>Dempsters Part 2

>When I wrote this last blog about the Dempsters truck, I was obviously in a really bad place. Part of me was embarrassed about it and wanted to delete the post, but for whatever reason I kept in on. Unintentionally, I received quite a few emails from some of you that blessed me deeply. Special thanks to AK, MS, TB, AW, TDL, EA, AR, CP and CH. You guys rock.

One response in particular came from a friend of mine whom I think you should all get to know. With her permission, I am using her real name (big shocker for me!) because she is brilliant. Her name is Elise Lowes and has been a huge help for me in getting this blog up and running. Remember when I had that other template, the one with the blue and the boats and me touching the sea on the coast of Scotland? Well, I almost destroyed it farting around with embedded codes and such, but Elise came to my rescue and spent painstaking hours into the morning fixing it for me. Thanks, friend! She is also quite the photographer. Check out her site, and let her know if you have any photography needs!
The reason I bring up dear Elise to you is because she wrote me an email that I am choosing to share with you. For some reason I just feel like it is something great. Something that might encourage you, too…
Hey pretty lady!! Surfed your blog today; I like the new additions of music!! And I was just thinking, and reading and especially after your last blog, one line really struck me: “Do you ever feel like people just want too much from you? I feel like that a lot.”

And then reading backwards through your blogs it strikes me that the expectations and demands you are feeling are internal. Obviously not always because yes having a job and having family (and um, you know, LIFE…) means that expectations exist. If I’m being Captain Obvious, sorry?

But reading your blog, it just really seems as if you internalize these expectations. The stress-mess may sometimes come from the knowledge that you are disappointing yourself for not meeting these expectations that you perceive others to have.

You’ve probably heard all this before. And I totally didn’t want to send you an email to be like “Dude, this is how you are, change!!” because I know that is not how it works. And I don’t have all my shit together by any stretch of the imagination. But I want to encourage you to not despair. Cry when you need to, make lists when necessary, decide hard things when you have to, relax when you can, don’t lie to yourself, and go listen to the sunscreen song because it’s cool and has a really good rhythm and is… cool. I think I said that already.

And I know I should say ‘have faith in God’ but really, that I think you have, but have faith in yourself too. Remember, you are human. Superheroes (much as we’d love for them to be prancing around in that deliciously tight spandex a la spiderman….) don’t really exist. And if you’re like me, you can only deal with one issue at a time. That’s not a bad thing.

I think you are awesome for being who you are, and for being honest and open in a public forum like a bloggity blog.

That’s enough verbal diarrhea from me. LOVE YOU HEAPS SISTER!!! Can’t wait till the next random meet up!! Or tech support, I’m good at that tooooooooo. ^_~


She hits the nail on the head, hey? I would like to be clear in saying that I value and cherish each piece of wisdom you guys share with me, and I am not trying to elevate Elise by publishing this, but I really appreciate her humour mixed in with rawness, gentleness, and faith. I love how real it is. I love how she isn’t afraid to tell me the truth.
“Let us be our sister’s keeper”
Thanks everybody. I know I had a freak-out on Sunday night, but things are ssssllllooowwwlllyyy coming around. 2 more nights ’till the big move, and then you will get a thorough blog and photo tour of the beginning, construction, and end.

“I have heard there are troubles of more

than one kind.

Some come from ahead and some

come from behind.

But I’ve bought a big bat.

I’m all ready you see.

Now my troubles are

going to have troubles with me!”

~ Dr. Seuss





the song that i chose to play for this post is freakishly on the mark…once again, connecting to my inner self through the power of music as a language…

Today as I was driving down 200th (oh the joys of 200th) on the way to my mom’s birthday brunch, a Dempster truck was seriously riding my tail. Have I mentioned to you folks yet that the engine light on my 1.5 year old car has been gracing me with its presence on and off for some time now? I can take it to the dealer till my face turns blue, but they say nothing is wrong with it. But today, with Mr. Dempster attempting to mow me down, my little car started shuttering and stuttering like never before. I was so not impressed…it seemed like the car didn’t feel like going much faster than 60km, which is definitely a problem when you are driving south on that hill. The Dempsters truck was making me incredibly nervous, irrational, angry, and scared. I wanted to slam on my brakes, get out, and swear at that driver the way I have only fantasized about reaming someone out. It took everything in me to stay calm and wait until I could safely get into another lane or at least turn off 200th, but it was hard. I have felt so so so much pressure lately, and this was the icing on the cake. I didn’t sleep a wink last night and was overly tired and emotional, so needless to say, having my car on the verge of a major breakdown and some idiot in a massive truck wanting to kill me for not driving fast enough was enough to take me out.

I held it together, took the backroads home, arrived at my childhood home, got out, walked upstairs. My Lama took one look at me, put her hand to my forehead, and, exclaiming something about a high fever, marched me to her bed and practically shoved me under the covers. This silence overcame me then, this peace, this feeling of safety, and I really, really, really cried. I cried for the loss of my perfect home where I live now. I cried for the knowledge that I am going to pick up this bunny next week and I don’t know how I am going to pay for the ferry. I cried for the fact that I may have made a mistake by doing all that work on the new house so early. I cried because I am broke. I cried because I was accidentally late for work yesterday. I cried because my beloved car is broken and I don’t know how to pay for it. I cried because I am alone. I cried because I knew I was letting my mom down on her birthday because I was sick. I cried because I didn’t feel well and had a massive headache.
I cried because I am out of control. So totally, completely, and frighteningly out of control. My car is a mess, my room is a mess, my finances are a mess. I have two homes right now that are both a mess. I know I am not trying hard enough at work to meet the expectations that are required of me. I know I am not trying hard enough to be a good friend. I know I am not trying hard enough to take care of myself. I haven’t been to the grocery store in like 13 days. Guys, I’m not doing so well.
Do you ever feel like people just want too much from you? I feel like that a lot. Sometimes it gets to the point where I am afraid to listen to my voicemail or even answer the phone for that matter because I am convinced I have done something wrong. My boss can’t even ask to have a conversation with me without seeing my face turn white. You just can’t win it all, can you?
The good news is, I am working on this. I am trying so hard to filter through hopes and expectations, which I am hoping to blog about in the next few days. I am trying to accept the fact that I am not responsible for peoples reactions. Like the Dempsters truck. I am not responsible for his impatience, anger, or frustration towards me for not driving as fast as he would have liked. I was doing my best, I was caring for myself and my car, and everything will be okay.
Lama, thank you so much for trading cars with me. I will take good care of the Dynasty. ; )
Mom, happy birthday. I think you are probably more than a little disappointed in me for spending the day sick in bed instead of socializing, but I hope you understand that it was non-negociable today.
Now, to sum this all up…
Must. Get. Some. Sleep.
Here is to a new week, you guys. Let us try to count our blessings and not let life get in the way of that. I promise to try if you will. : )

>Moving Is HIGHLY Overrated!

>Hi all! Before I get to the heart of this post, I would like to apologize for the lack of writing lately. I’m maxed out time wise, but trust me, my mind is bursting with things to share; anecdotes about the past few days, thoughts surrounding bulimia and high-stress situations, family matters, work stuff. But for now I am doing the best I can…I am breathing in and out (um, kind of) and I am trying to take care of business. His Heart, My Song, has NOT taken a backseat to everything else that has been going on in my life, but I want to give my posts the time and attention they deserve. I don’t want to waste your time with fluff, especially because so many of you out there are fantastically loyal. So thanks for hangin’ in there. Just give me another week or so!


Alrighty, first of all, let me just be super honest here: I. Am. Stressed. I’m really not a huge fan of whiners and complainers, but seriously people, I feel like I could burst into tears at any moment. My back feels like it will snap in half should I pick up even a pencil. I stare at castle-like towers of boxes (what the heck is in them, anyways?!) and cringe at the thought of moving them to a new house. My thigh muscles are pulsing with tension. If my arms could get up and walk away, they would. I don’t want to see another paint roller or stand in another line at Walmart laden down with un-fun “necessities” like Magic Erasers and picture hangers…Only 1 more week.

Thanks for letting me whine…now onto the lessons. Oh yes, there is always a lesson…

I was hanging out on the website of a very beautiful lady who faces challenges each day, not unlike the ones you and I face. She has SUCH a good attitude and outlook on life, and often inspires me to get that chin of mine back up. Her post today hit the spot, and something she said totally resounded with me. If not for this little piece of wisdom today, I would not have been brave enough to share this falling-apartness with you guys. I would have probably told you that everything is great and I have got it all together!

I find it refreshing in this day and age that women are talking about their short-comings, their fears, their insecurities and maybe, just by doing so, we are empowering each other a little more. Accepting that we all do these things, feel these things, say these things and moving on together to overcome them.

We are not perfect. We are messy and complicated and creative and good and we try our best at so many different endeavors. And its this brew of wonderfulness that is indeed what makes us perfect.

Hmm…We are messy and complicated. Ain’t that the truth. Last year I would never, ever have been able to admit that. I would have hid behind walls, put on a smiley face, sucked it up. But not anymore.

Last night I spent a few precious hours with my best friend in the world. Those moments are heartbreakingly few and far between. I had McDonalds bags strewn about my car, Tim Hortons cups galore. My hair looked like tiny little birdies had taken up residence in my grade-8-style ‘messy bun’. My eyes were sunken in, my clothes dirty, my spirits low. But as she came in for the embrace, she totally, completely looked past that. She loves me unconditionally. And I let her in. Literally, into my far from completed new place, and figuratively into my soul. She told me that she feels like the only way she can tell lately what is going on in my life is by reading this blog, which is totally crazy. I really need to live what I preach. Hard as I try, I have realized I need to step it up once again and start living for these amazing relationships in my life. I have been blessed with friends who are family. And that is so great.

You girls know 100% who you are, and I want to thank you SO much for being my family. You are my world. I’m sorry I don’t tell you that more.


Moving update (sans whining and complaining!): This week has been a combination of deep cleaning, packing, painting, and moving boxes. The new house was dirty, dirty, dirty, and my lovely lung infection has returned with a vengeance. Friends have been over there this week painstakingly cleaning with me and for me, and I could not have handled that on my own. Painting is another story. Priming is never, ever fun, but painting hasn’t been so bad. My hallways are Monica Geller inspired Arcadian Blue, and the living room and kitchen are a warm and cozy Urban Natural. Love. It. It’s all starting to come together now. I have 6 nights left in Rockhill Place. Hannah asked me if I was sad about that. Honestly, haven’t even thought about it. I’m sure I will be, yes, but right now it’s the last thing on my mind.


Some of you have been asking about my sleeping this past week. To my knowledge I have not left my bed once. They say that darkness fears the light, and I am so thankful that I shared with you what was going on. I feel like I exposed something that can’t hide anymore. For you out there who have been praying, thank you. Really.


Lastly, I want to share with you something that the most precious little girl said to me today. She was shining one of those obnoxious flashy light-stick things that you get at Playland at me for the longest time while I smiled at her politely and waited for her to move on. She slowly lowered it, came up right into my face and said, “Misses Sina…you’re so, so beautiful”. Oh heart of all hearts…she just knew what I needed to hear to instill enough confidence in me to complete this day. Thank you, little girl.

And now I say to you, my friend…You’re so, so beautiful.

Happy Friday, everyone.




I have a younger brother. He kind of drives me crazy. Always has, and always will. But it’s not at all bad. My brother has a very good heart, but he has had some tough struggles in his life. Details are unnecessary. But ya know, we’re not that different, he and I.
My brother isn’t living at home right now, and we haven’t spent much time together at all in the past few years. I think we are both uncomfortable with the idea, which is absolutely ridiculous because we are family. 100% blood. He is my only full sibling. But we definitely have had our share of significant differences which left quite an impression on our relationship and bond.
On Sunday I went to see my brother. I hope he wouldn’t mind me sharing this with you, but he read a letter that he had written me. It was honest, and raw, and heartbreaking, and abrasive, and uncomfortable. But he told me that unless he had the chance to read it, he might not heal. What is it with my family and letters? We seem to communicate better in the written world. Anyways, my brother was so exposed and open and vulnerable in that moment, and it was quite something. He deserves a pat on the back. He deserves a better relationship with me, his sister. With all of us, actually.
Because of our tumultuous past, I haven’t always built up my brother in a positive light to my friends. A lot of the friends that I went to high school with need to know that he is totally changing. He has come a long way. I am proud of him. I am sorry if he has felt judged by me. I am happy that he is healing. I love him.
How are your brothers and sisters doing? Have you told them lately that you love them?

>The ‘S’ Word


To wrap up my series on Californian Lessons, I am gonna throw in the towel and talk about a very touchy, sensitive subject…singleness. Is it a dirty word? Mmm…kind of in Abbotsford, it is. It is a death sentence? No. N. O. Sometimes I forget that though. I forget that when I am in Petsmart and 12 year olds are making out in the aisle. I forget that when I go the movies alone. I forget that when I attend 12 weddings a year on average. But actually, one of the most valuable lessons I learned in California is that I am really, truly, honestly okay on my own.

Hannah and Will are a lovely couple. I call them Chandler and Monica and they call me Joey. I have a bedroom at their house and everything. They are family to me. Hannah was only 20 when they got married, a young but perfectly solid age to enter into marriage. I look at that, and I think about where I was at when I was 20, and I marvel at the unique and different paths we have travelled, and how we can come together all these years later and still connect, still be close, still relate despite our incredibly different walks.

I was 16 when I decided I was “ready” to get married. No joke. I had my wedding planned, my kids’ names chosen, my house in the suburbs planned out real good. I was totally convinced that Mr. Right was in Grade 11 just like me, around the corner, and ready too. I love how 16 year olds feel as though they have no more growing to do. This isn’t a spiteful remark on my part; only a fascinating observation and memory. We thought we had it all figured out, didn’t we?

I remember thinking it was going to come easily, love and all that jazz. And sometimes it did. I dated my fair share of nice guys, some certainly nicer than others! I had fun and met some cool people and learned some incredibly important lessons about standards and boundaries, values and compromises. I don’t regret any of it. One thing that always scares me though is the prospect of being alone forever. I think it scares my family, too. By the time my gramma was 25 like me, my mom was already 5 years old. And I was turning 1 the year my mom turned 26. So I think to them, I am a lost cause. Okay, not really, and I am sure when my mother reads this I will be getting a phone call, but the truth is, sometimes I think I want a relationship less for my own sake and more so because I feel like I am letting them down. I see the way my gramma drools in the windows of Please Mum, just dying to buy little baby clothes. My mom asks me about what I want my wedding to be like from time to time. The have-you-met-anyone-special-lately speech is always on the horizon. And I don’t mind, honestly I don’t, because they love me and are so excited for my future. But more than anything else, they just want to know that their girl has a companion, a best friend to go through life with.

I want that, too. I am not gonna lie.

But you know what? The girls in my life have kind of split down the middle. Half of them got married, and half of them didn’t and cried about it. By no means do I want to look down on my friend’s who have broken hearts in the midst of their singleness, but crying about this is the last thing I want to do. Sure, I have my moments of heartache. I am smiling remembering that shot of Emma Pilsbury sobbing in her car in the pouring rain, choking out the lyrics to ‘All By Myself’. (Glee fans, I know you are smiling, too!). Sometimes I think about all the single days I have left and I just feel content and want to enjoy, I mean really enjoy, them. I love my independence, I love my ability to make decisions on the fly without thinking of how they will affect someone else. I love my routine and my strength and my freedom. Not that being a wife = iron shackles, but you just know things will never be the same again. So I am enjoying this thoroughly.

Before I continue on with how this all relates to California, I want to share something with you that is really special to me. My counselors told me that I was holding too tightly onto my idealistic plan for my future, my neat and tidy little “husband and baby” package. They told me I had to start letting it go in order to live my life wholly and completely and contently. I fully agreed with them, but it was last year that they told me this, and I wasn’t ready to stop puking, let alone ready to stop wishing and hoping for that guy and my little kids. But by the time we reached the end of 2009, I was finally beginning to let go and see that they were right; I did have to let it go. I spent New Years Eve with Hannah and Will, which some people thought was going to be really awkward but it wasn’t. Remember? The whole family thing? However, the next day, late afternoon, I went home to my empty house after spending 2 days with them and something snapped in me. I had known for days that this was going to happen, felt the cry coming on days before the waterworks began. So I walked into my house, turned on a lamp, sat on my couch, and cried. No, crying in an understatement. I wept, I bawled, I sobbed. Hard, loud, and long. I feared the neighbours would hear me, see me, try to stop me, so I shut the blinds. I cried my little heart out. For almost an hour. Straight. It was glorious. I hadn’t been that exhausted, that emotionally drained in years and it left me refreshed. Sometimes you just need a really good cry. After that little episode I got kind of pissed off. Funny how emotions play on each other, hey? I was pissed at God and at myself and at every stupid, happy, smiling couple that ever walked the face of the earth. So I marched into the laundry room, hastily dumped some little ballet flats out of a shoe box, and began to storm around my house gathering anything that could possibly relate to my future wedding, husband, and children. I threw in baby clothes that I found on sale, burned a CD off my computer containing songs I had been thinking would be nice at my wedding. The master “List” of everything I hoped this guy would be was printed, folded, and chucked in the box. Letters were put in the box. Wedding bubbles I had saved, index cards with fabulous ideas, and basically a piece of my heart. Finally I mustered up every last ounce of aggression in me and shoved that box onto the top shelf of my closet, whipped the door shut, and then stood there blankly. I didn’t know what to do, think, feel, or say. So I smiled. It might not have been the most genuine smile in the world, but it was a smile. And friends, it isn’t just a myth that when you let go of something you were holding onto that tightly, you begin to heal. It’s only been 3.5 months but I feel the change in my heart, and I am learning to enjoy my own company and learning to be my own best friend, cheesy as that it.

Coming back once again to LA, I learned that being in a relationship is a lot of work. Obviously I knew that prior to the trip, but as beautiful as the relationship between Hannah and Will is, I realized I am not in a place right now where I want that in my life. I like being on my own. I like having my own bed. Selfish as that sounds, it’s true. Come to think of it, selfish is just the word I have been searching for. I think I am just too selfish to be a couple right now. Hannah and Will share everything, which would be a really hard adjustment for me. My siblings and I are spread out in age enough that I never really had to share anything with them, and the sibling closest to my age is a boy which means we didn’t have enough in common to fight over material things. I never had to share my room or toys or clothes. I also think I would feel kind of suffocated if I had to check in with someone all the time. I am kind of free spirited and go with the flow, so being accountable to someone would be a major change.

I am looking forward to being in a relationship, absolutely, if that is the plan for my life. But for now, I am enjoying the ‘S’ word. I am in school and working a lot and spending tons of time with family and friends. I have so much to be thankful for, so much to look forward to, and now, a whole summer of camping and road tripping and playing ahead. Life is good, hey.


“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not;
remember that what you now have was once among the things
you only hoped for.


“We tend to forget that happiness does not come as a result of getting
something we don’t have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating
what we do have.

-Frederick Keonig

>Night Terror

>My posts these past few weeks have been pretty sunshiny and rainbow-y. I have had lots of good things to share and have delighted in making my California memories come alive for you. But today, as I continue on with the L.A. lessons, I have to open up to you about something that I rarely share with anyone. Not because it is a secret, but because I am starting to think it is one of those things I push out of my head in an attempt to avoid dealing with it.

I haven’t felt this nervous to share anything with you guys since the old days. My heart is kind of racing actually, and as I look down at my hands as I type, there is a distinct tremble. I am realizing in this moment that brave Christina is scared.

You can probably guess from the title of this post what I have to tell you about. If you have lived with me or had a sleepover with me you will know very well what is coming. I have some big sleeping problems. So bad that I am afraid to go to sleep sometimes, and so bad that I rarely feel rested and refreshed.

My parents always knew I was a sleepwalker and sleep talker. It was even a bit of a family joke, because apparently I get this from my dad, who one night left his apartment building in the dead of night and woke up in another. Weird. One night at camp my co-counselor chased me down because I was taking a walk to the tree houses in the pitch black. My first housemate ever woke up one night to the sound of pouring rain, to find me heading into the culde-sac in the middle of a storm for no apparent reason. Another housemate of mine couldn’t find the dishtowel one morning and found it in my bed with me. I have woken up in closets and laundry rooms, back yards and curled up in the middle of the floor. Other friends have testified to my crying, yelling, calling out in the night seemingly terrified. I have always brushed this behavior off as hilarious, my own little way of entertaining the people who are graced with my presence at night.

Our first night at the Hilton, Hannah and Will got their first taste of my sleeping problems. Hannah tells it better, but I guess I was in the middle of “rescuing” someone when she woke up and tried to talk to me and calm me down enough so that I would rest again. The next night was bad. We had spent the day at Disneyland, supposedly the happiest place on earth, but my subconscious had plans for me other than reliving the cheerful, colourful haven that is Disney. Hannah says that we were sleeping away, quiet as mice, when she woke up to a sharp light coming into our room. She had heard the lock on the door release and panicked when she realized I was walking straight out into the hallway. She quickly woke Will who ordered me back to bed. I was scared, they were confused and concerned for what might have happened if I had actually left and found the elevator or whatever, and the rest of that night was rough. Let’s just say that I am very blessed to have a friend like Hannah who watches over me like a hawk. I don’t often remember too many details of my nightmares, but for this instance I did. I had dreamt that we were back at Disneyland getting off the Space Mountain ride. Everything was pitch black and the people on the ride filed off and left through these doors, but by the time I caught up with them the door had closed and I was left in the pitch black, alone and abandoned. I guess me opening our hotel room door was my way of trying to escape from that predicament.

Because of that night, Will ended up staying in L.A. for the remaining 3 days. It had never really occurred me to before that this problem was serious until Hannah told me she had cried her eyes out after that night. So I decided this last week to keep a “dream journal” as a way to track what I was going through at night. Every morning when I woke up I wrote a few things down if I remembered a nightmare. Ready for this, people?


April 9th
Last night I dreamed I swallowed so many
uncoated pills that they all got stuck in my throat and I died.
April 10th
Last night I dreamed that Jennifer and I were on a massive airplane
and learned that it was about to be bombed. We quickly
made a plan to rescue as many people on board as possible. We managed to save
quite a few people, including a tiny little blond girl who clung to me. We couldn’t
land the plane though and we couldn’t call home.
I also dreamed that my friends and I were driving along a really windy road
and there was a bad car accident in front of us. The police made us get out and walk
to this river where they took our keys away. I don’t remember anything else.
April 12th
Last night I woke up around 2am convinced I was late for work. I started
panicking and put all my clothes on. Then I woke up and realized it was only 2am
so I went back to sleep in my work clothes.
April 13th-afternoon nap
Today I was so tired that I had to have a nap. I fell asleep on the couch and had a
really bad dream. In my dream I had to take care of some kids
that were severely mentally disabled. They reminded me of the
movie Gremlins. I was in charge of twins who kept running into traffic and lashing
out at me when I tried to keep them safe. Both twins cut me and ran away and
I couldn’t find them. I was looking everywhere for them when a
homeless man grabbed me and I couldn’t get away. I woke up drenched in sweat
and I couldn’t breathe. I don’t like taking naps.
Okay, I guess I just told you a few paragraphs back that I don’t remember my dreams. I think that wasn’t true. Maybe I remember them all too well. I really hate the way I am shaking right now, the way I remember waking up from all these dreams in only the past few days feeling dizzy and tired. I don’t watch scary movies or shows, I don’t eat spicy food (or anything before bed for that matter) and I don’t personally relate to any of my nightmares. I don’t know what to do about them besides pray before bed. But I don’t like going to sleep. At all.
Friends, in only 2 weeks I am moving out to be totally on my own for the first time. I have lived on my own for about 7 or 8 years, but always with roommates or with host families when I was overseas. People always tell me about my sleepwalking/talking but who is going to take care of me now? Besides God, I guess. I won’t lie. I am a little scared. Brave Christina who travels alone and lives alone and goes through life alone is scared.
I am going to get a bunny so hopefully that will help in the solitude. It will be nice to have something to greet when I come home from work and say goodnight to before bed. But if you are praying person, maybe faith and prayers will help. Actually, I know they will.
So what I learned in California about this is that it is a problem. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time. I sleep well on sleep-in days from about 7am-10am. Maybe it is because of the light. I don’t know.
A lot of you readers are in psychology or familiar with such issues. I am totally up for any advice you might be able to give me. I know I am never alone, and I know I have people who love me, but I know the adjustment period in the next few weeks will be tough. I’ll keep you posted.
Thanks for listening today. I didn’t like writing this at all and am struggling to fight back the lump in my throat. I am on my break at work and have cried in this place enough. I don’t want to cry. I’m sorry if night terror is something you also struggle with.
For now,
“You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day”(Psalms 91.5)



Celebrities. Stars. VIP’s. Dignitaries.
Brad Pitt. Meryl Streep. Robert Pattison. Dakota Fanning.
Do you think that some people are born stars? What about the people who truly believe they are born stars who never make it past the leading role in their elementary school plays? It’s kind of fascinating to me. Maybe somewhere deep inside all of us we all want to be celebrities and be waited on and have our photographs taken and hear strangers say they love us and see our names in lights. But mostly, don’t you think we all just want to leave a legacy? Isn’t that why we take pictures and write journals and memoirs and take generational portraits? No one wants to be forgotten. We all want to be seen. We all want to be heard. We all want to shine. We all want to be loved.
The first star I ever loved? Michelle Tanner.

And the second? Mary Poppins. But come on now, who didn’t?
And we ALL know who I love now, right?
So much so that Hannah I might have taken something out of her recycling bin while stalking (ahem-visiting) her home…
One thing that I find hard to swallow though is this quote I found by Fred A. Allen on being a celebrity:

A celebrity is a person who works hard all of their life to become well known, and then wears dark glasses to avoid being recognized.

And suddenly, just like that, it doesn’t seem so appealing anymore, does it? Makes me grateful for the small, quiet life I lead. And it makes me grateful for the opportunities I do have to shine. I can goof off at work and put on accents and have dress up parties and make music videos with Hannah.

And you know what else? I can leave a legacy. It might not be the same legacy that the late Michael Jackson left behind, or Marilyn Monroe, or George Washington. It might not be as important. But I am still leaving one. And you are too. I see so, so, so many of you who are raising the most beautiful children ever. You are cuddling them, feeding them, loving them. They are your legacy. And others of you are expressing yourself through your art, your photography, your voices, your work, and it is beautiful.

I know I use song lyrics in my posts like they are going out of style, but it is because that is how I most often feel understood; through songs. And Nichole Nordeman sings a song called Legacy (surprise, surprise!) that totally changed the way I saw my life when I first heard it a few years ago…

I don’t mind if you’ve got something nice to say about me
And I enjoy an accolade like the rest
You could take my picture and hang it in a gallery
Of all who’s who and so-n-so’s that used to be the best
At such’n’such … it wouldn’t matter much

I won’t lie, it feels alright to see your name in lights
We all need an ‘Atta boy’ or ‘Atta girl’
But in the end I’d like to hang my hat on more besides
The temporary trappings of this world

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?

That sounds to me like something I want for my life. I have never been promised children, but that doesn’t mean I can’t leave a legacy. I want to be known as someone who loved. Deeply. Widely. Unconditionally. Don’t you?

Someone told me something sad today. I was at work and chatting with a parent who told me that her 4-year-old child learned from her father to yell at ESL people to learn English or leave the country. Could you, for just one second, imagine being the person on the other side of the drive-thru speaker hearing someone say that to you? (I use that example because it was the one that the parent used). I just think we could do so much better being a little more tolerant and a little more loving.

Wow, I am so totally off topic!

The point here is, that kid in Pay It Forward was seriously onto something. We can definitely pay it forward when it comes to love, and that in itself is the greatest legacy there is.

Have fun loving those around you this week, friends. If you feel so motivated as to reach out to someone this week, I would love to hear about it! We could have a share-a-thon or something. Because I am just that cheesy.