beauty

I'm not sure if you have picked up on it or not, but I've been a little down lately. So many things are happening, so little things are getting done. This has caused me to be blind to certain things in my daily life that otherwise would bring a goofy smile to my face. Love is funny. This is no new concept. Right when love and I had decided to go on a "break'', I see some of the greatest examples of it.

I went to a Switchfoot concert the other week in downtown Little Rock. It was the perfect night. Cool breeze off the river, gorgeous sunset, and me and my kids rocking out to one of our favorite bands. One of the bands that opened for them was a fun punk rock Christian band. I decided then and there that punk rock Christians were my favorite type of Christians. They wear the same type of tight jeans and same amount of eye liner as other punk rockers, but they are in alot better moods. The sister of one of the band members sat near us with all her friends. Her excitement for her brother and their performance was amazing. She gushed about each song and danced non stop in support of him. (An aside: yes. contrary to popular belief, Christians do dance...I've been a Christian, a Southern Baptist Christian, since I was seven and I can do some of the best robot moves ever seen... ever.)

In front of us was a young couple. The guy had no problem displaying his love for the band, he threw his fist in the air, nodded his head and mouthed the words as all good fans do at concerts. She, on the other hand, was a little more subdued. She watched the band intently with a smile thrown at her partner every now and again. During one song he turned and looked at her for a full minute, never glancing away. He grinned as he watched her watching the performance and then leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. Without thought she laid her head on his shoulder and they both looked as if they fit perfectly.


A few seats down a dad was there with his two sons and a little girl. He laughed as the little girl danced to all the songs, and he looked proud when he got to explain to his son how the lead singer made his voice sound cool when he put his mouth to his guitar. But, the best moment was when I was singing along and dancing to a song and looked down to see both my kids doing the same. We were pretty rockin. And I know my day is coming that I won't be the one they want to hang out with. Soon I will be embarrassing or, dare I say it, boring. But, for that one night I was the coolest mom in the world. It was perfect.

Moving along with my examples of love is one of my current favorites. I work at Cold Water Creek. Yes, Cold Water Creek: where your mother or grandmother gets all her Christmas cardigans. Off the subject, I will let you know that we are currently selling not only a low rise denim, but a distressed low rise denim. Ha! Take that Talbots. Anyway, back on subject.

A few weeks ago an elderly couple came into our store. She was a bubbly woman, in her mid eighties, who was looking for a skirt. He came in with a scow on his face and headed straight to our chairs, never making eye contact with anyone. As I helped her find some skirts and blouses to match, he just sat in the chair looking as if he was auditioning for Grumpy Men 3: The Revenge.

She found a skirt she liked. It was a little fitted and showed her shape quite nicely. She walked to where her husband was sitting to ask his opinion. He grumbled that she didn't usually wear skirts and she snapped "that's why I'm buying one, I don't have any!" Still standing in front of him, she turned her back to him to look at the rest of the store. He then proceeded to very slowly lift up her shirt to take a good gander at her backside. When she realized what he was doing she whipped her head around and responded "Well. Do you like what you see back there?", he grinned from ear to ear and replied "Yes. Yes I do." She blushed and smiled at his reply and almost skipped back to the fitting room. Needless to say, she bought the skirt.

And then we come to Rozelle and Carl. Sixty five years of marriage. They've seen poverty, success, sicknesses, triumphs, five kids, one miscarriage, fourteen grandchildren, eleven great-grandchildren, retirements, diabetes, dementia, nursing home. My grandparents are the great love story I continue to watch. At one of our family dinners last month my grandmother got up to get a drink and as she walked past my grandfather he reached out to stop her and looked up at her and simply said "I'm in love with you." She grinned at him and said "I'm in love with you."

I want love. I want undramatic, pure, beautiful, honest, sweet, faithful love. Leave your violins at home. Take your fireworks somewhere else. I want a man that will still check out my ass when I'm eighty-five. Okay, I'd like a man to check out my ass now...but that's neither here nor there. I want a man that can look at me in the eyes and say "I'm in love with you." I don't want your fear of commitment, I want your willingness to take a chance and throw your whole heart into a relationship. I ache for this.

So, even though I am not fully on speaking terms with love yet, I do appreciate all it has to offer. And every day with examples of the beauty love brings (yes, I'm aware of how incredibly cheesy and syrupy that sounds...shut up) I get closer and closer to having full faith restored in it. In the mean time, I will make sure more women buy more skirts, visit my grandparents more, and start doing squats. I gotta make sure my future man has something to look at.

just a word

The thought of getting into my car and just driving has never sounded so appealing as it does at this moment. To just drive and drive would be so amazing. Around 3:00am I would stop at some truck stop diner where the men wear flannel shirts and the waitresses call you "hon". No talking or explaining. Nothing to answer to or to question. Just to drive anywhere and have a clean slate. Ghosts of the past wouldn't be able to keep up, I would drive so fast.

I wonder who I would be. I could be some sassy kick ass girl that doesn't take any crap from anyone. Or the vixen that always gets the free drinks and the guys at the end of the night. I could be quiet and mysterious, the talk of the town. Maybe I would go for the life of the party, no fear or inhibitions. I wouldn't be weak, I wouldn't get hurt, I wouldn't cry, and I wouldn't be so angry. But, it doesn't work that way. It never does. Because ghosts catch up, and your old self never really dies. So I stay. And I stay the girl I am and always have been. I don't know how to be anyone else, and it's about damn time I accept it. I will stay and face the hurt of disappointment, I will stay and fight the temptation of resentment. I will stay and simply get over it.

The only thing more extraordinary than our fear of moving is our fear of staying. We don't want to settle. To miss out on the next best thing would be disastrous. To settle is death. So we are willing to let go of what we have on the hope that there is something better out there. This is why sometimes I really piss myself off. And this is why he pisses me off to this day. "Making it work" is unacceptable, so we run as far away as we can. We are cowards disguised as ambitious, adventurous and free spirited.

Dream big, and if you don't make it it's because you didn't want it bad enough. But, in all honesty sometimes, no matter what you do, dreams don't come true. That was never promised to us. No where was there a contract signed that said "If you work really hard, and do all the right things then all your dreams will come true". Yet, we tell ourselves this and let ourselves feel completely deflated when our dreams don't happen. And to be crudely honest, I think that's a load of shit. What morons we can be.

How many of us go through each day looking for something better and not seeing what we have? Contentment is the enemy. And you think I'm saying not to try or fight for anything. You think I'm saying "settle" because it doesn't get better. That's not what I'm saying at all. Yes, work hard, better yourself in anyway you can. But, instead of looking for a better place or life, find the beauty of where you are right now. Be great in the place you currently find yourself. The truth is, if you aren't great where you are right now, you won't be great in any other place. That's what being a light is, that's what makes certain people shine, the ones who are remembered for doing extraordinary things. They are able to be extraordinary no matter where they are.

I don't follow through. I don't shine. I once was told I had no spark. That above anything else that has been said to me, hurt the most. It hurt because deep down I fear it's true. Everyday I struggle to swallow this fear and to just get moving. But, as soon as I get three steps ahead I stop and slowly walk back. God has been too good to me. I haven't kept up my end of the deal with Him, and even still He has kept His promise. I don't deserve that. Grace is a funny thing. It is so incredible and beautiful, but I question it and why it's used on me.

We pray for faith, but avoid using it. We pray for strength and expect a lightening bolt, but won't take any action where we can call upon it to use. The first step is the hardest and we avoid like the plague. And we do this knowing that if we took that first step, and used complete faith that we'll make it to the second step, that we'll have strength to get to the third. And pretty soon we end up exactly where we are supposed to be. True happiness. True freedom from the weight upon our backs, from working so hard and not having a clue as to what we are working for.

I'm tired and sad. Typing this is my version of a long drive on a summer's night. I feel like I've rambled and don't even want to read this to see if it makes sense. I just needed to use what little voice I have at the moment. I had almost forgotten that no one is born extraordinary. I've used that as an excuse for my defeats. Extraordinary people are quite ordinary actually. They just took that first step. I'll find my spark. I'll remember to ask Him what to do with it. There are things for me to do. There are things for you to do. And it's time to get moving. It's time for you to shine now, it's been that time for awhile. I'll remember to shine, too.

No matter where I am.

Settling

Send me roses weekly. The card attached should read of love and of my beauty. On days that are especially long, run a hot bubble bath for me complete with rose petals. Take me dancing whenever I ask. Wine and dine me. Buy me beautiful jewelry and shoes. Cook me fancy dinners by candle light. Hold my hand every time we are in public. Don't even glance at another girl, you only have eyes for me. Whisper sweet words of love, loyalty, and gratefulness in my ear nightly. Compare my beauty to poetry, love songs and nature. Listen to everything I say. Have an interest in every opinion and experience I have. Support me and defend me. Devote yourself to me completely. Take care of me. Tell me you love me every time we talk. Only go out with your friends if I'm busy, otherwise spend all your time with me. Never complain or get mad at me. Just be glad I'm yours.
                           Do these things and I'll know you love me.

Surprise me with flowers every once in awhile. Do it because you know they make me smile. Call me when life gets to be too much. We'll cook dinner and watch bad movies. Or we can have a lazy Saturday brunch while we listen to jazz. Talk to me, I'll listen. Tell me your dreams, your plans, your fears. Listen to mine, we'll figure them out together. If you think about it, hold my hand every once in awhile. I love how it feels when you reach out to me. Be faithful. Do this and I'll trust you with my heart, all of it. Don't lose patience with me, encourage me. I'll encourage you. Be honest with me, even if it might not be what I want to hear. But, say it with kindness. Go out with your friends and have fun, but include me sometimes. Remember me. Don't leave me behind. When you feel it, tell me you love me. Appreciate me, don't take me for granted.
                        Do these things and I'll know you love me.

Buy me a flower only after we fight. Maybe then I'll forget what we fought about. When you get overwhelmed or tired, go have a drink. Have a lot of drinks. Flirt with other girls. Be sure not to mention you have a girlfriend waiting for your call, missing you and still believing the best in you. Be distant, don't let me in. Don't always be there when I need you, but expect me always if you need me. Have periods of time of sweet perfection, with quiet nights together, running errands, talking, laughing, silliness and complete closeness. Ignore me the next week. Be vague with your feelings. Instead of saying 'I love you' tell me you care for me or that I'm important to you. But make sure your actions are not louder than your words. Treat me as an afterthought. Treat me not as someone you want to be with, but as someone you don't want to miss.
                         Do these things and I'll know you love me.

Buy me expensive gifts as a way to show what money you have. Remind me constantly what's wrong with me. Use mistakes of my past over my head. Make me feel small and insignificant. Remind me I'm nothing without you. Call me names, make me hurt. Remind me how no one else will want me. Disrespect me. Get angry easily. If your words don't do the trick use your fist. Control me. I will mistake this for you caring for me. Tell me I'm mediocre, I have no spark. I will think I can't do better. If I have any confidence, take it away immediately. Don't let me have time with those that might love me. Have me apologize for everything, even when you're at fault. Get me to the point where I wonder if I'm good enough for you instead of wondering if you are good enough for me. Accuse me of being unfaithful to cover up your own unfaithfulness. Ridicule me for my weaknesses. Ask me why I can't be skinnier, prettier or smart. Make it so I depend on you for everything without actually offering me anything.
                        Do these things and I'll know you love me.

Christy Got Married

I went back to the home town for a wedding yesterday. One of my best high school friends got married. She was beautiful and truly looked happy. It took place at First Baptist Church, which was the church we attended when lived in Arkadelphia. I hadn't been there in thirteen years. It was nice. One of the few places where I don't have any overly embarrassing or bad memories. The church and, of course Mazzios pizza. But, who has bad memories at Mazzios...mm pizza...no, must focus.

Anyway, wedding went off without a hitch. Everyone that was supposed to be there was, none of the bridesmaids looked resentful, the groom didn't have that "where the hell am I?" look, no one tripped, the singer didn't choke and there was no awkward pause while they lit the unity candle. So all in all it was a great wedding.

The reception was nice too. I am a huge fan of wedding punch. It wouldn't take much for me to grab the punch bowl and chug it down like there's no tomorrow. But, I feel that might be a little frowned upon so I stuck with my eight refills instead. The wedding cake had a raspberry filling, so I was pretty happy about that too.

Most of my high school friend group was there. The majority I hadn't seen since 1996. It's weird how people can be so different and yet so much the same. All of them were married. Yep. As of yesterday at 2:45pm I am the last single person of that particular friend group. Good thing I now hang with people in their younger 20's who aren't "ready" or I might be depressed.

Actually, the single thing doesn't bother me. I don't really dwell on not being married too much. If it happens-great, if not-great. But, there is something about being surrounded by married people who are your age and graduated when you did that can be disconcerting. Most of them had kept in touch in some way. I just read their Facebook status. So I basically know when they're home from work and if they're tired, but nothing about their actual lives. I don't have alot in common with them anymore.

They all had babies. And that's what most of the conversation was about...their kids. And, yes, I know I have two kids. I had my two kids way before they had theirs (ha ha beat you!). But, for some reason I am not a good talker about babies. I spent a good portion of both pregnancies praying I would like mine and they wouldn't be those crazy crying kids. Well, God said okay and I like both of mine and they aren't crazy criers. So, I spent alot of my time standing on the outskirts of conversations, wondering around for coffee, the groom's cake and more punch. This is good because usually when I'm in an uncomfortable situation I start to ramble on and on about really trivial things I know and alot of times it ends with the phrase "and that's why I'm not sure how they could make a Buffy and Angel movie, I mean how would they work Spike in."

Although that said, I did have Holly. She was my very first friend when I moved to Arkadelphia. Although we weren't the closet of friends in high school, she was my BFF at the reception. She's married too, but no kids yet. And she had just enough sarcasm and humor to make me love her. I pretty much went where she did. Bless her heart. I latched onto her like a frat boy latches onto the last Bud light in the frat house.

Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed the wedding and the reception greatly. It was incredible to see Christy so happy. I made a lot of very bad decisions in high school, and one might say didn't have the greatest reputation, but this group of friends stayed my friends. So I loved seeing them with their spouses and kids, hearing about new jobs and opportunities. Seeing this made me truly happy. I'm the one with the problem. Yeah, I'm 31 years old, never married, two kids, just now a junior in college, and working part time as a stock girl. But I need to get over it. I'm working hard so those won't be my labels for much longer.

Of course, it's still a little unnerving when the mother of the bride comes into the room and yells out "I need all the single ladies, are there any single ladies? Christy is scared she won't have anyone to throw the bouquet to....oh hey Angela, aren't you eligible for this? Come on." She grabbed me and two tween girls. I didn't catch it.

All in all, a great day. Ms. Slavens and Mr. Patterson still hang out, Dr. Tranthum still plays the organ, Mr. Kolb still makes friends with everyone he meets, Mary Elizabeth is still the cheeriest person I know, Holly is my new BFF, and I got to witness one of my best friends in love and committing her life to it. It was a great wedding.

By the Pool Side

I am in possession of many pet peeves. I hate when someone pulls out in front of me and then proceeds to drive five miles under the speed limit. I hate that I seem to be the only one in my house that realizes there are designated places in the dishwasher for the bowls, plates and cups to go. Deviating from that design totally messes up the efficiency of which dishes can be cleansed. I hate there is always that one person who will ask "are we having fun yet?" while working on a project, that is obviously not fun. The question is not witty, funny or any form of encouraging. It's not even funny sarcasm, I don't even know how to respond to the question. I just know every time it is asked I have more and more trouble restraining myself from punching them in the face.

It also drives me crazy when a professor will do a review for a test and state how many points are possible and then someone will ask "how many points are possible?". I can't stand it when someone can't take a compliment. Really, just say thank you. It's not that hard. Other pet peeves include people coming in on the last five minutes of a TV show and then asking "what happened?", employees asking me "are you sure?", him hiding not wanting to spend time with me behind the mask of being too busy, red lights, David Caruso, lettuce, being forgotten and people who complain about every situation...ironically.

But what gets me the most, what I hate above all is at this moment a friend of my eight year old niece is struggling with a brain tumor that doctors can't get. How do you explain to an eight year old that her headaches and pain might never go away?
I hate that someone I love is drowning in a pool of crushing debt, depression and her own bad decisions. And, we her family, just stand by the pool side waiting and wondering who's going to jump in and save her.
I hate that another of my friends has tied her self worth to a man that has little worth of his own. She would rather be miserable and hurt with him than happy alone. I hate that I know these things, but at the end of the day - it's the red lights that really get to me. I hate I'm that kind of person.

I see you...in the bar, laughing a little too loud at his mediocre jokes. You hope he'll make you feel desirable and beautiful, even for just one night. I see you look around in hopes the waiter is on his way with that third drink because you know that's the only way this night will be tolerable. You're grasping for fleeting moments that were never meant to last a lifetime. You're grasping at all the wrong things that only add to the emptiness you have.

I see you...wondering up and down Cantrell, Markham, Broadway and Rodney Parham. Your scarred with dirt in your hair, on your face and on your clothes. Everyday for the past eight years you have been walking up and down these streets. Always on your way with no where to go. People who walk by are careful not to make eye contact with you. You are someones son, someones grand child. But there was a day you became too hard to care for, too hard to love. There was a day that someone gave up on you, and let you go. And you were forgotten.

Yes. I do see you. And I'm sorry that I have used my problems as an excuse to ignore yours. I'm sorry that for some reason I don't use the courage that has already been given to me. I'm sorry that all I do is wait, all I do is see.

Crazy Uncle Harold

I haven't been very inspired lately. Although things seem to be shifting in my life recently (for the better) I feel the need to keep it close to my heart and not on blogspot. I do hope you understand. But, oddly enough I found some inspiration by the weather report today.

I love Arkansas weather. I love that I wore a sundress with flip flops today and on Wednesday I'll need to wear snow boots with my sherpa hat. We reached a record 81 degrees today and on Wednesday we'll be down in the 40's with a chance of light snow mixed with rain. I smiled at this. I could almost picture Old Man Winter giving us, and that young whipper snapper Spring, the finger.

I see Arkansas winters as our cranky 95 year old rich uncle (we'll call him Harold for short). He comes to stay with us every November and we all tolerate his presence until his death in March. We hope he'll bring gifts of white Christmas's and snow days from work and school. But not Harold. Usually he says "screw you" and instead gives us ice on Friday night and has it cleared up in time for Monday mornings. He takes naps here and there throughout January and February, letting 70 degree weather tease us. Harold will then pull the ultimate prank.

He'll go away for awhile. Warm air takes over, flowers begin to bloom, girls flock to buy tube tops and shorts that could double as underwear. Arkansans start making plans for picnics and other outdoor events. We get comfortable. Harold finally died, we don't have to worry with that grouchy S.O.B anymore. And then, just like Glenn Close at the end of Fatal Attraction or that guy with the moustache at the end of Sleeping With The Enemy, Harold pops up from the dead and throws hail at our heads with a wind chill of -10 degrees. Crazy old Uncle Harold.

Even though it happens every year, Uncle Harold gets us every time. And I like it. We live in a state with 2 months of Winter, 4 hours of Fall, 45 min of Spring and 10 months of Summer. So, I say long live Uncle Harold. He's got spunk. And tomorrow I will happily wear my scarf with a smile and dodge the hail with a gleam in my eye.

Oh Weaverbirds, What Is It You Have To Teach Us?

On this Valentine's day I read a chapter on Women's Long-Term Mating Strategies and a chapter on Men's Long-Term Mating Strategies. My dad told me I should go out with my friends and put those strategies to work. But, I stayed in instead. You can read a couple of blogs below and see how Valentine's usually works out for me and this won't be a surprise. But, I can happily say that although I am single, I still had hope that I would have some sort of romantic happening or surprise this past Saturday. The reason that I am happy about that (oh, nothing romantic happened, sorry to keep you hanging) is that it means I'm not jaded. Yep. I still have romantic hopes, and that makes me happy.

Now, back to my Evolutionary Psychology chapters. As you can imagine the chapter on women's mating strategies was quite a bit longer than that of men's. In a nutshell: women want sugar daddies and men want big boobs with lower hip to waist ratios. No news flash there. What was interesting was what I read about the African village weaverbird.

The female weaverbird holds all the cards in this species. The male literally turns himself upside down from his nest and flaps his wings in such a way to get her attention. He does this to show off the nest he has put together. If he is so lucky to get her attention she enters his nest and inspects it. While she is 'judging' his living conditions, he serenades her with a song. Depending on how well the nest is put together and/or how well she likes the song the female weaverbird will either reject it and go on to another upside down male or stay with the present male. It all depends on if everything in the presentation meets the females expectations.

I love it. Those sassy female weaverbirds. They have an idea of what they want and refuse anything less. If only we human females were so sassy. And on top of that they get serenaded while being judgemental. If only human males were so eager to please.

I don't write this as a feminist. I'm not a feminist, or at least not a very good one. Personally, I think sexual harassment can be fun. I write this as a witness to women who put their all into relationships with men whose nest is very, very far from par. They somehow think they can change these men and make them into the prince charmings of fairytales. Why do we do this? It's pretty much the most ridiculous thing ever. Women will fall for these guys who hurt them over and over. And then when the relationship ends the woman hates all men and is jaded forever. In the mean time I wonder how many wonderfully put together nest and beautiful serenades were missed because of all the time wasted trying to make the loser man into something he is not, or never wanted to be.

Don't get me wrong. I think one of the most beautiful things about love is the desire for both parties to want to build up and support the other. Seeing the beauty through the flaws is my favorite part of love. But, I think we get into these relationships expecting the other to get all 'Tom Cruise' on our ass and complete us. That's silliness. Because people leave, people pass away. Forever was never guaranteed. The best thing we could do is be a complete person and offer our whole selves to someone we love. And if they don't want to offer their whole selves, then maybe there is an upside down guy down the road flapping his wings for our attention.

So, lesson from the female weaverbird:
*know what you want and who you are
*don't be afraid to inspect a males nest. might not be what you were looking for, but at least you looked and it will help you get a bit closer to the one's whose nest is just right.
*don't worry about rejecting the nest. there's always going to be another bird.
*if you find what you like and want to stay...then stay. don't carry the baggage of bad weaverbird's in the past into what could be the best nest ever.

Lesson's from the male weaverbird:
*try.
*keep up with your nest. a crappy nest is a lonely nest.
*although it doesn't seem like it, eventually those with less than perfect nest are rejected. keep trying, it'll pay off.
*and nothing beats a good serenade. although, the whole "Say Anything" scene with John Cusak standing in the rain with the radio over his head is great for the movie, there is a creepy factor to it...so just be aware of that.