I've been so much more emotional lately...like more than I usually am. I am an emotional person naturally, but lately just about everything that is moving and wonderful touches my heart and makes it swell with joy and tears. I don't know what's up. I'm not sad, just very moved by beautiful things lately.

I miss Derby

It's been over three months since my special cat, Derby, disappeared. My heart has ached ever since. I thought by now I might not think about him as much and that the pain would become less sharp, but this hasn't been the case. My heart hurts every single day. I've gotten past crying every day, but I still cry at least once a week. I just get so sad. I miss him so much!

I miss how he used to sleep on my pillow all the time so then when I laid on it I would get a face full of kitty hairs. I miss how he used to walk up to me while I sat on the couch and if I made eye contact he would immediately take that as a signal for "yes I want to love and pet you right now so jump right up on my lap no matter what I am doing." I miss how he would walk around the house looking for trouble to get into if I didn't let him go outside often enough. I miss how he would meow conversations back and forth. I miss how cuddly he was and so trusting. I could flop him around in any way and he wouldn't give a damn. He'd just look at me with those big golden eyes looking for more cuddles. I miss seeing him cuddled up in the pink bed that was supposed to be for the dog, but he decided it was his. Now it lays on our floor undisturbed. No on sleeps in it, but I don't have the heart to move it.

He was so special. When we first got him he didn't know how to be a kitty.He was clumsy, unbalanced, and didn't know how to clean himself. He was a kennel cat and he had health problems. But he developed into our best hunter and acrobat. He was the most wonderful cat I've ever had. Every day I just wish with all my heart that I will go to my front door and he'll be there sitting on the step just waiting for me to open the door and let him in. I hate that he is gone. I just ache. I feel like I'm being punished for something. It's so unfair.

Counting My Blessings

Much of my Thanksgiving break was spent in my head. For whatever reason I've felt more emotional than usual lately. I don't know if it's the isolation I often feel living where I live and so far away from friends and family or if my basic mood has now warped into an even more emotional individual. Nonetheless I've been spending a lot of time in introspection and enjoying little things.

I've been spending time thinking about my grandma and all the wonderful things about her. I've thought about how much my mom has changed and how much more I like to be around her than I used to. I think about my brothers. I think about the youngest and how much I wish I would've been a better person to him so many years ago. I think about how much guilt I feel all the time for not having let him know how much I really loved him. I've thought about how proud I am of my other brother. He's come so far and has really turned into a wonderful young man. He has such a big and loving heart. I've thought about how much both my brothers mean to me. A friend of mine lost her brother to a car accident a year ago. I think about what that would do to me if anything like that happen to either of my brothers. I would fall apart. I would be devastated.

I've also been thinking about how much I love my husband. It's so weird because the stereotype is that the longer you are together after you're married the further apart you become and the less you adore each other, but it's been just the opposite for us. Through the years we have become better people and our relationship has become so much stronger. I've been married to him now for over three year and we've been together for 7 and I still hate not being with him. I never really get sick of being around him. If I have to be gone for a trip even for one night it is so hard! I get homesick and husband-sick. It's really pathetic I know, but it's true.

I've really been enjoying my new hobby in taking pictures. My favorite thing right now is sunset pictures (or sunrise if I am up early enough). It's the most peaceful time of my day and every day is something new and beautiful. It is pure serenity. I adore it and it's so therapeutic.

Community Charity Is So Inspiring

I've seen how wonderful my school community is when it comes to helping people in need. This year I have been lucky enough to be somewhat involved. I've never seen people be so helpful towards others before in a school community. One family that is part of this community has dealt with a lot of difficult times in the past year. They lost a grandmother, a child lost the use of her legs, and the aunt was hospitalized for the past three days due to an infection. So our staff asked if anyone wanted to contribute a few dollars to help them out. Enough people donated that they raised $350. Then we have another family who has been without running water in their house since June because they haven't been able to afford the payment to get it back on. So we're planning to do another little mini-charity drive to help this family and hopefully will get enough to pay so that they'll have a credit on their bill for a little while.

It's so heartwarming. I really love the place I work and the community I live in. As much as I hate living in a small town (due to lack of resources and entertainment), this small town is definitely is exceptional.

The Worst Part of Every Single Day

The worst part of every day is that moment in the morning when I have to tear myself out of bed away from my husband. We've become so much closer, and even after 3 years of marriage I still love being with him. I miss him every day I'm away from home. I love him. :)

To Be Misunderstood

I often find solace and guidance in the wise words of others. I recently came across this quote that really hit me. “Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson

I've never felt like I have the ability to concisely say what I feel inside. Lately...okay not lately but my entire life...I've been misunderstood. I've always been quirky and eccentric. I was often rejected by peers because I dressed differently, had different beliefs, and several other reasons. As I've grown up, morphed into a better person, changed my beliefs and world view I still find myself misunderstood. Perhaps it's in my nature to intentionally be different. I've never been comfortable blending in. I like being unique. But being misunderstood can often cause conflicts that I don't enjoy. People sometimes treat me like dirt because of my beliefs or the way I dress. Sometimes my beliefs challenge other people to question their own, which they don't usually respond to positively. The way my own personal philosophy influences how I do my job and live my life tends to upset some people. I don't know if it's because they're irritated because I'm doing a better job, because I'm happier, because they think I have ulterior motives, or because I'm just a horrible person and am completely oblivious to it. I'll probably never really know.

Questioning and Mornings

I've never been the kind of person to just take everything at face value. I've always questioned the motives of authority figures, questioned my faith and spirituality, questioned the social laws that we are all bound by. It tended to get me in trouble in school and sometimes at my jobs.

I've realized that this questioning personality of mine is not something I've ever really gotten away from. It's a blessing and a curse. I find though that people who make some mark in this world are ones who never really walked the beaten path and who always questioned externally and internally.

Internal questioning is probably the most important, and least detrimental. If I didn't question myself I would not be the person I am today. Anyone who knows me now and knew me 10 or more years ago knows that I am not the same person. I mean that in a good way. I've become less selfish, less bitter, and less angry. I've been able to let go of the hurt other people have inflicted upon me. Sure, I have scars, but they remind me of how bad things used to be and humble me now in the present.

External questioning does tend to get me in a muck of trouble at times, but at least I can learn from those experiences. This is a lesson I am frequently learning (and testing) the perimeters of. I tend to "poke the bear" to see how far I can push it. I don't necessarily do it intentionally, but I do. I suppose that is my natural stubborn streak part of me.

In other thoughts...I hate getting up early in the mornings for work. I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. But the one thing I do love about my mornings is seeing the sunrise. It is beautiful and spectacular. Whatever stresses I have as I run out the door are quickly diminished when I gaze into the sky full of pink, orange, blue, and purple. Sometimes it's only a rich orange color and the trees are a raven black silhouette. It takes my breath away and makes me appreciate life every day. It also reminds me that I am very small and my problems are probably not that big of a deal in the long run.

Forgetting Might Be The Worst Thing...

My delightful sister-in-law inspired me to start a blog about random thoughts. I enjoy reading hers so maybe she will enjoy reading mine too.

Lately I've been reading I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. Call me dense, but I didn't know it was a biography at first. I was also irritated by the description on the back of the book. It led the unknowing potential reader to think that she was attacked by a man, not sexually molested and then raped. When I see the word attack I think of something different I guess. That irritated me because it caught me by surprise. The whole scene in the book was well written and fairly graphic. It disturbed me, but I was delighted in the end to have the perpetrator meet a rightful doom.

My mom stopped by on her way back from Arkansas where she visited my grandma. My poor grandma has late onset Alzheimer's. Mom says she's getting pretty bad and she's worried about her. I am too. It's so hard to have her living so far away, and there's really no one down there who can take care of her. My mom's younger sister is in worse shape than grandma (she lives in Arkansas too). It's so sad. It sounds like time will only make it worse too. She will eventually be unable to remember who she is or who any of her family are. It breaks my heart. I don't know if I would want to live without my memory. What would be the point?