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Thursday, August 30, 2012

Finals Week

Sorry I've been absent lately but it's finals week. That lovely end of the semester that signals all types of stress and anxiety. This is usually the time when I say goodbye to those nice 2-8 page papers, or 5-10 slide PowerPoint projects. And I say HELLO to 10+ page papers and 10-15 slide PowerPoints. Mmmm yeah.

Week of prepping + 2-3 days of note taking =  3-5 hour writing sessions.

This is my writing face:



Which is similar to my highlighting face:



But more stressed and Grrrrr looking. Thankfully I was able to work ahead some and get the minor assignments out of the way before the big ones. So now I'm going to do myself a favor and chillax for a bit and enjoy my brief moment of down time. I get 3 weeks of luxuriating before the rush starts all over again. Don't get me wrong I'm not complaining one bit, I do enjoy working my butt off. And it shows in my grades. Looks like I'm getting A's this semester but until the final grades are posted, I'm not assuming anything. I'll be back soon, right now I think I'll take a cue from Bruno Mars:

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Letting Go

Letting Go.

A post from a fellow blogger about why Letting Go is so important. We don't think of how severely life events impact our heart and shape the person we are. This is a great example of how holding onto the things that hurt us hurt our heart. Very, insightful blog to follow!

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Thou impertinent, folly-fallen giglet!

New ways to insult people without them understanding what you mean....nice

Cerebral Palsy Inspirational Run: Matt Woodrum Cheered on by Family and Classmates - YouTube

Cerebral Palsy Inspirational Run: Matt Woodrum Cheered on by Family and Classmates - YouTube.

When John Blaine realized 11-year-old Matt Woodrum was struggling through his 400-meter race at school in central Ohio, the physical education teacher felt compelled to walk over and check on the boy.

"Matt, you're not going to stop, are you?" he encouragingly asked Woodrum, who has cerebral palsy.

"No way," said the panting, yet determined, fifth-grader.

Almost spontaneously, dozens of Woodrum's classmates — many who had participated earlier in the school's field day — converged alongside him, running and cheering on Woodrum as he completed his final lap under the hot sun.

The race on May 16, captured on video by Woodrum's mother, is now capturing the attention of strangers on the Internet, many who call the boy and his classmates an inspiration to be more compassionate toward each other. A nearly five-minute YouTube video posted this week by the boy's uncle has received more than 680,000 views.

Woodrum, who has spastic cerebral palsy that greatly affects his muscle movement, said he had a few moments where he struggled.

"I knew I would finish it," said the soft-spoken Woodrum, who attends Colonial Hills Elementary School in suburban Worthington. "But there were a couple of parts of the race where I really felt like giving up."

For more on this story: http://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory/ohio-runner-cerebral-palsy-hit-online-1648...

 

 

For More Like This-----> Beautiful Moments, Success Is Subjective, Push Girls, Inspirational Moments, The Traveling Red Dress, Lois Lane

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Part Time Suburban Life

When I was in my late teens/early twenties I was one of those people that thought "I'm never moving out of the city!" Now that I'm 30 going on 31 "It's time to move to the suburbs!"

When you're younger you don't always look at the world around you. All you see are the good things and you dismiss the bad because that's city life. But there are some things that shouldn't be part of city life. It just seems like people have no respect for other people's space. I know, I know, I have issues with strangers and my space. But it's true! I come home tired from running errands, or worn out from doctor visits, and I can't even walk up the steps without telling someone they need to get their rusty behind off my steps.

I'm relaxing in the house trying to watch TV and someone's blaring their stereo. If they had any taste in music it probably wouldn't bother me so much. Or if you happen to hear gun shots you drop to the floor and call 911. But not in the 'burbs. Wake up to birds chirping, fall asleep to crickets. It's calm and peaceful. And if you hear gunshots it's from the gun club not a drive-by. There's space and peace and quiet so you can hear yourself think. I've gotten to a point in my life where I don't want to live in the city, I'd rather visit. And I'm fine with that, because we all know how much I love having space.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

I'm a small-medium-large-6-7-8....oh I give up!

There I was sorting the laundry that needs to be done (if it wasn't for emergency undies I'd be screwed), when a thought went through my head. Well, first I thought about lighting the pile on fire and moving to a nudist colony. Then I started thinking about how it's that time of year when I need to sort through my fall/winter wardrobe and play the Does This Fit Game. You stand in front of either your closet or a bin full of next season's stuff and spend the next few hours sizing everything up. Making sure you still fit into those cute shirts and you don't look like a walking sausage. Putting on and taking off sweaters repeatedly until you find that itchy one you meant to get rid of last year. But my favorite part (insert sarcasm here) is when I get to my pants. I love jeans, so I have a ton of them. And thanks to summer heat and eating less my weight has fluctuated here and there. So time to try on every pair of pants I own. Yaaayyy (insert more sarcasm here)!

Now men don't seem to have this next problem because for some reason all men's pants are sized by waist and length. So all they have to do is look for that and they're golden (*cough* not fair). Women on the other hand, well that right there is what we call a hot mess. Our pants fall into a number category or waist size. If you're like me and can't remember what your waist is chances are you don't own any of these pants. Just when you think "oh well all you have to remember is a number pfftt that's easy", this is where it turns into a hot mess. Depending on the material I can squeeze into a 5 (really pushing it) to an 8. Why such a big size gap? Because half of the clothing makers use odd and the other half use even size. Now if I'm comfy in a 6 I should be able to just get a 7 and call it a day right. NOPE! A 7 by this designer is like a 5 according to another designer or a 9 by this other brand over here. Needless to say I hate shopping because if you find one pair of pants you like, you need to find them in at least three sizes just in case. By the time I'm done shopping I'm ready to find a bar to ease the mental torture I just went through.

It would be nice if I could walk into a store, find three pairs of pants in the same size that I like and call it a day. But noooooo! Just save me the hassle and make everything small, medium, large, etc.

Thank you xoxoxo!

So I decided to take a look at the nifty stats page WordPress has put together for us bloggers. And I'd just like to say one thing to all of you.....THANK YOU! When I started writing this I thought only a couple people would bother looking at it, let alone following it. But thanks to the love of the blogging universe I've had views from people in the USA, Canada, Denmark, Australia, Colombia and the Netherlands. Woohoo I'm international hahaha! I love love love you all for taking the time to read my thoughts and if you have a blog I'd love to read yours too, gotta pay it forward! Anyways, thank you again it makes me feel good to know people are interested in what I have to say. "See" you later xoxoxo.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Entitled To

"I deserve this.."
"I'm entitled to that.."
"Only my opinion matters.."
"I'm more important than you.."
Stop, stop, just STOP!
So many think they're more than you
More than I
Haven't earned the right they demand
Offering nothing in return
Want, want, want
Take, take, take
Never giving in return
Always bleeding someone else dry
They can't see that they're wrong
Can't see beyond their selfish needs
Could care less about other's wants
Me, me, me, I, I, I
Blaming others for their wrongs
No common sense to see
They're the problem not the solution

Friday, August 17, 2012

From a fellow blogger

Goodbye to fear.

For you poetry lovers out there, this poem is the kind that will make you want to keep fighting. A lot of good stuff from a fellow blogger theblackandwhitedragonfly. Please check out the rest of this blog, you'll enjoy it.

DNA Road Maps

I was enjoying a nice, relaxing bath when these random thoughts started running rampant through my head. Even in my own head I have issues with my personal space being invaded. *Sigh* Anyway, I started thinking about how DNA lines are just like road maps. Bear with me it'll make sense in a minute. Right now there is a road of some kind separating you from family members, or friends you think of as family.

Every time you think about visiting your aunt, grandma, cousin whoever it is the first thing you think about is how to get there. Our DNA spends a lot of time moving city to city, state to state or country to country. It doesn't matter if you've never set foot onto another country, someone in your family has. Your DNA has done a lot of traveling. If only those frequent flier miles were transferable.

A year ago I took one of those genealogical DNA tests. The ones that tell you where your ancestors came from. I've gotta say my mom's side of the family did a whole lot of traveling. Libya, Greece, Ukraine, Denmark, England, Ireland then USA. Always thought I had an interesting background but, it's kind of funny I never saw Ukraine or Denmark being in the mix. Just goes to show you, just when you think you know everything there's always something out there to make you go hmmm. The Viking blood could explain why I'm Team Eric (True Blood). And to all those who give me a funny look when I wear my St. Paddy's gear :-P "See I told ya I was Irish"
But like I was saying, we don't think about where our blood has been we think about where we've been. Aren't we more than our bodies though? I'm not talking about our immortal souls or anything. I mean our blood. For some of us (ahem, me) we have to find ways to define ourselves outside of our biological family because they choose to be non-existent. But there's nothing wrong with looking back and wondering where did it all start.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Success is Subjective (from the blog of Carly Sarah)

Success is Subjective.

A very great post about what success means these days. Take a look I'm sure you'll find yourself nodding your head just like I did when I read it. I swiped this from one of my fellow bloggers Carly Sarah, you should check out the rest of her blog.

Ooo that smell

Ahhh summertime! The sun is shining, flowers are blooming, birds are singing and....*sniff sniff*....What in the hell is that smell?!! Oh gawd that's nasty!

Over the years I've had to adjust to one of the downsides of living in a big city. The random smells you encounter on your daily journey. The pungent aroma of pee and rotting garbage wafting out of an alleyway. That cloud of steam coming from the subway grates that smells like pee. And the worst offender of them all....RANDOM BODY ODOR. You can adjust to most things. I mean, common sense and experience tell you to hold your breath when you walk past an alleyway because you know it's going to smell a bit funky. If the sidewalk isn't too crowded you can sidestep sewer and subway grates to avoid stinky clouds. But there is no way to control the random funk that wafts up your nose when you're around people. That smell so strong you can taste it! Now granted the only body odor you can control is your own and that of the people you love. During the winter everything is fine because we're all layered up and you have no idea the person sitting next to you is stinky unless they take off their coat. But in the summertime, there's no protection from other people's funk.

Say you're on the train and you've been walking out in the hot sun for an hour or so. You sit down and catch a whiff of what you believe are smelly armpits. Now if you're not sure how well your deodorant holds up in the heat, or if you rushed out the house and forgot to put some on, you start to feel subconscious. At this point you need to make sure that smell isn't coming from you. There are a few subtle techniques you can use to find out if you stink. The Stretch & Sniff: slowly stretch your arms above your head and tilt your nose toward one of your armpits, lean your head from side to side sniffing as you go. The Arm Scratch/Lint Pick: raise your arm in front of you and gently scratch, or if  you're wearing long sleeves pretend to pick lint off your shirt, dip your head quickly and take a sniff. The Where Did I Put That: ladies pretend like you're digging through your purse to find something, lean in and take a sniff, men if your shirt has a pocket pretend like you're looking in it and then lean in and take a sniff (if you don't have shirt pockets you can pretend to pick link off your chest and sniff). All of these wonderful techniques can be used to make sure you're not the owner of that stench.

Too many times I've hopped on a train or bus and caught a whiff of someone's stanky pits and had to do a self-check to make sure it's not me.....it's them! Now I believe that being subjected to someone else's body odor is a form of assault. If you don't believe in wearing deodorant/anti-antiperspirant then that's your business, but please keep your arms down. What bothers me are the rude people that not only expose us to their stench, they feel the need to wave their arms and move about while they repeatedly assault us with their funky selves. I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to not have to shield my nose and spend the rest of my commute uncomfortable because of someone else. This is why I want to start carrying Febreeze in my purse and randomly spray these Odor Offenders. I'm not talking about a travel size bottle...no no no...I mean one of those giant ones you get in an economy pack 2 for 1 type of deal. If I could I'd put those Glade Stick 'Ems on people as they pass by, but I'm not putting out that kind of money. Now I'm not saying I need to use the whole bottle, depending on their level of funk that will let me know how much spraying I need to do. The government has color coded threat levels....well let's think of it in a three step area. LEVEL ONE: mild to moderate amount of funk....tolerable LEVEL TWO: okay you're ripe but I've smelled worse  LEVEL THREE: DEAR GOD WHAT IS THAT SMELL! OH MY GOD DID SOMETHING DIE INSIDE OF YOU?! I THINK I JUST THREW UP A LITTLE IN MY MOUTH!

I can handle a Level One or Two, but once you stray into Level Three I'm at a point where I have to physically restrain myself from slapping the offender. I mean really, did that odor rot your nasal senses so that you can't smell that. Those are the people who need to be sprayed. See I believe what they're doing is a form of assault upon all of us. By spraying them it's a form of self-defense because as I said I'm being assaulted by their odor! Of course I've had several friends remind me that there are laws against what I want to do. And I don't look good in prison orange so I'll continue to bob and weave and hope that one day....one distant day in the future....people will stop spreading their funk and keep it to themselves.

Monday, August 13, 2012

Beautiful Moments

There is beauty all around us
In small parts, in tall parts
Sometimes it shouts out to us
To be noticed and devoured
To be discussed and admired
There is beauty in
The ordinary and the extraordinary
The simple, the complex
In dawns light or twilight
We seek out those things
That make us stop and listen
Those things that call to us
From somewhere deep within
There is beauty in everything
If only we'd take the time to notice it
Explore it and enjoy it
Life is a series of fleeting moments
If we're lucky we can preserve it on film
If we're lucky we are part of the beauty
If only for a moment

Little Miss Productive

I'm one of those people who chose to work for a while until I figured out what I wanted to go to school for. After two false starts, communications then restaurant management major, I figured I needed some time. Student loans make it easier for you to get the education you want. And you don't think about them until after you're done with school and have to pay them back.

I spent 6 months thinking I wanted to be a writer or PR exec, after I graduated high school. When I lost my desire for that I went to culinary school for 6 months. Then I realized that wasn't the life I wanted. So I left. Spent the next few years working at some interesting places. I've sold office supplies (door to door), gave guided tours by horse drawn carriage, done store inventories, raised funds for an environmental group, and worked in customer service. What can I say I don't always pick your typical 9 to 5.

I waited until I was 28 to go back to college and get my degree. Always had an interest in Criminal Justice and Psychology. I remember watching Silence of the Lambs when I was 11, and thinking "I wanna do that". Tip-toe through the mind of a serial killer and help bring a family justice. Yeah, I wanted to be Clarice and work for the FBI. So I went back for Forensic Psychology, and I love it! I'd never been an honors student in high school. But I am now. I work my butt off to get projects done on time. I've got a wall calendar with all my assignments on it, so I can keep track of things.

When I can, I work ahead. Right now I've got 4 of my last 8 projects for the semester done already. And I plan on having the last four done within the next two weeks. I have the one thing I never had in high school, a high GPA. 3.95 and I plan on keeping it that way. So I'll stay in instead of going out with friends. I'll work on papers instead of vegging out in front of the TV. In the end I'll be proud of myself for dedicating all that free time to keeping myself on track. I made my mom a promise before she died that I'd be her only child to finish college. In 14 months I'll be a college grad :-) Call me dedicated, call me tenacious, call me sleep deprived.....my name is Little Miss Productive and I'm keeping that promise!

Friday, August 10, 2012

One of those mornings

Ever had one of those mornings when you needed some extra umph to help get you going. When we were kids we could just wake up and go outside and play for hours. These days you need a little extra help.

Say hello to my little friend:


Wednesday, August 8, 2012

People These Days

There's something about growing up in a city with a population of 1.5 million people that just  provides some interesting encounters on a daily, well hourly basis. You have your business owners, corporate execs, professionals, slackers, laborers, tourists, scam artists, families, politicians, unemployed and homeless people. I'm not talking about throughout the city either, most of the time you can run into one of each just walking in a 5 block radius. Now as diverse as this city is, I keep running into the same two types of people. Frankly, my daily routine would be much more peaceful if I could avoid them. But that's what happens when you live in a big city, you see, hear and smell it all.

So, who are these two types of people? Ignorant "Men" and Ignorant "Women" (I use the quotation marks because these are the kinds of people that make us all look bad). Depending on where you live you've probably come across these people too, or you've at least seen them on TV. Okay, let's start with the Ignorant "Men" who I will refer to as IMs. This is something that's happened to me one too many times (if I didn't like having a clean criminal record I'd probably be in jail by now because of how I wanted to respond):

IM: (taps me on the shoulder) Yo....what's up ma?

Me: (ignore and stare straight ahead)

IM: (grabs arm) Yo ma lemme holla at chu.

Me: (pulls arm away and continues to ignore)

IM: (sucks teeth) Why you gotta ignore me? I was gonna say you nice lookin' but neva mind you ugly.

 

Just like with the "n" word, an IM isn't defined by one race. He can be Black, White, Hispanic it doesn't matter. IMs come in all sizes, shapes, religions and colors. Most of the time you can spot an IM before he approaches you:

  • loud, obnoxious voice

  • excessive use of foul language

  • leers at every woman that moves past him

  • feels the need to touch pretty women he doesn't know

  • becomes easily angered by rejection


Unfortunately I wasn't aware the person next to me was an IM until well after he sat next to me. Sometimes the IM can go undetected, until he opens his mouth. Now let's get something straight for future reference. I am a BIG fan of personal space. If I'm on a bus, train, or walking down the street I shouldn't be touched by ANYONE. Unless you're pulling me out of the way of an out of control car or a sudden explosion, don't touch me. If I don't know you don't touch me. I don't care if you think I'm pretty, or I remind you of your best friend's girlfriend's sister's third cousin you haven't seen in 10-20 years. Ask yourself the following: Do you know me? If the answer to this question is no, then don't touch me. This applies to any femaleIf you want to look at her because you think she's pretty, fine go ahead, we don't care. You can even make comments to the buddy you're hanging out with and talk about us once we're gone. But at no point should you make physical contact with us!  It is rude and disrespectful to put your hands on someone else just because you want to hit on them. Now if someone you didn't know put their hands on you then you'd be ready to knock them on the ground. So why is it strange when I react negatively to someone invading my personal space?All of a sudden I've gone from being that pretty woman you wanted to hit on to being the ugliest woman on the planet. And that's if the IM feels like being nice. Most of the time I'm a bitch, ho, slut, trick or anything else that's not my actual name. I am sick and tired of all these self-righteous, half-brained, ignorant IMs thinking it's okay for them to put their hands on me. It is rude and disrespectful to put your hands on someone you don't know. I try not to flip out and curse them out whenever this happens because these days you have no clue if they're carrying a gun or not. I'd rather not end up in the morgue or the hospital, so I just ignore and walk away.

The second type of person ruining civilized society are the Ignorant "Women", now referred to as IW. See example:

IW: Should I call him back?

Friend: I don't know why you're still with him he's so mean to you.

IW: He's not always mean to me. He just gets like that if I call when he's with her.

Friend: You mean his wife? His wife that he has four children with.

IW: Yeah her! He told me last night that she's an awful mom and a bad wife and he's gonna leave her soon. He's just waiting for the right time.

Friend: You seriously think he's going to leave her? They've been married for how long now?

IW: 5 years. But he says he's tired of dealing with her. He's going to leave her and we're going to get married.

Are you shaking your head right now because I am too. Oh IW IW when will you ever learn. He's not going to leave her and you're not going to marry him. He just says that to keep you from going anywhere. He gets to have his cake and eat it too. So while the IW fulfills his sexual needs, his dutiful wife takes care of the kids and the household. If he leaves then he'll have to pay alimony and child support and figure out custody. Then of course his family will get on his case "How could you mess up your marriage like this" they'll say, or  "What's wrong with you" they'll ask. He can't keep it in his pants, that's what's wrong with him. But the IW blindly believes that somehow even though he's cheating on his loving wife, she will somehow be the one woman he's faithful to for the rest of his life. WRONG!You are just another notch on his belt. The IW isn't just a home-wrecker, oh no there's much more to her. The IW is that "woman" with loose morals and a complete disregard for other people's feelings. She does what benefits her and her only. It doesn't matter if she's stabbing someone in the back, not caring for her children, or having sex with anything with a pulse. If it makes her happy that's all that matters. The IW sees nothing wrong with talking about her sexual exploits, baby daddies or possible STD's in public loud enough for everyone around her to hear. She doesn't know you so she doesn't care that you think she is classless and tacky. That's how she rolls.

IMs and IWs of the world....oh boy where to start. There is nothing wrong with being an individual and wanting good things in life. But at some point you need to learn that there are things called dignity, grace, and tact. Have the dignity not to sleep with someone else's husband. Have the dignity to use more than curse words when you're speaking to someone else. Have the grace to speak about your private health matters in an area where people can't tweet their friends about "the nasty chick" sitting across from them. Have the grace to admire someone from afar and leave it at that. Have the tact to KEEP YOUR LEGS CLOSED! Have the tact to keep your damn hands off me before I break them! But more importantly, GROW UP!

 

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Push Girls

Push Girls: FEARLESS WOMEN WHO DON'T LET THEIR DISABILITIES STOP THEM:

Push Girl Nominee Alana (Lana) Little




Alana Ashley Little (Lana)

Nominated by Little Miss Wheelchair Texas 2012

While Alana Ashley Little (Lana) may not meet most people's definition of a Push Girl because she's only eight years old, the reality of it is that she will probably not live to be an adult. Our Lana's a fighter...she's had to be. She was born into a world of mental illness, homelessness and drug and alcohol abuse. During
her infancy, she never saw a pediatrician...never had her immunizations...never had formula...her world was a literal hell. We (her maternal grandparents) were able to win custody of Lana and her little brother, Alex in 2005 when she was fifteen months old and Alex was four months old. Just as we were all settling in to our new lives, Lana was diagnosed with Ataxia Telangiectasia (A-T). A-T is a rare (about 500 cases in the USA and 1,000 worldwide), recessive genetic disorder that hides in the genes of those who carry it. Imagine having a disease that combines the very worst symptoms of Muscular Dystrophy, Cerebral Palsy, Cystic Fibrosis, an immune system deficiency and a 1,000 times greater chance of having cancer than the general population. A-T is neuro-degenerative and is progressive...there is no cure or treatment for A-T...it is fatal. (Lana and Alex's mother, our daughter died on June 27, 2009 of a drug overdose. Their father's paternal rights have been terminated.) Lana's cerebellum has been destroyed by A-T...her immune system is no longer functioning, so she receives subcutaneous immunoglobin infusions each week at home (three needles in the stomach). She began using a wheelchair at the age of two to head off the crushing fatigue that A-T has caused. She made the move full time to her chair at the age of seven because she could no longer control the muscles in her body. While the drugs and alcohol that she was exposed to prenatally did not cause her A-T, they have certainly exacerbated it. Despite everything she's endured in her short life, Lana is an inspiration to many...she has testified at our State Capital for the preservation of Medicaid...she was actually recognized on the Senate floor for her work...together, we educate others on children with disabilities. She loves nothing more than putting her chair on high and flooring it...laughing like crazy all the way. Lana is frustrated by people who feel sorry for her or pity her...that's not what she's about! She lives her life on her terms...and really, isn't that the epitome of a Push Girl?

 

Food for Thought


Food for Thought.

A little inspiration from my Food for Thought page on Pinterest....sometimes we need a little reminder that there's more to us than we think

 

For More Like This-----> Beauty, The Underdog, Welcome To My World

Monday, August 6, 2012

Inspirational moments: Oscar Pistorius in the best picture you’ll see | Fourth-Place Medal - Yahoo! Sports

Inspirational moments: Oscar Pistorius in the best picture you’ll see | Fourth-Place Medal - Yahoo! Sports.

Oscar Pistorius racing Ellie Challs

Morning Dialogue

Every morning I have the same argument with myself. Some days it's a quick fight.

Brain: Get up
Body: No
Brain: Get up!
Body: Okay..

But on those days when I feel like punching someone in the throat for breathing near me, the fight sounds something like this:

Brain: Time to get up and get moving.
Body: No.
Brain: C'mon get up.
Body: Did I stutter? No!
Brain: Can't get better if you don't get up.
Body: Bitch leave me alone!
Brain: Get up get up get up!!
Body: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! SHUT UUPPPP!
Brain: Not until you get up :-P
Body: Fine! Ughh I hate you.

They always ask on a scale of 1-10 how I feel. This is what it sounds like in my head when I'm an 8 or 9. Now you see why it takes me a while to get up. Most mornings I'm fighting to find the strength to sit up, let alone get up and move. Recovery is a long road and the journey is a pain in the ass. But at some point this torture will be worth it.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

When I Was Your Age

How many times have we heard our elders say "When I was your age"...blah blah blah. It's like a requirement for one generation to compare itself to this new generation of upstarts. Everywhere I go I see people updating their Facebook status or tweeting about how much their life sucks. Kids today have hundreds of cable channels, DVRs in their rooms, smartphones in their back pockets and Wii remotes in their hands.

When I was a kid I didn't have all these fancy toys. I didn't have motion capture video game systems like the Wii and Xbox Kinect. I sat on the floor with my controller in hand trying to get Mario to save Princess Peach from King Koopa. Teens today have iPhones, I had a purple pager. That pager lasted a month before my mom found out and took it from me. There were no DVRs in my room, I had a TV with basic cable and a built in VCR.

Instead of wasting $20 on a CD with a couple good songs, we bought tapes that ended up breaking from being replayed so much. We spent the night gossiping with our best friends instead of posting it on Facebook. We didn't have networks devoted to reality TV we had a network devoted to playing music videos. You didn't buy books from your Kindle you went to the library and hoped someone didn't already check your book out. Things were simpler before technology took over our lives. People were closer because we actually spent time together. What happened to the days when you passed a note to your crush that said "Do you like me check yes, no or maybe?" Maybe has turned into "it's complicated."

Friday, August 3, 2012

Beauty

This one's for the Ladies......


While I was getting ready this morning I couldn't help but stop and think about all the time we spend "getting ready." You get up, shower (or in my case take a bath because I don't feel like standing up most of the time), and then go through the process of getting yourself together to face the world. Women spend 80-90% of their time worrying about how they look. Why is it such a big deal? Well from the time we're little girls until the day we die, we get all these images thrown in our face and ideas shoved down our throat about what beauty is. Magazines telling us who the Most Beautiful People in the World are. TV shows with sculpted, thin women with porcelain skin and flawless hair and makeup. Commercials telling us what makeup to buy and hair products to use so we can be beautiful.

Aren't we already beautiful? My mommy told me when I was a little girl that I was beautiful. That was before skin creams, makeup, nail polish and high heels became a part of routine. When do we stop believing that we're beautiful without all of that stuff? Is it our teens? Adulthood? At some point we stop relying on our natural beauty and start using things to make us beautiful. Some of us use these things to enhance our looks, other women use these things because they think they're not beautiful without them. We get so stressed out and anxious over getting ourselves together for a special occasion because we need to look perfect.

I thought about all of this while I was rubbing Mederma on myself to get rid of scars I have from picking at bug bites (one of my bad habits that Mark gets on me about).  I started thinking about why I'm taking the time to rub that stuff on my body. Is it because I don't want people to see the scars? Or is it because I don't want them on me? When I first started using the stuff it was out of embarrassment from being so marked up. The more I used it the better I felt because I didn't want these marks on my body anymore. So now it's not because I don't want people staring at them, it's because I don't want them on me. I'm not getting rid of all my scars though. I'm keeping the one on my right leg that I got when I slipped and scrapped my shin against the metal piece holding the linoleum floor in my mom's room in place. I'm keeping the ones on my left knee from my knee surgery in 2009. And I'm keeping the one on the inside of my left forearm from the time I wanted to slit my wrist and changed my mind at the last minute. My scars tell a story that I don't want to erase.

I accept that I'm not perfect and I never will be. I don't want to be perfect because perfect equals boring. I'm comfortable with the fact that my right leg is 1/4 inch shorter than my left leg. I'm comfortable with the fact that my hair will NEVER be perfect. I'm comfortable living in the body I have and showing off my natural beauty. There are so many different types of beauty in this world. Spend less time believing what the magazines consider beauty and find comfort in the person you are. Love your natural beauty.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

The Traveling Red Dress — TheBloggess.com

The Traveling Red Dress — TheBloggess.com.

Have you met The Bloggess yet.....if not then you need to

Lois Lane? Pshh, I want to be Superwoman.: July 2012

Lois Lane? Pshh, I want to be Superwoman.: July 2012.

Exercise the douches out of your life and put an end to drama

One day you'll realize I'm right

When you're little you might say or do something that causes your mom or dad to utter one little phrase that will stick in your head for the rest of your life. "One day you'll realize I'm right." That's it. Short, simple but effective.

Me (as a kid): But why do I have to go to school?


Mom: Because you'll need a good education if you want to have a great career.


Me: But I just wanna be a drummer!


Mom: That's what you want right now but that'll change when you get older.


Me: Nuh uh I'm gonna grow up and be the best drummer in the world!


Mom (sigh): One day you'll realize I'm right.


Me (age 17): But I love him!


Mom: He's not good enough for you and it's not going to last. Trust me this relationship is going nowhere.


Me: You never know! Things will get better with us and then we'll get married and have a family!


Mom: He's not good enough for you. He's never going to make you happy. I don't like him. Trust me this is going nowhere.


Me: How do you know?!


Mom: Trust me I know!


Me: You'll see! He'll change!


Mom (sigh): He's never going to change. You can't make someone change unless they want to change. One day you'll realize I'm right


From the time I was 3 years old up until I was 10 or 11 I wanted to be a drummer. Think it had something to do with Animal from The Muppet Show being my favorite character. At some point I decided I wanted to be a veterinarian, marine biologist, cop, firefighter, equestrian show jumper, archer, writer and then a restaurant owner. What can I say, I've never been big on sitting in an office.

That guy I was with my senior year of high school. Yeah that didn't last. Things didn't get better they just kept getting worse. He never changed, but I realized I had to get away from him.

There's been so many times I've heard my mom's voice in the back of my head saying "You finally realized I was right"

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

The Underdog

So I'm watching the Phillies game and I can't help thinking about what it means to be the underdog. Not sure if it's a Philly thing (Rocky and all) or what but most of my life I've felt like I was the underdog. In karate I had to prove I was as strong, if not stronger than the men in my class. When I talk sports with someone I have to prove that I'm not just a pretty face, I know my stuff too. Every injury I've had knocked me on my ass and I had to fight back and make myself stronger than I was before. So I feel like I'm always fighting this uphill battle to prove myself. I plan on working with law enforcement after graduation, and that is going to be another uphill battle. Law enforcement is, and will always be seen as "a man's field." I'll have to prove myself to the people I work with that just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I can't do some good.

They say it's not the size of the dog in the fight that matters, it's the size of the fight in the dog. Well this dog gets tired of fighting sometimes. There are days I just want to lie down and give up. But for some odd reason I brush myself off and get back up. I don't think I have it in me to just quit. I've always been that way. That's how I was raised. Life sucks but if life was easy it wouldn't be worth living. You can't just settle and accept things, you have to fight for what you want. You want a happy life, get out there and do what you have to to get it. You want a great relationship, fight through the battles. I don't want the easy road, I don't want things handed to me. I'd rather sweat and bleed and crawl over broken glass or hot coals until I reach my target.....and then push myself ever farther. So I'll be the underdog the rest of my life if that's what I need to do. I'd rather be the underdog than the alpha dog. Why??? Because you won't see me coming ;-)

Olympic Fever

It's funny how when the Olympics start you notice people rallying around their country. No matter what sport it is, people will stop and watch. Here, you hear the Go Team USA chants in doctors offices and bars.

There's this big sense of pride knowing we have so many athletes competing for medals. We clap softly and say"that's okay at least you made it there" if someone just misses getting a medal. And when they do get one....we're loud and proud! For a short time we all come together as a nation.