Monday, April 6, 2009
No place like home. I love home. Growing up for the most part in Pleasant Grove was a little like growing up in a hilarious high school eighties movie. Fun. Flippant. And Fantastic. The scenery is more along the lines of a Norman Rockwell, but the feel was nostalgic of Pretty in Pink. I wish I'd been Molly Ringwald. Alas, I was looking through my senior yearkbook, which I found when I was bulldozing my bedroom last week, and read through some of the comments left me among the pages. "You are so cute. You have the best style." "You are gorgeous. You have the best clothes ever." "You are soooo pretty. I love all your skirts."
Um. I guess my fashion stood out? Which is funny. Because I'd way rather have people have said stuff like "you're so smart." or "we laughed so hard." But I guess my fashion was my 'home.' Go figure. As I've been weeding my lil garden lately, I've been thinking hard about how I want to spend my future. Where I want my 'home' to be. A pair of ruby slippers, maybe? And I mean that literally as well as figuratively. Maybe style should be something I look into. I've never really thought about it. But when in doubt, do what you love. When you can't do what you love, do what pays the bills, and when you can't do what pays the bills, do what you love again. So many things I want to be my home. I want to have one of my books published. (I know, get in line.) I want to teach high school. I want to be the a fabulous friend. I want to laugh when things are down.
Another click and I'm home Toto.