Everybody loves a little competition.
It's March...for many guys it's more than just the Ides of March, it's March Madness. Time for team selections, bracket drawings and wagers over which college is gonna take it all the way...will it be Kansas or UConn...Kentucky or Duke....and it goes on and on. The heat is on to pick THE team, to have the perfect bracket and bragging rights for a year. I can't decide what's worse, March Madness or the madness over Fantasy teams; seriously guys, your teams are fake.
While I poke fun at my husband and my brother in law and all those others that partake in the craziness of ESPN-land, I can't deny the fact that I, too, am just as competitive. I think I've had that competitive drive since birth. I competed with my sister when I was in the fourth grade and she was a junior in high school and it was over a prom dress. I actually cried at the fact that I couldn't have one and she could. I competed about everything - my grades, how many books I could read, how many points I could score, just about everything. I started playing sports in the fifth grade and my competitiveness only grew; but I enjoyed my athletic years, from volleyball to basketball to softball, I did it all. Except for track. There was something about running in circles that didn't do much for me; that, and I couldn't see myself jumping over anything mid-run; it was an accident waiting to happen. Once I was in college I accepted the fact that there were athletes MUCH better than me. I wasn't going to play college volleyball for Florida State or be the starting point guard at the University of Conneticut. It was a fact I couldn't deny. So, when life gives you lemons, make a margarita and enjoy! I played club volleyball at the Lake, and that was about it. It wasn't until I met Johnny that my REAL competitive drive came out.
Johnny has been playing pool since he was nine. It was something he did with his dad and continued on with his brother. It runs in the family, from his uncles to his cousins, it's a family thing. To make a long story short, playing pool is a way of life, for the most part. Our first date was to Fast Eddies pool hall. I remember getting there and thinking to myself, "Oh how fun. He'll probably let me win and be cute about it." Yeah, not so much. I'd be nice about it, but then who am I kidding, he kicked my ass all night long. I remember telling him, "You know, you could let me win a time or two." He said, "My dad always said never to LET anyone win. A win is earned." Fine. Two can play that game. I'd explain my point, but that's a little too personal for my blog. ;)
Needless to say I've come a long way since then. Johnny joined a league shortly after we started dating and continues to play; it's become a family thing and I can pretty much hold my own. We have a table at home and our girls understand that it's something we do; Mary Frances has even started to pick up a stick and play with her daddy. I won't deny the fact that I enjoy playing the game myself. Tuesday nights is our night to play. When I can make it out there to play, I go to win. Talk about competition! Bottom line is, I don't like to lose. Johnny has taught me the skill of being a good loser, whatever that means, but I try and suck it up and say "Good game." It's a little more difficult to say when it wasn't a good game. Tonight I went to play and I was in an especially grouchy mood. My game of nine ball wasn't what I wanted it to be. I missed a couple of straight in shots and scratched on my last attempt to win. What the hell!!! When I was done playing, I swallowed my pride, put my big ass tail between my legs, walked over to my opponent, put my hand out and said, (gulp) "Good game". Ugh. I hate that part of a losing night AND I still had a round of eight ball to play. I ended up playing the same person and truly kicked some ass. I felt people watching our match, whispering over some shot I made and then realizing I was Johnny Garcia's wife, then I could hear the "Ohhh's". I tease him all the time about that, but it's true. But oh how easy it is to walk with my head held high and wait for my opponent's "good game". What I sometimes forget is that it may be just as hard for them to do the same.
We all have a competitive drive; sometimes over the most trivial things like, who can be first in line at Best Buy the day after Thanksgiving; or who gets the closest parking space at UTSA; or how about being the first person to report that Tiger Woods was a dumb ass; or the won who wins the girl; let's not forget about being the one at the highest level in Farmville; or, in the case of my two roommates that summer, the one who could eat the most tacos on Taco Sunday at Taco Bell! Competition is healthy, it brings out the better part of us...sometimes. It's also a tough reminder that there is always someone else out there who is just a little better than we are at something. We can't always win and we can't always be in first place. I know I won't win EVERY Tuesday, but I can try. That's all any of us can do, is try. But I do love Johnny's joke, "What do you call the student who finishes last in medical school?....You call him Doctor!" He didn't finish first but he's still a doctor!
Till next time...
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
"America is my country and Paris is my hometown." - Gertrude Stein
I'll always feel that way about Dublin.
It's the middle of March, and for many high school and college students, it's the time of the year they look forward to next to the Christmas holidays...Spring Break. I walked across campus today and couldn't help but smile and enjoy the sunshine, the breeze and the lack of craziness on campus. Probably because the students have started their break early. As I strolled through our Sombrilla I found myself thinking back to Spring Break of my senior year in high school. It's 14 years later and I remember it like it was yesterday.
Sr. Jo was our senior English teacher, our Art teacher, the junior class moderator and our friend. She made going to school bearable and, more often than not, enjoyable. She'd be the one to teach me to write a true research paper while Sr. Agnes worked on my creative side. Sr. Jo would also be the one to open my eyes to the world. She offered the girls of my small high school an opportunity of a lifetime, to travel the world, to cities we'd only read about in class. I was fortunate enough to be one of those girls. Sr. Jo made sure to not let this experience interfere with school, so her trips every year were scheduled during the week of spring break. Originally, we were supposed to go to the Scandinavian countries - Denmark, Norway and Sweden. It was the fall semester of our senior year when she got word that the countries we were to visit would be under snow during the time we were scheduled to be there. She was given two options: #1. Take the trip as scheduled. We would get a private tour and it would just be us. (No offense to my fellow travelers, but I saw them everyday, the idea was to go and meet NEW people.) OR #2. Change our destination. And so she did. When she told us we'd be going to England and Ireland I about fell outta my chair; March couldn't get here any sooner.
I can't begin to describe the excitement and fear I felt days before we left. There was so much I would experience. I had a passport. I had traveler's checks. I bought luggage. But I also had never flown, so, much of my fear was focused on my flying experience. As we boarded our plane, I looked back at my parents and I realized what an opportunity they were giving me; little did I know it would be the one of the greatest things they could have ever done for me. I knew that when I returned I would not be the same daughter I was when I left.
I didn't own a CD walkman, which was the hot item at the time; but I took cd's just in case I borrowed someone else's. In the meantime I journaled my trip (big surprise, right?). I took pictures. Loads of pictures. I visited with strangers on the plane; anything to pass the time. In between flights we'd do the Macarena at the Cheers tavern in Memphis airport and ride the indoor child's merry-go-round at Minneapolis airport. When I did have a chance to borrow someone's walkman, I listened to the Cranberries. I usually only had the chance to borrow one for a little while, so throughout the trip I only had it long enough to listen to 2 cd's in their entirety, both by the Cranberries. I bring this up because those of you that know me, know that when I hear "Dreams" or "Linger" I get lost in thought. I smile at the memories, remembering my amazement as we flew over the dark Atlantic or how grown up I felt as I made my way through customs all by myself. I still remember the sense of adulthood I felt as I had my passport stamped for the first time. I was really here.
England was everything I imagined it to be and more. From the double decker bus to the red phone booths to Big Ben, I saw it all. I stood at Tower Bridge and in front of Buckingham Palace in awe, taking in every moment, every sound, the people, the accent, the life of another city. At that moment I realized that Von Ormy and San Antonio was not all there was. There was a whole other world out there, and I was in the middle of it. Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Starlight Express" gave me a new sense of appreciation for theatre - I was at a musical in London's West End; even as I type this I have to stop and think and realize, yet again, that I was really there. I really went to Westminster Abbey; I walked through Windsor Castle, admiring the vastness of the rooms, the ornate furniture, the paintings that hung on the walls and then drank a cup of hot chocolate at Shakespeare's Coffee House just outside the castle walls; I saw Queen Mary's Doll House with details one could only dream of, from the monogram stitching on the tiny pillow cases to the replicas of the paintings that hung on the walls of Buckingham Palace that were now the size of a postage stamp to the tiny china that was laid out on a dining room table the size of a mini-Twix candy! The intricate details that this doll house was made of was truly astonishing. I walked through Trafalgar Square being careful not to let the pigeons bother me too much; I stood at the doors of the original Hard Rock Cafe and imagined all those that had stood there before me; I walked through Shakespeare's birthplace and Ann Hathaway's cottage and found myself in a literary story, every poem and sonnet I had ever read took me to this place; and of all the places we saw I'll never forget our time standing in the middle of Picadilly Circus - the lights, the people, the rich culture that flowed throughout this place was enough to make me miss it even before we left. I didn't think this trip could get any better....but I was wrong.
We took our coach to Wales and rode a ferry across the English chanel into Dublin. If I had to give one word to describe what this city means to me it would be: breathtaking. Dublin is my hometown. It's where the grass is always greener and everyone is Irish. Where daffodils grow in perfect square plots in fields so green I had to sit in the middle of it just to make sure it was real (I have a picture to prove it). A city where I kissed the Blarney Stone upside down with help of an old Irish countryman who called me "love" in his thick, Irish accent as he took my hand to help me lay back and called the boy behind me "lad" to help him do the same. A city that welcomed me to the country of Ireland with open arms and unknowingly opened my heart. I spent the last four days in Ireland soaking up all that I could as fast as I could...making a visit to St. Patrick's Cathedral, hanging out at an Irish pub where I had my first Guinness and got hit on by an old man (I also have a picture to prove this), and a shopping trip where I would buy my mother an Irish linen tablecloth and my niece Leslie an Irish linen baptismal bib. People ask me what it is I bought myself and I tell them, "nothing". I think I bought a tshirt for myself at the Hard Rock in London, but for me, my souvenirs were my pictures...all 16 rolls! Some of mother's advice before I left was to make sure I didn't take pictures of "things", but to make sure I was IN the pictures. It was some of the best advice, because I have some of the best pictures of my trip.
It was outside St. Patrick’s Cathedral that I made a decision. I wasn't going home. Dublin was my home. Ireland is where I wanted to be. Of course, Sr. Jo wouldn’t hear of it; I remember her telling me, “Your mother will kill me if you don’t get off that plane with me in San Antonio!” She was right. Tanya, our lovable tour guide, gave me another option. She invited me to come back and stay with her and her husband, who we got to meet in London, for the summer. She stressed the importance of me going back and graduating and finishing my senior year. While I dreaded getting on the plane, I knew she was also right. I cried twice on my trip, the first time being when we landed in Boston on our way back…I cried because I knew I was no longer in Ireland, but what I brought back with me is more than I ever could have asked for.
Yet, in the midst of all this memory-making and sight-seeing I can't make light of the friends I made. We were grouped with a group of students from Kansas. During our first hotel stay in London, the hotel rooms were a little small and the numbers didn't add up for all of us to room with our own group. Sr. Jo asked me if I would do her the biggest favor and share a room with two girls from Kansas who I had not met yet and the one freshman that was in our group. She knew I wouldn't complain and would agree, but it was probably the best thing that could've happened to me; it was my way in with the other group. I instantly connected with my two roomies - Heidi and Amy - and they made it so easy for me to get to know the rest of their group, including Norb. Yes, Norb is his name. I learned more about him in our last few days than I did about the girls I went to school with for the last three years. We had a lot in common and shared the same frustrations. We talked. We laughed. We became friends. It was on our flight from Boston to Memphis, coming home, that I realized the impact this trip had on the both of us. He handed me a letter and asked me not to read it until I was on my flight to San Antonio. I couldn't wait that long. When we landed in Memphis and went our separate ways, I read the letter at our gate. He described what the last few days meant to him and how he couldn't believe what someone could mean to him in just a short time. It wasn't a romantic letter, it wasn't filled with cliche remarks or sappy lines, it was an honest letter from one friend to another. In the envelope, he had given me a chain he wore and attached to the chain was a medal of St. Jude. He told me to take it and remember him. I was speechless, and so I cried for the second time on my trip, but who wouldn't? I was beside myself. I quickly took out a pen and paper from my journal and wrote as fast as I could. I knew I needed to give him something in return, but per Sr. Jo's instructions, we weren't to bring anything of value with us. I had nothing. At least I thought I didn't. Sr. Jo gave me an oak, pocket knife she always carried with her. She told me she'd had it forever and that it had saved her a time or two, but she knew that right then, I needed it more than she did. She told me I could have it, to give to him. And so I did. A couple of weeks after I got home I received a letter in the mail from Kansas, thanking me for what I had given him and for the memories of a trip we would both never forget. Life being what it is, we lost touch shortly after our first year in college and have yet to speak again. Regardless, I have my memories, my pictures and St. Jude.
Spring Break, for me, is more than just a beer fest at the beach for a weekend. It was a monumental moment in my life. It wasn't an accident that we ended up in England and Ireland; it was the way it was supposed to happen. So, as I listen to my students talk about their upcoming plans, I can't help but smile and think back to my own Spring Break, because it was the only REAL spring break I've ever had. It was a week filled with adventure and excitement, hello's and goodbye's and a bittersweet ending. I embarked on a journey that gave me new memories, new friends and moments I would never forget and at the end of that journey I wasn't just a girl from a small town, I was much more than that...to all those I traveled with, thank you. I owe 10 of the best days of my life to each of you, ..."May the road rise to meet you, May the wind be always at your back, May the sun shine warm upon your face, May the rain fall soft upon your fields, And, until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of His hand" - St. Patrick.
Till next time...
It's the middle of March, and for many high school and college students, it's the time of the year they look forward to next to the Christmas holidays...Spring Break. I walked across campus today and couldn't help but smile and enjoy the sunshine, the breeze and the lack of craziness on campus. Probably because the students have started their break early. As I strolled through our Sombrilla I found myself thinking back to Spring Break of my senior year in high school. It's 14 years later and I remember it like it was yesterday.
Sr. Jo was our senior English teacher, our Art teacher, the junior class moderator and our friend. She made going to school bearable and, more often than not, enjoyable. She'd be the one to teach me to write a true research paper while Sr. Agnes worked on my creative side. Sr. Jo would also be the one to open my eyes to the world. She offered the girls of my small high school an opportunity of a lifetime, to travel the world, to cities we'd only read about in class. I was fortunate enough to be one of those girls. Sr. Jo made sure to not let this experience interfere with school, so her trips every year were scheduled during the week of spring break. Originally, we were supposed to go to the Scandinavian countries - Denmark, Norway and Sweden. It was the fall semester of our senior year when she got word that the countries we were to visit would be under snow during the time we were scheduled to be there. She was given two options: #1. Take the trip as scheduled. We would get a private tour and it would just be us. (No offense to my fellow travelers, but I saw them everyday, the idea was to go and meet NEW people.) OR #2. Change our destination. And so she did. When she told us we'd be going to England and Ireland I about fell outta my chair; March couldn't get here any sooner.
I can't begin to describe the excitement and fear I felt days before we left. There was so much I would experience. I had a passport. I had traveler's checks. I bought luggage. But I also had never flown, so, much of my fear was focused on my flying experience. As we boarded our plane, I looked back at my parents and I realized what an opportunity they were giving me; little did I know it would be the one of the greatest things they could have ever done for me. I knew that when I returned I would not be the same daughter I was when I left.
I didn't own a CD walkman, which was the hot item at the time; but I took cd's just in case I borrowed someone else's. In the meantime I journaled my trip (big surprise, right?). I took pictures. Loads of pictures. I visited with strangers on the plane; anything to pass the time. In between flights we'd do the Macarena at the Cheers tavern in Memphis airport and ride the indoor child's merry-go-round at Minneapolis airport. When I did have a chance to borrow someone's walkman, I listened to the Cranberries. I usually only had the chance to borrow one for a little while, so throughout the trip I only had it long enough to listen to 2 cd's in their entirety, both by the Cranberries. I bring this up because those of you that know me, know that when I hear "Dreams" or "Linger" I get lost in thought. I smile at the memories, remembering my amazement as we flew over the dark Atlantic or how grown up I felt as I made my way through customs all by myself. I still remember the sense of adulthood I felt as I had my passport stamped for the first time. I was really here.
England was everything I imagined it to be and more. From the double decker bus to the red phone booths to Big Ben, I saw it all. I stood at Tower Bridge and in front of Buckingham Palace in awe, taking in every moment, every sound, the people, the accent, the life of another city. At that moment I realized that Von Ormy and San Antonio was not all there was. There was a whole other world out there, and I was in the middle of it. Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Starlight Express" gave me a new sense of appreciation for theatre - I was at a musical in London's West End; even as I type this I have to stop and think and realize, yet again, that I was really there. I really went to Westminster Abbey; I walked through Windsor Castle, admiring the vastness of the rooms, the ornate furniture, the paintings that hung on the walls and then drank a cup of hot chocolate at Shakespeare's Coffee House just outside the castle walls; I saw Queen Mary's Doll House with details one could only dream of, from the monogram stitching on the tiny pillow cases to the replicas of the paintings that hung on the walls of Buckingham Palace that were now the size of a postage stamp to the tiny china that was laid out on a dining room table the size of a mini-Twix candy! The intricate details that this doll house was made of was truly astonishing. I walked through Trafalgar Square being careful not to let the pigeons bother me too much; I stood at the doors of the original Hard Rock Cafe and imagined all those that had stood there before me; I walked through Shakespeare's birthplace and Ann Hathaway's cottage and found myself in a literary story, every poem and sonnet I had ever read took me to this place; and of all the places we saw I'll never forget our time standing in the middle of Picadilly Circus - the lights, the people, the rich culture that flowed throughout this place was enough to make me miss it even before we left. I didn't think this trip could get any better....but I was wrong.
We took our coach to Wales and rode a ferry across the English chanel into Dublin. If I had to give one word to describe what this city means to me it would be: breathtaking. Dublin is my hometown. It's where the grass is always greener and everyone is Irish. Where daffodils grow in perfect square plots in fields so green I had to sit in the middle of it just to make sure it was real (I have a picture to prove it). A city where I kissed the Blarney Stone upside down with help of an old Irish countryman who called me "love" in his thick, Irish accent as he took my hand to help me lay back and called the boy behind me "lad" to help him do the same. A city that welcomed me to the country of Ireland with open arms and unknowingly opened my heart. I spent the last four days in Ireland soaking up all that I could as fast as I could...making a visit to St. Patrick's Cathedral, hanging out at an Irish pub where I had my first Guinness and got hit on by an old man (I also have a picture to prove this), and a shopping trip where I would buy my mother an Irish linen tablecloth and my niece Leslie an Irish linen baptismal bib. People ask me what it is I bought myself and I tell them, "nothing". I think I bought a tshirt for myself at the Hard Rock in London, but for me, my souvenirs were my pictures...all 16 rolls! Some of mother's advice before I left was to make sure I didn't take pictures of "things", but to make sure I was IN the pictures. It was some of the best advice, because I have some of the best pictures of my trip.
It was outside St. Patrick’s Cathedral that I made a decision. I wasn't going home. Dublin was my home. Ireland is where I wanted to be. Of course, Sr. Jo wouldn’t hear of it; I remember her telling me, “Your mother will kill me if you don’t get off that plane with me in San Antonio!” She was right. Tanya, our lovable tour guide, gave me another option. She invited me to come back and stay with her and her husband, who we got to meet in London, for the summer. She stressed the importance of me going back and graduating and finishing my senior year. While I dreaded getting on the plane, I knew she was also right. I cried twice on my trip, the first time being when we landed in Boston on our way back…I cried because I knew I was no longer in Ireland, but what I brought back with me is more than I ever could have asked for.
Yet, in the midst of all this memory-making and sight-seeing I can't make light of the friends I made. We were grouped with a group of students from Kansas. During our first hotel stay in London, the hotel rooms were a little small and the numbers didn't add up for all of us to room with our own group. Sr. Jo asked me if I would do her the biggest favor and share a room with two girls from Kansas who I had not met yet and the one freshman that was in our group. She knew I wouldn't complain and would agree, but it was probably the best thing that could've happened to me; it was my way in with the other group. I instantly connected with my two roomies - Heidi and Amy - and they made it so easy for me to get to know the rest of their group, including Norb. Yes, Norb is his name. I learned more about him in our last few days than I did about the girls I went to school with for the last three years. We had a lot in common and shared the same frustrations. We talked. We laughed. We became friends. It was on our flight from Boston to Memphis, coming home, that I realized the impact this trip had on the both of us. He handed me a letter and asked me not to read it until I was on my flight to San Antonio. I couldn't wait that long. When we landed in Memphis and went our separate ways, I read the letter at our gate. He described what the last few days meant to him and how he couldn't believe what someone could mean to him in just a short time. It wasn't a romantic letter, it wasn't filled with cliche remarks or sappy lines, it was an honest letter from one friend to another. In the envelope, he had given me a chain he wore and attached to the chain was a medal of St. Jude. He told me to take it and remember him. I was speechless, and so I cried for the second time on my trip, but who wouldn't? I was beside myself. I quickly took out a pen and paper from my journal and wrote as fast as I could. I knew I needed to give him something in return, but per Sr. Jo's instructions, we weren't to bring anything of value with us. I had nothing. At least I thought I didn't. Sr. Jo gave me an oak, pocket knife she always carried with her. She told me she'd had it forever and that it had saved her a time or two, but she knew that right then, I needed it more than she did. She told me I could have it, to give to him. And so I did. A couple of weeks after I got home I received a letter in the mail from Kansas, thanking me for what I had given him and for the memories of a trip we would both never forget. Life being what it is, we lost touch shortly after our first year in college and have yet to speak again. Regardless, I have my memories, my pictures and St. Jude.
Spring Break, for me, is more than just a beer fest at the beach for a weekend. It was a monumental moment in my life. It wasn't an accident that we ended up in England and Ireland; it was the way it was supposed to happen. So, as I listen to my students talk about their upcoming plans, I can't help but smile and think back to my own Spring Break, because it was the only REAL spring break I've ever had. It was a week filled with adventure and excitement, hello's and goodbye's and a bittersweet ending. I embarked on a journey that gave me new memories, new friends and moments I would never forget and at the end of that journey I wasn't just a girl from a small town, I was much more than that...to all those I traveled with, thank you. I owe 10 of the best days of my life to each of you, ..."May the road rise to meet you, May the wind be always at your back, May the sun shine warm upon your face, May the rain fall soft upon your fields, And, until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of His hand" - St. Patrick.
Till next time...
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Starbucks and a Devil Who Wore Prada
Joe Fox said it best, "...the whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee - short/tall, light/dark, caf/decaf, low-fat/non-fat, etc...so people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only 2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self." While the comparison was meant to be funny and a line in a movie, it does hold some truth for all of us.
We all go through life making decisions and choices that affect everything and everyone around us. Stop and think about it. The decision to stay home from work one day makes a big difference for the person waiting to see you at the office; the choice to take a short cut to work affects someone else's normal route to work; the choice to pay for McDonald's in cash, and while you search for that last penny or nickel may seem life-saving to you, it's actually torture for the minivan behind you and the father in the driver seat who has twin toddlers screaming at the top of their lungs for their happy meal. The choices we make affect everything. Yes, these were very comical and average, but look at those outcomes. Now imagine those choices we make that are truly life altering. Scary, huh?
I wake up some mornings wondering if this is the life that's meant for me. Is this what I'm supposed to be doing? But just when an ounce of regret starts to creep up inside me, something, or someone, reminds me otherwise. The beautiful thing about our lives is that we always have a choice. Sure, as a child, a lot of things are chosen for us and unfortunately for some, those choices aren't always the best. Many have more difficult choices to make and some of their obstacles call for even tougher decisions than any of us can imagine, but they have a choice. I still think back to the choice I made so many years ago to re-enroll in Sr. Agnes' writing class. What if I hadn't? Would I be able to do THIS? Something as minor as choosing between electives made such a difference in my life. On the flipside, I stop and laugh when I think about the choice I made to have 3 male roommates for a summer; what the hell was I thinking??? But I tell you what, that summer and those 3 roommates are moments I would never trade and if I had to do it all over again, I would do it the same way...granted, I didn't pick up the best habits, but it's a decision I'll never regret. It was a summer I would gain a best friend, the ability to get ready in 10mins, the talent to drink just about anyone under the table and the gift of knowing the Jack in the Box menu by memory!
In talking about choices and decisions, 14 years ago I made the choice to go to Our Lady of the Lake University. It was a decision that would truly be life altering and one I would never regret. It was a decision that brought me to new friends and new experiences, new loves and new losses, regrets and triumphs...I had the opportunity to choose to be a part of the Dillo family, to decide to make a few bucks with Campus Activities, a choice to lead with SOL's, a decision to make new friends and memories through UPC and a choice to befriend a man who would eventually be my husband. The Lake became my Starbucks cup of coffee, because while I didn't know what I wanted to do or be, I knew I could make a few choices that would satisfy me for the moment, but these choices and decisions would eventually carry me through a lifetime.
Seven years ago this month, I made another life changing decision, one that would bring me good times and bad...I became a wife. I chose to share my life with a man who wanted to share his with me. I chose a life that I never thought I would choose; for sure I thought I would be Carrie Bradshaw, because Lord knows I have plenty of Samantha's, Miranda's and Charlotte's in my life! I thought I had my future all planned out...I would be independent, successful, single, and living life; I never imagined I could still be those same things and NOT be single; little did I know. I don't regret getting married. I don't regret my choice in a husband. I'm the woman I am because of him. He pushes me to be more; to be better and he challenges me in every way possible. I chose a good man.
Some of my choices haven't always been easy or as fun. They've been mind boggling and down right ugly...missing family birthdays and special occasions, breaking hearts, even breaking my own, being careless and reckless and neglecting all the things that were important in my life...I live with regret and guilt over the pain I caused others and especially the heartache I caused my family. But then my choices and decisions changed...the choice to have my daughter was never really a "decision" I needed to MAKE but a choice I needed to ACCEPT. She'll be 8 this November, and for the last eight years I have learned that NOW, my choices not only affect me, but her as well, and her two sisters. I still learn from my mistakes, and I wouldn't be where I'm at if I didn't. Recently I had to make a decision in my life that required me to accept the fact that it can't always be about me and that I can't do everything. I've had my time to do it my way, to do what I wanted when I wanted, NOW, it's time to do what's best for my family and for my home. So, graduate school will wait. There's no doubt in my mind that I can do it, that I have my husband's support and that of my family; but I will not let my children do without me. I made the choice to have a family, a home and to be a wife and I love my job. For many, these things would seem like excuses, but for me, it's my life and my choice. Do I FEEL like a quitter? A little. Am I a quitter? No, I'm not. I may be a lot of things, but a quitter I am not. Like everything in my life, I have to choose what's important at the moment. Right now, for me, it's important to be with my family, to be there for the special things, even if it's just a Saturday morning to make pancakes together and stay in pajamas all day. When I start graduate school again, and I will, it will be when I'm ready, when I've gotten myself in a better place to know that no one will have to take a backseat to my wants.
Miranda Priestly said it best, "...you want this life, then those choices are necessary." She's right. I know the life I want and I know the choices I have to make to get there, but I don't have to do it all at once and I don't have to make all those choices today. For now, I choose my girls, my family and my happiness. Until I'm ready, I'm just gonna sit back and enjoy my tall, decaf cappuccino!
Till next time...
We all go through life making decisions and choices that affect everything and everyone around us. Stop and think about it. The decision to stay home from work one day makes a big difference for the person waiting to see you at the office; the choice to take a short cut to work affects someone else's normal route to work; the choice to pay for McDonald's in cash, and while you search for that last penny or nickel may seem life-saving to you, it's actually torture for the minivan behind you and the father in the driver seat who has twin toddlers screaming at the top of their lungs for their happy meal. The choices we make affect everything. Yes, these were very comical and average, but look at those outcomes. Now imagine those choices we make that are truly life altering. Scary, huh?
I wake up some mornings wondering if this is the life that's meant for me. Is this what I'm supposed to be doing? But just when an ounce of regret starts to creep up inside me, something, or someone, reminds me otherwise. The beautiful thing about our lives is that we always have a choice. Sure, as a child, a lot of things are chosen for us and unfortunately for some, those choices aren't always the best. Many have more difficult choices to make and some of their obstacles call for even tougher decisions than any of us can imagine, but they have a choice. I still think back to the choice I made so many years ago to re-enroll in Sr. Agnes' writing class. What if I hadn't? Would I be able to do THIS? Something as minor as choosing between electives made such a difference in my life. On the flipside, I stop and laugh when I think about the choice I made to have 3 male roommates for a summer; what the hell was I thinking??? But I tell you what, that summer and those 3 roommates are moments I would never trade and if I had to do it all over again, I would do it the same way...granted, I didn't pick up the best habits, but it's a decision I'll never regret. It was a summer I would gain a best friend, the ability to get ready in 10mins, the talent to drink just about anyone under the table and the gift of knowing the Jack in the Box menu by memory!
In talking about choices and decisions, 14 years ago I made the choice to go to Our Lady of the Lake University. It was a decision that would truly be life altering and one I would never regret. It was a decision that brought me to new friends and new experiences, new loves and new losses, regrets and triumphs...I had the opportunity to choose to be a part of the Dillo family, to decide to make a few bucks with Campus Activities, a choice to lead with SOL's, a decision to make new friends and memories through UPC and a choice to befriend a man who would eventually be my husband. The Lake became my Starbucks cup of coffee, because while I didn't know what I wanted to do or be, I knew I could make a few choices that would satisfy me for the moment, but these choices and decisions would eventually carry me through a lifetime.
Seven years ago this month, I made another life changing decision, one that would bring me good times and bad...I became a wife. I chose to share my life with a man who wanted to share his with me. I chose a life that I never thought I would choose; for sure I thought I would be Carrie Bradshaw, because Lord knows I have plenty of Samantha's, Miranda's and Charlotte's in my life! I thought I had my future all planned out...I would be independent, successful, single, and living life; I never imagined I could still be those same things and NOT be single; little did I know. I don't regret getting married. I don't regret my choice in a husband. I'm the woman I am because of him. He pushes me to be more; to be better and he challenges me in every way possible. I chose a good man.
Some of my choices haven't always been easy or as fun. They've been mind boggling and down right ugly...missing family birthdays and special occasions, breaking hearts, even breaking my own, being careless and reckless and neglecting all the things that were important in my life...I live with regret and guilt over the pain I caused others and especially the heartache I caused my family. But then my choices and decisions changed...the choice to have my daughter was never really a "decision" I needed to MAKE but a choice I needed to ACCEPT. She'll be 8 this November, and for the last eight years I have learned that NOW, my choices not only affect me, but her as well, and her two sisters. I still learn from my mistakes, and I wouldn't be where I'm at if I didn't. Recently I had to make a decision in my life that required me to accept the fact that it can't always be about me and that I can't do everything. I've had my time to do it my way, to do what I wanted when I wanted, NOW, it's time to do what's best for my family and for my home. So, graduate school will wait. There's no doubt in my mind that I can do it, that I have my husband's support and that of my family; but I will not let my children do without me. I made the choice to have a family, a home and to be a wife and I love my job. For many, these things would seem like excuses, but for me, it's my life and my choice. Do I FEEL like a quitter? A little. Am I a quitter? No, I'm not. I may be a lot of things, but a quitter I am not. Like everything in my life, I have to choose what's important at the moment. Right now, for me, it's important to be with my family, to be there for the special things, even if it's just a Saturday morning to make pancakes together and stay in pajamas all day. When I start graduate school again, and I will, it will be when I'm ready, when I've gotten myself in a better place to know that no one will have to take a backseat to my wants.
Miranda Priestly said it best, "...you want this life, then those choices are necessary." She's right. I know the life I want and I know the choices I have to make to get there, but I don't have to do it all at once and I don't have to make all those choices today. For now, I choose my girls, my family and my happiness. Until I'm ready, I'm just gonna sit back and enjoy my tall, decaf cappuccino!
Till next time...
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