I Don't Want Adventure

I don't want adventure. I need it. I love my life of figures and equations, where each number fits into its place with no drama or fuss. It is safe. I am content.

But that is not life. Life is mad and uncertain, where hearts are broken and spirits are enthralled by the pure, intoxicating joy of living. Where you are not a figure or a number, and you may never know for certain if you are the solution or the problem. Where you take risks and mostly fail, but get up again because you can't help yourself. Where you are never in control and don't always like the plot-twists. But you learn. You learn to love deeply and wildly, to be angry briefly and to forgive freely. To find joy in the sunrises and shooting stars, and peace in the gentle rhythms of rain. To emote freely and to speak without reservation or fear. To accept that memories will always last, even the painful ones.

A life of adventure isn't easy. But the alternative isn't living at all, merely existing. And I can't promise to always be okay, but I refuse to look back and see that I only lived in the black and white, when I could have been living in the rainbow.



~Margaret

The Longest Day

I know the thought going through your mind right now. This is either a long and boring critique of a well-known war film, or she's trying to be funny by making a reference to ancient pop culture that applies to something in her own repertoire of experience. I am glad to inform you that this post falls under the latter option, and that whether or not you wish to hear, you are about to learn of my run-in with what I like to call: The Very Long Day. Rather impressive, isn't it?

I'm going to recount my experience with the use of italics, because it's more dramatic.

March 18, 2014. 4:39a.m.
I stumble out of bed, half-awake and bleary-eyed, with my coordination skills still asleep. After some hasty make-up application, I climbed into the car with Faith, Claire, and my parents, who were looking remarkably awake for it not being morning. It was a little after 5:00. 

5:45a.m.
We arrive at the hospital. After an unremarkable elevator ride, we walked down a corridor to stand before double doors, locked. Dad picked up the phone on the wall and said, with all the calm of past experience, "Stephaney Carpenter is here to have a baby." 

The February Roundup

I actually didn't realise until just now that I had promised to do this post on the last day of February instead of the first day of March. Which (1. Makes a lot more sense than the way I thought it was and (2. Makes me two days late with this post, instead of just one. Not that that seems to affect me much.

It's kind of ironic, actually. I ended up reading exactly the same amount of books this month as I did last month. Which I guess is kinda impressive, because February has WAY less days than January. Like, three less days.
  Speaking of which, if someone was borne on the 29th of February in a leap year, what day is their birthday on on all the other years?

  Anyways. This month has been insane, and only partly because I read way too many books and my computer has all but prepared itself for cremation. Fortunately, some of the craziness is genuinely exciting at the same time as being intimidating and scary. (We just started the process to adopt a child from China!! Well, my parents did;) In fact, there's been so much going on that I am surprised I found time to read at all. Which, you know, explains why I ended up reading a ton. #LOGIC