Reality TV

During my hiatus from society (i.e. a job or regular play dates with fellow military spouses), I admit to falling victim to daytime television at times. I never get trapped in it or lose touch with the reality that I am sitting alone watching reruns of outrageous scenarios of fabricated drama. I guess I turn it on for background noise while I'm cooking or doing laundry. I've never been much for soaps or talk shows; I prefer the brainless and trivial humor of sitcoms. As ridiculous as it sounds, I've considered at times what it would be like to actually have friends like these, although I know people like that couldn't really exist. TV land is the only world in which you can wiggle your nose and turn your husband's boss into a monkey or afford a high rise apartment with a view as a waitress in a cafe. Life would be easier, I think, if things got too rough to handle, you could just add "to be continued..." and walk offset for a week. Characters in these shows never have to worry about going to work when something more interesting is going on and they can travel anywhere at anytime so there is never an episode of homesickness or feelings of loneliness. There is always a friend walking in the door and a perfect punchline to every joke. There just isn't enough time in a 30-minute episode to see Grace worry about how she will pay rent for her downtown office when she hasn't had one design job in the past two seasons or see Jerry deal with relationship issues bigger than his date having "man hands." I think this is one reason I can never get wrapped up in t.v. and commit to watching a show on a weekly basis. I have a hard time relating and not thinking too deeply about the show. Sure, I've had times when I have had "Scrubs fantasies" and difficulty relating to my in laws like you might see on some shows, but unfortunately I can't blink an eye and make things go away (or reappear). I wish my worst problem was that my best friend went to Bloomingdale's with another woman. I wish all I had to do was talk it over a cup of coffee and turn the "applaud now" sign on. I wish I never had a fat day and I could walk out wearing the perfect outfit no matter what the occasion. I'd never have to worry about going to an interview with lipstick on my teeth and the camera would just switch angles if I was having a bad hair day. I wish I had theme music playing to encourage me on my jog or a whole audience say "aww" every time Wayne kissed me on the cheek or, in the very least, go some place where everybody knew my name! I might handle risky situations better if all I had to do was flip to next the page on the script and see that all is well in the world and that this episode was going to end with a good laugh. So, what will the next season bring? Will Wayne and I finally have our dreams come true? Will I be reuniting with a close friend? Or will my show be canceled? I guess we'll just have to stay tuned...

BAMBOOzled

Here is a picture of my only plant. It wasn't even my plant actually, it was a gift. I'm not sure what I did to deserve it; I feel like it just fell in my lap one day and ever since that day I've tried to give it everything it needs to grow. I've never been good with plants, somehow no matter what I do to keep it growing, they manage to give up on me. I've had people tell me about this plant. They've said it looks like it's dying, it isn't big enough, or that their bamboo plant is doing so much better, but I've had faith in this one. Maybe it's just my perception. Maybe after having so many seemingly healthy plants die on me, I've just wanted this one to make it. The past few weeks, while all of the other decor in the house has been packed and my usual obligations are ceasing, this little guy has called my attention... despite my watering,pruning, and care, it hasn't responded. The leaves haven't perked up, the branches aren't standing taller. Would he be better if I just left him alone? Is he tired of trying to survive in a place that he doesn't belong? I always feel that things are brought in to my life for a reason, but what if his purpose is complete? What if he was just meant to be a pretty gift for a while and now it's his time to be let go? I hate the thought of giving up on him. I hate the thought that I failed again and that I'm left with the unique vase that it once thrived in (before I got a hold of it of course). Nothing else could fill that vase, nothing else would fit the same and quite honestly, I don't want to try to make anything else grow in it's place. I don't have a green thumb. This is something I've admitted, but I was given this chance. Maybe the reason it is still on my counter is not because of it's potential to thrive, but my selfish desire to hang on to it. I am facing a dilemma. Soon everything in the house will be packed and loaded into the moving truck. Soon I will be too. What will I do with this guy? I want to bring him so badly. I want him to be the showcase of our new home, perhaps even displayed on the coffee table, but is that what's best? I could read more about how traumatic changes of climate are for houseplants, but I also know that this one is different. This one might absorb a better atmosphere and grow bigger than I could imagine. Is this the product of faith or is this just a green dream? Should I let it go now? Leave it in the only place it knew and move on with my life. Is this the end with my little friend?

A little here, A little there

As I get down to the countdown before we leave, I'm finding myself writing several mental diary entries a day. I don't really have the time or focus to jot (or type) them all, but my mind seems to be in this constant state of contemplation where nothing is as simple as it seems and everything is symbolic for something. I think it's the finality of where I'm at right now so I'm trying not to read too much into things; I just feel so dramatic. I'm seeking a constant where there can't be, and desperately searching for a stable place to turn to whether it be in a friend who wants that closeness, or simply an effective workout routine I can look forward to... everything seems to be changing. I suppose that is just where things are suppose to be right now. I'm back in the waiting room of life again. Waiting to be needed, waiting to be trusted, waiting to settle my roots and grow. For once, I would like to be an active participant in the changes in life, for my voice to stand out enough to create a positive change, but that seems to be a role I'm not destined for. How can I expect to be silent and watch everything spin out of control? As long as I can remember, God has taught me that he knows what is best for my life, while frustrating at times, He really does a better job of running it than I do so I'm not struggling with that aspect as much. I do pray that he uses me to touch others in my life so that I can be a tool to create a positive change in theirs. So often, I feel like the opportunity is open, but I fail to let Him work through me. It is these times more than any other, I feel like I have no true place. I'm on unsteady ground and sent back to the waiting room to flip through boring magazines until my true purpose finally calls.

My old friend Teddy

I have been called neurotic and I think it's probably true. It's a personality trait that has been with me since early childhood. I do have a need for balance, a need for closure, a need for completion. I think there are worse things, but this has certainly been a curse at times. Life is about learning, aging, closing chapters and starting new ones. I don't mind most things about life, but something that I never really learned was letting go. Letting chapters end and beginning new ones. I often think about my childhood. Well, thinking is putting it lightly. I have no problems with letting my mind drift back to moments when I was younger and just reliving them for a bit. This is something that I do to cope at times and it is a comfort to me. I have no desire to relive my childhood, adolescence was far too painful for that, but I love to sort of travel back in time to a place where things didn't have to make sense. Sometimes I think about my toys that I loved and the games I played. I remember at one point I had all of my stuffed animals on my twin sized bed. There was probably close to thirty or forty that I happily squeezed in the middle of. My mom would always tell me to move them, but how could I chose which ones to keep? They were all so dear to me. Each one from a different time, whether it was given to me as a gift or one that was made. They each told a story. I had a ritual to kiss each one making sure no one was left out, I didn't want any jealousy! Ok, so this is sounding more like confessions of early OCD tendencies, and maybe it is. The point is, there was something so comforting for me to have this completion and to know that no matter what, they were there. Of course as the years went on, some of my fluffy friends moved to the floor, some to a box, and some to those children less fortunate than I. I learned I had to let go, but some of them stayed. Some of them have even traveled across the country with me. My oldest friend still has a place on my bed every night (Wayne is so understanding!). Growing up, growing apart, learning to let go is not something I'm good at, but something I've learned to embrace. At the same time, I've also learned that somethings don't have to be let go. Somethings are meant to stay and be apart of you even if they aren't as big of a part. I don't carry my teddy every where I go, and I don't cuddle with him every night, but he's there. Friendships in life aren't as easy as toys. I'm not sure that they will be there the next day like all of my stuffed animals were. I don't know how to let go and when or if I should sometimes. I just hope that the ones that are there and hold a special part of me will be there.

Anchors Away

I wanted to be like an ocean upon the shore. To crash into this life and change... change shape, change views, change it all. I wanted to make my presence known, not by sound or sight, but by feeling. I wanted to make an impact like a wave hitting the sand, never to look back and never to be the same... I'm heading to the ocean now. I've heard it call for three years and God knows that there is a warm place for me in the sand and sun. I place for me to dig my toes into and watch in pure amazement at the beauty he created. I need that like the tide needs the moon. I've searched here, landlocked. Trying to find my place, my warm spot, my time to crash upon the shore. I'm not sure why it took three years to realize that this is not the place. I'm not even sure why it took until tonight for me to realize that my purpose here was to just be. To float along the tepid waters and solidify into the woman I've tried my whole life to become. My place isn't here, although I have found places that I needed to be and that needed me for the time. God intended for me to learn what to absorb, such as the friendships that never would have blessed my life had I not come, but also to learn how to cast out what was not intended for me. That lesson was a hard one, but I've learn to release what I should not keep and sometimes it stings, but I find there is more of me to give to ones that I am meant to when I do. I'll leave this place in a few months a changed woman. I might be a passing thought in a few minds here. I might come up in a conversation or two, not exactly the waves I wanted to make. I do hope that I leave behind an imprint, maybe instead of the waves I can leave traces on the shore like seashells to be found on a lazy day. Someone will think of a conversation that we shared or a nice gesture and take with them that seashell. I, on the other hand will take with me a bucket full of memories. When this tide retreats, I will be changed.

Hearts on fire

The other day a friend and I went into this jewelry store to get her ring sized. Normally I feel really self-conscience in jewelry stores, although I'm not entirely sure why. I'm not one of those girls that feels the need to send my husband into debt buying me jewelry, but I will admit I did fall slightly under the spell of all those sparkling gems when I entered the lobby. The strategic lighting is just soft enough that your eyes gravitate to the faceted colors of all the treasures in the cases. The atmosphere was calm and the warm heater was a nice break from the unusual windy Colorado weather. I don't think it was at all a coincidence that I felt I could have stayed and browsed for the remainder of the evening. The sales lady was aloof for the most part, but this gave me the opportunity to educate myself on the science behind gemology and, as I learned, "diamontology." The lady carefully studied the ring and took out a variety of tools, but spoke very little. That was until the inspection was done, the pricing was arranged, and she put on her real "sales hat." She then introduced, to our gazing eyes, the incredible "hearts on fire" diamond. She knew more history on this particular cut than most people do about the history of our country. There was no doubt that it was beautiful and yet I couldn't help but wonder how is it that they can still be discovering new ways to cut a diamond. It seems pretty obvious that a more perfect and symmetrical prism makes for more reflection. I suppose my real issue with the whole thing was that some people spend more time trying to find the perfect diamond instead of the perfect mate! When looking around the beautiful gallery it occurred to me that my intimidation was based on me comparing myself to what I was surrounded by. Comparing my possessions to all of those. My rings are humble and charming. They aren't the perfect cut and they were never draped on blue velvet being awed by jewelry store clerks. They were, however, given to me by someone beautiful and a true work of God's art. Our love has been molded into a perfect form; delicate and balanced. It was upon realizing this that the cases seemed to dim and my own hand began to gleam. These rings on my finger will always symbolize my heart on fire.

Running out of ink.

It amazes me how natural sitting down with a pen and a blank notebook used to send my creativity flying. I feel almost agoraphobic when I stare at a blank page now. Maybe it's because I've stared at the vast nothingness Wyoming seems to offer for so long now that my brain is intimidated by the void of a blank sheet of paper. The odd thing is, is that I have thoughts all the time. Some of which I find intriguing and think I could really describe in depth, but when I begin I usually get distracted and instantly throw myself into something mindless like googling recipes I have little intention on cooking. Well, now that I feel satisfied with the amount of time I've spent dedicated to an array of intermediate level dishes, the house is as organized as I care to get it for the time being, and my husband has sent my mood into one of despair (too much time talking about living here and military red tape); I've decided it was time to do something that I desperately feel a need to do: WRITE!! Set free the flowing river of thoughts and ideas that once saturated paper as easily as grey clouds in a November sky. It occurred to me last night how difficult the next month is going to be. I've been in this kind of numb state for the past few weeks and I'm beginning to think it has just been my mind's way of preparing for what is about to happen. Yes, the thought of approaching my (EEK!) mid-late twenties is a bit frightening; it's really paltry in comparison to everything else. First of all, Wayne will find out if he is accepted for the cross-train and either way that turns out will have a great impact on our lives. For the first time, I will miss my birthday and Christmas with my family, but we are going home for a long weekend and I couldn't be more excited about it! There is just one thing about it and that is the curse of every visit to see my beloved family in Texas...a return flight. I dread leaving them so much! Time in between visits is like an opened wound healing and that makes every time I have to leave a fresh break in my heart. I thought this was suppose to be easier!? This brings me to my last battle and that is having my very close and very beloved friend move away. Military life is plagued by having to be separated from the ones you love. Out of all the mundane, unnecessary classes and out processing being forced on the military, I've yet to see one for how to cope with leaving the people that make getting through this lifestyle tolerable. . . I'm probably speaking too soon and tomorrow night I'll be having dinner alone because Wayne will be attending a commander's call of this very nature. I know change is impertinent and, honestly, I am encouraged by what the future holds, but I think what gets me is the fear of being stuck idle.