Something More

I haven’t posted for a while, folks. There’s a few reasons why but really the long and short of it is that I didn’t want to disappoint you. See, I’ve been out of sorts lately and I wasn’t feeling particularly funny or punny. I’ve been rather complain-y and woe-is-Denise-y and I was really afraid that if I let loose you’d have the same reaction that I have when Taylor Swift comes on the radio – oh no, not her again!

Let’s just get this out of the way first – yes, I should join clubs; yes, I should mingle more; yes, I should go out and meet more people; yes, I should give online dating an actual chance; yes, I should do all of that stuff. You’re right. I only have myself to blame and it’s a blame that I accept whole-heartedly. But the doing is so hard sometimes.

Anyway, back to this weird place that I’ve been in for the past few months. I explained it to a friend the other day – it’s not that I’m not happy. But it’s something. Maybe it’s a longing for something that I still haven’t quite defined. Maybe it’s just a general malaise of the spirit. Or maybe it’s something more. Or the wanting of something more.

Maybe it’s a girl/Barbie thing. Barbie is awesome – she’s everything I can only aspire to be – an astronaut/teacher/veterinarian/gym owner/rock star who lives in her Dream House* with her kid sister named Skipper. Barbie has it all (did I mention her kid sister named Skipper?) I know, I know, I shouldn’t be comparing myself to a 11 inch plastic doll but I’m a Pisces and we’re prone to living in the land of fantasy and make believe. All that aside, when I was a little girl, I kinda thought, well if Barbie can have an extraordinary life, I can too. But then I grew up and realized life is pretty ordinary for most folks (unless you’re a girl named Skipper**).

Or maybe it’s a me thing. I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I spent a huge chunk of my life thinking I was special. When I was growing up, a lot of well-meaning relatives and family friends said so. Well, really, they told me God had a special plan for me. Maybe lots of kids hear this from well-meaning relatives and family friends. But for a long time, I actually believed that God really must’ve had a plan for me and that it was incredibly special. I mean, it certainly explained the whole craniofacial syndrome thing (besides, “God’s special plan” sounds more interesting than having screwy genes). But there never was a special plan. It was just what it was –an unlucky roll of the genetic dice and I’m not any more (or less) special than anyone else. I’m just an ordinary person living an ordinary life.

Here’s the thing. I don’t want ordinary.

I want something more.

I'm just not sure how to get it.

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*I never had a Barbie Dream House. I had a regular Barbie house.  My brother added on to it and made it a Dream House.  It was practice for real life!

**For reasons that make sense only to me, I'm very loyal to Skipper.  For a while, I thought she was being overshadowed by Barbie's new siblings and I felt bad for her.  (S.O.S. = Save Our Skipper!)