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lonely cold november

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"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart."
-William Wordsworth

To be honest, I would like nothing more than to write up a picture perfect blog post about my beautiful wonderful amazing life, where nothing ever goes wrong and I'm surrounded by friends and people are rushing to hire me to shoot their weddings and my days are organized and I never procrastinate and I have time to read and I write effortlessly and all my pictures turn out perfectly. But I can't. I can't because it's not like that, and I can't write from my heart and write like that.

I've said too many angry words this week. Cried too many tears. Compared my fiercely imperfect life to the lives of others too many times. I think too much, I've thought myself out of happiness (but never once into it) too many times this week.

Yes, there are the little things.

Little things, like facebook chatting with my best friends. Like finding a perfectly chunky knit sweater in patterns of deep red and navy blue at the thrift store. Like sewing heart shaped elbow patches onto my favorite grey cardigan last Saturday night. Like watching the golden and orange flames flicker in the woodstove. And really, I am thankful for these things. (Maybe not as much as I should be. I'm trying.) But right now, the mountains of negative things in my life seem to outweigh the good things by far.

So, what am I trying to say? I don't know, really. Maybe just that life is really hard right now and I could use a hug (several, actually.), and maybe some prayer too.

But also, that I'm learning. I'm learning to be grateful. I'm learning not to compare, and it's hard. Hard, but good.

These are my uncoordinated ramblings on a lonely cold fading november day, but what can I say? These are the breathings of my heart.

hugs, if you'll give me one back,