Drabble 72 – Duende

Duendo

Sheet Music Texture by Ryan Schmitz.

I quite frequently bite off more than I can chew. That’s precisely what I did last week, which is why I didn’t post a drabble, but it all worked out in the end, as it often does.

Part of the reason that I do this is that any moment I don’t spend working feels like a moment I’m throwing away. Any moment that isn’t spent improving myself (whatever that means) is a moment I’m letting somebody else work harder and get farther.

Look, I know that’s BS. We all know that’s BS. That’s not how the world works–there aren’t a certain amount of successful positions just waiting to be filled. Overworking myself is not a guarantee of success, either, unless success is defined as me falling asleep at my computer.

But I’m in a different place than I was a year ago. Instead of deciding to do something ridiculous like work through the weekend as well, I finished up the last of my assignments Friday afternoon and took the rest of the day off. I took a bath, dyed my hair, and napped. I had a wonderful weekend with friends. And I came back to work on Monday not feeling tired and anxious, but positive and ready to start fresh.

Right now, part of success, for me, is knowing when to let things go. I can’t possibly complete everything I’d like to do in just 24 hours, and sometimes I’ll have to make choices I don’t particularly like. I have to know what to drop. I’m not always good at it, but I’m improving.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

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Finifugal

Drabble 71 – Finifugal

Finifugal

Scheherazade by Sophie Anderson

When I was a kid, I never questioned that so many stories my family told me were about young girls also named Melissa. It’s not an uncommon name; surely there were all these girls, just about my name, running around and having adventures somewhere out there.

I got a little older and started reading stories myself, and found that there were far fewer little girls having adventures in them than I’d been led to believe. Lucy and Susan got to participate, but not to the extent that Peter and Edmund did. I loved Millie, but Christopher was the star of the show. So many girls my age relegated to background roles, love interests, kidnapping victims.

Except Lyra, of course, who lied so well it became part of her name. Lyra who got to be the hero, who befriended armored bears and witches and traveled through dimensions because she was smart and capable and rash. Lyra was everything, even if I, myself, was nothing like her.

I savored His Dark Materials and hoped it would never end. It did end, of course, but the beauty of it was that I didn’t understand it at all. I’m still reading it, still processing it, still finding new things to appreciate. There are still stories to be found even in a text so intimately familiar to me.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

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Psithurism

Drabble 70 – Psithurism

Psithurism

I make no secret that I’ve been pining for fall. The seasons have finally caught up with my wishes–today, I watched a rainstorm roll in over the bay while the sun fought to shine through a little open patch in the clouds. It’s still raining outside and, thankfully, some of the stress of the past few weeks is starting to calm down.

It’s only October and I’m already wearing scarves and jackets and heating up apple cider every afternoon. I’m not at all festive when it comes to Christmas but the moment the weather turns even a bit nippy I pull a Cinderella and become a pumpkin.

I’ll miss my flowers and green grass and the sweet smell of lilacs and roses. But fresh apples and cinnamon and maple make a good substitute, I think.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

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