thoughts

#OnlyOneAbby & #ThanksAbby: On the Importance of Sports and Female Athletes to Female Non-Athletes.

USWNT 2015 FIFA Women's World Cup Champions

As a child, the closest I got to doing anything athletic was listening to the Spice Girls and picking out which lines were sung by Sporty Spice. To put it simply, sports and I existed on separate wavelengths.

My father didn’t watch football games on Sunday, my mother didn’t keep track of Wimbledon, and my brother didn’t play on any school teams. Well, actually, my brother was the kid on the peewee soccer team who sat on the bench and drank water during every game–and then he completely quit going, yet kept bragging about being on the team.

In short, I didn’t grow up watching other people play sports.

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Over the years, I tried my hand (sometimes successfully, most of the time awkwardly) at a number of athletic endeavors. I bent over backwards for yoga. I tiptoed through the tulips for ballet. I kicked up my heels for tap. I bounced about for basketball. I even swizzled and glided for figure skating.

When university sent my world spinning topsy-turvy, I sought to turn impotent rage, complete confusion, and total exhaustion into athleticism. I ran, I lifted weights, and I did high intensity interval training because I saw getting in shape as the easiest part of adulthood’s trial by fire. It was certainly an athletic journey, but I wasn’t athletic.

Just as I’d never watched sports, I’ve never been counted as an athlete. I thought I was inherently separate form the sporting world. However, that all changed amid a whirlwind cross-country RV trip in 2013.

Truthfully, the 2013 Sochi Olympics were my intro to a new view on sports and athleticism. For no apparent reason, the lure of Sochi drew me in and held me tight. After only a month, I found myself knowing entirely too much about the mechanics of luge, the scoring system of slope style skiing and snowboarding, and the physical demands of a biathlon.

I was rooting for Russians and cheering on Czechs. I was pushing for the Polish and aiming for American wins. I still have no clue why I got drawn into any of it but, it was awesome. And, at the end of it all, I was more motivated than ever to see the world.

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Then came the 2014 FIFA World Cup in Brazil. The Olympics had left me needing another sport to focus on and learn about–I was caught in the thrall of international sports. When I told a good friend about all of this, he pulled me into the soccer fandom (Thanks, Matt!) and with each game I watched after that, it became clear that my interest was going to stick.

It didn’t matter who was playing. It didn’t matter who won the finals. I’d learned to love the game and so very many of its players. (On that note though, way to go Germany! I mean, really, hot damn!)

The World Cup showed me again where sport and a broad world vision collide.

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By the time the 2015 FIFA Women’s World Cup in Canada came along, I was well and truly hooked. In all honesty, the 2015 WWC couldn’t have come at a worse time because I was in the middle of moving cross-country, but I watched every game I could.

More than the Olympics and more than the World Cup, the 2015 WWC made me feel connected and involved.

The number of fouls in the Mexico vs. Columbia game had my eye twitching. The first goal by Ivory Coast in the Thailand vs. Ivory Coast game nearly had me in tears. Meghan Klingenberg’s goal-line save in the USA vs. Sweden game made me (literally) jump out of my seat.

And, it didn’t just give me a world vision, it gave me a life vision.

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In so many ways and in so many instances, these profoundly gifted women made me finally get sports. And, they also made me get me.

I loved the Olympics and the World Cup, but it was harder to relate to the pomp and circumstance of those events. It was harder to feel like I was a part of something. The 2015 WWC showed me how truly powerful women can be. It showed me how far dedication can take you. It showed me that women can flourish even when the world doesn’t try to nurture them.

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Abby Wambach (aka the G.O.A.T.) was the first female athlete that I ever regarded as a role model. I had researched her (in a typically Hermione way) during the World Cup, when I was exceedingly annoyed by the men flopping for fouls every five minutes, and she was nothing short of astounding to me.

She could make the goals that no one else could. She could get injured on the field and still stay cognizant enough to call in a substitute. She could redefine an age-old game and make it her own. She was a beast.

Actually, she still is and she always will be.

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Megan Rapinoe describes it perfectly: when I watched Abby in the 2015 WWC, I saw female fearlessness.

I didn’t see an anonymous player in an impersonal game, I saw a woman who would do whatever necessary to reach the goal that she and her teammates had committed themselves to. I saw a woman who went after what she wanted and made it happen. I saw the type of woman that I want to be, regardless of sports and athletic ability.

And, on a larger scale, I saw a team of women who were devoted to each other and the game and working together. I saw people who weren’t scared to show how they felt about what mattered to them.

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Now, after 184 international goals and years as soccer’s ultimate female player, Abby is retiring. But, she’s going out in a blaze of glory and she’s making her exit on her own terms. Plus, Abby’s exit is really just another entrance.

Even without the game, Abby is a role model. Her willingness to fight for equality in not only sports, but every other aspect of life and society, is incredibly inspiring. Her decisiveness in choosing to live the life she wants to live–with or without the fame of the game–is encouraging.

She didn’t just change the game, she changed the way it was viewed.

Or, at least she did for me.

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These days I’ve become pretty dedicated to the U.S. Women’s National Team, but I also have a growing weakness for the Seattle Reign and Portland Thorns. (Upside to being a newbie sports fan: rooting for rivals like it’s nobody’s business!)

More than anything though, I’ve come to love sports and appreciate athletes, despite not always understanding the games or knowing the players. I’ve learned that watching sports and playing sports do not have to be mutually inclusive.

And, I’ve realized that female athletes are important to female non-athletes because, regardless of the international power of mixed gender athletic competitions and men’s sports, women can uplift women in ways that nothing and no one else can.

In female athletes, a female non-athlete like me can find renewed purpose, and maybe even a bit of inspiration to try that community soccer league I’ve been eyeing.

Abby could not have won the 2015 WWC without her teammates and her teammates could not have won without her. If Abby Wambach and the USWNT aren’t #squadgoals, I don’t know what is.

Sometimes women just need other women to show them how to be fearless.  

 

Russian Food Adventures: Blini, Pirozhki, and Napoleon Cake.

It’s probably not the best time to admit this because of the Russia hate fest happening on capital hill, but, I can’t help it–I have a soft spot for Russia. The food, the music, the history, and even the politics are absolutely fascinating to me. Don’t misunderstand me, I loved and am proud of my American upbringing, but I also have a great appreciation for the world’s largest country.

Perhaps it’s because Russia was the elephant in the room of every one of my history classes growing up. In high school and university I remember my middle-aged, Cold War era teachers and professors blatantly ignoring the lands between Finland and the Bering Sea. Russia received only an honorable mention in the final weeks of each class when the World War II Allies were briefly discussed and then the events following 1945 ceased to exist.

Perhaps it’s because I don’t know my precise ethnic heritage and I could be “from” just about anywhere. My family isn’t particularly close-knit. Our family records extend back only as far as those family members which are currently alive, and even those records are questionable at best. As a military child, I’m from every part of the states, and maybe that makes it easier to believe that I’m from every part of the rest of the world too.

Perhaps it’s because there’s something fascinating about a black sheep, or a white cow (белая ворона), most especially when you’re talking about some supreme outcast on a global scale. When the western world and its media demonize the largest nation in the world, who isn’t a little curious? When a war can be fought and supposedly won without weapons or casualties, who doesn’t want to know a little bit more about what’s going on?

Regardless of why I’m generally interested in Russia, among other foreign nations, I’ve recently taken a particular interest in Russian and other Slavic foods.

The diversity of food is intriguing in and of itself. A vast collection of ingredients and procedures can result in infinite creations that can then feed innumerable people. Food identifies culture and yet it can cross cultural lines. Food speaks when people cannot find the words. Food bonds when other aspects of life would make bonding impossible. In celebration of food diversity and culture, here are a few of my favorite edible creations from eastern Europe.

Enjoy and have fun cooking!

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Blini (блины)

The first thought that many people will have when they see pictures of blini is “those are crêpes,” but, my darling bakers, they are most certainly different from crêpes. While both blini and crêpes might be called thin pancakes, blini are more sponge-like with small air bubbles throughout while crêpes are more bread-like with a fine and solid texture. Personally, after this experience, I wholly prefer blini.

The greatest commonalities between blini and crêpes are that both are generally served with a filling or spread, and both can be made in sweet or savory varieties. I tackled a (supposedly) more traditional, sweet variety because my family truly loves sugar, but plenty of savory recipes are available online for blini and blini fillings.

Perhaps it’s just a personal pet peeve, but I don’t like picking one recipe and calling it done. Thus, I ended up reading and combining the recipes from Elina of Russian Bites, Viktoria of Fun Russian: Learn Russian the Fun Way, and Florian Pinel of Food Perestroika: Adventures in Eastern Bloc Cuisine, in order to produce these blini.

Ingredients

2 eggs
2 cups milk
1 tbsp + 1 tsp sugar
1 tsp salt
2 cups flour (twice sifted)
2 tbsp coconut oil + more to rub pan

Directions

1. Beat eggs lightly in mixing bowl.

2. Stir milk, sugar, and salt into beaten eggs.

3. Slowly whisk sifted flour into the mixture.

4. Whisk coconut oil into the mixture and let rest for a minimum of 15 minutes.

5. Lightly oil a non-stick skillet and bring to medium high heat.

6. Reduce skillet to medium heat.

7. Lift skillet from heating element and pour between 1/4 and 1/3 cup of batter into the skillet at 12 o’clock. Slowly tilt the skillet in a circular motion, spreading the batter thinly.

8. Replace skillet onto the heating element.

9. Watch for browning at the edges of the blin (approximately 2 minutes after replacing the skillet on the heating element). When browning is noted, gently pry up the edge with a spatula. If the other side is golden brown, flip the blin.

10. Checking with a spatula for browning, cook the blin until the other side is golden brown as well. Slide cooked blin onto plate.

11. Lightly re-oil the skillet and repeat steps 7 through 11.

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Pirozhki (Пирожки)

Pirozhki are essentially hand pies that are filled with potatoes, various meats, onions, mushrooms, cabbage, stewed fruits, jam, quark, oatmeal, cottage cheese, or other such substances. They’re the type of food that you could pick up at a local market or cafe and eat on the go, or cook one night and eat for days to come (trust me, this recipe makes more than enough for leftovers).

I will forewarn that these take some time to make and put together–just short of 2 hours–if you’re not a master of preparing three items at once. Since I prepared two different fillings to add a little bit of variety to the meal, the three components for this recipe were dough, beef filling, and potato filling.

These pirozhki were made by combining recipes from Ann of Sumptuous Spoonfuls, JoAnn Cianciulli of Leite’s Culinaria, and Natasha of Natasha’s Kitchen. I tried not to stray too far from their recipes because I wanted to keep this traditional food traditional, but I did add my own flare with chili powder and such, so I would encourage my readers to do the same. Have fun with it and don’t stress about the details!

Ingredients

Dough:

3 cups bread flour
1 cup whole wheat white flour
3 eggs (beaten)
1 cup milk
1 tsp salt
3 tsp Red Star Quick-Rise (or other brand) yeast
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp honey
2 tbsp coconut oil

Beef Filling:

2 eggs
1.2 lb ground beef (lean; 90/10 or 93/7)
1/2 onion (large; peeled and chopped)
1/2 tsp garlic powder
2 tsp salt
2 tsp pepper
1 tsp dill weed
1 tsp chili powder
Purified water

Potato Filling:

3 to 4 potatoes
2 tbsp olive oil
1/2 onion (large; peeled and chopped)
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp dill
2 tsp salt
2 tsp pepper
1/4 tsp red pepper
3 tbsp water
2 tbsp butter
Purified water

Topping:

8 oz sour cream
(Brown gravy is also recommended; however, recipes vary so much that I’ll leave the directions for that up to my readers.)

Directions

1. Place dough ingredients into bread machine–wet ingredients first, dry ingredients second, and yeast third–and set machine to run on the dough setting.

2. Hard boil the eggs for the beef filling:

  • A. Place two eggs in a pot and cover completely with purified water.
  • B. Place pot on heating element and set heat to medium high to bring to a boil.
  • C. When water begins to boil, remove pot from heat, cover with lid, and set timer for 10 minutes.
  • D. After 10 minutes, drain water and set eggs aside to cool.

3. Boil potatoes for the potato filling:

  • A. Place 3 to 4 potatoes in a large pot and cover completely with purified water.
  • B. Cover with lid and place pot on heating element, then set heat to medium high to bring to a boil.
  • C. When water begins to boil, reduce heat to low or low medium, and set timer for 10 minutes.
  • D. Check potatoes with a fork at 10 minute increments, piercing with fork to test firmness.
  • E. When fork pierces potato easily, remove from heat, drain, and set aside to cool.

4. Beef filling:

  • A. Heat skillet or sauce pan over medium to medium high heat.
  • B. Cook ground beef and onions until meat is grey to brown and onions are translucent.
  • C. Add garlic, salt, pepper, dill weed, and chili powder to meat. Heat for 1 minute then remove from heat.
  • D. Drain any excess liquid or grease from meat mixture and set aside momentarily.
  • E. Remove shell from hardboiled eggs and chop egg small pieces.
  • F. Stir egg into meat mixture. Set aside to cool.

5. Potato filling:

  • A. Peel and mash boiled potatoes in a mixing bowl with a potato masher or hand mixer. Set aside to cool.
  • B. Heat olive oil in sauce pan over medium heat.
  • C. Cook onions slowly over medium heat, stirring occasionally.
  • D. When onions have become light brown, add a splash of water, stir, and continue cooking.
  • E. When onions have become medium brown, add garlic powder and dill, heat for 1 minute then remove from heat.
  • F. Stir caramelized onions, salt, pepper, red pepper, water, and butter into potatoes, combining thoroughly. Set aside to cool.

6. Filling the dough:

  • A. Remove dough from bread maker at the end of the dough cycle.
  • B. Separate dough into portions that are approximately the size of golf or cue balls.
  • C. Use a rolling-pin to flatten each ball into circles with approximately a 4 to 5 inch diameter.
  • D. Spoon 1 to 2 tablespoons of either beef or potato filling onto each circle of dough. The fillings can also be combined in a single pirozhok (1 tablespoon of each) for an even more filling hand pie.
  • E. Fill a shallow bowl with water. Dip fingertips in water, trace wet fingers along the edge of the dough, and pinch dough together, making a half-moon shape that encloses the filling.
  • F. Dampen the outside edges of the half-moon shape and place filled dough on cookie sheets covered with parchment paper.
  • G. When all of the dough circles have been filled, take a fork and press the edge of the dough to ensure filling does not leak.
  • H. Cover and let rise for 30 minutes.

7.  Bake at 350F for 15 to 30 minutes or until the pirozhki are puffy and golden brown. Cool and serve with sour cream or brown gravy.

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Napoleon Cake (наполеон торт)

If you’ve taken a single course in European history then you know without a doubt that the most famous Napoleon was not Russian, and that fact has probably led you to wonder why this recipe is even included in this post. The truth is that this dessert is of French origin and is formally known as Mille-feuille and colloquially as Napoleon. The name Napoleon was actually derived from the French adjective for the Italian city Naples and only simple word associated led it to be connected with political figures by the name of Napoleon.

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Records and mentions of Napoleon Cake in Russia have been found dating back to the early 19th century; however, the dessert seems to have become truly popular in the celebrations that followed Russia’s victory over Napoleon Bonaparte and his army in the Patriotic War of 1812. The Russian variation of the dessert, which involves a greater number of layers of pastry and frosting made from sweetened condensed milk instead of custard, became standard in the USSR and remains favored in Russia and other post-Soviet nations.

I combined recipes from Natasha of Natasha’s KitchenLyuba of Will Cook for Smiles, and Katrina of Around the World in 80 Markets, and More, to produce this particular Napoleon Cake. Perhaps the most obvious change I made from these recipes was to use more frosting and include frosting on the topmost layer. This meant abandoning the traditional crumbled pastry topping, but it did not affect taste or appeal. This was purely a preferential change. As such, feel free to go old-school and do the crumble or follow my example and add the extra frosting.

Ingredients

1.1 lbs Pepperidge Farm (or other) ready-to-bake puff pastry sheets (2 sheets per package)
3/4 cup stick butter (nearly room temperature)
11 oz Eagle Brand (or other) sweetened condensed milk
3 tsp vanilla extract
1 splash heavy cream
1 tsp sugar

Directions

1. Defrost ready-to-bake puff pastry according to packaging.

2. Cut each puff pastry sheet into fourths, creating eight separate pieces.

3. Using rolling-pin, roll each piece until it is almost double in size and thin.

4. Cover large cookie sheets with parchment paper and place rolled pieces onto the paper.

5. Use a fork to poke at least five sets of holes into each piece.

6. Bake at 400F for 8 to 12 minutes, watching carefully for excessive browning. Baking times may vary based on specific oven used.

7. Remove from oven and set aside to cool completely.

8. While pastry cools, begin work on the frosting: cream butter in a mixing bowl with a hand mixer.

9. Mix condensed milk, vanilla, heavy cream, and sugar into the creamed butter.

10. When the pastry is cooled, spread frosting on 6 of the pastries. Reserve two portions of frosting in bowl (approximately 4 tbsp).

11. Assemble the pastry cake by stacking the frosted pastries on top of one another in a lidded container.

12. Place an unfrosted pastry on top of the last frosted pastry.

13. Place a paper towel on top of the stack. Slowly, evenly, and gently press down the stack.

14. Dispose of the paper towel and frost the top of the stack.

15. Crumble the final pastry over top of the frosted stack.

16. (Optional) Place the last of the frosting in a pastry bag and squeeze over top of the crumbled pastry.

17. Refrigerate overnight or for at least 4 hours.

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BONUS: Banana Bread

By all accounts, banana bread is not a traditional Russian recipe or even a Slavic recipe. However, I recently discovered what my family considers the perfect banana bread by combining recipes from Vadim of Natasha’s Kitchen and Sylwia of Sweet Home Polska. Vadim and Sylwia happen to be Russian and Polish, respectively, so for love of the resulting banana bread I’ve chosen to include my recipe in this Russia-centric post.

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Ingredients

4 ripe bananas
1/2 cup butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 + 1/2 cups King Arthur bread flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp orange extract
1 cup chopped walnuts
coconut oil (for oiling pan)

Directions

1. Mash bananas with potato masher on large plate or in mixing bowl. Set aside.

2. Cream butter and sugar with hand mixer in a large mixing bowl.

3. Add eggs to mixture and mix with hand mixer.

4. Slowly add mashed bananas to mixture and combine well, eliminating any large lumps.

5. Slowly add flour into mixture and combine well.

6. Mix in baking soda, salt, cinnamon, vanilla extract, and orange extract.

7. Use flexible frosting spatula to stir in chopped walnuts.

8. Pour batter into oiled loaf pan, scraping sides of bowl with spatula.

9. Bake at 350F for 60 to 70 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the top center of the loaf comes out clean.

10. Remove from pan immediately and turn over onto cooling rack.

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I hope that you find these recipes useful and enjoy your foreign food experience. I would love to see what you create or hear how these recipes may have inspired you. If you decide to give these foods a chance, and you have a free moment, please send me a picture or message through twitter (@mylifeinverse), instagram (mylifeinverse), or email (mylifeinverse@live.com). Best of luck baking!

 

Daughter’s Salute.

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Army boots and Navy caps
Marine corps roots and Air Force taps
Early morning, out the door
Daddy learns to be so much more
Step by step, stride by stride
We are so full of pride

I’m sorry, baby girl
Daddy’s gone to war
You don’t know it yet
But Daddy’s working for all we get
He’s going to make it a safe world
For you and I, baby girl

He’ll be gone too long
We’ll be missing him during all his favorite songs
And when he rings home
We’ll send him kisses and won’t let him hear us groan
Cause he’s out there in the desert and the storm
Making sure we’re always safe and warm

I’m sorry, baby girl
Daddy’s gone to war
You don’t know it yet
But Daddy’s working for all we get
He’s going to make it a safe world
For you and I, baby girl

He’ll be too far away to tell
So we’ll send him care packages in the mail
And when he finally gets a break
We’ll hug him tight and heal all his hurts and aches
Cause he’s kept us in his mind and heart so torn
Making sure we’re always safe and warm

I’m sorry, baby girl
Daddy’s gone to war
You don’t know it yet
But Daddy’s working for all we get
He’s going to make it a safe world
For you and I, baby girl

Soldier’s battle and Sailor’s sight
Marine corps charge and airmen flight
Many more and many late nights
Daddy wants to make this world alright.

Some kind of beautiful.

When I was driving home from class and the commissary yesterday I had a lot of thoughts running through my mind.

Did I forget anything on the grocery list?

Nope, I totally got everything. And I bagged everything super neatly. *Pride*

Don’t forget to check for an email about that film class thing!

I need to go pick up those Mayo Clinic library books for Madre. What were the titles again?

Crap, I really need to get better about responding to texts…and I need my phone to actually receive them correctly.

Holy mother of deities, can anyone drive around here? *Road rage!* Get off the road, idiot!

But, at the same time that my mind was going six different kinds of crazy, I was thinking about the place I live in. I was noticing the things that a lot of people complain about or dismiss, and I call beautiful.

You see, it started in my American Literature class.

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After only 3 days of class I already know that my professor is big on relating American Literature to music to art to poetry and to any other idea he thinks up. He also loves discussion and forcing everyone to contribute. (I’ll pretend for a second that my shy side isn’t rebelling in full force.)

Today’s discussion revolved around differentiating between the meaning and the significance of a piece of art, regardless of what form the art may be. So, we listened to John Coltrane’s song “Alabama.”

We gave it significance without any “meaning identifiers” like the time period it was created in or the title, and then we discussed the meaning that Coltrane had intending to convey. Everyone chipped in a comment or two, and accepted the song as meaningful and significant art.

After that, we moved on to other art forms:

Michelango’s “The Creation of Adam.”

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Emanuel Leutze’s “Washington Crossing the Delaware.”

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Vincent Van Gogh’s “A Pair of Shoes.”

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Picasso’s “Girl With Mandolin.”

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The Amitayus Mandala made by tibetan monks.

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Somehow, my class seemed certain that in each piece of art there was a fluid significance that would persist across the ages, and a meaning that we just didn’t quite know. Everyone was so sure.

But then came the confusion.

People who know me well also know that I adore abstract and geometric art. I myself paint and sketch, but my love of abstract geometric designs began well before I learned to create something on my own.

So, when my class was faced with Jackson Pollock’s “Number 18 1950”, and not a single other person found meaning or significance in it, I was something a bit beyond stunned. I was purely shocked.

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What makes a biblical tale, a historically inaccurate visual of Washington crossing the Delaware, a pair of boots, an abstracted girl with a mandelin, and colored sand more meaningful and significant than any of Pollock’s hundreds of paintings? Honestly, I was on the verge of screaming when my class equated Pollock’s work to children’s play and collaboratively declared that Pollock had simply run a scam.

That’s when I realized that beauty exists regardless of whether we see it. Not a single one of my classmates saw Pollock’s painting as anything but a mess, yet I interpreted it as a portrayal of human emotion and the chaos that involves. My classmates laughed at the idea of it having any meaning, and giving it significance was apparently a radical notion.

Anyways, all of this leads back to the place I live in and I promise I have a point.

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I live in a place where some people stay less than a week and others stay a decade or more. There’s a constant influx of people and you’ll never hear the same accent twice. Late in the evenings, you can hear tank fire in the distance, even if you’re one of those that lives more than 20 miles away. It’s a sterile place–concrete, cement, fences, metals, power lines, old buildings, new buildings, highways, construction, cookie cutter houses, houses from the 60s, dull blue skies, try grass, drought-cracked grounds…I can’t tell you the number of times I have heard it called ugly.

But, there is a beauty here that is just waiting to be noticed.

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In the evenings, when the tank fire is loudest and it makes the windows shake in their frames, you know that there are soldiers out there learning to be strong. And I know that my father use to be out there on that range. Forget the people complaining on facebook, they don’t understand what it means.

In the early mornings, when you drive toward post and see the rush of cars heading in, you know that for these people, the day started hours ago already. And I marvel at being a part of it all.  Forget the people tweeting about the traffic, they don’t understand.

Midday, when the stores are busy, the traffic lights are too slow, restaurants and fast food joints are full, children are at school or a playground, and the rushes on and off post are moving like clockwork, you know that everyone here is finding their own peace. Forget the comments about how ugly this city is and remember that there is something beautiful in all this chaos.

There is strength. There is power. There is something I can’t quite put my finger on but it is some kind of beautiful.

There are awful aspects to this city of course, and there is a lot to debate when it comes to Fort Hood, but every aspect has some beauty to it. The problem is that we have to remember to notice it, and not dismiss everything as quickly as my classmates did.

Beauty is waiting if we just open our eyes.

Goodbye, Year of Discovery. Hello, Year of Dedication.

I have an issue with New Year’s resolutions.

It is not so much the act of making them. It is the act of leaving them unfulfilled. Often it seems that resolutions are made simply to be forgotten as the chocolate high and bubbly buzz fade. Regardless of the year’s worth of time that passes before open eyes, rarely are resolutions actually achieved. I myself am guilty of making resolutions and dismissing them over the course of the year. Even those resolutions which I am heart desperate to fulfill, often get pushed aside as unimportant in the wake of new circumstances. At the donning of 2012, the Chinese year of the Dragon, I made nine resolutions on this blog:

2012: Resolutions.

  1. Exercise more frequently and achieve the most physically fit state possible for me.
  2. Listen to others as well as to my own conscience.
  3. Finish the short novel that I have begun.
  4. Travel as far as possible and allow my senses to run rampant in each new place.
  5. Feel as often as I think, for too much of either is no go
    od at all.
  6. Find family.
  7. Paint and draw until my ideas run out–art will never come to be if you never begin.
  8. Disappear to a new place and find what I do not even know I am looking for.
  9. To be like a dragon and achieve exactly what I want.

Now, as I feel 2012 fading into a year of memories that even I already cannot keep straight, I am disappointed in all that I have not done. Yet, at the same time, I know that something must have happened in this time that has passed. So, I have made this list as well.

2012: What Actually Happened.

  1. Reading whole stacks of books from the library.
  2. Learning who my real friends were in the midst of college confusion.
  3. Spending three months traveling the west coast with my parents by RV and car. 
  4. Buying this domain name/address and finally putting new efforts into my blog.
  5. Learning how to ride a bicycle without training wheels or having Padre help me.
  6. Letting go of high school drama/ the past, and remembering how to start fresh.
  7. Conquering my fear of heights by traveling to the top of the Seattle Space Needle.
  8. Allowing myself to deal with the emotions of life rather than always being logical.
  9. Not voting in the first presidential election for which I was actually eligible to vote, and thereby showing my political colors even as others did not respect them.
  10. Developing a growing disdain for the way in which technology has dulled the emotional and social connections of people in modern society.
  11. Realizing how strong the influence of music is upon my moods, thoughts, and feelings, and also realizing how much greater CDs are than downloads.
  12. Changing my degree plan from Computer Science to Business Administration and then back to English and Literature, the only degree I can really see myself finishing.

I think the best way to describe 2012 is as a year of true discovery.

At the end of it all, 2012 was less about all of the action verbs themselves, and more about that which I learned from those verbs–the lessons along the way.

In books and travels, I learned freedom. In writing and bicycle riding, I learned what it is to feel simultaneously weightless yet weighted down. In overcoming fears and focusing on emotion, I learned my own strength and power. And, in college and music, I learned that there will always remain lessons to be learned and songs to be sung or heard.

After a year of unexpected discovery, I will not be making another set of resolutions. Neither will I be casting aside the idea of goals entirely. Instead, just as this year was all about discovery, I want this year to be about something else.

new-year-2013-618x339

2013 will be a year of dedication.

The people who have known me for years know that my interests are spread wide and far. One day, I may be entirely dedicated to art and design, and the next my focus may be on boxing or military history. My interests are so thinly spread that dedicating myself to any of them in particular is difficult.

And, it is scary. Absolutely terrifying. The idea that I might make the wrong decision and end up devoured by an interest that does not truly deserve such dedication. Being happy in my choices is so utterly important that I have entirely avoided making any choices at all. It is time to change that.

This year I will be learning from the discoveries of yesteryear. Embracing the idea of falling into something so deeply that I might be entirely encompassed. Welcoming whatever my heart longs to be immersed within.

I will dedicate myself to a soul song and let my life sing.

  1. And
  2. maybe
  3. through
  4. my
  5. soul
  6. song
  7. at
  8. least
  9. thirteen
  10. tremendous
  11. things
  12. will
  13. happen.

I cannot wait to see precisely what they will be.

Happy New Year, my darling readers. I adore each and every one of you, and I hope your 2012 served you well and that your 2013 will be even better.

Do not be afraid to let your life sing.

Remember: “Whatever satisfies the soul is truth” (Walt Whitman).

Grey days are my favorite kind.

While I was traveling this summer, I learned something from the Northwest.

Some days, happiness is simple.

I wake up and everything feels so heartbreakingly beautiful.

Everything is white.

In those days, it is blissfully easy to fall in love with the world.

In those days, I want life to stand still for just a moment…so I can breathe it all in, slow and deep.

I do not want to miss a second of it.

And then, after a pause, I want it all to

RISE,

CRESCENDO,

and START AGAIN.

I want to feel the adrenaline that is the world pulse through my veins before blending into my own quiet heartbeat.

In those moments and days, I want to know what the epitome of being alive feels like.

Other days, sadness is easier and there is a dull ache in everything…and for once the ache is not beautiful.

Everything is black.

It is as though the world moves and I don’t go along with it. Uncertainty and stillness encompass it all.

In those days, I’m here while everyone and everything else is there.

In those days, I want everything to slow to a crawl, but not to breathe it all in. I want it slow so that I may stop scrambling for handholds and kicking out for steps to hold onto.

I battle between

decisively TAKING A LEAP into life’s unending flow

OR

leaving myself IN THE STILLNESS of uncertainty.

It’s hard to tell which days are honestly better.

Those in which I feel alive and feel the life within the world, or those in which I’m forced to face the truths of life.

What about those rare days when wish and reality…

COLLIDE?

The stillness and the life mesh together and a new rhythm is born.

It’s unique. It’s distinctive. It’s outstanding. And, it always leaves me wanting to hear more.

Those are the days I truly LIVE for.

When I can feel the pulse of the world amidst the confusion.

When my mind creates designs and characters behind my eyes.

When my hands fly across a keyboard or page with that addictive mixture of need and desire to create.

When my feet dance even without a song.

When the world speeds up and slows down.

When everything is such chaotic balance.

When there is no ache, beautiful or painful, because all is JUST RIGHT.

The confusing nature of the world tends to block out those perfect days.

It makes all the other days feel more important and present.

But, in the end, it’s worth it to remember those days of opposing extremes.

It’s worth it to recognize their influence.

…And how quickly they also vanish when the days of orchestral perfection show up again.

In those days of CRESCENDOS and of STILLNESS, I find peace in knowing that the mysterious grey area created when they collide is worth the days of blinding black and white.

Majestic Tragedy, Heartbreaking Beauty, Reluctant Chance


Midnight air breeds dangerous thoughts in the minds of the accepting: 

Missed opportunities, 
plagues of empty memories, 
possibilities and realities stolen from my very mind. 
Chance and confusion dismissed my future, 
and set my soul upon a different path. 
Bitterness– 
truly possessing its’ own harsh taste– 
is my existence from hence forth. 
I wished for a future; 
I wished for a wish that was impossible to clarify. 
Stars, 
weightless spheres of chemical compounds, 
infinitely suspended and glimmering overhead, 
I find myself hoping 
that the marvelous beauty and power they contain will somehow transfer to me. 
Somehow verify my existence 
and my continuance into the coming stages of life. 
Somehow assure my future which now seems so uncertain. 
Perhaps this single missed opportunity shall lead to my destruction, 
my ultimate demise. 
Or, perhaps, 
this twist in the road is simply a longer route 
to where I wish to be… 
to that radiant future 
which I can only glimpse 
in the beauty of the stars.