I'm a Tomato

I meandered into the grocery the other day in search of just the skeletal necessities (or those that I could afford).  As I wandered through the produce in search of the tomatoes, I noticed a lone, ripe one and it cried out to me.  It said, “Pick me, Pick me! I am ready for you to add to a meal!  I will bring flavor and variety!  You will be pleasantly surprised...Promise.”  So I bought it.

I bought it because that tomato is ME.  I am a recently (ish) graduate with menial experience, but a mother load of enthusiasm.  I have so much to offer - creativity, dedication, positivity, teachability, smarts, time, and the list goes on.  But I’m crying out in a sea of other tomatoes, and I’m not being heard.  Other tomatoes have been chosen long before me, or are getting chosen all around me, and here, alone, I sit.  If given the chance, I could add that flavor and variety to a company, organization, church, or anyone that will have me...but no one has yet plopped me on one of those thin plastic bags with a twistie tie and thrown me in their cart.  Sure, they’ve picked me up, examined me, given me a little squeeze and then promptly replaced me back onto that ever-filling shelf with the rest of my kind.

These days, I’ve applied to countless jobs, had a few interviews, enjoyed some serious pool and beach time, and drove myself to the brink of crazy refreshing my email (literally every five minutes) to hear back from employers who I’m just dying to work for.  So today, I made up my mind.  I was going to get up and get out.  

Sometimes doing nothing is the most taxing thing in the world.  You can’t sleep at night because you haven’t been engaged throughout the day.  Putting on clothes, doing your hair, even brushing your teeth takes about as much effort as running a marathon (a smig of a hyperbole, I realize).  But today I woke up after a terrible night sleep, bade my roommates goodbye, and came to a coffee shop.  I got an Americano and started planning a road trip I’ve been dreaming of that I can’t currently afford.  I perused yummy cookbooks and little nick nacks (that I surprisingly talked myself out of), and I didn’t check my email for a whole hour.   

My hope is that by the end of this post, I will actually have several emails pleading, literally begging me to come use my gifts and talents to enhance their institution because they clearly can’t live without my caliber.  But in reality, as I sit here sipping my now lukewarm espresso and eavesdropping on the loud old ladies next to me, I am still an unemployed, single, twenty-something.  Just a girl with big dreams and a big God.  

Thank goodness that fact is constant.  No matter if I end up (still) penniless or in the arms of a bazilionare, my dreams are big, and my God is bigger.  

Xxoo

From a still optimistic, forever searching, city living little Darling.  Off to go buy more tomatoes.

Writer's Block

Some people love writing.  I'm not just talking about the occasional note sender or sporadic diary keeper, but those whose hands crave the feeling of the keys gliding along their finger tips as words begin to make magic across a page.  I'm talking about the ones who see beauty, experience greatness, capture an emotion, and yearn to do nothing more than to document it on paper.  Perhaps words come easily to you, or perhaps you're an appreciator of the words of others.  Whoever you are, I'm glad you're here.  

I love to write, I always have.  Since the 7th grade when I was given the opportunity to write a story about anything, my imagination has been overwhelmed with the endless possibilities.  Although my scribbles may not be the most eloquent to read, they are mine.  They are an expression of me, and I will always claim them.

For those of you writers, you will understand the term "writer's block".  And although some may not understand it, it is, my friends, a very serious thing.  I don't know if you've ever experienced a place in life where your spirit was squelched, where you were simply going through the motions, forgetting what sets your soul on fire? Where the essence of your daily routine didn't match your wayward dreams? 

I was there, and I didn't even know it.  Life had turned into a series of menial plans upon plans and ceaseless duties that demanded nothing but my time and meager effort.  My creativity, my love for people, my passion for new things and places and challenges was drowned in the mundane.  I was not being stretched, challenged, grown...and I wasn't writing.

In May I was thrust into a different routine.  The bar was set high for me to perform.  I was overwhelmed, in the best way.  Suddenly, a lot depended on me.  Suddenly, I was surrounded by a slew of unique people who dreamed big.  Suddenly, I began to dream again.

Yesterday, I felt it.  My finger tips tingled just a little.  I captured it, my lost desire, buried under the simplicity I had dumped upon it.  I started to crave a blinking courser and a blank page that required nothing more than my creativity to fill it.  I needed to write.

So, after a long hiatus, I am back.  I am ready to write.  I am embarking on adventure.  I am dreaming big...and I am writing it all down. 

From a grinning, coffee-filled, dreaming Darling.