Just another benefit of being twenty-something

I am young – both chronologically and admittedly. So it should come as no shock to me when I discover yet another piece of myself – sometimes quite by accident, despite all the time spent over analyzing my inner self. It's one of the benefits to being twenty-something - having time to utilize these little things - hopefully things we can use for the rest of our lives. I've found a lot of other women feel this way as well – and I’m sure you will relate!

Last night I sat, a half hour past my usual time to leave, waiting rather impatiently to head into a meeting with my HR manager and a Managing Principal. Our meeting was to discuss where I saw my job roll changing over the next few years. Namely – where I saw my job in 2020. Have you ever had someone ask you a question so absurd you literally smiled and shook your head, believing there was no way they expected an honest answer from you? That is exactly how I felt when asked this question. I am new to this job and literally still don’t know quite what I do sometimes. How on earth did they expect this from me? Either way – I wrote up my little proposal outlining exactly what it is that I enjoy – all rainbows and butterflies.

To my surprise [sarcasm] the MP ended up telling me where he saw me – he saw me as an ambassador for the company. He went into great detail about how I light up a room, how the way I interact with people is seldom found, and then asked if I had ever considered traveling to marketing events. I almost couldn't contain my laughter! Although most people make the same assumption as he had, that I love socializing, I had to once again tell another person that I despise networking. The very thought of flitting around and making small talk with a bunch of random people feels schmoozey and utterly gag worthy. Which I explained to him – in a little bit nicer terms.

Then, to my actual surprise, he said “Well, that’s your age – given some time and a little more comfort with yourself, I doubt you will feel the same. You have a gift and a knack for people that is rare. People gravitate to you and there will come a time when you learn to play off that strength – to use it to your advantage in your career.” Flattered, I gave this some thought as I left the meeting and set about home to go to my sister’s for dinner.

Of course, as with most things, the epiphany didn't come instantly – but sitting in the car with my brother in-law about twenty minutes later – it happened [which truly is rather quick]. I was telling him what my boss had said and explaining that I didn't know why I didn't enjoy networking when all of the sudden I knew. I’m not comfortable with myself socially – but more specifically I am not confident enough in my ability to sensor myself. There is one thing I do really well and that’s personal. If you know me – you know that. If there is a question considered inappropriate or unprofessional, chances are I've asked it. If there’s a stance on something that’s deemed insensitive or overly sensitive, I've voiced it. I do deep really well, I like to know what makes you tick – what your childhood was like, where your passions lie, the things you fear. It’s no shock, then, that I also over share. People know more about me in the first hour of knowing me than most people know about their best friends in a lifetime. Okay, that is a slight exaggeration – but only a slight one. I’m working on it!

I don’t do surface level well. The little things – where do you work, how long have you worked there, what are your career goals – not my thing. Which is why I dislike it. It’s in my personality – to avoid things I’m not good at. I've built a wall up around this thing – that I may truly excel at – if only I would allow myself to.

So, what now? Where do I go? What do I do? I’ll tell you where – I get out there, outside my comfort zone and I practice. I get good at professional – at surface level. I leave the safety of what I know and venture into where I would excel, no matter how gag worthy it may seem. Not necessarily because I will come to love it – because I might not, but I will never know if I don’t try. And not because being good at personal is a bad thing – but because it’s an aspect of myself that remains untapped. A part of myself I may really enjoy – if only I could get acquainted.

It’s outside of that comfort zone – and like “they” always say – life begins at the end of your comfort zone. Thankfully - I learned this while I'm still young, chronologically and admittedly.  

I choose not to follow my heart.

Over the last twenty four hours I have experienced I wave of emotions - from ecstatic to extremely sad about leaving Minnesota for my job in Denver. I have had literally zero desire to leave the place that I love over the past four years. Applying in various states was something I did on a whim - choosing not to keep myself shut off from opportunities that may lay outside my comfort zone. Then someone told me to follow my heart. I replied that I was instead going to follow God - here is what I mean by that. 

I prayed several times over the past few months, as I do normally, that God only open doors that He want me to walk through. Throughout this entire application process I did the same thing. My prayers were simple "Lord, only offer me a job where you want me - because I will accept a job. I will not know the difference between a good place and a bad and I will take what is offered, please do not offer what you do not want me to take." Lo and behold, the offer came in from Denver. 

As many of you know I have family in Denver, and Denver is a wonderful place - but it is not my place. It is not my home. It is not the place I would get tattooed on my body [well no-one should, it's the shape of a square for pete sake - that was their first mistake]. It is not the place my absolute best friends live, the people I call in the middle of the night, the people who would drop everything for me and come to my rescue [not that I don't have that in Denver, I do]. Bottom line, if I were following my heart - I would not go to Denver. I would stay home. 

But Jesus did not die on a cross for me to follow my heart. Jesus died on a cross for me to follow Him. Here are the reasons I am choosing to follow not my heart - but God:

Proverbs 28:20 - He who trusts in his own heart is a fool. But he who walks wisely will be delivered
Jeremiah 17:9 - The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? 
Romans 8:14 - For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God
Proverbs 4:23 - Above all things guard your heart, for it determines the course of your life
Luke 14:33 - In the same way, those of you who do not give up everything you desire cannot be my disciples 

So, while it may be difficult. While I may be sad to leave the place that I love. While it may not be what my heart is telling me to do right now - it is where God is leading me - so go I shall! 

See you soon Denver! I look forward to what lay ahead :) 

You grow up and become jaded

Somewhere between the noise, bouncing from every surface surrounding our already distracted thoughts, and the numerous inquiries into our seemingly simple existence we lose ourselves. Not to anyone or anything in particular - more to the whole of it. The whole of life and the complexities that consume our once childish ideas of what life is supposed to be once you're an adult. We weren't aware, in our simple observations and wide eyed fascination, that we'd get so caught up in what being "grown up" meant, that our eyes would soon become heavy with stress and our analysis of where we ought to be so fuzzied by those around us that we would lose sight of those simple pleasures. The simple things that took hold of us frantically the closer we got to breaking free of the chains of childhood. Little did we know all that childhood had to offer - all the wonderful meaningless lessons that were really the glue that held our universe together. Those lessons taught me about love and how to be a friend - those little monumental lessons - about life and the things that really matter. Yet, sitting here tonight I am perplexed by how quickly it slips through our fingers. How distant those feelings get, lost in the noise, in the chaos that is our lives, how lost those monumental lessons get in the tiny blows to our egos. Jaded. 

There is a period of time, in life, when we simply become jaded. You no longer feel like dropping everything for the somebody who does nothing. You no longer believe in love at first sight or happily ever after. The notion that we can be anything we want to be slips and fades when the going gets rough. After the umteenth rejection email based on your lack of experience or your failure to get a more specific degree. Yet - we keep on going. Reignited by a new sense of purpose from somewhere in the back. A time out with the girls, a promising new job lead, a friendly flirt - something that tells us maybe we're not crazy. That maybe hiding in the cracks of crap we totally didn't expect as children was some of the stuff we were promised - or at least the stuff we imagined to be true. 

Maybe there are those of us who only just assumed that our parents had gotten adulthood all wrong. Witnessing their mistakes weave in and out of their daily lives was more like avoiding a train wreck . . . on a beach - you'd think it would be easy, but somehow it always showed up. You imagined growing up and stepping off that graduation stage into life would be effortless, seamless even. Into the world you would go - life and love abundant. Stress and pain a distant memory - something inflicted upon you by those not as life savvy. Only to find out you're nothing but a fawn in a sea of elephants trying to work those wobbly legs. With each giant stomp in your direction, losing site of your childish notions and the giddy hope that once filled your heart. Weaving in and out of your own mistakes - avoiding them like . . . wait . . . you've been here before. Thankfully. Because you have something they never did, you have the warning labels and the articles. You have the resources to come back from where ever it is you never wanted to go. You weeble and you wobble but you don't fall down.

One day, you stand. Sure footed and on top. An elephant among fawns. Hopefully, not so jaded. Hopefully, you found hope. Hopefully you found that life as an adult is nothing as quiet and cushy as once dreamed up when you were a wee ten year old. Just as most things were. In fact, the truth about nearly everything in the world was nearly always in stark contrast to the outlandish notions once set fourth by our imaginations. Although we had the upper hand on the simple rights and wrongs - we as children very rarely got the complexities of what it means to be an adult. To pay bills, go to work, make time for friends, keep up a healthy relationship, and the list goes on - so why we become jaded is really the better question. Of course growing up is hard - why wouldn't it be? Lost in the noise of our seemingly simple existence is the glaring fact that while it may be a simple notion - it takes work. Once we've accomplished one feat it is time to tackle yet another. Just as when we were children climbing the next biggest tree, we are now adults pushing ourselves to be who we know we can be - and that takes work. 

You're an adult now - not a child. You have gotten what you always dreamed of :) 










Author's note: I wrote the first half 7/14/12 and the second half 7/17/14. Perspective with age, I suppose. 

Even I thought I was racist . . .

I work at a hotel. Our doors are locked. We lock our doors not because we are in a dangerous part of town but because we offer breakfast and dinner for our guests, as well as fruit and coffee. We also have an open market that just so happens to be right next to an exit. Consequently the bathroom in the lobby is also key access - I think you get the picture. Well, often times people find a way to sneak in behind a guest or we mistake someone for a guest and allow them into our lobby only to get verbally abused when we tell them to leave. This just so happened to occur about a week ago. 

I was helping a few guests out when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a tall man walk in behind some other people. He was wearing a du-rag, sporting a bag, and he was headed toward where the food would normally be set out. However it was past the time for food and the bar was closed - noticing that the security guard went back after him - I just continued my conversations with the guests in front of me. A few moments later the security guard came back, without the man. In a perhaps poorly planned spur of the moment decision I said, rather loudly, "That man is not supposed to be in here!" At which the security guard turned back around, went back and proceeded to tell the man to leave. Thankfully all the other guests had left the lobby at this time - or my adrenaline prevented me from noticing anyone else - but the man began yelling at the security guard as he started toward the desk. After screaming obscenities about the fact that he was a guest [producing a key-card] and asking for quarters to do laundry, he explained that we shouldn't make assumptions like that and that he deserved something due to our ignorance, also stating that he would be reporting us. He then proceeded back up to his room and I found myself in the back office - crying hysterically about my bold assumptions and feeling as though I had racially profiled him. Once I gained my composure I called him and told him we would be doing something the following day and I once again apologized - he said he probably overreacted and explained that we could use this as a learning moment. You see, the man was black, and although he never said it and maybe he never felt it, I felt as though I had racially profiled him and assumed that he was not a guest due to his du-rag, plastic bag, and lack of knowledge of the dinner hours.

However something strange happened - not two hours later a couple walked in. A white man with a white woman, middle class, preppy. They walked straight to the bar, but before they could make it half way there I inquired rather rudely "Are you a guest here?" In this moment I realized that I felt the same exclusion toward them as I had the man. Again, last night I found a man sitting at a business center computer, dirty backpack by his side - scraggly hair hanging to his shoulders. In my mind I scoffed and thought "Ugh, this man is not staying here, I know it - but fine, i'll let it alone." Lo and behold a half hour went by and the man half stumbled out of the front door, never to return again. That man was white.  Once again tonight, a couple walked in - this time clearly on something, reeking of cigarettes. I apologized to my coworker for allowing them to charge their phone. I reiterated to the couple several times as they asked for an ATM that we do not accept cash - all the while imagining how much they would stink up a hotel room and wishing I had just told them they needed a key to enter the hotel. Turns out, they never wanted nor had the means to stay there anyway. 

You see, my problem isn't a race problem. I don't know if I have a problem at all. But if I have a problem at all it's that I work in a hotel, in the city, with locked doors - where I have to constantly be on watch for those who are looking to steal things that they feel entitled to. I have been sworn at, threatened, mocked, and lied to. I have chosen to trust people only to be shown that my bosses were right all along - that they would in fact damage the room and their prepaid card wouldn't cover the costs. But here I was, assuming that I had profiled this man not because he seemed out of place but because he was black. 

We have become so sensitive in this country to race that when I make miscalculations - when I misjudge someone based on the way they look or dress or act when they are white, nothing is said about it. It is perfectly acceptable that I call out a guest when they are white due to their poor hygiene or personal style, but when the person is black it automatically becomes about race - even in my own mind. We return points, give money back, I cry, lessons are learned. When I call out anyone else, a simple sorry will suffice - in extreme cases a market item or a few extra points. 

Take my coworker for instance. He is a black man and has worked for the hotel for over a decade and throughout that time he has had to kick many of his "own people" out of the hotel. On more times than I can count he is called out for being against "his own people" and as they leave I can see him wince as we hear "Uncle Tom" ring through the doors. His feelings hurt, his ego bruised - all because he is doing his job. He is kicking people out of the hotel for loitering. For being in a private place meant for those who have chosen to pay to stay there. Yet he is condemned by his "own people" for "acting white." He is punished for rising above. 

As if we aren't all our own people. As if the main reasons we disagree isn't due to cultural differences rather than pigmentation. But here I was, thinking I was racist, because society had told me that I must be. Here I was crying hysterically in the back office because I had picked out a guest simply for being black, when really - I hadn't. I had done nothing of the sort. 

I picked him because in the sea of guests he was out of place, plain and simple. Were my actions justified? Absolutely not. Should wearing a du-rag make you a target of speculation? No. Should heading back to pick up some bananas from the bar area set off red flags from the desk? Nope. Am I wrong? Yes. Am I racist? Not a chance. 

I'm a white woman who has been told that I am racist if ever I call out someone of the opposite color. Should I make the mistake of misjudging someone based on anything to do with anything else they should show to me, it must always come back to that simple question "What color are they?" To which, if I reply black, I am automatically racist. I hate it. I really do. 

  

Since when does happiness equate to incompetence?

I am a generally happy person. In fact, I would say I am happy 98 percent of the time. But somewhere between age, a brain injury, and several hurtful comments/actions I realized that I am not taken seriously as a person. Why is this? I believe it's due to the fact that I laugh to much; here is why. 

Several years ago a family member invited a girl over to a family function. At some point during the family function I heard someone say "She's a nice girl, not very bright, but nice," to which I responded "Why isn't she bright?" "She's just giggly" they said. She's giggly, eh? So, someone who giggles a lot must not just be enjoying life or the conversation - they must just be too dim witted to understand what's going on around them so they instead giggle. I mean, there are people who giggle because they don't get it - true. But there are those of us, ahem me, who giggle because of the joyous circumstance of love and life all around them. On to my next point. 

After my brain injury I was angry. That is an understatement. Not angry in an oh-why-me kind of way but more like a frontal-lobe-hemorrhage kind of cannot-control-emotions kind of way and a strange thing happened, people liked it. In fact, people from all over told me how much they liked my new found anger. My constant swearing. The random outbursts. The lack of ambition or laughter. People liked my brain damage induced, not at all voluntary, anger. I was listened to more, people enjoyed my company more, and I was even told at one point "now you're more like the rest of us." Oh great, now i'm a bitter whiner who makes excuses rather than happily changes my circumstances - OH JOY! SIKE! 

This one was especially hurtful because I had been dating a guy prior to this accident for a year who would tell me that he could not handle me when I got too "giddy" with excitement. That my giggles and laughter were too much. To which I replied "everyone else loves me exactly the way I am, why can't you?" Only to find out that in fact, everyone else found me equally as insufferable at times and needed me to cool it down a notch. 

Moving on. The last straw[s] came over the past two years. I have had a job where I have worked along side a wonderful, quite capable, coworker who literally could make mountains move. I, however, can also make mountains move. The difference? Her face shows it. Mine? Shows a giant smile and a hundred decibels of laughter each day at work. When our bosses need something done - they ask her. When I take the initiative and take on a project myself, they shit on it. Not literally but the one big project I took on they literally just didn't use it, or praise it, or do anything to say "We know you can!" In fact, when someone forgets to right a location of a car I am automatically the one blamed. Or when we all arrive late to work somehow the offence is worse because it is me. When there is a promotion at work I can almost see the laughter in their eyes when I suggest that I may want that position. In fact, it is here that it became more apparent than ever that my happy demeanor is seen as incompetence. I am a happy, trusting. naive child - capable of only what I am told, and filling water bottles.  

Then came the day, while lamenting to my parents about this fact, that they said "you need to master your hats." Now, I had been told this before - but it was during this time that it truly sank in. I want to laugh, I want to be sooooo happy it makes me cry. I want to greet everyone with the biggest smiles and crack the best jokes. But sometimes you have to wear another hat. 

Like my roommate three years ago. At home she was funny and forgetful and sometimes a little too wild, but at work she was a force like no other. She had moved to store manager by the age of 19 and by the age of 21 had been promoted a ton of times. She now makes more than most people who have gone to college - because she understood her hats. 

Or that awesome coworker - who also happens to be my current roommate. Yesterday while doing a phone interview she was matter of fact, to the point, and there weren't extra words or laughter - no giggles or stories. I thought, how boring, but guess what - she got the job. She had the right hat on. 

And while I have no clue why some of the most crabby, unhappy people out there are also the most successful - I am just going to have to suck it up. I am going to have to master my hats. Because as much as I would love the world to take my bubbly happy self seriously. As much as I want them to look at that happy face and think "Now THAT woman can move mountains!" They won't. It's like I told my mohawk sportin', butt hangin' out brother - the world isn't going to take you seriously just because you think they should, you have to show them you are worth taking seriously. 

Maybe I did need to calm down a bit. Maybe I do need to show a little more seriousness when taking on tasks in the work place. Maybe I need to reserve the over giddy excitement for certain places. That's okay - because after I have proven my worthiness - that laughter is coming right out, make no mistake! 

Empowerment through . . . sex?

Today I was talking with someone whom I love dearly and the topic somehow turned to Miley Cyrus. I was placing her name in a negative context when I heard a sharp disdain for what I had said. After some back and forth on the subject of her provocative style the conversation led to porn and then somewhere in the disagreement I heard the two referred to as "empowering."

Interesting. The definition of empower is as follows:

Empower: verb - make (someone) stronger and more confident, especially in controlling their life and claiming their rights.

So, let me get this straight. Taking off your clothes and touching yourself on public television is empowering? Having sex with anyone you want and getting paid to do so is empowering? The fact that you couldn't get anyone to listen to your "amazing" singing voice without becoming a sex symbol is empowering?

I guess it is. I suppose when you take the definition of empowering for what it actually is. Some women do feel stronger, more confident, without any clothes on. Some may feel better about themselves after having sex with someone whose name they can't remember - or who doesn't remember theirs. 

While we're on the subject - notice I continue to say "she" but in all actuality, I mean "they." Because I am not only referring to women, but also men. Sexuality in men has not only been celebrated but also accepted in our society. As if a woman is the only one who is supposed to keep her legs shut and remember the names of the people she sleeps with. Why are we not holding men to the same standard?  

But maybe that's why women find this behavior empowering. For a man to have his shirt off in public is fine. He can sleep with random women and get away with it. He can be a porn star and nobody refers to how classy he may or may not be. Maybe women feel empowered because they want to be more like men. They want their classless behavior celebrated the way it has been in men. Why? I couldn't tell you.  

You know what I think? It's all been said. It's all been done. Anyone can take off their clothes. Anyone can have sex. Anyone can stand on TV with hardly any clothes one, or no clothes on, touch themselves and get a reaction. In fact, sell more albums. Which, in my opinion, is the shock factor really, but that's an entirely different subject. Any man or woman can roll around in the sheets without knowing the name of their partner. It all feels good until you have an STD or a baby. 

What's empowering is NOT taking off your clothes and still garnering worldwide fame. Not having sex with random people and demanding the respect you deserve. What really takes confidence and strength is standing out in a crowd of overexposed people with poise and class. It takes real confidence to stand up to those who call you a prude or to remain a timeless figure despite staying true to yourself. To be a man or woman of integrity. 

What I find truly empowering is someone who stands up for exactly what they believe in and remains transparent in all of their endeavors - without needing to shock for attention. Without compromising one's beliefs and standards for what will get the most attention at that moment.  Or for what will make them most accepted, for that matter. 

And hey, if that means standing by your sex symbol and touching yourself on screen because that's who you are and the legacy you'd love to leave - all the power to you. 

What I find empowering may not be what someone else finds empowering. I just want those women - who demand attention and respect without needing to shock anyone, those women who could care less when they're not following the crowd, those women who little girls can look up to - to know that I find you empowering. Don't let anyone tell you your "old soul" is a boring soul. That your lack of sex driven antics won't sell. If you've got the talent, they will notice. 

In the end, we're all just human, and we're all trying to find happiness. Wherever that may be. 

The Overtly Over-Done "Living For The Now" Post

So it's been a good three to six months since I last posted. Quite honestly, a lot has happened since then. For one I have decided that I no longer desire to obtain my DVM degree. After 160 hours of shadowing in a veterinary clinic, I realized it wasn't my dream. I figured, why spend four years and at least a hundred thousand dollars obtaining a degree which I am not passionate about? Which brings me to my next point. 

What if I don't have a passion? I mean seriously. The only thing I can recall being whole-heartedly passionate about is having children. I want children - I always have. I want lots of them. But guess what? Sometimes I don't want any. When the magnitude of life and of my own selfish desires trumps any desire to put all my time and energy into multiple human organisms. However, over the past few months while on the job search I have been driven to make every decision based on these unborn children. On the assumption that A. I can have children B. that Anthony and I will actually get married and C. that all our grand plans of me staying at home and home schooling our children will actually line up with God's grand plans. 

So, over the past few months I have avoided applying at some places, avoided returning to school, and avoided anything that takes a lot of commitment because why waste my time? After all, I'm having babies in a few years!!! 

Well I started to notice that the weight of these decisions is heavy. I am not passionate about anything in particular. I could literally do a plethora of different jobs and be happy. My only desire is that I make enough to live comfortably and that someone hires me because I went to college for four years under this false sense of job security once I obtained my degree. 

I ended up emailing a previous teacher of mine. She has three children, she stays at home, and she literally drenches herself in the Lord and his will. Her posts and her blog fill my day with hope and security. She helps me to keep my eye on God and grow in my faith. In my email I asked her if she intended on going back to work after the kids were school age. Her response? Probably. Not yes, not no, not anything but probably. 

Probably means most likely, but it leaves room for not happening. It leaves room for change. It leaves room for God. 

I then went on to express to her my frustration with life and jobs and not having a passion. Her next response? "Search for a career for your stage in life right now." She then went on to tell me that she and her husband had ideas of what would happen but they took life as it came. Tackling decisions as they arose and seeking Gods guidance in all of their endeavors. 

So what does this mean? Obviously I need to live for now. Not tomorrow or next year or ten years from now. But now. And not in that YOLO kind of drug abusing, law breaking lifestyle of never making arrangements for future endeavors and only thinking of this moment, but more that not ruling anything out and really going for it right now kind of way. 

 I am a girl who thrives on goals and plans. If I feel that I am working toward something I am literally giddy with life. It is when I become complacent or stagnant that I begin to suffer. Thus my problem with always needing something in the future to work toward. However, nobody ever said the future had to mean five years from now. The future is literally a minute from now. What is my goal for ten minutes from now? What job would I love to do now? 

Besides, they've done studies well over a mile long on the benefits of focusing on where you are in life, the now, rather than where you project your life to be in ten years. The truth is, I can be anything I want. I can continue applying for jobs with my current degree. I can go back and get some sort of technical degree. I can do anything - without fear of the future.

I've known this for years. I've learned it a hundred times. I've also needed to be reminded of it a hundred more. It's okay to let go - not to take life so seriously. 

To live for the stage of life I am at right in this moment. So I'm going to work on it. I'm going to seek God's guidance and then follow that path - because who knows? And who cares.