a series: five things i wish someone would have told me: the real world

1. the cliques are still there. girls can still be hurtful and boys can still bruise. that doesn't end with high school and it certainly doesn't end with college. the challenge is rising above it all and staying true to how God made you. because david whyte was right. the truth is, anyone or anything that does not bring you alive is too small for you.

2. schoolwork is over, and full-time work typically only lasts until five, but you still have to balance and schedule. i thought when i graduated that i would just have tons of free time to lay around and be lazy with my new husband. those times are there, but they take careful planning. i've rediscovered mornings. with all their dewy grass and songbirds. i get up earlier, read scripture and focus myself, giving me the energy and clarity i need to arrange my day the way i want it.

3. you've got to work to maintain your friendships. high school and college are like little bubbles. you get to spend so much time with your friends! you are all experiencing this adventure together, maybe living together, staying up late together, and just inhabiting the same world together. when the school stops and real life kicks in, people move away. separate. lose touch. and it's so hard to maintain that connection without the connecting factor, that common ground of school. so you work at it. you write hand-written letters to each other. you facebook. you drive halfway across the state to see them. whatever it takes. because female friendships are sacred.

4. you've got to work at your love too. work can be stifling and overwhelming and i often find myself knee deep in proposals and papers and just the computer in general, that i take robert and his sweet presence for granted. go on dates. just do it.

5. the only way to get through this crazy, beautiful, immaculately chaotic life is with the help of our Savoir. He is, after all, what makes this world so gosh-darn real.

the books of my life

last week, the ethereal beauty that is amber blue bird graced me with a sweet award, the honest scrap, with a challenge to write five facts about myself.

amber's blog is one of my daily reads. i swear the girl could wear a burlap sack and i would wonder which agricultural feed and seed store she got it from. she's just that pretty, and just that stylish.

i'm supposed to list five facts about myself, so i'm compiling my five favorite books of all time. because honestly, a person's favorite book choice speaks volumes, and mine will tell you more about me than my favorite color or restaurant, hands down.

they are:

1. the Bible: because it's a map, and for someone terrible with directions, it's a daily necessity. and because it's the most tangible connection i have to my Father, and like an old pocket watch handed down generations, it has meaning and history to me that is deep and personal.

2. of mice and men: john steinbeck. the first book that made me cry. i sympathize with lennie so much. with loving something so tightly, so feverishly and so overwhelmingly that you crush it. and squeeze it. that steinbeck, his words get me every time.

3. love in the time of cholera: gabriel garcia marquez. the movie was an utter disappointment, but this novel is breathtaking. i've highlighted and underlined almost every paragraph in my worn copy. i lost it for about six months when robert and i moved into our little cottage, and my heart broke. imagine my great joy when i found it in the basement! that taught me a valuable lesson: take care of the books you love. yes, you can get a new copy from any barnes and noble. but your original copy, the one held between your fingers as you read the words for the first time-that is special and sacred and irreplaceable.

4. the way the crow flies: ann-marie macdonald. this is a lengthy, thick, doozy of a book. one that should take whole months. but i read it on a long train ride to visit a friend. it was that engrossing. a beautiful study on how children interpret their environments. how the little intricacies weave together with the big events to play on and manipulate their psyche. heartbreaking and honest, and holds all adults accountable.

5. love is a mix tape: rob sheffield. never before has love transcended pages so deeply. and the funny thing is, rob doesn't get mushy or romantic in this book. but the way he describes the way he met, courted and lost the love of his life is as tender as it gets.

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these books are my heartbeat, and to share them is special. cherish reading. savor it. because life is life. but sometimes, we can escape into an adventure. and who doesn't love that?

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p.s.

i'm passing this fun award to:

1. shalyn of laugh until your cheeks hurt
2. melissa of perfect peace
3. becca of adorable optimism
4. kristin of kristin in america
5. jenni of jenni austria germany

conclusions and illusions

xxx

he wore a red golf shirt every day. his hair, graying, was parted on the side, tucked behind silver glasses too big for his face. he was older, almost retired, and walked slowly, deliberately.

to talk to him was a game of roulette, to chance a good mood or a sour one. his office, at the end of the hall, never had visitors. he was quick with a snappy comeback, arched eyebrow of suspicion, and sigh of defeat. but he was excellent at what he did, so no one bothered him. no family pictures decorated his office, only a whiteboard and clock.

it was my first job, one of my first co-workers. my heart was too tender for his caustic demeanor, and i tried to avoid confrontation, only running into him in the kitchen, pouring black coffee into his stained mug. he smugly laughed at my optimism and "have a great day" salutations.

then one day, someone told me something about him. about why he avoided family pictures and corporate christmas parties, with all their spousal small talk. 


the tragedies, deaths and losses that hung like broken limbs on his weeping willow of a family tree.

all of a sudden, i began to see his abrasiveness as hurt. as agony. as a grief too hard to bear and contain internally, so it spilled over outside of him, onto his clothes, his expression, his pursed lips and his feet that dragged.

and i felt so bad for judging him.

because we never, ever know all the burdens people are carrying. stories can be personal, deep and hidden.

if you pull up beside me in the car and see me singing, i appear like a silly, 20-something girl. primarily because it's probably katy perry or kesha. and i'm probably drumming on my steering wheel. 

but did you know it's because when i sing, it's the absolute only time i don't stutter? and i'm a terrible singer. oh my goodness. so awful. but i sing all the time for relief. of the glottal blocks and brick walls that rear their nasty heads when i speak. but you didn't know that, and you can't get that from a stoplight encounter.

and you sometimes can't even get that from years of experience with someone. from working with them. shoot, from living with them.


everyone's fighting a battle, whether obvious or not. but we're not mind readers. sometimes we don't have the luxury of peeling away those layers. we just can't do it.


but we can love them. and accept them. and go about our day without questioning or judging how they live theirs. because sometimes a song isn't just a song, and a mean-spirited snap isn't just a bad day. and sometime we're going to need that exact same acceptance.


i don't work with that man anymore, but i hope he's happy somewhere. and singing.

the nook of love

there's a place i go where nothing but love, warmth and rest can reach me. where the outside world, with all of its stresses, deadlines and expectations slowly melts away to nothingness.

it's called a nook, and robert has been making it for me since we got married almost three years ago.

as soon as i hop out of the shower and see it, in all its lamp-lit glory, i am powerless to deny it. robert always drapes the blanket over the back of the couch, so all i have to do is crawl into position, and he'll wrap it around me. sometimes pablo curls up in the bend of my knees. other times he snuggles under the blanket too.


and i'm out like a light in about five minutes. he'll wake me up later and we'll go to bed together, but in the early evening, when it's too early to sleep but my body is screaming otherwise, the nook is the perfect solution.


and it's really not much, honesty. just the corner of our couch. a white blanket from target. three pillows propped up against each other. two from ikea, the other found in an antique shop. i'm certain they make softer blankets. fluffier pillows. couches that aren't stained with, well, life.


but that's not the point. i think i love the nook so much because of the love that goes into it. the special thought that has to occur in robert's mind before its created. because i never ask for the nook. it's just always there. kind of like these notes that keep popping up all over the place:

and the fact that he knows me so well--knows exactly what i need to recharge and soothe my soul? well, that's the most comfortable thing in the world.

losing my way with words

xxx

i love words.

i love the way they play, dance, move across a page. their rhythm. ebb and flow. up and down.

and i love writing. primarily because i'm so lousy at speaking. i love being able to attach a noun, adjective, verb, to an idea. 

but some things aren't that neat. some emotions, like the ones you feel in your gut, have no equivalent words. like when i wake up in the middle of the night and just get sad. and think about the brevity of life, and how precious and fleeting it is. and whisper a second round of prayers up to Heaven from under my blankets.

some things are just too heavy. i don't know how to write about the look in robert's eyes when he asked me to marry him. the bittersweet melancholy when we left my sister at college. the punch in the stomach when i found out a friend died in a car wreck. because to even try is to cheapen it. happy and sad just don't come close.

that's why this is my favorite bible verse. i was reminded of it driving home last night and it's been playing like an old familiar movie in my head ever since.

Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.

-John 21:25

  

even an eternal library couldn't use up enough words to capture the soul of the Creator. the power and beauty of it all. it transcends everything. even my meager attempt here to write about it.

but those emotions. those deep, heart-wrenching feelings. those are beautiful. and special. and worthy of washing over you. even if words aren't worthy for them.

cutting corners

sometimes i take the easy way out, it's true. well, maybe not the easy way, but the practical way, which often seems to be the same thing. and it's crazy. i'm creative, passionate and ambitious about some things. but others, eh. not so much. sometimes saving time and money trumps being free-spirited, and i cut corners. in fact, i cut corners twice this week, and it's only wednesday.

i shall explain.

xxx

   

cutting corners #1

yesterday morning, my hair dryer died. it would not even start. and i realized this only after i washed my hair. so there i was, six in the morning, sopping hair dripping down my cold back. and all i could think of was my mama, and how she chided me for going out of the house in the winter with damp hair, and how horrified this situation would make her.

then i started scheming. of a morning trip to wal-mart to get a replacement. i thought, hey, i can make this fun! i'll go right now, super early. grab me an coffee and granola bar from my favorite organic bakery. get to work before my boss. catch up on writing letters at my desk. watch the sunrise on my drive.

instead, i went about my morning as usual, puttering around the house until the last minute, and i dried my hair with the heat vent in my car. static ensued.

cutting corners #2

the other night, i had ambitions of going to the gym. actually using that monthly membership, because right now it's just looking like a pretty expensive "free" t-shirt.

what did i do instead?

exercise on demand. from my living room, in front of the television {did you know there are like 50 free shows to choose from?} i did pilates and hip hop classes and learned the audition dance from cats, all in about 45 minutes. i didn't run on the treadmill, do any crunches, or even really break a sweat. it was kind of pathetic, but i never see robert during the day, and wanted to be home with him.

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so my days didn't go exactly as planned. but i'm still just as blessed today as yesterday.  and the creativity and energy will come again, just as smoothly and effortlessly as it went. 

and i thank God for today. for the chance to be me, even if that means cutting corners every now and again.

hey, at least when you cut corners, you're not square.

like a pair of bookends

xxx

the older i get, the more i realize the importance of self-preservation, often unfairly veiled as selfishness, though it's anything but.

it's stepping back and exaimining the many hats, roles and personalities we women are blessed to carry. and saying no to some of them. not comitting to every bake sale, jewelry party and volunteer activity that happens to make its way onto our path.

as a pleaser, i struggle. how to i maintain my sense of likeability and sweetness while putting my foot down? how do i say yes to some and shake my head at others without looking like i'm picking favorites? how do i maintain professionalism without becoming a professional doormat?

{the very fact that we ask ourselves these questions and carry the struggle within us reveals so much about our desire to please.}

yesterday was a day when i just couldn't do it. not for the life of me could i commit to one more thing.

i stayed up until 3:00 in the morning sunday staring into a work assignment glowing at me in the dark. i got to work and realized my hair was held up by a rubber band. not a hairband. a.rubber.band.

i logged into my online classroom and saw a sea of forum posts. i looked at my yoga mat rolled up in the closet. i stared guiltily at my tomatoes, rotting before i had time to make sauce with them. 


so many stresses and challenges and commitments and requirements and expectations.


so i let them go. instead, i went to a pizza restaurant and stuffed myself silly. i took a long shower and stretched deliciously under the water. i snuggled into the nook of my couch and watched the bachelor until my eyelids sunk. i needed a good cry, a good man, and a good dog.

because we're not bookends. we can't always hold ourselves together. rather, i like to think of women as the books in between. the beautiful, adventerous, tragic, happy stories that make up a pretty fine collection. 


even if we're not always collected.