An Ordinary Life? (Journey To Me)

I’m reading a book that has brought up living an ordinary life. In the book an ordinary life is a bad thing. The author views it as boring and as if the person living that life is asleep; They’re not really living. For me an ordinary life would feel the same way. I fell into the somewhat ordinary life and it suffocated me. I lost part of me.

Unlike the other author I can see that an ordinary, quiet life that is similar to those on television may be ideal. I can see how certain people can be happy settling down, working a stable job, and simply living life.

Ordinary does not fit who I am at my core. Even when my life is primarily ordinary I look for the extraordinary. I need to keep my eyes open to the uncommon and I am grateful for those times.

Living an unique life isn’t all about travelling the world, going on strange adventures late at night, and meeting one of a kind characters. More often than not it is little stories that are not forced or expected and one of a kind routines that are all your own.

My life strays from ordinary every Saturday I spend writing my novel and the nights I spend on my visual art pieces. It becomes unique when I have to test my church’s worship leader that I will be late to serving as the sound board operator, because my landlord’s pop-belly pig is loose and trying to find non-extant treats in my bag. Also, most people don’t drive slowly calling for the same pig that found her way out of her  pen a second time, so that the pig would get back to the house.

I do travel cross country often and meet one of a kind characters even more frequently. When your eyes are open though, you’ll see everyone is a one of a kind character and we all travel, even if most of the time it’s in your mind.

My life is not for everyone, but it is perfect for me. I am grateful for my uncommon life and hope you are grateful for whatever type of life you’re living.

Pig Pen (Journey To Me)

From my birth to age 10 I grew up across the street from a pig farm. It was my family’s fame and my uncles ran it.

My sisters and I would run an play up on the farm. I remember climbing up on the stacked hay and talking with my sisters. We would pet the goats and watch the pigs. When my uncles, dad, or another adult was around they would pick up the little piglets to let us hold them.

Even after my family moved a town over we would visit my memere and the farm. We would still play and pet the pigs whenever we visited. We had farm shoes over my memere’s house that we would wear when the farm was muddy.

One day, when I was in middle school I brought a friend over to the farm and we played in the pen with the pigs. Most of the pigs stayed away from us. We still had fun in the slippery pen. We slid and fell many times, which to a child is a fun time.

By the time we had enough fun we were both covered in what we though was mud. We cheerfully went back down the hill to my memere’s home. She informed us that it was not just mud and she hosed us off before we could enter her house to fully get cleaned. Typically, we just had to take off our farm shoes. This time was different we were too messy to be allowed in the house.

I smile at the memory still. My memere still reminds me about the time my friend and I got covered in pig manure.

A Vacation In My Home (Journey To Me)

In Mid March of 2017 I had what I called “a fast from life.” I took time off work, did not watch television during the day, did not go on social media or the internet, and did a tradition fast of no food except for liquids. It was a time of reflection on life, self searching, and relaxing that lasted 5 days. In that time I wrote the following.

It is about one o’clock on a sunny Wednesday. I hear a bird chirping in the distance and feel a gently breeze pass through my open windows. I am sitting on the ground of my beige living room. My back is leaning against my grey recliner and my fuzzy teal pillow. I have a teal body pillow on my lap and a sense of being home in my heart. This is only a small studio, but it is perfect for me.

The fast that it is beige is broken up with my light wood furniture, grey chair, and silver lamp in my living. My office has no structured definition, but instead of light furniture it has a black desk, a black bookcase, and a dark wood chair, but my art supply storage is a happy turquoise. Plus, there is a gallery wall of my art and the art I have collected.

My bedroom and reading nook are up a ladder in my loft.

The bathroom is huge.

There is also a kitchenette with a stove top, microwave, and an unused toaster oven.

My home is complete and my own.

It is perfect and my own paradise, which is why I’m taking a vacation here. I wanted to take time to figure out myself and a plan for my life. I need direction and to know that I’m on the path God wants me to be on. My original thought was to go away – travel.

I would not be distracted by the fact the grocery store is only 15 minutes away and there is a taco place even closer. If I traveled I won’t be reminded of all the different forms of art I play with. In that same thought I wouldn’t have my art supplies or all the projects I’m working on. Plus, why pay for a hotel when I just want to feel my pen on paper, sleep whenever I want,and read the rest of the time.

It is the first day of my fast from life and already I am liking it. I slept til 8, had a massage, and read 6 chapters in the Bible. I am very relaxed and peaceful. This is how I want to start this experimental fast that will be focused on God’s future for me.

For the next 5 days if my mind wonders I’ll let it. It is free to roam the forest of my thoughts, but I will also put it to work while it is near. This way I will remain calm and relaxed while I pray and search for what God will have me do.

This was the first day of the fast and by the end I had a rough plan. I had things I would be giving up and things that I would be adding to my life.

As I review the list of changes, I am noticing that some of the negative things crept back into my life. Thankfully, all except for one have been removed again. I am working on most of the positives habits. I did slip on them, but once I got back on track with my goals I started to have all, with the exception of one, in my weekly goals.

Swan Attack (Journey To Me)

It should be known that I hate birds. It is partly out of fear and partly is because I think at least fowl and larger birds are evil. I can handle smaller birds and can stand pet birds, like cockatiels. Roosters, swans, and geese are not okay in my book.

I have had a few negative run-ins with birds in my life. The first one I remember is the swan that attacked me and my now step-sister.

Until I was 10 I lived across the street from my uncles’ pig farm. They also had goats and chickens. I would always go over there and one day I went with my step-sister.

We went into the goat’s area. It was a fenced in patch of land that was a bit rocky, but grass still grew.

I did not realize that a swan made a nest and laid eggs in the grass, until I got too close. The swan chased my step-sister and me. We scrambled up some rocks, since we could not get back to the gate. There was a thorny bush on the other side of the fence. There was a short argument about leaping the fence, since we would be jumping into the thorns. The evil swan was ready to attack, but no major injuries occurred. I believe we jumped the fence or one of my uncles came to chase the bird away.

I want to say my uncle chased away the massive bird with a shovel in hand, but I can only remember the terror of the swan’s attack with its flapping wings and the feeling of being trapped.

My Speech (Journey To Me)

I will be blunt, because there is no real way of talking about my speech without doing so. I have a speech impediment, where d’s and t’s don’t always come out right or at all. This is especially true when d’s and t’s are in the middle of a word and I haven’t said that word a lot or at all.

Growing up I hated that it was called an impediment. It wasn’t because any negative experience I’ve had with having a speech impediment. I hated it, because I blurred the syllables together. I couldn’t say what I had well.

After years of speech therapy, theater, and practice friends and most people have said they don’t notice it. I know how to hide it and speak to be understood now.

I still hear it. I may not consciously be aware of it with every word I say, but I know it is still there in the shadows. I especially hear it when I listen to a recording or when I’m speaking through a microphone.

I repeat the words my friends tell me, “It’s just how I sound. It’s just how I talk.” I remind myself it makes me unique and those who matter don’t fault me for it.

For a time I cringed my way through editing videos of where I am speaking, whether it was monologues, tips, or improv videos. I forced myself to get comfortable with my voice. It did help me become more comfortable with my voice and accept it.

Eventually the videos slowed to a stop. The improved self-esteem for my speech was only a bi-product and my goals that were the real focus of the videos were not in the foreground of my motivation.

I gave little thought to my voice or speech for a while. It was not interfering with my life and it didn’t seem like an issue. I could listen to my voice without cringing now and everyone could understand me. Part of my thought that the impediment was behind me. It was something I had not have.  It felt as though the struggle with my impediment was over or a tiny pebble in the shadows of a far corner of my mind.

The funny thing with the mind is if you shine light on a pebble it can grow. Even the slightest connection to it can create a boulder under the right circumstances. The pebble become a hurdle, which open wounds that should have been healed.

Partly from stress and partly because a light was shined on my speech, I now had to face my speech impediment again. Even though the focus on my speech had nothing to do with the impediment, I saw my insecurities surrounding it.

I now have to figure out why the pain of not speaking exactly like everyone else still remains and threatens to come out at the slightest reference. Why does anything negative relating to speech or talking brings me to tears?

On the surface it appears that the reasons are easily sen. I want to be viewed as smart, but I must first sound intelligent. If  I’m fumbling over words, stuttering and finding replacements that I can say my IQ appears to drop.

I do not want what I view as my weakness and flaw hold me back. When it does I feel all the times its held me back. I am reminded of going to speech classes, being taken out of regular classes to go to a special speech therapy class, and feeling the label of “different” on me when it was not my choice.

Even now when I gladly wear “unique” and “different” as a proud badge, being different in speech hurts. It transports me back to being a child who did not ask for the label or want it.

I always felt loved and do not remember anyone teasing me about my impediment. They would tease me and bully me for other reasons, but never for how I spoke.

I do not want to blame my short coming or not getting things in life on my speech impediment. Hardly anyone notices now and if they do they say it doesn’t change their view of me. However, when it’s noticed it changes my view of myself. I’m reminded of the shy little girl. I find my shell again and must fight the urge to get back in it. I do fight though and write instead of crawling into my safe shell.

When the time is right I will explore why my speech impediment still hurts so badly when it is in the light. It is part of me and should not hurt me, yet it still does.

For now I will again work on tongue twisters and vocal exercises to overcome my flaws. I will become comfortable with my voice once again. I will remind myself that I’m my own success person. I’m strong and I am loved.

The relationship with my speech is a journey that I may stumble along, but I’m at least making progress and discovering more sides of who I am.

Left On The Bus (Journey To Me)

On this journey I must look at where I’ve been and the stories that shaped my life. I believe it is important to look in the rear view mirror every so often to see the path you are on a little more clearer. The first story I’m reflecting on while on this journey of self discovery happened when I was a child.

When I was 5 I would ride the bus to kindergarten. One day the bus driver dropped all the kids off at school, but did not check the seats. She left the school and parked the bus in her normal bus parking lot, but was in a rush. She had to take her grandson to the doctors or meet him at the hospital. Again she did not check the seats on the bus.

I stress this point, because little 5 year old me was asleep in one of the seats. At that time I could sleep anywhere and apparently through anything.

I snapped to consciousness in an empty bus parked in an unfamiliar location. I still remember the location. It was a packed dirt parking lot filled with buses somewhat close to the town’s blue water tower. It was almost a sky blue and looked like a mechanical ellipsoid.

After leaving the bus I made it to the road. I did not know where to go. I was only 5 and did not know where I was.

The only thing that I could do was sit on the curb and cry. I’m not sure how long after my tears started that a lady, in what I remember as, a brown boxy sedan pulled up. I only remember that she did and offered me a ride to the police station.

At first I did not want to go with this stranger, but she seemed nice and there were car seats in the back of her car. To 5 year old me that meant she was a mom and safe.

She did bring me to the police station.

I cannot tell you what questions were asked once I was there. I’m not sure many people could understand me well, since I had a speech impediment. That did not inhibit them in finding where I belonged.

Soon I was asked if I wanted to ride in the sergeant’s car or a cruiser. After they explained the difference I picked one. I honestly cannot remember which one I actually picked. I do remember that I didn’t really care. I just wanted to be somewhere familiar.

I was brought back to school where I believe my mom picked me up.

From that day on I have been a lighter sleeper, especially while in a moving vehicle.

Dreams and Goals (Journey To Me)

My dreams and goals seem crazy to me at time. They are so grand and lofty. They almost seem impossible. Yet, every time I attempt to downsize my dreams it does not work. Even if I am able to shrink them for a time, they will grow.

I want to say my dreams grow like weeds, but they are much more beautiful than your common weed. They are more like wild flowers, growing wherever and however they like, but doing so rather beautifully.

They are currently blossoming with the goal of supporting myself as an author and artist, who can then work on acting again. I want to be known for these three things. I can see myself achieving this and I am working towards these goals, that is why I call it a goal and not a dream. Dreams are just goals without a plan. I believe Dave Ramsey said something along those lines and I believe it is true.

My current dream includes marrying a musically talent actor and having 2 kids with him. I want to build a life with him. I dream of producing t.v. shows and acting in movies. I also want to be able to live off of 10% of my income and give the rest to God’s work and charities. I have no actual plans or steps in achieving any of these dreams. Perhaps one day when I am supporting myself as a author, artist, and actress, I will then be able to plan for my dreams.

I do want to mention that I don’t just want a lot of money, but I want to be able to make a big difference in the lives of others in a notable, positive way.

Where I am sitting right now these dreams and goals are large and scary, but they are mine. I am happy with always reaching for more, even though it is frustrating or a real struggle sometimes. I think I’ll stop trying to downsize my dreams, instead I’ll upgrade my work habits.

My Path (Journey To Me)

Sometimes I feel like I should have already started a more creative life. I want to be further along in my creative career. This makes me feel like my life is passing me by. I forget to look at all the great stories I now have to pull from. I ignore the fact that each year, month, week, and day have shaped me into the unique artist that I am.

It frustrates me to see where I want to go and not be there. It is also frustrating not having a clear path laid out before me. If feels like I’m in Californian traffic during rush hour and I’m not even sure if my gps/ plan is actually correct. Perhaps there is a better path for me, or at least better steps that I can be taking.

If you want to be a doctor there is a clear plan. You go to college, then med school. Then I believe there is an internship or residence. After that you are a full on doctor. You apply to jobs, go on interviews and get a job.

If you want to be a lawyer, you go to law school, take the bar exam, and apply to jobs. Then you are a lawyer.

Being a professional artist is a bit different. You can go to school, but you don’t have to. Some people apply to jobs or get freelance jobs, but other do not go that route. Some will work on finding commission jobs, others will not take commissions.

You basically do what fits you and your art the best, but it takes time to figure that out. Of course, more and more I believe a lot of life is just like that. You need to figure out what works best for you and your life.

Sometimes it’s learning from others that will help you down your path in life. Other times it’s trial and errors.

I think as long as you are moving towards your life goals, no matter how slow or sloppily, you are still going down your path and that is a good thing. This is one thing I need to remind myself when I think I’m going to slow or not seeing enough progress.

Who Am I? (Journey To Me)

Welcome to a journey I am taking to find out who I am and how I became this person. It will be a series of blog posts filled with self reflection and stories of my past.

This journey started with me asking if the person I’ve become is someone I want to be. Can I be a better version of myself? If I can what would that look like? Also, can I be happy with who I am and still desire to be a better me, whatever I define ‘better’ as?

Before I can really think about becoming a better version of myself I first have to define  where I am. How do I see myself. Just like getting directions on your gps for a vacation, I need to know where I am starting on this journey.

I am a 30 year old single female Chris follower, who is also a writer, painter, and aspiring actress.

I identify as an actress and theater person, even though I haven’t been on a stage for a long time or worked on a show for awhile. Still I see myself as a theater person. I long to be noticed as an actress. I want to learn and embody a new character. I want to learn about myself through a fictional character, like seeing through a different pair of eyes.

It brings me happiness when someone refers to me as a writer, artist or creative person. I feel love when people notice me for these things. Being creative is a passion of mine and part of who I am. When you notice my creativity you are noticing me.

It is easy for me to think little of myself and my art, since I don’t make a living off of it yet. People could very easily say it is just a hobby. I also feel like I keep most of my art to myself. At the very least I don’t promote it as much as I should. It just goes on the internet and then it is forgotten. Some paintings just go on my wall where only I can see them.

Promoting and selling my art work is one area I would like to improve on. I am taking steps for improving my online art life. I am posting more on my instagram. I am also planning on setting up a society6 shop to sell prints of my paintings and even some digital pieces I’ve been working on. I have also been toying with the idea of selling the original paintings on ebay or etsy, again. We shall see about that though. My main focus will be getting something on society6.

No matter what I will still create. I am an artist; that is who I am. That is where I will start this journey to understanding myself better.