"What's Next?"

Minefields and Memory

I found your shirt in my luggage today.
I guess I accidentally packed it 
after that last adventure we took,
trouncing through green and winding
down hills and up valleys.

Despite a healthy dose of Tide
and scrubbing the sleeves with
Pacific Ocean and sand I was marveled
at how easily I was put back into the
hotel room before we went home.

I hold it now, catch a whiff 
of you off the collar, and am 
vividly brought back. It hits 
me in the gut like a ton of bricks—
yellow-green swirls with 
the  blot of red from your 
shirt and my lips. When 
the intensity of everything in
that temporary-home— the light,
the space, even the circumstance—
was just too much. I was terrified
by it. By how bright it was, so 
I chose to place it in the 
bottom corner of my luggage and my mind. 

I stood there, brought back to 
a time when I was so much
freer, yet so much more stuck 
in myself than I am, months later. 

We are so far apart now, and
the memory of your voice grows
hazy over time. I have little 
doubt that the girl in that 
hotel room is gone now. 

Dropped your shirt and ran out the door. 
Felt her foot catch on a crack in the sidewalk.
Fell flat on her face. 
Looked down and said, “That’s enough.”
Sprang back up, knees burning. 
Soared a thousand miles away from that 
sidewalk and that hotel room.

I look at her, and she smiles,
her teeth chipped from the fall. “Did
I make it in time?” she cocks her head
and asks. 

In that moment, I am filled
with such gratitude: for the intensity,
for the hotel room, for the fall and
the momentum it gave her to land
here on both feet. For still
being able to catch a whiff of you
on the collar of a free shirt
(which no, dear, you are not
getting back).

I smile back and give up the shirt.
“Yes. Yes you did.”

June 2012

I actually posted this 2 months ago (as well as the clearly stunning follow up that Jack challenged me to write after reading it), but it was one of those moments that reminded me why I write and blog.

This happened 2 months ago, but I never would’ve remembered either writing it or the emotions that spurred writing it unless I had (postponed packing and) looked through old work. Looking back, it’s funny both how I reacted to the situation (hindsight, you are a twenty/twenty bitch, aren’t you?), and how quickly the situation and my feelings changed.

(Also, I like the title of this post. I will likely use it again in some hackneyed-before-I-write-it piece on memory or something).

I found your shirt in my luggage today.
I guess I accidentally packed it
after that last adventure we took,
trouncing through green and winding
down hills and up valleys.

Despite a healthy dose of Tide
and scrubbing the sleeves with
Pacific Ocean and sand I was marveled
at how easily I was put back into the
hotel room before we went home.

I hold it now, catch a whiff
of you off the collar, and am
vividly brought back. It hits
me in the gut like a ton of bricks—
yellow-green swirls with
the  blot of red from your
shirt and my lips. When
the intensity of everything in
that temporary-home— the light,
the space, even the circumstance—
was just too much. I was terrified
by it. By how bright it was, so
I chose to place it in the
bottom corner of my luggage and my mind.

I stood there, brought back to
a time when I was so much
freer, yet so much more stuck
in myself than I am, months later.

We are so far apart now, and
the memory of your voice grows
hazy over time. I have little
doubt that the girl in that
hotel room is gone now.

Dropped your shirt and ran out the door.
Felt her foot catch on a crack in the sidewalk.
Fell flat on her face.
Looked down and said, “That’s enough.”
Sprang back up, knees burning.
Soared a thousand miles away from that
sidewalk and that hotel room.

I look at her, and she smiles,
her teeth chipped from the fall. “Did
I make it in time?” she cocks her head
and asks.

In that moment, I am filled
with such gratitude: for the intensity,
for the hotel room, for the fall and
the momentum it gave her to land
here on both feet. For still
being able to catch a whiff of you
on the collar of a free shirt
(which no, dear, you are not
getting back).

I smile back and give up the shirt.
“Yes. Yes you did.”

Weary traveler:
We have been down this road
so many times before, you and I.

Will you keep making the same mistakes
you have?  Will you keep twisting that
proverbial ankle  of yours in those same
proverbial pitfalls you know so well?
Sure, “the devil you know..”
the saying goes.

But just how many times will
you let this devil twist his
hands around your feet and
keep you rooted in those
same muddy trails that
you helped form?

You’ve run to the edge already,
my friend. You landed yourself
at the shore of a place where,
let’s be honest here, you don’t
 know where you are. That’s ok.

The waves will eventually wash
away all the steps you took to
get here, and the choice to
remember or forget them is yours.

So, stop. Be still. Calm the
fervent chatter in your head
and take my hand.  You have
felt so lost to me, I know.

So, stop. Breathe. Let yourself
find the cool, green, shining
space in the center of it. Hold
yourself there. Breathe in again.

I’ll be there. Waiting. Ready
to take you to perhaps a
more worthwhile trail.

My infinity lacks
loops. Instead of
that continuous pattern,
twirling and intersection
once and always. No, none
of your nauseating twirls
here. Mine has other repetitions.

My infinity is ripples.
The same repeated waves,
beating against the shore:
never ceasing, rhythmic and
smooth. The ripples follow
one another, a soothing
hand caressing my back as I sleep.

My infinity is soft, steady,
the grazing lines disappearing
and then returning to graze
the shore again.

I didn’t mean to fall off down the mountain.

It’s silly, but I was so taken aback by
the stunning view and the sense of
unfettered possibility before me that
I forgot to focus on my footing and over-thought
the simple process of one-foot-in-front-of-the-other
(also, apparently of how-to-stand-still).

So, I tripped and fell, my hands thrown up
in a burst of surprise before I realized that
my center of gravity had been completely
flipped on its head and I was tumbling down
the mountain scape. My shoulder hit the ground,
a rock dug in, and my body immediately curled
into a fetal position: my arms protecting
my head and face as I tried to minimize
the damage of moving that fast at a
speed I could not control.

And my poor little body bounced and
twisted— my knees scraped and bloody
and my arms covered in bruises. At one
point, though, the sound of my body against
the ground became a rhythm: thump, thump,
thump. The chaos turned into a kind of dance
and in a few moments I found my breath and
saw a log in my path. I used the gravity and
power of my fall with the strength of my legs
and flew over; my back arched away from the
ground like the curved arabesque of a pole
vaulter’s. I hit the floor again, but
this time, it felt planned. It felt controlled.

And on the way down, I found grace.
I found the grace to fall into chaos
and do my best to adapt. To turn the
pain into a practice and the unknown into
a kind of power that I surprised even
myself with.

And on the way down, I found strength.
I saw obstacles in my way and, instead
of continuing to curl into a defensive
position, I used them to propel me forward
to the rhythm of my own tumultuous but
beautiful dance down the slope.

And on the way down, I found joy.
The fall was the closest thing to
complete weightlessness and flying
that I will probably ever feel and,
while scary and painful, it is a moment
that no one can take from me.

So, when I finally skidded to a stop at
the bottom, with my shoes caked in dirt
and my body covered with the scrapes and
bruises of the obstacles I didn’t see
coming (or just couldn’t avoid), I wiped
the mud out of my eyes, pulled a twig out of
my hair, and smiled.

So, I’m leaving Los Angeles.

I don’t know if text-on-a-page can properly convey how terrifying that is. I was born in Anaheim, and raised in Monterey Park and then Laguna Niguel (right outside of Laguna Beach). Then, I moved out here to attend USC, and I’ve been an Angeleno for (oh my God) nearly 7 years. I live about 10 minutes from the Los Angeles house my mom immigrated to in (now) Historic Filipinotown, and work about 15 from where my dad grew up in the SGV/East LA area.

I didn’t see snow until I was 20. I am more comfortable in a car blazing down the freeway (or sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic) than I am an in, say, a train. I spent summers on beaches and at Disneyland. I’m about as Southern Californian as you can get, and Los Angeles has run in my veins since birth

So, as hyped as I am about the concept of adventuring to new, even-beachier places, I am also a little terrified sometimes. I’ve come to realize that some of the things I love just won’t be in my life anymore, and that it’s time to enjoy those things while I still can enjoy them. A fantastic person I know is making an equally long journey across the country (to much colder climes), and we’ve been talking a little about “The Bucket List.” 

I’ve never loved this concept. I always wondered if experiences could be quantified like that, as “the last time” to create memories. Now that I’m actually faced with the concept of leaving somewhere, though, I find myself desperately clinging to the concept as a way to try and ensure I leave with no regrets. So, after a little bit of thought (and some help), here’s the first working draft. Please, if you have anything to add, let me know!

1. Hike in Malibu and to the Hollywood sign (crazy, but I’ve never done it!)
2. Eat at about a million restaurants (Blair’s, Black Hogg, all the Mexican food I love, In N’ Out, Tommy’s, etc)
3. The Santa Monica Pier (esp. the Ferris Wheel)
4. Art and History: The Getty (ridiculous, but I’ve never been), Annenberg Space for Photography, Natural History Museum
5. Disneyland
6. The Edison, The Standard, and some other quintessentially “LA” bars.
7. Quite a few plays (Waiting for Godot, Spring Awakening)
8. See something at Hollywood Cemetery, preferably Citizen Twain
9. Enjoy some LA Salsa Dancing before I have to go discover a new scene in Hawai’i
10. Visit fave ANHS teachers, inform them of life updates and say “Thank you.”
11. As much running in the LA-Places I love and that formed me as a runner (Griffith, Marina Del Rey to Hermosa, Silverlake Reservoir) 
12. Drive Mulholland Dr.
13. Watch a sunset (or even a sunrise!) from a skyscraper (plenty of beach ones where I’m going).
14. Pedal Boat in Echo Park
15. Sports games— preferably baseball, but maybe a basketball game too.

As you can see, a highly abbreviated list. Anything to add? Restaurants I must try? Places I must see? Trails I must run?! Let me know! What do you think I have to do before I leave Los Angeles?

Not Less-than-Awesome (because most of this IS AWESOME)

• I just realized Hawai’i does not have a baseball team. Or even a minor league team. Needless to say, I am very sadface about this. Time to start streaming Angels games?

• As if you didn’t know I hated moving and that it leaves me “blorft”, I GET TO DO IT AGAIN AND ACROSS THE OCEAN OH OKAY NBD. -____- (Actually it’s a lot better this time, Teach For America is awesome and covers a lot of my relocation. And this time I really can leave most of it behind/give it away! Who wants a couch?!)

• Leaving behind beloved friends and family. Even thinking about saying goodbye leaves me singing Yellowcard in my car while I cry. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

• The little worries that plague you at night: Where am I going to live? What do you wear to the office in Hawai’i? Will I be able to find a good church? What if I can’t make any friends?!

Awesome

• Uh, I don’t know what it is, but “Hawai’i” is like a magic word that makes everyone’s problems with me disappear. Everyone at my job has been congratulating me and wishing me well after I told them I was leaving. I didn’t expect them to be mean, but I was surprised at how just awesome everyone is being, and how happy they genuinely seem for me. I am eternally grateful for their excitement for me.

• In that vein, the amount of love and support fam/friends IN Hawai’i have been sending me. All the offers of help and love just make me feel that much better about having a support system in my soon-to-be-home. Also, the TFA Hawai’i staff is just awesome and making me feel welcome and like they are excited to have me. I tweeted about joining staff, and a bunch of Teach For America staffacross the nationtweeted congratulations to me. Just so many reminders of how blessed I am. Like Fr. Fred says, “Remember, you are loved.”

• Googling. Just in general. Phrases I have Googled: “Hawaii” “Hawaii Beach” “Diamond head hiking” “Hawaii running trails” “PLATE LUNCH”

• Getting way-super-totally-hyped to jump back into educational work.

• Sitting in my bed some mornings and realizing that I am about to embark on one of the biggest adventures in my life.

Things like this don’t happen to people like me.

That was what I thought as I hung up the phone Thursday evening. On the other line had been a Teach For America staff member, offering me a position as the Operations Associate and Assistant to the Executive Director.

In Hawai’i.

Yes, folks, the “big news” I have been vaguely hinting about for the past month or so? The one where you may have been probably have been annoyed and thinking SHUT UP AND SAY SOMETHING OR JUST DON’T OKAY JESUS? It’s that I have been applying for education positions throughout the nation. Including this one in Hawai’i.

So, long story short, you are likely correct in your assumption: I am moving to Honolulu in early May. I can’t even begin to describe how excited I am.

When Shayna, the staff member who will also be managing me, told me, I was honestly speechless. Sometimes, I still am. It wasn’t an easy decision. As far as private corporations go, I currently work for a pretty solid one. I like the people I work with, the work is interesting enough, and, yes, the money you make in the private sector is…well…certainly different then what I made as a high school teacher.

As the past few months have worn on, though, some family and life things fell into place in a way that made me stop and think Wait, I could leave Los Angeles. Then, I started thinking about what I REALLY wanted to be doing in my life. Where was I going?

What’s next? is not only the title of this blog, but a question I try to ask myself as often as possible. While I’m young, I also know that life is short, and what I wanted was starting to become more and more clear. I like my job, but I’m not overwhelmingly excited about it. The people I was working with are nice, smart, funny, and dedicated… but I missed being really passionate and fired up about the work I was doing. The world needs change, education needs to be completely reformed, and I am young, excited and passionate about making that happen. So what am I doing to fix it?

I began poking around at what jumping back into the education sector might look like. After binging on cover letters and interviews (at one point I texted my beloved Stuti, “I didn’t think it was possible, but interviews have done it: I am so over talking about myself.”), I had some options. I was getting revved up. I had applied for and been excited about this position in Hawai’i, working with Teach For America, but after a week of waiting and not hearing, I assumed I was out of the running.

So you can imagine my surprise when Shayna, the Director of Talent, Strategy and Operations at TFA Hawai’i, started off our phone conversation with, “I’m really excited to chat with you this evening.”

Uhhhh…. what?

This was not how I expected this conversation would go.

In a flurry of surprise and cautious (I had been talking myself out of this job for months, just to make myself feel better for not getting it), epic excitement, I talked through some of my thoughts about the offer with Shayna. I said I needed the weekend to decide: I had been offered another position here in Los Angeles, and was supposed to interview in San Francisco at the end of the month.

In what was an epic #firstworldproblem, I now had more than I was ready for, in the span of a few days. I immediately texted my family and close friends. I had shared with them that I had wanted this Hawaii job, but I had told them last week that I was likely not going to be moving to the islands. I needed some clarifying thought, and another set of eyes.

The first to call me was Jack.

Jack and I have been as functional in our break-up and transition into friendship as I think we were when we were together. We are (now) comfortable around each other. He’s dating a beautiful, equally-television-and-film-loving blonde from Boston, and I couldn’t be more happy for him and proud of all that he’s doing. I also have been epically happy to have someone back in my life that, frankly, probably knows me better than pretty much anyone in the world.

The minute I picked up the phone, there was silence. Then I said, “Oh. My. GOD.” Then, we just started laughing.

We talked. Knowing me as well as he does, Jack has become not only a great friend, but also an excellent thought-partner. We parsed through this decision. Then, he said something that really hit home.

“You know what we didn’t do after college?” he posited.

I knew immediately what he was going to say. “We didn’t adventure, did we?”

“No,” he admitted, “we didn’t adventure.”

With that, a huge smile crossed my face.
____

The more I spoke with people, the more the decision became clear. When else would I be in a place in my life where I could do this? Come Friday morning, I had made my choice. By Friday afternoon, I had emailed TFA Hawaii my acceptance, and shared the news with my close friends and family. The love immediately poured in.

____

I loved being a Teach For America corps member. Despite the struggles I had as a teacher, the jokes about our jargon, or the good-humored accusations about “drinking the Kool-aid” I got from others, I have always been so proud to be part of a movement I truly believe in. Every time I interacted with anyone interested in Teach For America, or even currently working in Teach For America, something always felt “right.” I felt like I was in my element, “like home,” (a similar feeling I had the first time I walked on the USC campus).

Now, as the opportunity presents itself for me to rejoin the Teach For America ohana (my welcome letter said this. The smile on my face when I read it was HUGE) as a staff member, I know what the right path is.

The fact that I get to rejoin and live in Hawai’i, one of my most beautiful places in the world that also happens to have family and friends in it? Just gravy on top of everything else (really epic, fantastic gravy though). I know I will be embarking on a huge, epic adventure: I will be moving out of Southern California for the first time in my life, and work at an organization I love, and do it in Honolulu.

I could not feel more blessed.
___________

SO.What’s next?

That’s been the guiding question, right? Well, I fly out of Los Angeles sometime between May 1-5. In the meantime, I have moved into a little pocket-of-a-room (with a private balcony, remember?) for the month. My 2-weeks notice is being given tomorrow. I am normally alternating between being so hyped I can barely speak, wrapped up sobbing in a blanket out of terror and anxiety at the thought of leaving my friends or, for the first time, living more than an hours-drive from my parents, and being blorft.

Anyway, let’s grab a drink (if you’re close by). Give me a hug. I will provide numerous opportunities to say goodbye to me, but all you have to do is shoot me an email or ask. While I can’t way to start on this new adventure, I am also immensely saddened to leave behind of the people I love. Of course, it’s never really goodbye. Aloha is both hello and goodbye, yes?

Anyway… let’s do this thing.

Urges I Have Successfully Overcome While Packing:

1. Saying “Fuck this,” while throwing everything I own into unlabeled garbage bags.
2. Saying “Fuck this,” leaving my apartment as is, and jumping on a plane to Guam/Paris/Hawai’i/Maldives/Cancun/a shack in Oregon/a ranch in Montana/ really anywhere where you won’t be able to find me that would have good running (so help me God, I have opened the Kayak app twice tonight).
3. Running to Tommy’s and stress-eating an order of Chilli Cheese Fries (see that link that says “Nutritional Facts” on the bottom? Only thing stopping me).
4. Running to Von’s to buy a bottle of wine and stress-drinking half most of it (which would likely lead to me me drunkenly writing some terribly titled post like “Dear Twentysomething Men,” or something equally hackneyed that would ensure that I never get taken on a date again) (Oh, wait, I kinda already did that -_____-).
5. Giving up completely to watch The Princess Bride (I put it on in the background instead. Also, Jesus Christ, young Cary Elwes. I can’t with you).

Things I Have Consumed While Packing

1. 32 oz. of water (I think I’m going to drown)
2. 4 cuties
3. 3 bites of Kashi Pesto Pizza (cold)
4. 1 bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios

Decisions I Have Made About “The Next Place”

1. More pictures need to be up
2. Less clutter/papers
3. Couch more adept for snuggling. Preferably something with arms.
4. Less unnecessary purchases of work out things. Please. Like I’m going to use it in the near future.

A little 3-2-1 to start off the week:

3 Things Making Me Happy

1) HUGE weight lifted off my shoulders as far as life-changes. I know this is all vague, and I apologize (you could always ask), but I should (FINALLY!) be able to talk about it sometime in the next 2 weeks. Woo!

2) The cable is cancelled, the gas and electric are being shut off, and I’m off! I’ll be staying in a sublet for the month of April. While I’ll miss my old place, I’m psyched to save a little money and wake up to a new morning view.

3) Er, life is just crazy-busy in an epic and fantastic way. I’m back into running again (the LA Marathon seems to have cured my leg pains. This means 20-35 mile weeks again. woo!), I’m going out and getting to know new people, I’m going out and passing out on couches with people I already adore. It’s all just generally fantastic.

2 Things Bumming Me Out

1) I have to give my beloved cat Bingley to my neighbor. :( I loved getting to watch cat for about a year, but he’ll be happier with neighbor since I’ll be moving around so much.

2) In all the crazy-busy-ness of my life, I’ve kind of lost some of the balance I feel like I had found last month. Hoping to gain back a moment of zen or two sometime in the next two weeks (I did get it when I went to yoga last night… and got to hang upside down on ropes. Epic.).

1 Thing Getting Me Hyped

1) Travelling! Going to get to do (hopefully) a few weekend trips in the next few months. Woo!

(Also: spending more time with new people, spending more time with already-loves, getting to run on some new streets, and the fact that Chipotle has brown rice now. Woo!)

“If you could see my life right now…I’ve been living at the speed of light”

That’s how I started off a section of the letter to Carolina. Apologies, to SISTER Carolina.

I hadn’t written one of my best friends since October. I didn’t tell her about my birthday, or wish her tidings of joy at Christmas. I didn’t wish her a happy new year.

I don’t have a good reason for this. I have a selfish one.

My life was going at light-speed. I barely had a moment to breathe, absolutely breaking one of the promises I made for myself at 24.

It wasn’t all party lights and shiny sparkles either. In retrospect, I’ve looked back on my life from October to now, and some of it has been stressful. Some of it has been hard and trying and forced me to rethink how I look at myself and what I value. I hadn’t had some time to think and breathe. That, and the things that were great were hard to explain, still kind of intangible, and some of it was just awkward to describe to your best friend…when she’s a nun. I mean, how do you tell your nun-best-friend that it’s distinctly possible you threw up behind a chair at New Year’s?!

So, the 10 or 15 times I started a letter to her in the past few months, it just seemed too hard to wrap everything up. Even though I’ve longed for her guidance and her voice numerous times in the past 6 months, having to sit down and write everything out to her in prose-form instead of rambling it off on the phone would mean that I would have to stop and examine what I was doing: what was making me happy and—much more frustratingly— what was making me sad or scared. Quite frankly, I didn’t want to.

Then, when I stopped to take a big pause and look at things this past month, I really didn’t want to rehash or go through any of it another time. One of my double-edged swords is that I am quick to adapt. More often than not, when things tough things happen, I want to examine them, learn from them, and then wipe off my hands move the fuck onward and upward because life is too damn short to dwell on the little things. I am not a dweller.

While I think that’s been a credit to me a lot of times, I think it can do a disservice to me too. Sometimes, to let ourselves heal, we have to listen and deal with and think the bad stuff. We have to get angry and sad and frustrated so that we can really move past it and get better. Still, when I knew I needed to sit back and reflect on everything and open up to Carolina, I didn’t want to. I was too scared. I knew it would hurt. So I was selfish, and I stayed silent.

Cut to Valentine’s Day, when I received a letter from Sr. Carolina that she had written at the beginning of the month. I tore the letter open, and started crying when I read what she had assumed my silence meant: Was I mad at her? Did I feel awkward around her? Was I worried she didn’t want to hear from me?

Well… for lack of eloquent wording: I suck.

So, I sat down and hashed it out with her. The bad stuff. The mean stuff that I didn’t want to think or say because it’s unfair, petty, and not nice, but still kinda felt because I’m human and imperfect. The things that made me sound weak and small. I told her the good things too: the things that made me so happy I could sing, that made me sound boastful and not at all humble, because who else can celebrate that with you and not judge you but someone who loves you?

At the end of the 15 minutes it took me to fly through three and a half pages, I smiled. A weight had been lifted off my chest— a small one, because I really have felt consistently blessed these past few months. Still, the cathartic feelings of just sitting down and getting it out far surpassed the pain I had felt doing it.
_____________________________________

So, now, cut to Lent.

Lent, if you don’t know, marks the 40 day period of time before Easter. Many people of all different forms of Christianity (and some non-Christians) choose to honor this period by giving something up.

If I’ve realized anything these past few weeks and months, it’s that a lot is changing in my life. There’s (as always) a bit of tumult, I’m consistently on the cusp of…something, and I need to make sure I’m taking times to think things through. I need to take the time to sit in the silence and the struggle so that I can find joy and light in it.

In an effort to do that, for Lent I’ll be jumping off MOST of my social media. I’ll be stopping to consider my words instead of my normal spout-everything-I-think. No Facebook, no Twitter.

Impossible for me, you say? I thought so too, but I actually did this three years ago and got a lot out of it. Some people say that you shouldn’t give up something you’ve already given up, but frankly I think that’s bull. If something is helpful, why not do it?

Now, I won’t be giving up writing fully, meaning I’ll stay on Tumblr (just sporadically), for a few reasons:

1) I still blog for the lovely people at The SF Marathon, and I want to do my part in spreading the word and getting hits for them when I can.

2) Like I said, a lot is going to be changing in the next few weeks, and while I do want to try and keep my space from the social media world, I would also feel awkward not keeping at least some people updated on what was happening. Could I do that in a phone call, mass e-mail or text? Sure, but that’s not really the world we live in, so… sorry?

3) Writing is one of those few things that’s kept me sane, and sometimes shared experiences feel good.

So, that’s that folks. I’ll be here, writing occasionally, but I’ll be heading off the grid (not really) for a little starting Monday morning. Catch you on the flip side.


OH! If you want do want to contact me, consider sending me letter, or writing me letter-like emails, you can ask for my e-mail or address (or just use it, if you have it). I love writing to people, I’ve realized recently. :)

“Recently, I’ve come to realize that one of the best ways I can show love is to tell someone that I’m thankful they are in my life…”

That’s how I started off the entry in my Gratitude journal a few nights back, one of the daily journals I (try to) write in each night.

So, for this Valentine season, I decided to spread the love in my life with a bit of thanks. I sent out thank you cards to some of the people that have just been there for me this past month, or just been a big/important/special/caring part of my life. They weren’t well written, and there weren’t nearly as many as them as I could give out (I have strangely small hands and bad penmanship, so my hand gets tired pretty fast). Still, I just wanted to let them know that, no matter what, they meant something to me. I hope it brings a smile to their day when they get it.

Anyway, I wasn’t even sure if even I wanted to post this, since patting myself on the back about it was absolutely the opposite of the point of this exercise(I was worried it would come off a little “Let me be AMAAZZINNNGG at you.” (- Tina Fey, Bossypants)). Definitely not my intention.

However, I really liked the idea, especially for those searching for meaning in the day. I just thought I’d put it out there as a thought:

For this Valentine’s day, don’t just tell the people in your life “I love you.” Tell them “Thank You.” Tell them thank you for sharing part of your life experience with you, for the lessons they teach you, and for the love and light they bring to you.

Every day, I’m so lucky that I have these people, all my friends and family, in fact, to make me laugh or to take care of me. I am consistently so blessed, and they are a very big part of why.

Sadly, someone I love who will not be getting a card will be Cat. I do pick him up like the big baby he is and cradle him at least twice a day though, so hopefully that makes up for it.

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Anyway, it’s been a rough weekend. Expect to see a post about losing a great man and father figure to me, Fr. Fred, at Corpus Christi. I have no doubt he’ll be moving on to great things and get to transform the life of another parish, but I’m a bit heart-broken to see that part of my life end change.

In spirit with what he taught me, though…

To any of you that might stumble on this blog this season: blessings your way, light your way, and remember, above all, you are loved.