A Womans Conversation With Her Reflection.

From across the room her pink lips parted into a gentle smile, beaconing me to walk towards her and engage in conversation. I couldn’t resist. From my distant perspective she seemed quite lovely, but as I approached her and upon further inspection, her eyes began to morph dark and spiteful. I should have known…this always happened.

“What’s so great about you?” she whispered. Her words caught me by surprise and shattered the calm morning ambience, creating a thick realm of uneasiness in the room. “You know you’re not good enough, you know you’re not as beautiful as her, you know he could probably do better…and sometimes? Well, I’m not even sure why you try, Honey. You’re nearly pathetic, you poor, poor thing.” She shook her head disapprovingly while she eyed me up and down with her onyx gaze.

I wanted to whimper and hide, like a wounded dog after an unwarranted attack. But, Instead I stood numb to her words as frozen rebuttals swirled around the caverns of my brain. After all, I suppose I was used to it. This wasn’t the first time I was the subject of her malevolent words; she was my oldest friend, and a constant companion. Although it was sickening to admit, despite the abuse and negativity she brought into my life, I couldn’t rid her completely...I felt like I needed her. Or perhaps more fittingly, that I deserved her.

On the darker days, I often wondered if she was right. I was never going to be a beauty queen. My skin was rough from years of battling a visible war that raged on my face. A war that left pockets of embarrassment and pain scattered along my cheeks. Although the war eventually subsided, they served as constant reminders of the years spent hiding behind a mask of makeup, afraid to show my true complexion to the world. I sighed morosely as bitter memories began to flood my mind. There were so many missed pool parties, school dances and college dates, all due to a fear of being noticed.

I shook my head sadly as I ran a cool hand across my cratered cheek. “Maybe someday,” I mumbled to myself. Someday I wouldn’t be afraid to be noticed, I wouldn’t be afraid to catch someone’s eye. At 28 years old, I couldn’t believe I still cowered in fear of being looked at lovingly. I shuddered in fright at the thought of mere disapproval being disguised as shallow pleasantly. You see, I always doubted the validity of a longing glance and I often wondered if deep down, my complexion bothered them as much as it bothered me. And if it did, I deduced that they surely would never be able to find someone of my caliber truly worthy of such pleasurable exchanges. To me, their adoration was a con, it was a lie, it was not to be trusted, and my inability to accept it despite constant reassurance of its’ trustworthiness? Horrifically sad.

“You should lay off the carbs.” She snickered as I turned to walk away from her. “You know your metabolism isn’t what it used to be, and you know your pale skin leaves no room for forgiveness when it comes to these sorts of things.” I had just about had enough, and was about to tell her so, when she delivered her final blow: “You’re better off alone, nobody would ever want to willingly marry a barren woman.” I couldn’t process anything from that statement, except for the horrific pain associated. My eyes began to fill with tears, and my throat clasped shut, prisoning horrified words mid-sentence. “We don’t know that that’s true.” I mouthed, tasting the salty water that now freely dribbled onto my lips.

Her expression softened a smidge. “Oh sweet thing, you know the percentage. You heard the doctor. It’s about as probable as a lizard, giving birth to a cow.” She took a deep breath and continued. “Any good man would never willingly marry a woman who won’t be able to give him children. You are, by definition, a failure before you even begin.” My chest felt tight, and a warm humming sound surrounded my ears. Why was she saying these things? Why did she torture me so? She continued on with more painfully-laden words, but I couldn’t listen any longer. My capacity for agony and self-distain had been reached. She was right. No amount of inward beauty, selflessness, or makeup could ever cover up the fact that I was a dud. Completely incapable of doing what, I felt, I was created to do.

I looked up. A blemished, fat, and barren woman somberly stared back at me in the mirror. “Give up.” She snarled. “You’re not worth it, you’ll never be worth it.”

I closed my eyes and hung my head in shame. In that moment, I wanted to peel back the layers of my flesh that caged my soul and escape out the bathroom window, into the sky and into the warmth of the sunshine. I wanted to feel free. I didn’t want to be confined by what was given to me without my consent in the matter. I wanted to be completely un-defined by anything other than what resided in the burrows of my belly. For, deep down, although I sometimes questioned the fact, I knew that the beautiful interior of my being far surpassed the exteriors’ façade. But, I couldn’t escape the exterior. I wouldn’t ever be able to. I was stuck with me, I was stuck with the girl in the mirror.

My eyes shifted back towards her. I was expecting her cold stare to greet me again, but this time I didn’t see an enemy. This time as my eyes scanned the surface of the reflective glass, I noticed a shallow shell of a woman. A woman defeated by the tormenting worldly winds and storms. A woman so utterly exhausted at the sheer fact that she would never be able to measure up to the standards of beauty and femininity defined by the confines of this earth. Yes, she was pitiful, but not because she was ugly. Her deplorable self-state was due to allowing herself to believe the lies in the mirror that told her that she was anything other than beautiful. She had become her worst enemy. She had become everything that she feared she was when she looked at her reflection.

“Not today.” I mumbled. She looked at me with a bleak expression and mumbled back in unison. “Not today.” We repeated. “I’m not believing the lies today…I’m not becoming the lies today. I'm not giving up.” And with that, I wiped my eyes free of tears, brushed a few strands of my brown hair off of my face, and turned away from my limited perspective to face a much more beautiful view:

life…and the people, and the opportunities defined within it.


  -- A woman’s conversation with her reflection.

The "Grate" Cheese Shootout

Cheese. I love cheese. So I shalt write about my love for cheese and the occasional embarrassment that comes along with loving cheese as much as I do.

I'm going to share with you something I haven't shared with anyone. Why? Because quite frankly it's embarrassing. I've wanted to tell someone about this before...but I also want to have friends. However, I woke up feeling rather brave today, and rather alone in this topic. So I figured "Ah, what the heck, let's see if anybody else has this same...issue...problem...embarrassment." 


I love Italian food. Probably because I love cheese. And noodles. OMGSH CHEESY NOODLES! It's a good thing I have a high metabolism, because as much as I love noodles and cheese, I should probably be wearing flour sacks as socks to fit my fat cankles.

Anyways, a couple of weeks ago Grandpa, Nana and I went to the Macaroni Grill -- what a heavenly place made by tiny Italian cherubs and unicorns formed out of cheesy noodles. It's dimly lit, so you can walk in all inconspicuous to avoid being seen by friends. They also have paper on the tables so you can doodle - I doodled owls, my favorite thing to doodle. And then, the waiter will come up, introduce himself, grab a crayon and sign his name on your table in big beautiful sprawling crayon letters. (I didn't realize this would be an issue until later.)

Fast forward to "later" - my food had arrived, a gargantuan, steaming bowl of Pasta Milano. The precious noodles were covered in a creamy cheesy sauce, there were sun-dried tomatoes, grilled chicken and other various scrumptious ingredients. I was admiring this heavenly bowl of awesomeness when Shawn, our waiter with muscles everywhere (including his earlobes) came up and interrupted my thoughts. "Miss, would you like some freshly grated Parmesan cheese?" I looked up at his mischievous sparkling eyes and nodded slowly while drooling a bit down my chin.

Make no mistake, I was drooling over the noodles.

Shawn held up the little cheese grater contraption over my pyramid of noodles and began to crank the tiny handle. His muscles flexed in the dim light and as the grater picked up speed, little sparks of cheese started spilling everywhere. God, it was beautiful.

Let's pause here.

I would like to remind you, I knew the waiters name. He signed it on our table. It was Shawn. Because I knew his name, it was easy to assume that Shawn had feelings, a brain, he was capable of putting two thoughts together. This was no longer JUST my waiter, this was a man, Shawn was his name, and he was shredding my fresh Parmesan cheese.

Suddenly embarrassed, I also realized Shawn was capable of judging. Judging me for my love of Parmesan cheese.

I allowed my eyes to follow the curve of his cheese cranking arm, past the little cheese grater, up his massive bicep and then glanced quickly into his eyes. "What is he thinking?" "Does he think I'm a skinny fat girl as the pile of cheese grows?" "Should I stop him?" "Gosh, I don't want to stop him." "If I was at home, or had one of those little individual cheese shakers, I'd make that pile of Parmesan 8x as big." "This is stupid, WHY do I care what he thinks?" "BUT I LOVE PARMESAN CHHHHHEEEESSEEE." "KEEP CRANKING SHAWN! JUST KEEP CRANKING!" 


His gaze met mine. He looked at me and raised one of his beautifully groomed eyebrows as if to say "Geez lady, got enough cheese yet?" I struggled to keep his stare. It was as if we were in a shootout. Who was going to give in first? The cheese-loving skinny fat lady, or the muscular cheese grating man? My eyes started watering from the lack of blinkage, cheese was flying everywhere and my face was bright red from my embarrassment over wanting more. I had to give in, I didn't want to give in, but I had to. His eyes were burning cheese judging lasers into my already red face...

I just couldn't take it anymore. Defeated, I looked away from Shawn."That's good." I mumbled. He let out a sigh of relief (probably because I was going to use all of his cheese), put away his cheese judging lasers, wiped his brow and turned our table to leave. I watched him walk away, his shoulders were broad and his calf muscles were the size of my head - jiggling firmly with every step. In his iron grasp resided my beloved cheese grater and as it moved farther away from me, I silently mourned its' growing absence. My pyramid of noodle goodness was covered in a slight cheese snowing, but it wasn't enough to satisfy the inner cheese mongrel that whined inside me.

I hated Shawn, I hated him for not giving me more cheese. I hated myself for wanting more cheese and I hated myself for being embarrassed over my love for cheese. It was a confusing moment in time.

Why can't all cheese grating waters have a standby mode and then an actual shutoff mode? So, while they're in the middle of grating, you can turn to them and "wink" as if to say "You and I both know I want more cheese, but I don't want to actually say it...so this wink means a 5 minute warning." That would be handy, don't you think?

As I try and wrap up this blog, it occurs to me that this ordeal happens nearly every time I go to a restaurant that offers me freshly grated Parmesan cheese. And that's sad for so many different reasons. But, now my secret is out. I love cheese and I'm embarrassed sometimes over my love for cheese. I hope I'm not alone.

Shawn, if you're reading this, I'll be back. Next time, you won't be as lucky.

I'm In the business of building a house.

It's time to write. I know this because I have no desire to. When I have no desire to do something, it's often time that I do. Like, organize my closet, or vacuum out my car, or floss my teeth. You catch my drift, yes?

I feel as though my blog has served throughout the past year of living in California as sort of a venting space. A place for me to sort through the crazy soul turmoil and the anxiety I've experienced. Reading back through some of my old posts, I grimace at some of the things I've written and...occasionally I smile. But, mostly grimace. When I was little, I had a diary with Veggie Tale characters on the front. Bob and Larry would guard my thoughts and topics for a year or so and then I would read back through what I wrote, grimace, tear out the pages one by one and start over. Why did I do this? I'm not sure. But I think I did it because I couldn't stand the fact that I was learning. I wanted to be learned...not learning. I wanted to read back through and smile, not grimace at my elementary topics. Yes, I was an unusual 11 year old.

It's a common thread that runs through my life and I think humanity as a whole. The inability to recognize and accept that we are constantly growing, learning, messing up...but hopefully maturing along the way. We want to be "there" - that place, the place where we have everything together, the place that we're stable...where we are finally "ok." We want to tell our friends "I'm doing great" and actually mean it. We don't want to be somewhere in the middle writing about the muddle we've found ourselves in. Why? Because the middle is hard and confusing.

I think the one thing I've learned over this year (or am trying to learn, it's a constant battle) is that the "middle" doesn't exist. The "middle" is a made up place used to describe our discontent with the situations we currently find ourselves in. At least, for me it is. I constantly focus on "what's next", "It'll be better tomorrow" and my favorite "When this happens, I'll finally be bla bla bla bla..." Sound familiar? Am I the only one who thinks this way? I can't be!

Something I can promise you is...the "middle" will become the rest of your life unless a shift in perspective ensues. That hit my like a BRICK during my quiet time this morning. "Christi, daughter, your heart is so young and foolish. You constantly search for stability in your surroundings, you look everywhere for security but in me. Have I not provided for you always? Have I not shown you how much I love you? Your faith is so small. Your heart is like a fall leaf, blown all over at the slightest show of turmoil winds. You blame your surroundings for your lack of faith...and in reality the situations you find yourself in, simply reveal your true heart colors." 


Ouch.

My heart aches to truly grasp this. Does yours? It should. The apostle Paul's words come to mind when I think about this topic:

Philippians 4:12-13
"I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength."

Paul's "secret" isn't so "secret" if we look closely. "I can do ALL this through him who gives me strength." Where is your strength coming from? What is your foundation? Where does your security come from today?  Does it rest in your hopes for the future? Does it rest in financial gain? That security will not last. It will fail and come crashing down over and over again. Find your security in the Lord, He alone will withstand the storms of this world. A big reminder for me, and hopefully one for you too.

Today even though I grimace at some things I've written in the past, even though I desire to "rip out" quite a few of my old blog posts...I won't. Because that is my human nature trying to control my past and my future. Each day is a precious gift, a chance to learn and a chance to trust the Lord in ALL things. I'm grateful for everything He's brought me through in my past and everything He's been teaching me. I desire to learn and grow, and continue building my security in Him...but I also don't want to forget ever again where I have come from. That's why I leave my past open, vulnerable for all to see. For me to see.

"Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against the house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the ROCK. But, everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against the house...and it fell with a great crash." 

-Matthew 7:24-27

"Adventure Is Out There!"

It's sort of funny the way writing works. You'd think the less you write, the more you'd have to ramble on about when you do finally get started. However, it isn't so. The less you write, it seems the harder it is to get started and the less you feel you have anything worth sharing. 

Forgive me as I trudge along through these rough beginning words...it seems it's been awhile since my fingers have graced the keyboard and written any sort of daily ramble in a very long while.

"Why has it been so long?" You ask. Well, honestly...I think it's because I haven't felt worthy of sharing anything. I feel like lately, Jesus has been taking me through a lot of things. He's been teaching me a bunch, and I guess I felt to write about it would seem like a 10 year old trying to give advice on how to be a good parent.

I think mostly, I've been growing up and I haven't quite known how to verbalize everything I've been going through.

Currently I work at a post production studio in Santa Monica CA named Method Studios. They're a popular Post Production Special Effects studio for both commercials and feature films. One of my favorite commercials they've done is this one: (an oldie but a goodie!)

I work as a night Receptionist/Administrative Assistant to the Recruiting department, Operations department, Client Services department...you name it. Basically whenever anybody needs some data entry done or excel spread sheets made pretty - I do it. I like my job, I'm good at it and I enjoy being surrounded by such awesome artists. 

Generally I work from 4pm or so to around 11:30pm. I get home close to 1am (it's a little over an hour drive) and without fail as I'm driving down Orangethorpe Ave headed for Lakeview Ave, I nearly always drive along side a train. I cannot even begin to tell you what emotions this has stirred inside of me. Maybe it's because it's 1:00am and I'm delusional, maybe it's because I'm just homesick...but without fail, I have flashbacks or memories of being little Christi living on Elmdale Rd. in Clarksville, MI.

Our multi-acre garden on Elmdale Rd. 

Here I was around 7 yrs. old - enjoying the summer sunshine...

I think we moved from this house a year or so later. 

The train driving along side me seems so out of place in Yorba Linda, CA. I can't help but be transported back to those innocent days on Elmdale Rd.- placing pennies on the railroad tracks and hiding in the bushes for hours with the neighbors until the train would pass and we could collect our flattened treasures. Walking down the train tracks with my mom and Nicci until we reached the little town of Clarksville...

We'd go inside the hardware store to look through the VHS movies the'd have for rent and to get a 10 cent gumball from the old candy dispenser. Fun fact, I literally remember the day the gumball machine started charging 25 cents instead of 10 cents. It was a sad day. Then maybe we'd walk across the street to the library and I'd get to pick out another Box-Car children book, or perhaps we'd have hair cut appointments at the run down salon which smelled of perm solution on old ladies. Or maybe, maybe we'd even go walk to the grain elevator and as my mom would talk to the owners, Nicci and I would eat peanuts out of the giant wooden barrel that sat next to the counter.

The little Clarksville Library

Clarksville Bible Church - The church my family attended for years

Looking back, it feels like I grew up in a small town frozen in "the good ol' days" - a sunny place, a sort of 1940's place...a good place to grow up I guess. I'm sure my mom would have a different take on things. Perhaps my little Christi memory is quite off, I'm not sure. Maybe I make it out to sound too precious. But, whatever the case...these are my memories and these are the thoughts that come flooding to me at 1:00am in cement laden, palm tree ridden, Southern California. 

I haven't quite known how to process these memories or thoughts, so usually I just end up bawling my eyes out the rest of the way home. It's not that I want to go back to these times, It's not that I'm regretting moving to California...it's just...I haven't known how to incorporate these memories or thoughts into...for lack of better wordage..."the new Christi." 

How does a small town girl with a modest upbringing suddenly find herself working alongside some of the most talented filmmakers and artists in the industry? It all seems like a blur. I'm not quite sure myself. How do I still hold onto these memories but move forward in an obviously completely different direction? How do I incorporate the old with the new? It's been an interesting transition. You add into that the sudden realization that I won't be able to raise my kids anywhere near my family or close to the upbringing that I had...and...well...as you can imagine, it's been an emotional roller-coaster these past weeks. Hence why I haven't known "how" or even "what" to write.

I think this emotional time has been very important in my transition however. Moving out to California isn't just a "dream" anymore - it's reality now. It's a solidified choice. It's life. It's not just all fluff and bubbles and smiles anymore...the grass isn't completely greener on the other side. In fact, come to think of it, the grass has to be watered over here to be green. The word "illusion" comes to my mind. 

With this choice though, has come beautiful things.

Over and over James and I have referred to ourselves as "transplants." I'd like to write out something that he recently wrote in a letter to me:

"...we're two peas in a pod, two similar stocks from different lands seeking to transplant our lives and start a beautiful adventure."  

I think if I hadn't moved to California I wouldn't have found the rest of me. I would have always been a little tree in Michigan...wondering what other kinds of trees there were beyond the maples and oaks that surrounded me. I think there would have always been that longing for something "more" I so often felt before I left. Honestly, that longing is complete now.

I now view myself as a little oak tree settled in-between the palm trees that surround me. I'm different, I'm a transplant, I'm not like the others. Will I ever morph into a palm tree? No. Will I ever fully blend in? No. 

But, I think I like it that way though. 

I'm learning how to live like a little oak tree in the middle of all these palms and I'm extremely grateful and blessed beyond words to have found a "similar stock", a fellow oak tree...to put down some roots with and to grow next to. He's helped me more in this transition than I could even begin to put down into words. I'm so grateful that Jesus saw fit to bring us together and I'm so grateful that James has had such an amazing amount of grace and patience with me as I've been learning and growing through this emotional time. 

So, what's next for me? What's next for us? Well, I'm going to continue to work at Method and in a couple months James is actually headed up to San Francisco (about 7 or so hours from me) to work and take a 4 month animation class. HE'S GOING TO BECOME AN ANIMATOR! What he's always wanted to do. (I'd say that's an amazing coincidence because I LOVE ANIMATION.) I'm incredibly excited for him and can't wait to see what this chapter in life brings :) He's an amazingly talented artist and I'm proud to be the girl that gets to hold his hand. 

  

Here's to these next months and the adventure that we're now sharing together! Pray for us as we step into another transition time with him being far away for a couple of months. I think it will be a precious time that will draw us closer together despite the distance. 

I'm going to end this blog post the most appropriate way I know how...with Pixar and scenes from my favorite animated film they've done yet - UP. 

"Adventure Is Out There!" What's your adventure, friends? Have you found it yet? This is my life adventure and I'm glad I can share it with all of you.

Is Love JUST a Choice?

I, like many of you, have grown up with the saying "Love is a Choice." etched into my brain and soul from a very young age. I've seen a little of the good, the bad and the ugly of marriage and I can understand why people would say the previous statement with such fervent passion...I guess when you get down to the nitty gritty of love, it is a choice. It's a grin and bear it, hold-on-when-you-don't-want-to kind of thing...at least, that's what I assume (not being married and all).

I get that.

I respect that.

I want a husband who's going to love me for forever. We're a team. We're going to be fighters. We're going to love when we don't want to and make the choice to stay committed no matter what. Why? Because...Love IS a choice. A choice, a choice, a choice, a choice.

But, with this said, I hate that statement with a welling passion.

Loath it.

I want to run over it with a Army tank, feed it to a thousand sharks and then send a pack of wild rhinos to trample over it...that's how much I hate that statement.

Why?

Because, I believe it has done a horrible disservice to me (and probably many others like me) in my search for love throughout the years.

My Name Creed.

I was looking through some old Facebook note posts (that I never published) and I came across a 2007 one titled "My Name Creed." In it I had written my name (Christi) vertically and subsequently attached description words to each letter in my name. These description words were the answer to the question "How do I want people to view me?" or I guess "What do I want to be known for." 


Now, I do not remember writing this note, nor do I remember the circumstances that inspired me to write what I did. But, I was very surprised to realize that the description words that I chose when I was a fifteen are exactly the same words I would choose today.

Throughout the generations, a persons' name has been very important. Biblically speaking, names/name meanings were so important to Jesus that he ultimately ended up changing several of his followers and disciples names. (Saul to Paul, Simon to Peter...etc) Likewise, several times Jesus was known for asking "Who are you?" or "What is your name?" Names have significant meaning. When someone says "Do you know Betsy Joe?" If they do...they instantly associate that name with their current presuppositions or feelings in relation to Betsy Joe. If Betsy Joe is a bit of a pill, they'll say "Sure I know Betsy Joe...I don't like her very much." Likewise, if we knew an gent named Joe (who was a horrible brute of a guy) we'd probably never name a child "Joe." Not because the name is inherently bad, but because we've attached a "MEANING" to that name beyond what the original meaning entailed...we've attached a Name Creed.

Impatient Gamers and my rambles about them

I have a pet peeve. Impatient Spiral Knight players.

For those of you who don't know, Spiral Knights is a massively multiplayer online role-playing game...I suppose I could have just said "MMO", but I am definitely trying to sound nerdier than I actually am. Is it working? heh.

Basically, you run around as a little Knight character you've created (mine's name is Junit) killing toaster-looking creatures, jelly cubes and various other villains. When you're not in the midst of battle, you can trade things with other players, improve your weapons and...well, not much else.

Tonight I played a little. Nothing major, just you know, sharpened the good ol' Tempered Caliber a bit.
Considering the boyfriend was asleep I decided to play a little on my own and since I didn't want to venture into the depths of battle alone...I created a "team" and invited random other people to join.

Two guys joined my little Knight posse. I could instantly tell their equipment far surpassed mine; it was much shiner and much much larger. At first glance my mind started wondering how their little knight arms could carry such large metal swords? I also found it funny that the Knight with the giant blue shocking sword was wearing a cowboy hat. A cowboy hat? Really? Who are you trying to be Mr. Knight Cowboy? Sir King Arthur John Wayne?

Whatever.
Who am I to judge. I suppose my Knight has pink eyeballs and a stylish pumpkin bomb belt...so I can't judge too much.

(See, isn't she CUTE!?) 

Alright, so anyways. We began playing and almost instantly I could tell Sir Arthur John Wayne and I were going to have a problem. Sure he was a super awesome player with a big giant super awesome shocky sword...but he was impatient and I found it rather annoying to fight toasters with him. He'd run off ahead of the posse; leaving treasure behind, boxes un-opened and nooks n' crannies unexplored. It was almost like he was saying "Pssh...look at me and my big shiny shocky sword! I don't need any of that stuff and I'll blow right through this level just to show you how awesome I am." Over and over he'd run off ahead of  the rest of us and he'd sit waiting at the elevator (the area that takes you to the next level) typing "hurry up" "you don't need anything else" "come to the elevator" "you guys are SUPER BORING" "n00bs" etc. etc. etc. 

I wanted to take his cowboy hat and feed it to the fire breathing toasters, but, instead I found myself trying desperately to keep up with him, to play the game the way he wanted me to. I realized about 20 minutes into playing that I was actually severely frustrated and simply clicked out of the game. It wasn't fun. It wasn't a relaxing evening of blowing up jelly-cubes. No. It had become a competition for all of us to get through the quickest, to seem the most experienced. Soon after I exited out of the game, sorely disappointed in the way the virtual evening ensued...

Of course, you know me...I had to sit awhile and figure out why in the world I was so annoyed, and I came to this conclusion: Sir Arthur John Wayne... reminded me of myself.

I've been told a lot "you're rushing through life kid." "You're impatient" "You're going to look back and wish you had stopped and smelled the roses." "Why don't you slow down a little!" as absolutely ludicrous as it sounds, I didn't realize something until this night of playing a stupid knight game. Maybe they're right? I have gone through some things very quickly in life. I've known where I've wanted to be...so in a sense...I've rushed a little to get there. Now that I'm thinking about it, I wonder how many friends would tell me at different times I've acted like this pushy cowboy-knight guy did tonight? Hurry up! Hurry up! Let's go!

Whew. That's a tough pill to swallow. 

I think this season in my life is really teaching me to SLOW DOWN...to explore what the journey holds, to not just rush through life like my knight teammate did tonight. Overall...TO TRUST JESUS. I want to put some roots down, invest into people and take my sweeeeeet time in this next chapter of life. It's exciting really, I'm ready for this next adventure.

I'm ready to slow down and smell the roses a little....to enjoy where I am and the people around me. 

Sweet dreams and best wishes. 

I'm happy. I promise.

Oh no...

I realized something last night. My blog posts are depressing. Well, most of them.
I mean, I must write when I'm pondering (one of my least favorite words) hard subjects. Or something. Because good grief, it sounds like I'm the saddest person in the whole entire world. Or the most serious person in the whole entire world.

Either way; zomgsh.
So not good.

I promise, I laugh and smile A LOT these days. Probably more than a person ought too.
So, that's all I wanted to write tonight, just a short blog post saying I'M SO HAPPY! Jesus is good and His blessings never cease. :)

Currently I'm...

• Busy planning a Christmas Party for the College Group I volunteer at. 
• Working on finishing up a Children's book in time for Christmas
• Waiting for one of the many places I interviewed with to get back with me :) 
• Trying to grow my hair out again (grow little dead strands of Keratin! Grow!)
• Expanding my knowledge on Flash Animation and Web Design
• Getting my butt out of bed in the mornings and starting to run again
• Researching educational facilities to decide where I would like to eventually get my Masters Degree. 
• Watching WAY to many tutorials on special effect makeup design and film techniques 
• ...and getting to know this guy better: (He's so COOL!) 

Anyways, that's it. Just wanted to make sure ya'll knew I wasn't forever wallowing in a huge puddle of my tears or something. Hope you had a Happy Thanksgiving!!

The ship has sailed?

In life we're given choices; where to go to school, where to live, where to work, who to marry...endless choices.


We make our choices as best we can and then truck forward as the life-path that follows those choices is revealed. Sometimes regrets are inevitable, "Wow, I should have taken that job..." "Moving to Colorado was a bad choice..." etc. However, most of the time we move forward with our decisions, content with the path that results from our choices. However, occasionally someone or something pops up in the middle of our path that reminds us of the journey that could have ensued from making a different choice in regards to them/it. Sometimes they offer us a second chance to experience what's down the un-explored path. It's tempting, it's alluring to a curious soul...but is it and should it...be welcomed and experienced? Sometimes it's painful to re-live those thoughts. Sometimes it's a beautiful memory. What do you do when it's both? What do you do when you desperately want to experience what "could have been" but you also love the life-path your currently on? 


It's a hard question to answer. 
A question that I will probably always struggle with. 

This particular scenario reminds me of the movie "The Family Man." My friend Mindy reminded me of this movie today...and what a great movie it is. The IMDb synopsis reads: 

"A fast-lane investment broker, offered the opportunity to see how the other half lives, wakes up to find that his sports car and girlfriend have become a mini-van and wife." 

But it's more than that, really. It's a beautiful story about what could have been, about dreams un-shared and memories never revealed. The main character gets to experience life down another path...a path he previously ignored. It wasn't a life path as glamorous as his previous life...but it was filled with LOVE and a beautiful family. It's a story about examining what you want out of life, about what's important - it's a good reminder for me to do this in my own life. Of course, as Hollywood usually does, they wrap up the story with sparkles, bubbles and happy rainbows. Everyone lives happily ever after (or so they lead us to believe) and the audience is left with feelings of warm fuzzies inside. 

Part of me is so jealous of this fictional Hollywood character. I desperately want a glimpse down the unknown paths that lie ahead and the ones I left behind. I want to know the "What if's" and "What could have beens." I want to know if I made the right choice, or if I should have taken the non-logical path because it would have held...more. "More" not in terms of wordly gain...but "more" of something else. You know, happy stuff? 

Gah. My head is pounding. 

Why did Jesus give me a brain so capable of thinking? 

Sometimes I would rather think about easy things...like...say...puppies, or, clouds. 

*sigh*

I think at the end of the day though...

What gives me peace with the "what if's" and the "could-of-would-of-should-ofs" is the stark reality that the paths I take and the decisions I make...come complete with the peace only the savior can provide. I can't start thinking too much in terms of "Well I should have..." or "I wonder..." because I realize I'm right where I am...because I'm supposed to be here...because that's where Jesus put me. Although my current position may hold struggles or I may be tempted to daydream, think in terms of regrets or think only in the "what if's"...the resonating thought I'm left with is always "Be content in the NOW." Dreams and the "what if's" often aren't as lovely when they become reality. Often it's easier said than done though...

Each day holds choices...what are you going to chose today? 

Regrets and mistakes they're memories made, 

who would have known how bitter-sweet this would taste.

-Adele  

When a man says..."I want to be your biggest fan."

I once had a guy that I was dating tell me: "I figured you were tired of hearing you were beautiful, so...I decided before we were dating that I wasn't going to tell you that often." 


I wish I could go back in time and change what I said to him. In fact, I can't even remember what I replied with. I'm sure it was something half-stunned and not very accurate to what I was feeling in that moment. If I could scuttle into a time-machine and transport myself back to that moment I would give him a solid piece of advice that I think would help him in his later years of dealing with women...

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?" 

I think that's pretty accurate to what I was feeling in that moment.
You know, and now that I think about it, maybe he was trying to make it sound like a half sort of complement? Maybe? I guess I'll never truly know...but, I would like to translate that seemingly innocent statement to what a woman hears:

"Hi, I'm the man who you adore the most...the man you absolutely love...the man you really only care to look beautiful for...and I've decided I'm not going to tell you you're pretty."


The first part of the statement ("I figured you were tired of...bla bla bla") is almost completely un-heard and irrelevant to a woman. She'll take the last part of the statement ("...So I've decided to not tell you that often...") and it'll feel like a small knife to her heart.

It doesn't matter if she's the most beautiful woman in the world and everybody has told her 10,000x...she CRAVES to hear it from you, the man she loves, more than anyone.

ANYONE.
Anyone.

Got it? (Men, go tell your woman she's pretty)

Women are strong creatures, but we're also very vulnerable, very fragile. I know some women will probably disagree, but I'd say as a general statement this is extremely true. We are sensitive, so deal with us gently.

I've always fancied myself a strong-willed woman; I'm highly independent and extremely adventurous. I've known what I've wanted for a long time and I've ventured out to try and make those dreams happen...but deep down, there will always be the desire to be taken care of and loved more than anything else. It's innate to women, we're wired this way.

Jamers recently called me up out of the blue and said "Hey babe, I just wanted to call and tell you that I'm sorry...I'm sorry I haven't been your biggest fan as much as I should be. I want to be your biggest fan and I'm going to work on that." I was completely surprised by his apology and frankly couldn't understand what he meant. I mean, James is the kind of guy who will show up on your doorstep with a rose in hand and a ridiculous grin on his face. The kind of guy who hands you a little gourd and says "I got this for you to put by your bed...for Fall!" I mean, really? I gourd!? What kind of man goes out of his way to buy you a gourd to put by your bed for the Fall season? AN AMAZING MAN. That's what kind of man. (Men, go buy your woman a gourd)

Anyways...

I didn't understand his apology...until tonight.

Yesterday I put together a Pinterest Board of pictures that inspire me (decorating wise) for my future apartment. Now, I'm nowhere near getting an apartment, or have the kind of money that it would take to decorate an apartment this way; but I still immensely enjoy planning and brainstorming ideas for the future. Last night I asked him if he had seen any of the pictures (I was curious to see what he thought of my style) and he responded with "Oh, no? I didn't see them...I'll have to check them out tomorrow after work." No problem. It wasn't of dire importance that he look at the pictures and I honestly wouldn't have minded if he never even looked at them.

Today James spent around 9 hours washing windows. I can only imagine how tired and hungry he must be when he gets off work...9 hours of window washing!? That's tough. Especially on top of being a full time creative genius filmmaker man.

Despite that though, I received a text from him around 7:00pm that read: "Just got home from work, I'm gonna go inside and check out your picture postings!" 


I was blown away.

I literally could not believe he remembered (after washing windows for hours, being probably starving and extremely tired) to look at my silly pictures.

THEN, he called me...to talk about my pictures.
TO TALK ABOUT MY PICTURES!

He wanted to know where I drew my inspiration from, why I liked the colors I liked, he gave ideas for art and just listened to me babble on excitedly about each and every little minute detail (knowing all the while that it wasn't even a possibility at this point to implement any of these ideas.)

Wow.

In that moment I got it; James is my biggest fan.

What makes me excited, makes him excited.
What makes me happy, makes him happy.
What's important to me...often comes before what's important to him.
And he never makes me feel anything short of brilliant.

I've never had a biggest fan like him. He unashamedly protects me and flaunts me, see's through my "independent" exterior to my softness and genuinely takes interest in whatever I'm excited about. It's beautiful.

I don't think he truly knows the kind of impression he's leaving on my heart, but I do hope he knows It makes me want to strive more to be HIS biggest fan, to go out of my way to make him feel special and remembered.

It means very little to have everybody tell you you're special, loved or beautiful...but it means EVERYTHING to have one person...a biggest fan.

Sure there will be plenty squabbles to come, but it's been a huge blessing to me to realize my biggest fan isn't someone sitting somewhere on the sidelines. He's the person right there in the midst of the game, playing right along side me, encouraging me and frankly, taking the bigger beating for me - I think we're off to a great start.

Thank you for looking at my pictures Jamers. :)

First Aid Kit

Most of you don't know I have a slight obsession with NPR.

Well, I guess now you do...
Shoot, I'm giving away all my quirky secrets.

One of the reasons I love NPR is because I'm introduced to a plethora of musical genres and artists I don't think I'd normally stumble across. Meet my newest Swedish folk-duo love; First Aid Kit.

These lovely sisters; Johanna (21) and Klara (18) Soderberg were discovered on the internet in 2008 when they preformed a cover of "Tiger Mountain Peasant Song" by the Fleet Foxes (a well known Folk band). Not soon after, their musical career was launched...and they've been gaining popularity ever since. (Watch, in a couple months to a year, I bet you'll hear them on some popular channels etc.)

Here's the cover that launched their career:

Sisters always have the best harmony. :)
This is the first song I heard from them on NPR. I wrote the name of their band on the back of a Taco Bell receipt so I could look them up after work that day...so glad I did.



I wish them the very best and can't wait to hear more on their Sophomore LP, which is out January 24th.

What do you guys think of them? 

Apologies and future hopes.

Forewarning, this post is long and emotionally rampant...


To feel "alone" is something I've always felt comfortable with.
I like me, for the most part.
I'm an semi-tolerable creation I suppose.

God has been doing some  A LOT of work in my heart this past year. A lot of work.

I remember as a kid, when alfalfa harvesting season would come and the farmers would bail the hay into large cylinder shapes; I'd venture outside, scuttle up the side of the bail and sit for hours on top. Thinking. Being alone. Enjoying the solitude, the wind, the sky above and the sounds of nature. Being alone and private in my thoughts has always been a form of healing for me.

I guess some of you know that, but for some of you that might come as a surprise. On personality tests I score off the charts "extrovert" but, deep inside...I know I have quite a few introvert traits.

I remember a lot from my childhood. Mostly good things, but I do remember hard things, bad things, things that made me want to go sit on that hay bail....things that made me want to be alone. As a kid, I guess I always felt the need to listen, but not to be heard. I was the person my friends would come to, the person who would want to help but never let on she needed help as well. This damaged me. I guess you could say it made me a bit of a mute. To want to speak, but to not know how to communicate your feelings is a scary thing. To have all these things whirling inside you, eating and tearing you up inside is horrible, it's hard. It separates you and makes you hard to connect with emotionally.

You feel distant, disconnected and alone.
But, on the other hand, you feel powerful...it's an addictive feeling...
You feel like you're a leader, strong and capable of trudging through the darkest, deepest parts of life and that nothing will harm you. It's a deeply false sense of protection though and the day will come when you have to make a choice; begin to speak...or slowly die.

Maybe that sounds overly dramatic, but for me (and others like me) I'm assuming it's true. To die physically is sad, but it's apart of life for all of us. However, to die emotionally...to live a hollow shell of a life isn't natural...and I would argue possibly a greater grief than the latter form of death.

These past 5-6 months have really been hard, but good. I've been alone physically...removed from my friends/family and stuck in a completely new place. There are no maple trees here, no stars and definitely no hay bails to sit on. I left home leaving behind a beautiful family, a few close friends and a wonderful man. Those ties apparently haven't been as strong as I once hoped they were, and that's mostly my fault. I haven't called home as much as I should, I've neglected my sisters, the relationship with the wonderful man painfully died, I've missed skype dates and I've had several close friends tell me; "You've abandoned us."

Wow...what a dagger to the heart.

The stark reality of WHAT I'VE BECOME, what I've allowed myself to become has really been penetrating my heart this morning. I guess all I can say is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not making my friends and family more of a priority, I'm sorry for not talking about my heart, for not letting you in...and for only flapping my gums because I've thought I could "help you with your problems." I'm sorry for hurting you and I'm sorry if you've felt I've abandoned you. You're right. I've been a fool...and alone fool.

Although some distance (both physical and emotional) is inevitable when someone moves away...I do think you're right to some degree, I do still struggle with the addictive and powerful feeling of wanting to do things on my own, the fear of getting too close and the crippling feeling of "nobody will care if I share anyways."

It's horribly sad, really.

Like a tornado, God has been moving in my life fast and powerfully. When he shows me something He shows it quickly and deeply. I'm learning. Please be patient with me.

I don't know if he'll ever read this, but I still want to write it as well. To the man who loved me so rightfully and so deeply, I'm sorry for the pain we went through. I'm sorry for all the teary nights, the crazy pills and the love I could never give you that you so deeply demonstrated to me. YOU were a beautiful part and a huge catalyst in helping me continue to talk, helping me become more me, helping me become a more beautiful woman and a future wife for my husband. You taught me a lot. Even though "we" weren't right for forever, we were right for that moment in time and I cannot thank you enough and do hope someday you will forgive me for my part in the pain. I hope I was a blessing to you, at least a small one...I pray someday you can remember the laughter and look back on us with smiles.

Anyways, enough about that. Life is beautiful isn't it?
Jesus is beautiful isn't He?

His never ending Grace, Promises and Love is enough.
His blessings are new each morning...and WOW does he bless us in unexpected ways.

As I sit here a little teary eyed, thinking about how I've hurt people, thinking about how I've abandoned some friends, feeling rather alone...I cannot help but feel his arms warp around me and him whispering "Don't worry kiddo, I'll always be here." It gives me a hope for the future and a hope for change.

The change in me brings great excitement...
I feel like a butterfly...I'm just breaking out of my cocoon...I promise, I'll be soaring soon.

Talk so somebody today...
Open up and love someone with no regrets.

Love, The Seducer.

Instead of writing a slew of words before the poem, I'll just let ya'll read the poem...and then I'll tell you below...what I was thinking when I wrote it :) Enjoy.

Love, The Seducer.

We spend our lives crying out for something more than what we cling to presently.

We’re never fully satisfied, our parched throats are rarely quenched and our hungry hearts growl in despair, longing to be fed by, Love. She beautifully dances around’ us elusively, relentlessly bantering us with her desirability. Morning and night she coyly flirts’ her lusciousness, daring us to take a small nibble. She traces her dainty finger down his lonely chest and whispers sweet nothings’ into her forgotten ears: “You’re desired”, “You’re exceptional” she smiles timidly...“Come, let me nourish your pitiful heart.”

Love… is a clever seductress, an alluring temptress.

So often, we too easily fall victim to Love’s attractive desires.

With erroneous motives and elementary reasoning as our leads, we blindly stumble down her warped and twisted path. We trudge forward without much care or concern; for her drained compliments and flattering lies quell our barren hearts for the moment.

We convince ourselves we’re satisfied, our hearts are finally fulfilled!

Although, we quickly discover her words are laden with honey, which turn bitter soon after we gulp them.

In this moment of sickly comprehension, we cry out to her in regretful anguish: “My Love! My Love! Is it true you’re a deceiver?” Her reply comes as a meaningless, seductive wink… and she turns to abandon us without the slightest ounce of remorse or penitence. We find ourselves alone, broken and confused… and once again, within the caverns of our chest, the bottomless grumbling from an ever-starving heart begins.

Love… is a clever seductress, an alluring temptress.

Why "Hurt" will always mean so much to me.

Sometimes when I write, I find inspiration from a single song.
Yes, I'm one of thooooose people.

I hit repeat over and over and over and over until I'm finished typing.
I'm sure it has a great impact on what I write, the mood, the emotion, the cadence...
I'm not sure why I do it, but It's definitely become a habit.

Tonight it's this song:




(Givin' a shout out to Shellster for passing it along)

James says this version of "Hurt" makes him want to cry. Heh...
For me though, it's inspirational. Yes, it's undertones are melancholy and minor in key, but it's also got a driving "determined" sort of feel to it...especially around 3:05

Let me share the lyrics with you from that point on...

what have I become?

my sweetest friend

everyone I know

goes away in the end

and you could have it all

my empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

if I could start again

a million miles away

I would keep myself

I would find a way 

Although "Hurt" wasn't originally written by Johnny Cash (It's actually a 9 Inch Nails cover), Cash's version will always strike my heart MUCH deeper. If you take a look at his music video for this cover, maybe you'll understand.




Moreover, most (if not all) of you know Johnny Cash died in 2003, while the video for "Hurt" was shot (a year before he passed), he was suffering from a rare nervous-system disease, Autonomic Neuropathy, which rendered him very susceptible to pulmonary disorders. Re-read through those lyrics...with this knowledge in your head...

what have I become?

my sweetest friend

everyone I know

goes away in the end

and you could have it all

my empire of dirt

A legend of a man, a giant in the music industry...a man who presumably "had it all"...or did he? Here he was at the end of his life, suffering from a crippling disease, confessing that everything he knows, owns, has...is basically worthless.

As I've been mulling this over in my head tonight...I think the Lord really used this to remind me of something; to stop. To stop trying to hard, to stop over-thinking, to stop worrying, to STOP. Stop and wait on HIM. Everybody has life, everybody has problems, everybody gets old and dies and I'm going to be one of those people. It literally seems impossible at this point in my life, I cant really fathom someday growing old! But, knowing that it will in fact happen...It makes me wonder, do I really want to look back on my life and remember everything to be an "Empire of Dirt?" Do I really want to look back and have nobody but myself? No. No I don't.

If I'm honest with myself (and you I suppose), I can see that empire of dirt starting to be built. I'm selfish. I desire the best...the best out of myself and I push myself to get it. I want a job in the industry. A great job. A job that I'm proud of. That I can maybe secretly brag about and call home to have my momma proud of me.

But...Why?

I mean, I know my mom would be proud of me if I decided to grow flowers for the rest of my life or whittle faces into pencils for that matter (a weird hobby I had as a kid.) BUT, I wouldn't be happy with myself. I wouldn't be proud of myself.

I think part of that is because I know the Lord has placed certain talents and desires into my heart...but I know the opposite of that is true as well. I know it's because I have a sinful human nature...part of me is selfish, awful, greedy and a bit of a pompous badonkeydonk.

Monday was a hard day - but it wasn't a day to simply learn nothing from.
It was a day to STOP. A day to be put into my place. A day to hear the Lord saying "Who are you, Christi?" "Need I remind you that I made you? Need I remind you that I knit you together?" "You better learn from this, wipe the bitter tears off your face and stop acting like a spoiled little child. Always use your gifts in an attitude of humility...always use your gifts while being a reflection of ME. I love you kid."

Wow. Those thoughts knocked me out cold for awhile...but Jesus has slowly been rebuilding the desires of my heart to be pointed after Him and Him alone. I'm sure it will always be a struggle, but a big step in overcoming your struggles are to recognize them, eh?

So, as I listen to this song for like the millionth time...I pray this lesson is never far from my heart.
I pray when I'm old and gray and being fed jello in a nursing home...that even if I couldn't remember my own name...I could look back and remember my life wasn't a rubble of dirt and those who love me never went away in the end.

Here's to forward steps and what is yet to come...

Love,

Poetry rambles?

White roses and summer breeze...
sitting under nameless trees. 

You wear your heart on your sleeve and I'll wear mine

Tonight we'll be invincible, just you and I.

I want to be a Jewel. Do you?

Wow. You know, you really shouldn't eat Sour Patch Kid candies while you're in the middle of a once-a-day, 14 day, 3D Crest white strip treatment for your teeth. (That was quite the sentence if I do say so myself.) 


I feel like a invisible gremlin is driving razor sharp toothpicks into the roots of my precious bicuspids.


I'm not sure if it's normal to feel this much sensitivity during a whitening treatment? Perhaps my teeth will fall out. Maybe I should have just been happy with the slightly dingy yellowness? That's better than having no teeth at all. 


*sigh*


The things we do for beauty. 

Well, I came on here to actually write about something, so I suppose I should get started. *ehhem* Here we go! 

Why I'm excited for work every morning...

I don't exactly know what to write about today.

I guess I'll start with, "Holy mother of awesome pants! I love my job!!" (Yes, awesome pants)

By now, I'm sure most (if not all) of you know I work for JCTV - we're a Christian Youth/Young Adult television Network based out of Tustin, CA.

It actually has been slightly frustrating these past months of working - until yesterday.

You see, up until yesterday, I wasn't fully sure what my job actually entailed. Sometimes I programmed the music videos, sometimes I wrote short scripts, sometimes I organized tapes....

It was mostly frustrating because I've been having to ask over and over; "Uh...ok, what can I do next?" Now I understand that this is completely normal for when starting a new job, but I wasn't even sure how much liberty I had to say, "So, I see a potential area for growth here...can I step in and improve the workflow in this area?" Etc.

So, yesterday we had an all JCTV meeting that took nearly 4 hours. You'd think we would have left feeling completely exhausted... but the truth is, we left (or at least I left) feeling completely liberated and excited for the future of JCTV. 

Making up for lost time.

I've been rather annoyed at myself these past couple of weeks. 


It's been three weeks since I've moved from Grand Rapids, MI to Yorba Linda, CA. I've had so much happen these past three weeks, so many people I've met and so many awesome opportunities thrown my way...


I know I've lacked in updating friends and for that, I am so terribly sorry. 


I promise I've sat down countless times and have tried to force out words into a blog post-update. Something to let you guys know "I'm doing ok, this is what I'm up to...bla bla bla." But, let's just say, words don't come when they don't want to. Or, as my good friend (Kidding, I actually don't know the dude) Walter Wellesley Smith, would say: "There's nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein."


Perhaps my "veins" haven't been ready to bleed my...words? The true feelings in my heart? Was that taking the analogy a bit far? Not sure. You guys can decide.