For "The One" the bell tolls.

A lie has been pereptrated amongst the youth of industrial society. I'm speaking in the sense of the 1st world - those in the 2nd and 3rd have their own interpretations. For the sake of my context I'm going to stick mostly to english speaking 1st world societies  - Lord knows I don't have time to do background research on anything else (or, full disclosure, the interest). Onto my ruminations.

The lie that I emphatically speak of has to do with relationships and commitment, be that marriage, common law or just the fact that you've been together so long that you're just too lazy to search out someone else.

The lie: "You will find the One."

What an intriguing, confusing and manipulating concept. Clearly it states that somewhere out there is the half to make me whole, the cheese to my macaroni or whatever else the kids are saying these days. It means that there is a PERSON that I'm destined to be with. It's been written in the stars, a bell will sound and when we find each other life will make sense as we collide in a shower of fireworks and attracted-to-each-other sparks. We'll know that this is it - we've found the person we're going to spend the rest of our life annoying.

I'm calling bullshit.

The one? The ONE?! Excuse my gales of laughter. If this was the case, and a there was a one for every person.... Knowing the type of person that I am, I would have second guessed 'IS THIS THE ONE?!?!?!"sixty bajillion times, and never would have gotten married. I'd have been too concerned about making the wrong choice.

To be honest, however -I worried about that for a long time. I have friends that have told me that the knew immediately that they wanted to marry their significant other. They met, they talked, they swapped spit, and apparently that was that. 48 hours later they had given up every other avenue of pursuit. Other guys or girls? Shut down! They'd found the ONE!

I don't get it and I never have. 48 hours, are you kidding me? To be as honest a blogger as possible, I need to tell you that I mentally placed my first name with the last name of every guy I've ever even briefly dated - let me tell you how ridiculous 98% of them sounded. HOWEVER - that didn't mean I ever wanted to get hitched. After a bad break up in my late teens I decided that I was settling on nothing but the best and even made out a detailed list describing the things that I would prefer a perfect guy to bring to the table.

Now, I'm married (and still slightly surprised by the concept), so something had to have worked out. That something however didn't come easily and it cost the both of us quite a bit. The "Price of Admission" as Dan Savage of Savage Love in his letters and podcast would call it. There have been sacrifices, we have hurt each other, we have been confused and angry and furious and downright pissed off. That, just going off of Webster's, is not perfection.

However. We love each other. We seek strength in the other when we are weak, we organize what is crazy, we clean what is messy, we shake up what is stagnant and we push, push, push, each other out of our comfort zones.

This wasn't obtained by some magic immediate connection. This wasn't fostered due to the fact that we were 'meant' to be together. This worked because at the end of the days, against all of the long odds and obstacles stacked against us we looked at each other's baggage, family, passions, life and loves and said, "I can dig it."

Can you dig it? The important part is that it has to be a two way street of DISCOVERY. Not immediate passion or lust - though those will lead to some incredible fun for a while. - but the solidness that comes after some digging. Do they know you? Do you know them? Fears. loves, hates, joys. family, friends, meaningful moments and places, meaningful holidays; what are they, and why?

I will always believe in attraction at first sight. That can hit you anywhere - married or single, from across a crowded bar. The important part is how you respond to it. Is this forever, or the next five minutes? Are you willing to take that chance?

So often I hear people talk about the person that is in store for the, the person that is out there - apparently waiting patiently just for them. As much as I would like to be as selfish as to believe that my husband was constructed just for me - I don't believe that and I can't. What I can believe is that through each obstacle we have encountered we have had the ability to either deal with it together, or to talk it over after the fact. We tear it apart and wade through the mess until we reach an understanding and forgiveness. We make each other laugh more that we frustrate the other and as far as I know both of us really like having the other around.  At the same time, in the darkest parts of my brain, I have thought - could I have been happy if my life had taken a different turn? If I had married someone else?

The answer to that question is yes. Had my life been completely different, I still would have found different ways to be happy. This life however, that I live now, is one I'm grateful for. This IS my happy.

That lie of 'The One' in my opinion is damaging. It allows us complacency in our efforts and puts the blame elsewhere. "The universe will provide for me" "My deity has something in store for my life". Please don't thing I am using this to belittle any religious belief - but I feel it is time to get away from the concept of "The One" being apart of the nebulous ether that exists beyond ourselves, and realizing "The One" that we are waiting for, The One that will love us unconditionally and always support us......... is ourselves. You can have no love for someone else before you love and take care of yourself. Being happy in oneself means you exude that happiness onto others - and they want to be a part of that.

It may not be the answer to all the questions, but being able to love yourself means that you can finally provide full love to others. Look at you, take care of you, focus on you. The rest will be gravy.


Just rambling thoughts.
Merry Christmas, to all of you.


(Extra points to anyone who gets my usage of 'bells' in reference to finding "The One. Facebook me and let me know what you think and I'll shower you with adoration and a celebratory shout out in my next post.)

Need vs Want: The Coach Edition

I tend to be a very rough and tumble person. My husband has been known to affectionately call me his little tornado. Things seen to go missing/break/fly across the room/end up in very odd locations (cell phone in the freezer comes to mind) in my presence. I'm really a terrible stereotypical girl, perfect examples:

1. I've recently begun taking impromptu make up lessons from a girl at work. I diligently take pictures of my face/eyes for her critique - whenever I actually put on real make up.
2. Did you know eye primer is a fantastic and amazing substance that with some work instantly fixes all of your make up woes? Because I didn't.
3. I own fewer shoes than my husband. My shoes are also often in a bedraggled state because I bought them at Payless. I looked for the lowest priced ones I could aesthetically abide and then I wore them until they died. I usually have one black pair and one brown pair that are on a rotation of sorts for work ad nauseum. That's it. 2 pairs. 
4. I have recently made a new addition to my wardrobe - blouses. I didn't have them before and I'm choosing to call the new things in my closet blouses because it makes me feel special and refined - not because they were actually labeled 'blouses'. 
5. Does it involve dirt? sweating? hard work? contact sport? I'm in.
6. I'm almost always the strongest girl in the room - residuals from turning into the Hulk during my college athletic years. I also don't hide this fact and am usually the first person to volunteer to help lift heavy objects. I become quite ruffled if the response I get hints at all that my strength is being doubted. 
7. I should not be trusted around fabrics that cannot be stain-sticked and machine washed. 
8. I dress for warmth. My office must think that I assume we have a uniform: I wear dress pants and our branded thermal coat almost every day. 
9. Hair. Ugh. If you're ever told that 'short hair is so easy!' Slap that ignorant advice spouter for me. It's a LIE. I have to shower in the morning to actually get my hair to look nice. I consider this a hardship. 
10. I have never gone more than 3 days without damaging nail polish. I also went 8 months once with the remnants of one pedicure on my toes. It was from a special occasion and I just couldn't be bothered to remove the tattered remains. 
11. Can someone please tell me what accessories are, and what one does with them?
12. In the last 2 years I have walked away from every purse I have owned somewhere in the mall. Someones looking out for me because I've always gotten them back. Because of these incidents I am under a self-imposed penance of only using a wristlet as I cannot be trusted with purses. 
13. It was an easier mental decision to spend money on a computer game than it was to go buy a new, much needed, pair of shoes (see item #3).
14. My husband has been known to look at me and tragically sigh at my appearance. He tries to hide it - but I see that tell-tale shoulder shrug and the pitying look in his eye. That's usually when I make him pick out a new outfit for me. 
15. I swear like a sailor.
16. I hate most chick flicks.

I'll stop there. I actually amazed myself a little bit at the proliferation of examples I was able to come up with without hesitation. The purpose of this little exercise in self awareness and feminine failure you might ask? It provides a substantial foundation for my biggest personal oxymoron:

In the space of my mind where I envision my best self I'm absolutely fabulous, proper, polite, quiet, witty, subdued, organized and impeccably dressed. I never spill, I'm always perfectly groomed and my fashion sense is to die for. This is the me that I would love to be happy being. That me also is swimming in my favorite brand - Coach. 

I could wax eloquent about how much I love this brand, how much walking into their one of their stores gives me a very dramatic sense of euphoria. I scour their websites, I visit their stores, I track my favorite lines (omg you guys - their new lines coming out are the best I've seen. I die.), and I dream in fabrics of softened leather and canvas with perfect stitching. I think it is appropriate to say that if some of these bags were people, restraining orders would have been obtained by now. 

The funny thing is, however, that my thrifty side always wins. Sure, I'll go in and chat with the sales people and walk around with my newest obsession for an inappropriately long time, but when I leave I'll be leaving alone having just placed my new best friend back on its shelf. I'll plaintively say good bye and depart with promises to return for another trip around the showroom floor. It just isn't our time, friend.

Today, however was different - yet similar all at once. I have been researching (read: stalking) Coach Weekender bags for a year, ever since I saw this on a friends blog early last January:

Gorgeous isn't it? My perfectly poised and polished self is already envisioning our fancy and fashionable weekend trips. My practical self is thinking, "that's a hell of a carry on. Won't we look nice in the airport?"

That, and an exhaustive across-brands search, led me to this:

Hello, Handsome. Coach's newest line, Legacy, offers modern twists on vintage flair and their past forays into gaudy brand displays have been left behind for the elegance of understatement. This bag doesn't need you to know that it's high end by screaming "LOOK I'M FROM COACH" in big ostentatious patterned prints of C's. You just need to know it's fabulous - and you do so by observing its clean lines, solid hardware, the grain of it's softened leather, the strength of the reinforced handles, the minute and perfect stitching. It's perfect. It's what I've been looking for. It costs over $600 dollars.

Duh. It's Coach. It is from the new Legacy line and is a flagship example of the direction they appear to be going with this collection and hopefully, if I had my way, with the rest of the brand. I didn't have any sticker shock, I knew (research!) what the ballpark would be before I even crossed the store after my eyes locked on it like a homing missile. So, as with many other expensive desires, I placed it back on the shelf, stalked the hell out of it online, and visited often. 

Today was another one of those visits with high hopes and very low expectations. The difference being that we were visiting one of the outlet stores so I had even lower expectations. Garish displays of branding everywhere!!

Imagine my surprise when I found a full leather duffle (slightly bigger than a Weekender) on ridiculous clearance calling my name from a top shelf. It was wonderful. I put it on and insisted on visiting every other item in the store with it slung over my shoulder. I managed to take out at least four customers with  oblivious turning and had all the salesmen eyeing me oddly. I was convinced. I needed it - this was my bag. I smiled at it...... and then went to put it back. 

On my way back to the shelf however, my eye was caught - once again by a top shelf. A weekender that I had previously overlooked sat resplendent in all of it's sensibly travel sized glory. A furious comparison began between my first selection and this new contender. The latter had the high end impact with the leather - you can't beat it, it's the best fabric they have - while the former was mostly comprised of one my lesser favorites - coated canvas. It gives the material a sheen and a bit of a plastic look. The canvas bag, however, had its perks - it was the right size, and the price was right. With the sales they were running it was under $120 dollars, down from it's original priced of almost $450. 

Walk away? Go with the dream? or compromise for sensible, still beautiful, reality?

I'm not sure if you'll be surprised by my choice - because I was. I didn't shoot for the moon, but I didn't walk away. Allow me to present my brand new beautiful Coach Men's Tattersall Tartan Weekender:

Simple, elegant. The coated canvas may not be my favorite fabric, but it's practical. It would be impractical to assume that I would suddenly be this fictitious Miranda of feminine success that I dream of who never spills, never damages her belongings and isn't hard on everything she owns. That's not reality. The other part of truth here is one that I really had to think about before realizing it was fact: that dream bag in the second picture? I never would have bought it. I'm too realistic, too practical and too sensible to blow that amount of money - even on something I want as badly as that bag. 

So, I may not be the quintessential woman, but between my natural tendencies and my absurd self-portrait I think I've learned that I can find a happy medium if I'm willing to compromise on both ends. I'll likely never be able to keep track of everything I own, my irresponsibility will lead to something else getting broken and I secretly still want to stay home some nights and play my dorky computer game as opposed to being social. However, perhaps I can wear nice clothing and lift heavy things all at the same time.

Much like that bag above there will be compromises, and I won't get everything I want. The outcome of this particular mental bargain has given me a gorgeous bag with the perfect functionality and the amazing ability to allow me to lay my head down tonight and not give a single guilty thought to the amount of money I spent today - I've had $20.00 shoes that I've lost more sleep over. I've done the research - I know it's money well spent.

The final clincher on the decision was when I ran my hand over the label on the front of the bag and smiled as I realized for the first time that every solid brown part on the bag was not, as my eye led me to believe, coated canvas. It was gorgeous soften leather. The perfect balance, indeed.

Permanent Solutions

Working with college students means that you get to celebrate with them. They get scholarships, internships, they meet significant others and sometimes find their life's passion. Usually, at the end of my tenure in their lives they are graduating, walking down across the stage in a cap and gown.

Usually.

Other times, we don't celebrate. They don't walk across the stage, they don't make their families proud; instead they make them cry. 

I had a student step in front of a train this weekend. He gave up everything and everyone and stepped onto those tracks and physically out of the life of everyone who loved him. 

I packed up some of his belongings today, locking them safely up until his family comes to collect the remnants of his young life. His two guitars and extra large amp, the buckets and street performer license that he used to make money, the paper he wrote about the impact that his parents had on his life, the note from his father that ended with the words, "Text me or call if you need anything, I love you - Dad".

I've gotten better at dealing with student death - but it doesn't stop being tragic and sad. 

What's in a name?

I'm looking for a new name for my blog. I've spent about two weeks wanting to sit down and write here, but have been stopped each time by the fact that I know I need to rename this site. The current name, while meaningful to me ("Heffalumps and Oliphants") doesn't lend itself well to any form of publication or internet popularity.

That, of course, begs the question of why I blog. Why do I have the motivation and desire to sit down and chronicle anything about my daily life. This isn't the creation of a novel or the next big thing in fiction - I'm not going to get any publishing deals out of this and 'internet popularity' is subjective and not all together desirable.

I'm a part of a generation that while none will admit it, all want to be notice and lauded for something. To practice full disclosure I would have to admit that can easily pick out two distinct traits/abilities/whathaveyou for which I would wish my fellow man to think about when they think of me. One would be a ship that sailed quite a long time ago and that would be athletic ability. I have inherent athletic talent, but my dreams of becoming a famous olympian sailed when I picked my college path. Little did I know how little would come of that athletic decision. I don't hold out any ill will or regrets about that particular decision or resulting path. I could have been better - but I wasn't and won't be. Sometimes life gives us disappointments. For now I'll have to be happy with being an overly aggressive chair hockey competitor and typical 'future marathoner'. I swear - I'll start training soon......

The other trait that I would wish to be known for is one that is a little more near and dear - intellect. Specifically the kind of intellect that allows me to take the thoughts in my head and eloquently set them to paper. I want to research and write articles, pen blistering yet respectful responses to my learned colleagues with whom I disagree, write statements that have an impact - and are commonly quoted. I want to, as always, be an author.

For now, I tell myself that to ever reach for this pipe dream I must take the baby steps to get there. I have to blog on a consistent basis either publicly or privately. I need to allow my thoughts to flow from conception to paper, to dust off the little used words that have been left to grow cobwebs. Unlike my inconsistent marathon training (I'm telling you, I'll start training soon) I need to Nike it up - just do it.

A crippling fear of embarrassment has been an impediment to this and I often let that fear cloud over the fledgling attempts I have made in the past. I worry about not being insightful enough, not being interesting. At the end of the day however, it's not going to be the end of the world. It's just another blog on the internet.

As for the name? I'm sure it will come to me - and then this post will be confusing and passé.

I'll fix you - I'll marry you.

I really want to make sure we never lose this, so here it is, the only video of any part of our wedding. It's the last 2/3s of it.

See here:

http://www.facebook.com/v/10150825663189613

Living in the Moment

22:23, as I start this post. Unusual for me as of late. I've always been a night owl, but recently I've been driven by a sudden need to take better care of my health, which has led to me going to sleep earlier. A simple fix, but not always a simple one for me. It really requires me to put myself into a certain mindset, it takes lots of preparation for me to go to sleep.

Tonight is a little different. I've spent all day doing different preparations for moving. We itemized all of our donations today, thank goodness - they are taking up half of the guest bedroom. I went in and packed my office today, and I'm so happy that I did. I was avoiding it but as I was stuck here on duty and Nick was off at parties, I didn't really have any excuses. A few Law & Order episodes later, my office was packed up into three boxes, I had gone through every file, cleaned off all the surfaces and prepped everything for someone to move in. I'm a little proud of myself for all of the prep - I made sure that things were welcoming - changed the password on the voice mail, made sure the binders were labeled. It was a lot more than anyone did for me.

I'm excited for this change. I'm exited for a tiny apartment - less stuff, simpler living. We can finally, I can finally live in a place where we've made it our own. I haven't felt at home in a place since I lived in my May St apartment. We've already got several different floor plan possibilities courtesy of having an man who designs buildings as a husband, and we've got a list of furniture that we'll likely be purchasing from IKEA next Sunday.

The job is hopefully going to be as fantastic as I'm anticipating. I've already gotten one surprise - they are giving me a phone, an iPhone to be exact, and it might even be a 5. Siri and I will be able to chat all about my college students. The Marito (Hubs) immediately stated that he hoped they bought the Miranda Insurance. He's got jokes, even if they're correct. The office looks great, and the people that work in it are almost too good to be true. For once, for the first time, in a long long time - I feel like I'm where I should be, that I'm going the right way. There are questions, there are things I still want, but right now I'm feeling pretty content with life. Even a life currently surrounded by moving boxes and Tupperware.

Photos say a thousand words

If the question ever comes up about if  I have any fantastic photographer recommendations, the answer, as seen in the evidence below, is absolutely. Shane Welch Photography will take care of your wedding with care and professionalism and a dose of fun.

More to come!

You can't come back from Wonderland

It’s finally happened - an interview. Not just any interview, an interview that I’m excited about - one in a place that I would happy working. One where I not only know the professionals, but I trust their intentions. A place that would challenge me and I fully believe support me and build me back up.

A place that would also mean a drastic decline in our standard of living.

It’s unfortunate, really, that we live where we do. This is the husband’s (weird) first and only experience as being the partner of a live-on professional and it really is the penthouse treatment. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, two giant closets, OUTDOOR SPACE. It’s a de-luxe apartment in the sky... on the second floor.

It is also ridiculously rare in the world of live-on staff to have an apartment this nice with all of these amenities. For me, stepping down off this ivory pedestal was always a given, but N has grown comfortable, and who can blame him? Anywhere we go from here means that we are going to have to sacrifice - likely quite a lot.

I go with the flow and I make myself work within the parameters of my surroundings, N doesn’t feel comfortable until his surroundings have been modified to fit him. His age is playing a factor - he’s kind of over living with the kids.

It makes all practical sense to milk this on-campus life as long as possible. We can save money for both of our dreams - a condo of our very own, and a life of travel. The money can pile up because we won’t have any of the normal expenses. We will however have a load of irritations that will only become more grating as time goes on and we feel less and less like ‘real’ adults. Real adults select their housing. Real adults can paint their walls. Real adults can come home piss-drunk if they want to without worrying about the neighbors - or their jobs.

Real adults also have to pay bills, rent or a mortgage. I think it’s a fair trade off - but I’m not thinking for one anymore. This will take a little bit of adjusting.

To get to the aisle takes blood sweat and tears

DIY isn't for the faint of heart. We're trying to be as conservative as possible with our wedding, but what they don't tell you is if you aren't careful, DIY can turn into a more expensive or stressful venture than the original possible option. I'm making the bouquets for the bridesmaids, my man of honor's boutineer, my veil and hairpiece and we recently started a venture to make the decorations for the chapel.

We're using the same method that N and his coworkers used for their model dress for the charity event - dying coffee filters. N wants to have something hang off the pews - and we didn't budget for that. The church itself is gorgeous, and doesn't need a lot of decorations:




We have concerns, however, about how the alter area will look. My plan is to close the back curtains over the cross area, and the rest of the stage, while gorgeous, is large and bare. N's mother has offered to purchase a flower arrangement, but while I'm incredibly grateful, I'm so picky (along with N) about flowers. To quote the movie on USA earlier, "Jose, I love you, but if you use another carnation in my arrangements, I will deport you." We hate carnations.

So far, the process for pew decorations however, is moving along. I have full trust that N has a picture in his head, I just don't know what it is. At the moment I'm starting the dying process while he's out running errands and golfing while I'm home on duty. Might as well be productive on something.

Step 1: Gather your supplies:


Coffee filters, your kool-aid color of choice and a bowl for dying the filters. N had actually prepared a large trash can for this, which I was unaware of when I took this picture, so I didn't actually use this bowl. Not pictured in this image is a shower curtain, which will show up in step 3.

Step 2: Put water in your container:


I put about a gallon of water in the bottom of this can; you really don't want too much water. After I poured the water in, I added four packets of kool aid, and then put in 30 coffee filters. I then let them sit for about 30 minutes.

Step 3:

Time to dry!


The 'dots' as I'm calling them are drying on top of a clear shower curtain on the bed in our guest bedroom. Some of them are stuck together, which is why there are only 20 pictured when I put 30 in the can. As they dry, they separate as well as fade. The next steps will be up to N. More updates as I have them.

I'm still working on my veil, and still debating about putting up pictures. I'm working on it in the apartment with N around, but he's been graciously paying as little attention as possible - he knows how I feel about traditionally surprising him with everything about my appearance on the day of the wedding.

Back to work! Next post maybe I'll show off my bouquets, I'm ridiculously proud of them.

"You met me at a very strange time in my life."

I don't know what I feel sometimes. This isn't completely surprising - I've got a lot going on in life. Between my mother in the hospital, my brother's ex taking off with their child, my family's over all general insanity, the wedding, my work, my work, my work.

There are things that I want to do - and I just can't find the motivation. I feel like I'm stuck. This is not a state of being that I'm familiar with, and it's very uncomfortable.