tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31942249113266458572024-03-19T06:36:27.253-05:00Watch, Learn, Walk AwayI'm just a girl; a fashion-loving, Spirit-breathing, broken-hearted dreamer who's ready to start a revolution.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-35216005603703537592014-05-29T11:18:00.000-05:002014-05-29T12:06:11.599-05:00Ch Ch Changing "If you were in Spain for three years, why didn't you grow a mustache?" Hours after getting off the plane, I rode with my family to Nashville for my nephew's birthday. Being the second youngest, I was smashed in the backseat with my younger brother. He was disappointed to find out that despite being away for four months (not three years), I was still facial hair free.<br />
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There are many stereotypes surrounding students who have recently studied abroad in Europe. We're supposed to hop off the plane disgusted by America's love of fast food and lack of public transportation. We recall memories of the well-dressed Europeans we drank cappuccinos and shared cigarettes with. Wherever we studied is more advanced, environmental friendly, and therefore better than our home state, <br />
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<i>Truthfully, I'm still the same Marissa I was in January.</i> I didn't start wearing only black and smoking roll-your-own cigarettes. I still wear pink...I've just added scarves to my ensembles. I didn't transform into a liberal environmentalist, but I don't think I'll ever return to taking 20 minute showers. I'm rocking straight across bangs but with a hair bow in my sorority's colors. Tapas, tinto de verano and siestas have been tattooed into my heart, but I still fly Old Glory with pride and thank God every night for my freedom, customer service, and sweet tea.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinuRvH7zNsvfcLWOU1rxknspfEUtTtwyEeoECO607Sw4jp1v0jEQmkjuUg76T5wdGJ8mJZIfM4Dm00yROOFz84RFHQ3qtaMGluexNf3z2xjAbYmJr40Ljx8A3fd5Ly5g5e01F5AB2AbXE/s1600/me+and+tori.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinuRvH7zNsvfcLWOU1rxknspfEUtTtwyEeoECO607Sw4jp1v0jEQmkjuUg76T5wdGJ8mJZIfM4Dm00yROOFz84RFHQ3qtaMGluexNf3z2xjAbYmJr40Ljx8A3fd5Ly5g5e01F5AB2AbXE/s1600/me+and+tori.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WHS Rose Ceremony 2010</td></tr>
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A few nights ago, two of my friends from high school came over. We sat and laughed for hours and I couldn't believe that six years, five colleges, three cities and two continents later, I still call these girls my best friends. I look at my bedroom adorned with sparkly crowns and smile knowing that despite the places we have been and the choices we have made, some things never change.</div>
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<b>The things that did change were the ones that needed to.</b><br />
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I needed to realize that these experiences, that college is not going to last forever and maybe it is time for adult habits, like making my bed every morning. I needed to learn that it was not my family or a boy or my best friend was in charge of my happiness. If someone couldn't give me what I wanted, I had to let go of that control or let go of that person. If I wanting to find peace within myself, I had to buckle down, love myself and grow up a little.<br />
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All the places I've been, habits I've held, and people I've met have shaped me into the person I am today. Some of these habits I've kept, like becoming a runner and journaling everyday. Others I've had to let go, like freshman nightlife and sugary coffee. This summer is another choice to build and break habits. Only this time, my adventure won't be across the state or the world, but in the place I've called home for the last eight years.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-63541700566516762262014-05-05T17:20:00.002-05:002014-05-06T08:21:28.430-05:00Dual Devotion I look at my calendar and notice that I'll be home in less than three weeks. I'm not sure if I'm more surprised that it is so close or so far away.<br />
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I'm drowning in stress as I desperately try to contact my advisor who doesn't seem to think my emails are worth responding to. Who ever thought that trying to find an apartment, filing taxes, and securing a summer internship would be virtually impossible from an ocean away?</div>
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<b>I'm lucky</b>. I have many things waiting for me back at home.<i> Home.</i> A place where people speak my first language. A place where I don't hear "Rubia! Rubia!" every time I leave my house. A place where I can cuddle with my bloodhound and have dance parties with my little brother. A place with Taco Bell. A place with they serve biscuits and gravy. A place with where they play country music <i>(Thank God for Spotify).</i><br />
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As excited as I am to go home, I'm partially terrified. I have changed, more than I ever could have imagined. It doesn't take more than a quick scroll through Instagram shows that I'm not the only one who is different.<br />
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I've missed so many birthdays and inside jokes. I've missed all-nighters in the library and laughable experiences at the fraternity houses. Former crushes of mine are now in relationships. My sorority has added sisters I've never met before. My childhood best friend is engaged and having a baby. My nephew is about to turn two and is officially a "kid" now. My younger brother has discovered social media. My parents are moving.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKMzdZ-G4NONhB4uyRr_iuuzZponaRjBNUbB-7VP6OE_T077hBcdgMJN3R7OZYog_TC5QECQYiuX7NRsGj6axfcVq-5-ahY3G7GoVqzmsn9RXpDmoUvjPQqhie_jP6CUGi93Vb4PjhiMw/s1600/DSCN5412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKMzdZ-G4NONhB4uyRr_iuuzZponaRjBNUbB-7VP6OE_T077hBcdgMJN3R7OZYog_TC5QECQYiuX7NRsGj6axfcVq-5-ahY3G7GoVqzmsn9RXpDmoUvjPQqhie_jP6CUGi93Vb4PjhiMw/s1600/DSCN5412.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>I look through the pictures I've taken during the past few weeks: flamenco dancers in the streets, sunbathing next to the Mediterranean, white handkerchiefs in the air at a bullfight. I see the faces of dozens of people I may never see again. I think of the crazy nights and the days lounging in the park. I think of the tears cried and the jokes that don't really make sense looking back. As excited as I am to move onto the next chapter of my life, it will not be easy closing this one.<br />
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<b>I swore I wouldn't fall in love this semester</b>. I had built what I believed were impermeable walls. However, with every late night confession, afternoon hike, and view of La Alhambra, I felt those walls crumbling. Granada has been written on my heart in permanent ink.<br />
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I didn't want to love it here. I couldn't deal with the uphill walks to school every morning. I couldn't deal with sharing a microscopic bedroom with another person. I was not a fan of bacon-less breakfasts. There was no doubt in my mind th I could leave here attachment less.<br />
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As always, things did not work out as planned. That girl sharing the tiny bedroom with me? She's learned things about me that I should only share with my doctor. Those long walks into the city? A stroll through the park is the perfect opportunity to let off steam after a long day. All the food I did not care for before were merely acquired tastes. The lack of English speakers and Starbucks was actually quite refreshing. I had been wrong about Granada.<br />
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The unfortunate thing about falling in love is that you have no control over it. You are living your life perfectly fine and then one day, you realize you have been irrevocably changed. I get goosebumps when I think about flamenco shows or sitting in on Mass in the Cathedral. I want to tell everyone the way I feel after climbing the Sierra Nevadas or walking through a 1,000 year old building. However, not all loves are meant to last.<br />
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In just a few weeks, I'll be leaving Andalusia and re-entering the Southeast. I'll trade in tapas bars for barbecue. I'll trade the love I have for this place for the chance to be back in the Heart of Dixie. The truth is, <b>you can take the girl out of the Honky Tonk, but you can't take the Honky Tonk out of the girl.</b><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-13816800751604785342014-04-12T02:24:00.004-05:002014-04-12T12:49:03.896-05:00Different Places, Different FacesMy stomach tightens as the reality sets in--six weeks until I'm home-bound. As with all of life's journeys, my time here in finite. This fact has encouraged a little bit more of the "YOLO" mentality than I care to admit. Then again, I may only live Spanish once.<br />
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I've thought about what I want from my experience here. I didn't come here to become fluent in Spanish. I didn't come here to play tourist in various European cities. <i>Honestly, I cannot tell you what I wanted when I landed in the Madrid-Barajas Airport almost three months ago. </i>All I know is that this is not what I expected. </div>
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<b>For the remainder of my time here, I have to soak up everything I want my Spanish experience to consist of. </b>Do I embrace local culture by spending my money rollerblading and going out for tapas? Do I want to sacrifice what little money I have to plan a last-minute trip to Portugal? Do I want to schedule an intercambio every evening to practice my Spanish? Do I keep trying to meet as many people as possible? </div>
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I've sought advice from those I know that have lived internationally and most of their advice was the same: absorb everything you can about the culture. <i>Well, of course, but what does that mean?</i> My sister's boyfriend said to me, "You won't regret not seeing a certain city. It's never the places we go. It's the ones we meet that stay with us." </div>
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Looking back to my experience as a sixteen-year-old in Costa Rica, I barely remember ziplining in the rainforest or how I felt when I got my first ever passport stamp. I do remember meeting Kelli, who shared my disdain for the ropes course and still listens to me when I have a major life crisis (read: I don't how to spend my summer vacation). Last month, it was not the Trevi Fountain that made Rome memorable for me but rather Megan who listened to me accidentally spill out my heart as we casually sat on rocks outside the Colosseum. </div>
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I don't want to regret not seeing Barcelona, but more than that, I don't want to regret missing out on getting to know the people this city has to introduced me to. As Semana Santa starts, I cannot wait to see my Catholic host family cook special dishes and get excited about their culture. I cannot wait for my roommate and I to embark on spontaneous day trips, each that will shed a little layer of defense. I cannot wait to have girl talk from the Mirador overlooking La Alhambra with Julia, who has served as my mini mentor as I try to navigate life abroad. </div>
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Seeing a building that is 900 years old will not make you a new person. Life is not about the things you see, but rather the person you allow yourself to become.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7W0lGuPX6SZLU5F1haZIif-epjcCEIoEVFmJVX1jHICbBHpGzXPuGpzvydB9mu3COyZ5X2_bC_HOaariO_GFiMdTIll1WHgARwEiiCP5k2Czk4BHMl4EdqJBEXDD19fEo0QGbImumeY/s1600/me+and+kell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7W0lGuPX6SZLU5F1haZIif-epjcCEIoEVFmJVX1jHICbBHpGzXPuGpzvydB9mu3COyZ5X2_bC_HOaariO_GFiMdTIll1WHgARwEiiCP5k2Czk4BHMl4EdqJBEXDD19fEo0QGbImumeY/s1600/me+and+kell.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was so cute at 16.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3xPmV5IGLjFmw-uDVLGzrVvmgWkoEoR7xQYy8jNqtGAdEtkXB5jtRr6A4jaRtGIUoTBr74SjjZOx8KbEashgerwnYw7KQEklAm4a9f-5DYkmHTURIU6ROk0Ln_aNGynX4f_Rh22CUt8/s1600/me+and+meg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3xPmV5IGLjFmw-uDVLGzrVvmgWkoEoR7xQYy8jNqtGAdEtkXB5jtRr6A4jaRtGIUoTBr74SjjZOx8KbEashgerwnYw7KQEklAm4a9f-5DYkmHTURIU6ROk0Ln_aNGynX4f_Rh22CUt8/s1600/me+and+meg.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rome</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyvn3IJEyMiJ_kMWCMqWArxx6nuhyphenhyphenppStCotT82x4dHyMXPB4MxBHIC7RCGev9Vjjx83pQtYvDKJsYFf6UdoK-hPebM72QbEn59v_BomOBDq73TW-m1kh1qOhMMHAreLC2MiOWAX4OX8/s1600/DSCN5400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyvn3IJEyMiJ_kMWCMqWArxx6nuhyphenhyphenppStCotT82x4dHyMXPB4MxBHIC7RCGev9Vjjx83pQtYvDKJsYFf6UdoK-hPebM72QbEn59v_BomOBDq73TW-m1kh1qOhMMHAreLC2MiOWAX4OX8/s1600/DSCN5400.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Granada hikes!</td></tr>
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When you surround yourself with people that help you tear down your walls and let love in, your life will never be the same. For the next six weeks, I know my personal "YOLO" will have much more to do with "who" than "what." </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-72044891530192056732014-03-29T12:33:00.001-05:002014-03-29T12:33:57.369-05:00How It's Supposed to Be"How is Spain?!" "Are you fluent in Spanish yet?" "Are you bringing home a Spanish boy?"<br />
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Curious messages appear from my friends, family, and random creatures from my past. Everyone seems to think that I'm here living some crazy adventure, seeing the world, and meeting tons of new people, which, truthfully, I am. However, not everyday am I climbing mountains or travelling to an exotic country. I, sometimes, worry that my "everydays" are not up to par for the stories I plan on telling.</div>
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Slowly but surely, I'm learning to accept the Spanish (read: slower) pace of life. This morning, I was talking with a good friend and she said, "What's wrong with going to bed early and lounging around? What's wrong with spending time with friends and just enjoying ourselves?" I've realized that I'm not going to be here forever. When I go home, my busy life will consume me again but right now, what is wrong with just being?<br />
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In two months, I will return to all the comforts of home and America. I will be cuddling with my puppy and watching Duck Dynasty with my younger brother. I'll be drinking wine and swapping stories with my mother on the back porch. I'll drive over to my best friend's house and eat too many pizza puffs while watching horrible made for TV movies. I'll take showers that are longer than five minutes and I won't even have to turn the water off halfway through. I'll never be more than fifteen minutes from a Taco Bell and I'll get to eat Reese's cups and Swedish fish whenever I feel the urge. </div>
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Then I think of all the things I take advantage of that I won't be able to take home with me. Hiking in the Sierra Nevada Mountains on weekend. Freshly baked bread available everyday. Ordering only a drink and getting a plate full of free snacks. <i>Dear America, please adopt tapas bars. </i>Not having to tip waiters. Taking day trips to the beach for $15. Churros con chocolate. Spending less $100 and two hours to fly to a foreign country. The freedom to be reinvent myself in a place where nobody knows me. </div>
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I keep worrying I'm doing study abroad "right"...whatever that means. I wonder if I need to go out more at night, or focus more on school, or venture to more countries, or make crazier decisions. I keep wondering if there is something that is going to cause me to look back on this semester with regret. <b>Last night, I realized though, that the only thing getting in the way of my experience is me wasting time worrying about my experience. </b><br />
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The truth is, it does not matter if I spend every night in the discoteca or if I spend it in the library. It does not matter if I have many Spanish suitors or if I stick to my girls. <b>My experience here is mine alone.</b> I cannot compare it those in my program or the stories from my friends from home have told me. Gazing across old journal entries and even gazing into the mirror, I can see how much I've changed thusfar this semester.<br />
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When I look in the mirror, I smooth out my straight across bangs and hope I look a little more European. I still don't drink my coffee black or speak Spanish fluently, but the past few months have come with many lessons learned. With all the experiences I've had and the adventures I've taken, I know that, without a doubt, I am making choices future Marissa will be proud to have lived through. I've got stories for my friends and pictures for my mom.<br />
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The best realization, though, is that I'm only halfway there. I still have two months to be as crazy or as focused or as "European" as I want to be. <b>The only thing I plan on changing is my ever-present fear that I'm messing this all up because that is impossible when you are already living your dream.</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Meme was found on Pinterest. It is not my own.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">**Picture was taken by Marianne Blythe-Reske</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-16588832209104421612014-02-22T15:08:00.000-06:002014-02-22T15:08:17.889-06:00FOMO, Effects of YOLOThis weekend, I had nothing on my calendar. I am not joining my group of friends in Morocco. I'm not having a sleepover with my sorority sisters. I'm not going to a music fest or travelling to a neighboring country. This weekend, I have been staying in Granada..and staying away from Instagram.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I often struggle with the fear of missing out (FOMO).</span> I see my friends landing awesome internships, getting accepted into grad school, marrying the loves of their lives, and travelling the world and suddenly, everything that made my life unique seems insignificant. </div>
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I know you're thinking, <i>but Marissa, you live in Spain. How could you possibly feel like your life is uninteresting?</i> </div>
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The truth is, I know I am blessed. I know that in the grand scheme of life, this is a time in my life that will be packed with stories that proof to show my future children that I was actually cool once. I know that this semester, I have chosen specifically to study abroad in Spain. I chose to live in Granada for four months. I am not here to tour every national monument east of the Atlantic or backpack to every bar in Western Europe. I'm here for to learn more about Andalusian culture...and myself. <b>Everything else is extra.</b></div>
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Studying abroad on a budget leads to many moments of FOMO. No, I cannot go to Ireland next week. No, I cannot buy churros con chocolate everyday. No, I cannot take a taxi everywhere I go, but rather I embrace those 45 minute hikes to pretty much anywhere civilization lies.<br />
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However, I think about how only two months ago, I was quite envious of my friends studying abroad. I was jealous of the stories and the pictures and the reminders on social media that their lives were so much more interesting than mine. I think about how many of my friends, some who I hadn't talked to in awhile, said that they were living vicariously through my pictures.<br />
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I think about how yesterday, I went and explored my city and found a park with a zip line and a store that sells gypsy clothes. I think about how I popped my head into a karaoke bar and ended up dancing with a crazy old man to a love song I didn't understand. I think of the friends I've made and the music video I helped them make today. I think about how this weekend I saw the caskets of Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand, the monarchs responsible for the Spanish Inquisition and sending Christopher Columbus to America. I smile as I curl my aching toes knowing that <b>my life here is anything but boring.</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukFmiHAmNJdKzptI5fXCuSD8uWBytCcE06He_1qO8HPURLlyN3_Xi0O17RIXHPTBgRqNli5-2QkKFUzLlP3VM11YFM-utJd5EW4AS0IUgjgCSGj8gBkfbBlo_n377eI6tcFT8dJ9RRBw/s1600/zipline+in+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiukFmiHAmNJdKzptI5fXCuSD8uWBytCcE06He_1qO8HPURLlyN3_Xi0O17RIXHPTBgRqNli5-2QkKFUzLlP3VM11YFM-utJd5EW4AS0IUgjgCSGj8gBkfbBlo_n377eI6tcFT8dJ9RRBw/s1600/zipline+in+park.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b>I don't have to go to Africa to find joy.</b> I didn't even have to cross the Atlantic. The truth is some of my favorite moments have happened in Rast Hall and Mervyn Sterne Library. They have happened in the Florence Taco Bells and my family's living room.<br />
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Living life to the fullest is not about the cities we visit or the items we check off our bucket lists. Missing out only truly happens when we are living a life in which we are not at peace with ourselves. As I replay the events of this weekend, I can proudly say that I am happy with the choices I've made and the person I continually choose to be. Missing out implies that we are not doing what everyone else is doing.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When has a story ever been born from following the status-quo?</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-34804784434041888612014-02-08T12:18:00.001-06:002014-02-08T12:23:27.642-06:00Freely Mine <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Refreshed. </span></div>
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That's how I feel right now. I ignore the anxiety filling within my chest because I know it has no reason to be there. There is no reason for me to be feeling anything but peace. Nothing is wrong, but I'm not used to this. I'm not used to playing it by ear.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ9sEXQSX7csZBu8VHVJn5P80R7f56lElZLSX1233cA1bedFLFUGlF5lWdjXJRpTGbdPAkBLIp5pJc1LE-zwQrmeg4-KEBhmLdlEAMPkqIvZewbhFFncGGjQMdezyHRJN8yDKMbYSq5I/s1600/DSCN4480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ9sEXQSX7csZBu8VHVJn5P80R7f56lElZLSX1233cA1bedFLFUGlF5lWdjXJRpTGbdPAkBLIp5pJc1LE-zwQrmeg4-KEBhmLdlEAMPkqIvZewbhFFncGGjQMdezyHRJN8yDKMbYSq5I/s1600/DSCN4480.JPG" height="320" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The river I run along</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Right now, I don't have a job. I'm not dedicating hours of my week to chapter or recruitment workshops. I'm not sitting in board meetings for organizations I am involved with. At school, and even at home, I live my life on-the-go. I am constantly worried about money and all of my obligations. The time I get to rest is rare and usually consumed with social media and a Netflix binge.<br />
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I'm not really sure what to do with all this free time. Never have I ever not had a job. Never have I ever had time or freedom to just explore. Honestly? I'm not really sure what to do with myself.<br />
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In the past 24 hours, I worked on one of my fashion articles, worked to create growth within my book club, gave my blog a makeover, finally watched <i>Frozen</i>, worked out (twice), attempted yoga, and shared churros with the only other Delta Gamma in Granada, just to name a few.<br />
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I scroll through my Pinterest feed and smile as I see pictures of La Alhambra on a friend's "Bucket List" board. Right now, I'm living a life other people only dream of. I'm getting a chance to do something most people do not get to do. I'm getting the opportunity to anything and everything I've ever dreamed of. I don't have to ask anyone's permission or worry about missing any sort of obligation. (Besides class--I swear I'm in school full-time.)<br />
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Do not let the beautiful pictures fool you--my life here is not always a walk in the park...despite the fact that I do take daily walks throughout the various parks surrounding our neighborhood. However, my day also consists of hiking uphill and walking thirty minutes to get virtually anywhere I need to go.<br />
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The funny thing is that I worried that the ease that I was starting to live my life with would cause me to become sensitized to the what I like to call the "before stages." You know the beginning of the story when the struggle is still real and the protaginist is yet to have the moment where he realizes how much of a better person he is due to the suffering? Yeah, those moments. <br />
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Walk around in sketchy alleys for an hour in the pouring rain while wearing heels because you can't find your friends? No big deal, or as the Spanish would say, <i>no pasa nada</i>.<br />
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<b>When you allow yourself to find peace, not even the worst of circumstances can truly disgruntle you.</b> When you give yourself room to heal, the things that used to eat you alive seem much less important. When your blessings are great, you can only laugh at the misfortune in your life.<br />
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I knew I would change when I moved to Europe, but I thought that meant I'd start drinking my coffee black and knowing which wine went with each cheese. I figured I'd improve my Spanish and have a stronger appreciation for freshly baked bread drizzled in olive oil. I keep waking up and wondering why I am not European chic yet.<br />
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I have four months to figure out "who I am" or whatever that means. I have four months to escape the daily grind and live a life most people only dream of. I have four months to do...well, anything. <b>That in and of itself is the most terrifying and freeing reality that there is. </b>Who will I become? <i>The choice is mine. </i>I honestly could not think of a simpler, more beautiful concept.<br />
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I do not know what I am doing six months from now or even what I am going to be doing after dinner...and that is okay. Sometimes I have to set aside my overpriced Lilly agenda, and just do whatever it is that I want to...simply because I can.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-61707252661257904032014-02-05T11:42:00.000-06:002014-02-05T11:42:25.587-06:00Climbing Mountains"Marissa, just press send."<br />
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Last night, my roommate Marianne and I were taking a break from living la vida loca to partake in a dreaded task that every study abroad student must eventually face--that we are actually still in school. Googling internships and configuring summer jobs, we both acknowledged that there were some things we needed to configure for the future. Even worse, there were some things I had not yet figured out from the past.<br />
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With a little encouragement, I decided it was time to finally fix a situation that I had put off for far too long. There was a reason I had put off emailing my professor for almost a year--I was scared. The fear of the possible negative outcome was far worse to me than the fear of never knowing.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKyT5v2DtK00LQb9KYmTTsspjkOz0B5KGcePcWnwhRVze3B04OqdQZKp0uDHrftGoFyxp359qkhvR2MTuhO3CNjXDIuvBGhrICilpGLiDPxnPaUxBWyei6HzV61YStpR7ZMxaKCcoJ8A/s1600/DSCN4732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKyT5v2DtK00LQb9KYmTTsspjkOz0B5KGcePcWnwhRVze3B04OqdQZKp0uDHrftGoFyxp359qkhvR2MTuhO3CNjXDIuvBGhrICilpGLiDPxnPaUxBWyei6HzV61YStpR7ZMxaKCcoJ8A/s1600/DSCN4732.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gypsy Cave close-up</td></tr>
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This past Sunday, I climbed a mountain...literally.<i> </i>I did so in my monogrammed jacket, Spirit Jersey, with my Lilly camera case in tow (that perfectly matched my croakies) but I did it. I went on a 5-hour hike in the outskirts of Granada amongst the gyspy villages.<br />
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During the first five minutes, I thought I was done. We had four sets of staircases before we even got on our trail. I thought about saying "Adios" to my friends and walking myself back home for a siesta. I knew I couldn't though. I came to Spain to challenge myself. <b>What was the point of being here if I leave unchanged? </b><br />
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I took a few "throw what you know" landscape pictures, adventurously wandered into gypsy caves, and even created a few trails of my own. I feigned confidence as we scaled down the muddy side of the mountain when we had reached a dead end. We spent hours figuring out if and how we were going to get off the mountain. When we finally were on flat land, I had a pride I had never quite experienced. Part of me wanted to sing "Survivor" by Destiny's Child.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlZvX3bU60IoLxSCyI8VeF7Sq9sCWyLto_iNwaaXY05dPI6Bn5V1TaWSaeqVyvYaQckTVolRxVA_pvhEYHIiN80RFZBLsD02VJtI0H9fVtxaSFvjDt4q1zBuxnUsckiiEPicITzVBrK-E/s1600/Throw+what+you+know.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlZvX3bU60IoLxSCyI8VeF7Sq9sCWyLto_iNwaaXY05dPI6Bn5V1TaWSaeqVyvYaQckTVolRxVA_pvhEYHIiN80RFZBLsD02VJtI0H9fVtxaSFvjDt4q1zBuxnUsckiiEPicITzVBrK-E/s1600/Throw+what+you+know.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Throw What You Know</td></tr>
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I'm glad I confronted this fear. Not because it was another story to tell or photo to share, but because there is a peace you can only receive in the outdoors, a level of self-awareness that can only be found in the wild. Even more so, there is a confidence that can only come from staring your fear in the face. When you study abroad, every single day is an adventure. Not because of the mountains you climb, or the bars you go to, or the exotic cities you explore. Even the most mundane activities become foreign, even if it is just trying to find your way home after going for a run in an unfamiliar part of town.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1TDfaH6N3zikYMgTgRLq4ZGiS1D3a-VyaZ37IMT-iZiGuOz8GNiCiqit0LiANxd7CIdsFnJi0NP1yrx7DtvYA-3AnzUPQVNSaHLaagNzmFZxDtLMqPQCSEyk1SX4z9u9XS9kf393V1w/s1600/DSCN4730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD1TDfaH6N3zikYMgTgRLq4ZGiS1D3a-VyaZ37IMT-iZiGuOz8GNiCiqit0LiANxd7CIdsFnJi0NP1yrx7DtvYA-3AnzUPQVNSaHLaagNzmFZxDtLMqPQCSEyk1SX4z9u9XS9kf393V1w/s1600/DSCN4730.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gyspy Caves</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Our dreams will always be more colorful and more challenging than we had imagined and our fears will always be smaller and less important than we ever thought. Each night while going for a run, I wonder what trials and tribulations I will face in the next day. As I see the sun set on the peaks of the Sierra Nevada, I cannot help but be a little hopeful.<br />
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So last night I asked myself, <b>"Why are you scared of sending an email?"</b><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-78041184043313959632014-01-30T13:54:00.001-06:002014-01-30T13:54:42.086-06:00Church and Churros<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywBtHeZzPYj6PYe_ugR9fS0Hy7dcR1YzMu32AAlaIMf4pmSPMMoBLF66BRwN9X6YQ7l3XSk4n9QTf5Mxo93wKoBWvO2ww1KmAMzN3USIa1KuMgm4T3JC2HreAPiW90BA9jiwhJcAB1BE/s1600/churros.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhywBtHeZzPYj6PYe_ugR9fS0Hy7dcR1YzMu32AAlaIMf4pmSPMMoBLF66BRwN9X6YQ7l3XSk4n9QTf5Mxo93wKoBWvO2ww1KmAMzN3USIa1KuMgm4T3JC2HreAPiW90BA9jiwhJcAB1BE/s1600/churros.jpg" height="320" width="288" /></a></div>
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Chocolate and churros, again.</div>
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I keep promising myself that I won't eat churros every chance I get, but the pastelerias that we pass every time we go, well, anywhere, are too good to pass up. Also, the Spanish tradition of not eating dinner until nine or ten at night leaves me starved a few hours after lunch. I cannot think of a better indulgence to complement my daily "siesta" than this chocolate treat. In Spanish culture, it is common for most of the city shut down around 2PM so everyone can come home and take a quick nap and eat lunch with their families before continuing the work day. </div>
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However, the fact that our homestay is one of the further ones (a 30+ minute walk to school and the city center) makes me feel a little less guilty about this irresistible part of the culture.</div>
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I have been travelling for a week now, having spent two days in Madrid, another day in Toledo, and then finally making it home to Granada. As fun as it has been, I'm so ready to get in a routine. I've taken my placement test, settled into my new home, but I can't still help but feel like I'm merely playing tourist. I'm dying to escape my American group and really live the Spanish life.<br />
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I am trying to take in every moment whether it has been through the lense of my camera or just my own two eyes. However, the best blessing I have had in this trip thus far was the day my camera died...</div>
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Toledo is the most beautiful place I have ever seen in my entire life. The entire city is protected by a fortress and is Medieval. It is called the city of three cultures because of its Catholic, Islamic, and Jewish influences. It looked like a scene from Lord of the Rings. There are mosques that are now Christian places of worship.</div>
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What we know as basic history is reality for these people. Conquests are not something to learn for a test, but what has affected everyday of their lives. </div>
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After snapping a picture with our attractive tour guide, a few landscape shots, and a roomie pic in front of the beautiful country side, my camera decided it was done. I did what any millenial would do in my situation-attempt to use the smartphone my program provided me with, but the zoom did not work and none of my quickly snapped pictures did this city justice. Eventually, I had to accept the fact that here I was in the most beautiful place I have ever seen, without a camera.</div>
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At first, I had never been more frustrated. <i>If I cannot Instagram this city, was I even really there?</i> If I cannot share pictures with all my Facebook friends, what is the point? </div>
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Then as I was walking inside the<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toledo_Cathedral"> Cathedral of Toledo, </a>the craziest thing happened. I saw the lack of a camera I stood in awe as I listening to the tour guide talk about this singular building took six hundred years to build. I stared at the details in each carving in the wall and the seats in the choir and was speechless for what was probably the first time in my life. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrk7_3bQ6c9bS2CMwMLpoPn2x9eqpSnKX1g4BlAsr7gRLHG1MGCsUXEqA8CC6-zfNcVdsmCrawByO1YMPHw25jZ8wMBjC7Be6B87sU8uizj4m99Tk1NIRFyjEoUwRKGvDNi6zrADDHEs/s1600/cathedral.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrk7_3bQ6c9bS2CMwMLpoPn2x9eqpSnKX1g4BlAsr7gRLHG1MGCsUXEqA8CC6-zfNcVdsmCrawByO1YMPHw25jZ8wMBjC7Be6B87sU8uizj4m99Tk1NIRFyjEoUwRKGvDNi6zrADDHEs/s1600/cathedral.jpg" /></a></div>
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I was blessed enough to not have the distractions of technology. I wasn't trying to capture the moment with my camera, but rather my mind. I was not worried about saving a memory for later, but rather living it.</div>
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The entire experience was so foreign to me...We don't have these opportunities in the U.S.; we don't have anything comparable to the architecture here in Europe. In our two hundred year old country, we do not have buildings that took centuries to build. In our convenience country, we do not build things to last. </div>
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Maybe it was all the religious history or merely the fact that there is something so much greater than myself, but something stirred inside me whilst in that cathedral. I lost track of time and seemed to forget that buildings that are centuries old do not have central air and the chill seemed to overtake the entire building. My mind blurred out the words of the tour guide and I was overcome but the mere existence of such a thing.<br />
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My generation, with our smart phones and fast food, does not care that good things take time. We want something, anything, now even if it means that we would have to sacrifice quality. Why take the time to grocery shop and prepare for a nice, home-cooked meal when we could just run to Taco Bell?<br />
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As I try to learn the metric system <i>(Why do we not use it in the States?!)</i>, a new city and navigate a cultural where people don't smile at strangers, I accept that I will be spending much of my time outside my comfort zone this semester. Then again, isn't that the point of deciding to leave behind everything you know and love to "find yourself" in a foreign country?<br />
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Maybe there is so much more to life than the American view of the superiority of efficiency. Maybe not. All I know is that I'm willing to find out.<br />
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Hasta luego!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9iuMDxRDMDocFKMSqpdq1sPr6tpO3R48rOgVIi9HtK0XPktll_rbPCGIGYTVzjqjErjP03vbnlXaLV-t6wJ2919LnWwZU4pc8S68-xdcYZWah1pYByuFhmI32bgho5LsPrFeTF4q-kIs/s1600/DSCN4402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9iuMDxRDMDocFKMSqpdq1sPr6tpO3R48rOgVIi9HtK0XPktll_rbPCGIGYTVzjqjErjP03vbnlXaLV-t6wJ2919LnWwZU4pc8S68-xdcYZWah1pYByuFhmI32bgho5LsPrFeTF4q-kIs/s1600/DSCN4402.JPG" height="320" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Royal Palace in Madrid</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-AzG80NlfB25wFX17nK6Xp4xwfY60XV6zaHD9WXiOOGYR80aoLIZixHKAwF4-DquBPocv72BOW2734AMmhpZOU6sSJlxzUV2mXCoemGZFRN4QNwEDZGW2VHxVpITI9kYMkZeZ5tEwdQ/s1600/DSCN4447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-AzG80NlfB25wFX17nK6Xp4xwfY60XV6zaHD9WXiOOGYR80aoLIZixHKAwF4-DquBPocv72BOW2734AMmhpZOU6sSJlxzUV2mXCoemGZFRN4QNwEDZGW2VHxVpITI9kYMkZeZ5tEwdQ/s1600/DSCN4447.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toledo countryside</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHQou1mvGIdYKtFXYYvoJAW_7v_XuyFWQswX9CDZRneQsZwHXuiZK6Y2W3RijxpFXAJW_LTUDjDjccGJIN8Grm25-A5hcc-3UuXpmAnCbuX_-xzCqXoXU6q6zCzSANiJYfLbdzYXjoBMM/s1600/DSCN4453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHQou1mvGIdYKtFXYYvoJAW_7v_XuyFWQswX9CDZRneQsZwHXuiZK6Y2W3RijxpFXAJW_LTUDjDjccGJIN8Grm25-A5hcc-3UuXpmAnCbuX_-xzCqXoXU6q6zCzSANiJYfLbdzYXjoBMM/s1600/DSCN4453.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toledo, again!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Note from author: Research the cathedral. Though the pictures will never do it justice, you will not be disappointed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*The picture of the churros and the Cathedral are not my images and I claim no rights to them. They were found using Google Images.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-29618827911850208392014-01-22T02:14:00.002-06:002014-01-22T02:14:15.894-06:00Bye, Bye, BaggageMy bags are packed. My boarding pass has been printed. I've sent the "OMG" Snapchats and I'll miss you texts. I've cried tears and laughed until I felt like the stitches from my wisdom teeth were going to bust. I've given the tightest hugs, said the most sincere goodbyes, and had quite a few "Where is it?" panic attacks.<br />
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<b>I guess this means it is time to go. </b><br />
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Tomorrow, I will be getting on a plane to go to Madrid. Talking about moving to Europe without any friends or family is one thing, but actually doing it?<b> </b>It may or may not be a little terrifying<b>.</b> <b>In a matter of hours, I'll be boarding a flight to Europe with nothing but the suitcase my mother bought me. </b><br />
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As I've had to condense my life into a suitcase, a carry-on, and a large "purse," I've been having to heavily consider what I can and cannot live without. I find myself throwing away objects I once found sentimental or giving away event t-shirts that had just wore thin enough to be comfortable. I've noticed that I've let some people fade from my life.<br />
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I'm able to say that I'm leaving without any romantic attachments...unless some potential Prince Charming is going to show up outside my gate and beg me to stay (Spoiler alert: I won't stay, but I'd still appreciate the gesture. I've always wanted a storybook romance, just saying).<br />
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Single doesn't mean I didn't have some hard goodbyes though. I think about how my younger brother asked, with tears in his eyes, why I had to leave. I think about having to watch my little's yellow Mustang pull out of my driveway, or my best friend making me promise to go on a beach trip with her as soon as I get back.I think about my sister-in-law and my aunt reminding me that I better write everyday, so that I'll have material for the book I'll inevitably write.<br />
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A motif in midst all the messages are questions of fear and excitement. I'm scared that the airline will lose my luggage or I'll forget all the Spanish I've learned. I'm scared that I won't be able to find a hairspray I like or that my roommate and I won't get along. I'm scared that one of my littles will need me. I'm scared that I'll miss out on life back home.<br />
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For every scary thought, though, I have three excited ones.I'm excited about being given the opportunity to be more selfish than I ever have in my entire life. I'm excited about being able to wake up in the morning and wander streets that are older than Jesus or visit a museum where the paintings of Picasso are. I'm excited to improve my Spanish and enhance my education in a way that most people don't. I'm excited to share movie moments and sangria with strangers. I'm excited to be legally allowed to drink (and I have no shame saying that--I heard Jesus drank wine). I'm excited to get lost, to find love, to feel alive. <b>I'm excited to do the things that most people only see in movies.</b><br />
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The biggest thing that both scares me and excites me is that I'm going to find something I cannot live without. Whether it be a lifestyle (daily nap, please), a gorgeous Spanish boy, or a favorite wine. I'm scared because every "phase" we encounter changes us, moves us much more than we could ever expect. I'm scared of the inevitable changes that will take the person I am today and mold me into something greater than I knew I could be.<br />
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Fortunately, I can acknowledge and be open to these changes. I'm letting go of my past regrets and unstable relationships in hopes of finding something better in Spain. Maybe I'm a dreamer, but that's okay. I'd rather be a dreamer than be someone irrevocably jaded.<br />
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As I reorganize my suitcase to try to fit all of my sundresses and scarves inside, I can't help but wonder if I've over packed. I realize that if I leave a little room in my suitcase, I'll have more room for the things I may find in Spain. So, as I pull a few things out of my suitcase I swore I "needed," I imagine myself browsing through a Spanish market picking out a new scarf. I replace a few sorority t-shirts with my sketchbook and shift a few things around. Four months is a long time to be living out of a suitcase, but it is far too long to be holding onto home.<br />
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I once read, minimalism isn't about forgoing the value of things, but rather by choosing to have less, you are giving more value to the things you own.When we get rid of all our extra baggage, we are free to do so much more with our lives. I am free to fall in love...or to travel the world.<br />
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When I get on the plane tomorrow, I don't want to wonder whether or not I left something important behind. I am going to own the choice I have made because I won't be able to turn around. I won't be able to ask my mother to ship me something or send me money to find another one just like it in Granada.<br />
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I'm still packing the paper thin t-shirt that my brother bought in college and the dress that makes me feel like Beyoncé. There's nothing wrong with having "things" or being the kind of person who likes to shop. You just have to ask yourself, <i>am I holding onto something that isn't quite worth it?</i> <br />
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<i>If we gave up all the things we were holding onto, what would we have room for in our suitcases? In our hearts? In our lives?</i><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Image found on iheartinspiration.com</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-52081213329289212352014-01-12T21:05:00.000-06:002014-01-14T20:00:09.054-06:00Home Sweet Shoals"Which one of you ladies turned the thermostat down out there?"<br />
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Inside Tuscumbia's Cold Water Books during last week's polar vortex, I sipped my vanilla latte and sought to learn more about the ongoings of <a href="http://www.coateskennedy.com/">Coates & Kennedy</a> firm. During our interview, an older man stopped in, bought a copy of the local newspaper and cracked a joke in that way that only older people can. As I sat with these professional women, I just smiled and thought,<i> This doesn't happen in Birmingham. </i></div>
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Almost two hours later, I felt a tinge of embarrassment as I realized I had just told complete strangers about all my fears for spending the semester in Europe and how driving on O'Neal bridge made me reminisce the trips I had to take to the state trooper's office. Though I consider myself an open book, I usually don't bare it all in a professional setting. Instead of learning only about the business these women ran, I learned about their lives as well. They spoke to me about their experiences in college and travelling throughout Europe and even told me to add them on Facebook. I left with more than just business contacts--I gained friends (at least according to Facebook). </div>
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On the way home as I crossed the bridge, I didn't think about the horrific lady at the DMV. Instead, I casually admired the way the street lights seemed to light up my hometown. I tried to sneak a picture, but after almost scraping the wall a few times, I decided against it. <i>Seriously Florence, that bridge is way too narrow for cars made after 1930</i>. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*O'Neal Bridge--Florence, AL</td></tr>
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Just across that river is the coffee shop where I spent many Friday nights conspiring to leave this town. Around the corner is The Chicago Cafe, the restaurant my father literally built with his own two hands, the place I first learned the value of hard work--and that child labor laws don't apply to the family business.<br />
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As a "yankee," I hated spending my teenage years in a town that could be summed up in a country song. I wished everyday that we had a mall with more than one story, or at the very least a Starbucks kiosk. However at Rivertown Coffee Company, I didn't laugh when they wrote the wrong name of my cup because the owner (a friend of my father's) starting making my order as soon as I walked in the door. I hated having to drive 20 minutes to civilization, but now I like sleeping without the sound of helicopters every night. In high school, I loathed going to the grocery store and seeing everyone I went to school, church, and worked with--because they were all the same people. Living in a small city, I no longer have the luxury of convenience relationships with apartments, internships, and activities being spread across the Magic City.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cold Water Books--Tuscumbia, AL</td></tr>
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I always felt like there was "nothing cool" about the Shoals. Now I proudly tell people that Helen Keller is from here (Those of you telling Helen Keller jokes have nothing on us, we did a full unit on Keller in 9th grade). I think about the monthly art fest called "First Friday" where vendors would sell jewelry and paintings and many local bands (some of whom are now on the radio) got their first chance to play live. I think about how my father's role in organizing these events and how unique it was that I had the experience of assisting him. I think about the belly dancers who appear everywhere and the annual Renaissance Faire with its turkey legs and the people who come from all across the Southeast dressed up in Medieval attire. I remember taking pictures with Delmar dancing and receiving the most random gifts that Larry had come across. I smile as I think of the street corner preachers with their million dollar bills and hopes for redemption. </div>
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At the beginning of my interview, one of the first things Ms. Coates said to me was, "I had to come back. I love this place." I nodded, took a sip of my latte, and said something about it being "a great place to raise the kids." However as I've grown older, I've begun to see the appeal that lies in living in the area that houses <a href="http://www.fame2.com/">Fame Studios</a> and birthed the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._C._Handy">"Father of the Blues."</a> </div>
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When my mother asked me this morning if I was going to stay in Birmingham after I graduated or if I was going to move home, I just shrugged. The truth is, I still don't know whether I'll be here, there, the beach, or deworming children in Somalia. </div>
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Right now, I couldn't be more proud to call the Renaissance city my home. I may be a yankee by birth and a city girl by choice, but there's something about the peace, history, and culture found in the Shoals that really can't be replicated anywhere else.<br />
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<b>What can I say?</b> This is my<b> home.</b> </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Photo was found on Times Daily's<a href="http://m.timesdaily.com/news/local/article_6f9ad256-1384-11e3-bc96-0019bb30f31a.html?mode=jqm"> website </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> **Author's Note: The Shoals is the part of North Alabama surrounding the Tennessee river, including Florence, Tuscumbia, Muscle Shoals, and Sheffield. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-57357925300464216152013-12-31T20:32:00.003-06:002013-12-31T20:32:38.224-06:00Seasons of (Self) Love<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">525,600 minutes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">525,600 moments so dear. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">How do you measure a year? </span></div>
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I log on to Facebook as I see my friends post tributes to their loved ones. I read the stories of the college freshmen who had their lives changed by their pledge class, girls who feel as though they have finally found their forever, and people who fought diseases or unemployment because they worked through it as a family.</div>
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As I reflect on this past year, I can't help but think of those who I shared these experiences with. I think of the precious little I added to my sorority family, and to the sorority sisters who went above and beyond to be there for me. I think of the time I spent cuddling with my sister after we cried happy tears because the cancer was finally gone. I think of the guy who had a bigger pride issue than myself but still helped me overcome my fear of feelings. </div>
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Don't get me wrong--I had some great times with some great people this year, whether it was the National Lampoon-esque New Year's party, my first Mardi Gras, romantic nights that could have been the climax in a Nicholas Sparks's book, the countless weekends at the beach, the spontaneous trips that always seemed to lead to I65, and some nights that I'll never forget, but hope others don't remember.</div>
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<b>But the times that really stuck with me? </b>Getting up before sunrise to go running, working 12 hour shifts at minimum wage to save up money for my trip to Spain, hitting up last call (at Starbucks) and staying at the club (Sterne) until closing, and racing the clock to finish articles for my internship before my 8AM class. <div>
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I think about the lonely nights and the quiet mornings. I think of all the time I've spent alone. I think about how much I've written and the dreams I've realized. I think of times I wasn't sure I could go on, but I persevered. I think of all the times I simply went through the motions because that was all I was left with. <div>
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As I drove home from work today, I began to tear up. <b>Why?</b><i> Because I did it. </i>I survived all the trials and tribulations that this year brought. I was the one who drug myself through the hard nights and worked hard to become the person I wanted to be. It's an ongoing process, but in 2013, I made the hardest choice--to take the first step.</div>
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Sometimes you need to remind yourself that you were the one who carried you through the heartache...You should be proud of that. Having the strength to take care of yourself is the strongest thing in the world. via <a href="http://sarahaliceyoung.tumblr.com/post/54060567135/sometimes-you-need-to-remind-yourself-that-you">tumblr</a></blockquote>
I think about how now I run miles for fun while before you couldn't get me to jog if a velociraptor was chasing me. I look at my itinerary for Spain and know that every hour at the God-forsaken Florence mall was worth it. Every time I said no to going to the Cheesecake Factory or a Sephora trip paid off. I see that my room is actually clean and not because my mom yelled at me or I knew I had a room inspection coming up or because I was expecting a male visitor. I think about how freeing it has been to not have a smart phone for the past seven months and even more freeing to have been completely phoneless this past week.<br />
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This year hasn't exactly been a piece of cake, but tonight I'm going to celebrate a successful year by having a slice of the decadent chocolate beauty that my mother purchased.<br />
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Tonight, I'm celebrating survival; I'm celebrating the sanctity and the fragility of life. Most of all, <b>I'm celebrating me. </b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I MADE IT!</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-81543297788312962712013-12-04T22:08:00.000-06:002014-02-23T05:03:54.259-06:00Hard Doesn't Mean Impossible<span style="font-size: large;">"You know that's going to be really hard, right?"</span><br />
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I only nod. There's no point trying to justify my decision. There's no way I could make you understand why I want to do this. There's no point in trying to explain how I will go about accomplishing this. It may seem out of character for me, but then again, being unpredictable is my forte.<br />
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<b>I'll be the first to admit that I am a total girl</b>. I love all things pink and sparkly. I have days where I think only Taylor Swift understands me. I would monogram everything I have if I was given the opportunity. Chocolate is my favorite food group, and my go-to on a bad day. My yoga pants have never seen the inside of a yoga studio. I like Nicholas Sparks movies and Elle Woods inspires me. You can almost always find my sorority symbol somewhere on my person. I'm majoring in Communications. I bake when I'm stressed out. I'm even at terrible driver.<br />
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Needless to say, it was a shock to my friends when I casually mentioned that I am going to start training now for next year's<a href="http://www.spartanrace.com/"> Spartan Race.</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPuA61f2EsGziHgygTrUNFDuZ2o6_-VlgGnSAAoK1HoUGDn8kDhK-vGNrVhNH8r3dhcPjrGJPfKpYnteSvB5bhonqZJc-_XkZfSj39nJeGkOWtIAGlo_F7CAcZeinncf1nb8KmBrPU5uE/s1600/spata.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPuA61f2EsGziHgygTrUNFDuZ2o6_-VlgGnSAAoK1HoUGDn8kDhK-vGNrVhNH8r3dhcPjrGJPfKpYnteSvB5bhonqZJc-_XkZfSj39nJeGkOWtIAGlo_F7CAcZeinncf1nb8KmBrPU5uE/s200/spata.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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I love running. I used to run three miles every morning (before my boyfriend Mervyn took over my life). The freedom, the invincibility I feel when I run compares to nothing else I've ever experienced. Naturally, I would want to do some sort of race. If the opportunity arose, I could do a normal 5K tomorrow, but where's the fun it that? A 5K with obstacles that have been compared to military training? <i>Yeah, cool, sign me up.</i><br />
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Never mind that I have <b>zero</b> upper body strength. Or that I'm no Spiderman when it comes to scaling walls. And that I have the hand-eye coordination of Helen Keller.<i> (I blame my parents for the last one--they never let me play video games as a child). </i><br />
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So, yes, this is going to be hard for me, but I like it that way. I'm the kind of girl who likes a challenge whether it recruiting the best girls for your chapter or throwing a javelin across a football field. Good things take hard work and dedication, each and every day. I won't just wake up one day and show up at the race. I will have to take my bad days to the track instead of the dessert bar. I will wake up and go to the gym to find the strength I need to complete the most physically demanding task of my life.<b> I will have to push myself further than I have ever pushed before because that is the only way to make a change.</b><br />
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Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I feel like for months and even years, I've been craving something new, something a little scary, something that isn't handed over because of charm or connections. Even more so, I want to do something that even I was not sure I could accomplish. I'm done with excuses. I'm done waiting. I'm ready to work.<br />
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A little more discipline might be exactly what my shambly life needs.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Image found on Tumblr</span><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-27087048729741266282013-11-30T23:22:00.000-06:002013-11-30T23:29:41.868-06:00Riches are Relative<div>
Have you ever been scared to check your credit card statement? Have you ever had to transfer money into your account to buy something for less than ten dollars? Have you been on a ramen noodle diet against your will? Have you ever considered sketchy activities as a means of income? </div>
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<b>Then chances are you're a college student. </b></div>
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Some days, I get excited just knowing that my bank account isn't withdrawn. I feel like I have been perpetually broke for the last three years.<br />
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<b>Can I get an amen?</b><br />
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The truth is, though, I'm not really poor. I'm actually quite blessed. I'm not starving (at least not in the Ethiopian child kind of way). I have a roof over my head. I have clothes to keep me warm. And if we're being honest, I'm not even struggling that much. I may have a hard time buying groceries sometimes, but I never go without. However, I don't have much of a disposable income. </div>
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<b>Why?</b> I just choose to spend my money in ways that others don't. I choose to spend my money on my education. I choose to spend my money to help grow my sisterhood. I choose to spend my money by going on the trip of lifetime. </div>
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As I lie in bed, stretching out my aching feet, I am happy with the choices I've made and the life I have chosen for myself. No, I didn't want to spend my only break from school making minimum wage at my high school job. No, I didn't want to work 25 hours in three days when I need to be studying for finals. No, I didn't want to spend an entire paycheck on gas to go to Houston only to spend 15 minutes talking to someone through a service window. </div>
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I want to go to Spain, though. I want to live in Europe for four months and unfortunately, that isn't free. It takes thousands of dollars, dozens of documents, and a million tasks that seem meaningless, BUT that is the cost of achieving my dream. </div>
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<i>I do things that not everyone does because I'm making sacrifices that not everyone is willing to make.</i> As irritating as it can be, I would not have it any other way. Today, I'm making minimum wage, but it won't be long until I'm looking at La Alhambra. It won't be long until I'm drinking sangria with every meal. It won't be long until all my dreams come true. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiptEi7jccFVFun-f3rF0UzLZBLi1E6IJ_KuK4J1uNe3M7o1IYPCQtMrnYsAmmKp0nWg4F5M0V4ovytE3JnGQXsERVgvWMtTCWE3lgktfXhCtl7fdjsZb-lVQrbxoJRv3mUOxwr6AF2Pek/s1600/la+alhambra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiptEi7jccFVFun-f3rF0UzLZBLi1E6IJ_KuK4J1uNe3M7o1IYPCQtMrnYsAmmKp0nWg4F5M0V4ovytE3JnGQXsERVgvWMtTCWE3lgktfXhCtl7fdjsZb-lVQrbxoJRv3mUOxwr6AF2Pek/s1600/la+alhambra.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Alhambra, Granada, Spain</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Tell me, what isn't that worth?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Picture found on Google Images</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-33321345906839821252013-11-28T18:33:00.001-06:002013-11-28T19:05:30.592-06:00Quiet Corners on County Roads<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvW2JA8brnpUdzW8pLWla6ETsKbfhNhuLgDfSQzlAgicNTcUntqkGJVtIbSb7J5Dm5YyM4KHHNqyBsAnNQoApM6QO4tYiSoWQt9kAHqchQTSuSp66NMR4RVsIFcAko1-37eIgHrplsE3M/s1600/HillsCreek4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvW2JA8brnpUdzW8pLWla6ETsKbfhNhuLgDfSQzlAgicNTcUntqkGJVtIbSb7J5Dm5YyM4KHHNqyBsAnNQoApM6QO4tYiSoWQt9kAHqchQTSuSp66NMR4RVsIFcAko1-37eIgHrplsE3M/s320/HillsCreek4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I look out the window of my high school bedroom and see the sun setting through the trees in my backyard. I think of all the memories I had down at that little creek. I think of when my little brother and I discovered the bamboo forest. I think of the day my eighth grade crush asked me to his girlfriend on the back of his 4-wheeler. I think of the times I "slept on the trampoline" because I believed that it's not really sneaking out if you're already outside...<i>Sorry, Daddy</i>.<br />
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<b>I always forget how quiet it is here</b>. There are no sirens or helicopters. There aren't people playing music in the hallway all night. You won't hear anyone say, "Turn down for what!" on this county road. It's more like "Turn down or else" when my brother plays Call of Duty at full volume. Or my sister singing Jewel lyrics while her boyfriend laughs. Or only my bloodhound scratching at the door because I have stolen "her bed" for the week. </div>
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In the quiet, you can't be distracted as easily. In Florence, I'm not constantly yielding texting from friends trying to plan a lunch or coffee date. I'm not listening to my roommate vent about school. I'm not killing time before another engagement--I have all the time in the world to concentrate. </div>
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Conveniently, finals are coming up and I have a ton of homework that needs my focus. However, after a couple of hours, though, my mind starts to wander. What-ifs start to consume my thoughts. What if it doesn't all work out? What if you should have gone done this path? What if you should be doing something better with your time? With your life? </div>
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<i>It is easy to be sad</i>. It is easy to let your thoughts . It is easy to let the wind and the sea pull you away. It is easy to stop fighting and allow yourself to be dragged away by the current. Pretty soon, you find out you're drowning. The fight is five times harder and you realize this might really be the end. You lie in bed with your sad songs, aching memories, and messages that prove the broken relationships you are leaving behind.</div>
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Who wants to live like that? Who wants to ache? I guess the ideal answer would be no one, but that isn't really true. Sometimes we want to hurt, sometimes we need to hurt, but mostly, <i>we just need to change the station</i>. We need to find something to make us smile and realize that these thoughts are not reality. These thoughts are not what defines us or who we have to be. These thoughts are nothing more than fleeting moments in our lives. </div>
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In high school, I was quite the dreamer. I read every single day. I would lie in bed planning out how the rest of my life would compare to the the lives of the characters I'd read about. I watched movies that inspired me to go after my dreams. I wrote about five or six half-finished novellas. For five years, I embraced the quiet and the took full advantage of the opportunities it gave me. I have faith that I can relearn this discipline.<b> I have faith that I can remember what it was like to dream, to create, and to simply be</b>.</div>
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We have to learn to embrace the quiet and the things it teaches us. We have to notice that in these softer moments in life, we are given an opportunity to create something new. We are able to create a world for ourselves in literature, in writing, or a time of peace by simply sitting down by the creek. The only thing that matters is that we are the ones creating it and not being controlled by<i> </i>one. stupid. thought.<i> </i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Image found on Google Images, but does look fairly similar to my creek.</span> </i></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-14733515349903115892013-11-17T14:40:00.004-06:002013-11-18T15:51:41.805-06:00You're the Best<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">You're my <b>favorite.</b> </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">You're my <b>best</b> friend.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">You're the <b>only </b>one I can tell everything to.</span></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdliLVkWKzpbc_t3Siy42HV_Kf4SI-Ku5B9F9M8PRZlUaOpTQH53PhnsuDymdKPxEMHUVaB-p7L40FQaH2tXw8w71YTX1bqpvSw45SX3ci01zS_hGTJ8oTxiXsII8kqFM4OdyFlJ2GH5o/s1600/necklaceee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdliLVkWKzpbc_t3Siy42HV_Kf4SI-Ku5B9F9M8PRZlUaOpTQH53PhnsuDymdKPxEMHUVaB-p7L40FQaH2tXw8w71YTX1bqpvSw45SX3ci01zS_hGTJ8oTxiXsII8kqFM4OdyFlJ2GH5o/s200/necklaceee.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't believe it would be much of an exaggeration to say that as a society we like superlatives. We like to feel that we have a special connection with a certain person. We like to think that compared to the other 8 billion people in the world we are special. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't really have a "best friend"--I have about five. I don't have one person that I go to for absolutely everything. When I'm upset, I don't always seeks comfort in the same person--I'll call whomever knows and understands the most about my situation that week.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Don't get me wrong--it's not that I am incapable of or do not desire long-lasting close relationships. That couldn't be any further from the truth. I'm just saying that I haven't found "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FbNwFG98Fws">my person</a>." I don't have one person that I cannot live without. At some point, to some extent, I've had to learn to live without every single person in my life. </span></div>
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I've virtually lived by myself for the past three years. I don't see my parents or siblings more than twice a semester (and that's if we are lucky). One of my closest friends is a girl that I met at church camp, whom I haven't seen in eight years. I've been involved in a few complicated, long distance relationships and I was always the one to fight to make it work. I have spent two summer and a few long holiday breaks away from my sorority family. These times hurt, but I always make it through.<br />
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The truth is, distance does not phase me much. I don't think that being away from someone makes them any less important in my life. I don't think that there's one person I cannot live without because is reality, every relationship we have is fleeting. With time, we can learn to live without just about anyone, if that's asked of us.<br />
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Maybe this is too depressing for you. For me, though, it is a reality and not one that I find sad. Am I saying my relationships are worthless? No. Am I saying that I don't miss my family or my friends? Absolutely not. I'm just saying that as I embark on the next phase of my life, there is no need to worry about me.<br />
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Next semester, I'm moving to Europe for four months...by myself. And that's okay. Am I scared? Maybe a little, but I don't think about it much. I think about how I have been given a once in a lifetime chance. I think about how I will have the opportunity to spend a semester being 100 percent selfish.<br />
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Am I going to cry because I'm homesick? Possibly. However, I am confident that I will fill my life with new people, friends I may never see again. I will find friends to travel with, laugh with, and share a drink with.<br />
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<b>Wouldn't it be a shame to hold onto something here while I'm experiencing all that?</b><br />
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In January, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MCBSq7g9z0w">when the sun rises on me</a>, it will be setting on my family and friends here in the States. However, the opposite is true as well. Everyone will continue to grow apart from me while I grow...and that's okay. They can keep each other company because when you leave no one behind, you leave everyone behind.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Photo found on Google Images</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-63344549056081430102013-11-07T11:41:00.001-06:002013-11-07T11:44:18.701-06:00Double StandardsIn every relationship, there's a "reacher" and a "settler". The reacher is the one in the relationship who miraculously landed the person way out of his or her league, and the settler is the one who settled. No one wants to be the feel like his or her partner is the better one, but then again who wants to know that there's something better out there than what we have chosen for ourselves?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjskOU5jZ1iZLoQJEbslWT-2fH4H9IZYy5BvWCNmTOHoz-V8ytmwFQFAi_SL7XgjccXd0iuUZ3l9r8e8-L-El3R4G8ztCcc6XhIdlmiQfUQRkKOe7Ld-OxDMYizSSorYST4YhQLe0qAxqM/s1600/reacher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjskOU5jZ1iZLoQJEbslWT-2fH4H9IZYy5BvWCNmTOHoz-V8ytmwFQFAi_SL7XgjccXd0iuUZ3l9r8e8-L-El3R4G8ztCcc6XhIdlmiQfUQRkKOe7Ld-OxDMYizSSorYST4YhQLe0qAxqM/s320/reacher.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Oftentimes, we want things from people that we do not always know how to offer. We ask, <i>give me your everything,</i> but they are lucky to receive even the smallest parts of who we are. We ask them, <i>commit to us,</i> but run as soon as we see the request on Facebook.<br />
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More than anyone, I am guilty of this. I am guilty of being scared to admit what I want. I am scared of being rejected, so instead of allowing myself to be pushed off me pedestal, to be vulnerable even in the slightest, I opt to reject those who feel this way about me.<b> God forbid I ever am susceptible to getting hurt.</b></div>
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A few nights ago, I had a dream that I was engaged to be
married. It could have been one of those terrible $1.99 romantic e-books—except
a little more PG. On paper, my fiance was perfection. He was one of the best
looking guys I had ever seen, treated me like a princess, and gave me the ring
of my dreams (quite literally). I was so ready to share his last name, until I
went home and ran into the guy that I could never have. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Side note: I must confess that both of
these guys are fictional. I admit that maybe a dream about people I have never
met before is not exactly the perfect metaphor to my life, but dreams are
supposed to have hidden meanings.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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There are two types of people you'll have in your life: the ones you'll care about more than they care about you and the people that you will never give the chance they deserve. </div>
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For the latter, we use the same excuses that are used on us, so we know that they are merely excuses—<i>I'm leaving, I'm not really ready for a commitment right now, I don't want to spoil the friendship we have</i>, etc.</div>
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The truth is, though, that sometimes there is legitimacy in these excuses. Maybe our personal baggage or complicated situations can be enough to keep us from getting what we want. In two months, I'll be living in Europe and I know that until then, any guy that is in my life has an expiration date. January 22, 2014, I am planning to venture off attachment-free.<br />
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Honestly?<b> I couldn't be happier</b>.<br />
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I'm not concerned about being a reacher or a settler because I'm just
me. Right now, I'm having fun, meeting new people, and not too worried about whether the guys calling me are only in it for the *"R" but knowing that until a man can
prove to me he is worth it—I'm not slowing down.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Whenever forever comes, I won't be asking myself who is the reacher and who is the settler because I'm don't plan on settling, and I certainly am not one to chase after an unrequited love. I believe that when this time comes, I won't be as worried about pride. Because maybe love isn't supposed to be an uphill battle, but rather something natural. Maybe it's not about the thrill of the chase, or being doted upon, but rather being comfortable and making someone feel that same way. Whether I felt that with this guy, the next guy, or the one 30 years from now, that's okay because everyone knows the best things in life are worth waiting for.<br />
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Maybe I'll have a story-book romance and meet a Spainard who takes me for long walks on the beach and teaches me phrases that would make my Spanish teacher blush. Or maybe a current fling will stop me at the airport, beg me not to go, and promise to Skype me everyday. Or maybe, I'll get on the plane and spend four months writing, travelling, and going to museums alone, all the while getting to know myself a little better<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Maybe all or maybe none of these scenarios will be played out because at the end of the day, my life is not a fairy tale. I'm not waiting on Prince Charming, or the guy who is perpetually emotionally unavailable. I'm living my life, loving myself, and for now? That is more than enough.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*When a friend of mine thinks that a guy is pursuing a girl because he is looking for a relationship, she'll say, "He's just in it for the 'R'."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">**photo was found as a product on </span><a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/127482030/how-i-met-your-mother-the-reacher-the" style="font-size: small;">etsy</a><span style="font-size: x-small;">. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-82891403495619352552013-11-05T11:06:00.001-06:002013-11-05T11:47:14.527-06:00Don't You Forget About Me<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">The In-Between Book Launch Party, 8/1/13</span></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Jeffery,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, this is awkward. You're getting kind-of famous. I'm
seeing your name on websites I frequent. I mention to my doctor that my brother
is a writer and she drops her stethoscope when I tell her that yes, "The
Jeff Goins" is my brother. Or when my teacher virtually begs me to get you
to even consider Skyping into one of her classes. You're speaking at
conferences I'm dying to attend.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Remember when you were sixteen and I was six and you smacked
my face against the bed frame and said, "Love hurts"? As blood trickled
down my nose, I was sure that you were the worst older brother in the entire
world. I guess not much has changed in fourteen years.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Kidding</b>—I just don't want your head to inflate.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be just like
you. <i>Except a prettier, blonde, female version. </i>I cut my hair when I was three
so I could be just like my Deeder. When it was my time for me to go to sleep away camp, I insisted on
an acting seminar because I had just seen you perform on stage (Remember that awkward
play where you were a gym coach? Also, the one where you were an Easter bunny) For my sixteenth birthday, I insisted on
going with the mission organization that you worked for to have my own chance
to spread the gospel and see the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember lying on your couch at 2AM bawling my eyes out this summer. You asked me to
pre-read your new book,<i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/-Between-Embracing-Tension-Between-ebook/dp/B00BUOMM8S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1383670387&sr=8-1&keywords=the+in+between">The In-Between</a> </i>because you wanted my input on remarkable quotes.You had written in the acknowledgments to my younger siblings, "I
hope I make you guys proud."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i>Wut.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>All I have ever wanted in my entire life is to make you
proud of me. </b>Most people don't have a sibling ten
years older than them. They don't know what it's like to have someone who is
more than their confidant or partner in crime, but rather their mentor. A sibling who has gone above and beyond whether academically-- graduating magna cum laude with a double major, or by travelling the world and accomplishing his dreams as a writer.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I read the comments on your blog from people like Mica who say, "Jeff, your words have been the catalyst for me to finally go after
this dream. Thank you for publishing your words! They have brought me more than
insight and inspiration; they've ignited purpose. I'm forever grateful."
People who see you as a push, a light where they knew none, a reason to just keep going.
I just want to be like, um no, he's mine. That's MY big brother.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm scared that somewhere along the way you'll forget about
me. Among the travelling and the fame and the adventures, that there won't be
any room for your baby sister (sorry Rhea, I'm younger). I fear that one day I
won't measure up to the high standards you've set for yourself and for me as well, that I will mess up and be left behind. I worry
that you will push me aside while I'm in Europe because you will become too busy
with your own life. I fear that you will look at my life and not be proud of
who I am or what I'm doing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what do you mean that you hope you make <b>me</b> proud?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<u>You are my mentor, my inspiration</u>. You were my rock star
when you played with your band Decaf at Lion's Club Park. You are my midnight
phone call when I want to drop out of school. You are the person who introduced
me to Christ and ramen noodles. You push me when I'm being an escapist and make
me re-evaluate my priorities when I'm running myself dry. You helped me perfect my
Spanish accent when I told you I wanted to go to Costa Rica. You made me the
coolest girl in school when your band performed at my middle school in seventh
grade. You remind me that no one cares what you used to be about to do, only
what you are currently doing. You taught me that church wasn't a building with a steeple. You
give me hope that someone out there will wait for me, like you waited for
Ashley. You seem to be an expert on everything I love, with the exception of
sorority life (but that's what I have a sister). I'll never forget all of
our trips to Dairy Joy where you opted for a dipped cone and <o:p></o:p>didn't understand why I insisted on always having a twist. Or the time you gave me your pog collection. Or when you told me that you wished you could have written half as well as I do when you were in college. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">S<span style="font-size: x-small;">ometime in the '90s, Waterman, IL</span></td></tr>
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And you know what? If I have to share you with the world,
then so be it. If thousands look up to, nothing could make me more proud. If
your only supporters are those who share your last name, I would be happy
because I knew you were still making sure that your priorities were being a
great husband to Ashley and a great father to Aiden. Because the biggest lesson
that you've taught me? Success is nothing if it's from this world, if it's
created by climbing a corporate ladder, or accumulating things.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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So here's to you, J. Here's to the family that stays
together through the crazy, but is constantly seeking to better ourselves and
each other. Here's to all the times that you have and will tell me, "you're going to be okay." Here's to being an amazing brother to me, and an amazing mentor to thousands. I can't wait to see the man you continue to become. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I hope that I can be for Patrick what you have been for me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Love Always, <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Poodgie<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-33383323174293249812013-11-02T19:27:00.003-05:002013-11-02T19:54:38.484-05:00Get Lost With Me<div>
<i>I'm the world's worst navigator.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I wish I was kidding, but it seems every time I get in a car, it is never a straight shot to wherever I'm trying to go. Ask anyone that has ever gone on a road trip with me, but I usually get distracted and forget to look for the exit. Needless to say, I've grown accustomed to being lost.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Blame my adventurous self, but I actually love getting lost. For me, it is not a road trip if you actually make it there in the time allotted. I revel in the moments that would cause most people to have panic attacks. Perhaps it is the adrenaline rush I receive, but I love the challenge of finding my way around a new city, or even block of Birmingham. I see these times as a chance to become better acquainted with yourself and the people around you. I see them as chances to get to discover something or maybe someone you never would have come across otherwise. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>In the moments we are lost, we truly find ourselves. </i>The moment we veer from our plan is when we are given the freedom to become whoever we truly wish to be. Only then are we given the opportunity to ask ourselves if we really want what we thought we did or if we only enjoyed the idea of it.</div>
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<div>
Right now, I'm in the process of planning a road trip to Houston, TX to acquire my visa. I'm hoping to make a few pit stops, perhaps in Gulf Shores or New Orleans. I'm not holding any expectations for this trip because I don't want to be let down--I just want to be. I just want to get lost along I65 (and whichever highway leads to Texas.) </div>
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I hope to find monuments that should never have been built. I hope to make Vines with my friends and create memories that I'll be able to relive while I'm away from them next semester. I hope to find a new favorite snack. I hope to change the words to some ridiculous '90s song, making them (even more) applicable to my life. </div>
<div>
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<div>
I think about every time I have ever made a "life plan" and I have to thank God that none of those plans worked out. I think about every spontaneous experience I've had that has lead me to meet some of the people who have completely altered my life. I think about the relationships that I pursued that left me brokenhearted and smile because none of those people were right for me. I think about when I realized that I could never be a law student and I was not really sure what talents I was left with.</div>
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<div>
If I'm being honest--I'm still lost. I'm still constantly trying to make sense of the things that happen to me, or to gain control where there's none to be gained. I still haven't found the person that I'm meant to spend forever with. I still am pondering what I want to do with the rest of my life, and hoping that somehow that will allow me to write and live at the beach.</div>
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</div>
<div>
Your life does not need to be in a constant state of shambles like my own, but maybe getting lost is not that bad. Maybe constantly making the wrong turn could still lead us exactly where we are meant to be. Maybe losing the map could allow us to embark on an adventure greater than we could have ever dreamed.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
One of my favorite quotes says, <b>"I marvel at how even the wrong choices can keep us on the right path. How the worst mistake can wind up being the best thing that ever happened to us." </b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
When Katie Klein wrote these words, I believe she was giving us permission to stop worrying. She was telling us to let go of those anxieties and just live our lives. As long as you know where you want to be, you'll be okay. Even if that changes halfway to your destination, then so be it.</div>
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<div>
At the end of the day, we have to remember that <b>the first step is to just get in the car and go.</b></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-53938548679179737292013-10-01T11:14:00.003-05:002013-10-01T11:22:41.258-05:00Now, what? Spanish Edition<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Pick us up. I am going to get some throwed rolls if it's the last thing I do."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As we sat at the mechanic, Dianne called the only other sister who was around. Her car had started acting up on our way to lunch and there was no way we were leaving the 251 until we ate at Lambert's Cafe. This past June, my big and I took a road trip to Gulf Shores to see another member of our sorority family. Dianne created a list of all the things we "just had to" do on our beach trip, including going to get some "throwed rolls." If anyone tried to divert from the plan, she shut them down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When we went to the beach, my big was scared of missing out on what she believed to be a "beach experience." </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Last night, I got my official acceptance letter to ISA's Spanish Language program at the Universidad de Granada in Spain for the spring 2014 semester. In less than four months, I will be living in Europe. In less than four months, I'll be living out my dream of having the "study abroad experience."</span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I close my eyes and I imagine myself walking between columns on churches that are centuries old. I imagine what it would be like to scurry through halls that home paintings of artists I've only read about. I see myself sitting in the stands at a bull fight or cheering on La Furia Roja during a futbol game. My mouth waters as I remember my brother's stories of Spanish cuisine and fantasize about the meals my host mother will prepare. I picture myself pondering cobblestone streets seeking out attractive locals as I struggle to understand their think accents. I think of weekend trips to France and Portugal and if anything in my wardrobe would suffice. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">However, it doesn't take me long to wake up from my daze. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I think of how I'm going to miss Dianne's wedding. I think about how some of my very best friends will be graduating and I won't be there to see them walk. I think of the trip my sorority sisters are going to be taking around Mardi Gras to New Orleans. I think of the spring break trip to PCB with all my closest friends. I think of how everyone around me will be having the "college experience." Without me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Don't get me wrong--I get that this is the opportunity of a lifetime. If there's one thing I've learned as an adult, it is sad every time you say yes to something, you say no to something else. I'm skipping out on the ordinary to seek out the extraordinary and it is probably one of the best decisions I have ever made.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This past weekend, a guy friend told me I was selfish. At first I was a little offended, but now I think I'm okay with that. I'm okay with taking this season of my life to live my dreams, regardless of who or what I leave behind. I look at all the people I know settling down, getting engaged, and preparing to start their life with someone. I look at people who go home every weekend and consider their parents their best friends. And me? I am, though, moving to a foreign country by myself for four months. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">...but not for another three months. That being said, I'm going to make the most out of this year whether I'm in Birmingham or Barcelona. I'm committing this semester to experiencing all I can in Birmingham. I'm going to go for late night runs at Railroad Park, hit up Taco Tuesdays, go to even the silliest of mixers, to attend all of our home games, embrace the chapters that run long, stay up all night talking about love and life and my dreams and know that next semester, these things will be only a memory.</span><br />
<i><br /></i>
So, here we go. If I learned anything while trying to find a ride to Lambert's on that hot June afternoon,<b> it's that all we have is now and right now these moments are ours. </b>Let's live it up.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*We ended up getting to go to Lambert's and we all got matching mugs. </span></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-55150654891103908782013-09-15T22:59:00.001-05:002013-09-15T22:59:40.859-05:00Wake Up, Calm Down9:05PM. <div>
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I glance at my watch as I scurry out of the library bathroom holding my heels, dress, and badge. Three hours until my study room expires--I've better get started on the to-do list that only seemed to accumulate over the weekend.</div>
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It's time to finally set my routine into place. Recruitment is over and I can't make excuses anymore. I look at my Lilly Pulitzer agenda and figure out where to begin and how to assimilate my new "normal."</div>
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On paper, nothing is different. I still had chapter tonight at six. I started my Saturday running errands with one of my best friends and ended it celebrating the night with some of my favorite fraternities. I'm writing instead of working on my homework and eating a protein bar as my "dinner." </div>
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My "normal" has changed not within my routine, but within myself.</div>
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I stopped chasing people who put in minimal effort in the relationship. </div>
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I'm the kind of girl who can make friends with a brick wall (just ask my recruitment adviser). I get lost at parties because I end up saying hi to everyone I have met in the last two years. I consider five or six people my "best friend." I give away myself to people easily...and I expect others to do the same.</div>
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Unfortunately, though, life does not work like that--and it shouldn't. </div>
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Relationships are not a novelty meant to be accumulated and then left to collect dust on a shelf. I've began to start looking at my relationships in terms of quality rather than quantity. As I'm getting older, I'm realizing that you simply cannot give yourself to everyone and everything because then there will be nothing left for you. The concept of minimalism is not about having less stuff, but rather about giving things up so that you can focus on what you care about the most.</div>
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The irony is that as soon as I began to let these relationships go, I began to feel a lot less lonely.</div>
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On this Sunday night, I am not crying over the relationships I've given up or will never have. I'm choosing to celebrate the ones that are still here, the people who have fought to be in my life. I look at my sorority sisters who would do anything to see me happy. I think of my best friend who, no matter how busy her week is, she will always drop what she's doing to have coffee or brunch with me. I think of my biological sister who would probably kill someone to defend my honor. I think of the girl who has been my best friend for my entire college and can only smile because she has witnessed all the stories that only Jesus should know about. </div>
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Whatever this new normal will look like, I know that I am loved. And honestly? That's enough. </div>
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<i>Here's a cheesy country song to tie together all the feels:</i></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-19494106286930302912013-07-30T01:55:00.003-05:002013-09-17T08:22:47.280-05:00Free for AllI take a deep breath and fiddle with the radio dial--not a single station seems to portray how I'm feeling. The depressing country ballads don't match the feelings that arise. Catchy top 40 songs cannot distract me from my thoughts. I settle on the classic rock station and reach for the button to roll down the windows. I figure the fresh air will do me some good.<br />
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I left the house in a hurry, not really listening to the pleas of my family. I squint at the road signs--I wasn't concerned about remembering to put in my contacts. I swerve, dodging the oncoming traffic. I guess my depth perception isn't up to par while I'm half blind.<br />
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I pace up and down the aisles of Wal-Mart, seeking to find whatever it was that I claimed as my excuse to leave. Contact solution, right. I needed to buy contact solution. I had a reason, a purpose to be here.<br />
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"Marissa Goins!" I turn and see the face of the first girl to befriend me when I moved to Florence seven years ago. I've seen her maybe once in the past two years. We make a little small talk, hearing the basics about each other's lives, not really caring enough to ask more. Neither one of us daring to ask what we were really doing there. We smile and part ways, and I realize I should probably get out of there.<br />
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I get in the car and vow that tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, I won't run away. I won't avoid the truth. I won't leave at the first sign of things getting emotional. I promise myself that I'll do better, that I'll be better.<br />
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<em>It's never that simple, though, is it?</em> <br />
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"We were worried," my sister says as I slip in through the carport door. I hold up my shopping bag and shrug my shoulders. She turns back to her boyfriend and her movie, deciding against playing "Mommy" tonight.<br />
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I stare at the flimsy plastic white bag as I reach to turn off my bedroom light. I stumble into bed and think, I guess there are some things that you can't find at Wal-Mart. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-64394193603406793262013-07-23T14:53:00.003-05:002013-07-23T14:53:44.496-05:00WanderlustI scroll through my newsfeed and see Instagram pictures of my friends going on beach trips and studying abroad in exotic locales. I see a post with all my friends tagged that proclaims the former weekend's events. I see articles posted by my peers on how to find love in the summer while interning in a faraway land. I look at my desk and see the postcards from people I love sent to me from these places I long to be. I use Google Maps to look up the distance between my home and these places, contemplating getting on I65 and heading south towards my city, or towards the beach. I ponder the possibility of spontaneously buying a plane ticket to LAX so I can join my friend who is in Beverly Hills and shop on Rodeo Drive. <br />
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...but I don't do any of these things. </div>
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For the next three weeks, I'm still living under my parents' roof. I'm working second shift at a job I don't particularly care for making just enough money to help me get by this fall. I'm living a life that I am not exactly ecstatic about.<br />
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I dream of being back in Birmingham with all my friends, eating at my favorite Thai restaurant, coordinating schedules and comparing our dreams. For a few seconds, my heart breaks seeing so much life and so many experiences happening outside of me. <br />
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Too often do we forget that life keeps moving on, people keep moving on--even when we are not there to experience it. <br />
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These moments are fleeting, though. A second later, I smile to myself and send a short message, telling my friends I cannot wait to be with them again, in a month. <br />
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When we become intentional about our relationships, distance cannot break these bonds. When we become intentional about our choices and our lifestyles, a few months away does not change anything. Living away from something does not mean living without it. <br />
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As sad as I am to not be able to go to a game at the Barons' stadium each week, or hit up the Birmingham Museum of Art for fancy soirees, my life isn't any less rich.<br />
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<strong>If I stayed in Birmingham to take classes or start a new internship, I would have missed out on so much this summer.</strong> I wouldn't have been able to spend three days last week in Nashville with my older brother and nephew. I wouldn't have been able to help with the promotion of my brother's upcoming book. I wouldn't be able to spend every afternoon with my older sister, my best friend, who introduced me to sweet potato fries and consoled me as she listened to my stories of frustration and heartbreak. I wouldn't have turned my dad onto Drop Dead Diva, which we now watch together every night when we get home from work (Shhh, he'll kill me for telling). I wouldn't be here celebrating my younger brother's 11th birthday with cake and a swim party. I wouldn't have been able to make massive strides in the complicated relationship I've always had with my mother. I wouldn't have been able to plan a last minute trip to Gulf Shores with my sorority sisters. I wouldn't have been able to save up enough money for my upcoming semester in Spain.<br />
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My older brother once told me, every time you say yes to something, you say no to something else. The beauty lies in the fact that is that the reverse is true--I said no to staying in Birmingham much to my dismay, but the blessings and experiences I have had in Florence this summer are unique to me, and unique to this summer.<br />
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Being one of the lucky few to get to pre-read my brother's new book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/-Between-Embracing-Tension-Between-ebook/dp/B00BUOMM8S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1374605745&sr=8-1&keywords=the+in-between">The In-Between,</a> I was given the chance to give feedback before the book debuts on August 1st. When Jeff asked my thoughts, I simply said, everyone can relate to this book.<br />
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Right now, in my life, I cannot think of a more appropriate concept than the in-between. Right now, I'm stuck between two lives, living through the daily grind, but Jeff argues that this is our life. We cannot simply live by floating from one grand moment to the next. We cannot measure our lives only by the adventures we take, or the expensive things we buy, or the inciting experiences that we have. <br />
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What about the other 300+ days of the year? What's left to do with those? How do we "Carpe Diem," "Live life to the fullest," or embrace "YOLO" in everyday circumstances? How do we live our lives while we're stuck in the in-between?<br />
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Well, that's just it--we keep living. We don't waste our time wishing our lives were more exciting or by living for the next payday or summer vacation. We must find ways to love our lives now, as they are. Instead of trying to press "fast-forward" on our lives, what if we took a minute to listen, to enjoy the stillness of life? <br />
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Right now, I'm embracing this quiet time in my life. I'm sleeping later, reading more, and spending time with those around me. Sure, I'm not living a life that would make the average person jealous. I'm not interning at a Fortune 500 company or traveling to exotic cities. I'm spending time getting to know myself and my loved ones a little bit better. <br />
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<strong>Honestly, I couldn't think of a better way to spend my summer.</strong> <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-76093260530699935062013-07-12T17:15:00.002-05:002013-07-12T17:23:32.994-05:00Inside Out<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Love is all you need. </span></strong>When Paul McCartney wrote those words, I'm sure he did not realize (though was probably very excited to learn) the impact they have had on the past few generations. One line in a song has become the anthem of young and older people alike--for decades. <br />
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Most people take this line to mean love from those around us. If we surround ourselves with people with love and pursue activities we love, we should be happy, right? If we surround ourselves with positive influences, we will have positive attitudes. If we seek out happy experiences, we will be happy.<br />
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Every rule has its exceptions.What if experiencing this kind of love is not enough?<br />
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You cannot look at someone suffering from depression or anxiety and say,"Why can't you just be happy?" "What do you have to be sad about?"<br />
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A good day or a bad day isn't based on what happened that day. A bad day has nothing to do with an argument with a co-worker or a disappointment on an investment. A bad day occurs when nothing is wrong, but nothing can be made right. When you're lying in bed and begging yourself to stop thinking, stop imagining. A bad day is when you wish you could stop breaking your own heart. <br />
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Love from other people is not enough. It is not enough to hear that you are beautiful, that you are wanted, that you are desired by someone if you do not believe these things to be true.<br />
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After the movie <em>Perks of Being a Wallflower</em> came out, everyone began over-quoting the line "we accept the love we think we deserve." <br />
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<em>Say it ain't so.</em> <br />
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From my experience, it seems that we shut people out when we need a friend the most. We close ourselves off because sometimes we don't know how to be loved. Our souls are screaming "notice me" as our self-defenses prepare to take cover. <br />
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The greatest gift you can offer this world is showing them that you love and respect yourself. When you can look in the mirror and love what you see, you are the most beautiful you could ever be. When you can trust others enough to accept positive comments, it is in that moment that you are complete. <br />
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The very moment we realize our own worth is our defining moment. It is our second birth. It is when our lives really begin. <br />
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We can't always ask for people to love us or to know that we are thinking or needing, but we can be that person for ourselves. We can show ourselves that the core of who we are is worth fighting for and that we will do whatever it takes to win it back. When we channel everything that builds up inside of us--all the anxiety, into self-love, amazing things start happening.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Photo credit: Google Images</span><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-49542943328688941152013-07-09T01:02:00.000-05:002013-07-09T01:02:02.255-05:00Vanishing VictimsLast night, my workplace was robbed at gunpoint. Luckily, no one got hurt. <br />
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Nothing unusual happened, no red flags were flying. Business was slower than usual so after I did my closing duties, I clocked out. After work, I went home, turned on Netflix and ate a BLT sandwich. After being home an hour or two, I logged onto Facebook only to see a post from my manager mentioning that a gun was held to his head that night. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pretty scary, <em>right?</em> </span></div>
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When I woke up this morning, my mother kindly informed me that I wouldn't be returning to work for the rest of the week. She believes my safety is in jeopardy and is worried about the possibilities that could occur if I choose to return.<br />
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After tragedies strike, it's natural to get scared. It's natural to want to avoid places of pain. It's scary when somewhere that we go everyday becomes the scene of the crime and you could have easily been a victim. It's easy to play the games of "What if I would have there?" "What if something could have happened to me or someone I know?" <br />
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After the Colorado movie theatre shooting, the Sandy Hook Elementary school shooting, and the Boston Marathon bombing, people began to freak out. <br />
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Should we stop sending children to school? College kids to work? Athletes to their dream race? Families to the movie theatres?<br />
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The real question is--<strong>should we let fear dictate the way we live our lives? </strong><br />
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I believe that we should not intentionally put ourselves in compromising situations, but we cannot live life afraid. I'm not looking to debate gun control.<br />
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<em>Mom, I just want you to know that I'm much more likely to have a car wreck on the way to work than for my store to be held at gunpoint. </em><br />
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Every second we are on this earth, we are dying. We are talking on our cell phones and lying out in the sun and subjecting ourselves to the possibility of cancer. We walk out to get the mail and risk our lives in oncoming traffic. No matter how safe we are, there will always be circumstances that are out of our control that could prove detrimental. <br />
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Don't let one bad event ruin anything for you. Don't let a tragedy keep you out of your own home or your former comfort zone. Of course, though, you should never do anything to cause your personal healing process to regress, but only seek experiences that will cause you to move on from whatever trauma you experienced. <br />
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Nothing is worse than when a safe place is no longer safe to us, but does that mean we hide away from society and live in an underground shelter as in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0124298/?ref_=sr_1">Blast From the Past </a>? <strong>I don't think so</strong><em>.</em><br />
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We are called to live much greater lives than that. We are called to live lives not where we flirt with disaster, but where we face our fears and anxieties head on. We all must believe that the world is a good place even though there are bad people. <br />
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Eleanor Roosevelt said, "You must do the thing you think you cannot." <br />
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So tomorrow, I'm going back to work despite any anxiety my mother or I might have. I look back at the first time I went back to school in high school after receiving a concussion from a teammate. I look at all the times in life that I put on my big girl panties and did not let an uncomfortable situation ruin life for me.<br />
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And if I can do these things, I might as well go sky-diving, er, well, at least keep my summer job. <br />
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*Photo credit: <a href="http://www.waaytv.com/news/local/florence-sonic-robbed-at-gunpoint/article_ff3218f6-e7d9-11e2-a309-0019bb30f31a.html">http://www.waaytv.com/news/local/florence-sonic-robbed-at-gunpoint/article_ff3218f6-e7d9-11e2-a309-0019bb30f31a.html</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3194224911326645857.post-41490845205974582332013-06-10T01:08:00.001-05:002013-07-31T01:26:17.164-05:00To Fill or BurstEvery time I log onto Facebook, I see another friend of mine getting engaged and think to myself "another one bites the dust." Maybe I'm bitter, but the idea of getting married under 25 makes me anxious...and not in a good way. <br />
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<em>I'm not really good at relationships.</em> <br />
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Actually, I usually don't allow my flings to turn into relationships so it is hard for me to even make that call. Maybe I'm young or just too fickle, but if I think a guy likes me too much, I run. Give me two months to have my fun and rendezvous and I'm through with you. I guess we all want what we can't have. We all want a prize, and the more we fight, the sweeter the prize becomes in our eyes. <br />
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Show me a girl crying over a guy who doesn't text her, and I'll show you two more guys texting her while she tells her friends "why are they so obsessed with me?" <br />
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Every girl is lying when she says that she wants a fairytale. Nobody wants a fairytale. Fairytales are boring and we lose interest. We want a Nicholas Sparks book--passion, spontaneity, and some huge reason for us to not be with the objection of our affection (military man optional).<br />
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We live for the drama--which is why we often hang on too long to a guy(or girl) who just isn't really worth it. <br />
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After the initial attraction, a hot body or a nice resume only goes so far. The people we really fall for in life aren't the best looking, the smartest, or even the nicest. The people who captivate us are the ones who never quite give us everything, that are always just out of our reach. <br />
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But how does anyone settle down? How does anyone have a happy, healthy relationship based on these ideologies?<br />
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Sure, we can start pursuing the "nice guys," the ones who are always dying to get to know us that we barely acknowledge. We could give these guys a chance, but where's the fun in that?<br />
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Nobody wants a superficial relationship. Nobody really wants someone who is obsessed, especially before he or she really gets to know us, right? We don't want what is easily handed to us, well, we don't want them after we get what we want from them.<br />
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<strong>Anything we chase in life runs away</strong>.<br />
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What if the object of your affection stops running? What happens then? Or our biggest fear, what if they don't? What if the person is never completely attainable? <br />
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Relationships aren't exactly my forte, and I won't pretend that they are. I can't sit here and give you five steps to having a successful relationship because I've never had a successful relationship...or a serious one. I can't tell you how you should grow up and go for your dream guy or girl. I can't tell you to suck it up and stop playing games because I don't know how to do these things myself. <br />
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I can say though that I'm ready to play. I'm ready to have fun and make mistakes. I'm okay with talking to guys who may not be my endpoint because I'm not ready for the end. I'm not ready to stop learning and with each relationship (I'm using this term extremely loosely), I learn so much about myself, what I want, and most importantly, what I deserve. <br />
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As Carrie Bradshaw once said, "maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with." <br />
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So for now, I'm running...not towards anything and not from anything. I'm just running the dash between the beginning of my mistakes and my endpoint whoever and whenever that may be. I'm playing and running and living my life <strong>because who wants to be serious</strong>? <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2