Do you agree? Do you find that when you are stripped from something you've grown accustomed to you are not able to fully be yourself? To be comfortable around others?
I know that for me there are people who I am not comfortable with because I relate something in their gesture or attitude as not really willing to get to know me, to see past my clothes, to see past my words, and to feel who I am. Maybe these people don't realize this about themselves, or maybe the fault is in me -- I could be intimidated for some reason, or judgmental myself.
But in my mind, saying that I am not me because of the length of my hair is absurd. It's like saying "You are not you without clear skin," okay, so since it's hot and especially humid in Rexburg this summer and my forehead has a few more blemishes than usual, you're saying I must not be myself? I am me with or without that attribute. Long. Short. Bald. All of it is me. Maybe it distracts you from trying to get to know me? I am not my hair. I am me all over. You can not personify a piece of a person because we are all. I encompass my toes and my shoulder blades, the fat on my tummy. This is who I am. And I want long hair.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Sometimes you just have to grab it with both fists...
Change is not always easy. There's this part of me, a significant part, that fights against change at every moment. Changes in online social networks send me into a rage. Changes in my life, send me into a strange anxiousness coupled with lethargy and apathy.
I turned in my two-weeks notice on Friday (and by Friday I mean Tuesday). I went to the school and tried to print it out on their computers (but the file was incompatible, so I waited). While driving there, I was filled with a sinking lightness and heaviness in my toes, the area behind my bellybutton, my finger tips, and throat. I print this out, and in two weeks I will not have a job. I will not have a job, and I will not have a place to live by the end of the month. I did not mind that the file was not compatible and I went to work and could pretend that nothing was different. Regardless, I knew it was coming while I sat there. Listening to the heavy machines puncture fabric and leaving behind a row of thick thread like a scar in skin. This was not meant for me.
I knew I was turning in my two weeks notice, I had dozens of applications in four major cities. Two fall back plans. I was leaving my job. And I'm leaving this state.
I have an interview for a job in SLC next week thanks to the thoughtfulness and connections of friends. I have five more days at a factory. I am looking at my pictures on these walls and I know they will be in a box in the matter of days, a week or two tops. I don't know where I'm going, or what I'm supposed to be doing. But I can make change happen in my life.
I can get up and go for a run tonight. Oh, I went running three days last week, and once already this week. I can do this!
I turned in my two-weeks notice on Friday (and by Friday I mean Tuesday). I went to the school and tried to print it out on their computers (but the file was incompatible, so I waited). While driving there, I was filled with a sinking lightness and heaviness in my toes, the area behind my bellybutton, my finger tips, and throat. I print this out, and in two weeks I will not have a job. I will not have a job, and I will not have a place to live by the end of the month. I did not mind that the file was not compatible and I went to work and could pretend that nothing was different. Regardless, I knew it was coming while I sat there. Listening to the heavy machines puncture fabric and leaving behind a row of thick thread like a scar in skin. This was not meant for me.
I knew I was turning in my two weeks notice, I had dozens of applications in four major cities. Two fall back plans. I was leaving my job. And I'm leaving this state.
I have an interview for a job in SLC next week thanks to the thoughtfulness and connections of friends. I have five more days at a factory. I am looking at my pictures on these walls and I know they will be in a box in the matter of days, a week or two tops. I don't know where I'm going, or what I'm supposed to be doing. But I can make change happen in my life.
I can get up and go for a run tonight. Oh, I went running three days last week, and once already this week. I can do this!
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Step one: Workin' it and why I do it
Okay, this is brutal to write. It's brutal because once I thought of the idea to write it down, my will-power flew out the window... But I'm getting ahead of myself. Okay.
I can WORK IT. And by WORK IT I mean that I can make my humanly-flawed body do what the heck I tell it to do!!! Dangit.
When I was little I was good-naturedly teased by family that I ran like a duck which was "so cute." No big deal. But to my overly sensitive 10-year-old self I was devastated and mortified. I thought "I'll show them," and just not run. If we had to run to the car because we were late? I'd walk briskly at most. Playing sports? MMmm... nah.
Although I grew out of this mindset fairly quickly, in the back of my head I remained self-conscious about the way I ran. Even in college I would usually skip activities with friends that involved sports and running, and when I did participate I would have to battle inhibitions to not slow to a trot in embarrassment.
The second week of May in 2011 I began a running program. A beginners running program. For two months, three days a week, I would run, gradually feeling the difference as my body grew in strength and I grew in confidence. I played soccer with my friends and only thought about the sun being in my eyes and getting the ball from between the feet of my friends and into the net. How incredible!
My goal with all of this running and such nonsense is to run a marathon, or a half-marathon, when I'm 25. So next year. No big deal.
I'm going to increase difficulty levels every six weeks until I can push myself further.
Okay, now to the real embarrassing part. Agghhhhh..... So when I first started thinking of writing this particular blog post at the beginning of the month I was instantly hit with the lazies. Instead of running? I would take a LOOOONG nap. And that hasn't changed. Though, my goal is that tomorrow it will, it's a new month after all! I'll have to work up a little to where I was but I feel okay with that. As long as I keep going, it doesn't matter. I have great support in a long-distance dear friend who happens to have her certification in Personal Training and who will also be running with me in said marathon. I can WORK IT.
I can WORK IT. And by WORK IT I mean that I can make my humanly-flawed body do what the heck I tell it to do!!! Dangit.
When I was little I was good-naturedly teased by family that I ran like a duck which was "so cute." No big deal. But to my overly sensitive 10-year-old self I was devastated and mortified. I thought "I'll show them," and just not run. If we had to run to the car because we were late? I'd walk briskly at most. Playing sports? MMmm... nah.
Although I grew out of this mindset fairly quickly, in the back of my head I remained self-conscious about the way I ran. Even in college I would usually skip activities with friends that involved sports and running, and when I did participate I would have to battle inhibitions to not slow to a trot in embarrassment.
The second week of May in 2011 I began a running program. A beginners running program. For two months, three days a week, I would run, gradually feeling the difference as my body grew in strength and I grew in confidence. I played soccer with my friends and only thought about the sun being in my eyes and getting the ball from between the feet of my friends and into the net. How incredible!
My goal with all of this running and such nonsense is to run a marathon, or a half-marathon, when I'm 25. So next year. No big deal.
I'm going to increase difficulty levels every six weeks until I can push myself further.
Okay, now to the real embarrassing part. Agghhhhh..... So when I first started thinking of writing this particular blog post at the beginning of the month I was instantly hit with the lazies. Instead of running? I would take a LOOOONG nap. And that hasn't changed. Though, my goal is that tomorrow it will, it's a new month after all! I'll have to work up a little to where I was but I feel okay with that. As long as I keep going, it doesn't matter. I have great support in a long-distance dear friend who happens to have her certification in Personal Training and who will also be running with me in said marathon. I can WORK IT.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The Illusionist
I've recently watched the French film "The Illusionist". The story of a simple magician who travels around Europe to mixed reviews.
At one particular stop he picks up a stowaway in a young girl who has every faith in his acts of trickery and slight of hand. Though they are not overly familiar with each other the magician finds little ways to please the girl and through his influence she becomes a graceful and confident young woman.
This made me wonder, how much of what we feel has changed us, or improves us, is actually an illusion? When we are changed for the worse, can we point to an event in our lives or just on our handling of that event? When we feel more confident, or feel that we have matured in some way, is it something real? A change that cannot be removed? Or does it just have to do with the opinion of those around us and the clothes that we are wearing?
Does any of this matter?
Monday, July 25, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Learning how to be alone...
Sometimes with change, comes new opportunities to be alone. When you move to a new city it can take time to find a niche that is comfortable, with others, or even with yourself. When school ends and friends move away. When a relationship is over and you are now acutely aware of how much of your time you didn't have to account for. Being alone can just be time to you set aside to relax. To watch a movie on your own. To soak. To ponder.
In my own life, I've gone through waves and bursts of sociability. When I was young and the tide would eddy I was perfectly content with picking up a book for a few hours, doing a project, or just being on my own in whatever capacity. In college, and even for a time after while living in the same town, every night there was something going on. I went through my day knowing that, even if there were no plans being made, at around 7 or 8, 10 or even 11 at night someone would have something to do.
The hardest adjustment though is going from that high level of activity, down to a sudden lull that was not at all what you had in mind. Learning to be alone again can be a difficult thing. Lately for me, as I plan out my next move and am in the ever painful waiting game of hearing from a possible new job in a possible new city, being alone is being faced with doubts and insecurities. I'm apart from my wingman, old roommate, bestfriend and sister and have to learn what it is I want to do and how to do it without these people.
Step one was going to a concert last night and staying after the one or two people I was friends with left. A small step. Okay, kind of a cheating step since I showed up with people, and the band members were also some acquaintances of mine. But, consider, I didn't like to get gas by myself.
Today I spent mostly on my own, some moments were good, and some were a struggle. But as I was picking up the pieces of myself I let fall on my carpet, one of the band members had something to do. I would not have had company tonight if I wasn't alone yesterday. Just a thought.
Also, check out the Dorfman and Davis video below...
In my own life, I've gone through waves and bursts of sociability. When I was young and the tide would eddy I was perfectly content with picking up a book for a few hours, doing a project, or just being on my own in whatever capacity. In college, and even for a time after while living in the same town, every night there was something going on. I went through my day knowing that, even if there were no plans being made, at around 7 or 8, 10 or even 11 at night someone would have something to do.
The hardest adjustment though is going from that high level of activity, down to a sudden lull that was not at all what you had in mind. Learning to be alone again can be a difficult thing. Lately for me, as I plan out my next move and am in the ever painful waiting game of hearing from a possible new job in a possible new city, being alone is being faced with doubts and insecurities. I'm apart from my wingman, old roommate, bestfriend and sister and have to learn what it is I want to do and how to do it without these people.
Step one was going to a concert last night and staying after the one or two people I was friends with left. A small step. Okay, kind of a cheating step since I showed up with people, and the band members were also some acquaintances of mine. But, consider, I didn't like to get gas by myself.
Today I spent mostly on my own, some moments were good, and some were a struggle. But as I was picking up the pieces of myself I let fall on my carpet, one of the band members had something to do. I would not have had company tonight if I wasn't alone yesterday. Just a thought.
Also, check out the Dorfman and Davis video below...
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Laundry change
I'm not going to be releasing any press-stopping news by saying that I love clothes, I love to shop, I love to get new things, and I love fashion. I'm a girl and I'm not ashamed of it.
My problem comes when I buy an article of clothing that I have been coveting in the stores for weeks, and I finally bring it home, wear it once or twice, eventually hang it up in my closet even. Then one day, I open my closet, and that amazing sparkling jewel of a top is sitting next to my navy cardigan, and some other obscure top that was once loved and I realize that the spark has faded. It's not from a store, it's not new, it's just mine. Like all the other things in that closet.
Another problem I have is that I hate laundry. I hate that the machines in my apartment building cost money and make my clothes smell like mildew. I hate piling my clothes in my car and driving them to the laundromat, sitting on hard benches for an hour just to shove them back in my car. So I put it off as long as possible. For two days I end up wearing a skirt with a athletic t-shirt, or sweats and a blouse. It becomes a desperate situation. All joy in clothes disappears as my options shrink.
Yesterday I did three giant loads of laundry, and as I was hanging the same old clothes up in my closet I felt as though I had options. Wait, this navy cardigan, that obscure top with this cami, ooooh and the belt from that dress from last summer!
Sometimes it's hard to see that we can work with what we've got to make change in our lives. Hopefully next time it won't take me so long to do laundry to see that I have options.
My problem comes when I buy an article of clothing that I have been coveting in the stores for weeks, and I finally bring it home, wear it once or twice, eventually hang it up in my closet even. Then one day, I open my closet, and that amazing sparkling jewel of a top is sitting next to my navy cardigan, and some other obscure top that was once loved and I realize that the spark has faded. It's not from a store, it's not new, it's just mine. Like all the other things in that closet.
Another problem I have is that I hate laundry. I hate that the machines in my apartment building cost money and make my clothes smell like mildew. I hate piling my clothes in my car and driving them to the laundromat, sitting on hard benches for an hour just to shove them back in my car. So I put it off as long as possible. For two days I end up wearing a skirt with a athletic t-shirt, or sweats and a blouse. It becomes a desperate situation. All joy in clothes disappears as my options shrink.
Yesterday I did three giant loads of laundry, and as I was hanging the same old clothes up in my closet I felt as though I had options. Wait, this navy cardigan, that obscure top with this cami, ooooh and the belt from that dress from last summer!
Sometimes it's hard to see that we can work with what we've got to make change in our lives. Hopefully next time it won't take me so long to do laundry to see that I have options.
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