"Don't let them have that power over you!" My parents constantly told me this growing up.
It may be risky writing this today, I have been in a very peculiar mood the entire day, full of my usual highs with some pretty low lows. A tiny, unthrilling roller coaster is typical for someone like me, but this day has been Medusa (six flags, Vallejo)!
I'll start with a story. Today reality hit me hard that the man I fancied does not fancy me back. Sounds silly yes, but I tell you, I'm in a mood today. I know what my parents would say, they would say, "Don't give him that power over you" if they had heard my sobs. A good friend was able to fill me with fluffy goodness/encouragement, so that mountain has been both climbed descended. Stupid boys. Side story time...
After the fancy man incident, at dinner tonight, a new cute man gave me a funny look (a look that I get a lot, being unique, though I am never quite sure how to interpret it). I had met him, so I asked him how he was AFTER I saw him giving me the look. He was uninterested in answering, as he made clear by walking away. Now, the type of the mood I am in I wanted to take him by the cheeks and shake his head and screech some inaudible blatherings at him until he learned his lesson. I refrained, too distracted by the deliciously fruity popsicle I had just acquired.
All this is to bring me to the point of power. Who am I letting rule my moods? What determines my happiness? In other words, who has power in my life? By breaking down when the fancy man failed to acknowledge me properly I gave the power to him. He has no idea, of course, or if he does he should die a million deaths in the fiery pit of destruction.
YOU SHOULD BE THE ONE DETERMINING WHAT DETERMINES YOUR HAPPINESS. My Constant, the one Constant in my crazy life is Christ and who I am in Him. He calls me redeemed, and therefore beautiful and blessed. My happiness needs to be drawn from this. Maybe you can relate, some of the contenders for the top power holders in my life have been: friends, boys, professors, and stress-level. Sock all those guys in the face and say YES to the True Source of Delight.
I realize this is a shorter post than usually, but (like I'm trying to learn), be thankful for what you do have, stop looking at what you don't have.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
This time last year.
If I had written this a month earlier than I could say that this time last year I had absolutely no idea how many changes would come over the span of a year, but at this point last year, I knew my life was going to change, and I was gearing up for it. I was preparing for it as much as you can prepare for life, because that's the nature of life, it just kinda comes at you.
July 21, this is the day that my family and I, along with our closest friends, went to our favorite restaurant in San Francisco for the last time. July 21 was the day before we left on our last family vacation to our favorite vacation spot in the world, Lake Siskiyou. This means that July 21 was our last day in our house. This time last year was my last day living in Pacifica. It was the last few sentences on the last page of the 14 year chapter in my life story.
This post is going to be a reflection. This post is not going to have much, if any thing about GUYS, as my song of the month is indeed John Mayer's "Perfectly Lonely."
I remember thinking last year, how excited I was for this opportunity we (my family and I) were going to get to see God's faithfulness shine through. And my oh my, has it ever. He's brought so many people in my life at just the right time. And yes, my entire [immediate] family lives in Africa. However, I have been blessed enough to be born into a big fat European family (no one in our family is fat, this is just me playing off of the popular film "My big fat Greek wedding", in case you didn't catch that), who have been there ANYTIME I needed them.
Whereas my Florida family cannot physically be there for me, I know they are just a phone call away, waiting with willing ears and lots of wisdom to help me through.
My California family is the reason I am still physically alive. My mom's side of the family, her parents, brother, and sisters have fed me, clothed me, and given me shelter (my aunt mo and uncle t are the most amazing cooks that you will ever hope to meet, so if I really am an "orphan of Africa", I am the most well-fed one there is).
The government of California has come through for me each year as far as college goes, so no complaints there. It pays to be poor peoples...
I must not leave out friends close enough to be family, who are also conveniently located all over California, who have all let me know that I am more than welcome whenever I need a place to stay. (Some of them are maybe wishing I wouldn't take them up on their generosity so much. Just kidding! Because that's just it - they are NOT wishing this at all)
God is so good. He has used people as His hands and feet and I am so thankful for all the people He has put in my life.
Let's talk (actually, you just sit there and read my blatherings) for a minute about independence. This time last year, I was like a poorly behaved dog on a leash who had just spotted another poorly behaved dog on a leash and they literally thought they were going to die if they did not get a chance to sniff one another's butts. It's possible that this simile got away from me a bit...
Moving on.
I could not wait to be independent. I could not wait to be a free spirit.
What I didn't realize it that I have ALWAYS been a free spirit.
Free spirit has to do with the mind and who I am personality-wise. My spirit has forever been independent, just as my parents. My mum likes to add the word "fiercely" in front of "independent", when she describes the kind of person I am.
It's taken me a full year to realize that the level of "independence" I seek is for the financially accomplished. Of course, living out from under my parents roof, I do experience a certain level of independence. Meaning that I can not spend money if I am not making it, because mommy and daddy are not there to open their wallets.
They are also not there for a shoulder to cry on, or to wrap me up in a hug when it turns out some guy I thought fancied me doesn't even like me (oops, sorry, I mentioned a GUY). And if I happen to have a crisis between 2pm and 12am MY TIME, I can't even call them on the phone because of the blasted time difference.
Why do I make such a monstrous issue out of my independence. After all, every 20 something year old goes through the same thing, right? Right! So quit all my blah blah blah right? No, you are reading my blog, so I can write about what ever I want.
I like to think that I am different (remember: free spirit?) . I suppose when you boil it down, I'm not in that much a different situation than my peers. The difference I see is that my transition from family living (parents, my own bed, a place to call "home") to NOT - happened very suddenly. I would also add that it happened before I was ready but God does not give us anything we can not handle. And so I am humbled that He believes I can handle it, which I AM handling it, along with an army of supporters. Because, as I ALWAYS say, "Lord KNOWS I could not get through this alone"
This time NEXT year I will be a college graduate, and LORD only knows WHERE I will be and how much money I will NOT be making, and whether or not I will be truly "on my own", and have the kind of independence I have wanted for a long time, true self sufficiency, financially.
If it seems like I am trying hard to convince the world that I can make it on my own, it's because I am. "It is what it is, and that's how it's gon be, till I get there" to quote the great Lupe Fiasco (THAT'S the motto, Mr Drake, well so is "go big or go home" <-- a reference to both my height and my loud personality. Also, "all or nothing". Can't pick just one favourite)
Everyday is a learning experience and I thank God for the chance to live this life, even if it feels like sometimes I'm just fumbling along in my journey towards all He may have for me.
this is me from July 21, 2010, on Lake Siskiyou, perfectly clueless that in exactly one year, I was going to be saying goodbye to the Pacifican way of life that I had known for so long.
My sister would call me a "winner" in this picture
July 21, this is the day that my family and I, along with our closest friends, went to our favorite restaurant in San Francisco for the last time. July 21 was the day before we left on our last family vacation to our favorite vacation spot in the world, Lake Siskiyou. This means that July 21 was our last day in our house. This time last year was my last day living in Pacifica. It was the last few sentences on the last page of the 14 year chapter in my life story.
This post is going to be a reflection. This post is not going to have much, if any thing about GUYS, as my song of the month is indeed John Mayer's "Perfectly Lonely."
I remember thinking last year, how excited I was for this opportunity we (my family and I) were going to get to see God's faithfulness shine through. And my oh my, has it ever. He's brought so many people in my life at just the right time. And yes, my entire [immediate] family lives in Africa. However, I have been blessed enough to be born into a big fat European family (no one in our family is fat, this is just me playing off of the popular film "My big fat Greek wedding", in case you didn't catch that), who have been there ANYTIME I needed them.
Whereas my Florida family cannot physically be there for me, I know they are just a phone call away, waiting with willing ears and lots of wisdom to help me through.
My California family is the reason I am still physically alive. My mom's side of the family, her parents, brother, and sisters have fed me, clothed me, and given me shelter (my aunt mo and uncle t are the most amazing cooks that you will ever hope to meet, so if I really am an "orphan of Africa", I am the most well-fed one there is).
The government of California has come through for me each year as far as college goes, so no complaints there. It pays to be poor peoples...
I must not leave out friends close enough to be family, who are also conveniently located all over California, who have all let me know that I am more than welcome whenever I need a place to stay. (Some of them are maybe wishing I wouldn't take them up on their generosity so much. Just kidding! Because that's just it - they are NOT wishing this at all)
God is so good. He has used people as His hands and feet and I am so thankful for all the people He has put in my life.
Let's talk (actually, you just sit there and read my blatherings) for a minute about independence. This time last year, I was like a poorly behaved dog on a leash who had just spotted another poorly behaved dog on a leash and they literally thought they were going to die if they did not get a chance to sniff one another's butts. It's possible that this simile got away from me a bit...
Moving on.
I could not wait to be independent. I could not wait to be a free spirit.
What I didn't realize it that I have ALWAYS been a free spirit.
Free spirit has to do with the mind and who I am personality-wise. My spirit has forever been independent, just as my parents. My mum likes to add the word "fiercely" in front of "independent", when she describes the kind of person I am.
It's taken me a full year to realize that the level of "independence" I seek is for the financially accomplished. Of course, living out from under my parents roof, I do experience a certain level of independence. Meaning that I can not spend money if I am not making it, because mommy and daddy are not there to open their wallets.
They are also not there for a shoulder to cry on, or to wrap me up in a hug when it turns out some guy I thought fancied me doesn't even like me (oops, sorry, I mentioned a GUY). And if I happen to have a crisis between 2pm and 12am MY TIME, I can't even call them on the phone because of the blasted time difference.
Why do I make such a monstrous issue out of my independence. After all, every 20 something year old goes through the same thing, right? Right! So quit all my blah blah blah right? No, you are reading my blog, so I can write about what ever I want.
I like to think that I am different (remember: free spirit?) . I suppose when you boil it down, I'm not in that much a different situation than my peers. The difference I see is that my transition from family living (parents, my own bed, a place to call "home") to NOT - happened very suddenly. I would also add that it happened before I was ready but God does not give us anything we can not handle. And so I am humbled that He believes I can handle it, which I AM handling it, along with an army of supporters. Because, as I ALWAYS say, "Lord KNOWS I could not get through this alone"
This time NEXT year I will be a college graduate, and LORD only knows WHERE I will be and how much money I will NOT be making, and whether or not I will be truly "on my own", and have the kind of independence I have wanted for a long time, true self sufficiency, financially.
If it seems like I am trying hard to convince the world that I can make it on my own, it's because I am. "It is what it is, and that's how it's gon be, till I get there" to quote the great Lupe Fiasco (THAT'S the motto, Mr Drake, well so is "go big or go home" <-- a reference to both my height and my loud personality. Also, "all or nothing". Can't pick just one favourite)
Everyday is a learning experience and I thank God for the chance to live this life, even if it feels like sometimes I'm just fumbling along in my journey towards all He may have for me.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Diary of a Tall Girl
I just read my last post. DANG!! That was a good one, I suppose that I should only blog when I feel inspired. There's been quite the dry spell. I've gotten one view in the last year and I am pretty sure that's me! But for anyone out there who might be reading this, here it goes.
I enjoy being me. It is true that a large part of my identity is that I am tall. When I wear shoes with any lift whatsoever on them, I get shamelessly rebuked by any girl of short or average height. But here's the thing: even if I was not to wear those shoes, they would be squawking at me, asking me pitiful questions like:
"Why are you so tall?"
"How about you give me some of your height?"
or my personal favorite is a simple statement:
"You're so tall!"
which I enjoy responding:
"really? I'm tall?!?"
or
"You're so short!"
These things are said to me when I am wearing flats. So I did something drastic just the other day: I bought a pair of four inch tall wedges. They are indeed the cutest shoes you will ever hope to see. Do people notice this though? No, they just look up at my face [which is definitely in the sky] and shake their head. I've heard short girls say that I should never buy a pair of heels. I've heard fellow tall girls basically say "WORK IT GIRL!" The latter are the girls that I look up to (not literally, I don't know ANY girls that I literally look up to). They are the ones that inspired me to own my height and carry myself tall and proud. (I realize I may be a little TOO proud and excited about it, at this time - but let me have my moment, I will simmer down in a few years I'm sure) Still talking about these shoes. I finally decided to let my individuality spill out into this area of my life too. I decided to disregard what others have been telling me my entire life and buy a tall pair of shoes. (This could lead me into a dangerous topic: which is my new found love for shoes and shoe shopping, but I won't go into that) And if I say so myself, they are so me!
I recently was given the amazing opportunity to go visit my family. They live in Morocco, Africa. As if being a blonde family wasn't enough to stand out in an African country, we are all tall! Me being the tallest blonde, I enjoyed standing out, for the most part. There were even - believe it or not - some tall Moroccan men. But Moroccan men are forbidden fruit, which is fine with me, because they are all skinnier than me - not my style, as I like a man with a little meat on him. It was lovely experience to be around my 6'0 dad, 5'9 mom, 5'10 sister, 5'7 (still growing) sister, and of course, my wittle bitty (still growing) 9 year old brother, who is no doubt going to be much taller than any of us! I appreciate when I can look someone in the eyes....
Walking around in public is fine for me, because I am not so freakishly tall that people stop what they are doing and stare at the Amazon lumbering down the sidewalk. This is the one downside to public outings for me: resisting the urge to hug, high five, or verbally acknowledge other tall girls I see. I resist because I realize many tall girls do not share my level of excitement. All I want is some camaraderie, but my enthusiasm in this area as in most areas in life comes across as obnoxious or too crazy to many people (maybe it is).
Worse, though, is how I am with tall men. When I talk about tall I am talking about like 6'4 and over. And by worse I mean that I have to resist approaching them, thanking them for being so tall, and either shaking their hand or planting one on them. Thanking someone for being tall is definitely not the societal norm, and I realize that it would probably make the great tall man feel very awkward, which is opposite of my intent.
Woman and men. Now moving on to the topic of couples. When I see a tall couple, my heart leaps. When I see a couple with a major height discrepancy, my heart burns with rage. Don't worry, peoples, I realize this is an area I need to work on. I understand that the right line of thinking goes like this:
" It doesn't matter what they look like, it's about what is on the inside"
But this is where I am at:
"I can't handle seeing a tall man with a short girl. Tall men are for tall women. You should not be with someone who could sneeze, trip, and squash you. Stop taking all our men! I'M FILLED WITH RAGE YOU LITTLE OOMPA LOOMPA I'M GOING TO CURB STOMP YOU"
I do see the flaw in my thinking. I'm working through it. Deep down, I do know that it does not matter if the girl is taller than the guy, or that the guy is 5 feet taller than the girl. Plus, if you are in one of these relationships, haters like me should only fuel you forward. Please, just be who you are and OWN IT :)
Tall girls, we should come up with some kind of universal sign of acknowledgment when we pass each other on the street, just so that camaraderie is felt.
Tall guys, please think of us tall girls before dating someone who is going to have to reach all the way up above their head to hold your hand.
Short girls, Yes, you may like them tall, but so do many tall girls. There are plenty of guys that are shorter than tall girls but still taller than you, take one of them please.
Short men, no more being awkward around me, and don't count yourself out just because of height. You guys can be quite the charmers [:
I know that people are people and that height is not what defines us as humans. God made everyone different shapes, colors, and sizes, and everyone has a heart. If you are thinking that this last statement contradicted the entire post, you're right. The last statement is true and good, but thanks for allowing me to rant a bit.
I enjoy being me. It is true that a large part of my identity is that I am tall. When I wear shoes with any lift whatsoever on them, I get shamelessly rebuked by any girl of short or average height. But here's the thing: even if I was not to wear those shoes, they would be squawking at me, asking me pitiful questions like:
"Why are you so tall?"
"How about you give me some of your height?"
or my personal favorite is a simple statement:
"You're so tall!"
which I enjoy responding:
"really? I'm tall?!?"
or
"You're so short!"
These things are said to me when I am wearing flats. So I did something drastic just the other day: I bought a pair of four inch tall wedges. They are indeed the cutest shoes you will ever hope to see. Do people notice this though? No, they just look up at my face [which is definitely in the sky] and shake their head. I've heard short girls say that I should never buy a pair of heels. I've heard fellow tall girls basically say "WORK IT GIRL!" The latter are the girls that I look up to (not literally, I don't know ANY girls that I literally look up to). They are the ones that inspired me to own my height and carry myself tall and proud. (I realize I may be a little TOO proud and excited about it, at this time - but let me have my moment, I will simmer down in a few years I'm sure) Still talking about these shoes. I finally decided to let my individuality spill out into this area of my life too. I decided to disregard what others have been telling me my entire life and buy a tall pair of shoes. (This could lead me into a dangerous topic: which is my new found love for shoes and shoe shopping, but I won't go into that) And if I say so myself, they are so me!
I recently was given the amazing opportunity to go visit my family. They live in Morocco, Africa. As if being a blonde family wasn't enough to stand out in an African country, we are all tall! Me being the tallest blonde, I enjoyed standing out, for the most part. There were even - believe it or not - some tall Moroccan men. But Moroccan men are forbidden fruit, which is fine with me, because they are all skinnier than me - not my style, as I like a man with a little meat on him. It was lovely experience to be around my 6'0 dad, 5'9 mom, 5'10 sister, 5'7 (still growing) sister, and of course, my wittle bitty (still growing) 9 year old brother, who is no doubt going to be much taller than any of us! I appreciate when I can look someone in the eyes....
I'm the big tall wild blonde on the left, this is me in Morocco
Worse, though, is how I am with tall men. When I talk about tall I am talking about like 6'4 and over. And by worse I mean that I have to resist approaching them, thanking them for being so tall, and either shaking their hand or planting one on them. Thanking someone for being tall is definitely not the societal norm, and I realize that it would probably make the great tall man feel very awkward, which is opposite of my intent.
Woman and men. Now moving on to the topic of couples. When I see a tall couple, my heart leaps. When I see a couple with a major height discrepancy, my heart burns with rage. Don't worry, peoples, I realize this is an area I need to work on. I understand that the right line of thinking goes like this:
" It doesn't matter what they look like, it's about what is on the inside"
But this is where I am at:
"I can't handle seeing a tall man with a short girl. Tall men are for tall women. You should not be with someone who could sneeze, trip, and squash you. Stop taking all our men! I'M FILLED WITH RAGE YOU LITTLE OOMPA LOOMPA I'M GOING TO CURB STOMP YOU"
I do see the flaw in my thinking. I'm working through it. Deep down, I do know that it does not matter if the girl is taller than the guy, or that the guy is 5 feet taller than the girl. Plus, if you are in one of these relationships, haters like me should only fuel you forward. Please, just be who you are and OWN IT :)
Tall girls, we should come up with some kind of universal sign of acknowledgment when we pass each other on the street, just so that camaraderie is felt.
Tall guys, please think of us tall girls before dating someone who is going to have to reach all the way up above their head to hold your hand.
Short girls, Yes, you may like them tall, but so do many tall girls. There are plenty of guys that are shorter than tall girls but still taller than you, take one of them please.
Short men, no more being awkward around me, and don't count yourself out just because of height. You guys can be quite the charmers [:
I know that people are people and that height is not what defines us as humans. God made everyone different shapes, colors, and sizes, and everyone has a heart. If you are thinking that this last statement contradicted the entire post, you're right. The last statement is true and good, but thanks for allowing me to rant a bit.
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