2011

I don't send out Christmas cards and I probably should. But really, who wants to get a Christmas card that says "Hey, Happy Holidays. Haven't talked to you in a year. I'm divorced"? (I know. I should work for Hallmark.)

Instead, here's a long and potentially boring blog post in case I haven't seen you or talked to you in awhile.

The Class of 2015 - I've been with this class since they were just tiny 6th graders. We did a lot this year - from night sledding and winning the Great Frozen Fish Relay at BOCO to crying a lot. A LOT at summer camp in Nebraska to 8th grade prom and a lot of days spent at the park after Bible study. I have some of the best memories with this class. I count it a privilege to have gotten to be of their lives and hope to see them at their weddings someday and embarrass the snot out of them.

 
Community - I've had some really excellent friends that have walked with me through a lot of different stages of life, but I've never had friends like the ones I have now. I hope they feel this way too, but we just get each other. We have the same sarcastic, judgmental sense of humor. We are all "running" together through church/stage of life/work even though our paths to get here are vastly different. Mostly it feels like we live in a sitcom. Or possibly Napoleon Dynamite. Or Harry Potter. Without the magic.

 Promotions/Marketing - If you've known me for even a second, you know that work is a rather large part of my life. My schedule is ridiculous, but it's seriously a blast. Every day at work is different. Some days I am cutting out endless cards, other days I'm trying to think of something interesting to say for 6 different shows and still other days I'm playing chauffeur for one of the artists we play on the station. Someone told me last night, "your job is AWESOME!" Yeah. It sort of is.

 
Elephant in the Blog Post - This year was one of the hardest I've ever lived through. I got a divorce from the man I was married to for less than 2 years. Honestly, I've arrived in a place where I'm not angry, bitter or scared anymore (that's another blog post for another day). If you ask me how I'm doing today... I can honestly say I'm doing well. We both are.

Little Man Ice Cream/Two Rivers Coffee/Snooze/Culinary Adventures - I'm a fat kid at heart and would be remiss if I left these wonderful places that I would be the mayor of, if I used FourSquare, out of this post. The community I referred to above and I spent a lot of time at all of these places and cooking a lot of stuff that was just a recipe we found online. I should probably be fatter.

Half-Marathons  - I've now completed 3. Two of those were this year and neither in the state that I live in. One in Washington DC in March and one in Las Vegas in December. Missed my goal in DC by 1 minute and 19 seconds, but did set a PR. That's something, right? 

Class of 2018  - Yeah. So the class of 2015 moved on and got old and went to high school. I made the difficult decision to start over with another group of 6th graders for a multitude of reasons, one of which was that I wanted them to love and follow Jesus. Not love and follow me. This is a class of utterly broken kids, the richest of the rich, the poorest of the poor, the naive and the experienced. I have no idea where God is going to take us, but I'm excited to be along for the ride.

I was looking at pictures from last year at this time and feeling like it was a lifetime ago. Definitely a life-style ago. I've said before, this is not where I pictured myself at 25.

I own a home.
I have a cat.
I'm divorced.
I'm working in Promotions/Marketing still at my first radio gig. And added a couple out-of-market voice tracking jobs.
I'm amazed at the way God has brought people into my life that need to hear from someone who's exactly where I am.
Kids, friends, church, work... it fits like a puzzle. Like Someone might have a plan for it all.
And I'm learning that I serve a big God that can take what is ugly and create something masterful.

Now wasn't that just the most interesting thing that you've read all day?
No?
Yeah. Me neither.

i might throw up.

I've planned dozens of events. Many of them concerts. It's like it's my job or something.

But here I am in a crowded coffee shop about to head into another concert and for some reason, today I'm getting that feeling like I might throw up. My hands are shaky and I'm not sure why (it could be the ridiculous amount of caffeine, I suppose. mm... coffee.).

I feel a bit like I did before a piano recital when I was a kid. Or before a skating competition. Or before walking into a house full of mostly strangers on Christmas.

I just breathed a huge sigh. I hope the architects having a meeting next to me, the businessmen making important decisions and the girl bored on her phone that I am creepily watching in the reflection of my monitor are enjoying my semi-nervous breathing.

Time to buck up. Here goes nothing.

everyone.

There are a lot of things that everyone does.

For instance:
Everyone poops.
Everyone eats.
Everyone sleeps.
Everyone blinks.
Everyone breathes.

In talking with a friend, I realized something else that everyone does. Everyone sells themselves short in relationships.

We see ourselves on a certain "level" and we're afraid to date/get in a relationship with someone so we just settle for the first person who seems even a little bit interested. Sure... they don't have the same goals... morals... standards... interests... or beliefs, but hey! they're interested, that's good enough!

And that's how we end up broken-hearted and not sure why because all of our friends are telling us they didn't like him anyway.

Across the board - rich or poor, smart or ... not-so-smart, lower or middle or upper class - we all settle. Because it's easier than actually trying. Than doing something we actually care about. Because then, if it fails, you weren't really trying anyway.

Or at least, that's how I think.

I settle. My friends hear about some of my past relationships and wonder how the heck I ended up with the guys I was with in the past. I honestly wonder sometimes too. Except that, deep down, I know. I knew then too.

I didn't want to be alone.

But I ended up that way anyway. And, honestly, I've been pleasantly surprised. It's not as scary as I thought it would be. 

I actually kind of like it.

airplane.

This is my family.
You may notice something about them. They are white.
My mom and sister look almost exactly alike (although, don't tell my sister I said that).
Me? Not white. Korean. Through and through.

Today is the day my family celebrates what my mom calls "her best Christmas ever." The day I came to America from South Korea. The day I became a part of a family. My Airplane Day.

None of the other kids in school had one of these days. It was like having a second birthday. And I got to bring in my Korean flag and tell all the kids the same story about coming to America and how my parents chose me... me! to become a part of their family.

There's nothing like being chosen. In fact, I think it's what we were created for. When Paul talks about being "adopted as sons," I understand that better than someone who was not adopted. I.was.chosen. Not because of anything I had done. Or because I was cuter than all of the other kids at the orphanage. Or because at 3 months old I was showing great potential to be something. I was chosen just. because.

In my family, we fight. We laugh. We make fun of each other. We relive silly memories from childhood like the time my sister cut off my ear or when we used to drive around listening to our favorite Chicago songs. My parents were at every basketball match. Every volleyball game. Every figure skating tournament (even the one I forgot my ice skates for). My cousins taught me to love sports and how to play them. My grandparents skipped waves with me in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. And spoiled the dickens out of their youngest grandchild.

Today I'm reminded of how big God is. And how everyone I meet - from people who spend years with me to people who spend just a few days or weeks - is there on purpose. Because I could be speaking a different language. In a different country. Eating nasty, nasty kimchi (blech!).

Instead, God has me here. And I'm amazed. And so incredibly grateful.

My dad just sent me this email:
Happy airplane day, honey. We were so excited that day, we couldn't stand it. Love, Dad.

And now, my boss is going to wonder why I'm tearing up in my office.

in an instant

I can't believe how heavy and light my heart is as I write this. I didn't know I even had the capacity to feel both emotions so strongly at once.

I spent tonight with some of the most incredible kids on the planet. I don't think I laugh harder or find myself being the person I feel created to be than when I'm with them. They're loud, honest, creative and spontaneous.

As I look into their lives more deeply, my heart breaks. The decisions they're faced with, the decisions of others that have huge effects on their life, the people who are supposed to be there for them but are shirking their responsibility - it sucks. I want the best life possible for them, but I can't save them. I can't make their choices for them. I can't be with them every moment.

I need the reminder that I am not God. But He is big. He's there and walking with them every step of the way. I'm just glad that He's let me walk with them at all.

home.

My childhood was nowhere near perfect. Really it was more like living in a sitcom. But I never realized until now how grateful I should have been for a stable place to sleep, a tight family, and food whenever I felt like eating.
< and this view out my window

Not everyone gets to grow up that way.

And it's not fair.

Why do some kids have it all?
And others have empty refrigerators, no one to lean on, and a shelter that can barely be called a house?

Who loves these kids? When they act out in school or give you attitude or are just plain mean? Who takes the time to look past the walls of pain built on a shaky foundation to actually love these kids? With action. Knowing there won't be a thanks or even a smile or hug at the end.

But today I've been struck with this truth... as overwhelming as it seems that are so many utterly broken and torn down people in this world... I serve a big God. He is in control.

And He's Strong Enough to Save.
He'll break open the skies to save those who cry out His name.
The One the wind and waves obey is strong enough to save you.
[tenth avenue north]

in line at the post office

Man at counter with a crapton of mail flirting with postal worker.
Silently aggravated man.
Too talkative woman.
Guy next to me wondering what I'm doing on my phone.
Random girl blogging (that's me).
Angry man fussing under his breath.
Lady standing too close to person in front of her.
Woman who's going to be late for work.
Woman who is overdressed for the post office.
Woman who brought in her whining child.
The whining child.
Guy who can't even see the counter anymore who's thinking about leaving.

fight for me.

The pastor at my church has promised a message series coming on what it means to be a man. All of the 20-something, single women rejoiced.

This summer really taught me a lot about men - or lack thereof - and the affect it has on the kids who didn't get to choose their dads... their brothers... their male influence.

The boys are lost, trying to figure out what it means to be a man - besides just what they hear in hip hop music (that's all those young whipper-snappers are listening to these days - yes, I am secretly 80). The girls are seaching for someone... anyone... who will fight for them.

I know I am.

Almost every woman I know... every woman you see in a romantic comedy or an action movie... every girl in a story-song... all of us - we want to be chosen. To be fought for. It's not the uniform that makes the "man in uniform" loveable. It's that he's fighting for something he believes in, so maybe he'd fight for me too.

The feminist in me wants to add something here about that it's not that we're not capable of doing things on our own. But let's be honest. I was thrilled to death that one of my guy friends cleaned up the rotting squirrel in my basement so I didn't have to do it. I love when I'm clearly struggling with carrying something and a man offers to help. I like having someone be thoughtful enough to hold the door open for me. I'm capable of doing it. But it's nice to be thought of.

It's what every girl secretly wants.
We want you to take a risk. Step up and ask us out.
We want you to take care of us. Kill the moths. And step on the giant crickets.
We want you to carry heavy things and get off difficult lids. That one is because our hands are probably wet.
We want you to fight for us. Face it. Sometimes we say things, just to hear that you want to be with us.
We want you to lead us. I want you to love Jesus. And to help me follow Him better. I am also bad with directions.

From the girl who's been single her whole life to the recently divorced to the heart-broken to the flirt - hear from us all: please. fight for me.

how quickly we forget.

I guess the "we" in the title should probably just be me. Er. That would be bad grammar. "how quickly me forget. me jane."

One of my friends can't remember names to save his life. Or stories. Some people aren't good with numbers. Some people, not good at remembering important lessons in life. I wish I were one of the first two, but alas.

I am number 3 (see what I did there? a play on the movie? I Am Number Four? Look it up.).

I, like Mater in Cars2, have left a dent in my car as a reminder not to compromise. Because it never ends well. I don't want to go back to the life I was leading - where I was a person that I hate and didn't really know who I was.

But, it's super easy to go back.

What is it about boys that makes girls go so crazy? We fight over them. We get dramatic over them. We let them break our hearts without them ever having invested any ounce of thought into us. We're as silly and dense as we call them. I say "we" because I'm definitely part of the problem. I quickly forget that I don't have to become like anyone else to be "liked." And you know... not just liked... LIKE-liked. (obviously.)

Maybe no one will ever come around that LIKE-likes me. I am a firm believer that I want to be with someone that together, we can do infinitely more for God than we could have done separately. Maybe I'm just imagining there's someone like that out there.

And if I'm being really honest, that sucks.
But if that's life, that's the best plan.

Because I was reminded tonight, my plan is clearly not the one that works. I tried that once.
It's where I got the dent.

frickin' perfect.

I just shattered this mirror. The perfect end to the perfect frickin' week. (note sarcasm)

This has been one of the more difficult weeks, culminating in one of the more difficult days I've had in awhile.

From heart-broken friends, disregarded middle school/high school students to my own struggle with feeling not good enough - it's really been just been... tough. I'm feeling a lot like this mirror right now. A bit broken and scattered.

I'm not as strong as everyone seems to think I am.

give me your eyes

I'm at a conference speaking out about human trafficking and one of the survivors just gave her testimony on how the spiral down a long dark path started. Simple... Her parents were too busy for her and couldn't believe that anything as awful as rape could happen to her. Because stuff like that doesn't happen to people you know... Just people you hear about.

No one heard her out. No one took the time to ask that maybe her lashing out was because she was hurt with no one to talk to. It wasn't that she was a "bad kid" and "not good in school." Its because she was hurting. And no one saw. Or cared.

I want to see through eyes that look past the "bad kid" exterior. I want to see past bad attitudes and rudeness. I want to look beyond self injury or self centeredness. Because everyone has a reason for the way they are. We all are a product of what we've been through. Some of us just hide it better.

second place.

Clouds are rolling in. My bosses are gone from work. I'm showing semblance of being actually caught up for a second on my list of things to do. Mat Kearney is on my Spotify account and I have my silly hipster scarf on.

Time to blog.

I am competitive. At everything. I don't play checkers because it makes me angry when I lose. I don't play Monopoly because it takes too stinking long to win. I don't play BS or Uno because they both make me into a crazy competitive, semi-angry player.

What? I like to win. Don't you?

I don't like coming in second place. At anything. It's pretty much guided the pieces of who I am. I don't like trying new things because I'm not going to be good at them. I don't initiate conversations with my friends because "what if they don't want to talk to me because someone better is out there?" I don't admit when I like someone because it might not work out and then I have to admit that I am second place to whatever other girl took first.

The funny thing is, I actually find myself in second place a lot.

Working with middle schoolers who have little to no filter reminds me that I'm never going to be the pretty, popular cheerleader-type that is their favorite. And I wasn't even when I was in high school. I'm not the best at dancing. I'm really not the best at leading a small group. I'm not the "most fun car ride to the zoo EVER." And I don't have the best, funniest, most relatable stories.

In b-girl(thanks, Homestar Runner) relationships, I've always been the friend. "One of the Guys" is where I'm most comfortable. In high school, college, and even after, I always heard about the girls that my guy friends liked. Gave them advice on what a girl means when she says this... or that, and how to respond. But no matter how good of a friend I might be - I'm still second to the elusive "Johanna" - tall, blonde, swimmer - that every guy seems to die for... who won't even give him the time of day (Taylor Swift wrote a song about that...).

Most days I'm okay with that. But I'm having a hard time in my aloneness with feeling second-rate. Damaged goods. Some other cliche that means "not very good."

Insert some encouraging piece here. I'm sure there's a verse or a line in a song or something to tie a post like this up nicely if you can't handle things not being okay for a second.

At the end of the day, I still hate to lose. But I do. And I get over it.

Here's to second place. And the learning that comes out of it.

.boys.

Hanging out with middle school girls has taught me a lot. It also frightens me. For a lot of the girls, the world revolves around boys.
They live, eat, move, breathe... everything for a boy.
They change who they are.
They leave their circle of friends and join his.
They give up who they are.

Then when said boy leaves said girl because she's not the cool, unique girl he liked in the first place (because she's basically become a copy of him), girl is heartbroken. She cries to all of her friends who assure her it's his loss. She eats countless amounts of chocolate. And maybe ice cream. And watches sappy movies.

Then ... hope! Said boy might like girl again!! Forget all of the hurtful stuff that he did or said... he wants me back! That's what we think to ourselves. So we continue being a shadow of who we really are. Who we were made to be. And we settle into trying once again to please and become this one boy.

ENOUGH.

Why do we do this to ourselves? It's hard to wait and be patient. I have done everything in this post so many times. And I look back now and realize all the mistakes I made and don't want anyone else to go through it.

It's so much easier to go for the lowest hanging fruit.
To not really be vulnerable.
To not ever really be known.
To not fight, but just agree with everything.

But it's never as good as it was meant to be when we don't hold out for the best.

like a child.

With all the crazy pain in the world that the kids I work closest with face, I forget sometimes that there are still "little girls" out there. They grew up with 2 parents. They like pink. And frills. They freak out when there are loud noises. And then freak out again when they realize the loud noises were really confetti cannons shooting awesome streamers of shininess.

But they do exist.

Little girls, running up to me just because they've heard my voice before. Or because their mom told them to. Giving me unforeseen hugs. Wanting a picture of me with my silly hipster scarf.

I don't think it's ever made me feel so small. Part of me wants to tell their parents, "No! Don't let your little girl grow up to be like me! Be honest with her! Tell her about REAL life, not just the easy stuff." The other part wants to hide scared. Worried that if parents found out who I really am, who I've really been, that they'll take their little girls, write a nasty complaint email, and get me fired from my job.

It was a ridiculous picture of God using the weak. the unimportant. the silly. The entire day was such a crapshoot, honestly. Leading me up to a moment when the speaker is calling girls forward to make the most important decision of their life and wanting me to help guide them through it. I've never felt more incapable. More unfocused. More unworthy. I've never cried out to God in such a panic (including the 2 car accidents I've been in).

Oh God. I need help. I don't know what I'm doing!

But, really. I should have been learning from these girls. Realizing that they came forward. Not worried what their friends thought. Just because they knew they wanted Jesus. It was that simple. They shared that moment with their moms. They shared the things they're scared of - the things that they've been called that they don't like and don't want to believe anymore.

Simple. No wonder we're supposed to have faith like a child.

appropriately nostalgic.

I listened to a lot of sports talk today thanks to an excellent night of extra-innings-almost-playoff baseball. Today they wanted to make sure they took the time to "look back" instead of looking ahead (because that's tomorrow's show).

That and the significance of "the day" has me appropriately nostalgic. At least. I think it's appropriate.

This last year has had a lot of low points. What a depressing statement that is. As I look at my group of friends, I've clearly been "the needy one" for a while now.
I never thought I'd be that girl who tears up because of a random memory that has nothing to do with anything.
I never thought I'd have to kill moths and empty mouse traps on my own.
I never thought I'd avoid certain TV shows because they get in my head and make me think I'm going to get randomly kidnapped because of my distant connection to the Irish mob in New York City.
I never thought I'd wonder who to put in my ICE list in my phone that actually lives in my city.
I never thought I'd be alone again.

But. here I am.

It's also had a lot of high points.
I never thought I'd get to sit in a room with 12 other crying girls for 2 hours. And actually like it.
I never thought I'd find community - at least, not a community as good as this one.
I never thought I'd find someone going through the exact same situation - but there totally is.
I never thought I'd get flowers on a random Thursday because I have great friends.
I never thought I'd climb a mountain with a large group of people in the dark,
Go to Nebraska,
Watch so much pewee football,
Get lost in Brighton,
Run a half marathon in DC,
Go on culinary adventures,
Eat so much Little Man Ice Cream,
Visit Portland,
Wander downtown,
Go deep with good friends
Get 2 flat tires...
and really feel like I'm living life again.

But I'm here too. Here's to another year. So tomorrrow, like all baseball commentators, I'll look ahead. Bring on the post-season.

life goal.

To be on one of Mashable's picture lists for creative ways of using... stuff. Like the new Facebook timeline. Here's my chance:


It's not the most creative picture I've seen, but... it's the most creative one on my page. That's worth something, right?

angry.

Do you ever have those days when everything sets you off?

So far today things that have made me have to reign in my angry face -
- slow people in the left lane (okay, that one happens everyday)
- my gmail not going back to the page I wanted it to
- being told how to do something I've known how to do for years
- phone call from someone who talks entirely too much
- person backing out of a commitment made because of failure to check schedule

What the crap is wrong with me?

I do know what it is. Mostly instead of getting emotional - I get angry.
I'm sad? I get angry.
I'm hurt? I get angry.
I'm disappointed? I get angry.
I disappoint someone else? I get angry.
I feel guilty? I get angry.
I'm happy? I get... well. Happy. That's not a good example.

I realize more and more that I'm not even angry at the stuff that's happening around me. I'm mostly angry at myself. I'm angry that I don't make better choices. I'm angry that I am not a better, less jerky human being. I'm angry that I can't just make everything and everyone feel right and fine.

So I'm writing about being angry. Hoping it will make me feel better. Less angry. And more able to get on with my day.

*whew*

beautiful.

[hello seattle]

is anyone good at good-bye?

Mostly I consider myself a leaver. I'm not sure if subconsciously I can't stay in one place, but no one in my life for the past decade has known me beyond 4 years.

Now another set of good-byes. And it's going to be tough.

I've been with an incredible group of girls for the last 3 years. They've walked with me through love... heartbreak... difficult times... fun times... and even random trips to Wal-Mart. I've seen them grow from 3 tiny 6th grade pixies to a group of around 25 maturing women - learning who they are, what they want, and how to follow God for themselves.

They've changed friends. They've discovered boys. They've dated. They've gotten their hearts broken.

They've lived through stuff I never dreamed of at 14 - feeling ugly enough to be self-destructive, suicide, abuse from those who should be their protectors, the temptation of alcohol and drugs, wrestling with whether God is real or not, and peer pressure to try things I didn't even know existed at their age.

And here they are. Strong. Capable. Honest. and the most beautiful girls I've ever known.

It's been a privilege even to be a small part of their lives.

And saying goodbye is going to suck.

weeds

Let's get this out of the way. I know I live in Colorado, but this is NOT a post about THAT kind of weed. Okay. Moving on...

I spent this weekend pulling weeds. From everywhere. Giant ones. Sticky ones. Pokey ones. No matter how much weed paper, weed killer, or whatever else is supposed to get rid of weeds - still they grow. Everywhere. Even in the crappy brown stuff that I am not sure is even soil in my backyard. Weeds. Grow. All the time.

It made me realize... weeds are really the perfect example of life. During our small group with a random smattering of middle school girls, we talked about the importance of making good decisions. Constantly. It's not like you can just make one good decision one day and it lasts you the rest of your life. Every day... every hour... every minute, we must choose the right decision.

Just like you can't just pull weeds once, spray once or lay weed paper once. It takes work. And it's not easy.

If I'm being really honest... sometimes, I just want easy. The road less traveled by is that way for a reason.

But then again, I'm faced with the question: do I really want weeds?

waiting for the sun

Change. Seems like change just takes your world and turns it around, shakes it violently, then sets it back down crookedly.

The changes that I'm going through right now are necessary. And I do want them. But a piece of me wishes I could track back many months when things were sweet bliss and I didn't care or know anything could possibly go wrong with my pipe dreams.

I could come home to a man who loved me and ran to the door with a silly grin on his face, flapping his arms, glad to see me.
We'd play competitive trivia and bet over nothing because we shared everything.
I never went to sleep alone, but always had his arms around me... protecting me.

But that's just not reality.

Instead I've been moving from place to place to place. Couch to couch to couch. Bag to bag. I've slept alone for months... though I've felt like I was sleeping alone for much longer than that.
I've cried more times than I care to count.
I thought my heart was going to break and throw itself out of my chest because it didn't want to live in that hellhole anymore.
And I'm not only unprotected... I've been afraid of the arms that were supposed to have been shelter.

I find myself longing for normal. Wishing things could be easy and I could just not care about thriving, but be content with just... living.

Ignorance is bliss.
but. I guess it's not really. Living in mediocrity isn't really living at all, is it?

It's been raining for the last two days. In the immortal words of Rob Bell... it always rains. I guess I'll hold on, with no umbrella, and wait for it to stop. Waiting for the sun.

Waiting for the rain to stop.
Destination: beautiful.
Seems that I'm still waiting for the sun.
[mae - sun]

7 Boxes of Tissues

My cat made me cry tonight. An unexpected note made me cry tonight. A random conversation made me cry tonight. Geez... probably writing this post is going to make me cry.

Why do I keep writing?

I thought I knew what I was getting into... what to expect. I thought I was prepared. I even semi-realized I wasn't prepared, but MAN. Was I ever not ready to be back in a familiar place in such an unfamiliar state.

I'm tired of being on a roller coaster. Of pushing myself. Of not sleeping in a bed. Of not being able to sleep through an entire night. In fact, I might even be exhausted.

I'm tired of lives falling apart. Consequences... big ones... are all around me. From parents who forget their kids to kids who at 14 already know how to hide behind a smile to one more sad moment in a family who has already faced more sad times in a few months than most people face in a lifetime -- all of it. sucks.

And I'm exhausted.

that could also be because it's almost midnight.
geez.
... at least I didn't cry.

living out of a bag

Nomad. An odd joining of words. Cupcake is sort of shaped like a cup and is also a cake. Lap tops are designed to sit on top of your lap. But a nomad is someone who wanders - with no home. There's definitely no way a wanderer is no[t] mad.

I hate living out of a bag. I've done it before having worked at camp for every summer from age 16 til 20. It's awful. You never quite know where anything is and whatever you need is inevitably at the bottom of the bag.

Today I'm actually living out of a bag. I feel somewhat like all the clothes haphazardly strewn throughout my car/suitcase/duffel. It's like my life has been turned upside down. I never thought at 24 that I would be living so far from home, watching HGTV, blogging, and about to have an ex-husband.

How do we get here? How do we take so many small steps in one direction before we realize that we're so far away from the mark that we can't even see it anymore? I don't know, but I'm there.

Tossed around a bit. Exhausted. But alive. With a community more supportive than I could have imagined and a God bigger and beyond even what I thought I knew.

More and more I realize, the only thing that's good in me is Jesus.

"I'm Sorry" Flowers

There's some pithy phrase about diamonds are a girl's best friend that everyone knows. There should be something about flowers too. Maybe it's just me, but I'm not sure I've ever received a bouquet of flowers I loved from a significant other.

Stalker Flowers - I was 15 and a guy from the youth group I went to decided that I was to be the object of his affection. He stopped by my house on his bike (impressive because I lived like 5 miles from him up a hill on the busiest road in town) and sent me flowers. I might have let them die... or hurried the process. After all, I was 15. And not. interested.

Valentine's Day Flowers - In college, the post office would send you a fantastic email if you got mail or some kind of package. As you can imagine, at a Christian college where everyone is trying to find Mr. or Mrs. Right, Valentine's Day was one of the busiest days. I got an email that said "You've got flowers!" I was initially pretty excited... I couldn't even believe my boyfriend who didn't celebrate anything remembered Valentine's Day. I got to the post office to pick up my flowerS (emphasis on the "s" on purpose) and I get... a single rose. No card. Nothing personal. It was a flower he bought from some organization for a buck. Dear Valentine's Day, thanks for setting us up for disappointment.

No Flowers - For over 2 years of my most recent relationship, I didn't receive any flowers. None. Not even a wildflower. Or a dandelion. This might seem like it goes against everything I just wrote, but I got flowers on my first Valentine's Day and then never again. Don't start with flowers when you're trying to "woo" a girl and then never touch them again.

I'm Sorry Flowers - That same relationship I received about 4 EXPENSIVE bouquets of flowers to say "I'm Sorry." In rapid succession. Like. 2 weeks. Holy. Crap. Having never received any other flowers, these flowers only served to make me upset.

Do you see why I might hate flowers? Take note, gentleman, looking to hook a lady up with flowers. The only flowers I did NOT mention that I have NEVER received.... Random-Tuesday-Flowers. Yeah. Flowers for no reason at all except I was just thinking about you... even if you pick wild flowers... unbelievable. Any woman would melt at your extremely-thoughtful feet. Just trust me. ~*

first post.

Tonight I went grocery shopping. This would not be odd normally, but tonight it was. Because it was for one.

I was married for less than 2 years. Even the lawyer I went to go see thought that was ridiculous. The guy who went in to see her before me looked like a biker but drove a UHaul. To an appointment with his lawyer. That guy = less ridiculous than this girl.

I expected to face awkwardness when I told my conservative co-workers that I was no longer living with my husband.
I expected it to be a little odd when I came home and a bed and half of the stuff that was in the house was now not in the house.
I expect my mom to call me with her sad voice on because naturally nothing in the world can be normal ever again.
I did not, however, expect to be shocked by. grocery. shopping.

It was the first time I'd been to the store and not looked for something for my husband. It was the first time I wondered... what do I want? And I actually bought it. And only that. I bought tomatoes, whole wheat wraps, peppers, a cucumber, spinach, draino, and kitchen cleaner. Things I would not have bought just a mere 10 days ago. (What? Because what you buy at the store is so normal?)

That, my friends, is what made me think... I should start a blog.

This is not where I thought my life would be right now. I never imagined that at 24 I would be wondering how the heck I'm going to pay for a lawyer... whether I remember how to check my own air pressure in my tires... and what I'm going to do with my facebook pictures because he's in half of my albums.

This is real life, people.

I'm not sure where my next steps are. And I'm Asian and I've had a glass of wine so I'm more or less drunk so that's not helping. You're probably the only person who will ever read this.

That last sentence is written to me.