"You're ready, sweetheart. Let go. Let go!"

- Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

I know that's the line Harry's mother says in the movie just before he has to break the connection to Voldemort's wand. I'm too lazy to go see if it's the same as the book. In any case, I've been thinking of this a lot lately.

I have a hard time letting go of some things. I forgive incredibly easily, but if you get me to the point of holding a grudge, you may as well walk away because it's a rare and indescribable feat to get me to let go of a grudge.

But that's not the kind of letting go I'm talking about.

I obsess about things -- mistakes I've made, wrong things I've said, opportunities I've missed, people I've inadvertently hurt, regrets, regrets, regrets. I have insomnia anyway, but this definitely contributes. I'm a chronic worrier.

Since my mom died, I've gotten a lot better about this -- it takes a lot more to get me worked up in the moment and after the fact. But, I still worry about things that it's pointless to worry about. Case and point: When I was flying back from a work trip on Thursday, the airline lost my checked bag. At the airport, after I got home, that night in bed, I kept worrying a. about whether or not I'd ever see my suitcase again, b. how stupid I was to put my camera and my necklace made from one of my mom's earrings in the checked bag, c. what else I'd packed that I couldn't remember. I was freaking out. AND, none of it mattered. I kept trying to remind myself of that: Whether I freaked out or not was not going to have any impact on the airline finding and returning my bag (which they did end up doing the next morning). (There are times, I think -- although I can't come up with a specific example -- where worrying and freaking out MIGHT have an impact on the outcome and then I guess it's okay. Or more okay. Who knows.)

So, I'm trying to stop myself from doing that kind of worrying and freaking out and crucifying myself. I'm trying to learn to let go (and be a little nicer to myself). It's not the easiest thing in the world, especially when you've been one way your whole life and suddenly try to go the exact opposite way. But, I am a girl who likes extremes, right?

I've been working on my novel more lately. This is due at least in part to two friends who are reading and critiquing for me. I should be writing a chunk of my second chapter RIGHT NOW so I can finish it and send it. But I'm not. I'm stuck in this place where I freak out about not being good enough, of never finishing, of always disappointing myself and the people who believe in me. When I get on a roll (like I was yesterday morning in the Laundromat), I freak out the other way: What happens if I finish the book, publish it, make a tremendous impact on the literary world -- and I'm not happy? It's all I've ever wanted, and what if it doesn't make me happy?

It's actually a central question in my novel.

And I think the answer is this: It's more than the accomplishment of dreams that makes a person happy. It's also about satisfying personal relationships, challenging yourself to reach for another dream after that one, exploiting every opportunity for joy.

"It's a world of hope and a world of fears"

I apologize now for getting the "It's a Small World" song stuck in your head. It's been stuck in mine for days. Welcome to Hell.

A much more serious post has been germinating in my consciousness for days, and it's going to come on out and play sometime soonish. I can feel it. I once saw an interview with Patty Griffin where she said that sometimes she's just in a horrible mood she can't explain and then - BAM! - a song just pours out of her, and she realizes that that's why she's been so distracted and cranky - her subconscious was otherwise occupied. This makes sense to me.

I was in DC for several days for work. While there, I re-read the first two books in the Hunger Games series. Last night, the third book was waiting in my mail when I got home. I stayed up until 4 a.m. to finish it. And, as dedicated as I was to reading these books (because they ARE good books), I've been in a horrible mood for days because of them. Or because of other things. Who knows.

But that's not what this is about. This is about the smallness of the world.

My friend Steve (an actual friend named Steve, not the little-known band) sent me a message via Facebook the other day. His brother had done some artwork on the helmet of a derby girl whose legal name is insanely similar to mine -- same last name, very close first name. The league she plays for? Ithaca. On the team that came to Maine to play in the bout where I was a jammer ref last Saturday. Small world?

Oh, yes.

But, it's even smaller. This chick's derby name is strikingly similar to a ref from another league (I think it was Dutchland) that we played once last year. This ref came up to me before said bout and said, "It's nice to finally meet the person who stole my name!" She had wanted to be Graceless Kelly, but I registered it first.

What are the odds?

Ambivalence

Rather than describing myself as bisexual (which is a completely accurate term), I usually prefer to say, "I could go either way." I'm not sure why exactly, just that I like one descriptor better than the other.

Dictionary.com defines ambivalence as "uncertainty or fluctuation, esp. when caused by inability to make a choice or by a simultaneous desire to say or do two opposite or conflicting things."

Yep; that's me. I constantly want things at opposite ends of the spectrum. Mostly, I blame this on being a Pisces. (I blame a lot of things on being a Pisces. But, I also couldn't imagine myself any other way.)

I've been feeling pulled in opposite directions a lot lately -- work has been pretty nuts and I've had a lot going on outside of work. I feel pretty okay most days, but I've also had these moments of intense sadness thinking of my mom and having dreams where she randomly appears (which is odd, because I've barely dreamed of her before now).

In short, I'm overwhelmed. Like, a lot. And, it's been causing me to put my mission to Keep Working on Love on the backburner quite a bit lately, and I don't like that.

While my mom was really, really sick many of my friends told me I needed to cut myself some slack -- I needed to stop trying to be such a damn perfectionist and just take things as they came. Yes, I was forgetful and distracted. Yes, I was not the kind of friend I usually try to be. But, that was okay. (Or, at least that's what they tried to convince me. Sometimes I believed them.)

And, maybe it is okay to drop the ball everyone once in a while. But, it's time to pick the ball back up, because words matter. I keep trying to remind myself that when all else fails, it's important to share a bit of your heart with the people who matter to you.

Sometimes, though, I find it's hard to even know how I feel (much less share that with someone else) because I just feel like the world is spinning a little too fast. It feels like that now. And maybe that's just because everything has been so busy and I haven't been getting nearly enough sleep and and and and and....

Sometimes, I feel like I'm just repeating myself all the time. But, one thing I've learned from conducting and attending so many trainings is that people need to hear the same things over and over and over (times sixteen or so) until those things sink in.

Good luck with your head

That's what Natalie Portman's character says to Zach Braff's character at the end of their first meeting in Garden State, my favorite movie ever.

I've been thinking about my head a lot the last few days, since our head ref mentioned on Wednesday night that I'll be an outside pack ref at Saturday's bout in Boston. I wasn't thinking about this as a problem (outside is my favorite ref position) until he reminded me about all the pillars at Shriner's auditorium. And then I remembered seeing a skater hit one of those pillars face-first a couple years ago -- she smashed her glasses and broke her nose and needed stitches.

Today, I went to one of the most magical places I've ever been.

Let me back up.

My friend Mia was one of the people who got one of my pink letters ages ago, and she's one of two friends who decided to assign ME missions. The second one I received from her was to go to Step Falls Preserve and just enjoy nature. And ride the falls. At least one.

Luckily, she happened to be in town this week (she lives very, very far away), so I took a vacation day and we agreed to meet there at noon. The problem? There are pretty much NO signs identifying this place. So, I went way the hell past it and into Grafton Notch State Park. I'd like to go exploring there sometime, actually. What I saw from the road was pretty nice. A toddler moose crossed the road in front of me. I just stopped to watch him meander and was about to take a picture when an SUV came FLYING down the road in the opposite direction. The moose was obviously freaked out by the speeding vehicle and ran (as much as moose do) off the road. The picture I took wasn't very good. Sigh.

Eventually, Mia and her girlfriend flagged me down and I ended up at the preserve a mere 45 minutes late. We trekked up hill a ways, then across a bunch of rocks, and set up a little picnic area in a shady spot on a bunch of rocks.

After we ate, I took some pictures and Mia climbed around like a monkey before demonstrating for me how one rides the falls. (Basically, you find a gentle slope with some slime on it, give yourself a shove, and let the water do the rest. A natural water slide.)

I'm glad I thought ahead and wore a sports bra rather than my regular bathing suit top, because there's no way in hell I would've kept any kind of modesty if I'd worn a real bathing suit. Almost every time I ended up in the water, one or both of my contacts would end up getting displaced or folded. Being half-blind and wandering around wet, slippery rocks is not particularly fun.

I think I had full vision, though, when I was climbing up a slope, slipped because my feet were wet, and did a belly flop right in front of a large group of frat boys. I immediately started laughing, and I think that freaked them out. They were all concerned. Mia just said, "She does that a lot." Truly, I do. And, in this case, I was glad for all that extra padding in my chest.

The water wasn't too cold, and it was a gorgeous day. We rode lots of little falls and jumped into a pool that was not nearly as deep as it looked -- that's how I scuffed up both my knees really badly.

I got a pretty amazing contusion on my left shin climbing out of a pool at the bottom of one of the falls. I'm not sure how I got its match on the opposite arm -- that may have happened when I slipped and fall backwards, landing completely flat on my back and whacking my head on a rock. (Luckily, no concussion. Surprisingly, I didn't even really get much of a headache.)

I'd brought some paratrooper toys, so Mia and her girlfriend climbed up the falls and let them go while I took pictures below and then went and collected them in the falls. Not a bad way to end a nice little adventure in a beautiful, peaceful place.

Now that I know how to find it, I can't wait to go back again....