Something Rare–A Simple Poem

Yes, I know that I have stated that I have an idea for this blog, and I really am feeling strongly about going with a “beauty blog” for the time being. However, I wanted to share some literary work of mine before I started this new little “side project.” So, here it is…

I do not often write poetry because honestly it is just not my “thing,” but recently I was inspired to write a poem about something that means a great deal to me. I have recently experienced another loss, and this loss weighs heavily on my heart and soul much like my first does. Not a day goes by that I do not think of the excitement experienced, the love immediately felt, the struggle through the process, and the heartache that followed. This may not be the best poem or even the most academically accepted, but it captures some of my heart.

For My Loves

My desire to be a mother is great;
This is something I always thought to be my fate.
How I yearn for this blessing,
Yet I continue to endure the testing.
Strength is what I truly need,
Yet pain and frustration is what I bleed.
I don’t understand why,
And many nights I cry
For some kind of explanation–
A reason for my missing part.

I need justification
For the hole in my heart.

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Focus Please!

Oh, my goodness! I need focus! I greatly enjoy writing, but I have yet to really find an area of focus for my blog. Yeah, I could write about a thousand topics, but none that really give me serious focus for this blog.

I could write about my daily life, but I do not find that very appealing for a few reasons. One, my life is my life. I think that topic is a little too personal. To provide a detailed description of a crappy day is not really ranked highly on my list of things to do. Not every day is a bad day, but still I find that writing about one’s life is opening a door for problems down the road. I could be selective in the things I reveal about my life, but doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose of writing about one’s DAILY life? Two, I do not find my life all that interesting. I get up, go to work, come home, work some more, spend some time with my husband, clean, and go to bed. Yeah. That’s worth reading.

I could write about the things that get underneath my skin, which seems to have been my focus since I started this blog, but that is really not where I want to take this thing. This isn’t some “bitch session,” and I am not trying to turn it into all of that. A rant here and there is fine, but let’s be real–a person that constantly rants is eventually going to bring others down, and I am not a miserable person. Therefore, I do not want to portray myself in that manner. I love life. So, this little rant session has got to come to a close.

I could write about my job, but that’s not happening for several reasons.

I have been trying to work on my hobby of photography, but at the moment I am really just getting started. I’ll share some pictures, of course; however, I really don’t know how much I want this to be a blog centered around my little hobby of photography. I’m okay at it, but I am by no means at the same caliber as some people.

My next idea is to turn this into a beauty blog. I know there are several blogs and YouTube channels devoted to this very topic, but I am still considering this idea. My thought is to discuss products and supplies with the woman on a budget in mind. I personally have to work off of a budget, and I have found that most blogs and YouTube channels do not consider this. I love the products and supplies mentioned, but it’s not like I can spend the money for some of these items. Therefore, I have to find equal alternatives, and this is where my idea comes in play. Additionally, I am a woman with oily skin–I have yet to find anyone that really touches this area. What about the women that have been cursed with scarred faces thanks to heredity? Yep. I know that feeling, too. My face isn’t bad, but I have some “flaws,” so I can completely empathize.

I could give some make-up tips; I am by no means a make-up expert, but I do a pretty good job and receive compliments. I could recommend some products and supplies for the ladies on a budget. I could recommend some beauty sites and some make-up gurus on YouTube. Fashion is another area that I could discuss on occasion. There are several things that could be done. Ultimately, this blog could be for anyone. We could all share with one another on what we have found. A place for women to celebrate their beauty and to find different products, supplies, and techniques to try.

I don’t know. It’s just a thought. But, I need some focus. I am no where near where I want to be to start the process of a book, so I need an outlet for my desire to write. Feedback here would be great! Thanks a ton!

Baby Shoes

239Honestly, this blog is not supposed to be a place where I rant about things that are on my mind or that bother me.  In reality, I am searching for some sort of focus for this blog; I very much enjoy writing but simply lack the focus.  With that being said, today I am writing about something very close to my heart.  This is not a rant, yet I feel the need to voice these words somewhere.  So, here it goes…

I hate this time of year.  I hate it with such an incredible passion, yet I am disappointed in myself for feeling this way.  Spring is a beautiful time of year, especially in the South.  Everything springs back to life after several months of appearing “dead.”  At the start of spring, I am happy–happy winter is coming to an end, happy that I can leave my windows and doors open, happy the air is warm, and happy to see all of the beautiful colors of spring.  Yet, when the month of April shows her face, I become increasingly dismal, and the closer it gets to May, the worse I become.  Every year I make an earnest attempt to not feel this way, yet every year it is the same.

April is the month in which I had the absolute worst experience I have ever had in my life–the loss of a child.  I’ll never forget the feeling of surprise and excitement my husband and I had when we found out I was pregnant.  I would have to say that was the best feeling in the world.  Yet, this feeling was short-lived.  Despite our having done everything right, it just wasn’t meant to be at that time, and we lost our precious gift.  The pain that followed has never really ceased.  Days are more bearable as the years go on, but the pain never goes away.  If anyone tells you it does, then they are a liar.  I’m sorry.  It’s true.  You’ll get up and go about your day, but don’t think a minute goes by in which you do not think about such a loss.  Maybe a blessing of another child would help to ease the pain and the days, but that has not been my case.  Not only have I lost such a beautiful blessing but I have also been plagued with the struggle to conceive again.  It’s not impossible, but it surely is challenging.  And, this is where my so-called rant begins.

What bothers me, especially during this time of year, is when I see mothers complain about having to do something for her child(ren) or about not having enough time for herself.  Let me tell you something, woman.  Thank God for that “nuisance.”  Thank God for that five minutes you get alone.  Even better, thank God for all of the other minutes filled with time shared with your child.  You don’t know what it is like to be the woman wishing, hoping, and praying for just a little bit of that time to have with her own.  You don’t know what it is like to be the woman praying every single night to have just one blessing in a little one of her own.

Yeah, I have been told to get over it and to let it go, but unless you are in a woman’s shoes whom has a very slim chance of having a child, you don’t get to say these words to her.  You don’t have to possess her strength to carry on during such a rough time of year.  You get to see your babies.  You get to hold them tight.  You get to have the whole “Mother’s Day” experience.  You get to watch them grow older.  You get to wipe away their tears.  You get to smile and laugh as they do the same.  Yet, some of us are stuck on the outside looking in wondering what it would be like to just have one of those experiences.

To those women who get to experience such joys, please take a minute every day to thank God for your blessings.  To those women who know the pain, the want, the emptiness in which I speak, know that you are not alone.  I pray for comfort in your hearts and for blessings to be yours.

Happy Mother’s Day to all women (those with Earthly blessings and those with Heavenly angels).

The World is Full of Hypocrites

The world is full of hypocrites. It’s a shame but true. For that matter, there is a little bit of hypocrite in all of us. I know. I know. You don’t like hearing that. You are currently thinking to yourself, “Psh. I’m not a hypocrite.” Guess what. Yes, you are; I am, too. I don’t like it either, but it is the truth.

Now, I am not referring to only religious hypocrites. We all know this kind of hypocrite: the kind that attends church every Wednesday, Sunday, and religious day of obligation and preaches a specific lifestyle yet does the complete opposite of what he or she preaches (Yeah, you know the woman that preaches against gossip yet gets in a corner with all of her friends and begins gossiping about the poor woman trying to make ends meet for her children). These kinds of hypocrites disgust me; I won’t lie about that one. Don’t get me wrong. I attend church, but I am not a regular. I strive to do better, but I get selfish when it comes to my desire for sleep during a busy period during my work schedule. But, here is the difference: I don’t preach at people about the way they are living and turn around and do the opposite. As a matter of fact, I don’t preach at anyone at all when it comes to anything religious. I don’t want someone preaching at me, and I believe firmly in doing unto others as you would have them do unto you. And, I recognize that I have absolutely no place in telling anyone about anything religious when I can’t even make it to church every single Sunday. So, yeah, my being a hypocrite does not fall in the category of being a religious hypocrite, but I certainly do have a place as do all of us.

According to Merriam-Webster Dictionary, a hypocrite is one who is “feigning to be what one is not or to believe what one does not,” or one who has “the false assumption of an appearance of virtue or religion.” Now, some of you are thinking, “No. I do not fit that definition, so there is absolutely no way I am a hypocrite. This woman is wrong and has lost her mind.” But, here is what I would like to point out to you: Notice that use of the conjunction “or.” That one little, two-letter word holds a lot of weight. A hypocrite is not just about being a hypocrite in the area of religion; it is about putting on the appearance of being one way when one is truly not. This applies to the intentional and the unintentional. If one says another is wrong for doing something a certain way or for believing a certain way or for simply being a certain way yet does exactly what it is he or she condemns, then that is an intentional hypocrite. Then, there is the unintentional hypocrite: one who does not even realize that he or she does what is found to be wrong in his or her eyes. That one is me. I am the unintentional hypocrite. There have been a few occasions in which I have had it pointed out to me that I hold others to a certain standard to which I do not necessarily hold myself. It’s not right. I don’t like it, and I strive to do better.

Here’s the deal, though. We are all human. Not a single person placed on this earth is perfect by any means. Not me. Not you. Not your neighbor. No one. Recognize this fact, accept it, and strive to do better. That’s all that can be done. And, dear God, people, stop trying to act like you are better than others for whatever reason. You are not allowed to judge; only one has the ability to do that, and it isn’t a single one of any of us. Accept all as human. Like it or lump it and move on.

But, these are just the views of a Southern girl…

‘Tis the Season…

With Christmas literally days away, I can’t help but think about past Christmas holidays.  I observe people scurrying throughout town and in stores attempting to snag the item they desire for others.  I don’t know about everywhere else, but around here people can become quite rude during this time of year.  I just don’t get it.  Since when did Christmas become about what is placed underneath a tree?  Isn’t Christmas supposed to be about something so much more powerful and meaningful than what hot ticket item one managed to snag on sale–if one can truly call it a sale–or the most expensive gift received?  People become crazy in an attempt to gain that popular toy, the most exquisite clothes and jewelry, or the newest piece of technology.  I admit that I, too, search for those items that I know that my family and loved ones will greatly enjoy and appreciate, but I cannot see myself running around and driving myself insane in search of it.  Yes, I want my family to have a memorable Christmas, but at what cost?

I remember one year while growing up, my family and I had recently moved to Texas.  If I remember correctly, it was our first Christmas there.  We were still settling down, so needless to say, we had a small Christmas.  There was no traditional Christmas tree in our apartment; instead, we cut green pieces of construction paper, placed the paper on the wall in the shape of a Christmas tree, and decorated it with stringed popcorn and colored paper rings strung together.  Underneath our tree were gifts but not quite like years past or years to come.  Now, some may say, “That sounds so sad.  You didn’t even have a tree.”  And, I would have to disagree.  That Christmas was probably one of the best that we have ever had!  We may not have had a traditional Christmas tree, but we still had one.  We may not have had a ton of presents underneath the tree, but that didn’t matter.  We had each other.  We had an abundance of love.  We had great laughs.  We made wonderful memories.

Another year that stands out in my mind occurred when I had just graduated from college.  My husband and I had been married for three years.  Having just graduated from Auburn University, I had been without work for nearly six months because of my internship.  At this time, I had just been hired in my new field, but my job did not start until January.  Needless to say, there was a little bit of a struggle in our house at this time of year.  I remember worrying greatly about how to afford Christmas gifts for everyone.  I so desperately wanted to get everyone everything they desired, but our budget said otherwise.  I was upset, but my husband reassured me that everything would be fine because it was Christmas and not about the gifts, but about the time spent with family.  (Yes, he is my voice of reason when I fail to have some.)  The small gifts we were able to afford were enjoyed by all, which made me smile.  But, again, it was not the amount of money spent on anything; it was the time we shared, the love among us, and the memories we made. 

My point is this:  I know we all want to get those items that our loved ones desire, but we must remember that it isn’t about material things.  Christmas is about the moments spent with family and friends that become some of the best memories in our hearts.  Those moments become rarer each year as we grow older.  We must remember the reason for the season.  Slow down and enjoy it.

Of course, these are just the opinions of a southern girl.  I’ll take my time, capture every moment, and love every minute.  Merry Christmas!

Iron Bowl: The Modern Day Hatfield and McCoy

November 24, 2012–Iron Bowl!  For those of you unaware of the Iron Bowl, this is arguably the biggest rivalry game in college football in the south.  This game divides the state of Alabama like no other.

Understand I am not trying to take away from any other rivalry game in any other conference, but one must live here to fully grasp the importance of this game that occurs at the end of each college football season.  First, when a child is born, a side is selected for the child; if one moves here, he or she must quickly choose a team.  “Who do you pull for?” is a question commonly posed whether or not one knows the individual asking it.  The trash talk that accompanies Auburn and Alabama fans during the football season can make anyone lose his or her religion, but during this game friends become enemies and families divide.  Bless those that are a part of a divided family; I know this feeling as I am an Auburn girl, and my husband is an Alabama man.

However, those that have serious, in-depth fights, physical altercations, and even shootings or stabbings just do not make sense to me.  Trust me when I say I know my football, watch it faithfully, defend my team to others, celebrate victories, and mourn losses.  (Yes, I am doing a lot of mourning this season.)  To put it mildly, I certainly get into the game of football and enjoy every aspect of it, but to allow one game to turn me into the spawn of Satan?  I think not.

Honestly, what is the point in fighting both verbally and physically with loved ones over a game?  What is the point in shooting or stabbing a family member over a game?  What is the point in damaging a school’s monument over a game?  What is the point in killing trees used for a school tradition over a game?  Then, to celebrate these horrific acts?  No, thank you.  Being a part of this rivalry, I agree that it is more than just a game, but some of these acts of anger or boastfulness or arrogance are simply just not necessary and make everyone else look ludicrous.

But, this is just the opinion of a southern girl–one who lives and breathes college football.

War Eagle!

A Day of Thanks…Or, is it?

Thanksgiving day–a day in which families and friends gather to give thanks.

Personally, I have much for which I am grateful.  I have a loving, supportive husband, an outstanding family, a rewarding career, amazing friends, a roof over my head, and food on my table.  Really, what more is there for a person to ask?  We are blessed with so much, yet fail to truly open our eyes to these blessings.  We think about these blessings once or twice a year, but within a matter of days, we return to complaining about those items we do not possess or those situations that did not turn out the way we wanted.  Honestly, it just should not be this way.  We should always take a minute to be grateful for what we do have.

This brings me to my next thought, one that has been raised by many dear to me:  How do we give thanks for what we have today, yet by this evening, fight with crowds of people to get those items we desire?  How do we so quickly go from one extreme to another?  Is it really worth it to lose one’s self in fighting with others to obtain an item that will eventually gather dust somewhere in the house?  In what way is an individual showing that he or she has been grateful just hours before by acting like a child fighting over a toy?

But, these are just a southern girl’s thoughts.  I, personally, will remain grateful and save the long lines and fights over items for someone else.