Thursday, October 3, 2013

The Emotional Lives of Non Human Animals

After a long, hard, emotionally taxing day, I turned on my television to a program about uncommon animal friendships.  Two of my favorite topics: animals and friends.  To my joy, I see a story taking place here in Oklahoma and just down the road in a neighboring city.  At a rescue called Wild Heart, a unique bond between and old blind horse and an old goat made this girl

Charlie the horse and Jack the goat

Charlie lost his vision one eye at a time.  At his first lost, Jack decided to help Charlie around the reserve and would lead him by walking on the side of his good eye.   Once he lost all site, Jack led by walking in front of Charlie, leading the way to their favorite spot in the sun where Charlie would graze and Jack stood by waiting for his friend.  After a day in the sun, Jack led the way back to their nesting spot to bed down for the night.  This tradition took place every single day.  The director of the animal rescue commented that Jack got nothing out of this relationship.  Charlie couldn't feed or protect him, yet he stayed by the old horse's side until the day Charlie took his last sun bath.  When Charlie was laid to rest, Jack began to deteriorate.  He isn't as agile or energetic as he once was.  The staff was and still is so moved by the bond of these two animals and claims when it is Jack's time to go, he will be buried in the sun next to his old pal in their favorite spot to spend time together.

Now you can wrap up in the fetal position and try not to cry.

I am glad to have stumbled upon this story.  While the animals can't communicate through words,  their dedication to one another and Jack's loyalty to his friend until the end, well, it just made my day.

When Charlie lost site in both eyes, the staff at Wild Heart were going to put him down.  However, they decided to give him, and his friend Jack, the opportunity to spend more time with one another.  And thank goodness.  It was a beautiful lesson.


Sunday, August 11, 2013

Embraceable You

I live and unconventional life.  Unconventional in the sense that I reside in the Midwest and I'm not married, I don't have children, and I don't own my home.  Instead I live with another unmarried childless woman.  We function as most couples would when we text to ask what's for dinner, we trade house chores, watch television together, and we even socialize together.  Every morning we say "I love you" to one another and at night, we usually kiss each other on the face and say it again.  I am not a lesbian.  I'm a friend.  Julie is not my roommate, she is my home partner and my friend.  Julie and I share a family of sorts.  It is comprised of friends, near and far, that come together to support and love one another.  When schedules permit we have family dinners and, from the outside, it looks like any other traditional family gathering around a large table.  We hug, kiss, and say "I love you" as much as possible.  Without this network of people I would have emotionally disappeared years ago.  My "family" fills the space in which a traditional life would otherwise occupy.

My birth family - Mom, Dad, and sister Dawn, live 8 hours away from me. We talk often and most holidays are reserved for going home to see them.  And most of the time we sit around the table laughing and acting stupid as we've done since I can remember.  My parents and sister are too far away from me right now.  I have a longing in my heart to see them and be in their presence.  More specifically I long to embrace them.  To feel their arms around me; hugging me tightly.

I'm an affectionate person.  As I previously stated, my created family has the embrace down.  Sometimes we hug one another just to feel that physical closeness.  And we all linger and at times it seems that we don't want to pull away.  At a Christmas party a few years ago, a dear friend returned to visit.  At the end of the night, everyone was standing around and we all hugged, made the rounds to each neck, and then did it all over.  It seemed that we couldn't hug each other enough.  One friend jokingly said "We're hugging like we'll never see each other again! We'll see each other in the morning!"  We all laughed and....well, hugged again.  I mention all this because, for some reason, I feel that with all the affection I give away I've neglected my Mom and Dad some of hat affection.  And I want to know why.  I've thought about it a lot and I've started to trace it back to the beginning of several deaths that seemed to pile up like a stack of unpaid bills.  First, my maternal grandma passed away.  It was a strange feeling.  Death is, of course, a natural part of life.  But she was just gone.  It felt so strange and the air was heavy.  Then, within a month of each other, both of my grandfathers passed away.  This past April my father's mother passed away unexpectedly and quite horribly.  Dad's heartbroken blue eyes never looked as lost and young as they did when I finally made it to Missouri where the service took place.

What on earth to I say to my motherless father?

Now, most of these events would seem to bond families and help incite a hugging marathon.  Typically people hug to comfort another.  And this is where I failed.  In my own confusion on how to deal with the loss of my parents' parents, I shrunk back into my own hole instead of reaching out to my parents and taking them into my arms for consolation.  You know, when the nurtured becomes the nurturer.  I failed - each time, with each loss.  And it just kind of led to less and less long embraces.  Less and less hand holding and forehead kisses.  Fewer back rubbing, hair stroking, cheek kissing for no reason, and more distance that was further than 8 hours of driving.

This is all so personal and I feel like I'm being choked with fear for sharing it.  But, I believe it's important.  It is important that my parents know how deeply I regret pulling back and retreating because I didn't know how to deal with the loss of a grandparents.  That hole I crawled inside of led to a weight that sat in the room when we were all together. It's also important for anyone who may stumble upon this post, to serve as a warning, Don't Do This.  I wanted to reach out and touch my mother's face or put my head on my daddy's chest, but I was afraid.  I felt they'd wonder why I was acting so strange or if  something was wrong and I wasn't telling them.  Well, I guess there was something.  I wanted to tell them...I'm sorry.

I love my Mommy and Daddy.  Even at 35 years old, there are times that I want to feel Mom's hands on my face and Dad's sweet kiss on my head.  I want Mommy and Daddy.  And to do that, I need to dive in and just wrap around them and embrace them past the awkwardness, past the comfort zone, and all way to the place where they feel my heart and intention.  Because they are my parents and they deserve my touch.  They deserve everything my created family gets from me.  And more.

I have a ritual that I try to do each time I settle in for the night. I hug my pillow and lift up positive thoughts for those I can't be with physically.  I say their names and tell them I'm sending my love.  To my sweet sister, to my oldest childhood friend and her husband and new baby girl, to my dear one across the ocean in another country, and finally to my Mom and Dad.  I have told my friends and sister about my ritual, but never my parents.  I guess I felt strange, but why?  Why would it ever be strange to tell them I'm sending my heart to them?  Why, Carrie?

Sometimes I'm overwhelmed with the fact that some of the most important people of my life live far away from me.  While I'm lucky to have my people here, I get sad that I can't be with everyone all the time.  But, that's just life. It happens. And now, more than ever, I know that the next time I see my parents I must bring them in close to my heart and hug them as if it will never happen again.  And maybe it's not for them at all.  Maybe it's for me...?  And so what? It will benefit us all.

I love you Mom and Dad.  I need you.  I yearn for your physical presence and I never want to regret a minute spent with you because I was afraid to just reach out and hug you.


Sunday, July 28, 2013

Words. Nothing but Words...?

Words are powerful.  In some cultures it is believed that by merely speaking words about someone, positive or negative, can act as a spell.  That whomever you are speaking about will start to manifest signs of your words.  It also works with the self.  The things you say about yourself become a reality, good or bad.  In the Western world we refer to this as the Self Fulfilling Prophecy.  It is the same principle as positive/negative self speak and gossiping.  Words are powerful.

My sister and I recently had a conversation about words.  Sentences formed in well crafted, or sometimes emotional spattering, that speak truths from the heart.  And how very sad it is that our culture has lost the art of the written word.  Of course books are still being published and the magazine industry isn't in trouble.  However, what happened to the hand written letter?  Remember when we wrote them and mailed them and had to wait in anticipation for person to receive it or to get one in the mailbox.  Now we just sit before a computer and type an email, hit send and there it is ready to be glanced at and sifted through during a boring meeting or right before the movie begins.  And with social media such as Facebook and Twitter, one can just "post" their thoughts and make them ambiguous.  There's little personalization.

When I moved away from the place I grew up, I relied on letters.  Any time I received a letter in the mail  I tore it open as soon as possible to read the note and see the drawings all scribbled because my friends and sister were always the kind to add a few extra pieces from the heart.  They were full of sentimentality and inside jokes and I kept them in a shoebox to look over again and again when I felt like I missed them and wanted their presence and energy in my day.  I would also send letters.  Taking an afternoon to design my thoughts and perfect my handwriting so that it was legible.  Mailing letters felt electric.  As if I were sending them a piece of my heart.  And for me, it was a piece of my heart.  It was cheaper than a long distance phone call, and lingered past the last "I love you" when we hung up the telephone.

In 1997 I had a young summer love just as the internet and emailed started to make its appearance in out every day lives.  This was pretty typical - I met a boy who loved far away and we were too young to really do anything with a relationship.  Neither of us were internet/email experts and we would send letters to one another filled with long term dreams and fantasies about a life far down the road where we lived in the same town and lived happily...well, you know.  I still keep in contact with this a man.  I hear from him via email probably once a month and he updates me on his life and plans.  Sometimes he sends me links to projects he is working on and we just trade ideas, dreams, fears.  It is all really similar to our summer romance except for the 161 years of life that have happened in between.  Once, in a long sentimental email, he admitted to me that he had kept a box of letters I had sent to him and sometimes he's read through them and remember that time. A time of innocence and beginnings.  We knew very little about the years that were ahead of us and there is, somehow, a great comfort in that ignorance.  It meant a lot to me that he had kept those letters, and even more that he told me.

I tend to wander over to the sentimental side quite often.  I keep useless little pieces of paper and things that remind me of someone. Especially things that have their handwriting on it. I used to feel strange about it but now that all of my grandparents are gone, when I come across something they've written I just stare at it for a while.  It's lovely to see their penmanship whether it's perfect or raw.  It's from their own hands.

I enjoy reading letters.  In fact I got my first tattoo this year and a piece of is is from a love letter written by Beethoven to his true love. Those words in their honest, desperate, most heart wrenching moments found their way on to a page hundreds of years ago.  And they found their way in to my heart and finally, on to my body as a permanent piece of something I believe in with my entire being. And in this one piece, it pretty much sums up everything I have pondered.  The emotion, the anticipation, the patience.  It's all there - written by someone who also created some of the world's most beautiful music.

   " Good morning, on July 7
Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all - Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits - Yes, unhappily it must be so - You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never - Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life - Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men - At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day - therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once - Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together - Be calm - love me - today - yesterday - what tearful longings for you - you - you - my life - my all - farewell. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.
ever thine
ever mine
ever ours


Monday, June 24, 2013

What a Little Moonlight Can Do

I've been on another self discovery journey lately.  I'm trying so very hard to be brave and to push myself past what others will think and just be honest.  I feel that I am a pretty honest person already, but I have things I'd like to share.  And I'm leaning on the honesty of those who inspire me.  Mostly my friends and family that have put themselves out there to be seen, read, heard.  Now, most people who know me would say "when were you ever afraid of being seen and heard?"  Well, I may put it all out there, but as the true Scorpio, I still have my secrets.

This weekend just seemed a bit magical.  The super moon was looming and everything leading up to it seemed cosmic.  Saturday I met two musicians who were traveling through Tulsa and decided to stop by the WGC (museum I now work for) and look at the space dedicated to a rebel folk singer.  These two men were brothers and folk singers.  Their sense of self was intoxicating.  They were not, in the least bit, egotistical band guys.  No, these two were gentle and docile with smiles that begged the question "what is the answer to your secret?"  The secret seemingly to be that they had a peace and clam in their hearts. After talking to these gentlemen I felt at peace myself.  And before they left one ran back in holding four cd's and gave them to me and said "We are really proud of this music" and it didn't have that sense of arrogance that one would expect when someone says they are proud of their own work.

Naturally I immediately headed back to my desk to take a listen.   I found it to be infenced by a lot of different styles and the lyrics were thoughtful and reflective. It was peaceful and I felt so very grateful for the gift of music and for the job I have that I am able to meet people like this nearly every single day.  I was further inspired to continue my own journey in writing and self exposure.

Saturday night came and I was ready for more inspiration. After a long day and dinner with friends, I came home and started to get comfortable for the evening.  My friend Julie text me a message that said "Come outside and bring a pillow".  I met her on the front lawn laying on a blanket gazing up at the great mystery in the sky. That big, beautiful, promising super moon on a Summer Solstice weekend.  I decided to take full advantage of the moment and listened to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata and his Piano Trio Op. 70 - "Ghosts".  I felt inspired.  I felt okay to dream again and I felt like I was getting recharged.

See, I've always been obsessed with the moon.  When I was a kid it would shine directly into my bedroom.  I would spend a great deal of time staring at it and dreaming.  So any time there's a full moon I plan my time accordingly.  In April I finally saw my first foreign full moon...Florence, Italy.  Ya.  That was pretty spectacular.

Sunday was the same thing.  I planned to spend time in the glow of a completely full super moon and all day I tried to let inspiration come so I'd be ready. That night I sat in a park and just listened to beautiful music.  To my surprise there were several other people in the same park enjoying the beautiful night.  I was so happy to see them, young and old, sitting and just gazing up at the beautiful moon.

I tried very hard to let myself be led to meditate on whatever came to mind and then let it go - the good and the bad.  Because the one thing that always comes to mind during a full moon period is the idea of balance.  When I lose it and start feeling all over the place that moon reminds me that it's all part of the big picture - the balance of good and bad, dark and light.

I love that moon.  I know it may just be a part of the solar system, a satellite to the earth, and nothing but a reflective rock.  But to me it's magic. It's a sign from beyond, call it god or the great mystery, it's a reminder that we are all so very tiny, yet significant.  And all of these thoughts that plow through our minds and drive us away from our true selves, they can just be what they are and left for another time because that magnificence in the sky takes precedence. For the moment we can just be still.

I'm sharing my dear friend's photo of the full super moon.  It's simply breath taking.

Monday, June 10, 2013

Whatever Happened to Saturday Night

I've been waiting for my shows to come back on tv and in the down time between seasons of Walk Dead, True Blood, and American Horror Story, my friends and I watch other shows to "fill the void".  So, lately we've been watching Supernatural.  It's not that great but it will do...for now.  The premise is two brothers travel the states looking for mysteries of another kind that need solving.  It's a fun, low grade scary kinda of show.  Well, since we're all watching this show and had a Saturday night free, four thirtysomething women geared up and went researching local lore.  What we found is that even though we're all dealing with things like mortgages, career choices, and typical woman things, somehow it's entirely possible to end the night as a screaming seventeen year-old with your best girl pals.

We started by driving down to a place called Cry Baby Bridge.  The legend goes like this: in 1928 a woman and her infant child were in a cross the bridge on a horse drawn carriage during a storm.  A crash of thunder spooked the horses, sending the carriage over on its side and depositing the baby in to the river below.  The young mother searched for her crying baby but could never find it and died devastated.  So, at this bridge you are supposed to hear the baby crying and see the ghost of the searching mother.  Well, I heard no crying and witness no ghostly mother asking if we've seen her infant.  Instead I saw four creeped out women daring one another to go up with hill, further in to the darkness.  At one point Shelton and I made it just past the bend, out of sight from our companions.  Shelton's pretty much a badass...except when it comes to ghost haunts.  As we were bravely climbing the small hill, she got spooked and just took of running.  Not wanting to be left alone in the dark on an abandoned road, I immediately took off after her screaming "don't leave me alone!" I ran so hard to catch up with her that I had a tragic wardrobe malfunction  and was forced to readjust everything back together like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.  Tuller and Nessa were waiting near a gate and ready to run if we were to clear the bend with a motherly ghost on tote.  However, nothing chased us and we piled back in the car to travel to our next creepy destination.


Our next stop was an old country cemetery where it is rumored that a boy was tragically hit while riding his bicycle and now haunts the cemetery where the accident happened, and where he was buried.  The road alone was chilling as it was off of an old highway and covered with trees dipping down like a scene from a horror film.  At first we passed the unassuming gated entrance.  Finally we turned back, parked and just....sat there.  The nearly synonymous vote between the four of us was to not get out.  Well, I'm curious as a cat so I hopped out and made my way to the gate.  Brave little Shelton joined me as we stood there looking at the foggy path that lead to the actual cemetery and decided...hell no.  We'll be satisfied with a looksee.  When we got back to the car, Nessa pulled out some Bicardi wine coolers and we all shared a major laugh.  Are we really sitting in  car drinking wine coolers in front of a cemetery on a Saturday night? Yes.  Yes we are in fact doing that.  Winning.  

It was getting late and we decided it was time to give up ghost hunting for the night, but not before we decided to try to scare the oncoming car by hiding our heads and popping up just as they passed.  Much to our dismay, the passing car didn't even slow down.  Hell, I'd figure they'd at least want to know why 4 grown women are trying to play a cemetery prank on the locals.  But they either didn't see us or didn't care.

The drive home was nothing but self deprecating jokes about how lame we were acting and a little game we created called Things Alan Rickman Has Never Said.  Example: "I need to go to Wal-Mart".

We laughed so hard at ourselves and had a really good time regardless of the fact that someone may accuse us of being completely ridiculous and forever single because this is how we chose to spend a Saturday night.  Who gives a shit!  It was fun!

My friends are ridiculous.  I love them.


Saturday, June 8, 2013


Today is a beautiful day that has followed a great night.  It was First Friday in Tulsa and all of the museums were open, live music was playing, and people were crawling everywhere.  I couldn't believe it was Tulsa.  I had a hard time wrapping my head around the growth that has happened in this Dust Bowl city.  It was pretty great actually.  And the First Friday brought out a lot of people I haven't seen in a while.  It was lovely to see friends - smiling, laughing, happy friends.

The museum I now work for is dedicated to music and its impact on society.  I love it here.  Each day I find a reason to be inspired and I see  faces of people who are also finding inspiration.  And there is no shortage of live music.  We have a theater in the museum and there is a concert stage right outside in the park.  Each day you'll see people sitting out there playing, meeting other musicians, talking about their passion and and enjoying the company of other passionate people.  It's truly a beautiful time to be in the heart of a growing arts district.  And Tulsa has always appreciated and supported its local muscians.

I've always been someone who relates to music with or without lyrics.  I guess my number one hobby is listening to music and analyzing the style, mood, phrasing, and lyrics if it has vocals.   Yesterday while a duo was casually working on a song from their new album, I popped in to watch and some lyrics caught my attention: "Don't let it break you, I hate this for you".  The song was quiet and beautiful and the singer's voice was soft and very delicate.  Appropriate for delivering the simple yet honest words in the song.  I wondered why she had written this song and who it was about.  Honestly, none of the other lyrics stood out to me, but that line just really struck my heart.  Who is she singing about?

I love folk music.  When I got home I started listening to one of my favorite contemporary singers, Rufus Wainwright.  He has an interesting perspective on the world and his songs don't always make sense, but the do....somehow.  I love his writing style and he makes no apologies for writing from life.  His song "Natasha" seems obscure at first listen.  The lyrics don't seem to make perfect sense and that's what I loved about it.  When I first heard it I had to get to the bottom of it and I researched hundreds of wiki articles, Youtube videos, etc.  Finally on his own website I found an article where Rufus himself explained the meaning of the sweet, yet confusing song.  It turns out he wrote it for his friend and actress Natasha Lyonne.  Apparently the girl has a serious addiction to harsh drugs and was found living in her apartment in terrible conditions.  She was very ill with a heart and lung infection and was also tested positive for Hepatitis C.  Knowing all of this and listening again, I found that it started to make sense.  While the lyrics are scattered, seeing someone in that condition makes no sense.  So, he just wrote from his heart, seemingly unedited.  How beautiful. 

I've listened to this song today a few times.  How tragic, how brave.  However I don't know how I feel about being so transparent.  It's....scary!

You walk alone in the valley of life
In the shadow of love under the trees of happiness

You walk alone like a baby unborn
Like a father unknown
Like a pocket penniless

I'm happy that you really care
But do you really know
How scary
This is for you and is for me?
Oh do you you really know?
Do you really know? oh..

All I can do
Is write a song for you
Oh Natasha

For you I sit alone on the cozy ground floor
On a bench by the garden
Waiting also
Waiting for love and thinking of all of the
Catty remarks I also swallow

And as I've often asked before
Does anybody know
How scary
This is for you and is for me?
Does anybody know?
Anybody know? oh...

All I can do
Is write a song for you
Oh Natasha
All I can do
Is write a song for you

Monday, June 3, 2013

Quieting The Shouldbes

I guess each year I go through a period when I start listening to peripherals telling me what I should be doing with my life.  For the last two months they've been rather loud and I started to listen and take their words to heart.  Not a good idea.

There is a major difference in good advice and those who want to tell you what you should be doing with your time.  And lately the Shouldbes have been telling me I should start dating.  Great, thanks.

Unfortunately I didn't just walk away and continue along with my daily routine of coffee, laughter, and friends.  Instead I began to contemplate dating and immediately choked back the urge to vomit. What is dating now?  A long time ago when I did date it meant awkward conversations and moments of hand brushes and lean-ins.  Yuck!  After the Shouldbes tell me I should start dating there is usually the following statements: "I know this really nice guy", "You're a catch", and "You need to put yourself back on the market".

Let's address the statements.

1. "I know this really nice guy" - Good for you!  I'm glad you know a nice man; he sounds lovely.  However, if you're going to imply that we need to meet I will probably give you a blank stare.  No words, just a stare.  Because while you may think it is impossible for me to meet people, you couldn't be further from the truth. I meet people every single day of my life.  I meet great people.  I meet attractive people and some of them are men!  Yes, men!  But I have no interest in meeting this really nice guy during an awkward dinner at your house while you and your husband study us to see if there's a connection.  And if you don't see it sparking, you push and try to force it to happen. And each time I get up to go to the kitchen you follow me and ask "Well, what do you think?" to which I will reply "I'd rather be eating glass".  And that may end our perfectly polite acquaintanceship because let's face it, this will never end.  Next you'll want to introduce me to your weird cousin who has just seen some "tough times".   

2. "You're a catch" - I'm sorry... I'm a what?  A catch?  I'm a fish?  What are you saying?  I understand that you're not trying to be a jerk, I know.  But let's talk about this statement.  To catch something is to trap it, to keep it, to cook and eat it...or mount it in a wall. Considering where I currently reside, in the Bible belt where gender roles are expectations are still clinging to a 1963 way of thinking, being a catch makes me feel suffocated and....colorless.  Most of the time people who say this don't mean anything harmful, but it is still very much a statement living in the universe of a severe male gaze and I have no intention to be caught in that 

3. "You need to put yourself back on the market" - My least favorite of all these seemingly polite comments made to single people the world over. And exactly what market are we referring to here?  Because you seem to think I need to invest myself in playing the relationship stock market; trading up and down to find a mate.  No.  No, no, no..and no!  I am aware of and eHarmony which are two resources for single people needing assistance and a marketing plan to meet people.  But see, I'm not that desperate.  Yes, I said it.  Those institutions are not meant for me.  I am a people person and I enjoy talking and getting to know humans -not inflated, self-indulgent profiles that shed little light on the real person and hide the underlying reason for most singles using these sites, which is "I'm looking for sex".  There is no market to which I need to make an appearance. 

I know someone reading this may think I'm over sensitive and touchy.  To that I say - think what you wish.  I don't really care.  All I want you to do is stay out of my business when it comes to how I choose to spend my time.  I like my friends.  They make me laugh - a lot!  I have the best time and feel the most fulfilled when I've had a lovely night of zero pressure and loads of laughter.  That is what makes me glow.  That is what love feels like to me.  If this bothers you I'd be inclined to ask you what your definition of a relationship is because you've been so interested in the lack of one in my life that you've neglected your own.  

I'm a happy person and I don't want to waste another single second lamenting on the things I don' have when  love and companionship is sitting right next to me in the form of a loyal friend.  I don't want to waste time feeling sorry for myself because I don't have children or because I may never find "that guy".  And I refuse to do something I do not want to do just to make the Shouldbes feel better. 

I'm doing okay, guys.  Really.  Are you?


Sunday, April 7, 2013

My Grandma, an Unusual Woman

I can't help but be a little sister.  Dawn wrote a beautiful memorial to our grandmother, and like any little sister, I had to copy big sister.  I just want to take a moment to capture some of my favorite memories of a woman I called Grandma.

Barbara Prudden Clevenger came to this world on July, 1, 1933 and departed this world to be with her beloved husband, Ernie, on April 5, 2013.  To me it makes perfect sense. Grandma always loved the spring. She dressed in spring colors pretty much all year round and loved the flowers and bright blue skies of the season.  I can't say for sure if spring was her favorite time of the year, but she always seemed particularly fond of April, May, and June.

Grandma was unusual.  She lived her life to a peculiar tune and was always finding a reason to smile.  She wasn't mean, loud, or scary as some grandmas.  Instead she enjoyed laughter and over sentimental gestures like calling just to tell me a story she remembered about when she and Grandpa visited us in Texas when Dawn and I were tiny.  

She liked to recall the old days, when she was a young girl who fell in love with the most handsome boy she had ever seen.  The boy who became a veteran of WWII.  The boy who was forced to grow from a boy to a man while he was in Japan and saw things that would haunt him for the rest of his life.  The man who was awarded for his bravery when he returned to help his fellow fallen soldiers. The man who became her husband and best friend through trials, sickness, and immense pain.  She was in love with that boy. And I think to her, he remained that handsome boy for over 60 years. Because each time she looked at him, her eyes sparkled with the same intensity of a young girl seeing the man of her dreams for the very first time.  

Grandma would go on and on for hours about the days of her youth.  When I was about 17, my grandparents and aunt Frankie stopped in Tulsa on their wait to Houston.  I hitched a ride with them as I was heading down to spend time with Dawn.  A trip that usually takes 8 hours turned into a 12 hour journey through Oklahoma and Texas that I will never forget.  I sat in the back seat with Frankie and it was probably an hour into the trip when Grandma started talking about life during the Great Depression.  Most of the stories were about simple survival and making the most out of limited means.  She told me about how her parents and siblings often grouped with other families and combined resources to make life bearable.  Some of the things she witnessed would have been too much for my young heart and mind to overcome.  But Grandma was unique.  She'd been through hell and back, saw things that nightmares are made of, and lived through it with a smile on her face.  In fact, her favorite stories were the ones about having fun even while the world was going to shit!  Grandpa was silent for the most part, but at one point her turned his head and said "Barbara!  Nobody wants to hear your crazy stories!".  But I did.  We did!  Frankie and I sat in the back saying to one another "we should be writing this down...".  I will never forget that trip.  

My Grandma was also a champion for the underdog. When she loved someone, she loved them wholly and unconditionally   Even when they messed up and even when everyone else turned their back on them, Grandma still loved them and didn't hide her affections.  She often seemed riddled with confusion and felt helpless when her people weren't getting along.  She just wanted her family to be together and love one another.  It didn't always happen as she desired but she never gave up hope that it was possible.  She was everyone's cheerleader...even when they didn't deserve her accolades. 

Did I mention that my grandmother was unique?  Boy was she!  She loved being involved and active so to make things more interesting for herself she got a job at T G & Y.  In case you don't remember it was a little department store kind of like Family Dollar or General Dollar.  She always had a story about what happened at work that day and it was always, and I mean always something interesting.  One of my favorite stories is her unusual relationship with and individual on the fringe of society.  I never knew his name, but he lived in our neighborhood. He always wore white linen and rode around town on, I guess you'd say tricycle.  I don't know what else it would be called.  He had long white hair, was very quite and never bothered anyone.  He'd just ride by in the sunshine, blinding you as the light reflected from the pale skin, hair, and clothes he wore.  Oh!  Did I mention he was a cross dresser? Yes - white hair, pale skin, white linen, lips and cheeks.  Well, this man would ride to T G & Y where he met Grandma - a stranger to nobody and friend to everyone.  Grandma didn't even seem phased by this odd person. Instead, she walked around the store and helped him pick out makeup! Knowing my grandmother, the linen donned cross dresser probably knew our entire family history, how long she'd been married, what her children and grandchildren's names were, and that her favorite color was anything girly.  The poor guy probably never said a word.  But, for a moment, imagine his gratitude for this crazy old lady who didn't even blink at the site of him.  Instead she told him where to park the tricycle and what shade would look best against his transparent skin. That was my Grandma.  No, she wasn't an activist for any cause, she was just kind.  I'd call it Christlike.  She had a smile and I'm sure it was never forgotten by those she touched with her warm heart.

The thing I believe Grandma passed down to me was her childlike wonder of the world.  My dad certainly has it and I have it, too.  It's in our bright blue eyes and when I look at my reflection, I see her and the hope she carried in her heart for everyone she loved.  

Thank you, Grandma.  Thank you for the late nights watching weird television shows while we painted our nails and talked about boys.  Thank you for the endless supply of ghost stories that frightened me and excited me!  Thank you for taking me to church and asking the preacher to allow me to sing while you sat on the front row and watched. Not as if you were watching Carrie, but as if you were watching a star.  You certainly made me feel like one in your eyes.  Thank you for doing anything for a laugh!  Whether you were making a silly face or  dumping sugar on your head, thank you for teaching me the importance of smiling through the tears.  Thank you for being the most unlikely teacher of tolerance.  Thank you for loving music and sharing it with me.

Grandma, you rarely let them see you sweat, and if they did you made a joke out of it to relive the pressure.  And today, while I sit and think about you, a song comes to mind and I can see you singing along. And it is no accident that it's a Charlie Chaplin song!  So, here's to you Grandma! I carry you in my heart forever. I love you


Friday, March 29, 2013

Nobody Got Time for That

I haven't written in a while because I got busy, got distracted, got lazy.  But, here I am on an early spring day with a lot on my mind.  I am finding it hard to focus on one thing because it seems that nothing and everything is going on all at once.

Okay - here's the thing.  I try to be very positive in anything I make public.  Of course I have my opinion but I try to keep things on the up and up.  However, lately I feel a little like I may be untruthful with my good will.  Some things just don't deserve my positive spin.  I'm tired of keeping my mouth shut about it, too.

Here is my biggest complaint: Shitty people.

I'm so sick of nasty, awful, mean, manipulative people.  I'm done!  And I don't want to be nice to them.  I don't want to say "Well at least she did this..." or "At least he was that...".  No!  At the end of the day when someone is a shitty person, who doesn't have basic human decency, they do not deserve my kindness.

Various social medias remind me on a daily basis just how shitty some people really are, and it is exhausting. I don't understand why some individuals feel it necessary to be so awful.  To be bullies!  Usually I can ignore it but in the last few weeks I just feel overrun by idiots who think it is okay to be an asshole because nobody has to take responsibility for failing at humanity.

I'm so sick of dealing with adult children.  It's one thing to be young a heart, and another to be a spoiled brat who makes another miserable because they are unhappy.  Just stop it!  Grab a mirror and take a look at yourself for a moment.  What do you gain from being so awful that someone else is left feeling low?

I'm not a shitty person and I'm so grateful for that. I make mistakes, accidentally hurt people I care for, and sometimes say hings I don't mean out of anger.  But damn it I am a great person.  I live by the golden rule and I love my people fiercely.  I have no complaints about the core of my heart because I know my intentions are pure.    But today, I'm running from assholes.  I can't be bothered with their bull shit.  And, I tell you this with the truest conviction: your shitty misery will not encourage me to join you.  No, in fact you will reap the benefits of bad karma.  Trust me...."they" always do.

Please be kind.  Please.  This is a tough world we live in.  Be nice.  Do right.


Wednesday, February 13, 2013

The Greatest of These is Love

Valentine's Day is tomorrow and already I'm seeing flowers, cookies, and other types of edible love offerings being delivered to the office.  And, of course, Facebook is lit up about the dreaded holiday.  It seems to not  matter that it is 2013 and everyone makes fun of the day, people still want to express their loneliness on this day.  

"Another year alone"

"Guess I will spend it with my dog"


These are some of the things I'm already tired of sifting through in various social medias.  Along with the invites to "Anti-Valentine's Day Movie Party".  Blugh, no thanks!

I'm not sure why some people like to draw so much attention to the fact that they are dateless and will be spending another week night on the sofa in their pajamas.  Is it perhaps a call to action?  "I'm all alone.  Rescue me".  And it's no better with people posting photos of ridiculous teddy bears wearing red t-shirts that read " I Wuv U".  Why is Valentine's Day so damn important - good o bad?  I think the answer may be found in the emotional maturity level of the bragger or beggar.  

See, I'm frustrated with the holiday.  No, it's not because I don't have a date and someone to shower me with flowers and chocolates to wreck my diet.  I don't care about all of that.  What I am disappointed in is the reaction people have to a day that is supposed to celebrate love.  You don't have a date?  Okay....but don't you have a lot of friends?  You're a single dad?  But, doesn't your daughter adore you?  Valentine's Day doesn't have to be for lovers - that's Virginia!  

My point is this: when you whine on social media, in the office, or to your friends about how lonely and unloved you are, well, that makes you an asshole, and perhaps why are you single.  Your mom loves you, right?  You sister thinks you hung the moon.  Your friends?  Shit!  They couldn't live without you.  So, before you decide to pop in Celine Dion's "All By Myself" and wrap yourself up in pity party for one, look around.  Perhaps you are more loved than you realized.  And even if it's not love, there is someone who counts on seeing your face, hearing your voice, or getting an occasional text message from you that just brightens their day.  Hell, maybe that lady who serves you coffee every morning really looks forward to your arrival because, for whatever reason, you just make it a good day. 

I don't want to be misunderstood.  If you are in love, by all means you are lucky!  Isn't that the best feeling in the world?  But, just because someone is single, not in a relationship, it doesn't mean that we are unloved.  I, for one, am in the middle of experiencing some of the greatest love of my life, and all of it coming from family and friends.

Happy Valentine's Day.  I wish you love.....

Sunday, February 10, 2013

God Bless Us, America

There is something wrong in my country.  It seems like an over simplified statement, but sadly it is very true.

Each day our morning news brings us stories of great violence happening right down the street.  From Newtown to the quadruple homicide that took place here in Tulsa,  the amount of violent murders is gaining momentum and only proving that we, the people, of the United States of America  have a problem.

Of course there is violence all of there world. Of course there is great injustice and terrible crimes taking places daily in other countries. But I'm not talking about other places. I am talking about right here in my own back yard.  America is stressed out.

The "American Dream" is something we strive to attain and taking up that call leads us to unfulfilled lives.  We are over weight, over worked, under paid, under valued by others and ourselves.  We work for something that seems unattainable and the result is a nation of unhappy people who live in a country with such great potential.  Instead of experiencing life, we walk through it with our heads lowered to the ground, counting down the days until our next vacation or retirement.  And we are even shamed for taking vacation and asked to work while we're off and out of the office.   And what is it all for?  What is the reward?  We have disconnected from one and another and placed more value on stuff. Stuff that means nothing and we have lost our ability to follow what we truly desire.

I'm so sad for this nation.  I mean, this is the United States of America!  The land of opportunity   The "Free World", the "New World".  And what are we doing with it other than drinking too much, eating too much, and taking loads of medication for depression and anxiety?

It's so frustrating and heart breaking.  What do we have to get our shit together, We must stop it and learn to relax and enjoy life again.  I just don't know how to encourage this thinking.  To a lot of people it seems irresponsible and lazy.  So where is the happy medium?

I have no answers.  I'm only asking because I am desperate to learn how to change my own life so that I may enjoy it and be more fulfilled.

Dear god, help us all.....

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

"Do Something That Scares You, Carrie"

I promised myself that in 2013 I would take more risks, walk outside my comfort zone, and do something that scares me.  Before the first month of the new year ended, I added one check to my list.  And the results were liberating.

Each and every one of us have our limits.  I tend to feel that I am a pretty daring person.  I mean, I don't always go out and seek something daring.  But, if something is suggested to me I just may take the opportunity.  I admire people who do things that are uncomfortable but hold their heads up as brave soldiers marching into the field of the great unknown.  I have so many beautiful people in my life who are so courageous and they inspire me to be brave.

I think it is best to scare yourself from time to time.  Otherwise you live a life in taupe and gray, and that's just no fun - is it?  Since I made this bold choice, I feel as if it has opened the door to more risks and adventures.   I mean, it may have only been something small in the scheme of things, but it certainly helped light a fire under my ass.  And essentially that's all I was looking for in this experience.

I don't know what's next on my risk taking list, but I'm hoping for something big and I'm excited.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Pour a Little Gibb On It

We all deal with disappointment.  It is a part of life.  We're disappointed in situations, in people, in ourselves, and sometimes all at once.  And how we deal with various from person to person.  Some of us drink, some of us eat our feelings.  Some of us shop, while others choose to be in large social groups, forgetting we were ever disappointed.

Recently I felt very disappointed and decided to hide.  I didn't want to open my heart up to everyone and talk about it, because everyone reacts differently and frankly, I wasn't interested in their opinions.  The matter I was working through was only shared with one person.  Someone I feel very close to through honesty and respect, a person who would knows exactly how I feel with one word: "No".   What an ugly times.  But it became difficult because I found myself not communicating at all.  I didn't talk to my sister on the phone much, and that's very unusual. I just hid. And I feel like I did the right thing. Because my tendency to want to feel better sometimes leads to me over sharing and even feeling stupid.  But I had a heavy heart and I needed to hide.  So I did.

While I was hiding, I did the thing I do best.  I listened to all kinds of music.  I felt 14 years old sitting in my room listening.  Trying to find something, but I have no idea what that was.  I discovered loads of news music and artists and finally felt myself becoming ready to be social again.  Not too social.  I stayed home for most of the weekend and listened to the Bee Gees.

When I woke up this morning, I felt more like myself. I felt like taking on the day and making the best out of a beautiful sky.  While I was going through my "to do" list, I became more and more excited about the issue I was disappointed in - meaning, I felt "this is only the beginning".  And, as if I were dumped in a tub full of warm water, I let go.  I looked in the mirror and I saw a woman that has been all over the emotional map in the last few years, but here she is dreaming again.


That was the point.  That was why I needed to hide.  Nobody is going to tell Carrie what she needs to hear until she hears it through her own voice.  That's so hard to remember, isn't it?   But when it finally resonates, you can wipe the dirt off and get back on the horse.

Fearlessness isn't something I can charge into any situation with, knowing I may fall flat on my face.  However, I'm learning to be more fearless.  I want to take huge risks this year.  I want to do things that scare me and I want to truly understand the limits of my own creative will.  What do I really want, what amount of disappointment can I take before I give up?  And what am I truly willing to put out there in the universe?

I can't answer all of those questions right now.  I don't need to right now.  But, as far as my recent disappointment?  Well, it's time to let it go.  Poof!  Be gone!

So, I turned on my ipod, and, well, I let the smooth harmonies of the Bee Gees take me away......and it was better than yoga.

Thanks, mates! 

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Pillows Save Lives

I recently went home from the holidays.  Back to Houston - back to the grounds of my youth.  One night my family and I met up with my oldest friend, Elaine, and her husband Alex.  They are pregnant with their first child and are both over the moon about it.  She looks amazing and I don't know if I've ever seen her look so beautiful.

Elaine and I had a long history and a friendship that has been through a lot, and survived a lot.  I met her when I was a wee tot in a class called Mission Friends.  We shared a laugh over a fart joke and not much as changed.  Any time we see one another, it's always reduced to potty humor and childlike antics.  We still manage to find the time to act as if we were 10 years old, laughing like maniacs and punching one another like boys do on a playground.  Well, not now as she is clearly prego and that would just be cruel on my part.  It doesn't, however, keep her from punching me!  Nope, some things never change. 

After we had dinner, Elaine, Alex and I all went to my sister's house and started dishing about stories from the past.  While we're only in our 30's, telling stories about our youth never gets old, especially when we have a captive audience.  Somehow a particularly ridiculous story came up, and we relived it with Dawn and Alex, laughing so hard i nearly sent her into early labor.

Elaine and I were brats, but we were very innocent.  We kept each other out of a lot of trouble because all we wanted to do was laugh and have fun.  When she got her driver's licenses, she became the one with the wheels.  At some point her parents bought her a blue Chevy Beretta.  Mistake #1.  Elaine drove that car like a bat out of hell.  At times you'd see a blue streak zip by blaring Snoop Dogg and, well, Elaine was here.  We raced all over town in that car.  We were two super heroes out to spread laughter. 

Remember the Chevy Beretta?

"...ain't nuthin' but a G thang, baybay..."
Ya - that's it. But when we were together, it seemed like this....

In fact, out friend Kalan said any time we saw us drive up, he instinctively heard the Batman theme song in his head. 

Well, one night we were out way past our curfew and the speed demon, Elaine, decided to make up time by taking an old highway she often used as her personal race track.  We were careening down the road when we approached a truck, not going fast enough for her standards.  Elaine proceeded to pass the truck and give him the ol' Texas howdy when we were finally in front of him.  You know - arm stretched out and the middle finger pointed sharply in the air.  It was almost midnight and she was desperate to make it to the driveway before the clock landed at 12:00 am.  Speeding down the highway, we were making good time, that is until headlights were gaining on us like a ghost out of the fog.  

"Shit!  It's that dude in the truck!"

The truck caught up with us and started tailing us like a cop vs. robber chase.  We started to freak out and...assume.

"He probably has a gun!  He's going to shoot us!"

Nearing 100 mph, we couldn't go much faster.  With fear and speed, things would surely end tragically.  I looked around the car for...something.  Anything to help us.

"I have pillows in the back seat!"

Right!  Pillows!  Pillows?  Yes pillows!  So, with all reason and logic, we tied the pillows to our heads and ducked down to avoid bullets busting into the back of our skulls.  Why pillows?  To held absorb the bullets, of course!  

So, seconds until midnight, heading down the road over 100 mph, pillows tied to our heads, screaming like we were running form Jason (of Friday the 13th), the truck's lights seemed like beacons of death.  Coming for us to take our young innocent lives.  

"Oh crap!  Here he comes!"

The truck is now next to us, and the guy looks over at us.  Imagine this from his perspective.  Two teenage girls, screaming and crying with tears streaming down their faces...and pillows tied to their heads. 

He didn't even flip us off.

We finally made it home with hearts pounding and...yes pillows still tied to our heads. I guess we figured he may be lurking around  a dark corner to start the chase all over again.  

While Elaine and I told this story, both taking the spotlight to fill in the details, Dawn and Alex were holding themselves laughing.  We all had watery eyes and that laughing cough.  Days later when I had returned to Tulsa, my sister emailed me and said "I love that story.  It shows ignorance but it also shows how innocent you were."

It's tales like this that make me realize even the dumbest situations will eventually get a laugh.  At a moment in our lives when we thought "This is the end!  I love you to the moon and back", it only became one of my dearest and fondest memories.

Elaine will be a mother soon and I am going to be a Godmother (yesssssss).  I can't wait to entertain Haven with stories about Mommy and Carrie as stupid, innocent, sass mouthed kids.  Better yet,  I can't wait to embarrass her with these stories when she and her best friend start to drive.

I still love you to the moon and back. I'm sure if you could have found a way to drive there, we would have gone. 



Tuesday, January 8, 2013

I'm Just Being Nice, Dammit!!! EDIT

So, have you ever been in a situation where you're trying to be nice and it backfires in your face?  Big time?  It's so frustrating because you feel like you need to over explain yourself which only sinks you further down the hole, leaving you feeling like a grade A idiot.  This happened to me recently and it was, in my opinion, one of the scenarios I dread the most.

My friend Tuller and I went out for sushi on Friday.  We were seated at the bar by two men, probably in their mid to late 30's.  I'm a pretty friendly person and I'll talk to just about anyone so instinctively I said hello to both of them.  However, my friendliness was met with ...the look.  You know, that look that says "No thanks, honey".  Umm.  I was just being nice, jerk.  The two guys were involved in some deep conversation and I just brushed it off.  Whatever, right?  Tuller and I ordered and were having fun talking about shallow things like foreign trade agreements and human trafficking.  At some point I laid my phone on the bar and when I went to reach for it, something felt odd.  I realized I was reaching for one of the guys' phones and I said "Oops, I almost grabbed yours" to which he replied "You wouldn't have unlocked it.  It's not a tick-tack-toe", followed by the look again.

What's your problem, asshole?

I tried being nice and laughing it off, but I fear it made me look flirty and I didn't want to come off as the least bit interested.  I'm nice.  I'm really nice and we're kind of seated in close proximity so occasion, crossover happens.  I mean, I'm only being a decent person and smiling and when my elbow bumps into yous, I say "excuse me" or "sorry about that" and I make eye contact.  But it doesn't mean I want anything else from you, ok?

Tuller and I went on about our conversation and I noticed the guy kept giving me these...looks.  Again with the "I'm not interested in you, honey" looks.  You know? I started to get very irritated and I so badly wanted to stand up and shout at him.  But that would have made me look like a lunatic.  Throughout the entire dinner he and his friend were talking and looking over at us and I wanted to ask "what's the problem?" but I just continued on with my conversation with Tuller.  Finally the two men left and I couldn't have been more relieved.  He was just really irritating me.  Tuller knew exactly why this got under my skin, but let me shed some light on the situation.  This guy, whom I've never met before and was only extending common courtesy to, was in violation of 3 serious man rules!  And he had the nerve to think I was interested?  Ugh!

1. He was clearly nearing 40, yet he wore sagging butt jeans as if he were a 17 year rapper wannabe
2. It's January and that tan makes you look like a Cheeto.
3. And most importantly - waxed eyebrows!  And I'm not talking about some plucking.  These brows were a choice in a line of 50, named after famous Hollywood actresses and he chose the "Eva Longoria"

Once again my attempt to just be nice was mistaken for flirting and this guy, who looked like a middle aged mob wife, felt it was necessary to let me know he wasn't interested.  Gross.  Later Tuller and I met up with another friend at a tavern.  As we were about to leave Tuller grabbed me, pointed, and said "Carrie, look!  It's that Jersey Shore Lady Man!"  I tried sending him powerful glares that would shoot straight through his backwards cap and into his skull.  Take THAT Eva!  But, alas, the idiot was never phased by my long distance lazer stare.

Tuller and I laughed about it and I guess I'm over it.  But really, I just couldn't stand that fact that he felt like he "won". That somehow he felt better for being an asshole to me.  C'mon, man! You are so gross and I was just being nice.

Oh well.  The only thing I did win with this one was not getting arrested for assault.


Last night while I was in the middle of my crossfit class at the gym, I look up as my legs are spread wide open, and guess who!  YES!  Creepy/Asshole/Eyebrow guy!  He goes to my gym!  Why does the universe play such cruel jokes on me?  When our eyes met, I'm sure I looked like a deer in the headlights.  I proceeded to catch my breath and then I just played it off as if I had never seen him before.  But, in full florescent light, sans ridiculous backwards cap, he looks even more like a middle aged woman.  He looks like if John Travolta as a woman trying not to look like a man.  Whatever - it's my gym, too.  And he still looks stupid.  And while he was looking around the room for hot chicks, I'm sure they all felt a little weird being eye raped by guy who looks like an Avon salesperson.  Nasty.

Good Lord.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Stress/Lack of Sleep/Stress/SHIT!!

In my effort to be more honest and to blog more, I'm, well, blogging two days in a row.

I'm frustrated as hell today.  December was a very busy month and I worked 21 days straight before I had a day off.  Before going into the busy schedule, I made a promise to myself to work out at least  5 days a week, and I did just that.  I focused mainly on cardio as a stress reducer and fat burner.  I'm trying to get the remainder of this weight off.  Well, I counted every calorie, good or bad, worked out, tried to get quality sleep, and focused on the positive.  At the end of the month I showed no weight loss!  How is this possible????  I turned down loads of holiday food and even made myself consume more water.


Well, I did some research and apparently stress can lead to weight gain and weight retention even when you're counting calories and  following a work out plan.  Well, that's just great.  Fine!  Even though I made an effort to not be maxed out, I know I was stressed.  With Nutcracker and the general holiday madness, I think I need to find a way to de-stress.  One that doesn't include alcohol or laziness.  So, this morning I organized myself.  First thing - I planned out my workouts for the next two weeks.  My gym has loads of classes and I'm going to shake up my days by doing something different every single time I step foot in that place.  I've made a calendar of workouts that I'm going to do which include cycling class and circuit training with a few days of my typical carido/strength training thrown in so that I stay on control of my "me time".

I've come so far since August and I want to get to my goal by mid spring.  I don't have unattainable numbers so it's not like I'm trying to do the impossible.  I just want to get there.  I'm lucky to have a support system and a great gym that offers a lot of options.  I wish I could afford a trainer but that gets expensive very quickly.  I know what I'm doing, I know it takes time, and I know I can do this.  I'm just frustrated today and I need to get it out of my heart so that  I can move on and move forward.  I'm very proud of the progress I've made and I don't intend on stopping any time soon.  I deserve the best me possible, and I'm going to let myself have it for once.

Woo.  Deep breath.  I just needed to get that out.

I got this.

I got this.

I got this.

UPDATE I have lost 1 pound since the holidays have finally ended.  Yay.  It's all about maintaining stress.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

2013 - It's Not Complicated

Well, hello new year!

Wow.  When I take a look at the last year, I find that I'm still shocked at all that has happened and here I'm am with a smile and bright outlook on the year to come.

2012 wasn't a bad year at all.  It had ups and downs - so what, who cares?!  But it was a great year.  A year of learning, growing, understanding, letting go, and welcoming the new.  So much happened in 365 days and when it's smashed together in a seemingly insignificant number, it is amazing how quickly it truly flies by before you're ringing in another year. 

I took a moment to look over the resolutions I made last year and I think I truly stuck to them and learned from them.  I'm happy to say that I feel I made a lot of personal progress in 2012.  Now, this year is about taking more risks.  I want to jump, dive, and sail into another chapter.  But, there is a lot I still have to do to get there.

My resolutions are simple this year.

1. Be nice.  

2. Say "I love you" as much as possible.

3. Keep pushing myself physically

4. Find it.  Get it.  Live it.

5. Create more. 


I'm a pretty happy person.  No, I'm not always in a good mood and I have some really awful days.  However, I am blessed with love and friendship and I feel confident to take big risks this year.  I want to met more people, see more places, discover new things, and live, live, live!!!!

I haven't much to say about it.  I'm charging into another year of my life feeling happy and fresh.  I'm healthy and I have love.  What more could I ask for?

Oh!  And I have a few songs that I declare as my essential 2013 Playlist
Classic and True!!
Hit or Miss

Happy New Year, Ya'll!