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.....