Eight is Enough

It is with, dare I say it, pride that I present you with an EIGHTH post in less than 60 days-- my FOURTH this month alone. Who knew I still that kind of bloggin' juice in me?

Today's post should be light-ish, but could veer towards the profound-- here's ample warning for those of you who are looking for only one extreme or the other, 'kay?

**waiting while the fickle sort themselves out & depart**

Referencing my "Natives are Restless" post (scroll down-- it ain't that far back), it would seem that the prednisone beast has once again reared its ugly head and has me sleeping 3-4 raggedy hours per night. With that noted, I'll share that I haven't been to sleep before 1AM for several nights, and for then past two mornings (+ today) I had little problem hauling my fanny out for my morning constitutional because I was already coming to life before the alarm went off at 5:30. But this morning I had a little extra help-- help (at 5:12) from a gentleman who mistakenly (read here: drunkenly) called my cell phone by mistake, looking for someone named Karen.

ME: "Hello?"

GUY:"Hey... Karen there?"

ME: "Ahh... I'm sorry-- I think you've dialed the wrong number."

GUY: "Thisss ain't Karen's phone?"

ME: "No... its not."

GUY: "Wull, wass YER name, then?"

ME: "NOT KAREN." **click**

I no more than threw myself down to try and catch another hopeful 15 z's when at 5:20-something, a text message came through... Normally, I wouldn't have even heard it, but Karen's prince charming had already awakened me. The text was from my workout buddy, prompting me to get my slacker can outta bed already so that I wouldn't have to later confess to failure to launch. So I sent a reply, grabbed my sneakers and geared up, feeling victorious.

Because I got an slightly earlier start than usual AND I got a really good walk/jog in, it was also earlier than usual when I RETURNED-- which led me to make the one fatal mistake my sleep-deprived brain knows not to make: I laid back down & didn't reset the alarm (this was at 6:48). NOTE: I'm usually in the shower by 7-7:10 at the latest.

Woke up again at 7:53. S-H-I-T.

I hit the ground running, managed to throw down a cup of coffee & shower in record time, and glided into the office at 8:58-- only 30 minutes later than I usually arrive (by preference, not mandate). And after being off last Monday, having to devote all of Tues/Wed to helping finish our HUD grant application, and knowing I'll be off again tomorrow to go to Morgantown, I had more than enough drivel sprawled on my plate & awaiting my tardy self. As I hammered away at the sundry bits and pieces, per usual I found time to wax philosophic about some of the effluvia that's been shunting around my brain in recent weeks / months. In addition to the "Pride" and "Examination of Self" posts, another concept that has been much on my mind has been the word "Enough."

Who exactly determines what enough even IS? Legal standards aside, isn't the very idea of something (or someone) being found to be "enough" utterly arbitrary and subject to whim & personal bias? How do we decide how much food is enough (asks the girl who's still learning that lesson)? How much exercise? How much money? How much intimacy? How much work? How much play? How much sleep? How much intelligence? How much independence? How beautiful do I need to be in order to be "beautiful ENOUGH"-- enough for WHAT? I though back to last night when I was inspired to snap some candid self-portraits with my new camera phone-- I must have tried 50 different angles, different lighting, different backgrounds & locations-- only to reject 99% of the results. The saddest thing is, I have absolutely no clue by who's standards I was rejecting & deleting my results. And for all the anger and criticism I was heaping on myself, I am no closer to knowing why those shots weren't "good enough"...

The upshot of this lively internal monologue was a mystic crystal revelation. One of those self-evident truths that you would think a gal of almost 37 might have long since stumbled across by this point in her journey. It is feeling of confidence in the value of ME as a whole, that I really AM a worthy kind of girl, and that sitting back and fine-tooth-combing myself for flaws was pointless. I LOVE ME-- warts and all-- and dammit, so should anyone else. This epiphany was a complete turn around from the usual 1am / two beers on board / single gal melancholy that typically preys upon one... No one will EVER be "enough" according to most human standards. But are most humans ready for my special version of ENOUGH? Only time & tequila will tell ~