12 hours ago
I've written this before in my life and I will write it again, because...I believe it. Here's what: I think often times in life we are on the right path, we are traveling at the right speed, and we even have the appropriate passengers in our vehicle. Sometimes (more often than not) we are traveling, unaware of the "construction zones" when we head out that morning, we don’t know (or even give ourselves enough drive time) to know that we have to travel through a construction zone. I hate pot holes, loud roads, and workers wasting my time in the morning when I am headed to work--- sometimes, I pass those workers and they have the audacity to be eating breakfast--not even working! Our lives are like that. We have these plans, this roadmap, we have that Garmin charged up and all the details typed in. Then we get this alarming interruption- construction zones. Our trip still has the same goal; however, in order to get there, we have to detour. Detours aren't fun; they waste my time, and frankly, they just about tick me off. (That’s because I am a pessimist). My husband wouldn’t look at it like that. He would say, "I’m glad we are in this detour, now I get to be with you longer." Or just to make me smile he would say, "Well, at least we get to see a new scenery this time!" That's why I love him-- he is the optimist in my pessimistic world. He is the pinch of sun on my always rainy day. Yet this is what I know-- I know my journey has a destination. I know who I want riding next to me. I know that there will be "construction zones" along the way, a little traffic, a wreck (or two) and we might run out of gas. I also know that, that is okay. What I don’t know is when we will have to detour, how long the detour will be, which hitchhikers we might pick up along the way, and where we will find help getting directions to get back on track. We are all on a journey- we are all headed somewhere. We will all have to take a detour once in a while. I believe that GOD allows for the detours because sometimes the construction zone would be too rough. Sometimes it looks like those workers in the construction zone aren’t working, but they are. What He’s doing is too difficult for our little vehicle of life to endure. We probably won't like going all around a major city to get to one town, but that's what needs to happen. Often times we are on our detour we realize the beauty of it; we are then grateful for it when we look back and see what we might have driven through—realizing we really AREN’T in control of everything.
“One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can’t utter.” – James Earl Jones. As I stumbled across this quote it took the words out of my mouth. I obviously have problems with expressing how I feel face to face with someone else. My meek self would rather be a weak self and hide behind a sheet of paper or a keyboard. That stems from self confidence. I don’t have the confidence to believe that I am smart enough or rational enough or serious enough to be this “writer” that I really am on the inside. This power from writing is only with-in- it’s like a super hero power that is dormant all day, because what I am really feeling on the inside is confusion. All super heroes are like that. They are total opposites of what they turn into when they fight their battles. When I fight a battle, my Super Writing Powers start to erupt and I feel calm amongst the storm. Earth-Wind-Fire- Water—NO….it’s more like: “Mind-Music-Words-Pages, with our powers combined…” When I talk with someone face to face, they can’t see my with-in because I am a great shell- a “well put-together, happy concoction of perfection” in their eyes—in mine, a poker face. I am working on that. I think I don’t want them to see my with-in. It is easier to mask it, than explain it. It is easier to pretend, than to be honest. It is easier to act than it is to direct to play. It is easier to just share my feelings with me.
- Purge time---choose song 31 and follow along as you listen:
- Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself And covered with a perfect shell Such a charming, beautiful exterior Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes Perfect posture, but you're barely scraping by But you're barely scraping by
- This is one time, this is one time That you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone Or anyone at all...or anyone at all And the grave that you refuse to leave The refuge that you've built to flee, The places that you've come to fear the most, Is the place that you have come to fear the most.
- Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself And hidden in the public eye Such a stellar monument to loneliness Laced with brilliant smiles and shining eyes Perfect make-up, but you're barely scraping by But you're barely scraping by...
- Well this is one time, well this is one time That you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone Or anyone at all...or anyone at all And the grave that you refuse to leave The refuge that you've built to flee, The places that you've come to fear the most, Is the place that you have come to fear the most.
- And you can't fake it hard enough to please everyone Or anyone at all..or anyone at all And the grave that you refuse to leave The refuge that you've built to flee, The places that you've come to fear the most, Is the place that you've come to fear the most, Is the place that you have come to fear the most.
- I just had to get that out.
- Lyrics: DC-
Part I: Per the host and friends, I am blogging today about shower etiquette. Now, we all have been to a shower or two or (thirty-six if you are me), and most times- they are for weddings or babies. I had the most fabulous time at a shower this past weekend—the photographer and I (along with the host) were rolling around laughing—secretly of course because we are all friends. You must realize that it wasn’t “Country Come to Town”, rather “TOWN (three city chicks) Come to Country” (the big V). Long story short, they decided I needed to blog about this hillbilly experience, so here goes—the long story for that matter. I headed on down to the big V- country town, aka white-ville USA. When I arrived my poor itty bitty friend was over-hauling an entire community center by herself; this brings me to my first topic: FAMILY. Okay family—here are some basic rules of thumb.1. Don’t say you are arriving at a specific time to only show up AFTER the host and her posse already set up the place. I mean, come on—if you say 11:30 with a party starting at 2, don’t show up with all of your magnificent food at 1:45—that is a MAIN stress as a party planner. Rule 2: When you come to a party, only bring your children if and ONLY IF you can “handle” them. When I see your five year old “perfect princess” playing on the restroom floor, I would really like to NOT see her sticking her fingers in all seventy-five cupcakes- mmm k! That was about enough to gross out anyone (anyone paying attention to detail, that is). Thank goodness I was friends with the host; she went on a “secret mission” to dispose of the toxic cupcake/s. Let’s go ahead and transition right along to my NEXT topic: Food—yes, food. IF and WHEN you bring an item to a party you are (in a sense) donating that item to the party. Unless the host specifically asks you to bring food home when we are cleaning up, don’t bring your extra home food! As D____ and I watched closely, before the shower was over, a guest that brought a fruit tray decided to leave early…and so did her fruit tray! We laughed hysterically: “Maybe this is the way country-folk do things” we thought. I mean, a half eaten fruit tray…what were you going to do with it, bring it to work—(mind you everyone at the shower had eaten most of it) so we sat there giggling as Auntie “Mabel” seized the fruit tray as if it had grown legs and was going to take off. Of course some of you might be thinking that I am being very particular- however we are making “light” of this shower--- because, well- there is an ocean of drama behind it. As D___ and I laughed, the guests were getting impatient, which brings me to my last topic for Part I of this crazy country experience: Gifts. This one kept us amused most of the party. When I say gifts…this family thinks: rivalry. YES- competitions between sides and siblings, competitions between aunts and cousins… The party started at 2—at 1:45, when the gifts started to arrive, we were baffled that the gift table was full from only two of the forty-eight guests! Mountains of gifts large and small, cute and awkward looking were stacked to the ceiling- we could barely see the honoree and all for the satisfaction of out-doing one another. But as my eye for detail zoomed in, I had to laugh. Now, I am NOT claiming to be an expert gift wrapper, HOWEVER my mother is (so she usually does this for me) because, remember—it isn’t only about the gift, but also about the presentation! When my meticulous eye caught a few gifts peeping through their one inch slits on the bottom of the present- I was giggling inside- I could hear my mother saying, ”Annie, NO, you do not do that!—Give it here and just let me wrap it.” (If you aren’t laughing, well- I guess you kind of had to BEE there). I could tell that these people weren’t into quality, rather quantity--- remember we are in the country—where they do all things BIGGER (from cows to gifts, they don’t care what they look like, just as long as they are “good”). As I wrap up Part I of this country-tastic shower-journey, remember there will be a Part II of TOWN Comes to COUNTRY later this week. I hope you got your laugh of the day. And always remember…be very careful when you choose your cupcake at a shower!
One of my fondest memories was that where we were sitting in American Literature- Gwyn's class I think, or it could have also been Issues in Language and Literature with Yearwood. Either way- in 2004 we were taking full loads of 18 hours and splitting a pack of Peanut M & M's for dinner-because at 128 pounds we were both on Weight Watchers, and a three point dinner of M&M's was just a fabulous idea--- (yeah right). My friend was always called Elizabeth (even though her name was Stephanie-- however we were to scared to correct the professor. We go W.A.Y back, but it wasn't until college that we started to hang out. We played basketball together and even had a few parties in middle school but it was in college when our friendship REALLY flourished. In 2005, she got engaged and asked me in the library to be her bridesmaid. Long story short- that relationship didn't work out- BUT WE DID! We did everything together. We even "danced" together. Oh how I remember the days when we would get distracted doing our projects because "Milkshake"/"Make Me Loose My Breath"/ "Goodies"/"Freek a Leek" or "Bounce" would come on- we'd stop do our "thang" and giggle. Even though I was the dancer, she taught me how to WORK it in "da club" I can't wipe the smile off of my face thinking of those "simple days" where we'd give anything to be more grown up than we really were. Our week days were spent on campus and our weekends in the club-- Now our weekdays are spent teaching HS English and the weekends are spent recovering from those teenagers. We were crazy and still are! We both got married-- how our hubby's put up with our crazy butts, who knows! Fast forwarding to 2011. We have completely changed inside AND out! The 128 pound Weight Watcher weirdos that got looks when we weighed in at meetings are now still on Weight Watchers, and in worse shape! But what hasn't changed is our love for one another. 6 years ago, we were (guess where)????---the CLUB and it was Cinco De Mayo. It was super Cinco (5/5/05)- and on that Super Cinco we declared it our Friend Anniversary or Friendiversary. Happy Friendiversary--- Stephanie King Fulbright. You are the sister I never had. Look how far we've come...