Waiting, waiting, waiting...

In exactly 2 weeks, I will be in the wonderful, beautiful country of Puerto Rico. I am wondering how I can sleep for two weeks just so the time will go by quicker. Or maybe find a Fast Forward Time Machine. No, then with my luck it will backfire and I’ll go 40 years into the future and be (*gasp*) 66!...debating whether to spend my Social Security check on dentures or save it for my hip replacement surgery. (I kid, I kid) Or with my even worse luck, I’ll step into the wrong machine and go back 10 years in the past and be 16 years old and in despair that my life is shot to pieces and everyone hates me. I’m ugly, scrawny and will never get married! *posing with hand placed dramatically on my forehead*

Hmm, still not married but I’m not scrawny anymore. Shame.

Did I mention that I cannot wait until my plane lands on that glorious island? Breezes blowing (please, Jesus!) and sandy beaches waving their palmed arms invitingly… Yes, I can’t wait.

Since I last posted, life has been one interesting ride, I tell ya. I lose a grand parent, fly to Belize, reunite with the Slusher family and fly back home straight into the arms of chaos.

Work is indescribable. So I’ll leave it at that.

This is supposed to be a blog to where I showcase my creative talents. *snickering* Wonder what happened? I haven’t sewn or written in months. I think my muse flew off to find a more responsive artist. (Is artist the word I’m looking for?) Right now, some previously illiterate village girl in Russia (yes, Russia. Africa is so overrated in terms of poor, underprivileged people ;) is furiously writing beautiful poetry. In her spare time, she’s creating such wonderful creations to parade through town in and will soon catch the eye of some brawny, hard working farm boy who falls head over heels in love with her. Soon he’ll propose and they will live happily ever after on a bluff overlooking a babbling brook (do these even exist anymore?) in the humble but cozy home he built her. I won’t even talk about the beautiful baby boy she will give birth to by this time next year and how much her new husband will dote on her. My muse is evil and will probably send me a post card from her new location.

Now that I’ve thoroughly depressed myself (I do this easily), let’s talk about PR again. PR stands for Puerto Rico. J Smart, ain’t I?

I found myself down in the dumps about two weeks ago. I found out something about someone that I really admired. He got into a spot of trouble and the curious thing was that I was more angry that he let himself get caught. Sure, I was surprised at the depth of the trouble he’s in, but I think I am now of the opinion that everyone has something in them that will cause them to go farther than they planned. I’ve seen so many of my peers make grave mistakes in their young lives and I’m no longer surprised when I hear of someone who makes those same mistakes. I think we each have the ability to lose our way and start walking down a path we never thought we’d ever tread. Then we are so deep into our new found direction and choices that it’s hard to tear away from them to stop and think about what we are doing. I blame the people we call parents and leaders. Where are they when we need them? If it’s always said that they were once young, too, then how can they not see when we are struggling with something but are too scared or embarrassed to seek help? Or when we do cry out for help, all we hear is something that has been said countless times before. Some cure all answer that’s supposed to fix all of our problems. We hear what’s told to us but it lacks heart. It lacks feeling. Hmm. Or maybe that was just what happened to me. It’s hard to try to find your way out when the guidance you receive is half hearted. When you bare your soul to someone you are supposed to trust and have the utmost faith in and the answer you receive is, “ Well, you just have to pray about it. And you know what’s right and wrong so you need to choose what’s right.” Or, “I’m sure you’re not the only one struggling with this.” Okay, and that helps HOW?

Whoo hoo…! Puerto Rico.

2. Whole. Weeks.