Bella Dani Vacca

Writing has always been my favorite strategy for coping throughout my life, and now I find it might be my only way to cope with death. I have wanted to write a blog to honor the life of someone who influenced and changed the way I view and live my own life. I lost a friend to a drunk driver on November 26, 2010. Danielle Vacca’s life was taken early and unexpectedly from all of us. Whether you knew Danielle as Dani, daughter, sister, step-daughter, girlfriend, Barbra, roommate, friend, co-worker, or unicorn; Dani was the type of person that made even her acquaintances feel like her best friend. I met Dani about a year and a half ago while she was living with my friends in a cute renovated house in Salt Lake City, Utah. This house was full of excitement, parties, dancing, laughter and amazing conversation.

I was in love with Dani the first time I met her. She was one of those people that could make anyone feel special and accepted; she did just that for me every time I saw her big beautiful smile. We quickly became friends and soon I was visiting my friends with hope that Dani’s truck would be parked crooked on the side of the house. My greetings were never hi or hey, but I always entered the house on 9th saying, “IS DANI HERE!?”

Dani had the funniest personality and THE most entertaining friendship with my friend Ashley Brown who lived with her in the house on 9th. It was really so fun watching two people who were so different end up being absolutely perfect friends. I met Dani through Ashley, and will forever love Ashley for this introduction. None of us will forget their fights and conversations in their horrible New Jersey accents. Over time Dani and I quickly found out our similarities and we would always end up leaving the crowd to sit on the old porch or by the fire so we could talk of politics, art, make-up, fashion, traveling, music, literature, philosophy, equal rights, religion and of course gossip! Education was both our passions and we never stopped trying to find the meaning of life by comparing and compromising our ideas with one another. Dani was born on May 3^rd and I was born on May 4^th and we had an ongoing joke that because we were both Italian Taurus’ we were the elite breed. God, I loved our friendship so much; it will always be a very special connection, and I am so glad that I had the opportunity to have had it.

I met Dani at a very crucial point of my life. I was struggling with loving and accepting myself for who I am. My struggles and concerns were never really voiced, but I think Dani had a way of reading and understanding people better than they could every truly understand themselves. She was such a support and knew just what to say to make me love myself. The way Dani lived her life was such an example to me, and I am sure, to many of you who knew her as well. Watching her and talking to her was a breaking point for the direction my life would go in. She taught me how to accept and love unconditionally. I watched my attitude towards life change throughout the time of knowing Dani. I want to publically thank her for the parts of her that she left behind in me, and for helping me to look myself in the eyes and love what I saw staring back at me. Thank you for being you and never thinking twice to alter yourself for acceptance or to please others. No one lived so much life in such little time as Dani Vacca.

Thank you to the Vacca family for raising such a beautiful and accepting daughter. I hope that you can find peace in knowing your daughter was so important and loving to so many people. She influenced and altered the thinking and hearts of so many of us during her short life. I know that Dani finally knows the “real” meaning of life, and I cannot wait to finish our conversation about it. Dani will continue living in my life and heart; she will affect my ideas, perspective and life forever. If there is one thing I have learned from losing my beautiful friend Dani, it is that there is no time to wait; live your life fully. I love you Dani and I hope you know how much you mean to all of us you have left behind.

Bout time...

I have known for a while I needed to start writing again because writing my ideas down seems to give me some stability, but the problem is I have no idea what inspires me lately. I know that without inspiration my writing seems to be stagnant and pointless. I can't just write to write, I need to feel passionate about my writing and my craft. I am missing my muse tonight, I have for a while now. I should have told my muse to stay, to be comfortable, to be mine... but when am I ever honest enough to be vulnerable? Never. I wish it was something my heart and mind could agree on, but I can't seem to allow myself to be honest with my heart. If that makes enough sense in words. Confusion and cowardliness drives me to write tonight.

I will admit that starting school back up has gotten my mind tangled up and confused, but at least it is being challenged again. There is so much of this life that is confusing and backward, I sometimes find it hard to stay positive when informed of its reality. It really doesn't become known until you are informed of its existence and pressure. Whether it be a social construct you didn't realize until someone presents to you or it might even be a relationship that is neglectful and one sided. These are all realizations that need to be brought to our attention because the routine of everyday life camouflages their existence. It isn't until we are comfortable and then broken that we can find the feeling of being uncomfortable. Who ever wants to be uncomfortable though? This might not make sense, but the past couple of weeks have thrown me for a whirl. I have seen people and things that I put a lot of confidence in fall apart to be left destroyed and defeated. It leaves me hopeless and heartbroken to realize these conclusions. How do I find hope? I write. My muse has been love, perfect blue eyes, heartbreak, beauty, strength, friendship and success, but I find that my muse these days is hopelessness.

Now, the question is: can negative inspire as much as positive? I think it can and does. Maybe hopelessness makes me sound emotional and depressed, but this hopelessness has made me motivated and want to show gratitude to the abused and defeated in my life. I wish that I was stronger and more honest with the ones that I have loved and because of my dishonesty I have in turn lost, but I always seem finish last because of this fault and end up mending my heart with hopes that others can be loved back and fulfilled with the emotion I am scared voice and practice. It just seems to be such a fragile game, love that is, and it isn't until I see someone I love get destroyed by love that I am reconfirmed that I am petrified to get broken again. Even though the people I see heartbroken are the strongest people in my life, I can see that even the strongest can fall as hard as my weakest flaw, that is, loving what I know I can lose. I want to apologize for my fault and let my walls down. I loved you, I should have said it. Forgive me. Rejection is far better than regret. Be honest and live with your consequences. Regret is the worst emotion and doesn't seem to leave, only periodically. Forgive me, because I can't seem to forgive myself.

Routine

It comforts most-

I am left unsatisfied,

but yet I am immobile.

I sit in your illusion.

comfort; you promise.

I feel despite.

Wanting more-

you can't give it.

obsessed with your rhythm.

I've been captured-

prisoner or follower?

I am not myself regardless of your power.

I'm finished-not devoured.

Hot Wife... Old Man?

(So much relevance)

There is an obvious pattern and trend that I am starting to notice when I hang out or mingle with what we as "Americans" call the upper-class. Why is it that when I go snowboarding on the weekends or spend my time in Park City surrounded by rich tourists, all I see seem to notice is the unit of hot wife, old man? I am starting to realize that investing in education, real estate, stocks or even pyramid scams (you know who you are friend('s)... and you have a lot of juice to shit your life away with now, don't ya? LOL) is not effective. The most effective way to reach fortune and fame is to hitch-up with a old man... Not just any old man of course, but an old rich man.

Hot wife seems happy as a clam with her half a million dollar ring blinding me in the eye. These hot mom's usually have one or two kids hanging all over their rumpelstiltskin looking daddy. I have come to realize with my recent observations that old man river did not realize that hot wife comes with the desire to still be a mother. Home

boy daddy is well past the age of rough housing or wrestling on the ground with kids, hell in some cases even bouncing a child on a knee is way out of their physical league. THESE MEN ARE OLD.

Now that you as the reader have created a mental picture, a picture that might include imagery of your grandpa with Angelina Jolie, I want to inform you that I am now taking applications for my rumplestiltskin... If you know any old dudes that are ready to hit the box sooner than later and are willing to leave me their fortune, let me know. I am experimenting with morals right now and want to find a positive relevance in possessing/lacking morals in my life. Thank you.

My Daily.

I have recently become obsessed with my daily horoscope. Yes, I know that there are a lot of people who indulge on this daily habit of checking your horoscope and trying to find its relevance in throughout the rest of your day, but I have suddenly let my horoscope it dictate my days. 

Crazy? Yes, but only because it is proving my theory that when we read something or someone tells us something we are inclined to focus on that language we have taken in and make decisions that will make that statement become our reality or truth. For example, the whole positive self talk theory that every insecure teenage girl has heard a million times in attempt to help them through their adolescent identity crisis. You know what I am talking about, that stuff you thought was bull shit!?! Remember being taught that if you tell yourself something positive in the mirror or in your head everyday, you will then start to believe it and it will eventually come true. That is because we focus on these words we have read, spoken, heard or written and our decisions are dictated by them, making us make them our reality. 

My horoscopes are becoming my reality.... Coincidence? Or am I just that powerful?

I Love Public.

Everyone can most likely agree that public bathrooms are one of the most awkward concepts in society. Whoever thought the idea of creating a gathering area for people to do one of their most private acts in public had to have one sick sense of humor and they probably have never had a serious case of diarrhea either. I understand stuffing six stalls in one room saves money and space, but it is just wrong. I am pro having one toilet alloted to one room as a social/comfort code and feel that it needs to be put in writing and voted in the next legislative session, ASAP. No more potty orgies, just saying.

Also, I understand that sometimes we are away from our own personal porcelain thrones and need a rent-a-pot, which gives public restrooms a legit purpose, but isn't it the worst knowing that you not only have to go number 1 or even the dreaded 2 in public, but that you might actually make eye contact in a public bathroom with other people who are doing the exact same thing as you. AWKWARD!!! You would think this would put you on a equal playing field with your other potty goers, but no, for some reason everyone still tries to act innocent within those bathroom walls. YOU'RE NOT! Stop judging, ass.

Eye Contact, why are we all so scared of it? In almost all situations eye contact is so intimidating, for example: in relationships, work, school, parents and of course to prove my point, public bathrooms. It is almost like we believe that if someone looks into our eyes they can read our soul and we are exposed completely. Trust me, people don't care that much, stare at them, you're safe. Knowing that we will all still avoid eye contact out of habit, I will continue with my rant. 

Now, you might be able to relate to this scenario... you accidentally glance at someone leaving the stall you are heading for... ugh eye contact is made... you feel awkward knowing that you both just shared a bathroom moment with a complete stranger. Not a good moment, by any means, but an intimate and embarrassing moment none-the-less. All you can think is something along the lines of: are they thinking what I'm thinking? Do they know I pee & poop too? Are they judging?  So you both judge the other because of your own guilt and assumptions. These are just typical human coping strategies, but it doesn't change the fact that you both pee and poop. Darn it. 

 Then there is always the awkward hand wash with the overweight lady you heard struggling in the stall next to you, as you were balancing over the "can" making sure you don't touch anything that you didn't bring into the bathroom with you, in the meanwhile you are struggling to multitask and finish your routine bladder disposal. While washing your hands next to this monument of a woman, you might find yourself thinking to yourself, act like you didn't hear her or even notice her, don't make eye contact and God help her fight the urge for small talk!... You dry your hands quickly and bust through the door back into the hall, the comfortably safe hall. 

YEESSSSSSS!!!!!! You're safe! You've just made it through another awkward public bathroom experience. You continue down the hall, only to notice everyone is avoiding eye contact with you, it is so obvious that something is not right, something is very wrong with you. The hall is no longer comfortable, it is now a long stretch of social anxiety. You find yourself resorting to what people naturally do when they feel like an outcast or abnormal, you glance down to hide your eyes. Walking with no visual aid or direction, you notice the catalyst for your social doom... a tail of toilet paper dragging down the hall, mating with your shoe. FML.

Who's Turn?

Your turn-

You waited so long to speak-

you doubt, and so your voice sounds meek.

Should have listened and noticed its existence-

Now I'm baffled by its presence.

Withholding words cause of hesitation-

leaves me despising your lips indecison.

In turn-

My words seem to trip over my lip-

you seem uninterested in my tongues struggled slip.

I've become scared of my most loyal lover:

Attention.

While you hide in bed with yours:

Imagination. 

My turn-

I can only imagine in words-poetry-verbs. 

Knowing poetry isn't your preference-

only because it is too welcomed by what you have protected. 

I want to wake your imagination-

instead I'm left thinking you're far too complicated.

Now - - I want attention. 

For the Love of... Writing?

I have found myself living in a fantasy world this past week or so, which explains the glazed over look on my face that I have been walking around with only to make everyone around me uncomfortable. No, I don't need professional help or rehab my friends, it is just a form of depression not a drug addiction. I kid! I'm fine, but this state I am in is not any kind of fantasy world worth wasting your dreaming in, it's far too close to reality and emotional to be a dream, but for lack of a better word, a nightmare. 

Working two full-time jobs only leaves time for writing and day nighmaring I am afraid. I am at a point in my writing where I am actually living vicariously through my book because I am writing too in depth for comfort and pushing myself to create vivid imagery. It's draining. I've always been a believer in the power of words and language (see January blog "Words" for another one of my rants). I have read books that have left me feeling just about every emotion on the emotional spectrum. Whether it be happy, sad or even some form of depression, I feel these emotions for hours after reading. So with that said, writing a book only makes you feel the emotions you are trying to portray constantly, I am exhausted to say the least. 

Now, I ask myself this question every time I pop open my little white apple to write, and the questions is: Is it sane to purposely lose control of reality and live in a fantasy world, just so that you can make your reader feel alive, while you are left dying to create it? I know this sounds dramatic, it is, and don't forget pathetic. Thank goodness this is my place on the internet to whine and bitch, and I love it oh so much.

If you haven't come to the conclusion already, here it is. I have writer's block and emotional problems. 

I Won't Ask!

My friend K.J. and I had conversation on the way to our recreational basketball game last night, and this little session of gab really got me thinking about the things that are okay, and things that just aren't okay when it comes to social settings. This needs to be broken down, I'm going to attempt to get you on my same page of thought right now... 

We all know to say our please and are thank you, to give more often than we take, and to never beg. Oh God, you never beg! You will be stoned with humiliation in our society. Especially if you are begging for love, just buy a puppy if you need that. (Is there a program where you can adopt a dog for the dogs first good months, when it is still cute, exciting and new and then trade it in for another new born when that gets old? Wow, that idea sounds like how most of my friends treat relationships... never mind I'll just get a new book.) 

Now, my conversation last night was about how it is more appropriate to ask to give than it is to ask to receive in our culture. For instance, asking to receive comes off as begging and asking to give comes off as this selfless and a saint-like act. I won't go into how I believe everything we do is driven by self-centered motives and how the word selfless should be taken out of the Oxford, Webster, iDictionary and all other books containing factual information or definitions, because it is a fictitious and fabricated concept. Even if we do something nice, not for the verbal recognition, but just for the simple fact that it is suppose to make us feel good or strike a few good marks for us in "heaven". I often think, I hope St. Peter remembers this one when I ask, "Please, let me in." The simple understanding that this is going to make me feel good makes the act not selfless folks, Nice... but not selfless. Keep up the good deeds though, I have nothing against people feeling good for receiving and giving. 

Okay... so I guess I went into it the whole self-centered theory. I couldn't help myself, people that know me, know I love deconstructing anything and everything about our ideology as human beings. For those of you who can accept that they are self-centered, accept my last paragraph, let go and keep doing shit that makes not only everyone around you feel good, but hell why not you too. Now for those of you who really think they are selfless, you are either the one exception... "A MOTHER" or you are just now realizing and incredibly frustrated that you aren't as perfect as you thought. Get over it. I hope you cringe the next time you get the warm and fuzzies and realize you DID premeditate that you were going to feel those if you did something "selfless"! Sucka. 

Now let me give you an example of when it is okay to ask to receive, but incredibly awkward and forthcoming to ask to give. I was born with a God given talent and genetically perfected hands for the perfect back scratch, tickle and massage. My friends who don't look at my fate stalky hands like they are meat packing or labor hands, know of their soft sensitive side, and they take full-advantage of it. I am asked at least 4 to 5 times a week perform one of those three luxuries for a friend. This is the catch, they always ask and it usually doesn't happen right on the spot because I try and avoid being used more often than not. :) This is where my comparison takes place... Every time after I do not serve them, they later ask or state in disappointment, "You never scratch/tickled/massaged my back!" Now, asking to receive is one thing... but is it my responsibility or at all socially acceptable to walk up to a friend and say, "Hey! I want to scratch/tickle/massage you!" Is that not creeper status and awkward! Sometime asking to receive is just more acceptable than asking to give. Amen.

Falling out of Sadness

I've had a fluent stream of thoughts since Sunday. I've wrote a little here and there while trying to figure out what my thoughts actually meant, but gathering them into a whole idea and putting them into words has taken some time.  I realized that sometimes you just need an amazing friend to tell you to snap out of it, get over it and be realistic. I have that friend, and she isn't shy to tell me how it is, even if it hurts. I respect that.

This past Sunday I spent the day with this verbal friend, and this Sunday changed my perspective tremendously. It saved my sanity. Now, this makes me sound completely unstable, but I'm not, I just have had a dark cloud hovering over my life for a couple months now. It's hard for me to let go, especially after losing someone, but it was put in perspective for me perfectly on Sunday, "You're no longer in love with what you lost, but you are in love with your sadness." This might not make sense to everyone, so let me explain...

Sometimes we become so comfortable in our state of being that we don't want to change it, even if it means remaining sad, mad, depressed or hateful. These are all horrible moods and emotions to continually feel, right? But we can actually find comfort in these emotions, so much comfort that we keep them around to protect or restrict us from feeling the opposite emotions, because the opposite emotions like happy, make us vulnerable again. And if we just continue to be sad then we don't have to go through the roller coaster of being happy and then completely crushed again. We just find ourselves being happy with being sad. Contradicting? I know, but my past reality. It was refreshing to know that I don't need anything or anyone, just a change of perspective and an attitude adjustment. 

While trying to come to this empowering and optimistic conclusion, a friend asked me what I thought love is and to define my ideas of love for her. God, the never ending question that people have been asking for generations and generations to understand why they can feel so surreal and then so shitty again and again, lover after lover. I truly thought about the word love and came up with this definition: "Love is a word, yes. But more of a category for other words and emotions. It's comfort, companionship, lust, adoration, affection, routine, interest, hard work, friendship and family. Settling is not a negative thing when it comes to love, just a reality. With each lover we lose, it is human instinct to improve upon their loss with the gain of a better and more fulfilling lover the next time we choose to love. Meaning we will always improve our lover with every relationship we move to, as long as we are confident and are patient to wait for someone better than the last. Eventually, we are content and settle with a lover because we are ready to nest. Love is just a category and the idea our species has created to define the feeling all those words create within us. The lust and butterflies, they come and go, and are not consistent or love. Every relationship is case sensitive because we each love differently and in different cycles. It's truly chemical, the feelings we define as "in love." Hard work and settling are what is truly everlasting and what I would consider love."

I want to fall out of sadness and into "love."

SAVE JACKIE!!!

My dear friend and Co-worker, JacMac, has reached a new level of concern today, September 18, 2009. It has been a bumpy couple months for my little buddy, I understand this and have sympathy for her shortcomings and stupidity. Aside from her colorful personality and good looks of course, she is having a hard time finding another part-time or full-time job. I have taken the liberty of assisting her in the matter. This is the purpose for my blog today. Jac needs a job!

Don't get me wrong, she is a hard worker and very capable of doing great things in the work force... but when I glanced in her cubical today and noticed she was applying, on freaking Craigs List, to be a pimp for a company called, "Women-Finding-Women" I knew that the little voice inside my head was God asking me to reach out to a friend who has completely lost her morals for survival... I was horrified at first and then the opportunist in me gave her the address to my recreational basketball league that takes place every wednesday night, thinking I might get a small commissions check for leading her to a gold mine of "Women-Finding-Women-Weekly." She took down my reference J.I.C. (just in case) she has to actually take the pimp'n job to pay her car payment this month. ;)

This is where you, the reader comes in... If you have any references, ideas, friends, help wanted or leads on a job, leave a comment for Jackie on this blog so we can get her steady employment and save the face of her beautiful family. THANKS!

JacMac (in black)

Just a Little Story

I finally moved all my crap/important items into my drawers and closet today. I have had a mountain of clothes on the floor in my room that changes shape every time I dig through it for my next outfit. For the first time in weeks I can see my floor! It's TAN! Who would have known?!?! Feels good to have some order in my life. It is crazy to notice that once I start getting a little control in my life, other things start to get in order too... like my room.

 I love both my jobs, and I haven't been able to say that for the longest time now. The teacher I assist at the high school has been one of my favorite people/teachers for years now and I'm so excited to learn everything I can from her. She continues to teach me more and more about how to effectively influence and teach kids in our profession. I owe her so much for taking the time to help me with my craft.

The other day in class we did an exercise that really forced the kids to open up to one another and get to know the journey their classmates have been on in their lives, what their dislikes and likes are and so much more. When J.J.(teacher/friend) announced the activity we would be doing that day, you could see some of the kids were nervous about exposing their personal feelings, stories and qualities with the other students in class. But after a couple people opened up and shared, it was like a wild fire spread across the desks, everyone was becoming more comfortable and honest. I would have never known how inspiring and strong my students were until this day in class. I am so impressed with what kids can endure and overcome these days. I have been inspired by the honesty and life stories of each and everyone of these students. That day in class really helped me put my life in perspective and find my footing again. I thank them and hope they know that I support and believe in their abilities to become who they dream.

My Techno Alias

It has recently come to my understanding that I will occasionally take on a completely different personality when texting. Of course it is different with close friends who know me and interact with me on a daily basis, but when you meet someone new, someone you have no obligation to, it is incredibly entertaining to mess with them by creating a new "you" through your text messages just to see how they will react or respond. Interestingly enough, my text alias seems to intimidate or entertain the most conditioned text messenger. I LOVE IT. But when is living in this text message world too much?

We can become anyone we want through text, it's empowering. I understand that. For some reason it gives you a sort of high becoming and portraying yourself in a way you most likely wish you could be. I've decided it is actually quite frightening what we can become. The funniest part is I more often than not, find people more entertaining and attractive through text messaging. That's incredibly hilarious and SAD. How impaired have we become interacting face-to-face? I almost rather text date than actually date in some instances. I hope you don't find me rude, but people are becoming less and less well-rounded as the years go on and become more technology driven. Where did the depth go? We'll read 1,000 texts a day, but won't pick up a classic by Hemingway. It's complete bull shit. There aren't many people you can head to coffee with these days and leave knowing the conversation at hand was life changing or enlightening. Instead, your coffee date will most likely go like this, you grab your coffee, sit down in a uncomfortable contemporary steel chair, exchange a few sentences of dialogue and proceed to text message some "fake" person on the other end of your mobile phone. Unless that "fake" person on the other end of that text message is me, that shit is not worth ignoring the flesh and blood sitting across the table from you. I'd like to challenge everyone to get a grip and freshen up on their social skills in reality and not technology. Soon "sexting" is going to be considered better than actual sex! This is a road that might solve the filthy distribution of S.T.D.'s, S.T.I.'s and H.I.V., but seriously, let's not play it too safe. 

SAY CHEEEEEESE!!!!!

Back to school. It's the first school year in my life that I am not a student. It is crazy to realize how much of my identity was "student." Although, I might not be a student, I am still mistaken as one, and not in a good way. As most of my reader's know, I am going to be a high school teacher and I am currently a T.A. right now at the school I will work for until the semester change, when I should hopefully have a job teaching. Now, when ever you start a new job, you want to seem as though you are qualified for that job, right? I know that I'm qualified, I have the degree and shit, but it's hard to be confident when you are walking down the hall of the high school you work at and your fellow faculty member asks you where your hall pass is because they think you are a student. I'M TWENTY FOUR YEARS OLD. Embarrassing. This is only where my story begins. 

So I remember why they had me do all those story problems when I was in high school, it was for future reference like this, my problem solving skills were being finely tuned and ingrained in me to solve all sorts of problems in my life. So I saw the problem and I came up with a solution, I would make my hair a little less fun, dress in dull colors, act serious or mad and stop smiling so much. This was my new image and hopefully would make me look more like a teacher. My first day in my new image was picture day! O' joy! I hate pictures, always have. Every picture in my childhood has me frowning in a camouflage outfit. I would wear nothing but camo when I was a kid, I must have known that my life would be an ongoing battle for attention. 

I approached the lady at the photo counter who had all the information and the cards with names on them to give the photographer when it was your turn to be photographed and documented into the archives of horrible year book pictures taken by Life Touch Photography. Bastards, they always catch me when my smile is deflating and limp making me look like I have a crazy case of Bell's Palsy. The woman at the counter looked me up and down and said, "Senior?" I responded with, "Ugh, I'm twenty four years old." She gave me the pity look you get when you are inadequate at something, searched the faculty file for my name and handed it over with a hopeless glance. Great! I still look 16. Now I just look sixteen, boring and angry. It didn't end there though, the lady who prepares you for the photographer thought I was a Junior and the photographer thought I was well developed Senior. I knew he thought I was well developed because he couldn't take his pretty blue eyes of my rack. Is it like a prerequisite when applying for a photography job that you have to be a perv? Cause I qualify and need a second job. Think I look old enough to get the job, because I'm sure they aren't hiring Juniors and Seniors in high school!?!?!

When telling this story to a friend, she answered, "At least you look young!" Let me remind you all about the theory of age; it is not good to look young when you need to look older to be credible, e.g. when buying beer with your I.D. that no longer looks like you because you change your hair length and color every month, leaving both you and your I.D. photo looking underage and unalike. Now on the other hand, it is also not good to look old when you need to look younger, e.g. after your husband of 25 years leaves you for a younger woman (it is my personal believe that men age better than women) and you are left trying to find a new financial plan(male) but they're all swooping the younger chicks, leaving you screwed and penniless. I need to look older by next week and I have to stop laughing at the students when they disrespect authority. 

Butterfly Effect

Finally!!! I'm out of the twin (one seater) and back in my big kid bed (two seater). My bed has been used as THE symbol of my maturity with friends for a while now. It might be funny to tease a twenty three... shit... twenty four year old for sleeping in a twin sized bed, but I want to prove them wrong right now, just for shits and giggles and because a new blog has once again been demanded from one of my four readers. 

I just want you all to know that I have not outgrown that bed, and I feel like I am so immature that I should probably have characterized sheets and an oversized stuffed animal that smells like years of cuddling and drool. I felt like a high schooler today. I've finally developed a strong crush, and for the first time since high school, I changed my outfit like 9 times and freaked out that my hair wouldn't look sloppy perfectly. Having short hair makes perfection look silly, but when it won't look messy "perfectly", then I see red. Now to me having a crush seems so adolescent and juvenile. I had a friend tell me like a month ago that she had a crush, I responded with, "Aren't we too old to have those?" I'd like to publicly retract my last statement on "crushes" and say, "No, we are not too old to crush!" And after worrying about money, sanity, school and what I'm going to eat next (my biggest decision of everyday), having a crush is a great vacation from worry. 

Now, what to wear?!?! I haven't unpacked anything from my move and I've been wearing the grossest outfits all week. They've probably noticed, huh! Why do I care? Now this is why I've missed having a crush, because they make me get ready in the morning... and the make-outs are way better. Okay, I like crushes mainly because the make-outs are better. And this is my explanation for that, maybe pressure makes everything better? Developing a crush puts pressure on the situation and in-turn makes everything that happens within this "crush" you have developed and created in your head worth while. Now that is my butterfly effect theory! I can hold hands, kiss and cuddle with anyone, but it is only the ones I crush on that give me butterflies. I'm attracted to the other ones and interested, but the crush makes the difference. I think it is all psychological really. I've missed my crushing abilities. I got to get ready! 

To be continued...

Home~ Sweet~ Home~

I'm sitting here (well actually laying on my twin bed, yeah I know twin beds are for kids or college students living in a dorm, I am neither of those), in my room, wondering where to start first when it comes to packing your life away. I'm moving out of my parents house for the last time. One might look at my age and say, "It is about damn time Chels", but I have really enjoyed moving in, then moving out, then back in five or six times in my young adult life... Okay, I Lied. It's a pain in my ass, but at least I got to see my mom everyday here and there.

Although, it is strange moving this time, knowing that it is the last time this home will be mine. Stupid I know, how as humans we create these strong attachments to material things we have decided to give sentimental value to in our lives, but in my pathetic defense, we moved into this home the year I was born and it has been my safety zone and home base my whole life. Every time I've screwed something important up in my life, I've come back to home base to pick my ass back up, swallow my pride and start over. Whether it be quitting a basketball team, getting kicked off a basketball team, changing colleges, or most importantly ruining my relationship with someone I loved, they all led me back to home base to rehabilitate myself and cope. I'm scared as hell for my next screw up to say the least because I won't be able to run home, my roommate Chip will have to talk me off the top step at our new place... seriously the staircase is huge... at least broken arm worthy. She is soft spoken, caring and logical, don't worry, I'll be fine.

While packing, I've been thinking about all my memories here. I want to thank my siblings for every great childhood memory I've had with them. My best friend and brother Dave and all our adventures together all over the neighborhood and in our imaginary world we would create with lego's and action figures. My little sister for all the fights and drama. My oldest brother for the torture and finding my sister-in-law Kaydee who is like one of my own sisters and best the decision he has ever made. My sister Danielle for her humor, care and designer couch to make-out on because I don't dare do it on Howie's couch. My sister and best friend Katrina, for always being my best escape from reality, her connection with me that gives her the skill to know when I need her most and always being there for me, and MOST importantly for always understanding my oddness. I love you guys and miss you so much. I had the best childhood because of my siblings and parents. And don't worry, I didn't forget you Levi. I will always look back on my memories with my best pal Levi who grew up across the street from me. I'm so proud of him and what he has made of his life. I love you buddy.

I want to thank my parents for building a home that can be a happy memory for us all, not just my family but all the friends who have spent hours sitting around the bar in the kitchen hanging out and eating my mom's amazing cookies. We will all miss 2288 in Williamsburg. I try and understand how it all worked out over all these years. My parents could possibly be exact opposites, but they built something that worked for me and hopefully the rest of my family. I'll miss watching TNT double header's on Sundays with my dad, and always rooting for the team playing the Jazz, just to get his competitive side surfaced again. I still hate Karl Malone purely to tick my dad off. My dad with his tough side that only covers up what a softy he really is. He is my biggest supporter, fan and buddy. Through basketball and now school, he wants me to achieve my dreams. I thank and love him for being a dreamer too. My mom, my closest and best friend ever. I will miss our talks laying in her bed on any given afternoon. Our cokes with sonic ice and the unofficial book club we've created together because of our love of literature. Her voice and hugs that always calm me down on a stressful day. All her sayings in her soft spoken voice and her ability to love and connect with any and all of my friends. She is the ideal mom and best friend. She fills the two major roles in my life and that is why when I think I've lost everything, I have everything in her. I love you guys so much and I love my memories here and can't wait to build a home and memories with the one I love.

Bad Luck... Equals New Beginnings.

I don't like to think that there is such a thing as Karma, because it makes me feel doomed every time I make fun of some random misfortunate looking soul, as I point and laugh while saying, "your team" to my nearest friend. It just makes the statement, "karma is a bitch" make so much more sense to me though, because I am a bitch, which in turn makes karma one. I need to be nice, maybe. Bad karma is not a good time.

After thinking a lot about my life, I realized that I have had a series of misfortunate events these past couple months, whether they be let downs or mess ups, I'm not fully aware of why they are happening to me. Is it bad luck, or bad karma? Now, I can look at this negatively and feel sorry for myself or take the higher road and realize, whether it is bad luck or karma, improving myself is never a bad thing, so why not do it regardless of whether it cures my karma or not. Improvement is needed now and fast, before loss of sanity happens.

I've felt almost every emotion there is possible to feel in the last couple of months. As much as I've hurt, been frustrated or even been happy, I am thankful for the ups and downs because I have never felt more alive. I have put walls up and missed out on some great opportunities because of my past let downs, this is only hurting me more. It is okay to be vulnerable and honest with how you feel and what you really want. It is the only way to be happy. There are things we lose and gain during the trials of our lives, somethings we will miss and other things we can do without. It's refreshing to know that you can do without somethings and there is only more to gain by letting go. Whether it be in relationships, careers or friends. I've found that you can only build from what you've lost and in turn won't settle for anything less than what you have already had if you value yourself and your worth. I'm ready for bigger and better things, hopefully self improvement will give me luck or create a that better karma I need. 

Brentano 309 time!

It has been a weird couple of weeks for me. I have been trying to get my job all lined up for teaching in the fall and then starting a new one to finish out the summer with has been interesting. It has been crazy. My parents have FINALLY sold their house and informed me that I have to be out by August 31. They said they'd never kick me out. LOL. I guess it's time though, and I'm thankful for that and for everything they do for me. I love and will miss seeing you guys everyday like I have the past couple of months. Saying bye to this home will be a challenge for us all.

I am so excited for all the new change taking place in my life. Everything is finally starting to line up for me. Today is a very special day though, my best friend is coming to visit me for six days. She was my roommate (Brentano 309) my freshman year of college and she is the person in my life, like than my mom and sisters, who knows me best. We are both about to encounter a new chapter of life that is going to be incredibly challenging and rewarding. I can't wait to spend time and reflect on how we got here and how we are going to get through what lies ahead. I love you Kim. You just left Dallas, I can't wait to see ya girl! 2.5 hours!

Just a Thought

Majority of the population spends their lifetime trying to find themselves. Looking for our identity as an individual consumes our lives and influences the decisions we make throughout our lifetime. It is human nature to want to know who we are and where we are going. But I don't want to find myself. I want to create myself. 

Naturally, I decided who I was at a young age by believing the opinions of others. The weren't always right, but they weren't always wrong about me. I decided who I was solely on my talents and what people told  me I was good at. Never challenging myself in any areas that were intimidating or uncomfortable for me. Playing it safe was easy and fulfilling enough for me at the time. The talents and interests that come easy to me are the things I chose to define who I was. I decided at a young age that I would play college basketball and excel in athletics because it was a talent I had found early on in life. No one ever mentioned that it is alright if childhood dreams aren't always what they seem and that you don't have to follow through with them. I pushed through the years of basketball even after my love for the game had left me because failure and quitting has been made into such a negative concept, especially in athletics. Quitting can be just another form of change. And change can be the best thing for us sometimes, it was for me. Changing my life direction when I was ready for a new chapter was out of the question, because it would make me a quitter. The time finally had come, I decided to end my basketball career and move on. I found that the only way to create who I really wanted to be, was to contradict myself. Entirely.

I had to step out of my comfort zone and face my intimidator and be uncomfortable. I could perform athletically in front of thousands, but turning my writing or something I had crafted in, knowing that it could be criticized and rejected was my biggest fear and insecurity. I pushed myself and overcame this fear of rejection and I started writing. This was when my blog was created. It was my way of putting myself out there and conquering my fear. I never would have created this part of me, the part of me I had feared, if I hadn't contradicted my childhood goals and the portrait of myself that had been painted by others my whole life. The brush was finally in my hands, and I became my own artist. 

Creating who I wanted to really be started with contradicting everything I had been told I was by myself and others. My journey as an English major has helped me deconstruct my life and beliefs. Now I can really create my own ideology and belief system. I always thought I knew who I was, but I haven't even made my own decisions till recently. In academic classes such as philosophy, literary theory, sociology, and psychology we are told we are products of our environment. There are positive and negative effects that come from all environments, but if we are aware of their influences we can control how effective they are in our lives. I want to decide for myself who I will be and were I will go, even if my environment and beliefs contradict me. My education and literary studies have opened my eyes; eyes I never knew were closed.

The Danger in Expectations

This past month I decided to try something out, a little experiment if you will. I realized that being let down had become a very consistent emotion in my everyday. When something negative becomes consistent in anyone's life, their common sense and the ability to think usually leeds to them deconstructing and dissecting their life's current changes or reasoning for feeling this way so often. One of my thoughts on why I was creating and feeling let down was the danger in having expectations. When we create expectations for the people around us, we are giving them the power to prove us right or more often than not prove us terribly wrong. Expectations are very dangerous. My mom said it perfectly when she said, "Don't let expectations become fantasies". True and powerful statement mom's. Agreed.

 Let me give you an example to help you understand my current realization. Dating. Yes, the dreaded social structure we created over time to find that person that fits you perfectly and will share the rest of your life with you. Otherwise known as THE MATE. I don't know what would be more painful, the caveman approach, which is getting hit over the head and dragged into a cave or having dinner with a liar who uses all their words of deceit and gloat? Then once you buy into their lies you find out that they are a total tool and mass texting all the same lines to every other girl that would buy into it the same act. How generic do you feel once you find out that it's working on everybody? Sucks, huh. Ugh...I think I would rather take a couple good hits from the caveman, they can't even text or communicate with words. Perfect. 

Now, having loved and lost, and being the shoulder to cry on for my friends who have also loved and lost. I know how we cope as women. We tell ourselves we can do better and then point out all our recent ex's negative flaws we just barely started noticing at our heartbreaks convenience because it helps us detach from our attachment to them. Attachment, what a bitch, you know her well I'm sure, it's their smell, their laugh, their comfort, their smile... you know all the visual and emotional bull shit that had you hooked to them because you've wasted all your free time making those things more important than reality. Now they go from being everything you ever wanted to being everything you least expected. Fact is, they didn't change. Your EXPECTATIONS did. Before you created expectations and fantasies about who they are or are going to be FOR YOU. Now that they are gone you look them in the eyes, during one of your ever so dramatic break-up fights, and say, "I see your potential, why can't you see it?" Umm, because you made it up in your head. New rule. Date people who have already obtained a potential that will satisfy your needs. NO more fixer uppers. Stop having expectations that are fictitious. Majority of people suck, stop making them out to not. Be prepared.

Now back to my experiment. I tried living my life without expectations. Tricky, right? It's nearly impossible. It's like losing hope completely, not just in others but even yourself. I changed completely during this period of time. Did things I wouldn't normally do because I didn't have expectations for myself. Expectations for ones self are goals, standards, morals, integrity and character. Just because I can't expect others to have these qualities; I can and will expect them from myself. I came to the conclusion that expectations in others can be premeditated disappointment we create in our head. We create these expectations/fantasies to give hope in the people we interact with in our life. I'm back to the realization that the only person I have control over is myself. I can only expect what I can control. Myself. Even if it means letting go and trimming off some social fat or coming off as a complete emotionless bitch when someone does something that shocks everyone because of their EXPECTATIONS! Wow, I feel better. Thanks.