I give myself permission to…
…steal a blog post idea from one of my favorite people on the planet
…be pissed off and sad about the hand life is currently dealing to me and those I hold dearest, but also to…
…find small joys in every day, because they do exist
…fill the bathtub, let the cold-ish water drain, and then fill it up again so I can keep reading
…tear up easily at good things and bad things, because that’s just who I am
…keep some things a secret
…sleep in late and grab a nap whenever I get a chance
…dream BIG and hope BIG, even when things seem less-than-possible
…revel in my Don Draper obsession
…download an obscene amount of music
…sing at a ridiculously loud volume while car dancing
…pull away from friendships that don’t serve me
…try new things, even if I look and feel a little bit silly
…love the way I look in a skirt, even though I’m not “skinny”
…speak my truth with love
What are you going to give yourself permission to do?
I was the recipient of an absolutely adorable bicycle for my birthday. See?
I love it. It’s so cute & the basket is removable, so that when I go to the Farmer’s Market or ride to my favorite coffee shop, I can put things in it & shop with it & I AM IN LOVE.
Still, I have to be real with you here: I’ve not always been a bicycle person.
Riding a bike is one of those thing kids learn early. I have a friend who has a two-year-old who rides a bike. Without training wheels. Far distances. Most everyone I know was tooling around the neighborhood on two wheels by the start of kindergarten.
Me? Not so much. And by “not so much” I mean that I didn’t learn until I was EIGHT. EIGHT YEARS OLD. Yes, I didn’t learn to ride until I was in third grade. I know. Third grade.
The thing is that I was really, really scared. I was scared of everything that comes with riding a bike. Pedaling. Balancing. TURNING CORNERS. No, really — seriously, I used to ride straight down the street & then get off my bike, turn it around & ride it back down the street. And ohmygod, CURBS. CURBS used to freak me out. One time, when I was just getting the hang of riding a bike, I did that stupid thing where the wheel sort of rubs the curb and BAM, I flipped over & clearly, I am still traumatized.
Don’t even get me started on our driveway. As a child, our driveway might as well have been Everest. I was PETRIFIED of riding down it, sure that I’d go careening to my death, at the bottom of a little concrete hill. My childhood home is on a very standard suburban street, & there is the tiniest of slopes when you turn around the corner. As a kid, this used to absolutely scare the hell out of me. I used to cry & plead & beg to not have to go down the hill.
Let’s pause here for a moment of silence for MY PARENTS who had to deal with my childhood neuroses. We’re not the bravest family ever — there shall be no family skydiving or anything soon — but, they also weren’t afraid of riding a bike. Bless them for dealing with their spaz of a daughter who WAS petrified of absolutely everything.
The thing is that once I learned to ride my bike, I loved it. I loved riding around the neighborhood, rode my bike to school & sincerely enjoyed being outside on it. In fact, this past year or so is the only time in my life that I haven’t actually owned a bike. I’m not big into trails (SCARY!) and whatnot, but I do love a leisurely ride around the neighborhood, or being able to grab coffee without getting in the car.
I’ve spent a lot of my life being afraid of things. If there’s something to be nervous about, you can almost always bet that I’m not only nervous about it, but actually completely terrified. It’s not something I’m proud of, because truthfully, most things end up being like my bike: something I was completely afraid of becomes one of my favorite things to do.
I’m trying to remember that more & more these days. That sure, you can be a little nervous, but after that? You’ve got to go for it.
It’s usually pretty rewarding.
What were you afraid of as a kid? What things do you do now that used to scare you?
So, my birthday will go down as one of the best days ever, SERIOUSLY, because it was absolutely awesome. Between waking up to tweets & emails & Facebook posts & getting this adorable video & cards & texts & calls & all sorts of other goodies. My students surprised me with cakes & cards & sweetness.
Andrew went above & beyond: I was told to meet him in downtown Sacramento, & after a short walk, we arrived at a bicycle shop, & now I am the proud owner of a new turquoise beach cruiser bike! After seeing “Date Night” (which was hilarious!) we had a lovely dinner at Il Fornaio, where we were seated at what they called “The Table Of Honor” which meant appetizers, a pasta appetizer, an entree & dessert. I also had a sidecar, which got me tipsy, & yes, you had to basically roll me out of there when dinner was done.
It was an INCREDIBLE day. So full of love. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
For me, birthdays are half fun & half serious. I spend a lot of time thinking about what I want to accomplish in the next year, about what I hope to be like when I turn the next age, about taking stock of where I’m at & where I hope to be. I know I spend much of this blog ranting on about goals & hopes & dreams & how inspired I am & all sorts of other drivel that I’m sure is quite painful to read over & over again, but yeah, that’s what I’m thinking about. Again. I AM SORRY.
The picture above says it all…to find you, to be you, & to be happy with that. I like to think I’ve found me, well, most of me. Now, to work on being me, & most importantly, being happy with me. It’s a constant battle, isn’t it? This being happy with ourselves. I’m slowly but surely learning that the more I work towards what it is that I really, really want, the more I feel like me.
Every year, I try & focus on a few things to keep me on track for the next year, things I hope to say I’ve done by my next birthday.
This year, I’m hoping & dreaming & scheming about:
- Writing. Doing it, daily. Looking for chances to write for money, but mostly, just writing for myself, because I love it.
- Health. Not weight loss only, but on eating well, on making exercise part of my life, more yoga, lots of bike rides & veggies & things that are good for me.
- Joy. Lately, I’ve been reminded that there is so much good in my life, so much love. I want to focus on more of THAT. More good stuff, less stressing about things I can’t control & more enjoyment of the small, good things that fill my days.
Three seemingly small things, but things that I know will make my life so much better.
What are YOU focused on right now? Do you set goals on your birthday?
Again, seriously, THANK YOU. Thank you so, so, so much. This place makes my life immeasurably better, every single day.
Hello, friends!
Well, I am home from Coachella & back in the swing of work already. It was definitely painful to wake up this morning & have to get dressed like a grown-up & drive to work, instead of hanging out in the sun & making choices about which bands I want to see. I’ll have a post with photos & my full Coachella experience tomorrow, promise. Still editing a few photos & trying to sum up a weekend that was truly amazing.
In the mean time, I had a few minutes to do my drawing for my Dove giveaway, so I thought I’d post them now. Drum roll, please! The winners are…
Kathleen, Alyssa, Her, Kelly, & Kelli!
If you’re a winner, please shoot me an email so I can put you in touch with Dove so you can get your deodorant! Thanks to all who entered, and thanks to Dove for providing an AMAZING giveaway!
So, since my brain is still on vacation, please tell me: what is the best thing that happened to YOU this weekend? Tell me something good…it’ll make my Monday more bearable.
I turn 27 in a week (oh my goodness, that looks, sounds and feels OLD when I type it!) & my generous, amazing family & friends have asked what I wanted. I’m being practical & good right now since the future is so uncertain & asking for money to keep in my piggy bank, but if I had unlimited dollars, this would be my wishlist:
A Clarisonic, the world’s most amazing facial cleanser brush…
A cupcake decorating kit, & of course…
Some baking inspiration for some uh, healthier cupcakes. As healthy as cupcakes can be, right?
A trip to Paris, where I could ride on this carousel & gaze at the Eiffel Tower, sip coffee at a cafe & eat more baguettes & croissants than I could ever dream…
A shiny, new pink ride…
A record player, with plenty of albums, ready for a spin…
Unlimited yoga classes at my favorite yoga studio, so I could be a little tree all the time…
Tell me, what’s on YOUR wishlist?
About a month ago, Dove approached me about hosting a party to help me & some friends Get Sleeveless For Spring by having a little fitness party with free stuff & a free class. So, on Saturday, me, & my sister-to-be Lauren, & my friends Holly, Leslie, Steph, Becca, Sarah, Katy, Gina & Sandra headed down to a local yoga studio to take a class. It was a gloomy Saturday, perfect for a great workout. Originally, we thought we’d be doing yoga, but when we arrived, our instructor informed us that we’d be doing a sort of yoga-Pilates hybrid class.
The yoga part was awesome, and full of stretching and relaxing:
But then, our instructor introduced the Circle Of Pain:
These little rings look pretty innocent. That is until you’re SQUEEZING THEM BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS while lifting & bending & stretching all over the place. Then, these stupid little rings will render you unable to walk because the pain in your thighs is so extreme the next day. TRUST ME ON THIS ONE.
Piloga was a great workout — it made me want to bust out my Pilates DVDs and get crackin’ again!
Besides a free class, Dove gave us some pretty adorable workout shirts & free deodorant. I love free stuff, am always looking for a good workout shirt (especially a super-cute one from Lucy!) & am totally paranoid about smelling good, so anything that helps me do it, is a win in my book. Here’s my free swag:
The good news is that now you have a chance to win some deodorant, too! Dove’s Visibly Smooth Clinical Strength Deodorant is pretty awesome. I am a fan of the Wild Rose scent, the fact that it helps me shave less & the fact that it keeps me from sweating. No, really. That’s a pretty huge miracle.
Wanna win? Then do the following:
- Leave me a comment on this post, telling me about the last time you did yoga or Pilates or yogilates or whatever the heck you want to call it.
- Tweet about the giveaway & leave a comment linking to your tweet.
I’ll be out of town this weekend (more on that later!) so winners will be announced on April 20th. Good luck!
* Disclosure: Dove paid for the workout event and provided workout tops and deodorant for all guests in attendance. I also received a Flip Video Camera for being the party host. I was not paid for this review or giveaway; all opinions and commentary are my own.
When I was a little girl, I used to make lists in my journal about the sort of Amy I was going to be. Sometimes, the list included things like “neat, clean, perfect, polite, straight A’s” & other times, it included things like “fun, silly, outgoing, A’s and B’s, party girl.” The lists were always starkly divided into what I perceived as two types of girl: the good girl & the fun girl.
Maybe it seems silly, but for some reason, I guess you could say I’ve always believed that you had to be one or the other. In high school & college, I was the classic “good girl” who never really rebelled. I never had a detention, got excellent grades, didn’t touch alcohol ’til I was 21 & generally stayed out of trouble. Later, I turned into a sort of rebellious, free-spirited hippie chick who would stay out all night, cleanse her apartment’s negative energy with sage sticks, worked as a massage therapist & made a lot of (rather ugly) art. Now, I reside somewhere else completely, I guess: I’m a teacher, a wine drinker, a wannabe crafter & am generally all too practical. I’ve never been good at blending my different “selves” and while I’m not Sybill or anything, I have always felt like parts of me are compartmentalized.
The truth is, I’m a bit of a walking contradiction. I’m an extroverted introvert, an NPR-listener with a penchant for US Weekly, the sort of girl who will binge on reality TV before delving into a classic novel. My likes & dislikes, while specific, don’t always seem to match up.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m always giving up some part of me, not because anyone is all, “No, you can’t listen to that hip hop! You just turned off The Weepies!” but because I like things better when they fit into my own little prescribed boxes. I always want to fit onto a list, into a box.
Except, I don’t. I mean, I don’t at all. Nor do I really want to. And I’m learning everyday to be more okay with that.
Part of “being okay with that” means being okay with all the things I’m not into. I’ve learned to look at things I wish I was really into — things like painting, running, football, beer, drawing — & simply say, “Wow, I wish I was good at that! Looks like fun!” I try to admire people who are good at those things, without feeling the need to try & fit in to that little “box.”
Instead, I’m trying to just be excited about what I’m excited about. Currently, those things include writing daily, watching baseball, spin class, finding a place to do yoga, dreaming about visiting Paris, exploring new opportunities, listening to hip hop/indie/alternative playlists while I drive with my sunroof down, white wine, figuring out how to take a French class on the cheap, dresses, skirts & as always, the color pink. I’m learning to really love the fact that I cry easily & laugh easily & am witty & smart & sensitive, all rolled into one.
The amazing Danielle LaPorte wrote, “Authenticity is not an either/or equation. Your soul is an all-inclusive package … frills, foibles, and contradictions. It’s your opposing parts that leverage your magnificence into full force…Don’t resign yourself to your idiosyncrasies. ‘Accepting’ yourself is a passively lame option for full-tilt self love. Exalt your contradictions, celebrate them, go so far as to use them to your divine advantage.”
With every day, I’m trying to get closer to that full-tilt self love. Some days, it’s easy…some days, it’s not. But I’m getting there.
So, last week, I wrote all about how much I hate denim & how I plan on only wearing skirts & DOWN WITH JEANS.
I meant it.
No, really. A few of you were very concerned about me & my dress wearing ways, including one of you sweet things who took the time to send me a Hateful Email about how dresses will “make me look stpid, because short girls shuldn’t wear dresses & I’m wasteful” & probably kill puppies! WHEE! I think my favorite comment came from Lauren From Texas who said dresses were great, as long as they didn’t have that Mormon Polygamist look. Girl, I am WITH YOU.
Over the weekend, I purchased a few very cheap dresses & have been feeling quite pretty & pleased with myself. Except for the fact that California was WARM & GORGEOUS as it is supposed to be, but the weekend was blustery & awful, & I am still cold now.
The other big issue (okay, fine, a totally first world problem!) is my paleness.
Guys, I am white. Like, blinding, scary pasty white. You can see my veins. It’s the antithesis of attractive. Also, I have a very complex relationship with Tan.
If I sit in the sun, I burn immediately. The scary blister burn. The I-want-to-rip-my-skin-off pain that only the whitest among us truly understand. And then there’s the itching & the aloe vera & the general disgustingness that is BURNING YOUR SKIN OFF.
When I was younger, I used to hit up the tanning bed. It was laughable, because I’d literally start with two minutes & then build up to four & so on. AND I WOULD STILL BURN. And, I would itch and be generally miserable, because seriously, I am NOT CUT OUT FOR THE TAN. Nor do I have time to waste at the tanning bed every day of my life.
In college, I decided “Hey! Sunless tanner is the way to go!” I applied it myself, and wound up looking like this:
The first time I applied it, I looked like a striped orange zebra. My mom & I nearly died as I showed her my legs & arms which were streaked. A few years later, I did the foaming mist, & placed several frantic calls to Leslie, a former tanning expert, begging her to tell me how to GET IT OFF MY SKIN, as I watched my knees and elbows turn an orange not found in nature. I then wore long sleeves for a week. IN JULY.
This year, I am trying the sort of “slow tan” Glow Moisturizer. So far, so…okay. I mean, I’m getting glowy, & there’s only one patch on my ankle that is a little orange (which, if we’re offline, real-life, hangout friends, I EXPECT YOU TO IGNORE SAID ANKLE).
This is progress.
Still, I know that sadly, the minute I step into the sunshine for longer than 10 seconds, it’ll be game over, but for now, let this girl have her faux-sunkissed dreams.
Or at least don’t mock me.
Are you a tan person? Are you pale like me & have suggestions for how to avoid blinding people with my Pale? HELP.
Typically, I wear jeans 2-3 times a week. They are my go-to item if I’m going anywhere on the weekends that requires me to change out of my sweats, & once a week to work on Fridays, because despite jeans being totally acceptable in my school’s (non-existent) teacher dress code, I try & look all professional-like Monday-Thursday, because being the youngest on campus means that I try to at least appear remotely adult in my wardrobe and it sets a tone that education is serious & all the other stuff they tell you in credentialing programs. But, now that my job situation has changed a bit and it’s the last quarter, I’m uh, “rebelling” by wearing jeans a little bit more frequently. Side note: WHAT A REBEL. Wearing something that is completely acceptable but just makes me feel rebellious! I am such a badass sometimes, I can hardly stand it.
Anyways, wearing jeans has reminded me of just how much I hate them. Yeah, I know, American wardrobe staple, you can dress them up or down, they make your butt look great, BLAH BLAH BLAH.
I beg to differ.
First, you should know that I’m 5″1. Miniature in height, not so much in body. This means that finding pants is nearly impossible. Don’t come at me with the “You can cut them off!” or “At least you’re not too tall…all pants are floods on me!” Being short means that if I do hem pants, I cut off any sort of boot cut situation, meaning that they end up looking like skinny jeans with a little “kick” at the ankle. NOT CUTE. On the rare occasion that I do find a pair in short or petite that fit, they’re either still too long or too short with heels.
Next, there’s the zipper. I have a pair of jeans that I love & adore. They’re comfy, worn in and generally awesome…save for the fact that the zipper absolutely refuses to stay up. My zipper was down once & I fixed it (after running errands for a frillion hours, SORRY, GREATER-SACRAMENTO AREA!) & then a few hours later, it was down again, I was all, “The hell? I haven’t even peed!” Same thing the next morning when I was out to breakfast with a friend, & she casually tried to give me the sign, & then it hit me, OKAY, JEANS, I GUESS THIS IS YOUR THING.
Needless to say, those are being thrown away.
I think the jeans in my wardrobe are ganging up on me, because my other favorite pair is doing that thing where they wear out in the near-crotch…right on my upper thigh. I mean, that’s easier to conceal that the zipper down, but I just don’t think I could handle having my entire huge white thigh exposed in any sort of situation.
So, with these unfortunate Denim Experiences, I have decided to declare a War On Denim.
I honestly prefer skirts and dresses anyways. I always have. Zooey Deschanel & my ever-growing love for her is not helping this situation. But sometimes, I wear them, & people are all, “Why so fancy?” & I’m all, “Why so casual?” but then I feel weird inside & I obviously don’t want everyone thinking I am some sort of dress-wearing weirdo. Also, I have a love-hate thing with tights, meaning that some colder mornings, the idea of putting on tights feels like more effort than it’s worth & I just want to wear PANTS.
Still, with warmer weather ahead & my general Anger At Denim, I’m thinking that now will be the time to test drive a skirts-and-dresses-only policy.
Oh, & leggings, of course. One I find some more shirts that cover my behind properly, of course because NO, I WILL NOT BE LEGGINGS-AS-PANTS GIRL. Uh, this will go into effect once I’ve shaved my legs and found some sort of solution to the BLINDING WHITE that is my skin, but does not involve a tanning bed OR looking like an Oompa Loompa.
Le sigh.
FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS, I KNOW. My life is hard.
What’s your relationship to denim? Are you a jeans lover or more of a dresses person? Guy readership (all two of you!), do you like girls in skirts/dresses or jeans?
{via}
I’m not always good at saying things out loud, but ink is some sort of liquid courage for me & so I send notes instead of speaking words. I’m not as nice to myself as I wish I was. I’m not as nice to others as I wish I was sometimes, either, & I’m not proud of that. I’m not into confrontation & I’m not good at taking criticism. I’m not a rebel without a cause, but I’m not always going to follow the letter of the law.
I’m not at all concerned with labels, & the idea of owning a Coach purse or a Dior anything doesn’t do a thing for me. I’m not into skinny jeans or jeans at all, really — I much prefer a dress or skirt, & I’m trying to make my wardrobe reflect that. I’m not embarrassed that I prefer a good consignment store or Target to the mall. I’m not into fancy cars or having a ton of money, but I’m not into worrying about where my next meal will come from either & calling myself bohemian.
I’m not as open as I seem, when it comes to what really matters & I’m not sorry about it, because if you wait, you’ll get there and I’m not kidding when I say I think it’s worth it, to really know me. I’m not opposed to keeping your secrets & listening to your stories. I’m not ever going to stop missing some people. I’m not able to stop over-thinking some things, but I’m okay with that, too.
I’m not sure why I haven’t traveled the world yet, when the mere sight of the Eiffel Tower gives me goosebumps; but I’m not sure why I still prefer coming home to my own bed over just about anything else. I’m not sure why I have such a hard time setting off on adventures, because I always have a fabulous time. I’m not sure when travel will happen for me, but I’m positive that it will.
I’m not athletic & I’m okay with the fact that I’ll never hear cheers while out on some court or field. I’m not good at buying presents, but you’ll know I love you if I bake you something just because. I’m not ashamed of the fact that I’ll listen to the same song on repeat for hours because if I do that, it means that the song is doing something to me & I want to savor it. I’m not above a good Facebook stalking, or a good reality TV marathon. I’m not above reading five books at once. I’m not ever going to stop loving food, or stop loving cooking it. I’m not the kind of girl who drinks her coffee without cream and sugar.
I’m not as strong or together as I pretend to be sometimes, but I’m not as devastated by things as I used to be. I’m not as uncomfortable about who I am, & I rarely feel like I want to climb out of my own skin anymore. I’m not ashamed that the littlest things can bring tears to my eyes, & I’m not embarrassed by my loud laugh. I’m not always politically correct in my humor, but I’m not mean at heart. I’m not good at dealing with people who can’t laugh at themselves.
I’m not good at drawing or directions or math. I’m not into people who cancel plans with me if something better comes along or who need the conversation squarely centered around them. I’m not into being told what to do, or given unsolicited advice. I’m not good at handling disappointment well. I’m not above drinking wine at home, but I’m not party friend who will hold your hair while you get sick in a gutter. I’m not doing as much yoga as I’d like.
I’m not the smartest girl, I’m not the prettiest girl, I’m not the most-anything girl, but I’d like to be the happiest girl.
I’m not sure exactly what that means or looks like for me, but I’m not done yet. I’ll know it when I get there.
- – -
{A big thanks to Kyla Roma and Skrinkering Hearts for the inspiration}
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