It's The Hap-Happiest Season of All

I feel like it's almost a right of passage that Christmas becomes less life-altering every year. I mean...not to be all "bah humbug" or anything but it really seems like the holidays bring about entirely different feelings from me with each passing year.

Remember when you were a little person, and Christmas was basically the highlight of your life? You didn't know how to tell time, find your address, or write your name...but by-golly you knew exactly how many miliseconds would expire until Santa would surely shoot down your chimney and deliver your toys and goodys. And forget sleep on Christmas Eve. No, no...as a young child you are WAY more preoccupied with hearing the "clatter" of Santa's reindeer and sled and wondering if your home-made burnt cookies were to the big guy's satisfaction.

Then, during your adolesence, you slowly begin to realize that you should probably be personally gifting your loved ones. Enter the hideous home-made tidings you make for your parents and siblings because allowance is only so limited. Some of my personal "creations" included: a half knitted scarf, popsicle ornaments, orange glitter body spray, a "windchime" made of yarn...dont ask, and a package of discounted, decaff coffee (which I was certain was perfect for my mother, and right for my piggy bank). On a side note, I also created some truly "unique" (my mothers word) pots and bowls for my parents birthdays and such in my special area classes, but for now lets just discuss my scarring CHRISTMAS gifts.

Only later in your life, upon entering the workforce, do you finally discover that you should probably purchase people gifts that they might actually use. And so the pressure begins. During your teenage years, you want so many things...that it seems only natural that you would buy nice gifts for others in return. I remember trying so hard to purchase thoughtful gifts in a timely and affordable manner. After all, highschoolers only have an hour break for lunch at MOST and (most generally) a limited choice of work-places. For me, this time of the year was when I felt the most pressured---like what I had to offer my family just wasn't good enough.

Enter my most favorite phase of life. Now, in my twenties, I find that Christmas time is the most rewarding holiday for a different reason all together. No longer do I stay awake with "visions of sugar plums" or listening for Santas sled. Instead, I stay awake catching up with my little sister and mother. No longer do I invest my time and energy slaving away at gifts that most likely will get thrown away upon sight. Instead, I purchase or create small but thoughtful gifts I know others will like. And finally, I no longer have lofty purchases I desire for Christmas. At this age, you just appreciate that your family is there to help you, love you, and nurture you all year round. It is truly the gift that keeps on giving.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Quotable Quotes

So I am home...

Arguably, there is no better feeling than arriving in your hometown, sleeping in your childhood bed, and being around the family that reared you from birth. There is truly something poetic about coming home from another town--and feeling like you never really left it in the first place.

I took this afternoon to relax, and enjoy my father's new home in Tallahassee---complete with all the fixtures of a grand old house (sunroom, crown molding, fireplace, etc). Perhaps the most interesting thing about this house is the overflow of books all over the place. My love of Literature was not passed down to me by osmosis, but by my own father who reads almost daily.

While enjoying the sun streaming through plantation shutters, and relaxing in a comfortable guest bed---I located an interesting read. Either my father, or stepmother own a book entitled The 2548 Best Things Anyone Ever Said. This fascinating read, filled with legendary quotes and antecodtes, is probably one of the coolest finds I have ever come across. There is something so special about seeing so many moments in time, so many epiphanies gathered together.

Here are some of my favorite lines:

"He who laughs....lasts"---Mary Pettibone Poole

"My work is done, why wait?"--suicide note left by Kodak founder George Eastman

"In Literature, as in love, we are astonished at what is chosen by others"---Andre Maurois

"Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Snore...and you sleep alone" ---Anthony Burgess

"The only normal people are the ones you don't know very well"--Joe Ancis

"Love is being stupid together"--Paul Valery

"I think the world is run by 'C' students"--Al McGuire



HOPE YOU ENJOYED : )

Stubborn As a Mule...

Yep.....I'm not moving on my ideas. Sorry pardner....

Close friends will tell you that I have always had my own ideas. Sometimes my thoughts are popular, brilliant, soaring beliefs that are creative, efficient, and helpful. Other times though, my mental wanderings are simply idiotic "flops" that should have died somewhere in the logical thought process....but instead made it ALL the way to my vocal chords (sigh). For a good example of this, here is this little mental gem I stupidly stated: "Astroturf is like sod in that you lay it in your yard in pieces....except that it dosnt grow!" Yes....my ideas are quite interesting little "soundbites" for all of those involved. But even the most ridiculous of ideas have not stopped me from having my own thoughts and ideas, and believing in them most zealously.

IDEA: "YES ELIZ! SAY THIS!!!!!"

My parents have referred to me as "stubborn," due to the aforementioned reasons, for as long as I can remember. At an early age, when most kids were playing on the playground, I read books from the Library---certain that this is what I would do for the rest of my life. I got teased, harassed, and tempted to play pretty much on a daily basis. Yet, I stuck it out in the Library day after day because I just knew reading would be so much more important to me than playing later in my life. Aside becoming BFF's with the librarian (Mrs. Wheeler...with her awesome book recommendations) I ended up teaching myself an amazing work-ethic, and a love for Literature that would never die. In fact, English Literature became my collegiate major---although the books did eventually upgrade from the likes of "The Burning Questions of Bingo Brown."
Bingo's "burning" questions were less than anticipated.

From that point forward, I became so stubborn I was sometimes a force to be reckoned with. I still feel so sorry for my childhood neighbor friends, whom I continually made play dress up day after day if I was to play with them at all. As if my eight year old time was so darn valuable.... But somewhere inside me I just believed that my ideas were right for me, and would eventually lead me in the right direction.

In highschool, I avoided drugs and drinking--not so much because I was a snob. But more so because that stuff just didnt have a place in my life. "I was happy," I thought to myself, "so why do I need that?" It seemed like a legitamite, reasonable thought, so I listened to my inner ramblings. I managed to go all four years with nary a drink or drug trial--an amazing feat at that age. But my own ideas spoke much louder to me than anyone elses voice. It struck me, sometime around this age, that the person I most worried about dissapointing was myself. This has stayed the case ever since.

Finally, I provide you with a hilarious antitode about how my stubborness has aided me thoroughly. Upon working at Tropical Smoothie, purple visor and all, it became my opening professional duty to set up the patio umbrellas. However, I soon decided that this was a pointless task. You see, the umbrellas were heavy and cumbersome...and I weighed all of 146 pounds. To add, the umbrellas were tedious to bolt into their holsters, and were therefore dangerous in windy weather. Furthermore, no customers EVER sat on the patio--as I worked at Tropical Smoothie during the Fall months. Therefore, after one painful month of setting up said umbrellas, I mentally decided that this was a professional task I could safely "blow off." The owner of the operation, though, was not satisfied with my "no umbrella" policy, and came in several times to "show me" how it was done. I guess as a nice man, he wanted to give me the option to pretend I didnt know how. Ghosts were undoubtedly setting it up for the first four weeks....; ) I would watch him show me this demo time after time, thinking to myself "yah no." THIS IS HOW LOUD MY INNER VOICE SPEAKS...I RISK JOBS OVER STUPID UMBRELLAS PEOPLE!!! I left all the umbrella madness at work, for one week, to visit my boyfriend out of town. When I came back, my manager, whom I had confided about my anti-umbrella policy, was smiling from ear to ear. Aparently,upon my absence, an umbrella had flown across a busy street, and had landed in the road and caused traffic-blockages. This, of course, was DUE TO WINDY WEATHER. It was therefore considered a "danger" and we did not have to resume putting them up until Summer. My manger at the time laughed hysetrically whilst telling me this. He said his first reaction was not to panic when alerted of said-runaway-umbrella...but instead to laugh and mentally think "I've GOT to tell Elizabeth about this."

Above is how my mind envisioned umbrellas

Some people call me close-minded, and maybe I am a little. But more so than that, I believe that my ideas, the crazy ones and all, lead me to where I need to be. I believe it's my personal ideas that tell me what I want out of life, and what I dont (like umbrellas). I don't push my ideas down other peoples throats, but I know what is right for me. I wish more people would learn to drown out what other people are saying, and harness in on their own thoughts. It's so important to listen to yourself, listen to what you want, and forget the rest.

If I'd Known Then What I Know Now....

Each parent has a quintessential story which they feel best describes who their child is as a person. Most generally, a parent will tell this story to anyone who will listen---proudly boasting upon their child's individual, remarkable, hilarious qualities that make them "special."

My mother, of course, is no different than the other parents. The story she uses to highlight who I am as a "special individual" eludes to a time when I was in preschool. My mom consistently tells everyone that I would frequently came home balling crying in tears over the fact that "no one would play with me at play time, and I had no friends" Quite certain the other kids were neglecting her "baby," my mother had then spied on me during several of her lunch breaks at preschool. Each and every time, she was shocked to find the vast majority of children huddled around me as I lead them into various activities. Yet, certain as the sun, I would still come home proclaiming my friendless state daily. And there it was....my mother had pegged me correctly as someone who generally perceived themselves as an "outsider," despite obvious evidence to the contrary.

Yahhhh.....sooo alone ; )

Throughout most of my life, I prided myself in being a part of the pack. In my own mind, it was better to be a part of the cliquish, social hierarchy than it was to be roaming around at the bottom of the pool with no one to cling to. Therefore, beginning in elementary school, I consistently shoe-horned my way into the cool kids group. As a gap-toothed, chubby brunette in crazy, mom-picked outfits....I was certainly NOT a cool-kid. However, I tried so hard to win the popular kids over that it almost became laughable. Whomever said you can't buy your friends obviously didn't see my instant-heightened-social status after bringing in bags of candy (with my hard-earned allowance money) for my class. Pathetic...I know...but hey it WAS snickers....



Most of my elementary school career went by in a similarly, seemingly smooth fashion. I was nice to most of my schoolmates, and I got by just fine. It was not until the 4th grade that I realized kids in numbers gain great strength in putting down other, weaker individuals. I came to this epiphany when I, myself, became that individual. I will never forget being told that some of my more cruel classmates had VOTED to see if I could come to one girl's birthday party--and had then told the birthday girl that I had simply not been deemed cool enough. Looking back on it, it still seems pretty awful.

R U KIDDING??!! Who wouldnt want THIS at a swingin' partay??!!

I can still remember walking home to my father's house crying my eyes out and telling him about the whole ordeal. As a loving father, he had first hugged me, and had then reproached me for my tears saying: "don't get upset....get angry." He had then helped me to plan an no-occasion party for the upcoming month....complete with a trip to our beach house, rides on a ski-bob behind a boat, and a delicious seafood dinner. I got to invite the nice girls, and neglect the mean ones. After hearing about the beach bonanza.....I'm pretty sure they were singing a different tune about just how "cool" I was. At the time...that really mattered to me. But looking back, I wish I would have realized how not alone I really was. In that instant, in all the planning, and in supervising four or five crazy little girls for my sole pleasure....my dad really was my greatest friend.

Always an awesome host : )

Throughout middle school, the same social patterns approached: me obnoxiously clinging to the frays of social belonging, and still feeling so outcast. I managed to find the MOST HEINOUS "kids" (and I use that term loosely) that Cobb Middle School had to offer, and then tried to befriend them. This, of course, ended in heart-ache and tears. Once again, I felt friendless.



Yet, I failed to notice that my little sister was probably one of the best friends I've ever had during the entirety of this time. During each and every weekend, in which I failed to have ANY social plans, my sister and I played idiotic games together...such as water-guns fight and bicycle race. We also made up a few games of our own, including "catch the sock," (dont ask), "stare-ie" (again dont ask), and go-cart chauffeur (more self-explanatory). We confided in each other over shopping-woes with a single father, and covered for each when things got scary with our parents. She continued to "assist" me when my grades took a down-turn in highschool and listen to me when love-interests and friends came and went throughout my life. She put up with my moody BS in adolescence...but never forgot to put me in my place. I really wish I had noticed just how great of a friend she was to my life before now---but I was just too preoccupied trying to belong with "friends" of my own. Sometimes you fail to notice the very thing that is right in front of you.

Soooo wanna give me a pedicure after this??!!

My dad and my sister showed me what real friends were supposed to be all throughout my life. I'm pretty sure they enabled me, eventually, into the very real (small group) of friends I have now. At last, at the end of community college, I was able to give up on being "friends" with everybody...and concentrate on friendships with meaningful people. Fortunatley for myself, I now belong to a small "pack" of very awesome, talented, excellent individuals who encourage and assist each other. I love my friends, now, as family members--who are all very near and dear to my heart. For example, I now have a particularly close, beautiful, extremley talented, sister-like friend whom will stand up to anyone whom puts me down AND will do it in awesome, brilliant ways : ) I only WISH I knew her in the 4th grade. I am so fortunate that my biological family showed me what friendship really is, so that I could stop trying to bend over backwards for something it's not.


Thank you Mary and Daddy : )















Elizabeth

I GRADUATED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Finally, after experiencing: virtual bloodshed, so much stress my hair is now grey, daily hellaciousness, and a moutain of homework daily, I'm DONEEEEE!!!

I never thought there would be a time in my life where I could look at my present situation and think: "wow this is relaxing!" But it has, in fact, approached. Since August 7th, I went on a cruise to the Bahamas--even finding the infinite courage to parasail, attended TWO graduation parties in my honor, and even work most days now.

I can honestly say I love living my life right now, and I can't help but feel like I worked for every second of enjoyment.

When people tell you during high school or college that those years are "the best of your life" you should ignore them. The best time of your life, undoubtedly, will be when you are done with all that schooling--awaiting greater and more enriching experiences.

I cant wait to see the card life deals me next

Ohhhh the Joys of Being Me.....

COUNT-DOWN TO GRADUATION: FIVE DAYS!!!!!!!!!!


Let me inform you, dear readers, of a dreadful event that recently occurred to me.

A few day ago, my mother arrived in the neighboring town of Altamonte Springs for a musical conference. As such, my boyfriend and I met her one night for dinner at the fine eatery--Mimi's Cafe. The food was delicious, and the conversation was plentiful. That was, of course, until my mother alerted me that she had news from the University of Central Florida. Proving that she does not, in fact, lose everything (and simultaneously shocking me to death) she pulled an important letter which had been mailed to her from my school.

I pulled the papers out of the official, collegiate envelope. One paper read, quite politely: CONGRATULATIONS! You have met all the requirements for your major of choice. I beamed at the feeling of accomplishment and delight that this letter provided me.....and then haphazardly glanced at the second paper. The SECOND paper, far different from the first, appeared to be for the University requirements. It stated: STUDENT NEEDS ONE CREDIT HOUR TO GRADUATE. In the place where the document enquired if "I" was able to graduate this semester, my advisor had callously marked "no." The check in that box looked menacing and evil to me as I looked at it.

At this moment-- I knew I was sitting at a restaurant, I realized I was 23 years old, and I understood that something was strange. Yet I cried like a child anyways. Tears flew from my eyes as I tried to collect myself and failed miserably. Eventually, I had to scurry away to the bathroom--leaving my boyfriend and mom awkwardly sitting at the booth.

Finally, after sitting in the bathroom for a good ten minutes---I realized I probably couldn't live there for life. Sure...I could hide for awhile. But then the inevitable cleaning/closing crew would eventually shoo me out. And so it was that I finally left the bathroom of my own volition.

Upon returning to my table, my mom and beau mercifully sat there quietly---acting as if the whole dreadful scene had not just occurred before them. I wiped my eyes and pulled the papers once again from the envelope. "How could this HAPPEN?!" I wondered tearfully. I analyzed my transcripts thoroughly....and found some serious discrepancies. For instance...there was a "B" grade in a course entitled "Caribbean Literature." Now...I have taken many silly Literary courses. However....learning about the readings of the Islanders has never been a passion of mine, and I was certain I would never, in good faith, pay for a text book for the aforementioned. Yet another miscalculation lie in the fact that they had missed one of my pre-1865 courses...classes which I had slaved away at only two semesters ago!

My head began swimming in a sea of confusion...and I once again turned to the front of the document. There, in black in white on the left-hand corner of the page laid the answer to all my troubles. The one-credit shy transcript belonged to ANOTHER student....one who's name I will not mention here. However, her last name was no where EVEN CLOSE to mine!!!! Unfortunately, my advisor had mistakenly bundled our envelopes in the same envelope after processing them minutes apart.

So there we sat: my mother, my boyfriend, and I....all stunned by what had just happened. How could it be that three, fairly intelligent adults had not realized that my half-hour melt-down was all FAULTY DUE TO MIS-APPROPRIATION??!! It was embarrassing, and hilarious all at the same time--though I do feel terribly for whomever it belongs to. I plan on returning the document ASAP so that it can be returned to it's rightful owner. I just pray she's not as far into graduation plans as I am!

And so, readers, the moral of this story is undoubtedly stress management. Situations can seem terse, at best....but the best way to handle them is with a level-mind. If I had received those papers in a mentally stable fashion, it probably wouldn't have taken 30 minutes to discover there intended whereabouts. But I didn't. And, as such, I ended up crying and making a fool of myself. You just have to approach stress more calmly. This is a skill I work on daily, and probably will never master. However...you at least have to try in order to avoid events--such as the above mentioned : )

THINGS I LOOK FORWARD TO DOING ONCE I GRADUATE:

* Sleeping
* Visiting with friends
*Sushi
*Travel
*Saving
*Making real money
*Working 40 hrs/week
*Not having homework

"Finding Yourself" V. "Loving Yourself"

I'll never forget over-hearing a very "adult" conversation at age six. Whilst sitting on the log for a well-deserved time out (I had stolen some little girls princess pencil) one day in first grade, I eavesdropped on a teacher's dialogue with another educator. She had recently gotten divorced, and coincidentally blamed her marriage failure on her own self identity. The teacher kept telling the other woman that she really needed to "find herself."

Who is that hottie?! Note the matching socks.....

Imagine my comprehension of this phrase at age six. It was kind of scary frightening to digest this idea. My six year old creativity running amuck, my childhood imagination went wild. I kept envisioning this poor woman scowering through the dark, dank forests, calling out her own name aloud profusely---like a bad game of hide and seek.

"150,151, 152....I'm COMING SELF!!!!"

Now, at age 23, I know what the phrase "finding yourself" really means....and yet I still despise it. It just sounds so gosh-darn selfish. As if the only person you really want to find is yourself. As if the only plan you have, throughout your life, is to improve your own existence. I just don't get that kind of mentality,and also haven't seen too much of a success rate with adhering to that type of belief-system. Most people that spend their lives "finding themselves" end up with just "themselves." Congratu-freaking-lations. What a prize.

"SO......this is fun......I found....MYSELF.....what now?!"

I believe that coming into your own is not a sole, personal mission that you work on consistently, but a life-time of experiences. I believe that coming into your own means allowing others to assist you, help you, and love you. Lastly, I feel that earning your identity comes from learning from your mistakes, and disallowing your stubborness and pride. It comes from taking the advice that you don't want to hear....but need to.

With the abovementioned duly noted, I am NOT....repeat NOT anti-self-identity. On the contrary, I believe people need a healthy dose of self-awareness to succeed in life. However, I refer to this type of independence as "loving yourself." I don't know why....but to me that term just seems to be much more open. "Love" is such a broad term, that it almost clearly suggests you still have room, within your heart, for others. Furthermore, it has been my absolute experience, that you must love yourself, truly, before you can ever love anyone else.

Throughout my short life, I have seen so many women and men convince themselves that being with someone else is all they need to feel good about themselves. Nothing could be farther from the truth. When one partner, in a romantic relationship, dosn't even like themselves-- it soon becomes apparent to everyone else around them. It's as if they are each wearing big red badges on their shirts saying "INSECURE" for everybody to note. Many times, they take their personal hostilities out on each other, or out on others---putting other people down to feel better about themselves. But nothing works to cure their ailments. Unless they learn to figure out their own self-love.....their permanently satiated in this sad manner.

(This Book Title is Fairly Awesome)

Personally, I can certainly admit to the aforementioned behaviors. The first time I dated my boyfriend....I was inargubaly ill-prepared for the romantic commitments. Furthermore, I was still falling in love with who I was as a person. In other words, I didn't REALLY like myself the way you have to before welcoming another person into your life. I, too, participated in the psychotic, crazed behaviors of an insecure person. To assert false confidence, I did not return phone calls. To assuage impossible expectations, I got mad about everything. And finally, to keep myself from being hurt, I did not speak to him for over one year. My boyfriend's story, on the other hand, is his to tell---but he was unsure of himself at that time too. Together...we were doomed.

Retro Jon and Eliz (I was insecure as hell)

Thankfully, the second time around....we had both learned our lessons. Fortunatley, throughout the first year of our relationship, we worked out our self-identities together---and it really has been smooth sailings since that. Many times, we tell each other we love each other so much more now than ever before. I'm more than willing to guess that this is due to our loves for ourselves, and our personal happinesses--which then lend themselves to real romantic love.

I'd like to end this blog with a quote I found from Lucille Ball.

"Love yourself first and everything falls into line. You really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world"--Lucille Ball

Hitting A New Low--The Life and Times of Me

I am pretty disgusted with myself for how long it has been since my last blog. Easily, I could excuse myself with the gynormous homework-load that awaits me almost nightly....or the personal fun I have on my little time off. However, blogging is something I really enjoy. It relaxes, and calms me. Writing is something I have always had fun with---lest I forget that this summer in tireless Literature classes. Anyways...this is what has been happening with me in the last month or so.
I passed both my Summer A classes!!! I earned an A in one course, and a B in another. Therefore, I yielded myself a 3.5 GPA for last semester. Though this should be a shining, academic achievement....I really just think of it as one step closer to graduation. Sadly, I have more classes to finish though. One class, in particular, is proving to be a big ol' booger-bear.
The Style of Finetics and Languages is harder than I ever imagined it could be. Envision an entire class devoted to the entertaining likes of transitives, intransitives, prepositional phrases, nominals, and so forth and that is what I am taking. Mainly, I sit in the class every day and think to myself: "ohdearGODget me OUTTA here!" The teacher is perfectly nice and funny....but that is really the only class that scares me.
Furthemore, I have a presentation due tomorrow which I may or may NOT be doing with a partner. I say this not to be a childish, whining yutz but because it is actually the truth. My life in that class, regarding partners, has been tepid at best. The first day of class, I signed up with one partner for the assignment. We planned our book, date, and what we would like to do. The next day...she had prompty dropped the class.....yahhhhh. THe following day, I signed up with a new partner. The next day, he was sick and not present.....yahhhhhh. So here I am...life in the air....going fairly crazy.

But this is MY life, and it truly wouldnt be any other way.....

Avatar; The Bigger Picture

Standing in front of the red-box DVD machine at Publix on the eve of my birthday celebration is definitley not what I had originally anticipated. In fact, I do not know many people that could rationalize that plan as anything remotley entertaining.

Originally, for my 23rd birthday, my boyfriend and I had planned a grand evening. First, we decided, we would dine at a delicious Italian eatery--the Macaroni Grill. Next, we would follow our grand dinner with fun games of bowling, and arcade fun. Lastly, we had planned,...we would walk over to Beef O Bradys and indulge in their rich chocolate cheesecake, and yummy mudslide drinks. It was undoubtedly a wonderful plan. However, seemingly similar to every other festive occasion in my lifetime.....I got sick at the very openings of the fun. Therefore, my boyfriend and I resigned to rent a DVD at Publix, and stay in for the evening.

My luck did not improve in selecting our DVD choice. Alone at Publix,and in front of the red-box, I felt completley cornered as an 8 year old boy sighed impatiently behind me. Clearly, he was anxious to get his hands on the new copy of "Natures Fury." I know this because he kept whispering such to his mother; adding at the end of his whines: "this lady is taking FOREVER!!!"Resigned to the red-box on the night of my birthday fun, I almost had the spite to retort: "the movie went straight to box-office for a reason kid! Not to mention...it stars Brennan Frasier. Keep your pants on!" But alas.

Feeling rushed to make a decision, I selected the first appealing movie I could find. To realistically portray my time at the red box for my readers....I did not even scroll past the "A's" on the alphabetical list...and came home with "Avatar." Yes, dear readers, its true. The boy in the line behind me might actually be the worlds' first person to have LESS patience than me.

I know that in this time of the post,I should probably discuss how great the animation was in the film, or how much I enjoyed the story, or how vastly it exceeded my preconceptions. And in truth,all three of the aforementioned statements are true. But that is not what I want to focus on today. Today I'd like to focus on a specific quote in the film that is not only true to my life; but should be a rule in everyone elses.

Specifically, within the movie, their comes a certain instance in which the stories' protagonist must risk his life (literally) to acheive his dreams. Explaning himself, the protagonist narrates this predicament for viewers. He says: "Have you ever noticed how, sometimes in life, your life boils down to one insane move?"

Though the film was inarguably well done, it was the abovementioned quote that continually stuck with me.

Personally, I recognize my own "insane move" as my relocation from the quaint city of Tallahassee, to the seeming metropolis of Orlando. Tallahassee, of course, was my own birth-place. Furthermore, it was the city in which most of my friends resided, as well as my close-knit family. Tallahassee was, and is, a city that I love very deeply. It was a place that I shared many tears, and also several happinesses. In Tallahassee, I had graduated from schools, made many friends, had several adventures, and ultimatley lived for the better part of my young life. But after my last year at Community College, I began to recognize the need for change in scenery.

Upon graduating from TCC, my boyfriend moved to Orlando for his own carreer path. I visited him from time to time; eventually touring the collegiate campus there. At first glance, I somehow knew that UCF was the proper place for me. As a result, I submitted all my application papers there...and waited for the Universities' feedback.

BUT ANYWAYS....BACK TO THAT INSANE MOVE

I will never forget seriously questioning my own sanity on the night of December 19th, 2009. At 12 P.M., that night,I had loaded up my entire town-home (residence for THREE years), into my Isuzu Rodeo. Thats right....all the contents of my life for the last three years were packed into my SUV....at midnight.... But perhaps the real kicker of this story, is that the aforementioned Rodeo had been in the mechanics shop until 3pm that very afternoon, and that post midnight....I was heading to Orlando, FL.

So there I was....midnight....pitch black...Rodeo loaded down with my entire Tallahassee life.....heading to Orlando. It was only when I reached the mid-way point of the drive, that I seriously began questioning myself. "What if the relationship didn't work..and my boyfriend was the only person I knew there?!" "What if I missed my friends/family too badly?!" "Would I make any friends at school?" "Would I even be accepted at UCF?!" For the first time in my life.....I was completley without a plan. It was the scariest moment in my entire life. Looking back now, I sometimes wonder if I didnt have a guardian angel driving that car---ensuring my safety on the road as my mind wildly ambled. Furthermore, I wonder sometimes if that same angel didnt follow me to Orlando---where my friends from Tallahassee soon arrived for comforting,consoling visits.

Upon arriving in Orlando, it just seemed as everything fell directly into place. After two days past Christmas, and one day prior to friendly new-years company arriving....I got the best news of my life. I can still remember the pride, and chills I felt in our old apartment complex' computer lab. I opened my inbox emails and read the five, most beautiful words I had ever seen: "Congratulations....You have been accepted...." From that point on, despite consistent home-sickness, I knew that I had made the right choice in moving.

The friends in Tallahassee that have stayed in my life took the initiative...and came frequently for fun visits. The experience at UCF has been amazing, educational, and uncomparable. My boyfriend and my relationship has strengthened as a result of the move..not suffered. But perhaps the greatest result of all these things....is the confidence the move wrought me. I realize, with pride, that in moving....I found myself. No longer am I terrified of the future, or the idea of change. Moving once again, or staying in Orlando mean similar happinesses to me. I know now that I can handle whatever life throws at me.....and I am ready for the challenge. This is the gift of my "insane move."

Personally, I feel as though it is important for everyone to have their own "insane move." When discussing this quote with one of my closest friends, she told me of her, personal "move" story. In listening, I realized that her story was just as life-defining as my own. Perhaps one of the most annoying things on planet earth is the person with one million "pipe-dreams," which never occur. However, surmisably ,even more annoying that that is the person with one million real dreams which they never pursue. My advice to you, readers, is to go after those dreams....pursue those fears...take that risk....no matter how "insane" it may seem. It just might be the one risk you take that defines your life......

They Say It's Your Birthday...

Greetings all! The date is June 10, 2010.

On this day, in 1987, yours truly was grabbing the brass ring of life. My poor, POOR mother had to have a cessarean operation because I, decidedly, was coming into the world in the opposite..er..direction. My mother still jokes with me about this saying plainly: "ever since your birth I knew you were gonna be a real butt-head" (insert laughter here).

But I digress......

Today has got to be one of the most boring, silly birthday-days I have ever had--but surprisingly not the worst. To recap this years age-adder: I am turning 23, I am at UCF in summer classes, and its a Thursday. To any other standard; this birthday would be exceptionally pathetic. Except that last year I had a birthday that was 50x worse, inspired tears, and required me to stay in the computer lab for 8 hours straight. At least this year I know I'm going out to a fun dinner with my boo tomorrow....

THE WORST BIRTHDAY EVER

The worst birthday ever, for me, was June 10, 2009. It all began when I decided to enroll in summer classes. Instincitvley, I knew that in order to keep on track with my classmates, I needed a vital credit in summer semester--the god-awful "major authors course." Therefore, I registered for the one course available, which fulfilled this credit, and called it a day. I would not allow myself to even minutley CONSULT the "ratemyprofessors" page; for the ultimate fear of what I might find. This could go down as one of the greatest mistakes of my life.

Summer A began as any other semester. For a week, or maybe two, I was able to fool myself into believing that I could get through it. And then...I read my major authors syllabus. Throughout the semester (pertaining to 6 weeks), 8 books were to be read by Hemingway and Fitzgerald. To add, three position papers were due. Furhtermore, we had to write a critical, scholarly essay due every week, along with a post about an author, and a discussion post of what we learned in class. To end, we presented a project, AND turned in a final portfolio at the finale of class. OH! And did I mention we had a written final too?!

To make matters worse, I had a teacher who MUST have been a literal slave-driver in another life. I do not know what happened to this, particular professor within the course of her own life, but whatever it was must have been terrible. She was seriously probably one of the most spiteful, hateful women I've ever come across--and I'll never forget how wrongfully she treated her students. To her defense I'm not sure she even knew she came across this way...but she did. Teachers like her inspire me to possibly educate someday--only to "cancel out" haneous professsors, such as herself.

Anyways...back to June 10, 2009

I went to the library on my birthday LAST YEAR...after class (at around 4)to work on my aforementioned project, and worked on it for five hours straight. Then, I took a small break to let my body thaw from the ice freeze of the library, then reemerged for more schoolwork. All the meanwhile, my poor boyfriend was calling me left and right to ensure my safety/sanity. At 9 PM, I finally decided to put an end to my misery. I was just about to leave the library for GOOD, when I happened to check my email. My professor had written me jus about the nastiest email I'd ever received. Basically, she demanded to know just what literature classes I'd taken before...and how I'd gotten this far at UCF? All this from the reception of one small assignment she disagreed with. Like I said....cold-hearted. I stared blankly back at this email for what felt like eons before I planted my next move.

Firstly, I redid the assignment to let my anger subside. But it didnt work. Finally, I just went ahead and emailed her back...letting her know abut my 3.0 GPA from other, tough literary professors, and how I'd been in the library for 8 hours for her class alone. Oh, and yes, I totally told her it was my birthday---I didnt mind stooping to the sympathy ploy at ALL.

I left that library, on my birthday, crying and horribly upset. And even though I still consider it to be my worst birthday ever....it completley reaffirmed the people I've chosen to spend my years' growth with. My best friends were there to console me, to assure me of a "job well done" for telling teh teacher off, and to ensure that I was makign the best birthday out of a hellacious situaion that I could. Furthermore, when I got home, my boyfriend had bought me flowers and cleaned the house, and even cooked me dinner. To add, he made me a nice hot bubble bath, and brought me a glass of wine.

I came to a conclusion that day that no matter how silly my birthdays seem, no matter how ridiculous I feel about celebrating an unglamorous year, my friends and family make each year of my life seem so special. And so it is that I welcome another year, at age 23. Knowing that I am opening my life to yet another year of fabulous friendships, love, and ultimate happiness. You guys are seriously the best; and you make any day feel like my day!

One Damsel Distresses

As little girls, females are consistently reminded that they need a man to achieve their dreams. In fact, many fairytale stories only allow the female protagonitst to "succeed," "win," become "victorious," etc after they attain a man--despite the male's possible flaws. Think about it. Cinderella goes from slave to princess only after she finds her prince "charming" (who...lets face it ladies...most likely had a foot fetish).

Furthermore, in the conclusive scene of "Snow White,"the prince has no problem kissing his beloved while she lays in a casket...possibly deceased. Creepy much? Yet this disturbing act of weirdness earns him the life-long affection of the affable Snow. WTH??!!!


Growing up, my childhood was no different than anyone elses. My mother, ever the nurturing care-taker, generally filled my head with childish notions of ever-lasting love, princes, and enchantement. Even as early as kindergarten, my teacher (Mrs. Hutchinson...yep I remember her name), often relayed to my mother that my fictional writing stories were often about a woman finding her life-long love. I can still remember, at age 6, throwing hard-earned pennies into the Tallahassee Mall foutain--wishing for the gift of princess-dom. In my own mind, I was a princess---dressing in beautiful dresses with lavish hair bows, and living in my beautiful two story "palace." Simply stated, until 2nd grade, my main objective in life was beginning the search for the prince who would surely ensure my happiness .

And then...everything changed. In third grade, my parents got a divorce....and my world crumbled. It seemed that everything I had once counted on as a constant was now gone. My dad moved out of our "palace," and the house just changed. In an effort to appease us, and probably her own negative memories, my mom let us paint our rooms in funky, vibrant colors which destroyed the classy, traditional aspects of the house. Gone was my "palace," and so too the bed-time stories. Instead of listening to fictional, night-time tales, I now watched my rela-life two single parents struggle to give us life's luxuries. Though it was initially tough, both my parents did a terrific job at making a single parent home feel normal. I never wanted for love, food, or even any extras. And so it was I got set into a potentially dangerous pattern.

At the age of 8, both my parents began teaching me the unending importance of attaining your own independence. My mother, on a teachers salary, took my sister and I to almsot every state in the United States, and educated us on the values travel. Furthermore, she unconciously illustrated that a woman's ultimate job was to stand on her own two feet--and to never depend on a man. My father, on the other hand, enstilled in us the value of ourselves. He coached our sports teams, encouraged our academic efforts and so forth. Once again, perhaps unkowingly, my dad subliminally told me that I was just as good as a boy--and didnt need one to succeed in life.
Throughout high-school, I spent my days obsessed with a boy I KNEW was not compatible to my own life. Why, you may ask? Because subconciously I wanted to keep myself away from any threat of a relationship. And as the time went by, things didn't get any better. In college, things arguably even got worse. Testing the waters, I did begin dating...and became a person I am currently ashamed of. Most usually, throughout college, a well-meaning, nice guy would take me on an expensive date, express interest, .......and then never hear back from me. I can still remember saying to my friend Gamble, at some point in our college career, "oh so and so called me," and her responding "ummm....are you going to call them BACK??!!" I can honestly say the thought had never crossed my own mind. As a sophomore in college, about the best a guy could expect from me was a possible text message back--and that was ONLY if I really respected him.

Finally, after a second attempt, I began dating my current boyfriend at age 19. He was hilarious, outgoing, fun, silly, skilled, intellegent, crazy, handsome, adventurous, and everything I ever thought I would find in a mate. But perhaps his most winning aspect, in the context of my life, is his never-ending ability to handle who I really am. My boyfriend, to date, has never halted me from any "girls only" event, asked me to "stay in" with him, or change my personality in any way to be with him. He empathizes, and even encourages my own independence; complete with individual friends and life. Furthermore, he expresses CONSISTENTLY his pride in my academic acheivments...and makes me feel as if I (solely) hang the moon every day. I am never left card-less on a holiday, or important event; signaling his understandign of my sensetivity. I always refer to my current boyfriend as the only man I've ever dated who is completley self-sustaining....which is most likely why I am still with him today.


But from time to time, those old fears still come back to haunt me. There are undoubtedly instances where small things between us seem big only because of my own fears. Or times where I muse upon why too many good people end up divorced. And even times when I'm really scared about the future. Ultimatley, there are times when I am terrified of becoming the woman I heatedly despise--the woman who is nothing without a male counterpart.

An instance such as this occured last night. My boyfriend had gone home for the weekend, leaving me with the big apartment to myself. As I lay restless in bed...I began hearing scary noises, imagining images, and so forth. Instantly, I wished for his presence--and immediatley hated myself for thinking it. Logically, it was silly for me to think such things. I lived by myself for almost 2 years before moving, and had traveled home solo on more than three occasions. This, in turn, was my boyfriends FIRST alone trip back to Tallahassee. It was both spiteful and ridiculous of me to wish such things.....and I knew it. At 2 AM in the morning, I really began hating that the aforementioned thought had found me. As if I was so lost, for only on short day/night, that I couldnt stand the house without him. I started wondering if I hadn't lost myself, my identity, my respect for myself. It was an unproductive train of thoughts to say the least.


Finally, at 3 AM....I had an epiphany. The reason I was missing him, in all reality, was because I missed him and only that. I missed having my partner to talk to, to laugh with, to eat with, and so forth. Orlando was not the same without him....but I was. I finally had to admit to myself that it was okay to just miss my love; that it didnt necessarily make me weaker or more vulnerable. I finally realized that I could be a strong woman; independent and secure--and still rely on a man for emotional support.




At last,night pryor, I realized that I had achieved my own fairy-tale ending. And, after all,isnt that really what any good princess could ever hope for?

Life As I Now Know It

Life, as I now know it, consists of three basic necessities. Essentially, these three "must-haves" have come to control at least 18 of the 24 hours in my day. Ultimatley, the list of "Eliz-dictators" come down to: to-do list(s)...often scribbled and incoherent, my planner--generally filled with homework/other basic info on each day, and coffee (WHICH I NOW DRINK AS IF THE WORLD IS RUNNING OUT OF COFFEE BEANS!!!!!).

Since the dawn of Elizabeth Alford, I have never ever ever craved naps or sleeping. Now I find myself craving just a few minutes of precious slumber all the time. The other day I realized just how tired I had become when I went to get out of my car. Hilariously, my knee slammed into the car-door. I then tried instinctivley reached for said knee; henceforth punching myself in the face. The only thing I have to be truly, amazingly grateful for is that I did not give myself a black eye. That...would have truly been poetic.

I write this post not to complain about my own life. I realize, of course, that my life bares all the lucky fortunes of food, water, shelter, friends, etc. Instead, I pen this post as a precursory apology to all those I: offend, forget, irritate, etc this summer due to my heavy work-load. Please bare with me as I try to earn the last brass ring in only 12 weeks....yikes.

And So It Begins....

Today was the introduction into the next 12 weeks of my life. To reiterate my day simply:

• I have an amazingly gifted, former Sherrifs Deputy as a professor for an elective. I never thought ANYONE could make a class entitled : "Sex Offenders and The Justice System" interesting....but he succeeds brilliantly. Today, alone, the man paralleled "good" and "bad" fanatasies by admiting his hilarious, albeit slightly disturbing, obsession with the sixties actress Y'Vonne Craig. I'll never look at "batgirl" the same. To add, we finished out the class by playing a rousing game of "guess the pedophile" from a list of preists he pieced together. Fascinating stuff.....
• My film teacher is a cute little German lady who kind of reminds me of Mrs. Claus (y'know...Santa's wife??!). She's very timid, yet she is also intelligent on her subject matter. Today, in her class, we had the fantastic surprise of a ridiculously loud fire-drill. Despite the fact that it yelled "this is a test" five BILLION times, my professor deemed it absolutley necessary to check on the status of the abovementioned "test." Oh yah...and she was also convinced,at first sound, that my teeny-tiny, microscopic "netbook" computer was emitting the fog-horn like drill sound. In class, we watched a two hour long movie, which seemed like it took eons, entitled "Orlando," and pretended to take notes.
• I deduced, while sitting through said bore-fest, that this semester is going to be intriguing if nothing else.

IN OTHER NEWS

HERE IS A QUOTE I LIKE

Disclaimer: I picked up Tori Spelling's book "Stori Telling" at Goodwill for .92. The price was right for the "heart-wrenching stories," but her writing aesthetic is similar to my own. The .92 cents I paid were well worth the one quote, in her book, I fell in love with.

"My whole life I wanted to be normal. Everybody knows there's no normal. There is no black and white definition of normal. Normal is subjective. There's only a messy, inconsistent, silly, hopeful version of how we feel most at home in our own lives. But when I think about what I have now, what I strived to reach my whole life, it's not the bigest or best or easiest or prettiest or most anything. It's not the manor or the laundry closet. Not the multi-million inheritance or the poorhouse. It's not the superstardom or unemployment. It's family and love and safety. It's bravery and hope. It's work and laughter and imperfection. It's my normal"

Pomp and (Fortunate) Circumstance(s)

Okay guys.....this is it! Today I found out (trumpet sound*doo doo do dooooo do dooo) that I will be graduating August 7th!!!!!!! I cannot believe that after only six semesters of ridiculously hard-work--yours truly will finally earn a bachelors degree in her field of study!!!!!!

I was an uuber-dork this morning, and I'll be the very first to admit it. I arrived to my 10:00 UCF guidance appointment just a hare early. And by "a hare early," I really mean I beat my advisor to school....and the other office staff. To get extremley specific I was standing outside the whole advising building feeling like I was in no-mands-land. Honestly, I expected tumble-weeds to roll by at any minute.

Yep....like I said...I was a nerd. I also came prepared with color-coded academic paperwork. Ummhmm...color coded. I got up early this morning to highlight various papers I deemed important due to varying reasons.

But I guess all that crap payed off...because my advisor went over everything carefully with me! She then informed me that I am right on time to graduate---THIS SUMMER!!

I'm not going to lie to my awesome readers here and tell you guys I didnt almost break out into the funky chicken dance upon hearing this news. I almost did. Only the advisors minute office space halted me from performing the aforementioned celebration, and even that almost didnt do the trick.

Graduating College seems like such a far-off accomplishment I NEVER thought I'd earn. To be quite honest, throughout my entire collegiate career, I never really saw myself getting this far in education. Admittedly, I've never really been the "student" type. I'm ADD, I hate not getting my way, I speak back to malicious professors, and I can be fairly complacent. Schooling, in all seriousness, has never come easily to me. Therefore, today's meeting was really incredible. I was sitting in that chair across from my advisor thinking to myself: "wow. I never thought this day would come. And now its TODAY!"

But I really cant take all the credit here. In fact....I can probably only account for about 50% of my own college success....especially at UCF. So thank you to the friend that inspired me on a daily basis to stick with college because you loved me and you wanted me to succeed in life. Thank you to the bud who shared laughs with me through not one, but TWO classes. You should know that you were pretty much the only reason I kept showing up. Kudos to the pal who saved my butt, and the ENORMOUS cost of the text-book in Sci-Fi Lit. (Inside joke) "Did anyone ever tell you your awesome?" Lastly, thank you to the girl that made tons of papers, projects, and ultimate busy-work seem like fun girls nights in. If it werent for each of you guys, I really don't think I would have made it through UCF.

Tune in next week for the incredibly hard-working adventures of

ELIZ: In the Pursuit of Grad....or possibly....ELIZ V SIX SUMMER CLASSES...or even ELIZ LOSING HER EVER-LOVING MIND

Either way...should be an entertaining post : )

----Eliza

I Havent Been This Nervous Since....Ever....

WOW! Today has been an anxiety-driven day to say the least.

It all started this morning when I went to adjust my car-seat. Yesterday, my boyfriend made the GRAVE error of moving my sacred, long-contemplated perfect seat placement whilst driving us to Publix. Everyone who knows me knows my "thing" about the car seat. Usually, I like to sit so close to the steering wheel that it practically sits upon my chest. I know to most this simply sounds like "instant death" (via airbag), but to me the placement of the car-seat is so much more than that. When I ride that closely to the wheel, it almost makes me feel like "one" with the vehicle. Thats right...you heard correctly...I like to feel the "soul" of my car. What of it? I'd like to meet another person who values their human/car relationship HALF as much as I. But anywho...back to the seat.

This morning, as I went to adjust the car seat,....IT WOULD SIMPLY NOT BUDGE!!! My boyfriend had placed the aforementioned chair so friggin far it almost touched the backseat. I re-examined the situation with utter contemplation and frustration. Thence, upon further musing, I handled the dillemma in the way any hard-working, independent woman would. I removed my cell-phone, and dialed my mechanic boyfriend. Unforutnatley, he did not answer...and I realized that I had met with the worst of circumstances. At last....I figured out that I could move the car seat a bit closer. This was no consolation....but at least my feet could now reach the pedals. And so it was that I drove to work this morning in the abovementioned fashion---feeling alone and isolated from my vehicle.

Only upon reaching work did I realize teh ultimate error of my ways. I exited my vehicle, and took one last stab at re-establishing my seat-preferences. Furthermore, I annalyzed the contents of said car-seat habitat. Beneath the chair, I found the culprit whom had so traumatized my morning drive preferences. A silly UCF Tumbler cup lay underneath my drivers seat as if to say *mocking tone "ha ha HA!". Clearly, it had blocked my chair from reaching my personal preferences. I would not stand for such patronizing! Therefore, I spent a good 15-20 minutes fishing out the stupid tumbler, and possibly mooning half the Target customers (my work pants are getting way too big but anyways)...

As I walked up to work I realized that I probably would not have made such a silly mistake had my nerves been anywhere close to par (or would I have?) Tomorrow, I face one of the biggest, scariest, most intimidating appointments of my life. At 10:00 A.M. bright and early Monday morning...I learn the ultimate fate in my academic career. Will I graduate this summer? Or will I have to invest an entire, seperate semester from Summer and enroll for Fall. The goof-ball in me wants to treat this like any other humorous come-uppance, and kind of blow it off.....but I have to admit I'm nervous as hell. I have worked hard, I have put in time, and I'm ridiculously ready to get the heck out of UCF.

I mean...don't get me wrong....I love UCF with all my heart. UCF has been great to me! But the thing of it is is that I've been great to UCF in return. I have literally placed my blood, sweat, and tears into that place...and I'm really ready to see the return on my investments. I'm glad that tomorrow is the deciding day, no matter what the result. I cant be losing tumblers all over my precious car anymore ; )

Heres to hoping all you people put me in your hopes, prayers, and fingers-crossing tomorrow!

Eliz

I Just Got Told By a Five Year Old!

Believe it or not, my father and I inarguably share the gift of gab. Most usually, the "mother" persona is perceived as the maternal,house-hold figure whom tell their children stories and tuck them into bed. However, within the Alford residence, things ran much differently. Generally, during my childhood, my mother endured countless days filled with my sister and my trials and tribulations. Trust me....these "adventures" were numerous. Therefore, as a result of the aforementioned, my mother was usually the first to hit the sack. I was generally the only kid on the playground who's mom's "bedtime" was before mine. Unfortunatley, this lead to a false sense of superiority.
These, inevitable days of yore lead to my father's imminent role as "story-teller." My father was so amazing, so inspiring, so entertaining in telling a story....that he would literally let me REQUEST my own stories before bed. He operated similarly to a fast-food operation. I, at five years old, requested specific, fantastic literary elements. He, in turn, provided those (probably ridiculous) fictional themes into a satisfying night-time tale. On a side note, I will never forget the time my poor father unthinkably took a business trip; forcing mom into story-monger. As she naiveley reached for a book that night,I shouted, most offended at age 6: "NO MOM! The story needs to be about Kathy and her red SHOES!" As if she was an absolute fool for not knowing better.......
As I grew older, I learned that my father was also gifted in telling stories about his most favorite subject(s). My sister and I. Within one story...my father could effortlessly relay the personality of my sister or myself. Perhaps the one that sticks the most closely to my heart is one of his favorites, which undeniably expresses who I am.
The abovementioned story goes that my father would consistently visit my room on Saturday's to awaken me as a child. Each and every morning, I would enquire what we had on the agenda for that particular day. Usually, these lists would be lenghty and wrought with adventure (cuz y'know..my dad was the coolest), yet I was never satisfied. After each, spoken plan I would similarly respond: "Den what??!!" As if my life just might end if there was nothing more to do. My father once claimed he named TWENTY things, and that the response he met from me was still the same.
Currently, I still feel that this particular story summarizes who I am as a person. As I sit here on summer break....I honestly don't even know what to do with myself! As a 22 year old college student, I can honestly say that my life has been filled to the brim at certain instances. Usually, I complain about these times and consistently vent: "this is JUST too much." ALways, ALWAYS, ALWAYS!! I think that I would be so much better off if I just had time to get all my projects done, time for sleeping in, and perhaps a nice, relaxing bubble bath. However, as I get older, I think I'm starting to realize that I don't know what to do WITHOUT my life-calendar fairly full. Eerily, as a college student on break, I still wake up at what has previously been referred to as the "ass crack of dawn," and search for things to do on my days away from work. Today, alone, I folded laundry, marinated steaks for tonight,watched Cold-case, went Dollar Tree shopping, organized my Orlando Scrapbook, cleaned up the front rooms, prepared the guest bedding for good-will, and supplied new guest bedding. OH! And I found a few songs that I really enjoy on you-tube. I also considered buying a few books...then vetoed that in favor of renting them from UCF's library...then remembered the money I owed UCF"s library.....All in all, a fairly uneventful day.
Finally, an even scarier reaction occured to me as I sat watching a "Desperate Housewives" I must have already skimmed five thousand times. I'm actually, seriously, honestly, profusely ready to start back for summer classes. I cannot even believe that I finally wrote that sentence...but I really am ready!! Once examining the crux of UCF's database (with special thanks to my super-secret-op friend Mary ; ) I discovered that I had not only passed, but done fairly well in all my classes from Fall. I cannot tell you the amount of pride this brought about within myself without sounding cocky. Eventually, this pride lead me to the realization that I am more ready than ever to bust butt this summer and see if I can't graduate. Maybe it's just my determination speaking here...but I"m pretty sure its that inner-child Eliz cheering me on to the finish line, and consitently screaming "NOW WHAT??!!" as I lay on my sofa being lazy. I sort of feel like that empassioned child was missing when I attended community college...and I diserviced myself as a result. Now though, it sure is exciting to have that fire back in me. I feel, now, that I am a person that my dad can be proud of. But most importantly, I feel like a person little Elizabeth could have envisioned herself becoming...and thats the greatest acheivment of all.

Oh that Nemesis Common Sense!!!

Today, I had the most massive headache that would not die. Seriously, this was not your everyday, minor pain, temple irritation. No no...this horrible pain was the granddaddy of all headaches. This, dear readers, was the stuff of headache legend.










In an ill-planned, and admittedly lazy effort to cure the excruciating pain within my head, I laid my body upon the sofa. Nextly, I decided that the five steps to retreive the Ibuprofen were much too far to walk. Thenceforth, I endulged in the glorified crap/mental rot our society now refers to as "television."










Upon surfing the TV Channels, I came across multiple "events" I found particularly note-worthy. The "VH1" Network proudly broadcasted the trials and tribulations of rich spouses on a show entitled "Basketball Wives." As I watched these women, I could not help but notice all the really, REALLY poor decision skills they posessed. One woman, in particular, was staying with her unfaithful dog of a husband specifically for the possibility of attaining a large, affluent home. To add, the woman's somber attitude on camera made it seem as if her present-day, financial situation was crucial to her very existence. Certainly, I'm no authority on her life, but it seemed as if the woman was making a very bad choice, and then poorly, personally handling it.


Amongst the "Bravo" channel, there ran a re-run marathon of "New Jersey Housewives" shows. The segment, in particular, that I witnessed portrayed a manic woman getting insanely upset with another housewife at a classy eatery. In place of simply, verbally expressing her feelings....the crazed, aforementioned "lady" literally threw a TABLE across the room to portray her anger. Ummm???!! Those of you who have seen this, specific episode were most likely equally affected. Typically, the viewers' general reaction to this woman's action was that it was a really REALLY poor choice. That is, of course, unless she wants to be known around society as the "crazy table thrower" for the rest of her life..which does posess a certain ring to it....but I digress..... The insane, battle-axe "lady" that threw the table maintained, explicitly, her correctness throughout the entire episode. Once again, her poor decision was depicted as much more drastic than it actually was.






The more that I flipped the channels, the more (interperative) mistakes I witnessed. At first, I was willing to write this seemingly coincidental instance off as the ultimate dredge of"good TV." However, later in the day....I realized that mistakes and poor decisions are the essential building blocks to humanity, itself.
I cannot express to others how many poor choices I have personally made within my own lifetime. Some of the derogatory judgements, made by yours truly, have included: misinterpreting tooth-paste as a new-wave pimple ointment(thus producing bumpy,sore, red patches all over my face...think dry shave?!!), walking face-first into a closed sliding glass door, attempting to help a blind girl search for her purse by enquiring of her: "what does your purse look like?,"and lastly in ignoring the empathetic warnings of a well-meaning server, on my first date, that resulted in getting my own car towed.
Undeniably, the struggles between myself and "common sense" go wwayyyyy on back. Admittedly, my many decisions to choose the prior has lead me to some fairly embarassing life moments. However, I have gained much personal strength from them.
Perhaps one of my greatest personal strengths is being able to laugh at myself. Realistically, most girls with my luck would let it discourage them in a derrogatoy fashion. However, I learned at an early age that if I expressed my own faults BEFORE and BETTER than anyone else...there was nothing hurtful that anyone else could ever say to me. Now, in the stage of my 20's, I find laughter the absolute best medicine. Yes...I am ditzy, Yes..I make poor judgement calls, and yes....I am an undeniable dork. But the aformentioned things are qualities which I have learned to perceive as personal strengths. To add, this has innumberably aided my perception of other people. Being secure with myself ,and my own faults has made me far less apt to measure myself against others. Therefore, if people are willing to laugh at themselves,I feel that their own"poor choices" may have actually been minor slip-ups which strengthened them, as they did me.
One, quirky thing that I have noticed about human society is the innumerable ways in which they measure themselves. Often-times, people take their own mistakes far too seriously. Instead of expressing themselves, people let their previous, poor decisions (judgements,etc) rule their very lives. Many times, these mistakes fester inside of humans....and often lead to poor consequences. Some of these outcomes include: the need to measure oneself to others,poor self-confidence, or even resorting to entirely censoring oneself in public to avoid similar, embarassing outcomes.
Humans, in general, are undoubtedly their own greatest critics. Notably, though, personal mistakes are not nearly as greivous as we usually perceive them to be. Live. Laugh. Love.

Eliz

Women Of A Certain Age....

Now don't get me wrong here--I love my mom....but she, inarguably,has some pretty laughable run-ins. Those of you who have heard my "mom stories" are fairly familiar with her hilarit(ies). Some, of these many, "mom adventures" include: sending me a "happy birthday dad" card (SERIOUSLY!), walking away from a clearly beeping alarm system to engage in a long, luxurious walk(forcing TPD to almost knock down our door), and literally throwing a petulant, albeit hilarious fit at Olive Garden over an ill-planned order. Honestly, I cannot muse lengthily amongst the flaws in her past....because she undeniably gave her sometimes poor thought-processes to yours truly. Thats right guys...I undeniably inherited the "silly" gene of my mom. It's pretty pathetic seeing as we all SWORE at childhood we would NEVER be like our mothers....WRONG!!!
However, aside from all the crazy actions, the forgetfulness, and the unoorganized frustrations of my mother, lies another, more powerful side of her personality. My mother, sincerely, is one of the wisest women I have ever met. At 15, my mom began winning major respeck from me when she predicted the EXACT time-line of a poorly-timed pimple. I'll admit it...my mom won me over by the sage, yoda-like art-form of pimple-predicting. And I'm totally O.K. with that, because it was only then that I began to really realize the multiple ways I had understimated my mom throughout the years. Since the aforementioned, highly-signficant "pimple" incident, my mom shed light on so many serious issues for me. Seemingly, almost everything she told me from this point on was correct.
At 16, when I fell in love with a boy I was sure was my soul-mate....she wisely told me I would find someone else. At 22 years old, as I maintain a happy and healthy relationship with my TRUE love, I'm so glad that she was right. When, at 17, I didnt know if I had the strength to carry on, it was my mother's words, alone, that made me determined enough to finish high-school, and do some serious soul-searching. My mother always saw the strength in me that was so oft-overlooked by my sometimes ditzy outward appearance. To add, within my life-time, my mother has never been wrong about the intentions of a friend, or a boyfriend. I can't tell you how many times my mother could have said "I told you so," but passed on the verbal insult in place of a comforting hug. Though my mother, inarguably, has relayed so many thoughtful life-time lessons to me, perhaps her most beneficial quotes was the proverb: "with age comes wisdom." I am learning that lesson more and more everyday.
Perhaps I'm alone when I say that being in my 20' s has been the most enlightening "era" of my life. Admittedly, I think all of us can admit that we were just a wee-bit self-absorbed as teenagers. (C'mon....how long did we all take getting ready in the mornings??!! Or thinking about the VAST probabilities of pimples, boys, and cars??!!) I gotta know I'm not alone here. Haha. Yet, being in my twenties has concocted a completley new side of me, and , from what I can see, in all my friends. I'm amazed, when looking at my girl-friends, at how unbelievably driven, ambitious, respectful, and compassionate they all are. Frankly, I feel more than honored to have these girls in my life than they will probably ever know.
Though they would never "toot their own horns," so to speak, (who came UP with that ridiculously dorky PHRASE???!!??!!), I have truly noted some insanely amazing triumphs, and events in my friends, twenty-something lives. Their wisdoms and accomplishents have innumerably grown over the years, as they age. Within my college career, alone, I saw a friend graduate from Florida State with HONORS (after essentially working herself through school!!), a girlfriend gain entrance into one of the most difficult programs at Florida State (and still she made time for me every WEEK), a friend who moved to an entirely different country to start a new life for her career, a pal who picked me up from an empty parking lot, fed, and housed me...without REALLY knowing me, and a friend who, despite being younger than me, is wise beyond her years, and embraces life pretty dang fully (wearing her cool hats, scarves, and all ; )
So once again, my mother was right. Wisdom, and personal growth is something that blossoms as we get a bit older. As I think upon all the abovementioned accomplishments, and personal strenghts of all these amazing ladies, I have to reflect for a moment. A part of me wonders.....if this is only the events within our twenties...what is next to come??!! I guess we'll just have to wait and see!

Signing off,
Eliz

Time V. Me: A Ceaseless, Yet Valiant Fight

So today, I'd like to pose a question to all my readers. Why the heck, do you think, it is still perfectly socially acceptable to use the quote: "time flies when your having fun?" Undeniably, when you hear that phrase, your initial, instinctual reaction is to punch whomever said it square in the jaw. It's like "ummm yah you think??!!" or "oh gee I didnt notice that my vacation of two days just sped by, and now I have only 180 more days of school...thanks so much for that valuable insight negative nancy!" Grr. It is seriously one of my biggest pet peeves, and I'm sure others can relate.
Early this morning, I was literally getting upset that my "summer vacation" is essentially already almost over. Thanks to UCF's INGENIOUS exams schedule, we were one of the few Universities to spill our finals over into THIS, supposed "break" week! Basically, I can attribute my tremendous gratitude at the University of Central Florida for ruining one of my few off days. A part of me wanted to call the administrative desk and go: "isnt the five hundred dollars we pay per semester ENOUGH cruel and unusal punsihment??!!"....but I digress
One helpful thing, that I, personally have done to halt the certainty of expedient "fun time," is to place more fun things into my life. I cannot tell you how innumerably this has changed my existence.
During the first semester at UCF, I was far too terrified of taking one false step within my college career to make "me" time. However, two semesters later I finally figured out that this was the key to true lifes happiness. This semester, alone, I was able to: vacation to Key West, enjoy a relaxing anniversary watching the Blue Man Group, have an almost-weekly walking/dinner date with my boyfriend, insert fun, hilarious friends into usually tedious study-groups, visit Downtown Disney (and get a dinner, drinks AND dessert on a budget of TWENTY DOLLARS!!!!!!!!!), enjoy a continual drinks day with a close friend in Orlando, and most recently go to Tallahassee for two friends joyous approaching-weddings planning. Granted, I had to bust my butt to get around these things.....but I could never regreat a one.
Finally it seems, I have figured out that this life truly is a one-time kinda deal. Therefore, I have deduced that I really need to live it up while I still can. Most of my friends are 22-25 years old. As far as I know, none of them have walkers, denchers, a false hip, etc. We are all at the age where life has become the most exciting time! The one thing I hope readers get, from this particular post, is that balancing your personal and professional time is an absolutley winnable fight! You just have to want it badly enough for yourself. So folks....keep putting up your dukes to battle that never-ending nemesis, the antagonist that rules us all....time.

Catch You Folks Later!

Eliz