If Ignorance Is Bliss, Am I Too Smart to Be Happy?

I hesitated to write this post because I know how cocky it may make me seem. (Of course, if you know me, you probably already use that word to describe me. Ha.) Plus, it practically begs others to catch me in the middle of some stupid mistake. 


But, I happened to be on www.dictionary.com and wouldn't you know it? This is the word of the day:

 OBSCURANTISM      opposition to the increase and spread of knowledge

So, now I figure it's some grand sign from the universe or something. <smirk>


Let me make this much clear from the beginning: my frustrations do not stem from the idea that I'm just so much smarter than the general population that I can hardly tolerate others. Rather, I'm well aware that, while I am indeed intelligent, I'm certainly not the smartest person in existence. There are soooo many people who are brilliant compared to me. 


This is the very reason that I'm baffled about how things that seem so obvious to me (a barely above-average person) are apparently difficult for others to grasp. 


I recently came to this realization: Ignorance is not the same thing as stupidity. Ignorance is a lack of knowledge whereas stupidity is the inability to learn. (Or, at least, the inability to learn easily.)


So now I think my irritation does not come from believing there are too many stupid people in the world. Instead, I think there are too many lazy people. That's right, too many people who are too apathetic to educate themselves.


Apparently it's just convenient to not be knowledgeable (thus the bliss - without working towards something, you're basically on a perpetual vacation from reality). There seems to be this common belief that being uninformed somehow absolves one of personal responsibility. 


Um, that's not how it works. You can throw all of your bills into the trash without opening them, but that doesn't change the debt you owe. 


(And, ahem, if you're alive then you owe something good to the world. We all should be contributing.)


Perhaps, it's because I've spent the last year working in a customer-service-type position that my frustrations have escalated. While I have the pleasure of interacting with many pleasant people, I'm also exposed to a vast number of less-than-charming and idiotic people. 


Some particularly annoying things happen a little too frequently. For example, there is a form patients fill out that asks this optional question: What is your religion? 


The list includes Catholic and Protestant. Too often, the patient looks at me and says, "Uh, I'm a Christian. Why isn't that on here?" And then eventually I hear this statement, "But I'm Baptist (or Methodist, Pentecostal, etc) not Protestant."


Now, do I expect everybody to know that Baptist is a denomination under the Protestant religion? Nope. But if you're going to consider yourself a die-hard Christian, dedicated to a certain belief system associated with the title Baptist/Methodist/Pentecostal/whatever, and especially if you're going to go around touting that you have Jesus, so you have all the answers... then YES, I expect you to know what the fuck you're talking about. And that most certainly includes knowing the very basics of your religion of choice.


This is a minor thing. My real grievance is with the world at large. Because the world is an illogical place - and I plead with someone to prove me wrong.


Why are there so many kind and wholesome women who struggle to get pregnant only to then miscarry four times when there are other women who have four abortions in a matter of three years because they're too lazy to use actual birth control?


Why is it illegal in this country to drive, smoke, drink or join the military before a certain age, but the government will pay for a teenage girl to give birth to a child she will neither love nor take proper care of? 


Why do people seem to think it's okay for a wealthy celebrity to pay over ten million dollars for a wedding (and then get divorced two months later!) when there is so much hunger and disease in the world? I believe in enjoying life, but I'm not okay with blatant disregard to the current human existence. I do no care how much of your wealth you already donate to charity - it is not acceptable to spend that disgusting amount of money on a single luxurious event when there is still so much suffering in the world.


I know this post is... depressing. But sometimes the frustration in my mind and the heavy feeling in my chest is too much to keep inside. These are the things that keep me up at night - and understandably so. When your eyes are wide-open, how can you sleep?


Writing (and, yes, sarcasm) is my weapon of defense.

*As you can see, I've always had this little smirk*

If Ignorance Is Bliss, Am I Too Smart to Be Happy?

I hesitated to write this post because I know how cocky it may make me seem. (Of course, if you know me, you probably already use that word to describe me. Ha.) Plus, it practically begs others to catch me in the middle of some stupid mistake. 


But, I happened to be on www.dictionary.com and wouldn't you know it? This is the word of the day:

 OBSCURANTISM      opposition to the increase and spread of knowledge

So, now I figure it's some grand sign from the universe or something. <smirk>


Let me make this much clear from the beginning: my frustrations do not stem from the idea that I'm just so much smarter than the general population that I can hardly tolerate others. Rather, I'm well aware that, while I am indeed intelligent, I'm certainly not the smartest person in existence. There are soooo many people who are brilliant compared to me. 


This is the very reason that I'm baffled about how things that seem so obvious to me (a barely above-average person) are apparently difficult for others to grasp. 


I recently came to this realization: Ignorance is not the same thing as stupidity. Ignorance is a lack of knowledge whereas stupidity is the inability to learn. (Or, at least, the inability to learn easily.)


So now I think my irritation does not come from believing there are too many stupid people in the world. Instead, I think there are too many lazy people. That's right, too many people who are too apathetic to educate themselves.


Apparently it's just convenient to not be knowledgeable (thus the bliss - without working towards something, you're basically on a perpetual vacation from reality). There seems to be this common belief that being uninformed somehow absolves one of personal responsibility. 


Um, that's not how it works. You can throw all of your bills into the trash without opening them, but that doesn't change the debt you owe. 


(And, ahem, if you're alive then you owe something good to the world. We all should be contributing.)


Perhaps, it's because I've spent the last year working in a customer-service-type position that my frustrations have escalated. While I have the pleasure of interacting with many pleasant people, I'm also exposed to a vast number of less-than-charming and idiotic people. 


Some particularly annoying things happen a little too frequently. For example, there is a form patients fill out that asks this optional question: What is your religion? 


The list includes Catholic and Protestant. Too often, the patient looks at me and says, "Uh, I'm a Christian. Why isn't that on here?" And then eventually I hear this statement, "But I'm Baptist (or Methodist, Pentecostal, etc) not Protestant."


Now, do I expect everybody to know that Baptist is a denomination under the Protestant religion? Nope. But if you're going to consider yourself a die-hard Christian, dedicated to a certain belief system associated with the title Baptist/Methodist/Pentecostal/whatever, and especially if you're going to go around touting that you have Jesus, so you have all the answers... then YES, I expect you to know what the fuck you're talking about. And that most certainly includes knowing the very basics of your religion of choice.


This is a minor thing. My real grievance is with the world at large. Because the world is an illogical place - and I plead with someone to prove me wrong.


Why are there so many kind and wholesome women who struggle to get pregnant only to then miscarry four times when there are other women who have four abortions in a matter of three years because they're too lazy to use actual birth control?


Why is it illegal in this country to drive, smoke, drink or join the military before a certain age, but the government will pay for a teenage girl to give birth to a child she will neither love nor take proper care of? 


Why do people seem to think it's okay for a wealthy celebrity to pay over ten million dollars for a wedding (and then get divorced two months later!) when there is so much hunger and disease in the world? I believe in enjoying life, but I'm not okay with blatant disregard to the current human existence. I do no care how much of your wealth you already donate to charity - it is not acceptable to spend that disgusting amount of money on a single luxurious event when there is still so much suffering in the world.


I know this post is... depressing. But sometimes the frustration in my mind and the heavy feeling in my chest is too much to keep inside. These are the things that keep me up at night - and understandably so. When your eyes are wide-open, how can you sleep?


Writing (and, yes, sarcasm) is my weapon of defense.

*As you can see, I've always had this little smirk*

The Truth's Quirks

The truth hurts.

So... either I have an unusually high level of pain tolerance or I get some kind of minute amount of pleasure from pain - because I have an obsession with the truth.

See, I'm that chick who could handle being cheated on or stolen from without flinching but can't stand being lied to about it. It's not those actions that would get to me as much as the deception. I guess it's because it insults my intelligence, and that annoys me more than most things.

I also have pretty decent intuition. So what happens is if I suspect you aren't being completely forthright about how you feel/why you feel/what you've done/why you've done it and so, I'll push and push until I hear you say it.

And let me just tell ya, it's exhausting. Most people are lying to themselves so it's extremely difficult to be honest with someone else.

Now, am I suggesting that my love for the truth means I never lie? Yup.
(Ahem, that was a lie.)

However, I am indeed quite truthful and this has gotten me in trouble on numerous occasions. The thing is, I feel like if I can admit to being clumsy and sometimes abrasively direct and sarcastic and dramatic at times, I think it gives me permission to point out when you're being a control freak or overly sensitive or if the pants you're wearing are completely unflattering. (Let me clarify, though, this isn't information that I'll necessarily volunteer; I'll just be honest if you ask - or if you provoke me.)

Shockingly, this doesn't always go over well.

(And let me also add that my truthfulness does not just include negative things. I don't mind telling you when your girlfriend looks hot in that dress or if the job you just landed suits your talents.)

Where am I going with all of this? Well, lately I've discovered something that has been... well, a hard truth. It turns out that sometimes the truth is just as much emotional as it is factual. And that makes it complicated. That means the truth isn't flawless and that, to be blunt, it's quirky.

I'll use the *awesome* show True Blood as an example. (Not just because the title of the show itself is perfect for this post, heehee.) I love and adore Bill - and I was well aware that things were never really "over" between him and our darling heroin -- but, damn, was I thrilled when Sookie finally hooked up with Eric (and admitted the attraction that was there all along).
*I'm not even going to bring Alcide into the picture at this point. Whew.

Yeah, it's TV but life it full of situations like that (minus the biting and crazy-powerful blood, but you know what I mean). That's why "love triangle" is such a common term and theme. Yes, you can truly have feelings for more than one person just like you can truly have a friend that you simultaneously love and hate. You can have more than one motivation for your actions - I'd venture to say that's the case most of the time, actually.

I'm writing this mostly to myself, as a reminder to go easier on people when it comes to my investigation of the extreme truth. Why? Because most people can't handle the truth.

It's too much work. I've got to breathe a little easier and channel my energy into the situations that really matter.

And I've come to this conclusion: The truth is not black and white or even shades of grey. It is simply a piercing white (hear me out; I'm not being racist) that is in actuality made up of a spectrum of colors. For some people, it is easier to focus on a single hue. Lucky for me, I can handle - and prefer - looking into the intensity of that bright light that encompasses the full rainbow.

Karma is a Beach

I'm at the beach with a friend who insists she will walk on the sand, will chill in the pool, will play volleyball and Frisbee, but will not be getting in the ocean. (Her statement was more like, "I'm not walking into something if I can't see the very bottom of it. Hell no. I'll stay on the shore and watch you get eaten by a shark, thank you very much.")

Fast forward half a day, factor in a pool that feels like a warm community bath and brand new boogie board... I had my dear friend in the ocean nearly up to her shoulders.

We were enjoying the gentle movement of the cold water when a giant wave rushes in from nowhere and completely topples me. I mean, when I finally emerged from the water I had seashells in my matted hair, sand in my teeth and that god awful burning sensation in my nose.

I suppose it's my clumsy nature. My friend, who was somehow prepared for this monstrous wave and remained upright and untouched, all the while laughing her pretty little ass off, called it karma for me forcing her into the ocean. "Karma's a bitch, baby."

So, that got me thinking... Karma is actually kind of like the beach.

Life isn't out to get me (or you) any more than the beach is. Certain elements simply exist, and your actions and motivations factor in right along with the actions and intentions of everyone else.

The same water that knocked me off my butt is the water that lulled me to sleep that night. The sun that made my body glisten way before I reached the water is the sun that took my breath away early the next morning as it peaked over the horizon. The salt that made my skin dry and burned my eyes actually helped to heal a cut on my ankle.

Sure, the elements seemed vicious at times, and they even altered slightly based on time of day, but really it all came down to me... my actions, needs and desires.

While I was on the beach, I loved it. But it wouldn't take too long before I felt completely wiped out (haha!) and needed a break. Barely into my break, I no longer felt drained but desperate to get back on the beach... A cycle that is a shocking parallel to how I live my life.

Like karma, the beach cannot be controlled as a whole. But it can be influenced in your own little experiences based on how you treat it... Loosely translated karma means "for every event that occurs, there will follow another event whose existence was caused by the first (sort of like the effects of the waves on the sand), and this second event will be pleasant or unpleasant according as its cause was skillful or unskillful."

Like the beach, karma is a beautiful thing. It allows us to let go of our focus on the actions and intentions of others and instead take responsibility for ourselves.

I beckon you to do so... seriously, come on in - the water's fine!

Karma is a Beach

I'm at the beach with a friend who insists she will walk on the sand, will chill in the pool, will play volleyball and Frisbee, but will not be getting in the ocean. (Her statement was more like, "I'm not walking into something if I can't see the very bottom of it. Hell no. I'll stay on the shore and watch you get eaten by a shark, thank you very much.")

Fast forward half a day, factor in a pool that feels like a warm community bath and brand new boogie board... I had my dear friend in the ocean nearly up to her shoulders.

We were enjoying the gentle movement of the cold water when a giant wave rushes in from nowhere and completely topples me. I mean, when I finally emerged from the water I had seashells in my matted hair, sand in my teeth and that god awful burning sensation in my nose.

I suppose it's my clumsy nature. My friend, who was somehow prepared for this monstrous wave and remained upright and untouched, all the while laughing her pretty little ass off, called it karma for me forcing her into the ocean. "Karma's a bitch, baby."

So, that got me thinking... Karma is actually kind of like the beach.

Life isn't out to get me (or you) any more than the beach is. Certain elements simply exist, and your actions and motivations factor in right along with the actions and intentions of everyone else.

The same water that knocked me off my butt is the water that lulled me to sleep that night. The sun that made my body glisten way before I reached the water is the sun that took my breath away early the next morning as it peaked over the horizon. The salt that made my skin dry and burned my eyes actually helped to heal a cut on my ankle.

Sure, the elements seemed vicious at times, and they even altered slightly based on time of day, but really it all came down to me... my actions, needs and desires.

While I was on the beach, I loved it. But it wouldn't take too long before I felt completely wiped out (haha!) and needed a break. Barely into my break, I no longer felt drained but desperate to get back on the beach... A cycle that is a shocking parallel to how I live my life.

Like karma, the beach cannot be controlled as a whole. But it can be influenced in your own little experiences based on how you treat it... Loosely translated karma means "for every event that occurs, there will follow another event whose existence was caused by the first (sort of like the effects of the waves on the sand), and this second event will be pleasant or unpleasant according as its cause was skillful or unskillful."

Like the beach, karma is a beautiful thing. It allows us to let go of our focus on the actions and intentions of others and instead take responsibility for ourselves.

I beckon you to do so... seriously, come on in - the water's fine!

Re-Lie-Able

I've got two types of people in my life:

the reliable ones 

and

those who are able to lie repeatedly 

What sucks is that I seem to have a whole lot more of the latter than the former. I can name several people who are charming and funny and smart, whose company I simply adore. The problem is, I never can count on actually having their company. (Which is kind of ridiculous, because I'm pretty damn charming and funny and smart myself.)

I can't even count the number of times I've made plans to meet someone for lunch or for shopping or for a movie... and then had that someone send a text or call at the last minute to say he/she is not coming because of same random lame-ass excuse (I'm tired... I forgot...I just met the hottest guy ever... my ex just stopped by to talk...). Or WORSE he/she is doesn't even bother to contact me at all!

It's not that I have an issue being alone - I can rock a table of one, no problem. It just blows my mind, because I simply can't fathom doing that to someone. If I make plans to do something with you, I'm going to do everything I can to keep our arrangement. And if for some reason I can't, I'm sure as hell going to give you as much notice as possible... and I'm going to be pretty apologetic about canceling (especially if I'm aware of the trouble you've gone through to get off work or to spend your gas money or arrange for a sitter, etc).

If you have a major event coming up (birthday, graduation, wedding, the birth of your child...) you can generally count on me to be there. For those of you who can't say the same, I'm actually a little jealous of your ability to be so self-centered.

Yeah, that sounds a little harsh, but I mean it. Partially, because it irritates the hell out of me when somebody says he/she is going to do something or be somewhere, when he/she knows from the very beginning it's untrue. But secondly, I've realized something. Yes, part of the reason I'm going to be there for you is because I care about you and support you; it's how I show my love. But it's also not about you at all - it's because of who I am. I'm just the dependable sort. (Sure, I've got a series of flaws, but unreliability ain't one of them.)

Because of realizing this, I've had to change some things. I've literally had to refrain from being "too supportive." I think sometimes my friends don't want me to drive three hours to be at their 4-year-old's birthday party, because it puts pressure on them to do the same... and they know in their heart, it simply isn't going to happen. It doesn't mean they don't care about me; they'd just prefer to keep in touch with me through Facebook.
(If you really really do want me there, just say so!)

For those of you who remember my birthday, don't bail on me at the last minute, who'd never dream of saying  you're going to be somewhere and leave me searching for your presence... for those of you who have rescued me from sucky situations at your own inconvenience... god, I love you! I'm so grateful to have you in my life -and shame on me if I've ever made you feel under-appreciated.

You're my <delicious> cake batter; everyone else is just a sprinkle. :)   

 For those of you who are genuinely hurt or annoyed by this blog, I'm sorry. But if you have the right to be unreliable and still consider yourself my friend, I have the right to bitch about it and still be your friend ;) XOXO

Oh Hoppy Day, Mommy

A couple of mornings ago Gavin (my clearly very intelligent 2-year-old) climbed into my bed and tapped me on the shoulder. I opened my eyes slowly and he grinned.

"Mommy, what's a cow say?" He whispered.When I didn't respond immediately, he answered, "Moooo!"

A moment later he asks, "Momma, what's a dinosaur say?" I yawned. He continued with a "Rawr!!"

Just as I was closing my eyes again he says, "Mommy, what's a bunny say?"


This time I opened my eyes, puzzled. What does a bunny "say"?? 


Without missing a beat he responds, "Oh hoppy day!"

(That's right, he's TWO. Does he even get the joke? I'm not sure... but he sure gets comedic points in my book.)

I've been giggling for days now, every time I replay that moment in my head. There's no way to deny it, one of the most exhilarating days of my existence was when that little boy arrived... and the days have been pretty "hoppy" ever since.

Especially since I've been working at an OB/GYN office, I've noticed pregnancy and  childbirth are the perfect parallel to what motherhood is like. You're going to grow and change, everything that you're used to will be stretched and you won't always like the results.

You'll be exhausted and nauseated at times, but you're only real concern is not about you at all - you want to feel the baby move, hear the racing heartbeat within your belly, see a tiny face on a black and white screen, hear that first irritated cry, see that beautifully misshapen head emerge from your body and put on your chest...

There are always going to be moments of intense pain and fear and panic - when you love someone that deeply, those emotions are unavoidable. But as cliche' as it is, you really do forget those excruciating moments as soon as you know your child is safe. It's a unique relationship and it certainly deserves to be acknowledged.

To all the mommies out there, and especially to my own: Don't forget that you may be the one and only person in your child's life who is capable of loving him/her unconditionally. You may not always be properly acknowledged, but your role is incredibly significant. May the things you've done "right" outweigh any poor decisions and may you receive a love that comes close to matching what you give.

Oh, hoppy Mommies Day, ladies!! 

(**Thank you Ashton, Brianna and Gavin for making my life waaaay more meaningful**)
(Mom, I know I can reveal anything about myself and you'll accept me no matter what - thank you, I love you! Ma Cat, you did what you could with what you had - I know it was never easy. Thanks u xoxo! Annetti, you're a good mother. Thanks for embracing me.)

DisGraceFul

   At work yesterday, as I was slipping out of my chair to go to lunch, I hit my hip on a corner of my desk. When I bent over to check out the damage, I hit my head on - brace yourself - the plastic straw of the tumbler I recently bought in an effort to not spill things quite so often. (Seriously there is still a two inch red mark on my forehead; it wasn't gross at all trying to clean the straw of the skin cells it scraped off of my face).

A mere hour later (returning from lunch) I dropped something and squatted down to get it. Wouldn't you know it, I managed to hit the back of head on the underside of the desk - so hard in fact that a coworker brought me a small bag of ice to put on the newest injury.

((It might be too much to include here that as soon as I sat back in my chair I hit my ankle on the nearby bookcase, flipping the middle shelf and sending the contents flying... ))

My clumsiness is probably hereditary (yes, if you must know, I googled it). My father is a smooth talker but ummm, he can't exactly walk the walk (sorry Daddy!). For real tho, the man has had way more creative injuries than I can attempt to count. And my son... well, for now we'll just say he's an active little boy and accidents are expected.

I've been following in my father's stumbling footsteps for quite a while now, now that I think about it. Back in middle school I was playing second base for my softball team when a grounder hit a rock, popped up and hit me in the face - giving me two black eyes, a broken nose and leaving the imprint of the ball's stitches on my chin. (My dad and stepmom made me go to school the next day - thanks a lot!)

Before that, I was climbing on my cousin's back trying to reach the pears in our neighbor's tree when i fell and fractured my arm - on my cousin's face. Side note: while my arm was still in a sling, I further injured it by using it to jumprope (because that's perfectly logical).

Oh, oh, oh! There was also the time I was plugging in my laptop and then backed into the corner of the counter, causing a stream of blood to flow from my lower back right down into my... well, I'm sure you can figure it out (it rhymes with back). And once, I dropped a chopstick that stabbed me between the toes, making me trip and hit my head on the nearby doorframe. (All this while perfectly sober, mind you.)

My typical response is to laugh - I think I've actually forgotten how to cry about pain. Usually there are only tears after I've giggled so hard I can't breath (and yes, if you fall, I'll laugh then too). Is this a normal or healthy reaction? Hell if I know. Maybe I'm a freak - my mother tells me that I never cried about shots as a baby/kid. I tend to respond that way to emotional pain too - it's inappropriate, maybe, but it's me.

Which brings to me to my point. We're all unique individuals - none of us are good at everything (such as walking without causing bodily harm) but all of us are good at something. When you're the one that's successful, how about being generous and kind to those who are struggling in that area instead of being prideful and harsh?

Hmmmm, let me put it like this: If you're gracefull (sic), share the wealth and show some grace to those who aren't.

***Because if you don't, sure enough, you can count on karma to trip your selfish ass... ;)***



Please Sit on the Fence; It Has the Best View

I'm pretty good about seeing (and sympathizing) with both sides of any story. It's been both a blessing and a curse... because it usually happens even in my own personal situations when it would be pretty convenient to focus only on my side of things.

It's just a part of my Aquarian nature. [I know there are arguments now that we've all been labeled under the wrong sign, but let me assure you that no matter where and how the stars lined up on the day I was born, I am the epitome of an Aquarius - and proud of it, as any true Aquarian would be ;)]

My whole life I have heard the term "on the fence" used with a negative connotation. It means a person is weak and indecisive; it means that one is a slimy coward who has commitment issues.

Well, I beg to differ. You're not a coward for being on the fence - a coward would be afraid of heights! Sitting on the fence doesn't necessarily mean that you're taking the easy route, too lazy to make a decision. Being on the fence is hard work and often uncomfortable.  But it's worth it because the truth is when you're on the fence, you have the best vantage point of the situation. (It's also akin to that other popular phrase "taking the high road," wouldn't you agree?)


The cliche actually just means you're in a neutral position, which I translate to mean peaceful. It means you don't see the world strictly black and white, but recognize all the different colors and even the vast variations of those colors. It means that being human - flawed but compassionate and understanding and kind - is more important to you than being "right."

Anyone can throw a tantrum on nice solid ground - kicking and screaming and shaking fists all to make a point. But doing that while sitting a on fence? I don't think so. Sitting on the fence requires balance, my friend. Balance. And isn't that something we all aim for in this life?

So I entice you: Sit on the fence, please. Enjoy the view.

Can You Feel This?

It was like there was sandpaper on the roof of her mouth making each word that came out sound scratchy and weak. But she couldn’t afford that; it was time to be strong.

          “You’re not supposed to be here, Timothy.”

          “Julie-”

          “I asked you not to come back.”

She turned her cheek against the pillow and studied the tension evident in his back muscles as he sat on the very edge of the bed with his head down. After a moment he stood, faced her. She watched his chest expand with a deep breath. He toyed with the bed knob, drawing tiny circles on its surface.

“Let’s just talk.”

“We’ve been through this, for months now. I can’t talk to you anymore.” Julie shook her head vehemently. “I can’t, Timothy.” Her hands remained folded, politely resting on her stomach.

“Why?”

“Because I have too much to say.”

She could see the disappointment circling his pupils. She understood the despair that caused his brow to crease. Every part of her ached to console him, to make it all better.

Well, not every part of her ached, she reminded herself bitterly. Some parts of her simply felt nothing.

One by one all the reasons they couldn’t be together anymore streamed through her mind, agonizing pieces of information she could not get past or ignore. The rims of her eyelids began to twitch and burn with unreleased emotion.

She would not cry.

Even though her eyelashes might go up in flames at any moment, she would not cry.

With long strides Timothy crossed the room headed for the door. Julie held her breath. How could she so desperately want someone to leave and stay simultaneously?

“Damn it, Julie!” He slammed his fist into the doorframe, making her flinch. Somehow, in some sick twisted manner, it gave her hope. “I just don’t understand… how could you… why won’t you..?”

When he turned to face her again she saw that, unlike her, his resolve was melting down his cheeks. His voice became low, childlike. “If you don’t want my heart anymore why won’t you just give it back?”

Her rib might as well have punctured her heart. Love came gushing out, painful and sticky, coating her insides, seeping out of her pores. “I’m trying to.”

Timothy rushed to her side, sitting on the bed with one arm poised across her body. He peered into her eyes as if he could some how hypnotize her into changing her mind.

She looked away from his gaze. “I can’t bear you children.”

“You don’t know that for sure yet. And so what? I’ll have you; we’ll have each other. And we could always adopt if we really wanted kids.”

It was the same argument he always gave. She looked down to see that he had moved his hand from the mattress onto her lower torso. His thumb stroked her hipbone softly, tenderly. She could almost feel it. Almost wasn’t enough.

To her demise her lips tasted salty when she continued her argument. “Timothy, we can’t make love.”

“Fine. We don’t need to make something we already have.”

A trembling hand came to her throat. Oh, god, how she wanted to believe him. But how could half a woman be enough for man so great?

“Sometimes I think…” Her voice came out in a whisper. “Sometimes I think my heart is overcompensating for what I can’t feel below the waist anymore.”

Timothy pressed his lips against the edge of her jawbone just below her ear. “Can you feel this?”

“Y-yes.”

“And this?” He made a slow trail of gentle kisses from her neck past her collarbone until he rested between her breasts where her heart pulsed dramatically. Each time he paused to ask, “Can you feel this?”

She gazed down at him, sadness tainting her pleasure.

“Julie?”

“Timothy?”

Several long quiet moments passed. He outlined a heart on her chest.

“I’ll leave, I’ll go without looking back, the day you don’t feel anything right here, beneath your skin and any stupid nerve endings. And there’s nothing you can do to make me leave before then…” He smiled. “You certainly can’t kick me out, now can you?”

Slowly, Julie smiled back.

Kind of Nice

How you treat other people is more about who YOU are and less about the other people.
I'm sure I'm not the first person to say that, but I've realized it's pretty freakin' true.

It's obviously not good to be mean to others, so I want to focus on the difference in being nice and being kind. I mean, nice people are cool... they're polite, they tolerate others, they're... nice. But kindness surpasses niceness.

Forgive me, I've been too lazy (or, ahem, reallllly busy) to do the in-depth research about the root of the word "kind", but it seems like it is somehow related to words like "kin, kindred" etc. That's how I got my little epiphany.

When you are kind to someone, you are saying "I recognize we are kindred, we are related, we are of the same kind." It's looking beyond age, gender, race, sexual orientation and every other possible difference and acknowledging that we are all connected.

When I looked up "kind" in the thesaurus, "nice" wasn't even listed as a synonym! Niceness may tolerate you, but kindness accepts you... loves you because you are family.

Kindness is putting namaste into action. 

Happy 25

I have never understood a person who doesn't like to celebrate his birthday or a woman who is ashamed of her age. Sure, it's just another day - nothing miraculous happens at midnight or anything. Still - it's the one day a year when the people around you are supposed to stop and remember why they are grateful you're here. It's not about celebrating a day; it's about celebrating YOU. And, why the hell should you be ashamed of your age?? At one point did that ever make sense? Especially if you're taking care of yourself - you should be proud to look good and be knowledgeable at whatever age you are.

Well I turn 25 today and I woke up feeling... beautiful... whole... happy.

It's not that I no longer screw up or make mistakes. It's just that I'm capable of receiving criticism (constructive or not). I'm not afraid to take responsibility for my actions and I know how to make a genuine apology.

It's not that my legs grew longer or my boobs got bigger. I've just realized that my body is beautiful as is, so I take care of it and appreciate it. Somewhere along the way small became lovely and short became sexy.

It's not that I've had my novel published and now I feel affirmed. It's just that I have learned that I am a writer, published or not, and I'm confident in submitting my work.

It's not that all of my relationships are smooth and easy. I've just figured out that the ones that are worth it are worthy of dealing with the rough and bumpy parts. And I know now that I'M worth it- I deserve to be loved not just when I do something right, but when I'm struggling too. 

It's not that I think I have a superior relationship with God. It's just that I know that my spirituality cannot be determined by anyone else. There is something I feel beneath my skin in the space that links my heart to my belly button that makes me know I am loved, I am connected... and I am not afraid.

I woke up today feeling beautiful, whole... and happy. Happy birthday to me.

A Letter to Wisdom

Wisdom: Apprehending true nature through intuitive understanding: Insight.

My Darling Little Boy, Gavin Wisdom Scott,

    When we first decided to use Wisdom as your middle name, I just thought it was cool. I mean all the time you hear of girls named Faith, Joy, Grace or Hope - yet how often do you meet a guy named Truth, Justice or Trust? 

     Over time I've realized that we could not have chosen a more appropriate name for you. Wisdom is about seeing allll the little details but never losing sight of the big picture... comprehending that life and people really are good at the root of it all. Wisdom is about seeing the motivation and not getting sidetracked by the action.

     Gavin, you are the indisputable raw evidence that at least once in my life I got it right. The moment you looked at me with those intensely alert eyes, my heart stopped - yet I didn't feel like I was about to die, to cease existing. I realized there was so much more to my very being, that I had barely begun to live in the first place.

      Over the last two years you have made my heart stop and made it race on a fairly consistent basis. And I don't mind, because you've put this heart of mine to the best possible use - you have taught it to love without condition. Yup, beyond the crazy heart palpitations is a slow and steady pulse that will never desist. You have taught my heart something it simply cannot unlearn. I can never stop loving you.

      I love that you talk too much and repeat EVERYTHING that I say. I love that heartbreakingly adorable little gap between your front teeth. I adore the way you laugh. I'm crazy about your dance moves and your obvious natural music ability. I love how you think smiling means you're supposed to squint your eyes. It makes me grin how you think a hug is not a hug unless you've been patted on the back. I love your big ole head and that floppy hair - those ocean eyes of yours melt my heart.

     I love the way you say "Mommy"... I love YOU.

    Happy 2nd Birthday, Baby Boy!!!