There are always a million different things going through my head. Today it is that I am about three weeks shy of leaving this chapter of my life behind. I met with my undergraduate mentor from my anthropology degree yesterday. It was a meeting that left me feeling restored and realigned. I know that sounds odd. I became so distracted by so many things popping up out of the sidelines in my life that I lost my way. I lost touch with who I am. After I spoke with her everything unnecessary fell away. "You are an anthropologist," she told me, "it is in your heart." She struck a match in my brain, looked around and essentially said "what is this stuff?!" We agreed on so many things. 1. I did not wasted my time with my Masters in communication. 2. I now have a deeper and broader understanding of rhetoric. 3. I am a loyal person. 4. I am an observer who sees things most people do not. 5. There are big things in my horizon. 6. I have to realign myself. We spoke of some very viable options and writing projects that would be a good use of time.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Overcast mornings
Overcast mornings
Bright and sunny in the house
With love curled up in soft here
And the soft tap of keyboards
Sunday mornings are perfect.
Porridge warm in bowls
Makes for a nice warm breakfast
I smile at my
Good fortune at all the love
Sunday mornings are perfect.
Warm tea swirled in mugs
The soft glow of homey lamps
Illuminate rooms
Spreading their light and warm touch
Sunday mornings are perfect.
Ink pens move silent
Across the yellow paper
With cat curled up too
Purring on the plush warm couch
Sunday mornings are perfect.
Looking forward to
A lovely day of walking
In the cold fall air
Looking for good atmosphere
Sundays are perfect.
Bright and sunny in the house
With love curled up in soft here
And the soft tap of keyboards
Sunday mornings are perfect.
Porridge warm in bowls
Makes for a nice warm breakfast
I smile at my
Good fortune at all the love
Sunday mornings are perfect.
Warm tea swirled in mugs
The soft glow of homey lamps
Illuminate rooms
Spreading their light and warm touch
Sunday mornings are perfect.
Ink pens move silent
Across the yellow paper
With cat curled up too
Purring on the plush warm couch
Sunday mornings are perfect.
Looking forward to
A lovely day of walking
In the cold fall air
Looking for good atmosphere
Sundays are perfect.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Irony.
To continue the saga concerning my attempts at a "Fresh Brewed Life". I did begin to read the book. I took its advice. I bought a handsome leather bound journal and periodically pour myself into it. It is becoming a regular part of my routine but occasionally the days slip by before I realize the ink from a past entry was dry for quite some time. I digress, back to the book. I listened to the words pouring from the pages my eyes gripping onto anything that may engolf and sweep away the sharp sting still clinging. I had questions that needed answers and I was foolish enough to think that by analyzing a self help text I would uncover what I needed. I spent hours a day reading and re-reading passages. I participated in the guided journaling and during one entry it dawned on me what the process felt like...
Homework. In that very second, sitting at my dining room table still sleepy and comfy in pajamas and bath robe with my first cup of coffee and an open journal I was transported back into Mr. Sandler's second grade classroom. The sterile smell of a man who had long ago forgotten how to have fun settled like a thick cloud of smog in my mind. The yellow stained smile of a man who smoked too much grew vivid and the figure emerged holding out to me that damn manilla envelope full of worksheets that I hadan't completed during the week.
*flash* The same second grade me sitting at my grandparents dining room table feet dangling away from the floor, head in my hands, eracer bits everywhere and tears in my eyes trying to finish worksheets that I cared nothing about became the next vivid memory to settle. Question after question... "If Johnny has three apples and Suzy has four apples and Billy has eleven apples and John comes up and takes two of Billy's and three of Suzy's and all of Johnny's how many apples would he have?" Who cares? I was hungry and had no apples.
*flash* I was back in that horrible classroom writing a "journal entry" about a field trip we just took during which I was made to sit in the back of the bus again becuase I asked too many questions and pointed out too many things during the ride that no one else cared about. Prompted journal entries take me back to that. The first teacher who told me I was going on where in life. What this all reminded me of was my intense hatred of homework...and apples. Apples aside, homework always got in the way. In the second grade it got in the way of me going on troll hunts with my grandfather and sister, impromptu horseback riding, or anything that didn't include sitting at that dining room table. Homework is usually just busy work and I hate busy work.
The flashes through the less than appealing memories of years past happened so quickly. I understand now what people mean when they say their life flashed before their eyes and my flash was just a little blip. Long story short I never finished the book. My progress through the literature of "Fresh Brewed Life " was interupted by, well, life: persueing my graduate degree, the tutoring, and something new. I got preoccupied by my job, a new job...at Starbucks. I will allow a moment for the irony of the situation to set in. I set the busy work aside and set off to do something else. My fresh brewed life would start out every day by brewing fresh coffee and selling it to other wayward journey takers who are finding their way through the world. Mainly it's just U of M students. But that's okay. This is still the beginning...
The beginning of closing one chapter and discovering another. I choose the word discovering because life is nothing like a book. Comparing life to a book implies that it is nice and neat with bound pages, neatly draw illustrations and the chapters are all neatly labled and following directly after one another the way the ought to. But you and I , dear friend, know that life is more or less of an easter egg hunt where the eggs containing the chapters of our lives and what is to come next are camouflaged as rocks, bits of seaweed, newpapers in rubbish bins, etc all within an obstacle course resembling something of demlititarized zones abbutting the little house on the prarie but right now I am in Starbucks. I am working in Starbucks allowing my fresh brewed life to unfold itself through the decisions I make and the people I interact with. For example, a while ago I decided to apply fora Graduate Teaching Assistantship and just recieved word that I got it. A new chapter? Do chapters overlap? Why not?
To continue the saga concerning my attempts at a "Fresh Brewed Life". I did begin to read the book. I took its advice. I bought a handsome leather bound journal and periodically pour myself into it. It is becoming a regular part of my routine but occasionally the days slip by before I realize the ink from a past entry was dry for quite some time. I digress, back to the book. I listened to the words pouring from the pages my eyes gripping onto anything that may engolf and sweep away the sharp sting still clinging. I had questions that needed answers and I was foolish enough to think that by analyzing a self help text I would uncover what I needed. I spent hours a day reading and re-reading passages. I participated in the guided journaling and during one entry it dawned on me what the process felt like...
Homework. In that very second, sitting at my dining room table still sleepy and comfy in pajamas and bath robe with my first cup of coffee and an open journal I was transported back into Mr. Sandler's second grade classroom. The sterile smell of a man who had long ago forgotten how to have fun settled like a thick cloud of smog in my mind. The yellow stained smile of a man who smoked too much grew vivid and the figure emerged holding out to me that damn manilla envelope full of worksheets that I hadan't completed during the week.
*flash* The same second grade me sitting at my grandparents dining room table feet dangling away from the floor, head in my hands, eracer bits everywhere and tears in my eyes trying to finish worksheets that I cared nothing about became the next vivid memory to settle. Question after question... "If Johnny has three apples and Suzy has four apples and Billy has eleven apples and John comes up and takes two of Billy's and three of Suzy's and all of Johnny's how many apples would he have?" Who cares? I was hungry and had no apples.
*flash* I was back in that horrible classroom writing a "journal entry" about a field trip we just took during which I was made to sit in the back of the bus again becuase I asked too many questions and pointed out too many things during the ride that no one else cared about. Prompted journal entries take me back to that. The first teacher who told me I was going on where in life. What this all reminded me of was my intense hatred of homework...and apples. Apples aside, homework always got in the way. In the second grade it got in the way of me going on troll hunts with my grandfather and sister, impromptu horseback riding, or anything that didn't include sitting at that dining room table. Homework is usually just busy work and I hate busy work.
The flashes through the less than appealing memories of years past happened so quickly. I understand now what people mean when they say their life flashed before their eyes and my flash was just a little blip. Long story short I never finished the book. My progress through the literature of "Fresh Brewed Life " was interupted by, well, life: persueing my graduate degree, the tutoring, and something new. I got preoccupied by my job, a new job...at Starbucks. I will allow a moment for the irony of the situation to set in. I set the busy work aside and set off to do something else. My fresh brewed life would start out every day by brewing fresh coffee and selling it to other wayward journey takers who are finding their way through the world. Mainly it's just U of M students. But that's okay. This is still the beginning...
The beginning of closing one chapter and discovering another. I choose the word discovering because life is nothing like a book. Comparing life to a book implies that it is nice and neat with bound pages, neatly draw illustrations and the chapters are all neatly labled and following directly after one another the way the ought to. But you and I , dear friend, know that life is more or less of an easter egg hunt where the eggs containing the chapters of our lives and what is to come next are camouflaged as rocks, bits of seaweed, newpapers in rubbish bins, etc all within an obstacle course resembling something of demlititarized zones abbutting the little house on the prarie but right now I am in Starbucks. I am working in Starbucks allowing my fresh brewed life to unfold itself through the decisions I make and the people I interact with. For example, a while ago I decided to apply fora Graduate Teaching Assistantship and just recieved word that I got it. A new chapter? Do chapters overlap? Why not?
Monday, March 5, 2012
Tomorrow
Well, tomorrow is going to be the beginning of a bit of an adventure. A quest for a fresh brewed life if you will. Me, my mind and a cup of pressed black coffee will be on our way through a spiritual and physical journey with the goal of getting it together. Operation Willis is under way. I am 23 years old. And my life is not what I wanted it to be at this point; that much I have come to understand.
A couple weeks ago I finally took a good long look in the mirror. Granted, at the time, I just woke up after a night of drinking a third of a fifth of rum, a bottle of wine and at least one beer all followed by a horrific and satisfying round of crying. Not the heavy, bawling, sobbing, weepy, annoying stuff that you see in television programs. I am not a housewife nor do I live in Jersey Shore. I simply drank and then laid down and let the tears rolled out of my eyes and down the sides of my face, past my ears and onto my pillow. A couple hours must have passed before I finally drifted off. And that next morning I confronted myself in the mirror. The mirror is the most brutally honest creation that has ever graced mankind with its presence. The sight, to say in the least, wasn't pretty but it was real and heartbreaking. I have never looked like that in my life; dark circles, pale, miserably tired eyes, a stomach that hated me for not putting anything substantial into for days and, worse of all, the streaks. There were streaks where the tears had been sliding from the corners of my eyes down onto my pillow. I let someone make me feel like this. It was my fault. I trusted someone. I let them lie to me. Something about me made it impossible for them to tell me the truth and when they did it wasn't to my face. You won't get hurt if you don't pout yourself on the line. And I did. And I got hurt. That was clear in the reflection. A reflection that I will never forget.
But tomorrow I will begin to "Live Free or Die Hard". I don't know if you go the Willis reference or not. Operation Fresh Brewed didn't really seem fitting foe what I am going to accomplish though I am use the book "Fresh Brewed Life" as a tool to aid me in this journey. I am going to take that sad broken individual that I saw gazing back at me from the mirror that morning and clean her up. That process began over spring break and will continue probably forever. I have let myself go and now it is time to gather the pieces and put this hot mess of a puzzle back together again. Getting back into the water was my first step (I am an avid swimmer). That much I have accomplished. Cleaning my house was my second step. This was also accomplished. Getting all caught up on work. That I am still working on. Keeping myself active and getting back into shape physically, mentally and emotionally is also something I am working on. Mentally I am doing fine. It is the emotional and physical part that will be a challenge but I am already seeing improvements on both fronts.
But for tonight I am going to wrap myself up in my Florida sheets and comfy blankets drenched in Forever Sunshine and drift off into a sober slumber and awake tomorrow putting one foot in front of the other.
God help the person who tries to knock me down.
<3
A couple weeks ago I finally took a good long look in the mirror. Granted, at the time, I just woke up after a night of drinking a third of a fifth of rum, a bottle of wine and at least one beer all followed by a horrific and satisfying round of crying. Not the heavy, bawling, sobbing, weepy, annoying stuff that you see in television programs. I am not a housewife nor do I live in Jersey Shore. I simply drank and then laid down and let the tears rolled out of my eyes and down the sides of my face, past my ears and onto my pillow. A couple hours must have passed before I finally drifted off. And that next morning I confronted myself in the mirror. The mirror is the most brutally honest creation that has ever graced mankind with its presence. The sight, to say in the least, wasn't pretty but it was real and heartbreaking. I have never looked like that in my life; dark circles, pale, miserably tired eyes, a stomach that hated me for not putting anything substantial into for days and, worse of all, the streaks. There were streaks where the tears had been sliding from the corners of my eyes down onto my pillow. I let someone make me feel like this. It was my fault. I trusted someone. I let them lie to me. Something about me made it impossible for them to tell me the truth and when they did it wasn't to my face. You won't get hurt if you don't pout yourself on the line. And I did. And I got hurt. That was clear in the reflection. A reflection that I will never forget.
But tomorrow I will begin to "Live Free or Die Hard". I don't know if you go the Willis reference or not. Operation Fresh Brewed didn't really seem fitting foe what I am going to accomplish though I am use the book "Fresh Brewed Life" as a tool to aid me in this journey. I am going to take that sad broken individual that I saw gazing back at me from the mirror that morning and clean her up. That process began over spring break and will continue probably forever. I have let myself go and now it is time to gather the pieces and put this hot mess of a puzzle back together again. Getting back into the water was my first step (I am an avid swimmer). That much I have accomplished. Cleaning my house was my second step. This was also accomplished. Getting all caught up on work. That I am still working on. Keeping myself active and getting back into shape physically, mentally and emotionally is also something I am working on. Mentally I am doing fine. It is the emotional and physical part that will be a challenge but I am already seeing improvements on both fronts.
But for tonight I am going to wrap myself up in my Florida sheets and comfy blankets drenched in Forever Sunshine and drift off into a sober slumber and awake tomorrow putting one foot in front of the other.
God help the person who tries to knock me down.
<3
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Never mind
Well, not that anyone really cares (with the exception of my one follower), my life has come crashing down around me. That which I thought was a source of stability was an unfortunate fallacy in my life. I was looking for a wall, something which I could lean and rely upon, someone that could provide witness for my life and I could do the same for. I wish I had known that I was looking for such an individual when I was in the thick fog that clouded my proverbial judgement. I was under the impression that my temporary stilt exhibited these qualities. In short, to quote the spice girls, i am still "looking for a man, not a boy who thinks he can". If you do not fulfill this requirement you need not apply. I am tired and weary of morons, cowards and those who "aren't ready" for me yet.
My name is Virginia and I am an amazing individual not to be taken as a joke. I am a specialist in communications and the study of the human race. I swim six hours a week on average and wish to go sky diving. I will hike the full Appalachian Trail. I will run an ultra marathon. I have stared down death for both myself and others with a survival rate of 100% and have a a very low tolerance for nothing with the severe exception of bullshit. I am amazing and will meet my equivalency...eventually. I hope. Challenge presented.
Very soon I will go back to my regular posts of poetry and riddles. Some from back logs and journals some new and spur of the moment. Good night and sleep well.
My name is Virginia and I am an amazing individual not to be taken as a joke. I am a specialist in communications and the study of the human race. I swim six hours a week on average and wish to go sky diving. I will hike the full Appalachian Trail. I will run an ultra marathon. I have stared down death for both myself and others with a survival rate of 100% and have a a very low tolerance for nothing with the severe exception of bullshit. I am amazing and will meet my equivalency...eventually. I hope. Challenge presented.
Very soon I will go back to my regular posts of poetry and riddles. Some from back logs and journals some new and spur of the moment. Good night and sleep well.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
24 Hours Later...
Well, yesterday started off on the rough side but thankfully due to some amazing friends and the power of communication I believe that a lot of tangled ropes have been laid out straight. And I am feeling a whole lot better than I did. Long story short: an epilogue is in the works and I can have my tea and toast without having an anxiety attack.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Oh buddy, the truth from the recently more rested brokenhearted
The unfortunate truth about my situation, as provided by last night's (or this day's very early morning), is that I am not entirely sure about what is going on. Am I broken up over unfortunate realizations of someone else? Yes. Does most of this come from a certain element of confusion that I am not sure I have any control over? Yes. Will I forever remain brokenhearted? Buddy, I hope not because none of this is settling well with me.
I am an individual who loves to be in love and hates the world when it is all over. Ay, there's the rub and main source of my frustration...is it all over? I have no clue. Do I want it to be? Hell no! And as a scholar of communication I am trying very hard not to over analyze anything that happens. This is not easy in the slightest. And yes I know what you're thinking because I have thought it too. "This happens to everyone" "If it is meant to happen it will happen" "Its something you just have to work through" "Is it really worth your time?" I realize all of this. But when you think you finally found a guy who isn't an asshole and is available and he chooses you to be his girlfriend it makes you one of the happiest people in the world. All of the time before what ever this is that we have going on now I was happier than I have ever been.
But what does this mean in my day to day life? Under it all I am not happy. There are glimpses of happiness throughout my day. Its as though my life has just been all flipped around. Instead of generally being happy all the time with moments of the not so joyful nature it is reversed. Now I can't see that I have a text or a phone call without panicking first and smiling later. My first thought is "Is this going to be bad news". I use to smile, every time, no matter how bad my day was. I can't get that back and it is so very unfortunate. (And that children is why you always do those things face to face and never digitally). In other facets of my life I have either put them on hold, given up, don't care or they remain fairly untainted except by my, what I hope to be temporary, mental state. My motivation in course work is a day by day battle. I'm either highly enthused (which I take advantage of) or depressingly unmotivated.
My mantra: Everything happens for a reason. Time will show it.
My dilemma: I'm not a patient person. I try to be but its hard. Especially when I knew things were so good and that briefly I was happy with another person who seemed to be happy too.
And now even my cat won't have anything to do with me because I had to give him his ear drops..."Dobby, I thought we were over this whole ear mite thing. Sorry bud." Oh, he really isn't happy.
Well, things will get sorted out and now, for now, I will just have to make the best of a rather unpleasant situation.
<3
I am an individual who loves to be in love and hates the world when it is all over. Ay, there's the rub and main source of my frustration...is it all over? I have no clue. Do I want it to be? Hell no! And as a scholar of communication I am trying very hard not to over analyze anything that happens. This is not easy in the slightest. And yes I know what you're thinking because I have thought it too. "This happens to everyone" "If it is meant to happen it will happen" "Its something you just have to work through" "Is it really worth your time?" I realize all of this. But when you think you finally found a guy who isn't an asshole and is available and he chooses you to be his girlfriend it makes you one of the happiest people in the world. All of the time before what ever this is that we have going on now I was happier than I have ever been.
But what does this mean in my day to day life? Under it all I am not happy. There are glimpses of happiness throughout my day. Its as though my life has just been all flipped around. Instead of generally being happy all the time with moments of the not so joyful nature it is reversed. Now I can't see that I have a text or a phone call without panicking first and smiling later. My first thought is "Is this going to be bad news". I use to smile, every time, no matter how bad my day was. I can't get that back and it is so very unfortunate. (And that children is why you always do those things face to face and never digitally). In other facets of my life I have either put them on hold, given up, don't care or they remain fairly untainted except by my, what I hope to be temporary, mental state. My motivation in course work is a day by day battle. I'm either highly enthused (which I take advantage of) or depressingly unmotivated.
My mantra: Everything happens for a reason. Time will show it.
My dilemma: I'm not a patient person. I try to be but its hard. Especially when I knew things were so good and that briefly I was happy with another person who seemed to be happy too.
And now even my cat won't have anything to do with me because I had to give him his ear drops..."Dobby, I thought we were over this whole ear mite thing. Sorry bud." Oh, he really isn't happy.
Well, things will get sorted out and now, for now, I will just have to make the best of a rather unpleasant situation.
<3
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