Here's to Forever

Candle on the Water

2012-01-15T20:36:00.001-08:00

I've written many posts about the ins and outs of getting older. Tonight's message will be much the same.

As we transition to adulthood... Well, 'transition' is not exactly the right word. As adulthood is thrust upon us, we begin to make important decisions; decisions to get married, get divorced, buy a house, have a baby, change cable companies, etc. And as we progress through these steps, our friends are navigating through their own timelines and stages. Sometimes their decisions coincidentally line up with ours, sometimes they don't, but undoubtedly if you're close enough to that person(s) what's happening in their life will spill over into yours. This is when making adult decisions becomes muddy and complicated.

Since the new year began, we have attended my younger brother's wedding, congratulated our best friends on their new pregnancy/impending wedding, talked through a divorce with another, and coached one of my dearest friends through a difficult separation. Oh, and we have recently decided to start trying for a baby within a year. So, there's that.

So far, 2012 is proving to be a strange year for love and self-discovery. It has caused me/us to reassess the institution of marriage, and gain further appreciation for the bond we have. It is difficult to be happy for new relationships while watching old ones crumble unexpectedly, but c'est la vie I suppose. At my brother's wedding Chris and I were talking with my uncle Eddie, an amazing man who has been faithfully married to his equally amazing wife for somewhere around 48 years; and his daughter, Kelli, told us a valuable bit of wisdom she had heard from him in years prior. He told her that the key to maintaining a successful marriage was to see the person you're with, and only them, forever and honestly; and not to let the idea or possibility of anyone else ever cross your mind. The 'we' is infinitely more important than the 'me'. This message seems particularly salient now.

It feels strange to make 'forever' decisions, and I don't know that I'll ever get used to it. But I'm learning to embrace the weird of it. Yes, school is important and the bills must get paid, but our love and life come first. New Year's resolution #142: Love without boundaries, and forever be grateful.

Hazy Shade of Winter

2011-09-26T08:01:00.000-07:00

If there's one thing that visiting Florida always reminds me of, it's my overwhelming hatred of hot, sticky weather. Holy Jeebus, was it ever hot there this weekend! It was actually 93 degrees with 60% humidity yesterday. Yuck! It never ceases to amaze me how much people in Portland complain about the weather there: how it's too rainy and cold most of the year. I will take 60 degrees and drizzly over 90 degrees and torrential downpour any day.

I was supposed to fly back to Portland yesterday and start grad school this morning, but due to some technical issues my flight was cancelled and I was forced to leave today instead. So, here I sit, crammed into the window seat of my airplane next to a seven-foot tall basketball player who won't stop squirming long enough for me to get comfortable (and he's totally hogging the arm rest!). It's funny, yesterday when my dad was driving me to the airport I told him that I didn't want to start school the next day. I said, "all I need is one more day off before I start. That would be perfect." Well, I guess the moral of the story is to be careful what you wish for, huh?

Soon I will be home again, and it can't get here quick enough. Facebook updates have informed me that Fall has come to Portland already. How exciting! I've been dreaming of cool weather, pumpkins, and hot tea all weekend. Looks like I'll get my fix sooner than expected!

Thanks for the Memories

2011-09-25T10:12:00.000-07:00

We all get older. We may not necessarily all 'grow up', we may follow different paths entirely (or still be searching for our paths), but time affects everyone the same. This weekend I attended a wedding which, for all intents and purposes, was as much a sort of high school reunion as it was a marriage reception. I saw people I haven't seen or talked to in ten years, and I reconnected with some that I haven't spoken to outside of Facebook in almost as many. It was really nice. Some people have done amazingly well at life so far, by all measurable standards. They are married, have great jobs, wear nice clothes, own cars, mingle like champs... You get the idea. Some have let their vices define them, unfortunately, and have hit a sort of standing pattern until the next phase of life finds them. Then there are those of us who fall somewhere in the middle. We are the ones who are on the cusp of being grownups, able to fit in and converse with both sides of the spectrum, because just as we are nearing respectable futures we still relate to the people we were just a few years (months?) ago.

I missed my high school reunion, but the wedding filled whatever void my absence there might have created. I get it. It was truly wonderful hanging out with all of my friends, and in a way channelling who we used to be: the outcasts and/or the 'cool' kids on the periphery. And there were dinosaurs! Dinosaurs are awesome.

Now, time to get back to real life and start grad school in the morning. Nothing like the thought of Univariate Statistics to sober you up.

My Baby's Got a Secret

2011-09-17T01:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's 1:22am and I have a confession to make. Remember that inspired blog I wrote a while back that was all about how I've become a morning person and started a garden? Well...

After one week of enjoying my newly found morning-person-ness, I quickly fell back into my old habits. Case in point, I'm still awake right now. In fact, for the past three weeks or so I've been staying up until at least 2:00am and fighting with myself to get up in time to run out the door for work in the mornings. And the garden? Well, it's pretty much deceased at this point. I'm chocking that up to a lack of consistent watering (all four of us work different, long hours so it's hard to keep a good watering schedule) and the crazy high temperatures that we've been experiencing in Portland over the past few weeks. Whatever the cause, our stuff is definitely not rocking right now.

I am not disheartened by this information, though. Nope, not at all. It's just another in a long series of life lessons. In the general way, I've tended to live my life moving from one extreme to the next. For instance, I thought I might secretly be a city person, so I up and moved to New York. Turns out my body and mind craved more nature than the Big Apple was able to provide. Then I thought I might be more into the old-timey, rural lifestyle so Chris and I moved into my grandmother's old house in a small town in Central Florida. Yeah, that turned out to be more creepy than anything. The experience, if nothing else, taught me that I am not a fan of what the kids call 'country dark'; I was pretty well convinced that every bump in the night was some sort of country bumpkin serial killer trying to break in and... Well, you know. So, in a kind of inspired compromise, Chris and I moved out here to embrace the city-meets-nature wonderment of Portland.

See, I wasn't at all lying in the other blog. I actually do want chickens, and I would love to have a beautiful garden and fruit trees. I just now know that the missing link to making that equation truly fantastic was a well-paid, talented expert to do all of the actual gardening for us. You know, someone who can actually be devoted to the well-being of our veggies and fruits and water them regularly. See, I learned something! Yay!

Regarding the sleep schedule issue, I am pretty well at a loss. I think some people just aren't meant to get up early, and I thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster that I've chosen a career path which can potentially allow for a semi-flexible schedule. Really, it's for the benefit of everyone involved. Just ask Chris, you do not want to be near me that early anyhow. I'm a cranky wench. No lie.

Anyhoo, I'm going to try to get some sleep now, by the light of my computer monitor. I think I've also become an internet addict, but that's a subject for another post. Until then, toodle-oo!

Everyday

2011-09-14T17:19:00.000-07:00

For no reason whatsoever, despite the fact that I am not at all a fan of the group, I woke up this morning with Dave Matthew's "Everyday" playing over and over in my head. I've been feeling absolutely rejuvenated the past couple of weeks, ever since we got back from Seattle. Wait, when did that happen? Maybe it was more like a week and a half ago.

I have to be honest, Seattle as a destination was pretty okay. The food was good, but the ambiance everywhere felt... How should I put it? Borrowed. The whole time we were there all I could do was name the other cities that it reminded me of: San Francisco, Chicago, Asheville, Lincoln, etc. The food was great, the people were as was expected (BTW, the comedian was totally right!), and the company was fantastic. The trip helped to remind me that I absolutely married the best and only man in the world for me.

As some of you know, the trip to Seattle was sort of a birthday surprise. I use the word 'surprise' very loosely since Chris told me he was wanting to take me there and then asked me to make all of the hotel and restaurant arrangements for the weekend. I have to admit, at first I was a little taken aback by the proposition but Chris new exactly what he was doing. He knows that I love the planning almost as much (or more) than the actual trip.

There's a kind of thrill that I get from making a decision and seeing it go well. Maybe everyone else feels that way, I don't know. Before we left, I created a bookmarks folder full of restaurants and places to visit. I can say, with a strong sense of accomplishment, that 80% of the plans worked out brilliantly! We may not have visited the Space Needle (sorry Mitch), but we did have one of the best meals of my life at the Tin Table restaurant. Seriously, Chris and I ate through literally half of the menu as we sat and talked for hours. I also highly recommend The Pink Door (awesome italian food and burlesque shows), Cafe Flora (best breakfast I've had in a long time), and the Experience Music Project museum.

Anyway, suffice it to say we had a fantastic trip! I knew that I needed to get away, but I didn't realize how much my body and mind needed that reboot. I feel completely recharged and ready for the next phase of life. Bring it on!

Honky Tonk Badonkadonk

2011-09-03T01:18:00.000-07:00

So, tonight I was in a bar with a friend of mine, and a local lady-comedian who sells handmade greeting cards approached us, totally plastered. She told us that she's moving to Seattle in a month, to which I casually mentioned that I'm visiting there this weekend for the first time. Then she proceeded to tell me (BTW, she's easily 30 pounds heavier than I am), that I'm "going to F-ing LOVE Seattle, because bigger, curvy girls like us can TOTALLY get laid there!"

...Yep. Awesome.

Young at Heart

2011-08-29T00:44:00.000-07:00

I find that when it comes to listening to music, playing video games, or watching TV I tend to always rely on the old favorites, rather than taking a risk on new experiences. One of the benefits of this, at least where TV is concerned, is that I get to grow with the shows and let them affect me in different ways. Lately, I've been watching a lot of Ally McBeal.

I used to watch this show every week with my Dad when I was in high school. At 17, the characters (who are all nearing 30) embodied a lifestyle I didn't quite understand, although I knew I wanted to get there someday. I liked the show mostly for it's utter ridiculousness. The fantastical nature of Ally's hallucinations and Peter McNicol's wacky hijinks were (and still are) highly entertaining. However, when Ally struggled with her birthdays and continuously inspected her face for wrinkles I could not at all relate. Funny, but as a teenager it made perfect sense that she would be getting wrinkles. I mean, 30 was OLD.

Well, I just watched that episode again, the 30th birthday episode, and the reality of my age started to really set in. I find that, in a way, I'm still watching the show from that 17 year old's perspective; Ally still looks old to me. But she shouldn't anymore. I am the age that she is in the show. I'm turning 29! I'm the same age that she was in the first season, and every episode when she complains about her age I now feel like David E. Kelley (the show's creator) is launching mini attacks on me and all of my friends. How dare he make us seem like neurotic, age and beauty-obsessed, power-hungry wenches!

So, yes, I'm turning 29 on Thursday. And you know what? I'm not inspecting my face for creases. I'm not obsessed with men, weight, power, fashion, or money. I feel younger than I did when I was 25 (God, I felt old and wise at 25), and I feel older than I did at 17. It used to seem like life was speeding along, but since moving out here it seems like everything has somehow slowed down. Maybe I slowed down and learned to appreciate everything more; I don't know. It feels weird to watch my favorite shows and finally be the age of the characters in them, but it's also oddly comforting. My life isn't dramatic. It's not understated either. It's just mine. I don't need to go to my high school reunion to see how I stacked up on all of the meaningless, superficial scales. I've succeeded. I'm living my dream, and I found it in my own timeline.

When I was 17, I used to say that I couldn't wait until I was 30 because by 30 I would have it all figured out. I've got to say, I don't think I was wrong at all. Now I can't wait until I'm 50. The other day I was talking to someone who told me this was the end of my twenties, and the last time I'd be able to admit my true age out loud. Trust me, I wanted to reach my hand through the phone and pop his head right off of his neck. I mean seriously, dude?! SERIOUSLY?! How rude! Contrary to what society might think, I actually really love getting older and watching everyone around me do the same. We're all so lucky to have every year that we get. I've already outlived some of the people I've known and loved, and I've got a lot of time left until I reach my goal of 105. Twenty nine is going to be awesome!

Make Me Lose Control

2011-08-26T22:46:00.000-07:00

Remember when songs used to tell a story? I can't even remember the last time I heard a new song on the radio that resembled anything more than a string of redundant, overly-simple phrases created purely for the purpose of pushing record sales and selling products. Although, to be fair, I suppose some songwriters still strive to weave some sort of narrative for their audience. Country singers have done a fairly good job of continuing to tell tales, although I don't know what sort of moral I'm supposed to draw from "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk."

People have always told me that I'm an 'old soul', that I have 'grandma taste', and/or that I am clearly biased against any song written after 1988. These people are not wrong. In fact, if you've ever asked yourself, "why does my good friend, Lindsey, insist on listening to nothing but oldies and classic rock?" here's your chance to learn the answer. It isn't glamorous. Actually, I've already completely given it away up there at the start of the intro. You see, I like stories, and modern music just doesn't tug at my heart strings the way the golden oldies do.

For example, take one of my all-time favorite songs, "Band of Gold." At first glance it really just sounds like a breakup song. Boy left girl; girl sings a doo-wop number about it. Wrong! Listen to it again. Go ahead, you know you want to.

This song is actually about a woman who, on her honeymoon, chickens out of having sex with her new husband. He gets angry and leaves the room, and she spends the rest of the night hoping that he'll come back in and give her another chance. "Band of Gold" provides one of the most fantastic juxtapositions in musical history. Despite the upbeat, happy nature of the melody, the meaning behind the lyrics is intense and raw. Brilliant!

Remember Bon Jovi? Of course you do! Who doesn't love to scream "Living on a Prayer" at the top of their lungs while driving down the interstate with a car full of good friends? I know I sure do. If you're with me then you definitely remember the opening lyrics. We all know poor Tommy so well, don't we? And Gina, who dreams of running away? Yep, in a way we're all "halfway there" right with the characters, clinging to our youth while simultaneously trying to survive in the real world.

Yeah, I love "Slippery When Wet" as much as the next 45 year old, but my heart has always truly belonged to the 70s folk rock gods and goddesses. Every year when the radio station officially switches to nothing but holiday music, my heart skips a beat in anticipation of Dan Fogelberg's "Same Old Lang Syne." I'm not sure why they reserve it exclusively for the holiday mix. If I had my way, Dan would be welcome on public broadcast 365 days a year. The lyrics of this song are so honest and relatable, never mind that it was based entirely on a true story. Every time I hear it I feel like I'm right there with them, in the frozen food aisle, fumbling at the checkout stand, awkwardly conversing in the car, and finally saying goodnight. Don't get me wrong, all of Fogelberg's songs are written as stories, but this one really hits at something in me. I'm not sure why. [Forgive me, but these YouTube fan compilations crack me up. Sorry I couldn't find a better video.]

I'm sure by now you get the point, and you're thinking to yourself "oh my gosh, Lindsey, are you still talking about this? And why am I even still reading?" Well, I'll tell you why. It's because you miss the stories, too. We all miss the good old days when music wasn't weird for weird's sake, or created specifically to address some gap in the MTV culture, or mindlessly repetitive to the point where you can't decide whether to keep singing along to it or to bash your car stereo in with a hammer. I know this feeling all too well. Every time Chris and I are in the grocery store and I'm singing every lyric to every awful new song (even though I've never heard most of them before), he stares at me with daggers in his eyes and contempt in his heart (don't worry, he's Hardcore). I can't blame him; I kind of hate that I do it, too, but I can't help it. Music is made to be easy, accessible, and repetitive these days. You only have to hear a song twice to think it's probably your favorite. Think about it in terms of cognitive dissonance: "I know all the words to this song! Wait, why do I know all of the words to this song? It must be because I really like it!"

This is not meant to be a justification of my taste in music, or a plea for any of you to join me on the 'Dark Side' of grandma-tasticness. Think of this post more like a call to arms for all of the modern musicians and up-and-comers in the world (because clearly they all read my blog) to honor the true purpose of music, to tell stories that will touch our hearts and inspire our souls. Like this delightfully sad number, originally performed by Fifth Dimension and revived for episode 16 of Glee Season 1. Until next time, toodle-oo!

You've Got a Friend in Me

2011-08-16T17:45:00.000-07:00

I was talking to one of my friends about a week ago, maybe two. He's one of the few friends I've been close to for many moons (since 1997ish), and he's one of those people who I can go months, even years (although that's not preferable), without talking to and yet we're still somehow able to pick up right where we left off. He and I used to half-joke that we had a psychic connection. Anytime he had a fight with his girlfriend I would get a stomach ache no matter where I was, and when I was feeling particularly down he would "coincidentally" decide to call me right when I hit rock bottom. When I moved to New York with my ex, this friend was my rock. He was my first call whenever I felt homesick or things weren't going well with my then-guy. When the two of us got married to our respective spouses our phone calls became less frequent, our psychic connection became a little fuzzy, but somewhere deep down we've always known that we had each other's backs.

Anyway, like I said before, I was talking to him a bit ago and he was feeling particularly melancholic, as was I. He had been reading a lot of Rumi while his lovely wife was out of town, and he had done a little soul-searching. He brought up the concept of friends with a capital "F". A Friend, as he defined it, is someone who you can count on at any point in your life, someone who you don't have to see or talk to to know they're there, maybe even someone who would be willing to hop on a plane at the drop of a hat if you needed them (and vice versa). He said he only had a few people who qualified as Friends, of which I was one, and it got me thinking about how many Friends I might have.

I've always been someone who gathered acquaintances, or so I thought; although, when I moved to Portland I quickly grew tired of my ever growing pile of one-night-stand-friends and found myself craving a solid connection. Nevertheless, I fully realize that I am a hard person to get to know. I don't let my guard down easily, not even to those I'm closest to, and as a result I don't know that I've gathered many Friends with a capital "F". Maybe we're not supposed to, I don't know. I find, upon reflection, that most of my Friends are people I've grown up with. I don't mean that in the sense that I've known them for 10 years and keep in "close" contact with them through Facebook. I mean the people that I've known since high school and New York who I've literally grown with; the people who have seen me change over the years and know me well enough to be able to tell. Even though I only have maybe, maybe ten Friends, I take great comfort in knowing that I'm fortunate enough to have this second family of sorts, even if they don't know each other at all. They all know me, and that's not for nothing.

Of course, this entire post may just be born out of the fact that I'm about to turn 29 and start a PhD program. Don't get me wrong, I've always loved aging, but I find that part of the natural progression of life is the weeding out of old friends, for whatever reasons, to make room for new life situations and goals. For as many people who are willing to watch you grow and change, there are always a few who can't handle or understand your need to make the necessary transitions, or, worse, who purposefully or inadvertently hold you back. I guess reflecting on my conversation with my Friend has inspired me to think about not only how many people I have in my life, but also those I've left behind. It's a sad, yet necessary process, not that any justification can completely resolve this truth in my mind. I'll just chock it up by saying life sure is funny sometimes...

Getting to Know You

2011-08-10T19:41:00.000-07:00

Today I took the Myers-Briggs Personality Inventory questionnaire for kicks, and apparently I am classified as having an ESTP personality type. I found a description of what this means on the Perdue University webpage, and it fits so well I thought I would share it with all of you! I even had Christopher read through it, just to be sure I wasn't falsely trusting in the characterization, and he gave it a big thumbs up. Here you go! Oh, and if you happen to take the test after reading this, please let me know what your results were; it'll be like a fun game!

ESTP Personality

ESTP are men and women of action. When someone of this personality is present, things begin to happen. The lights come on, the music plays, and the game begins. And a game it is for the ESTP, the outstanding entrepreneur, the international diplomat, the conciliator, and the negotiator par excellence. Approximately 13 percent of the general population are of this extraverted, sensing, thinking, and perceiving type. And if only one adjective could be used to describe ESTPs – resourceful – would be an apt choice.

Life is never dull around ESTPs. Their attractive, friendly style has a theatrical flourish which makes even the most routine, mundane event seem exciting. ESTPs usually known the location of the best restaurants, and headwaiters are likely to call them by name. ESTPs are socially sophisticated, suave, and urbane and are master manipulators of the external environment.

ESTPs are uncanny at observing people’s motivations, somehow hypersensitive to minimal nonverbal cues, which other types might miss. And they are masters at using these observations to “sell” the “client.” The eye of the ESTP is ever on the eye of the beholder, and all actions are directed toward this audience. Witty, clever, and fun, ESTPs seem to possess an unusual amount of empathy, when in fact this is not the case; rather, they are so acutely aware of minimal signals from others that they are usually several jumps ahead in anticipation of another’s position. And ESTPs can use information gained to the ends they have in mind – apparently with nerves of steel, engaging in what seems to others to be suicidal brinksmanship. Other types may find this exhausting, but ESTPs are exhilarated by working close to the edge of disaster. ESTPs are ruthless pragmatists and often offer the ends as justification for whatever means they see as necessary – regrettable, perhaps, but necessary. Usually, however, ESTPs do not care to justify actions, but prefer instead to get on to the next action.

ESTP Career

ESTP’s are outstanding as initiators of enterprises that bring people together to negotiate. They make invaluable itinerant administrators who can pull troubled companies or institutions out of the red very quickly, and with style! They can sell an idea or project in a way no other type can, but won’t follow through on the tedious administrative details of a project. This characteristic often causes ESTP’s to be unappreciated for the extraordinary talents they have, for people lose sight of the idea contributed and focus on the details left undone, becoming critical of ESTPs’ weaknesses rather than appreciating their strength. Few enterprises, which are institutionally, based use ESTPs as they should be used. When they strike out on their own, however, they do not always succeed, for their unwillingness to bother with follow-up details may cause an otherwise excellent project to fail. ESTPs need to be sure they have someone who will, take care of follow-up if at all possible.

ESTP Home

ESTPs live in the immediate moment and as mates lend excitement – and unpredictability – to the relationship. The ESTP mate is usually extremely attentive in public and smooth in social rituals. They carry on amusing repartee, and laughter surrounds them as they recount from their endless supply of clever jokes and stories. Charm radiates from ESTPs. Nothing is too good for their friends, although family responsibilities may, at times, be given second priority. The ESTP’s mate may in time come to feel like an object – the female a chattel and the male a negotiable commodity. Deep commitments do not always occur in the lives of ESTPs, although they are always popular and know many, many people by name. Relationships usually are conditional, and the condition is the consideration of what the ESTP has to gain from the relationship. Anything gained, however, is shared freely and generously with the mate. The unexpected gift, the impulsive trip to Paris, the extravagant surprise at Christmas – all these an

ESTP brings to a mate.

Fun, excitement, laughter, and that element of unpredictability are characteristic of their relationship. The ESTPs have a low tolerance for anxiety and are apt to avoid or leave situations that are consistently filled with interpersonal tensions. ESTPs are usually somewhat of a mystery to their mates and to others. Few people comprehend this unique personality. ESTPs themselves understand well the maxim, “He who travels fastest, travels alone.” Still, ESTPs are not likely to be lonely for long. ESTPs meet life with a hearty appetite for the good things of the world, searching out excitement, perhaps as a warrior, an athlete, an adventurer, or as a professional gambler, but always seeking the thrill of courting Lady Luck in one fashion or another. A theme of seeking excitement through taking of risks runs through the lives of ESTP.

Video Killed the Radio Star

2011-08-03T22:53:00.000-07:00

Whenever Christopher and I engage in a dispute, there's always a central theme that arises. It's the same one every time. We'll be arguing, and inevitably he'll say something like "Lindsey, we're not Dan and Roseanne" or "This isn't TV; I'm not going to follow whatever script is in your head." On multiple levels these comments fascinate me, founded or not.

Over the past two weeks, I've been assisting with a social psychology course (acting as teaching assistant, that is), and last week someone brought up the concept of TV characters acting as a sort of pretend group of friends or family members. It made me chuckle a bit, because that is exactly the sort of thing Chris is always talking about: our imaginary TV friends. This, of course, spurred a whole classroom debate on how television effects the way in which we engage in interpersonal relationships, cope with issues like loneliness, and compare ourselves to unattainable standards like those shown in family sitcoms (e.g., the 'middle class' family living in a five bedroom, four bathroom home within a safe, suburban neighborhood). At the end of the class, I found my self wondering if Christopher wasn't on to something.

In many ways, my parents' relationship has always mimicked a sort of 'Dan and Roseanne', 'Tim and Jill' dynamic. In fact, whenever I feel homesick I pop in an episode of "Home Improvement" (yes, I own it. Don't mock!). Conversely, my favorite shows, or the ones I relate to the most, are "Gilmore Girls" and "Ally McBeal", both of which star a female character who has many fun, cute quirks, is intelligent and imaginative, and talks at lightning speed. I wonder, thinking about these traits, whether I like these characters because they remind me of myself, or if I've inadvertently modeled myself after them. Likewise, have I been conducting my marriage based on the lessons I learned from watching my parents, or on the television counterparts I compare them to? I feel like I'm stuck in an episode of the "Twilight Zone" or something. GAH! I did it again!!!

I have no poignant thoughts or words of advice on this issue. Actually, I probably need the advice this time around, truthfully speaking. Is the solution to stop watching TV? Is merely being aware of the issue enough to curb these negative, mimicking behaviors? Interesting questions, indeed. If you think of a good solution let me know. I'm going to go watch some "West Wing".

Magic Man

2011-06-27T00:36:00.000-07:00

My Grandpa Fred died yesterday morning. I keep trying to think of something awesome and profound to say about it, but really it's just sad. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke it always seemed important. When he smiled at me with pride my whole spirit lit up, because I knew that what I did meant something to him and that meant the world to me. Most of what I learned about him through the years came in equal parts from other family members and from the subtleties in his body language and murmurs. I can't describe why in any tangible way, but I always just liked being around him; it made me feel special. My father gives off that same vibe, and I've always hoped that it was a trait I also inherited. The one thing I definitely got from my grandfather was his eyes. People joke that I have the eyes of Renee Zellweger, but in reality I have the eyes of Fred Grimes through and through. I also got his nose and chin.

By the time I knew my grandfather his life was all about car repairs and orange groves, but I've heard stories about the crazy adventures, careers, and odd-ball career offers he had in his younger days. Like, apparently he was approached by the executives of Burger King back when the chain was just getting off the ground and they were practically giving away franchises. The story goes, and I quote, my grandfather told them that "no one would ever buy a hamburger out when they can just make one at home." Whoops!

I have always taken a lot of pride in my Florida roots, which may seem ironic considering how many posts I've devoted to my need to move three-thousand miles away from there. If you've ever seen the movie "Away We Go" (which you should, because it's fabulous), the place they end up at in the end, the Huckleberry Finn childhood paradise, is what Grimes Road is like in Wauchula. That's right, there's actually a street named after my family. It's just a simple dirt road, surrounded by orange groves and littered with the houses of every Grimes who has ever resided there.

When Great Grandma Grimes passed away at the ripe young age of 99 the road lost a little bit of its magic, but when Grandpa Fred packed up and moved across town a few years ago much of the charm was lost forever. Now, with his death, it seems as though my Florida heritage has died as well. Most of the elders are gone now, most of the groves have been sold or destroyed, and many of the younger family members have moved to bigger cities. It seems strange to say it, but I'm really going to miss having a reason to visit Wauchula. Honestly, Orlando is nothing compared to the simple beauty of rural Florida. I will truly miss my grandfather, and everything his home meant to me.

Secret Garden

2011-06-19T13:25:00.000-07:00

Well, it's 12:50pm and I've been awake for hours now. This may not seem like a big deal to my followers in Malaysia, but for anyone who knows me this marks a significant change in my normal routine. Historically, I have not been a "morning person." Growing up, mornings always came far too soon and were undoubtedly marked by a lot of tired groaning, yelling, and my mother ripping the sheets off of my bed in order to shock me awake. God, I hated that. For the past few months, however, I have been learning to appreciate the quiet that comes from waking early. Instead of snapping out of bed with just enough time to take a 15 minute shower, run a brush through my hair, and sprint to the bus stop, I now enjoy waking slowly, brewing a fresh carafe of coffee, reading the daily news (aka Facebook), and puttering around our garden.

That's right, folks. We have a garden!

I've always wanted to be the kind of person who has a garden. When I was younger I would imagine my future to be in a house with a wood burning stove, a vegetable garden, fruit trees of all sorts, three chickens to provide me fresh eggs, two goats to do my yard maintenance and provide milk for cheese, and one cow to, you know, do cow-stuff. Clearly, I don't exactly have the proper mindset to be a great farmer. I never thought I would actually grow my own food or cook what I sewed, but the day before yesterday I actually got a chance to pull a carrot (not yet ripe, mind you. I'm still learning.) out of one of my pots, peel it, and eat it! It was pretty friggin' magical. There's a sort of odd liberation that comes from the knowledge that you have the power to control your own sustenance. It's one of the things I love most about living in Portland, and only adds to my pre-existing snootiness over ingredients and food quality.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still a total chick when it comes to getting my hands dirty. Once again, I count myself lucky for having found such a rugged manly-man to take care of the ickier things in life. For instance, lately our brussels sprouts have been getting eaten alive by a colony of small, green caterpillars, which Christopher bravely picked off the plants one-by-one yesterday. Sure, he then proceeded to dump the pile of caterpillars in our neighbors yard, but I won't tell if you don't. With any luck, our multitude of greens will survive the temporary infestation and produce hundreds of delicious sprouts for us to eat and trade for eggs around the neighborhood (all of our neighbors have chickens). Seriously, I know I live in the city but this is like my inner-country girl's dream come true!

Living in Portland has taught me many things about life, but the most important lesson so far, and certainly the most salient in today's message, has been the importance of finding ways to slow down and appreciate everything more. If I weren't waking up early (well, earlier), I would miss out on the opportunity to experience the morning zen-sation of drinking my coffee and tending to my garden. I am especially looking forward to practicing my new morning-person-ness in the wintertime this year, when the sun goes down at 4:30pm. Believe me, when you wake up at noon and are only able to really enjoy two or three hours of sunlight per day, the joy of sleeping in hardly seems worth it. Sure, there's a certain amount of internal stigma that I associate with going to bed at 10:00pm and waking up at 7:00am (old lady much?), but I feel like I'm finally starting to get it. Well, most of the time at least.

Hot For Teacher

2011-04-27T22:14:00.000-07:00

Life is a process of constantly learning. I am continually reminded of this fact as I grow and evolve. I feel like I'm always discovering and rediscovering how to love, how to be appreciative, how to listen, and how to express myself. There are certain factors in our lives - triggers - that force us to re-evaluate who we are. Often times these are attributed to love and loss, money and poverty... You know, all the really important moments that we struggle with from year to year. Lord knows I've spent plenty of time trying to "find" myself in multiple states, jobs, boyfriends, and vacations. I suppose even this blog could be defined as a means for me to continue on my journey of self-discovery and emotional competence.

More so than anything else, my marriage has been the thing that has kept me constantly guessing about myself. There's something about being connected to someone for the rest of your life, and making that commitment to him and to yourself that forces you to adopt a perspective which necessitates adaptability in a way that you never thought yourself capable of. No fight will ever be so big that he and I won't work it out, because we've made a promise to each other to stay together and be happy with that decision. Love is not enough to keep a couple together, but it is the key ingredient to making that joined life totally awesome and undeniably worth it.

Marriage is a funny thing in that it forces you to be more introspective, and having a spouse is in some ways like having a mirror that reflects yourself in all of your best and worst ways so that you are made hyper aware of both your good qualities and those which you would rather turn a blind eye to. This, of course, can be interpreted as a blessing and a curse, although I must say I rather enjoy it. I will never know myself better than Christopher knows me, and that both horrifies me and makes me extremely grateful that I will have him in my life.

In case you were wondering how my blog got its title, this is it. Here's to forever.

Same Old Lang Syne

2011-03-19T19:59:00.000-07:00

I'm not the sort of person who makes New Year's resolutions. For one, I think New Year's Eve/Day is a silly holiday meant only to mark the arbitrary passing of time with copious amounts of alcohol and bad decisions. Second, I believe that resolutions are merely goals which can, and should, be made and followed at any point through out the year. In fact, I find that I am more likely to stick to my guns when I set resolutions at times that are appropriate for myself rather than designated by societal pressures. That being said, I have reached yet another point in my life where I feel a distinct need to redefine my priorities and set new goals for my future.

After years of hard work and months of anticipation, I have officially been accepted to the social psychology PhD program at Portland State University! This achievement was in no small part a direct result of support from many people, to whom I owe a great deal of respect and gratitude. And it is for them, myself, my family, and my friends that I have an intense desire and need to excel in both my field of study and my life over the next four to five years. As such, I have developed the following goals (in no specific order):

Exercise more often: This may seem like a pretty typical resolution, but, aside from my daily .5 mile sprint to the bus stop, I have been extremely lax (stop laughing, Christopher) in my exercise routine over the past two years. To say that I never have the time would be something of an overstatement, as my current daily de-stress program involves watching reruns of guilty-pleasure TV shows. PSU has a fantastic gym that I haven't even stepped foot in yet, and that is going to change. At the very least, I need to devote one hour per day toward physical activity to clear my head and help me stay focused. I know I can do it, too. When Chris first got together I was literally 20 pounds lighter and spent hours each day doing resistance training and cardio, and I felt fantastic! That's not to say that my ultimate goal is to lose weight. I mean, who am I kidding? I was also 24 when he and I met, and genetics and time are no longer on my side. I mostly just want to maintain and/or improve my health and well-being.
Read at least one book per month that has nothing to do with school: This resolution is tricky, but necessary. As it currently stands, I've only read one book in the last six months that had nothing to do with psychology, and even it was an assignment for another class. I need to stretch out my mind, give myself a break from technical reading/writing, and allow myself to become consumed in literature again. Obviously, part of this resolution (well, all of them really) comes down to cutting some "me" time into my days, and not allowing myself to maintain my current routine of school-work-Chris-TV-sleep.
Call friends and family more often: As I become immersed in school work, I have a severe tendency to put my loved ones on the back-burner. I'm sure I'm not alone in this trend, not that that excuses the behavior. I allow calling people to become prioritized as a chore instead of a necessary break. I'll admit it, I sometimes avoid phone calls just because I either 1) don't have time to talk, or 2) don't feel like I have anything worthwhile to say. This behavior must stop! As Lori would so eloquently put it, I need to stop putting myself into a self-imposed 'dark place.' People need people, and I have to start letting myself require human interaction. I'm positive that over the next few years I will have to lean on my family and friends more heavily than ever for support.
Let my hair grow long: You may be thinking, "why in the heck is this a resolution?" Well, the answer is simple. I look and feel better when my hair is long, but I have total crap patience. At every point between chin-length and just-below-the-shoulders my hair is going through some sort of awkward phase. It is usually at one of these lengths that I lose my cool and chop it off again. As such, I have made a pact with myself: I will not cut the length of my hair until I finish my Master's degree in two years time. Until then I can trim the layers and bangs, but I have to let it continuously grow. Don't worry, with the speed at which my hair actually develops, it'll probably only be to the base of my shoulder blades by then and I'm sure it will look fabulous!
Write down at least one good and one mediocre idea per day: I realized when I began this course of study two years ago that I was continuously inspired by psychology. Over that time, I have had hundreds of ideas for research, experiments, and studies. Unfortunately, I've only taken the time to write down and develop five or six of them. This resolution, essentially, is a two parter. Part one involved buying a small notebook that I can keep as sort of an "idea diary." Subsequently, part two is carrying said notebook with me everywhere and writing down every idea I have, whether it be for a research proposal, blog entry, outfit, new goal, or grocery list. I need to start treating every idea as if it's gold, because even if I think they're total crap now, in two, five, or even ten years time I may look back and decide that one of them is worth pursuing. I have seen the way that the intense environment of grad school can leave students feeling drained and unmotivated, and I am enthusiastically committed to not allowing that to happen to me.

Honestly, looking at this list now I have to admit that it is not at all the direction I thought I would go with it (I've sort of been free-writing this whole time). I thought that I was going to produce goals that involved studying hard and living up to my potential. That being said, I'm really happy with what I've produced here. Clearly my mind and body know what I need to succeed over the next important chunk of my life, which is good because I need every part of me working hard to get through this. Doing well in grad school is obviously an important goal of mine, but I am looking way past that now. I need to succeed there so that when I'm out I can get a great job that allows us to climb out of debt so that we can finally start a family of our own. I am so ready for this!

Changes

2011-01-28T12:56:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling squibby. That's right, I made up a word for my current state. You may be wondering, "Lindsey, what does squibby mean?" Well, I'll tell you.

Squibby (adj.) - unsettled, restless, not quite right.

It may be because I'm anxious about my graduate school application (I won't find out anything until April), or because I have some kind of horrific, disgusting cold that has seemingly transformed my nose into a waterfall, or even because I am not feeling spiritually satisfied by my courses this term... whatever the cause, I'm in desperate need of a change. I'd even settle for a vacation.

... Actually, now that I think about it, I'd prefer a vacation. I haven't really had one in the past two years, unless you count visiting Florida, which I don't. I love my family and friends (for really realz, I do!), but the old adage is true: you can never really go home again. There is always too much to do, too many friends and family to see, and not nearly enough time or energy to do it. Someone always ends up with their feelings hurt, Chris and I leave feeling guilty and frustrated, and I inevitably come back to Portland sick and exhausted.

Yes, I need a vacation. I've declared it. It's officially true. This past Christmas, Christopher and I decided to skip giving each other gifts in order to save money to go on a weekend trip somewhere in the Northwest. I think it's time to cash in on that deal. Then, when I come back, I'll be my old self again - smiling, happy, positive, with sinuses that don't resemble the Hoover Dam. Too much information? Sorry, but we're all family here.

PS - My brother is fine. The cancer was completely removed, and two specialists confirmed that he has only a 5% chance of recurrence. Huzzah! Thank you for all of your kind words and good juju!

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother

2010-11-17T23:30:00.000-08:00

A lot of thought went into whether or not I should post this information to the internet, but sometimes emotions are just too big to keep bottled up inside. I am worried about my little brother and I feel guilty for not being in Florida with my family right now. Sometimes it's enough just to be thinking about the person, right?

For those of you who don't know, my brother (we'll call him Andy because he hates it) has been dealing with some difficult medical issues recently. Last week he underwent surgery to have a medium-sized tumor removed from his stomach. On Monday he'll be meeting with his surgeon to receive a referral to a cancer specialist. We don't yet know whether the tumor is benign or malignant, but we're all keeping our fingers crossed and our hopes high. He's only 25 years old.

It's funny, my whole life I've had the possibility of cancer in the back of my head. I realize that this contradicts my generally cheery disposition, as it sounds incredibly morbid, but it's true. Within my lifetime I've had a handful of relatives suffer, and in most cases die, from it. I often 'joke' that if I can make it past 35 I'll live to be 100. Realistically, that trend tends to be true on both sides of the tree.

I love living in Portland, and moving across the country has done wonders for my sanity and general well-being, but it is both emotionally and mentally stressful to be so far away from everyone right now. I want to be there to talk to the doctors because I know what questions to ask and what information to provide. I want to cook meals for my brother and his fiance, and take them both out for a little rest and relaxation. Mostly, I want to be the big sister.

That being said, it seems as though I have no choice but to come to Florida for Christmas this year. I don't know how long I'll be there or what I'll be able to accomplish, but just seeing my family and knowing they're okay will be nice. Plus, I like seeing the look on my mom's face when I hoist my 50-pound suitcase full of rice pasta into the car.

Please send good joo-joo Andy's way, if you are so inclined. Thank you.

Come On-A My House

2010-10-27T16:05:00.000-07:00

Have you ever heard the phrase "too many chefs in the kitchen"? Well, my life right now is an exact representation of that saying. I'm not at all complaining. Heck no. Honestly, I find it kind of fun and exciting! I know that phrase is supposed to have a negative connotation, but to me where food is concerned the more good cooks you can have around the better.

Allow me to start from the beginning. In order for Chris and I to move into our fabulous new house we had to find roommates. Fortunately for us two of our best friends from Florida, Alan and Martha, were looking to relocate out here around the same time our lease was up on the old place. You've got to love serendipity! Anyway, both of them are professional chefs - meat-loving, whole spice-using, Americana-appreciating, Emeril-fearing chefs.

Now, I don't know if I've told you this before but Christopher and I love to cook, and I don't want to toot my own horn but we're pretty dang good at it. However, he and I are more of the gluten-fearing, tofu-loving, thai/indian fusion-cooking, vegetarian type of people. In fact, whereas most new roommates focus on the financial details and chore distribution charts prior to cohabitation, the bulk of our conversations focused around the kitchen: how to properly separate meat and bread/flour tools from vegetarian and gluten free tools, what types of mushrooms would be in season upon their arrival, what recipes we had to make together, etc. I mean finances are important, but food equals life!

I come from a southern family, and by southern I mean the orange groves of Florida and cotton fields of Alabama. Family gatherings were almost always focused around the meal which was usually a combination of traditional plates, each prepared by a different member of the family who specialized in that particular dish. Gram (great grandma Laura) always made sweet potatoes slathered in toasted marshmallows, Grandma Helen spent all day working on her fried chicken, my mom made squash casserole and her "special salad"... Everybody pitched in to create the perfect, scrumptious family meal.

I find it extremely comforting that my new Portland family is working very much the same way. We've cooked multiple fabulously scrumptious meals together! My favorite, so far, was 'breakfast for dinner' night, when Alan and I teamed up to make GF pancakes with homemade huckleberry syrup, hashbrowns with cheese, my famous tofu-style bacon, fried cheese grit cakes, and fresh-cut real bacon (for the meaties in the house). When dinner was ready we all sat down at the table together and enjoyed an old-fashioned, family-style meal. It was absolutely wonderful!

I would love to start posting recipes on this site, but I need some feedback from you first. Would you, my bloggy friends, like to see that sort of content on this blog regularly? If so, I'll start taking pictures and writing down ingredients more often. All four of us tend to make recipes up as we go so it'll take some extra effort to figure out measurements, but it's well worth the effort if you are interested. It's up to you; speak now or [don't] forever hold your peace!

Until next time, sia nara!

You Say It Best When You Say Nothing At All

2010-10-26T22:10:00.000-07:00

Well, hello there! I know, I'm sorry. I've been neglecting you, my beloved blog. Once upon a time (in my first blog post) I promised to write something in you every day. Eh, so that didn't quite work out. Se la vie!

The reality is things have been rather hectic these past few months. I moved, started a new job and a new school semester, registered for the GRE (yikes!), revitalized my other blog (Life Beyond Gluten), and (dun, dun, dunnnnn) started a twitter account. Okay, so the twitter account took about five seconds to create, but everything else has been very time intensive. I promise! Anyway, things have gotten a little crazy over here, and by 'over here' I mean in my brain. I seriously might be losing it. I just don't have the same chutzpah anymore.

I have two theories as to why my energy/dedication/sanity may be wavering:

I feel completely overwhelmed by the fact that I am going to school AND working AND studying for a test that will ultimately decide whether I get into grad school next year or take a year off to twiddle my thumbs for a while (melodramatic much?).
For the first time in a long time I am living somewhere that I don't hate, that isn't tiny, and that has built in friends, fun, and relaxation. For the past two years Christopher and I have been cohabiting in a terrifically small studio apartment, which I was more than willing to escape from to work in the school computer labs every available moment. Now, that extra push of external motivation is gone. I didn't realize how much of my success was relying on that.

I have a sneaking suspicion that rather than choose one of the two theories to blame for my recent academic and blogging torpor (GRE word alert!), I should just throw my arms in the air and admit that the correct answer is all of the above. My cup doth overfloweth with crap, yo!

That having been said, I really do enjoy blogging. It's relaxing and fun, and provides me with a place to expel my inner thoughts out into the universe. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I am going to start blogging more often. At least once per month, for the love of Pete!

I realize this wasn't much of an update, so I will write more tomorrow. No really, I will. Seriously.

Lindsey out!

Lost in the Supermarket

2010-07-05T22:58:00.000-07:00

Every woman has some sort of ridiculous activity they like to engage in when they're alone. In fact, Sex and the City devoted an entire episode to this exact phenomenon and affectionately named it "Secret Single Behavior (SSB)." Well, I am no exception. In fact, I have many SSBs, but none please me more than fantasy online shopping. That's right, when I'm feeling funky or particularly independent I'll devote hours of my day to filling up online shopping carts at a variety of stores with no intention of ever buying. Don't judge me! Today I spent close to $600 imaginary dollars at Macy's, 6pm (thanks Lori!), REI, and Victoria's Secret. I know, I know... $600 seems a little excessive, but I'm worth it, right?

It's funny, in real life I have absolutely no fashion sense. I live in ratty, borderline 'Mom' jeans and plain colored tee shirts. Sometimes I'll throw in a button-up shirt just to shake things up a bit. I own one skirt, which I refuse to give up as it is the only item of clothing I own that isn't completely androgynous. Online, however, I own lots of dresses and skirts, flowy peasant blouses, camisoles, adorable sandals, and ultra-sexy tops. Indeed, my alter ego is uber-chicktastic to the max. Someday, I'll have the time, money, energy, and confidence to actually buy myself some of my fantasy items. Until then, I'll keep on keeping on with my SSB and you guys can submit my name to What Not to Wear. Yeah, that sounds good. I'm sure Stacy and Clinton would have a field day with me.

Holiday

2010-06-11T23:39:00.000-07:00

Jiminey Cricket, I need a vacation! These five days of semi-freedom just aren't doing it for me. I am super excited about the coming internship and my class next week, but I feel like I haven't had enough 'me' time in between. Hence why I am writing this stupid blog instead of doing the necessary prep work for my conference call tomorrow morning. Must... stop... stalling! BLARGH!!!

The Birthday Song

2010-06-10T16:13:00.000-07:00

Oh my gosh... I just bought Christopher the coolest birthday present ever! Granted, he asked for a ukulele (he never requests gifts, so I jumped at the chance to fulfill his wish), but he wasn't expecting to get one of the most beautiful, well designed ukuleles on the market! Don't worry, he doesn't read my blog, so my secret is safe with you. Allow me to introduce you to the Oscar Schmidt OU7T Tenor Ukulele:

It comes with the best strings on the market (so say the enthusiasts), is handmade from the wood of a Spalted Mango tree, has ebony buttons, and is bound with abalone. I can't wait to get my hands... uh, Christopher's hands... on this thing!

Chris's birthday is fast approaching - June 27 - and I have been wracking my brain, trying to think of amazing ideas for his party. Ideally, we would have a barbecue in the park, but we are lacking in one essential element: a grill. There goes that plan. Idea number two involves a bunch of good friends, alcoholic beverages, and an open, well-lit setting where we could all hang out for a few hours. I've got a couple of places in mind, but nothing perfect yet. He's turning 33 this year, which means he's (thankfully) over the initial shock of being in his 30s, but still needs to feel energetic and fun. I, being the birthday nut, am more excited about having a party than he is. ;)

All of this talk about birthdays has got me thinking about my own. In a few short months I'll be 28 years old! I love aging. There's something so refreshing about constantly changing, maturing, and learning. I finally got my first wrinkle a few weeks ago, and am super excited despite the fact that my husband and friends keep assuring me it doesn't count. I can't wait to see what I look like as a white haired, shriveled up old lady! It's going to be awesome!

I usually throw myself a birthday party every year, but this year I'm feeling particularly nostalgic and adventurous. I want to go to New York City. I haven't been since I moved back to Florida, and I miss it terribly. I have a love/hate relationship with that place, and I could never have lived there on a long term basis, but there is something about it that makes me feel completely connected with the world and myself. It's hard to describe unless you've been there, and if you haven't yet then you are absolutely invited to come with me in September! I'm making some money from my summer internship, and I have a few friends with whom we can stay. Seriously, I desperately need a vacation full of friends, strangers, food, and shopping. The time is now!

Don't Stop Believing

2010-06-09T22:48:00.000-07:00

It is a bittersweet pill to take, realizing that you are no longer who you were. In fact, the me of two years ago probably wouldn't recognize who I am now. Not that I'm saying there was anything wrong with who I was then, but I had no idea what I was capable of. I didn't consider myself the academic/college type. I took my retail jobs WAY too seriously, because I genuinely thought I had no other career options. I was still desperately clinging to my single self, afraid to fully embrace my marriage. And I had surrounded myself with people who were exactly like me, to validate the person I thought I was. Something about completely separating myself from my home town and starting over really changed my perceptions regarding life, love, and possibilities. I have come a long way in a short amount of time, and I do love the person (student, wife, woman, and professional) that I have become.

Last week a friend from back home stayed with us, and it was wonderful spending time with her. We laughed, drank, and ate until our stomaches and wallets couldn't take it anymore. But, despite the fun and games, I found myself struggling to relate to her the same way I used to. It was like, she was exactly the girl I remembered, but I wasn't the person she expected me to be. I couldn't, in good conscience, bitch about the man in my life, or complain about the "joys" of working retail. Most importantly, I couldn't pretend to be the ditzy, clumsy, bubbly girl that she remembered. In fact, one night we went out for drinks, and the next morning she said something like, "I'm really surprised you didn't get sicker last night! I was expecting to have to carry you home like usual." Just hearing that made me shudder a little bit. Is that who I was? Sadly, yes, but we were all young and stupid once. Gladly, I feel like I've finally become the mature adult I always wanted to be, but was too afraid to admit.

I feel like, despite these realizations and monumental shifts in priorities, I still have no idea how to bring who I am now to who I knew then. When I go home for the holidays or friends come out here, I incur a huge amount of cognitive dissonance. I literally don't know how to act. I know who my family and friends expect me to be, and I know enough psychological theory to realize that they will perceive me in that way forever no matter how I behave. However, I still want to express who I really am in a way that they will see and understand.

Often times I think about the friends of mine who went off to college right out of high school and actually finished their degrees in a normal timeline. Many of them are working on graduate school now and have fantastic jobs that they are proud of. I wonder if they thought about me the same way I'm thinking about my other friends now. I genuinely ponder whether or not they had trouble relating to me, because I had no idea what they had been through and how capable they were. They must have, at least a little bit, because now I feel like they are some of my favorite people to talk to. I finally get it, and can relate to them on a different level than before.

There is no real point to this blog (is there ever?), except to say that life is tough, and, at times, isolating. It is up to all of us to figure out who we really are, and keep that realization in our hearts and minds, despite how others might perceive us (or how we perceive them perceiving us). I could pull a Carrie Bradshaw and end with a semi-thoughtful question, but I think I've said it all. Love you guys!

We Belong

2010-03-15T15:41:00.000-07:00

Phew! This school term is finally over, and I could not be more relieved. Don't get me wrong, it was great fun; I met a lot of new and interesting people and gained a lot of practical experience. However, there is one thing that regrettably took a back-burner over the past few months: my marriage. It is becoming increasingly more difficult to balance the different areas of my life, as I become more involved in school and make new friends. This term alone I probably clocked about fifty hours per week on campus, working on projects and attending classes and meetings. When I was home I was usually in decompress mode, meaning that I would immediately veg out by tinkering around online or by watching movies/television (much like I'm doing now).

The truth is, marriage is work. It's fun work, but work all the same. Christopher is a wonderful, supportive husband, and he does a great job of keeping me in check when I start to lose my mind, but I have to be careful not to take him for granted. There are things that I might not want to do, but that I have to do as a symbol of my commitment to making us work (i.e., doing the dishes, even when I'm exhausted; scooping the litterbox from time to time; and/or stepping away from an important email, because Christopher wants to tell me a story from his day). All of these things are, of course, totally worth it in the long run. He and I are committed to each other forever, and, to quote one of my favorite movies, "forever is an awfully long time." Truth is, I love the guy. That's all I really need to remember. I'm happy when he's happy, and vise versa.

So, I fully intend on spending the next week and a half spending time with him. My hope is to do some serious hiking, cooking, and cleaning over the break, while simultaneously helping a good friend find a new "boy toy." Next term will come soon, so my time is limited to get my priorities back in check. Next term I am taking three courses, working as a peer advisor for the psychology department, acting as vice president for the psychology club, and hopefully working as a TA for one of my professors from this term. That being said, the end is in sight (I should graduate in December 2010), and Christopher will be around long after my career as a student has ended. My marriage needs to be priority number one. For those of you who know me, please make sure I remember that fact when my head starts spinning around from all of my other responsibilities. I thank you in advance.

Against All Odds

2010-02-11T19:50:00.000-08:00

I never thought I would be the kind of person to come home at night, after a long day of work and stress, and pour myself a pinch of liqueur to ease my nerves. In fact, the first night I felt absolutely scandalous! Me? Drink alone? I mean, I could justify a glass of red wine (it's good for your heart right?!), but liqueur... that's a different bag altogether. Well, friends, let me tell you, Chamomile liqueur is a godsend! The relaxing properties of the chamomile, mixed with the mulled-spice taste of Christmas... it's like a glass full (not full... barely full) of comfort.

Now, don't get me wrong. This term has been wonderful so far! I am working on a variety of highly educational, community interactive, experience-laden projects. Case in point:

I am working on a two-person research team that is responsible for coding 400 participant responses to the same complex math problem, in order to assess participants' levels of confirmation bias (people deciding what they think the answer should be, and then skewing their work to back-up that answer) and patterns of information "clumping" based on both their answers and their provided mathematical evidence.
I am also working as part of a consulting team for the Oregon Sexual Assault Resource Center (SARC). We are conducting research on the links between pornography and sexual aggression with the purpose of providing effective recommendations for an anti-pornography curriculum installment, which will potentially be implemented in high schools in the Portland Metro area next school year.
I am a member of a small consulting group (me and 2 ex-marines) that is working with the Vikings basketball team to assess current player motivation levels and coaching strategies, with the goal of making effective recommendations to the head coaches to improve players' motivation levels during practices and games next season.
And, last but not least, I am researching my passion: psychological studies on the effects of social support and dietary restrictions on the quality of life of people living with Celiac Disease. I have actually been researching this topic for months now, but, conveniently, the final project for my Health Psychology course is an annotated bibliography on a medically-relevant psychology topic of our choosing. It is a nice excuse to gather information and create writing samples for my potential graduate school applications.

So, in a nutshell, all of this work on top of my normal class reading assignments has me sort of frazzled. I am fortunate to have such a loving, supportive, understanding husband right now. I don't think that either of us were expecting me to work this hard until grad school. However, my resume has quickly transitioned from retail to consultation/psychology, and I have met many new and interesting people outside of PSU during this process. And, honestly, just writing all of it out in this blog makes me feel better and instantly more organized. After a while all of these groups and research projects meld into one big glob of mush in my brain.

So, I deserve some liqueur every now and then, right? Yeah, I thought so!

Ain't No Sunshine

2010-01-23T20:59:00.000-08:00

Okay, okay... I haven't posted anything in a long time. I'm sorry! I've never been one of those people who can keep a steady diary. I haven't had that burning sensation to unleash my feelings in text since I was nineteen. In fact, that is the last time I had a consistent diary. And thankfully for you, my dedicated blog audience, I hung on to that delightful piece of my past. In traditional nineteen-year-old-just-graduated-high-school style, it is all about boys, friends, boyfriends, and "what the heck am I going to do with my life" passages. Here are some of my favorite tidbits (those of you who knew me then might get a kick out of this):

January 13, 2001 - I don't think I've ever had so many guy-friends at one time, and not a decent boyfriend in the lot. I miss having a relationship. I'm afraid that the more time I spend hanging out with boys and not kissing any of them, the less attractive I'm becoming as a girlfriend. Ugh, I hate sounding lonely and desperate.

July 16, 2001 - Things I could do with my life: teacher (any level), movie critic, food critic, musician (singer), business manager, shop owner, party coordinator, caterer, artist, poet, or actress. With a list like this, how am I ever going to decide?!

July 21, 2001 - Once upon a time, there was a girl who desperately wanted to leave the state she was born and raised in to pursue her education and start anew. Unfortunately, her mother strongly disagreed with the idea, calling it "stupid" and "unreasonable." So, the girl's dreams were crushed and she gave up all hope of ever discovering herself in the world. The end.

August 11, 2001 - My birthday is three weeks from today! I'll be 19! Too old! I'm not ready to grow up. The rest of my life scares me. I've decided to change my major to either music or art.

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In 2006, when I moved back from New York, I found this diary hiding in my old bedroom. It made me laugh to read all of my old dreams and ambitions (or lack thereof), and it was funny to think that I still had all of the same friends and feelings that I did five years prior. In September of 2006, I began writing in the diary again, and as I read those entries now (3+ years later) they remind me that keeping a journal is a wonderful way to store memories. I wish that I could commit to writing in one again. Maybe I will.

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September 22, 2006 - I have a date on Saturday night! Can you believe it? It's the first time I've liked a guy in four years. Or, rather, the first time I'm going on a real date in four years. I've liked a few guys. But I digress... His name is Christopher, and he's a 29 year old cameraman. He has his own apartment, a job, and a cat. I think I might really like him, which is obvious because I'm breaking my "no dating until I move out of Florida" rule to go out with him. We'll just have to wait and see what happens. My new rule is that I come first. I am not allowed to abandon my life goals again for a guy, no matter what.

September 26, 2006 - I went on my second date with Chris last night, and it was fantastic. I really like him. It's hard not to fall too fast into this one. He's so honest (albeit a little self-loathing), trustworthy, passionate, and intense. Not to mention extremely sexy. I think I am in way over my head here, and I'm enjoying every second of it.

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I totally need to start a new journal. It's so fun walking down memory lane! Thanks for letting me drag you alongside. Sometimes it is fun to entertain company in Nostalgiaville.

There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays

2009-12-27T09:52:00.000-08:00

Well, we have been back in Florida for two whole weeks now. At this point, I have transitioned from confident Portlander to twitchy houseguest to full-blown Floridian again. Portland seems like it was just a distant dream at this point, but, thankfully, it also retains a light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel aspect (much like it did before we moved there).

We are Borg. We have been assimilated. Resistance is futile.

More to come.

Rockin' Robin

2009-11-18T17:31:00.000-08:00

To tweet or not to tweet, that is the question. More specifically, should I join Twitter? I have heard all of the pros from my friends, and I am certainly aware of the popularity of this new internet communication sensation. The thing is, I just don't know if I really care enough to join. This honestly wouldn't even be a concern if it weren't for the recent loss of my husband. He was my last standing fellow Twitter-hater. All of a sudden, earlier this week, he announced that he was going to start up an account (Christopherpdx, for those of you interested in following him).

Truth be told, I am already far more technologically integrated than I had ever wanted to be. When I was younger, I used to dream of a life totally disconnected from all things technology related. I imagined myself living in a small cabin somewhere in the mountains of Virginia, cooking my dinners on a wooden stove and falling asleep by the light of a candle. I wanted my own garden and farm animals - not to eat, but to gather milk and eggs from - so that I could live off of the land. I pictured myself sitting on my front porch swing, listening to the sounds of a nearby stream, drinking my cup of coffee, and writing poetry. But most importantly, I didn't want to own a computer, pager (this was the 90s), cell phone, or newfangled car.

Of course, times have changed since then. Modern culture is so technologically reliant that the idea of "escaping" is no longer really an option. In fact, it would take a great deal of effort to disconnect from the world. When I pictured the previously mentioned life for myself I was still in high school, and, ironically, I had been the first of my friends to even own a cell phone (the brick) and a car (my old, dead green Neon). I can still remember when my family first got AOL and I learned how to use chat rooms and emails. It makes me laugh that the same surveys my friends and I used to send to each other via email are still being sent around through Facebook and Myspace.

It's crazy to think of the advancements that have been made in computer-mediated communication within the past eight years. People are always thinking of newer, better, easier ways to talk to people and network. AOL dial-up was replaced by high-speed internet, which gave way to iChat, Myspace, Facebook, and now Twitter. I honestly can't think of anyone who still actively uses Myspace to communicate with people. And with all of these advancements in programs and chat avenues, we have been shortening our speech to the point where it is almost indecipherable. At least with letters, notes, and early emails we typed more than a paragraph to our friends and family... now everything comes in neat little packages of ten words or less. "Lindsey is dreading her test today." That's all you get. I don't need to tell you which test it is, for what class, or even whether or not I like the professor and think I'm doing well. And you know what? I don't think people really want or need to know that extra information anymore. I tried entering a long explanation of my day into the Facebook comment box once, and it told me that I had to use less than 140 words to explain my thought. God forbid I want to really tell my friends a detailed account of my day. People's attention spans can't last more than 140 words anymore. I know that, because the internet told me so.

All of this has been a roundabout, rant-heavy, description of why I am hesitant to start a Twitter account. That being said, I am, as always, open to suggestion. If people really want me to join, and think that it is a good way for me to stay in touch with friends, then I will open an account. However, I will NOT become one of those people (no offense meant if this describes you) who posts every single, insignificant detail of my daily life. I know, I know... everyone is dying to know what I buy at the grocery store and whether or not my butt looks good in today's jean selection, but I'm going to need to keep those things private for a little while longer. Maybe in nine more years we can re-negotiate that deal. Until then, let me know what you all think! Also, if you think I SHOULD join (or if you just want to have fun), include suggestions for my hypothetical Twitter name. Linzasaurus is the best I've come up with so far.

With a Little Help from my Friends

2009-11-08T21:42:00.000-08:00

Well, it is official: our plane tickets are purchased, and we are coming to Florida for Christmas! I have to admit, I couldn't be more ready to return to Orlando and visit my family and friends. Don't get me wrong, I love living in Portland. In fact, I am incredibly sad that we will be leaving the mountains, snow, and fresh winter squash to return to the fire swamp. However, the one thing we don't have here - the thing that makes Christmas my favorite holiday - is the people that we love. So many exciting things have happened to our friends back home in the year since we relocated; people have moved (and moved in together in some cases), received promotions, found new jobs, become pregnant, and broken up. As much as I have grown fond of everyone's daily 'status updates' on Facebook, I miss being involved in the larger picture. As a southern girl, I am prone to being both nosey and gossipy, and I have been out of the loop for far too long now.

Speaking of friends, my best friend in the universe (excluding my husband, of course) is coming to visit Portland in three short weeks! Although she has visited here many times before, as one of her other friends moved here a few years ago, I am excited to show her my new city! Basically, I have two full days of play time with her, so I've been casually collecting a slew of ideas for things to do. I have been told (as if I needed to be) that the only necessary component is vodka, although I think a little holiday shopping is also in order. So far on the list I have:

The Sapphire Hotel for drinks, yummy eats, and awesome atmosphere
The Farm Cafe for the best happy hour, food, and ambiance in the city
New Deal Distillery for a vodka tour and tasting session
Presents of Mind for amazing cards, journals, and local jewelry/gifts
The Gold Door for kickass jewelry, gifts, and Dia de los Muertos figurines
Imelda's Shoes so that we can drool over boots that we won't be able to afford
The Buffalo Exchange for the BEST second-hand shopping in town (seriously, I bought two Gap sweaters there last week for a total of $20)

Okay, so basically this list will be supplemented with various other shopping and food adventures (maybe we'll hit up Por Que No for some delicious, homemade corn tortilla treats), but that's what I've got so far. It's kind of a 'welcome to my neighborhood' setup, which is fine with me. In my opinion southeast Portland is the best place to be! One of the days we may even venture out to Vancouver to visit, in my opinion, the best movie theatre in the country: Cinetopia. I mean, how often can you go to a theatre, relax in a huge, comfy leather chair, kick your feet up on an ottoman, and enjoy a glass of fine wine and a bowl of creme brulee? It's the haps!

So, aside from school and baby-sitting, my energy has pretty much been spent on thinking about friends, family, and festivities this week. I'm not sure what Christopher and I are doing for Thanksgiving, but I'm positive that it will involve a delicious vegan and gluten-free feast, including: creamy risotto, mac-n-squeeze, country-fried tofu, collard greens, and roasted garlic mashed potatoes. I promise to post as many recipes and pictures as possible.

You're the Inspiration

2009-11-07T18:54:00.000-08:00

Inspirational quote of the day, as taken from an article written by America's first African American female political writer, Maria W. Stewart. The article was published in The Liberator, October 8, 1831:

"I am of strong opinion that the day on which we unite, heart and soul, and turn our attention to knowledge and improvement, that day the hissing and reproach among the nations of the earth against us will cease. And even those who now point at us with the finger of scorn, will aid and befriend us. It is of no use for us to sit with our hands folded, hanging our heads like bulrushes, lamenting our wretched condition; but let us make a mighty effort, and arise; and if no one will promote or respect us, let us promote and respect ourselves."

River

2009-11-02T01:15:00.000-08:00

"It's comin' on Christmas. They're cutting down trees. They're putting up reindeer and singin' songs of joy and peace. Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on."

I love Joni Mitchell. It's funny actually, because I couldn't stand her music for most of my life. In fact, it wasn't until I heard the song "Case of You" a couple of years ago that I really started to love her music. The quote above is from "River," which is not really a holiday song at all, but a song about pain and regret. Something about the way she places her emotion behind the lyrics, though... that's what really makes her music great.

The two videos that I've posted are of the same song, "Both Sides Now." What is interesting about this song is that she wrote and recorded it for one of her first albums, and then re-recorded it for her album in 2000. When you listen to the two versions, notice the differences in her emotion, tone, tempo, and key. Although the lyrics are the same, the mood of the song is almost 'wiser' in the later version, for lack of a better way of putting it. I think this comparison is a nice example of the differences between what we "know" at different points in our life, and how that affects us as people.

Fox in the Snow

2009-10-27T22:58:00.001-07:00

Today's post is an excerpt from my favorite book, The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupery

"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you. . ."
"Yes that is so", said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes that is so" said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the color of the wheat fields." And then he added: "go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret."
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses. "You are not at all like my rose," he said. "As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made a friend, and now he is unique in all the world." And the roses were very much embarrassed. "You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you -- the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is MY rose."
And he went back to meet the fox. "Goodbye" he said.
"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."
"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.
"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.
"It is the time I have wasted for my rose-- "said the little prince so he would be sure to remember.
"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed."

Grandma's Hands

2009-10-24T22:46:00.000-07:00

My Grandmother was sick for years. In fact, for the past eight years it was a given that I could expect a phone call once every three months or so, explaining that she was on the way out, and that I needed to come see her to say goodbye. Even in the year when I lived in New York, I made two trips back to Florida to pay my "final respects." You see, my Grandmother had been suffering from severe diabetes as long as I'd known her. She had to test her blood sugar and give herself shots at least twice a day for the past fifteen to twenty years, and somewhere around when I turned eighteen, she started bleeding internally and began visiting the hospital every few months to have the excess liquid drained from her stomach.

You may be thinking, it doesn't seem normal or plausible for someone to bleed internally for eight years, and in normal situations you'd be correct. Normally that sort of thing is a sure and immediate death sentence. But here's the key: my Grandmother was horribly afraid of death. She was so afraid of dying that she consciously chose not to. Instead, she opted to defy the odds, and laugh in the face of eternal darkness. She opted to visit the hospital constantly and withstand immense amounts of discomfort and pain, all for the sake of gaining a little extra time.

I have to admit, I never understood why she chose to hang on as long as she did. My Grandmother, along with being a kind, incredibly personable, southern woman, was also a devout Mormon. She raised all of her children in the temple, and never drank alcohol (save for a sip of champagne on New Year's Eve), swore, or smoked. She believed in Heaven, and she knew in her heart that she had secured a front row seat there. Now, I am not a religious person at all, and my desire to live as long as possible is due, in part, to the fact that I genuinely don't believe that there is life after death; I have to make as much out of this time as I possibly can. However, I have always thought that if someone truly loved God and believed in the Eternal Kingdom they would be anxious to get there, and would not want to waste any more time on this plane than they had to. Clearly, this was not true of my Grandmother. I don't know if it was due to religious doubt or some other factor, but, despite the constant warnings from my family that 'this time was the time," she wasn't ever going anywhere.

I hadn't seen or spoken to my Grandmother in months, prior to receiving the call from my mother this morning. Three months ago, as expected, I'd received a message saying that my Grandmother was on her way out and that I should come see her to say goodbye if I could afford to. Well, truth be told, I really couldn't afford to, and I honestly (and rightly at the time) didn't believe that she was actually going to die. I had heard it too many times before. My mother could, in these situations, be easily compared to the boy who cried wolf; she was the mother who cried "Grandma's dying." And, like always, in that situation Grandma was taken to the hospital, drained, fixed up with a spinal surgery that "she was sure not to survive" and sent home nearly right-as-rain.

This morning's call was different. Normally, when my Grandmother is ill she immediately opts to visit the doctor, willing to suffer any surgery that might keep her alive. This time she didn't. This time she decided to stay home.

This time she actually died.

I am not angry or resentful about my Grandmother's death, but I am upset about how I was trained to view her life. My Grandmother was loved by hundreds of people. I have never, in my life, known anyone who received more letters and phone calls from people she barely knew. She would stay in contact with the same acquaintances and friends for upwards of forty years. So many people were able to love her unconditionally, because they could see the good in her heart and her genuine interest in their lives. Even her children's ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends would continue to call and write her long after the breakups. She was a genuinely wonderful, caring woman... and I've spent most of my life waiting for her to die.

It is my fault that I did not know her better. There were so many opportunities to spend time with her that I didn't take, and for that I do have some regrets. However, I loved her with all my heart, as every grandchild loves their grandma, and I will never again be able to eat a toasted coconut marshmallow or watch an episode of "Yee Haw" without thinking of her.

Rest in Peace, Golda Christine Kadel - aka, Memaw. You will be forever missed.

Crazy

2009-10-21T23:59:00.000-07:00

I was going to write an entry about the Community Psychology conference that I attended in Washington this past weekend, but, since I had to write a synopsis of it anyhow, I've decided to just post the paper. Enjoy! This is riveting stuff! ;)

Having never been to a psychology conference, I was unsure of what to expect when our car pulled in to the parking garage of the Washington-Bothell campus. However, when we walked in to the North Creek Events center, I was pleasantly surprised by the informal and supportive atmosphere that greeted us. I carefully perused the day's program, and struggled to choose only three presentations to attend, as everything seemed so interesting. My choices were Ethics and Community Psychology: Creating Space for Dialogue about Graduate Training and Research with Vulnerable Populations, Responding Creatively to Cultural Diversity through Case Stories, and Community Art and Music for Health. I then spent the next few minutes observing and discussing the poster presentations, until the opening ceremony was prepared to begin.

Immediately following the morning introductions was the VERA Project's presentation. I was completely blown away by the mission and business model of this organization, which I had never previously heard of. V.E.R.A. is an acronym for Veri Et Recti Amici, which translates to “true and sincere friends.” Ten years ago, it was the goal of Shannon Stewart and James Kablas to create an all-ages music venue; an extention of the VERA Project that they had seen while attending college in The Netherlands. The Seattle-based installment of this program was an effective counter to the Teen Dance Ordinance, which outlawed the “mixing of people of different ages where there is dancing or music” (www.theveraproject.org). This organization encourages all-ages participation at every business level – administration, event coordinating, concert execution, recording, marketing, and finance. Despite the fact that the founders of the project were not community psychologists, the VERA Project impliments many of the goals and ideas therein, including action research, qualitative data, quantitative data, focus groups, community empowerment, and observation/participation. One of the most difficult issues faced by this organization is ageism/adultism, because the cultural norm is often to assume that adults know more than children, and children have less to offer. I asked them how they handle this problem, and they seemed excited to describe their techniques, which included one-on-one conversations, integration workshops, and a preexisting supportive, unbiased environment. The VERA Project's presentation was well organized and very informative. I thoroughly enjoyed learning about their efforts, and, as a former musician, I appreciate the VERA Project's community contributions, and I wish an organization like this one had existed in my hometown.

After lunch, I attended a workshop which was created by five Portland State University graduate students, titled Ethics and Community Psychology: Creating Space for Dialogue about Graduate Training and Research with Vulnerable Populations. Fortunately for me, but unfortunately for them, I was the only attendee. This, of course, meant that I was able to spend more time asking them questions about their experiences, positive impressions, and negative attitudes regarding PSU's graduate program. The purpose of the workshop was to read a hypothetical story of a grad student who is having trouble balancing her roles and responsibilities, and then answer questions regarding ways in which she and her advisor could make her experience less stressful. Through listening to the others' answers, I was able to learn valuable, honest information about issues, such as: the awkwardness and ethical struggle of seeing your participants in 'real world' settings; the time factors involved in changing your focus once you are already committed to a project; the stress of balancing the roles of student, teaching assistant, research partner, and student advisor; and learning to negotiate with professors when you have to miss classes to conduct research. Having this sort of informal setting to discuss these issues openly and honestly was extremely beneficial to me. Because of this workshop, I now feel far more confident in my abilities regarding my educational future.

The next workshop I attended was titled Responding Creatively to Cultural Diversity through Case Stories, and was conducted by Dr. Diane Gillespie and five graduate students from the University of Washington. In this group, we were asked to read the case study of a young woman named Abby, who, inspired by her psychology professor, confronted her racist family during dinner. In the study, Abby's debate with her kind, strongheaded uncle came to an abrupt halt when he stormed out of the house, leaving both Abby and her mother distressed. Abby's inner conflict between pride for addressing her uncle's bigotry head-on and her guilt over creating family strife caused her to blurt out her story in the middle of class the next day, interrupting another student who had been sharing a painful anecdote about her Latino family's unfortunate living situation. Because of this outburst, Abby was not provided the support that she had craved, but, rather, was ostracized by her teacher and fellow students. This case study provided our group the opportunity to address each character in the story individually. We analyzed the strengths of the uncle, the mother, Abby, the professor, and the classmates. One of the highlights of the group discussion was when Dr. Gillespie leaned over to me and said, “Isn't it interesting that the list of strengths is longer for the uncle than any other character? I wonder why that is?” That question, more than anything else in the discussion, really helped to expand my understanding of the benefits of learning through case studies.

Finally, I attended a presentation of two papers regarding Community Art and Music for Health. The first paper/powerpoint addressed the up-and-coming field of Expressive Art. This field is fundamentally different from art therapy for one important reason: no psychological training is needed in order to practice it. Patients are not diagnosed and prescribed specific artistic goals to assist their needs, but, rather, are encouraged to express their feelings through any form of art that feels comfortable to them. This can include, and is not limited to, painting, music, sculpture, cooking, knitting, and acting. Expressive art is mainly used to assist patients who are recovering from chemical dependencies, and patients have the freedom to decide whether or not their work will be made public (most art pieces are kept confidential). Participants are also encouraged to keep a journal, in which they should record their own deep thoughts and feelings for three days, at least 20 minutes per day. This technique has been medically proven to increase health and healing for individuals. The second paper addressed music therapy, specifically within the Bailey Boushay House, which is a group home for HIV patients. The house contains 35 patient beds, and also provides a day health program, which can treat upwards of 200 patients per day. The Bailey Boushay House uses music as a social participation tool, to address some of the issues that AIDS patients face – e.g., social isolation, dementia, discrimination, and depression. The music therapist, David, learns a multitude of songs (in various languages) so that he may engage each resident on a personal, emotional level. Some of the patients prefer only to listen, but he attempts to involve each individual through techniques, such as sing-alongs, sing-and-respond, and “teaching” (in which the resident teaches him one of their favorite songs). I wanted to attend this presentation, because when I first decided to persue psychology, music and/or art therapy seemed the natural choice, as that was my previous career. I quickly moved away from that focus, but I am still extremely interested in the fields, as I have always felt art to be the best method for emotional catharsis.

I am incredibly grateful to have had the opportunity to attend the Northwest Eco/Community Psychology Conference. The amount of knowledge gained and professionals met were irreplaceable. I learned a multitude of interesting facts, perspectives, and facets of community psychology, and, as an undergraduate, I gained the opportunity to speak informally to professionals and graduate students in my chosen field. Next year, I fully intend to attend this conference again, and I am excited for the opportunity to, potentially (hopefully), share my own research there.

Total Eclipse of the Heart

2009-10-18T00:20:00.000-07:00

I had an epiphany tonight, after laying in bed most of the day, eating far too many candy corn and watching old television reruns. There's an aspect of my personality which I've been trying to put my finger on for a long time now; a part of me which makes it difficult to maintain friendships, excel in workplaces, and fully enjoy my educational experience. It feels odd talking about this online, but I promised myself that this blog would act as a diary, so I'm going to disclose my realization to the internet public, in the hopes that I will achieve a catharsis (and hopefully a limited amount of embarrassment and self-doubt). Basically, I am not selfless enough. I am far more selfish a person than I give myself credit for. I realize that it is impossible to truly be selfless; even if one is not expecting a positive outcome from committing a charitable act, one will still receive some sense of happiness and well-being as a result, which could arguably be considered a benefit for oneself. Ere go, you can never truly give without receiving something in return. However, I do believe that I need to make more of an effort to give, without expectations and/or perceived positive outcomes. This applies to all aspects of my life.

As I've previously mentioned, I am majoring in Psychology, with the hopes of pursuing a PhD in Social Psychology. This career goal, in and of itself, implies a certain amount of wanting to help people, and the point of discovering one's personal focus should be to serve as a motivator for working within a community. However, I have been so concerned with getting the 'right' grades, meeting the 'right' people, and saying the 'right' things, that I haven't really done anything. Not anything substantial, at least. I've gotten great grades, and I've met amazing people, but I've been saying all of the wrong things. I've been speaking with the intent to impress, and directing the conversation in ways which I perceive that the speaker will enjoy. I have not been speaking from my heart, and I haven't been honest with anyone. My advisors' inability to help me hasn't been a flaw in them or the school, which I had previously concluded, but rather a problem with my inability to communicate my positions effectively. They couldn't have known how to help me, because, really, they have no idea who I am or what I am really about.

Likewise, my execution of goals has been flawed from the start. I have been learning about people, communities, and the problems therein, but I haven't been volunteering in or helping my community in any way, yet. I have been gaining all of this knowledge, and complaining about the lack of opportunities to apply it in a research setting, yet there are dozens of "helping" organizations in the Portland area, and I haven't visited any of them. It is easy to sit in class and debate the reasons and solutions for the homelessness situation in Portland, but I could have been learning so much more by volunteering in chemical dependency counseling centers and shelters. If I truly plan to someday help people and communities, then I need to start now. I need to start committing selfless acts, and learn more from the people around me.

All of this time I've been waiting to be discovered for all of the 'great' things I've been doing, but none of that really matters. It shouldn't be about me or what I've done at all, but about what I'm doing without the intention of being noticed for it. I need to take myself out of the equation entirely and focus on others for a change. I need to judge less and listen more, but mostly I need to stop trying to impress people and let them see who I really am, flaws and all.

Help!

2009-10-14T15:09:00.000-07:00

I had a meeting with one of my professors today, in the hopes of honing down my interests into one tangible focus. One of the great and tricky things about studying Psychology is that any phenomena in the human experience is available for studying. This, of course, makes the field both rich with opportunities and inspiration, and also hard to find specific focus in. When I first entered the program, there were two phenomena that I was interested in studying: computer mediated communication and political psychology. I have since lost interest in studying politics, but the computer angle still intrigues me. Basically computer mediated communication deals with the understanding of how sites like Facebook, Myspace, and various other online communities affect the way that we act in our relationships. Do these sites strengthen our friendships, deteriorate them, alter them, or leave them unaffected? This field dabbles in both Communication and Psychology, depending upon the researcher's angles and interests.

I have also acquired two newly-inspired interests since entering the program, both of which are inspired by my personal experiences. The first of which involves the relationship between friends before and after marriage. It seems, based on my own story and those that I've heard from my friends, colleagues, and family, that an unconscious rift is created between friends and married couples after the wedding. Often, as early as two weeks or as long as a month after the ceremony, the married couple finds itself wondering, "where did everybody go?" Whether this phenomena is a result of the learned understanding of 'marriage' as something that demands privacy, or an assumption that a married couple is no longer interested in late-night fun (which is sometimes true), or even the married couple unconsciously removing itself from it's previous relationships... I just don't know, but I find it fascinating. If anyone has similar stories or feedback about this, I'd love to hear it!

My third interest is one that has not yet been studied in depth within a psychological concept, but I feel it absolutely should. It concerns food allergies and their impact on self-esteem. It may seem like an odd concept, but anyone who suffers from some sort of food allergy has, often on a regular basis, been subject to comments such as: "Oh, that's terrible," "I'm so sorry for you," or my personal favorite, "This is delicious... oh, wait... I forgot that you can't eat this. You're really missing out!" I have only been dealing with my allergy for two years, but the people I've known who have suffered from some sort of intolerance their whole lives seem greatly effected by (and often overly defensive about) comments such as these. Through a Community Psychology setting, I could not only study the relevance of this phenomena, but also potentially set up support groups, information centers, and self-help lines to create a sense of community and support for people like myself and many others.

I have not yet decided which of these areas to focus on for my graduate research, but I am definitely leaning toward the latter two. Again, any feedback or personal stories would be wonderful to hear and take into consideration. Help is always appreciated! Thanks!

Headache

2009-10-12T13:53:00.000-07:00

So, the pumpkin patch trip has been postponed, due to the WORST HEADACHE EVER. Seriously, as someone who very rarely gets headaches at all, migraines equal death. I was in bed, half-asleep, for the better part of Saturday and Sunday. There must have been something in the air, because Chris was feeling the same pains Sunday morning. Either that or we're hitting that married couple stride where we literally share each others feelings. Hmm... weird.

Anyway, for those who don't know, I babysit three fantastic (and sometimes mentally-challenging) children every Monday and Friday afternoon. Well, this past Friday the boy (we'll call him JJ) had a sore throat and cough and, being a child, rarely remembered to cover his mouth. Every now and then I wonder if I have a touch of hypochondriac in me, because I tend to jump to the worst conclusions first and then work backwards from that. Case in point, I woke up Saturday morning with the headache gods drilling a hole in my brain, and my first thought was, "oh no! JJ must have the swine flu, and he gave it to me. ARG! Now I have to miss school, and I won't be able to study, and I'll get Chris sick, etc. etc." Then, about 27 seconds later I thought, "Oh yeah. Chris and I went out last night, and I had my first glass of wine in weeks, and it was a bold, red wine. I guess I'll be okay. Stupid hangover!" Although, in retrospect I think the headache was due not just to the wine, but also to the fact that I ate some gluten at the kids house Friday afternoon (homemade butterscotch pancakes! How can you not eat something that you're cooking, and smelling, and drooling over?!). Today my arm has rough patches all over it, and my head is still a little fuzzy. I need to put a little more forethought into my meals when I'm over there from now on.

So, last night Chris and I finally got tired of laying around the dark apartment and decided that it was time to bust out. We drove up the Historic Columbia River Highway, and enjoyed the beginnings of the Fall color-change along the gorge. That drive is by far one of my favorite activities in this area! It's supposed to rain almost everyday this week, but I don't mind. The rain makes the grass green and the flowers grow, and that is a small price to pay to live in such a beautiful city. Plus, I'm hoping that eventually these drizzles turn into snow flurries. Then life would be perfecto!

Speaking of perfecto, I made a delicious Pumpkin Soup the other day! Here's the recipe:

1 can Organic Pumpkin
1 1/2 cups water
1/3 cup Orange Pineapple juice (I like Simply Orange brand, but I'm sure others would be equally yummy)
1/4 cup cream (I used MimicCream, which is a nut/rice based non-dairy creamer. Regular or soy creamer would work as well)
2 tbsp All Spice
1 tbsp salt (then more to taste at the end)
1 tbsp pepper
1 tbsp olive oil
3 cloves garlic
1/4 red onion, chopped

1) Melt your chopped onion, garlic, olive oil, and salt in the bottom of a medium saucepan, until soft.
2) Add the Orange Pineapple Juice and All Spice. Bring to a light boil.
3) Add the water. Continue boiling.
4) Add the pumpkin, and stir in completely.
5) Add the pepper.
6) Use an immersion blender to break down the onions and garlic, until the soup is smooth.
7) Turn off the heat, and stir in the cream. Taste and re-season if needed.

That's it! Super easy! The whole process took me about 10-15 minutes, and Christopher (who hates soup) had two helpings. Enjoy!

You Light Up My Life

2009-10-08T21:16:00.000-07:00

I'm having a love affair, and I don't even feel guilty about it. My heart fills with joy and satisfaction every time the thought of this 'other' drifts into my mind. I can't even pass a store without secretly craving another rendezvous. Who is this mysterious third party? Angelina's White Rice Sandwich Bread.

As one of the "unfortunate" gluten-intolerant citizens of the world, I will be the first to admit that a delicious bread is hard to come by. And one that doesn't turn rock-hard overnight... impossible. Angelina's defies all of the typical GF bread stereotypes. It is deliciously moist, survives for weeks in the refrigerator, and, when toasted with butter, closely resembles my grandmother's pound cake.

Unfortunately for those of you who don't live in the NW, Angelina's bakery is still a locally-distributed item. However, it can be shipped nationwide for the low price of $36/case, which translates to $6.50/loaf. In addition, the bakery offers scones, cookies, and various other baked delights. If you get the chance and inclination, you should absolutely try this brand. Adultery never tasted so good.

Reality

2009-10-07T18:02:00.000-07:00

I'd like to use today's blogpost to give a shout-out to my incredibly talented husband, Christopher. He's been working really hard with our friends Chris and Tim over the past few months to create a hilarious, and visually impressive short film, titled "James vs. Reality."
Check out the trailer!

It's a Beautiful Morning

2009-10-06T16:40:00.000-07:00

Perfection. Today is sheer perfection. Well, weather-wise, at least. I slept in much later than I should have today. My plan was to be on campus by 8am so that I could read and review my notes before my 12:00 class, but I actually got out of bed at 12:30, missed my noon class, and strolled in 5 minutes late for my 2:00 class. Whoops! This is an insignificant tangent, however, because the real star of this story was the beautiful, clear blue sky and 62 degree temperature that greeted me when I finally did leave my apartment.

You see, I hate to feel rushed. There is nothing that can ruin my day faster than that stomach-in-the-throat feeling you get from knowing that you're running late (because of this I tend to be 5-10 minutes early for everything). I should have felt that today, but as soon as I walked out the door of my apartment building, the cool, crisp air filled my senses and diffused whatever worries I may have had. I patiently sat at my bus stop, unworried about the 20 minute wait [as I had just missed the previous bus while hunting for my keys]. I just sat and watched the world around me. I watched the people pass by me, I watched the leaves blowing in the slight breeze, I felt the warm touch of the sun through the chill in the air... it was sheer perfection. I do not at all regret sleeping in and missing class today. In fact, I'm kicking myself for attending my other two classes, as all I'd like to do is go on a long walk around the streets of Portland. Days like this are not uncommon in this city, but for some reason today really spoke to me. It reminded me of how happy I am to live here, and how wonderful life really is.

How's that for waxing poetic?

The Monster Mash

2009-10-05T19:19:00.000-07:00

Fall has always been my favorite time of year. Having grown up in Florida, where seasons are 87% imaginary (there's a few chilly days here and there), I always looked forward to that first "cold" day of the year. I affectionately named this "Park Day," and would roll down my car windows, crank up some deliciously comfy folk music, and smile all the way to my favorite swing set. There were always a few friends who were willing to humor my made-up holiday, and every time I experience a chilly day here in Portland, I inevitably think of them: Alan, Lauren, Ben, and Natalia.

This week, my favorite season started to rear it's head, and, for the first time in my life, I am actually living somewhere where I'll be able to experience a real color change. As a matter of fact, it's already started. The tips of several trees in my neighborhood are turning beautiful hues of pink, yellow, and red. All I can think to do is drink as much hot cocoa as possible and walk around the streets of Ladd's Addition, staring affectionately at the Fall foliage.

There is one thing which I'm looking forward to above all else, though. You see, Portland is surrounded by pumpkin patches. The most sincere pumpkin patches you've ever seen! And this year is the first year of my life that I have the opportunity to cut my own pumpkin off of its vine. I'm not sure why, but in my mind this one singular event epitomizes the feeling of Fall/Halloween. This weekend Chris and I are making the trek to Sauvie Island, and I will be sure to post lots of pictures!

Summer Nights

2009-10-03T17:49:00.000-07:00

March 30, 2009 was my first day back in school, and I was so motivated. I was finally going to finish my B.S. degree (a name that I will never stop chuckling at), and to make things even more exciting I was attending my first University. Up until that point I had bounced around between community colleges, determined not to pay for a "real" education until I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. Portland State seemed like a dream come true; it held that "real" college prestige, but the classrooms were still small and intimate, and the teachers all seemed so friendly and helpful. I jammed through my first two semesters with all the ease of an honor student. I looked forward to coming home and reading/studying every night away, and I asked my teachers for extra homework assignments just to insure my 'A' standing.

Then came summer.

I am the kind of person who requires busy work. I am psychologically incapable of having nothing to do for extended periods of time. Sure, if I'd been employed summer would have been a snap. I could have worked longer hours, and kept my brain and body motivated. But, of course, I was unemployed, and, post summer term, I had no classes for one full month. The first two weeks proved extremely difficult; I was battling sheer boredom with The Harry Potter series, and I forced myself to leave the apartment at least once a day to get coffee or hang out with people. However, by week four (the week before last), I was well used to having no responsibilities. So, just as I had begun to settle into a completely care-free existence...

Then came the first day of school, all over again.

I am having a lot of trouble motivating myself to read and do homework this time around. Being back in school seems almost surreal. The hamster in my brain has been enjoying his time off, and is hesitant to jump back in his spinny-wheel just yet. This weekend (translation: RIGHT NOW), I need to read 70 pages and write a 500 word essay for one class, and read a combined 75 pages for my other two classes. I haven't even started yet. As a matter of fact, writing this blog was an excellent stalling technique.

...And writing that last sentence was an excellent motivator for signing off and picking up a text book. I think I'll head up to Palio for some coffee and quiet reading time. Until we meet again!

Try to Remember

2009-10-02T20:57:00.000-07:00

I make no claims to being psychic. Personally, I believe that everyone has an instinct which is sometimes more accurate than others, and I've watched enough suspense thrillers to know that when someone says, "I've got a funny feeling..." you should always trust it. I do, however, have one special ability that falls comfortably into the realm of the semi-psychic. It involves music... oldies, to be more specific. When something bad is happening, or soon to be happening, I will be haunted by one song until the issue is resolved. Case in point, when I was in my previous long-term relationship with a man who (in retrospect) I never really loved (mostly he just annoyed me and made me feel terrible), "What's Love Got to Do With It" played on the radio every time I listened to music for one entire year. Seriously. It didn't matter where I was - my car, at home, online, in the grocery store - Tina Turner was singing my woes at every turn for 365 days. It may sound like I'm bullshitting you, but I promise that I am speaking the complete and honest truth.

For whatever reason, last month was really hard on Christopher and me. I'm not sure what the issue was - the stress of unemployment, the pressure of our anniversaries, the constant contact that comes from living in a small studio - but we fought quite a bit. In case you hadn't guessed, we hardly ever fight. I mean, almost never. So, to come full circle with this story, the entire month of September I had one very strange, obscure song, from a musical which I have NEVER seen, stuck in my head. The only time I had ever heard this song was in my 7th grade choir, when I auditioned to sing it for our Broadway Medley concert. The song is called "Try to Remember," and these are the lyrics:

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

Try to remember when life was so tender
That no one wept except the willow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That dreams were kept beside your pillow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That love was an ember about to billow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
Although you know the snow will follow.
Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
Without a hurt the heart is hollow.
Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
The fire of September that made us mellow.
Deep in December, our hearts should remember
And follow.

Now, obviously these lyrics aren't terribly impressive or interesting, really. But I caught myself singing this song in the shower almost every morning for the past 30 days. If not in the shower, I promise you I was humming it while walking down the street. Sure, this may not seem like such a big deal, but "Try to Remember" is basically about remembering the Septembers when life was easier, and 'no one weeped except the willow.' I mean, that's poignant! That's almost as impressive as "Don't Dream it's Over" (Crowded House) randomly playing on the radio every time I'm about to give up on something that I care about.

Sure, this doesn't qualify as a super power. It's not even that helpful, except in retrospect, but I think it's pretty neat!

Anyone Need to Pee?

2009-10-01T06:19:00.000-07:00

I took this picture in Washington. Everything about this moment seemed both so wrong and oh so right.

Tonight

2009-10-01T04:17:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had an itch that you can't scratch? Or an idea that, despite your high levels of enthusiasm, you just can't seem to bring to fruition? Well, I have. As a matter of fact I've had loads of them. The itches are my reason for still being awake at 4:20am, while my husband quietly snores by the light of my Macbook keyboard. The ideas are a consistent, unrelenting reminder of my so-far unfulfilled potential. Take, for instance, blogging. I enjoy the idea of keeping a blog. When I was growing up I had a big-time crush on journals. It would be fair to call me a collector, as I had about 20 beautiful, handcrafted journals adorning my shelves by the time I turned 25. The problem: I never wrote in any of them. At least not consistently. I merely enjoyed the idea of keeping a journal, but the writing part always seemed too daunting. I mean, my handwriting has never been nice enough for those gorgeous, rice paper pages. Silly? Yes. Absolutely.

Fast forward to the first days of fall, 2009. I am now 27 years old. I live with my overwhelmingly handsome, though often inscrutable, husband and our two insane(ly cute) cats. I am [finally] finishing my undergraduate degree, after many years of time off in the name of 'self-discovery.' At this point in my life there are three things that I definitely know for sure, and they are as follows:

1. Age is cyclical. At 24, I was as self-assured and confident in my understanding of the world as I was at 17. Now that I'm 27, I'm as unsure of the future and as self-referential as I was at 20. Clearly the interval for me is 7 years, give or take a few months.

2. Health is our most important asset. Since becoming vegetarian, and later discovering my gluten allergy, I have been healthier than I ever was as an omnivore. I research and take the appropriate vitamins and enzymes for my diet. I purchase as many locally grown and/or produced food items as possible. Let me tell you, I have never felt more energetic, clear-headed, or, well, healthy in my life!

3. A smile really will brighten your day. It's true! And, you know what? If your smile is genuine, it can also be contagious. That, my friends, is a psychological fact.

That being said, I haven't yet decided what direction to take this blog in. Honestly, my biggest issue with blogs is that they always seem too self-involved. Who really needs to know the inner-workings of my brain? But, I suppose if you didn't want to know, you probably wouldn't read this anyhow... Okay, here goes:

This blog will be about me. It will be my outlet when I am drowning in emotional pitfalls. It will be a place where I can share my funny stories and dreams. It will be a way for the world to see me more clearly. Lastly, it will be updated every day, guaranteed. I am going to stick with this one. Wish me luck!