Question of the Week: Question #13

Well, friends, I came up with this week’s question myself after I looked into the mailbag and discovered it was empty! I’d love to hear from you, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol)!

Do you remember your dreams?
Dreams are a funny thing, aren’t they? They can seem so real and powerful when we’re having them. They can be dreamy and magical and fantastical and whimsical — almost like a fairytale come to life. And yet, they can also resemble nightmares, full of ghosts and ghouls so scary that you wake up screaming and shaking.

I’ve had both types of dreams. While I don’t always remember the specific parts of my dreams, I always know if they’re good or bad, usually as I’m dreaming (spooking, huh?). What I find really interesting, though, is how my disability figures into these dreams — or, well, how it doesn’t fit into them. I’m never in a wheelchair in my dreams. Ever. In fact, I don’t even notice the absence of my wheelchair. I was just going about my normal life.
My mom once told me about a dream she had where we were in a giant park. It must have been the summer because we were surrounded by green grass, and it was a beautiful, clear day. In the distance, she saw me running. I was free. Nothing was holding me back. I wasn’t disabled. I wasn’t in a wheelchair. I was just running and laughing. I could tell the dream was pretty bittersweet for her, which it was for me too, but it sure made me think.

I’m still undecided as to whether dreams have psychological meaning. I was only a few classes short of a psychology minor in college, so I like to think I know a bit about the human mind (the sexiest body part, remember…?), and I sometimes wonder if we’re not trying to work things out in our dreams. Was my mother trying to come to terms with my disability when she dreamed of me running?
What about you, friends? Do certain themes tend to repeat themselves in your dreams? Do you think dreams have deeper meaning? Or do we just read too much into them? What was your last dream? Was it scary? Let’s chat! xoxo

[Photos via We Heart It]

Question of the Week: Question #12

Have a question? I’d love to hear it, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol), friends! Today’s question comes to us from Tiffany, who asks…

Where do you see yourself in 20 years?
I’ve always loved the movie Back To The Future. It got me thinking about both the past and the future. And then after thinking about how far I’ve come yesterday, this is the perfect time to think about the future, isn’t it? Truthfully, I’ve always been a bit scared of the future. You all know by now that change and I aren’t exactly the best of friends. Honestly, I sort of fear change, probably because I only think of it in terms of bad change. I’ve been so conditioned to brace myself for all the bad things that change will eventually bring that I’ve all but closed myself off to the possibility of good change. So it’s been a struggle sometimes to see the silver lining in change, to see that good things — even wonderful things — can come from change. It’s crazy to think that in 20 years, I’ll be 50; maybe that will be the new 30? It will be the year 2032, which just sounds completely crazy to me. I see myself still writing, of course. I’d love to live in the Big Apple, maybe writing for a magazine (will magazines still exist?) or working on a book.
That’s the practical side of me. The impractical dreamer in me? She wants to have her own talk show. How fun would that be? I can see myself musing about anything and everything!

What about you, friends? Where do you see yourself in 2032? Have you even thought about it? Do you worry about the future? Do you look forward to it? xoxo

P.S. Here are 52 reasons why Back To The Future rocks!

[Bottom photo via We Heart It]

Would you rather: Live in the bustling city or in the quiet country?

Confession: Growing up, I had the best of both world. All my surgeries and hospital stays turned me into the utmost, uber-chic city gal. My senses took it all in. The tall buildings that stretched across the horizon. The classic Chicago smell – a mixture of pollution and whiffs of nearby Lake Michigan. The sound of a car honk in the distance or the music of a street performer. And the hoards of people rushing — always rushing — to their jobs, iPhones firmly in hand. I loved the hustle and bustle the big, expansive city had to offer.
But I also loved the calming quiet retreat awaiting me at home — in a small town amidst the cornfields and far removed from the city. Summer picnics. A rocking chair on the front porch. A glass of tall lemonade perched on the wooden table. The sounds of the country and the ears of corn blowing in the wind sweeping over the field. Seeing for miles in the distance.

What about you, friends? Are you a city mouse or a country mouse? What do you like about the city? The country? Do you think it’s possible for someone to be both? xoxo

[First two photos by Virginia Gálvez, bottom graphic via The Color]

Are you a workaholic?

Today is my first day back at work (hello, syllabus, hand-outs and new students!), so how fitting that I should come across this chart that breaks down the average work hours for men and women around the globe. Are you a workaholic, friends? What do you do? What’s your favorite job you’ve ever had?

[HR Environmental Scan, via Flavorpill; click on the link to see the full chart]

Letters To My Future Husband: Letter #146.

Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:
Well, here we are, Sweetpea…the second day of 2012. I suppose I should say here I am, considering I have zero idea who you are or where you are as I write this. But nonetheless, it is a new year. A time to make a new start. A time to make a change. A time to turn over a new leaf. Have we talked a lot about how we feel about the dawning of a new year? Some people are so nonchalant about it, and I’ve always wanted to be one of those people. To them, the new year is just another page turned on the calendar. It doesn’t mean much, and it’s certainly not a time to make resolutions — the kind of resolutions that come with their own set of specific and precise instructions on how said resolutions will be accomplished over the next 12 months. Instead, they just go about their normal daily routine, sometimes not even pausing to think of all that has happened over the past year.

There’s something to be said for their strategy. For one, it takes a whole heap of pressure off. I’ve always tried to avoid that pressure by focusing on the positives that lie ahead instead of constantly looking behind my shoulder into the past. I’m so excited to continue molding future Bob Woodward this year — can you believe none of them have ever seen All The President’s Men? That’s one of my absolute favorite movies, but more on that later. I’m also looking forward to blogging over the next 12 months. Do you read my blog, Sweetpea? I still sometimes wonder if you read it, and I still can’t wrap my head around the idea that you could be reading all about me while I know virtually nothing about you.
And who knows…this could be the year we meet. That’s even sort of wild for me to think about. I could meet you in the aisle at the grocery store. I could meet you at the bookstore. The fact that there are so many possibilities is sort of what makes it even more exciting, you know? It’s almost as if the anticipation of meeting this year would be just as thrilling as if we actually did meet.

But new beginnings can be incredibly daunting, can’t they? Are you ready for said beginning? Is it even the sort of beginning that you want or need? Can you ever go back if you realize you’ve made a mistake? And sometimes, once you get that new beginning you always thought you wanted, it doesn’t quite measure up to what you thought it would be.

I can hear the wind howling outside my windows as I write this. It’s the sort of fierce, gusty and cold January wind that whips against your cheeks, leaving little red patches in its wake. And it just occurred to me: Like a glass filled only halfway with water, I suppose there are two ways to look at the wind. On the one hand, you could see the wind as a detrimental foe that’s holding you back. Or, you could see it as a wild force that’s propelling you ever forward. I’m going to let the wind push me forward this year, Sweetpea, into a year of new adventures. Until we meet… xoxo

[Photos via Le Love]