Needing a little reminder

I am my own outlook calendar...

Each morning when I stroll into work and switch on my computer, I am reminded with a pleasant chiming bell of the meetings and commitments I have throughout the day. My favorite reminder of all comes at 12:45pm when my little electronic assistant reminds me that an hour refuge is just around the corner. I like to think that if personified, my outlook calendar would be a sassy little assistant who didn't bring me documents, but rather soul rocking music suggestions and my own personalized play list to get me through the day. He would be edgy but with a sense of balance for calm on hectic days and he would never bring me coffee because he would know me well enough to know that being served would make my skin crawl. I digress.

On my drive this evening, I thought about how handy calendar reminders are. How I am anal enough to remember things on my own but love the assuredness that comes with the automatic, built-it, fail safe chiming of my computer.

How much better, I thought, would it be to have an internal outlook calendar that reminded me of the things that truly matter. Sure meetings are important to the functionality of the workplace but in the grand scheme of things, I feel like software developers are missing out on a market that would have dividends for one and all alike. Maybe the reminders could come as swiftly and clearly as those few moments of clarity we all have that hit us like thunderbolts, reeling for days afterward. Or maybe we could visualize the reminders pictorially from somewhere directly behind the retina (if this be the case, I prefer mine to be of the old film variety with haziness and glitches providing character and nostalgia).

And to all the software geniuses out there, here are a list of the internal reminders you can begin working on immediately. I would like them often, daily perhaps or just when the stress and ridiculousness threshold seems to be reaching critical levels (tempo has reached critical levels, tempo has reached critical levels).

Reminder One: Productivity is not your master. If a day (or two) passes in which you allow the dishes to pile up and the laundry to go unfinished, the world will not stop turing on its axis. Productivity is relative and lady, you need to re-evaluate the meaning of this word.

Reminder Two: A day spent relaxing with friends, unexpectedly is not a road block to the rat race, rather a reprieve from the laps you've been running in attempt to catch the rabbit. Soak it in sweetheart because afternoons that turn into evenings that turn into night fall where the conversation flows as freely as the wine are, in their own right, alters to be bowed at.

Reminder Three: Intensity is exhausting. While it has its merits and rightfully placed can be a pivotal element to life, intensity burns out quickly and leaves little return on investment if thrown wildly into the world without reason.

Reminder Four: Clear the mind and the heart on a regular basis. Leave the trash at the curb and walk away confidently with an understanding that trash is trash and you're not obligated to compost anything.

Reminder Five: Trust yourself and the decisions you make. Stop questioning, apologizing, second guessing and twisting your insides over miniscule matters that mean absolutely nothing.

Reminder Six: Live. Breath deeply. Exhale fully. Click the memory stick every now and then when you feel yourself in a moment that may not define you but will certainly shape you. Let things tangle up your insides if they must. Walls down. Buildings burning. Protection lost. Sand in your sheets kind of living.

Let it all go, my friend. You're the only one still holding tight to the arbitrary demands you've placed upon your sinking shoulders.

Definitions and all that jazz...

"Choices we are given. It's no choice at all."

Finding your way back to center can sometimes be an extremely precarious situation. Realizing that what you thought was up is actually to the left and around the corner is quite possibly, the most un-nerving experience one can have. Definitions morph and flex and change until they are no longer hard lines but rather the consistency of over-cooked noodles.

Fluid definitions; a contradiction in terms. However off the wall and zany this notion may be, fluid definitions most certainly lurk around the most abrupt corners we create for ourselves. I imagine fluid definitions to take pleasure, actually, in challenging our most staunchly guarded definitions. Those definitions that we function in and hold so closely to our chests that imprints remain on our skin as we turn over to fall asleep each night. Those are the definitions that fluidity loves to embrace.

"I am. I am. I am." Oh how the corners of my mouth exhaust themselves with this phrase. I have spent years of my adult life defining myself by what I do for a "living." What the hell does that even mean really? I am queasy thinking about how much respect we give stress disguised as a dollar sign by dignifying it with the word "living." I hope there are aspects of each position that make a person happy. I hope that each day finds each working individual feeling as if they contributed. But...a "living"?

As disgusted as I am with this premise, I have embraced it and hugged it so hard that its little head is getting swollen and pinkish in hue. As the thunderbolt hit me last night and I found myself smiling my way to sleep, I kicked that notion's ass.

You want to watch the heads of many turn in circles? When someone asks you about yourself, don't include what you do to write the rent check every month. Don't mention the project at work. Don't talk about your boss or how you may be up for a promotion. Talk about YOU. Who YOU are. Watch their eyes fall from their sockets and their hands wring uncomfortably in their laps.

"Tell me about yourself."

"I am a writer."

Missing home something fierce...

"Okay now part two now clear the house. The party's over take the shouting and the people, get out. I have some business and a promise that I have to hold to. I do not care what you assume or what the people told you."

All sorts of gifts...

Unwrapping can get complicated at times...

Recently, I chatted with some other Florida "transplants" about how it can be difficult to get in the holiday spirit in a climate that remains fairly moderate and steadfast. The humidity has definitely calmed down (a gift that I hadn't thought to write about but a gift indeed) but the bone chilling cold I am accustomed to the season bringing is still no where to be found. As I sit here, with both doors open, allowing the breeze to bellow in one door and out the other, I am stuck somewhere between incredibly thankful and incredibly torn. I love this weather and am thankful for it but the holiday spirit is hard to find in the sand and sun. At least for a northern little one.

While dropping a bag of goodies at Goodwill yesterday, I decided to bring the holiday spirit to me. (Bonus: I was able to do this and stay within my goals of only buying used - thank you Goodwill!)

Gift number one:

Although this little tree packed some serious holiday cheer and I felt like I was checking things off of my to-do list like crazy (rent, library books, goodwill drop-offs), I was hungry and I was ready to be home. Add that to the fact that I am not smoking and you have a good old fashioned recipe for road rage. As I rounded the corner into my courtyard, holiday tree in hand, I saw my screen door propped open. I hurriedly opened the box and realized that another gift had arrived. And so...I pulled up my shirt sleeve...took a breath....and said a big fat THANK YOU to Florida and God for helping me out something fierce.

Gift number two:

With my new adhesive assistance, my mood improved quickly and with some short research online, I found out that a) I no longer have to take my recycling with me once a week to work and b) I don't have to pay for curbside recycling at my apartment. What's option "c"? I can simply take my recycling once a week to a drop box a few blocks from my house and done and done. I realized I had a bin tucked away in my closest and since storage is precious in a studio...the bin is now the home for my recycling...on my porch.

Gift number three:

The last gift may seem small and somewhat foolish to many. If you are anything like me or you know me well at all, you are aware that I rarely "settle" unless I feel an assurance that settling is a right and solid choice. Add the fact that music and all those greats I love are most certainly the integral part of my settling and you'll understand why this was...

Gift number four:

"Hand print of God on the small of my back..."

Obstacle Number One

Honesty is the best policy...

Not surprisingly, my friends and family have been supportive of this little change-a-roo I'm attempting with some BIG lifestyle adaptations. I pretty much feel like the luckiest little lady on earth, what with people supporting me through these little changes that some may feel have no true effect on the world in general.

Contrary to what some brilliant minds think, I am a huge believer in the fact that everyone making little changes can lead to big changes felt throughout the world. A domino effect. After all, complacency breeds complacency.

I have been so diligent about posting about the parts of my little project that are going well that I thought it only fair to post about the part that wasn't going so well. Drum roll please...the SMOKING. I am fairly certain, as I sit fluttering away on this keyboard that the fact I am having trouble quitting surprises all zero of my friends and family. Not because there is no faith in me because I am, at times, humbled by others' faith in who I am. More so because if you know me at all...you've heard the commitment....from me....about a zillion times before.

I am humbled by this problem because I know, intellectually that smoking is simply needless. That the habit itself is disgusting and that there are no positive effects. I get it. I do, I do! I suppose though, I don't expect anyone to believe that I get it because I still haven't kicked the habit. I am doing "better" but what is better when you're talking about a life threatening habit. Better just isn't good enough. And so...tonight...after years of clucking on and on about how I didn't need any help because I was strong enough to do it on my own...I got help.

Thank God for altruistic people with large endowments (Michael Scott, you would know what to say here.) I called the Florida quit line and in less than a week...I will be the proud owner of that nicotine patch system! Finally swallowed the pride and to be honest it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. So thank you, Jan, my quit coach representative who was so nice and helpful on the phone this evening. Hopefully my insistent "I can do this on my own but I'd like to "try" this out" personality didn't make you want a cigarette when we got off the phone! Hahaha.

http://floridaquitline.com/

Quick Update

After a few minutes of fussing with the directions, I conquered my fear of the sewing machine and made this beautiful curtain for my closet door! In reality, my contribution to this art was a small pocket at the top to weave the curtain rod through...and the willingness to learn something new.

Thanks again, Cathy, for the sewing machine!

"Each time you win, it diminishes the fear a little bit. You never really cancel the fear of losing, you continually challenge it."

The whole kit and kaboodle

As my oven cools down, I too take a break...

Bread of the week? Herb Focaccia bread and man-o-day it is tasty, if I do say so myself! This weekend has been one gift after the next and I could not be more grateful or humbled by how life just tends to work the kinks out one at a time while we take a little breather. As I sat on a friend's porch last night, all wrapped up in my long sleeved sweater but still rocking the flip flops, I realized that "home" was here. That was one of many gifts I just had to be thankful for this weekend.

The yummy bread...

The goal of learning to sew...and thus...the sewing machine...

I babbled recently about my want to learn to sew. This want turned in to somewhat of a need

this weekend when I decided I just had to turn one of my tapestries into the curtain for my closet. Ask and you shall receive...I was blabbering on about how I was going to make this curtain when my friend pipes up and says, "I have an old sewing machine that I was going to give to the goodwill this week. Do you want it?" Do I? The best thing is, she still had the instructional booklet as well so lady doesn't have to try and learn how to use a sewing machine without any guidance at all. Not only is this friend beautiful inside and out but I had to love her even more when she stood there saying things like, "And you just put this here and then the thread goes here and this is how you lock the foot into place and if you need the zipper foot, here it is," as if I had touched a sewing machine since middle school. Time to roll up those sleeves and learn something new!

The long awaited herb garden...

In my attempt to cook most of my meals at home, I started to realize the need for fresh herbs on hand. When a friend gave me some fresh basil as a parting gift last week...I knew this to be true! And low and behold, fresh herbs on sale at the store today...I will now be putting sweet basil and cilantro in all of my recipes..be warned. I am quite stoked about this week's menu actually as I am going to make a vegetable curry to use up all my left over vegetables. I will post yummy photos when I am finished with it.

And down go the left-overs...

1.

2.

3.

Waste Not...Want Not.

In an effort to reduce waste, I am truly trying to find recipes just to use up those pesky left overs. Tonight as I ate my dinner and watched an episode of "The Office" (my current dinner tradition), I felt as though a little gift had fallen into my culinary world. The best thing about tonight's dinner is that I was able to stay within all of my current goals for changing up the eating routine!

Rice Balls (I'll admit...the name could use some tweaking)

1 cup cooked rice (make sure the rice is fully cooled if you are using fresh and not left-over)

2 whole eggs

1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese

1/2 tablespoon dried basil or oregano (after trying this, I would actually recommend oregano)

1/2 tablespoon garlic powder (I am obsessed with garlic. If you're not, use less!)

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon pepper

1 cup dried bread crumbs

2 cups olive or vegetable oil

Optional: 1/4 lb. mozzarella cheese, cubed

1.Whisk eggs, Parmesan cheese, basil or oregano, salt and pepper until thoroughly combined.

2.Add rice to egg mixture (remember, the rice needs to be cool or the eggs will scramble)

3.Roll rice mixture into 1 inch balls and coat in dried bread crumbs

*If you would like, add a small cube of mozzarella cheese to the center

4.Heat oil in saucepan until a piece of rice sizzles when dropped in (350 degrees)

5.Occasionally flip rice balls to encourage even browning and cook until desired color

6.Drain on paper towel, serve with marinara sauce and ENJOY!

What I am discovering is that I am truly enjoying the challenge of using all of my left overs and wasting very little!

And 30.

"At 20 years of age, the will reigns. At 30, the wit. At 40, the judgement."

"If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid."

Wit. Wit. Humor. Humor. Laugh. Laugh. Joke. Joke. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. I have found that laughter flows quite easily from its buried place the instant the pressure cooker is moved from the hot burner to the cold. The boiling over moments somehow become humorous because the peace arrives that all paths, whether they be wayward or narrow, lead to the same fountain.

I wrote recently about some tweaking that I would like to implement into the ways in which I interact with the world around me. I believe whole-heartedly that one should be at peace with who they are. While I may be at peace with who I am...with the thoughts that swirl and the phrases that compute...I do believe it imperative to evaluate my actions every now and again in an effort to avoid stagnation.

And so....a list is born. This, an evolving list. Each item is committed to by yours truly for one calendar year from today with the hopes that many will be maintained leaps and bounds past the November 9, 2011 mark. In an effort to chronicle my progress on various items, I will be writing it out, hashing with verbal discourse, the falls and stand-ups from particular items.

1. Consumerism

I am going to aggressively tackle my urge to consume needlessly in a handful of ways which I hope will conclude with my hands open and not clutched tightly to the merry-go-round of "ooo...that's new and shiny."

*For this particular item, I am committing to buying "new" only those items which I cannot buy used. The rest... thrift stores and garage sales, folks. This particular decision will reduce my spending, consumption and strain on the environment.

*I also want to learn to sew. Since moving to Florida, the size I'm wearing has changed and I have a lot of clothing that is just sitting here. I have some ideas on what to do with the clothing to recycle it and make it usable again but I don't have the know how regarding the sewing side of things. This is something I would like to learn.

2. Food Sources

Due to my interest in all things culinary...I have read, listened and talked much about all things food for the better part of my adult life. One of my interests lies in the way that food production effects our environment negatively. I find it interesting that something we truly need, not just something we've convinced ourselves we need, has the potential to harm not only our earth but our bodies as well.

*I will attempt to purchase as much from local farmer's markets as possible - see you Saturday in downtown St. Pete!

*I will only eat meat that is raised free range, locally. With my budget...this pretty much means....no meat! I have been phasing meat out of my diet for a few weeks so I feel fairly prepared for this particular element of the dietary changes.

*I will make as much from scratch that I can in order to know exactly what I am putting in my body. For the past month, I have been making all my bread from scratch on Sundays for the coming week. Making bread is amazingly easy and it tastes much better too! I'm not going to be churning my own butter, mom, don't worry....I am attempting to be rational about this :).

3. Smoking

Many people know that I smoke and although I know it may seem like a small thing to some people, it's a very big thing to me. There are scads of personal reasons why I want to quit. Simply said, I respect myself and who I am and my smoking habit directly conflicts with that notion. (other factors include environmental impact of smoking as well as my general frustration towards the fact that someone somewhere is wealthy by the minute because I am choosing to ingest something that could very well make me sick.)

*This one is easy to describe. I am no longer going to smoke. Recognizing that I am far from perfect, I will use assistance (patch etc.) if I feel necessary. My one motivation for not using the patch is that many patches are produced, in part, by the same companies that produce cigarettes.

4. Reading, Writing and Arithmetic

This section may be the most nondescript of all however, most likely, the most important. When I moved to Florida, my TV stayed in Indiana because I didn't have room to move it. While originally, the issue was spacial, I have yet to purchase a TV because I didn't notice its absence in my life. Due to this, I have read for leisure and written frequently since moving.

*I would like to finish the book. Finish the book in the next calendar year. Whew! Just writing that made me weak in the knees. I have been working on a book for the past two years. It's time for the mamajama to be finished.

*Read more for leisure. I would like to read, on average, three books a month.

*The Arithmetic part was a joke....come on...seriously?

The deadly combination of no television and an introspective personality is that lists like this one can multiply quite quickly. For now...the sun has set and rest is calling.

Blown Over

"The winds will blow their freshness into you...the storms, their energy."

The wind has picked up this evening. I am cold for the first time in months. My door squeaks as the hinges are forced another centimeter open by the breath of the wind. A chill runs down my spine into my toes and radiates energy into these character-filled wooden floor boards. Another squeak followed by another gust that presses my writing forward.

Although I miss the changing of seasons, the almost ceremonial changing of wardrobes, I am beginning to think that this water logged existence is a well kept secret. The wind here carries with it a gravity that seems to flow in from the water. A reprieve from the heat that remains comfortable.

Tonight, I can almost feel the gift that the wind bellows in. The gift of fall, of "winter" a season whose definition is sure to change in the eyes of this little one. I am aware that the warming of temperatures is most likely still around the corner before winter blankets this region in which I now live. Tonight however, I am thankful for the sound of squeaky hinges.

Indicative of changes that have recently blown through and over my terrain. Indicative of changes sure to come. Comforting in its swirling mess of things and bending palm trees. Yes, this wind is welcome.

I am so thankful for the turns my life has taken as of late and for these gifts, I have many to thank. Friends, both new and old, projected over telephone lines and plates of tacos, the friends and family I am blessed with humble me daily. The individuals that choose to speak and listen in equal turn. The people with whom I can laugh (and even snort if it's really funny) with, the people I am excited to get to know better, the people who have contributed to my survival and eventual thriving, here in Florida. Like the wind this evening, these people are a reprieve for which I am thankful.

Ushering in change with arms flung so widely that they may buckle at the shoulder, seems tonight, to have been a positive follow of gut instinct. I have learned recently that when a person embarks on a changing path, they must be able to bend and lean and crease in ways they may have never understood. Akin to the masters of yoga, the bending and leaning and creasing become habitual until they morph into natural and become comfortable. The beauty that one can find if willing to truly listen to their inner tickings is plentiful. The clearing out of clutter and cobwebs is the real work.

Once the space is clear...the heart and mind will follow.

Mixed Match Fabrics

My little piece of paradise...

No Seriously.

F This Noise.

(and yes, I am posting this on my blog so that I don't look like a 5th grader posting on facebook :).)

Impetus for change...

Impetus: A moving force; Impulse; Stimulous.

There have been many changes in my life recently:

Move 1,000 miles away from what you know as home: check.

Start a new job: check.

Live alone in an apartment: check.

Short of getting a divorce, I have managed to hit many of the life events that are on the "biggest stressors" list. I am happy to report that a divorce is not an option as I am fairly certain that stress would be the tipping point. With the support of family and friends (both in Florida and away from Florida), I am proud of the place that I am now. I am proud that I haven't yet allowed any of the stress I've experienced dissolve me into a puddle of messiness that would be inconvenient for myself and others to have to clean up.

I sat in my studio tonight and thought about who I am and who I want to become. I thought about the interesting nature of life and of a conversation I recently had with a kindred. A conversation that resulted in her filling me in that most of the time, we are already where we want to be, we just don't realize it.

I would be a story-teller upon story-teller if I said for one minute that my turning thirty just around the corner hasn't affected my thinking in general, especially as it relates to change. Thirty is not a "scary" age for me or an age that I am dreading. I am fully expecting to wake up thirty feeling exactly as I do now at twenty-nine.

There in lies the problem...

For the most part, I am sublimely happy with who I am. I've had experiences throughout the last four months that have reminded me that I am an intrisically kind, giving person and although others may take advantage and shit all over that part of me, that part still exists. There has always been though, a knowledge and awareness that I am not living exactly how I want to live. There is a part of me that, with every fiber that exists, is certain that I could change various parts about the way I live my life that A) would improve my life and B) would allow me to feel more at peace with the world around me.

And so...

I have decided what better impetus for change than a birthday? What better milestone or urging can you have in life than a day where you celebrate your life itself and the individuals that have made it worth it...that have made it meaningful...that have made it memorable?

More to come because if I've learned anything in my almost thirty years, it's that blogging at 11:31pm about big fat changes you're going to make is quite possibly the worst way in which to plan lasting changes.

"If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid."

Speechless

Not sure how to make the ends of this one meet...

Garden State is one of my favorite films. Arguably, it should be one of everyone's favorite films. The soundtrack alone could really drive a good evening into a good morning into the afternoon. Sure, it has it's moments of theatrical Hollywood nonsense that will, most certainly, creep it's ugly way into every flick made from here on out. In the end though, moments exist in this film that allow the watcher to feel connected and understand the goings-on of life just a little clearer or less clear, as the case may be.

"You're in it right now." Shutters. Goose bumps. Reality hitting the walls of the mind that one attempts so cleverly to vail. This line alone. And that, my friends, is how movies are made.

Although I could sit on my stool and scribe an entire blog about my endless love for gs, the truth is, this one line, this one piece of script, is what jumps to mind this evening as I attempt to put into words what the grey matter swarming around is computing.

Cannot compute. Error Message. Little yellow, annoying exclamation point. Yes to all of the above.

I am not certain if I am so "in it" that I cannot see the forest for the trees or if I am so not invested in it that my mind (and little beating heart) refuse to attempt to see anything past the point of my little lopsided nose. (It really is lopsided...take a look next time you're face to face with the Lizzy B).

So good to be back in Florida although leaving my family and friends was difficult, I came back knowing that this was home and threw myself head first into making that notion a fact. Honesty. Is it really that difficult? Are we a people that have become incapable of just speaking what is truth? Are we a people that thrive so insanely on the feeling of presenting our feathers, all beautiful and vibrant in color that we do not dare admit that the humidity is doing a number and ruffling the hell out of our beauty?

I am in a place of duality. I stand, firmly, in a place of a split heart. You know...the hearts that we drew when we were in middle school and some little meany made us angry. If I were a betting woman, I would say I am one or two weeks away from screen-printing a split heart on a t-shirt and screaming my story at the top of my lungs to innocent passers-by who dare to ask what message t "means."

Because if I were to stand on a street corner and purge forth the reason for the screen-printing extravagance...it would be honest. At least it would be honest.

Lady is hungry for some honesty.

A good trip home. A safe place. A place surrounded with love. Palpable. Real. Honest. Love.

Huh....

Missing the big picture...

I have written and erased, written and erased, written and erased again this entry. I am not quite certain if the problem is my inability to wrap my mind around what I am thinking OR that I am normally not as vulnerable in this here cyberspace to write what I am thinking. Bear with me, folks, because this entry is, most likely going to be long and at the end, you may be left scratching that head of yours, thinking, "What are they putting in the water in St. Pete Florida? My friend is freaking nuts!"

When I moved to Florida, I pictured a life of permanent vacation. Beaches, cold drinks with umbrellas in them, sunsets. Although I knew that life would still include dirty laundry and electric bills, I saw Florida as a way to relax and reboot. A way to decompress after years of taking care of others.

Life here in Florida has held many of the aspects I had in the mental photograph. I have shared some tasty drinks with friends (I have even found beers that I actually enjoy). I have watched the sunset over the ocean on beaches that are nationally ranked for their beauty. I have driven over the ocean on one of the most beautiful bridges I have ever seen every weekday morning in my commute. I have learned what it means to have the weather determined by the ocean which has been positive and also scary at times! I have been blessed with a job that I can leave at the doorstep.

All in all...Florida has been what I pictured.

Life in Florida has come with some other blessings as well. I am choosing the word blessing very carefully because these blessings have not been easy to swallow at times. I have learned so much about myself in the few months I have lived down here. Call me crazy but I was not prepared for this move to bellow in so many moments of self reflection. You can call me crazy, it's okay. I have not a valid reason in my little mind why I thought moving away from Indiana would not come with some hurdles...I mean...blessings...

As my close friends and family know, my move has come with some major growing pains. I have spent nights in my little studio where I thought the day light would never come, tossing and turning and feeling lonelier than I ever thought humanly possible.

I have questioned this move more times than I would like to admit. At the beginning of each day, though, I am reminded that my decision was guided by much more than my want to be near the beach. I felt an urging so deeply in my core before moving and I know in my little heart that this move was not in vain.

Failure...

Failure is an odd beast. One that we often turn away from. Even in the privacy of our own minds, we tend to figure out ways to hide in corners or run rapidly through corridors where we know the realization of failure is lurking. I am not a person that enjoys admitting failure any more than the next but in this case, I can utter quite certainly, "I have failed." In one enormous (and most likely, countless others) way, I have failed since my move to the sunshine state.

I have failed to take the focus off of myself and my wants and needs and step back. Step back to the day I made the decision to come here and remember the urging I felt in my spirit. I realized today that I have given no credit to God for where I am now. I have failed to thank Him, to ask Him for His guidance, to consult with Him on anything since moving. Not one time have I gotten on my knees and thanked Him for getting me here safely, for helping me find a job, for allowing me to find the cutest little studio apartment in the cutest little part of St. Pete. I haven't asked Him for guidance on the days where I felt like I would implode into myself with loneliness. I haven't allowed Him in at all, really. Not one freaking little iota. He has been on the back burner.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. That's the sound of me backing up (you can imagine me doing a really slow moon walk backwards now if you would like! Make sure you add the robot arms.)

"So that you would walk in a manner worthy of the God who calls you into His own kingdom and glory."

1 Thessalonians 2:12

Rewind

...gninnigeb eht ot kcab gniog

A little rewind action to start off this Saturday. Why? Because a little rewind action never hurt anyone.

Funks. Funks are wickedly evil little shits and they seems to work there way in the minute we start to feel sorry for ourselves. The minute we begin to focus on all the elements of the life we lead that are less that excellent, funks seem to take that as engraved invitations to set up shop and get comfortable.

I call shenanigans.

I always find myself in interesting situations when I lose sight of why I originally started something in the first place. While I do believe in the notion that the ability to adapt is a critical one, I also believe that fluid reasoning sometimes leads to fluid everything. In the experience of lizzy dearest, when I begin to accommodate and shift and push and pull my life in directions that feel unnatural, I end up with some fairly undesirable outcomes. Go figure.

While loneliness is real and at times thick and gravely palpable, Florida is also real. Real in it's beauty and positive attributes. Real in it's gravity and natural surroundings that, if one opens themselves up to the possibilities, one will be rewarded. She holds treasures but the trick is to focus on the positive and not the less desirable.

A difficult charge but I have never been one to flee from difficulty. Rather...I think I'll kick off my sandals. Run through the sand and remember why the hell I came here in the first place. To relax. To breath. To live peacefully.

"Beginnings are scary, endings are usually hard but it's the middle that counts."

Serving thy self

What goes around, comes around. You reap what you sew. You made your bed, now lie in it. Sometimes, although hesitantly, I am forced to believe that all these phrases, and their friends who echo the same sentiments, are simply creations by a hopeful breed. A breed that wants to believe that there is balance to the madness that exists.

The beauty that exists is awe inspiring as well, please do not discount the beauty.

I fear that we little humans have created methods of thinking with which we swaddle ourselves in on cold days and nights in an attempt to explain the imbalance that teeters all around us.

Karma is a bitch. Truth emanates from the depth of this statement. Have you noticed though that at times, it seems that karma strikes rather haphazardly. As if the administrative assistant paid to keep the excel sheet with names and appropriate consequences/blessings organized has taken up chatting at the water cooler all afternoon.

This is my formal plea to the karma administrative assistant. Could you please, at least for the next few months, focus on the spreadsheet? I know the cells and columns and various colors from which to choose regarding font can be overwhelming but please...FOCUS.

Mama needs for balance to return.

For the questionable to receive what questionable individuals shall. For those who have integrity brimming and falling over the sides of their universes to receive what shall come their way as well.

Attempting...

Attempting to appreciate my new home...

The home itself is to die for. In fact, the small studio apartment that holds my thoughts and belongings is absolutely what I've wanted for years now. Ceilings high enough to hold wonder and wooden floors that go click click click when walked across. It is, if only a small piece, a piece of property meant for me. I feel a kinship with this building and I would like to think, she with me, as well.

I attempted to meet the day as early as I could muster, in order to get out and get my list of intendeds on the done list rather than the floating around in my mind list. First objective was met by 10:30am where I plopped down my current electric bill and was handed a library card. I assure you, the Florida library system does not pay for your electric bills so don't move here in a rush due to my blog. I just needed proof of address, folks. I promptly picked out a copy of "Mansfield Park," urged by the movie, "The Jane Austen Book Club" I enjoyed on Friday night.

After the library, I headed to the coffee shop where I allowed an over calor-ied sugar drink to drip down my throat as I looked through cookbooks to prepare for this week's meals. For some reason...although food is normally a no-brainer for me, I wasn't inspired by much (and have yet to do any grocery shopping for this week). Something about needing a million things for each recipe made my heart race a little and I took that as a physiological cue that maybe simple meals would be best for this week.

Dreaded budgeting was the next item to be pulled out of the "I need to do this at some point" thinning air that circled my head. And so, budget I did. Realizing that I spend way too much of my "hard earned" money on eating out...I promptly reminded myself of the need to grocery shop. After spreadsheet upon spreadsheet, I realized that the beach was calling my name.

And so...my toes met the sand and the shells with ease out on Treasure Island. It sounds quite magical, doesn't it? A place called "Treasure Island." I found four treasures there today that I plucked from nature, into my beach bag. Now, to find the appropriate resting place for these treasure shells. I suppose, they will find company amongst the rest in the bowl on my stool.

There's beauty here and I am determined to find it.

Done.

Done. Done. Done. Done.

"There's beauty in the breakdown."

Let go...let go...jump in...

It's interesting how relocating (my adult way of referring to leaving everyone you know and love with the exception of a few individuals 1,000 miles away, located directly in your comfort zone) can prompt you to learn things about yourself that you never knew; and some things you never wanted to know, to be frank.

I have found that "laying back" is surprisingly easy and that my friends, is SUCH a strange feeling for me. I have found that it's quite easy to leave work at work when the expectation is that you do so. I have found that not having anything to do all weekend long is, at certain points in life, the birthing ground for flying kites and becoming a kid again.

I have also found that my mind quiets quite easily if only in spurts at this junction, which also, my friends, is SUCH a strange feeling. I have found it quite easier to leave things where they are and allow yourself a chance to soak in whatever is floating out there, even if it may be less than thrilling.

Because, after all, life isn't always thrilling. Sometimes, life twirls around in your insides and shakes things up a bit. Platforms and soap boxes shake and microphones into which you've been screaming for eons topple over with surprisingly little force. Life isn't always about knowing what lies ahead or for that matter caring all that much what lies just past the horizon. More often than not, life is simply about embracing what lies...period.

And that my friends, is how it's done.

And the calm came...

"They sicken of the calm, who know the storm."

Few lessons have existed as vibrantly and intensely in the past. Few lessons have knocked me on my ass and then extended a hand to assure me that the fall will not be my demise. This lesson, a lesson that countless, dedicated, educated individuals poured over. A different rate of speech? A different concept on education in general? All things have been considered. All things, except, the absence of teaching, that is. The absence of instruction, of calculated phrases in a meek attempt to convey the need for calm. The need for letting go.

The frenzy of a mind on fire. The overwhelming urge to get up and busy myself with anything as to not be still. Escaping like the laundry thrown on the lawn during a pissing match. The frenzy has flown the coop. Alerting the masses will do no good because the gasoline poured and the match lit on thinking with needless frenzy.

Three weeks. I'd say I'm a damn quick pupil and for that, I will reward myself with a sunset soon. An anchor, to this place. Music. Conversations both bullshit and core shaking. Laughter. Remembering that I put the world on my shoulders and attempted, at best, to rotate a few times throughout a day. Strangely enough, the world was not placed there with expectations from anyone but this one. The globe has crashed and shattered into shrapnel reminiscent of wars waged for reasons not understood by the army itself.

No fairy tale, dirty laundry still exists. Gas still needs paid for and groceries still need fire and ice to become dinner. Just a soothing knowledge that I am responsible for only that which I choose to be. And Jesus...that realization alone is cathartic in the simplest but most complex form.

"I've come to a conclusion." "Here's the deal."

Sunsets and Exhaustion

"...have a deep respect for the depth of life and also for the ocean. For the forest, for the stars and for the truth..."

As I attempt to focus my heavy eyes on this glowing screen, I find myself most definitely, in a conundrum of sorts. A riddle, this week has been, with no true and steadfast solve point. Funny, I guess that in truth, a week has not passed. Not even seven days of this foreign terrain under my belt as of close of sunlight today. An even stranger truth is that in ways, I feel as if I've been here for eons and in ways, as if I have never peaked a toe onto the surfaces of this city.

I am thankful. And when I walk from my mailbox in one building to my desk in another tomorrow morning, I will continue to be thankful. In awe, really, of this place. A karma paycheck has been cashed somewhere and to whatever financial institution I owe, let it be known, I embody indebtedness.

I am also terrified. A good terror (in my mind, and possibly mine alone, terror can be a positive thing). An almost trembling wave works it's way up my femur and into my structural core when I think about the fact that I don't know what to think about the future. What it may cradle or dispose of along the way.

The realization that change is positive has not escaped me so don't worry that balanced on shoulders, physiological marvel, one minute about my knowledge of that fact. The pedestrian phrase "anything worth doing is difficult at times," seems fitting, even if cliche, at this moment. Happiness is only truly attained by those willing to step into a situation in which their sense of self, of the very being they've allowed themselves to become, is microscopically in question. I do believe, I am squirming within that red gel on the dish this very moment.

Not looking to reinvent a damn thing about this dame with the exception of the tendency to worry my lobes with needless bullshit tied up in packages that look eerily similar to assumed responsibility for his and hers alike. A reinvention not on the docket this day but rather, an addition to the functioning of the being that has found inspiration in the process and trusted it so. Scratch that...additions, of plenty, please and thank you.

A happy place but a vacancy in the heart that will only become more digestible as days pass and communication becomes technologically familiar and maintains a certain amount of structure and ease.

Closing eyes and relaxing muscles approaching. A belief in the grounding depth that is obtained when in the presence of a natural mass such as the ocean.

Ebbs and Flows

"The flowing in and out of the tide..."

A simple phrase. A simple definition. When applied scientifically, not a truly interesting or in depth concept. Ebbs and Flows: in common terms, when water reaches the shore and retreats into the mass of itself.

In life, however, ebbs and flows are intrinsically interesting and captivating in their delight as well as their shortcomings. When a person reaches a point of "ebbs," he or she will inevitably reach the point of "flows." For the faint of heart, I would recommend a constant state of "ebbing" as I have found recently that "flowing" is a rather difficult and heart penetrating task of sorts.

The ocean understands itself, if only by communication known only to it's inhabitants. A language of ocean clicks and chatter that to the common, none ocean dwelling ear, nonsense. But, just as a person breaths in air and exhales just the same, the ocean knows it's person and understands when the bell chimes for the retreat, the slow, mesmerizing, graceful unclenching of sand on the shore.

Although I have applied this ebbs and flows theory to times in my life prior, I find it all the more fitting in the days leading up to my journey south and a comfortable landing place on the shores of the ocean of which I speak.

Although the fluidity with which I except this retreat has had it's bumps full of balling, crying, snotty messiness, I am confident that I, as the ocean know my person well enough to know that the bell has chimed and it is my obligation to myself and those that have fostered all the good I have, to respond accordingly.

The beauty of the ocean tide is that, proven by the theory, it always returns to the place from whence it was birthed. Frequently, passionately, excitedly, it flows, time and again to it's home.

I find this organic foundation comforting in this transition and I am thankful that the forces I have been blessed to be attached to in my years leading up to now, are most definitely strong enough to bring me back...frequently, passionately, excitedly from whence I came.

Woo Sau

From excitement to decision to realization...

On March 12th, I sat with Robot in her apartment and talked through the possibility of packing up and making the move down south. At that point, my mind was racing about as quickly as it ever has as I fired off questions and what-ifs in her direction. It seems like within hours, I knew, if only in the back of my mind, that this was a legitimate possibility. A day later, as I sat squirming in my seat at SRQ, I knew that a change was coming with an organic motion behind it that was undeniable.

Using various songs, conversations and of course, pivotal quotes, the decision was birthed and nurtured to it's current state. There was a certainty in my soul that I have felt few times prior and I had to follow that certainty with every ounce. I remember thinking that this change was most likely going to rock my world more than I could conger and I think I can safely say, I was right.

I have yet to move a thing to Florida and already, the changes have been flowing...

Somewhere across the street, I got distracted by the brightness of the crossing guard's vest and froze a bit. The freezing commenced and although defrosting beckoned me in the form of positive thoughts and supportive individuals, I continually threw myself back into the path of old man winter.

Well, break out the ice picks and blow dryers because the unearthing of my calm has arrived. This experience is not one to be clouded by a negative nancy demeanor and a heavy brow. My experience, while it may have a different get up than I expected at it's inception, will be beautiful and tangled and chalked full of laughter. Of this, I am certain.

ugh.

I am exhausted both emotionally and physically.

A letter to the editor or sorts

Dear Stress:

While I admit there have been times I have appreciated your ability to provoke productivity from my being, I am, at this point, out of appreciation for you. Your incessant need to fill my mind with negative thoughts and quite frankly, bullshit worries that I have no control over has become mundane. I expected more from you, Stress. Your tricks are tired and haggard and I hoped that by now, you would have reinvented something, so as to keep things interesting. Rather, you've just spit out the same rhythm that I've heard a thousand times. So much so that you're beginning to remind me of the band The Fray and that, Stress, is not a compliment.

And so, I bid you farewell and hope that you find a home far from myself and those I love. Feel free to land on the shoulder of any person in need of a good karma induced reckoning...

Without love,

Liz

Hurry up and wait...

The time between now and then...

I remember this feeling as early as childhood. The nagging hurry up and wait that encompasses most big events in life. I specifically remember my mom and dad telling me that we had an hour until we could leave to see the Arbaugh's over a weekend. Sitting in front of the TV in the living room, I was certain they had misspoke when what they said was an hour felt, most assuredly like a decade. I was all ready to go! Did my parents not understand? I had my bags packed and my appetite for the baggie of sugar cereal I was not allowed at home was roaring! As the seconds ticked by slowly, the anticipation of getting on the road swelled so frantically in my being that it was almost more than I could stand!

Entertaining, isn't it, that this feeling exists at every age. Sure, the muses that initiate this response change as the maturity thermometer reaches higher temperatures, but, the feeling remains the same. The big difference being that now, an hour only feels long when it's consumed with undesirable activities. Funny how that works out, or doesn't, as it were.

So today, I find myself waiting. I hurried up and now I am waiting. Patience is a virtue that I am continually faced with my need to obtain. Keep them coming, folks...positive thoughts and vibes of any nature are much appreciated!

Beyond the Gate

Stomping new grounds...

Many movies, most of which, I have admittedly never seen, begin with a character pushing through an old rusty gate and delicately stepping into the world beyond. As the character tip toes through the newly discovered habitat, she pauses abruptly when she hears the call of a creature far above her. Eyes darting back and forth, breath audible and labored, the character takes a moment to collect herself and then ventures forward. By the time the credits begin to role, this maiden is comfortable in her "new" land and has an almost unbelievable attachment to not only the land but her fellow inhabitants as well.

Although my upcoming move to Florida will not include learning to speak in clicks while riding a half lion, half seagull monstrosity, the standard gate does still exist. My hands will need to wrap around the iron and push, at some point, out of my life here in Muncie and into my life in the sunshine state. While I don't want to create, in my mind, an over importance of this move, I do want to have reverence for what it means for my life.

Flowing and violently bouncing between peace, happiness, terror, anxiety and back to peace since the moment the decision was made, I have learned a thing or two about life changes. And so, naturally, I have provided a short list of precautions and blessings for others to keep in mind:

1. Pick a song that you know will inspire you to keep plugging toward the goal and listen to it often. I have found this technique particularly useful when the urge to pack myself in a box without regard to where I may end up, bubbles to the surface.

2. Don't place a higher level of importance on the move than necessary. You are not the president and therefore, your location in this country doesn't have much significance. Except, of course, to the ones you love and love you. In that case, things will figure themselves out because where there is love...there are free visits to the beach. (if you are the president and have stumbled upon my blog, you may omit this particular number from your list. Oh, and I love you and think you're amazing.)

3. Expect everything in regards to mail and change of address to go wrong because it will. Smile knowing that for at least the six months it takes the USPS to catch up with your forwarding address card, the Urban Outfitters magazine you never signed up for, will cease.

4. Get comfortable not having a damn clue what the next couple of months holds. When people ask the question, "What are you going to do in ________?" begin to laugh wildly with a crazy look in your eye until the questioning ceases. Take comfort in the fact that people have left their jobs before to pursue much more eclectic dreams than your own. Like the people who sell deer urine to hunters...imagine telling that to your friends.

5. Finally, just laugh it off and remember that life is life. No matter if you wake up happy or sad, in the place where you want to be or in a place where you don't, the world keeps turning. Be a person of substance and just have fun, no matter where you are or what you're occupying your time with!

In case there was confusion...

Just to be clear...

If you behave in a way that makes you look like a ridiculous child, I will treat you as one. You may be shocked by the degree to which I will hold to this resolve. Many lessons have been learned along the way and I would be a ridiculous child if I failed to set those into motion.

The Beginning...

And first, you must be quiet...

I began reading a book for leisure tonight. The first book I've read in months. And for the first time since Friday March 12th, my apartment was quiet. And so was my mind. No late night blathering booming from the box in my living room. No feverish checking of various electronic devises manufactured and marketed as ways to connect with others. Just myself and a book. My thoughts consumed not with the swirling nature of the usual mess. Just words jumping off of pages, into the many lobes above my shoulders and through the imagination I have been blessed with.

A recent conversation, centering around the electronic book "Kindle" ended in my uttering passionately that this mechanism "takes the romance out of reading."

As I sprawled by body over my couch in an attempt to relax from the nine hour work day that will bleed into the seventy-two hour work weekend, I stood by my recent claim. As I bent the pages over while attempting to find the perfect position to read without physiological effort, I thought, this is it. This delicate balance of all forces, this smell of the pressed tree pulp, this eyes burning and skin itching with exhaustion, yet need to discover what lies on the next page. This is the romance missing when a true and honest piece of art is replaced with an easy scroll through "pages that look like a real book."

My space was quiet. Restful. My mind followed suite quickly. For this small gift, I find thankfulness brimming this evening.

The tin man

Trading feelings for thinkings...

I have had this dream, for years now, of morphing into someone who just doesn't give a damn. Of harnessing the ability I have witnessed, countless times in others, to simply shut off and be numb. Sounds foolish, I am sure, to dream of being numb, cut off from the part of the brain that feels emotional pain. Even as my fingers glide across the modern and fluid keyboard, I imagine reading these words, if they weren't my own, and scoffing at the ludicrous nature of my little dream.

In reality, I know that I would be less of who I am now if feelings were somewhat of a memory. If I didn't have two big hearts, one to pump life through my veins and one whose seeming role is to pump emotive energy through my system and out of my eye balls, I would be a different person. This I know to be true. So, my dream, like so many, is unrealistic. I continue to pay thousands of dollars in loans to educational institutions and still, no one has taught me to separate.

I attempt to picture boxes on shelves. Lids haphazardly balanced on the top four corners because there is simply too much to fit neatly. Boxes of emotive goo. Full of blurted out phrases and irrational day dreams. Labeling the boxes is where my photographic mind gets stumped. Some of the moments I've attempted to package away would have titles that easily jump from the center of my tongue to the tip and through the lips. Other moments, I would be left searching. An old woman still attempting to grasp the incident fully. If not fully, enough to label.

Although I am able to gaze upon the ones I love dearly and appreciate their emotional goo...I am fed up with my own. When I say, "I don't care." For once, I'd like to mean it. To embody those words to the point of convincing. Just once. For once, when asked if I can help, I want to say "no", plain and simple "no." No explanation needed and if one offered, may it be lack luster and a simple, "Because I don't want to."

Obviously, this will never be me. Those who know me well know that I am incapable of this type of function. But, one can dream, right? One can visualize the grass on the other side, with it's plush, soft, vibrant being.

And for those reading, whom I love with my second heart, I am just fine. This writing just a musing of thoughts once thought. The Avett Brothers "Tin Man" reminds me of how lucky I am to feel. And so...it goes on...

Tin Man

The Avett Brothers

You can't be like me

But be happy that you can't

I see pain but I don't feel it I am like the old tin man

I'm as worn as a stone

I keep it steady as I can

I see pain but I don't feel it I am like the old tin man

I miss it

I miss it

Oh, I miss that feeling of feeling

Blah Blah Blah

"A little less talk and a little more action." Man, that Elvis. Every time. The words before they fall, he catches and illustrates in impeccable style.

The sides of my mouth are sore from all of the explaining I've been doing lately. Out one side and before I know it, words are avalanching down the other side of my chin. It's an alphabet soup situation except without the cute baby and the parent close behind to clean off the chin. And prevent me from looking as if feeding myself is somewhat of a feat these days.

So much of my life and what it consists of is changing in the next few months. Insanely happy, I find myself not remembering that there are individuals whom I love and care for that want to know the whose-its, what's-its and whys-its of my decision. And so..the explanations tumble. Thankfully, most have been overly supportive, laughingly to the degree that I wonder if this was all some master plan that I am being graciously allowed to claim as my own. Some have not been supportive but those individuals are few and far between.

Whew. I think the last in a longer than I deserve line has been satisfied with explanations now. I find a restful place in the midst of the change that quickly, yet slowly approaches.

I suppose, if I were being true to myself and to others, I would cut the explanations down to a digestible, palatable meal of, "I want the beach, the sun and a robot." Something tells me, more individuals in my life would nod in understanding of that explanation than wouldn't.

Tired of Trying...

I have been writing all day to shake this feeling...

Today has been one of those days where I am either typing on the terribly small screen of my iphone because my computer is not near or attempting, without success, to blurt words across these keys. I am not sure if I am looking for a therapeutic babble or just for an unrestful feeling to cease. Whatever the case may be, I am not a fan of this feeling. Here's to a better evening and a good, long rest for a tired mind.

As the water rushes over...

An undulating ocean awaits me...

With salt on my lips and textured, curly hair, a fleeting thought passed through my being. This fleeting thought, growing larger and hungrier as the days passed, slowly encompassed the matter the rests comfortably upon my shoulders. Sitting across from my robot, I embraced the peace that lingered in the air and uttered the words that, within days, would turn my world from one side to the other.

I stepped onto the plane with a strange assurance that the next time my toes felt the pressure of sand between them, home would be around the corner. Flipping through my music on the two hour flight, I relentlessly searched for the confirmation of this decision. As I can only do through vocalist writhing of the soul, I reached a point where turning back on my decision, even hours after departing, was simply not a possibility.

I stand, equally as shocked as everyone at the decision I have made, to uproot this tree and attempt to find fertile, thirsty ground in which to nurture these branches. Each day, the shock fades into the background as sparklers continue to burn under the brow, embracing the unknown ahead.

As usual, Walt has something to say about inspired moments like these:

"I exist as I am, that is enough,

If no other in the world be aware I sit content,

And if each and all be aware I sit content."

A change is gonna come...

"We must exit our environment and willingly immerse ourselves in foreign experiences to

acquire the smallest, most miniscule knowledge about who we are

and what we will become."

As strange as it may sound, I have gained a tremendous amount of perspective about myself along the mini journey of my current vacation in Sarasota. Over indulgent and incredibly blessed, I have spent the days here with my good friend and for that, I am thankful. Moments birthed in laughter have grown and matured into moments of silence, contemplating those who have broken the surface and discovered worlds beyond. Moments of honesty spewed forth in the unlikely locations of seaside eateries where barnacles and sand tempted the pallet not. So this list that follows, a tribute to minds opening even in the shadows of slamming doors. This list, a olive branch to the universe and future endeavors blessed by the God I choose to worship. This list a a good bye to the oppressive and indignant individuals I once allowed to poison the path.

A camping trip in Alaska (with a defense of sorts against intimidating wild life)

A cafe small, but packing serious culinary punch. Not lame, not fading, timeless.

My words. In print. On shelves. In libraries.

A music filled home that vibrates with sounds of those here and gone that rock our world.

An embraceable peace between myself, God and the universe.

Friendly goats from which wicked goat cheese will be created.

Children.

Horseback riding.

Skiing.

Sandal wearing.

A wardrobe made with my own two hands. Stylish, not frumpy. Ingenious.

Chemical free products. Not because it's cool. Because this world is not mine to abuse.

Relaxed Shoulders.

If meat, then choose well.

A blinding love.

Well founded fear as opposed to irrational.

The beginning of this list only. More to come, of this, I am certain.

Relaxing the Muscles

Having noodle shoulders is a good thing...

My name is Lizzy Bergren and I am a planner. Before I stammer out another word, please do not misunderstand me. I do think planning is a valid and necessary part of life. Over-planning is like over-watering: Suffocating. Like everything in life, balance is key. Although I do appreciate planning in the professional, swirling realm of my life, I am ready to let go of all that baggage and focus on my life beyond the paycheck.

I do believe that my life was planned before I was born by God. A God who certainly knows in more ways than my little brain will ever comprehend the reason for my walking this earth. Living at peace with God, myself and others is strangely easy when I relax my shoulders and realize what a gift my days are. Even when they're crazy because, I've chosen to live my life for the time being at a residential high school. Gifts in big boxes with big bows.

It's so funny to be in a place at 29 years old where absolutes aren't as important to me as they used to be. I guess I thought getting older would provide for more of a need for equations that equalled steadfast results. In actuality, my lines are becoming grayed and I am enjoying it. I am not boxing myself in any longer to the "if this than that" mentality. I am beautiful and imperfect all at the same time. I can enjoy a good bottle of Champagne and an Indiana campfire simultaneously. I can have an iPhone (and love it so) and not feel guilty about it. I can be a good example to young women and still have a massive Walt Whitman tattoo on my forearm.

God, you are amazing. Thank you.