In Bloom

It's ridiculously early, but I am slightly hungover and thus, awake. But despite all that, despite everything, I feel fanfriggingtabulistic! And I will tell you why.

I have always thought I was a "late bloomer." I never really understood the expression before, honestly. I thought it had more to do with getting your boobs late or something. But the phrase actually applies to more than swelling body parts between the ages of 11 and 16. And yes, I had boobs at 11. I had boobs at nine. I digress.

Thinking I was a "late bloomer" sort of helped me accept certain aspects of my life; certain lacks and missed moments. Labeling myself a "late bloomer" excused the long, empty months and years that flew by almost without notice and certainly without much that could be considered memorable. And so here I am, 27, and I have just discovered a whole new set of lines under my eyes and all I can say is that "late" has finally arrived.

I don't know what it was, but I knew in the weeks leading up to my surgery that I was at a turning point. I think I'd demonstrated as much on this little web log. Following my surgery, this odd blanket of calm settled over me and I was finally clear-headed enough to embrace this next phase of my life and to not fear it as much as I had previously thought I would. However, this new phase, this new calm and optimism, needed - no, deserved - a soundtrack. So right now I am rocking about seven CDs*, and by rocking, I mean ROCKING. Every spare second I get, I am spinning this shit at full volume. Meghan said it perfectly when she stated that my recent purchases clearly mean I needed some inspiration. Exactly. EXACTLY.

I'm not sure what to do with myself. I am capable of feeling things about myself I never thought I would be. At least, not without a very long, expensive therapeutic process. Having been presented with similar situations in the past, my failure to seize the consequent opportunities left me feeling like a big ol' loser and that maybe I was different from others in terms what I could and would allow myself to feel or not feel. And usually fear drove me to the highest rock, away from danger. And though it's safe, and the view can be incredible, it's quite, quite lonely up there.

I now seem to have the confidence to climb down from my perch and get my hands dirty. I'm scared, terrified, excited, so loaded with possibility that for the first time ever - EVER - I recognize a glimmer of belief in myself. And I just know if I nurture it, if I water it and give it sunlight, if I allow it what it needs to survive rather than killing it out of fear and in favor of safe darkness, I will miss out on everything for which I was made.

I think I'm ready for the risk. Ready to step off the ledge not knowing how far away the ground is. Ready to fall indefinitely. I might fall flat on my ass. But I know before that would happen, I would be caught by friends. But I have a suspicion I'd be strong enough to land on my own two feet.

* Death Cab for Cutie - Transatlanticism
Death Cab for Cutie - You Can Play These Songs with Chords
The Killers - Hot Fuss
Franz Ferdinand
Garden State - The Motion Picture Soundrack
Modest Mouse - Good News for People Who Love Bad News
The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow