A-p-p-r-e-c-i-a-t-e

I was a gift to my older sister, a live doll, right in time for Easter.  We would do everything together.  I would tag along, with all of her friends in the neighborhood, riding my bike with training wheels.  I would play house with her and school.  She would teach, and I would learn.  As a school student, my older sister always had new vocabulary and spelling words.  She would teach me during our “play time,” so that she learned as well.  The first word I learned to spell…appreciate. 

a-p-p-r-e-c-i-a-t-e. 

I would hear my parents yelling at each other, and it made me cry.  I just wanted them to love each other and get along, so that maybe Dad would stay at home for a change.  My older sister comforted me with “When people fight, it means they love each other that much more.” 

At times, we would play pretend.  My sister and I always argued over who would be Angelica from Rugrats.  Now looking back, she had the personality. 

We watched Barney tape after Barney tape until my parents hid them from me.  I knew every word to every song and my sister and I would perform for Mom.  “You are so special, special.  Everyone is special, everyone in his or her own way.”

We went to the Ross Barnett Reservoir frequently.  We’d spend hours and hours there, playing tag, and throwing the big grey rocks into the murky water.  Every time we had to leave, I would get really sad and begin to tear up. 

Within a couple of years, Mom broke news to us.  We were getting a baby.  A BABY. 

I wouldn’t be the special one anymore.  I cried, and my older sister cried.  We cried together in fear of having another one of us, not realizing how much it would change our lives and relationship with one another.

December 5, 1995.  Baby is born. 

When my younger sister was born, my older sister and I started growing apart.  She was getting older, and my younger sister was getting all the attention.  For the first time in our lives, we fought, argued, stole each others clothes.  We were all just siblings.  

There were feelings of tension and neglect.  

But among all those changes, Avani brought wonder and excitement and life to our family. 

We got a new townhouse to replace our tiny apartment, and later, a house to replace the two bedroom townhouse in Clinton, MS, so that we no longer had to all sleep on one bed.  

 Our new house seemed like a palace compared to what we lived in before.  We had moved to Madison because Mom wanted us to have a better education.  The town was a lot different than it is now. No Walmart.  No Malco.  No Renaissance.  Highland Colony was just a parkway full of trees.  Trees everywhere. 

We'd skate in socks on the shiny, wood floors.  It was actually safe to go outside to play street soccer, basketball, and capture the flag with the other kids on the street.  

Soon, my older sister turned 16 and left for Mississippi School for Mathematics and Science.  She was beautiful, funny, and extremely smart.  I always felt like I was living in her shadow, so her leaving left me to grow...a lot.  I got closer to my mom, I became more interested in my school work, and I started paying attention to how I dressed and carried myself.  I grew into a confident girl. 

My mom and I became very close.  I have so much to say about my mother, and so much to thank her for, but because I could not begin to encapsulate that in one blog. I will not dwell on my memory of her.  This one’s for my sisters.

2006-2007.  My entire life turned upside down.   

All that I had…gone in a matter of minutes.   

My father in jail. 

 The threats and fear. 

My mother’s accident.   

My relationship broken.

My family in pieces.  

My life 

     ground zero.  

I lost all confidence.  I lost all feelings of safety and comfort and stability.  I lost the feeling of getting out of school and going home every day.  I lost touch with my piano. 

Fast forward through a rough five years.  

Through all the fighting, the insults, the anger, all the pain and suffering, my sisters and I grew.  And we are still growing.  We each took very different paths, and lost touch.  We were consumed in our own lives and transitioning.  We were just trying to stand up on our own. We just had to get away from it all.

And here we are.  

Five years later, my sisters and I are closer than ever, the best of friends.  I could not imagine getting this far without them.  We go through our ups and downs and our phases of cutting each other out of our lives, but we are always there for another.  We all want our relationships with each other to work, as a family.  We are our entire family.  
We each live states apart and hardly ever get to see one another…sometimes I see my younger sister twice a year, sometimes I see my older sister three times a year.  Sometimes, there is no contact for months.  

But I pick up the phone and immediately feel their love and care.  It’s always there.  That feeling.  

They never give up on me, and I on them.  Our love surpasses all hurt.  For the first time in our lives, we are both friends and family, not just siblings.  

We can just pick up where we left off.  Every. Single. Time.

And yes, I have many of these friendships too, the real ones.  My friends from home, my friends at Duke, and the friends I’ve made in between here and there.  I miss everyone, but when I do hear from them in time, I am reminded how lucky I am to have made the friends I have, who like my sisters, have never given up on me.  They’re all amazing, genuine individuals, and I’m very proud to that they have honored me with their friendship.   

And with that, regardless of my terribly unlucky life, I am very lucky for the people in my life, who have helped me grow and have supported me in my pursuit of stability and good health and happiness.  I have so much to be appreciative of—my sisters being number one on that list.  

“Chance made us sisters, hearts made us friends.”

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. 

Love always,

Esha

 

A Real Gentleman (Part 2): My Experience with The Other Side

Since my most recent post on Sunday was on cheating, I wanted to share with all of you this new study with oxytocin and trust within a relationship.  It's quite intriguing, at least to me, and definitely gives hope to monogamy. hahaha.

http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-204_162-57549944/hormone-oxytocin-may-keep-men-monogamous-study-suggests/
 _________________________________________________________

    DISCLAIMER:  A couple of posts ago, I gave you the account of a young man who recently graduated from the Naval Academy, to give an example of a real gentleman, a classy one at that.  I'm well-aware that not every Navy-related man is the type of guy that he is.  In these posts, this is not what I think of the entirety of either group.  These are only my opinions formed from my personal experiences with these men.  There have been plenty on both sides I could not bear talking to, or, on the other hand, had a lot of respect for.  So I am not generalizing by any means.  These posts are only referring to the military men who I've crossed paths with.  I have to say, I have had some of the strangest experiences with men in the Army.  My time spent getting to know them is generally brief.  And you'll see why. 

My conversation (call him Robert):
In the Army--Fort Bragg (NC)
His interests:  Fuzzy cats, zebras, flying unicorns, mouthwash, cuddly kittens

Robert: You're cute as a button! We're totally going to sneak into a zoo, steal a giraffe and ride off into the sunset together I did not respond. Robert:  So we done? Fine you can have the divorce and the kids but I'm keeping the house and the Ferrari. Was fun though :) 

  Me: Leave me alone. 

  Robert: Aww our first fight :( Can't we just kiss and make up already? Robert: I want to violate you like Ke$ha did the music industry 

  Me: .... 

Robert: Lol give me your number and ill call you later dork. Don't worry I'm not some lamer who's going to blow up your phone with a bajillion messages 

  Me: LEAVE ME ALONE. PLEASE. 

Robert: Come on Miss Esha. That's about the sexiest name ever. Plus you're about as adorable as a golden unicorn sliding down a rainbow into a pot of lucky charms. I want you  And he went on and on while I ignored his messages about he didn't have trouble meeting girls,  he didn't know why I was acting like this, etc, etc.  He also continued to use the word "lamers" and continued talking about unicorns as if they were real.    At this point I felt amused, confused, disgusted, and mostly disrespected.  And a part of me was running through everything he said in my head and coming to the conclusion that he had to be psychotic.  Ke$ha?  Unicorns?  lucky charms?  I don't know if I've ever had the guts to do so before, but in time I wrote him a response (in my opinion, rude on my part, but completely necessary)               

                           Me:  Dear Robert,

     You are clearly not someone I would want to spend time with, let alone waste my precious time talking to
     Yes, you are a "lamer," more so than everyone else that has talked to me ever.
      I understand that you think you have an irreverent sense of humor, although I wouldn't call it much of a sense of humor at all.  I do think you are quite irreverent, however, so you can at least take credit for that.   You should consider using another avenue for picking up girls because whatever you're doing is obviously not working for you, and I'm not really trying to hurt your feelings. I'm just being bluntly honest as I am.

I didn't mean to get you all defensive and never said or implied you couldn't meet girls, but please go right ahead be my guest. I never asked you to talk to me, in fact, I remember asking so ever nicely to leave me alone.

 I am NOT the girl you need to be hitting on.  You have no idea who I am. 
 Trust me, I've never felt so obliged to send such a message. You don't strike me as someone who's intelligent, down to earth, honest, or any other likeable quality. 
Girls don't honestly like being hit on, disrespectfully. At least I don't.

You need to seek some help because you have some serious projection issues. Maybe take some time to grow up too.  I'm shocked, though, considering you have been in the military and have not been touched by anything you've seen.
Lamers isn't even a word and unicorns aren't even real.

***(And I'm going to leave out this last part I wrote because I did say something I probably shouldn't have)*** 

  Robert:  If you thought my sense of humor was meant to amuse YOU then I feel bad for you. I amuse myself and what you think about it is irrelevant. I'm sure you're not used to hearing that since you get endless validation from all the lamers on this site. You're not as mature as you think. See how far your "blunt" (read: socially awkward, rude and immature) personality gets you 10 years down the road once your looks fade. I'm sure you'll just ignore this and go right back to getting validation from all the "hi ur pretty" messages.     Clearly this guy has a perfect idea of what kind of person I am.  Robert:  And HOW DARE YOU INSULT UNICORNS LIKE THAT.     Robert was blocked shortly after.   

__________________________________________________________
My second experience was less humorous, but memorable, nonetheless.  

I met a young man about three weeks ago, also in the Army.  He seemed to be well-rounded, and funny.  After the Unicorn Man, this guy seemed super respectful.  We continued to talk and within two weeks, he told me he might like me, he asked if I would mind being his, and he told me he had given up on girls since he met me.  He seemed genuine, trustworthy, and charming, but I was in no position to be in a relationship at this time in my life.  My sister liked his humor and personality.  (Although she laughed at his advice to her).  If anyone's opinion matters, it's my younger sister's. 

He woke me up every morning with a facebook message saying to "wake uppppppp", and later, when we exchanged numbers, a text saying good morning.  However, within a matter of days, well...hours, rather, he had beguiled me.  My friends had been researching him for a couple of weeks.  One called me to tell me something, regarding him.  I had never felt so humiliated by a guy.  I felt hurt, frustrated, and angry at myself for letting my guard down.  For his sake, I will not get into that.  I replied to his good morning text the next day telling him I could no longer talk to him. 

He was quick to realize what he had done and apologized profusely.  He asked to start over and to have a chance to prove himself to me.  For a while I couldn't respond.  I couldn't take it.

I went to my safehaven, the gym, to blow off some steam and drank my coke zero, which for some reason I can't explain, lifts my mood.  Later I texted him asking how he would have felt if the situation had been reversed.  I could tell he felt terrible and while I was hurt, I felt bad for pressing the subject.

When I emailed my younger sister everything that happened, she said "Please please don't date him."  She told me there was no doubt he'd hurt me again.  "That's a BAD sign this early...."

I told her no guy like that deserved a chance, and I didn't know what I was thinking.  She urged me to plot.  "It's like *** ***** MUST DIE after the movie of John Tucker.  Like this is so on." --thanks to my little sister for thinking I'm too old to have gotten the reference.

So we began our scheme......

Unfortunately, I have too much of a heart.  *sigh*
And as entertaining as that would be, I could never bring myself to hurt someone like that. 

I didn't ignore him.  I wanted to hear what he had to say.  I was curious what his motive was when he did what hurt me.  I figured this sort of thing is in every girl's repertoire and it was bound to happen at some point.  And I knew he was remorseful.

And I forgave him.  Sincerely.   

However, I was in full doubt that I would ever trust him again, and figured I could never date someone like that. 

My older sister comforted me while I drove her to the airport.  She told me, "Esha.  You haven't done anything wrong, and you were completely honest with him.  You deserve and can find someone that matches your honesty."

I went to see my younger sister (and best friend) this weekend (since the older one was out of town), showed her his pictures, and told her what I learned about him.  She had been telling me he was funny and nice.  However, upon learning more about his character, her view changed about him.  She made some crude comments before saying, "Esha.  He's a no no.  Get out of it while you can."    

Avani works at Strawberry Cafe as a hostess.  We sat down and ate when she got off.  The guys she works with are fantastic people, and she enjoys their company.  She had talked to them about her boyfriend troubles.  Upon leaving, one of the bartenders said, "remember what I said",

"Boys suck.  And there are plenty of other fish in the sea."  Although his words were for her, coming from a guy, I took them to heart.  So, ladies, real men do agree with our claim. 

And with that I realized I have been very, very lucky with all the guys I have talked to, dated, or been in a relationship with.  No one had ever hurt me like this or had been so inconsiderate.  After these two experiences, plus several others, I lost so much respect for him and guys in the Army, who'd I'd expect to have a little more dignity and maturity--at least when it came to how to treat or interact with a woman.  

Yesterday, returning from my visit to Madison, there was a ProFlowers box outside my sister's house.  I wondered who it could be from.  There was no name along with the little note.  At first I thought, "No, he doesn't have my address."  But I couldn't think of anyone else that would be sorry. 

And this morning in full bloom. 

Considering the last time I received flowers was from my boyfriend in my Freshman year of college, I was surprised and flattered.  I'd forgotten how much I loved flowers.  Obviously not buying them for myself, but receiving them.  And I spent way too much time sitting at my sister's desk, just staring at them and thinking of all that has happened in my time off before surgery.    Those flowers totally ruined my intentions of writing this blog.     However, he has not redeemed himself and has yet to disprove my thoughts of these so-called "men."      

Broken Tears- On Cheating

    Growing up, I never understood why my father never lived at home.  He would mix up our names, forget our birthdates and ages, and I can’t say he was ever home for things like New Years, Christmas, Thanksgiving, or anything else for that matter.  I, as a young child, would ask him to come to my choir concert or awards day.  I wanted to see my mother and him together when we went to Indian festivals.  I wanted us to go on family vacations, all of us. 

     I remember yearning for him to hold my hand, to carry me, to give me a piggyback rides like I saw my classmates’ fathers do.  I followed him around everywhere.  He stayed about an hour away from us in his motel, not that he had any customers.  I would go there and try to spend time with him.  I would get mad at Mom for not letting me, and my stubbornness always won.

    There were days when I remember standing next to my father and other strange men while they smoked packs and packs of Marlboro Reds.  Other days, I worked at the cash register of the gas station thinking I was getting to help him, while he slept on the rolling bed in the back.  By the age of twelve, I knew everything from Black and Milds and Swisher Sweets to the Budweiser bowling pin bottles and all prices associated.

    When I went to sit on the computer in his office to play my favorite game, Snake, I would find pictures and videos that no child should ever have to see.  I asked him to take me to eat, and he would tell me he had no money.  I would take his Heineken bottle and throw it on the ground or pour it down the sink to stop him from getting drunk…again…and then brace myself to get yelled at.  Yet, he conveniently got his next bottle. 

    Soon enough, I would see chat messages pop up on his computer from some lady or another.  The older I got, the more I saw, and the more I understood.  My older sister by then had left the house for Mississippi School for Math and Science, and I thought finally I would get some attention from my mom.  I soon learned that my father had kept several girlfriends since before he even brought Mom to the states.  Some of them were her friends, some were across seas, some worked for the business we had.  He was pretty open with her about all of it, but there were always excuses to leave the country,  “I have this business idea…” or “I’m going to see my father.”  My mom sold every bit of what she had for him.

    There was one woman in particular whom I could not bear to hear of.  I saw how much it affected my mother.  All of it.  This had just become the last straw. The woman worked for us in the motel, with my father.  They had met out of state somewhere and my father told her to come to Mississippi. 

        He, my father, went between the two places, work and home every weekend or so.  I remember growing hatred for this woman.  When she dared to call our home, I picked my clarinet and blew the most obnoxious notes into the phone and then hung up. 

    The woman was soon pregnant, and we were getting a new brother.  Mom knew my father always wanted a son, and he had been upset at each birth of my sisters and me.  I walked outside to the backyard one morning where I found her sitting in our massive, empty backyard.  She broke the news to me with a forced smile.  I ran inside to my room to cry.  I never understood why I never saw my mother cry after all she was put through, so I felt ashamed to do so in front of her.     

    There was a time I remember vividly when the two of them came to our home.  They slept together in the master bedroom, along with the baby.  My mother, who’d drunk a little for the first time ever, crawled up the stairs and came to sleep next to me.  She was silent.  But she didn’t have to say a thing to me.  I just knew.  No one could blame her.  I turned to hug her and fell asleep.

     My older sister was graduating MSMS.  My mom drove my younger sister and myself up to Columbus, MS.  She had gotten off work from our gas station and was in a foul mood.  A very foul mood.  My mother and the woman had gotten in an argument over bringing the baby to graduation.  My father arrived six hours later with scratch marks all over his chest, without the baby.

     I remember a time I was at home and my father was sitting on the couch drinking his Chai.  I asked him, “Daddy, can you stay home tonight?”  My father told me he hated staying with us because the house wasn’t clean.  I spent the rest of the day cleaning the entire house from the attic to the garage.  He didn’t stay. 

    I watched him leave with feelings of disgust, bitterness, hatred even.  My mother had to go through this for how many years? I asked myself… 

   Cheating.

    I will never understand why a person would act on an urge without thinking of all the repercussions that come along with cheating on a significant other.  The more people I meet, the more I hear of people being cheated on.  And it's not just guys doing all the cheating; the gap isn't high at all.  Not to mention, having children is no deterrent.

    There's temptation in the workplace, at parties, while you've been drinking, all over the place.  SO many of those in the military have been cheated on during their deployment.  Really?  While they are fighting overseas for you?  We see celebrities cheat on one another all the time, costars usually.  Their characters must fall for each other or something.  Just because it happens, and just because it's becoming more prevalent does not in any way make it okay.  Cheating has never been okay, is not okay, and never will be okay.  

   I assume the internet is the number one temptation.  It's never been easier to meet so many people all across the internet...chat rooms, dating websites, pornography, social networking sites, etc.  A huge problem I have seen in relationships is not setting boundaries.  What is considered actually cheating?  If the couple does not share the same opinions about what boundaries to hold, they probably should not be in a relationship.

    There are many grey areas, pornography being one.  Upon searching cheating I found many pieces of advice, comments, opinions, etc....some I agree with, and some not so much.  For this area in particular, I will link you to Dr. Phil on that one.  ------------> definitely a good read:
 Is Internet Pornography Cheating?  http://www.drphil.com/articles/article/54

I have a lot of respect for this man, and he has a lot of really good advice regarding relationships and cheating.  So for those of you in relationships where this has been/is/will be a problem, I highly suggest reading through this and other articles he has written about evaluating your relationship.

     As a young child witnessing an unfaithful relationship, I am absolutely terrified of relationships.  This is a recent introspection on my part.

     I have trouble with trusting someone.  I have insecurities.  I'm terrified of being treated how my mother was treated.  I never saw a loving, wholesome, functional relationship growing up.  Sure, all subconsciously...However if I, as someone who has never been cheated on struggles having a successful relationship, then someone who has been cheated on... think how much the person doing the cheating has conquered.

     Furthermore, cheating on someone to get back at someone is the most self-degrading, devaluing think you can do, not to the other person, but to yourself. 

     For those of you cheated on, the worst thing you can do to yourself is stay in contact with that person.  You fall into this "victim mentality" and are giving more and more power to the person that has hurt you.  You can't torture yourself with pictures of the two of you (detag and defriend on facebook...block even), keeping up with his or her relationships, calling, texting (don't even keep the number!), keeping anything that reminds you of him or her, and I'm sorry but you can't be just friends.
    Why would you even want the friendship of a person like that? More power to the cheater.

    I wish there were more advice I could give to those of you who have been cheated on, but I've been very fortunate.  While I have been through more than I can describe in life, I have never experienced what you have.  I nearly did, and I had wonderful people in my life that protected me from getting hurt.  I can't say I know what you're going through, I can't say I know what to say or how you feel, but I can say that it's not worth staying in a relationship like that.  There's no "I'm sorry, it won't happen again," or "baby, I'll change," or "I wasn't thinking.  It just happened."  You deserve someone that values who you are, loves you for everything you do, would never want to hurt you, and goes out of his or her way to make sure that doesn't happen and make sure you feel secure and loved in the relationship.   

 Once a cheater, always a cheater.  

There are seven billion people in the world, and there will always be someone better for you.    

A Real Gentleman- Navy vs. Army

     I have a lot of respect for those in the military (and I've had my fair share, well enough, of them in my life), or at least I thought I did...up until now, I've been very fortunate with the guys I have met, talked to, dated.  I know where I stand, and I have very high expectations from those that I may consider being with long term.  Thinking back to last year, I remembered how difficult of a time I was having.  I remember struggling with my health (as usual), a breakup with the guy I thought was my soulmate and the love of my life, school (like everyone else), and my family life (falling apart, to say the least).  I began talking to a guy at the Naval Academy in Annapolis.  It definitely kept my mind off of things.  He was charming and interesting, not to mention very intelligent (though he would disagree every time I say that) and had a great sense of humor.  He was good at Spanish and computer science, and was working towards being a pilot for the Navy.  

     I talked to him on Facebook for a couple of months towards the end of summer break. Once school started, we were texting.  He offered to help me with Spanish, the class I struggled the most with, more so than compsci and later bio and orgo.  I had taken Italian before, and Spanish was so difficult for me to transition to.  I couldn't rid the sounds of Italian...I was in a class of kids that spoke Spanish relatively fluently and had taken the language before.  Mind you, this is Elementary Spanish 1.  The basics.  Day one, I thought, "Crap.  I have to get out of here."  I'm going to fail.  This boy convinced me otherwise.  I remember the first time he called to help me, and he had left a voicemail on my machine.  I remember hearing his voice on the recording and thinking to myself how much I liked it.  I made my roommate listen to it.  I'm pretty sure she laughed at me, but agreed nonetheless.

    I enjoyed our conversations.  He was able to keep a conversation, was not awkward at all, and my favorite, he was witty at times.  But amidst whatever sarcasm or wit, he had class and never once said one disrespectful thing to me.  At some point in the beginning of the school year, September, I believe, I remember he had called and we were having a conversation about something music-related and Maroon 5 came up.  He told me they were going to be at the Naval Academy, and I thought to myself how unfair it was that they would never come to Duke.  I loved Maroon 5 almost as much as I love Josh Groban's music.  And that's a lot.  That bitterness about not being able to see Maroon 5 was shortlived, because he so thoughtfully invited me to the concert on October 7th, conveniently my fall break.  (Inconveniently the Annapolis Boat Show, so the traffic was horrendous)

     I never generally went on dates outside of relationships.  For me to let someone into my life, means I have to let my whole life in as well.  I've been in a few very long relationships.  Those people I let into my lives, I let in to stay, at least for a long while.  I open up to them in ways I don't open up to most people.  And relationships I have always taken more seriously than many people because I don't have a family, per se.  It gives me that sense of comfort, love, and dependability, and someone to call when things go wrong.

     However, there was no way I could turn this down.  I have so much respect for this young man, and I would have to say, he gave me one of the most memorable experiences that I've had thus far, not so much because of the what we did or where we went but because he showed me what a gentleman should be like: He was respectful and courteous.

     My time with him definitely exceeded my expectations.  I went into it thinking okay, we're going to a concert and that was more than enough for me, but he made my five hour drive more than worth it.

    The first night, we had dinner at an Italian restaurant (definitely thoughtful, considering its my favorite cuisine).  Obviously the first time meeting anyone is awkward, so a meal face to face didn't seem exactly comfortable for either of us, but that we made through.  We left the restaurant to make it to the concert.  I have to say, in the concerts I've been to, many bands or singers live are far from the way they sound autotuned and all.  But, Maroon 5...amazing, as expected.

    The next morning around 9am, I get a text asking about lunch "naaaooow," as he put it.  We went to this boatyard bar and grill in downtown Annapolis.  The weather was wonderful and sunny, although I had expected Annapolis to be very cold.  Walking through the town (now I've been to Annapolis twice, but this would be the first time I got to actually walk through it), I was completely in love with its movie like feel.  It is by far one of the nicest, quaintest towns I've been to and is very nautical and historic, but we all know Maryland is just wonderful in general and definitely at the top of my places to live list. 

    He also introduced me to the Naval Academy grounds.  It was right along the lines of the Annapolis feel, definitely tourist grounds at that time of day.  That Saturday, the Navy was conveniently playing University of Southern Mississippi, definitely a game I would enjoy watching, since both teams were familiar to me.  Since he had to march in with his company (ironically the same company as my ex), I entertained myself in downtown for the time in between.  I walked into a shop here or there.  Stepping into this one bookshop in particular, I had a conversation with the most peculiar man who worked behind the coffee counter.  He asked where I was from, what I was doing in Annapolis, and who the special young man was.  I mentioned I was visiting, but I went to school in North Carolina.  I told him not to assume things about me, but that the young man was a midshipman at the Naval Academy.  The barista (although he wasn't legitimately a barista), began to delve into the long history of some rivalry between the midshipmen and I forget the name of his school.  I clearly wasn't the most attentive, but it was a fun fact I learned when I remembered it.  =P

   I walked over to the football stadium to wait for everyone to march in.  The first time I've been to any Navy sports event was for the Navy/Army lacrosse game, in the freezing, rainy weather the April before.  That trip, definitely not worth the time, money, effort, drive....we won't go into that though.  We sat away from the student section, but I was able to meet the young man's friends, who came and sat with us.  Almost always you can tell a lot about a guy by the types of people he's around.  I have to say, they are awesome, sensible, tastefully funny and real--I guess that's the right word.  I really enjoyed all of their company.  I felt comfortable.
    I luckily did not run into my ex once, even at their company's tailgating.  Saved a whole lot of explaining, for the both of us. haha.

    That night after the eventful day, he offered to complete my tour of the Naval Grounds.  He showed me the ins and outs of things such as being an upperclassman as opposed to a freshman, or plebe rather.  We went near the rocks where all the sailboats are, and he taught me all about the lighting.  I can't say I remember much about the lights/signals (by night it had gotten freezing cold), but I do remember being very pleased to learn something completely foreign to me.  It was very, very nice.  All together it was a wonderful night.

  It was everything a date should be.  However, the most important thing is company, and I have to say this young man set the bar pretty high.  He was confident, competent, both mature and fun, attentive, and courteous.  I appreciated it very much. 

Navy or Army?

Hands down, Navy.

(Some blog in the future will give the other side's report.) 

Love at First Sight

Friday, November 9th.
Chicago, Illinois.

     As many of you know, University of Chicago was my dream school.  As a senior in high school I remember not even thinking about going to college straight out of high school and then a few days before applications were due, I frantically applied to five or six schools.  I don't know what I was thinking.

    The thing that intrigued me about UChicago was it's level of intellect...the school of thinking.  I also loved the idea of trimesters, since we all know that I hate summer break being so long and winter break being so short.  It just made sense to me.  I loved the idea of the school, the thought of having that level of conversation with people, living in the city...but I lacked a few thousand that would without a doubt build up over my four years of undergraduate school.

    So I chose Duke.  Don't get me wrong, I am very proud of going to school there.  I have met absolutely amazing people who I admire in so many aspects.  And the few close friends I have, that have allowed me the privilege of being a part of their lives, are beyond any definition of a true friend.  Also, Duke has done a lot for me and has taken care of me as its own child in ways I could never have fathomed. I miss all of my friends at Duke beyond words right now during my leave! 
     I love Durham, North Carolina and I love that NC has the best of both worlds, the mountains and the beaches.  I am utterly homesick for my beloved Madison, Mississippi.  I enjoy the times I do spend with my sister in New Orleans, Louisiana.

     But never have I been to a place that I've fallen in love with at first sight.

    My younger sister and I aren't the closest to my older sister.  We lack connection with her on so many levels, and I guess we are both waiting for her to get to know us, who we are, and who we have grown to become as young women.  I am going to stray away from talking about that in this blog because it takes away from my wondrous experience. 

   So I begged my older sister to let me go to Chicago with her.  It's her fourth interview for residency.  The city has always been something that we mention here and there, I thought about when I considered UChicago, but when I found out she was going...I had to find a way.

   I had never been before, and I have to say...it was everything I had dreamed of an more.  By far the most marvelous city I have been to (yes, more so than New Orleans), Chicago is a place I cannot put in words.

   Our main event for the day was the three hour bike tour we had reserved.  We killed time walking to a few shops before arriving at our one o'clock tour.  We were given bikes...that had names.  I was given Elvis.  My sister got Judd.  To our luck, which I initially thought would be super awkward, my sister and I were the only two signed up for the tour.  Our own personalized tour.

   In general I absolutely do not enjoy being a tourist.  I like exploring on my own, but I'm not fond of guided tours on double-deckers or ships or...  But I have to say the first thing that got me hooked was the personality of our guide.  He was awesome-- full of humor, wit, and friendliness.  He gave us a tour that he didn't normally give since he didn't have his normal group of 25 bikers.  We learned a lot of fun facts about Chicago.  For one, it's not called the windy city, because of the wind--but rather--because Chicagoans were known as braggarts, proud braggarts at that.

To save you all the details,  I just want to say...
I think I could see myself living in Chicago one day, and being very, very happy there.

Granny, She's Dead

NEW ORLEANS.  December 2010.  Amtrak.  

[A train goes daily from New Orleans, through Jackson and Memphis, and on to Chicago and back]

She stumbled off several times to smoke as many times as she could before our train departed.  She wore faded, ripped jeans with a black jacket embellished with a picture of a skull in diamonds.  Seemed like it was something that she wore on a daily basis.  My first impression was a trashy New Orleans girl who had perhaps no family, no ambition, no significance in her life.   

She was young. very young, not much older than myself (I was 18 at the time).  However, her youth did not hide the ever-evident endless years of nonstop smoking that showed through the wrinkles and weariness of her face.  She walked into the bathroom where she stayed for hours, probably smoking.

 Of course, not allowed. 

Soon she came out of her stall and sat down on the train’s floor ahead of me, where passengers entered, not on a seat, just on the ground.  She opened her ragged suitcase and started rummaging through her clothes to find and pull out her phone. 

Granny? Can I tell you what happened?

No!  Granny, she wouldn’t wake up.  Bawling, the girl told her story.  No, my friend spent the night with me, and when I tried to wake her up she wouldn’t wake up.  Granny, she likes bad people and she spent the night with me, and granny, she wouldn’t wake up.  She was Dead, Granny. 

Suddenly, I was interested...

I’m on the train back to Tennessee.  I’m on the train.  I’m on the train. 

Granny, I’ve never had anything happen like this to me in my life ever.  I don’t know what to do with my life right now.

Granny, I’m on the train.  No! The train.  

She wouldn’t wake up, Granny.  She wouldn’t wake up.  She was dead. 

She was dead.  She wouldn’t wake up.  She overdosed.  She wouldn’t wake up.  Granny, she wouldn’t wake up.

I tried to wake her up.  I tried.  Can I please come stay with you.  I’ll give you fifty dollars.  No Granny, my dad’s in jail.  In JAIL.   In JAIL.  They came and took him.

My daddy’s in JAIL.  Mama, I can’t do this anymore.  Mama, I called the ambulance and everyone.  She wouldn’t wake up.  She was dead.  Dead.

Mama, tell Granny I want to come stay with her.

I don’t know what to do.  I can’t do this.  Granny, my friend died.  Mama, she wouldn’t wake up.

Please, I’ll come right now.  Right now, Mama.  I’ll go to school.  I’ll stop all the dancing.  I don’t wanna do this anymore.  Please.  I’ll stop now.  Right now.  I don’t wanna do this anymore.  I can’t do this anymore.

She was in my bed, Granny.  In my bed, she wouldn’t wake up.  I’m on the train.  I’m on the train back to Tennessee. 

I need someone to calm me down.  She was dead.  In my bed.  I let her stay with me, and she wouldn’t wake up.  She done overdosed.  She overdosed.  She was dead.  I knew it.  I couldn’t wake her up.

I didn’t know what to do.  I’m on the train back to Tennessee.

I can’t do this anymore.  I’ll stop the dancing.  Please let me stay with you, Granny.

  Please. 

Together Forever

     She stepped out of the warm relaxing bath she had drawn for herself and sat on the edge of the bed to sooth her skin with that lotion, the one that smelled of lavender and chamomile, the one that melted away her stress and signaled her that evening was winding down.  There was something about the smell of it that sparked memories of moments in her life…she had used it every day in that time-frame...when she was with him.

 

     She embraced her slender frame and lay down, eyes still open. “What went wrong?” she thought to herself as she stared blankly at the cord that dangled from the ceiling fan.  

     She remembered the collection of notes she kept hidden under her bed.  Reaching over and recovering it from the wooden box of memories…it was still so difficult to let that binder go.  It had been far too long and brought only bittersweet memories.  In her decorative eighth grade handwriting she’d written on the cover his name and her own name…Together Forever….Amor Vincit Omnia…

       Without opening it, she shut her eyes and held it close.

        She remembered one of their first encounters….as kids…seeing each other outside in the neighborhood…she giggled as she thought of how she wrecked his beloved blue dirt bike, after begging him to let her try it.  She had convinced him she had a dirt-bike herself at home…the scar was still there.   

          Surely she had since been in love once again.  Her mind sped through the bad memories, the weeks of tears, the hurtful words she felt….the glass shattering—and the heartbreak.

          They had grown apart now….

         She’d never been able to feel so many emotions at once for anyone.  Her chest rose and collapsed as she exhaled deeply.  

      She relieved her painful snapshots by the thought of her first hug with him, her first kiss with him, her first kiss ever…the first time she had gotten those butterflies she’d always heard of…

  Opening the binder, she looked at the drawing of herself he had sketched long before they were together…with the little speech bubble—I’m nnnot perfectttttttttt.  She found humor in the made-up contract they had signed promising to keep secrets between only the two of them.  She pulled out their one year anniversary letter he had written …on that glossy decorative paper.  Without reading it, she returned the contents to the binder and placed it below her bed.   

     A ghost of a smile crossed her lips, as she remembered the moments they would lie in the hills behind his house and stare at the sky, talking of life and of love, planning their future together.  

     She let her thoughts drift through good memories and bad; she had so many questions…so much to understand.

            It’s been years...  Am I always going to wonder what if? 

What if I had never left him…

What if I had given him that second chance…

What if I never feel like this about anyone….

                 I have, though, haven’t I? 

 A part of me wonders if these bittersweet feelings mean anything.  I’ve grown so much since then, as a person, as a sister, and as a friend.  I am not longer that young girl, and he not that same boy.          Once so naïve, so loving, so youthful….We’ve grown so far apart.

              Do I miss him, or do I miss what once was?

   Yes, I suppose I do yearn for the years in my life that were somewhat “normal,” with a family, and my mother.  I miss the days where I could just be that carefree young girl who danced in the rain…who knew mom would always be there…who didn’t come home to an empty house….  I wish for that pure happiness that I felt.  I need that confidence I had in my talent, my abilities, my character… in myself.

    Maybe I just want that part of myself back…that innocence.

          What if what was never will be? 

With a heavy heart, she got out of bed to walk outside.  It was a beautiful day, humid, but that was expected as always.  She plopped down next to the driveway.

It was always outside that she was able to understand herself….away from distractions, away from the emptiness of the dreary house…just in the midst of the outside world…it was outside she found herself most in tune with her emotions.

She found nature to be that comfort that she so longed for …

She thought through her questions.

Realizing the truth in her reflections, she fought back tears.  It wasn’t him at all. 

He was merely a symbol of that part of her life….when she was safe and cared for...and it wasn’t just her against the world.

 She knew it would never ever be the same. 

She let out a sigh of relief as she hugged her knees…she began to recognize her beautiful, pure surroundings…

She removed herself out of her thoughts, into the now.  She hadn’t realized it had begun to rain, not that it mattered.  Emptily gazing out…she watched, felt…and let it consume her.

There was something about the rain that was so cathartic for her…she looked up and let out a laugh, remembering how on rainy days her mother always made her go out and play or dance or just jop through puddles.…She rose to greet the rain.

And with that moment, that revelation…. she was finally able to let go.