I have countless drafts that I’ve started. Most of them are drafts I’ve stopped midway and deemed not good enough. As I feel I’ve transitioned into a different season in life, I’m trying to find out what my voice is right now. I no longer feel like a heartbroken chicken running around with her head cut off, trying to figure out the role she wants to play in this life. Well, I do still feel like a chicken running around with my head cut off most days.
Side story time. I always check to make sure my front door is unlocked as I step outside for anything like taking the trash out or taking Rocky for a walk. Today, I didn’t. I stepped right outside to toss out the trash and turned back to find I had locked myself out, barefoot, with no phone to call my landlord. I laughed and jiggled the door handle a few times, because that’s going to help, right? I even tried busting through the door. No, guys, I’m not joking. Barefoot and bra-less, I desperately was trying to find a way to not have to go to a neighbor’s house for help. I looked at my window AC unit and my sweet pup looking at me from that same window. I’m not sure how I popped the screws out from unit by jiggling it, but I did. I (somewhat) gently laid the AC unit on the ground in front of me, pushed the window up a tad, and climbed on through. I definitely terrified Rocky. To my surprise, I looked down to my hand covered in streaks of blood. I started laughing more because, of course I’d get hurt while breaking into my own apartment. I lifted the AC unit back into the house and wrapped my hand up in a towel. Thankfully it was just some cuts on my hand and fingers. If there’s ever a crime committed here in this apartment after I leave, I’m screwed. There’s blood all over that AC, despite my attempts to clean it up. Oops.
I don’t know the reason behind that story. Maybe to demonstrate I really am just a hot mess chicken running around, clucking.
I love fall. I think I come alive in the fall. I don’t know if there’s the association between volleyball season and fall. I’m not sure. Right now, though, it is fall but it’s still that awkward fall. Like, it’s butt cold in the morning but then by the afternoon you’re blasting the AC in your car. It’s conflicting. It’s like we’re straddling between summer and fall.
That is the season I feel I am in right now. I’m in that awkward fall. I’m like a jacket in the morning and shorts and a tank top in the afternoon. I’m iced pumpkin spice lattes. While I’m not sure what’s going to come with this season in life, I am trying to enjoy it like I do this season of the year. It’s a transitional time. It feels renewing when the leaves change and we bust out our jackets, enjoying the crisp fall air.
Either way, I’m enjoying it. I think it’s time I find my voice in this season. How fun is it for me that I no longer come to the blog because I’m feeling lost and need to process, but instead I come because I love writing and I love the click-clack of the keys beneath my fingers. I imagine it’s the same way a painter feels when they feel their paintbrush upon a canvas. My 44 drafts that I have are not representative of unfinished products and it is not the graveyard of blogs I deemed “not good enough”. My 44 drafts are the moments I sat down and searched for this new, fall voice of mine. I don’t think I’m quite there, so for now I think I’ll hang out in this awkward fall, sporting jeans and boots and tank tops and sandals.