+ stepping outside of my life. +

I'm in Charlotte, NC for a few days. Til Tuesday or Wednesday-ish, haven't decided yet. I lived here for about 6-8 months back in 2007 and was blessed to make a few very good friends to come home to visit.

I love Charlotte. And what it is to me. Even though it was only a little blip in my life, between Arizona and moving back to Ohio, sometimes I think I grew more here than any other time in my life. Coming back is like reverting back to a life I had. You know those moments you catch a glimpse of a world that says, "this is who you could be?" Being here is a mix of this is who you could be and this is who you were. It's difficult to process, and adds another level of confusion to where I am and the decisions I've made.

Starting over has always been tempting for me. And so I have, multiple times. This year's tension has been between starting over, and reforming what I have. There is much to be said for both, and I've been pushed to do the latter, as the former began to look a bit like running from things. As I get older, however, I realize that life is 100% what you make of it, and proactively moving, changing, deciding, altering, pushing, going, leaving are the components of making your life. Active, not passive. I've always wanted this, and reforming the Lauren that exists in her semi-hometown seems too slow to be active, and I always have the discontent of passivity.

Sidenote: I focus better in a place I've never been. I am removed and undistracted and uninfluenced by the visual and tangible. The history of places speaks too much limitation to me. A fault, yes, and one I can't seem to overcome.

Second sidenote: Is it alright to have faults you cannot overcome, and to consciously act out of that, knowing your action is determined by your fault?

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And the problem it seems
Is with you and me
Not the Love who came
To repair everything

And I don't know
What to do with a love like that
And I don't know
How to be a love like that

When all the love in the world
Is right here among us
And hatred too
And so we must choose
What our hands will do

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Any so-called material thing that you want is merely a symbol: you want it not for itself, but because it will content your spirit for the moment. { Mark Twain }