What I'm Lovin' Right Now☮

1. Undone Pinot Noir

2. Crosley Wooden Record Player

3. Bohemian Jewelry

4. Joss Stone's new album "Colour Me Free"

5. Wildflowers

6. "Love, Janis" by Laura Joplin

Peace and Love,

BJJ ♫ ☮ ♥

Think Different

Here's to the crazy ones.

The misfits.

The rebels.

The troublemakers.

The round pegs in the square holes.

The ones who see things differently.

They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo.

You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them.

About the only thing that you can't do is ignore them.

Because they change things.

They push the human race forward.

And while some see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.

Because people who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones that do.


Peace and Love
BJJ ♫ ☮ ♥

Life's A Dance

Many self-revelations have vividly shown themselves to me lately. It's funny that some things in life, the good and the bad and yeah, the ugly too, happen when you least expect them. I, of all people, am very aware that life is just a wild and crazy rollercoaster with it's ups and downs and twists and turns. All we can do is hold on tight and ride it out. But, if you never throw your hands in the air and have a little fun then life's rollercoaster is one big scary amusement that you have no control over. And with all that fear, well, there's no way to to get the thrills and joy out of the ride, and trust me, that's what makes the ride - the journey - the experience so well worth it.

Over the past three weeks or so, ever since I started a new semester in school, I have realized the things that I thought were in 'perfect order' or what I thought was 'meant to be' was really just another phase of my life or another hump on my rollercoaster ride. I found good in it though, I mean it's the only way to get through the disappointments and trials. This phase of my life might not have been all gravy but it did allow me to learn lessons, it helped me discover a little bit more of the 'true me', and it prepared me for what may be my next big challenge in life.

Now, no boyfriend, no May graduation ceremony (thanks to my internship placement not being this term but rather the summer term), and no real agenda other than the 17 credit hours of Human Development and Early Childhood classes on my school schedule. But, luckily and oh so gratefully, my life is not all tears, doubts, guilt, sadness, and moping around aimlessly these days. I dance. I sing in the shower. I hang out with my truest of friends. And I give myself the credit I deserve instead of allowing anyone or anything to bring me down. I guess you could say that I truly recognize that I am young, willing, and able. I CAN make a difference in people's lives as long as I'm around the friends and family that encourage me and support my dreams.

I have finally been able to find strength in my moments of weakness. I'm content with the parts of my past that I regret, and I am humbled by how much I have to be thankful for instead of dwelling over things. Especially things like a guy who never really wanted to know the real me or a post-poned graduation date. I'm just grateful for the amazing friends that keep me happy from day-to-day, for a good ole vinyl record that lets me dance when I feel like dancing, and for the gift and ability to go to a school like Alabama and knowing I'm not far away from that Bachelor of Science degree.

You know how they say that there comes a time in one's life when all you see are years passing by or we let time define who we are in regard to how far along we are, how successfull are we by age 25, 30, 40, and can we retire at 55? We rush our youth because we just want to grow up and we so frequently say "I can't wait to get out of here so I can START my life"...? Well not me. Those days of saying things in that regard are over for me. There's too much in each day to enjoy and so much we miss out on when we're in this big hurry to get to the next stage of our life. To develop into the next age group or social class. Well I think that's petty and selfish and it only robs us of living the life we ourselves have chosen. Yeah, I'm anxious about graduating and where I'm going to be six months from now but that doesn't mean I don't seize the day and slow down to take a look at all the beautiful people living their own mysterious lives, to take in the blessings of nature, and cherish the wholesome love of my family and my friends. I'm not a career-woman, a mom, or a wife yet. So why do I worry about those things when I could be using that energy to make the best out of being a single college student who is surrounded by 25,000 peers who are dancing to the beat of their own drum. There's no need to worry about the people who don't want you in their lives. It's been so dramatically revealed to me that it's time that I stop hurrying this all-too-fun phase of my life and worrying about people in my past who apparently don't want to be a part of my future and just start living. Because it's true... I'm living the good life.

I'm happy, I'm enjoying all the things in life that I've tended to forget to slow down and embrace, I'm in a peaceful state of mind, and I'm enjoying my studies and I do not dwell on my setbacks. Because I know that people who changed the world didn't do it out of perfection... they had setbacks. Einstein, John Lennon, Princess Diana, Walt Disney, and so many other beautiful people had their own personal disasters and times of tribulation.

So who am I to let a break-up, an extra two months of school, or mistakes from my past be the things that define me? They've all taught me lessons, for sure. But it is the way that I choose to apply those lessons to my life that are the factors that define me. The people, the situations, the problems, the trials, the uphill battles... they don't define me at all. And by no means would I change myself to be any different than I am just so someone will love me or accept me. I'm just a misfit, a crazy one, a girl who dreams big and gains strength for my tomorrows by embracing empowerment from all of my yesterdays. It's like someone once said,

"Always be who are, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

Touche, my friend. Touche.

That has been my biggest issue here the past month or so. I have great friends who make me dig a little deeper to find my true meaning and they encourage me to chase down my dreams. Where others, well, they either didn't believe in me or they didn't believe in my dreams. For a while I was without some of the most important people in my life. My best friend, because of our gender difference, was more of an acquaintance for a while. My roommates, who are uplifting and give me a positive energy, were hard to keep company with because of our different groups of friends, social schedules, and love lives. But now, as if it was an unsaid new years resolution, I have those friends back in my life and they are the ones that give me a reason to wake up with a smile on my face in the morning and who allow me to lay my head down at night with a state of mind filled with peace and happiness and so, so many cherished blessings.

They like me for who I am. They love me for not backing down and blending in with the crowd. Because they are unique, open-minded, not judgmental, and original, they love me back for all the same reasons. My record collection and peace signs and Janis Joplin obsession. My pearls, Cole Haan loafers, and oxford button-downs. My tiedye, vests, and boot collection. My passions for journalism and children with special needs. Cofee in the morning with my roommate Jackie and early morning grilled cheese sandwiches with my best guy friend. Planning a trip to Austin, Texas with my good friend Kayley and dancing in the bathroom with Kathleen to cheer up our brokenhearted friend Kathryn. It's the friends like that who truly make this world a wonderful and beautiful place.

Joy IS everywhere. Not just in romantic relationships or A+ term papers. Sure, those can set fire to your soul while they last or give you one good kick in the ass of self-confidence... but then what? Where are you going to find joy when the heartbreak comes and goes and it hits you that there truly was a reason you broke up or how about when you get a C- on a lab report and rains on that perfect term paper's parade? Just dig a little deeper... get a glimpse of who you are and go with it. And never, never, NEVER, let anyone tell you to be someone or something that you aren't. The unique, confident, and self-driven person is one of the prettiest things you could ever see. So....

Download a song. Donate to a charity like 'Hope for Haiti'. Take a bubble bath. Watch a Chick-Flick. Write a blog. Keep a journal. Make something funky out of old clothes you don't wear anymore. A bike ride. A museum. An arboretum. A bookstore. A coffee house. Sit under a tree. Go for a swim in freshwater. Shop at a thrift store. Train for a road race. Pick some wildflowers. Feed the ducks at the lake. Draw. Paint. Sculpt. Sing.

But most importantly..... dance. Stop holding on to the rollercoaster so tight and let go, have a little fun, enjoy the ride. Let's face it, you've got to.

Because life's a dance - and you learn as you go.

Peace and Love and all of life's blessings,

BJJ

♫ ☮ ♥

"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel as if I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that is about to burst... and then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life. You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday." -American Beauty (1999)

A Girl and Her Dress

A recent visit home for the holidays was full of rest and relaxation (despite the mild-chaos of shopping for gifts), and quality time spent with my parents. Nothing extraordinary – just the simple life that I have missed since the day I left home with my wings spread and my dreams big. I dream big still, and I won’t stop spreading my wings until I’ve learned to fly, but I am not afraid to admit that I still seek comfort in the nest my parents built for me and I may not be able to fly yet, but that’s what airplanes are for. Grateful for a break, I sought refuge in my little hometown at a place where I call home. Like always, it felt so good until I realized something was missing and kept me reminded why I live in Alabama in the first place.

My room, looking nothing like it did during my high school years, still brings me comfort and a place I can sit and reflect on my journey thus far. Tucked away in the corner of our charming little Floridian-style house that holds bounties worth of memories is my favorite little bedroom. Next to it is my sister’s bedroom, which also received a face-lift from Mom, and it holds an antique book case full of wedding planning books, nursing texts, and wedding photographs. Though my sister’s not in it anymore, it still holds little pieces that she left behind as if they were a symbol for her ability to leave a mark wherever she goes. My bed that seems much smaller than it did when I picked it out in kindergarten still nurtures me to fall into a deep sleep where I feel safe and protected. A cup of coffee with biscuits and gravy is more than just a good Southern breakfast when you’re sitting in your own kitchen with your parents and passing around the sections of the morning paper. In little moments like those, I found myself looking up at the chair where my sister usually is seated and having to remind myself that she no longer gets to come home with me for a long weekend or a Fall Break anymore. As happy as she is in her newlywed years, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for myself and wishing she was sharing a cup of coffee with me in those moment.

Home is where I feel the most secure, where I’m most familiar, and where I know I keep a big piece of my heart. But as each day turns into months and months turn into years, I realize more and more that home isn’t as sweet when one of its main characters is missing. I found myself, more than just once, lingering into my sister’s room and opening up the bookcase that told so many stories of her life. I looked through high school yearbooks, read what I wrote to her and she wrote to me on the autograph pages, and found it amusing how we did this out of being best friends rather than sisters. I know she loved me then just as I know she loves me now, so it wasn’t a required act of sisterhood to write a page worth of sentiments in my yearbook. As my best friend though, it was required. It would be devastating to look back eight years later at my freshmen yearbook to discover that I had forgotten to have my best friend sign it. As I grabbed four years worth of yearbooks, I knew without a doubt that her ‘reserved’ page would be filled. I let my eyes venture over to the nursing and pharmacology textbooks that sat in the enclosed case and admired her smarts and academic success.

I looked at a picture of her and her husband at their wedding reception and admired her ability to forgive, how she has always followed her heart, and how he’s always looked at her like she was heaven-sent.

I studied the picture and let my mind drift back to her wedding day and I remembered how I felt when our Dad lifted her veil. Her dress was perfectly elegant and fitting for her style and simplicity. Her smile was as big as her heart and her eyes twinkled with genuineness. It may seem as if I am biased, but many would agree, she was the most perfect looking bride I have ever seen. She was chic, graceful, elegant, and classical in her wedding gown. She wasn’t over the top; she was herself. She’s never dressed in anything other than her tasteful style and she kept this true on her special day. She wore a strand of pearls around her neck that lay as if they were drawn on her. The same pearls she wears on Sunday morning to worship, the same ones that lied perfectly on her neck throughout college, and the ones that she’ll probably pass down to her daughter or grand-daughter one day. The lace on her dress beautifully matched the freckles that spotted her face and topped her shoulders. A little Florida girl who never lost her Southern charm was all grown up. Just like she kept her Southern charm, she kept her authenticity. She was the most real and truthful bride I have ever seen. If she wore anything other than her off-white lace and her single strand of pearls, than she wouldn’t have been herself. And trust me, nothing is more beautiful than being yourself when you’re someone like my sister.

Her groom, dressed in a simple black-tie, was charming as expected. His Charleston blood and Southern upbringing go hand in hand with my sister making perfect sense out of their love story. If the bride were marrying anyone other than her high school sweetheart and her first and only love, then the bride wouldn’t have been my sister. Her style – her ‘look’ – wouldn’t have been the same if her story were anything other than near perfection. My sister would never be compatible or suitable for marriage with a Yankee. She would never be compatible with a ‘pretty boy.’ Her compatibility stood the test of time just as her authentic and traditional ways have given her poise and elegance. My sister never strayed from the straight and narrow path that fate paved for her – her soul mate would be God fearing, athletic, Southern, and supportive. The fact that she met him at the ripe old age of fifteen was seemingly not out of the ordinary. Girls who are like my sister are the true Princess-type. The proper lady who stays true to herself and is able to handle the events of each day with wise decisions, class, and poise which leads her to a pleasant and content journey through life.

As I stared at the pictures of my beautiful sister-bride, I realized not all beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Some beauty is in the eye of everyone she knows. She’s undeniably beautiful. Her pretty face compliments her grace. Her loving heart pours out into her relationships with family and friends. Her freckles reflect innocence but her personality is real rather than fake. Her sweet side is sincere, not a role she plays to win people over. People are drawn to her, omitting any need for an alter-ego or a second character to make people love her. Her tough side is a boldness that comes across softer than the fierce and devious types. I don’t know if I could convince anyone that really knows her that she wasn’t all of these things I’ve described because her soul is so genuine, her strength is unwavering, and her confidence is natural. She’s my sister, and in the eyes of this beholder – she is perfect.

She’s someone I have every opportunity to hate, envy, or be jealous of, yet I love her more than life itself. I wiped a tear from my cheek as I closed the bookcase that kept drawing me to her room that weekend and wondered if it was a sad tear or a happy tear. Was it sad because I’ve failed to be like her or was it happy because I can call her my own? Was it sad because she wasn’t there or was it happy because I know she always will be there? Was it sad because I’ve disappointed her or was it happy because she never turned her back on me? Maybe it was all of these things.

She’s made mistakes and suffered through bumps in the road like we all have, yet she is perfect in my eyes. I’m almost certain the tear was neither happy nor sad. It was purely out of sentimental gratitude for the feelings of joy that only sisterhood can bring. I wish all women could understand what being a sister and having a sister is like, but I admire those women for their independence and ability to make it through some of life’s painful twists without the perfect sister. I never realized, so intensely, how lucky I am that it was just her and I. I would hate to have to share our strong sisterly bond with anyone else. She’s that good of an older sister that I am glad I get to keep her all to myself. However, I sometimes wish I could make an impact in a baby sister’s life the way she has made an impact in mine. I wasn’t dealt that hand but being the younger sister rather than the oldest doesn’t mean I can’t tell her more often how lucky I am. It doesn’t excuse me from making sure she’s aware of how much I idolize and look up to her. I was given a sister, which was a blessing big enough. I could have been given a different sister. My biggest blessing was being given a sister like Ashley.

Just as I am jealous of her natural grace and charming personality, I’m pretty positive other younger sisters out there are jealous of me because of who my older sister is.

-BJJ-
The ‘Other’ Sister