a new “about me”

i really don’t feel like my “about me” works anymore. which, what does it say about me that i need a new description every-so-often?

 

i will not engage. I WILL JUMP OFF THIS TRAIN.

 

::ahem:: however (comma) the fact remains that i think my about page needs a re-do,

and i don’t want to do it.

 

who is that girl? exactly.

who is that girl? exactly. also webcam has tools i didn’t know about. just…wait for it.

i asked a few writers if any of them wanted to do it for me. one said, “I’m not smart enough to write your “about me” #incongruent” which, false, she’s brilliant, but i appreciated the hat tip for what i assume was vocabulary. plus #ilovecasualhashtags so, theryago.

 

another suggested, “maybe it should just read – I want to be cohesive” #hrm….. ::sigh::

 

and so, like most muse-y moments, I vacillate.

 

how many words, how many photos, how many details? How do you summarize what is difficult to describe? what is true and what do i want people to know. and…how good of a photo do i choose because….if i look to good then people will be disappointed if they see me IRL.

cause sometimes, i look like this (it's okay, the kid distracts with his cuteness. no really. cover him with your hand - see? totes different.)

cause sometimes, i look like this (it’s okay, the kid distracts with his cuteness. no really. cover him with your hand – see? totes different.)

so….

 

 

anyone have any suggestions? or anyone want to contribute? maybe i’ll just make a compilation.

Autonomy

The five moral principals of counseling,  the pillars of the counseling  faith, if you will (too much?),  are Non-Maleficence, Beneficence, Justice, Autonomy, and Fidelity. 

 

It’s a fun banner to wave. Difficult to live, but nice as a tagline.

 

Today’s buzzword shall be autonomy.

 

Today’s example shall be chirrens.

 

Read on.

 

 

As a friend, lover, sister, daughter, I often fail at supporting the autonomy of the other. I tend to be a swooper. The Dancer called me out on it once. “You can’t just do this, you need to back off. You can’t just swoop in and try to fix everything just because YOU see a problem.”

Ouch. Good ouch.

 

As a group, counselors tend to be those who parentalize. We see a problem and we want to fix it. Usually out of the good, tender parts of our hearts. But to really support the other, most often “fixing” is detrimental.  For unless the other is completely without resource, someone coming in and fixing everything for them is  a crutch, a temporary fix, and worst of all:

 

it can contribute to the belief that without others to save them, they could not  successfully navigate through whatever is happening.

 

 

This is especially true with children. You know the kids who are never allowed to struggle and work through difficult situations because THESE are the kids who face an unknown and break down. They are never given the chance to face a challenge, and are therefore never given the privilege of seeing that they can conquer the challenge.  You see it in adults, later. Those who just BELIEVE they cannot do it. Whatever IT is.

 

I was this child.

 

I was NOT this adolescent.

 

I am NOT this woman now. Around about age 8, my living situation drastically changed so that I was faced with continual challenges that I needed to navigate on my own. Andplusalsotoo, a lot of time I had a 2yr old to accompany me on these misadventures. And you know what it produced in me? The belief that if I want to accomplish a thing, I damn well probably can.

 

Like the three year old who wants to brush his own teeth, I may get messy doing it. I may miss a few spots. Surely I’ve things left to learn but I’ll figure it out.

 

Problem-solver, yo. I LOVE IT. I thank my mama and daddy (really, out loud, I do) that I was given life skills really early in life, so that I was able to have grand life adventures before the dismay of “real life” set in and squashed my spirit.

 

So, my point is, in theory, I really really really support whatever is necessary to help others gain and keep their relative autonomy. (I DON’T mean outside of Jesus, I mean in the sense that when they see a problem, they view it as an opportunity for success.)

 

TO THAT END, while watching my little dudes last week, I supervised for safety but otherwise let them handle a lot of the tasks that i REALLYREALLYDESPERATELYWANTEDTOTAKEOVERBECAUSEOHMYGOSHYOUMISSEDASPOT  would otherwise have been more actively involved in.

 

Like washing bodies

PUBLISHED WITH PERMISSION

 

BODYWASHAGGEDON. Did you know that soap is surprisingly more difficult than shampoo to rise out of hair? Maybe it was just HOW MUCH he used. :)

 

 

Also, picking out and putting on of jammies:

YOU SAID I HAD TO HAVE UNDERWEAR!

Shirt-as-pants and underpants-as-a-hat to satisfy my requirements of “at least bottoms…WITH UNDERWEAR.” (cause they are vehement protestors of the underpant) Let me say: points for creativity.

 

 

Anyway, I get that when you let people struggle through something, it doesn’t always go as smoothly or get done as well or as much as you’d prefer.

 

But I also get that when you let them, people will usually surprise you. And then you both get to learn.

 

What have you had to struggle through in order to learn, to master, to grow?

Because a) I am still dying from suffering from under the attack of  dealing with a serious case of the “who-am-i-as-a-writer”s, and because b) it’s a sweet story and because c) i think these pictures will make at least one person laugh, i shall post the following.

When my house was broken into a month ago, those dang meanies stole my guitar (the one that the Dancer gave me that was perfect and i loved so much), my necklaces (three hugely sentimental ones that I kept hanging in my room cause I wore one of them EVERY day), purses (didn’t care), a digital camera (uhm, same megapixels as my phone, so, whatev) , and, of all things, my PRESCRIPTION glasses and sunglasses. And I had JUST gotten three new pairs the day before! So all I was left with, specs wise, was my Lennon glasses. You can see them on display here.

Anyway, I love my Lennon glasses when i’m working out (they are light and don’t slide down my nose) or when I’m in the mood to be funky. But most of the time I’m not trying to make a statement with my eyewear, I just want to SEE (which is about to really make you laugh when you see my “not making a statement” glasses). So having these statement glasses on when I wasn’t intentionally making a statement just felt 31 flavors of wrong.

N.E.WAY.

Belle’s parents, they love me. Part of me suspects it’s because it’s a little like loving Michelle, and I’m easier to access ;) But really, they are so caring and considerate and just plain good to me. And through their generosity, I was able to replace a purse, some hand towels (OH YEAH THOSE JERKS STOLE MY HANDTOWELS!) aaaaaand my glasses!

ANDPLUSALSOTOO, informationally,  ZENNIOPTICAL.COM is having a sale until the 14th – buy two, get one free. So I replaced all my glasses. For $75 total with shipping for four RX glasses and two RX sunnies. Boomtown, people.

So today, as the cherubim were singing, my glasses were delivered, and I put on one pair I have been itching to try.

I shall henceforth call them my ugly betty glasses. (I have a pair in pink that i call my Sally Jesse Rafael glasses.) I told the Social Worker (also my new roommate, as The Dancer moved on to greener, less-likely-to-be-robbed, more-approved-by-her-fiance pastures ;) that I feel so at home in these things.

TAA-DAA (i typed that in wall*e voice

because they are so big. like my face (it's not bad, i'm just saying. i have a big face)

and ridiculous. like my face. (this face is specifically for my belle, for her elephant sound. and for anyone who thinks i look like a "who", because i agree.)

I don’t think they’re too much. Do you? Surely not. They can be subtle. Look:

barely even noticeable, right? ;)

Okay, so maybe I had a little fun figuring out how to best showcase these beauts (cause when you get glasses after waiting for a few weeks and are relieved to have fashion options, it is sometimes reflected via your webcamphotolog.

OH LOOK! An orb! Is it going to eat me?

I set my mini to the side and took a photo on severe delay, to try and capture what i really look like in them when I am not posing. I look concerned, right? Nope. I'm actually just mouth-breathing. Allergies and Austin go together like Peas and carrots. especially cause NO ONE LIKES PEAS!

you think these are a joke? bet i won't wear these to choir. BET! (i may not, actually. would these distract you if they were up front?)

i think they blend in a little,

nicely highlight the angles of my... highlights.

okay. that’s enough for now. Next i should tell you about the geeetar. But I may not. We’ll have to see. ::maniacal laugh::

Scratch -n- Win

I’ve been sittin on this for a while because I just got done telling you how I didn’t care that much if people said I’m pretty, and because there is NO way that I can say this without at least SOMEone thinking, “Oh, is there something going on?” Well, no, pplfriends, like we’ve established based on all my previous full disclosure, I will tell you when something is going on. This is just some cuteness I wanted to share. Cause who doesn’t like cuteness? No one. (No one who likes me anyway. Ya see what I did there? :)

SO, the other day, I was putting on makeup before leaving for dinner with a friend, a hard headed goose who likes to complain about things. ;) So I said,

“Can i put on make up or are you going to yell at me?”

“Do you think you need make up?”

“No, I just want it.”

“Well I honestly think you’re prettier without makeup.”

(i totally miss the fact that he calls me pretty, even though we’ve known each other longer than some of my friend’s kids have been alive, and he’s never called me pretty. In fact he’s called me fat. So pretty’s pretty much the other end of the spectrum.)

“Can we compromise on mascara?” (why are we even having this fight? I’m so dumb, I should’ve just said, ‘sorry, i need a sec to finish getting ready.’)

“I mean, why?”

“WHY DO YOU HATE MAKEUP?!”

“I don’t hate make up. I just think girls who wear too much make up are like scratch-n-wins, sometimes you win and sometimes you don’t.” (and let me tell you, what I hear is “you wear too much make up and I’m comparing you to something cheap and chancey.”)

“Whatever, I’m putting on mascara because I like it and you can just wait, okay?”

At which point I finally realize he said I was prettier without makeup, which at least is CLOSE to a compliment, so I poke my head out of the bathroom and say,

“Thanks, I mean.”

But later we’re talking and he mentions the scratch-n-win thing again and I’m like “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN, WEIRDO?!” Except I say that in my head. Out loud I say, “Uhm, I really am not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Well, you look pretty without make up.”

“So i don’t look pretty with make up?” (yeah, i’m this dense.)

“NO! I didn’t say that. I said you’re pretty without it. I told you, girls with too much make up (i ALMOST butt in to ask why he thinks I wear “too much” make up but I let him continue. Probably cause there is food in my mouth) are like scratch-n-wins. You win some you lose some. But you’re definitely a win.”

“…”

“…”

“So…are you saying that girls who look pretty with make up, you never know if they’ll look pretty without, but i look pretty either way, but you just prefer without make up?”

“Yes.”

“jeesh. okay. NOT what I got out of this conversation the first time. Thx, dude.”

“yeah.”

And that, that cuteness, typifies my life.

Go and be cute. And sin no more. Or whatev. ;)

Bags of Adventure

I don’t wake up in the morning feelin’ like P. Diddy*. I wake up and think, once again, “Gluten is NEVER worth it. And WHY do i insist on such awful sleeping patterns?” Then: I roll out of bed (yes, actually roll, cause I’m all tangled in my blankets)

Clean up, pack, plan my day

Bank

Outlet Mall

Class (where I am now…blogging and doing homework because I want to be respectful, but listening to this man talk has the same affect as telling me to be still….an extreme LACK of stillness)

Work

Hour-long meeting about new job (starts in two weeks)

Hour-Long meeting about current job (ends in six weeks)

Lingerie party (explains the outlet mall)

Karaoke

Dancing on Dirty Sixth because I love Tenaya.

Go home and sleep until 7am, to ramp up for tomorrow’s adventures, which will involve even more costume changes than today’s.

 

which is saying something.

 

part of today's survival kit. Not pictured: my backpack full of work & class activities.

 

Because what i’m wearing now will change at 5, again at 8, again at 11, and once more whenever I get home (hallelujah).

 

In other words, my life is always an adventure, never boring, and full of bags.

 

*I almost linked to that video. Then I saw the sidebar. KE$HA IS NOT SAFE ON YOUTUBE. thatisall

hares and hairs

I always do new, fun things when I hang out with La Familia.

I don’t think I ever tried to decorate a cupcake before this easter. Not too bad for a first attempt. (I made a stencil for the bunny out of paper. Turns out, paper stencils only work once on frosting. :)

 

or cutting hair. I do hair almost EVERY time I’m over there.

before side

after side...you can tell i still needed to blend in the top on the other side

and FREAKING OUT when the younger/bigger brother looks, in a photo, JUST EXACTLY LIKE Q

eeby jeebers, pplfriends. I hollered "OHMYGOSH Jacob DO NOT LOOK AT ME." (oh and I had NOT cut the right front at this point. This was supposed to be a photo of his gnarly sideburn)

and the cutting the itty borther’s hair the next morning.

plz essckuse the look. I don't know what compelled me to pair those tops. ew.

or dying seester’s hair!!

told ya, i spend a LOT of time on hair here.

 

of course, she helped me with mine, too! (thx, seester!)

Mrs Dubs

I just found out that the mother of my first love has cancer.

Which made me think of two things: First, that I will start to pray for this woman who deserves a thank you for putting up with my rowdy teenage angst while I dated her son. And second, about her son:

The man I loved back in high school.

i was going for sassy, but came out angry. the matching fauxhawks we AFTER we broke up!

Tall. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. Grew his beard out for me. Played every instrument he touched. Yeah, you can imagine how 15 year old me felt about 16 year old him.

Though years, states, and circumstances have separated us, and though I smile back on every memory I have of the man(the boy, back then!) I don’t feel any unresolved business between us. We had a rough break up, we went different places in the world and in our lives, and eventually we just… were okay, I guess. I mean it took a lot more drama than that but it’s sweet to look back and remember that during a time I was sure I wouldn’t make it (it really was a ROUGH break up, now that I think about it) God carried me through. What at the time was THE most important thing in my life is now something I have to search to remember.

God’s mercies are new every morning, and after 8 years of new mornings, it’s difficult to truly recall what pain that time was. But I wanted to remember for a minute because it wasn’t the last time I felt that way.

And there will be times in the future when I feel it again.

When what I think is THE most important thing in the world suddenly becomes no longer part of my world.

And I will hurt.

And I will cry.

And I will be sure that I am not strong enough to handle this.

And I won’t be.

But God always will.

If you pray, please take a moment to pray for Mrs. W and her family.  As she faces a treatment plan she cannot afford and a sickness she cannot fight on her own, I know they will all appreciate the strength and peace of the Lord.

Predictions

If you had told 20 year old me

that 25 year old me

would be spending a Sunday afternoon like this:

Research Methods

i TOTALLY freaked out the girl behind me by setting this to snap a photo while i worked

she would have laughed. and, if truly convinced of the prediction, probably cried. But 25 year old me is pretty pleased with it.

 

(not SO pleased that I don’t need a break between chapters!)

Strawberry Kisses

before I knew i was a gluten-sickie (meaning i eat gluten and get sick, but haven’t been diagnosed as intolerant. ppl get snippy over these things), i didn’t much like food.

i mean i liked it

and i ate too much,

but i got sick all the time and readily considered that if i could take a pill or something instead of eating, even if that meant i never got to eat again, i’d do it!

life is better, knowing what food to avoid so that I can enjoy what i do have.

like strawberries. i can eat strawberries and i ENJOY them.  especially when they’re really ripe. on the verge of going bad (but not there yet) still firm, super sweet,

and if you add a glass of the right ::ahem:: grape juice – mercy, i’m over the moon for these little fruits!

I consider (lots of things when i drink grape juice;)  that a good kiss ought often (like, in romantic settings) to be like a good strawberry. had at the proper time,  a point at which not having it would be a waste, and having had it before would be to have a lesser thing.

it ought, perhaps, to have the same firmness. like something you can bite into, consume, a kiss ought not be merely lips touching (after all, can not a kiss on the cheek or neck or hand be just as rapturous, though different?) but an experience to be breathed in, to be tasted.

i bought my first "lip stain" yesterday.

anyway my point is i like strawberries and i like kisses and i like my kisses like i like my strawberries:

sweet.

More Valuable than the sparrows

I got a new tattoo yesterday, keeping up the tradition of getting a new tattoo or piercing every year since I was 12 (although admittedly, I may have to stop at 27, because I only have two more planned…right now).

I decided at about 4:30 pm to call my favorite tattoo artist, who was busy working on a piece, and got a call back later, then showed up about 9pm to get inked!

 

it's even BETTER in person. also thank you to whoever's grandmother gave me this top. I don't remember who it was but i love the thing.

 

my history of, reasons for, and theology behind tattooing is probably surprising (and since people are generally kind to me re:fashion,  those things not often questioned) and I’ll share them all later. But for now I just wanted to share this one shot of my new ink.