some sort of pot or kettle backtracking

From the last post, it should be noted: I do very much enjoy and like the people who did the questioning of me. And while that style of questioning irks me, it is most like bemusing to any and all who knew me in KS, as I realized post-posting that post (har?), that I have myself been the leader and have asked those questions of the lucky or unlucky ones who have stumbled into the JoCo group I was a member of, and still am really, all my life. The reassurance of having that group gave me self-confidence that I still am frequently lacking here in CT, as I sit on the other side of the table.

I said as I sat there at that table last night, that I would not move back to KS. That is not true. It's not my plan, but whatever happens, happens. And while I was happy and content and a little buzzed from my drink, I was okay here. But in the morning I woke up, and the first thing that happened, as it does many mornings, was a pang in my heart- I miss my family. I miss my parents, I miss my brother, I miss my life there. Because one life is going does not mean the other stops. It is surreal and difficult and really, really hard to miss so much that goes on with them in a day-to-day world. While moving away has truly taught me to appreciate them, at what point does it become selfish for me to continue to stay so far away?

This is a post simply stating: I like everyone. I hope everyone likes me. Your confidence irritates me when I don't have it, and I recognize how my confidence can irritate others when I did (and still do) have it.

Peace and Love, X's and O's.

questioning

This is a post about questioning. This is a wide topic. It encompasses the questions we ask of ourselves, as well of those that others ask of us. And furthermore, what causes some to ask those questions so plaguingly (not a word, but I totally just made it one) of themselves, and what causes others to ask them so openly of each other?

First off, at some point last week, I had several occurrences where people were discussing things that were appropriate growing up versus appropriate now. For the most part, what they said were things that were much more liberal than my upbringing. Being the sunflower standing alone in a sea of mountain laurels (yes, I did just look up the CT state flower in order to make that work), a lot of it is credited to my Midwestern upbringing (by those who have never been there), as anyone who was born and raised on the Coast can not comprehend that my hometown and college town are both populationally (another word made up by yours truly) and most otherwise modernized more so than any town I've seen here. Yes, I come from a Red State. Lord knows that's something I've overcome. But I've always lived somewhere with running water, electricity, goodness gracious, even the internet! (Have we all so quickly forgotten Google, Kansas?? Not only do we have electricity, but our capital is making a fool in attempts of gaining the highest speed internet...) But irregardless, the sheer fact that I was not running on East Coast beaches every summer and didn't met any juice heads until I moved out here somehow diminishes the value of my opinion or superiorizes (all me) others' upbringings over my own. I've lived here for nearly two years and it's still so shocking that people I find otherwise to be completely intelligent, decent human beings, still devalue my thoughts and feelings based on not growing up here. Which leads me to my next section of questioning...

Out with a group of people tonight, all of whom I know on a somewhat acquaintance at least level, but of course, being the only one not born and raised here, they are all more familiar with each other than I am, all having histories that I didn't witness, and no amount of re-creating old stories will make me further a part of that history. Nonetheless, they like me, I like them, but I find myself being put on the spot, in an almost interview-esque style, questioning and quizzing me on my lifestyle choices, who I want to be, where I want to go, what I want to do. As if asking these big questions in such a presentational way will not only get you a deep honest answer (which it won't, as my being put on display will involve me giving an honest, but as brief an answer as possible, so the spotlight will glare into someone else's pupils) but help us to somehow play catch up into close, close friends. ...I will never understand this style of getting to know you. I am now in display, as uncomfortably as possible, being asked to get emotionally naked and share my deepest thoughts, feelings, desires, dreams, with people who can sit back and watch, judge, comfortable in their already formed friendships, secure from being raised together, from always knowing what everyone else wanted to do, because they've always seen everyone else grow up.

What do you want to do with your life? Ha. Like anyone ever has a complete answer to that question? I definitely do not and I stumble all over trying to answer it whenever anyone has the audacity to ask it. I want to be happy. I want always to be surrounded by people I love, challenged by things I enjoy, driven by my passions and pursuits, comfortable enough in myself to be honest always, comfortable enough to get uncomfortable, to afford the ability to always be rich in literature, music, coffee... fashion. Girl, for just a moment, I know. More specifically, do I have an answer? No. I want to do what I want until it makes me happy, and when it doesn't make me happy anymore, I'll do something else. But to explain that to anyone is so... difficult. Difficult without sounding completely without drive or passion, without sounding like a complete and utter hippie, as I have been accused repeatedly of over the last five or six years. As if my ideals of recycling and being a vegetarian and conserving the planet's resources are so utterly absurd. But I digress. (As I seem to do at least once a post...)

Where do you want to go? Who do you want to be? Let's be honest, life is different in CT and KS. But not for the reasons so many assume. In fact, quite the opposite. In a lot of ways, they're very much the same. The differences come simply from, if I were to live in a place where my future is set into becoming a Midwestern housewife, surrounded by friends and family who I've known my entire life (where we can go out to dinner as a group with a person who has the misfortune of not being raised with us their entire lives and we can cross-examine them with a self-assured thorough knowledge of each other). I could do what I want to do, be who I want to be, but am most likely going to be with someone I've known my whole life, doing things in places I've always gone to (don't get me wrong, I love these people and these places). Or I have the option of CT (or anywhere else really, but as it is where I am at the moment...), where I will always be a little more outside, where I will have to work harder to prove myself, to fit in, to be worthy of these pre-formed since-birth groups that we all have in our hometowns. I have option of not knowing who I could someday marry since he was knobby-kneed with a mouth full of braces, of living in or exploring places where I don't know all the roads; a place where I have to get a new state license, learn a new dialect (whether it be speaking or merely struggling to hear it properly), find new favorite restaurants... hey, it could even be a blue state. Or a non-colored state at all.

Have you learned anything here? I answered no. Such a reflex. But not entirely true. If not about the profession, I have learned a lot about myself in the past two years. I've learned the pain and anguish of moving 1300 miles away. I've learned how much you can miss everyone you've ever known, every place you've ever been, every memory you've ever had. I've learned that I'm stronger than I thought. I've learned how much missing people can age you. I've learned to live without a relationship, without a crutch, by myself. I've learned what good company I can be to me. I've learned to be a friend to myself. I've learned the art of being selfish and doing things for me. I've learned the difficulty of maintaining friendships with hundreds of miles between you, but the importance of the people who are willing to try. I've learned to become an expert frequent flyer. I've learned to navigate myself through places I've never been. I've learned that I never want to become a person who stops learning. I want to learn all my days through. I've learned the importance of a good night's sleep... every night. I've learned that it is so hard to try to teach yourself the guitar. I've learned that sometimes people have to make choices that hurt you in the moment, but that is never their intention and was merely them having to do what's best for them and I've learned to accept those choices they've made- I want what's best for them. I'm working on learning the art of being Zen, the ability to stay calm and cool, to let others get dramatic but not let it affect me. I've learned that I believe in love (well, duh), but have grown more accepting of the love lost, and overcome the need to find love where there is none. I have re-learned, over and over again, that laughter is always the best medicine.

This is a post where I would like to have the answers, but I don't. This is a post, like so many before it, about my upbringing. How I was raised in suburbia, in the Midwest, in a happy, healthy family, and yet, it somehow makes me unique. Different. How my 'normalcy' becomes a paradox, a paradigm, perplexing. A post where I want to have the answers, but somehow I just end up with more questions. What is it going to take for the value of my opinion to be equal to those of others- those around me, my peers, my friends? I'm learning that it's knowing the value of my opinion in my eyes that really matters, and at some point, the people who see it at that same esteemed value are the people worth blogging over.

peace and love, x's and o's.

ghosts

For anyone who knows me, ghosts is an unusual topic choice. But I don't mean ghosts necessarily in the most traditional sense, of, dead spirits appearing in front of you.

But rather, perhaps, the ghosts of past memories. As we are all prone to, sometimes a memory hits you and you are left with some sort of feeling of deja-vu. I think the seasons personally affect for me what memories hit me when, as well as who I've talked to recently, who is on my mind, where geographically I'm located, et cetera. But also, the places we've come to in our lives.

For example, since I was about 15 or 16, I've liked or been dating a boy almost constantly. (To go even further back, I seem to have skipped that whole "boys have cooties" phase entirely... when haven't boys been cute?) While this has not been the case since I've moved to CT, a large percentage has disappeared in my flirtatious personality; it has changed in that my focus has become my job and I worry that it will come off as unprofessional or as a distraction or some other sort that will not be openly accepted or appreciated. However, I've kind of hit a wall... I'm ready to be around boys my own age again, single and straight and attractive, and to laugh and flirt and giggle, all feelings and tendencies and personality traits that I feel I left with my self-confidence somewhere in a box in my parents' basement in KS.

Regardless, so, I'm ready to bring that person more front and center again (as if I've been able to ever control my personality, be it flirtatious or awkward or more often than not, both). So memories of that former person have been floating through my head and one particular memory absolutely knocked me flat the other night. Of course it was of a summer memory, and of course it was of the boy, the one who got away (there's always that one who got away), and of course it was of a time when I believed he loved me truly and deeply... oh, to be the naive fool again...

But I digress. I guess my head is in a place where I eagerly anticipate whatever there is to come, while being aware of what a blissfully unaware little thing I was, and the reality that, in order to jump back in, there is every possibility that I will be repeating history... Alas. Insert some cheesy love quote here, foolish or not, here I stand, ready to jump... or at least get my toes wet...

x's and o's, peace and love.

been a long, been a long, been a long day

Okay, so I've kept up with this pretty well... Har har. Another round... let's see how this goes.

I guess I haven't updated because there hasn't been much to report. I think the latest news to discuss would be the fact that despite the fact that I am two years older than when I received that diploma and moved myself to the coast, I still live by the Kansas philosophies upon which I was born and raised. Those include trusting people instantly and all-encompassingly until they give you a reason not to. This is the opposite of most that I have found on the coast, who only trust you once you have proven yourself. Regardless, I am coming to terms currently with the first serious sucker punch to my trust since I have moved here.

The thing that irks me, and maybe I'm just totally off base, but I have always considered myself to be a good judge of character. Even now, I'm not sure what happened or that I am off base, despite the actions that suggest to the contrary.

In the long run, this is a blip. No big deal. Not anything to be upset over. But at the current moment, it is disappointing and frustrating and I don't want it to affect the way I openly trust people. One situation. Not worth it.

This is a story about not getting bogged down by things not worth bogging. Anything or one who would do this to you is soooo not worth your time. And karma always comes back around...

In The Future, There Will Be More Writing

So, I told my mom a story the other day about something funny that had happened. She laughed and was like 'You should write a book'. ... I don't know that that's true, but I certainly should resume writing on a more regular basis about the things in my life until I can figure out how to blend them into a coherent story... So, if you're interested... pay attention... stories headed your way!

Reality Check

Alright, here it is: I'm a terrible writer. Shocking? No, if you're reading this (Joel, this may just be you), you've read my last two blogs. I have no idea how to wrap things up. Some nice conclusion at the end of my last blog where I discovered who I want to be and what I want to do with my life? Ha! Please. If I had those answers, I'm sure I wouldn't have a blog.

Today's thoughts... asking for help. This is something I am TTTTTerrible at. From a ride to carrying something when I have 8354 things in my hands, to the much bigger, I have never been good at it. To place blame, I could say it's my parents, who have always been there for me whenever I've needed something, so it's rare and unusual when I have to find someone else so I usually prefer not to. Woe is me, with the supportive parents.

To preface, this is not going to end with me discovering how to be brilliant at asking for help. This is just more pointing out a flaw in the hopes that perhaps recognizing it will highlight its existence in my life and therefore become something I improve at in the future.

I guess even more than not asking for help, I hate putting people out. And I mean, anyone. Asking a waiter for a side dish they forgot to bring me. Even if it's their "mistake", I think I've always tried to live my life in the philosophy of leave something better than you've found it (an old scout motto), and have extended it to not wanting to impose on anyone, ever.

So, how do I improve this situation? Ha. How do I start putting people out? How do I impose without imposing?

I don't know, but I hope to figure it out. I recently was listening to NPR (something I've started doing in the hopes of gaining back some of my dwindling intelligence post-educational years) and I heard an interview of author Suzan Colon of the cookbook "Cherries in Winter". Long story short, I now follow her blog and this is a quote I've taken to heart from it: "I've never run a half-marathon before. I've never been 46 before. And I've never told quite so many people that I was going to do something like this. But I like the sound of it: I'm training for a half-marathon."

Never done it. Doesn't mean can't. But what, oh what, will I apply it to? I always view birthdays as a time to reflect and change or improve things. My own personal New Year's resolutions. At 19, I decided it was time to finally pierce my ears. Not exactly changing the world, but getting over a life-long fear of needles long enough to sit in a seat and allow both Claire's employees to drop what they were doing to simultaneously pierce both ears, for my fear of not being able to go through the second one after having gotten the first. And it wasn't so bad. To the extent that five or six months later, I got them double-pierced. Again, simultaneously, but hey, baby steps.

For 24, I'd like to do something as well. Here, I've started this blog, to share my, what I'm sure I find to be starting revelations, when in actuality I will look back and laugh at my profound findings. But I digress. I'm thinking of getting a tattoo. I could barely sit through a needle going through my ear for a split second five years ago, so why I now think getting stabbed repeatedly would be a brilliant idea, I'm not sure, but I like the idea. Something small and Irish on the inside of my left wrist, because no matter who I am or where I am or what I'm doing, Irish is something that will never change. That and/or a peace & love on my foot, just on the visible side of a ballet slipper, my own personal life philosophy. Will it happen? Only time will tell.

If someone else has a better suggestion of how I change, I'm open to suggestions... For now, I leave you with random love quotes, because it is February, the month of love.

"Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly." -Rose Franken

"Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have." -Anonymous

"Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be." -Robert Browning

"A woman has got to love a bad man once or twice in her life to be thankful or a good one." -Mae West

"My heart is ever at your service." -William Shakespeare

"There is no remedy for love but to love more." -Henry David Thoreau

"We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." -Anonymous

"If you judge people, you have no time to love them." -Mother Teresa

When I Grow Up...

I was never that kid who knew what they wanted to do from the age of... forever. That kid who tells his teacher the first day of kindergarten his career aspirations and then sticks to them. I never had a clue. With all the possibilities out there, how is one supposed to choose?

I think the closest I ever came to anything of "this is what I want to be when I grow up" is one of those little kid aspirations that I will tell you never ever would pan out. In light of recent events, both in my life, and in those of the idol I looked up to years ago, it got me thinking.

When I was about 8, I wanted to be an ice skater. Honestly. In 1994 at the Winter Olympics, Nancy Kerrigan was my hero. She made it look effortless. I remember hopping about my house, pretending on was twirling about on the ice. I finally took a year or so of skating lessons around the age of 10, and I don't think I was too bad.

However, I went ice skating for the first time last week with my dear friend Monica, the first time I've been on the ice since about 1996, and let me tell you... it's not like riding a bike. It doesn't just come back to you. Having grown about a foot and a half taller since the last time I skated, the fear of falling had also grown. As my mom used to joke when I was younger, falling is scarier to taller people, because you have further to go before you reach the ground. I will attest to that. If I hadn't had Monica by my side, I would have willing paid others to prevent me from having to make my way on to the ice. I did bite it rather hard once, and nearly two weeks later, I still have a lovely purple bruise on my left knee to prove it, but beyond that, I survived. Definitely a workout, of sheer terror, if nothing else.

Nearly twenty years since kindergarten and I still don't know that I ever had a practical aspiration. I mean, I can't imagine doing anything other than what I'm doing (as "practical" as it is), but do I want to do it forever? I'm sure my parents would kill me, but I'd love to dabble a little in everything. ...okay, maybe not ice skating.

Despite not having any idea what I wanted to be doing as an adult, I did see an older version of myself. Well, not really. I still have a hard time seeing myself any differently than who I am now. I can't see myself in 5 or 10 or 30 years. No clue. But there were certain things about my younger self I was sure I would grow out of.

The one I thought I would grow out of, but still managed to hang out to? My lack of coordination. At 10 days shy of being 24, I still trip over my own feet, run into doorways, drop things, spill things, etc. This would be one thing if I did them like any normal person, or even as infrequently as any other person. But no, every single slip-up is like an all-or-nothing, I end up unintentionally making as big a fool of myself as possible.

Yesterday, for example. I managed to hit myself in the head with a water bottle that fell out of my purse when I bent over; when walking down a hall, in order to make room for the person I was passing, I ran into a door (mind you, there was plenty of room, I just over-accounted); I opened a door into a 3rd grader at school and saw him today and thanked my lucky stars he didn't have a black eye (soooo sorry about that, Ryan); the road was blocked on my way home from the gym, so I took side roads and surprise- got totally lost in the town I've been living in for a year and half; and finally, opened a packet of grape sports drink to mix in my water bottle, it ripped open, going all over the floor and table at the gym, and the left half of my chest, ribs and stomach on my white v-neck undershirt, making it look like I had done a self tie-dye on my workout clothes... the epitome of grace I am not.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, one thing I have gotten significantly better at is being outgoing. Those of you who have known me for a short while can't imagine me being shy, but those of you who have known me 10, 20+ years probably can perfectly imagine the 4, 5, 6, even like 12-year-old me, the awkward, impossibly shy little one that I was. When I was in 1st grade, my teacher made us take turns reading books out loud to the class, because this was the only time I would EVER talk in class, when absolutely forced to. (Ending a sentence in a preposition, who am I to teach grammar??)

When I was about 10 or 11, I remember riding in the car with my mom, and her talking to me about needing to open up to people, or else they would think I was snobby. I am not a snob, nor have I ever been, and the idea that someone would misinterpret my fear of talking to them as such was even worse than the fear of having to talk to them! S0, slowly but surely, I turned into this ramble-y, bubbly person that I am today (if you think I am neither, then you need to get to know me a little better...). I'm not exactly jumping to take the mic from Miss Michelle in Where's That Comma? but it also doesn't make me break out into a cold sweat either... though it might if she makes them sing me "Happy Birthday" next week, as she's threatened to... (another preposition!)

Did this blog start on one topic and move completely to a different one? Well, I did tell you I ramble...