Confessions of a Reformed Martyr

So, you’ve decided to give up your ways as a martyr and rejoin society as a normal person? But you don’t quite know how to get there? Well, have no fear, Brittany is here!


I know, I know...no cape.

What are my qualifications? Why, dear friend, much like you (or someone you know for those of you non-martyrs reading this), I, too, was once a martyr. I had all the symptoms and outbursts. I even went through DTs whenever there wasn’t someone around to give me sympathy. The worst of it all, I didn’t even realize I was a martyr, at least not to the extent that I was. I thought that, because I was less dramatic than other martyrs I knew, I was fine. But sometimes, oh, sometimes that mirror looks a whole lot like somebody else when it’s you looking in it.

Colourbox

And this woman just realized what mirrors really do...

How did I become reformed? It wasn’t easy. And, depending on whom you ask, I haven’t finished yet. That’s to be expected, though; martyrdom is like drug addiction. The attention makes you feel, for a short while, like you actually matter in the universe and nothing else can make you feel that way. But, as soon as you realize what you’ve done, you feel like shit and can’t seem to undo any of the damage you’ve caused. So you cause more to cover up what you’ve done wrong, and the cycle continues…

But, I’m working on it. And to do so, I’ve had to take up a four mantras. Yes, only four. They may sound self-righteous at first, but believe me, they make all the difference in the world in how you perceive people and how other people perceive you. So, crack out your notebook, grasshopper; these are going to be on the test.

#1: Take responsibility for the decisions YOU make because YOU chose to make them.

I’ve rewritten this mantra about six times to get it all in one statement, and I think I finally have it. Martyrs are notorious for blaming others for the decisions they make, especially when something bad happens because of that decision. “Well, so-and-so wanted me to try this great shellfish appetizer even though I have an allergy; I didn’t want her to be upset with me.”

 Hitch, 2005

Yeah, it was so great it took my breath away.

That’s a goofy example, but I’m using it to make a point. I did things like this so often. It was a learned trait that I never knew was wrong, but once someone pointed it out, it was like I had won life. You are the only person who can decide what to make YOU do. Yes, even when a gun is put to your head, you make that final decision to live or die. How can you learn from a mistake that you refuse to admit you made? How will things ever get better if you can’t stop and admit what YOU’ve done wrong?

As with any other recovery program, the first step is admitting you have a problem, or in this case, taking responsibility for the ones you’ve caused.

#2: Life is a sum of the good things and bad things…don’t dwell on the bad.

I should have changed my name to Chicken Little when I was in college. Even though some serious shit was actually going wrong in my life—my then boyfriend had been shipped off to Iraq, my mother and I were become estranged, my work and college lives were completely stressing me out—nobody could see past all the daily crises of which roommate didn’t wash the dishes or why I was being required to do some new task at work. To us martyrs, the world is always ending. It’s never your fault that it’s ending, nor can you see how just one or two readjustments on your end will fix the problem; it’s just ending and that’s that.

CJ Maltby

Nuts are flying at my face!

 

But in reality, life happens. To borrow a quote from Doctor Who (are you surprised?) “Life is made up of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.” Once you stop and realize that this crisis is just one pebble in your otherwise calm pond (or tumultuous ocean, whichever your life may seem), then it is so much easier to enjoy the beautiful accidents in life. Or make some beautiful accidents, as in the case of my life over the last six months.

Yes, this is MUCH easier said than done, and to be honest, this is where I’m struggling the most in my own reformation. But I see the light more and more every day, and it’s beautiful.

#3: Nobody owes you anything.

Oh, I struggled with whether this one or the next one should be the most important (and thus last on the list), but since this one is easier to master, it got bumped. Martyrdom is all about making others feel guilty because they “owe you” for something you’ve done for them or given them or sometimes just because you exist. I wish I could go back in time and smack myself every time I made Corey feel like he owed me something just for being my boyfriend. Nobody should ever be made to feel like they are indebted to you in that way, unless they are actually indebted to you because you’ve lent them money or an object of some sort—that’s totally different.

Hardrock Nights

Then, sick Enforcer on them

 

Yes, you are a special snowflake on this special planet that shouldn’t even have the amount of sentient life that it does, but that does NOT mean that all the other sentient beings owe you something in return. And that ESPECIALLY doesn’t mean you should do things for people just SO they owe you in the future.

As a martyr, you look at everyone else in terms of what they can do for you instead of who they are. Once you stop doing that, once you just allow yourself to do things for other people because you want to (see #1), your relationships will be so much fuller and happier. I didn’t realize how many real friends I had in my life until I took on this mantra, and I can only hope I’m becoming more and more of a real friend to them. It’s amazing how great life can be (see #2) when you start seeing people as people instead of your “servants.”

#4: YOU owe nothing to anyone.

This one is much harder to accept, and it relates back to #1 but in a much deeper context. I don’t know if it’s a cultural thing or human thing, but whenever someone has done something for us, we often feel like we should “get them back.” Many of us do this with our jobs where we feel like we owe our boss to do a good job or with our friends where we feel like we should give up our own moments of happiness for theirs. I felt this way for most of my life. My family went through pains to take care of me when they didn’t have to, so I always felt like I owed them for any successes of my life. But my psychologist (LOVE her! Seriously, OS friends…if you need one, message me; she’s amazing) made me realize that I had one seriously fucked up definition of family. I went through my whole life thinking that anything I ever did right I needed to attribute to my family because they raised me. I felt like a victim, a martyr to my own family because I “owed” them for my life.

NO! That’s so important, I’m going to repeat that in bigger font.

HELL NO!

You owe nobody anything. You are your own person who is allowed to have your own life. Whether someone is actively making you feel this way or you are just assuming you owe them (as I often did), you need to shake that right now because you will always be a victim until you take control. We feel bad saying, “No,” but your life is just that: YOURS. Unwillingly giving part of it to someone else because you feel like you have to just breeds resentment and leads you back to 1, 2, and 3 above.

Try this: whenever someone asks you to do something, even if you think you might say yes, say instead, “Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.” Unless it’s super urgent and super important (which is rarer than you might think), getting this little bit of distance between the request and the answer will do wonders for your impression of that person and your relationship. I could go into a whole bunch more detail here about how the way the person responds reflects the type of friend or family member he or she is, but just know that you’ll realize who you really want to spend your time with when you start saying this to others. And the best part: you’ll have your life back!

 Smiley Faces.org

Happy faces all around!

I hope my mantras helped. It’s going to be a rough battle, you’ll lose a lot of friends and family members from your “callousness,” and you’ll fall off the wagon now and again, but you’ll feel much lighter with that crown of thorns off your head. You’ll begin actually to like people again, and they’ll start to like you!  So, go forth, young grasshopper. Remember the mantras. Or, if four is too many, then just remember this one:

“It’s your life—every decision, every moment, every outcome is up to you—even the way you perceive it. So don’t fuck it up.”

J

Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming....

So I really, really suck at this whole blog thing. It just takes me so long to get an idea and really organize it the way I want it to look that I get halfway through and say, "Oh, look, it's time for lunch!" And end up playing video games for the rest of the evening.

Starting, well, now that won't be an option. Are you on the edge of your seat, wondering what has brought me back from the dead (so to speak...)? Well, hold on tight because here....we....go!

Wheeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

Okay, so that was anticlimactic. If you've been following my video diaries, you should know by now that I am in the UK. If you didn't know that, then either you aren't on my FB or have been living under a rock the last 6 weeks because it's all I've been able to talk about since I got accepted to Essex back in August. Yes, I spent the last six weeks reminding everybody how awesome I am...as often and in the most annoying way possible.

See?! Bigger crown=better than you

I've read a lot about what it's like moving to another country. So far, none of that has applied. Okay, now I'm just acting underwhelmed. No...much of that has applied. In fact, let's just move into list mode, shall we? It'll help explain all the ways the UK is different than the US (as I've discovered so far...).

 FIGHT! 

#1: Currency
Okay, so one of my biggest hiccups is the UK's currency. Whereas in the US, my change purse was rarely filled because I abhorred coins just from the shear weight of them, the UK functions pretty much solely on coin currency. They even have a £2 coin. I mean, look at all the coins they have compared to paper money:

From bottom right to upper left, those are the 1p, 2p, 5p, 10p, 20p, 50p, £1, and £2. And of course, I don't know the difference yet, so I stand at the freaking counter for 10 minutes, rummaging out the appropriate coins to pay for my £1.90 soda or bus fare. It's not worse, just really different. I've yet to determine, by feel, the difference between a 10p and a 2p...and until I do, I'm going to be that "dumb American who can't pay fast enough." :(

 #2: Friendliness
I read somewhere that Brits were supposed to be ruder than US citizens; although, I also read that pretty much all of Europe thinks Americans are going to fly off the handle and kill someone for no reason (which I may do if I can't get this currency thing under control). However, to the former part of that sentence, I must say it is absolutely UNTRUE. Now I know where Canada gets it from. Everybody over here is sooooo nice. And accommodating. And really in love with America.

Yes, these exist here. And they're just as bad in person (I've seen them <shudder>).

 

I'm sure it's just because the people of Colchester and London are so used to foreigners (Essex has a HUGE international student population--they're known for it nationally, actually), but I am pleasantly surprised at the lack of scoffing and eye-rolling I was prepared for. Whenever I do something obviously wrong, whoever is closest just whispers or motions what I'm supposed to do without issue. It's pretty nice, actually. And almost makes me ashamed to be American. We, as a nation, joke about how inconvenienced we are by "ignorant foreigners," but it's just a fact of life here. Which is really nice because now I don't have to worry so much about insulting someone.

So you're saying that the currency isn't a good enough reason to kill someone?

#3: Road Travel
I almost don't want to buy a bike because I cannot get used to the traffic rules here. The first couple of days, I spent too much money on taxis because I thought I needed a bus pass to ride the bus instead of just paying for one trip like we do in the States (ignorant foreigner, remember?). During those rides, I gripped the "oh, shit" bar in the back more often than not because all drivers in the UK take wicked sharp turns, drive WAY too close to the person in front of them, and encounter more roundabouts than stoplights, per capita (I don't know if that's true, but it sounded right).

Seriously, roundabouts already confuse the hell out of me. Whose right away is it, when can you enter the roundabout, what lane should you be in to get off at the 2nd exit...it's crazy! And the people here know the rules so well! I mean, duh, they should, but these taxi drivers just zip into roundabouts, knowing exactly how fast, which lane, and how sharp to turn in order to get where they are going. They have streetlights but that's more for pedestrians crossing than for allowing traffic to pass. It's surprising how much I miss the stop sign. At least I know those rules...

There's a white border--that means it's "optional," right?

 #4: Pay-as-you-go and Home Utilities
Everything, and I do mean pretty much everything, can be "topped up" here. My electricity is monitored by a key that I put money on and put in my meter. When I'm getting close to being out of money (which, at this rate, won't be until mid-November), I take out the key, bring it to my local convenience store, add more money to it, then return to my house, put the key back in the meter, and my electricity resumes. Same with my internet, same with my phone (well, not the key thing, only the top up thing). It's really...different. I'm not sure whether I like it more or not, but it makes monitoring my usage easier. The electricity meter shows how much I've used. I started with £40 and in a little under a week, haven't even used £5 of it. Granted, I haven't learned how to use my radiators (which is going to suck here soon), but I kind of like knowing exactly how much I've used.

It's not THAT cold. There's still mercury in there...

They also have a cool way of limiting "vampire usage." You know, when you consume electricity by just having something plugged in? Every outlet in the house has a little switch next to it. When I need to charge something, I simply flip the switch next to that outlet and only that outlet becomes active. Same with the hot water. Rather than having one big wasteful hot water heater, each sink and the shower has it's own pull cord that turns on the individual water heater attached to the faucet. That way, I'm only using hot water when I need it instead of heating it all the time. Very efficient. At least, when I remember to turn them off, it is...

Overall, this past week has been already been a huge learning experience. Day 1 sucked horribly, but things have gotten better as the week has gone on. My classes officially start next week, as well as some of the social gatherings, so once I actually meet and start hanging out with people, things may get even better (or worse, who knows). I'll keep making video diaries and keeping a weekly blog. It might not always be about my experiences in the UK, but I will try to update it every Sunday or Monday.

If you haven't watched my video diaries (or forgot the link to them), go check them out at the here: Brittany's UK Adventure. If you want to email me, fill out the super awesome box on the right and it should magically find its way to my inbox.

Until next time.....!

P.S: All images used above are copyrighted through Microsoft Office...

It's a Little Like Opening the Windows...

Although I haven't written a post in a while, I felt compelled to this morning. You'll quickly see why.


Must. Go. Towards. The. Electric. Light........

You see, I spoke to God tonight. No, that's not quite right. God called to me tonight.  I've been struggling with increasingly bad insomnia this past week. As tired as I was, I would just lay in bed with my brain turning and turning and turning. None of my normal insomnia tricks worked, and the length of time sleep eluded me got worse and worse each night (with the exception of the 24 hour bug situation, but I'll come to that in a minute).


Where did the top of my head go?!

"It's probably just nerves over the upcoming trip," you might say. I thought so, too...except that what I was thinking about had nothing to do with my trip. No, my brain felt the need to focus on all the bad things going wrong with my family. There's a lot of pain in my family. A lot of suffering. And not all in the ways that would make you go, "Aw...." No, most of it is in the way that would probably make you go, "Eh, it's their own fault." And you'd be right, to an extent, but they're family, and it hurts me when they hurt.

"What does this have to do with God?" I'm getting to that. You see, the brain turning was a symptom of my slipping away from my newfound relationship with God and He was calling me back. Silly me, I didn't realize insomnia could be a calling. But the moment I decided at 3:45 am to take my dog for a walk in the slight drizzle of the first day of Fall (my favorite season in MS), I immediately began talking to God. I realized that all I had learned these past few months about being positive and giving up control started slipping away the closer I got to my goal of going to England. I had begun to revert to my old self and try to "fix" everybody before I left. And oddly enough, bad things were starting to happen.

At first, little things started going wrong, especially with the trip. Things that, at first glance, one might say, "Oh, that's just normal stuff." Some of my wire transfers got bungled. Murphy's vet stuff was not as simple as I thought.

Then, there was that debacle with the douchebag in Minot. Then, I wrecked my car (it's fixed now...). Then, I got a stomach bug from no where that forced me in bed for literally 24 hours on the ONE day I HAD to do Murphy's pet passport stuff.

That's how I felt, too!

Allowing the negativity of those around me to permeate my life again was interrupting all the good things I had gained. It took tonight (well, last night, I guess I should say, as I writing this at 5:10 in the morning), when that negativity erupted at my own going away party, that I realized how much it was causing pain in others when there should have only been joy. My cousins had just arrived after a stressful plane ride with their two small children, and the family negativity began. My aunt and uncle left without telling me goodbye. In fact, they didn't say more than two words to me the whole time they were there. It was not the way I wanted my family at my going away party to go. I didn't allow it to affect the rest of the party because, well, my stubbornness got in the way, but I didn't realize how much it had affected me until I lay down to go to sleep at 11 and found myself WIDE awake for hoooooouuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrsssssssss.

Dude, I see into your soul!!!!

 

So, as I walked my dog around my complex in the rain, I talked. And talked. And talked. For a long time. Murphy needed some exercise after the day of rain, but I needed some exercise, too. Some emotional exercise. I needed to settle some issues within myself that I didn't know needed settling. Like my loneliness without my best friend of the last 5 years or my apprehension at moving somewhere I've never been. I didn't realize how much strength God had given me, just within the last six months, to achieve all the things I have achieved, but only because I really paid attention to His teachings. I had started to let go. I had stopped participating in the negativity. And I had started to finally try to fix only myself.

What's sad is that part of me didn't want to write this post because I have so many friends who would read this and say, "But Brittany, you're an intellectual. How can you possibly have so much faith in God?" To that, I respond, "How can you not?" Too much in my life has been "coincidental" and if there was one thing I learned growing up, it was that nothing is coincidental. There was so much pain I was shielded from by pure circumstance and so much pain I experienced that led to much better things. Too many "miracles" and prayers answered for me to ignore. Hell, even Corey was a gift from God (not to boost his ego if he reads this). Not two days before I met him, I asked God for someone to remind me of who I was, to help guide me back to who I was supposed to be. I don't know what I would have done without him a month later when my dad died. Or two years later when my sweet Luna died, which was followed almost immediately after by the death of my grandmother.  Everything happens for a reason...

So after an hour of talking to him while sitting on my porch in the cool new autumn air, I felt at ease again, like someone had let out all the bad air. I am back on track with my life and at peace with all the unknowns of what's to come. Because I know that God is there with me. And that is awesome.

 

The Writer Returns....

So, my resolution of writing kind of took a backseat (as it always does) to another resolution I made: starting my 50 state half marathon challenge. As such, I've decided (thanks to the suggestion of my friend Heather) to use this blog as a way to catalog my experiences so that I'm doing both--running and writing. 

Okay, so I guess I should have said "run then write." 

I'll begin by detailing the races I've done so far, and since I injured myself at the last race (shouldn't have been trying to write while running, I know), I won't add another running blog until the end of April. I'm hoping that by detailing my physical adventures (no, not those kind of physical adventures--dirty mind), I'll be more disciplined to write more often and you'll get to hear more of my awesome stuff instead of just my running stuff. Because honestly, who wants to read about running all the time? It's just one foot in front of the other, right?


Totally; I'm just lying here because that race was so boring....

State #1: Arvada, Colorado

About five months ago, my cousin Kris and his family up and moved to Denver, Colorado. No job waiting for them, no real plan, just an apartment and a dream. How American of them! Exactly what I have always wanted to do with me life! As it were, there were rumblings in my family that they wouldn't make it; they wouldn't find a job; they wouldn't like the cold and snow; they'd be homesick. I wanted to visit them to make sure my family was wrong and they were okay, and because it was cheaper to go there and stay with them than go to another state and get a hotel.

Let me begin by saying: I'm from the Mississippi Gulf Coast, which is below sea level. The lowest temperature it has ever gotten here in my entire 28 years of life has been, maybe, 27 F, and that was at 1:00 AM. While "snowing." To say I wasn't accustomed to single digit temperatures and 5000+ feet elevation of Denver would be an understatement.

"I'm ready to play in the snow! If I could just figure out how to move...."

Okay, so I'm exaggerating a little (little-LOT). I had already checked the Weather Channel for the weekend's projected forecast (well, actually, Weather Underground; weather.com is like asking a New Orleans street gypsy) and had packed accordingly. I had done my research on running in cold weather last year while training for my full marathon (because it gets soooo cold in New Orleans in March :P), so I already knew what I should wear and how to protect myself. My only hurdle--the elevation.

Here I am before the race:

Close enough to A Christmas Story with three layers,

gloves, and a face mask (not pictured because I looked stupid)

I'm smiling like that because I was in physical pain: I couldn't feel my nose, chin, or toes. It was 27 F outside and projected to get colder while I was running. I had already driven through the snow, so I was pretty sure I would be running in it. The first time I have ever seen real snow, and I have to trample it instead of making a snow angel. I wanted to throw a temper tantrum, but then I remembered that I was 28 and people would start staring at me (again).

The elevation actually wasn't too bad. I could breathe fairly well and felt good while running. It was around mile 4 that I realized what my true hurdle would be--the hills. Oh, those damn hills. Damn you, South Mississippi for being so flat and beautiful! I came around the corner and just exclaimed (I hope not too loudly), "Oh, fuck me." I made it up a third of the hill and had to start walking. I just couldn't do it. My body was screaming "go, go, GO!" but my legs and lungs just said "No, we're not gonna. We're gonna go have a sandwich."

At least it was a pretty day to take pictures.

I don't want to make this post too long, so I'll put the other runs in their own posts. But, I will have to say that luckily, the rest of the way was downhill and I made up my time: 2:17:05. Up one of the highest hills I've ever run, in the highest elevation I've ever run, and I still did it under 2:20. Rock on, me.

Phase Shift...Engage!

"If you could be any animal, what would you be?"

A common-place question designed to get children to think about their personalities and qualities (or those they hoped for) in terms of an animal analogy.
"I think I'm sweet and cuddly, so I would be a bunny."
"I want to be ferocious and feared, so I would be a lion."
"I like to play, so I would be a dog."

My answer? "I would be a chameleon!"

Yes, bow to the awesome power of my horns

I have always given that answer. I think at one point I said I would be a tiger, but that wasn't because I was like a tiger; I just wanted to know what it was like to rip something to pieces with my just my teeth. No, I related most with chameleons. Why? Well, let's do a break down of their characteristics:

1. Blending in Abilities: Chameleons are distinctly different in that they have the ability to blend in by changing their color at any point in time.  At one point, people thought this was for camoflage. We now know that chameleons can change color for a number of reasons: temperature, light, mood.

This doesn't mean I'm in a "loving" mood, if you catch my drift.

I always found myself fascinated by this idea--to blend in by changing oneself. Other animals can blend in, but only because they already look like what they are trying to emulate. Chameleons can actually change their color to match whatever they are associating with. And I really relate to that.

I have always felt relatively...odd. I'm not like other people. And no, not in the "I'm unique--just like everybody else" mentality. I mean, seriously different. Put me in a room with one or two people, and I'll do just fine. I can charm the pants off of those two. Put me in a room with five to ten people, especially people who know each other better than me, and I'll sit back and watch before I make any reactions. I have to assess who I need to be before I can "be" anybody. It's the way I've always been. If I try to be "myself" (whoever that is), I always end up making people cock an eyebrow because I've said something absolutely out of the realm of polite conversation.

What da fuk you jus say?

Yes, yes, everybody deals with this, I know. But I deal with it in a way that paralyzes me. The internet has allowed me to deal with my weirdness a little better (thank you Cracked.com for showing me that other people think and feel the same way I do!), but I still find myself adjusting who I am when placed in a room of five or more people. A defense mechanism, if you will. Speaking of defense mechanisms...

2. Defensive Stances. Chameleons can make themselves appear larger when threatened. Like many other animals, they can "puff up" to drive away predators who then find the chameleon too big for their liking.

 

"Puff up, puff up. They hate that!"



Apparently (and I just found this out from my students a few years ago) when I get really threatened or defensive, I seem taller than I am. My students are always surprised to stand next to me when I am in sandals or tennis shoes because they think I'm so much bigger. It's a human trait, sure, but I have always been "bigger and badder" than people who attack me. You're a 6 foot 1 tennis player who could wipe me out with one backhand? So what! I'll crack out my crazy on you and get right up in your face! You have six other chicks standing behind you who are willing to jump me? Okay, bring it, ho-bag! Imma whoop all yo asses!

My barechested manservant will help by blinding you.

For the record, I'm all of 5 foot 3 and a half (the half is important) and, for most of my life, weighed a buck ten. I was whooping absolutely no ass if someone wanted to call me on it.

But it always worked. I guess my crazy scared them or something, but when I would "puff up" and meet these people head on like I had nothing to lose, they would back down. And yes, I say "my crazy" because, I  would make claims like "I know enough police officers in this town that will ignore it if you go missing" or "There's a track of land my family owns that has a bayou running along the back of it; want to go see if there are any friendly gators in it?"



3. Periodic Shedding. Chameleons shed their skin to make room as they grow. Caterpillars turn into butterflies, but that's the only change they make. Chameleons shed their entire outer skin layer periodically every few months to a year. As they get older, the time between shedding gets longer, but by the time they are finished, they still look the same as they did, but they are, in fact, entirely different. 



Butterflies ain't got nothin' on this shit.



This is the other big reason I identify with chameleons (and reptiles in general). Every few years, I shed myself to make room for a new me. Not in the way others grow and change where they envelope their old lives as part of some new interest or development. No, I am like a reptile in that every three or four years, I shed everything of my old life and start fresh.

It starts with little things like changing my hair color or cut. Then, it branches out to finding new hobbies, which lead to new friends, which lead to new interests and more new friends, which leads to more new interests. By the time I'm done (around a 1-2 years later), I have stopped talking to all of my previous friends, abandoned any hobbies I was previously interested in, replaced all of my clothes with whatever new style I found my "new" self attracted to, bought a new car, moved into a new place, and often have a new job.

I've grown out of my "mom" phase; you'll do just fine on your own, right?

When I was younger, this made sense. All pre-teens and teenagers are going through a period of "finding themselves." I got comfortable with the rotating of friend groups and interests every semester or so, and I was lucky enough that when I found myself moving back towards a previous group, those people were fairly kind about welcoming me back into the fold. Now, though, it's a little more complicated.

I realized it this year when I noticed how different my clothing style had become and how much I was changing in a very short period of time. I have been slowly changing over the last two years, since my grandmother died, because I realized after her death that I was unhappy with the way I was living my life. I thought that if I just made little changes, I would be a happier person and closer to the type of person she was. Well, those little changes led to more little changes and...now, I'm living in a new apartment with a closet full of brand new clothes, contemplating my brand new future of being a PhD student yet I'm stuck because there are a lot of people and relationships in my "previous" phase shift that I don't want to lose but who feel like square pegs in my round hole.

Ooooh, I should probably change that analogy. Nah, I'll leave it. You're welcome.

I guess this is a part of growing up that I never knew about, learning which whims to act upon and which not. I know that if I continue being the "chameleon" that I am, I will never find happiness within myself, and that is my true one and overall goal. Anybody know how to make a chamelon stop shedding its skin? Short of death?


What da fuk you jus say?

Starship Date: 1.1.2013

In the spirit of new resolutions, I decided to start a blog. Who knows if anybody will read this blog, but at least I have a reason to type. I make the same resolutions every year--become healthier, save money, write more--but I never actually do it. And well, it's time to do it. I don't know how much I'll type. I don't know how often I'll type. Hell, I may sit down at the computer and feel the need to type "Bleh" over and over, but as I tell my students, everybody starts somewhere, so here's my somewhere.
There's so much pressure nowadays to be awesome at whatever you attempt that I sometimes feel overwhelmed by my lack of awesome. I mean, I'm pretty awesome, but there are so many people out there who are just MORE awesome than I am. I guess my New Year's resolution should be "Be More Awesome than [insert name here] This Year." That's pretty obtainable, right? I just need to identify people I think are awesome and try to match one person's awesomeness. I'll need to identify who is obtainably (is that a word?) awesome first; don't want to discourage myself too soon by trying to match the awesomeness of somebody like Teddy Roosevelt (only the most awesome person to have ever existed).

So, who do I think is awesome? Well, for this blog, let's just focus on my heroes.

1. Teddy Roosevelt. Why was he so awesome?

He was a badass! And not in the 1980s-Steven-Segal-Jean-Claude-Van-Damme type of badass. I mean, certifiably, if-there-was-1890s-UFC-he'd-whoop-Ray-Couture-and-Cain-Velasquez-with-his-thumbs badass. He was a sickly child who told asthma to go f--- itself to become a boxer, a hunter, and overall nature aficionado. He became president when he didn't want to be and instead of whining and crying about it, he said well, let's get some shit done, and did. There's too much for me to type here (and I'm getting impatient with attempting to identify EXACTLY why he's so awesome), but let's just end with the fact that the man took two shots to the chest during a speech and continued with his speech before going to the hospital.

So, how can I be that awesome? At this point in my life, I unfortunately cannot be as awesome as Teddy. He came from a wealthy family and had the luxury of just abandoning whatever he was doing to follow whatever pursuit he felt infatuated with at the time. I do want to be more like that, though, a renaissance woman, knowledgeable on a variety of talents. Maybe I can take that from him this year--don't be afraid to pursue something new just for the hell of it.

2. Amelia Earhart. Why was she so awesome?

 I've read her biography so many times, it's tough for me to identify what exactly I find amazing about her. The most important thing, I think, was that she wasn't afraid to be adventurous and daring in a time when women were supposed to be demure and frail. She broke records that most men couldn't and was relatively modest about it--in the sense that she didn't think it made her any different than other people. She was brought up as I was--allowed to be and do what she wanted to do because she enjoyed it. I sometimes lament the fact that my mother didn't encourage the more feminine pursuits in me, but then I look at Amelia Earhart and realize that just because I didn't learn to dance or cheerlead or do coutillion doesn't mean I'm any less of a woman that all those girls are.

So, how I can be that awesome? I've modeled pretty much my entire life after her, so I've already leeched some of her awesomeness. The biggest hurdle is that there aren't a lot of endeavors that women haven't tried, and succeeded at anymore. I could come up with some lofty goal to achieve, like her flight around the world, but I don't want to do something that hardcore yet. Maybe after a couple of years of becoming more awesome on a smaller scale, I'll do something like "Be the First Woman to Run a Marathon in Each of the Major Capitals of the World" or "Run from the North Pole to the South Pole and Back." But I don't want to think that big--YET.

3. Albert Einstein. Why was he so awesome?

I'm not even going to attempt to list all the ways Einstein was amazing. Simply put, the man was beyond brillant, creative, and imaginative. He was told at a young age that he would amount to nothing because he couldn't pass mathematics as a boy. Pshaw! He changed the entire platform of science, specifically physics, as we know it. And he was totally cool with be quirky and weird while doing it. Rumor is that he was a relative ladies' man, much in the way of Benjamin Franklin. I wouldn't be surprised if that were true. Hell, if I were alive back then, I'd probably be one of those ladies, if only to listen to him talk about Physics and learn a thing or two!

So, how can I be that awesome? Well, I don't have an IQ off the charts like he did. I have a pretty high IQ, and I can always make it better, but not quite as high as Einstein or Hawking. Science is like freaking magic to me, so I can't really accomplish anything there. I guess, all I can really gain from his awesomeness is the ability to rise above my current expectations to prove everybody wrong. Oh, wait, that's my freaking motto in life. Nevermind, Einstein, I've already leeched your awesomeness, too. :P

4. My grandma. Why was she awesome?

My grandma had a lot of faults. She was needy. She was whiny. She was the perpetual martyr. She always wanted you to do more for her than what you did or could do. She was gossipy; if you told her anything, the ENTIRE family knew about it by the end of the next calendar day, whether you wanted them to or not. But admidst all of those faults, she was amazing.

She loved to laugh. And not in that slight giggle that some women have because they don't want to seem too crude. No, my grandma could guffaw with the best of them. It rang throughout a house when she got going. And her laugh was infectious. She wasn't afraid to find things to make her laugh, either. Her and grandpa would get dressed up in crazy costumes for Mardi Gras and Halloween. They would throw Super Bowl parties that were WILD, like off-duty-police-officers-taking-their-clothes-off kind of wild. She didn't care. She just wanted to have fun, and she wasn't afraid to do what she wanted to get it.

Her sense of humor was infectious, too. Again, there were no holds barred with my grandma. She would tell a joke or crack a quip about the crudest subjects if she thought she could get a laugh out of somebody. At her birthday party one year, she had boobs and peni on her cake (told you, she was awesomely crude), and when it was time to cut the cake, she announced to the entire party that my cousin, Kris, should get a piece with boobs because those were the only set he'd ever see. She once called me when I was 12 to tell me a joke: "What happens when you flip the Energizer Bunny's battery upside down? He keeps cumming, and cumming, and cumming." Yeah, she was that awesome.

She wasn't just about having fun; she would take care of anybody she loved as steadfastly as a mama bear and her cubs. I know that's a tired cliche, but it's the best one I can devise that truly shows how much my grandma loved her family. How about this image? If anybody tried to harm us or if we needed anything, my grandma would cut a bitch faster than a two-dollar ho fighting over a quarter on the street. She (and my grandpa) took in every member of our immediate family at least once. They didn't have to do that. Hell, when I have kids, I'm not doing that. You're 18 finally? Get the f--- of my house and be an adult! But not my grandma (and grandpa, but he's on another blog...:P). One time, when I drove in from Tallahassee in the middle of the night to visit, I was so hopped up on espresso and chocolate to stay awake that I was physically shaking. My grandmother, at 3 o'clock in the flipping morning, proceeded to make me a margarita to calm me down. And not just a bottled, piece of crap one. No, my grandma did the full monty--she mixed some fresh sour mix, blended it with ice and Jose, made a salt bed to salt the rim of the glass, and even cut me a freaking garnish. That's the kind of woman my grandmother was. Even when she was battling cancer, she would babysit my uncle's two young boys so that he could go to work and still have them live with him.

So, how can I be that awesome? I have been slowly attempting to be more like my grandma since she passed two years ago. It was a life-changing moment for me, realizing that one of the two women in my life I considered unreplaceable was gone. I had only seen her faults until that point, never her awesomeness. And seeing how many people truly recognzied her awesomeness (the memorial hall was standing room only) made me question my view of her, and of myself. The biggest message I've taken from her, and the one that I'm going to keep trying to achieve is don't stop having fun; if you're not having fun, do something else. It's a message I had not learned until she died, but it's one that I find utterly the most important now that I'm almost 30.

5. My mom. How is she awesome?

I have a complicated relationship with my mother. Much like my grandma, I usually only see her faults. She's pretty selfish in that EVERYTHING has to be about her--even when it has nothing even remotely connected to her. She gets crazy angry at the drop of a hat, and usually at the strangest things. She usually chooses men over me. She needs to be needed and when she's not, she'll find someone who does (which is why she usually chooses men over me--I don't need her the way she wants me to). She'll call me six times a day for something she could just send in a text. But even when I am frustrated to all hell with her faults, I have to stop and acknowledge all of her awesomeness because my mom is pretty freaking awesome.

My mom is fiercely independent when she wants to be, almost to a fault. Oh, the gate at the back of the fence broke and needs to completely redone? No problem! My mom will do it. The 200 lb all-wood sofa bed needs to get moved and there's nobody home to help? No problem! My mom will do it. And when I mean she'll do it, I don't mean she'll try. I mean that she'll actually freaking do it. She will find a way to make something impossible happen if she wants it to. When she had me at 17, people told her she couldn't raise me on her own. Well, in the style of my first 3 heroes, she basically said, "F--- that!" And did it. Fairly well, if I do say so myself. She tried college and couldn't make that work, so instead of just depending on Grandma and Grandpa, she went to work as a bartender in Biloxi. She moved out on her own (with me, of course). She worked her ass off to make enough money so that we could live without depending on our family. Although I say she can be selfish, it's that kind of independence and sacrifice that makes me realize how awesome and unselfish she can be.

My mom is amazing creative. She doesn't know it, though. If she could channel her anger and passion into something like art or sculpture, my mom would be the next Picasso, but she's so worried about making enough money to survive that she never has time to realize these things (see above). For example, she needed a stand for her room and also a back light that wasn't as bright as a lamp or overhead light. So, she took window shutter (I don't even know why we had one--we didn't have shutters on our windows) and white christmas light rope and I don't remember what she put on top, but she created this really cool, backlit accent table. No joke, it looked so cool it could have sold on Etsy or Ebay or something. She just did it because she wanted it. I used to think I was creative, but if I could be at least half as creative as my mom, I wouldn't have as much trouble writing as I do now.

She  is also insanely passionate. Like literally, if she had existed in Victorian-era England, they probably would have locked her up in the insane asylum. The getting angry at the drop of a hat that I mentioned earlier? That's a product of her passion. Yes, I know I mentioned that as a fault, but really, the passion is part of her awesomeness. My mom feels nothing in moderation. When she feels something, she feels all of it. She feels in it every fiber of her body. Most people would call that bi-polar disorder, and in her case, it probably is, but it's part of what fuels her creativity and independence. And her passion is something that I don't have and admire immensely.

So, how can I be that awesome? I don't know. I'm already pretty independent, probably to more of a fault than she is. I need to be passionate. Although I have changed a lot and become more open to taking risks, a la my grandma, I have also adopted a "whatever" attitude about life. I can't do the risk-taking justice if I'm not passionate about it. And I can't be a writer without passion and creativity. Really, my mom has all the attributes of my three historical heroes, and I should just be more like her. There's a lot about my mom I don't want to be like (as all daughters have that feeling), but there's a lot about my mom I DO want to be like.

All in all, I did not intend to write this much today. Actually, I should be packing to move into my new apartment tomorrow and because I've been sick ALL FREAKING CHRISTMAS BREAK, I have to pack EVERYTHING today. But, I did accomplish what I set out to do plus some. I identified one thing all my heroes have in common that I will make as my New Year's Resolution for 2013--Take More Risks (let's aim for three big ones) and Be Passionate Enough to Enjoy It. That's not a bad resolution to make, if I do say so myself. :)