What You Know

Wow…once again, it’s been a month since I’ve blogged. I would love to throw in the excuse that life has just been too busy, but in all reality, it’s due to laziness and negating my love of writing on my part. As I write this, I must confess it’s really more of an effort to have something published for the month of March as opposed to discussing some clever idea or thought I feel the need to express.

And as I sit here in my favorite cafe, headphones in (What You Know by T.I. currently blasting in my ears), and smelling the aroma of the coffee, perhaps I can find a way to make life imitate art. Or in this case, music.

What You Know…

Statement or question?

Could go either way.

I think I’ll pose it as a legitimate question, for it will be much easier to answer. Let’s break it down into ‘white girl’ speak:

What Do I Know?

1. I know that no matter how much you plan for things in life to turn out a certain way, there always seems to be a monkey wrench thrown in to remind you of how chaotic things can get. The old adage that ‘life is what happens when you’re making plans’ is blatantly profound. The wrench is just an indication that even though we may do our best to ensure that the engine runs smoothly, when it stutters and stops, we have to rely on help to fix it. When we surrender to our own pride and need to control the inevitable (um, speaking personally here) then we find out it’s okay to fail a little and lean.

2. I know that it is often through our most adverse moments that we become the person we are meant to be. The hardships we face, and how we handle them help to shape our characters. Sometimes this happens from a single situation, and sometimes over years. And one day, we look back and are able to reflect on where we’ve come from with a fair bit of wisdom and relief that we will never go down that road again. We improve from our past, and conquer our conflicts. Eventually, we learn that our parents are pretty wise creatures in all of their ranting and raving about ‘life’ after all.

3. I know that you can’t be happy with someone else until you’re happy with yourself. More often than not, I think people look to fulfill the personal shortcomings they self-perceive by recognizing it as a force in another. Is that wrong? I can’t answer that. Each relationship between two people – be it friends or something deeper – is unique. I’m not sure the concept stems so much from finding a completion of strengths and weaknesses, per se, but in striking a balance between the mind, heart and soul. It’s all about learning to make sacrifices and compromise. And trusting in another.

4. To expound on the above, I know that the idea of loving oneself is ideal, but is it attainable? At times. I think we’re fooling ourselves to float through life on such an ego trip as to believe we have no flaws. For it is in those flaws and faults that our perfection lies. I’ve discovered the people who give the appearance of having it all together are usually the ones who are the most lost and insecure. Myself included. I put up a good front, but I crave attention and approval just like anyone else. It’s human nature. Not long ago, I had someone tell me that I bluff my confidence in order to mask others from seeing my weaknesses. Absolutely I do. So does everyone. But when we let our guards down and let someone else in, allowing them to see and share the ugly truths, the dark and stormy, the doubt and the fears, then we find that we are all fighting the same battle. There is camaraderie in that personal struggle. And shared faith to become something greater than we thought possible. When we are encouraged to break through our own barriers, there is no limit to what we can achieve.

5. I know, without a doubt, that there is a God above and that He is the guiding force in this life and the next. I will never deny my faith. It is the one, steadfast sanctity in my life. And always will be.

6. I know that no matter how bad of day I’ve had, a hug and a smile from my three-year-old niece, or my dogs happily bouncing off my legs because they’re happy to see me, is good medicine.

7. I know that music moves me. It’s a connection between the melody and harmony of life. It’s our emotions orchestrated to a tune that flows in and amongst our attitudes, our desires and our hurts. It’s the score of our spirit that exists solely in a manner of noise. That noise can lift us, or carry a lyrical message, or make no sense other than to the composer and the listener that finds it appealing. Without music, life would be less beautiful.

8. Likewise, I know that life without great food would be a travesty. I love food. I love to cook. I rank savoring a good meal right up there with great sex. Well, maybe they should remain in separate categories, but they can be equally fulfilling in their own right.

9. I know that to appreciate life, you have to find the humor even in the most mundane situations. You have to be able to laugh at yourself. And you have to laugh longer and louder than anyone else.

10. I know that without others to share in this journey, our lives would be shorter, and meaningless. How tragic not to share the troubles and the joys of this borrowed time with others. When we have friends and family to help us shoulder the burdens, or lift our spirits when we need support, we are blessed beyond measure. When our hearts experience the capacity to break, or love, or feel, we open ourselves up to a sacred correlation with another person. Our souls are enlightened because they are infinitely connected to their counterpoints in others. The ups and downs, and the ins and outs, are tolerable because there is comfort in suffering and experiencing them with another. All in all, it’s what makes life worth living.

Those are just a few of the things I know. Good Lord willing, I still have a lot of life to live. I hope and pray that I never get tired of learning. My best is still inside me, and each day I shine just a little bit more.

What I know is how very precious it all is. The fleeting moments…the ones that linger and test us…the ones where we clench our fists and question the fairness with which we have to contend…they are all the moments that take us a step further towards our destinies.

What you know…reach it, embrace it, achieve it, love it…it’s all a part of what makes and breaks us.

What you know…be determined to find out. Then grab hold of it and enjoy the ride.

Oh, and hats off to you, T.I. The title of your song helped to inspire my blog today.

Peace out!

Once Upon a Time

Howdy, friends. I realized yesterday that I haven’t blogged at all since January. This, officially, being the last day of the month of February during the year 2011, I figured I’d better not hit midnight without having written at least something to represent the fact that I’m still alive and kicking.

Really and truly though, every day of every month, of every year, only comes around once. And I’m thankful for each day I’m blessed to wake up with air in my lungs.

It has been a month of beginnings. So much has happened – all of which has effectively caused my heart to swell to nearly twice its normal size with happiness. If that particular predicament is a medical condition, then it’s one for which I’ll gladly endure chronic symptoms. I venture to say that everything seems a little bit like a fairy tale. Albeit, far from the childhood fantasies that became the subject of many a bedtime story, but full of hope and inspiration nonetheless.

I started a new job as Internet Director for KBTX/CBS/CW media, which I’m super-psyched about. (This particular job was not among the options I mentioned in a previous blog.) I’m still continuing to do my graphics design business on the side, which allows me an additional outlet of creativity. My book is coming along nicely – three more chapters and the next phase ensues. I’m enjoying my car (purchased in November), however, the recent hike in gas prices has left a lot to be desired. And I have a grin on my face stretched from ear to ear that has caused cheek aches on occasion…but I’m not complaining.

Once upon a time, and not too long ago, things in my life – both personally and professionally – existed with an overdose of doom and gloom, and an unhealthy serving of conditioned distrust and pessimism. Although let’s face it, I’m not about to forego any tendencies towards my sarcastic nature. Those qualities are forever embedded in my brain, and are often the source for some interesting and humorous topics. I’m just toning it down to accommodate the optimism that has overpowered my habit of cynicism. And get this, I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time!

Once upon a time, I worried too much about what others thought of me. I realized that the things I’ve endured in my life have given me a profound strength of character. It took a long time for me to actually appreciate and love the reflection and the beauty of the person I see in the mirror.

Once upon a time, I doubted who I was. I got caught up in being the proverbial victim of failure, and it took some soul-searching to realize the only thing standing in my way was me. Success comes in many forms. Some attribute it to financial stability, others in talents, etc. I see it as finally coming to terms with the fact that I am the very woman God created me to be. Including my flaws and imperfections. I’m not a saint by any means. I know this. I also know I’m going to make some giant mistakes down the road. But with personal conflict and competition to improve upon (and to learn from those mistakes) comes the invaluable opportunity to grow and progress as a person. That is worth more to me than success measured by any other means.

Once upon a time, I compared myself to others. I took my abilities and gifts for granted. I craved recognition from others, as this was my means of feeling like I counted, like I made a difference. I discovered that God gave me a unique skill set, and once I stopped trying so hard to one-up myself, and instead began to use those skills to serve, things started to fall into place.

Once upon a time, I thought I had to have all the answers. I thought everything could be mapped and planned out in a perfect little package of structure and organization. What I quickly became aware of was that the spontaneous moments of chaos and absurdity added a flavor of breathtaking splendor to this story called 'life'.

My story has many chapters already written. And glancing back at the pages of the past, I wouldn’t change one sentence of my story. Each experience has given me the foundation from which to learn. Each character has influenced the person I am today.

Illustrated with the creatures of both fantasy and reality, my fairy tale is my own. It will ultimately have a happy ending, for I know I will leave this world exactly how I came into it – in God’s hands. For now, I will enjoy every turn of the page…striving to face the unknown…continuing my journey to see how where and how my story develops.

Once upon a time, my story was fashioned after a childhood fantasy. The content spun with whimsical enthusiasm and sprinkled with bright-eyed hope and anticipation.

Today, and forever more, it represents the dream that belongs to me.

Lightning in a Bottle

Happy Monday, folks!

Yes, you read that correctly. I said “happy”.

I’m feeling great today. Had a terrific weekend. Spent some time with someone I haven’t seen in almost 17 years (since high school), and I’m still smiling.

I just love those little spontaneous, out-of-the-blue, impulsive moments in life. You know, those instant little pick-me-ups that seem to halt you in your tracks and suddenly steer you in the opposite direction from where you were headed. Or where you thought you were headed. Ever heard the saying “Life is what happens when you’re making plans”? It is stuck at the forefront of my brain, and it reminds me to expect the unexpected and appreciate those little hints when God says, “Um, you silly control freak, pay attention! Here’s something new that I had planned.”

Sometimes those hints and plans add up to lightning in a bottle.

And the lightning in a bottle is exactly what you needed to help you see clearly in the storm. Amidst the dark and ominous, a sudden burst of electricity streaks like outreaching fingers across the sky, illuminating the gloom with a jolt of insight and a flash of understanding.

In my last blog, my dear sister, who is every bit an emotional rock for me, made a comment that people habitually create conflict where there is none. It certainly made me analyze my current “storm”. I both agree and disagree with her. I agree that we succumb to our own doubts, and try to reason with ourselves to make heads or tails of life. We try to control our “weather”. We toss and turn in the roaring wind and bounce around in the turbulence we create during the ride. We try to bluff a confidence to rise above our own insecurities. And while I think that inner conflict creates a basis from which to reason, per se, it is also a valid argument necessary to help us rationalize a situation - to settle the storm. It is when we finally relinquish control and stop fighting the elements that we find our sense of calm.

It is often in our darkest moments that we find a light where we need it most. The light leads us to recognize our own strength. Endurance. Resolution. Awareness. Hope. And most of all, trust. Not necessarily a self-trust, but an investment of faith in the unknown. A conviction to rely on the unforeseen nature of the coming weather. To embrace the treacherousness and the serenity. To stop trying to control the conditions, and allow the rain to soak in and cleanse our perspective. The wind to blow us in new directions. The lightning to jolt us awake. And the sunlight to brighten our souls.

So, what will become of my lightning in a bottle?

Can’t say at this moment.

**grinning**

But I’m definitely going to enjoy the little sparks that keep sending shocks to my heart. And I’m going to keep smiling as the weather changes.

Balancing Act

Life is all about making decisions. Some are easy. Some are hard. All are necessary and affect the outcome of what happens next…one way or another.

Right now, I’m torn between making the decision to go into self-preservation mode, and just letting the chips fall where they may. In self-preservation mode, I face two options: the first being that I’m shutting myself down emotionally so that I become numb, and the second is distancing myself so that I don’t get hurt. Though neither will keep me from feeling like my insides are being twisted into unfathomable knots.

The knots of which I’m referring rest comfortably on the proverbial scale between my heart and my mind. A scale that is imbalanced with what my heart tells me to feel, and the simplicity with what my mind tells me to preserve.

My heart is on the heavy side. Having shifted with the weight of ache that seems to be tipping the scales beyond the capacity for my mind to rebound. Once resting high, what it contained was lighter than reason, intelligence, trust and pragmatism. It only knew what my brain told it to do – feel. And so the thought process rested opposite, weighing down my common sense, telling me not to be guarded. A balancing act of clichéd companions that would sacrifice all doubt…walk with open eyes through fire…to have a chance at the one thing they don’t understand, but were designed to do; love.

What makes us fall in love? Why, as human beings, do we crave companionship?

It’s more than just the instinctual need to further our legacy. I think it’s because we want a witness to our lives. We want to know that we matter to someone. That our words are heard. Our touch is felt. Our hurt doesn’t go unnoticed. And our joy doesn’t go unshared. A connection to our counterpoint in another – a balance – that quantifies the steps we take on our journey. Steps that take flight when that correlation between the mind and the heart gives our soul a set of wings.

I only know one way to love – mind, heart and soul.

On one side of the scale, if I self-preserve and distance myself from feeling, then I deny the natural response my body needs to grieve. I don’t allow my mind the confusion it wants to sort through now, leading eventually to comprehension and resolution. I don’t allow my heart time to ache, and yearn for the final breaking beat that sets it back on the path to healing stronger. I don’t allow my soul time to recognize that its now void of the one element that made it whole, made it shine. If I shut down emotionally, then I run the risk of staying low on the scale, protected and sheltered. And apathetic. If I distance myself, then I risk always running. Never falling. Never hurting. And never flying high again.

On the other side of the scale is self-perseverance. It is the tie that binds my strength, determinedness, and my ferocity to try again despite the risk of failure. It tells my mind to remain open to new possibilities. It reminds my heart that it might hurt, but hope will prevail. It tells my soul that the void is not a missing piece, but rather a deeper capacity to experience something greater than myself.

So, I make the decision to let the chips fall where they may, and put my heart back on the table. I may bluff at the low hand I’ve been dealt but I will risk betting high to stay in the game. I will find the self-assurance between hurting and healing. Irrationality and reason. Passion and practicality. Falling and flying.

I think the Cowboy Junkies said it best…

“To live is to fly. Low and high. So shake the dust off of your wings and the sleep out of your eyes.”

I’m balanced on the perch between my mind and my heart. My soul is awake. My wings are ready. Tomorrow is a new day.

Political Incorrectness

I’m glad it’s Friday. I don’t think I could take one more day this week. A while back, I wrote a blog about the possibility of eight days a week. I’m recanting it. As well, the weather has created a fitting ambience for my stress level the last several days. Overcast, cold and dreary.

That being said, I will effectively end this week with one last rant. And then I’m determined to venture to the flipside of a negative mindset.

I haven’t talked about politics in a while, so today’s subject broaches a few more things with which I have some issues. Yeah yeah…I know you’re all surprised. It’s so unlike me to share my opinion.

Issue no. 1:  Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

A lot of agencies and businesses are closed Monday to celebrate his birthday, which is actually tomorrow (1/15).

Before you make assumptions or jump to any conclusions, let me just preface my explanation by telling you I don’t have any personal problem with the man, may he rest in peace. I don’t disagree that MLK was a notable figure in our history. He was an important influence and advocate for the civil rights movement, and encouraged America to embrace a color-blind approach to societal acceptance.

This is not about race. It is about respect and recognition for other great men (and women). I realize that if we adopted a “holiday” to celebrate the impact and significance of all of those who changed history, we’d be off year-round. Rather than embark on a timeline of events that I think are suitable mentions, I will tell you the most important date that comes to mind…

September 11, 2001.

This day in history marks a profound significance to my generation. Much like the Vietnam War did for my parents, and World War II did for my grandparents. September 11 and the events that followed set forth a series of actions and consequences that, at present, we are all witness to. It still burns me up when I read and hear the vitriol directed at former President Bush as a result of this. I think many of those people could stand to benefit from reading Decision Points (his autobiography). Read it, and then give me your opinion of President Bush. The insight into his mind and what he struggled with as a man facing adversity, humanizes him. Something all of us can relate to. I must take a deep breath, and remind myself that the people who so carelessly toss around insults rarely have the facts at hand before mouthing off. Nor do they care to be educated. It’s much easier to put up a mental block to hide behind, rather than be humbled by the realization of misinformed and false accusations. I think President Bush handled his time in office, specifically the events of September 11, with a caliber of class and Christian faith that our current administration can’t hold a candle to.

The service men and women who risked and lost their lives, and the countless thousands who perished in the wrath of terrorists, still brings tears to my eyes. Our armed forces, who face things daily that our worst imaginations can’t conjure up…their worried families, who can only hope that prayer surrounds them and the hand of God protects them…the emotional hardships the families of the victims have to endure…granting us the freedom to complain about our lives, our bills and what we’re owed. All of these things are trivial when compared with the value of a human life. That tragic day set the pace, now ten years later, for a war we are still fighting. A war to conquer genocide, tyranny, persecution, and terrorism. To name a few.

I think a holiday of reverence to tribute those affected by September 11 should be established. Just as MLK delivered insightful oration that impacted a nation, these men and women have bled for us – figurative and literally – and delivered a concept of peace that impacts the world. They should be honored.

Issue no. 2:  Blame-shifting

I touched on this a little in issue number one, so I won’t go into great detail. I think a quote by my friend, Jim Murphy, sums it up…

“…What is more dangerous, a lone gunman venting violence or those who instinctively place the blame at the feet of their political or ideological opponents?”

I couldn’t have said it better myself. And I couldn’t agree more.

Why are we so quick to point fingers? Every single person on the planet deals with their share of problems. We all go a little mental sometimes. The majority of us just have a better psychological handle on it than the other few. These few are the ones that open fire on a classroom full of innocent people, or sodomize a child, or get physically violent, or rape, or murder…I could go on. I don’t excuse these behaviors by any means of the word. It sickens me to the very breadth and depth of my soul. Being a Christian, I have to remember that God created these people, too. His reasons trump all of those we can’t begin to get a grasp on. No matter what these people have done, they are still someone’s son, or brother, or cousin. And most importantly, they are still a child of God.

However, it is no more the government’s fault than it is society’s that these catastrophic events occur. What should bond us to take stand against these brutalities is instead eroding the very moral fabric of humanity that allows us to feel compassion for our brothers. We turn a blind eye to it and close our hearts to reaching out. We instinctively place blame rather than take a good long look in the mirror to evaluate what we can change inside us. We don’t care or take responsibility for ourselves because we are too busy pointing fingers at others and demanding answers to impossible scenarios crafted by psychopaths and narcissists. If we start caring for our enemies, then it stands to venture that we broaden our capacity to love and accept unconditionally. And forgive. And progress. And stand united.

George Bernard Shaw said, “If you have an apple and I have an apple and we exchange these apples, then you and I will still each have one apple. But if you have an idea and I have an idea and we exchange these ideas, then each of us will have two ideas.”

The above concept applies to every aspect of the way we think. If we stopped butting heads and took time to recognize that trading one thing for another still only leaves us with one thing, and that sharing ideas and aspirations opens the door to endless possibilities of the mind, we might discover that we stand for the same things. Just based on different principles attained from our unique walks of life. Principles that shape who we are as human beings, and give us individuality and uniqueness, which makes us all precious. Regardless of political affiliation, culture, color or creed, we all survive with a beating heart and the blood flowing through our veins. Until we stop thinking of our opponents (whatever the circumstance may be) as a three-headed monster, we will never get beyond the boundaries of placing blame.

Issue no. 3:  Some simple concepts I’d like to see applied (not all of them are political)

I would love to throw the idea of political correctness out of the window. It is a direct contradiction to the First Amendment. ‘Oh, you have free speech, but don’t say anything that offends me. My mind and self-esteem are so fragile that I just might break into tiny little pieces. And I might sue you.’

Common sense should be rewarded. Although, is there really such a thing as “common sense”? Is it just “good sense”? Whatever it is, some people are lacking a great deal of it. I think a ‘Common Sense Course 101’ should be offered starting in junior high. I think people should have to pass a mandatory test on the subject at the end of each year to be able to advance to a higher grade.

People should have to retake their driver’s tests frequently. Like, every 10 years or so. There are a lot of people who don’t need a driver’s license. And there are a lot of people who should no longer be driving. Here is my idea: when a person reaches a certain “ripe old age” and the limitations of achieving that age start to hinder their driving abilities (and it is proven), then their driving privileges should be honorably revoked. They are a danger to themselves and to others. America’s unemployment rate is high. The states should gather up the unemployed, educate them in a rigorous course of driving skills, and assign them to a person who should no longer be driving. The salaries to compensate these “drivers” would cost less for the state than road repairs, clean up, etc., due to the accidents caused by our “vehicular operationally challenged”. (Hah! How do you like that for political correctness?)

Gossiping should be an arrestable offense. Extreme, I know. But most of it is hurtful and often unfounded.

Women, when you reach a certain age, I think some hairstyles are more appropriate than others. I know you’re attached to your long hair, but when it’s thin and straggly and hanging past your butt, it’s time for a style intervention. Likewise, if your hair can’t fit through a standard doorway, it’s time to fire your stylist. Or ask your friends to be brutally honest with you.

On that note… Men, the wife beater tank top and hairy potbelly do not equate sexiness. Especially when accompanied by a plumber’s crack. Nor does a toupee. Embrace your baldness, I say. Look at Bruce Willis and Vin Diesel. They own their baldness. Own yours. Confidence is much sexier than a bad comb-over.

Passing gas or picking your nose in public is unacceptable. Period.

So is the use of certain spices when cooking in a confined area.

The price of gas shouldn’t be based on supply and demand. Meaning, they supply it and then demand we pay the outlandish prices for it. It should be no more than $1.00 per gallon. This is possible. It is. All the oil resources we need are right here in America. We’re just too lazy to try and work for it.

I think every man in the world should experience one menstrual cycle in his lifetime. I know this is medically impossible. But the “myth” behind PMS would be forever debunked.

Certain patterns and color schemes do not go together. And one should never wear knee socks with flip-flops and shorts. Oh, and golfing attire should seriously be reconsidered.

The price of McDonald’s fries should go up to $50 a serving. I’m convinced obesity would rapidly decline if this were to be implemented.

A track of children’s laughter should be played periodically throughout each day. If that doesn’t make you smile, I don’t know what will.

Well, that’s about it for today. I feel much better forcing my views on you. If the world ran according to Kellie…well…it would certainly be an interesting place. Like Disneyland on steroids. Every ride would be operated by a Hugh Jackman look-alike (shirtless, of course), and Morgan Freeman and Anthony Hopkins would co-commentate all of the winning Aggie football games. Or they could just cite numbers from the phone book. Makes no difference to me.

And air would taste like chocolate when you breathe it in.

Drama Drama Drama

I never cease to be entertained from my frequent coffee shop outings. Of course, I’m not really “outing” so much as I’m slacking. I call it “slacking” because I should be writing my book, but inevitably, I find myself suffering from writer’s block. I have retyped and edited the same paragraph so many times that I’ve lost count. It’s very frustrating. Several months ago when I first began writing, I preemptively cursed myself, foolishly believing that I would never suffer from such a feat. Um, wrong.

I find it equally frustrating, or rather ironic, that I can conjure up b.s. to post on my blog, but cannot finish the current chapter of my book. I think a hammer, a punching bag and some matches might make me feel better. Or land me in jail. Or a padded room.  On the evening news.  And on the front page of tomorrow morning's newspaper.  But, hey, at least I’d have something new to write about.

I got off course a tad. Back to my point…

Or not.

A short while ago, outside the window of the couch where I’m sitting, there was a couple in the midst of a very heated argument. So heated that not only could I hear them yelling at each other from inside the café, but I could also distinguish the topic of their clash through my ear buds, which I’m wearing while I’m listening to iTunes. (Of course, I turned down my music so I could listen. Drama.) Young lady had quite a healthy set of lungs on her. In her defense, her “significant other” had been sexting another girl. (“Sexting” is engaging in flirtatious and sexual promiscuity through texting.) I think I learned some new four-letter words. Checkmark for today.

(And for the record, I was in the midst of a similar scene myself yesterday (though NOT about sexting, so I’m digesting the theory of self-improvement with this subject.)

Which brings me to my subject for this post: is it acceptable to argue in public?

Personally, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m an eternal optimist, if not a bit on the romantic side of delusion, when it comes to life. I don’t demand euphoria every second of the day, but I always try to look on the bright side of things and understand them realistically. I’m the kind of person that wants everyone else around me to be happy and having a good time. This especially applies to arguing. It makes me uncomfortable to be around others arguing, be it at home or in a public place. In my own experience, I don’t necessarily avoid confrontations, but I don’t like to get into an argument unless it’s something really important, or addressing the particular issue is critical. I don’t hold grudges. I fight for the moment and then move on. I don’t fight to win so much as I fight to make my point. Often, I am wrong. I admit it. (shhhhh, don’t repeat that) But when I feel strongly about something, I’m not afraid to assert my opinions.

Are some people just in it to win it? I think so. Some people are argumentative by nature. Or defiant. Or rebellious. Or stubborn. (I’m convinced a combination of these qualities is the real reason lawyers exist. Oh, and reality courtroom television.)

For example, ever watched a political debate? It’s really just a structured argument where both sides present their best 'self-sales pitch' to win the support of the viewers. If the subtexts of the debate were aired at the bottom of the screen, it would likely read, “Yeah, Bub, kiss my hairy butt. Your makeup artist missed a spot. Are we still vacationing in The Hamptons this weekend?” It’s all for show. Now, I know the issues are real and so are the conservative or liberal foundation points, but it’s still a means to entertainment and exposing the vulnerable side of the opponent. Which is basically what arguing really is.

And drama. Which I know nothing about. **gasp** Me? Dramatic???  Never!

So…back to my point. (I keep straying here)

Personally, arguing in public is just as bad as PDA. It’s inconsiderate and makes others feel awkward. At the same time, it’s like a car wreck. Morbidly fascinating, and hard to look away. The poor girl (we’ll call her “Eva ‘Lung’oria"), was in tears by the time it was all over. Now guys, I know you have a point to make, but no matter what the subject concerns it is just not acceptable to make your girl cry in public.  Ever.  “Phony Parker” should not have crossed that line. Nor should "Eva" have been a willing participant to his rant.  Take it to the car. Better yet, take it home. (That way, there’s no chance of the hot make up sex being initiated in public.)

Know what I think when I see people partaking in that? I feel sorry for them. Mainly because they have so little personal integrity or maturity to not get involved in it. It speaks volumes in regards to their true colors. It’s upsetting to hear someone degrading, berating and condescending to another. It’s disrespectful. And classless.

Me being involved in a similar situation yesterday = irony. But I’m preaching to myself, too, so ner! **sticks tongue out**

We are all slaves to the sycophantic patterns of human nature. It’s a high for us when we’re able to make others squirm sometimes. I can be pretty insensitive myself on occasion. But, I usually dream up revenge and romanticize about notions of comeuppance in my head. That’s about the extent of my plotting. My guilty conscience is a hard layer to dissolve, and inevitably I end up feeling bad for entertaining thoughts of retaliation. Regardless of the circumstances. And even if they deserve it.

I was in quite a tizzy earlier about an issue I was having and I had a friend tell me, “Quit acting like your three-year-old kid was just diagnosed with terminal cancer.” (That’s a direct quote.) I could feel the proverbial smack of reality hitting me. At first, it pissed me off. I thought about arguing, but my friend is right. It certainly put things in perspective. Case in point: although sometimes arguing is necessary to confront a problem, more often than not it is unconstructive and cyclic. We get caught up in emotional competition of winning rather than rationally solving the problem at hand. Pick your battles. Don’t stress over minor dilemmas and let them interfere with your life. Especially when it’s out of your control.

So what happened to the arguing couple? Don’t know. I had half a mind to go outside and offer “Eva” a hug after it was over, but I was hesitant to get involved. “Phony” went one way, while “Eva” sat at the table…sniffling in the cold, tears steaming down her face…on her iPhone…deleting him from Facebook, tweeting about what a jerk he is…arranging to have his tires slashed.

Is there an app for “The Clap”? Hope he gets it from all of his sexting. Jerk.

**sigh** Drama drama drama.

Speak and Spell

Hi, peeps! Feels like it’s been forever since I blogged.

Being the spelling/grammar snob that I am, I’ve decided to make today’s post a much-needed lesson about commonly misspelled and misused words. Mainly because I find myself desperately wanting to edit my friends’ Facebook status updates. It makes my skin crawl.

Don’t hate. Later you’ll be thanking me for this, and people will be astonished at your newfound grasp of contractions and your stellar writing abilities.

We begin with the most common offender...

A lot. No, that’s not a statement. I’m referring to the word “a lot” (well, two words). “A lot” is NEVER one word (alot = incorrect). Think of a car lot. You wouldn’t spell it "carlot" would you? Nor should you squish “a lot” together as one word. Don’t do it. No excuses. It’s just wrong.

Next, familiar contractions that we all should’ve learned in grade school. Some of you were obviously too busy eating glue to really absorb this, so here is an efficient recap…

You’re and your
You're = you are
Example: “If you’re still reading this, chances are you find this information necessary to learn.”
Your = belonging to or relating to somebody. There is also no need to add an apostrophe, since it already implies possession.
Incorrect = your’s
Example: “If you’re easily offended at these simple instructions, then perhaps you need to improve your skills.”
See how I effectively used both examples? Booyah.

They, they’re, there and their
**sigh** Where, oh where, do I even begin?
Let’s break it down:
They = people in general, or things mentioned.  Now, I really only included this word to set the preface for the remainder of this lesson.  Moving forward...
They’re = they are
Example: “Often people are confused as to whether or not they’re actually using contractions correctly.”
There = adverb used to indicate a place, or simple subject
Example: "Still confused? See that sentence up there."
Their = belonging to them, him or her
Example: “Why people don’t work harder to actually spell their words correctly baffles the hell out of me.”
Now, let’s bring it all home…
“If ever there was an effective means to prompt people to attempt to use correct spelling and grammar, they’re bound to learn something if they apply these simple rules to their memory.” (I even threw in a “they” and a “they’re". Score.)

It’s and its
Another toughie. For most people. I’m not most people.
It’s = it is
Example: “When you speak or write using incorrect grammar, people assume it’s because you are lazy and unintelligent.” (I’m just sayin’. Don’t give them ammunition.)
Its = indicating possession. Again, there is also no need to add an apostrophe, since possession is already implied.
Example: “Your brain really needs to absorb this stuff so it can expand its power.”

Y’all = when you live in the south and combine the phrase “you all”. If you live in Texas and don’t know how to spell this, then you are a disgrace to all proud southerners. Shame.
Incorrect = ya’ll, which if you break down the contraction, would basically mean “ya all”. No. No. No.
Many people have asked if there is a plural to “y’all”. It is rumored to be an affront to the word, but it’s the most appropriate phrase I can conjure: “all y’all”.

Other popular contractions that are misused…

Are not = aren’t
Have not = haven’t
Did not = didn’t
Does not = doesn’t
Do not = don’t
You have = you’ve
You will = you’ll
She has, is = she’s
He has, is = he’s
Was not = wasn’t
Will not = won’t
We are = we're
Were = past tense of "be"
We will = we'll
There is = there’s
Would have = would’ve
Would not = wouldn’t
Cannot (not “can not”) = can’t
Should have = should’ve
Should not = shouldn’t
Could have… Aww, screw it. Really. I could go on, but if you’re not getting a handle on this by now then you’re a lost cause.

Also, for use in sentences…
Couple “either” with “or” and “neither” with “nor”. Otherwise you’ll sound like a moron. And don’t begin too many sentences with “and”. Or, use, serial, commas.

And now, I’ve saved the very best (or rather, worst) for last…

To, too and two
Pay close attention to this one, folks. When I read these words written or typed incorrectly, I have the urge to spontaneously combust. And that’s just the beginning of my intended wrath.
To = a preposition or adverb indicating the direction, destination, or position of somebody or something
Example: “I’m going to pretend you understand this, so we will move on to our next word.”
Too = more than, in excess, indeed, very, in addition to
Example 1: “It’s never too late to learn something new.”
Example 2: “I hope you agree with the above statement, too.”
Two = one + one, something with a value of 2
Example: “Share this valuable blog information with a friend, and then two of you will be smarter.”
All together now…
“Those of us who make a habit of using correct grammar and exercise phenomenal spelling skills know we're supreme beings. Too often, too many people think they’re able to speak and spell properly. If you’re one of those people, you aren't. It’s highly likely you’re living in denial. However, if the two voices in your head are encouraging y’all to expand your knowledge, then it’s as good a time as any to relearn or perfect any skills you had before acquiring them through this blog, its lessons and its priceless content. There are very few people who will be as brutally honest with you as I will. They’re few and far between. I can only hope their brains will retain this information and use it. A lot.”

Well, there you have it. I make no apologies for my perfection, and neither should you. Learn this. Live this. Dream about it. Breathe it deeply in. Print it out and give it to a friend for a special occasion. I guarantee they will thank you for alerting them to their stupidity.

Next week’s lesson: common four letter expletives and how to use them diplomatically and creatively when expressing them.

Simple Things

Happy New Year, friends! It’s officially 2011. I’m guessing I’ll actually begin writing the correct date come June, then learn to do it all over again in another seven months.

Everyone is making resolutions for the coming year, including me. Although, my goals are more of an instructional guide for me. I’m not counting my bucket list. I plan on accomplishing those things in the years to come. By the grace of God, I pray that I’m granted enough time to enjoy the next several chapters of my life. They will be much different than the pages already turned.

There are, however, a few things I will vow to do less of. Such as being so hard on myself. Being overly critical or judgmental of others (which I find myself doing from time to time). Stop worrying so much and try to be less of a control freak (hard one for me). Let go, and let God.

He is, after all, the reason I’ve made it this far.

My list is short. It consists of only three things. These things may be cliché, but they are the triumph of hope over experience. Belief stronger than doubt. And unyielding faith in myself, God above, and life.

1. Live
2. Laugh
3. Love

I plan to embrace life and live it to the fullest, while still being mindful of my responsibilities and how my actions affect others. I won’t sit on the sidelines anymore. I will get my feet wet and my hands dirty. I won’t be afraid to take chances, or risk coming in last. I will fail big and win even bigger. I will sing at the top of my lungs. And I will dance like no one is watching.

Laughter warms the heart. I plan to do a lot of laughing. I will laugh at myself. I will be silly and goofy, and roar until my stomach hurts. I will laugh louder and longer than anyone because I’m happy to be alive and breathing. And so blessed. I hope when I’m old and gray the laugh lines will be the most defining feature on my face, next to the sparkles in my eyes.

If laughter warms the heart, then love keeps it beating. I vow to love myself more, and completely. I will say, ‘I love you’ more.  I will cherish each moment with my loved ones and remind them of how very precious they are to me.  I will fall in love again. Both with life, and perhaps with another special person God has put in it. And I will do it with every beat of my heart.

A simple list, yet profound to me. Three things that will become the very basis of my existence. Three things that touch everything about life that is most dear to me. Three things that will allow me to forgive. Three things that will encourage my strength. Three things that will define the woman I am to become.

Three simple things that are the most perfect trifecta of faith.

I wish you all a year full of health and happiness. Live, laugh, love…may these simple things uplift your soul, and be the cornerstone of new beginnings.

The Face of My Mother

She looks in the mirror and reflected in place
Are the colors and lines of a woman’s face
The brow, nose and lips are a delicate shell
Comprising a history of stories to tell

Her eyes see the humor in life each day
At times they hold sorrow for things gone astray
They see hope without doubt and love without fail
And compared to their warmth, all else is but pale

Her nose is a creature that is sly and wise
It embraces sincerity and sifts out the lies
The smell of home or her garden of flowers
Remind her of joy in its simplest power

Her lips form a multitude of shapes for her life
They’ve parted in laughter; pulled taught through strife
The tones from beneath can be chiding or nice
Full of secrets and wishes, and treasured advice

Her wisdom and faith can be seen in the lines
Bearing honor and grace, aged perfect through time
For the character and features unlike any other
Are the beauty and love in the face of my mother

For my mother, Carol Jean.

I love you, Mom.

Pop-Pop

His overalls were faded blue and oil-stained
And had dirt and grease smears on the seat
An old John Deere cap sat crooked on his brow
And a toothpick was always between his teeth

He feigned surprise and fear at the word “boo”
And he’d give me shiny pennies for good luck
I loved bouncing around next to him on the seat
As we drove around the farm in his old truck

Bellowing from the pew in church on Sunday
Above all others his bass voice would ring
He was talented; a naturally gifted musician
And he could make any instrument sing

I fascinated in watching him concentrate
As his hands and his fingers shook
While he set up an old skinny bamboo pole
And threaded twine through a fishing hook

His grin was enhanced with certain wisdom
And years of laughs and earned wrinkles
His voice and gestures could animate a story
As his eyes held those mischievous twinkles

He loved to piddle and tinker around in his shop
To fix up machines and old engine parts
And a puttering rusty red riding lawn mower
Made for a mighty fine kid’s go-cart

Like a hawk, he’d watch me use his pocketknife
As he instructed me on how to whittle a stick
Afterwards I sit on his lap in his rocking chair
While we sipped a root beer and talked for a bit

He’d tickle me till I had tears in my eyes
From laughing and having so much fun
And he could pull a quarter from his pocket
Faster than a cowboy could draw his gun

He let me sneak popsicles from the freezer
And taste range cubes and chicken feed
My favorite place was next to him in the garden;
He’d scoop out the dirt and I’d drop in a seed

He hung up a rope from the rafter in the barn
So I could swing high and land in the hay
He gave the best horsey rides around on his back
And he never seemed too tired or busy to play

His hands were rough with scars and calluses
Weathered from hard labor over time
And though my hands were small in comparison
I remember how gently his held onto mine

The years that separated us never seemed to matter
For he was my hero, and I was his Kellie Jean
The bond between a grandfather and his special girl
Was unbreakable; one nothing could come between

In November ’04 he left behind a legacy of family
When his spirit went home to Heaven above
There will never be another like my Pop-Pop;
A generous soul of extraordinary friendship and love

Withered Rose

Time is an endless circle, forever spinning round
One day it lifts you high, the next it pulls you down
The ground beneath my feet shall fail and I know I will fall
And lonely is my sacrifice; I fear I have no time at all

Day breaks though my window and I begin to breathe
I reflect my unseen shadow and the mirror just sees me
My soul is trapped within my skin, in a trench that is my heart
All of life has left me in a world of pain and dark

The music rapt within my head is missing and unheard
I dance behind these hollow eyes and sing with silent words
I create a world where hours go by and days turn into years;
Held captive by this dwelling pain and shielded by my tears

I mourn for all my withered roses now replaced with scorn
The joy that was my blooming wish now bears its ugly thorn
The reverence that my soul desires is just beyond my reach
And I long to heal the suffering of the child inside I seek

Father Time shall come once more and take away my sin
Mother Earth shall cast my pride afar and bury ashen skin
My heart will be complete again as Heaven unties her hands
I begin a life, renewed and whole, to emerge from sacred lands

Country Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas
When we all gathered ‘round
To open the presents
From Santa, we’d found

The stockings weren’t hung
By the chimney with care
(‘Cause Mom put ‘em away last year
And couldn’t remember where)

I, in my Aggie shirt,
Furry house shoes and jeans
Had eaten so much
I was bursting at the seams

The little dogs were happy
To hoover the floor
From the tidbits we’d dropped
Only moments before

My BlackBerry was handy
To take pictures of the fam
While Chad roamed the room
With his video cam

Dad sat in the recliner,
Like a king on his throne
As Jen sorted loot
Into piles of our own

Mom wore her apron
As she sat by the tree
And Aislynn kept asking,
“Can we open them? Pleeeeease?”

Soon ribbon was flying
As we all looked inside
To reveal the big secrets
The wrapping helped hide

We oohed and ahhed
At the treasures we’d found
As I soaked in the laughter
And smiled at the sound

There, in that room
With my loved ones so dear
I realized I’m blessed
To have them all near

And then I reflected
From earlier that night
When we’d attended church service
And sang by candlelight

The kids marched on stage
To perform in the play
Complete with a manger,
A doll, and real hay

Their smiles were nervous
As they all took their place
And there was always that one
Who stared off into space

Or had forgotten his lines
Or sang a little off-key
Or mumbled, or shouted,
“Hey, Mom, look at me!”

What a joyous message
About Bethlehem’s star
And some wise men that traveled
From kingdoms afar

They fell on their knees
To worship a boy
Who’d give us salvation
And bring the world joy

Mary and Joseph
Would watch over Him
Until the day came
When He’d die for our sins

I thought about the life
That was given to me;
My wish is for everyone
To see what I see

So let the spirit we feel
During this season of cheer
Overflow from within us
To last the whole year

For the hope that surrounds us
And the gifts we bestow
Was given to us first
So many years ago

Our most gracious Father
Gave us unending love
In the form of a Savior
From Heaven above

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Well…I had high hopes of going to sleep tonight. That plan is shot to hell. I even took a sleep aid. It figures that it would have an adverse effect on me. Instead of sleeping, I feel like running up and down the freeway.

As I type this, it is now 1:52am.

Why does everything in life seem so ominous during the night? I’ve literally been tossing and turning for the last couple of hours. My mind is so bogged down trying to absorb things. And not only am I grasping for explanations, but within that existential yearning for answers lies of list of about a thousand things to do.

Life took a big turn for me this week.

I’ve been steadily listening to hard rock for the last few days in an effort to drown out the shouting that’s going on inside my brain. I attempted some Christmas music this afternoon – well, actually yesterday afternoon – but after a while it only made me feel forlorn. The screaming guitars and drum pounding seems to parallel my thoughts. It’s a better fit for my frame of mind. I am overwhelmed with fear, hope, anxiety, anger, and have laughed hysterically with disbelief. I feel like I have experienced the grandfather of all roller coasters this week.

What scares me is that I’ll run out of track up ahead.

Before I deduced that sleep might be a lost cause, I found myself lying in my bed, envisioning a transparent ceiling so that I could gaze at the stars. I used to do that when I was little. It always amazed me how vast and endless the night sky was. As a tiny child, I was fascinated with the great unknown. I was invincible. I was going to conquer the world. I just hoped there was room enough in it to contain me.

Now, as an adult, I just feel tiny. Insignificant. Alone.

The things that went bump in the night used to terrify me. Now, they remind me of reality. The lulling sounds of the household appliances, or the rustling of leaves outside my window, the gentle whooshing breeze from my fan…all of these things should sing me back to sleep with their own musical montage. But, instead, they remind me that even if tomorrow brings the sunlight, it also brings a dose of certainty. Bills to pay. Decisions to make. Life, for whatever length I’m allowed, to keep zooming past me as I’m trying to keep up. I can't afford fairy tale dreams anymore.

My dreams of princes and castles in the sky have been replaced by cars with no brakes, falling while trying to run away, and searching endlessly for a faceless person.

Maybe the faceless person is me. I’m trying to find myself. Always. Like a game of chess; strategizing. Agonizing over every move to achieve victory. And just when I think I’ve got the game figured out…checkmate.

**sigh**

Regardless, it’s all part of a plan. Every moment in is merely a small piece to fit a larger puzzle. A trial, or a lesson meant to teach us to lean. Or be a rock for someone else. Sometimes it’s tiring to hold my chin up. To be strong. Some days I’d just like to curl up in a fetal position, in a quiet dark room, and cry for a while. A good, cleansing cry.

The hour is quiet now. And dark. Perhaps I should try and put my head down to try and dream again. I’d like to mentally regress for a brief time. When my mind didn’t carry the worries it does now. I’d like to see through my child eyes, picturing outer space…

Beyond my ceiling are shooting stars. I might not see them, but my imagination has painted them a breathtaking arc of light across a velvet midnight.

I have some wishes in mind.

Make it Count

Hello, Wednesday. Ahhhhh…you bring the promise of Friday in just two short days. Bless you hump day. Bless you.

The wind today is treacherous. I swear the moment I stepped outside I felt like it was gonna blow the skin right off my bones. I’m crossing my fingers that it will blow a huge, freezing, snowy blizzard smack dab into central Texas. In fact, I’d like for that to happen right now.

I’m waiting…

Well? (I'm not impatient or anything.)

Driving my car in it was quite a task, too. Not to mention the fear of driving next to a gargantuan eighteen wheeler carrying a load of chickens on their way to chicken heaven. His trailer was swaying all over the road and feathers were blowing everywhere. It looked a little bit like snow. But the smell…definitely not pure and delicate.

So, Old Man Winter, where are you? You’ve given us a few cold spells, but I’m ready for the kind of weather that turns my fingertips blue. The kind that requires a fabulous hat and scarf, and a trendy jacket. Maybe some matching boots. (Santa, I’m referring to the ones I mentioned in my earlier blog.)

I’m ready for a lit fireplace and a roaring, Arctic wind outside.

…sentimental and handcrafted ornaments adorning the tree
…the smell of cinnamon and hot chocolate drifting through the house
…baking cookies and homemade bread

...jingle bells heard through a crowded distance
…rosy children’s cheeks

...colorful wrapping paper

…Jim Reeves flowing from the stereo

Hmmm, sounds like I’m ready for Christmas.

The holiday spirit has soaked into my skin now. I’m looking at it very differently this year. Gift-giving aside, I will treasure the time I have with my family. What a comfort to sit in a room with the familiar smells and sounds of loved ones. One of my favorite quotes from a child: “Love is what’s in the room at Christmastime when everyone stops opening presents and listens.” Indeed.

I can’t wait for the Christmas Eve children’s program at church, followed by the candlelight service. And singing “Silent Night” in German. How special the privilege is to be alive to celebrate the birth of our Savior. He was/is/forever-will-be the promise of salvation and hope. My ultimate wish this year is for those who don’t know Him to discover His love.

Good luck to all of you out there who haven’t finished your shopping yet. I’m right there with you. My middle name should be “procrastination”. I hope while you’re mingling in the crowded chaos that you don’t forget to embrace the true reason for this season.

Don’t wait until the holiday to tell your loved ones how special they are. Hold them close – in your arms and in your heart. And cherish the time you have with them.

Count the moments that take your breath away. And make each moment count.

Uphill

Whoa. Talk about a blast from the past. It's amazing the things you find...in the top of the closet...in your old bedroom...in your parents' house.

I wrote the following poem when I was sixteen.

Uphill

When life is hard and your burdens are many
And an effort is needed to smile,
Remember to count your blessings;
Let God be in charge for a while.

Look for the silver lining that’s hiding
Behind those gray clouds in the sky.
Mr. Sunshine is waiting to pick up his brush
And paint a big rainbow up high.

Your feet might be bare on a road full of thorns;
Step wisely throughout the terrain.
Those rough spots are little reminders
Of the wisdom and knowledge you’ll gain.

So keep going when you feel like giving up
For your purpose is just up ahead,
Or around the corner and through the gloom;
You’ll find grace on the path you’ve been led.

You shall not falter and your steps will not fail
As you struggle uphill on the road.
The weight of the world is light as a feather,
For God helps to carry your load.

The poem might be over a decade old, but the message is timeless. Hopefully, I'll remember it when it counts.

Hello...SpongeBob?

Hello, Monday. Nice of you to show up again. You’re so thoughtful. And consistent.

But, really, it’s not a bad day today. Kind of laid back, which is a nice change from all of the past Mondays that seem to filter in every week. I’m doing my best to get back into my writing routine, since I have fallen short of my original goal of five times per week. I figured Monday is as good a place to start as any.

Hmmmm…what to write about today?

I think I will write about whiny children. I have no children of my own, which leaves me free to criticize the parenting style and misbehavior of others. Don’t hate. Trust me, no offense intended. I just think some parents ought to consider leaving the state of childhood before they partake in procreation. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. Just putting that out there.

Case in point: Earlier this morning, I had the pleasure of being within earshot to a whiny child (guessing he was about five years old) who was pestering his mother for a cell phone. I’m picturing in my head some little navy and red plastic contraption with an emblem of Optimus Prime on it. But, I kid you not, the mother replied, “I know honey. You want an iPhone. We’ll see. You’ll have to ask Santa.” She did not sound put out, just resolved. The boy began to whine even more at this point – and the pitch of his mumbling kept climbing to an octave that I’m pretty sure only dogs could hear. I could detect a note of defeat in her voice as she tried to reason with him.

Who the hell is a kid that age gonna call? SpongeBob?

I don’t get it. This disturbs me. Greatly.

Can’t exactly blame the kids, though. One cannot make thieves and then punish them for the act of thievery. Parents, I blame you.

What you spoil your children with is your business. But it seems to me that today’s children have a supreme sense of entitlement. Society has allowed itself to gravitate away from fulfilling the emotional and disciplinary needs of children, and instead, is catering to their materialistic and self-rewarding behaviors.

Don’t spank your child anymore, because it teaches him to be violent. Really? I got spankings (ahem…a lot of them) growing up, and you don’t see me going around smackin’ people upside the heads (though sometimes I’d like to).

Don’t correct or punish your child because it might damage his psyche. Right. Instead, let him throw a fit until he gets his way. By all means, don’t instill in him the responsibilities of sharing with others, or being considerate of them. Or learning how to respect the concept of ‘no’.

And for Pete’s sake DON’T force him to go outside to play. Seriously. Let him stay indoors in front of the X-Box, Playstation, Wii and Nintendo, so that he never has to develop any skills at interacting creatively with other children. Or - **gasp** - get any exercise.

Oh, and make sure you don’t make an effort to actually be a parent. Concentrate on being your child’s friend instead. That’s way more important than being a leading example of authority or providing instruction to raising a levelheaded, well-rounded human being.

Okay…done venting. For the moment.

Growing up, the words ‘wait until your father gets home’ used to strike fear in my heart. And if my sister or I acted up in a public place, we were abruptly removed – usually with a harsh grip on the arm, or the threat of a belt across our rear ends when we got home. I didn’t necessarily get everything I wanted, but I never wanted for anything either. Mom and Dad were wise in the choices and decisions they made for my sister and me. I see the influence of that upbringing bleeding over into how my sister raises my niece. She is a fantastic mother, and Aislynn is a very well adjusted child. And smart. And kind. And loving. I hope that I do half as great a job with my kids if I’m ever blessed with the opportunity to become a mom.

So, back to the whole cell phone debacle…I guess I just fail to see where giving your children everything their hearts desire is a good thing. What happened to teaching a child to earn something? What happened to encouraging him to put forth an effort so that he may value his own integrity? What happened to letting kids be kids? They grow up too fast anyway.

As we advance in society, so do the mindset and expectations of its people – especially its children. I think it would do us a lot of good if we digressed a little to embrace a bit of old-fashioned parental management.

And SpongeBob, you really creep me out.

Fall Forward

“When at first you don’t succeed, try ‘try again’.” Common quote. Profound truism.

I’ve tried again a lot. And again. And a lot. Lately, I find that I am disappointed in the steps I’m taking. Am I on the right path? Hope so. I don’t think God would lead me somewhere He didn’t intend for me to go. Even if I stumble. And fall. Or fail.

I hold myself responsible for my failures. But it is in my failures that the thought of being defeated makes me work harder to overcome them. To move forward. Hence, the “try again.”

Everyone fails at one time or another. My failing experience has been a humbling one. Mostly because I was too busy riding my own personal high to stop and appreciate the lessons that helped me along the way. I forgot the people who carried me when I was weak…encouraged me when I doubted…caught me when I fell.

When we spend our time in the limelight, we are sometimes blinded by the glamour and promise of possibilities. Personally, I find that I get caught up in it from time to time, and begin to lose sight of the practical side of veracity. However, if that light shines on us long enough, we are forced to take a good, long look at ourselves – the mirror from which we cannot hide. The one that illuminates every imperfection, and magnifies every fault. Try as we may, the longer we look at those reflections, the fewer flaws we see. If we choose to see ourselves as God sees us, then we only see beauty. The shapes and distinguishing features blend together, producing a collage of value and worth.

Still, the imperfections and flaws are there; they are what make us unique. And real. And human.

Do I want to be perfect? No. Why would I want to subject myself to unfair expectations? Why would I want to paint myself in an unrealistic light? My lack of perfection enables me to keep trying. I take comfort in the fact that when I fail, no one notices but me. I don’t want a perfect existence. I want to hurt, and ache, and make mistakes, and make memories, and smile, and laugh, and love, and ride the roller coaster, and fly.

Will I fail sometimes? Undoubtedly. But that failure leaves me with a chance to do it all over again. A chance to fall forward.

So, why are we so hard on ourselves when we fail? We can’t win all the time. For every situation in life – be it a race, a job interview, a personal struggle – someone has to come in last. But being last is not always a bad place to be. Being last allows us to see what’s up ahead in the race. We get a hindsight view of those ahead of us who are creating a path for us to tread on with more ease. It is an opportunity to learn. And rest assured, even those last in the race have followers. It’s just not their time to run yet.

At the fear of failing, do we abandon our dreams? Do we stifle the yearning inside us because we are afraid of rejection? The only restrictions are those we place on ourselves. If we refuse to look beyond our own imaginations, and push our own boundaries, then we will never achieve the things of which we are capable. The things created to drive us to be extraordinary. No one is a failure in the eyes of God. He didn’t create us to fail, as we were created in His image. I can’t envision a more prolific opposite of failure than that.

Time to tighten up my laces and brave the dark and winding road again. My moment is still out there. I refuse to stop until I find it. With God as my guide, I may fall, but I will not fail.

It is in our darkest moments, that the dimmest light can sometimes produce a tenfold of hope. Hope leads to perseverance. Perseverance leads to self-discovery. Self-discovery leads to strength. And strength teaches us to reach into the depths of our characters to try again.

It is those moments when we try, that define us. We become more than human. We shed our own limitations, and become champions of our own souls.

Dear Monday, You Suck. That is All.

Sometimes all you need on a Monday is for it not to be Monday. I really can’t put my finger on why it’s so hard to recover from the weekend, thus embarking on the new week...in hopes of it being productive and fast-paced. And by fast-paced, I mean go by so fast that it’s Friday before you know it.

Today has been a blah kind of day. Really blah. Here is a grim list of my accomplishments so far (in order):

1. Woke up.
2. Worked on the computer.
3. Tried to go back to sleep.
4. Ate lunch.
5. Tried to go back to sleep again.
6. Was interrupted by countless things.
7. Worked on the computer.
8. Played with my niece.
9. Typed some emails.
10. Went back to sleep.
11. Woke up.
12. Worked on the computer.
13. Read another chapter of Decision Points.
14. Ate dinner.
15. Watched about 15 minutes of television.
16. Checked emails, played around on Facebook and surfed the web.
17. Now I’m typing this blog.

Soon, I will take my book to the bathroom, where I plan to submerge myself both back into another chapter and a tub full of scalding hot water.

I hate idle days. I’m not knocking the pleasure of having time to yourself, but when you have an active imagination (like I do) and overanalyze things (like I do), I find that I feel useless, inferior and unproductive. What makes me feel even worse is that my writer’s block has been defeated, and now I’m at a standstill as to which direction the story in my book will go. Essentially, I can write now, but I have to hold off. Which leads me to begin a new book (dare I say “possible series”?). And leaves me feeling like the one I’m currently writing is being neglected through procrastination – an art I’ve mastered on many occasions.

On top of all of that, I still have some major decisions to make, which I am avoiding. Mostly because I haven’t made up my mind yet. (See? Procrastinating again.)

Monday is supposed to be the first day of the workweek. If today is any indication of setting the pace for the remainder of my week, then I’m screwed. I’m in a funk today and just can’t seem to get out of it. And nothing - anywhere, any time or any place - on the planet, can slow down the week’s progression more than if you’re anticipating something. It’s like trying to focus on a mirage. I see it from a distance, and as I approach it, I realize I wasn’t nearly as close as I originally thought. Then I look up and see it again, and go a little further to reach it. And the cycle continues.

At the moment, the mirage is Tuesday. Let’s hope I can get to it easily, and that it will lead to Wednesday (and so on).

I think maybe we should revisit the notion of having eight days in a week. The eighth day would be reserved for whatever the imagination could produce…

Monday – the first day of the workweek, and the day we are most likely to have a heart attack (fact)
Tuesday – actually begin the workweek, and get on our knees to thank God that it’s no longer Monday
Wednesday – depression begins to wane as there are only two days left in the workweek
Thursday – aka Friday Eve, brain starts to perk up, producing hope and endorphins
Friday – pretend to work, and clock watch the entire day until 5pm
Funday – **insert whatever blows your hair back**
Saturday – need I say more?
Sunday – give thanks, rest, and prepare for another week

So, Dear Monday, I’m closing you down now. I know I’ll see you again in just six short days. You ever-reliable @#$%!

Sound the Trumpet

Do you ever find yourself pondering the meaning of life? I do. There are endless songs, poems and odes written to describe what is deemed to be the unattainable answer by artists and philosophers alike.

For what purpose are we here? Is it to achieve the pinnacle of success as a person? Or as a child of God? Are we to use the talents we have been given to advance our own interests, or serve the Almighty by helping others? What are we to become as we establish our place in the world? Is it possible to do all of the aforementioned, and still maintain the faith and integrity of leading a Christian life?

A lot of questions, I know. Lately, though I’m in a great place in my journey, I find myself wondering what I’m supposed to do with the rest of my life. God has blessed me with numerous talents, and not too long ago, I was modest in admitting that. Among the many things I love to do, and do well, are designing/painting/sketching, singing, playing the guitar/viola/violin/piano (more adept at some over others), and writing. I also love to make jewelry. And I can pick up objects, open/close doors, and pinch people with my long toes. Not a talent mind you, but a still a freakish quirk to be proud of.

So where does that leave me? One can't ride two horses at once, and sometimes I feel like I’m trying to ride an entire herd. What irritates me even more is that I’m ashamed for it to be a problem I have, as I know there are others out there who are struggling just to make it down a single path in life. I’m through questioning whether or not I’m deserving of good things happening to me. God is responsible for that, and I will most certainly be thankful for my gifts. And at the same time, I’ve dealt with a lot of heartache to get to these good moments. Maybe we’re all due for a break now and then.

It’s all give and take, ebb and flow. For everything positive, there has been a negative. Some of which have occurred in the past. Others recently. Retrospectively, for every negative, there has been a positive.

I can’t help but think that all of these encouraging moments and opportunities in my life are leading up to something of a grander nature. Do I want my name in the marquis lights? Not really. But, I would like to know that I have the abilities to put it there if I so desire. I don’t aim to be famous. I do aim to make something of myself. An honest version of what’s inside me. No smoke and mirrors. Something I’m proud of. Something that lets my parents know that they raised me right. Most of all, I aspire to honor the skills that God has given me, for I would be nothing and nowhere without Him.

Coming back to my original question…what is the meaning of life? Everyone has his version of what that entails. For some people, it’s the designer clothes, car, house and salary. For others, it is to raise a family and grow old with their significant other. And still others are satisfied with the simple things, like a hot cup of coffee in the morning, or listening to the evening wind rustle the leaves in the trees. For a select few, it’s accepting a wholesome life in the Spirit, teaching and guiding others. There is no greater sacrifice, than giving of oneself to lead others to salvation through Christ.

I’d like to think I’m able to obtain a combination of all of the above...financially successful, but humbled by my upbringing…love another with all of my heart, and create a lifelong legacy through raising our children…and remember to stop and smell the roses…all while being a faithful servant to the Lord, and a good Christian example to those in my life.

Perhaps the secret of life is simple. To me, it’s just simply living - every single day, being truly happy with who you are, and making a difference in the world. That world may be as small as a family unit, or beyond the boundaries of our imaginations.

Years ago when I was a little girl, I had a black and white poster, showing the progression of a gosling growing into a graceful swan. At the bottom of that poster was what remains one of my favorite quotes to this day: "What you are is God's gift to you. What you become is your gift to God." (Hans Urs von Balthasar)

Even now as I sit here and type this, I’m reminded of my ‘ugly duckling’ days. That was then. This is now. I'm ready to embrace the beauty in life; the ‘swan' that God put inside me.

What will I become? It’s time to sound my trumpet and spread my wings.

31 Wishes

Dern it. I was going to go to bed until I realized that I didn’t post anything for today. Since it’s now after 11pm, I’m going to have to make this a quick post.

And since it is December 1st, and there are 31 days in the month, I’m going to compile a wish list of things I would like to see happen in this month...

1. A pair of Cotton Bowl tickets randomly show up to my house. For me.
2. The fat on my ass and thighs to magically melt off just in time for me to wear a fabulous little black dress for New Year’s Eve.
3. Get invited to a New Year’s Eve party.
4. Have a date to that party.
5. Wear my new Sperry-Topsider Chatsworth winter boots somewhere (see above photo). I think they’re worth “chatting” about.
6. Buy another pair of fun boots, just because I need a variety from which to choose.
7. Impeach Obama. And have Joe Biden resign, ‘cause I don’t want him in office either.
8. Live.
9. Win the lotto.
10. Seriously.
11. Throw away my ratty, old socks and stop saving old t-shirts I don’t need or no longer wear.
12. Do something nice for a total stranger.
13. Hope they return the favor for someone else.
14. Be semi-good on my diet.
15. Blow it completely when I indulge (and indulge I intend) in my family’s traditional tamales on Christmas Eve.
16. Learn to make my Nana’s homemade bread and cinnamon rolls – the real old-fashioned way – from scratch.
17. Laugh hysterically. A lot.
18. Not jump off a cliff when I’ve completed my December blogging challenge.
19. Finish paying for my genuine Dali lithograph. Can’t. Wait. To hang it. After I finish decorating my new office. In the house I will move into soon...
20. Appreciate each day of being blessed with my health.
21. Pray for those who are struggling with illness, hardships, loss, or just need to find a renewed sense of their faith.
22. Clean out my storage unit.
23. Not complain while doing it.
24. Attend Christmas Eve candlelight service at church.
25. Remember to thank God above for sending His Son, so that I have a chance at a beautiful life.
26. Not kill those who text and drive. That is difficult for me.
27. Get my dad on Facebook.
28. Spoil myself with a Kindle or an iPad. (Though, winning the lotto is probably more likely.)
29. Remind my loved ones of how special they are to me, and how much I treasure them.
30. Update my bucket list.
31. Love.

That’s it. Short and sweet. Have to go got bed now. Need my energy to shop online for that pair of Sorel Joan of Arctic Snow boots I want. Color Shale. Size 10. If anyone needs an idea for Christmas. **wink, wink**

Ha! Look at that, I’ve already implemented wish no. 17.