Riot Veggies

Click HERE to get your patch on.

 I have great news for  all of you vegan punk patch lovers out there. A good friend of mine has just opened up a new shop on Etsy called RiotVeggies. Everything is handmade and pretty darn adorable. As I said, it is a brand new shop so the selection is still limited, but you should definitely check it out. And make sure to visit the shop regularly to see new merch as soon as it hits the virtual shelves. Happy shopping!

Who Goes There?!

As many of you know, I have not been blogging very long and, because of my rather depressing schedule, often. Because of this, I still get a kick out of looking at my stats every week. One of the most interesting parts of this for me is seeing where my readers are from. As time goes on, “Life.Love.Latte.” gets more and more international readers. Some of the countries that produce viewers on a regular basis include:

• ·      Australia
• ·      Germany
• ·      Romania
• ·      Brazil
• ·      Russia
• ·      Canada
• ·      Spain
• ·      United Kingdom
• ·      Japan

 Now, I can assume that many of the readers from the United States are simply friends and social network followers (and, of course, my mother). I do not, however, know many people outside of the States. BUT I WOULD LIKE TO.

So, if you come across this blog, nationally or internationally, please leave a comment and let me know where you are from! Also, feel free to follow me on BlogLovin’ or Twitter! The follow buttons are all at the bottom of the homepage. I look forward to hearing from you!

How I Met Your Mother- For the Longest Time

Fool me twice, Leonardo DiCaprio...

Hey, Leonardo DiCaprio! We need to have a talk. Remember when you told me about global warming? You know, how we were destroying the planet and the polar ice caps were melting and blah blah blah. Well, I believed you— partially because of the massive heat wave we had last summer, partially because Leonardo DiCaprio is dreamy. This, however, is starting to get a little ridiculous.

Winter has been rather long here in the good ol’ Midwest this year, and it does not seem to be letting up. In fact, we are breaking records with the chill. So, naturally, I was happy for my friends and students when they ran off to their tropical islands and warm, sandy beaches for this week’s Spring Break holiday. Until last night.

Snow. We got snow. MORE SNOW. And not just any snow, a ton of it. 8” and more to come. Normally, I would be over the moon to have a snowstorm on a Sunday night. This means a snow day and I much wanted day off for yours truly. But I ask you, what is the point of  snow day when school is already canceled?!

So, here I sit. I am freezing, soggy, and no longer being a good sport. Not to mention I keep losing my poor little dog in the huge mounds of snow. Enough is enough, Old Man Winter. In case you have not noticed, it is nearly April. The jig is up.

On the bright side…it sure it pretty. Yesterday, when the snow was just beginning, I ran out with the Oz man to snap a few pics to share with all of you. I really should go out again, since today’s snow accumulation makes yesterday’s seem comical, but I simply can’t be bothered. So, for those of you in the Midwest, it is time (yet again) to bring out the snow boots and sleds. Spring isn’t here just yet. For those of you reading this while tanning yourself on the beach, I tell you to (fondly) sod off. Happy shoveling, everyone!

Brownies and Brits

After a rather long week, I am thrilled to have a night off. How am I choosing to celebrate? With brownies and The 2013 Brit Awards, of course! It's time for this Anglophile to kick her feet up and stuff her face. Happy weekending!

Bullying Is A Tricky Business

Jonah Mowry's 'Whats Goin On' video

The other day, in one of my education methodology courses, we were discussing the new laws being set in place against bullying. The discussion was especially interesting for us, as two students from our town had committed suicide in the last week due to bullying. Now, don’t get me wrong, I personally am a fan of the laws and the message they promote. However, I kept thinking about how confusing the idea of bullying is for some kids. It caused me to think about a realization I had after running into one of my old bullies from school. We think that those that hurt us do it completely on purpose. We think they will remember the hurt they inflict. Oddly enough, this is not always the case.
          

Indiana mom takes on bullying after daughter's suicide- courierpress.com

I grew up the “bastard” child of the North and the South. My mother and father were both Appalachian, having grown up in an impoverished mountain region of Alabama called Sand Mountain. I am to this day the only person in my family to not be born on the mountain. A good part of my childhood was spent on I-65, in frequent trips back and forth from Alabama to Indiana, sometimes for vacation, sometimes to live. Though I love my family, coming from a Southern home was not always easy. We moved around a lot when I was younger; Mama found it hard to settle, always looking for something a little better. Frequent moves meant I was always the new kid. While being the new kid isn’t easy for anyone, it didn’t help that I wasn’t the best at blending in. An awkward child, I grew faster than the rest of the girls at school, reaching 5’6’’ by the eighth grade and 5’9’’ by my sophomore year of high school. When you’re a girl, big is never a good thing. Adding to my ‘unique’ characteristics, I had acquired my parent’s Southern twang and a plethora of expressions that were normal in our household, but after constant teasing, I learned many of our expressions were a part of a Southern dialect foreign to the Midwest. I even ate different foods, constantly being asked what a “grit” was. After awhile, I just tried to avoid speaking altogether. Elementary school was a nightmare for me. I was different, and the girls never let me forget it. I blamed by Southern roots for my social failure, thinking it made me lesser than the girls at all the northern schools.  I worked hard to get rid of the accent that had plagued me throughout my youth, but it never made a difference. I was different, and that was enough to solidify my place at the bottom of the social food chain.

Now, I was never beat up, never humiliated in front of the entire lunchroom, and never shoved in a locker (partially, I am sure, because I would not have fit). This said, I was ostracized with the best of them.  The schools I went to were different, but they all had one thing in common—believing that I was so “uncool” that any contact with me would make everyone else uncool as well was, in fact, the cool thing to believe.  Yes, simply knowing I was a loser and avoiding me at all costs could boost your social standing. You’re welcome.

 I lived my life as a social pariah. In class, I sat alone. Hearing the phrase “pick a partner” was my worst nightmare. I spent recess sitting on the sidewalk, braiding blades of grass, listening to the other kids play. At lunch, I sat at a table alone, watching everyone else pack themselves into already full tables. Knowing that kids would rather not be able to set their trays down or find a chair rather than sit near you can really bring you down. My attendance was horrible because school was so miserable for me. Every year, I would find out exactly how many days I could miss without failing, and I missed them. I never ate breakfast in the mornings because my stomach was so tied in knots from the fear of what was ahead that I would be sick. For grades 1-5, this was my life.  Thankfully, in high school, we moved (yet again) to a school where things were different. I do not know why. I do not know how. All I know is, for the first time in my life, people said something more to me than, “Nice hat. Does your Mommy still pick out your clothes?” or,” Sorry. This is our table. You need to leave.” Slowly, but surely, the smiles turned to hellos, the hellos turned to friends, and the friends turned to a comfortable social standing (one free of name calling). After that, we stayed put for a while. I enjoyed high school, and learned to love myself. I was finally done with the bullies—or so I thought.

For more information on bullying and what you and your
state can do to make a difference, visit stopbullying.gov

One day, while walking through Kroger in my hometown, I heard someone yell, “Savannah Hoskins?” I turned around to see one of the girls who had been president of the Teasing Savannah Committee during elementary school. I froze. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted to be anywhere but there, looking at the face that had haunted me for years. Then, suddenly, she was hugging me. I was dumbfounded. “Oh my gawd! How are yooou?” she sang. “I haven’t seen you in forever! How are things? I thought you moved? Are you in school? ” She continued to cheerfully shoot out questions, polite as she could be. I simply stood there awkwardly, slowly regressing into the scared little misfit that I had been so long ago. I answered her quietly with short answers, hoping it would be enough to make her leave. “Ugh, can you believe it has been so long? Where has the time gone? I hated elementary school. I always felt so insecure. Tiffany was soo mean back then! But I remember you were always so sweet.” My jaw dropped. I did not believe what I was hearing. Finally she said, “Well, I have to go. We are having a little get together down at the lake house tonight; I am just grabbing some supplies. Oh my gawd, you totally have to come! Here is my number!” She quickly jotted down seven digits on a Kleenex from her purse and shoved it in my hand. “I hope you come. It would be sooo gooooood to hang out. I love running into old friends!” And with that, she was gone. I couldn’t believe it. She had no recollection of the pain she had caused me, no idea that the mere knowledge that she and her friends would be at school was enough to make me sick with nerves every morning. In her mind, we were old school chums.

It was then that I realized that bullying is not black and white. Kids, for the most part, do not label themselves as bullies. When my own bully was putting me down and making my life miserable, she was only thinking of how it would make her look. It had never occurred to her that it was affecting me. The thing that really threw me was that my bully had had a bully! I remembered Tiffany as her best friend. She remembered her as the person who made her feel like, well, me. She had no idea that I had felt bullied, at least not seriously.

The idea of what bullying is differs for kids. I think that for most boys, they believe bullying is shoving people into lockers or beating them up after school. Girls think of it as publically humiliating someone or, these days, posting horrible things about them publically online. These things are easy to associate with bullying because they are grand gestures of hatred, reinforced by teenage movie scenes. We have all seen the movies I am talking about. The student walks into school, everyone staring at her and giggling. Next thing she knows, her face is plastered on posters across the school saying something rude and degrading. They run out of the room, crying hysterically, as the lunchroom breaks into laughter. This is all fine in the movies, but how often does bullying happen that openly? In the real world, if students posted cruel pictures of another student all over the school, there is a very good chance the people responsible are going to get caught and are going to get in trouble.

It is often the small things that make a huge impact. The things adults write off by saying, “Oh, you know how teenage girls are.” Most people do not associate ignoring someone as a form of bullying. It does not seem severe enough. Truth be told, I would feel inclined to say no as well. With my experience, however, I know that it is the ostracizing and little snide remarks that can erode self-esteem to the point of feeling like nothing. For most kids, bullying happens on a smaller scale (and without Hollywood camera’s and proper lighting). A smaller scale, however, does not mean it is any less hateful or has any less of an impact. If you ask a student if he believes he is a bully, nine times out of ten he is going to say no. Very few kids see themselves in that light. In addition, if a student does not think what they are doing is bullying, what is going to stop them? The trouble is, how do you discipline that? You can’t force kids to be friends. There is no golden answer that is going to put a stop to bullying. All we can do is try to make kids see how their actions have an effect on those around them, and try to watch out for them best we can. 

Hello. Welcome to the Real World. It is 5 am.

Why is it SOOO hard for me to wake up in the mornings? I have been slacking on my blogging lately because of some recent changes that have pretty much taken over my life and mind. In order to help pay for college, I have taken on a second job. It is not as bad as it sounds. I only work during the day and have almost all of my evenings free. With my second job, however, I end up only having one real day off. Let me start by saying that I love my new job. I am a Paraprofessional at one of the local middle schools. I work with special education students and, I have to admit, they make going to work every day completely worth it. However, it is very hard to remind oneself of how important it is that one do well at one’s new job, and just how worth it the kids make it, when the alarm clock is screeching in one’s ear at five in the morning.

I am not a morning person. Though I would rather work mornings so that my evenings are free, I have never been good at getting up. I am the girl who sets four different alarms the night before, knowing that I will push snooze on every single one.  Still, every day I get up at five (or, let’s be honest, 5:20). I get ready, have my coffee, fix my hair, put on my clothes, get in my car, and drive. I drive to my job. I go to class on my lunch break. I return to work. I put the students on the bus. And then, finally, I come home. I am still not in the habit of going to bed at 8 pm, as I should. I fight myself every night. My body begs me to crawl under the covers while my mind tells me it is not nearly late enough to sleep! But after I do finally rest my head, I sleep, and start all over the next day. My father loves to say, “Welcome to the real world.” I have always hated it. The tone of sarcasm and hauteur with which it is delivered always irritates me to the point of the uncontrolled eye-roll. However, real world or not, I only know one thing—I really want a nap.  

Escaping the Valentine's Day Blues

*This post was meant to be posted on Valentine's Day. My computer, on the other hand, felt differently. Enjoy!

Aah Valentine’s Day. The day of love and, in my experience, listening to everyone around you complain about how much they hate the day. The complaints are always the same:

“I hate Valentines Day. “

“Valentines Day is just a corporate scam to force us to buy nonsense items at jacked-up prices.”

“Being single on Valentine’s Day is just a reminder of how sad and lonely I am.”

Blah blah blah. If you are depressed by Valentine’s Day then you are simply doing it wrong! To me, Valentine’s Day is a day of love and self-indulgence. It is meant to be a celebration of all things pleasurable. After all, Valentine’s Day is the one day a year when women can eat copious amounts of chocolate and men can watch romantic comedies without being made fun of. I have been single far more Valentine’s Days then not and I still find the day to be quite enjoyable. There are three ways I like to celebrate my Valentine’s Day that are guaranteed to give me a good time:

     1. Love Your Partner- If you have a significant other on Valentine’s Day, you are pretty much set. In fact, there is not much to say about you and your traditional Valentine’s Day setup, as this post is not really about you. Grab your partner, go to dinner, a movie, your favorite spot, whatever speaks to you as a couple. Add a little champagne and voila! Instant Valentine’s Day. Now, if your partner is one of the people who hates Valentine’s Day or simply refuses to take part in it for whatever reason, refer to option 2 and 3 below. Trust me, I have been in this situation before and there is nothing more boring than listening to your significant other, no matter how sweet they may actually be, brag all night about how he didn’t have to do anything for you. Distractions will be needed. 

   

        2.  Love Your Friends- Last year, my best friend and I were both single on Valentine’s Day and, I have to admit, it was the best Valentine’s Day I have ever had. We made a delicious dinner (well, she made dinner. I sampled the wine), drank wine, listened to music, and nearly laughed ourselves into a coma. Later that night, we met up with more friends for drinks. It was perfection. So celebrate your friendship and have a blast. You will be glad you did.

 3. Love Yourself- Now this is perhaps my favorite way to spend Valentine’s Day, probably because it has the potential to be the most indulgent.  If you are all alone on Valentine’s Day and don’t have anyone to celebrate with, this is the perfect time to love yourself. Gather your favorite food, your favorite drinks, your favorite chocolate and your favorite movies and books. This is a night about YOU. While everyone else is running around trying to figure out what on earth to get their boyfriend or girlfriend, or trying to figure out where to meet each other, you only have to worry about pleasing you. There will be no argument over what to eat, what to watch, or what to do. You don’t have to worry that you underdressed or won’t be ready in time. Tonight, love yourself. This is most important of all.

e.l.f. Brush Smorgasbord

As I mentioned in my previous post, “Confessions of a Makeup Addict”, I am a big fan of makeup and beauty blogs and videos. I watch a lot of them. When I say a lot of them, I mean probably more than anyone should. Is it a complete waste of time? Probably, but it is my thing so sod off.

            One thing that had been driving me mad after watching all these makeup tutorials was my current brush situation. I would watch the ladies (or in the case of GregoryGorgeous, the boys) carry out these stunning looks with their millions of brushes, each one created specifically for that task. I was stunned. I knew their were different kinds of makeup brushes but I had never realized just how many. I decided I wanted a collection of my own and, in my true obsessive style, spent the next few hours searching the Internet for brush kits, as I figured they would provide me the biggest bang for my buck. The problem I was having was the price. I knew from experience that there is no bigger waste of money when it comes to makeup than investing in bad brushes. To spend so much time and energy getting ready only to have your makeup badly applied and brush hairs stuck to your face is maddening. Maddening I tell you! I also knew, as a student with pretty much no income, I could not spend a lot…at all.

            After asking my mother if she could recommend any, she immediately mentioned e.l.f.Cosmetics. She assured me that, even though they are dirt cheap, they out performed and out lasted her high-end brushes. So, I ordered my own from Amazon and she was right. These brushes are fantastic. I received 12 brushes for $12.99—an amazing deal that even I could afford. And after trying them, I was so pleasantly surprised that I simply had to share.

            I will admit that a couple of the brushes did not suit my taste as much as my older ones, but the cast majority of them were great. The application was easy, smooth, and hair free. Also, each brush has the name of the brush stamped on the handle, so you never have to wonder what it is for. And the best part is, even if you don't love all of the brushes, for $12.00 you have still got a great deal. All in all, a great purchase.

The kit included:

 Concealer Brush                                  Total Face Brush

·           Blush/Bronzer Brush                           Defining Eye Brush

·           Foundation Brush                                 Eyelash Wand

·           Blending Eye Brush                              Brow Comb

·           Smudge Eye Brush                                Lip Defining Brush

·           Eye Liner Brush                                    Eye Shadow Brush

·    

Confessions of a Makeup Addict

Okay, confession time. I am a bit of a makeup freak. This is something that not everyone would know about me since, as a student, I spend a good chunk of my time in sweatpants, a hoodie, and a messy ponytail. On these days, you would be lucky to see so much as a tinted lip balm. I am not one of those girls who would rather die than go out without her makeup flawless and her hair fixed. I am the kind of girl who goes to bed every night with the intention to get up on time and actually get ready, then hears that alarm the next morning and decides sleep trumps spending two hours in the bathroom.

But, when it comes time for a night out with the girls or a day at work, you better believe this face will be covered in lovely, heavenly, pore-clogging makeup. I have always enjoyed makeup. When I was a girl, my mother was a Mary Kay representative. I would go to parties with her and listen to her pitch what this blush would do and how soft that hand cream would make your skin feel. I saw how excited the ladies would get over these tiny bottles of fix-all magic potion and I began to realize how powerful good makeup could be. I was hooked.

Recently, my obsession has been taken to a new level. Bloggers and Vloggers like Tanya Burr and Kate from The Small Things Blog have become part of my nightly ritual. I can easily spend hours watching their videos and combing through post after post on makeup, hair, and fashion. I highly suggest you check them out.

Now, I do not believe that a woman has to spend 30 minutes curling her hair or putting on makeup to be beautiful. I admire the women who are confident in themselves without the powders and creams. I simply choose, when I can actually get my butt out of bed, to wear it. For me, makeup is not about hiding who you are or what you look like. It is about enhancing natural beauty, showing off what you have, and having fun! It can be a form of self-expression. You wanna know how a woman is feeling today? Is she feeling sweet, sexy, confident, modest, professional… just look at her makeup. 

extraORDINARY

I would just like to start this greatly delayed blog post by saying, once and for all, that I absolutely loath applications. No, I do not mean the nifty little tools on our smart phones (I use the term "smart" loosely, as mine still refuses to stop changing my last name to Huskies) that let us shoot disgruntled birds at anatomically incorrect pigs. I mean the viscous little forms that are designed to determine whether or not we are "worthy". The whole point of an application, or more specifically the application process, is to dazzle whoever it is you are trying to convince of your worthiness, therefore causing them to believe you are, in fact, worthy. Worthy of what exactly? You tell me: that school you always dreamed of attending, that job you always wanted, that internship that will get you that job you always wanted. For me, applications are usually not this idealistic. Mine are usually the job that will be okay for now or the school that will offer me the most financial aid. Not as exciting on paper, but it gets the job done. No matter what you are applying for, the idea is the same—wow their socks off.

My problem with applications is this: nothing makes me feel more ordinary than being charged with the task of convincing others that I am, in fact, extraordinary. In truth, the older I get, the more I realize that the only thing extraordinary about me is my quest to be extraordinary. Applications are nothing more than a chance for the world to shove metaphorical sand down my already sandy metaphorical shorts. And, like sand in my shorts, I find the whole process leaves me uncomfortable, unsatisfied, and stuck finding said metaphorical sand in strange and confusing places, long after I have returned from the beach.

Lately, my life seems plagued by these pesky sand-shoving applications. During the last few months, my days have been filled with countless job applications and now, thanks to my harebrained scheme to finish my post-baccalaureate work at a different university than I am currently attending, college applications. It is difficult to communicate just how humbling the entire process is. I never considered myself a person plagued by a need for harsh self-reflection. Sure, I have my moments where I have to take a step back and analyze a situation to determine if I am doing everything I can to make it work. I personally find this both healthy and necessary.  Generally, when these moments come, I reflect, inspect, and move on (possible copyright in the works).

I am never too hard on myself for too long. I know who I am, (at least at this point in my life) what I am capable of, and am fairly motivated about making things happen.  And, for the most part, I am comfortable in that knowledge. All of this said, when it comes time to fill out yet another application, I find myself dreading the prospect to the point of procrastination. If it is a job application, I feel that I don’t have enough valuable experience. If it is a school application, I see that my grades, while acceptable, are far from Ivy League. If it is a credit card application…well, let’s just not even go there. By the time I have finished an application, I am left with the fear that I am not good enough. My point is, this must stop. After all, what makes some of us ordinary and some of us extraordinary? And why do you, invisible judger of all societal worth, get to make that decision?

The important thing to keep telling myself is that I AM worthy. I AM extraordinary. I may not be as smart as Stephen Hawking or as rich as Bill Gates. I may not be able to sing like Maria Callas or write like Hemingway. But I have a college degree from a respected university and I’ve studied in London. I have an essay about to be published, fantastic friends, and a dog who I have yet to accidentally kill. All in all, I would say that is not too shabby.  

What Is It About Coffee Shops?

Landon Pigg "Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop"

Today, a friend and fellow Blogger published a blog post about losing love and coping with the aftermath. She wrote about how she always imagined that one day she and her lost love would meet up at a coffee shop, reigniting the sparks and starting anew. When I read this, I immediately thought of myself (egotistical, I know). I realized that whenever I have a fantasy about meeting Mr. Right or running into an old flame, looking fabulous and far skinnier than I do in real life of course (it is my fantasy, after all), the fantasy always takes place at a coffee shop.  I couldn’t help but wonder, what is it about coffee shops?

Now, before I go any further, let’s just get the big, mocha colored elephant out of the way. Yes, I love coffee. And lattes. And mochas. And Chai. And…well, you get the idea. Hell, I have two blogs and both reference some incarnation of coffee in the title. I am a girl who likes her hot beverages. This, believe it or not, is irrelevant when it comes to my love of a good coffee shop. These days, drinking coffee and frequenting local coffee shops has become a way of life. It has created a distinguishable group of people –like hipsters. Actually, almost exactly like hipsters, only coffee shop frequenters are not tied in to exclusively wearing skinny jeans. The coffee-loving community even has a loosely defined class system. For example, I don’t know how many times I have seen people in my local coffee shop climbing on top of their soap boxes to preach the evils of Starbucks and the kind of “unoriginal, faux coffee drinkers” that frequent such a billion dollar establishment. I do not fit into this category. Yes, I love my local coffee shop and I would much prefer to hang out there for a day of reading, writing, and chatting than at Starbucks. This said, I would not want to be the person blocking my path when their Pumpkin Spice lattes come out every autumn. They are delicious and I don’t care who knows it. But I digress…

Coffee drinker or not, there is something magical and romantic about a coffee shop. Maybe it has something to do with the widely accepted correlation between coffee shops and book lovers, both of which I happen to be. I personally cannot think of a group of people more idealistic and, let’s be honest, pathetically romantic than we book lovers. You’ve seen us –the people who forgo the season’s hottest fashions in order to afford our book hoarding habit and coffee shop bill. We are the ones sitting in the corner of the café, bookstore, or library with our heads in our books, ignoring everything but the pages in front of us, breaking only to quickly sip whatever beverage happens to be in front of us or grab a highlighter. The coupling of a good book and a hot mug of coffee, or even tea, is poetry incarnate.

As a freshman in college, while my friends went out partying or took part in social clubs, I sat in a coffee shop. Everyday, rain or shine, I sat in that coffee shop with a book, my laptop, and a continuous stream of coffee until the shop closed at one in the morning. I became a regular there, learning the names of the baristas and claiming a favorite spot. The faces of the other regulars, whether I spoke to them or not, became a part of my daily routine. When the tall Indian man with the beret wouldn’t show up for his large latte with extra foam, I imagined what he was doing and how he was going to get his caffeine-fix that day. When the young lovers, who always sat huddled in the darkest corner to kiss and hold hands while pretending to do their homework, broke up, I wondered who would get custody of the table. And when the PhD student, who came in every day with his friend to order his regular Americano, asked me to come over and watch movie, I gave him my heart for three years. It had finally happened. I had found love in a coffee shop, just as I had always imagined. In the end, my three-year love affair with Dr. Americano did not work out. My love affair with the coffee shop, however, is still going strong. 

The Fire Has Been Lit

And we are up and running again, thank heavens! 

You may be asking yourself, "What on earth could have gone wrong to stop the posts so early in the blogging process”? Well, darlings, I shall tell you. In a nutshell, it was a mixture of perfectionism and my inability to make a decision. When I first had the (may I say, brilliant) idea to start this blog, I could not have been more excited to start writing again. As a student specializing in English and Literature, I spend a good chunk of my time in front of a computer putting my genius to paper. I do not, however, always get to do it my way. The world of academia is filled with rules, regulations, and a continuous stream of drafts and spell checks. So, naturally, the thought of sharing my daily thoughts, photos, and general rambles with the digital world sounded like a breeze! The next day I created my account, logged in, and created my first post.

Then I remembered who I was. I immediately dove into a pool of templates, headers, and Photoshop. In other words, I spent so much time trying to decorate my blog that I forgot to write it! Finally, I saw the error of my ways, picked the next theme I found, and called it a day. And may I just say, it is good to be back. So keep checking in for more posts, pages, pics, and (I can only imagine) even more changes.

The fire has been lit, my friends. Feel the burn. 

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Please forgive the horrid mess that is The Daily Grind today. She is undergoing a bit of a facelift. Be back soon!

Learn From It

“Lay a firm foundation with the bricks that others throw at you.” –David Brinkley

Not all tears are created equal. Some tears grow so large and hold so much sorrow that, when they are shed, they seem to wash away all we previously knew. These tears leave behind chasms filled with self-doubt and uncertainty, which cannot be filled. Instead, we are left struggling to reshape ourselves, and our world, into something that makes sense again. The result, for better or for worse, is a new self.

When I was fifteen, I shed such tears. The first boy I ever loved had broken my heart. Now, of course, we all know this is not the end of the world. We all get our hearts broken, usually more than once, and almost always by the boys (or girls) we loved when we were fifteen. But during this time, as I lay on the bed sobbing, my head in my mother’s lap as if I were a baby again, my mother told me something I have never forgotten. “There comes a time in all of our lives,” she said, “when something completely throws us for a loop. I know it hurts, but don’t let it break you. Learn from this.” Learn from this. And so I did. Of course it was hard, as all lost loves are, but it was a learning experience that helped to shaped the woman I am today.

There was, however, one small problem with the advice my mother gave me. The problem was, my friends, a lack of plurality. My mother said, “a time in all of our lives,” not “so many times that you will have no other choice but to analyze the linguistics of this advice in a last-ditch effort to make sense of it all”. When this advice was first bestowed upon me, I took it to mean that my fifteen-year-old heartbreak was it. Fabulous! I had done it. The bad bits were out of the way and now all that was ahead was sunshine, rainbows, and a young woman who knew exactly who she was and what was ahead of her. Of course, I know now that I was a moron.

Throughout my life I have faced changes, heartbreaks, and tribulations I never imagined I would face. Luckily, I am only in my twenties, so I am certain to have plenty of shit ahead. And those loops my mother spoke of? Well, this year has been filled with them. So, the way I see it, I only have one option- Learn from it.  The bad news? My troubles are nowhere near over. I am sure that my future holds plenty more of those self-altering tears, as do all of yours (don’t shoot the messenger). The good news? For every tear that wears away at our self-assurance, we are left with one more chance to reshape ourselves and our lives.  Every time we lose a bit ourselves, we replace it with a newer, smarter bit. A bit that knows more about the world. A bit that can better handle the bricks that are thrown. A bit that, let’s face it, we can only hope will do less stupid stuff than the previous bit did.  All we have to do is let it go and learn from it.