I used to think growing up didn't come fast enough...

It's such a beautiful day! Perfect weather, maybe a little toastier than I'd like, but I really can't complain. Days like this make me feel like taking a trip to the beach...then I remember I'm miles and miles away from one!

When I was a kiddo, picnicking at the beach with my cousins was one way I'd spend a summer day. The last time we went was about two years ago, when I was visiting California, but it wasn't exactly the same. My cousins were older, so they brought their boyfriends; the beach was also more crowded, and the sand just wasn't as soft. Now that I'm older, I tend to notice the negative along with the positive, and sometimes I find myself focusing more on the former than I should; it even holds me back. Instead of running out into the ocean with a carefree attitude, I hesitate because I think about how icy cold the water will be. Instead of holding out a piece of my sandwich for a seagull, I shoo it away.

You know, I'm sure the sand is probably the same texture as before, and the beach is probably as crowded as it was 15 years ago. It wouldn't even surprise me if the same seagull from my childhood days decided to pay me a visit just for kicks, every time I stopped by Hermosa or Huntington Beach. Now I find myself in Austin, TX, relaxing after a very sunny day full of shopping, and reflecting on how much I miss the beach...and, of course, my childhood.

I look forward to the day when I have my own kiddos and can take them to the beach. I know I'll be telling them to watch their food while they're busy entertaining the pestering seagulls, though I'm sure they won't see them that way. I also look forward to being able to use them as an excuse for going down the slides at a park, or even swinging too high on the swings. I really miss stuff like that.

There's also something oddly exhilirating about childhood diversions like being chased while playing tag or hide-and-go-seek; I still play whenever I get the chance. (I made poor Jose play hide-and-go-seek with me last year in his apartment!) I strongly believe recess should exist in real life; there should definitely be a playtime for everyone. With the implementation of a mandatory playtime, I'm sure there'd be a significant drop in the amount of stress-related illnesses and diseases that ail us, especially as we take on more responsibilities with age.

Honest about faith

My body seems to be healing after the surgery, but my soul is still undergoing a lot of spiritual repairs, and it's still not in perfectly good shape. I'm not entirely sure that it ever will be, given that I am imperfect and constantly making mistakes; but there is hope, considering the improvements that have been made. The only reason why there is any grain of goodness or bit of hope left at all is because of my faith and what it's allowed me to experience.

As I reflect back on my life, it seems I should be one of the following (at least statistically speaking): an angry feminist that hates men, pregnant with one or more kids already in tow, a completely hardened individual that refuses to acknowledge that God or any kind of goodness exists...but, again, thanks to my faith (or, I should say, a belief in a God that is perfect Love), I am none of these. Instead, I am simply a damaged human being that acknowledges their broken state and a need to be healed; someone who still believes in love because they are restored by it on a daily basis.

I could blame all my supposed "wounds" on others, it would be easy in my case, considering the fact that I was born into a family with its own set of wounds, those lingering from childhood abuse and also, in my mom's case, spousal abuse. I could say that it's all her fault for marrying my drug-addicted, alcoholic father, and then later choosing to marry another man who ended up causing psychological instead of physical damage. I don't want to do that, though...so I guess I can turn the pages in the book a little further back, to the chapters that cover the reasons why, exactly, my mom's self-image was broken enough to marry such hurtful people. If I did that, there would be even more reasons for me to point the finger.

Basically, the ripple effect definitely took place in my mom's family: One person's pain drove them to sin, eventually causing all their children (my mom's four sisters, her mother, and pretty much all the grandchildren) to suffer heavy blows in life...it's a tragedy. An outsider would view all of us as hopeless cases; they wouldn't leave any room for hope. They probably wouldn't even blame us for all hating God, or even questioning his existence. After all, some might argue, why would any loving God even "allow" that kind of suffering to go on? Well, we're not the only ones, the damage extends beyond our family...everyone belonging to the human race understands what it's like to suffer as a result of someone else's mistakes. So I guess WE ALL have our reasons for denying God's existence while refusing our hearts that little mustard seed of faith.

As far as my life is concerned, I'm one of the "grandchildren" still trying to get up on their feet, definitely not on my own, though. There is no way I would've made it this far without keeping faith that in the end love would prevail, and that it would find me even when I couldn't see it moving in my life. I'm sure some people out there might even think "Psh, that's all you're dealing with...well, at least you have your health." Isn't it funny how, when things get bad, we always find ourselves saying to each other, "at least you have your health"? Well, I can't say that my health is entirely where it should be...considering I just had surgery. It's been tough, I have to admit; the medical bills are piling up, I still have my college debt to pay-off, I lost my job, and though I have a tad bit of support from those in my family who are still trying to be loving people after experiencing their own bits of hell... yeah, I get down. I even get pessimistic...

So who am I to preach about faith? Well, how can you have faith without a trial to test its authenticity? It's easy to believe in goodness when it's in season, but like every other fruit, we can’t pull it off the tree whenever we want. That's how I'd respond to the someone who says I don't have enough faith. And, no, I am not going to believe anyone if they tell me that I'll be healed, or even that my life will suddenly be perfect, if I just have "enough faith". Faith is like money in the sense that if you have enough of it, it still won’t buy you happiness. Quality not quantity definitely comes in to play; it’s what the faith is made of that determines whether or not it will get you through the tough times. I’ve always been determined to keep my faith; even in the low points, I refused to deny the existence of God. I know that God is an experience that can’t be explained in words, considering the words would then limit him and he is not supposed to have any limits. But I also know that God can be felt, and if he moves someone else and they’re standing close enough to you, then you’re also going to feel something.

With me, it’s always been “the perfect timing” scenario. As soon as something awful takes place, something better happens to counteract the negative. It’s not a coincidence; there have been too many situations like that for it to have happened by chance. Sometimes I find myself reflecting on all those incidences, and the most recent one has changed my perspective on life and God the most. It has definitely been a blessing. Its occurrence has actually brought me to say that I would undergo every single ounce of physical and emotional pain again in order to get the opportunity to experience it in the exact way that I have. The years I spent keeping my faith and putting it into action by refusing the reign of negativity in my life proved to be worth it. Instead of becoming a rebellious child under my parent’s care, I still obeyed them even when I disagreed with how they chose to live. But I never let myself be disrespected to the point that my self-image was entirely destroyed; I eventually had to leave a lot behind to avoid that from happening, including health insurance and money.

Still, even when I didn’t understand how God could possibly allow me to be placed in that kind of situation, I realized that even though I had lost so many things, I did not lose my ability to experience the intangible: Love. I was still a human being that desired to love others because there were/are still many with worse hurts than my own; I was also someone who had the ability to receive love. As long as we’re alive, we all have a purpose. Even if we lose our health, no one can destroy our soul or its ability to give and receive love. We’re the ones who truly decide how blessed we are, since love is the ultimate blessing that we can give to others, or even ourselves. That is precisely what all the evil I’ve seen and experienced has better allowed me to feel and give. I would’ve taken so much more for granted if I hadn’t lost so much.

I’ve let love replace the loss. Of course, there are still wounds that need to be healed from all the losses, but they cannot be soothed by other things that can be just as easily lost. Superficial relationships don’t last, a steady income doesn’t last, money doesn’t last…you get the picture. Though I’ve been stripped of some meaningful things, there are other things, like my health insurance and job that can be easily replaced. Even when I lost something meaningful, like the ability to trust someone I loved, someone else reached out their hand and helped me. I know God moved in their heart to act, because I believe God is the one who allows love to exist in anyone’s heart.

The greatest blessing love has bestowed upon me thus far is the relationship I now share with my future husband. Not only have I seen him offer real love to others, by going so far as to donate a kidney to his uncle in order to save his life, I’ve also been able to see God in his heart. Even though he (my fiancé) experienced his own hard knocks in life, he kept love alive in his heart, and that’s exactly why he was able to save his uncle’s life. This act has made him an inspiration to me, and his honest claim to loving me, like remaining faithful and telling me I'm beautiful when I haven't worn anything other than pajamas in weeks, is another way he inspires me to believe that love endures when it's real. Even when I am sick and underweight, undergoing surgery, etc., he not only stays by my side (though that alone would make him worthy of praise) but he continues to encourage me when I start losing sight of the goal, love. If it wasn’t for this awful gallbladder illness I’ve been suffering from, I wouldn’t be able to see the depth and sincerity of his love. In the past, during other difficult times when I prayed that God would sustain me with love and continue to make it known to me, I didn’t realize that I would gain the greatest understanding of that love during one of the hardest situations I would ever be faced with. My faith is stronger now than its ever been, even though my body is weaker than before.

Venting

Thank God the surgery was a success, but I can't say that it doesn't hurt like crazy...I currently have absolutely zero pain medications in my system, even though I just got out of surgery less than 24 hours ago...why? Because they make me feel so sick, and puking while having stitches on your stomach isn't exactly pleasant...I have never been in this much pain, it hurts so bad that I can't even talk in a normal voice, or even take a breath without feeling like my stomach is being ripped apart. I do have to say one thing, though, I am so thankful that I live in a country where this kind of procedure is easy to do, and that I don't have to be put on a wait-list before I can see a surgeon. I think that's the only thing helping with the pain, I have to keep telling myself that even though it hurts like crazy, at least I was able to have it done...if I would've waited too long, I could've ended up with liver damage, which would've been a lot worse.

As I type this on my laptop, I'm lying down in bed in a very awkward position. Haha! It's funny how I have to situate myself in certain positions in order to sleep, move, etc., I keep telling myself that in just a matter of days, the pain will mostly be gone and I'll be able to get out of bed and gallivant around again. I can't wait! Honestly, though, I expected the pain to be much worse, and thank God it isn't!

We are the "Someone"

It happened again yesterday...the tragic and unexpected event was then followed by the very expected would've, could've, should've thoughts and countless questions like... What were the warning signs? What could've driven someone to take so many lives? And WHY? Why did it have to happen at all? Speculations are made and, all the while, the spotlight seems to be on intervention as the sole means of prevention. "If only we would've intervened sooner," and "We should've payed more attention to the warning signs so this could've been avoided altogether." Well, I agree. There certainly were warning signs that someone should have paid more attention to, I can't argue there. But what is the source of the problem? How and when does it start? Who else should be held responsible for this kind of atrocity? Well, the problem usually begins as an inactive internal one, then it slowly, or sometimes quickly, becomes an active and very destructive one. Sufferring allows for weeds of hurt to settle in the soul while the absence of forgiveness or the presence of anger allow for the overgrowth of all things evil, right before emotional death sets in. The individual who committed the murders yesterday was already dead, spiritually speaking, even before he decided to take his own life. In becoming unfamiliar with life, he also lost his ability to respect its significance. So what caused the existence of these warning signs in the first place? An unresolved issue.

Probably much like you, I was watching the news for awhile yesterday...and I was waiting for? Some kind of answer that would bring about at least a slight sense of peace. The news didn't offer much relief; no surprise there. I heard what the psychologists had to say. They all seemed to agree that someone should've stepped-in a lot sooner, read the warning signs better. Though they each had their own ideas regarding what, exactly, could've driven someone to horrifically take the lives of so many, as the Virginia Tech killer did. I remember one psychologist's statement in particular (and this was voiced before discovering that the killer was actually a student) she said that for someone to engage in such a killing rampage, it's possible that the individual experienced some form of recent emotional trauma, like the loss of a loved one, caused by death or the end of a relationship. Instead of entering the grieving process, they'd chosen to act out their feelings of anger irrationally and violently. But, apparently, if that was the case, no one had seriously bothered to take any interest in the person's emotional state up to that deathly point of no return.

Those responsible for the Columbine incident awhile back were discovered to be seriously emotionally disturbed and unhappy kids; their parents weren't even entirely aware of their condition. And after that awful incident sent chills up and down our spine, we vowed to pay more attention, to spend more time asking all the right questions...but it happened again. We all want to be reassured that this kind of thing won't happen again, that the proper measures will be taken to ensure each person's safety. But how do we not only open our eyes to the emotionally unstable conditions of others, but also keep them open long enough to prevent those very individuals from contributing to someone else's broken state? Most of all, how do we limit the cause of those conditions? We are all pro-intervention, but what steps are we taking in order to actually prevent the problematic situations that require us to later intervene?

Sometimes we're watching the news waiting for the answers that we already have, and instead of acting on what we know but often ignore, we continue flipping the channels, hoping our inactivity won't haunt us again...


*My heart goes out to all those hurting as a result of the tragedy, and so do my prayers.

The Happiness Web

I just finished watching an Oprah episode a little while ago about happiness (Yes, I watch Oprah and I'm in my 20s...so what?! The world is still round! :). The show started off with a test; members of the audience and at-home viewers were asked to judge which of about 5 people presented were the happiest. It was a tough test; all these people we were supposed to judge had smiling faces. It turned out, some who were the happiest ended up having the hardest lives; one lady even lost quite a few people she loved in a short period of 6 months. So, what determined who was happy and who was not? Well, a lot of it had to do with the way they reflected on life, how they defined happiness, and even how they looked at their circumstances. It seems pretty obvious that those three things would play a vital role in keeping happiness alive. But how do you tell people who usually get the shorter end of the stick to tough it out and "think happy thoughts"? It seems unreasonable, so maybe you tell them something else.

One of the guest psychologists on the show claimed that, from his experiences, those who spent a large portion of their time complaining actually tended to fear happiness. He went on to say something to the effect that if someone has a habit of thinking negatively, and not expecting much from life, then they wouldn't have to worry about being let down, since they weren't truly happy to begin with. It was also suggested that happiness shouldn't be tied to an object or person; I guess that's why codependency in a relationship is so destructive. All these facts and suggestions sound valid and believable, but how practical are the pieces of advice, really? Well, it would definitely depend on who's listening. Someone with years of experience in thinking negative would have to be reconditioned. Something probably happened to spark the negative thought life, I'm pretty sure it didn't just randomly spring up on it's own. Sadly, Oprah mentioned that only 26% of the people in her audience during the show were truly happy. If that statistic was supposed to represent the percentage of genuinely happy people in America, then that doesn't say much about the rest of us, and psychologists definitely have their work cutout for them. But I can't help but wonder, why are we so unhappy or generally unsatisfied with our lives?

I can only speak for myself here, but I guess I can say a few things about what I've observed while taking 22 trips around the sun. On the down-side, it seems like the more I actually take the time to study the lives of those around me, the more I want to either stop looking or, quite the opposite, get involved. Sometimes it seems like we only have a few alternatives when it comes to our state of being: We can completely harden our hearts so that they are unmoved by the sadness around us; we can become actively involved and help others while remembering that we can only help a few since we are, in truth, limited human beings; we can get depressed about the fact that we can only do so much; or, we can get so focused on our own problems that we forget about everyone else and, in turn, become even more lonely as a result of our selfish outlook on life. I guess I prefer the second option, but I know my behavior doesn't always reflect this claim of mine.

And so it goes, every day I realize another way that I'm limited: I only have so much money, so much time, blah blah blah...but I also try to remind myself of how I'm actually a lot less limited than a majority of the people who live in this world. Now, I'm not about to tell you kiddos to eat your broccoli because there are starving children in Africa, but I will say this:

It's not wrong to realize your limitations, that's part of our job as humans, but it is wrong to not realize anything else.

And, folks, from what I've noticed, failing to realize that in itself is precisely what contributes to so much unhappiness. It's easy for us to focus on what we don't have; the "compare game" is a big, deceitful trap that makes us lose our way along the happiness path. In realizing your limitations, you're acknowledging that there will be times when you need help from someone else; BUT when you also realize that you still have something to offer in spite of your limitations, well, that's when you can help someone else. And what does that do? That not only gives you a sense of purpose that's essential for happiness, but it also connects you to someone else; companionship promotes acceptance as it scares away the demons of loneliness associated with depression, and it even allows for love's existence. Everyone knows that love is the main ingredient when it comes to cooking up a lifetime batch of true happiness!

All over the place!

When I think about all the things I want to do with this little life of mine, I can't help but realize that life, in general, isn't very long at all. I'm one of those people with way too many interests and the list, basically, keeps getting longer. There are a few things I know I need to do. I strongly believe that if anyone is alive and healthy, they shouldn't lead lives completely centered on just their own personal interests. We're alive to define love with action; some people do it indirectly, by donating money to a cause they support; some use their brains, they become doctors or engineers that develop prosthetic parts for those in need--the list goes on. Others take a more hands-on approach, they join organizations like the Peace Corps and Teach for America, or they might even work at a local food bank and tutor kids during their free-time. So, the only thing I'm really certain of, as far as my future is concerned, is that I will do my part as an active member of the human race, most likely as a teacher, but what about the other details? Like, how will I do it, and what will I do afterward?

Well, life is pretty chaotic right now. I'm still waiting for the gooey gallbladder removal, which I am anxiously awaiting! After that's over, and I'm no longer writhing in pain from the surgery, I'll probably do the office job thing for awhile. Just for AWHILE! I hate working in an office setting; it's not me! I don't particularly enjoy doing frivolous desk work, I'm more of a hands-on kind of gal. Whether I'm making food, taking pictures, painting, writing, crocheting, or making personalized cards, I always have to be doing something that involves creativity. The office job thing is only temporary, at least until Jose and I get settled down in whatever city he'll be attending law school. For now, he's shooting for schools along the East and West Coasts, and I am definitely excited. The cost of living in Texas is cheap, no argument there, but I miss the ocean and getting to see each season's beauty! I can't get certified to teach now because I'm probably not going to be in Texas for that much longer, unless Jose decides to stay at UT. We'll see, I won't really mind; I actually love Austin, even when I'm dying of heat stroke. The thought of grad school is definitely on the brain, and if I go, I'll most likely study Child Development or Developmental Psychology. I really enjoyed the child development courses I took in order to earn my minor in Education, and working with children is both meaningful and rewarding.

But, of course, there's the unwritten to-do list that I can't seem to get rid of! What else is on the ever-growing list? Well, among many other things, "attend culinary art school" is one of the recent additions. I guess I shouldn't say recent, considering I first entertained the idea around age 11, when I visited one of San Francisco's cooking academies. It was a memorable experience, and I have to admit that ever since then I've preferred strawberries wearing chocolate tuxedos over the plain ones. I think it's also in my blood, my grandparents used to have their own restaurant. But, honestly, living in Austin these past couple of years has made the idea of going to culinary art school even more real to me. There are so many quaint-cozy-cute little restaurants and stores that I've visited, and I thought it would be a lot of fun to open up a place that was a mix between the two, but not just any run-of-the-mill restaurant/store combo. Austin is known for it's quirkiness, so it would definitely have to stand-out, and because I'm a big fan of originality, I certainly wouldn't want to open up a place that's boring. I have a few ideas up my sleeve, but I don't want to mention too many of the details ! Jose has thought of possibly settling down in the Austin area after graduating from law school, so this plan of mine might actually turn out to be a pretty good one...

For now I'll try to stick with that old familiar cliche: Take it one day at a time! But then I realize the possibilities and get a little ahead of myself. Life really is exciting, isn't it? I just wish it was a little easier sometimes, but don't we all!

Dearest Ciccone, Goldfrapp, and Stefani, thank you for your eccentricities that never cease to entertain.

Yep, they're my three favorite non-blondes: Madonna Ciccone, Alison Goldfrapp, and Gwen Stefani. It doesn't matter how many times they bleach their hair, I'll love 'em even when it all falls out. Because, well, there's something these three gals have that I've decided they'll never be able to lose: their eccentricities.

Always wanting to stir-up some sort of media hype with her controversial ways, Madonna has been at the top of my list since the first time I danced with a made-over Barbie in hand, the one whose hair I so eagerly chopped off. I'd say that was around age 3, right after reflecting on the fact that Barbie definitely needed a haircut because she looked a little too commercialized for my taste. I guess you'd expect a precociously interesting 3 year old like that to make Madonna one of their icons. It didn't help that my mom was obsessed with her for the longest time...long before Billy Joel came out with that song, I'm sure... You know, way back when Madonna was still a dancer on the verge of releasing the first couple of hits, one of which dubbed her the Material Girl.

It didn't take long for Ciccone to "simma down" shortly after becoming Mrs. Ritchie. But it did take Stefani a little longer to become a solo recording artist. No complaints here, though. Props to Stefani for taking her time by studying art in college, then following through with her decision to be the lead singer of her brother's little OC band that, without a doubt, made it big, as their name would definitely suggest if their ability to succeed was ever questioned. Yep, No Doubt, you chose the right name. You also left the door wide open for Stefani to meet her fabulous now-hubby at a concert. Thanks to you, it doesn't matter if they get their towels mixed-up; same monogram, same difference. Now Stefani can even design her own towels, she's practically a renaissance woman. Her creativity is unparalleled. What can't that gal do? Oh, I know, she can't lose her eccentric ways. She can make a hit with Moby, She can sing like the nun on the Sound of Music, she's even played the rapping mom card...Critics can complain about how eccentric she's become, but is it really too much? As far as I'm concerned, she's not boring. Even though Stefani's been around for awhile, this Orange County girl isn't getting old. Some say she's reinvented herself, I disagree; this is just another side, she's multifaceted unlike so many other recording artists.

And if you want to hear my thoughts on Goldfrapp, check out my music blog!

Mmm Mmm Saltines and 7up anyone?

Ah! It's so wonderful to be back home! You know what physical feeling I hate almost more than any other? I mean, I feel like I can tolerate pain pretty well, but my real weakness is nausea! Ugh, I had this horrible stomach flu this weekend; it shot my white blood cell count through the roof and sent my appetite and dinner down the drain (lovely image, ha!)!

I started feeling sick on Friday around 2 AM, and I went to the doctor later that day. The doc took some tests, saw how high my white blood count was and then told me to go to ER. When I told her my gallbladder was gonna be removed in a few weeks, she thought I could have pancreatitis, which is a really bad thing that can happen to people if they leave their poorly functioning gallbladders in their bodies for too long. So, of course, when Jose and I heard this we freaked out, especially when the doc told us that I would have to stay in the hospital and not eat for two weeks if I did, in fact, have this awful pancreatitis thing. I only ended up spending the weekend in the hospital being poked and prodded, in addition to getting way too high off of the narcotics they gave me. Oh but believe me, my life is exciting enough, so I definitely don't need drugs, thank you very much! The good news is, my pancreas is healthy and happy! Fabulous! And although I'm personally quite happy to be out of the hospital, I'm still trying to get healthy!

Man, times like these make me the most grateful that I don't have an illness that requires me to stay in a hospital 24/7. I am not a very patient patient! I think God knows I'm not strong enough to handle that sort of thing, I guess that's why I haven't been placed me in that kind of situation. But believe me, I do wonder sometimes, it's been pretty tough these past couple of months! One thing I know for sure is that aside from all the health drama, I am very blessed. Jose has been so supportive and helpful. I don't think they would've let me leave the hospital today if it wasn't for him being there the whole time; it's amazing how love really does work better than any painkiller.

Anyway, I actually can't wait for the surgery! I had to reschedule the initial date, sadly, but now, in 18 more days, I should be feeling a whole lot better and I can't wait! Goodbye green gooey gallbladder!