Yesterday, I started crying at a video of flowers blooming from cracks in the sidewalk. Seeing all those blooms burst through a crack of open light, using tiny opportunities to propel themselves to the surface, past dark, rough stone, becoming a small little miracle, one so small it is probably often ignored by most and never seen for its true beauty. I think that is what made me cry, that there is so much beauty in this world hidden amongst the fast-paced way we live and the negative circumstances that our world has been immersed in. That there is living, growing hope in our world. I cried because it was so sad that beauty gets buried under loud headlines and buzzing phones, that we walk so quickly trying to get to the next stop that we forget to look down and see flowers reaching for the sky, for life. Then I started to laugh because I was so grateful to be a person who could feel this much over weeds growing through concrete, that I was fortunate enough to be a person who paused long enough to take in the wonder of small miracles. So, with a tear-stained face and a tickle of laughter in my throat, I allowed myself to feel, because that is a lovely, vivacious thing in itself.
I thought this was a good introduction to me because it is often a part of myself I find hard to really explain. That I feel so big that my emotions become a wave of passion in themself, and for a long time I had wished that away. Feeling so strongly and intimately was and is really difficult to manage; I wanted to be free of my racing mind, but as I get older I realize it is a blessing to see meaning and hope in such small things. To think and ponder and hope and dream, to cry and laugh, to love and hurt are all a giant gift. I am blessed that my bleeding heart emphasizes my admiration for many things; it allows me to see the magic in cat meows, warm tea, the way tree branches create patterns against the blue sky, bumper stickers that a person looked at and related to so much that they stuck it on the back of their car, and books that make you feel at home. Having a vast ocean of feelings that allows me to slow down enough to appreciate all that is wondrous makes me feel like I have my own form of enchantment. So, if you ever catch me in a mini skirt staring at the sidewalk crying, just know I’m okay and right where I want to be.
Now don’t confuse me for some strictly melancholic and metaphorical woman simply because of my feeble attempt at being profound. At my core, I am nostalgia-stricken, hyperfeminine, and a touch off-putting to some. I love fairies, the cute and sparkly ones, and the ones that would trick you into running away to Faireworld to dance your feet off. Unicorns? Obsessed. Mermaids? Enthralled. I am also extremely into clothes and the color pink. I also think a list of items that you can never have enough of includes lip gloss, purses, stuffed animals, and BOOKS. I think to conclude this messy introduction, if I was creating myself in a potion these are the ingredients I would mix into the cauldron: Pondering, books about magic, cats and other small creatures, attempting as many hobbies as possible, hot pink glitter, Halloween, whimsy, sweet treats, fairies, an extreme love for 80s movies with hand-made puppets that look like goblins, a deep admiration for art, and a yearning for adventure no matter how small.
Miranda Spurlock is a cat mom of one, but if you count the feral cats who use their charming manipulation on her (their cute faces), she is a cat mom of 4-8 on any given day. She loves the color pink; she is very fond of fairies, and escaping into a book is what she does best. She really prides herself on creativity and has tried almost every hobby there is to try. She is currently a senior at UTK, where she is majoring in Business Management, and minoring in English.
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