2013

I moved back into my room a couple days ago. The house has been turned upside down with us getting rid of clutter and mouse droppings. This couldn’t have happened at a better time. The house is getting a fresh start just as the New Year rolls in. 2013 has been a good year.

This year we moved into our cute, old and drafty house. We’re still making it our own but it’s coming along. The way the sun shines through my window is welcoming and familiar now. I love the french doors leading into our unfinished, less than glamorous dining room and I’m not even scared to go down into the basement anymore… mostly.

I took Fundraising 101 this past spring when preparing to go to Ghana. Asking for money is definitely a most humbling experience. I can now tell you a thing or two about bake sales and this was the first time I put on a yard sale, nothing shy of hard work. I’ll never forget the feeling of touching down in Accra, a dream and vision realized. I told myself then, that it wouldn’t be the last time I felt that tingle in my bones.

I went back to school this fall and can’t be happier about that decision. I checked my grades on Christmas day: A,A,B- and C+. Not too bad. The C was in math and I’m happy with it.

I get ready for another chapter and semester proud of what I’ve done and happy to be getting the opportunity to continue doing what makes me happy. 

Peace and happiness for the next year… xoxo.

Photo Share!

 

I'm usually not a big picture taker but I took a few this week and thought I'd share a few random things that I enjoyed.

 

 

 

My outfit for Friday night's Dickens of a Christmas recieved a failing grade. Exact words were: "...Just because it's frigid doesn't mean you look like you walked fresh off the yard at Woodstock!" and then my favorite part... "How dare you smile..."

 

 

 

Meet Deputy Scott. He was smiling right before I took this picture, he's not aloud to look unprofessional in his uniform. I met him this week at an unfortunate rendezvous at the Roanoke City Jail. I can't disclose the exact reason just yet; it's too soon.

 

 

 

This is one of the 6 or 7 mice caught in our house this week. Yes, 6 or 7. Live traps and my bestfriend is setting them free in the woods. We respect living things in our house, even if they are ruining our things and making us uncomfortable.

 

 

This was an interesting conversation I had with a new but good friend of mine. I asked for a favor, he politely declined... I don't know why though...

 

 

Finals

Last week of classes for the semester.

I did it and that's how I'm feelin'. I'm tired of homework and we still haven't caught the mouse. He beat the trap and hasn't been seen lately.

... La vie est belle.

99 Problems

Got a couple first world problems going on here...

The scratching under my floor boards indicated a rodent. I didn't know what kind until I saw it on Thanksgiving. The little guy ran from behind the stove and back again as I screamed at the sight of him. The four days I spent out of town must have given him time to get comfortable. I spent the last few nights in the recliner downstairs while the mouse took over my room. I don't want it to die but I've got to live!

We had to kick one of the roommates out. The portion of her rent that is now my responsibility is killing my full-time student budget. I work 6 days a week and still have no money. 

The closest thing I have to a boyfriend is the ex that calls late night after he's drunk. He tells me how bad of a person I am for breaking up with him. He leaves messages and texts that wish me loneliness and dispare for the rest if my days. When I get past the thought of his nerve, I'm glad I dodged a bullet. 

My best friend is frustrated with my sulking. I told her she "doesn't understand." And called the only person I could talk to without shame, my little brother.

"Are you actually crying?" He asked as I sucked the snot back up my nose.

"Yes." I answered painfully, my chest heavy with stress and exhaustion. "I just can't get it. I give up."

"Listen. Put some gloves on, maybe even a mask if you have to and go get that fucking mouse! You're not allowed to give up." He continued. "There are mice everywhere in this world and you're going to have to learn to live with them."

My sobs slowed as he let the truth, my truth, flow. I'm tired and stressed, poor and deflated but for only as long as I let myself.

Sorry for the typos, my laptop is broken so I have to blog on my phone. 

Thankful

- Three weeks left in the semester.
- 5 days of vacation coming up.
- Sister Wives on Netflix.
- Pumpkin pancakes.
- Perfect timing.

The Non-Conformist

I stood in my black bohemian skirt; long and flowy, pulled tight to my waste so it wouldn’t drag on the ground. The black long-sleeved shirt I paired it with felt comfortable on my curves and set the back drop for my handmade multicolor scarf.

“I wouldn’t say frumpy… more like tattered.”

“Tattered?” I asked

“Yeah, but not tattered like homeless. Tattered like, like homely.”

“Tattered like, I don’t have any style?” I dug some more.

“Yeah.” She nodded with a grin.

I paused with my mouth wide open looking toward the ceiling of the massive museum. I can take it. I had asked. I really wanted to know what type of image people were getting of me. The two friends, of whose opinions I had just asked, stood tall on either side of me, one in patent leather pumps and the other slumming it in a pair of designer flats.

The curls in their hair made me wish I had done something to the horsetail slung over my shoulder in a haphazard braid. I need a trim, I know. A deep conditioning treatment would do anything but hurt and I understand that. I lower my head and rationalize the blows just before the next round started.

I was then told that I should continue wearing lip gloss and that some mascara would do me good. Apparently my cheeks are not rosy enough and I should apply a little rouge. I was always told I didn’t need make up; I guess there was an expiration date on that compliment.

How did I come to be homely? I give my roommate advice on style all the time… she must look terrible.

I took the honest words with a grain of salt. I let them jog around in my thoughts until the morning. I made plans to jog my body around and maybe fit into some of my cuter clothes that had been set aside for the season. This morning we began our discussion in Sunday school on conformity. I found a place to let the thoughts and words roam. As we went around the table collecting the experiences from the other adults at the table, I discovered I wasn’t the only one having issues with personal appearance.

Earlier this evening the urge to shop compelled me to hit up the nearest retail establishment on the way home from dinner. I bought a pair of trousers and was about to buy a pair of shoes when I had to stop and think of who I was buying them for. Comparing myself to everyone in the room and making plans to please anyone other than the person I am would be against my non-conformist lifestyle.

All of this considered, I will go get my hair trimmed and conditioned. I’ll keep my lip gloss close and jog those laps, though the mascara and the rouge will have to wait.

I left those shoes there, just to make sure, but if they are still there tomorrow I’ll know they were meant to be mine.  

Ha!

So that blog I wrote last week, I had a great time and talked a lot of trash about commitment... THEN I forgot to write this Sunday. Ha! My bad. Setting an alarm as we speak.

I watched a very nice and capable man win the office of Roanoke City Sheriff tonight, s/o to Tim Allen for winning the race, I am really excited for him. To see someone plug away at something for so long and have things come out in their favor really boosts my excitement for things to come. Stay tuned...

Committed

 

 

 

 

com·mit·ted

kəˈmitid/

adjective

 

1.

feeling dedication and loyalty to a cause, activity, or job; wholeheartedly dedicated

To a relationship? No. To a diet? No, I just ate two donuts (ok, three). I'm committed to this blog. It's late. I've had a couple glasses of wine (ok, three) and I'd really like to go to sleep BUT I'm not. I wanted to write for the 30 people, I'm exaggerating, that read my blog.

This week's thoughts:

I learned how to write comedies... this will be added to the list.

I'm learning that I have a thing for older men... that won't be added to the list.

I can't live without my planner.

The days get longer but time is harder to come by.

Priorities are priorities and I can trust that I know what's not.

It's ok to be "bad" sometimes.

I'm right where I need to be.

I'm happy.

It's Going to be Great!

Soooo my schedule is picking up. I picked up another job starting this week and another starting the beginning of next month. When I look at it on paper it looks awful rough but I’m learning a new technique. I’m redirecting my mind to forget about all the negatives I’ve learned to tell myself out of fear and laziness. I’m sticking with the phrase, “I can and it’s going to be great!”

 Do I sound like a fruit cake? Yes. Am I putting up a façade of false giddiness? Most cases, yes. Do I believe that in the end I will be happier, more experienced and better off? Absolutely. I’m faking it until I make it reality. Breaking the bad habits of constant exhaustion and the need for more “me” time. I’ve got me time, I just have to wake up a little earlier to experience it and am I really exhausted? No, I just like to sleep. I’ve got something to do every day and night of the week; choir, school, meditation, Zumba, work, work and work.  I get a few free afternoons and if I do what I’m supposed to when I’m supposed to, I can have all the hours after 9pm. Simple. The hard part will be building that discipline to where it was and beyond, without the feeling of agony and suffering. When I think about it... I’m doing exactly what I want to do.

I’M DOING EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO DO!

Feels good to say that. I’ve got no one pushing me into a corner, no one telling me where I can’t and shant. I’ve got the world at my fingertips it just takes some effort to reach out and grab it.

I’ll be working on a few things over the next couple months. If you have ideas for other blogs or have topics worth discussing let me know.

Back to School... At 27

I hadn’t realized how late it was getting. Fragrant water was still dripping from my mangled ringlets as I checked my phone for the time. 9:58. Thoughts of tardiness encouraged my next quick steps. I balanced myself on one foot as I applied my sock then the other, I repeated the same with my shoes but didn’t tie them.  Then to the bathroom where I gathered my toothbrush and checked myself in the mirror one last time. Clomping down the wooden staircase I intruded upon the sleeping vessel of my roommate on the couch, her blithe toddler beamed at me from the pile of toys, executing their job to pacify her.

I directed a question to the lazy basset hound snoozing in my favorite recliner, “You wanna go outside, Heen?” Not waiting for his answer I made a direct path to the back door to let him out. He slowly gathered his bones and hopped down to meet me. My goddaughter’s coos grew louder as she followed her furry friend past her sleeping mother and through the kitchen. I scooped our Punkinface into my arms just before she made it to the door. Clad in only a diaper, her skin was cool to my touch. Her fever had broken, but not before her mother and I had lost all hope of a good night’s sleep. She let out an exhausted whine before she surrendered her tiny head to my chest. I looked at clock by the stairs.

By the end of week one I was already tired and rushed. I exchanged my salary and title at the shop to “second semester, freshman” at Hollins University. One goal led my actions, I want to write.

I gave up the idea of going to a four year school years ago. I was getting further away from “college age” with every passing year and decided that if I went back it would be to the community college nearby or an online school. I didn’t want to go to school at all. I tried on a couple different occasions to take classes but I was never sure of what I wanted or why I was there. I knew I was intelligent, I knew I was a good writer. Did I really need to be formally educated?

I wrote, read and learned what I wanted, never considering myself a good student. I didn’t know anything about studying for test or doing homework.  I got by with gumption. My father taught me to ask questions and make educated guesses when I didn’t have time to find the answer. That’s how I have lived my life, until now; school demands accuracy, effort and all the extra time I can afford.

 Here I am, 10:05 on a Thursday morning, wearing the weight of every choice I have ever made on my chest.

I’ve made no other promises but to finish. I’ll make this one of the few things I’ve ever really committed to. I will use this as an opportunity to grow intellectually as well as in maturity. This time I’m all in and I know what for. I finally know what I want. Prayers and positive thoughts appreciated… let the adventures begin.

Breath of Life

“Our differences are far outweighed by the similarities of our human experiences.” – Someone

It’s quotes like these that encourage me to share my thoughts and my stories:

I didn’t care if it was my best friend or the 10-year-old I found myself annoyed by. I wanted credit for what I had done. I found the words rolling off my tongue before I realized my audacity.

“No, I cleaned up the Legos. Not them.”

She’s always so good to take me with a grain of salt. She nodded and continued what she was doing. She’s my best friend. 

I cleaned the house. I spent hours cooking and cleaning, not them. The folded clothes and dusted shelves were my doing. I didn’t even do a particularly good job but I had added those miniscule items to my real and imaginary to-do list, then crossed them off.

It was in the shallowest part of my breathing and meditation class that I was still enough to hear my inner voice point out my triviality. Where does that come from? Without and answer I sat still, waiting for the peacemaker to rise. My tattered old shirt hung loose around my body. My pants gave way to my thighs as they expanded against the uncomfortable chair. I sat. I Breathed.

In the quiet darkness of my mind, the images of my actions and thoughts paraded past my warm red eyelids. The words came to me just as clear and easy as I had hoped.

It’s okay to be like everyone else. You are them.

But I’ve got to be different, I argued. I’ve got to be special. If I’m not special, what am I? What will I have to give?

Fear rushed through my veins, pumped by hurt and insecurity. If I’m not special who will 

care for me?

Breathe.

Fear surrendered to the surge of oxygen, the presence of life. Peace took its place. I had been taught it, said it myself and preached it, in that moment I realized I hadn’t been living it. These are the savory parts of life I thank the God I know for patience and wisdom. Kindness and mercy.

Progress has been made for sure. No less than my brother and no greater than my friends. I am them.

Breathe it in.

How to Breathe Correctly

How to Reduce Stress and Anxiety

4 Minute Breathing Exercise