There's something a little bit cocky about writing a blog. At the very least, to catalog parts of your life, you have to believe that you've learned something from this mess of experiences we all live. To take it even a little further, it's helpful to believe you know something you can teach to other people. It's the times when you have nothing figured out that you realize you're probably just wasting everyone's time, including your own, keeping up with such a regular blogging schedule.
And in case you couldn't tell, that's where I am now.
Friends know this already. I'm coming to them for advice or consolation more than I have.
I swear it's when I think I'm all set that life decides to take a left turn on me and then I'm completely lost again. Maybe that's a "pride goeth before destruction" type of thing, but it doesn't seem like pride to want to believe something good is going to happen. Or going to keep happening, as the case may be.
It sounds more like hope. Nothing will destroy you more than hope. I wake up every morning with a fresh dose of it, which seems to contradict the people who call me a pessimist, but whatever. That's not the point. The point that is if you don't let yourself hope for you things, you won't have the gut-punch of disappointment.
But then you also won't have the joy of hope fulfilled. When you find yourself in that season. It's all the winters in-between when that every-morning hope will melt in your hands and slip through your fingers when you're trying to hold onto it so tightly. Those are the times I mean.
The times it's hard to write a post that's not a rambling mess like this one.
The times like these.