Wonder 11: 10.10.2020
On Saturday, I celebrated my 20th birthday: The end of the teenage years, the start of a new decade, and the beginning of a quarter-life crisis... And I'm ready for it all.
On Saturday, I was reminded of a scene in the movie Roman Holiday where Audrey Hepburn's character, an overwhelmed princess unable to handle the constant pressure and expectation, escapes for a day where she fades into a city. She buys new shoes. She has ice cream. And she cuts off all of her hair.
She then wanders the streets of Rome with an American journalist (played by Gregory Peck) and the two of them proceed to share a day together before they fall back into their own separate worlds.
On Saturday, I had my "Roman Holiday moment." I cut off all of my hair. (Well, at least 13 inches of it.) It was a fleeting feeling of freedom. But when the day ended, I didn't want to fall back into my world....
Expectations are generally a big thing for me. I place them upon myself to fulfill as well as the guilt and fear of if they are left unfulfilled. They rule my life and I willingly subdue to them as my master. Even here on this blog I constantly hesitate from posting for I feel my words have to be just right. (Hence, the post drought.) I bare through the days existing only for those fleeting feelings of freedom that I have when I take a moment to stare at the morning sky. Or read a chapter of Jane Eyre. Or enjoy a few quiet hours on a Sunday afternoon between one week of class work and another. I take a breath before falling back under the waves.
But I don't want a breath. I want a song.
I don't want a chapter. I want a novel.
I don't want a day of freedom in Rome. I want a lifetime.
I am hungry for liberation that I alone can give myself. So I will turn Tuesdays into Saturdays. I will froth milk for my tea. I will wear lipstick even if it's hidden under my mask. I will call people by their first names. I will burn the candle, from both ends if necessary. I will do things instead of merely talking about eventually doing them. I will turn the mediocre into magic, the quiet into a symphony. The simplicity will become lovely, and I with it.
Our lives are going to come and go before we realize it. And I refuse to let this year or any that follow to pass without me.
I've been told that at 20 you can do anything. And I hope I can prove that true. I hope this will be my year of anything.
Anything, Something, and Everything.
So here's to year 20. I'm ready.