Beginnings are messy.

I recently wrote a summary of self reflection roughly outlining the last five years of my life. As with most lives, I imagine the summary dons the shape of some temporal pattern that ostensibly illustrates hopeful beginnings and the inevitable shit holes that follow. Beginnings typically connote grace, hope, adventure… carte blanche. And this is why I liken beginning phases to unicorns: their existence is a neat thought: Oh! A small horse with a growth on its forehead; a fantastic new chance to be untouched by the past with zero obstacles ahead…

This perspective sounds jaded but looking back on the last five years of my life my beginnings have produced themselves in the following manners:  


Cue acknowledgment of a beginning—the idea is exciting yet immediately overshadowed by all the preceding crap that characterizes this as the beginning and any idea of fresh untouched creation is suddenly only a sporadic positive thought while you're desperately trying to get over the rest.


Cue the shit hole--  too much crap to realize you've gotten a second chance and you actually had an amazing opportunity to start anew and you missed it due to a thousand other distractions. 


This generally leads to feeling like you can never catch a break… and goodness have I ever felt that… and felt that… and lived that.


Despite my ignorance and self absorption I HAVE been given that new beginning. Note: Given is one thing, capitalizing on the gift is quite another. Thank God (literally). Most of the time, however, I am too stupid to actually submerse myself into this grace thing and end up missing out on way more than I actually even want to know (la la la ignorance la la ) So thank goodness for honest friends and family.


Thank YOU to those of you who have called me out for being selfish, oblivious, irresponsible, too content. Thank YOU for recognizing some of these beginnings for me and pushing me to actually look for the tiny horses with horns. Without the honesty I couldn't be a better me, and trust me, compared to the last year me, I'm pretty awesome right now.


Awesome. 


And here's my self challenge: drag my (most often self-induced) way too tired body out of bed in the morning and remind myself I am forgiven—and forgive myself… for not working out the day before, for paying a bill late, for operating out of fear, for hindering myself before even trying, for judging those different than me… for lying to people about watching sports just so they don't think I'm weird.  For anything. Because I am entitled to a new beginning whenever I am ready…. To do and think in fantastic, creative, adventurous ways because I can. I have been given a creative mind and the ability to give love and be loved.



Now THAT's a feat-- to live my life as if I actually believed those words...

THAT's the Beginning.

...it tolls for thee.

"Why do you think this city went broke? They playin' too much. Play with your heads, play with your money. They think all that hater stuff from Germany is cute, I see it everyday. But it ain't. Ain't never gonna change."

"It's simple man. We all learned the ten commandments. If you don't get the "obey your mother and father" part down by the age of ten you ain't never gonna be any good."

"They already know who we are, where we live, how much we make. What do you think the census is all about? You know what it can be used for. They wanna phase us out. Pretty soon we all gonna have bar codes. All our shit will be there open for whoever wanna know. You ain't got money, you're out. You ain't got a skill they want, you're out. You ain't got nothing to give, you're out. Survival of the fittest, man. They'll even kill they're own poor white trash because it ain't doin' them no good."

Last week the Indian man who owns the corner store warned me from moving downtown Cincinnati. He told me they'd be watching me because I'm white. He told me to move to Mason or Fort Thomas where I'd be safer. Black Bob the painter walked out of the store with me and told me not to be worried. He said no one will be watching me because of my color, "we're all just people. people against people."

With all these quotes it's safe to say I am an expert iPhone note taker. 

Why do differences make us afraid? Why do we fear things we do not know or know well? Both behaviors are buried deep within us, as we've acted on them since the fall. (No, not autumn, but when Eve had the balls to scarf down the apple.)

I haven't drawn the connection. Humans are afraid to be alone. We long for community, for friendship, a sense of belonging, a recognition of love... yet we fear and even seek to destroy those who are different. 

Do the very differences define our sense of belonging? 

And how quickly the alliances change! "I didn't like him because she didn't like him..../ ... "She and I got in a fight and he and I found we have a lot in common."

Drama, drama, drama. 

Drama that hung jesus, massacred the nigerians, swept out the jews, enslaved africans, targeted gays, embarassed kids in middle school and so on and so on and so on and so on and so on ..... you get the idea.

WHY?!

I do it every day. I just realized the other night that I sometimes act, say things, like things, eat things, don't eat things, wear things, read things, basically live my life in particular ways because I am afraid of the alternative...and/ or I want a sense of connection or belonging to the person or group who introduced me to the thing in the first place. Sometimes I want these things so badly I heavily guard against all else holding tightly to the image I have in my mind. It's controlled.

(I'd like to take a moment to note : grammar fail. I digress...)

Shaping our lives from bits and pieces from those we come in contact with is a fantastic method for self growth and reflection; however, molding ourselves into these things while becoming deathly afraid of being tarnished from the outside is.... so freaking easy we don't even know it is happening.

I've challenged myself to examine those areas of my life that perhaps are not my own. 

...And then I asked myself, "great ambition, but how the heck are you actually going to implement that?"

All I have come up with so far is to repeatedly ask myself, "do you like it?" From the sweater I put on, to the Pandora station I play, to the facebook profile I stalk out. Why am I doing this, do I even like this, for what am I prospering

Every single one of us is affected. It's hasty generalization the truth (really). Down to the very deepest part of our hearts. We love love and we are afraid of things we don't know... 

and we kill for both.

Just another exercise for self awareness. Cheers.

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory [a bluff, headland] were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; 
and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." 
-John Donne

If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!

“A rite of passage is a ritual event that marks a person's progress from one status to another” (thankyou Wikipedia). I wish life’s transitions and coming of age indicators were as easy as having a bar (t) mitzvah, quinceanera, or school graduation.

From what I understand, we:

began school in kindergarten,

learned cursive in second grade,

multiplication tables in fourth grade,

felt outcast at some point between fifth and ninth grade,

dissected something as a sophomore or junior

and graduated from high school.  

I always thought we were more or less all moving in the same direction at similar speeds. Then once we hit our twenties, any semblance of direction, consistency, or normalcy for me had disappeared.

Some of us:

got a job,

went to college,

went to three colleges,

lived with parents,

moved to Spain,

graduated from school,

went to school for seven years and never graduated,

got married,

got married and got divorced,

never could fathom being married,

had kids,

got great jobs,

lost great jobs,

could never find jobs.

Phew! We go from having relatively similar lives to observing the great divergence. This has made me completely confused.

For example, based on my involvements and accomplishments in high school I was pegged to have a different future than what has been realized thus far. I didn’t go away to college for four years and graduate with new best friends, a fiancé, and a steady 9-5. Why? Many reasons of course, but based on what I had heard, I felt the college experience was supposed to be a certain way. I never found my experience to meet those expectations- so rather than realize that my personal experience would be different, I transferred a few times in pursuit of what I thought it was supposed to be. And therein lays my first experience with cognitive dissonance. I heard that college is the best time of your young adult life… I am clearly not enjoying this at all- something must be wrong. I was one of the few amongst my peers who didn’t find their “fit” in a college environment, so I transferred in order to find it. NOW I realize that some people loved their college experiences, some people got a degree and got out, and some people have never set foot on a college campus. These options and multiple directions are not abnormal (repeating to myself x3).

That back story leads me to present day questions. What's normal, acceptable, supposed to happen now? I grew up thinking that as a mid-twenties female, I should be gainfully employed, be married by 30 28 (at the latest), and have a cute clean apartment with matching furniture. Having my own place with my own curtains that match my couch and plates that match the bowls simply doesn’t interest me. I don’t currently want or feel capable of owning anything...feels caged. I am not home enough to want to pick out paint colors, I do not watch tv to care about whether or not I have a couch and ottoman combination or have a chair. Figuring out who I am as a twenty-four year old and trying to be successful in a career is time consuming enough, I just simply don’t have interest in the other things yet.

Must I revoke my girl code now?

A girl I know recently settled into a new apartment. I tried to set up plans with her one night to grab dinner and she politely declined saying she was setting up her new apartment… she then used the word nesting and said, “oh, you know what I mean.”


?!

No I don’t really know what you mean. I like clothes and sleep, so I need a bed and a closet. Is all of this considered settling down? Is that a natural progression? Does that happen to some people in their mid twenties, and I’m just a late bloomer? OR is it like college experiences and some people find themselves settling in and others just never do?

Are there books written on this grey area, endless options, no rites of passage period of life? The only related literary "guide" I’ve found to strangely connect with is Capote’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

The similarity began with Holly and her cat she never named. When I first got my cat, Miss B.O.S. made some reference about me being the cat’s mother. This made me flinch. Mothers are motherly, wise, put together... My cat once had a cold and had a lot of trouble breathing. I panicked, sat across from him on the couch and stared. From that day on, I was adamant about the fact that my cat and I were roommates and I just happen to feed and water him because he lacks opposable thumbs.

In Breakfast, near the end of the novel, “[Holly] gets out of the car, cradling her unnamed cat in her arms. ‘It's a little inconvenient, his not having a name,’ [She] told the narrator when they first met, ‘But I haven't any right to give him one: he'll have to wait until he belongs to somebody. We just sort of took up by the river one day, we don't belong to each other: he's an independent, and so am I”. That makes perfect sense to me.

At one point she says, “...home is where you feel at home. I'm still looking,” establishing the theme of the novel. This exemplifies her outlook on life and her refusal (or inability?) to be settled down. She says, "I'll never get used to anything. Anybody that does, they might as well be dead.”  I can’t seem to figure out why or how I’ve taken this path or this mentality, I definitely have embraced this as just a part of me... but then there’s this:

"You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts. You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, "Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness." You call yourself a free spirit, a "wild thing," and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself.”

 Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s figuring out growing up or growing old. I am able to recognize that there is much comfort and success in being settled, established, having consistency and desiring establishment. I desire responsibility for sure, just not the rest right now. I think I really will want all that… and maybe that desire is forthcoming. Maybe it’s okay, or maybe it isn’t. When all is said and done, I’m sure I’m not the only one… cheers to the nebulous twenties.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOByH_iOn88&feature=related

Batting Streak

I picked up a Starbucks Frapp bottle today at a little corner store. While checking out the clerk grabbed the bottle to check the date. I thanked him because it didn't cross my mind that a it could be expired as it was only a tiny little store. He said that he always checks the expiration dates on products for his customers because "people in America get sick." He went on to explain that in his homeland (India), people are much stronger. He said that the temperature in Cincinnati today was 82 F and we all run into our air conditioned stores, homes, public trans, or personal automobiles, while Middle Easterners are in constant 95+ degree weather. Middle Easterners don't have expiration dates on products because their bodies are conditioned to be stronger and they don't need the printed dates. I was about to petition the existence and reasoning for the FDA but decided to leave well enough alone and said, "well thank you for preventing any expiration related illness." I must admit, there's some truth in what he had to say, but I'll gladly accept any weakness I've enabled due to the FDA and air conditioning over the alternative.

 *          *          *          *          *          *          *

So it's after 11:30P, you text me (and you're not bff, miss b.o.s., or my mother)...

         I'm not answering.

Maybe I'm becoming an old liner OR have been simply oversaturated by the late night prosaic and pointless SMS. If I am expecting to hear from someone who is previously/regularly busy later in the evening, late night texts are perfectly acceptable. But the random receipts of "How are you" or "What are you doing?" at 1:00AM are no longer welcomed on this line. These days my friends and I just laugh at the silly texters making fun of the inane "What are you up to?" messages that pop up around midnight or after...

           Dbag: (1:12 AM)- "What are you up to later?"

...Later? Really? Oh, you know me, going for a stroll and running a few errands around 3:00 AM...

I'm not being naive. I know the meaning of these text messages. But the late night offenders know the pursuit is futile and I am left to blog in jest. 

In the words of Mary Tyler Moore, " I hope I didn't mess up a batting streak..."

Muah.

Mushy.Mush.

I saw a mother of an ex today.
No, I don't have a lot of exes and I would say hello to most of their mothers (especially this one because she is a nice lady), but today was an exception. I overheard a woman discussing what she should wear to a wedding and with particular interest (inevitable. i blame girl genes) I turned to listen in on the conversation. It was then I discovered I knew the woman, I dated her son and she's talking about his upcoming wedding... this is an unpaid acting gig and I'm out. So, I quickly, very quickly, exited the scene. Ninety-nine percent sure she didn't see me high tail it in the opposite direction; one hundred and fifty percent certain I was not interested in 'catching up' while she ran wedding errands, as this past year comprised an exit and engagement. It's strange how these things make us feel nervous or awkward, but for now I'm okay with darting in the opposite direction.

And on a completely unrelated note : I've been learning a lot about love.

Mush.mush. 
Love among friends and family. 

Now, say that out loud.

(the love part, not the mush part)

Frankly, that sounds like baloney to me. Ahem..:

     I love bunnies.

     I love rainbows.

    And I love my friends and family. wahwah.

Although extremely overused and cliche, this mush statement carries a lot of meaning. A year's worth of unfortunate events has tested this idea and I am confident in saying-- we've come out on top.

Por ejemplo:

My balls of steel friend and I were introduced about three years ago. We strongly disliked each other as much as two people could for the first two years. Then, for whatever reason, decided to join forces and have developed a solid friendship. She's nice (to me), fun, smart, and harasses my ex boyfriends-- all the basics of a good friend; but she also has proven herself to be a friend after my best interest through sacrifice, respect, and bold honesty.

Awesome! What can be better than that?!

My freakin' family. (Sorry mom, I'm a sucker for alliteration.) In my twenty-four years I've certainly cost them way too much money, time, heartache... and plenty of delightful entertainment. Over time, I've witnessed many friendships dissolve due to conflict, tension, and distance... but the love of family has endured. Thank God.

Mushy moments mit Whitney.

Vom.

Offbeat hoopla will ensue.

equal.opportunity.avoider

Last night we went to DanceMF at Northside Tavern. In a nutshell, DanceMF is too many people in one room, covered in sweat, for hours of (non mt adams style) dancing. We danced, sweat, got free tshirts, saw friends, found a bullet from an assault rifle, and ate skyline by the fountain. It was perfect.

On a separate but semi-related note, I've realized that my "fear" of confrontation stemming from emotion has made me an equal opportunity avoider. (I wish it was avenger because that sounds cooler, but alas, this action has made me very uncool.) I hate the thought of hurting someone's feelings just because I didn't want to do/say/ or be something. I don't want to get caught in a situation where I turn someone down with no real concrete excuse. It's not you, it's me. Seriously! I'm weird! I just feel stuck and nervous not knowing how to explain. It's crazy because the other women in my family would never hesitate to say, "No, because I'm tired/don't feel like it/ don't care/ think it's a bad idea..." and peacefully sleep at night. However, I feel I need a five paragraph essay excuse with references to accompany my "No".

So instead?

I avoid.

I should really look into changing that behavior.

In other news, recently discovered "six hour energy". Five hour, you've been trumped. I still play it old school by sleeping at night but it's nice to know I have options.

Did you really just do that?

On my way to work this morning, I got a bit caught up in Clifton/Walnut Hills. I am not familiar with technical terms but a combination of the following adjectives will do: rough, shady, and ghetto. As I've mentioned before, it would healthier for me to have more fear...

Sidewalk Man: Hey! White girl. (x 17)

Whitney: Look, I'm not having a great morning, so if you wouldn't mind- please leave me alone.

SM: Oh, I gotcha. I'll respect that. Well, what's wrong?

We have a few moments normal conversation. Then on a completely unrelated note he says,

SM: Just so you know, I'm a rockstar. I do every kind of drug there is, it's what I do. You kinda look like a hippie that would  fu "mess" around with that sh "stuff". baby, whatcha want?

W: No way. No thanks. I got stuff to take care of- and by the looks of things you shouldn't being doing any of that either.

SM: Well how's about I get your number. Imma get me a job and fill my pockets and come and take care of you.

W: I actually don't need taking care of, thanks. I am just fine on my own.

SM: yous a bit "not nice woman" and proceeds to give me the finger

W: Excuse me? Did you really just do that? You can either apologize for this blatant disrespect or keep it moving."

SM: Well fu "screw" this. They gotta teach you white girls to like black men.

Black men, eh? Black men, white men, too tan/ fake bronzer orange men- whomever can be easy to like. It's the drugged up alcoholic men that can be a challenge. 

I honestly was a little surprised at myself for this spat as I am usually not confrontational. Confrontation is typically an artistic skill reserved for my balls of steel friend ('no nonsense friend' named in earlier post). After some reflection, I decided that I generally shy away from confrontation regarding feelings/ emotions/ personal opinions and jump head first into it when I have concrete facts to back up my argument*. This self analysis concludes that this morning's situation was in fact out of character for me but he had really ticked me off and I couldn't hold back.

That's all that's on my mind for now. Don't do drugs, kids. But if you must, keep conversation at a minimum- you're less likely to make an ass fool out of yourself.

*With the exception of familial arguments where I never hesitate to ignorantly run my mouth... a strange phenomenon that affects most people.

Get out of jail... pizza. Sex? Sex... Cincinnati.

 Here we go:

This morning I observed a black male making fun of a hispanic male, "hey man, where's yo'green card? they gonna send you back, betta getcha green card man. " To which he responded, "hey a*****e, where your bail bonds? you gotta go back without your bail bonds."

This exchange made me wonder: what was my "get out of jail free" card? ("really, that's all it made you wonder?")  I am a young female born into midwest whiteurbia suburbia. My bail bond/ green card is my parents. Yes, I have been born into a society that has allowed me to remain in, succeed within, and get out of trouble as long as I have the (financial) help from my parents. As I continued to walk through downtown my mind delved further into this topic... until I saw a man eating a delicious slice of pizza and noted that somewhere on Main between 4th and 5th one can get pizza by the slice and I should look into it.

Up next: Dating in the midwest.

Over the last few days I've decided that I feel cheated or lied to during junior high/ high school when I was taught about love and relationships. Unless I made this up, I feel certain that church youth group taught me that if I consistently prayed, went to the right college, chose the right hobbies, and read the right books I'd meet a wonderful man whom I'd fall in love with and live happily ever after. So I prayed, attended three different colleges, met a boy who lied a lot, and fell jaded ever after. Wah wah. I'm over it now but I inevitably wonder why? My Christmas birthday friend has a relationship story that mostly aligns with what we were taught and I am so happy her, but I do wonder what she'll teach her kids? Will she sustain the 'meet your soul mate and be happy' thought or will she teach the 'this is what happened to aunt whitney' lesson?

I am twenty- four and I am single. I had no idea that the "are you still single?" "are you a lesbian?" "geez, you must have baggage" comments surfaced already. Sleeping around is easy, anyone can do that. If anyone can do that I'd like 'challenge for $1000', please... didn't you read that I roller bladed and jump roped just to see if I could?

rant rant rant

I was thinking about all this today (not distracted by pizza) and I heard these lyrics:

"And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears."- Mumford & Sons

My thoughts were quieted. I do believe the Bible to be truth. God never promised one awesome, sustaining, fulfilling relationship; he never promised that we'd get ourselves into something that wouldn't break our hearts. He did promise that his love wouldn't break hearts(1 john 4:18)... and nothing more. thanks Jesus, for not being a heart breaker. Guys and girls alike appreciate it.

now about that pizza...

Sex? Cincinnati?

No, mom, I won't be writing about sex. 

I'm composing a blog in order to feel cool and entertaining, regardless the reality of either. (the beauty of your own blog... it's inherently brilliant)

According to wikipedia, in Sex and the City, Carrie's "column focuses on [her] sexual escapades and those of her close friends, as well as musings about the relationships between men and women, dating, and New York. Well, I happen to enjoy a disease and baby free life negating the first topic, but the rest is certainly fair game...

Now that bedbug only comes out at night, the realtor puts a ring on it, the doctor settles down, and my own mr.big has gone foreign.... I am forced to reflect. My no nonsense friend recently read a quote by Angelina Jolie that made her think of me, "I'm fearless to the point of stupidity. Maybe I should have a little more fear." I used to run across *hopefully* frozen lakes, roller blade and jump rope down hill because the rollerblading grew boring, write papers and give presentations on books of which I only read the first and last paragraphs... just to see if I could do it with flying colors.  I juxtapose both ideas because on this end... it makes sense. 

I am afraid of not having options. That's all I've been able to come up with so far, but I'll keep thinking.

Side note: Recently I found myself in an unlikely spot and had a conversational brain slip with an otr man. Mocking my foolish comment, he responded, "You done dyed your hair, B" (I am brunette). All this to say, pay no attention to possible grammatical errors, overuse of ellipses, or hasty generalizations.

First blog. Done.