Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

One of the hardest things to do in life is learn the lesson of, internalize, and implement acceptance.  Have you actually sat and thought about what the term acceptance means?  If you over think it, which I tend to do, it seems very abstract and undefinable.  We can take the dictionary definition and say that it can be defined as: the action of consenting to receive or undertake something offered (taking); that action or process of being received as adequate or suitable, typically to be admitted into a group (belonging); agreement with or belief in an idea, opinion, or explanation (belief in); and, willingness to tolerate a difficult or unpleasant situation (tolerance).  The definition that first comes to mind is dependent on the circumstances in which we learned the term.  If you were an individual who was self-described as an outcast and looking for that group of people who you just clicked with you probably associate acceptance with belonging.  Some individuals who are strong in their faith believe wholeheartedly that his or her higher power is in control of his or her destiny, a.k.a. acceptance is synonymous with a belief in something.

However, when I usually talk about acceptance, I am usually referring to something negative in which I am forced to overcome and "deal" with.  I see acceptance in these terms because it has been something I have struggled with and continuously work on in order to improve (I know, I know, shocking that I was actually "accepted" into a peer group growing up, right? Ha...).  Typically that "something" that I have to deal with is something that I don't necessarily want to happen or something that I can't control.  I have a hard time accepting intolerance, rudeness, hate, closed-mindedness, criticism, rejection (in both love and life)... the list goes on...  So, what are we supposed to do when this awful "something" happens? Well, I have found that we can do one of two things.  We can try to fight against the inevitable (because it'll happen regardless) or we can accept that this particular occurrence, situation, or happening is beyond our control and keep moving forward.

Don't get me wrong, I am all for fighting until I can't fight any more; especially when it involves something that I am passionate about.  People, myself included, don't want to be seen as letting something go or accepting an alternative when they fight so hard to establish, believe, or love something.  Acceptance seems inevitably out of the question.  However, the lack of acceptance or the ability to accept can lead you to places that you don't necessarily want to be.  We don't live in a vacuum, our lack of acceptance will also affect others.  For example, in a previous relationship, I developed characteristics that I wasn't too fond of because I couldn't accept the fact that the man I was with wasn't particularly accepting of alternative solutions, theories, or outlooks.  I became extremely bullheaded and would never back down from an argument or debate.  I stopped listening to his side of things before an argument or discussion even began because I got the impression, and  I assumed, that he would never sway in his beliefs or outlook; that he would never try to view things from my perspective.  The majority of the time, this was the case.

All that aside, there comes a time and place where we are supposed to learn acceptance.  Where and when we learn is vastly different and is somewhat dependent on the environment in which we grew up.  I was lucky enough to have grown up in a home that took pride in accepting the differences in others, a value that I have internalized to this day.  However, that same home did not necessarily teach me how to accept intolerance, rudeness, hate, closed-mindedness, criticism, rejection, etc because that was something that my parents couldn't teach me.  To learn acceptance in those terms, I had to be exposed to them.  I wasn't exposed to those at home and the people I surrounded myself with growing up were good-natured individuals (Go ahead, friends, give yourselves a pat on the back... You rock!).  When I finally was exposed, sometime around college, I did not know how to cope... or accept... I am happy to say that the things like intolerance, rudeness, hate, and closed-mindedness were easily coped and accepted with; repeated the mantra, "To each his own."  Criticism and rejection were another story.  Hell, if I am going to be completely honest, I still struggle with them today.

Rejection, that's something I don't even know how to begin to cope or accept it except by using positive affirmations.  Who likes getting rejected?  Who really finds rejection easy to cope or accept?  Show me the person who does and I'll be glad to take notes at the seminar he or she is obviously needing to present to the society at large.  Criticism is something I still struggle with, but I have learned to cope and accept it for what it is.  I have changed my perspective, seeing criticism as mostly constructive (there are times and individuals who will criticize for the sake of criticizing because they like to complain, but I am not touching on this side).  Does that mean that I don't get disappointed when I hear constructive criticism? No, but I try my best to listen and improve upon what is needing the improvement for the betterment of the community.

This being said, it still shocks the hell out of me when individuals much older than myself still struggle with accepting constructive criticism.  While working at the prison, there are many clients who don't handle criticism, of any sort, well.  I attribute this to the fact  that they have not yet learned to accept things, let alone criticism.  That's where I come in.  I try to give the clients the tools in order to help them learn to accept things that they cannot change, frequently quoting parts of the Serenity Prayer: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.  Living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time; accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His will; that I may reasonably happy with Him forever in the next.  Granted, while in group therapy it's not as scripture-like, but the message is the same.  It is also helpful because many of the clients also attend various 12 Step Programs like AA and NA which rely on portions of the prayer as well.  So the consistency and repetition is beneficial to their treatment and their future lifestyles of recovery.

Now, when you think about the fact that we counselors have to teach the guys not just about the importance of acceptance in their lives and their recovery, but how to accept things, it is essentially required that we practice acceptance regularly.  Especially while at work--we have to embody that shit.  For some (I am not going to say all... I am not jaded in thinking that I am helping everyone or that everyone in prison is there for treatment), we are the role models they never had.  Some clients will be watching our moves to see what is appropriate behaviors to mimic and embody.  The appropriate way to handle life and the adversity that comes along with it.  If Ms. G. is going to treat others, clients and staff, with undiscriminating and general disrespect, how can Ms. G. expect the clients to treat others with respect?  If Ms. G. doesn't accept, respect, or value the encounter process (the encounter process is the way some problems are handled in the Therapeutic Community in prison... essentially an elaborate peer mediation, but the member of the community can't give feedback; he just has to listen and think about what is being said about his negative behavior), how can Ms. G. expect the guys to take the encounter process seriously and see it as valid?  If Ms. G. can't handle constructive criticism from a coworker about her negative attitudes and how it affects the clients and her coworkers, how can Ms. G. expect the guys to accept constructive criticism in life? Finally, if Ms. G. only sees the clients as inmates and justifies her negative treatment of them because of that label, how can Ms. G. expect the clients to view themselves differently? How can Ms. G. expect them to change? How can Ms. G. expect them to overcome this adversity and move forward into a new lifestyle of recovery--free from drugs, alcohol, and crime?  I would be a terrible counselor.  I can't expect them to work the treatment program if I am not working, believing in, and embodying the treatment program.

This is just something that irks me about a hypothetical coworker.  Sorry for the rant. Ha.

Anyway, onto something more positive: St. Patrick's Day.

Part of my extensive Virginia family: Megan, Amber, and Vickie 

So in honor of St. Patrick's Day, I cooked corned beef and cabbage, minus the cabbage, plus carrots and spuds.  Officially, for the first time ever... Unofficially, for the second time (the first time I had help from some friends while I was out in Virginia. *Insert shout-out to Amber and Megan here*).   Although I made it in the fancy Crock Pot, I still consider it a win.  As previously noted, I don't cook, so having something turn out delicious and the fact that I am entirely the one responsible for it makes my inner-future-housewife super happy.  Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?  I'll have to beat the men off with a stick now! Watch out, gentlemen, better get in line now while the getting is good... Ha.

9 hours later.... Viola! Sustenance. 

From Barbie Dolls to Pick Up Trucks

It's an unspoken truth that most girls strive to attain what society defines as beautiful.  We have almost been gendered since birth to act a certain way, behave a certain way, dress a certain way, look a certain way, BE a certain way.  As girls, the majority of us have been taught simple things like liking the color pink (because pink is the color for girls and blue is the color for boys), playing with dolls (enabling the socialization process to begin by showing girls what roles women will play in society by donning Barbie with certain professions, like Teacher Barbie and, to a lesser extent, Mermaid Barbie), playing house (to start ingraining the idyllic maternal/wife instinct... in most cases, when girls play house, myself included, we're given a set of plastic dishware and a baby doll which further reinforces the idea of being pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen making your husband a sandwich), and, most importantly and probably most damning, in the way we handle negative emotions.  During group therapy sessions we regularly discuss these differences between the genderization of men versus women.  In my opinion, from what I have experienced from growing up and working with a male population, men are taught not to express sadness, anxiety, or pain.  They are instead taught to express any kind of negative emotion as anger, even when they are not angry.  On the other hand, women are taught to handle any kind of negative emotion like anger, sadness, anxiety, etc. as sadness, usually accompanied by tears.  I myself most certainly fall into this category.  Whenever I experience any kind of frustration, whether it be from the guy I like rejecting me, listening to constructive criticism at work, or having my ever-present anxiety rear its ugly head for no logical reason at all, I can feel myself precariously teetering between being cool, calm, and rational and full-blown hysterics.  Even though my current job has helped me overcome a few of these emotional roadblocks, it still doesn't change the fact that society plays a huge role in raising us as children, our (future) children, and our children's children.

I digress, before I begin to theorize and discuss my views of society and the genderization of our youth, I must remember the topic of this blog entry: beauty.  If you pick up this month's (April 2014) Cosmopolitan Magazine (a guilty pleasure I very much indulge in every month) you'll see Khloe Kardashian modeling on the cover amidst attention-grabbing taglines for articles within like: "Break the Bed Sex: 21 New Ideas to Blow Your Own Damn Mind!", "168 Ways to Kick More Ass! (at Work, in Love, at Play).", "Your Best Butt Ever.", and "Amazeballs! Hot Looks Under $50."  Even the cover teasers seem to tell women to conform to society's ideas of beauty and femininity while taking on male characteristics/roles like kicking more ass and mastering sex.  It's no wonder why some young girls struggle with their identity and where they need to be and shudder at the thought of having more male-like characteristics (physically and mentally).  Again, I am getting off topic.

In my opinion, Khloe is a beautiful woman.  She's curvy, tall, and, from the one time I really watched one of her shows, she seems to have a pretty legit sense of humor.  It even appears that she's lost a bit of weight from the last time I saw her image emblazoned on an advertisement for the Kardashian clothing line (available at Sears and Nordstrom if you were curious). Despite even her most recent weight loss, most people still consider her to be the heavier, less attractive Kardashian sister.  Bullshit. Just because she doesn't have that inner-thigh gap that is now apparently the craze with young girls who neglect to realize that it is not a healthy look unless you have wide set hips or come by it naturally (as for me, I will never, ever, with any amount of diet or exercise, have an inner thigh gap... THE STRUGGLE IS REAL! not really...I'd rather not look bowlegged... I mean it would be nice to toss my Spanx aside, but I like the fact that I look athletic and, as a result, that my thighs touch when I stand or walk). I think she's still drop-dead gorgeous, even with the extra.  Her look is definitely something that I will be striving for because I somewhat identify with her most out of the three Kardashian sisters- for body build/type and personality.

Starving Child in a Third World Country versus World-Wide Sex Symbol.
You decide which is beautiful.

The point is, we tend to internalize what we are told is beautiful instead of what we actually think is beautiful.  Don't get me wrong, sometimes they're one in the same, but, for me, it's honestly sometimes hard to separate what I find to be beautiful because it's beautiful and what I find to be beautiful because society has brainwashed me into believing that it is so.  At this point in my life I have finally come to the realization that, for me, it is less important to fit the characterizations of what society deems as beautiful, but instead make my own qualifications for myself.  To fit in to what society would call beautiful, I would need to be four inches taller, fifty pounds lighter, tan all year long, and have stick-straight hair.  Unless medical science has developed a procedure similar to the one in Gattaca (you know that movie that was filmed in 1997... that one you would watch in biology class because the teacher didn't really want to teach that day and since it had some weird semblance of DNA testing he gave it the go ahead for two days worth of lesson... anyway, there was a scene in which the main character Vincent (Ethan Hawke) got weird leg surgery to make him taller and used Jerome's (Jude Law) DNA so he could essentially become Jerome and fly a plane or go into space or something... point was, he was genetically inferior so wasn't allowed this particular job... do I note some master race-esque ideals? Weird...) I will not be taller.  To me, beauty will always be in the eye of the beholder.  What I think is beautiful may not be the same as the next guy.  For me, at the ripe age of 24, I believe that beauty lies in being healthy, confident, and happy.  I am confident; I am happy; I am currently working towards becoming healthy- mentally and physically.

So, in addition to society defining the parameters of what is beautiful, we are constantly being bombarded with new diets, exercises, and holistic health fads.  I am not going to lie, I have fallen victim to many a craze... everything from proven methods like Weight Watchers to questionable vitamins like Green Coffee Bean Extract.  Who doesn't want a quick fix for weight loss?  They say that weight loss is 70% diet and 30% exercise and I am happy to announce that I have been in the gym more often than not since September 2013 and altered my diet drastically; I am seeing results!  Regardless, I am ashamed to admit, that I am participating in two different health kicks: Garcinia Cambogia and Oil Pulling.

According to Dr. Oz (is he a legit doctor?), "Garcinia Cambogia is a small, pumpkin-shaped fruit, sometimes called tamarind...  It has long been used in traditional South Asian dishes...adding this ingredient to meals in considered to be effective in making meals more "filling."  In some villages in Malaysia, garcinia is used to make a soup that is eaten before meals for weight loss because of garcinia's appetite-blocking abilities. This plant offers one of the least expensive herbal supplements on the market.  The ingredient from the rind of the fruit could hasten your weight loss efforts.  The natural extract is called hydroxycitric acid (HCA), and researchers claim that HCA can double or triple one's weight loss.  With proper weight loss efforts (diet and exercising), the average person taking HCA lost an average of four pounds a month.  Garcinia may also be great for emotional eaters.  Those who participated in the study showed an increase in their serotonin levels; hence, it may also improve mood and sleeping patterns... HCA helps block fat and suppress appetite..." You can read the sciency stuff here.  All in all, you're supposed to take 500-1000 mg of the supplement with at least 50% HCA before each meal.  I also read somewhere that pairing Garcinia Cambogia with a colon cleansing product will help achieve maximum weight loss.  "The idea behind combining the products is that while the Garcinia Cambogia encourages weight loss and increases energy; the colon cleanse helps rid your body of toxins and allows your body to work and burn calories more efficiently." I am currently taking two supplements in this effort; I'll let my avid readers know how I feel about it about 15 days.  Right now I feel a little queasy, but that could be the colon cleanse talking...

Got the goods at Walgreens.

Oil pulling is probably the weirdest thing I have ever experienced.  Essentially you swish oil in your mouth for twenty minutes.  Thinking about it makes me nauseous (could be the cleanse) because of the texture and thickness of the oil.  According to Dr. Edward F. Group III, "Oil pulling is an ancient Ayurvedic (What?) remedy for oral health and detoxification.  It involves the use of pure oils as agents for pulling harmful bacteria, fungus, and other organisms out of the mouth, teeth, gums, and even throat."  Typically sunflower, coconut, or sesame oil is used for pulling.  I use sunflower oil because when I went to Schnucks coconut oil was out of stock, which makes me think that everyone is trying the oil pull fad because last time I checked, coconut oil was not a kitchen must-have, but what do I know, I don't cook.   The oil puller uses a tablespoon of one of the obscure oils and swishes it around his or her mouth (similar to mouthwash) for twenty minutes.  Some people say that the twenty minutes fly by... I thought they dragged on... I can't tell you how many times my mouth muscles revolted and I dribbled oil down my chin... Now, here's where things get dirty (get your mind out of the gutter, folks, you've been warned): "First the oils mix with the saliva, turning it into a thin, white liquid.  Lipids in the oils begin to pull out toxins from the saliva.  As the oil is swished around the mouth, teeth, gums, and tongue, the oil continues to absorb toxins, and usually ends up turning thick and viscous and white. (Ahem.) Once the oil has reached this consistency, it is spit out before the toxins are reabsorbed."  Benefits of oil pulling include: cleansing out harmful bacteria; reducing fungal overgrowth; aiding in the proper functioning of the lymph nodes and other internal organs; strengthens the teeth, gums, and jaws; prevention of diseases of the gyms and mouth (like cavities and gingivitis); prevention of bad breath; potential holistic remedy for bleeding gums; prevention of dryness of the lips, mouth, and throat; possible holistic treatment of TMJ and general soreness in the jaw area; migraine headache relief; correcting hormone imbalances; reducing inflammation of arthritis; may help with gastro-enteritis; aids in the reduction or eczema; may reduce symptoms of bronchitis; helps support normal kidney function; may help reduce sinus congestion; some people report improved vision; helps reduce insomnia; reduces hangover after alcohol consumption; aids in reducing pain; reduces the symptoms of allergies; and, helps detoxify the body of harmful metals and organisms.  I have been doing this for a day (watch out!) and I have noticed that my teeth seem oddly whiter... Again, I'll report back later.

Why is all this important? Because, from an animalistic standpoint, we're all just looking to get laid (rather, pass on our genes).  SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST!  Ok, I can't speak for everyone, but I am just wanting to lead a healthier lifestyle- be healthy inside and out.  I'd be lying to say that all of this effort was so that I could be generally healthy... I want to look good too.

All my efforts must be working at least a little bit because as I was on my way to the gym today I got hit on and I was not looking my best. Picture it:  It's a balmy 70 degrees, the warmest day of the year, so far, and I am driving to the gym with my windows down, hair blowing, and Nicki Minaj blasting through my speakers.  Life's good.  I pull up to the line at a red light next to this red truck that smelled like it hadn't had its emissions tested for in three years (is that only a Chicago thing?).  There are two... gentlemen... wearing camo hats inside the death trap who looked like they could've been twelve, but I know that not to be true since they were clearly driving this truck.  Anyway, I am jamming out to my best friend Nicki and they honk their horn.  First, I am startled.  Who does that? Second, I look over and they're talking to me... from their truck... I first can't make out what they're saying over the roar of their busted carburetor and my pre-workout jam so I just smile, fake a laugh, and nod. At this point, I could've agreed to anything.  I look forward, praying the light will turn green.  No luck.  They continue to yell at me.  I look over again, turn down Ms. Minaj just in time to hear them say something about how they're tuck is "lifted."  I am sorry sir, your truck is in no way "lifted."  I drive a PT Cruiser and your truck is eye level with mine and I have low profile tires...   Come on.  Dumb.  Then they ask me if I want to go for a drive sometime.  I literally laugh and scream, "That doesn't sound safe!" just as the light turns green and I speed off like a badass.  Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you avoid getting killed and end up in some backwoods somewhere.  But really, I am sure they were nice people.

Killin' it... Eat your heart out "lifted" truck drivers...

I will let my light shine, will you?

Today is the first day where I have decided that I am going to take charge of the rest of my life.  I feel like most people would take on a project like this and write it under some sort of pseudonym, but what the hell, everyone needs to experience some sort of lacerating self-exposure that removes the veil from a facade he or she may have been hiding behind.  That's not to say that I am admitting that I haven't been true and honest to myself, but there are a few things that need to be said that I haven't necessarily had the courage to spout off into a blog, one of which that both the world and no one would be reading all at the same time.

I guess the perfect place to start is the beginning which is technically the end.

My name is Sarah.  I am a 24 year-old, Christian white female.  My demographics aside, I like to laugh, smile, and joke around.  I love food. I love Mexican, Italian, Chinese... everything. I can't lie and say that I know how to cook nor can I make the claim that I am learning how to cook.  My idea of cooking is calling for take-out... (I will make a man very happy some day).  I like to talk-a lot.  Music is key- I love listening to music, singing into my hairbrush, and having dance-offs with my friends (which is a true feat... as musically inclined as I am, I have no rhythm, but with a little help of alcohol, I can keep up with even the best of the music video vixens).  Acting and writing is also fun for me.  I consider random arts and crafts adventures to be time well spent.  I love learning new things and experiencing things I have never tried before, like how to participate in extreme sports (how not to flip a four wheeler) and I pretend to be interested in learning about cars (because let's face it, boys like cars and I am single...whoops, should I have admitted that?).  I enjoy meeting new people and making new friends, one can say I am quite social (however, since I have graduated from college it has been harder to make friends).  I like school- I am a nerd through and through (I plan on going back to school to get my doctorate).  I take pride in trying to recycle (even though the town seems to be like the villains in a Captain Planet episode... I can't find one can recycling depot...).  Animals are quite cool and interesting and I sport WWF gear because I am cool like that (and no, I don't mean the wrestling organization). I wanted to become a veterinarian for a really long time, but when I took AP Biology and had to dissect a fetal pig I changed my mind. I have decided on just having a menagerie of animals, including having a Chinese Crested... yes, they're kind of hairless. I like being outside and doing random outside activities.  I like driving around aimlessly at times, especially when I need to think. I also clean when I have a lot on my mind, needless to say my apartment is probably the cleanest one you'll ever set foot in.   I like jumping into big piles of leaves in the fall and making snowmen in the winter.  I like the color yellow, it's bright and happy.  Some things are better stale; i.e. Twizzlers and Gummy Bears (Haribo... I refuse to recognize any other kind).

I hate getting holes in my socks or any type of sock that will cause my toes to bound or get twisted up in it. I hate (or am scared of) the unknown, rejection, tornadoes, and wind turbines... you know those giant windmills that litter the Midwest... yeah, I know it's irrational, but whatever. They terrify me. I hate the attention you get from restaurants on your birthday... leave me alone... you'll make me blush awkward (more on that later)... I'll just hang out under the table until your parade of off-key singers who hate their jobs and who aren't wearing enough flair are done singing a birthday song that you created because your establishment didn't want to pay for the rights of the actual Birthday Song.  I hate standing water, but I am no germaphobe.  I mean the water that's in lakes that is clearly not being circulated (like the water in Thompson Point Lake at SIUC, where in the summer it molds, mildews, cooks, and spreads its odor like the legs of a crack-whore)... or the water in puddles that when you step in it, it's unexpectedly warm, or the standing water in sinks when one is doing dishes with little soggy food particles floating about because someone didn't know how to clean off his plate into the trash (I don't have a garbage disposal in the sink).  All make me want to vomit. I hate celery and mushrooms.  In my humble opinion, they are the worst vegetables/fungi on the face of the planet.  One should note that if a recipe calls for a specific ingredient, but you can replace it with another, almost always equally unappealing ingredient it's essentially a waste of space and no good.   

Please note that the first picture contains two of the things that terrify me... 

Oddly enough, my first true encounter with celery was when I was working out in a jail in Virginia.  I went to the dietary (where certain inmates were cleared to work) and I decided that I wanted to give celery a good ol' college try.  As I was eating the celery my tongue began to get numb, like super numb.  I had no idea what was going on and was borderline freaking out.  Honestly, the first thought that came to my mind was that I was poisoned by the inmate working in the dietary.  He had poisoned me! My tongue was going to fall off! I was going to die!  Why would someone want to poison the GED Intern?! I was there to help!  Ok, so obviously I wasn't poisoned.  As I sat quietly munching on this poisoned vegetable, I did what most logical 23 year old girls do, I Google-d it.  Lo and behold, from the help of my friends at finecooking.com, I have come to the conclusion that I am probably mildly allergic to this awful vegetable, stating, "The closest anyone I've found has come to answering this question [as to why celery makes your tongue numb] is probably what you found in your search: a post by Dr. Steve Mack, where he posted a link to a list of all of the chemicals found in celery.  He also looked through them, and decided that the best chance of numbing would come from Eugenol, which is used in temporary dental filings numb the pain." So, there you have it, folks, I was not poisoned.  Now another important food question can be posed: Why do bananas make my teeth itch?  Stay tuned for another riveting answer supplied by Google (I know you're excited). 

I am a legend, ask anyone.  Growing up, in grade school,  I was known as Chewbacca or Medusa due to the fact that I had long hair that was always messy because I was on the go. In high school I remember being called the Brian Urlacher of females because I was bigger than the majority of my friends, comparatively.  It's weird how some things you never forget, like the names you were called growing up. It wasn't all bad, I was christened with the nickname of Goose, which I grew quite fond of, as a result of a teacher not being able to pronounce my last name. Oddly enough, this problem has followed me throughout my life.  Who would've thought that having a last name, spelled exactly how it sounds, would prove to be difficult. As a result, I am known as Ms. G. at my current job, which again, is in a prison.

Every girl claims to be a girl that's just one of the guys.  I will not make that claim.  I will, however, state that I am probably more masculine in some of my personality quirks/characteristics than I am feminine and vise versa.   On a good day, I can get ready in 15 minutes, but as previously noted it can take upwards of 45 minutes if my hair is being particularly unruly, which is still faster than some of my guy friends.  I like to say that I play sports, but in reality, I am probably the person that gets asked to be on a team because they need an extra body. Regardless, I'll be super competitive which is comical because I have no idea what's going on half the time.  Speaking of not knowing what's going on, I "like to watch" and I "know" sports... my favorite teams include anything Chicago-related, except the Sox... I am a Cubs fan. Did I mention that boys like sports, so I "like" sports? I'll be straight, I know just enough to get by... I mean I enjoy watching when I am forced to watch a game, but I don't just up and decide to watch a game on TV... I will literally find anything else to watch. When asked or heckled as to why I hitch my wagon to the Chicago Cubs over the Sox or even the St. Louis Cardinals, I have my mantra: because I'm loyal, which some men seem to appreciate.  Ha.  I have played rugby while I was in college and I was on the swim team for a minute, but my true passion is sitting on the couch, participating in the food-lympics.  I've perfected the Cheetos-Arm Curl and the Chip Dip Dive.

I am outgoing and I'll talk to everyone.  I love meeting new people, from all walks of life.  I have found that I am only shy when I don't know anyone.  For example, let's say I move to a new town about seven months ago, by myself, and I am required to go out and make friends-I'll be super quiet and probably won't be a very effective communicator; take that same scenario but place me with one of my coworkers whom I've befriended and her roommates- I'll be outgoing as hell.  My amateur theory is because I have comfort and reassurance from my coworker/friend.  I guess that has played a major role in the career choices I have made.  Previous to my current job, I worked at Victoria's Secret, Bath and Body Works, and as a Day Camp Counselor.  What do all those jobs have in common? I interact with people daily and there is some sort of problem resolution, whether it dealt with an unruly 5 year old or a disgruntled customer who was trying to return a bra that was obviously from three seasons ago (over two years old), had obviously been lived in, and obviously been dried in a dryer (if you know proper bra care, you know to NEVER dry your bras in the dryer, hang dry... Gentlemen who are reading, take note, when doing laundry NEVER put your girl's bra in the dryer), but sorry ma'am, you can't return nor can you make an even exchange.  My current job is as a counselor at a prison, in a city that has been dubbed one of the most dangerous cities in the United States, specializing in drug and alcohol rehabilitation and behavior modification.  I absolutely love it.  I am in charge of facilitating group therapy daily and responsible for 30+ clients on my caseload for individual treatment.

I smile. A lot.  I smile, not because I find things funny, just because there's not enough time to do anything else, and I honestly believe that wholeheartedly.  I laugh when I'm nervous or when things get too serious. I like to laugh at myself because if you can't laugh at yourself you give permission to others to laugh at you.  When I get nervous/embarrassed/emotional/(insert any emotion that results in blushing) instead of my face turning the shade of a tomato (another disgusting vegetable), my chest gets splotchy.  It's my body's way of saying, "Hey! I'm blushing and I am awkward!"  It's kind of turned into a game with a few of my sadistic (yet lovable) coworkers to see who can make my chest get weird.

I love the cars that I drive.  My first car was a hand-me down from my mom.  It was a '96 Jeep Cherokee that I donned with the name Barney for the obvious reason:

Clearly I am awesome at parallel parking...

As you can discern, it is, in fact, Barney-purple.  All it needs is that awful lime green spot in the center.  It was really a great car solely because if I forgot where I parked, all I'd have to do is look for the giant purple mass, the bruise in the parking lot, if you will.  It didn't have automatic anything- no ABS, power windows, power locks, and I am not entirely convinced that it had power steering.  It came with the bare essentials- wheels.  I was lucky enough to have a CD player in the beast, but my brother blew out the back speakers, so anything above 22 on the volume would sound like there were rocks in the speakers... aka no bass. 

I now drive a '03 Chrysler PT Cruiser... it's a Turbo... Yea, I am bragging... what of it, want to fight about it?  I do thoroughly love this car.  The owners before me only drove it around town so it was pretty legit for an '03.  They were also old, and I am going to assume loaded, because it had all the bells and whistles, which was a very drastic change from Barney.  Pete (get it, PT Cruiser... PETE! Ha.) has a sunroof, all leather interior, ABS, a traction control, six-disc CD changer, WORKING speakers, a compass and thermometer, a working emergency break, and... get this... butt warmers!  The only complaint that I have is the fact that Pete is not built for weather... of any kind... driving in Virginia was no problem, but now living in the Midwest... you know, where the weather happens... I have spun out on highways too frequently to count.  That and apparently Cam Shaft Position Sensors don't like to work in Pete... he's finicky for aftermarket parts.

So fresh and so clean! Pete Bruiser, the PT Cruiser... Pete for short!

I don't lie, just know that. I will explain things to you in such a way that preserves your feelings.  I do tell white lies from time to time, I am not perfect.  If you do lie to me, I will find out.  I have my sources and, most times, they are very reliable.  Just tell the truth, 99.9% of the time I won't be mad.  I will 100% be mad if I find out you lied to me.

I believe that people have the right to their own opinion and I like to talk with people who think outside the box.  I hate people who are close-minded because they ended up being the most ignorant people I've ever met. I think this is because I find that I am so open-minded and willing to look at things from different perspectives that it perplexes me when someone doesn't believe, or do, the same.

I want to die in a large vat of vanilla pudding.  Before I die, I want to be that crazy grandma with the blue hair who is always wearing jogging suits and who tells epic stories about going to the grocery store to buy eggs, but makes it to be a tale of life and death.  I also want to be the grandma that talks in weird messages so my kids/grandkids have to decode what it really means... you know, like in Mulan, how at the end the Emperor of China says, "The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all."  Then he has to continue to explain, "A girl like that doesn't come around every dynasty."  Except, I wouldn't explain anything... haha... my kids/grandkids would have to learn the life lesson and then be like, "Oh, so that's what mom/grandma was talking about."  I also want to be the grandma that is really obsessed and dresses up as Mrs. Claus for Christmas.  Yes, I do have it all planned out.

My one and only dream...

A part of my childhood died the day Steve "The Crocodile Hunter" Irwin passed away (RIP 1962-2006).  My boobs sagged a little when I realized that there are some things that my kids will never experience that I was able to grow up with, like good cartoons/television, Dunk-A-Roos, Koala Yummies, etc... basically anything on this list provided by Buzzfeed.  Also, Buzzfeed is sheer genius.

I absolutely love my curly hair.  It makes me feel alive and bouncy.  It's different, not straight, like the hair of  everyone else... why strive for something that you know you can't achieve... or strive for something that will just do what it wants anyway? No one's got hair like mine... unless you're Stephanie... but she even straightens her hair to curl it... Looks gorgeous, girl! Super jealous... I'll live with this:

Au Natural                    Styling                      Curly                   Straight                     Straight Curly 

I will always be the weird girl.  Yes, I'm weird, and yes, I love it.  I am told it's weird in a "good" way.  I am not too concerned about it though, I'm not going to change.  I have another amateur theory: I think it's good that I am weird, especially considering where I work.  At the prison, all the inmates (we call them clients and henceforth I will refer to them as such) know that I am weird.   I know I am weird, they know I am weird.  To me, being weird shows the guys that I am comfortable enough to be who I am, regardless of how others interpret my actions, behaviors, intentions, or character.  That, in turn, I think, gives them permission to be who they are... maybe allow them to drop the "tough guy" routine.  Kinda like in Coach Carter where that delinquent kid quotes Marianne Williamson: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." I will let my light shine, will you?

Yep, that's the delinquent, but oh how he changed!  Also, remember when Channing Tatum was in this movie?

Congratulations for making it to the end.  Your mother would be so proud.