Online Inspiration

from here.

"If I am not good to myself, how can I expect anyone else to be good to me?"

-Maya Angelou

I'm a huge fan of the blog, Smart, Pretty & Awkward, introduced to it by Jenna (I think... maybe Heather). Molly linked to this blog: Daily Pep Talk and I'm becoming obsessed. I had to pause for a moment when I came across the entry about being good enough. It's a message I can't hear enough. I have crippling self-value issues, residual wounds left from a string of terrible father-figures.

All I want in life, at the very core of my being, is to be good enough. To even just be enough.

I need to relearn my soul and figure out how to be enough for myself.

2012: The Golden Year

"I have accepted fear as part of life -- specifically the fear of change... I have gone ahead despite the pounding in the heart that says: turn back...."
-- Erica Jong

2012 is my Golden year. I turned 27 on the 27th and I'm embarking on a journey of brutally honest soul-searching. Everybody close to me knows by now, but to the world wide web: Jonathan and I are getting a divorce. To summarize, we did couples counseling which turned into solo counseling for me (which is a rather embarrassing thing to admit... while I strongly believe in the benefits of counseling and therapy, I never thought I'd be the one having to go) which helped me realize that if I truly respect and admire Jonathan as much as I claimed, I needed to leave him. I'm not in love with him and to remain in a marriage out of comfort and convenience's sake would be the most unfair, cruel thing I could do to him. I've been a bad wife and a bad friend to him when he deserved and deserves better.

We've been over since the ending-it-all conversation... all that's left is the paperwork and physical acts of separating two lives which shared eight years together. I want to travel, do things I've never been able to do before now. I don't ever want to compromise a dream for a relationship again and I want to do me. It seems so selfish but I feel so lost at times and I need to find my way back to myself. My friends all appear so confident in their lives, steadfast in their choices, career-paths, relationships, etc... I envy their sureness so deeply, my soul is tinged green. I long to feel secure in happiness derived of myself and build a life of self-dependency.

For a long time, I thought I could be happy staying with Jonathan because he's so good that if being with me made him happy, I could give him that because he deserved it. It's hard to accept (because it feels selfish) that that isn't right, it isn't good enough, it isn't fair. If I'm not happy, how can I be in a happy relationship? I need to live for my happiness first, before I can share that with anyone else.

This is the hardest thing I've ever done, the hardest thing I've ever been through. For the most part, I'm okay. At the core of it, I know I'm making the right decision but it doesn't make it any easier. I'm able to laugh, smile and genuinely enjoy life but at the same time, I'm straining from grasping to control so tightly. If I allow myself the slightest moment of weakness, I fear I'll lose myself to this ball of chaotic feelings swirling inside of me. People who know ask me frequently how I'm doing. I appreciate their concern but I can't talk about it. There are too many emotions that are ripping me apart inside for me to voice any right now. No, I'm not okay. I'm fucking dying inside every day knowing I screwed this up, that I disappointed so many people, including myself. I'm not just hurting myself, I'm not just hurting Jonathan, I'm hurting our families, our loved ones. I'm single-handedly destroying so much. I broke a promise, I murdered our dreams of a future together. When we'd speak nervously about our someday children, I just erased them and their possibility. I don't know how I'm to be trusted ever again. I don't know how to forgive myself.

My logic soothes me, the emotional creature I am, listing the rationale behind it all. It's the survivor in me, dousing the flames which threaten to consume me.

I'm not okay right now. I will be okay, though. Baby steps. First, I need to find myself and live for myself.

"I could die for you. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, live for you."
-- Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

Word Vomit

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”
― Marilyn Monroe

It's unfortunate we all have our moments of doubt & insecurity; it's worse when these moments stretch into actual crippling beliefs. Tonight is a night I could allow myself to become a victim to my own sorrow, to the disgusting entitlement of self-pity. I feel fat, ugly, devoid of talent and reason. I see clearly all my short-comings as a friend and person. etc etc etc.

Please let me digress.

But. I hate victims. I recognize these murky feelings, cough them and forcibly vomit them from my system. Dealing with them as they are, instead of ignoring, I can exorcise my annoying demons and get out of this house and hang out with people I love.

Thanks for putting up with my worst and I'll always try to give you my best.

Naturally

“Beware of her fair hair, for she excels All women in the magic of her locks; And when she winds them round a young man's neck, She will not ever set him free again. ”
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I am naturally good at being blonde. I've tried every other hair color under the sun. Black, brown, auburn, red, so pink you could scream, blue which faded to the green of over-chlorinated blonde and an accidental purple over a summer once. But blonde suits me best, in looks and personality. I was feisty as a redhead and probably soulless (sorry), emo with black and absolutely vivacious with pink.

I do and say really dumb things. Which makes blonde jokes funny and I chuckle and roll my eyes. Which makes blonde Aggie jokes even funnier. And let's throw in the sexist humor while we're at it!

Blondes aren't dumber than anyone else; our blunders are just more noticeable, or as I like to think it: we're simply less forgettable. :)

Ten Smiles

“Beneath the makeup and behind the smile I am just a girl who wishes for the world.”
― Marilyn Monroe

1. Anything silly Heather does or says.

2. Rascal licking the couch.

3. Texts from Chris.

4. Puppies at the pet store.

5. Reading stories about A&M.

6. People dancing.

7. My two fave coworkers, Candy & Monica.

8. Watching inspirational and uplifting youtube videos Jenna sends me about soccer teams in Thailand.

9. Anticipating my brother seeing the silly gift I'm giving him for his birthday.

10. Knowing I'm going to see Kyle soon and then my goldens.

Disbelief: Abandoned.

"You love me. Real or not real."

"Real."

I just finished reading The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. I feel the same way I felt after completing the His Dark Materials trilogy... spent. My heart hurts for fictional characters, dead in their storylines and subdued by the raging emotions in me. It's a vicious cycle: I am overwhelmed with all the sadness of the novels, then almost disgusted with myself by how emotional I am, which makes me upset, which continues in this terrible circle. Spiraling, you could say.

My old theater professor said for a play to work (a movie, a book, etc), we must willingly suspend our disbelief. I don't suspend so much as abandon mine; I become the story. It's why scary movies terrify me so thoroughly, why sad movies truly break my heart and why books with captivating stories and well-rounded characters, enthrall me.

So as not to spoil the hunger games trilogy for anyone, I'll talk about his dark materials because it's been out for so long by now, you asshats should have already read it. I will never, ever forget finishing the second book, The Subtle Knife and left with the worst cliff-hanger of an ending, not even knowing when the third and final book would be out. I consumed The Golden Compass & then The Subtle Knife only to be left turning the intentionally left-blank pages signalling the end of the novel. I re-read the last paragraph, then the last page, then the chapter, sure I missed something. No one ends a book like that! Maybe my copy was a misprint and the last part was left off? Nope. Phillip Pullman got one over on all of us. I was in 8th grade. I only had to wait a measly two years (compared to the decade + for some fantasy series...) for the last book to come out. And boy, I don't think I've ever cried so hard over fictional characters.

I think I keep seeing similarities between the two because they're both trilogies, both aimed towards young adults but can span generations of readers and have an amazing female protagonist. Who falls in love with an equally amazing male lead character. They're young and so full of passion and purity, it makes my heart to think about it.

Which is pretty silly; they aren't real.

But it leads me down so many thought-paths... There really are people in this world so full of passion, determination and drive to make this world good... How amazing are these wordsmiths to weave together letters which form the words to make complete human beings from nothing more than ink on paper?

I know these books will stay with me forever. I could describe for days, the scenes, the words, the lines that will remain etched in my memory because of how powerfully they moved me. The scenes or lines don't even have to be emotionally, just beautifully written, to the point I can taste the food the author describes, or catch myself speaking outloud the lines, to hear the cadence of the character's voice.

I will always remember Katniss lifting her arms, slowing spinning, her wedding dress burning up, Cinna transforming her into the Mockingjay.

I will always remember Lyra leaving Pantalaimon behind, tearing herself from herself as the boat moved away from the shore.

Absolutely brilliant writers. I gladly surrender all disbelief to submerge into their crafted worlds.

I am both HUNGRY & FOOLISH

As a self-declared linguaphile, I try to think before I verbalize anything by writing or saying exactly what I mean (a leftover habit from taking an introduction to logic class which attempted to take out the ambiguity of the English language) to avoid incorrect inferring. For example, I try not to flippantly say, “I’m so lucky for _______” because I’m not sure I believe in luck, so I try to say, “I’m so blessed for _____” because I do believe in blessings. (Weird, whatever.) I don’t like to say I regret something because truly I regret nothing. Everything in life has shaped me into the Christine you find before you and while I question a lot of things in life, I do not question that I like this Christine. So for better or for worse, this is who I am and this is where I am. There are instances where a better decision, action or word could have been chosen, but for whatever reason, I did what I did, so I say learn, live and move on!


The world is abuzz with the death of Steve Jobs and in mourning for the loss of a revolutionary figure. I don’t know when, if ever, I would have otherwise listened to (and subsequently read) his Stanford commencement speech but hearing it now couldn’t have been a more perfect time for me.


Life has never been easy for me; the compliments are greatly appreciated, but I tell those who say I’m strong, it simply boils down to being good at surviving. I don’t feel as if I’ve ever had a choice in what I do. I am a professional level survivalist. But I guess that is a choice. I choose to survive. I choose life and its heartaches and all the pitfalls it contains. I survive the valleys because I know there are peaks. Without sorrow, by what would we measure happiness? And even if you haven’t experienced any deep despair, as one of my most beloved authors, JK Rowling tells us, our greatest strength is our imagination because it allows us to empathize without having had to experience.


So buoyed by my loved ones’ support, I choose hunger and foolishness as advised by the late great Mr. Jobs. Still not entirely sure it was a choice though :P