Europa

Hello friends, as some of you know, I am Europe. I am touring around and currently I am with my mother in Barcelona. The city is incredible and the people are surprisingly friendly, especially when I don't know how to say something in Spanish. I will try to post photos and descriptions of my experiences here, but it is late and I must get some sleep. I sure didn't get any last night- they party until 6:30 in the morning here, and I wasn't even the last to leave the club! Adios, besos.

There's a Time and a Place

These last few days I have been pondering a response to the idea that, basically, everything has its place. I may not like something, but, in the scheme of things, it serves an important purpose. I recently argued that literature has lost its beauty and become too simple and commercialized. I realize, however, that we cannot have just perfectly written books or just scary movies. Without the ugly to compare, we cannot appreciate the beauty. Furthermore, just because something is "ugly" doesn't mean it cannot serve an important purpose. I often catch myself reading the simple thrillers just to escape my world without having to use brain power to decipher language. I do, however, value the classics and the eloquent language of the past a bit more. So, where does that leave me? In the balance. As always we must find a place between the trashy news magazines and the Vogues of the world. A little bit of both while still maintaining standards. -Or, at least that is my theory for now.

Bizarrely Unanticipated Revelations

I know I have a good friend when a person can tell my emotion before I realize what it is. Now maybe my face and mannerisms are and open book, but a certain level of friendship and compassion is required for a person to care enough to decipher me. I recently had the pleasure of experiencing an ambush by two of my favorite people. We were sitting around a camp fire discussing black holes, string theory, and philosophy. I must have made repeated hints and physical cues that told them both I had something to say. I, meanwhile, stared at the stars and chopped wood oblivious to my own "apparent" need.
Considering I was dating one of the people and have an intriguingly close friendship with the other, their knowledge of me came as no big surprise. However, the force with which they used such knowledge was a shock. I understood that I needed to talk, but did not know what to say. They both proceeded to yield peer pressure as a weapon of choice in a quest to make me talk. One might think speaking my mind comes easily. Those who have met me call me talkative, and those who have read this blog realize that I enjoy writing. Talking about my "real" feelings, that is a completely different ball game.
Long story short, my friends eventually uncorked my emotions. I ranted and cried in a whirlwind that felt more like the torrential storm unleashed by Odysseus' crew when they were so close to home. But even then, amidst the hyperventilating sobs, they were calm. Somehow they knew that right then, that is what I needed. I fell, they caught me in an understanding web of reassurance, and they gently placed me back on my feet.
I believe a moment can change a person and a smile can help the world; a friendship like that is what keeps you going long enough to experience those moments and exchange such smiles.

(As a side note, that was one of my shortest posts. Why use more words that you have to right? Did I get the job done in a smaller context?)

What Happened to Writing

In these times, writing has lost its majesty. The drudgery and meticulous formation remains, but the eloquence of the final result has evaporated for the sake of condensing ideas into modern trends. These trends lean towards action, fiction, or tales of each writer’s struggle in the modern world; their struggles to find love, peace, or god prevail amongst the majority. I mean prevail only in the financial, goal oriented sense. With intelligence and the right insight to people’s enjoyment, a best seller is the perfect combination of those two things and an entertaining plot put forth in more basic terms for the general public. But, what of the best sellers of the past? Why do we no longer see many writers with comparable skill the Jane Austens or Machiavellis of the past? It is the same concept that provides the basis for mob mentality. The masses learn to agree with each other, willingly or not. They begin to accept the entertainment of today despite the incredible decrease in talent. Any average Joe can write to entertain the masses. Who among them, or standing aloft, can grasp the masses? Who can engross the average in disputes of morality, conscience, and pure debate of language? Then, what skillful individual can tie these talents with the desires of the mob that is comprised of modern consumers? Such a writer puts the writing first and the desires of a reader second, instead of the other way around.
I walk into a bookstore these days. Self-help, how-to, books drabbled with everyday struggles in simple language line the bookstores. They are not small, nor do they lack funds to thrive in the business, yet, they can’t afford to dedicate more than a tenth of their stores to classic literature, beautiful pros, and spillings of brilliant minds on to simple ivory colored pages. They may only afford the space for such talents if they are internationally acclaimed, or maintain a tale entertaining enough to feed the dogs that have demanded such “entertainment” for a few years now. Now, Jane Austen and Anne Hathaway can grace the shelves of most any bookstore, but what of the unsung authors? What of the literature with equal talent and deliberate eloquence? The answer lies in the content. They speak of “boring” issues of years past. But have we lost all respect for pure elegance of writing? I believe so. Thus we must slowly pull it back from the gentle hands of unimportance. Quietly, secretly, we can combine the supposed “drudgery” of late English with the demands of society. But it is, of course, only for the sake of literature that we must seek, only after putting intelligence, wit, and brilliance of language first, to appease the masses.
May we stimulate a higher level of discussion? May we encourage the importance of intelligent debate by weaving such literary techniques into everyday works?

Didn't Clean My Room Today

I didn’t clean my room today. Despite days of request and a threatening note that my mother strung across my door with masking tape, I guess I chose to do other things. It’s funny how that happens; we choose things without really choosing. I didn’t make a conscious decision NOT to clean my room. Yet, I clearly failed to do so.
We do this every day: prioritize. I heard that our generation, the baby boomers, makes on average 1000-2000 decisions before leaving the house in the morning. If I think about the options my mother decided between, there is an enormous difference. She asked herself which of her 7 or 8 outfits she wanted to wear that day. Sure, she had summer clothes and winter clothes, but I decided what “look” I wanted. I had clothes that could be preppy, sporty, punk-rock, or gothic (that was a short phase in 8th grade). She merely elected one of a few dresses her mother made or a pair of pants.
Upon failure to heed the days of request to clean my room, my mother left what seemed to be a threatening note. She wrote, “clean up your room and put away your clothes or you’ll LOSE them.” To her, this probably seemed fairly extreme. The note was by no means nice, but for me it didn’t provide the incentive she hoped. I could clean my room and lose an hour of my day, or, I could rent a movie with my boyfriend and potentially lose a hamper of clothes that I would only miss every other week.
I took the second option. I guess the note proved unsuccessful in two ways: I had enough clothes to get by without a basket of recently cleaned ones, and I didn’t actually end up losing my clothes.
She cuts me slack a lot, my mom that is. I take on many activities while attempting a social life so I can definitely use the breaks. I still wonder, however, whether it’s worth it. Is it worth it for her to request I clean my room if it almost never happens? Or, is it worth fighting with someone about their priorities when decisions come down to pure incentives and logic? Every day we make decisions for this or that, and we automatically weigh the benefits and costs of each choice. Today I started thinking about choices with my room and my laundry, but what about bigger choices. When is something no longer “worth it?’ And, how much do we account for other people’s needs when we make decisions. If we disregard others, there will be no volunteers, community service, or unexpected kind deeds unless the person can receive some tangible benefit. On the flip side, if we only think about those around us we can create so much stress in the absence of self-care that we leave our bodies in tatters. So, yet again, we must find a balance. We must try each, the selfish and selfless deeds. We can weigh the results and then choose “what’s best” for ourselves. In the end, that is how we end up with people who only work for money and some who dedicate life times to volunteer. For each of them, they chose what they thought was the best fit.
Today I watched a movie. I left my clothes and my untidy room to escape for a few hours in a romantic comedy. Today, that was the right choice. But, tomorrow I think I’ll clean my room.

Making the Best of it

Someone told me that whatever happens in life is your fault. It’s not a mean statement; sure, it errs on the harsh side, but it is realistic way of saying life is what you make it. As coach gathered us all around after a team barbeque one night, he relayed these words, put down his guard for a moment, and told us the secrets he had learned through life. Those words, the unplanned passionate sentences that travel between people are priceless. He told us his 7 rules of life. First, he said, “whatever happens in your life is your fault. No one screwed you,” he said with affirmation.
He told us, almost demanded that we find our passions. "Get passionate about something," he said, find a dream and accomplish it. No one can stop you. No one cares what it is you want to do. "No one cares if you like, theater, or sports, or school." Find something and go after it.
He asked us if we thought life was short. Some said yes, and he said he didn’t, “life is a long fucking time.” At that moment, we had time, we were not the coach telling young men and women to live. We were the young men and women. Life is long. We can take advantage of each moment, create so many memories that it is hard to remember them all. Or, we can do the same thing each day without passion or meaning and we will only have the memory of one day to suffice for years of a lifetime. I hope to do the first. Make every day slightly different. Make something unforgettable and make my every days memorable.
I think, no, I know loving those around us helps achieve that. When we love the people around us or “near” to us in thought, we can enjoy every action. With the knowledge that someone else is thinking about us, we can be more proud of the things we do with the hope that somehow they see. Somehow they will know, and we become more accountable. We become better citizens, sisters, partners, fathers. We begin to act with others in mind, and our actions transform into things of worth and things worthy of pride.
So choose your life, and be proud of the choices.

Elephants and Sun

Well, it has been a couple of months since the last post. I guess blogger needs to update their security because it is quite the challenge to get to my blog.
Today my post was inspired by the ever-uneventful morning drive. You know those days where you feel like someone payed an elephant to sit on your face? Or maybe you are even feeling light and happy and have a personal fanner with a palm leaf (that would be fantastic). This sunny morning, I was feeling the former. "Aunty flow" had been visiting for the last couple of days, and I felt like aliens were playing kickball or that ancient Mayan hoop game in my tummy. So I turn on my radio and, of course, "I keep bleeding in love, I keep bleeding." How fantastic, even the radio was rubbing it in my face. I mean what did I ever do to him? Was he tired of playing the same pre-set stations?
I started thinking about "coincidences." Is there ever such a thing as a coincidence? Or does everything happen for a reason? Despite the number of cliches inherent in such questions, I wondered whether things that we see as coincidences could actually be signs. In some cases, take the movie Serendipity, for example (haha cliche). The protagonists were meant to be together. I'm not saying that just because you make eye contact with a guy twice while shopping that you were meant to get married, fornicate, and live happily ever after with your 5 children. However, maybe little things can be clues. After listening to the hypothetical bleeding of the singer on the radio, my current state, the radio offered relief: the next song was about good days, rising up, and staying strong. I took it as a sign that even though an elephant is on my face, a giant helicopter is on its way to lift it off so that I can finally see how beautiful and sunny the day is.

Jumping

Whenever I seem to get ahead of myself, or take things for granted the pain brings me back to earth. I am generally grounded and down to earth, and it's not that I fly away into some dream world. It just seems that something in me knows when I'm drifting away from what's important. Suffering takes us to our roots; we turn to friends or family or faith. Whether physical or mental, through every struggle we discover more about who we are or who we can be. I watched the beginning of "Into the Wild" today. Somehow it spoke to the core of me, the part that wants to wake up to silent back country sunrises, the part that can't wait to jump bigger and bigger cliffs. For, my fear is no longer falling, but landing. What will we hit when the thrill ride comes to the abrubt halt? That's where the pain comes in. Sometimes its worth it sometimes its not, but either way we are one step closer to discovering what's really important.
Most people would flip at the idea of spending weeks on end alone. But, in nature, no one is truely alone. There is always the sky to blanket you, the stars to laugh at you, the clouds to scare you, and the earth to cradle you. It seems, in the rapid currents that life has become, we forget where we all came from. Although people may frown upon an extremist approach that people like the man in "Into the Wild" take, maybe that's what we need nowadays. We have been so programmed into society that only a shock, a hard jolt can bring us back.

Calculate

Sometimes my life feels like a giant calculus problem full of imaginary numbers that make finding an answer nearly impossible. What is it about life that seems so daunting? In some ways, all we have to do is breathe, eat, and sleep. However, the evolution in us desires fun, entertainment, something more than endless days at the office or in a class room. So, we make amusement parks, spas, dance clubs, bungie jumping, and endless activities accessible. Now that's the job I need: discovering and reccommending fun things for people to do. "Why yes, the sea weed wrap is much more invigorating than a facial. After all, you marinate in a tub rather than squirm under a magnification lamp and metal tools." If only that were the kind of advice I could give to earn money rather than, "I reccommend you invest no more than 3% in your friend's company, especially if you have not yet seen the product."
Nonetheless, every morning I get slapped in the face with reality that tends to sting just as much as a wet noodle. My life rarely uncomplicates itself and discovering reality amongst all the imaginary is a constant struggle. Some days I ask myself why I bother even getting up or going to work or school. Those are generally the days that I arrive late due to an impromptu stop at The Original Pancake House which, by the way, is unbelievable. Somedays I swear I can taste a little rum in the pancakes which is odd but somehow they still taste amazing. I just hope they never release a nutrition report on their food because something that good has got to be a sin. Despite the tardies that I manage to rack up and the money that I spend and fail to earn by eating there, I think everone needs a "pancake house." We all need somewhere we can go that is dependable, consistent, and an effective break from a chaotic and confusing life. Oh, and if you don't have a chaotic and confusing life, call me- I would love to know your secret. In the mean time, find you little haven, the diamond in the rough, and relax for a few indulging moments.

Looking Up

Dear Avid reader (aka the only person that reads my posts),
I am sorry that my most recent post appeared so long ago. It seems as though you can't even depend on a fellow blogger for consistency. Thats an interesting subject, consistency. Is it the key to life or completely unnecessary? Like most things, the answer probably lies in the balance. Our whole life consists of balance, or the quest for balance, or the lack of balance. Nowadays we often refer to it as juggling. Juggling school, kids, work, and our health (which often falls to the bottom of the list). So what is the perfect balance? Is there even such a thing as perfect? The logic inside me says no; you can't be perfect because you can't be simultaneously perfect at being unperfect. At least that's what I would have told you when I believed I was an enlightened 13 year old. Now I believe in perfection, yet my perfection comes with flaws. I believe that things can be perfect for you, beautiful in your eyes, even if they fall short by the standards of another. But that's the beautiful thing about life: there will always be someone out there who can truely appreciate you for who you are. However, if it seems almost impossible to find them, you might consider slightly altering a few things (not physically- I don't want someone to come up to me quoting me as an inspiration for a nose job.) Anyways, I think that we can find beauty, if not perfection, in so many more things in life if we would just look around. Take a breath, and when you feel stressed or sad or like giving up, look up. You are still here. As daunting as life may seem, it's worth it. The bad allows us to appreciate the good, and good gives us reason to push through the bad. (Nice quote huh? someone make a magnet). So maybe we could all benefit from looking up more, appreciating more, and finding beauty in the little things that make life so interesting.

Better to Have Loved and Lost

The saying we often hear through the tears of a post break up advice session is "It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." I have to say, I partially disagree. It is always better to love, but do we have to loose?
I strongly believe that at the end of a relationship, if you feel as though you have lost, you either don't have closure, or it wasn't love to begin with. When we end a relationship, whether it be with a friend or partner, we never loose the growing. We keep the experiences, the memories, the tears, and the laughs. When all is said and done (aka no secrets involved in the memories), the precious moments last forever in our pasts like marble statues of old kings. When we love and feel love in return, we never loose. We have won. We have achieved a miraculous (I know corny) connection with another human in which we feel safe, beautiful, and worthy. Through the fights and tears, we learned resolution. Much of what we gain from these connections is not the petty facts about his life, but the huge realizations we gain about ourselves. Love pushes morals and boundaries. It makes us uncomfortable and safe at the same time; it's one giant oxymoron.
Although falling and love and the prospect of someone having over 80 percent control over your emotions can be terrifying, I can truthfully say that it is worth it. Hopefully at the end, you can say that both people were changed for the better. And, painful as it is, when we see a past love with someone else we can take pride in the fact that we made them a better person so that they can love more fully, cherish more readily, and better bestow happiness on others.
So don't be afraid. Open that icy cold heart and let love melt away the snow. Let yourself love. Let yourself be loved.

Could you please cause me as much pain as possible?

Considering all the things that women do nowadays for beauty, it seems as though we ask that question daily. Either we ask it of our jeans (that no longer fit) or our hairdresser (who loves to pull our hair and comb our ears) or of our waxer (enough said). So why is it that we put ourselves through so much pain? Are we taking "beauty is pain" to a whole other level; "the more painful the more beautiful." I found myself wondering this as I had the hairs ripped out of my legs by a perky brunette.
I have been told that waxing gets easier every time, less painful. Well I would like to lay a strip of wax on those liars and find out.
Dear Leg Waxing,
You are my Goliath. I guess that makes me Dave-ina (Davina looks like Vagina).
I first waxed my legs when I was fifteen or sixteen. We had a christmas trip to the Bahamas, and Lord knows I was hairy enough. After that, I held off for a year. Then I discovered bikini waxing. Now thats a party. Maybe I should bring champagne next time and toast every strip. Well...maybe not. Despite the pain, it is soooo worth it. I mean, who wants to introduce themselves and their parts at the beach? Besides, shaving there is not a good plan. NO! Stop it. Don't even think about nair. You will be burning for about a day.
If however, you decide to wax, here are some tips and facts. The average half-leg wax goes right above the knee and should cost about 30$. If you live in a big city, you will most likely be able to find a sketchy place where the women speak russian and only charge 20$. I definately recommend trying the bargain. If you come out with a heart shaped patch down under, It'll grow back. For dry climates at high altitude, such as Colorado, strip wax can be used on the legs. On the bikini however, the wax that is pulled off by hand is less painful. Antoine Du Chez on Belleview or Colorado Blvd use it. Now for the color of the wax. I don't think the color makes much difference so don't be alarmed if you see dark green or light pink or clear. Lastly, some salon's use baby powder on the legs. This helps them to see the hair, protect the skin, and helps the strips adhere. Oh, and yes, you can get waxed at that time of the month. It may be slightly more painful on the side from which you are ovulating, but its no big deal. But, for my sake, please don't wear a pad to a bikini wax.
Ok. Now, get out there and experience the pain! oh, and the beauty.