"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." ~ Mark Twain
I used to fight it. At one point I wasn't even sure it existed. I bad mouthed it, wondered why anyone would want it, and when someone came crying to me because it ended, I tried hard not to say "I told you so" (although you know I thought it!).
What is it? Love.
I don't think I was ever really against it, I just hadn't experienced it personally and I didn't want to experience it until I knew I'd found "the one". (Pause for one of my I'm-a-walking-contradiction moments: I hated love and people in love and yet I still believed there was and is only one perfect person for each of us, inspired by God to find each other and be together forever. Unpause.) I'd seen enough broken hearts through the years that I knew for a fact I didn't want that for me. You call me a chicken... I call me smart!
And what was surprising to me about falling in love, was how slowly it came over me, so slowly, in fact, I didn't realize it until one day I was like, wow, so this is what it feels like. I think I realized it the same day I realized there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell I was going to be giving up my Prince Charming when I left Costa Rica. I cursed myself that day for doing what I had told myself I would never do in a million years: have a long distance relationship, but at the same time I was so giddy it was disgusting. I mean, I was one of those girls...
Funny thing is, when you're in love EVERYTHING reminds you that you're in love. It's like the universe conspires to remind you day in and day out that your heart is no longer your own.
For me, the signs are everywhere: in the trees, in candy, in vegetables for heaven's sake!
The pictures I'm posting were not staged in any way (I guess only one could really have be staged, but it wasn't, the drawstring fell like that on its own, I just snapped the picture).
Not only color is perfect about this picture.
The drawstring froom my favorite sweats.
Yellow Pepper with which I made my spaghetti.
Heart-shaped M&M.
Fun fact: This actually came from a bag of personalized M&Ms I'd made him for our 1 year anniversary :-)
Twice this week already I have been asked, incredulously, how I do it. How do I do a long distance relationship? And not one in which we're separated by a "mere" 8 hours in a car, we're separated by like 6 country boarders, by a 6 hour plane ride, by a time zone.
That question is normally followed promptly by why?
I think it is interesting that both people who asked me, no doubt thinking to themselves, "there is no way I'd do it," were woman. I say this is interesting because I've always thought woman were more open to long distance relationships, lets just call them LDRs for convenience sake. Of course that's not entirely fair, since for every woman in an LDR there is more than likely a guy on the other end of it, so maybe I should give the male gender more credit...anyway, back to my point.
My response to this question so far has always been "it's hard, but..." and then my voice trails off. But what? But it's worth it? But we're managing? Why do I even say "it's hard." Isn't that pretty much implied in the name? Who would ever want to go through an LDR, anyway?
Truth be told it isn't nearly as hard as I always imagined it would be. And I think that's because when you know it's the right person, even if you're a million miles away, it just feels...right.
I imagine if you're one of those people who knew me during my years at Mars Hill, when I was pretty much the biggest cynic known to man when it came to love and a relationship, let alone an LDR, you're probably wondering what happened to me.
My answer to you is: Mr. Right.
So how and why do I do it? I do it always thinking of the end to this madness, that day when we're finally together in the same country, when I finally get my fairy-take ending.
I do it thinking of his smile when he sees me for the first time in months at the airport.
I do it because every time he hugs me I still get butterflies in my stomach. Because when I think of having a family, I think of him, and a beautiful little Latina girl with long brown (red?) hair.
I do it because every time I think about him, I catch myself smiling. Because when I look at a picture of us together, I can still feel the warmth of his arms around me (that sounded very Jodi Picoult of me...).
I do it because even now, after an entire year of being apart, he still finishes a conversation over Skype with "hablamos mañana fijo," we'll talk tomorrow definitely. I know we'll talk tomorrow, sweetie, that goes without saying. I guess I just find this cute.
I do it because not a day goes by that he doesn't tell me I'm beautiful.
I do it because being with him makes me a better person. Because when I'm with him I'm not as impatient, or angry, or pessimistic. I do it because after being with him for just a few months, I had less road rage (true story, and then of course I reverted back to my old self after a few months apart).
I do it thinking of all the fun baking I can do for him and knowing he will never getting tired of eating dessert.
I do it because I know he would do anything for me, including giving up his life in Costa Rica to be with me here in the USA, which is more than I can say for myself. I do it because I know there is no one on this planet who could ever love me as much as he does.
I do it thinking of all free tennis lessons (and awesome tennis gear) I'll have for the rest of my life (come on, I had to add this one in here!)
I do it because I know he deserves more than me, but he chose me anyway. I do it because after God brought my soul mate into my life, I'd be an idiot to let something so small as distance get between us.
I truly have been blessed to have my Rolito in my life. At some point, every couple goes through a hard time, and I like to think that this is ours. Once we make it through it will be smooth sailing!
Today I had a brilliant epiphany, which I shared with everyone on Facebook, but that I feel deserves a more in depth look at what brought about this realization.
My epiphany: I need a personal driver.
Now, before I begin I would like to mention, that up until this point, I’ve been doing very well with my New Year’s Resolution to be more optimistic. My complaining has been kept to a minimum (at least the complaining I do out loud) and after 19 days of taking everything in stride, I decided to give myself a break. A hiatus, as you will, from my resolution to bitch for just a moment about, you guessed it, idiot drivers.
I would like to begin by saying: I completely understand how people can get to the point that they pull out a gun and shoot someone on the highway. If you don’t, my question to you is, have you ever driven in North Carolina?
The 15 minutes I spend driving from home to work in the morning sets my mood for the entire day, and week if it’s a Monday. Most of you know me as a hot head, a stereotypical redhead with a short fuse. Put me in a car and that fuse becomes even shorter.
Things that especially annoy me:
Drivers slamming on their breaks for no apparent reason. It’s as if they’re thinking, “I’m bored, let me play a game with the driver behind me. I’m going to slam my breaks and see if they’re paying attention.” Screech! Psych! “Hahaha!”
People driving speed limit when EVERYONE else around them is going 5 or 10 over. Its not illegal if EVERYONE is doing it people! [Okay, maybe that is only my interpretation of it, but seriously, if everyone is doing 55 in a 45 which car is the police going to stop?] None, except maybe yours, idiot, for pissing everyone around you off.
Drivers that STOP at a YIELD when there are NO ONCOMING CARS. If it were meant to be a place of stopping, the sign would say STOP, and it wouldn’t be a triangle, it would be an octagon, and then you’d see EVERYONE stopping at it. And I mean, come on, if there is a special lane for you to drive into without harming any other car around you, why on earth would you stop? Please, please, explain this to me so that I may understand what goes through you mind as you sit there.
Cars running red lights. I have lived in who knows how many cities in my 27 years (almost) of existence, and I can honestly say, I have NEVER experienced it quite like here in Greensboro. There are 3 or 4 stoplights that are run by at least 3 consecutive cars once it has ALREADY gone red. Where are the cops when you need them?
Drivers that see a police car and slow down so that they never overtake him. News flash: It’s not illegal to overtake a policeman. I bet they’re even a little impressed when they find someone with enough nerve to do it.
Drivers that fly by you, move over into your lane, THEN SLOW DOWN. Don’t get me started on this. I’m already angry just thinking about it.
Slow drivers in my lane. Um… I mean… in the left hand lane. Hell, it may as well be my lane, the only time I drive in one of the other lanes is to overtake the slow idiot in front of me in the fast lane!
Quite a long list, isn’t it? And therefore, my epiphany: If I were in the back seat of the car, not paying attention to the idiocracies going on in the roadways around me, would I get so angry? Would I be yelling at the top of my lungs after only 5 minutes of leaving my house? Would my entire day be ruined because it started off on the wrong foot?
Patience is a virtue. A virtue I do not possess on my best of days and a virtue I have no conception of when I’m behind the wheel of a car.
Now, only to make enough money to hire a driver to chauffer me around the city. I wonder, does the cool black car with the tinted windows come standard with the driver, or do I need to get my own one of those too? :-P
So, in keeping with my New Year’s Resolution—I’m going to be honest, it hasn’t been very easy so far, I always automatically revert to negativity—I decided to make a list of all the things I’m looking forward to this year. I’m hoping to reach at least 5 (hey, I may be starting small, but at least I’m starting).
1. Turning 27. I have said it time and time again, for me age 25 was perfect. I had an amazing year, accomplished so much, had lots of fun, graduated from the Master’s program, met my amazing boyfriend, made friends, realized it was time to lose certain friends, and finally accepted change as a good thing. Then I turned 26 hoping for the same sort of year, and well, it was really just mediocre. Sure, I got a job, but I moved 3000+ miles away from my family. Yes I got closer to my sister and best girlfriends, but I see them so sporadically it was hardly worth the long trip. Age 26 has been an amazing year for reconnecting with my sister, though, but I am not sad to see it go. Here’s to hoping 27 is the best year so far!
2. Finally being with Rolando again. So far it has been one full year that Rolito and I have been apart, and I’ve felt every day of it. This year, though, is the year the waiting ends, and we can finally be together here in the US. It won’t be until later this year, first we have to figure out visa stuff, but I am confident that this is the year I can finally say, “It was all worth it!”
3. Traveling somewhere new. I have the travel bug again (shocker) and I’m hoping this year takes me somewhere new, although it probably won’t be somewhere exotic. I am thinking of taking a trip to Chicago, hopefully during football season to see my Bears in action. I have been hoping to go to Chicago for years now, and I think this year might just be my year. On a side note, I flew over Soldier field this past December when I stopped in O’Hare on my way to Santa Ana, California. It was amazing. I haven’t seen the city from the ground yet but from the air it is spectacular!
4. Spending more time with my lil’ sister. Since I’ve moved back to North Carolina, Adrienne is the only family I have close by, and she is one and a half hours away in Charlotte. So far I’ve gotten to see her plenty, and I hope this year is no different. Although we didn’t get along too well when we were younger, even 3 years ago we constantly bickered when we were with each other, it seems we have both matured, and having each other while we are so far away from everyone else is a blessing. We had a great weekend together this past weekend. We just lazed around watching TV and we didn’t fight even once. She hopes to maybe even move to Greensboro by the end of the year, so fingers crossed!
5. I’m struggling with this one. I’ve been staring at this page for about 5 minutes now, re-reading the above, hoping number 5 will come to me, but still…nothing. Oh here it is, Learning Italian. For a while now I have been hoping to start learning another language. I started out last year trying to teach myself Portuguese, but I missed not being in a class setting. After researching some places here I found a Community College that gives Italian for a very fair price, so I though, why not? It is close enough to Spanish to either be easy to learn, or hopelessly confuse me (same issue I was having with Portuguese lol). I haven’t yet made plans to start, I need to call the College and sign up, but I’m hoping to learn a bit this year, so that when I do finally make it to Italy, I’ll be able to at least order coffee (or dessert) in their language!
And there you have it! 5 things I’m looking forward to in 2012. Wow, that felt weird writing. If I think of any more, I will continue to update my list, and hopefully by the end of the year I’ll have stories to share about each one!
Surprise! It’s New Years again. That time of year when everyone pretends they have the motivation to start (and continue) with something new. The time of the year when gyms are packed, healthy food flies off the shelf, and volunteer organizations have record high numbers of…well…volunteers.
And then comes February and life is as it was the year before. After all, change is a bitch.
I always seem get especially impassioned around this time of year. Not because I get to spend more time with family or because I thought of the best New Year’s resolution to date, quite the contrary: It’s because I believe I am the one human being on this planet that does not look forward to the New Year. But as much as I despise the New Year, I can’t seem to explain why that makes sense to anyone… not even to myself.
I look on the New Year in a cup-half-empty kind of way (shocker). I mean, think about it, there is another 365 days (366 in 2012) that we have to get through till the end of the year. No, not in an optimistic Woohoo-I-have-another-365-days-to-accomplish-my-goals way, but in a pessimistic, I-have-another-365-blinkin’-days-until-I-can-start-again way. Here comes the clincher: You would think that mentality makes me look forward to the New Year, right?
But no.
Because then I have another 365 days to get through…
I’m a walking contradiction. It makes no sense. I know, yes thanks for giving me that look.
Anyway, so personal feelings aside, as we all know one tradition (that just will not die) around New Years is to make resolutions. And from my experience there are some that are SO much more poplar than others. Namely:
* Getting in shape/going to the gym/exercising more, or any variation thereof. (It's a notable resolution for sure, and one most doctors would be proud of, but how many years will we repeat the same half-hearted resolution only to fail, once again, at accomplishing it?)
* Stop smoking/Eat better/Stop drinking, etc. etc. (Yes, I'm all for people stopping smoking--it's a disgusting habit; or eating healthier--McDonald's will be the death of this nation; or drinking less for that matter--people make stupid decision when they drink, but do it with a friend. Because going cold turkey alone will lead to nothing except a healthy dose of whatever it was you were trying to give up as a consolation for the fact that you couldn't do it.)
Then, of course, you always get the I'm-so-witty resolution of "I resolve to not make any more New Year's resolutions!" Right. Tell yourself what you want but you're not clever, original, or smart.
My dad came up with an intriguing resolution, which I believe he has already endeavored to achieve: breaking habits.
As he said, his life had become a game of habit. Waking up, doing the same things day in and day out, visiting the same people, at the same time, on the same days; going to the same pubs to watch his rugby matches, for the same amount of time, on the same days of the week.
Are you tired yet?
So Dad decided that this year (well, next) he was going to break those habits. Instead of going to the same pub, he’d go to another where he wasn’t a regular. Instead of having tea with his neighbor on Sunday, he’d do it…well…whenever he felt like it. It’s amazing how little old ladies can get so stuck in their ways, hopefully she’ll be able to handle the new schedule too.
Anyway, what struck me about this resolution is that it is fresh. Sure not everyone can do it; I mean I have a job, habit is part of my life, but for a retiree, I think it is ingenious.
So with this in mind I began thinking of what I would resolve to accomplish in the New Year. It has been so long since I've made a resolution but I've decided that this year I'll jump on the bandwagon and see what all the fuss is about. It has been a long road though, choosing my resolution, I mean I already keep fit by doing Insanity. I already eat fairly healthy, don’t smoke, barely drink. I already spend more time with my sister on this side of the country and I’ve already decided I’m going to start learning Italian (I just have to start…).
So after much thinking and reading back over some blogs I wrote a while ago, I've come to the conclusion that in 2012...
I resolve to be more optimistic.
That's right, less pessimism and more optimism.
It will be a tough road for sure, and no doubt it will be accompanied by many a strange look, but the possibility is intriguing: can one actually make oneself optimistic? Or are pessimistic thoughts something one is born with?
Let’s talk for a minute about pet peeves. You know that feeling you get that starts deep down, maybe emanating from your bones, that just takes over your whole body, tingling your skin, or sends your mind into overdrive, steam blowing out your ears, when you hear that one word, or see that one thing (or 10) that you would say you quite possibly hate the most in the world?
Okay, maybe that is a slight over-exaggeration, but for a hothead such as myself, it’s not that far off really. When I read, or hear, or see one of the things I would classify as a pet peeve, my brain shuts down for a second, possibly as a defense mechanism? Maybe it is a way to protect myself from the stupidity I had just been subjected to, because in essence, my pet peeves are attributed to other people’s stupidity...well, most of them anyway...
So without further ado, I’d like to share them with you, in the hopes that I’m not the only person on the planet bothered by these things.
Pet Peeve No. 1: “your” and “you’re”
Now I’ve heard a lot of people express distaste for this grammatically incorrect error, and yet, even they make it. I’m going to be brutally honest here: It’s an American thing. To my best recollection, I never ran across it with such frequency in South Africa. I used to attribute it to being a simple typing error, and then I heard it in a song and I thought: if they don’t even know the difference in pronunciation, how the hell can we expect them to spell it properly on paper?
Needless to say, that is not an excuse and my skin still cringes whenever I see the error on paper (or on Facebook where it abounds!...Side note: when do you think Microsoft will add the word “Facebook” to their dictionary?) So let me see if I can clarify this for all of you 'your'-ers out there when you should really be saying 'you’re':
Your = possessive pronoun, as in “your dog just pooped in my yard.” You’re = the contraction of ‘you are’, as in “you’re (you are) going to have to pick that sh** up yourself.” Thank you for your cooperation. It will go a long way toward keeping me sane.
Pet Peeve No. 2: “déjà vu all over again”
I hear this frequently, even by professionals on the morning CBS news. According to Merriam Webster, déjà vu literally means: a feeling that one has seen or heard something before. I like to define it as the feeling that you have been through something before, or more simply, that you are reliving an experience, or even more simply, that something is happening again. Hence “déjà vu all over again” is a redundant statement. What is redundant? “Characterized by or containing an excess; specifically: using more words than necessary.” Déjà vu suffices to mean, “Man, I swear I’ve been through this before!” don’t be obnoxious by adding the 'all over again', because what I hear is, “Man, I swear this is happening all over again all over again” [repetition intended], and who wouldn’t be annoyed by someone saying that?!?
Pet Peeve No. 3: Running water
When you hear the soothing sound of a brook flowing, I hear the sound of thousands of gallons of water being wasted when we’re in a water shortage. Okay, maybe not very much of that sentence is true, as far as I know we aren’t in a drought and water flowing in a brook isn’t being wasted, unless I claimed that that is good water that has gone to waste as it isn’t being used… which would probably lead to a public outcry over my dislike, nay hatred, for the earth. Again, not true.
What I do hate though, is the sound of water running from a tap (aka faucet in America). For example, the incessant drip drip drip of a tap that hasn’t been closed properly. Or the sound of the water running as someone takes a shower or brushes their teeth. It sends shivers down my spine. I have to consciously ignore the sound or move to a room where I don’t hear it. It’s that bad. Thankfully though, or by miraculous design, it doesn’t bother me as I’m the one taking the shower or brushing my teeth. Otherwise,I know a few people who wouldn’t want to be around my stinky, unbathed, unbrushed self.
Pet Peeve No. 4: Idiots
So you know how when you’re driving and you’re coming up on a car that has its brake lights on in front of you so you move over so as not to have to brake and then the lane you moved in to slows down even more than the one you were in to begin with but you already lost your place so can’t move back over? (I swear I just wrote that entire run-on sentence without taking a breath.) Ya. That pisses. me. off. to a degree no human being should have to be put through.
Sometimes I’m driving and I like to think they’re doing it just to spite me (seriously). I’ll be in lane A and the car in front of me slows down. So I move to lane B, but for no reason at all that car slows down and the car in lane A moves past us, so I move into lane A and low and behold the idiot in the car decides to slow down again while the car in lane B flies by. At that point I can guarantee that no one would want to be in the car with me...
There was a time, not all that long ago, when it seemed I had gained a small percentage of the patience I never had. I attributed it to my boyfriend, who is inhuman in his ability not to get frustrated.Sadly though, being away from him for the past year has led to me revert back with an even higher degree of impatience, as if the demons are punishing me for leaving the dark side for that brief spell.
Anyway at times it seems like the harder I try to stay calm, the more people do to try to push me over the edge, so what’s the point in trying?
What is it about traveling that turns even the most hardcore pessimists into even worse cynics? Didn’t see that one coming did you? Fine, or that turns optimists into pessimists?
In my case, I’m not the latter, so…
I’m a pessimist by nature, I believe. I have the worst luck on the planet, which I very recently learned I inherited from my father, who has the second worst luck on the planet. I took a brief foray into optimism a few short months ago but, in the end, I just find naysaying so much more exhilarating. What is so exciting about making lemonade out of lemons anyway? Why not just suck on the damn lemon until the glands in the back of your throat convulse from the acidity and you remember you’re alive?
Okay, focus … back to traveling. In my every day life, people annoy me. Now, throw me into a tin can with hundreds of them and it’s what I like to think hell would be like. My own personal hell. I’m not one of those people who like to make small talk with the stranger sitting on my right who, after the flight, I will never see or speak to again.
For that matter I don’t like talking to people in or around an airport, period.
I become a loner. An observer. And as much as the conversations around me make me cringe, a listener. There is always the spoiled university student whose daddy pays for everything: “Guess what my dad gave me for Christmas… he paid my credit card! I still want something for under the tree though, so I said I want a New Years dress, iPod speakers…the world on a silver platter….” Then there is the group of it’s-five-o’clock-somewhere university students out on a Spring Break-esque trip “Oh. My. God. When we get there, LET’S DO SHOTS!” What I notice about both of these is 1. The uncomfortably high volume in which they speak so that everyone around them can have the “privilege” of hearing and 2. They make me hate people even more.
Then there is the tall, broad-shouldered, I-spend-three-hours-a-day-in-the-gym-and-I’m-in-love-with-myself white/Latino. As I walk by, I notice, I mean he does look good, but right as we pass each other, he makes eye contact and gives me a come-hither, you-know-you-want-this smile. My reaction: I roll my eyes. Just in time so he can see.
And there is, of course, always the adorable, sweet old couple who tries to make conversation and you just really feel too damn rude to ignore. I’ll give them a pass because they are old, hoping that one day, someone will do the same for me.
On this last trip I took to Costa Rica, I was particularly not in the mood for conversation after just saying goodbye to my boyfriend … again. I was waiting in line for check in and, as if my signals could not be anymore obvious, a 40-something white American male behind me says “Sad to leave?” “Mhmm,” I reply, without looking at him.
Note for the socially clueless: No eye contact = No desire to have a conversation with you.
“How long were you here,” he prods.
“Not all that long.” I turn my back to him.
“I was here for 3 weeks. I come every few months or so.”
“Mmm.”
“It’s a beautiful country, you really should come and stay longer. I always spend my time in Jaco, maybe a few days in San Jose.”
I think to myself: Jaco is the worst beach to spend 3 weeks at and you couldn’t visit an uglier Costa Rican city than San Jose.
“Was this your first time here,” he continues, clueless.
“No, I lived here for two and a half years.”
Silence. That will shut him up, I thought.
“Oh, why were you here? For work?”
Ugh! Seriously dude. I’m not looking at you. I’m answering with short, first-grade sentences. I turn my back to you after every comment. How are you still talking to me? And as my luck would have it, I had another 30-40 minute wait in line with Mister chatter-box behind me. When it was my turn at the counter, I walked off as fast as possible, not looking back, while at the same time praying that for once in my life I’d have good luck and he wouldn’t sit next to me.
Be careful what you wish for.
God answered my prayer that day; he didn’t sit next to me. Instead I got a 300+ pound, 6+ foot, 40+ something Latino who, due to the size of his shoulders, forced me to fold myself uncomfortably into the nook in between my seat and the window, hoping for a fast flight.
It felt like an eternity.
There are of course the moments that make me smile a little too, although they always seem to be overwhelmed by the bad about flying. This trip, for example, the good came in knowing I didn’t have to convince an immigration official that my green card was, in fact, real and that I didn’t pay for a fake one. I didn’t have to scan my fingerprints and stare into the tiny camera as they captured my face. I didn’t have to answer questions about why I was out of the country for so long, or when I planned to leave again. In fact, this time, immigration hit on me. Twice. Once entering into Costa Rica and again arriving back in America.
And now my new, shiny American passport has its first stamps, stamps that I would willingly put myself through hell again to obtain.
