Last year I got a little honey bee in my bonnet. A close friend of mine at the time was complaining (once again) about wanting to get out and try new things. She just couldn't think of what she'd like to do. All my ideas were laughed off until I finally said something to the effect of, "So sit around on your butt all day while your life passes you by. I'm going to go take a painting class and start doing stuff I've always wanted." She laughed me off, again, and changed the conversation back to herself. A little later I came across one of the paint classes offered by artists at local restaurants. I found a coupon, signed up and took my mom. My friend? She was pissed, resplendent in her passive-aggressive glory. I had done something I had always wanted to do, and she didn't have to go to something she'd made clear was beneath her. I took her painting later in the year and paid for her entry (love me a good coupon). She complained about the restaurant - not that we ate there - but seemed to have a good time until we were done and she complained that she thought it would be more fun. That little honey bee was idling inside my bonnet. 

Frenemies aside, I was still firmly gaining ground on my list of cool stuff I'd like to do/see/do some more. I've been painfully, awkwardly shy my whole life. In November, I joined a local writing group and signed up for the dreadfully timed NANOWRIMO. (Seriously great concept - write a novel/50,000 words in a month with thousands of others to cheer each other on. But November? Does no one else in this thing have Thanksgiving to cook for?!) Social anxiety on high, I marched myself into the local Denny's for the first meeting and survived. I went back the next week. I talked shop. Into the new year I even started frequenting the local-Seattle-transplanted coffee shop and expanding my drink and writing horizons. Making friends. Being more consistent in my writing time.

The coolest thing I did by the end of the year, was go to see The Book of Mormon by myself. I got a ticket for Christmas and had nobody else who wanted to go or could afford a ticket. I say that, because once I went, and laughed until I literally cried and my sides hurt, I caught holy hellfire. The little honey bee let me know in no uncertain terms, keep going. 

See, I have always prided myself on being helpful. I've always begrudged myself doing things just for me because I could be making someone else feel better, or making someone else happy. Don't want to see the movie I do? No problem. Need me to cover your ticket to see a play? I'm happy to have the company. Going to cancel on me again again again again again with no warning because you got a better offer? Of course it's just fine. I could go on. I'm ashamed to realize how many chances I give to people who in hindsight, used me. The length and depth of how I could go on, the complete and utter lack of any kind of any, even just emotional, reciprocity is jarring. And also? It's not really the point I'm going for.

Because what I'm going for is this: that bee in my bonnet is pleased as punch that I've kept going with doing my own thing. I'm still learning (I seriously doubt I'll ever stop.) and there are plenty of missteps I'm sure. But since January I've continued on doing the things I want to try. I've seen 2 concerts in a year, topping my previous best of 0. That's right, none. I've taken 4 last minute trips since December. I know I won't always be able to hit the highlights of my list and that's okay. I've done some really cool stuff. I've done some really nerdy stuff. I've planted hibiscus in large pots all around my front porch because they make me happy - and also because they're crazy easy to care for.

So today, in an act of (self) defiance, self-care and in the quest for enjoying life, I kept a hair appointment the old me would have long since cancelled. I gleefully had my hair chopped off and had a delightful but understated red hue put in. I proudly presented my birthday gift voucher and had a little aromatherapy time with a custom made aromatherapy perfume to take with me. Afterwards I sipped my coffee beverage of choice while I finished wrapping birthday gifts for my mom. I'm thinking maybe next week would be a good time for a pedicure with her. Life is short. But those hot towels after you get your legs scrubbed? Bliss, pure and simple.