Tuesday Huesday

Mojito Time! (image source)

Gift Inception: Gift Within A Gift

For my birthday, my parents gave me a most precious gift. This ring was my Mom's and they had it cleaned and reset with a new pearl, to replace the original- which had been shut in a car door.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude and excitement as a childhood thought came to a realization. I would peer into mom's jewelry box and put it on for moments and imagine what it would be like to be "grown up." That ring was the epitome of lady-like demure and strength, probably because that's what the incredible woman who wore it embodied.

Plus, the pearl being my birthstone- it was just the coolest thing to which I aspired. And who would have thought, that it would reflect my personal style, all these years later? A classic simplicity.

And now, I wear it daily with overwhelming love, pride, and memory. But I had a double-take the other day, when I happened to glance down at my hand...

Holy crap- that's my mom's hand!

I know as I've gotten older, I see many of my features reflect hers, especially the shape of my hands. But this one was particularly profound. 

Wearing that ring, the curve of my fingers, the dimples in my knuckles, the soft veins on the top - that's exactly what I remembered about the hand that I would hold as a little girl. The hand I held excitedly walking to my first day of school, walking into the grocery store eager for a cookie and Golden Book, skipping through the yard, if ever I was scared, or every time we'd pray- that was the hand I knew. 

I love you, Mom and Dad. Thank you for this unbelievable and meaningful gift - both the tangible and absolutely immeasurable one.

The Depression-Clutter Cycle

There's this unspoken rule about what goes on behind closed doors. But I'll let you in on a little secret, there is a direct correlation between depression and organization. When you sink into a dark struggle and feelings of worthlessness, your physical surroundings end up reflecting that chaos, frustration, and self-hatred.
It becomes a struggle for control and motivation. You feel like a failure for letting things get cluttered, and hate yourself a bit more. It's pretty sick.

A blogger named Olive turned her self-frustration into an honest art piece. Here's a glimpse behind the closed door.

 

Though my house isn't dirty, but it has become cluttered in the midst of constant classwork, on-the-go lifestyle, lack of energy, and loneliness. And in return, I get overwhelmed - feeling worse about myself because of the clutter, among everything else. What a disgusting cycle!

I am working on it, though. Manageable chunks at a time, 20 minutes here and there. Slowly chipping away at what feels insurmountable - it is a physical manifestation of my progress- emotionally and physically. I'll take the little victories.

Tuesday Huesday

I am headed to Maine this weekend to celebrate the wedding of some sweet friends! I've never been, but have heard wonderful things of how charming, beautiful, serene, and delicious Maine can be. Can't wait!

(image source)

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Summer picnics are the best. I miss them. Maybe I can find some spots around Knoxville. Well, and some picnic joiners.

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Summer classes started this week. Kind of wish summer reading looked more like this. At least a girl can dream! #gradschool :)

In A New York State of Mind

With New York on my heart and in my thoughts a lot lately, I thought I'd share some interesting things I've spotted online.

The Wall Street Journal created a Musical Map of New York, based on the top jukebox song and artists selected in each zip code in the city. Fascinating.

The Mini Vinnie Pizza-on-Pizza slice was shared on all the social media forums. Pizza Inception!

A photo posted by Vinnies Pizzeria (@vinniesbrooklyn) on May 29, 2015 at 9:06am PDT

Finally, New York Magazine had an article on New York after Midnight, as it truly is the city that never sleeps. In the write up they included a sweet excerpt of an interview from Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick's experiences of dating in the city. 

Sarah Jessica Parker: Before we were married, we used to walk a lot because time didn't matter.

Matthew Broderick: If we had a fancy outing in midtown, we'd walk all the way home to Tribeca.

SJP: One thing that Matthew used to do to me, he used to walk me with my hand over my eyes...

MB: I led you, and the rule was you had to keep your eyes covered.

SJP: And he would walk me into completely random places and take my hand off my eyes and I would be in the most strange, unconnected-to-the-previous-spot places. I would be in the lobby of a residential apartment complex, or a Starbucks, or at the very door of a tenement that I obviously couldn't get into.

MB: You're like listening and trying to figure out where you are, and then when your eyes finally open, boom, you're two inches from a lamppost.

SJP: He would spin me and sort of make me lose my bearings.

MB: The first time it happened, we were somewhere near Union Square, and...

SJP: We ended up in the lobby of Zeckendorf Towers. I was very delighted by it. I think the reason we remember it is that it paints a portrait of a time that, for many couples, they don't have anymore. There's a sort of leisure, before more grown-up responsibilities dictate your life.

MB: New York has so many close-together, completely different, crazy things you can suddenly be staring at after a five-minute walk from one spot to the next. You're in a totally new environment.

How absolutely sweet. Would you try this method of getting a new view of your own city?

Tuesday Huesday

One of my all time favorite views: Standing in DUMBO looking at the Manhattan Bridge and catching the perfect alignment of the Empire State Building in the arch (above or below) the Bridge. Delightful. (Plus, that perfect light? Love it!)

Tuesday Huesday

What I wouldn't give to have my breakfast on a Parisian balcony, feeling a spring breeze and listening to the sounds of the city!

Letting go

A momentary glimpse into what I'm learning.

To let go isn't to forget, not think about, or ignore. 

It doesn't leave feelings of anger, jealousy, or regret. 

Letting go isn't winning, and it isn't losing.

It's not about pride, and it's not about how you appear,

and it's not about obsessing or dwelling on the past.

Letting go isn't blocking memories or thinking sad thoughts,

and it doesn't leave emptiness, hurt, or sadness.

It's not giving in or giving up.

Letting go isn't about loss and it's not defeat.

To let go is to cherish memories, overcome, and move on.

It's having an open mind and confidence in the future.

Letting go is accepting.

It's learning, experiencing, and growing.

To let go is to be thankful for the experiences -

that made you laugh, made you cry, made you grow.

It's about all that you have, all that you had,

and all that you will have again.

Letting go is having the courage to accept change,

and the strength to keep moving.

Letting go is growing up.

It's realizing that the heart can sometimes be the most potent remedy.

To let go is to open a door, clear a path,

and set you free.

Tuesday Huesday

VW Van and Redwoods. No telling how old this photo actually is, but I prefer to imagine it's a groovy 70s road trip traveling through the Redwood forrest.

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Brownstones in the 50s. I LOVE the mint car in this photo, especially as it compliments the navy exterior of the townhome. Oh man.

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The style and charm of this image is so inviting. I love her posture here, I, too, sit tall when I ride my bike. I've been compared to Miss Gulch (the Kansas version of The Wizard of Oz). ha

Tuesday Huesday

Collecting shells as the tide goes out... always the greatest treasure hunt. Never know what you'll find. Mmmm, the beach sounds lovely right now.

What depression looks like...

If you ask Google Images, depression looks like this:

The stereotypical depiction of depression and anxiety is the "head-clutcher" image, often with a harsh, shadowy vignette, and colored in black and white/grayscale.

In actuality, depression looks like this:

People who struggle with depression, anxiety, PTSD, and other mental illnesses look just like everyone else. It's not easy to spot or recognize. Life carries on. We still go to work or school, we still smile (even if it's painted on and not completely genuine), we still attend social engagements, and we still try, everyday.

For more information, better depression images to use for articles/blogs, and helpful conversation starters on how to be a supportive friend or family member- visit Time To Change.

Tuesday Huesday

Another dreamy VW road trip image. Just so charming, I want to jump right in and go on an adventure!

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Spring time is the perfect time for hopping on two wheels and pedaling around town. I'm excited to do just that.

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The tradition of the Easter Parade in New York City will take place again this weekend. Oh how I love the fashion, creativity, and, of course, all the hats. Keep an eye out for some of the most zany and inventive styles that will be broadcast on the likes of Refinery29 or Gothamist.

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Cherry Blossom Season!! Last year I got to frolic through the cherry blossom trees in full bloom at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. I would love to see the trees in DC sometime. Welcome, springtime!

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In honor of St. Patrick's Day, today's image is a magical tree tunnel in Ireland, and the color palette celebrates various shades of green. Sláinte!

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A beautiful bookworm in the park. Happy Tuesday, all.

Tuesday Huesday

Coffee and Macarons from bakersroyale.com

I want to crawl into this image and indulge. Also, doesn't this look like an eye shadow palette? Happy Tuesday, all.

In the Gardens

The snow began to thaw, and the roads were cleared. So I was able to visit my brother's space in the Veterans' Gardens. He was the king of creating secret arsenals of snowballs, then unleash them on an unsuspecting snowball fight participant. So today, I talked to him and gave him some snowballs instead of flowers. Happy birthday, bud.

Happy birthday, little brother!

Twenty seven years ago, I became a big sister, a title I wore with great pride. Climbing trees, face painting with watercolors, creepy-crawlie baking and endlessly scaring Mom, helping with homework, laughing at Ray Stevens' on VHS, and, of course, ceaseless watching of the Home Alone movies. 

Mike taught me far more than I tried to teach him. And though he's been gone for a few years now, I continue to learn from his experiences, passions, and struggles. His deployment and return to civilian life was a challenge. He was so strong and brave, but incredibly private. 

Too many of our brave service men and women battle far more upon their return home. The adjustment, lack of job opportunities, emotional and mental anguish and toil, the struggle to relate to those around them, etc. Even less acknowledged, the families of our precious veterans suffer emotionally and physically along with their loved one, as they try support and heal together.

I proudly donated to the Wounded Warriors Project in memory of my Mike on his 27th birthday. I hope to see the day when the stigma of seeking help is eradicated, and all the mental and emotional needs of our veterans and their families are supported.

Tuesday Huesday

I love color and in the midst of winter chills and grays, thought finding new color palettes would be fun. Introducing, Tuesday Huesday, a fresh look at colors based on a photograph.

Image Source: stylemepretty.com

Pretty Please?

Although the blanket of new snow is serene, the oncoming ice isn't so grand. I, like many others, am looking forward to Spring. The weather, the blossoms, and the unleashing of sandal wear. Observingt my latest pins of Modcloth attire, I apparently have a thing for primary colors. And I'm perfectly okay with that. So, come on, Spring. Let's have some primary-color-filled fun!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven.

Take a Stand

Joanne Wilson took her niece, in their Sunday best, to the theater in Mobile, Alabama, in 1956.

“I wasn’t going in,” Mrs. Wilson recalled. “I didn’t want to take my niece through the back entrance. She smelled popcorn and wanted some. All I could think was where I could go to get her popcorn.”

This beautiful and heart-wrenching photo serves as a powerful reminder. Taking a stand does not require million man march or a profound speech. Making a statement for civil rights and your beliefs can be on your terms. Just follow your heart and gut.

Always important to honor these brave individuals who chose to act and made a difference.  Black History Month should be all year long.

THAT kid

I discovered this in an article on Washington Post's blog, Answer Sheet. An early childhood director penned an open letter to parents who come to the teacher to discuss "THAT" kid in their child's class. Reading it, I thought of so many precious kids I've known over the years, and I cried.  Although the students I work with are significantly older, the relevant truths in this letter are spot on. Please read with an open heart.

(Just some super awesome kiddos working hard)

Dear Parent:I know. You’re worried. Every day, your child comes home with a story about THAT kid. The one who is always hitting, shoving, pinching, scratching, maybe even biting other children. The one who always has to hold my hand in the hallway. The one who has a special spot at the carpet, and sometimes sits on a chair rather than the floor. The one who had to leave the block center because blocks are not for throwing. The one who climbed over the playground fence right exactly as I was telling her to stop. The one who poured his neighbor’s milk onto the floor in a fit of anger. On purpose. While I was watching.  And then, when I asked him to clean it up, emptied the ENTIRE paper towel dispenser. On purpose. While I was watching. The one who dropped the REAL ACTUAL F-word in gym class.

You’re worried that THAT child is detracting from your child’s learning experience. You’re worried that he takes up too much of my time and energy, and that your child won’t get his fair share. You’re worried that she is really going to hurt someone some day. You’re worried that “someone” might be your child. You’re worried that your child is going to start using aggression to get what she wants. You’re worried your child is going to fall behind academically because I might not notice that he is struggling to hold a pencil. I know.

Your child, this year, in this classroom, at this age, is not THAT child. Your child is not perfect, but she generally follows rules. He is able to share toys peaceably. She does not throw furniture. He raises his hand to speak. She works when it is time to work, and  plays when it is time to play. He can be trusted to go straight to the bathroom and straight back again with no shenanigans. She thinks that the S-word is “stupid” and the C-word is “crap.” I know.

I know, and I am worried, too.

You see, I worry all the time. About ALL of them. I worry about your child’s pencil grip, and another child’s letter sounds, and that little tiny one’s shyness, and that other one’s chronically empty lunchbox. I worry that Gavin’s coat is not warm enough, and that Talitha’s dad yells at her for printing the letter B backwards. Most of my car rides and showers are consumed with the worrying.

But I know, you want to talk about THAT child. Because Talitha’s backward B’s are not going to give your child a black eye.

I want to talk about THAT child, too, but there are so many things I can’t tell you.

I can’t tell you that she was adopted from an orphanage at 18 months.

I can’t tell you that he is on an elimination diet for possible food allergies, and that he is therefore hungry ALL. THE. TIME.

I can’t tell you that her parents are in the middle of a horrendous divorce, and she has been staying with her grandma.

I can’t tell you that I’m starting to worry that grandma drinks…

I can’t tell you that his asthma medication makes him agitated.

I can’t tell you that her mom is a single parent, and so she (the child) is at school from the moment before-care opens, until the moment after-care closes, and then the drive between home and school takes 40 minutes, and so she (the child) is getting less sleep than most adults.

I can’ tell you that he has been a witness to domestic violence.

That’s okay, you say. You understand I can’t share personal or family information. You just want to know what I am DOING about That Child’s behaviour.

I would love to tell you. But I can’t.

I can’t tell you that she receives speech-language services, that an assessment showed a severe language delay, and that the therapist feels the aggression is linked to frustration about being unable to communicate.

I can’t tell you that I meet with his parents EVERY week, and that both of them usually cry at those meetings.

I can’t tell you that the child and I have a secret hand signal to tell me when she needs to sit by herself for a while.

I can’t tell you that he spends rest time curled in my lap because “it makes me feel better to hear your heart, Teacher.”

I can’t tell you that I have been meticulously tracking her aggressive incidents for 3 months, and that she has dropped from 5 incidents a day, to 5 incidents a week.

I can’t tell you that the school secretary has agreed that I can send him to the office to “help” when I can tell he needs a change of scenery.

I can’t tell you that I have stood up in a staff meeting and, with tears in my eyes, BEGGED my colleagues to keep an extra close eye on her, to be kind to her even when they are frustrated that she just punched someone AGAIN, and this time, RIGHT IN FRONT OF A TEACHER.

The thing is, there are SO MANY THINGS I can’t tell you about That Child. I can’t even tell you the good stuff.

I can’t tell you that his classroom job is to water the plants, and that he cried with heartbreak when one of the plants died over winter break.

I can’t tell you that she kisses her baby sister goodbye every morning, and whispers “You are my sunshine” before mom pushes the stroller away.

I can’t tell you that he knows more about thunderstorms than most meteorologists.

I can’t tell you that she often asks to help sharpen the pencils during playtime.

I can’t tell you that she strokes her best friend’s hair at rest time.

I can’t tell you that when a classmate is crying, he rushes over with his favorite stuffy from the story corner.

The thing is, dear parent, that I can only talk to you about YOUR child. So, what I can tell you is this:

If ever, at any point, YOUR child, or any of your children, becomes THAT child…

I will not share your personal family business with other parents in the classroom.

I will communicate with you frequently, clearly, and kindly.

I will make sure there are tissues nearby at all our meetings, and if you let me, I will hold your hand when you cry.

I will advocate for your child and family to receive the highest quality of specialist services, and I will cooperate with those professionals to the fullest possible extent.

I will make sure your child gets extra love and affection when she needs it most.

I will be a voice for your child in our school community.

I will, no matter what happens, continue to look for, and to find, the good, amazing, special, and wonderful things about your child.

I will remind him and YOU of those good amazing special wonderful things, over and over again.

And when another parent comes to me, with concerns about YOUR child…

I will tell them all of this, all over again. 

With so much love,
Teacher

Snow Way, Jose!

After a rather rough venture yesterday with the ice (read: complete wipeout Home Alone-style)

I feel ya, Harry. Wet Bandits never give up.

Today brought pretty snowfall. After spotting a neighborhood pup getting to frolic in the powdery goodness, Jude was pretty jealous. Who am I to deny that little furball? Plus, cabin fever!

With better boots on today, we ventured out for the little guy's first real experience with any accumulation. I believe he enjoyed it.

Catch that snowflake, buddy!

Seriously, that face! I can't. He's the sweetest little guy.

Thanks for making a wifi-less day much more enjoyable, Jude. 

Goal Check #1

Checking in on my 2015 Goals progress. Not to shame myself, only to observe, motivate, and possibly celebrate.

• - St. Jude Half: I've started training for my half marathon! Slow and steady. Although I've reached my first injury and had to ease up this week, I am excited to my endurance grow, and miles (stones) reached. 
• - Whole30 challenge: in the midst, now. Day 17! So far, so good. Although I miss cheese! (Not going to lie, I'm looking forward to indulging in a hot slice of cheese pizza once I've completed my 30 days.) But I'm sleeping better, am enjoying fruit and veggies, and definitely drinking more water. I can do it!
• - Gratitude journal:  still going. 38 entries. It's a simple task, one thing I'm grateful for that particular day. Especially during the gray, lonely days, it's a valuable reminder of the impact mindfulness can make.
• - Step out of my comfort zone: tried online dating this year. Not only outside my comfort zone, it's outside my comfort universe. Yikes. 
• - Creative outlet for January: some nesting DIY decor projects for the house.

A decent start. Keep it up, self.

Inaugural Post

Blee blah blooo blah blee blah bloo.  Really, I was going to just have some filler text here to test out my layout for my little corner of the universe. But I might as well fill it with actual words, that no one will read.

This chapter of my life is a truly challenging one. But every chapter is, at some point, right? I've not felt so lonely in my memory, but I'm also incredibly motivated. Motivated to complete my graduate studies and get back to the classroom. Back to New York, where I just know in my heart where I belong.

But just because I'm homesick doesn't mean I shouldn't try to make the most of my time. Distance is cathartic, they say. It's healthy. Well, I'm going to use this time to focus on me- physically, emotionally, mentally, etc. Why not explore a new town? Why not strive to meet new friends? Why not try to improve myself, and when I do get back to my life, I'll be a better, healthier me. What have I got to lose?

Here's to whatever comes my way.