Life up to Chance

I was sitting in the doctors office today, and I was thinking about all of the great things my close friends are up to. (weird place to think about your friends lives, I know). I have friends moving to different states, countries, getting hitched and starting businesses-and I feel stuck.

“It’s just not your time” “It will happen eventually” “You’re still young” are the common responses I get when I feel this way. But, who am I to listen to anyone…right. I am the first person to hear advice from hundreds of people, but the last person to actually use said advice.

I wish I could live my life like the risk-taking friends I have. Taking each day at a time, spontaneous plans and never knowing where tomorrow will take them. Myself on the other hand, always needs a plan. My life has been planned out for me since I was chilling in the womb, and growing up I always have felt like I am trying so hard to fit in this desired mold that everyone expected me to fill. There is not a single day that goes by where I don’t have 25 sticky notes and 3 planners reminding me of things I need to get done, day by day. All Hell breaks lose if I fit an unscheduled plan in my day- a literal catastrophe in my mind if something goes unplanned, or if I haven’t completed my list.

I also have the need to plan 5 years ahead of where I am, which some people tell me is the cause for my stress and feeling overwhelmed. What I can’t seem to shake, is the fact I am so young, and this is my time for making mistakes, yet I don’t want to step out of my comfort zone. I fear trying new things, or making those mistakes. It has been drilled into my head that one life lesson will screw up my entire life. I don’t take those chances like I have nothing to lose.

For all my friends that feel as time restricted, and plan oriented as I am- you’re not alone. Just because we don’t grocery shop today, doesn’t mean the produce won’t be there tomorrow. If we put aside an errand to hang out with a good friend, we can always revisit those errands tomorrow.

So for the next 30 days I will be testing myself. All pens and planners and note sections of my phone stored away for a period of growth, and self development.

This post was in response to the Daily Word:

Compass

Achieving a more carefree lifestyle.

Also, If this cute planner peaks your interest, you can find it on mogulmami.com , an amazing one woman Entrepreneur SLAYING her small business!

Every Saint has a Past

Saintly . Webster’s Dictionary defined as a holy person.

A holy person is defined as 1 sacred sinless deserving of reverence 

What makes me most angry about this word, is how loose the meaning really is. I think being saintly, is not only loving the people around you, but finding love in yourself. The most saintly acts I have witnessed in my 19 years, have been people helping me with my groceries to the car, lifting boxes for me at work, or asking if I needed assistance. The kind of selfless acts where a person goes out of their way, to make sure you are okay before they are.

Saintly acts are the long night drives with good friends, talking me out of a depressive spell. They are “how are you” messages, or calls in the morning “let’s go get some breakfast”. Without even knowing it, things like this can make a huge difference in someone’s day.

But how do other people define Saintly? The ones who stay abstain from pre marital sex? The people who use no curse words in their vocabulary? Or how about those who pass no judgement onto others? Well… growing up in a Catholic Church, these were the things I was taught. But every Saturday and Monday I sat in the phew, listening to the priest talk, I thought isn’t everyone in this room passing judgments on every non-catholic? I absolutely could not jive with the ludicrous  teachings nor could I donate 10% of my salary to a building which pays no taxes. I didn’t even have a salary!

Being away from the pressures from the church, has taught me more valuable lessons than blindly following a religion I was raised in. I have seen more saintly people outside of a church, than those who sat next to me at the altar. I have watched people feed the homeless in the city, out of the good in their hearts, and empty to their wallets to veterans on the street. This to me, is more saintly than reading pages of a book on Sunday, and judging “nonbelievers” Monday through Friday.

The tattooed girl across the room who once had multiple sexual partners in the same week and ate red meat on Fridays, expressed more empathy and kindness to the world, than the white haired woman with a cross around her neck condemning her for her appearance. Who is the one picking and choosing who is Sacred? Saintly? Deserving? I would say it’s time to trash these stigmas because we will all join each other in the same wooden box six feet under.

When I hear the word saintly, my mind races. My blood boils. Why does this word have to be so linear? When I have a child, he/she will be raised saintly. To love everyone they walk past and do what is right. But I refuse to force them into a Webster’s dictionary definition, promising them Heaven when the world around us is Hell.

xoxo -G

 

Paper or Plastic?

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I am getting older every second I scroll through mounds of photos in the magazines, of lip fillers, breast implants and Brazilian Butt lifts. I don’t often go to get acrylic nails, or get dolled up…but when I do I feel like part of my life is normal. I feel like I am doing one thing in my life that isn’t so abnormal from every other girl. I often sit in the mirror and judge myself, on my Aphrodite stomach rolls, my hormonal acne or my oblong nose. I push and pump my lips up, wondering what Angelina Jolie’s would look like on mine.

But there is a part of me that avoids that nonsense. There are days I wake up, admire my midsection for keeping me full in medium sized shirts, my acne for giving me some color from my skin, and that nose!! What else would hold my glasses up when I need to see? How else would I smell my morning coffee?

In the race to all have a bright Patina, applying coats of makeup, or living what some call a “plastic” life, just doesn’t seem to fit the picture. The camera lens of my life is too small for anything extra other than myself(lord knows I can’t even remember birthdays, how can I remember to make myself pretty everyday). However, there is absolutely nothing wrong with enhancing your appearance(I love it ladies, I do. Your eyebrows are perfect), by personal preference I have left my superficial beauty products in the past, and I am ready to embrace my aging appearance.

So goodbye overpriced nail salons, Sephora, Ulta and those alike! Not only am I attempting-really attempting to save money, I want to fully embrace my shapely squishy spotty exterior 🙂

Thank you for reading along! xoxo,

-G

What Do We Wait For

There is something quite ominous

about Death.

Where do our souls release when the lights go black

are We called back home for supper

or are the shells which We inhabit left to rot- as we sink into the unknown

what makes of the pain We hold to

does It dissolve into the air

or is It held with those who surround us

the burden of the selfish.

-G

 

this post is in response to the daily word: Tenterhooks

Has the Age of our Era been reversed?

Riots, Protests, Inequality, Racism.

Do any of these words ring a bell to you? Well they might if you remember the 1960’s.

After the election of Donald Trump (not my president), there has much more emphasis on the pressing issue of Racial inequality. Trump has stirred the pot every day since elected into office, which has been empowering our youth today, to speak up. Now wait a second- this is not a bash on Donald.

In 2012 and 2014, we witnessed the protests for Trayvon Martin and the Ferguson riots. These same acts of retaliation against oppression were seen in the mid 60’s as Black Power came to rise among student activists. If we are reliving an era of the past, why are people so surprised when justice is fought for? The same groups which have endured oppression since the day Native American Indians were forced, raped and assimilated off of their land… are STILL fighting for the same rights as the long, soft haired Caucasian race.

Now I’m not going to start going soft here… so here comes the storm.

Parental Discretion is advised: strong language, terms and radical views will be displayed.

The 60’s produced the Civil Rights Act and Voting Act, but there was never any settlement of equality or justice. Not only are we as a society making slower progressive reform than we did decades ago, we are now at a stand still. The United States own President, is playing on the fears of it’s citizens, and polarizing sides. People are now so afraid of the word “liberal” or “equality”, Neo-Nazi’s and white supremacists are back.

Where is the public outcry for these radical thugs? Aren’t they a danger to society? Or are they too white for people to be outraged?

April, 2015. Baltimore Riots broke out after the death of Freddie Gray. President Obama spoke out on the issue calling rioters “thugs and criminals”. But what can you classify as a thug? Is a thug someone trying to prevent their son from being the next one shot, or someone terrorizing a city with a symbol not even the Germans use?

August 2017. The start of the Charlottesville, Virginia white supremacy chaos. The animals who participated in the attacks and deaths of black people were not shunned by Trump, rather than claimed a group of good young men. What motives did bald white men carrying around Swastikas and torches have? What compelled them to cause turmoil in the city, when a white man has never tasted a sliver of oppression?

There will be no justice until the United States takes responsibility for the actions of government. For turning their heads to the systematic oppression, and re segregation of society. With no justice, there will continue to be no peace.

We have jumped into a time machine and reversed ourselves back to the 1960’s- only I am waiting for all of us to grow our hair long, share a bong and find the answers we need.

 

This post responds to the Daily prompt: Age