the hour of no return

my roommates joke that they know what time it is based on my comments in conversation. if it's past nine o'clock, my middle name might as well be frank. (seriously, julia frank mecham sounds great. much better than that english inspired elizabeth) see, i'm already taking cheap shots at my mom's most beloved names. it's past 9 and i'm behind a keyboard. a lethal combination indeed.

i wrote down my plans for the next ten years yesterday. i think that pen was filled with lead. the experience was much like lifting weights--agonizing, tiring, adrenaline inducing, tedious, frightening...but analogous mostly in that i felt stronger just because i was sore. i even look stronger. thank you, self-deception! according to my dear friend, Radiolab, self-deception should not always carry a negative connotation, as i think the case may be with my ten year plan. how does one breach the bonds of insecurity and meet the vastness of known potential? what if we really can do what we're meant to do? yes, that's overwhelming, but isn't it inspiring as well?

the irony of all of this is that one of the antonyms of self-deception is frankness. what is more frank than subscribing to our talents with real intent, acknowledging them for what they are, for what they can and need to be and how they enrich lives? i think the true deception lies in the idea that we are not good enough, strong enough, competent enough. it is my selfish indifference and apprehension that is the most deprecating deception of all. it must go. a piece of it leaves me with each exhalation.

my heart breaks and grows stronger in a single action. it looks good in that full-length mirror. i can see it, and more than that, feel it, throughout my person. Bless you, dear perspiration. Bless you, dear inspiration.