My Unexpected Storm

You were my unexpected storm and now you're my drought.

You started out as a sprinkle, a hint of rain. You brought a shy smile to my face, a warm flush through my body. I was in disbelief when I first heard about you asking about me. The first day we really talked, it was like I couldn't get enough of you or our conversation. I was manic at the end of that day - the good kind. My heart raced, I felt excited, and again that feeling of disbelief. I was also scared that I would never hear from you again. But then I did. For something like two months, nearly every day, we never ran out of things to say. My life was full of your rain and I was dancing in it with a huge grin on my face, arms thrown wide and head tilted back.

Then the rain stopped, and I was okay with it. Rainstorms aren't meant to last forever. I didn't feel too much loss, even though I missed the rain every once in a while. The end of a rainstorm doesn't mean a drought. And then, after a few months, the rain started again. You came back to me. When I asked why, you said that you had thought of me every day since we had last spoke - didn't I think of you? I lied to you. I told you that I had forgotten you. I hadn't. I had put you in a room in the back of my mind and closed the door. You weren't gone from my mind, you were just hidden. And just like that, with a simple "hi" you came bursting out of that hidden room and set up camp in the forefront of my mind. You stayed there. You're still there. The rain stayed. It started pouring, like it was racing itself down. One night, a simple "can I call you to say goodnight?" turned into a several hours long phone call and a crack of thunder and lightning at 3 a.m. I was breathless at the thunder and scared of the lightning at first. I didn't believe it. I told you as much. And then I told you the same as we said goodnight, when it was really morning.

The rain continued for a week more and then abruptly, like a faucet, it stopped. No drips of water running out. Nothing. A week after the end, it hurt the most. The absence of rain felt like a searing desert heat. I didn't know what to do. But you can't ask a rainstorm to return. It has its own path. It was gone. But this time, I was mad. It had been pouring and then nothing. I was frustrated.

Seven weeks of no rain and then with a whisper, you returned. A sprinkle again. I was still angry and I told you as much. You said you understood why I was angry and that you had no good explanations. We talked for several hours again, falling back into ourselves by the end. You responded with thunder again, but softer this time. I didn't return it. You said you understood why. The rain was sporadic for a few weeks. And then nothing again. You did warn me this time, but now I feel the loss of rain so acutely that it hurts. I miss you. I miss your rain.

I don't know how to ask for it back.

I don't know if I'm allowed.

My Sister

So last Friday (April 10) was National Sibling Day, officially in the US, but unofficially in the rest of the world, as things that trend tend to go worldwide with the way that social media is making our world smaller and smaller. Last Tuesday, my cousin welcomed her second little girl into the world, welcoming her first born into the ranks of big sisters worldwide. And this morning, at 6 am, my baby sister, now a married woman of 22, hopped on plane eventually headed for Spain to live there for the next three to four years. My brother-in-law is in the Navy and his station is there. If you read this blog, you'll know that they've had whirlwind of a life together. They started dating last January (2014) and boom, now they've been married nearly four months. But I digress.

All of this sibling love combined with all of the "going away" gatherings and finally dropping my sister off at the airport on Sunday made me super emotional and nostalgic and when I'm like that, I tend to write. So write I will.

I don't remember being told I was going to be a big sister and I definitely didn't know I'd be getting a little sister. My parents had decided with both of us that they wanted to be surprised by who showed up in the delivery room. I do, however, remember the day she came home. When she was born, I stayed with my grandparents and I remember my grandma bringing me to the hospital the day we were all going home together. As a three, nearly four, year old, I naturally got bored or distracted and started playing with some other kids. For some reason, they had a stamps and I managed to cover my hands in ink. My grandma cleaned me up, all the while scolding me that I wouldn't be allowed to touch my baby sister if my hands were dirty! I was obviously a great example right from the start.

The day that my cousin brought her newest little home, she posted a bedtime picture of both of her girls, with Big Sister holding Little Sister, with the caption of "Can I hold her for a few minutes before I go to bed?" It is one of the sweetest photos I've seen (and she has a lot of sweet photos) and I got choked up. Because of my sister leaving, we've been watching a lot of home videos and we came across a video of when my sister was just about a week old and it was in the morning. I'm freshly bathed and dressed for the day, wet hair combed back, dressed in a Sesame Street t-shirt and jean shorts. My sister is sleeping peacefully, full cheeks and cute as can be. "Daddy, I think we should wake her up." "Why's that?" "Because I want to hold her." "No, let her sleep." "Nooo, I want to hold my baby sister." - I kill myself with cuteness. I was so in love with her.

Fast forward to pre-teens and teen years when we had screaming matches, cold shoulders, cuddle fests, movie marathons until I left for college up north. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder, not just in terms of romantic love and we went from sisters who liked spending time together when I was home to actual friends who could truly confide in each other. She's always been wise beyond her years and more mature than those her age (but, oh trust me, she had her moments). We would still get on each other's nerves if we spent too much time in close quarters, but that's what sisters do. For about nine months, we were both living out of the house, me up north in the Bay Area, while she was in college in North Carolina. For the first time since I was born, my parents were empty-nesters. Then we both moved home within a few months of each other and life got thrown back into high school.

Fast forward again to now. Within the last year and a half, my lovely sister met the love of her life, got engaged, got married and has now officially moved to a foreign country. My new brother-in-law, who we've actually known since he was a kid but never really knew, is in the U.S. Navy and is stationed in Spain. They're beginning a new adventure and their married life in a way that I can't even imagine. She's a married woman now and will grow up in more ways than we realize right now and will go on adventures and come back to the states in a few years with so much life experience. I'm so excited for her and slightly jealous of her adventures. That being said, I'm going to miss her so damn much. When we were dropping her off at the airport in the wee hours of Sunday morning, I cried. We were going to walk her as far as security. Well, the airport she flew out of moved their security screening to the ticket lobby and I wasn't ready. When I saw the security line, I said "that's it! No!" and got choked up. We hugged a long time and told each other we loved each other. I was a mess but she was too excited to get going to cry. I don't blame her. I did the same when I left for my summer in Italy. We watched her go through security and through the doors and then, for the first time since she was born nearly 23 years ago, it was just me and my parents again.

Michela, I love you so much. Good luck with everything, see everything you can and tell me all about it.

The Itch to Write

Today is Sunday and its' generally chore day for me. I get a bit lazy when it comes to putting away my laundry, so what usually happens is that I have a hamper of clean clothes and a hamper of dirty clothes. And I eventually run out of clothes in my drawer so I dump all of my clean clothes on my bed and go on a laundry organizing spree. I put my iTunes on shuffle and have a solo dance party.

Also, last fall I was out shopping with a friend and came across this cute black notebook with a detailed hand drawn on the front and on a whim, I bought it. On the inside cover, I wrote, also on a whim, The Art of Random Thoughts. The first page is filled with designs for the seven tattoos I want (yes, truly....) and then the next is titled Quotes. I've been writing down quotes I like whenever I come across one. Incidentally, this notebook is now a permanent fixture in my bag, along with a pen I really like (I'm one of those weirdos who actually has a pen preference.)

So the two came together today, with my listening party going, folding laundry and Anna Nalick's "Breathe" came on. And there's a line in there that's always struck me and I finally made the connection to it. It goes "If I get it all down on paper/it's no longer inside of me/threatening the life it belongs to." THAT is how I feel sometimes. I get something in my head and I just have to write about it. I obsess about it until I get it out. And then I'm better. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Writing is totally therapeutic. It's amazing. I'm not musical by any stretch of the imagination but I kind of know how songwriters must feel in this sense...they have a song in them that needs to get out. But then they record it and if it makes their album or someone's album, they have to hear it constantly. I can just go back and peruse at leisure if I want.

Anyways...that was my itch to write. An itch to write about the itch to write. That must be some sort of meta.

Happy Sunday ! :)

Oh here's that notebook....

A Random Thought

"It sounds like a cliche but I also learnt that you’re not going to fall for the right person until you really love yourself and feel good about how you are." - Emma Watson


This is a phrase that I've carried with me for a while, but recently saw it from Ms. Watson on either Pinterest or Tumblr (I'm such a sucker for quotes on there...I go looking when I'm feeling down). It's an important phrase and an important message. It's one that I know a lot of people struggle with. There's no way in hell you can fully fall in love with someone else until you fully fall in love with, and are comfortable with, yourself. I've watched friends and acquaintances alike jump from relationship to relationship, changing and morphing into who they think they should be, without ever truly being happy and just being themself. I think that's why I've been single most of my 26 years on this earth. It's also why my sister is married...she learned to love herself early on and was lucky to find a man who loved her just as much.


I can't say that I am completely at ease with myself but I'm nearly there. I also know when I need to focus on myself and how much level of crap I can deal with. Someone asked me last year why I wasn't dating anyone and I responded "I have enough on my plate with just me...there's no way I can handle someone else." And that's okay. I had a rough few months last year that really made me look at myself and what I was doing. And I think I'm ready for whatever comes now. I got through it myself, with family and friend support of course, but I did it for me, not anyone else.


Anyways, just had some thoughts on this and I've decided to write whatever I want now, no matter how long or short.

Five Years of Friendship with my TWIN

I have a twin, but we're not related. We're also almost complete opposites of each other but practically the same all at once. We're "twins" because we have the same nickname. I think it was Allie who decided on calling each other Twin. It's gotten to the point that it's almost strange to call each other "Allie/Aly." Even her mom calls me Twin, which I laughed at the first time it happened. She is my best friend, my bodyguard, my confidant, my encourager, my discourager, my give-it-to-me-as-straight-and-blunt-as-you-can go-to girl. She's pretty awesome. And the most awesome thing about her is that she's chosen to make ME the same for her. I've always believed that friends are the family that you choose. I have several girlfriends like her but she's my closest that I've known the longest. It's my true belief that my best girlfriends became that because if we had been born sisters, our parents would have pulled their hair out with all the shenanigans.

Allie and I met five years ago at a PRSSA (Public Relations Student Society of America) mini-conference that my school's chapter was hosting. We connected on Facebook after that and kept in touch. That summer, I went to Italy for my summer abroad and she was one of maybe 5 friends from school that kept in touch with me.  It's not that I lacked friends that summer, but it was nice to have a new friend who made the effort across time zones and distance. I'm not even sure when we crossed from acquaintances to friends to best friends. We confided in each other through the rest of college, navigated graduation, and vented about the oh so wonderful job market that greeted us upon our release from college. I worked in San Francisco, going from internship to internship and she got a job with a minor league team. When that didn't pan out, I drove my SUV out to her and helped her move back. It was an adventure to say the least. 

Four years on, she asked me to be her maid of honor and I did a happy dance while she laughed at me (we were on Skype). Helping her with her wedding and planning her bachelorette brought us even closer. Her wedding was absolutely amazing and I was so happy for her as she married the love of her life. He's an incredible guy and I know he loves her with all his heart, which is more than I could ask for. We talk on a nearly daily basis and I'm so incredibly lucky to call her my friend and my twin. We're the type of friends who can talk all the time about nothing, go for long stretches without seeing each other and jump back into it when we do see each other. I can't imagine life without her. 

Here's to many more years of friendship, all the ups and downs we will endure, one more wedding (mine....at some point), honorary aunties, and eventually being old girlfriends with grey hair who still go to baseball games and cat call the cute players in those fantastic uniforms ;). 

 

Her wedding day 

A few before the ceremony 

Sharks game in 2011

Halloween 2010

Night before I moved home January 2012

Timing

The older I get, the more I realize that timing is literally everything. Whether it's as small as what time you leave for work in the morning and how much traffic will you hit, to when you meet someone and what's going on in your lives at that moment. Everything is down to timing, and, as some would believe, timing is fate.

It's taken me some time (I swear, no pun intended) to figure out why certain things have happened to me during the course of my life. I will never understand the timing of my grandfather's death, but I do see the timing of my visit to Italy in 2010 that I got to see my great-uncle before he passed. I understand the timing behind my getting into Gonzaga University and then having to withdraw for financials. I was able to take a semester off after two years at a community college, really figure out what I wanted out of my college career, dedicate a good amount of time to co-leading a confirmation retreat and spend time with friends and family. That was the last time I really took a good, long break. 

Timing has worked it's ways over me a lot professionally. I had a job as a manager of a shave ice shop in March-July 2010. I had also interviewed at a mobile company at the same time. I didn't hear from them so I took the shave ice managerial spot. It  turned out that it wasn't what I wanted to be doing and out of the blue, the mobile company called, called asking me to interview. That set into place my meeting one of my dearest friends, who I'm happy to say is also getting out of that company now. I was with them for 2 years and 2 months. Probably a year too long, but again, timing is everything. I took a personal leave from work after just not being able to handle it anymore. I needed a breather from the company, the day in-day out slog of forceful retail sales, the anxiety of not making numbers and the crappy feeling I got from having to sell something I no longer believed in. Last March (2014), I interviewed at a university and the interview was promising but the position went to an internal candidate. It hurt, but I trudged on. 

Right before I took my personal leave, I had re-applied for a similar position with the university. The day after my leave began, I got a call for an interview. I went on three interviews and had a new job within two weeks of my leave. I was SO relieved and happy and felt like a million tons had been lifted from my shoulders that I sobbed on my bed after hanging up with HR and accepting the offer. Tears of utter joy and relief, that good, whole-body wracking cry that throws everything off. It was cleansing. I walked around on cloud 9 the whole next few days. And guess what? I've been at my new job almost five months and I love it. I love being back on a college campus, but on the other side. I love being around academics and watching people pursue a higher education. I had been going for my MBA through a education allowance with my old job but stopped the classes when I realized I had to get out. Looking back, I have no idea what I was going to do with an MBA. Being back in academia land, I've come to realize that what I wanted as a kid, to be a teacher, might still be a reality that I can achieve. I might think I'm getting too old for things, but one of my parents' best friends went back and got her degree in nursing when she was just a few years away from being a grandma. You're never too old for something new. 

So I think I'll go back to school and get a new degree and pursue teaching. I want to teach history, specifically US History. I wrote a paper in my junior year of high school on the role that US women played on the home-front and battlefront in World War II and I don't know that I've seen a class taught about it. I can take classes for free as a full time employee at the university, so it'll take a long time. I'm ok with that. 

Timing also has had it's hand in relationships, but not as much as my educational and professional life. I've met people, friends and romantic relationships alike, at times when I needed them, or when I wasn't looking for them but now realize that they were there. I've also fallen out of friendships at times that I still don't understand completely. I still get mad when I think about a certain failed friendship. It ended right before college ended and I guess, in some twisted way, it's poetic. My sister asked me the other day how it could still sting and how I could still react so bitterly at mentions of it after almost 4 years. That friendship was a 21 year friendship. Of COURSE it still stings. Of course I still have a bitter taste in my mouth. It ended for reasons that could have been avoided and the only way I kept my head in it all was to end it. I miss that person, I miss who that person used to be. I have no idea what that person is like anymore. I wonder all the time, but I doubt I'll ever get to know. 

I really haven't had that many romantic relationships, and I think I'm okay with that. I've prided myself on the fact that I was never a girl to depend on a guy's approval for personal happiness. I had a conversation with one of my best friends recently about how years of crappy exes made her doubt herself and it took her now forever relationship to undo the damage. I said that I thought that was why I was okay still...I don't have any crappy exes who ever made me doubt myself. If there was even a hint of negativity in that way, they were gone. Out the door. Buh-bye. Don't need you. But I also do wonder if I already know the man I'm going to end up with. It might be a friend that I've known for years that could develop in the future. It could be a casual acquaintance I've seen around. Or someone else. Who knows, I don't. 

I'm finally at the point in my life where I have realized that as much as I am in charge, I am most definitely not. I have the power to make decisions on how I spend my time, but who I interact with is up to timing on their parts. It's almost exciting to have this feeling. 

This was long and rambling and felt good. Writing is so therapeutic. I think I'll do this more often....again. :) 

Nostalgic Reflection Time

A few weekends ago, I went on my church's 21st Women's Retreat. It was held for the 21st, and last, time at the gorgeous Saint Mary's Seminary. The seminary is located up on a mountain in Santa Barbara and has an absolutely breathtaking view of the Santa Barbara coast, Pacific Ocean and the Channel Islands. It was my second retreat but the fourth time at the seminary.

The first time I went to the seminary was when I was in the 7th grade and went to a church leadership camp for junior highers, called Camp Big Deal. It was a week long and I was one of 10 pre-teen/teens from my junior high youth group. I only remember bits and pieces but I do remember that it was fun. It was the first time I saw the Silly Sally skit and the Seven Deadly Sins skit. It was also the first time I opened up to complete strangers, which is something that is strangely comforting. My small group leader's name was Tim and we had a relay race that involved spinning on a baseball bat, then running across a wooden beam that was suspended over a mud pit. At the same time as ever other team. It was messy and so much fun.

The second time at the seminary was the second year I was a leader on the confirmation retreat for my church, which was the semester that I took off from school in between junior college and San Jose State. I had been a leader before but this year I was also one of the coordinators for the retreat. It was a great weekend and I felt that the kids realized that going to church and being Catholic didn't have to feel restrictive. That's why I loved being a leader. Being Catholic to me isn't about just going to church every week and worshiping in the confines of a church. For me, my faith is everywhere. It was also my sister's retreat and it was so cool to see her have such a wonderful experience. She became a leader the next year and for a few years after.

Now, my third and fourth times up on the mountain were with the Women's Retreat. It's a wonderful group of women. What's nice is that it's a wide range of faith. We have women who go to Daily mass and Sunday mass and read scripture and go to bible study, all the way down to someone who doesn't go to Mass, save for holidays and follows her Faith in everyday conversations with God.

I'm somewhere on the second woman's end of the spectrum. I go to mass decently often but I haven't actively read the Bible since I had to for confirmation freshman and sophomore year of high school. I talk to God daily but not in a formal setting. It's often in the car and sometimes I yell. I know He has a plan for me, and I assume it now has input from passed on loved ones, but he's been taking his sweet time revealing His plan and path for me and I'm not, nor have I ever been, the most patient person sometimes. But I'm realizing that I don't have to be a Bible reader to be considered a "good Catholic."

This post go slightly off topic. That happens a lot. Maybe it was just meant to be a reflective and reminiscing post. The seminary is shutting down and being put up for sale. No one knows what will become of the property but I hope and pray that the persons organization that buys it keeps the beauty and peacefulness that it exudes. It's one of those places that you can go up to and sit on a bench, stare out at the ocean and feel at peace. You can read a book, you can go for a hike or you can lay on the grass. I love it. It has served us well over the last two-plus decades and it will be dearly missed.