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Can I be real with you for a minute, Internet?  
 I wasn’t going to breathe a word of this story to anyone, but last night when I confessed this to my roommates as we made a late-night-spur-of-the-moment-adult-decision-run to Mickey D’s for some hot fudge sundaes… I changed my mind.  
 Well. Not so much as changed my mind but was convinced via EBs uncontrollable laughter and giggling pleads to “pleaaaase put this on your blog. Please please please!” Why have a blog if not for moments like this?  
 Towards the end of what seemed like our 3rd swing of winter, I decided I would plant a little garden. Nothing fancy: a few flowers and some herbs to see if my thumbs were indeed green. I tried various methods of planting: a few from just placing the plants, a few from bulbs, a few from tiny seeds themselves.  
 The plants that were already growing seemed to be doing fine (Easy. Check.) Even the plants from the bulbs sprouted quickly and started shooting up. But the flowers from the seeds I wasn’t so sure about.  
 They were sure growing fast, but didn’t really resemble what I thought the flowers were going to look like: I had planted zinnia seeds, and these didn’t look like zinnia stems. But I pressed on, undeterred by the strange appearance of these “zinnias."  
 I was diligent. So diligent, ya’ll, I can’t express it. I bought the right soil. I watered them in correct amounts, at the right time of day. I even bought some Miracle Grow pellets! In my mind I thought "this is what people with pets must feel like–” Me and my plants. I felt so proud.  
 A month or so goes by. The plants keep on keepin’ on… and my skepticism about the “zinnias” continues to grow (pun most definitely intended.) albeit silently inside my head.  
 The roomies even make comments about how quickly the “zinnias” are growing and I too am outwardly impressed with their progress. Inside I’m thinking “these really don’t look like zinnias…” but I continued to water them and check on them and mentally mark their progress.  
 A few days ago, the “zinnia” buds bloomed.  
 Not zinnias. I don’t know what I was expecting, honestly, but they were most definitely not zinnias. In a moment of sheer horror, I realize that these giant “zinnias” I’ve been growing and tending and nurturing in my front yard are indeed weeds.  
 Weeds.  
 Countless people over many weeks have passed by our house (as it’s on a popular street for walking dogs/letting dogs poop on the train tracks) and there I was, sitting on the stoop, so proud of my giant plants that were in fact growing like weeds.  Because they were weeds. 
 When I confessed to my roomies as we were enroute to hot fudge sundaes… uncontrollable laughter arose— I had been so careful! So loving! So disciplined about watering and planting and– hilariously– weeding the flower beds that the fact that I was actually   growing   weeds   was too much to bear!  
   “Isn’t that just how we are, though? We think we’re growing all this good stuff… all these flowers… and we’re really just growing weeds.”   EB, in her profound laughter, was right. We  are  just like this. I kept thinking about all the other things in my life that I treat this way… thinking I’m doing something good and producing something great and beautiful when really it’s just weeds. Even when I suspected something was wrong, I was too embarrassed to admit I didn’t know what I was doing, or what a zinnia should really look like, even though I googled it about 800 times. I was so convinced that somehow that giant weed would turn into the beautiful flowers I thought I was planting. There was even a moment a couple of weeks ago when I  knew  it was a weed… and I kept on watering it anyway because I didn’t want to fail. I thought I’d rather have weeds than nothing at all. 
 We scarfed down our Sundaes and EB made me promise to take a picture of the “zinnias” before I pulled them up, which I did promptly as soon as the sun came up this morning.  
 Sometimes you need an EB in your life to point out the hilariousness of the facades you are trying to keep up… no matter what they are: your own physical appearance, wealth, material possessions, friends, blog followers, adoration of others…  On the surface, it was just a weed pretending to be a flower and me totally going along with the weed’s ridiculousness. But often it’s a deeper problem… one that must be ripped out from the roots and not planted or tended or nurtured again.  
 This has been a day in the life of Morgangster.  
  EDIT:  Not a zucchini. Similar flower, but the stem is totally different/no zucchini fruit to be found… could be a squash of somesort though. (My mom grew zucchini/cucumbers etc. and this is similar, yes, but not the same.) Plus… not a zinnia. And that’s what I planted. So either way there was a problem aka WEEDS and it was taking over/smothering all my other plants in the flower bed :) 

Can I be real with you for a minute, Internet? 

I wasn’t going to breathe a word of this story to anyone, but last night when I confessed this to my roommates as we made a late-night-spur-of-the-moment-adult-decision-run to Mickey D’s for some hot fudge sundaes… I changed my mind. 

Well. Not so much as changed my mind but was convinced via EBs uncontrollable laughter and giggling pleads to “pleaaaase put this on your blog. Please please please!” Why have a blog if not for moments like this? 

Towards the end of what seemed like our 3rd swing of winter, I decided I would plant a little garden. Nothing fancy: a few flowers and some herbs to see if my thumbs were indeed green. I tried various methods of planting: a few from just placing the plants, a few from bulbs, a few from tiny seeds themselves. 

The plants that were already growing seemed to be doing fine (Easy. Check.) Even the plants from the bulbs sprouted quickly and started shooting up. But the flowers from the seeds I wasn’t so sure about. 

They were sure growing fast, but didn’t really resemble what I thought the flowers were going to look like: I had planted zinnia seeds, and these didn’t look like zinnia stems. But I pressed on, undeterred by the strange appearance of these “zinnias." 

I was diligent. So diligent, ya’ll, I can’t express it. I bought the right soil. I watered them in correct amounts, at the right time of day. I even bought some Miracle Grow pellets! In my mind I thought "this is what people with pets must feel like–” Me and my plants. I felt so proud. 

A month or so goes by. The plants keep on keepin’ on… and my skepticism about the “zinnias” continues to grow (pun most definitely intended.) albeit silently inside my head. 

The roomies even make comments about how quickly the “zinnias” are growing and I too am outwardly impressed with their progress. Inside I’m thinking “these really don’t look like zinnias…” but I continued to water them and check on them and mentally mark their progress. 

A few days ago, the “zinnia” buds bloomed. 

Not zinnias. I don’t know what I was expecting, honestly, but they were most definitely not zinnias. In a moment of sheer horror, I realize that these giant “zinnias” I’ve been growing and tending and nurturing in my front yard are indeed weeds. 

Weeds. 

Countless people over many weeks have passed by our house (as it’s on a popular street for walking dogs/letting dogs poop on the train tracks) and there I was, sitting on the stoop, so proud of my giant plants that were in fact growing like weeds.  Because they were weeds.

When I confessed to my roomies as we were enroute to hot fudge sundaes… uncontrollable laughter arose— I had been so careful! So loving! So disciplined about watering and planting and– hilariously– weeding the flower beds that the fact that I was actually growing weeds was too much to bear! 

“Isn’t that just how we are, though? We think we’re growing all this good stuff… all these flowers… and we’re really just growing weeds.” EB, in her profound laughter, was right. We are just like this. I kept thinking about all the other things in my life that I treat this way… thinking I’m doing something good and producing something great and beautiful when really it’s just weeds. Even when I suspected something was wrong, I was too embarrassed to admit I didn’t know what I was doing, or what a zinnia should really look like, even though I googled it about 800 times. I was so convinced that somehow that giant weed would turn into the beautiful flowers I thought I was planting. There was even a moment a couple of weeks ago when I knew it was a weed… and I kept on watering it anyway because I didn’t want to fail. I thought I’d rather have weeds than nothing at all.

We scarfed down our Sundaes and EB made me promise to take a picture of the “zinnias” before I pulled them up, which I did promptly as soon as the sun came up this morning. 

Sometimes you need an EB in your life to point out the hilariousness of the facades you are trying to keep up… no matter what they are: your own physical appearance, wealth, material possessions, friends, blog followers, adoration of others…  On the surface, it was just a weed pretending to be a flower and me totally going along with the weed’s ridiculousness. But often it’s a deeper problem… one that must be ripped out from the roots and not planted or tended or nurtured again. 

This has been a day in the life of Morgangster. 

EDIT: Not a zucchini. Similar flower, but the stem is totally different/no zucchini fruit to be found… could be a squash of somesort though. (My mom grew zucchini/cucumbers etc. and this is similar, yes, but not the same.) Plus… not a zinnia. And that’s what I planted. So either way there was a problem aka WEEDS and it was taking over/smothering all my other plants in the flower bed :)