A Class Act

One thing I never did at the beginning of this blogging adventure was tell you a bit about myself. Partly because I expected anyone who might be reading along to already know me, and partly because, to put it simply, I'm terrible at describing myself.
It seems like an important place to start now, though, and so I ask your forgiving eye to read gently through my fledgling attempts.

   I love books. I love the way they smell and they way they weigh down a satchel bag slung across my shoulder.
   History is my first love. I love to visit places where people once were and touch, breathe, and experience their space, imagining the way they moved as they discussed politics or the latest gossip. It's similar to enjoyment I feel when standing in front of a painting and wondering what its creator sees that I miss - a smudge here, a recovered attempt there, a sunset that was not originally planned.
   I may be a bit of a romantic. I believe in happily ever after, even though it would be easier to believe otherwise at times. I also think that heartache and heartbreak are necessary to the happy ending. You never start a love story with two people who are perfectly in love and then stay perfectly in love and end up perfectly in love. That's boring. If nothing else, I refuse to live a life that's boring. In so doing, I'll have to embrace the hurt and the happy with equal fervor, I suppose.
   I have an entire wall of pictures in my bedroom. My family, friends, silly moments, frozen moments in time... When I lay down at night, I'm completely surrounded by the embrace of my loves, and that is a lucky way to be. I can't even work myself up into a good, more-than-one-week depression because of it. That's one problem I hope never goes away, though - the inability to stay sad for long.

One of my favorite memories:
In undergrad, before a British Lit class one afternoon, a couple of girls and I were discussing a new person they had met recently.
"I like her," I said.
Sam looked at me askance.
"You? You're like a friend Nazi. You're friends with everybody.You liking somebody doesn't count because you like everybody."

   Sometimes, I like to pretend I'm a bit domestic. I (finally!) got a sewing machine this year, and we're slowly getting to know each other. I like to knit and crochet, but mostly for special occasions only. People are always asking for or covetously admiring my projects, to which I reply, "When you get married" or "When you have a baby." So many weddings... I can hardly keep up, let alone adding miscellaneous 'for fun' creations.
   I also happen to be an awful speller. They let me attend Spell Bowl as an "alternate" in 8th grade, and I missed Los Angeles during competition. Even better, I misspelled drizzle during a practice. To be fair, phonetically it would be drizzel. Just saying...
   I don't have any specific career goals. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. Instead, I focus on an attitude of hardwork and doing my best and enjoying my work. Whether it's one year, ten years, or at the end of my life, I do know that I want to be fulfilled. Not really sure what form that might take, but it feels like a worthy pursuit.  
   I strive to be classy. It's very, very difficult for me. I don't know that I'll ever come close, but I want to be classy and so I continue to try. Unfortunately, my temper can be hot, and hurt strikes me fast and hard. Opportunely, though, I can't seem to hold onto any of that kind of thing (anger, revenge, grudges, meanness) for more than a matter of hours. This may be because I believe the best revenge is being the best!

   I love to have a fire when I get home from work in the evening.
   I keep a handwritten journal.
   I'm known as 'the picture taking friend.'
   I recently graduated from lip gloss to tinted/shimmery chapstick.
   I love (most parts of) my job.
   I drink a lot of coffee.
   I keep a list of "Kindness" quotes on my desk at work. 
   I continue to unwrap and eat Dove chocolates until I get a message that relates to my life at that moment.

Here's to starting a new chapter of life. It feels like the scene at the very beginning of a story when you jump into a character's life mid-stream. The main character has no idea that the story is just beginning because he's caught up in the goings-on of his life. At least, that's my hope anyway. And love? Well, no worries there. I know how that fits into the story... ;)

"Here's where she meets Prince Charming, but she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter Three."

Sarah :: Plucky in Love

Sarah, aka "Plucky", blogs on the reg, unless she's on vacation or there's a Pretty Little Liars marathon or she's mulling over the implications of the phrase "on fleek." She can't live without iced coffee, a portable phone charger, or equal pay. Say hello!

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