come over, so I left my mom a message on her pager, telling her when and where I was going, and I very clearly stated the phone number of my friend’s house, and repeated it (even though she could look up the number in the school phone book once she was home, if needed), just as was desired if I were to go anywhere while she was gone…, even to be complimented on it later by my mom, but told that I unfortunately had given my mom my mom’s number, not my friend’s house. Those might have even been from the same day…, though I really don’t remember for sure.

For my birthday one year, she and her mom decided to give me some money and a gift bag of macaroni and cheese boxes. Almost every time I went to their house, I would end up eating mac ‘n’ cheese, so they decided it was a perfect present for me. I loved it, of course, for the pure genius of it, as well as the love and attention that went into the present, despite its being quite simple. I really did love mac ‘n’ cheese.

There are two sad memories that always come to mind regarding this best friend. Though, one of them was actually kind of happy, because of what it meant to me. The one memory, the more sad one, was when we were riding the bus for a field trip, and she and I were playing a hand game. She was sitting by the window, back to the window/wall, and I the same for the aisle. The game was this one:

That’s the way
Uh-huh, uh-huh
I like it.
Uh-huh, uh-huh
That’s the way
Uh-huh, uh-huh
I like it.
Uh-huh, uh-huh
I got the looks.
You got the books.
Splish, splash
In your face.
Brick wall, waterfall
Girl, you think you know it all.
You don’t.
I do.
So *poof* with the attitude.

On the *poof*, my friends and I usually made an effort to face palm the other person somewhat, pushing her head away as part of the “Talk to the hand” gesture. However, not everyone did this, I discovered, so, shall we say, competitively as I did. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to face palm someone else, as I wanted to do it first, so as to avoid having it done to me. Well, when the *poof* came along, I was ready and prepared, and I pushed a little harder than necessary in my haste to be first, and my best friend’s head knocked backward against the window with a good noise. I was instantly remorseful, and her immediate upset hurt like no physical pain can. I still feel bad about that now, years and years later, though not in the same, sad way.

The other sad memory was the morning before school that she called me while I was showering. My mom came and brought me the phone while I was in the shower, telling me it was my best friend. I wondered why she was calling so early in the morning, it was even a little excited about the phone call. However, the news of the phone call was not good: angel, her dog, had died that morning. She was calling to let me know, because she knew that I loved Angel, too. Well I was incredibly sad about Angel, one of my favorite dogs, I was also incredibly grateful for the friendship I had – for that is a powerful friendship to make a call so early in the morning about something that could have waited until we got to school. But she wanted me to know before the rest of the world. I was and still am honored.

Gosh, now I have loads of memories piled up with this friend, and memories keep diving into the piles, turning them into something more like a mountain range. I used that only makes sense, when we’re talking about a childhood best friend – there’s so much time and joy and learning spent together as kids. Now she has kids of her own, and almost all I want to do is everything I can to help them have the best possible upbringing in the world.

Post-a-day 2017

rainy days hold my heart

There’s something about rain that makes everything in life seem okay. Sure, when the rain is more like a torrential downpour that includes flooding all around town, things don’t seem so great. However, regular rain, rain like early this afternoon, with sunlight still visible here and there, that kind of rain is the perfect rain for life.

I never feel like a trapped kid on rainy days; I always feel almost liberated due to all of the creativity and possibility of life indoors for just one day. Board games and reading and art projects are a few of my favorite things, and rainy days tend to put them as the likely activities, removing the social expectation to be “more productive” with one’s time than sitting about, doing silly but fun things with ones one loves. Perhaps, too, I enjoy the fact that I can be certain that I am not “missing out” on anything out in the world when it is raining, because no one else it out doing anything either. Perhaps…

I remember a day a year and a half ago, when I lay on the floor with my cat, just hanging out while the sky released its water. We even went and sat on the covered walkway right outside the apartment door, watching the rain and the clouds together, smelling the sun-touched rain and its clouds. That was a beautiful day.

Post-a-day 2017

Mr. Right

I’ve been thinking tonight about my Prince Charming, my personal one, my desired future. It all started with thinking about musical theater as I showered. As most shower stream-thoughts go, I ended up on a very loosely connected tangent. Do you know the song by Chris August called “Stranger”? It’s a beautiful song, and I fell in love with it several years ago. A lot happened related to that song, but let’s not go there now. While some specific lyrics rolled through my head over and over again, as song lyrics so often do, something struck me.

I dreamed you.
Now, I’ve found you.
Call off the search,
’cause I found my stranger.

Those were the specifically inspiring words tonight. Though I have listened to the song more times than I know, and I know every word still, despite having stopped listening to it years ago (for reasons I won’t mention just yet), I have never had the thought that followed those words as they repeated in my head tonight.

“I have never dreamt you.”

Though I have wished and wished, and even hoped and prayed and asked for my partner in life, I have never dreamed him up. I have begun ideas before, but I have never come up with what my partner in life actually is. You could ask me now, and I would have no idea what to tell you about the partner I want. Sure, there are plenty of things I know that I don’t want, but everything else seems to change with how I feel each day, each time someone asks me about it.

Now, I don’t exactly see this as a bad thing. I just happened to realize that I have never dreamed him up. So, I can never have Chris August’s song become a reality for me – I can’t find my stranger. I don’t even have a vision in my head of what it looks like being with someone. Every time I have dreams where there seems to be a sort of partnership, I always seem to be the one taking care of someone else – the traditionally male role. Or, perhaps it is the mother role I play. I already seem to do that all over the place in life. It’s the reason I have always wondered if I can ever find someone to take care of me. But I digress…

I realized in the shower that I have no image of a person. I don’t know if I’m looking for someone tall, dark, and handsome. I don’t know if he is foreign or domestic made. I don’t even know what kind of skin he has. Again, I don’t necessarily see this as bad. I am just noticing it. I also notice how so many others seem to have dreamed up their partners years before they even have begun dating others. I mean, they seem to know what they want. By having that idea of what they want, they are able to seek it out. Sometimes, when they find it, they realize they didn’t want it after all. And sometimes they find something better along the way. But they have something to pursue. I don’t even have an idea to seek out, a type of someone or something to pursue. Perhaps that is an issue with being so open to the world and to new ideas, and for knowing that what I see or think isn’t always the best that the universe has to offer.

Post-a-day 2017