Hungry, Hungry Hippo.

So it’s been 2-ish months since I’ve posted. Sorry about that, I’ve been a little busy with my next cool shit attempt and going to church. In your face! Told ya in that last post I’d go. We have been 3 times so far thank you very much. Well, 4 times if you include the church we stole those coffee mugs from…

Okay, so in truth we have no idea if we stole the coffee mugs. We were very overwhelmed. We were introduced to the pastor, his wife, a small group leader, her husband, another couple, and another family. It was just too much. We were just trying to sneak in the back, feel it out, and get the fuck out of there. Not meet the whole damn staff. But we did, then they offered us cups of coffee. So nice. Promptly thereafter, we saw an opportunity to duck out, took it, turned the corner, looked at each other and realized, ‘Oh shit did they mean we were supposed to put coffee in these and stay awhile?’ So we walked home a little quicker than usual, put the coffee mugs in the back of the cabinet and have not used them once. It feels dirty.

Since the coffee mug dilemma, the mugs have made it to the garage in a box and we found a church we like! Very exciting stuff. And perfect timing since the whole fam is coming in town from Texas next week and staying with us in our box of a home. I cannot wait to see my momma.

New cool shit attempt: We moved to Huntington Beach! Drew has started with a new company and likes it much better than his previous gig. I am starting to teach cycling again, I am working for a fitness apparel company, and I’m tutoring once or twice a week. We live in a box of a home with a badass deck a couple blocks from the beach. It’s wonderful. I want to be outside all 24 hours of the day. We live with the windows and doors open – what else could I ask for right?

I realize I went right back to my ‘well rounded’ bullshit with three jobs. Yes, I’m happy here. Much happier than the boring last place we were. But again, here’s my undying unanswered question – do I feel fulfillment? I have work-life balance and it’s great, but then again it feels empty.

It’s kind of ironic actually. The reason I wanted the fitness apparel job was for the opportunity to go to work and leave without any emotion. Although, that’s why I don’t love it. Drew knows exactly what he wants to do with his life. I have no idea what I want to do with mine. Why on earth does he want to be with me? When I admitted to him that I was writing this (insert noun of what this is here), he told me good for me as he continued cleaning the dishes. This is code for, I support whatever you do even though it’s something new every week. He’s great. Also, I had just made a bomb dinner and had a little wine so the situation was skewed.

The conversation about me doing ‘this thing’ continued into a debate about opportunities. I posed the question that this ‘thing’ is centered around: What is the point? Is there one or an infinite amount? I heard once that if you run out of opportunities in your life that means you stopped taking chances or stopped saying yes. I have the overwhelming need to say yes to every opportunity in order to not miss out. And I also currently feel like I’m waiting for the next thing to say yes to.

I also heard once that the opportunities in a person’s life is unique to their life. Maybe one opportunity leads to the next. Or maybe you are supposed to exhaust an opportunity before you jump.

Does that make anyone feel like they are in the Hungry, Hungry Hippo game? I want to gobble up everything and store it away, but there’s too many and it’s impossible to win. Also, who am I playing against? Is there an enemy? Anyone else feel like the enemy is occasionally themselves?

The Glue

My mother. My mother is the glue that holds it all together.

I am convinced that my mother is the greatest woman who has walked this earth. She drives me insane. She is my best friend. If I was my mom, I would currently have a 4-year-old living in Crosby with my first husband that works too much. I also would work for an environmental lab. (What?) and be an Oilers Cheerleader. (Seriously?) I told you. Badass.

At 28, my mother divorced the largest narcissist on the planet and started her dance studio. Cool right? She met my step dad shortly thereafter. Thank god. Who knows where we’d be without him. He’s the rock. Mom is the glue. Maybe that’s why we get to explore all these other avenues of life. Dad will always be there to support, even if he knows it’s stupid. He’ll let you safely make the mistake and then so sweetly explain, ‘well that was fucking stupid. But I’m always here for you.’  Yup. Subtle. Thanks dad.

So clearly, this ‘well rounded’ thing didn’t start with me. But, Mom has always known her purpose in life is us. I just don’t feel that.

The questions still stand.

What is my purpose? Am I supposed to know?

Is anyone else waiting for some crazy miracle from the Bible to transplant itself into their life? At this point I feel like that’s the only way I’m going to actually know what my point is. God has a plan and a purpose for my life. Yes. I know. Read the Bible and pray. I DO! I could do it more. We all could. We all should. I definitely need to read it more and go to church. Maybe getting closer to God would allow me to know my purpose. But here’s where it doesn’t make sense to me: my purpose isn’t in the church… so why is that where I go to find it? Or maybe I’m just supposed to go to God in general, not the actual physical church. Yeah, that makes a lot more sense. I will. I’ll be there Sunday in the back row with no make up on, pen in hand, and a smile on my face as I eagerly listen to find my damn purpose here. Yes, this is what I do in church. Oh and I pretend to sing. Yeap, you do it too. I’ll be there on Sunday. Will you?

Turns out I didn’t go to church on Sunday. I got day drunk with my friends and had a complete blast instead. Drinking during the day is my favorite. I can still go to bed early and wake up the next day ready to take on the world. After I binge watch Orange is the New Black or Westworld of course.

I know God has a plan. And I trust it, I do. At the end of the day though, I have to make decisions. So how do those two things connect? I know they do, I just can’t figure out how. There is a plan, we make decisions and hope it’s the same as what God wants? How the hell do we know? I don’t. So, take your best leap of faith and if it sucks, odds are you’ll fall on your face, call your mom (or whoever your ‘glue’ is), cry, drink some wine, and move on to the next cool shit attempt. And then I’ll try again and again until I don’t fall.

Self Helpless.

 

Good thing this isn’t a ‘Self-Help’ blog. I am in no way a guru or someone to talk to in terms of getting help for yourself. I am a mess. But, what I have discovered in ‘Self-Help’ books is that everyone telling the story comes from some place dark… and then blossoms into the beautiful. I just haven’t blossomed yet, that’s all. AKA: not a self-help blog. It’s an, ‘I’m a mess and I bet you are too because you somehow ended up on this blog’ blog.

When I began this (insert whatever this is) it was a complete vomit of words, then it was  a journal, inspiration for myself, etc. As it began to take shape, I thought of something a wise young fourth grader told me. ‘Ms. Bocca this is ridiculous. My hand hurts, I’ve written the same paragraph 6 times, and I changed maybe 3 things.’ Yes, Elliot, you were right, I should have let you use a computer. Your pre-writing strategy was much more efficient considering you could quickly delete, copy, paste, repeat.

The most brilliant 10 year old on the planet shared a quote with me once:

“Reading is what you do when you want to escape where you have to be.”

Seemed she didn’t want to be in my class. Regardless, she learned from me and I learned from her. We grew. We continue to grow. This brings me to the one question this blog circles around: Are these little things the actual big stuff?

Join me as I hash through my experiences, downfalls, confusions, highs, lows, and everything in between. My hope is that as I benefit from the therapy of writing this, someone out there, maybe you, will benefit too. Becoming better with every step is the goal, right?

Also, YES. I have made my username livinginthegrey69. I’d like to point out that I did not realize these numbers would be on display. This unfortunate grouping of numbers is a running joke with me and my boyfriend. Everytime there is a password or number we are required to give, naturally 69 is the most fun number to provide. It typically warrants laughs, awkward looks, an eyebrow raise, or judgment from a stranger. There is nothing wrong with a little childish dirty humor. So, I stand strong in my decision to not change the numbers, because every time I look at it, it will make me giggle.

 

I will leave you with this:

The picture of the leaning tower of rocks does hold importance and symbolism. The literature teacher in me seriously geeked out on this one. Can you guess the symbolism in the tower of rocks?