I've heard a bit of critique of "The Plan" concept. Long ago my gram began advising me to live for the present, not in the future. I think something about living in the now might be in the title of one of the books my dad has added to my already lengthy reading list. A friend has recently questioned my requirements for even having a plan, which I initially considered a ludicrous idea. But I have come around a little. A precious little.
Currently, I am in possession of a plan. It is a four month plan. It's about as far out as I can go, but I feel good about it. My plan is to move back to Boise, seek medical care including surgery from Dr. Z. as well as physical therapy. I will write. I will heal. I will recover, or at least begin recovering.
And I've mad myself a pact. When I am able to wear something other than trainers and flip-flops, I will buy myself a pair of ridiculously expensive Christian Louboutin stilettos. Self, I officially make this pledge to you. This will be my recovery present to you.
Oh, I can just see myself walking to brunch at Red Feather, listening to my favorite Boise singer/songwriter, enjoying the bottomless mimosas.
That's the future. This is the present, which is actually me reflecting on the past:
When I moved from Eugene I knew I left a blue tub of important things behind in the basement storage at the Van Buren house. I have two of these blue tubs. Today I opened the blue tub in my storage unit. It was the tub I hoped it was. I knew one of them held my diplomas and the other held all my journals since I began journaling August 25, 1992 through the end of 2006 when I began journaling electronically.
It was the journals! I pulled them all out and they are now stacked in my room in chronological order. My hope is to read them all and enjoy this little visit with my self of the past. There are 18 years of journals! 18 years!
Maybe if I understand my self of the past, the self of my future will grow.
