Let me just start this post by stating this fact: I am not a tech genius. If I were in a classroom being graded on my ability to know what a Widget was, I would fail and everyone would point their fingers and laugh me out of the room. For instance, my idea of fixing a computer is pressing ctrl+ alt+ del before smacking it and yelling 'why won't you work!?!?!' repeatedly. Sometimes it works, and sometimes my computer mocks me and freezes before deleting my favorite pages. Again, I'm not a genius (although it may look like it).
That being said, I'm trying to get on Bloglovin'. Why, you ask yourself? Because like a homeless person always asking for spare change, I want more. I'm addicted to peoples opinions and there's no cure, so I'm adhering to their odd law of copy and pasting their website on here to join it. Of course I always question WHY I would want people to read my blog, after all its not about anything in particular other than my daily life of living in Southern California (Orange County aka The OC), and my need to point out the seedy underbelly of it along with my musing on life. But I figure if people in Japan and Cambodia can get 10 thousand followers just for LIVING there, then why can't I!?
So, if you're reading this entry, it means you've found me through a) bloglovin' b) blogger or c) you stumbled on it while drunk one night and saved it while taking your fourth shot of tequila.
Either way, you've found it, so congratulations!
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Saturday, December 17, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
Rainageddon!
Look out SoCal it's raining, and you know what that means! Get on your snow boots, down jackets, and thick scarfs because the temperature has hit 49 degrees! Remember to bubble wrap your children and get a couple of good books out, you're going to be stuck in traffic for the next five hours.
For those of you who don't live in Southern California, or have never visited us when we encounter a 'rain storm' let me enlighten you.
For most of the world rain is a completely normal experience. You look at the rain and think 'I can just wear my hoodie' and then get on with your life. In Southern California most people take one look at drizzly rain and throw on a huge jacket and arm themselves with an umbrella. Now sure, I'm guilty of this, but to be fair its the ONLY TIME we're able to wear something even resembling fall fashion. The real problem here is driving.
If you will recall an older entry I wrote on driving etiquette in the OC, then you will know how awful our traffic is. So you can imagine then just how god awful it is in the rain. People in California can barely drive (I should know, I've been 'almost' hit more times than I can count) and when the rain comes your safest bet--if you're smart or a visitor--is to just stay inside. Don't say I didn't warn you! I have seen a huge SUV spin out right in front my car because they were driving too fast, and CA roads are not designed for rain.
Most people however treat it like a regular day and don't driver slower despite the knowledge of the slick roads--thus leading to 20 car pile-ups (car crashes). My personal favorite occurrence is a small fender bender where there is almost NO damage, but it doesn't stop 1.2 million people from wanting to look at it like its a new ride at Disneyland and creating traffic for NO GOOD REASON.
I suppose my love of rain is in part due to my childhood, where I spent most of my rainy days happily listening to stories my dad would make up, read books, or snuggle into a couch with tomato soup and a movie. In other words, to enjoy the rain and use it as an excuse to not work. But most people in CA are hardly ever prepared for rain--not even a light misting.
So please, if you visit while its raining and you want to live, stay inside while it rains. Or toddle over to a movie theater and stay there until the rain leaves (or the other people), because if you don't you'll be coming face to face with wild eyed freaked-out SoCal residences who will look at you and bemoan the rain that we actually need to keep our water sources and hills replenished. And you, you lucky people, only have to throw on a hoodie!
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| A plant in my garden during a break in the rain |
For most of the world rain is a completely normal experience. You look at the rain and think 'I can just wear my hoodie' and then get on with your life. In Southern California most people take one look at drizzly rain and throw on a huge jacket and arm themselves with an umbrella. Now sure, I'm guilty of this, but to be fair its the ONLY TIME we're able to wear something even resembling fall fashion. The real problem here is driving.
If you will recall an older entry I wrote on driving etiquette in the OC, then you will know how awful our traffic is. So you can imagine then just how god awful it is in the rain. People in California can barely drive (I should know, I've been 'almost' hit more times than I can count) and when the rain comes your safest bet--if you're smart or a visitor--is to just stay inside. Don't say I didn't warn you! I have seen a huge SUV spin out right in front my car because they were driving too fast, and CA roads are not designed for rain.
Most people however treat it like a regular day and don't driver slower despite the knowledge of the slick roads--thus leading to 20 car pile-ups (car crashes). My personal favorite occurrence is a small fender bender where there is almost NO damage, but it doesn't stop 1.2 million people from wanting to look at it like its a new ride at Disneyland and creating traffic for NO GOOD REASON.
I suppose my love of rain is in part due to my childhood, where I spent most of my rainy days happily listening to stories my dad would make up, read books, or snuggle into a couch with tomato soup and a movie. In other words, to enjoy the rain and use it as an excuse to not work. But most people in CA are hardly ever prepared for rain--not even a light misting.
So please, if you visit while its raining and you want to live, stay inside while it rains. Or toddle over to a movie theater and stay there until the rain leaves (or the other people), because if you don't you'll be coming face to face with wild eyed freaked-out SoCal residences who will look at you and bemoan the rain that we actually need to keep our water sources and hills replenished. And you, you lucky people, only have to throw on a hoodie!
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| A Rose in my garden after a good soaking! |
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Are YOU a good date to yourself?
I came across an article today touting the importance of dating yourself. In other words, learning how to enjoy some quality 'me time'. As a girl who has been largely single for most of her life, I highly encourage people to do this. Whether for good or bad, I've had many long months where I will find most of my friends in a combination of school-boyfriends-engagements-kids that equal a 'dry spell' for me, since I had no significant other with which to fall back on to do things with. So often times I am pitted against a Saturday or Sunday with a whole city at my disposal and no one to share i with. Well. No one except ME.
So, like the 21st century girl I was raised to be I dress pretty, don makeup, do my hair up, and hit the town (oh alright, the oh-so-convenient Irvine Spectrum)! Often times I go see a movie and then grab lunch before happily skipping off to the book store to consume vast amounts of stories. I have no problem eating by myself with nothing to distract me (Although I admit I sometimes bring a book because I love reading). I remember once--but not long ago--a woman working at the resturaunt I was eating at came up to me and asked me,
"Are you here by yourself?"
I replied that I was.
"Oh wow," she said with something suspiciously like awe, "I could never do that! That's so brave! Good for you!"
Since when did enjoying your own company become tantamount to being brave? Is it really so socially unconventional to be a woman and ENJOY sitting by yourself and being amused by the conversations you hear around you (some might call it eaves dropping. I call it finding my next one liner.)? Why can men do it and no one questions them? I really do feel that sometimes if you're a woman and by yourself--i.e. not dating any one, or you have the implication that you're not dating any one--that you must be some one to be pitied. Why?
If you actually LIKE yourself, being alone isn't even something you really question. I don't at least. I suppose at one time or another during my life I've had to amuse myself. I learned to do things that I liked because as a child, I never really had any one my age to play with. So I played make pretend and climbed trees by myself. The only difference now is that I go to a movie, or take a walk, or travel to a different country by myself instead of playing with barbies. After reading the article I had to admit though, I really do enjoy 'dating' myself. I like my company, I constantly amuse myself with my thoughts--which probably scares the poor people around me who wonder why I'm giggling--and I find that I'm much more aware of things around me than I would be if I were with some one.
At what seems like the very old age of 26, I have realized some truths about my life thus far. Whether I have a serious relationship with a man or not, I will always have myself. Perhaps for some people that's not very comforting, but maybe that's because they don't like their own company. However I can always count on myself to take me out to a nice restaurant, buy flowers and chocolates, or even spoil me with a massage at a spa! Having a boyfriend would be wonderful, but until that happens, more and more often I find that I LIKE the thought of doing things by myself--and for myself.
So, like the 21st century girl I was raised to be I dress pretty, don makeup, do my hair up, and hit the town (oh alright, the oh-so-convenient Irvine Spectrum)! Often times I go see a movie and then grab lunch before happily skipping off to the book store to consume vast amounts of stories. I have no problem eating by myself with nothing to distract me (Although I admit I sometimes bring a book because I love reading). I remember once--but not long ago--a woman working at the resturaunt I was eating at came up to me and asked me,
"Are you here by yourself?"
I replied that I was.
"Oh wow," she said with something suspiciously like awe, "I could never do that! That's so brave! Good for you!"
Since when did enjoying your own company become tantamount to being brave? Is it really so socially unconventional to be a woman and ENJOY sitting by yourself and being amused by the conversations you hear around you (some might call it eaves dropping. I call it finding my next one liner.)? Why can men do it and no one questions them? I really do feel that sometimes if you're a woman and by yourself--i.e. not dating any one, or you have the implication that you're not dating any one--that you must be some one to be pitied. Why?
If you actually LIKE yourself, being alone isn't even something you really question. I don't at least. I suppose at one time or another during my life I've had to amuse myself. I learned to do things that I liked because as a child, I never really had any one my age to play with. So I played make pretend and climbed trees by myself. The only difference now is that I go to a movie, or take a walk, or travel to a different country by myself instead of playing with barbies. After reading the article I had to admit though, I really do enjoy 'dating' myself. I like my company, I constantly amuse myself with my thoughts--which probably scares the poor people around me who wonder why I'm giggling--and I find that I'm much more aware of things around me than I would be if I were with some one.
At what seems like the very old age of 26, I have realized some truths about my life thus far. Whether I have a serious relationship with a man or not, I will always have myself. Perhaps for some people that's not very comforting, but maybe that's because they don't like their own company. However I can always count on myself to take me out to a nice restaurant, buy flowers and chocolates, or even spoil me with a massage at a spa! Having a boyfriend would be wonderful, but until that happens, more and more often I find that I LIKE the thought of doing things by myself--and for myself.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Apple Picking SoCal Style!
In places other than Southern California (also known as SoCal to us residence) children are frolicking in fall colored leaves, drinking hot coco, and putting on thicker sweaters as dark clouds begin to skitter across the sky. But here in the OC we're dying of heat and wondering when-oh-when the rain will come. But its SoCal. It NEVER comes. So rather than be sad and depressed about the never coming fall weather I contrived a plan to do the most iconic fall like activity I could think of.
Go apple picking!
But where could there possibly be apple orchards in an almost desert? Why a beautiful, magical town called Julian, of course! It's quaint, its old, its got a working silver mine, and apple orchards. After much shuffling of schedules and being told by many an orchard 'sorry, we're full' and 'our apples died this year' I finally managed to find one. Armed with enthusiasm, fall clothing (and yes, I did nearly die of the heat), and a camera, I headed off to the orchard with my amused mother.
With the energy and wonder of a five year old I carefully inspected every single apple tree and picked only the most scrumptious looking apples I could find, after all, these apples were for pie baking. I filled my basket to the brim, and never mind the heat, I looked pretty fantastic! Not that I cared, because it was apple day! The orchards were buzzing with a few bees still collecting the last of the nectar they needed, and red ants and I had a nice run of surprise attacks (guess who surprised who when they went to sit down!?). All in all, the apple picking was a success!
My fun filled day wasn't done yet though! We stopped into Julian, and after a delicious meal we meandered along the streets and rummaged through antique shops. I found a beautiful antique tea cup made in Finland, and even got a discount on it! I almost love it more than my Japanese made tea-cup! After that we needed to replenish our rapidly depleting energies, so we went for the world famous Julian Apple Pies (my mom's REAL reason for going, and not my delightful company. Deceived again!). They were delicious,especially the ice cream they put on the side!We went through a few more antique shops, and then decided to head home, to beat out the other tourists still stuffing themselves with pie.
It had been a beautiful day (Even if I DID overly dress the part for all the heat), and honestly, I had tons of fun prancing around an apple orchard pretending it was a cold day in Vermont. Next year, I think I'll pick twice as many apples!
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| My mom reaching for an apple! |
Go apple picking!
But where could there possibly be apple orchards in an almost desert? Why a beautiful, magical town called Julian, of course! It's quaint, its old, its got a working silver mine, and apple orchards. After much shuffling of schedules and being told by many an orchard 'sorry, we're full' and 'our apples died this year' I finally managed to find one. Armed with enthusiasm, fall clothing (and yes, I did nearly die of the heat), and a camera, I headed off to the orchard with my amused mother.
With the energy and wonder of a five year old I carefully inspected every single apple tree and picked only the most scrumptious looking apples I could find, after all, these apples were for pie baking. I filled my basket to the brim, and never mind the heat, I looked pretty fantastic! Not that I cared, because it was apple day! The orchards were buzzing with a few bees still collecting the last of the nectar they needed, and red ants and I had a nice run of surprise attacks (guess who surprised who when they went to sit down!?). All in all, the apple picking was a success!
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| So delicious looking!! |
My fun filled day wasn't done yet though! We stopped into Julian, and after a delicious meal we meandered along the streets and rummaged through antique shops. I found a beautiful antique tea cup made in Finland, and even got a discount on it! I almost love it more than my Japanese made tea-cup! After that we needed to replenish our rapidly depleting energies, so we went for the world famous Julian Apple Pies (my mom's REAL reason for going, and not my delightful company. Deceived again!). They were delicious,especially the ice cream they put on the side!We went through a few more antique shops, and then decided to head home, to beat out the other tourists still stuffing themselves with pie.
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| Part of Julian. Can you believe that's in Southern California!? |
It had been a beautiful day (Even if I DID overly dress the part for all the heat), and honestly, I had tons of fun prancing around an apple orchard pretending it was a cold day in Vermont. Next year, I think I'll pick twice as many apples!
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| Am I tempting you yet!? |
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Dating Is For The Young
The internet is a great place for almost everything, and especially for dating. I mean, where else could you meet five guys, chat with them, and then pick one or two you like for a date? Some might argue you could do the same at a bar, but I would like to point out that very rarely are those men coherent enough to string together a cohesive sentence that describes something other than "me, you, my bed." or "you're hot. Let's grind!" Also you are safe from the risk of getting felt up or drugged.
Recently I went on a few dates with a very nice guy that I met thanks to the internet. Now honestly I can say that I think he's smart, goal oriented, and very cute. I'm not sure on his sense of humor yet. As of now both dates have felt decidedly....date-ish. You know, where you sort of interview each other but are trying really hard NOT to make it seem like its an interview? Yeah. I find that its a bit hard to gauge his sense of humor because honestly, he hasn't told a lot of jokes. Then again, we haven't really gotten to the point of feeling comfortable with each other, I think. It's very hard to gauge him, and usually I have an eye sharper than a hawk when it comes to the emotional feelings of others. I have NO idea what he thinks of me.
I'm not sure if that's a good thing, or a bad thing.
The first date we had I felt confident and pretty--which in my world is a rare feat indeed--and while I'm a known talker (I like to think of myself as a one man comedy show) I did try extra hard to ask lots of questions about him. So it was a bit off putting when his answers were...for lack of a better description, the complete opposite of how I tell answers (think the overly exaggerated expressions of silent films mixed with the the verbal and mental speed of the Gilmore Girls). He was interesting to listen to, but very rarely did a story flow into another story or another topic. Instead, it was a round of twenty (or fifty) questions.
I had already told myself that this was going to be something light and casual, because the last couple times I had thought I had something I ruined it by being serious too fast (or in other words, being more prepared for a relationship than they were). So I was determined to take it slow this time, to just enjoy the moment and not take it for anything more than it was. I put my mouth in my foot so many times I'm surprised I didn't get hoof/mouth disease, and thus ensuring that I probably wouldn't get that second date. But the thought didn't bother me since I had taken this so lightly. But apparently my spunk and constant need to talk (out of nervousness, I assure you!) did not detour him, and he wanted a second date. So the same week I saw him again.
Once more it was a round of twenty questions,a few awkward silences and me finally just apologizing for talking so much--which I would like to point out, he actually ENCOURAGED (what's wrong with him?!)--before we headed off to get lunch. I had assumed of course that at this point he would surely be sick of me, because after telling me at the end of our date "I would love for you to come to a potluck dinner with me and my friends" he didn't bother to call/text/e-mail me at all for three days (it was the same way for our second date as well). I assumed I had read too much into thinking he liked me (I realize at this point, I'm using a lot of 'assumes' here, but I'm a woman, and therefor entitled to it!) and had only said that to be polite before rapidly heading for the hills to join monks.
Instead I ended up at his place the next week where we proceeded to make dinner (he's a vegetarian and while I enjoyed my meal of tofu and grain, I think I'd only last a couple days without actual meat in me) and watch a movie. During this movie watching I felt...awkward. Not sure of how much affection to give and realizing very rapidly that while I enjoyed his company I wasn't feeling that 'zing' or 'easiness' that all of my happily married/in-a-serious-relationship friends had and enjoyed. I felt like a 16 year old hiding out in the basement trying to remember the advice column of 16 Magazine. Needless to say I wasn't in any way, shape or form ready to do anything more than give him a hug.
So after several days of trying to figure out if something was wrong with me, and taking a good hard look at the past few dates (and advice from family) I've come to the conclusion that while he IS a nice guy, dating him or feeling that 'spark' just isn't going to happen. And that's life. Trying to find the right time and way to say 'hey thanks, but no thanks' is the real kicker, and I still don't know how to do that. But after all of the ups and downs I will say now what I said when I was 16:
Dating is for the young.
Recently I went on a few dates with a very nice guy that I met thanks to the internet. Now honestly I can say that I think he's smart, goal oriented, and very cute. I'm not sure on his sense of humor yet. As of now both dates have felt decidedly....date-ish. You know, where you sort of interview each other but are trying really hard NOT to make it seem like its an interview? Yeah. I find that its a bit hard to gauge his sense of humor because honestly, he hasn't told a lot of jokes. Then again, we haven't really gotten to the point of feeling comfortable with each other, I think. It's very hard to gauge him, and usually I have an eye sharper than a hawk when it comes to the emotional feelings of others. I have NO idea what he thinks of me.
I'm not sure if that's a good thing, or a bad thing.
The first date we had I felt confident and pretty--which in my world is a rare feat indeed--and while I'm a known talker (I like to think of myself as a one man comedy show) I did try extra hard to ask lots of questions about him. So it was a bit off putting when his answers were...for lack of a better description, the complete opposite of how I tell answers (think the overly exaggerated expressions of silent films mixed with the the verbal and mental speed of the Gilmore Girls). He was interesting to listen to, but very rarely did a story flow into another story or another topic. Instead, it was a round of twenty (or fifty) questions.
I had already told myself that this was going to be something light and casual, because the last couple times I had thought I had something I ruined it by being serious too fast (or in other words, being more prepared for a relationship than they were). So I was determined to take it slow this time, to just enjoy the moment and not take it for anything more than it was. I put my mouth in my foot so many times I'm surprised I didn't get hoof/mouth disease, and thus ensuring that I probably wouldn't get that second date. But the thought didn't bother me since I had taken this so lightly. But apparently my spunk and constant need to talk (out of nervousness, I assure you!) did not detour him, and he wanted a second date. So the same week I saw him again.
Once more it was a round of twenty questions,a few awkward silences and me finally just apologizing for talking so much--which I would like to point out, he actually ENCOURAGED (what's wrong with him?!)--before we headed off to get lunch. I had assumed of course that at this point he would surely be sick of me, because after telling me at the end of our date "I would love for you to come to a potluck dinner with me and my friends" he didn't bother to call/text/e-mail me at all for three days (it was the same way for our second date as well). I assumed I had read too much into thinking he liked me (I realize at this point, I'm using a lot of 'assumes' here, but I'm a woman, and therefor entitled to it!) and had only said that to be polite before rapidly heading for the hills to join monks.
Instead I ended up at his place the next week where we proceeded to make dinner (he's a vegetarian and while I enjoyed my meal of tofu and grain, I think I'd only last a couple days without actual meat in me) and watch a movie. During this movie watching I felt...awkward. Not sure of how much affection to give and realizing very rapidly that while I enjoyed his company I wasn't feeling that 'zing' or 'easiness' that all of my happily married/in-a-serious-relationship friends had and enjoyed. I felt like a 16 year old hiding out in the basement trying to remember the advice column of 16 Magazine. Needless to say I wasn't in any way, shape or form ready to do anything more than give him a hug.
So after several days of trying to figure out if something was wrong with me, and taking a good hard look at the past few dates (and advice from family) I've come to the conclusion that while he IS a nice guy, dating him or feeling that 'spark' just isn't going to happen. And that's life. Trying to find the right time and way to say 'hey thanks, but no thanks' is the real kicker, and I still don't know how to do that. But after all of the ups and downs I will say now what I said when I was 16:
Dating is for the young.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Don't You Wish You Were a Masochist Too!?
Hi, my name is Keely, and I'm a masochist.
*insert standard drone/slightly bored/slightly aggitated 'hiiiiiii keely' *
While some people simply do the normal thing like stalk their exes just to see them smile one more time, or listen to Brittany Spears to remember their Jr high years despite the fact that they realize she's bad, I do a much more dorkier yet equally painful thing.
I start watching vlogs about life in Japan.
The sane part of my brain says "Keely you KNOW you can't go to Japan. Nor can you go to a high school and be a high school student there. Or be an English teacher. This is not healthy. You need to look away from the screen and stop looking at how much plane tickets cost."
But the funner, more irrational side urges me on. It doesn't help that I've been having conversations with my Japanese friends of late, writing and speaking in Japanese. Its not a good thing at all. But I keep doing it. I've been consumed with a need to be in Japan since I was 14 years old. But as we didn't have an exchange program in our school, nor did I have the grades to do it anyway, I never got to be a student in the hallow halls of Japan. Not a big deal really. Not going to Japan AT ALL is what is killing me. So somehow, some way, I will get there.
In the mean time, I will watch THIS girl to tide me over. She's cute, quirky, and surprisingly funny despite her obvious love affair with the word 'like'. She's got pretty good inadvertent comedic timing as well, which is always a good sign in a person. And we can't forget THIS girl either. Her's is a more college experience...and one that is actually probably a lot more informative whereas the other girl is just fun to watch. Oh how I wish I were in Japan!
*insert standard drone/slightly bored/slightly aggitated 'hiiiiiii keely' *
While some people simply do the normal thing like stalk their exes just to see them smile one more time, or listen to Brittany Spears to remember their Jr high years despite the fact that they realize she's bad, I do a much more dorkier yet equally painful thing.
I start watching vlogs about life in Japan.
The sane part of my brain says "Keely you KNOW you can't go to Japan. Nor can you go to a high school and be a high school student there. Or be an English teacher. This is not healthy. You need to look away from the screen and stop looking at how much plane tickets cost."
But the funner, more irrational side urges me on. It doesn't help that I've been having conversations with my Japanese friends of late, writing and speaking in Japanese. Its not a good thing at all. But I keep doing it. I've been consumed with a need to be in Japan since I was 14 years old. But as we didn't have an exchange program in our school, nor did I have the grades to do it anyway, I never got to be a student in the hallow halls of Japan. Not a big deal really. Not going to Japan AT ALL is what is killing me. So somehow, some way, I will get there.
In the mean time, I will watch THIS girl to tide me over. She's cute, quirky, and surprisingly funny despite her obvious love affair with the word 'like'. She's got pretty good inadvertent comedic timing as well, which is always a good sign in a person. And we can't forget THIS girl either. Her's is a more college experience...and one that is actually probably a lot more informative whereas the other girl is just fun to watch. Oh how I wish I were in Japan!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Who Needs Freud When You Have 'Why'?
As children we have a driving need to ask 'why'. We ask because we have no idea how things work. Science,technology, magic, you name it, we want to know what it is. Why do we breath? Why do we feel pain? Why is the grass green? Why do birds sing? Why do flowers have different colors? And this questioning of Why leads us to How. How does a cloud get made? How does the sun shine? How does a flower grow? But always, even when we become older, we return to why. We understand how clouds are made, what drives the ocean tides (that would be the pull of the moon, for those of you who didn't know!), how cells duplicate, and we even know where babies come from! But WHY?
You hear this word from the broken voice of your friend after their significant other has left them, from the scientist trying to figure out a complex equation, and from the many voices of those around the world who lose their loved ones. Why? It's three letters, but it can cause the most discomfort. As children we don't know that this word will become something we shy away from. We avoid it like the plague because that little word digs deep--and makes you dig deep even when you don't want to. So we lock the word up and don't question things because as adults, deep down, we know the answers and are afraid to hear the reply to our 'why'.
I admit freely to doing this. In fact, I didn't realize I had been shying away from the deeper meaning of my 'why' questions until faced with--and reminded of---it today. For a while, even before the undoing of my perceptions of myself, I had felt lost. I had lost a connection with Spirit, with the things around me. I couldn't hear the voice of my intuition, or feel the beating of the earth when I went barefoot on the ground. I had lost the voice of my guides, and my excitement for my religion. And then that little word popped up. Why? I shied away from it. I didn't want to know why. I was frustrated, sad, lonely, and because I couldn't hear spirit, I gave up trying to understand why. 'I'll get to it later', I told myself. 'Later' is an evil four letter word that should be up there with other unmentionables. I'm sure you know the words of which I speak.
But today while looking through a book I flipped to a page. And as my guides often do, they led me strait to what I needed to do. 'Ask yourself Why', the book stated. 'Only then can you find your problem, release it, and heal'. If only I could hear such words so clearly given to me in my head! Honestly, I think my guides just have a sense of humor. The words jumped out from the page almost as quickly as the title of the chapter, and I knew as I read the big bold text that I needed to heed the words in the book--they were things that I had been avoiding.
After reading the chapter it reminded me of several things--not least of which was the fact that I had forgotten that often times my guides spoke to me through literal written word. And because of the whole ten pages that I read, I realized with sudden clarity that my guides had been giving me advice and speaking to me consistently for more than a month now. I just hadn't realized it because I was avoiding the question Why. It doesn't have to be a scary word, but often times it is. This is because the deeper reason is often something we don't want to face.
By asking Why we open ourselves up to truths we might not want to face. But we have to. The only way to really be at peace with ourselves is to realize that asking Why isn't bad--it helps become more aware. While the book I read mostly contains things that don't really offer me much that I already know, reading that one chapter armed me with ideas I had forgotten, and irony of ironies, it said 'your guides will often try to reach you through the written word'. My guides really DO have a penchant for being blunt don't they? Cheeky buggers! Here I was wondering why I couldn't hear them when they had been time and again trying to reach me. Teach me. Remind me. So I being my quest now. Its internal and therefore is free--but its not much of a vacation.
I realize it won't be easy. I still get uncomfortable when I start to ask myself that three letter word. However I can see the light through the murky questions, and all I need to do is ask Why to get nearer to a better and shinier new me. Hopefully a me I can stand tall and be proud of. And be wiser for the wear.
You hear this word from the broken voice of your friend after their significant other has left them, from the scientist trying to figure out a complex equation, and from the many voices of those around the world who lose their loved ones. Why? It's three letters, but it can cause the most discomfort. As children we don't know that this word will become something we shy away from. We avoid it like the plague because that little word digs deep--and makes you dig deep even when you don't want to. So we lock the word up and don't question things because as adults, deep down, we know the answers and are afraid to hear the reply to our 'why'.
I admit freely to doing this. In fact, I didn't realize I had been shying away from the deeper meaning of my 'why' questions until faced with--and reminded of---it today. For a while, even before the undoing of my perceptions of myself, I had felt lost. I had lost a connection with Spirit, with the things around me. I couldn't hear the voice of my intuition, or feel the beating of the earth when I went barefoot on the ground. I had lost the voice of my guides, and my excitement for my religion. And then that little word popped up. Why? I shied away from it. I didn't want to know why. I was frustrated, sad, lonely, and because I couldn't hear spirit, I gave up trying to understand why. 'I'll get to it later', I told myself. 'Later' is an evil four letter word that should be up there with other unmentionables. I'm sure you know the words of which I speak.
But today while looking through a book I flipped to a page. And as my guides often do, they led me strait to what I needed to do. 'Ask yourself Why', the book stated. 'Only then can you find your problem, release it, and heal'. If only I could hear such words so clearly given to me in my head! Honestly, I think my guides just have a sense of humor. The words jumped out from the page almost as quickly as the title of the chapter, and I knew as I read the big bold text that I needed to heed the words in the book--they were things that I had been avoiding.
After reading the chapter it reminded me of several things--not least of which was the fact that I had forgotten that often times my guides spoke to me through literal written word. And because of the whole ten pages that I read, I realized with sudden clarity that my guides had been giving me advice and speaking to me consistently for more than a month now. I just hadn't realized it because I was avoiding the question Why. It doesn't have to be a scary word, but often times it is. This is because the deeper reason is often something we don't want to face.
By asking Why we open ourselves up to truths we might not want to face. But we have to. The only way to really be at peace with ourselves is to realize that asking Why isn't bad--it helps become more aware. While the book I read mostly contains things that don't really offer me much that I already know, reading that one chapter armed me with ideas I had forgotten, and irony of ironies, it said 'your guides will often try to reach you through the written word'. My guides really DO have a penchant for being blunt don't they? Cheeky buggers! Here I was wondering why I couldn't hear them when they had been time and again trying to reach me. Teach me. Remind me. So I being my quest now. Its internal and therefore is free--but its not much of a vacation.
I realize it won't be easy. I still get uncomfortable when I start to ask myself that three letter word. However I can see the light through the murky questions, and all I need to do is ask Why to get nearer to a better and shinier new me. Hopefully a me I can stand tall and be proud of. And be wiser for the wear.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Here We Go in Circles Again
I have noticed a trend lately. Well, not lately. I think I can honestly say that whenever I move locations I always seem to hit absolute (that's Vodka proof, by the way) bottom. Or perhaps I hit almost bottom. But either way, I can't seem to escape the cycle of always having the rug pulled out from under my feet. Its been said that we make the same mistakes over and over until we correct our behavior. I've thought about this. I know I tend over estimate myself and my situations sometimes. I know I don't always save as much money as I should, or save as wisely as I had thought. But by the same stroke, when I DO try life seems to say 'no' and put me right back where I was, despite my attempts to change.
Because of this I have come to this conclusion about myself. Perhaps for me grow, I need to feel the pain. Not because the gods above hate me, but because without going through those hard and desperate times, I would never keep trying. I would sit in my little apartment not knowing what I want because I had never been desperate enough to put into perspective what I really need in my life. And anyway, after the tumultuous few months of living on a high wire, I find myself on an even keel again, and often times, far better off than I originally had been.
Without darkness there is no light, without pain there is no love, and without an umbrella there is no pina colada. Darkness is only perceived as darkness because we have light. I could look at the darkness and say 'my life is crap' and give up because I can't find a job and I feel that I will never get my signing certification. Or I can smack myself, drink the pina colada, and do what I have always done; keep trying.
There is no point in looking at the past and worrying about making a mistake again. I will look forward--its the only place to really look--and march on with my future, wherever it may lead me. But one thing I DO know I will be doing that I haven't done in the past. I will do what I love. And not just enjoy, but LOVE. Do things I am passionate about. I'm done living a life of waiting and inaction. Stone by stone I will build my path, enjoy all that life has to offer, and stop worrying about what was. I leave you all with a quote, I hope it helps you as much as it helps me.
Quest Physics: If you're brave enough to leave behind everything that is familiar and comforting, which can be anything from your house to bitter old resentments, and set out on a truth seeking journey either externally or internally, and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared most of all, to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, then the truth with not be withheld from you.
Because of this I have come to this conclusion about myself. Perhaps for me grow, I need to feel the pain. Not because the gods above hate me, but because without going through those hard and desperate times, I would never keep trying. I would sit in my little apartment not knowing what I want because I had never been desperate enough to put into perspective what I really need in my life. And anyway, after the tumultuous few months of living on a high wire, I find myself on an even keel again, and often times, far better off than I originally had been.
Without darkness there is no light, without pain there is no love, and without an umbrella there is no pina colada. Darkness is only perceived as darkness because we have light. I could look at the darkness and say 'my life is crap' and give up because I can't find a job and I feel that I will never get my signing certification. Or I can smack myself, drink the pina colada, and do what I have always done; keep trying.
There is no point in looking at the past and worrying about making a mistake again. I will look forward--its the only place to really look--and march on with my future, wherever it may lead me. But one thing I DO know I will be doing that I haven't done in the past. I will do what I love. And not just enjoy, but LOVE. Do things I am passionate about. I'm done living a life of waiting and inaction. Stone by stone I will build my path, enjoy all that life has to offer, and stop worrying about what was. I leave you all with a quote, I hope it helps you as much as it helps me.
Quest Physics: If you're brave enough to leave behind everything that is familiar and comforting, which can be anything from your house to bitter old resentments, and set out on a truth seeking journey either externally or internally, and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared most of all, to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, then the truth with not be withheld from you.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Something Bigger
By nature I'm a helper. I'm a helper perhaps even when people don't want my help. But giving, sharing compassion, understanding, and a helping hand is what makes me feel like I'm on top of the world and at my most alive. As I prepare to go to job interviews to jobs I don't want to do--that I know I don't thrive in--the knowledge that in my mind I'm not doing something 'bigger' races through my brain.
'Bigger' is a relative term. And it can be so different depending on the person involved. To the boy who comes from a gang infested world and makes it out alive and works an honest job in retail, that is certainly Bigger. To a woman who quits her job to take care of her mother with cancer, that is definitely Bigger. For myself personally, Bigger is making a difference in the lives of children. I was raised in an low income one-parent household, and my aspirations were for being a teacher. But in my heart, even as a kid hiding in the library devouring books, I knew I wanted to be more than my surroundings. I knew I was different than the other kids. Even when I dreamed of being a teacher, I dreamed of being a famous teacher. Something Bigger.
Running around in a power suite stepping on people, crunching numbers, and presenting power point presentations to corporate conglomerates was never--and still isn't--my calling. It isn't how I feel I can move the world--or at least make a dent in it. But our future is our children. And to know that I can give them inspiration, new perspectives, help their imaginations grow, and show them that some one cares about their thoughts and dreams, is the thing the drives my soul.To know I touched a life, a spirit, and through them, to someday change the world is my aim; whether through writing or signing. Sitting in an office counting the hours down to when I get home from a job where I feel like another cog in the machine would kill me.
So why am I doing this? Why am going to interview in places I know I would be miserable and feel helpless and unimportant? Because there is nothing else for me at the moment. Most interpreting jobs in schools have already been filled and I need a specific certification before I'm even considered. And so for now I must be a number until I can get myself out of it. But I will be something Bigger. Regardless of my location, and the current job that I have, I will find ways out of it. I was born to create. I was born to imagine, to feel, to describe. I was born to be a writer. Nothing else will do.
And how am I going to be a help to children if I'm starving in the streets or not able to pay an electric bill? So I must work. I just wish it had been for Signing, and not for trying to find a receptionist job. But the economy and timing was off--or perhaps right. Life will throw curve balls, and sometimes the weight of them seems impossible to survive. But we do move forward, and often because of it we grow stronger.
I'm not sure how long it will take, or even how it will happen, but I will be Something Bigger.
I can't be anything else.
'Bigger' is a relative term. And it can be so different depending on the person involved. To the boy who comes from a gang infested world and makes it out alive and works an honest job in retail, that is certainly Bigger. To a woman who quits her job to take care of her mother with cancer, that is definitely Bigger. For myself personally, Bigger is making a difference in the lives of children. I was raised in an low income one-parent household, and my aspirations were for being a teacher. But in my heart, even as a kid hiding in the library devouring books, I knew I wanted to be more than my surroundings. I knew I was different than the other kids. Even when I dreamed of being a teacher, I dreamed of being a famous teacher. Something Bigger.
Running around in a power suite stepping on people, crunching numbers, and presenting power point presentations to corporate conglomerates was never--and still isn't--my calling. It isn't how I feel I can move the world--or at least make a dent in it. But our future is our children. And to know that I can give them inspiration, new perspectives, help their imaginations grow, and show them that some one cares about their thoughts and dreams, is the thing the drives my soul.To know I touched a life, a spirit, and through them, to someday change the world is my aim; whether through writing or signing. Sitting in an office counting the hours down to when I get home from a job where I feel like another cog in the machine would kill me.
So why am I doing this? Why am going to interview in places I know I would be miserable and feel helpless and unimportant? Because there is nothing else for me at the moment. Most interpreting jobs in schools have already been filled and I need a specific certification before I'm even considered. And so for now I must be a number until I can get myself out of it. But I will be something Bigger. Regardless of my location, and the current job that I have, I will find ways out of it. I was born to create. I was born to imagine, to feel, to describe. I was born to be a writer. Nothing else will do.
And how am I going to be a help to children if I'm starving in the streets or not able to pay an electric bill? So I must work. I just wish it had been for Signing, and not for trying to find a receptionist job. But the economy and timing was off--or perhaps right. Life will throw curve balls, and sometimes the weight of them seems impossible to survive. But we do move forward, and often because of it we grow stronger.
I'm not sure how long it will take, or even how it will happen, but I will be Something Bigger.
I can't be anything else.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Expensive Lessons and Moving Forward....Sort of.
As children growing up we're told by our parents, friends, and possibly even our embittered coworkers that 'life never turns out how you want it'. This is quite true--even if we don't always want to admit it. For instance, you can plan in every minute detail the things you will see, do, and eat on a free all expense paid trip to the Bahamas. You have suntan oil and a bikini ready along with your very convincing version of a twisted ankle to capture the attention of what will probably be a very hot lifeguard who will be rescuing you (on a Tuesday at exactly 1:15 p.m., after your massage). Everything is ready, you bored the plane and land in.....Nome Alaska. This of course, is due to the freak hurricane that hit the Bahamas--and something that you didn't fit into the itinerary.
Life is full of surprises like that. Things that you thought would be one way are completely different. It can work in both directions too. Things you were looking forward to are not what you wanted, and sometimes things you think are going to be awful end up being far better than even YOUR active imagination can produce. For me, my move to Seattle was supposed to be a wonderful, beautiful, enlightening, and enriching lifestyle change. Instead, I got a house that smelled of smoke and dog urine along with two broken windows, spiders in every nook and cranny, and even a cracked (but apparently still slightly operational) stove from the 1970's. I hadn't expected the screaming words 'No. You do NOT belong here, you need to leave.' that came from deep within my soul as I rounded the corner and saw the Seattle skyline, either.
There were a lot of things I didn't expect. I didn't expect to be incapacitated by the realization that I didn't have a friend in the world in Seattle--and that having such friends and support was vital to my very existence. I didn't expect to be curled up in a ball for four days in an unfinished room crying and too devastated to eat anything more than a bowl of cereal during the entire time. I didn't expect to have panic attacks, to have the drive to make friends and explore the new exciting city taken from me, or the unshakable knowledge that I had made a mistake constantly singing in my head. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be happy, elated, and doing a terrible rendition of Gene Kelly's 'Singing in the Rain' dance in downtown Seattle. Instead I was miserable, sick, terrified, and angry with myself for feeling this way.
Life is NOT how we planned it. But you can look at it two ways. Accept the circumstances and DO something about it, or not. I chose to come home. To some perhaps going home looks like failure, back to regressing so to speak. This is not how I see it. I am coming home not in defeat, but with a new lease on life. A new perspective and a deeper understanding of my real values. As a dear friend pointed out to me, 'It's only a failure if you didn't learn anything'. And learn I did. I learned that having friends and family near me are far more important than trying to prove that I'm a Grown Up, that I rely on people far more than I had thought, and that--surprsingly enough--I really do love California.
Being up there opened my eyes in a lot of ways that I'm not sure I can correctly put on paper (or computer, as the case may be!), but it has changed me in ways that only a big shock CAN change you. Going through those terrible emotions, the lonely, slow moving days, was awful. It wasn't what I had planned--nor was coming home. But life throws us curve balls all the time, and from these experiences I've discovered my limitations and what I really do put first in life. That alone was worth the 400 dollars I won't be getting back. It was an expensive lesson, but one that needed to be learned.
Over the past few days since I have been home friends have called me right and left, telling me in almost the exact same words: "I'm glad you went....I'm happier you came back". And knowing that my friends love me, respect me, and still support me makes all the pain much more bearable, and makes me realize all over again just how lucky I am to have people in my life that love me. It may not be what I had expected, but I know its something I had to go through, and in the end whether I realize it or not, the gods above have put me where I need to be--not where I was expecting to be. And that hurricane that landed you in Nome Alaska may have ruined your dreams of meeting a super hot lifeguard, but that cute hunk in plaid with a wolf at his side and a knowing smile on his face just might make up for it. Looks like you get practice your twisted ankle after all!
I'm sure you're all wondering if I'm still going to blog. That's like asking an alcoholic if they want another drink. I'm a compulsive blogger, er, or writer. So expect blogging to happen, and with a lot more frequency! It may not be the most exciting life in the world, but its mine, and someday it WILL be. As a famous Greek philosopher said "Give me a place to stand and I will move the world." And that is exactly what I intend to do with this new change.
Life is full of surprises like that. Things that you thought would be one way are completely different. It can work in both directions too. Things you were looking forward to are not what you wanted, and sometimes things you think are going to be awful end up being far better than even YOUR active imagination can produce. For me, my move to Seattle was supposed to be a wonderful, beautiful, enlightening, and enriching lifestyle change. Instead, I got a house that smelled of smoke and dog urine along with two broken windows, spiders in every nook and cranny, and even a cracked (but apparently still slightly operational) stove from the 1970's. I hadn't expected the screaming words 'No. You do NOT belong here, you need to leave.' that came from deep within my soul as I rounded the corner and saw the Seattle skyline, either.
There were a lot of things I didn't expect. I didn't expect to be incapacitated by the realization that I didn't have a friend in the world in Seattle--and that having such friends and support was vital to my very existence. I didn't expect to be curled up in a ball for four days in an unfinished room crying and too devastated to eat anything more than a bowl of cereal during the entire time. I didn't expect to have panic attacks, to have the drive to make friends and explore the new exciting city taken from me, or the unshakable knowledge that I had made a mistake constantly singing in my head. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be happy, elated, and doing a terrible rendition of Gene Kelly's 'Singing in the Rain' dance in downtown Seattle. Instead I was miserable, sick, terrified, and angry with myself for feeling this way.
Life is NOT how we planned it. But you can look at it two ways. Accept the circumstances and DO something about it, or not. I chose to come home. To some perhaps going home looks like failure, back to regressing so to speak. This is not how I see it. I am coming home not in defeat, but with a new lease on life. A new perspective and a deeper understanding of my real values. As a dear friend pointed out to me, 'It's only a failure if you didn't learn anything'. And learn I did. I learned that having friends and family near me are far more important than trying to prove that I'm a Grown Up, that I rely on people far more than I had thought, and that--surprsingly enough--I really do love California.
Being up there opened my eyes in a lot of ways that I'm not sure I can correctly put on paper (or computer, as the case may be!), but it has changed me in ways that only a big shock CAN change you. Going through those terrible emotions, the lonely, slow moving days, was awful. It wasn't what I had planned--nor was coming home. But life throws us curve balls all the time, and from these experiences I've discovered my limitations and what I really do put first in life. That alone was worth the 400 dollars I won't be getting back. It was an expensive lesson, but one that needed to be learned.
Over the past few days since I have been home friends have called me right and left, telling me in almost the exact same words: "I'm glad you went....I'm happier you came back". And knowing that my friends love me, respect me, and still support me makes all the pain much more bearable, and makes me realize all over again just how lucky I am to have people in my life that love me. It may not be what I had expected, but I know its something I had to go through, and in the end whether I realize it or not, the gods above have put me where I need to be--not where I was expecting to be. And that hurricane that landed you in Nome Alaska may have ruined your dreams of meeting a super hot lifeguard, but that cute hunk in plaid with a wolf at his side and a knowing smile on his face just might make up for it. Looks like you get practice your twisted ankle after all!
I'm sure you're all wondering if I'm still going to blog. That's like asking an alcoholic if they want another drink. I'm a compulsive blogger, er, or writer. So expect blogging to happen, and with a lot more frequency! It may not be the most exciting life in the world, but its mine, and someday it WILL be. As a famous Greek philosopher said "Give me a place to stand and I will move the world." And that is exactly what I intend to do with this new change.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
12 a.m. And it Keeps Going and Going and Going.....
I'm a procrastinator by nature; ask any one whose known me for more than ten minutes. It's one of the major flaws that I just can't seem to shake no matter how hard I try. And where has it led me? Its led me to cleaning my room and packing, throwing away things/objects/god knows what into bags frantically while I mutter to myself 'how the HELL I managed to have so much crap!?!?' The only relief out of this is that my room is now almost completely clean!
This would be wonderful news if it weren't for the fact that I just went down stairs and remembered that I have books, quite a number of them actually, that still need to be bagged. And I have to wonder if perhaps my paper friends really DO copy bunnies and multiply themselves without me knowing. In all good concious I can't get rid of the books I need to bag--most of them are actually ones I constantly refer to/look at/cook from, hence the reason they're downstairs.
I'm almost tempted to grab a bottle of wine (which I don't own, but that's not the point) and just stay up all night drinking myself silly while I pack crap. I know I've killed myself with time. I know I've made myself have an INSANELY ridiculous schedule, but honestly, I couldn't imagine it any other way. If I'm going to go, I'm going to go with a BANG! Which, by the way, is the sound my head is making as I smack it against a table and once again wonder how the hell I have so many books. I think they're multiplying right before my eyes now.
Tomorrow is pretty crazy though, and stretches even MY powers of flexibility. It really all falls on whether or not my cat's shots will be fast. If I'm out of there in an hour, its going to be just peachy! If not....well....I'll just have to find a way to make it work dammit! I also realized that by taking a moment to write in this blog I'm also losing precious minutes of packing time. However, I feel that as my own doctor, it would be to the benefit of my health to take a break before I go nuts.
Everyone cross their fingers, send good energy, and pass me a drink, because this party has officially been kicked into overtime!
This would be wonderful news if it weren't for the fact that I just went down stairs and remembered that I have books, quite a number of them actually, that still need to be bagged. And I have to wonder if perhaps my paper friends really DO copy bunnies and multiply themselves without me knowing. In all good concious I can't get rid of the books I need to bag--most of them are actually ones I constantly refer to/look at/cook from, hence the reason they're downstairs.
I'm almost tempted to grab a bottle of wine (which I don't own, but that's not the point) and just stay up all night drinking myself silly while I pack crap. I know I've killed myself with time. I know I've made myself have an INSANELY ridiculous schedule, but honestly, I couldn't imagine it any other way. If I'm going to go, I'm going to go with a BANG! Which, by the way, is the sound my head is making as I smack it against a table and once again wonder how the hell I have so many books. I think they're multiplying right before my eyes now.
Tomorrow is pretty crazy though, and stretches even MY powers of flexibility. It really all falls on whether or not my cat's shots will be fast. If I'm out of there in an hour, its going to be just peachy! If not....well....I'll just have to find a way to make it work dammit! I also realized that by taking a moment to write in this blog I'm also losing precious minutes of packing time. However, I feel that as my own doctor, it would be to the benefit of my health to take a break before I go nuts.
Everyone cross their fingers, send good energy, and pass me a drink, because this party has officially been kicked into overtime!
Friday, August 5, 2011
Easier to Walk than Run
I have five days until I move, and as I look at my room I can't help but realize my mom was right. It isn't the big things that are hard to move, its the little things. There are so many little things! Things that I look at and go "wow, I really don't this...how do I even pack it? Why do I even HAVE this?" But as the days rapidly disappear I realize there are many things I simply have no need for, which is why I'm eternally grateful for friends who will take my things and thrift stores that will take these random things off my hands.
But packing things isn't the only loose ends I need to tie up. I need new breaks or I'll most likely crash in a fiery blaze in cow country (which I'm sure the bovines would get a kick out of), and I need to figure out just how much drugs I need to give to my cat without killing him and make sure his shots are still up to date (gods I hope they are. Its probably expensive if he needs new ones). All of these things take time, I realize, and I should be rushing since I don't have much time left. But I find myself walking through all of it, and being reluctant. It's probably my subconscious telling me to slow down and take in these last few days. And its most likely true, now that I think (or write) about it.
Through all of this packing, stalling, and expensive money spending (thank you 400 dollar tires!), I've lost sight of the reason I want to move. And then, like an electronic voice from above, a friend of mine wrote something down that made me realize that I'm doing a very good thing by leaving home. And so, to give me a slap in the face whenever I feel that I'm having a freakout, I'm posting it here so that I won't lose sight of my reasons for moving again.
"I'm
But packing things isn't the only loose ends I need to tie up. I need new breaks or I'll most likely crash in a fiery blaze in cow country (which I'm sure the bovines would get a kick out of), and I need to figure out just how much drugs I need to give to my cat without killing him and make sure his shots are still up to date (gods I hope they are. Its probably expensive if he needs new ones). All of these things take time, I realize, and I should be rushing since I don't have much time left. But I find myself walking through all of it, and being reluctant. It's probably my subconscious telling me to slow down and take in these last few days. And its most likely true, now that I think (or write) about it.
Through all of this packing, stalling, and expensive money spending (thank you 400 dollar tires!), I've lost sight of the reason I want to move. And then, like an electronic voice from above, a friend of mine wrote something down that made me realize that I'm doing a very good thing by leaving home. And so, to give me a slap in the face whenever I feel that I'm having a freakout, I'm posting it here so that I won't lose sight of my reasons for moving again.
"I'm
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Room vs. Keely Prt. 2
For a few minutes I thought I was loosing the war in my room, but the tides took an unexpected turn and now I seem to be winning the day! Two boxes have been cleared and purged and all that's left now are to fill them with trash then put them outside, thereby leaving only what is needed to be packed! There are piles everywhere and it LOOKS like the room is winning, but I have two allies backing me; my hands and a trash bag.
It's been a bit difficult to say goodbye to things I thought I would want to keep, but also a testement to how much I've evolved, in that things I was so desperate to cling to I can look at now and say 'yes, its time to move on'. While its hard to chose between this stuffed animal and that old drawing book, its also been a lot easier than I had thought. I'm sure I'm not the first or last person to have these feelings or to even express them, but I will say that I'm very proud of myself for letting go of things that three years ago I would never have considered leaving.
In all honesty, my trip to Europe cleared me of really any ideas I had in my head that I need 'things', so to speak. I lived for a month out of a duffel bag, and when I came home to my very small closet like room I remembered looking around and thinking "wow, I really don't need any of this. Why do I have so much!?" If I had to, I probably really COULD leave almost everything behind without much regret and just leave with a car,a cat, and a friend, but I also recognize the fact that having pictures and other such things are a good way to remind you of your past and how much you HAVE changed.
So room, I'm sorry to say, you may have one the battle, but I will win the war. HAHAHA!
It's been a bit difficult to say goodbye to things I thought I would want to keep, but also a testement to how much I've evolved, in that things I was so desperate to cling to I can look at now and say 'yes, its time to move on'. While its hard to chose between this stuffed animal and that old drawing book, its also been a lot easier than I had thought. I'm sure I'm not the first or last person to have these feelings or to even express them, but I will say that I'm very proud of myself for letting go of things that three years ago I would never have considered leaving.
In all honesty, my trip to Europe cleared me of really any ideas I had in my head that I need 'things', so to speak. I lived for a month out of a duffel bag, and when I came home to my very small closet like room I remembered looking around and thinking "wow, I really don't need any of this. Why do I have so much!?" If I had to, I probably really COULD leave almost everything behind without much regret and just leave with a car,a cat, and a friend, but I also recognize the fact that having pictures and other such things are a good way to remind you of your past and how much you HAVE changed.
So room, I'm sorry to say, you may have one the battle, but I will win the war. HAHAHA!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Optimistic List
My days--even my minutes on occasion--are filled with thoughts of 'yay' and 'nay' about my move. So to put a more positive spin on it and sound less like a psycho whose had one too many mojitos, here is a list of positive things about moving to remember and to keep me from loosing it!
-I will have my friend Dana by my side!
-I'm not alone when I move up there! Ah the powers of the internet, roommates, and family friends!
- I will get to make new friends!
- Two. Story. Swing. Club. SOOOOOO awesome!
- RAIN! Finally, a reason for all my hats, scarves, gloves, and tea that I make/drink! YES!
- I will be nearer to Canada! I foresee many a trip to a different country!
- I'm going to be able to finish my book there!
- I will be able to actually COOK FOOD and not have some one roll their eyes/complain/freak out that food isn't coming out of a JAR. Yay for moving!
These are all wonderful things that I'm going to remind myself of when I get worried. I'm very lucky in that I will not be alone, and if I really need 'grown up' help, Dana's Aunt and Uncle are always there for advice, even if they ARE two hours away.
-I will have my friend Dana by my side!
-I'm not alone when I move up there! Ah the powers of the internet, roommates, and family friends!
- I will get to make new friends!
- Two. Story. Swing. Club. SOOOOOO awesome!
- RAIN! Finally, a reason for all my hats, scarves, gloves, and tea that I make/drink! YES!
- I will be nearer to Canada! I foresee many a trip to a different country!
- I'm going to be able to finish my book there!
- I will be able to actually COOK FOOD and not have some one roll their eyes/complain/freak out that food isn't coming out of a JAR. Yay for moving!
These are all wonderful things that I'm going to remind myself of when I get worried. I'm very lucky in that I will not be alone, and if I really need 'grown up' help, Dana's Aunt and Uncle are always there for advice, even if they ARE two hours away.
Monday, July 25, 2011
The Great Beyond
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| Pioneer Square |
Why AM I moving? I have friends here, and er...sort of a family--dysfunctional and deteriorating as it is--all lined up. I have Disneyland, Knotts, and the beach all within a twenty minute drive. I have warm weather, children I love, and even a job in a school that wants me to come and work for them. I have a life that seems pretty okay to me. However, I recall that the things that I most want in life, I can't have here. I can't grow, change, or make more of myself. I will never own a house--let a lone a condo--here in California. I can't have my own life. And for those reasons alone, I need to move.
I admit freely that it DOES take me a while sometimes to adjust to ideas. For me, picking Seattle at the time was a great choice. But as the days get closer and closer I feel scared to know that I really am all alone. It's very much like the feeling I had when I first decided to move out at 19. Moving then turned out to be a good thing, despite the racing heart and panic. It had taught me more about myself than I would have learned staying at home. Seattle is just a bigger step. Its intimidating because unlike so many years ago, I will be leaving to a place where I don't know the city, the streets, or the people. On good days such thoughts make me itch to go explore. On bad days like today, it makes me worry if I'm really making the right decision, if I can really survive outside of California.
The Great Beyond seems far away and all too close at the same time. I suppose the best I can do is take a deep breath and hope to the gods above that everything (including a friend and a drugged up cat) will fit into my car. The chapter of California is over, and whether I'm ready or not, I'm about to turn the page to a new chapter. But I'm ready.
I think.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Room vs. Keely
I have four weeks until I move. FOUR WEEKS. Do you know what that means? No? It means packing. It means cutting back on crap you don't need. It means--ugh--decision making. I hate playing favorites with yarn! I hate to part with any yarn or scrap of fabric that I might need in the someday future (but probably not really). So today after I got home from a less than stellar day at work, I walked into my room, placed my hands on my hips, and surveyed all that I ruled over, trying to decide where to start first.
If my room were a country, it would be the landfill of the world. Or perhaps a hippie country that didn't get the memo that its not cool to leave everything on the floors of your streets. Either way my room is a disaster. I could give a teen a lesson in how to really make your room insanely messy. My bed is probably the cleanest part, as I usually pull the covers up because I love my quilts that I made laying on top of it, and like to show it off to myself. In reality, its probably a volcano waiting to explode. Clothes, yarn, fabric, knitting needles, books, make up, and here and there a knitted blanket carpet my floor. At least the mess is colorful and also soft right!?
I SHOULD probably start with my books--since I have so many of them--but really, I'm just putting them in trash bags (much more space saving in cars than boxes), and what if there's a book I want to read!? I thought about the yarn, then realized it was going to take time (and lots of it) to decide which ones were going to be voted off the country of Keely. Fabrics are pretty well in hand, as most of them are in bags already and don't need much organizing. The thought of the two boxes in my closet from when I first moved back home called to me, reminding me I probably needed to throw away most of what was in there. But when it dawned on me that doing so meant more decision making I quickly fled my room to the safety of my computer, where the hardest choice would be which Pandora Station I was going to pick.
So now I sit here, procrastinating and amusing people at the same time, all the while doing a great job of ignoring the fact that I'm going to have to start packing--and therefor firming the fact that I will be moving in four weeks into the land of the unknown. My only consolation is that the land of unknown is the land of coffee, trees, and beautiful gray skies. So my first decision as president of my country called Room will be clothes and blankets. Because its summer now and I don't need half the blankets on my floor. Although they did make wonderful rugs!
If my room were a country, it would be the landfill of the world. Or perhaps a hippie country that didn't get the memo that its not cool to leave everything on the floors of your streets. Either way my room is a disaster. I could give a teen a lesson in how to really make your room insanely messy. My bed is probably the cleanest part, as I usually pull the covers up because I love my quilts that I made laying on top of it, and like to show it off to myself. In reality, its probably a volcano waiting to explode. Clothes, yarn, fabric, knitting needles, books, make up, and here and there a knitted blanket carpet my floor. At least the mess is colorful and also soft right!?
I SHOULD probably start with my books--since I have so many of them--but really, I'm just putting them in trash bags (much more space saving in cars than boxes), and what if there's a book I want to read!? I thought about the yarn, then realized it was going to take time (and lots of it) to decide which ones were going to be voted off the country of Keely. Fabrics are pretty well in hand, as most of them are in bags already and don't need much organizing. The thought of the two boxes in my closet from when I first moved back home called to me, reminding me I probably needed to throw away most of what was in there. But when it dawned on me that doing so meant more decision making I quickly fled my room to the safety of my computer, where the hardest choice would be which Pandora Station I was going to pick.
So now I sit here, procrastinating and amusing people at the same time, all the while doing a great job of ignoring the fact that I'm going to have to start packing--and therefor firming the fact that I will be moving in four weeks into the land of the unknown. My only consolation is that the land of unknown is the land of coffee, trees, and beautiful gray skies. So my first decision as president of my country called Room will be clothes and blankets. Because its summer now and I don't need half the blankets on my floor. Although they did make wonderful rugs!
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Country Road Take Me Home
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| THESE ARE ALL PICTURES I TOOK |
It isn't a very well known place, even to people who live all of four miles away from it. It is tucked at the very foothills of a mountain range, and as a child it was considered so far out of the way that we had our own general store in case some one ran out of basic goods and couldn't get back into town (which due to only having one road, took about half an hour to get to the nearest city). But progress happens and now there is easy access to it through off shoot roads that lead directly to it--and cities have been slowly building around it as well. But Modjeska is still a magical place that gets bypassed since the neighborhood itself is so deep and well hidden by winding roads and Live Oak trees. But for those who do know it, its the most enchanting place in California.
Modjeska has good and bad memories for me, ranging from catching tadpoles in the creek that snaked next to my house in the summer, to staying up till 3 in the morning at the local Biker joint while my dad sobered up from drinking and playing pool before sticking me on his Harley and driving me back home down the winding road perched on the side of mountain. But most of all, Modjeska holds for me the example--and even the bar--of what a good community is, and what living with and working with nature REALLY means.
Often times every one knew who I was--even if I didn't know them. They watched me even if I didn't know it, and my next door neighbor always let me and my sister enter her house freely and insisted that we sit in her chairs and eat cookie dough saved just for us before letting us go to her backyard to pick her blackberries. The neighbors that lived a few houses down were musicians, and on hot, lazy, summer evenings the whole canyon echoed (thanks to the mountains and trees) with their banjo, spoons, and guitars--along with any other musician who would amble by to join in. BBQ's were frequent and so were people who simply stopped their cars in the middle of the tiny main road to talk to neighbors. There was never anger over this, in fact I recall a time when that happened to my dad and the people who were both trying to come AND go, got out of their cars to join in the conversation and catch up! In the fall and winter the community got together to scare the children for Halloween, and had Santa stop by to deliver presents to every boy and girl at the Christmas party held in the Fire Station.
My dad, while not always diligent in watching me, taught me many valuable things--some of them by simply not being around. It took me a very long time to realize the reason he never played with me during the day was because he was drinking, but I was very young, and busy playing in nature. I frolicked through the streets and trees completely safe, took care of my babysitter's horse (who sadly died when the river rose during a rain storm and dragged her horse and several others into the raging waters), and played with my dogs who were always on my heels. He taught me to respect nature, that all plants had their own voices, that animals who hurt us did it not because they hated us, but because we frightened them. To be gentle to the earth around us, and through stories, to believe that animals could talk.
These memories and more are what shape my opinions today. That community is when neighbors contribute to each other, share, laugh, grow, and support. That we do not have to destroy nature and try and rebuild it into what we think is 'perfect', nor are cookie cutter homes and manicured lawns the 'ideal'. That letting children explore the world and nature around them without gluing them to you is vital to their growth, and that when you are alone, sad, happy, or over come with emotions, the babbling brook, bending ancient tree, and gravel road remind you that you have a friend in both nature and the person next door.
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| MY VERY FIRST HOME |
I leave for a new state, a new life, and new people in four weeks. There is a lot that I am not sorry to be leaving, but Modjeska tugs at my heart very much. Being so far away from the home of my heart is more painful that saying goodbye to my friends and family, who can uproot themselves and visit me. An entire forest and mountain can't. But I take with me my memories, pictures, and myths and legends of the land I spent eight happy years in.
I learned many life lessons in the multitude of different homes I moved to, but Modjeska taught me the most important ones. Respect nature, listen to the plants and animals, take care of your neighbors, and always ALWAYS remember that to the 400 year old trees and 40,000 year old mountains, you are still a child of the earth that should frolic through their trees and fields.
Thank you Modjeska, for giving me a childhood that was filled with magic, music, and love.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Halfway there and all I see are hills
Hello blog-o-mine! I hope you haven't been too lonely without my sparkling words to feed you! In other news (since you have none to give, as you're not real, and therefor have no life), lets talk about me! Because that is why you were created!
I guess that's something I'll just have to figure out at it comes. I only hope I CAN be that person when the time comes.
In four or so months I will be moving--hopefully--to a new state with a new job and a new life. I can't say I'm scared by the prospect, because getting out of California actually sounds really amazing the more I think about it. But as I'm a girl and prone to ever changing moods, I've lately been feeling some anxiety over moving. Most of it is money related, with a dash of 'oh-god-will-I-really-be-able-to-get-a-job!?' and a sprinkle of 'I-don't-want-to-leave-my-friends.'
In a world where family is rapidly becoming no longer defined by the people who give birth to you and more about the friends who stay with you, loosing my friends is more of a set back than anything. I've lived on my own before and family help was simply my mother saying 'deal with it' and my kind but poor father saying 'I wish I could help...'when the hard times came. My friends where the ones who helped me through my darkest moments and my happiest triumphs. And finding friends like that is hard no matter where you live I suppose. But having to move and NOT have that support there...THAT is a scary thought.
But to swing the pendulum the other way, I have a clawing need to break free from the state that I'm in. I've outgrown this fishbowl of a city, and I can tell because I've recognized patterns that I used to have a teenager emerging--and I'm not liking it. I used to be better than I am right now--I used to be wiser and more sure of myself. Which is yet another reason, why I need to move. I have so many emotions coming at me all at once and from every direction that I don't even know how to sort it all out. One thought does keep running through my head though:
Am I the person I need to be to make this move?
Monday, February 7, 2011
Common Sense Misses Again!
You know that adage 'look before you leap'? I have learned this lesson all too well today. I WOULD be mad that I just spend 12 dollars on a product that I thought was going to work only to find out it might be bad for me, but really, it was my fault. I should have read before I bought. Or perhaps I should have seen the sarcasm in the words that were written about said product. Either way I can't get mad because it was my fault for not fully reading the article.
So what is this terrible thing I've wasted my money on? Soap. That's right, soap. Its from Japan, and its name is AHA Soap. Underneath it, it says 'mild chemical peeling soap'. Now, I really want to get rid of my top layer of skin. Why? because it has some things on it that I could really do away with (like larger pours awkwardly gracing my cheeks). And since I didn't want to spend 500 dollars doing it I thought 'well, why not with this soap! Twelve dollars is a lot cheaper!' Supposedly this soap burns your skin raw and 'peels it'.
Or that's what I thought. Turns out, it simply make your skin dry to rawness. Not fun, and it sounds painful right?
Unfortunately for my face, my curiosity has gotten the better of me, and I find that since I've already spent my money, I might as well use the product! And if I went the inch, I might as well go the mile right!?
So here is my before face:
(Awww, aren't I cute...and...purple)
aaaaaannnnd here is my after face:
I'm not sure if it fully shows it, but my face wasn't too bad at all! It was pretty pink on my cheeks, but I didn't feel the burning sensation that your supposed to feel, and my skin didn't feel overly dry or red. So this leaves me with several hypothesis.
1) The girl in the article just has really sensitive skin
2) I should have left it on longer
3) My skin is so bad that it needed a stronger chemical
4) The company has revamped its line and the soap is now 'milder'
But other than that, no harm has come to me so I think I'll just keep using the soap until something adverse happens.
Oh yes, I'm living my life on the edge.....
So what is this terrible thing I've wasted my money on? Soap. That's right, soap. Its from Japan, and its name is AHA Soap. Underneath it, it says 'mild chemical peeling soap'. Now, I really want to get rid of my top layer of skin. Why? because it has some things on it that I could really do away with (like larger pours awkwardly gracing my cheeks). And since I didn't want to spend 500 dollars doing it I thought 'well, why not with this soap! Twelve dollars is a lot cheaper!' Supposedly this soap burns your skin raw and 'peels it'.
Or that's what I thought. Turns out, it simply make your skin dry to rawness. Not fun, and it sounds painful right?
Unfortunately for my face, my curiosity has gotten the better of me, and I find that since I've already spent my money, I might as well use the product! And if I went the inch, I might as well go the mile right!?
So here is my before face:
(Awww, aren't I cute...and...purple)
aaaaaannnnd here is my after face:
I'm not sure if it fully shows it, but my face wasn't too bad at all! It was pretty pink on my cheeks, but I didn't feel the burning sensation that your supposed to feel, and my skin didn't feel overly dry or red. So this leaves me with several hypothesis.
1) The girl in the article just has really sensitive skin
2) I should have left it on longer
3) My skin is so bad that it needed a stronger chemical
4) The company has revamped its line and the soap is now 'milder'
But other than that, no harm has come to me so I think I'll just keep using the soap until something adverse happens.
Oh yes, I'm living my life on the edge.....
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
When Good Times Go Wrong
The morning started out great, just like any normal morning in the life of a normal person. I had lunch with a friend (peruvian food should be served EVERYWHERE), enjoyed the wind, and got my math homework scanned and started. Even class for Sign was wonderful and useful! And then it happened. IT happened.
Class ran late, and I fearing that I would be VERY late for my next class that is a good 20 something minutes away, began driving and swear---I mean swerving as I tried to get to my destination on time. Only mild traffic tried to stop me, but I easily side stepped it by taking a surface street. I managed to grab a parking spot, making sure that I had the paper I had written around 1 in the morning for this STUPID class was safely tucked in my binder, and then sprinted up the stairs despite the wind and cars that purposefully ignore the walk ways (and the people walking on them). As I get to the class room I become puzzled.
That isn't my teacher. First of all, my teacher is a GIRL.
'A sub?' I thought to myself. Then I looked at the students. They didn't LOOK like my class. Puzzled I checked the number on the door. Why yes, this WAS the right room. What the heck was going on.
And then BAM! It hit me like like a bird hits a window, its Wednesday. MY class is on Thursday. So basically, I studied and wrote a book and worried allllllllllllllll of last night for NO REASON. NONE. Now I'm doing math homework which I actually DO have to stress for thanks to a quiz! So now I have two nights of stress, one which was not needed. Crap.
In other news, Things That Amused Me Today:
- A man riding a chopper and clenched in his mouth was the LARGEST cigar I have ever seen! Strike that. I saw one as big as that one once. In a cartoon.
-A license plate on a HUGE SUV that translated into "Crazy for kids!" Really? I couldn't tell by the large gas guzzling car your driving around.
-A cat staring at me from the back of a car window. I wish MY cat could be trusted to run free around in my car.
Class ran late, and I fearing that I would be VERY late for my next class that is a good 20 something minutes away, began driving and swear---I mean swerving as I tried to get to my destination on time. Only mild traffic tried to stop me, but I easily side stepped it by taking a surface street. I managed to grab a parking spot, making sure that I had the paper I had written around 1 in the morning for this STUPID class was safely tucked in my binder, and then sprinted up the stairs despite the wind and cars that purposefully ignore the walk ways (and the people walking on them). As I get to the class room I become puzzled.
That isn't my teacher. First of all, my teacher is a GIRL.
'A sub?' I thought to myself. Then I looked at the students. They didn't LOOK like my class. Puzzled I checked the number on the door. Why yes, this WAS the right room. What the heck was going on.
And then BAM! It hit me like like a bird hits a window, its Wednesday. MY class is on Thursday. So basically, I studied and wrote a book and worried allllllllllllllll of last night for NO REASON. NONE. Now I'm doing math homework which I actually DO have to stress for thanks to a quiz! So now I have two nights of stress, one which was not needed. Crap.
In other news, Things That Amused Me Today:
- A man riding a chopper and clenched in his mouth was the LARGEST cigar I have ever seen! Strike that. I saw one as big as that one once. In a cartoon.
-A license plate on a HUGE SUV that translated into "Crazy for kids!" Really? I couldn't tell by the large gas guzzling car your driving around.
-A cat staring at me from the back of a car window. I wish MY cat could be trusted to run free around in my car.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Driving Etquette in the O.C.
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| I drive by this all the time! |
You've seen the commercials, you've swooned at it in the movies, and you can't WAIT to drive on it. I am of course, talking about the California Highway. The PCH (Pacific Coast Highway, for those who are not from SoCal) is one of THE most filmed roads in America. You see the winding roads that are sided by sparkling blue oceans, beautiful rolling hills of coast brush and interesting sandstone. The lone car is shiny, sleek, and the people in it smile gaily up at the camera as they zip along the coast.
If this is what you pictured, then you are seeing Hollywood magic at its most powerful. Contrary to popular belief, it is also one of the more deadlier roads along our 'pristine' coast. If you are intending to move to SoCal, please, let me be the first to warn you: We (yes, I include myself in this one) are INSANE drivers. If you think taxi men blaring their horns and saying F********K you! is scary and stressful, try getting into a fender bender with a man whose car makes your 'expensive' SUV look like it belongs in a trailer park.
That being said, here are some things to remember when driving the freeways and surface streets of Southern California. Remember, people here are rich, and they get most of their money from suing out of towners like yourselves from your 'lack' of driving knowledge.
Freeways:
-When merging you DO NOT SLOW DOWN. You speed up to the normal speed of 80mph as fast as humanly possible. Not doing so will result in cars PLOWING INTO YOU. I hate to tell you, but as a SoCal girl, we KNOW when you're not from around here (your license plate doesn't even need to be from out of state). Politeness is NOT our strong suite on the freeway.
-The speed sign may say 60mph/104 km, but 75/125km to 80/128km is standard. If you go in the fast lanes (The two far left lanes) you will get honked at, and people will zoom around you, get in front of you, and then slam on their breaks. I've seen it done more times than I want to say.
-Get used to people riding your tail--its so common here no one even CALLS it that.
-We DO NOT slow down to enjoy the beautiful beaches, craggy sandstone cliffs, or palm trees. Its hot, we have places to be, and WE NEED YOU TO FREAKIN' MOVE! For your own safety, pull to the side of the road if you want to take pictures.
SURFACE STREETS:
-Unless you see a sign that says 'do not turn on red', you are free to make right hand turns. Waiting for the light to turn green WILL result in some one getting out their car and screaming at your window, or them blaring their horn until you move. I wish I were kidding.
-The sign may SAY 45mph, but most people go the allowed limit of 50, if not more. Get used to it. And if you DO want to follow the speed limit, stay on the right hand lane which designated for old people, newbie drivers, and out-of-towners like yourselves.
-Get used to people weaving. That is pretty much what you learn to do as a teen here. Its a weave or be weaved world here in SoCal. Did I mention we have places to be RIGHT NOW?
-If you slow down to let some one get in front of you, also making a waving hand to motion in the direction they can do so, is a good thing. This will result in a FRIENDLY encounter, and if you get lost, they might even be willing to point you in the right direction. And all from a hand wave! Who knew!?
To conclude, SoCal drivers are NOT mean per say--unless your driving slow (aka, following the speed limit)--but the sun DOES make drivers agitated, and we get A LOT of sun here. People in SoCal have places to be (where I have no idea, but it must be important since they're driving there so fast. Maybe they need to get to a Starbucks?), people to see, and don't have time for your 'following the rules' crap. Now that you are armed with this knowledge, you will hopefully use it to your advantage if you decide to visit here.
Yay and Nay
Alright! Since this world is filled with things that make people happy and sad, here are the things that do the same for me!
Things I say 'yay!' at:
-Getting a full paid trip to Utah to Skii with the family I babysit for, and GET PAID FOR IT (and here I was worried my life was turning dull and monotonous. Shows how much I know!)
-Waking up before ten (I'm so proud of myself!)
-Waking up and thinking 'damn I look good!'
-tea!
-My mom finally understanding the signs for 'who' and 'where'
Things I say 'nay' at:
-Becoming dangerously low on tea.
-My cat Soji, for thinking my hair was yarn and trying to eat it
-Not finishing a book when I REALLY should be
And that is my list of Yay's and Nay's today!
Things I say 'yay!' at:
-Getting a full paid trip to Utah to Skii with the family I babysit for, and GET PAID FOR IT (and here I was worried my life was turning dull and monotonous. Shows how much I know!)
-Waking up before ten (I'm so proud of myself!)
-Waking up and thinking 'damn I look good!'
-tea!
-My mom finally understanding the signs for 'who' and 'where'
Things I say 'nay' at:
-Becoming dangerously low on tea.
-My cat Soji, for thinking my hair was yarn and trying to eat it
-Not finishing a book when I REALLY should be
And that is my list of Yay's and Nay's today!
Friday, January 28, 2011
Unexpected Is Expected
That's it. I have finally snapped. Upon looking of pictures of me from two years ago and realizing that I was, you know, THINNER, I am going to keep the New Years resolution (that I had no intention of actually keeping) and exercise. That's right, I, lazy maybe-i'll-do-it-later-just-kidding keely will actually get up from the computer that consumes my soul (and several thousand braincells per second) and go walking--because running is LAME--and do those exercises that make you look really really psychotic as you do them but completely tone you. I've even heard fresh air is good for you. Who knew!?
I'm not fat (well....by normal standards. If your anything more than a size 3 in Southern California, you are TOO FAT), but I need to lose weight. I suppose I have no excuse but laziness, because I actually lose weight much faster/easier than most people. I was lucky enough to be born with a fairly fast metabolism which enables me to do this easily--which often brings about dark mutterings from my friends.
I suppose I'm feeling this way in part because I'm just tired of feeling ugly. And I'm tired of calling and thinking of myself as ugly. I'm just....done. Its bad for me, and I don't really know where it comes from completely, because no one has ever called me ugly or even 'average' looking (even strangers say I'm cute, or have striking features; meaning my eyes). But somehow, for as long as I can remember, I just assumed I was regardless of what people said. And I'm tired of thinking of myself that way. So I'm determined to wake up every morning (around an early 9:30) and drag my miserable body out the door to walk (quickly of course). And I will eat better. I did it last year and lost substantial weight in two weeks. I will do so again. If all goes well, I will reach my goal weight of 110 by the end of March or early April.
I like to think of this as something that I'm using to promote change in my life and in my need to accept changing myself...you know, the whole 'move forward' idea. I know changing is going to take time, but there's nothing wrong with helping it get a jump start right!? I also bought three different kinds of pills. Each one promises a more healthier, glowing, heart attack free, peppy me! And really, who could beat that!? It DOES make me feel like an addict though, staring at those bottles. Is this how those health freaks get roped in? With the promise of being prettier, healthier, and thinner with these magic little pills?
Normally I'm a funny blogger. Normally I would charm you all with my wit and intelligence, but since very little has happened in my life to be comment worthy, I cannot in all good conscious be funny about nothing. Making up a story however, is a completely different story. I could make up ANYTHING and it would probably sound much more exciting than MY life. For instance:
'On Monday Petunia woke up with scaly hands. confused she went down stairs and asked her mother if anything seemed odd about her. Her mother, drinking her standard 7:30 a.m. burbon--no ice--squinted at the half empty glass and said,
'I love your hair.'
By Thursday Petunia was drinking water the way her mother drank her alcohol. By Friday Petunia feared the worst. She went to confront her mother, who was drinking her 8:00 a.m. taquila.
'Mother, I have bad news.'
'There's ice in this."
'I think I'm turning into a fish.'
'That reminds me, we're having salmon for dinner.'
Now doesn't that sound like just a fascinating girl!? Wouldn't you want to read a blog about a girl who has realized she's turning into a fish? I know I wait with 'baited' breath.
Coffee Please!
I'm not fat (well....by normal standards. If your anything more than a size 3 in Southern California, you are TOO FAT), but I need to lose weight. I suppose I have no excuse but laziness, because I actually lose weight much faster/easier than most people. I was lucky enough to be born with a fairly fast metabolism which enables me to do this easily--which often brings about dark mutterings from my friends.
I suppose I'm feeling this way in part because I'm just tired of feeling ugly. And I'm tired of calling and thinking of myself as ugly. I'm just....done. Its bad for me, and I don't really know where it comes from completely, because no one has ever called me ugly or even 'average' looking (even strangers say I'm cute, or have striking features; meaning my eyes). But somehow, for as long as I can remember, I just assumed I was regardless of what people said. And I'm tired of thinking of myself that way. So I'm determined to wake up every morning (around an early 9:30) and drag my miserable body out the door to walk (quickly of course). And I will eat better. I did it last year and lost substantial weight in two weeks. I will do so again. If all goes well, I will reach my goal weight of 110 by the end of March or early April.
I like to think of this as something that I'm using to promote change in my life and in my need to accept changing myself...you know, the whole 'move forward' idea. I know changing is going to take time, but there's nothing wrong with helping it get a jump start right!? I also bought three different kinds of pills. Each one promises a more healthier, glowing, heart attack free, peppy me! And really, who could beat that!? It DOES make me feel like an addict though, staring at those bottles. Is this how those health freaks get roped in? With the promise of being prettier, healthier, and thinner with these magic little pills?
Normally I'm a funny blogger. Normally I would charm you all with my wit and intelligence, but since very little has happened in my life to be comment worthy, I cannot in all good conscious be funny about nothing. Making up a story however, is a completely different story. I could make up ANYTHING and it would probably sound much more exciting than MY life. For instance:
'On Monday Petunia woke up with scaly hands. confused she went down stairs and asked her mother if anything seemed odd about her. Her mother, drinking her standard 7:30 a.m. burbon--no ice--squinted at the half empty glass and said,
'I love your hair.'
By Thursday Petunia was drinking water the way her mother drank her alcohol. By Friday Petunia feared the worst. She went to confront her mother, who was drinking her 8:00 a.m. taquila.
'Mother, I have bad news.'
'There's ice in this."
'I think I'm turning into a fish.'
'That reminds me, we're having salmon for dinner.'
Now doesn't that sound like just a fascinating girl!? Wouldn't you want to read a blog about a girl who has realized she's turning into a fish? I know I wait with 'baited' breath.
Coffee Please!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Pass the Tea Please!
Every so often I have a mild freak out. Its an inner thing, so the most people see as I have them is a strange look on my face followed by a 'huh' before I wander away pondering this new found information that freaks me out. At the moment, my freak out is about that oh so wonderful thing called life. Now don't worry, I'm not going to suddenly move to Japan (although, that doesn't SOUND like a bad idea to me....). I've just started to come onto something since reading a blog that I absolutely adore....mainly because she uncomfortably reminds me of myself and where I am at this point in my life.
I am twenty five, and in 8 months I will be 26. I'm beginning to look back and reflect on things that I don't always feel comfortable confronting or thinking about. Fears of my future, fears about myself, and fears of having to deal with the uncomfortable truth that I might actually be a good person. Its hard to believe good things when your constantly shoveled bad things into your head by people you had trusted, and its even harder to believe the good things (at least for me) because the bad things had to come from some form of truth. But I digress. Soul searching is a long process, and often times painful, and its something that I normally hash out with friends. But this time I've had to do it on my own...it feels right to do this on my own. I'm not out of the tangled, strange, slightly surreal forest that is me, but I feel that my chainsaw will soon meet with a clear forest.
At the moment the only things I can feel secure in is that apparently what I'm going though and how I'm feeling are quite normal--or at least felt by one other person. And the other is that while I look back on my early twenties, I don't regret things that happened to me as she did. I haven't gone the direct route of a four year college, or living in dorms, or studying abroad. It took me four years to get to school again, and while others were having children or getting married (or getting doped up) I was busy living and experiencing. Not all of the experiences were fun or pleasant, but they were the kind that helped me realize things about myself whether good or bad. It broadened my perception of people, of life, and of how to handle things. If I hadn't been on my own I wouldn't have been able to find out what I was made of, what I was capable of.
I was worried you see, that at 25 I hadn't changed. But really, I have. Its all in little ways of course, and I wouldn't have noticed the changes had I not gone back and read old entries in live journals of mine, or old dairies from years ago during my foray as a lone girl trying to make it in the expensive and over priced world of O.C. It wasn't easy. But sometimes it was fun. Now, as I realize there is no going back to who I was, it also occurs to me that I am moving forward with all the force of a jet engine. My life seems to have taken control of me; and I suppose for the better. But I'm left wondering; do I DESERVE it? Am I good enough? Have I learned enough to leave my state of California, my friends, my social life? Have I learned enough to make it on my own? Do I have enough experience to hold an actual job? Am I the person I need to be?
Its a confusing mix of answers that respond back to these questions as they circle my head like vultures. The one half of me says 'go young padiwan, you are ready'. The other says 'look at you, you screwed up last time, what makes you think you won't again?' That particular voice worries me because I do worry I'll screw it up again. Not watch my spending, or worse than that, letting people walk all over me once more. I can make friends, I can cook food, and I can fend for myself if I have to. But I DO worry about being lonely, about not finding REALLY good friends who get me and understand me. The friends I have here I've cultivated relationships with between 3 and 10 years. How on earth do I find friends like that? I know I sound silly, because realistically, I manage to draw people to me who are good for me now a-days. But it still lurks there in the back of mind.
I know as a person I will change and evolve, that right now especially its needed. When I was younger I thought 25....something BIG is going to happen. I had expected it to be like the universe starting. You know...LOUD. But it wasn't, as I am finding out. I was disappointed for a while until I started re-evaluating my life and realizing that I had several large things happen to me, which at the time didn't seem so. They're the sort of things that have an impact that has altered my path in the long run, that will carry with it the tone of my new life. In fact, I'm going through another slight shift in the world of Keely. Its time for my life to start whether I'm ready or not, I'm just hoping I'll be ready when it comes time to jump out of that airplane.
Tea please!
I am twenty five, and in 8 months I will be 26. I'm beginning to look back and reflect on things that I don't always feel comfortable confronting or thinking about. Fears of my future, fears about myself, and fears of having to deal with the uncomfortable truth that I might actually be a good person. Its hard to believe good things when your constantly shoveled bad things into your head by people you had trusted, and its even harder to believe the good things (at least for me) because the bad things had to come from some form of truth. But I digress. Soul searching is a long process, and often times painful, and its something that I normally hash out with friends. But this time I've had to do it on my own...it feels right to do this on my own. I'm not out of the tangled, strange, slightly surreal forest that is me, but I feel that my chainsaw will soon meet with a clear forest.
At the moment the only things I can feel secure in is that apparently what I'm going though and how I'm feeling are quite normal--or at least felt by one other person. And the other is that while I look back on my early twenties, I don't regret things that happened to me as she did. I haven't gone the direct route of a four year college, or living in dorms, or studying abroad. It took me four years to get to school again, and while others were having children or getting married (or getting doped up) I was busy living and experiencing. Not all of the experiences were fun or pleasant, but they were the kind that helped me realize things about myself whether good or bad. It broadened my perception of people, of life, and of how to handle things. If I hadn't been on my own I wouldn't have been able to find out what I was made of, what I was capable of.
I was worried you see, that at 25 I hadn't changed. But really, I have. Its all in little ways of course, and I wouldn't have noticed the changes had I not gone back and read old entries in live journals of mine, or old dairies from years ago during my foray as a lone girl trying to make it in the expensive and over priced world of O.C. It wasn't easy. But sometimes it was fun. Now, as I realize there is no going back to who I was, it also occurs to me that I am moving forward with all the force of a jet engine. My life seems to have taken control of me; and I suppose for the better. But I'm left wondering; do I DESERVE it? Am I good enough? Have I learned enough to leave my state of California, my friends, my social life? Have I learned enough to make it on my own? Do I have enough experience to hold an actual job? Am I the person I need to be?
Its a confusing mix of answers that respond back to these questions as they circle my head like vultures. The one half of me says 'go young padiwan, you are ready'. The other says 'look at you, you screwed up last time, what makes you think you won't again?' That particular voice worries me because I do worry I'll screw it up again. Not watch my spending, or worse than that, letting people walk all over me once more. I can make friends, I can cook food, and I can fend for myself if I have to. But I DO worry about being lonely, about not finding REALLY good friends who get me and understand me. The friends I have here I've cultivated relationships with between 3 and 10 years. How on earth do I find friends like that? I know I sound silly, because realistically, I manage to draw people to me who are good for me now a-days. But it still lurks there in the back of mind.
I know as a person I will change and evolve, that right now especially its needed. When I was younger I thought 25....something BIG is going to happen. I had expected it to be like the universe starting. You know...LOUD. But it wasn't, as I am finding out. I was disappointed for a while until I started re-evaluating my life and realizing that I had several large things happen to me, which at the time didn't seem so. They're the sort of things that have an impact that has altered my path in the long run, that will carry with it the tone of my new life. In fact, I'm going through another slight shift in the world of Keely. Its time for my life to start whether I'm ready or not, I'm just hoping I'll be ready when it comes time to jump out of that airplane.
Tea please!
Friday, January 21, 2011
The Travel Bug
I have about *checks calender* six months until I move. SIX MONTHS. As the M-day draws closer I feel my feet begin to itch. And then it hits me like a bird hitting a glass window, I have been bitten by the Travel Bug. It's a familiar feeling, and my brain seizes up and says: "I need to travel. I need to do it RIGHT. NOW. I need to get out of California, out of America, ON MY OWN, and travel. If that means staying in a town in Nairobi for a month because I ran out of money, then bring it on!"
As you can tell, being bitten by the Travel Bug is a dangerous thing. The Travel Bug can affect anyone, in any country. Symptoms include but are not limited to:
-the desire to go anywhere. ANYWHERE.
-The need to meet new people
-You start buy different ethnic foods at local markets to dampen your need to taste exotic food.
-you begin to question if the money in your savings account is REALLY for moving out of the house.
-Hostels begin to look and sound like four star hotels.
-Any mention of any country has you checking how much a flight would cost to go to said country.
-Your mind constantly chants to you 'vacation! vacation! vacation!'
-Despite being terribly afraid of needles, you start to contemplate getting your vaccinations. You know. Just in case.
- The risk of Typhoid, tse tse flies, and malaria suddenly sound strange and exotic. Perhaps you'll get one tattooed to your arm....
If you suffer these symptoms or ones similar to them, then you have been bitten by the Travel Bug. Some Travel Bug's bites are small, and only make you slightly aware that you might like a vacation, or say, a need to go camping. Others are of a medium venom and you suddenly find yourself saying 'yes' to that crazy friend who likes to white water raft and has invited YOU to join him. And then you get THE Bug. This Bug bite forces you to go briefly insane and purchase a ticket and an overseas work visa before you think better of it. And as you wake up in a hostel room in Morocco riddled with bed bugs, you realize that once again the Travel Bug has gotten you, and what little money you had.
As you can tell, being bitten by the Travel Bug is a dangerous thing. The Travel Bug can affect anyone, in any country. Symptoms include but are not limited to:
-the desire to go anywhere. ANYWHERE.
-The need to meet new people
-You start buy different ethnic foods at local markets to dampen your need to taste exotic food.
-you begin to question if the money in your savings account is REALLY for moving out of the house.
-Hostels begin to look and sound like four star hotels.
-Any mention of any country has you checking how much a flight would cost to go to said country.
-Your mind constantly chants to you 'vacation! vacation! vacation!'
-Despite being terribly afraid of needles, you start to contemplate getting your vaccinations. You know. Just in case.
- The risk of Typhoid, tse tse flies, and malaria suddenly sound strange and exotic. Perhaps you'll get one tattooed to your arm....
If you suffer these symptoms or ones similar to them, then you have been bitten by the Travel Bug. Some Travel Bug's bites are small, and only make you slightly aware that you might like a vacation, or say, a need to go camping. Others are of a medium venom and you suddenly find yourself saying 'yes' to that crazy friend who likes to white water raft and has invited YOU to join him. And then you get THE Bug. This Bug bite forces you to go briefly insane and purchase a ticket and an overseas work visa before you think better of it. And as you wake up in a hostel room in Morocco riddled with bed bugs, you realize that once again the Travel Bug has gotten you, and what little money you had.
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