Kristie Was Here

Around the Bay

2012-06-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

Commercial Break: Hair Be There

2012-05-26T18:21:00.002-07:00

This balding toothless brunette is coming to visit me tomorrow.
She made this video in high school and I've been trying to get it on the blog ever since.
Luckily, I have someone on the inside who thought to bless my inbox with it last night.

Prayers have been answered and we can all entertain ourselves over this long weekend.

Cheers!

Dear Letters

2012-05-24T23:02:00.000-07:00

Dear friday, you should have traded places with tuesday.

Dear table, you're too heavy for me to turn right side up, but you sure look great.

Dear ears, nose, and throat, get it together. sick for a week? not cool. not cool.

Dear mug, thanks for coming through with the tea.

Dear sponsors, i moved, traveled, and got sick. we'll start fresh again in june. *hugs*

Dear shirt, i destroyed you during the gladiator run, but 17 obstacles and 3.75 miles was worth it.

Dear vegas, i'm coming to visit next month. i'm bringing neon.

Dear sunglasses from shay, sorry i sat on you. you lived a short but stylish life.

Dear weekend, thanks for being long and bringing kathryn. she'll help me flip that table.

Dear apartment, where is kathryn going to sleep?

Dear self, this smile is from dancing. practice more.

Lost & Found

2012-05-20T20:59:00.000-07:00

I quit writing for a week. It wasn't so much intentional as it was situational. You see, I had a graduation to get to, an apartment to claim, a job to keep, and a plane to catch. Oh, and my new place didn't have Internet. Details.

I spent last weekend with mi familia over on the other coast watching my sister get her graduate degree. Apparently she's all grown up and shit. Who knew?

She has a blog AND a degree

We're both sportin' the graduate look. It's in right now.

I spent mother's day with my momma and had an all girls weekend with fine Puerto Rican food and a RedBox movie. I laughed and slept and talked about life.

It was a good trip, a much needed trip. It reminded me that California still feels like home, and my family does too.

Mom, Kristie, Kelsey, Keren, Kathryn

After a certain number of pictures, I can no longer smile. Fact.

I may have slept through the graduation...or just the graduation pictures.

We didn't make any videos, and there was no iPod dancing, but we had a few laughs, and took a few photos. We even had a staring contest with Kathryn's fish. He won.

Now, if I could just get the rest of my sisters to move to California. I mean really, who needs to be over in Virginia land?

And my apartment? Well, I have Internet. That's progress.

Internet on the Floor

2012-05-17T19:14:00.000-07:00

These are my feet all chill up in the air, while lying on the carpet in
my new apartment talking to cable people trying to get some Internet.

It may have taken almost two hours.

They may have said, "Someone will come over tomorrow around 7:30am to fix the problem."

And I may have spent my morning talking to a guy in a red shirt about why I don't need cable, just Internet.

Me have Internet? Really? Yep. I do now.

So, this blogging thing?
I might get back to it.

The Twenties

2012-05-13T16:27:00.000-07:00

I moved states, sold a home, found truth, and somehow survived. I cried and laughed, hurt very dear people, made life-altering friendships, crashed a wedding, and made some ridiculous videos. I baked and ran and and did cartwheels. I skyped, scrapbooked, and sang. Just kidding, didn't scrapbook. And I learned, oh how I learned, that I know very little and people are still very kind.

This year I decided on California--I have a zip code to prove it. I became more me and less everything else. I signed up for my first half marathon. I bought the most incredible bath towels. I didn't kill any plants. And I decided dresses are my favorite.

And there is more.
You know there is more.
But what really blows my mind is that it's' May.
It's only flippin' May and I'm still here.

I'm not here because of me. I'm here because some incredible people sent hugs and prayers and love during the year of big transition. Some were with me almost daily (hi, roommate) and others checked in through my inbox and voicemail. These people, you people, help me--help me heal, survive, and be.

So, before I forget, it's time for a list. It's time for a list of things I've learned, am learning, will learn, maybe? It's a list of things my twenties are teaching me, a list of things this year is teaching me.

-no matter how much you think you know, there's plenty you don't

-forgive others, and don't forget yourself

-pain will find you, but so will joy

-you don't need a passport for an adventure

-everyone has a story, do not think yours is more important, you'll be wrong

-use swear words only after you've learned to speak your own language well

-you always have permission to be safe

-just because someone is a stranger does not mean they can't one day be a friend

-change is the privilege to be different than yesterday

-if you want to listen to a song 29 times on repeat, do it (just know it will annoy the hell out of people)

-take lessons--any kind. it'll feel like you're accomplishing something because you are.

-good food is worth it--the money and the calories

-awkward moments make great stories

-compliments are a gift another is trying to give, accept them

-whatever you are, be a good one

-just because it is someone else's dream does not make it yours

-you'll become better at the things you practice, including friendship

-dispute or pay parking tickets and realize you earned them all by yourself

-you won't rember the price of the plane ticket but you'll remember the number of layovers

-spontaneity makes for a better life and dependability makes for a better job; find the balance

-feel the fear; do it anyway

-write because you want to, not out of obligation, but either way, write

-don't waste time feeling guilty about not reading, it doesn't help

-say I love you, please, and thank you

Wandering Words

2012-05-07T00:00:00.000-07:00

Ever written something and then
realized someone read it who shouldn't have?
{raises hand, hangs head}
Dammit.
Welcome to my life.
You might want to find a DIY blog.
I am clearly no help.
No help at all.

Check back in 2013.

It might be straight up nonsense until then.

Something Beyond

2012-05-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

January 17, 2012

i want something bigger.
mostly because i want all of this to mean something bigger,
for there to be a purpose
greater than myself--
for the new to be better.

April 26, 2012

it is.
at least it is trying to be.
and so am i.

Neon Wednesday: Random Not Profound

2012-05-02T00:00:00.000-07:00

i made a video.
even though i had a million
other things to do, i made a video.
oh, and i'm getting my own apartment.
so productive.

don't you even judge my taste in music.
this is a meme (example: here)
i haven't gone completely mad.

also, speaking of facebook (just go with it)
wanna like this photo?

great!
click the link;
press "like."

these crazies are my dodgeball teammates.
if enough people like this photo then we win something,
mainly, bragging rights.
yea, i play dodgeball.
just let that sink in for a minute.

and so concludes this week's most random post.

hope my sweatshirt didn't give you a migraine.

How Online Friending Leads to Wedding Crashing

2012-04-30T00:00:00.000-07:00

I attended a wedding this weekend as a guest of the groom's family--the groom's family that I met for the first time when I showed up in their driveway an hour before the ceremony. It was cool though. Really. I brought a dress.

Shay introduced me as her friend and then proceeded to inform her family that this was actually the first time we'd met in person. I know what you're thinking, it's so awesome that I'm not a psycho, right? I bet they were thinking the same thing.

"You met through blogging?"

"Yep"

Blogging: it's like online dating for friends. And it's about as awkward trying to explain it to people.

But you know what?
It was epic.
It was epic because it was normal.
Because sometimes normal is finally meeting someone in the flesh who knows you pretty damn well.

These things are supposed to happen eventually. I read that somewhere...probably on a blog.

We laughed, and ate, and kinda-danced. Shay called me colon and I took incriminating photos of her. We regressed to 12-year-olds in a matter of minutes. Yep, totally normal.

so excited

the magic of a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a straw

problems with the wardrobe

By the end of the day, Aunt Lisa was trying to get me to marry into the family while Grandpa was making brunch plans with me for June. Shay's recap: We'll just call this the weekend my family liked you more than me.

i sat at this table. it came with eating-first privileges

Point for the colon
(the person, not the intestine).

And that's how blogland works: you go online, you meet friends, and then you get to crash weddings.

You can quote me on that.

Oh, and I didn't take any pictures of us together. Obviously. I delegated that to Shay.

And she totally came through.

we're basically family now

Blogland Explosion

2012-04-27T00:00:00.000-07:00

ON APRIL 28, 2012
THIS

MEETS
THAT

AND BLOGLAND EXPLODES WITH EPICNESS.

I'm meeting Shay in real life
and crashing a wedding at the same time.
Mom would be proud. So proud.

Hi, Mom.

And Begins

2012-04-24T00:00:00.000-07:00

i know something different,
something more true:
change is neither good nor bad
it just is.

it is beginning, ending, forgiveness,
motion, evolution.
it is a new year, a calendar date,
a circled deadline,
an opportunity.

change
is the privilege to be different than yesterday,
to be better, stronger, aware.
it is the act, the intention, of listening, loving,
of friendship.

sometimes you didn't know
you needed to change
until you do.
and you realize you've needed it for a while.

and i appreciate the people, the person
who has been patient with me
while i'm shifting,
and falling, and failing.
she is the one who loves
through it, despite it, and after it.

i may ruin her today
and trip over her tomorrow,
but the fact that i can change
makes all the difference.
if i let it.
if i choose it.

and i do.

Rest you not, outside

2012-04-23T00:00:00.001-07:00

It's time for April's image prompt, which means

I leave you once again with Krissy from Rantings of a semi-crazy blonde girl...
It's her birthday today, which means you should probably visit her blog and say hello.

An absolute picture of perfection. It’s like staring into the other side of the looking glass. Just there, on the other side, birds fly, and bees buzz around flowerbeds full of exotic smelling flowers. The hills roll on and on and she stays still and wonders just how big the outside world is.

Cloistered here for her entire life, she has had time to wonder, time to think and suppose. From the outside, it does not seem like the worst life, sheltered, but not terrible. It is a life that most would, in fact, choose: wealthy, pampered, unhindered by everyday annoyances. However, it is also the same life that cattle live. In a way, she’s livestock, and someday, she will be sold.

Little bird, little dove,
fly away quickly now.
Rest you not, outside
my window; take to
the skies so high above.

It is not safe here
for one so pretty as you.
Your innocence will
be surely marred
by my blood and tears

Little bird, little dove,
you hold my dreams.
With every beat of
your precious wings,
you carry with you my love.

Sending out a wish on the wings of one who can escape. The everyday mundane of breathing the same air has taken its toll, and now she waits for someone to rescue her from whatever life it is that she is meant to keep. Hollow eyes, hollow soul, she used to be so bright and full of youth. Now, she sends out a prayer, a final grasp at the future. There is a deeper beauty beyond the hills, and there is true love somewhere out in the distance.

Not every story has a happy ending, but not every story has a sad one either. Some stories just are. They are a constant heartbeat, and the forever of the wind. In the blink of an eye, mere moments blast into eons and travel at light speed past the stars. The future exists for everyone, though the fates often cut strands on a whim. Some tales are short, and some days last an eternity. Time is relative when you are waiting for something to end, or for something to begin.

Image credit: Unspoken Romance

4 Reasons My City is Better Than Yours

2012-04-20T00:00:00.001-07:00

This was post was originally a guest post for Meg at henning love.

I'm a newbie to my city, but I can tell you that I love it. It's sunny, there's an Egyptian museum, and it's the capitol of the Silicon Valley. Yep, pretty much heaven. It's the third largest city in California and the tenth-largest in the US.

But that's not it. Oh, no!

{insert your incredibly surprised face}

What else makes San Jose awesome?

So glad you asked.

1) It's close to San Francisco... and other cities you should visit.
You know that one friend who has other awesome friends? Yea, that's San Jose. My town is within driving distance to some major California sites, namely San Francisco--but you can find parking here and don't have to pay $6 to cross a red bridge. My city's other bffs include Napa Valley, Sausalito, Santa Cruz, and Los Gatos.

$6.00 Bridge

Napa Valley

Sausalito

Santa Cruz

Los Gatos

2) San Jose has Bill's Cafe
Bill's Cafe is the quintessential diner with great food, a fun staff, and huge mimosas. I'm a regular at this brunch place. All the cool kids (over 65) are doing it. There's also a suh-weet taco joint called Día de Pesca nearby. They have awesome fish tacos. This is in case you want tacos instead of brunch.

3) There is sunshine.
I'm solar powered. Look it up. It's a real thing. According to wikipedia, San Jose gets 300+ days of sunshine a year. This means people are happy and don't need caffeine to deal with life. Consequently, do not visit San Jose for its coffee. I will make fun of you.

4) I'm here.
Hello, I'm Kristie and I can take a decent picture of you for you for your Facebook profile. Everyone needs a friend like that.

Oh, look! I made a video of how awesome the entire Bay Area is.

Click here to view it on YouTube.

Growing Young

2012-04-18T00:00:00.001-07:00

on sunday someone asked me if i was 21.
today a lady asked if i was in college.
if it's possible, i might be looking younger
or living younger
or maybe i'm not acting my age.
either way,
i am alive.

i try not to forget that.

i'm still dancing,
taking lessons,
feeling movement.
it's like nothing else in the world.
i'm happy when i'm dancing.

i try not to forget that.

Do More

2012-04-16T00:00:00.002-07:00

live
and make it count.

click here to watch the video on YouTube

i originally saw this on La Mia Vita and thought it was too good not to share.

homework

2012-04-13T00:00:00.001-07:00

sometimes when i ask for help i'm really specific.
for instance, i emailed this to some of my people:

i need an email from each of you telling me i did the right thing
and i'm a good person and people might just like me.
so, that's your homework for tomorrow.
i'm going to bed.

and when i got their answers my day got so much better.
it's like i could remember again.

The Hostess

2012-04-11T00:00:00.000-07:00

Now, wasn't that a great Spring Fling?

I can hear you nodding yes at the screen.

Thanks for coming to the party.

As your hostess, I thought I should introduce myself a bit.

"Be me" as it were.

So, hey, I'm Kristie.*

This blog?

Totally own the url.

The beginning of 2012 marked the moment when

I decided this year would be about

getting real and being honest--as honest as I could be.

Let me tell you, it's a struggle. Some days I hate it. Some days I

run into friends who remind me, "Kristie, tell the whole story."

And some days I want those friends to just send me funny cards

and stop with all this damn truth.

Getting real about the moments of impact, the moments

that make us who we are, the hilarious ones, the weird ones,

the painful, life altering ones, they are how we step into who we are.

They are scary.

They hurt.

They take action.

They mean looking in the mirror.

And they are so, so worth it.

I would not have said this a year ago, but I know its truth today.

As soon as I started being honest, telling my story, and asking for help,

my world changed for the better.

I hope you've found some inspiration to live out your story.

You are worth it.

You always have been.

"I believe that if all the truth were known about everything in

the world it would be a better place to live."

-Andy Rooney

*I come with my own disclaimer, which is this: I suck at replying and leaving comments--always have.

Email me and I might reply, text me and I will blow up your phone. Call me and leave a voicemail? Well, good luck. It's only fair for you to know these things before we enter into a committed blogging relationship.

The Fabulous One

2012-04-10T00:00:00.000-07:00

Jennifer knows a thing or two and can put together an awesome outfit. It's obvious my closet and I need her. She sends me texts throughout the day--gifts of hilarity peppered with curse words--and I'm better for knowing her. She's on a journey of self-discovery, one I truly admire.
---

When Kristie asked me to be a part of her awesome Spring Fling series, she only had one condition. "Be you," she said. And I loved that. It reminded me that what captivated me about Kristie and her blog in the first place was her raw honesty. That she lived and wrote from this place where she
is just unashamedly herself. Nobody needs to tell her, "Be you." She just is.

From my experience, it's rare to encounter people like that, and all I knew was that she SO needed to be my friend. I'm still geeking out a little bit that she is. The world needs more people who are alive, honest and real. And I hope to be one of those people too.

I am all about stories. I love to listen to them. I love to tell them. Everyone has a story. And all of it, every scene, is important and it matters. So because of that, I wanted to share a piece of my story.

It was in the play area of a children's hospital that I experienced my greatest betrayal. It was just one of many evenings we there sitting with my brother, eating bland hospital hamburgers, waiting for visiting hours to be over so we could go home.

My dad was tired, hair messy from a long day working outside in the heat. We sat there together in that playroom, killing time. We were together because we always were. It was the only way either of us could survive the day-after-day routine where life always revolved around my brother's sickness. We were the best of friends. I was the apple of his eye and he was my hero.

I tried to cheer him up. It was my job to do that - make him happy, make him smile, make him laugh. I found purpose and belonging in that role. At the age of fourteen, I was well aware that my mom was rarely the source of his joy. I carried the responsibility of creating happy places for my father. So, in this hospital that evening, there I was, fulfilling a role I was not meant to play.

He was quiet and was building a tower with Legos. In my innocence, I attempted to draw a smile and ease the tension, I asked a question. "It looks the entrance to Seaworld, daddy. Where's Shamu?"

And then it came. The four words that were going to change my life. The four words that have haunted me for the last seventeen years. The four words that I would believe about myself for a very, very long time.

"Look in the mirror."

His response was quick. He didn't miss a beat. It was as if he had been waiting to say it or as if he had looked for an opportunity to bite me with those words.

They devastated me. I sat there stunned, holding back tears. My daddy thought I was Shamu. He thinks I'm fat? He thinks I'm as big as a whale? I didn't want him to know he had hurt me so I stayed quiet. And when enough time had gone by, I slipped out of the room and went to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

I still remember this day. I vividly remember the tears rolling down the face of my fourteen year old self. That moment, in front of that mirror, I agreed with him. I agreed with what my dad had said about me. I was big. I was as big as Shamu. And I went further. I was ugly, hideous, grotesque, disgusting. I'm unlovable.

This was me at fourteen. This was what my dad called Shamu. This is what I called ugly, hideous, grotesque and disgusting. This beautiful, vibrant, smiley, healthy girl.

Clearly, my dad was wrong. He was very, very wrong.

For the majority of my life I have struggled with my weight, with food addictions, and with various eating disorders. I have been overweight all of my adult life. I may not have been Shamu at the age that I believed that I was, but in some ways, I lived out that identity. I ate my pain and anger and hurt for years. At one point in my life, I was close to 350 pounds. More than just the weight though, I spent years hating myself to my very core.

I would love to tell you that this story has a happy ending, but I am still very much on my journey here. I am making choices every day to be healthier, to be kinder to myself and to take care of me - mind, body and spirit.

The Shamu thing has changed me though. It has taught me to be careful with my words - because they last and go deep. Over time, it has given me strength to push through the hatred I've had for myself and find kindness and truth for the parts of my soul that need it most. It has made me look at who I really am - the truest parts of myself that are lovely and beautiful and full of life, and how those things are what define me. I have learned to fight for myself and for others, because someone needs to be there when our identity has been ripped to shreds.

I am not Shamu. I am not a whale. I won't believe those lies anymore. They weren't true then and they aren't true now. It has taken me a LONG time to get to a place where I don't believe that as truth. Finally, I have confidence and pride and security just in being myself, and it feels good to be in a place where I actually like who I am.

So, hi. I'm Jennifer. I laugh really loud. I cry at things like Rice-Krispy treat commercials and when I watched the movie Real Steel (and if you haven't seen this, Hugh Jackman's hotness is waiting for you). I can curse like a sailor when I get really angry. I love cheese. I like to make things with my glue gun. I wear huge earrings. Also, I'm freaking fabulous.

I am a constant work in progress, every day changing, making choices, growing. Leaving the Shamu scene and the lies that came with it, behind me.

The Bee and A Lesson from My Mother

2012-04-09T00:00:00.000-07:00

I have a soft spot for anyone whose mother had the common sense to name them with a 'k'. Shallow? Hardly. I don't remember how I first stumbled on Krissy's blog, but I remember loving her voice, her humor, and her ability to just say it--whatever it was. Blogland needs more of the real deal, and Krissy is the real deal. Krissy, thank you.

-------
Hi friends! I'm krissy jane from the short of it, and I'm delighted to be your storyteller today in absence of Kristie! For this guest post, Kristie asked me to be me - to be honest. Luckily, honesty is my specialty. Honest stories flow through my pencil into my notebook with ease. In preparing for this post, I found myself sitting in a park, eating my lunch as I was writing down different stories when a bee landed on the table next to my paper. I had a feeling that the funny anecdote I was penning wasn’t the perfect fit, and as soon as that bee landed, I knew what story to tell. I know this story will be safe here, because it is our mutual loss of a parent that has solidified the connection I feel to Kristie.

Many people become skittish and frightful when a bee buzzes into their personal space, yet people frequently note my calmness when encountered by a bee. I don’t usually tell them why, but in those moments I feel my mother.

My mother and I, each in our mid-twenties

My mom was a bit of a hippie (as clearly demonstrated in the above photo); she and my dad had been camping together for years, and we often took a weeklong family vacation over the summer to camp on the river.

my sister and I on the river that week

On one summer camping trip, when I was about 7 or 8 years old, I was walking by the fire pit a huge bee dove in front of my face. As I remember it, it was the Godzilla of bees. It was huge, people. I started screaming like the little girl that I was, and batted at the buzzing creature circling my head.

approximate size of the Godzilla bee, as I remember it via Nat Geo

My mother came swooping out of the tent, strongly, yet calmly, urging me to relax. She instructed me to stop swatting at the thing, but especially after it stung my eyelid for the first time, I couldn’t fight my instinct to smack it away. The burning sting brought on sobs as well as screams at this point. My tactic was unsuccessful, and the bee stung me one or two more times on my eyelid. I could feel my eye swelling up and my mom had a tinge of fear in her voice as she pleaded with me to stop.

“Krissy, be still!” she exclaimed.

“I can’t,” I responded, unable to battle my fear-induced response to the bee.

“I promise it is more scared of you than you are of it.”

The Godzilla bee? Scared? I wasn’t buying it.

“Krissy,” she urged, “you have to stay still or it won’t leave you alone! Stay still; stand stiff… as stiff as a crayon!”

That sounds silly, right? It was such a strange instruction, but I guess I needed to hear something obscure.

I closed my eyes and pictured my box of crayons; rows of colored sticks lined up straight next to one another. I immediately threw my arms to my side and stood still with tears from pain above my eye bringing tears to stream down my cheeks. The bee flew away.

That day she taught me the value of keeping my composure around a buzzing bee. Staying calm in scary situations takes a lot more strength than freaking out, and strength is one thing that my mother was an expert on. Learning to be calm around the danger of bees, in some strange way, prepared me for the months following the news that my mother’s doctors couldn't do anything else to prevent her cancer from taking her life.

I learned that flailing, screaming and trying to bat away the fear of her dying would only hurt me. Now I knew it wouldn’t work. Losing my composure meant losing myself in that moment, and those last few months with my mother were precious. I wasn’t about to waste that precious time screaming about how unfair it was that she was going to lose her life and I was going to lose my mother. Instead, I remained calm. I kept my eyes open and soaked up as much beauty and love as I could from my mother in our final moments together. I haven’t stopped ever since. So now when I see a bee, I find peace, keep my eyes open and soak up the beauty surrounding me.

More Rain...

2012-04-07T10:48:00.000-07:00

This was written in response to an image prompt by rantings of a semi-crazy blonde girl.

To view Krissy's response to the same picture, click here.

She kept staring at it wondering, looking, dreading. It meant more rain. More rain always meant more rain. Why didn’t it stop? Why? Why now? No one needed it. She didn’t want it. She hated it. Her tears were plenty.

So she walked away, leaving it–the reflection, the pain–for another day. There would be other days; she was sure of it. There were always other days. Always. Just like there was always rain.

So, she left.

And it rained.

And she walked until she arrived again.

The water was there, the sun too. The rain had stopped and she was an entirely different person. The reflections lying on the ground were beautiful . She could see them, finally.

She could finally see them.

iPhone photo by Seattle photographer, Chase Jarvis

The Sister Friend

2012-04-06T00:21:00.002-07:00

I'm a girl named Kelsey and I'm a sister of Kristie [was here]. In case you need it pointed out to you, our names start with the same letter. We also have the same middle name. You'd think our mom would confuse us--and you're right. She does. Today she left me a voicemail and called me Kristie. It happens. Anyway, I love Kristie's blog and I love Kristie. She's been my sister and my teacher.

Kristie taught me how to read, ride a bike, start a blog, and cast an "over-the-shoulder-look." (Ask her about that one, it's a great story. You're welcome, Kristie).

I blog about my life, my journey, and Vegas, and how I'm moving there in June. Feel free to help support me here. (WINK). But for real, raising money is hard and sometimes awkward. Much like the story I'm writing here. (Like how I did that? I'm awesome with transitions.)

Normally, I don't share stories like this one on my blog. There are two reasons for this: One, it has absolutely no relevance to what I'm doing with my life. And two, because it ~~could~~ will come across as narcissistic--much like the other things I don't tweet for the same reason. Things like:

When guys ask for my number and I say I'm moving to Vegas to church plant, the facial responses I receive look like I said I'm married with kids.

OR

#thatawkwardmoment when the guy that hit on you the night before...

Well, actually, let's just talk about that story...

I was at barber shop last month in Sweet-Home Nowhereville, Alabama (also known as Wilsonville). My uncle made appointments for me, Kathryn, and Keren. (yep, they're k's too) and I opted to get my eyebrows waxed and my hair cut. FYI, those are two things NOT to do on a whim. I hate getting my hair cut and usually cry about my lost locks. This time was no exception. My once shapely eyebrows soon resembled rainbows. Cue tears.

My sisters understood my grief and Kathryn sent a text to Keren: Kelsey's having a hard time today, let's try to make her day better. However, I was on the receiving end of that text. Oops. We laughed a little but mainly I cried.

Hair is sacred.*

We piled into the car and headed 2 hours north to find civilizaion and a mall. My Grandma REALLY likes to shop. Fittingly, I wore a black skirt with a black shirt as I walked the mall mourning the end of a fish-tail braid for at least a month. By this time I had cried all of my makeup off and my eye-sight was blurry. It was time to put on my black-rimmed glasses.

We went to the mall and walked around. After we had exhausted every store and 6 hours had gone by, we headed for the car, prepping for the 2 hour drive back home. An hour into the drive, we stopped in a another town at Publix to get items we needed to make Puerto Rican food fit for a Three Kings Day.

I grabbed a cart with a squeaky wheel while Kathryn and her boyfriend Drew went galavanting down the next isle. Keren opted to wait in the car.

In front of me, and also pushing a cart, was a young man in a black shirt. He was rocking faded jeans and his sandy-brown hair, edgy glasses framed his face. Hearing my squeaky wheel, he glanced to see who was wheeling behind him. That's normal.

Then he double-glanced. Still pretty normal.

Then he spoke to me. Not normal.

"I hope that you don't take this weird, but you look reallllly nice."

My mouth started moving and I wondered what words would come out:

"Thank you very much. I really do appreciate that."

That was that and then we rolled on.

I found Kathryn and Drew on isle 12 tossing bags of rice back and forth. When they spotted me, the rice came flying towards the cart.

"Hey guys, I was by the produce and just got hit on but in a really nice and non-creepy way."

I thanked God for this 'Bama boy who gave me affirming words. As you might recall, the day had been a little rough (i.e. eyebrows and a haircut). It was nice to know a random stranger appreciated me when I felt like I looked my worst. I discreetly pointed him out to them.

I sent Kathryn and Drew to find gluten-free crackers while I went to the dairy section down isle 1.

Racing down the front of Publix, I swung fast around the corner and literally ran into the sandy-haired affirmer. Right about now you may be thinking this story has the makings of a movie. You're right, it does.

"Ohhhh heeeeey." we exchanged awkward smiles. And roll film.

Grocery list, check.
Kathryn and Drew, check.
Back to the car, check.
1 hour drive back to nowhere, aannnnnnnnnnd check.

wilsonville with keren, and my haircut and eyebrows after we reconciled

The next morning we were singing at a church in Wilsonville. The plan was to go to Sunday school and leave early to sound check. We greeted the teachers, made some small talk, and waited for our appointed time. Then a regular Sunday School attendee walked in. My heart double-beated. I recognized him. It was the guy from the night before.

SERIOUSLY, what were the chances that the fellow by the cilantro also lived in the one-stop-light town down the highway? And what were the chances that he went to THAT church and was a member of THAT Sunday School class. Obviously, over 100 percent.

It took about .275 seconds for my face to turn red and .65 seconds for Drew to pick-up on the situation at hand--he whisper-yelled over Kathryn's back to me, "Hey! That's the guy!" And it was. The sweet-talker of Publix was in the same room with me. What now? Were we supposed to acknowledge we had semi-met? I followed his lead; he pretended he didn't know me, although it was apparent he did. I mean, besides the makeup I was wearing and the glasses I wasn't, I looked the same.

The teachers introduced us and he asked how we spelled our last name. Smoooooooth, right? Now I know what you're thinking: He totally wanted to be my friend on Facebook.
WRONG. He never sent me a friend request.

But you know what?

I left my blog business cards all over Wilsonville, Alabama. So, chances are he's probably reading this. And now he'll add me on Facebook, which you should probably do too, or at least follow my blog. And when that happens, when he becomes my facebook friend, then I'll write another guest post for Kristie because she will have taught me yet another thing: how to use the Internet to meet guys.

End scene.

in wilsonville

*I want to apologize to anyone that has seen me within the last month. I'm trying to get my eyebrows back. We're in a tough stage right now.

The Lovely Lemon

2012-04-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

I call this woman Lemon because it's the fruit she would be if she had to pick. Yes, I asked. She is amazingly kind and hilarious, a candy lover, a fantastic story teller, and will take a call or text any time of day. She's the real deal. If you want to be her friend, you'll have to get in line. I saw her first. Oh, and watch the vlog. Trust me on this one.
---

Hello T's Blogland.

T = Krisite.

Blogland = you.

So what I'm trying to say is right now you and I... we're having a moment.

It's like we just hugged.

And if you're not a hugger, then we air hugged or side hugged, which is so awful

but a moment none the less.

Oh and if T failed to introduce me, my name is Shaylynn but you can call me Shay, or nothing at all.. whatever you're comfortable with. Don't get too comfortable though because I'm sure my photos you're about to witness will make you cringe.

For a few weeks now I've debated as to what exactly I should blahwg about.

It's been a really emotional experience trying to pick a subject, I've cried, I've prayed, I've lost my mind..

Well, those all might be lies, but I'm going to let you be the judge of that.

I've decided I needed to tell you the the most important things about me, what makes me me, what makes me tick, and what makes my life so... so... so... drawing a blank on this one.

Here we go.

When I was young, I had a little bit of a weight problem.. and some issues with being the center of attention.

And yes, why yes this is my absolute favorite picture of myself.

And yes, why yes this photo is reason enough for myself to second guess replenishing the earth with my would be chubby, abusive spawn.

And whenever I see this photo I automatically start rapping that rap song.. Get out the way... word.

I still remember the smell of that jersey.

Can you believe I posted this?

Can you?

Me neither.

I feel like I am trying to show off my double chin, and my hips.. totally bragging about it.

I'll have you know I was really good, so good in fact that they usually just had me sit on the bench so I wouldn't make the other players feel bad about themselves.

I can't believe those bangs went out of fashion, I'm still upset.

When I was 17 my dad brought me home a new car, because my ~~enemy~~ older brother was stealing the Toyota Camry I had been ~~ruining~~ driving.

I sat down in the driveway and cried.

I've never fully recovered, and I will never tell you what my friends and I named him.

I think it's only fitting that this car is in front of McDonald's.

And I think it's only fitting that I never took an actual photo of my one time arch nemesis of a car, rather steal a photo from google, which I can't give credit to because it's been floating around my saved photos for so long now.

What a dream boat of a car, and by dream boat of a car, I mean a boat.

If you've never looked bored in a roller coaster photo, you're riding roller coasters wrong.

And if you ever needed to learn anything from me, this is it.

This will be the single most valuable thing I will ever teach you in this life.

My services are free today.

You should know that I do not know how to go grocery shopping.

I will have you know I went to the the store with every intention in the world of buying food, and walked out with said items, and I knew right then and there that my mom was proud of me.

And I'd be the first to go in the Hunger Games, OR I would totally win.

You probably have concluded at this point in my post that I am full of crap, so you're probably not going to believe me when I tell you this.. but I do in fact fall asleep like this quite often.

It's good for you.

It's even better for your friends who didn't know how much of a lunatic you really are and take a picture of you while in and out of sleep and post it on facebook.

And yes, I always wear the colors of the american flag, and I sing the Star Spangled Banner when I get dressed every day.

Photo bombing.

If you are uncomfortable by my friends cleavage in this photo.. well I am too now. I just noticed it while typing.. but we're going to move on together, side by side, and just realize that the best part of this photo is the bombing.

And by bombing, I mean me.

And.

I think this sums up why you needed me in your life today.

Yes, I am that white.. no editing was involved.

And lastly, a horrific story involving a gift from my grandmother.

You needed to see my face like this too, oh my gosh.
Oh & I am aware of my hair being awful, but it's only because it's 2012.

The Younger Self

2012-04-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

I'm crazy and didn't originally write an intro for Alex. Remember when I said work was busy? I did not lie. So, I got her post all pretty and ready and then realized after it went up that I had not mentioned how awesome and kind and just plain great she is. Oh, well. She's so awesome she'll forgive me.

Love ya, Alex! Thanks for sharing!!
----
I'm Alex, from the saga of a twenty-something, and I am beyond honored that our dear friend Kristie has asked me to guest post for her today as a part of her Spring Fling series. Like...thrilled. Because, let's be honest here, Kristie is the bomb dot com, and if she thinks I'm cool enough to ransack her blog for a day, well...that makes me pretty freaking cool, right?

Just go with me here.

So Kristie didn't give me a lot of guidelines to go with here, so I'm just winging it. I thought I'd write my younger self a letter. I've done this before on my blog, but I want to give it another go. So... here it goes.

me, age two.

me, now.

Dear me,

Don't worry, you'll lose the baby fat. But your cheeks will still be massive, even when you're on the cusp of 24

You're going to need glasses, and it's going to be miserable because Mom won't let you get contacts until you can pay for them yourself. But one day, you will be able to pay for them.

Dad will leave. Mom and Dad will get divorced. It will be painful and traumatic and sad. Oh, so very sad. And you will be very bitter and angry for years. You will feel upset and betrayed for all of those years you spent being Daddy's little girl. But one day, you will realize that your life is significantly better because of the things you've overcome.

Your teenage years will be rough. You'll be sad a lot of the time and you'll pick some bad friends and you'll make some bad decisions. You won't be popular in the generic sense of the word, but you know what? That's ok. You're a great person.

Don't spend so much time worrying what other people think of you. It's not worth it. I know it's hard to hear and accept, but you're a beautiful person. You need to know that. Not many people will tell you that until you're older. But never, ever forget that.

You'll find love (but not in a hopeless place har dee har), and it will be magical. It will be comfortable and familiar, exactly as it should be.

Don't be afraid to dream big. There's nothing wrong with having high aspirations. That's something no one will ever be able to take away from you.

Friends will come and go, and they'll do some shitty things to you and you'll do some shitty things to them. Girls are mean, and I still can't explain why they do a lot of the things they do. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of those girls who make you cry and for all of their mean, thoughtless words. I wish I could take all of the pain away from you, make you realize you're so much better than that. But I can't. I can't control them. And for that, I am so sorry.

You're going to grow your hair super long and then cut it all off because you think that's what adults do. That's really dumb.

All in all, life is going to throw you some curveballs. But don't worry; nothing ever will catch you off guard.

Oh, and smile. Always smile.

I love you.

Love,

Me

The Mud Wrestler

2012-04-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

Twiggy is quite capable of introducing herself, but you should know she's the kind of person who reminds you to not take yourself too seriously while being your biggest fan. She tells it like it is--and it's usually funny. Read this whole post. All of it. And don't drink anything while you do it. You will spew water all over your keyboard.

This now ends your public service announcement.
---

a bright "hello" to all of kristie's faithful followers! my name is twiggy and i write over at the dirt life. a blog originally created to document months of living in the wilderness, now continued to document normal life, often dirtier now than it was when i lived in actual dirt. go figure.

as you know, kristie was silly, or shall i say exercised her prowess, and asked me to guest post on her blog. needless to say, i was immediately excited because i adore kristie and the purity in her words. i have often crowned her poem style of writing. so naturally i found myself contemplating what to write about, as i wanted to clearly represent who i am and why i blog. and then i realized something, and the undersized lightbulb floating atop my head went off. ya'll love kristie so much because, if anything, she is one thing, and that is real. perhaps, honest is the best word. 'true to herself' might just be even better than that.

so, of course, i knew in that moment exactly what i should write about. and it involves me spread eagle in a pile of mud. and if i were really honest, it's near the top of my list of most embarrassing moments.

so, now is your chance to go ahead and "x" out of this page. because if you don't like "real" moments, you are in for a harsh reality.

here we go, hold onto your britches:

my husband, hunter, and i were engaging in an 11 mile uphill climb along a seemingly endless trail in the appalachian mountains, a trail that was going to take us 6 months to complete. we had planned to camp and were nearing the end of another random day in march. and i not only had to pee, i had to precipitate. i had been "holding it" for so long, that i felt like a thunderstorm was brewing in my underpants. and it was about to pour.

why had i been holding it so long, you ask? that is, of course, a reasonable question.

well, i had not seen a single good spot to crouch behind a tree and hide from the groups of other hikers, some who i even knew at that point, as it was still winter and we were on a ridge. i hadn't had to go bad enough to risk it. perhaps i still had pride at that point.

perhaps.

however, it became a matter of when, because i was near peeing myself when i decided to just go for it.

i alerted hunter to be on the "look out" for others nearing and decided to drop trou in the middle of the trail, nether regions hanging out, detecting wind direction. i was preparing a proper squat to avoid peeing all down my calves when i realized that the steep incline was causing problems with my aim, especially with a 30 lb. pack throwing my, already imperfect, balace off. wisely, i spotted a tree stump and decided to grasp it, lean back, and win the war against rookie status for outdoor toileting.

i prepared my stance, resembling the start pose of a sumo wrestler. i gripped the grooves of the stump with my sweaty fingers and smiled at my aptitude. i leaned back and released the flood gates. relief was upon me.

then CRACK.

the moments that ensued were of pure horror and happened in slow motion. all my senses left me as the rotten stump detonated against my weight. the density in my pack propelled me backward, along with the heaviness of my dignity. i fell to my back, the rear of my head hitting the ground, the look of horror on my face as i realized that my husband's line of view was that of a doctor delivering a slippery baby. i landed, several feet below the already accomplished incline of the trail. and as i lay there, unable to lift myself, my shorts tying my ankles together, there was one, undeniable feeling filling the full cavity of my butt crack.

mud.

lots and lots of mud.

"hunter," i began yelling, "help!" i was certain i was peeing myself, upside down, with the credence of encrouching hikers. i had resolved to throw handfulls of leaves over my crotch in an attempt to protect my remaining modesty if i heard even the slightest threat of others.

hunter was heaving in laughter, scurrying his way down the many feet i had skid with my head, to help me up.

i needed him to understand the seriousness of my situation and cut out the needless horseplay, "i'm peeing myself! i'm peeing myself!" i screamed as i lay helpless, flopping my arms in fury.

he gasped for air.

after what seemed hours, he came to my rescue and helped me to my feet. as he attempted to raise my shorts back to their allotted resting position, securing my modesty, i stopped him.

"you idiot," i began sweetly, "look at my butt! it's full of mud. we need to clean it off somehow." i could tell he agreed with my train of thought. walking with thick layers of wet dirt was unacceptable considering chaffing and days without bathing.

we both heard the crunch of leaves under boots of impending hikers. my heart rate escalated. i began sweating. what to use? how are we going to clean it? i thought to myself. i looked at hunter, he was scanning our surrounding area. there were no large leaves. there was nothing!

and in the time it took for me to blink, he snatched the beanie off my head, crammed it into my butt crack, forcefully swiped it in an upward motion, pulled my shorts back up, and returned the cap to cover my matted hair.

that was his solution.

and as a hiker that we knew rounded the bend, we waved as if nothing had happened. a gentle wave, a slight breeze, and the moment i hung my head low for the rest of my life.

all in a day's work, folks. all in a day's work.