Birthday Wishes

Hey You!

I bet that you’ve come to my facebook page because you wanted to wish me a happy birthday. Well, you may remember this quirky thing about me (or maybe you never knew it in the first place) but I’m not a big fan of making a big deal out of my birthday. However, one of my best friends recently reminded me that our birthdays – especially the big ones (like this one for me)- are not ours. They tend to belong to our friends and family.

She is absolutely right – more so than she realized. I want to take a moment to speak about why my birthday belongs to you.

This birthday, more than others, has served as a reflection.  A time to look back and say "How did I get here?" and more importantly to me "Who has helped me?"

Maybe it's because of where I am right now in my life and the many things that I'm thinking about; maybe that is something that everyone does on their 30th.  Regardless, I've enjoyed remembering all of your faces, all of your smiles, all of the laughter.  It's been a great life and I'm looking forward to all that is to come. I wish I could call each and everyone of you up and thank you personally.  You deserve that- although it would be slightly unrealistic for me to pull that off.  Instead, I will have to settle for the below:

Simply stated –  I know I am the woman I am today because of all that we have shared. And although it may sound conceited to say out loud – I really like who I am. (Well...99% of the time at least-I always leave room for improvement).  Thank you for sticking with me and helping me find "me" throughout the past 30 years. You are sharing the success that I have gotten this far.

One of my favorite poems is called “Bits & Pieces”. I’ve mentioned it in my blog before. I’ve shared it with many of you when I thought we may be parting (this was before Facebook- little did I know technology would allow me to stay in touch and reconnect so easily;). I keep a copy of this poem by my desk at all times. It serves as a daily reminder that people may move in and out of our lives, but I will always, ALWAYS carry a part of you with me. You have touched my life and I am more because of that. I would be less if you had never been a part of my life.

Your influence – it may have been fleeting. Or you may have only shared a past season of my life with me… high school, college, a committee, a work relationship, a volunteer activity. If I am lucky, you are ever present in my day to day life and our relationship continues to grow. I actually hope that most of you feel that I am still present in your life –even if it isn’t day to day. It is always my intention to stay in contact with people. I don’t like letting people walk out of my life. Because you are important to me.

You are important to me because of the experiences we have shared. You have laughed with me – very loudly and often at very inappropriate times – during the blissfully happy moments that have come so easily when I am with you. You have helped me smile and shrug off the awkwardness of my perpetual ability to create embarrassing moments. Followed by more inappropriate laughter….          You have intervened when you saw me going down a wrong path, saying the wrong thing, or not being true to myself. You have encouraged me to do more, be involved, and dream. You let me take control of the dance floor - and even let me drag you on the dance floor on occasion so I wouldn't be the ONLY one out there dancing like an idiot (although that has been known to happen on occasion...).  You asked me questions that made me imagine possibilities. You have encouraged me to speak my mind and share my thoughts - even when I was still figuring out what my beliefs, principles, and opinions were. You taught me about discipline and work ethic. You showed me to listen first, speak second.  You have accepted my apologies when I have made mistakes, only asking that I learn from those mistakes because everyone makes mistakes.  You have lifted me up when I wasn’t sure how to pull myself out of the few dark days that have peppered my life.  You created confidence.  You taught me to be grateful and how the spirit of appreciation - saying a simple, honest word intended to express thanks - can lift someone in a time of trial or frustration, and can also lift your soul.

You are important to me because you have pushed me to see that all experiences – the good & not-so-good – are a blessing, an essential part of this wonderful journey I am traveling. A stepping stone that I can push off of. And with each new experience whether it be with an old or new friend, each new step, I am continuing to discover and define who "me" is.

I want you to know that these are the lessons that I have learned in my first 30 years. I want you to know that I appreciate that I learned them from you. I want you to know that I appreciate you.

My birthday is not my own. It belongs to you – my friends, my family.

Thank you for walking with me, no matter how long or short our journey together has been. You make this life beautiful. I hope that our paths continue to cross in the next 30…

Love,

Katy

aka

Katy Bell (to anyone at ISU, Kappa Delta, or post college)

Or
Katherine (to my Uncle Phil and brother)

Or

Katydid (to my Grandpa Bob)

Or

Baby Girl (to my best friend Traci)

Or

Sis (to my Grandpa Melvin)

Or
Bell (to any of my high school coaches)
Or
Blondie (to my regulars at TGI Fridays, Cedar Rapids)
Or

Cat (to the kitchen staff, pro shop, and Monday afternoon bar patrons at Des Moines Golf)

Or

KtB (to Mandy Miller)

Or

Kiddo (to Grandpa Jack)

Or

Katy Bell De-Jungeeeeee (to the CFF staff girls)

Or

KtBD (again, to Mandy Miller once the last name changed)
Or
Katy Bell DeJonge (to Hugh)

Or

Mrs. Dr. (self proclaimed to share how proud I was when Kendall got his PhD)

Or
Miss Katy (to Mike Laughlin)
Or
Cruise Director (to Kira Rislove & the 1717ers)
Or

Whatever name you have decided fits me....

But I will always answer to Katy

A Photo is Worth a Thousand Words

This is not going to be a long blog.  I'm just hoping that it makes you smile.

Living in Colorado, and more specifically in Fort Collins, you tend to see some things that probably wouldn't happen elsewhere.  We are the city that hosts the original Tour de Fat after all - the world's largest bike parade (think 20,000 people dressed in ridiculous costumes riding a specific route to a carnival).  We think about things just a little bit differently.  And by "We", I mean that hodge podge of hippies, hipsters, beer snobs, college students, mountain/tree huggers, outdoor enthusiasts, wild life hunters, etc. that have decided to make Fort Collins home.  And me.

But this one kind of takes the cake in my opinion.  My friend Tara saw this yesterday while driving home from work.  Actually saw this happen and luckily enough for all of us, took a photo. I'm not sure I would have believed her it if she didn't have photo evidence.  And now I'm pretty jealous that she actually got to see it happen in real life.

Yep- that is a dog in an extra large overnight pack riding on the back of a motorcycle.

I want to know where the dog's helmet is.

Happy Wednesday everyone.  Hope this helps get you thru the next two days to the weekend where you can create your own shinanagins.  Share a few photos if something as crazy as this happens.

Show Yourself

So remember how I said I wasn’t going to let my blogging slip away from me this year.  About that…. It’s going to happen again.  Actually, I’m sure you’ve noticed that it has already started.

The funny thing about my blog is that even though it’s been 5 weeks since I’ve blogged, I’m still getting regular page views.  I know this because of the “stats” page on my blogger dashboard.

When I started this blog, I thought that writing was going to be the addictive part.  I was wrong.  My greatest joy from blogging actually comes from watching the stats for a post grow.  Strange, I know.  But I like seeing that people are reading my words.  Well, except for the “All In Post”.  That was a whole different beast itself.  It should be noted that it was seeing that the post had 500 page views in 2 hours within posting that clued me in on the fact that it had been posted elsewhere without my knowledge.  (Normally I only see 50 to 100 views max per post). 

Something that fascinates me is being able to see the pageviews by countries on the stats page.  It also makes me feel terribly guilty.

You see, when I started this blog, it was intended as a way to keep in touch with friends and family.  When I look at the pageviews by countries, I realize that my reach is much further than I thought.

Here, look for yourself.  This is a screen shot captured from today.

Russia, Canada, Malasia, etc.  I’m glad that my random thoughts are being read in such unfamiliar territory.  However I feel guilty in that I can’t identify who these people are, which means that I’ve lost track of a friend.

I know that these people have to be friends because of the traffic source tracker on the stats page (seriously, if you blog and you don’t pay attention to your stats – you should!).  I know that almost all of my page views are referred by Facebook, which comes from me posting my blog posts on my Facebook page.  Which, again, means that the majority of the people reading this blog are one of my 696 friends and that I know you well enough to keep you as a Facebook friend – but have lost track of what you are doing out there IN THE WORLD. 

I’ve lost track of you and I shouldn’t have.  Because if you are taking the time to view my blog 44 times (I’m looking at you Russia) when I only have 29 blog posts, that’s significant.  It means that you are interested in keeping up with me and what’s going on in my life.  And I feel terrible because I should know who you are. 

So this is my invitation to reconnect.  Because I want to reconnect.  I want to know how your life is going – out there IN THE WORLD!  I’m sure that you are doing wonderful things that are much more entertaining and unique than what I’m blogging about.  Let me know who you are Russia, Germany, Canada, UK, Latvia, Malaysia, Denmark, Italy, Netherlands… I should know that I have friends in those countries.  I may want to plan a vacation;)

Well, unless you are just an internet stalker who happened to stumble across this blog randomly.  In that case, having you in Russia is probably ideal….

Evil has a name, time, and place

Today I introduced evil into my life.  It has a name, a physical place, and time that I will see it each and every day, and I can only blame myself.  Or wine.  I could blame wine since wine was involved when I let Brenna & Kathleen talk me into this evil. 

Okay, that’s a lie.  Well, not the wine part.  That’s 100% true. Saying that Brenna and Kathleen talked me into the evil, that’s a lie.  They mentioned it in passing, I heard them, and I interrupted.  “That sounds like fun.  I’m in.”

Dumb.  Because I’m one of those “principled” people where if I say I’m going to do it, even if I agree to it in an apparent drunken state of mind, I do it to the best of my ability.  I have always wanted to say that people can trust my word, which means that I have to follow thru. 

And I agreed to take part in this evil.  

A 5:00 AM Kickboxing Boot Camp.  6 days a week for 10 weeks straight.  With a nutrition plan. 

Why?  Why would I agree to something that in a mere 3 segment description contains so many things I loathe?!

If you asked me two weeks ago about the things I hate the most, I would have said this:

• Waking up before 7:30 in the morning (let’s be honest, anything before 9 a.m. has always been a struggle for me but 7:30 is the acceptable time for me to get my butt to work on time)
• Sweating and working out.  I don’t work out.  I play team sports and walk my dogs several miles a day.  That’s enough in my book.
• A nutrition plan that takes away my morning Mt. Dew(s – on super stressful days), alcohol, and forces me to eat a diet rich in protein and carbs – even when I’m not hungry.  I hate carbs – outside of fruit…and sugar. 

Even more confusing to signing up for such torture – unlike most who want this jump start, I’m pretty comfortable in my own skin.  I’m not in super great shape and could probably always use a little toning (thank you morning Mt. Dew), but I lead an active lifestyle.  My doctor tells me that all my “stats” are right on track, with only a concern that I have really low blood pressure and low cholesterol (both are almost too low).  I am a size 6 which is the exact same size I was high school.  In fact, I have only gone up or down about 5 lbs. since high school AND I have a pair of black capri’s that I still wear on a regular basis that I bought when I was 17.  I am not doing this to lose weight.

So what would possess me that this would be a good idea?  Other than the wine…

I hate to say it, because I really don’t think that I’m going to freak out or anything when the day comes, but the idea of my 30^th birthday being 6 months away played a big part in this decision.  Which I broke down into smaller factors/lifestyle choices that I feel I probably should make now before my 20-some-year-old habits in a 30 year old body catch up to me and I can’t fit into those black Capri’s. 

I love the idea of being in the best shape of my life at the oldest point of my life thus far.

I love the idea of having a workout routine.  Routines are big for me.  Once I get into them, I don’t deter much.  My problem has always been that I never have been able to motivate myself to workout by myself – it’s too taxing and I like to spend my free time thinking.  How can you think when you have to be mentally telling yourself “Just a little bit further… one more mile…you can do it….”?  Willing myself to cover ground or lift weights is not relaxing for me like it is for others.  Again, I’m a team sport kind of girl.  I played softball and volleyball in high school.  I didn’t do any individual sports.  If I have someone I may disappoint if I don’t give my all, I will do what I can to give my all.  If it was me on my own… I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning.  Tackling this challenge with two close girlfriends, I won’t let them down.  And my hope is that after 10 weeks, a routine will be set and I will just keep going.  (More likely to happen if Brenna and Kathleen do this too).

I love the idea of being a morning person.  It doesn’t come naturally to me.  The rest of my family is so I’m not sure how I missed out on that gene.  I feel like morning people get more done and are more active.  I love sunrises.  I get to see a few every year for work, but I like the idea of seeing more of them. 

I love the idea of kicking the shit out of a 250 lb. bag as a way to get pent up feelings out of my body.  I do a very bad job of internalizing stress and I think this could be a great way to have a physical outlet for any stresses or frustrations that are building. 

I love the idea of a more balanced diet and planning menus ahead.  I will be honest, eating small snacks with smaller meals six times a day isn’t that far from what I do already.  But I don’t have a lot of variety in my diet and I don’t eat a lot of carbs, outside of sugar filled soda.  Which I know is bad for me, but it’s my one bad habit…. I found myself wanting to bargain with the instructor this morning (50 more reps for one Mt. Dew, PLEASE).  Although this hasn’t caught up with me yet, I know that some day it could. 

I love all these ideas.  I have always loved all these ideas, and have admired people who either came by these things naturally, or more impressively, have made the change.  So now, I’m challenging myself to make the change.  I really am happy about it and am excited to be making these changes.  I am confident that I will conquer evil.

Even though I’m excited, I felt the need to write this blog on Day 1 of boot camp as a warning.  None of the above ideas I love/lifestyle changes come naturally for me.  Every component of boot camp, other than ideas that I love to think about, I hate.  Not to mention the physical pain that I am in right now (I can barely lift my arms over my head).  Which is why I am using such strong language as evil and loathe in my description.

It is also why I feel that I need apologize ahead of time if I’m a bitch until I catch up to this evil routine.  

I would maybe avoid me until at least week 5.  Starting now.

For Real... A Prank... Or just a Stalker?

First - I doubt that there is anything I can write about that will top last week's blog as far as hits & controversy.  It’s all downhill from here kids….But I do think that I have stumbled upon a somewhat hilarious topic to blog about this week to try to retain a portion of you that contributed to the 1,500 hits (and counting) that I received last week.

Meet my friend Christine. 

I snapped this picture at our girls night after she shared the below story AND gave me permission to blog about it.

A little bit about Christine before we get into the story.  I joke that she’s the most interesting person I know, but I really feel that way.  Sorry to everyone else out there.  Read on and you’ll understand why.

What makes Christine so interesting?

• She’s a bad ass snowboarder that can outrun and out jump most of the guys that we ride with
• In high school she played Left & Right Wing on the MEN”S varsity hockey squad
• Post college she took an internship in South Africa where she tagged Great White Sharks (we’re talking shark week style kids!)
• Following the internship, she moved to Miami where she trained dolphins
• Next fall she’s leaving us to go back to Oregon State for Vet School (which is not an easy accomplishment)
• With her summer off in between she has decided that she wants to go to Alaska, possibly ride Ragbri, and do a road trip along the West Coast… pretty much by herself, possibly with some friends along the way.

This girl is fearless.  I can also state for a fact that she is one of the sweetest, kindest individual I’ve met.  She’s a great friend, beautiful from the inside out.

She also happens to be single.

As one of the only girls in our group who is unattached, and – mind you – not looking for anything serious since she is up and leaving for grad school in a matter of months, we delight in her stories of dating mishaps.  It’s a bit different when the girl isn’t searching for that deep meaningful connection.  These guys aren’t going to stick around, so like Christine, we don’t get attached and don’t feel bad when the date doesn’t turn out as planned.  It feels good to selfishly laugh at their seemingly rookie mistakes and not offend, because the girl wanted the guy to be more than he was .

But this guy…. Oh man, he needs an intervention….

I wasn’t there, but Christine set the stage very well.  Let me share.

Christine and 2 of our other girlfriends went out last Friday night.  At 1 a.m. they stumbled into a bar in Old Town called Lucky Joe’s.  At 1:30, a guy sat himself down next to Christine.  His opening line: “You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”

This, of course, gets her attention to a certain degree.  She tells him her name in Christine.  He calls her Kristy.  She corrects him.  “Can’t I just call you Kristy?” he asks.  She tells him no. “I’m just going to call you Kristy,” he responds.

She continues to talk to him until bar close.  She is somewhat interested, even if a little annoyed by the name thing, so she gives him her cell number.  They part ways.  Her next contact with him is a text message.

At 5 a.m. that morning….

(Oh- and if you really want to get the best laugh about what comes next, I suggest that you quickly surround yourself with your closest friends, drink a few glasses of wine, and read the following messages out loud.  TRUST ME)

“Ok I really like you Kristy, this is Scott. And I really want to date you, not just kinda. I want to love you too, and you can leave me whenever, orrrr want to try to do this instead!!!!!?! Tomorrow, or we can talk on it for awhile, why try soooo hard though when we could just do it for us, like a boss!!!...Here we go, I can feel something good inside of you, and I felt it big time earlier tonight, it was meant to be!! and I am not trying to convince you.  I am saying you are the shit, and you f*(ing rock, and you are cool to me! So cool, for real Kristy! I have never told a women that, and you can show your friends this text if you want to yoooo!"

(side point – I think she would have showed up the texts even if he didn’t give her permission to;)

“ you are everything I see in myself, like a friend I am no better and I can love you fully, although Kristy I mean that! I felt it fully tonight, like not too much, just a lot.  Haha and I don’t want it to be weird for you, that’s true… for it to be nothing tho and us to be just friends would suck nutz! Lol, when we could just rock at it together lol and that is funny haha!!! Ok, we could be great together if we tried it, did it, And you know it!!! You are a gret person and I am very attracted to you, like sooo much to everything about you, and why is that bad?  I want to doooo it, ha fo youu? Because I want to be yours and I want to try everything with you instead of just letting everything go, forever with you is better, I want to then its perfect we only met you knowwww,? Alright, don’t just real me off on this statement lol and I know you can see it, I know you know it, what do you think? Somethingggg good, sexy, fun, tell me anything? Got any ideas??????? Ha ok honestly do you like it when I say it out, I  Love you? Scott from the bar hahaha!"

I really am not doing it justice as a text.  This message was so long that it came in as 14 separate texts.  He follows this gigantic text with the following, minutes later.

“What is your last name if you don’t mind Me asking, and yes I am Not..a super huge giant creep, I swear it!! Lol have a good day tomorrow, and I love you a ton!”

Obviously Christine doesn’t answer.

Saturday night, he writes again.

At 8 p.m.:

“Yo Yo!”

At 9 p.m.:

“…and have a good night!!”

At Midnight:

“yooooo wtf are you doing Kristy!?  I just got done with work!! 12 hours of shitt since 10 this morning, lets get krunkkd ha please?! Saturday night f*(  yeah I livelive downtown so I am dowm foooo whatever!!”

At 12:30 a.m.:

“So shit! I don’t care get me drunk with me break my heart and sdnd me home alone even like idk do you smoke trees? I got some shtuff we can smoke bar hop it, I don’t have a lot of money tho I got enough to buy you a beer, hit me up baby I want to!!!!”

Ah, the picture starts to become a little bit clearer with that last text….

Christine was working an overnight at the vet clinic that she works at.  She didn’t get any of Saturday’s messages until 7 a.m. on Sunday morning.

But it doesn’t stop there.  Sunday morning….

At 9 a.m.:

“You know courage comes from bravery.  I went backpacking through Peru in 2009, that is South America! I think the bolder experiences in our lives that we chose define, did you know that we are like the 5 most people in ourlives? Meaning: there is a reason why people have the characteristics we see in ourselves, haha!”

Followed by my personal favorite, at 9:45 a.m.:

“Do you like country music?”

And finally, at 10 a.m., Scott from the bars last ditch effort to pull “Kristy” into his world:

“I have so many things I wan to do with my one and only life, how about you? I want to travel and play music… I want to build a house in the mountains one day when I am wealthy haha… I haven’t been home in so long, I have learned to findout that home is where the heart is, maybe that you see that in me?”

And that is the last that we’ve heard from Scott at the bar.  All that, heart and soul poured out partially thru liquid and smoked courage I’m sure, without a single response from his beloved “Kristy”.  Sigh… I’m thinking that someone needs to explain to Scott from the bar that my Rule of 3 does not mean 3 days filled with as much contact as possible.  I’m sure his heart is breaking.

Now, I will admit that back in the day, I would mis-use my phone when in a drunken state and drunk dial or text ridiculous things to my friends or boyfriend.  Or – would forget to hang up my phone after I was done talking…. (anyone who knows THAT story should be laughing right now)   Really, I think that any of us who have been in college during the age of cell phones can admit that drunk dials and texts are just an embarrassment that you learn to live with.  But the above really takes the cake….

Which has led a few of those who have seen the messages to wonder if this guy was really sending all of those messages on purpose… or maybe his asshole buddy just got a hold of his phone and was trying to sabotage his friend for who knows what reason…

The messages are so cringe worthy that it is hard to believe that Scott from the bar could be so clueless on his drunk texting… or even that drunk…. to think that any of that was a good idea.

So I’m throwing it out there – what do you think?

Is Scott from the bar:

• That clueless?
• That drunk/stoned?
• A prankster – or his buddy is?
• Or just a plain old fashioned stalker and we should suggest that Christine gets a new phone number and never step foot in Lucky Joe’s again.

(I’m going to suggest that anyway).

All In & Proud (to be One)

Oh Facebook.  How you create drama out of nothing. 

We’ve all had it happen – or at least seen it happen.  3 to 4 people that don’t know each other start a “discussion” (aka argument) under a mutual friend’s status update.  What is the mutual friend to do… other than consider and blog;)

This recently happened on my wall.  I posted a note about the ISU/Mizzou men’s basketball game prior to last Wednesday’s game.  12 comments later, I was looking at a “discussion” between my husband, a high school friend, and an old co-worker.  All, including myself, were taking jabs at the old co-worker for posting his opinion once I identified that he was an UNI grad but a self proclaimed Hawkeye “fan”.

This, my friends, is my biggest issue with college ““fans”.

I am not a Cyclone fan.  I am a Cyclone. 

Is there a difference? In my opinion - yes.  And I think that many would agree with me.  Especially when viewed as such:

• A “fan” is a person who supports a team or a college out of interest in the programs.
• Being a Cyclone, that's a person who lived the Iowa State experience. 

Being a “fan” shouldn’t be convenient or based off a winning percentage.  It should be tried & true love – which is why there is a difference between being a “fan” & being a (insert school’s mascot here).  As a __________, you are tied to that university.  You can’t jump ship ever; it helps that you have the school loans to prove it.

In fact, there are rules to how you MUST cheer for your team.

ESPN's Page 2: Rules for College Fandom *

In the hierarchy of collegiate athletic love, a “fan” is automatically less reputable.  Sure they may be able to quote back player stats, or may attend every single home game and buy the overpriced cable package to get every single away game.  But unless you forced yourself out of bed on a Friday morning to run to an 8 a.m. 100 level psychology/geology/history class hung over because you have a test on that campus, you loose a lot of street cred in my opinion.

I respect anyone out there that shares a fierce love for their college.  You should be proud to say that you are a (fill in the mascot) because you should be proud of your experience.  I will cheer on your team if you cheer on mine.  Cheering doesn’t mean that I’ve switched over.  Let’s be honest – I struggle to justify to myself wearing a CSU shirt when we attend football games in Fort Collins because I didn’t go to CSU.  To me, it feels a little bit like I’m cheating on Iowa State if I don the green and gold… 

I also don’t want to completely disregard “fans”.  They fill stadium seats and bars.  They cheer just as loud.  They feel pride in the teams and purchase hats, shirts, and jerseys.  “Fans” pump a lot of money into athletic programs.  My main point is – if you are just a “fan”, you missed out.  The only thing that you can relate to with these athletes is what you see on the field, court, or track.  And college athletes experience much more during their tenure on campus.  Including forcing themselves out of bed to run to a morning workout and then attend that horrid 8 a.m. 100 level filler class only to sit next to those hung over students that may smell because the sweatshirt they pulled on hasn’t been washed for weeks. 

You may say this makes no sense to you.  If that is the first thing that comes to your mind, you may be just a “fan”.  I’m trying very hard to avoid the word bandwagon.  And I want you to think of it this way…

I've come to realize that describing the feeling of a person's college experience similar to knowing the feeling of being from a small town.  It's a way of life that thrives, something that only people who live there and grow up within its arms are able to recognize the comforting feel of its routines and interactions. 

Think of where you were raised, the familiar faces and traditions.  The annual festivals, the high school team rivalries, the places snuck off to with friends.  The teachers, bridge club, coaches, first bosses, Sunday school teachers, and friend's parents who acted as guides to adulthood.  Would a friend who grew up in New York understand the feelings that those memories, places, and people evoke?  Even if you tried your hardest to explain it to them?

I wouldn't expect anyone who wasn't from Coggon or Walker or Troy Mills to know what it was really like to be a North Linn Lynx.  But everyone who is knows how happy everyone was when the girls cross country team FINALLY won the state meet, knows the difference between the colors burgundy and maroon, has heard the Mole song and is a little bit sad to hear that Mr. Arns is finally retiring this year.  When I admit that I was the one that broke Jambi, all the speech geeks cringe.  And everyone who went to North Linn that is reading this post is smiling right now.

Those unique attributes that are intertwined into the past, present, and future - that's what creates the biggest buzz word in the business world today.  Culture.  Businesses strive to find that "special" something that connects people, that makes people smile.  Culture is something that carries people the hard times and makes people laugh most of the time.  It drives people to be involved.  It's hard to create; often it just happens when the right people are in the right place at the right time.  Or when others remember it as the right people in the right place at the right time.  It is, simply, the experience.

As a high school graduate from a class of 40, thinking of Iowa State feels the same - it makes me smile.  It was a small town culture, only amplified to an annual student body of 30,000.  Because of this I am more apt to run into fellow Cyclones than someone who has stepped foot in Coggon.  And with the shared culture, I can always find something to relate with them regardless of age or the year they graduated.  We share in a camaraderie wrapped in cardinal and gold. 

If say that I had to walk from Willow to Design three days a week for spring semester, I can be asked why the hell I didn't take Cyride.  Mention of mass campaniling may bring a blush to someone's cheeks.  I don't have to explain what VEISHEA stands for.  The name Jack Trice means something when thrown into conversation, as does the statement "Honor before Victory".  All will agree that Saturdays were meant for tailgating.  You know how to properly announce the Iowa State Varsity Marching Band.  The satire site title "Wide Right and Natty Light" is hilarious.  We all know who The Mayor is and have felt Hilton Magic.  True Iowa Staters talk about what show they saw- or missed- at the M-shop.  Let’s talk about being chased by those damn swans.  Or the crows.  Laying out on central campus.  Avoiding the zodiac at all costs.  We could have a long discussion of what bar replaced The Dean's List, or The Library, or Sips.  While we're at it, lets raise your mug filled with an FAC special and say a little prayer in memory of People's and Lumpy's.  Thank goodness Welch Ave is still hanging in there.

This list can go on and on, but I promised that this post was not ONLY about being a Cyclone. 

For me, I've had both experiences, growing up in a small town and having a strong connection to the following phase of my life, being a student at Iowa State.  Both cultivated important building blocks, something that I’m sure that collegiate athletes feel just as strongly, if not more.

A sense of community.  A sense of belonging.  These two things create loyalty.

It's why the ISU Athletic Marketing Department's phrase "All In" makes perfect sense to me. I didn't need to buy into it, I was already there.

I can share the above details and memories with anyone I meet.  I can try to explain and share my stories of growing up, both in a small town and at Iowa State.  But unless you were there in those buildings at some point in time sharing those every day simple traditions, you really don't know what it was like and can only partially feel those connections.  I will maintain my opinion that you can only be a “fan”.




*This post is my response to 1(e). I do, however, agree with almost every other sub rule of 1.

**You may also see rule 4 and think “Well, this guy went to UNI.  Shouldn’t he be able to pick a bigger school?”  My answer to this is no – UNI is a great school with great athletic teams.  They have had a competitive football, basketball and a kick ass volleyball program for years.  The tailgating scene may not be so hot, but unless the student body supports these programs by putting butts in seats, it never will.  Which is why its no excuse to switch out of your purple and gold for other colors.  Unless you’re a “fan”.

My cure for a Quarter Life Crisis... A little bit of Alchemy

The hard part about having the majority your friends younger than you is having to watch them play thru some of the same hazards, same emotions, same mistakes, and same confusion.  There isn't much you can do to stop it, much like parents can't always stop their children.  As I so bravely (ehem - stupidly) told Mom when I was a teenager "I can't learn from your mistakes if I don't live them out myself."  I think what I meant at the time was the I couldn't learn from her mistakes just because she was saying no and not sharing why and what she learned from her own experiences - but at the same time, sometimes a person just has to live life and figure things out.  It's their life.

I have a few friends that have reached that quarter life crisis.  Call it that if you want. Or, as I think of it, reality just set in.  Life has smacked them right between the eyes.

For those of you who are not familiar with the quarter life crisis, or that its been a while since you've experienced it, its easily identifiable in and felt by most mid-to-late twenty-somethings at one point of time of their life (if not multiple times).  Trademark thoughts running amuck in the head of a person  suffering from the typical quarter life crisis:

• I'm not in college any more.    
• It appears that life is the same, day in and day out. 
• There are bills I'm responsible for and all I can get offered are crappy jobs that I have no real interest in.  So I can't quit, and I can't move forward.
• There are pressures, percieved and real. 
• Life isn't easy and I can't just coast thru it.  In fact, its very hard work.
• I don't have many choices, and the choices I do have to make aren't making that much of an impact.
• I'm trapped, and I'm the one who trapped myself.
• I don't really know who I am or really, who I want to be.  But I know I want to be seen as someone different than I am being seen as right now.

Luckily for the friends that I'm referring to, we live in Colorado and everything is automatically better on a mountain.  I went thru mine in Omaha... Nebraska.... there weren't any mountains to distract me there. 

I'm not sure how I found my way to reading The Alchemist during my own quarter life crisis, but reading that book shortened my anxiety considerably.  The nuggets of wisdom in this beautifully crafted novel made me realize that I was more in control than I thought.  I had the power to make decisions.  Every day.  Even not making a decision was a decision itself. 

This book totes some powerful stuff.  Only pick up if you are ready to change your life. 

I'm not kidding when I say that.

I'd like to share a few of my favorite quotes from The Alchemist for you, in hopes to give you a better understanding. (And I promise that my next blog will not rely so heavily on quotes...two blogs in a row is enough).

From The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo

"What's the world's greatest lie?' the boy asked, completely surprised. 'It is this: that at a certain point in our lives, we loose control of what's happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate.  That is the world's greatest lie."

"...every day was the same, and when each day is the same as the next, it's because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that the sun rises."

"...This wasn't a strange place.  It was a new one."

"...that there was a language in the world that everyone understood, a language the boy used throughout the time...it was the language of enthusiasm, of things accomplished with love and purpose, and as part of a search for something believed in and desired."

"he still had some doubts about the decision  he made.  But he was able to understand one thing: making a decision as only the beginning of things.  When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed of when he first made the decision."

"...people need not fear the unknown if they are capable of achieving what they need and want."

"Because I don't live in either my past or my future.  I'm interested only in the present.  If you can concentrate always on the present, you'll be a happy man."

"You must understand that love never keeps a man from pursuing his Personal Legend.  If he abondons that pursuit, its because it wasn't true love."

"One is loved because one is loved.  No reason is needed for loving."

 

As an avid reader, there are few books that I routinely re-read.  This is one of them.  There are also few books that I am passionate about having my friends read.  Actually, there are only two that I recommend.  Two that I know have been influencial in helping develop my own personal philosophy of how I look and interpret the world.  The two books:  Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand - which no one ever reads because its 1,000 some pages long.  The other is The Alchemist.  Which everyone should read - no excuses.  Its only 163 pages. 

I look at these quotes and think "I should be able to have a favorite."  But I can't.  They all touch my heart and inspire me.  Equally right now as I type them, with each having been more impactful at different crossroads.

I gave my copy of The Alchemist to a friend last night.  We had just held a lengthy discussion about being in a place of comfort and our perceptions of where we were compared to where we thought we would be.  Thoughts that I recognize as the beginning rumblings of that quarter life crisis.  I told her to come over, that I had something for her to read.  As I gave my paperback copy to her, I wondered how often I will send this book out in the world. 

I hope often.  Not because I wish that my friends need to seek the motivation the words provide, but because the book represents my belief in that answers to prayers and questions come in many different forms, in many different ways.  You just have to keep your eyes open for them.

A Control "Enthusiast" Searches for Patience

Some of you will find this hard to believe:  I am a control freak.

Or- to make it sound a bit nicer because I want it to sound nicer (because I’m a control freak) – we will now refer to it as this:  I am a control enthusiast.

For the most part, I think I wear this part of my personality well.  It hasn’t hindered many of my life decisions, my career, or my friendships.  I believe that it has been instrumental in the building of personal confidence, leadership skills, and my ability/desire to facilitate change. 

For the first time in my life, my control enthusiasm is causing conflict.  I am pushing against a wall that is standing tall in front of me, a wall that I did not build.  My struggle lies in the realization that can not I simply tear it down by myself – even though I can see clearly that it needs to come down.  The control enthusiast in me is doing everything I can do to evoke a change, because that is what I do when confronted with a problem.  But my heart has come to realize that no matter what I do, what I say, how hard I push, the other side will only be seen many months down the road only if all parties buy into the fact that we can tear this wall down together.

So now, I am finding the horrible part of being a control enthusiast, which is probably the part that many control enthusiasts struggle with.  I am struggling to practice patience.

“Patience is waiting.  Not passively waiting.  That is laziness. But to keep going when the going is hard and slow- that is patience.”  - Anon

“Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes do against cold.  You put on more clothes as the cold increases, as that protects you.  As will growing in patience protect you as you meet great turmoil.”  -Leonardo da Vinci

For the past few months, I’ve subconsciously dissected the concept of patience.  I think that there have been many times in my life that I felt like I had practiced patience.  But as spoken in the quotes above, with greater trials comes a greater need.  I am finding that I am fighting my own battle in pushing myself to find this greater patience that I now need.

Patience, for me, has always been situational.  It was listening and not speaking too quickly.  It was searching for the right words and not saying the wrong things.  It was looking at two, sometimes even three different side of things and being the devil’s advocate.  It was practicing compassion and empathy in short term situations when I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that giving of myself.  I am looking at that type of patience and am seeing that it was fleeting, comparatively.

“The keys to patience are acceptance & faith. Accept things as they are, and then look realistically at the world around you.  Have faith in yourself and the direction you’ve chosen.” – Ralph Marston

Acceptance, understanding the world around you, faith.  Although contrary to a typical control enthusiast’s ideology, I read this quote and think that these are things that I have always held inside of me.  I thank my parents for that.  I was raised to have a realistic view of what I could change and what I couldn’t.  I was also raised to believe that there wasn’t much I couldn’t change if I wanted the change bad enough and worked for it.  In the depths of this philosophy is that I was raised knowing that I am responsible, if only, for my actions and reactions, my thoughts & words. 

I’ve always controlled what I could.  Right now, what I am doing doesn’t seem like enough…because I want to see the changes and results now, and it seems like something I should be able to change. 

At the latest, I would like to see changes next week. 

I have to accept that isn’t going to happen.  Patience, Katy.  Patience.

If I am truly practicing acceptance, I have to accept that I may never see the all results that I envisioned there being when I started down this path.   That’s disheartening to think about.  When I let those thoughts settle in, it’s a tough pill to swallow.  It’s then that I doubt my decision of confronting the issues at hand head on. Which is scary for me because I have never felt regret in confronting a challenge head on before. 

“Patience is also a form of action.” – Auguste Rodin

But maybe part of controlling this is coming the realization that seeking out and praying for patience is enough.  The only part of controlling my own actions and reactions, thoughts and words that I will be able to see an immediate change.

I read these quotes and know that I do have faith, acceptance, and understanding.  If these are keys to patience, I’ve already fought most of the battle without even realizing it.  And yes, there are days that I may have some doubts as to taking this route to conquer. At the same time, those thoughts are often brief, overpowered by my belief in myself based on knowing everything that I have conquered in the past.  If I have faith in myself, I can share confidence.  I can do what I need to in order to make sure everyone involved understands this:

“If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to do is keep walking.” – Buddhist Proverb

The Many Colors of Katy

I need help making a decision.  I am in a wedding in September for one of my best friends from high school.  When Kaylene asked me to be in her wedding, I happily agreed and told her it would be an honor to stand beside her and say that I support this marriage.  The next time I talked to her, I had to ask her a question that I hoped she would be honest with me. 

"What color do you want my hair to be at your wedding?"

This may sound funny to most people.  But if any of you facebook stalk me, you will see listed as #3 under my personal interests is "Changing the color of my hair".  I am possibly one of the few woman out there who is proud to admit that my color is ANYTHING but natural, and hasn't been since I was a sophmore in high school.

Kaylene laughed.  She told me that she didn't care, that I always choose something that looks good on  me.  How very un-bridezilla of her.  I appreciate her flexability, but it doesn't help me answer the question. 

So I'm asking for your help.  Honest opinions only.  I'm even providing a nice retrospective of the many colors that I've worn thru the years so that you can see what we're working with here.


This is high school Katy... long blond hair, usually worn curly, with those parted bangs.  (Damn those 90's bangs...)  I think this particular picture was taken sophomore year, right about the time that I started coloring my hair.  I never did anything drastic.  I did just enough during the fall and winter months to make my mousey brown roots match the sun bleached blonde highlights that I got from playing softball.

Now for college.  I was pretty consistent with the varying shades of blonde, only varying the lengths.  I kept it long my freshman year and chopped it (a good 10 inches I think) right before I met Kendall.  And that's when people started telling me that I looked like Baby off of Dirty Dancing.  Which I've been told isn't so bad because no one puts Baby in a corner. I promptly started growing my hair out again.

I believe this was Fall 2002.  This was when I met Kendall. He may have had something to do with the beverage in my hand.

House Party Spring 2003 I believe.

Homecoming, Fall 2004. (And yes, I may have posted this picture because I recognize that this was the skinniest that I ever was and I selfishly want this picture to be on public record;)

Summer 2005 in Thailand.  I loved how the humidity of the climate made my curls form.  What I didn't love was how much my hair stood out.  This was one of the few nights out that I actually wore my hair down when out on the town. I found that when left like this, I would have Thai children (or teenagers...or adults...) come up behind me and quickly pull strands from my head, only to run away as I turned around to confront them.  I was told that the long, blonde, curly hair was seen as a good luck charm.  I still don't see how its considered lucky if you are inflicting pain upon the person who has the hair that you want...

I begain changing my hair more and more frequently after I graduated in December of 2005.  I think that this may have been in part because I was trying to re-establish my own identity in my world that continued to see changes in such short periods of time.

Fall 2006.  Started to get a little bit darker, added a little bit of red.

Fall 2007 - darkest I had ever gone (at that point) and short again.

I should make a side point here, as I look at these past photos and the ones that I have left to upload.  Don't ask me how I make these faces.  Sadly, this is natural (?) when I know there is a camera on me - especially if I have been drinking.  The above photo was taken at my cousin's wedding.  You can guess the state of mind I was in.

Right before our wedding I grew my hair out and went blonde again (Summer 2008).  It was Kendall's request.  Actually, now that I look back I think this may have been the blondest that I ever went. 

By the next Spring (2009) I was back to brunette.  The decision was made in part because I was cutting way back on my personal expenses budget since Kendall was in grad school and also because the vast majority of girls in Colorado wear their hair dark.  Looking at this photo, I should point out that this is the closest I have ever been to my natural hair color.  There are still some highlights in there, so I can't say that it is 100% natural.  When I think back to this time, I remember that I loved not coloring my hair, but hated how flat the color looked.  Definately not a "multi-faceted color" (or whatever Beyonce says in that Lorelle commercial).  I also chopped my hair, another 10 inches, at the inaugural Hairraiser event which donates locks of hair to create wigs for Northern Colorado women with cancer who can't afford to purchase a wig on their own.  Best free haircut I ever got and I am happy to say that I am still involved with the day of planning for this event (will be in it's 4th year this year).

This is Fall 2009.  Dark with undertones of red.  I think this was my favorite.  Kendall will admit that out of all the hair colors I've had, outside of blonde, this is his second favorite.  But he makes sure that he emphasizes that its his second favorite Outside of Blonde.

Oh- and you can make fun of the 50's style flip but there's not much I can do about it.  I try to flat iron my hair completely straight and it still makes an appearance. 

I kept it this color for a long time.  Up until Summer of 2010 (a whole 9 - 10 months!), and that's when I started going a little bit crazy with color.  I don't have great pictures of some of the better ones, but lets just say that for a while there - I loved 'chunks' of color.  There's probably a reason why I didn't keep many pictures... and these are not looks that I will consider for Kaylene's wedding.

I went back to a more normal streak of colors in 2011, although have been going for dramatic changes by going from one end of the spectrum to the other at each hair appointment (about every 2 months).

Spring 2011. Again, at a friend's wedding.  I say that to explain the face.  I blame the wine, not the person.

I should also point out that this past summer was the first since we moved to Colorado in 2008 that I was able to wear my hair somewhat curly again because we had a touch of humidity.  Apparently I need at least 25% for the curls to form.  (Not at all like the 80 - 100% humidity felt in Iowa summers).

Fall 2011 Tailgating at the CSU/Boise State football game.  Back to blonde.  Pair that with tailgating and Kendall's as happy as a clam.

I don't have a great picture of the color that I rocked this fall/early winter.  I went from the above blonde back to a brownish red.  It wasn't quite the same as the above color that I listed as my favorite.  Which is why I think I was ready to try something different again at my appointment two weeks ago.

Finally, here's the color that I have decided to try out for the first couple of months of 2012.  We decided that its the same color as Left Hand Brewery's Milk Stout (the beer I am holding below, and a personal favorite).  It might be the reason why I love the hair color so much.

While the change is a bit shocking (it is the darkest I have ever gone) I  think that this color works on me because its pretty close to my dad's natural color.  You know, if he wasn't bald.

So let me know what you think.  Or maybe, after seeing all these pictures, Kaylene will come back to me with an actual opinion.  Personally, I think that the darker tones fit my personality more now but I also know that Kaylene's family grew up with me being blonde.  Obviously, I'm up for anything and I have 8 months to work my way to any color.

PS- Somewhat related to my love of coloring my hair is my love for wearing wigs or dressing my hair up for theme parties.   When these photos get posted, someone always asks me if this is a new look for me.  Lucky for Kaylene, I know well enough to stay away from the below colors for the day of the wedding.

Although I did kind of rock the pink....

 Tour de Fat 2010.

Dazed and Confused theme party, Spring 2010.  And yes, that is actually my real hair sprayed red and teased into a fro.  As the movie states  "Red's a good color for you, man."

Tour de Fat 2011.

Latest Recruit that I've got to move to Colorado is...

I am sooooo excited to announce that we have a new recruit moving from Iowa to Colorado.  Here's your hint to who it is....

Who else raises their fists to their nose when he is just as equally as excited as we are in this picture?




That's right- my baby brother (who is not really a baby any more , nor does he does he still show his excitement this way but I have a hard time forgetting either of those things;)

Jeff has accepted a position at Wilber-Ellis as a feed marketer.  Only in Colorado does this translate to him marketing brewers malt from breweries to farmers.  He will be based in Golden, CO and his main account will be Coors.  He just became one of the coolest guys I know.  Ok, he already was, but this just solidified the fact.

My list of recruits is growing!  I am starting to wonder when Colorado is going to start to give me a kickback for the tax revenue that I am bringing into this state...

Words can not describe how excited I am to have Jeff live so much closer to me.  But I will try.

There may have been a time that Jeff and I didn't get a long.  Yes- there were times where we fought, were purposely annoying, and even tormented each other.  There was the time that about five members of my high school wrestling team came over to my house and gave him flushy after flushy, just because it amused me.  And there was the time that I came downstairs for a date and Jeff had a choice selection of horrible pictures of me that he was displaying, to which he followed with "Do you REALLY want to date her?"  Or the time that I put pictures of him holding kittens in the high school year book.  I think that one was my favorite.

But ever since I was a senior in high school and he was a freshman, we have been pretty close.  We would go out on "dates" to movies every couple months, just him and I, and talk about things.  We kept that going even when I went away from college.  When he joined me at Iowa State, we did the best we could to line up schedules and see each other.  Even if it was only tailgating when neither of us would really remember.  There were times that I did his laundry for him.  There were times where I bought him beer.  I'm sure you can guess which happened more often, although not as much as one would think.

What I appreciate the most about our relationship is that we've always been extremely honest with each other.  With Jeff, it doesn't matter what I have to say because he'll listen and vice versa.  We've helped each other thru some of the more difficult things in our lives - breakups, job changes, moves to different states, etc.  When something big happens in my life, good or bad, my brother is usually one of the first people - if not the first - that I call.  When I need him to be, he is the voice of reason and his opinions help me put things into perspective.  He has an odd gift for knowing when I don't need a voice of reason, that I just need to be heard.  It's then that he provides an ear and will simply say "I don't know the answer but you seem to have a better gage on what's going on then you think." 

He is the one person that I talk to almost every week. 

My brother is one of my best friends.  It's because of this that I have wanted him to move closer for a very long time.  I thought that closer would only be Omaha or Kansas City.  Which both are still a much cheaper flight than Cedar Rapids.

A year ago he came out for our First Annual Sinterklaas Party up in Frisco (there will probably be a post explaining the Sinterklaas tradition later in the year).  He spent Friday on the mountain snowboarding, and had made sure that he had a few too many cocktails while in the hot tub while waiting for the rest of us to arrive after work.  The majority of us were still sober when Jeff drunkenly proclaimed "Give me a year and a half and I'll be out here."

Now, if I was a betting woman - I would have placed my bet that it wasn't going to happen.  Jeff had told me (sober) many times that he would love to be out in Colorado, but there weren't many job prospects for him out in the Western half of the US.  He needed to be either in the Midwest or even on the East coast.  And I would have also said that I knew my brother well enough to think that he would keep himself on the same job path, that out of the two of us- he was the one who didn't take risks, especially with his career.  I think that everyone in the hot tub just thought Jeff was drunk, on vacation, and a little bit jealous of the life that we got to live on a somewhat regular basis. 

If I had taken that bet, I would gladly be paying up right now.  I'm really glad that he's taking this risk.

I don't know if Colorado or my parents are ready to have the two Bell children living in the same state, but I do know that we will have fun together.  Because its my opinion that everything, including a sibling friendship, seems to be better on a mountain.

Leaving Last Fall Behind*

There seems to be an epidemic of unhappiness within our group of Fort Collins friends right now.  All of it is within reason.  To list off our grievances, without naming who each struggle belongs to, the affects of the following has ripped thru our ranks:  long term relationships have ended, grandparents have passed away, job losses followed by struggles finding a new job, multiple surgeries (planned and unplanned), money issues, parent divorces, stresses with juggling school & work schedules, confronting alcoholic parents, dealing with parents or family members who are making poor decisions, and lets not forget the worry of possible college football conference realignments.  (Okay – that last one should be that big of a deal comparatively to the rest of the list, but for many of the guys in our circle of friends, you would have thought it was.  A welcome distraction I’m guessing).

To say it has been a tough fall would be an understatement.  While our household hasn’t seen the worst of it, many of the items in the above list did hit our home in some way.  At the very least, all of these issues hit home because they were affecting my friends.

What baffles me is that of all the above issues, there is never just one person who is dealing with a type of problem.  Meaning that there isn’t just one friend who lost a grandparent, having surgery, lost a job, etc – there are multiple friends dealing with these issues at the same time.  Some issues are dealt with more silently than others, and some couldn’t be hidden even if the person wanted to tuck it away. 

Many have come to me to talk it thru, to get the negative out of their body. It warms my heart that I am a person that many feel that they can confide in and I am grateful that I am identified as being a person who may be able to help.  I hope that they have come to me because I am usually overwhelmingly optimistic and good at finding solutions, whether they are simple or more complicated problems.  This is what I’ve been told by a few friends anyway, so I hope it rings true with most.  It’s one of the better compliments I’ve ever received. 

But this fall, so many of these problems are beyond my ability to see a clear solution or that silver lining.  I am at a loss as to the help that I can provide, especially when dealing with our own issues.  To take on all this hurt & confusion without being able to provide relief is exhausting & overwhelming.  It’s somewhat exhausting & overwhelming to just write about it now.  However, I would rather be in the loop and help others deal with their emotions than have them keep it to themselves to feel this way alone.  In return, I deal with it by writing it out and trying to find a new voice or reason thru my own words, having a safe spot to be able to speak out my own opinions or anger without being judged or appearing to be casting judgement.

Those that know me well know that writing has always been how I have dealt with such extreme emotions.  I have over 18 journals that I have penned, beginning when I was in third grade.  Many of those were filled between middle school, high school, and college.  The journal I currently write in has been around since 2005.  Only now has it started to fill to the point where I may need to find a new book.  So much of this fall has found its way onto those pages, but I haven't felt the typical comfort.  I still am without solutions.  Now I am trying to rid myself of it thru this blog.  Putting it out there.  Getting the negative out of me.

I’ve also done a lot of praying on my drive to and from work.  It’s an easy hour with no interruptions that I try to focus on giving thanks for the blessings I’ve been given, as well as the blessings that my friends have been given.  I have always found that by being grateful, even when it’s hardest to concentrate on the good things in life, I am provided with a better perspective and vision of where my life should be going.  I also believe that if you open your heart with honest thoughts, God will give you direction. Most often in unexpected ways.

I recently met with a woman that I used to work with in Fort Collins.  I affectionately call her my Colorado Momma because, as a woman in her fifties, she has provided me much comfort and advice during the tenure of our friendship.  We hadn’t seen each other for months and all it took was for her to ask “So how have you been?” for me to unload on her.  All of the weight I’d been carrying around for months – the frustrated, exhausted, overwhelmed thoughts came tumbling out.

She reached over & held my hand.  She told me that her favorite piece of advice she ever received came from her grandfather on her wedding day.  That he meant it for marriage, but that it could be applied to so much of what I was describing.

“Just remember that the sun doesn’t shine every day. Don’t let one cloudy day get in the way of thinking tomorrow can’t have sunshine.”

It’s true, the sun doesn’t shine everyday.  But having friends who you can rely on to help hold you up, to help you sort thru the messes of life- that’s the ray that breaks thru the clouds and gives you hope that tomorrow will be brighter.

Following Sherrill’s example, I have stopped trying to help if I can’t see a clear solution.  Instead, I’m doing my best to listen.  Listen and reach over to hold a hand.  Give out comforting hugs.  Reiterate to each of my friends that they are a person who has merit and I value that.  My friends that I confide in have started doing the same, and I feel better.  We are doing what we can to rebuild confidence – especially in those whose confidence has been deeply shaken.  Because with confidence comes the ability to make decisions that are the best choices.  Whether I agree with those decisions or not is not my roll as a friend, and some of those decisions I haven’t agreed with.  I'm sure that they feel the same way about my actions and reactions.  However, my solutions-based-overly-optimistic personal philosophy tells me that if a decision is the best step forward, and it is a step forward, then we’re working in the right direction. Towards the sunshine.

Keys to Happiness*

I drum my fingers.  A lot.  It's become more noticeable the past year with the addition of acrylic nails.  My co-worker has told me that its my "thing".  I hope that means that its something that she identifies as unique to me and that its not the thing that I do that annoys her.

I wasn't aware of this habit until she pointed it out to me.  Once brought to my attention, I attempted to pay attention to what I was doing out of fear that this is indeed the thing that could annoy her.  It took me about 2 days to identify that the tapping happens when I am in deep, deep thought and lost to the world.  The type where I'm standing there, staring in space and you could wave your hand a few feet away and I wouldn't see you.  What I would be doing is rolling my fingers back and forth.

I've pondered this habit and why it happens when I am in such a trance.  The only conclusion that I can come up with is that it is probably a result of the piano.

I took lessons for six years from my mother's best friend.  Every Saturday morning for a half hour.  I would practice during the week for at least a half hour almost every night.  I didn't always want to practice.  On those nights my mom would give the choice of practicing or helping with the dishes.  I hated washing dishes.

I was (and still am) only okay at playing the piano, not great by any means.  However I found that once I stopped taking lessons and started choosing the music I wanted to play, the music that I identified with, I started to enjoy playing.  My piano bench became a place of solitude and serenity, where I wouldn't be interrupted and my thoughts could play out.  My frustrations, fears & joys had a physical feeling when pressed against those ivory and black keys.  Even if I didn't want to share what I was thinking, there was still a sound and that helped make my teenage thoughts make sense.

When in college, I moved into a sorority house that had a baby grand.  To my amazement, none of the girls in the house ever touched it.  It took me 3 months before I worked up the courage to ask our house mom, Mom Laverna, if we were allowed to play on the piano.  She grabbed my arm and asked very excitedly "You play?!" and then practically drug me over to the bench where she opened the seat to revealed books of music left behind by others.  "You should play." she instructed, leaving me to sort thru the pieces collected by the house over the years.

I loved sitting at that piano.  There were many times that I needed that piano then, much like I needed it in high school.  And I loved that after I started playing, other girls started to come and play.  By the time I graduated, there was never a question of if a person was allowed to play the piano.  I hope that others felt like I did, having a piano available helped make that house seem like home.

I haven't had a piano in my home for over 5 years now.  I rarely play when I go to my parent's house, in part because we're often so busy that there isn't much time and in part because I'm mostly at peace with no real reason to isolate myself.  My mom has told me numerous times that whenever I would like my piano, I can have it. Unfortunately, we just don't have room right now.  And to me, a keyboard is not the same thing.

I always identify with songs that feature the piano, especially those that I myself learned to play.  This morning,  my drive provided me with a sucker punch of favorites - November Rain, A Long December, and Turn Me On.  All three were an obsession for me while sitting at the piano bench, and hearing them back to back even in the order that I heard them felt all too familiar.

November Rain was the first difficult song that I felt I conquered.  It was my go to song when I wanted to find a resolution because I could pound my hands against something, hard fast and furious.  But no matter how hard you pushed and pounded, there was still something beautiful about it- that was something you couldn't change.  Having something that you can't destroy, no matter how hard you try, is a rarity in life.  I realize that more than ever today.

A Long December was a song that I loved at a time when I wasn't so self confident and sure of who I was.  It was simple and I could quietly sing along, feeling better that someone had put into words that sometimes its all  a lot of oysters with no pearls - hoping that someday someone would look across a crowded room, that a light could attach itself to a girl.

The Norah Jones songbook was a parting gift, given to me by Kendall weeks before he graduated college.  We had not been together long and he was moving to Chicago for a job.  He  knew I would be sad that he was leaving my life, that we couldn't be sure we would be together or could make a long distance relationship work.  He knew from our short time together that most likely, I would seek solace within the keys of the baby grand. It was possibly one of the most in tune gifts that he has ever given me (pun unintended there).  Turn Me On was the obvious song to learn first and I didn't find myself playing much else.  I still find that I ache inside when I hear it, even tho my prayers sent from the keyboard did come thru.

It was strange to hear the three songs together - especially since I flipped stations between.  To be honest, I don't know if I've ever even played the three together since all were part of my life at different times.  To hear them in such a sequence was unexpected, a little unnerving, but not necessarily undesired.  I found that I didn't want to keep my hands on the steering wheel.  I wanted keys in front of me, I wanted to play back the memories.  Which is especially strange to me because I am not the girl who needed those songs to help cope, or those keys as a crutch and explanation.  I am the woman that grew from that girl, and those memories - good, bad, happy, sad - are all things that I relish, even if the sound that comes with them is lingering.