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!