So here's the deal

I feel inhibited with certain aspects of my life. I'm not searching for compliments, so don't feel the need to say something. I just want to get something off my chest.

I'm way, way too left-brained.

I read other people's blogs, and I love the pictures they post, the things they say, and other stuff of the like. Their blogs express my inexpressible. It's like when I'm watching Wall-E, and Eve comes down from the rocketship and goes straight to work. You know the scene? Then, as soon as the rocket pulls away, the beautiful music starts playing, and Eve takes off in flight, showing her true desire of her heart. That's also the part where I burst into tears.



You see, that's me. That's how I feel. I've got it so programmed (for lack of a better word) in my brain to be square. Everything I do is so incredibly anal (except for cleaning my house, because at this point in my life I have had to make certain sacrifices... just like living in Utah) and I have to do things by the book. I do certain tasks at work because no one else can tolerate the minutia like I can. I can't walk by postings without correcting the spelling and more intolerable grammatical inaccuracies. I cross stitch, which apparently drives 95% of the female population to drink. I cannot play jazz to save my life. I have to follow recipes to the letter. I face my labels forward, I fold my towels a specific way, hang my clothes up in the same direction and fix every shirt when Rod folds or hangs it up the wrong way. I am such a creature of habit, it's not even funny.

In my super sekrit (yes, I know that's spelled incorrectly) life, I have pink hair, color outside the lines, doodle amazing things on cocktail napkins, am comfortable enough with myself to let someone take pictures of me, and not only that, but real artsy-fartsy ones, I wear broomstick skirts with bangles along the bottom, do yoga, write the real feelings inside my heart and mind, have rooms that are not static colors, and I don't worry about using a hair straightener.

When we were at the Hotel Del (Coronado, for those of you who aren't familiar with the nickname) I was able to snap a shot of Rachel in her true form, and am secretly jealous of her ability to... express my inexpressible. She just stood there, opened her arms up to the ocean, and I am pretty sure what she was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing. I apologize for the smallness of the picture. Click on it and you'll get a better size.