Trifecta

Part of the benefit of having a blog is that I get to freely write about things that make me happy, things that irritate me, things that touch my soul and my opinions on life in general. It’s my little way of getting it out of my head and into the mainstream where I can reflect on my words and console my own mind.

Today is no exception, for I am in the process of removing thorns from my side. I am referring to the trifecta of guilt: regret, remorse and recovery. I greatly struggle this issue because I have allowed myself to be a doormat to the point that I’m ashamed. However, we welcome the conditions we perpetuate, don’t we?

There are many things in life I find myself regretting. But would I change them? No. What’s the point? I can’t cry over spilled milk. I just have to milk the cow again and be more mindful of where I set the bucket. I’ve found that a certain amount of drama in life breeds a certain amount of regret. Mostly mine. If I allow myself to get caught up in it, then I have no one to blame but myself. This especially applies to specific people in my life. Some people, no matter where they go or what they get involved in, seem to have a string quartet serenading their every move. Every waking moment affects them, concerns them, and is about them. Most people I know like this are generally unhappy people. And grumpy. Rightly so, because it must be exhausting carrying around that load of self-pity.

So, what do I regret? That I didn’t listen to my instincts sooner and set down the proverbial sack of bricks. That I allowed myself to be taken advantage of time and time again because I knew nothing more than to keep giving until I found myself at the end of the rope. That I allowed someone else’s constant misery to keep rubbing off on me, causing me to doubt my own decisions.

There’s a little scenario I like to do with my Sunday school kids (I teach 10-11 year olds). I put a chair in the middle of the room, and have one of them stand on it. The others get to stand in a circle around the chair, and one at a time, the person in the chair tries to pull the others from their position on the floor up into the chair with them. Not so easy. Then, each person surrounding the chair gets to take a shot at pulling the person down from the chair and onto the floor. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to estimate how many times the person on the ground is successful at emptying the chair. It makes a good point. It is always easier to bring someone down than to try and pull him up.

I am tired of pulling at dead weight.

Remorse. Heavy word. Remorse is what I feel after I’ve decided that I no longer regret my decision. I begin to second-guess myself, wondering if I’ve done the right thing, or if I’m acting out of selfishness. Inadvertently, I find myself apologizing for things that aren’t my fault. And, alas, the sack of bricks is resting securely on my back once more. The idea of trimming down my life so that it doesn’t include negativity is a romantic one. Realistically though, we all need a dose of negativity on occasion; it helps us aim for the positive, which we appreciate so much more when we attain it.

It is in my nature to reach out to those in need. But, I came to the realization yesterday that I can’t very well help others if I’m not helping myself. In this case, it is acceptable to be selfish. If I don’t preserve my own integrity, strength, and I venture to say, optimism, then I have nothing to offer someone else when life is raining down on them. Remorse unfailingly leaves me with the glass half empty.

I have a great friend, who is every bit the voice of reason when I begin to get down on myself. He reminded me that no one could make me feel bad unless I allow it. Words I’ve preached to others time and time again. Yet, why is it when I’m caught up in the moment of hurt and despair, my own creed is forgotten? When the shoe is on the other foot, being objective and supportive comes easily, but I admit that I need to toughen up and apply that philosophy to my own life. I’ve been climbing out of my hole for a long time now, and giving someone else the power to dissuade my efforts only defeats the purpose of each step I’ve taken. It goes without saying that when we are at our highest, our fall is much greater. And it’s not the fall that hurts us - it is the sudden stop of realization at the end.

When I begin to hear the violins in the distance behind me, it’s a sure indication that it’s time for me to take charge and recover.

Certain aspects of life are hard to bounce back from. That is a fact. And sometimes, regardless of how many times the same situation has arisen, I find myself trusting that things will improve. In this case, the old adage of ‘first time mistake; second time coincidence; third time shame on me’ is busy mocking me with echoing laughter. That laughter haunts me a little because it is my own. No one is responsible for allowing the doormat mentality other than me. Progressing from that mindset, I am forced to close a door on a piece of my past. It hurts. I would be inhuman if it didn’t affect me in some way. But, I comfort myself with the notion that a little bit of present hurt will produce a tenfold of relief and peace of mind as the end result. Have I made the right decision? The conditional circumstances that led me to that resolution have assured me so. Time will tell. And somewhere up the road I’ll realize that I’ve recovered.

My “voice of reason” also reminded me of all of the opportunities that lay before me. Despite the ‘dark and gloomy’ from whence I’ve emerged, there is plenty ‘bright and shiny’ up ahead. The road before me is paved in positivity, and the potholes are slowly but surely waning. The possibilities before me are things for which I’ve poured my heart and soul into, and the determination behind achieving them is invaluable.

Fresh start. Clean slate. It’s time for me to stop regretting, and appreciate standing in my chair.

There is a Season

As I type this, I am listening to Lullaby by One Republic. How fitting.

I wrote the following poem several years ago, and I came across it today as I was looking through some old files. Today, of all days, it means something so much more to me. Its relevance in my life at the moment is worth sharing. Reading it to myself, I'm amazed at how far I've come. And how far I've yet to go.

One step at a time, remembering my past...and focusing on the path ahead.

Let Go

Life has a purpose that passes through us in seasons
Just as the tree blows a song through her branches
Whispering to us to trust in our own decisions
And allow faith to take charge of our chances

Every now and then, I reflect on the details of yesterday
When life was full of promises and children’s games
Some love and friendships weren’t built to withstand
And often time has chosen not to remember their names

The simplicity of life back then holds all my memories
But the years have made the child in me grow fast
The things I treasure most lie protected in my soul
Graced with the laugher and sunshine from my past

For those seasons change with the coming of age
We are but an infinite ocean, drifting in the ebb and flow
Struggling to make the most of our time in the world
Now is the time to move forward; I can let go

I vaguely remember writing it. Who would’ve thought years later, I would have a better understanding now of something I wrote in my youth of limited wisdom and naivety. It reminded me that things come and go in our lives for a reason. And just as the Bible says, for every thing there is a season. Why do some people have such a profound effect on our lives, and others are merely a whisper of a cloud that changes shape and drifts away?

It would be dishonest of me to say that I wish I didn’t have the answers to why things happen the way they do sometimes. I have high expectations of myself, and perhaps I build others up in my mind and expect the best out of them, too. If part of my purpose on earth is to be the best person I can be to help and support another, then I will humbly give of myself until there is nothing more to give. I only know one way to love and trust, and that is with my entire heart and soul. Often, that leaves me open to vulnerability, betrayal, and hurt. But it’s a hurt I would gladly bear. I’d much rather walk away from something knowing I struggled to overcome the odds, than live with the self-disappointment and doubt that I could’ve done something more.

I can’t question the means by which God puts certain people into our lives for longer than others. Everything and everyone has a plan, for we are all connected by fate, chance, coincidence, and most beautifully, the human spirit. I believe we all endure specific situations and tribulations to make us stronger. Some things teach us to laugh. To sacrifice. To trust. And some to fall. But, every single trial teaches us how to love better – especially ourselves. Perhaps I am placed into another’s life to teach them something about themselves. With the same reasoning, there are people in my life who have strengthened me in some way. Part of me will be incomplete if they are not a permanent place in my journey. Yet, I am comforted with the knowledge that God will fulfill that void with the next aspect of His plan. I only hope that I have returned the support and love as unconditionally as my family and friends have shown me.

We wake up each day, with the gift of breath in our lungs, food in our bellies, and bills to pay. The things we find ourselves fussing about are trivial, menial, when compared to the greater picture. Life is fleeting. How very precious it all is. And how very blessed are we to walk hand in hand, sharing the love, laughter and pain with others in our lives.

Now is the time to let go and allow my past to sleep. My eyes and heart are open as I move into the season of my future. I can’t wait to embrace the beautiful awakening that God has planned for me.

Public Displays of Affection

For those of you out there who never learned what is deemed to be an appropriate amount of public displays of affection (PDA), I will be more than happy to share my opinion with you.

As I'm typing this, I'm distracted by a couple in my peripheral vision who needs to learn the rules. They are practically procreating on a couch in the coffee house that has become my second home for writing my book. It's like a car wreck. Can't. Look. Away. I'm both appalled, and slightly intrigued by their obvious affection for each other. I'm having a hard time concentrating. I may even have to smoke a cigarette after it's all said and done. And I don't smoke. Ever.

Based on their present involvement with each other, I can only deduce the following:

1. They haven't seen each other for quite some time, thus failing to resist the urge to publicly express their desires. Maybe they're just showing off. If this is the case, surely they could've have been more creative in their venue selection. Geez, you two. Time to come up for air!

2. They are European. Everyone knows that Europeans are the masters of romance and passion. That is indisputable. I think it's in the water over there. Nevertheless, if they are European, perhaps they aren't aware of the rules.

3. They are newly in love. Now, I'm not knocking the euphoric feeling of longing or lusting after another while in the process of falling head over heels. It is a wonderful feeling. Just feel it behind closed doors. I don't want the scent of your pheromones interfering with the aroma of my latte.

4. They are blind. And they have no regard for others. Obviously, this is not the case, as there are no seeing eye dogs anywhere on the premises, and if there were, the mood would have them amorously humping the legs of innocent bystanders. In a place that serves food and beverages, this would be highly unsanitary. Unless we were in Europe.

5. I'm being featured on a hidden camera. I have a feeling this must be the most likely scenario, because right about now my face resembles a tomato with hair from the humiliation. I can still hear their lips smacking and the tiny little moans emanating from between them. I've craftily given the illusion that I'm absorbed in my music with my earbuds plugged in, but find myself getting caught up in the atmosphere. Sneaky.

So, in light of the above motives for making out in public, I leave you with the rules. They are simple to follow, as there are only a couple. They are:

1. If it's anything more than a nice hug, holding hands, or a quick peck, don't do it.
2. There is no other rule.

*Note: the operative word in rule #1 being "nice". If you have any questions as to what "nice" implies, then you are probably a repeat PDA offender.

Simple enough, right? Seems they've finally slowed down. Oh, wait, they've stopped. I feel like applauding. Anyone have a light?

Maroon & White vs. Green & Gold

Since it is now after midnight, I can officially say 'good morning' to my followers (my faithful few).

My life has been on a whirlwind ride as of late. In addition to the air of anticipation with the onset of the coming season, I must admit I have some reservations about how to successfully convert (or divert?) a specific person's attention away from a tasteless color scheme duo of green and gold (ick!) to the much bolder, richer maroon and white. I'm talking about football, people. Specifically, Texas A&M vs. Baylor. Now, for all you past, present and future Aggies out there, you understand where I'm coming from. But how does one persuade another individual of the opposing mindset to think outside the box? Stockholm Syndrome is no laughing matter, and I can only imagine is very hard to disassociate oneself from his captor once the brain has atrophied into a state of submission. However, my argument holds water. Seriously. It is quite evident that Aggies are superior to Bears.

I will prove it. Emotions and color schemes aside, we will begin our investigation with a lesson in terms. Which brings us to my next question...What is an Aggie?

Wikipedia defines an Aggie as the following: Aggie may be a diminutive form of the given names Agnatha, Agamemnon, Agata/Agatha, or Agnes. It may also be a diminutive form of a family name that begins with 'Ag-'. See also Aggy.

Texas A&M Aggies (variously A&M or Texas Aggies) refers to the sports teams of Texas A&M University. The nickname "Aggie" is common at land-grant or "Ag" (agriculture) schools in many states. The teams compete in Division I of NCAA sports. Texas A&M was a charter member of the Southwest Conference until its dissolution and subsequent formation of the Big 12 Conference in 1996. The athletic program competes in the South Division of the Big 12, along with Baylor University, Oklahoma State University, Texas Tech University, the University of Oklahoma, and the University of Texas. Texas A&M's official school colors are maroon and white. The teams are referred to as Aggies and the mascot is a pure-bred collie named Reveille.

If you're still unclear on the definition of what an Aggie is, chances are, you call him "Boss".

And just to show you I'm impartial to discrimination, Wikipedia gives a nice little definition of a bear:

Bears are mammals of the family Ursidae. Bears are classified as caniforms, or doglike carnivorans, with the pinnipeds being their closest living relatives. Although there are only eight living species of bear, they are widespread, appearing in a wide variety of habitats throughout the Northern Hemisphere and partially in the Southern Hemisphere. Bears are found in the continents of North America, South America, Europe, and Asia. Common characteristics of modern bears include a large body with stocky legs, a long snout, shaggy hair, plantigrade paws with five nonretractile claws, and a short tail. While the polar bear is mostly carnivorous and the giant panda feeds almost entirely on bamboo, the remaining six species are omnivorous, with largely varied diets including both plants and animals.

Identities aside, let's break it down into scientific terms: Bipeds vs. Quadrupeds. See? Any topic laced with factual evidence is a strong one. I love being an Aggie. I'm always right. :) Stop laughing, you two percenters!

Bipedalism is a form of terrestrial locomotion where an organism moves by means of its two rear limbs, or legs. An animal or machine that usually moves in a bipedal manner is known as a biped, meaning "two feet" (from the Latin bi for "two" and ped for "foot"). Types of bipedal movement include walking, running, or hopping, on two appendages (typically legs).

All of the defined aforementioned movements are things the Aggie football team is highly adept at performing. Have you ever seen a bear play football? There's a reason Animal Planet doesn't host sporting events.

Quadrupedalism is a form of land animal locomotion using four limbs or legs. An animal or machine that usually moves in a quadrupedal manner is known as a quadruped, meaning "four feet" (from the Latin quad for "four" and ped for "foot"). The majority of walking animals are quadrupeds, including mammals such as BEARS, cattle and cats, and reptiles, like lizards.

How, may I pose the question, does one play football on all fours? The answer: He doesn't. And can you imagine what the uniforms would look like? Wretched!

Now, I mean no disrespect to my fellow football fans out there, especially those who made the wrong choice not to attend Texas A&M. Not everyone can be perfect. I mean, where else can you find the tradition and spirit that 'can ne'er be told'? I agree with the motto, "From the outside looking in, you can't understand it. From the inside looking out, you can't explain it." Well, I can sum it up: Maroon and white is the bomb, baby! All other colors suck! **sticks tongue out** Ninner ninner.

But go ahead. I won't begrudge you your dirty little habit of lusting after green and gold (you know who you are). If you want to look like a pimpin' Irish bear, be my guest. You'll likely find sympathy with people if you tell them you're colorblind. My advice to you is to save the bears for cuddling, and allowing them to cleanse the planet's gene pool by snacking on their share of selective forest idiots (aka Baylor freshmen).

I, myself, prefer to look like a winner. I proudly wear my Aggie Maroon! Provoke a bear, and he'll probably growl, bite and maim you. Provoke an Aggie, and he'll plow his way down the field to score the touchdown. Farmers Fight! WHOOP!