Always Never The Same

I took a few classes (any that I could, really) during my time at Westmont with Mandy Ream, who was one of my favorite professors of all time. She was young and witty, incredibly insightful and passionate, and helped me to fall in love with the study of interpersonal communication. Her classes set the stage for my future studies of people and what makes relationships (of any kind) work (or not work). Something that she would say in class that has stuck with me was "to know me is to know..." fill in the blank. It's silly, really, that I remember her saying this in class after all these years, and after all of the other valuable things that I learned sitting in her classroom, but I do, and find myself using those words sometimes, and thinking fondly of Mandy, wondering what she and her firefighter husband are up to these days... I digress.

So. To know me is to know that I love country music; almost all country music, really, but George Strait is kind of the big one. He pretty much gets me every time. In the soundtrack to my life, especially my daydreams, much of the music would come from George. Or Alan Jackson, Gary Allan, Kenny Chesney, Sugarland...

















My life is not, on a day to day basis, all that similar to any of these songs that live so comfortably in my heart and play so religiously on my ipod. But I indulge freely and regularly in daydreams of wide open spaces, Texas sunsets, cowboys, porch swings, sweet love stories, dramatic heartbreak, reckless love, and people of who live passionately and say what they feel; simple southern summer nights filled with romance and cowboys and honkeytonks and margaritas... I allow these songs to transport me to a world I don't mind living in for a while in the least bit.

I suppose that what I might as well say is "to know me is to know that I am a hopeless romantic."

And that I'm a sucker for a good country love song.

You should check out my movie collection.

But, I'm okay with that.

George Strait has an album called "Always Never the Same," from which I borrowed the title to this site. I like that, always never the same; and I think it's a good name for a place where I am attempting to make sense of some of the questions and dreams and thoughts and hopes swirling around in my head and heart during this mid-twenties season. From jobs, to houses, to relationships, ideas, passions, and feelings, my life as a twenty-something seems to be always never the same, and I kind of love it.

Granted, on a not so great day, I am worn out and exhausted by all the change. I yearn for something stable and constant. I find myself feeling like I am struggling to keep my head above water while others around me are settling into happy marriages, with homes that they are building, and babies and puppies and stable jobs...

And then there are the other kind of days. Those are the days that I find myself bursting at the seams, celebrating every glorious moment of the life that God has blessed me with. This kind of day I spend time in places I love, with people I love, my heart at peace. I wear my favorite dresses which all have pockets, and I eat the food I love and everything tastes better and looks brighter and feels fuller. These are the days where I believe with everything in me that the God that I worship and love is a God who holds my life preciously in His hands. That He is sovereign and He is good, and He is constant. While my life seems so often to be a big fat crazy mess, He is smiling on my exhausted efforts to put together the pieces when He already knows where they all go. He sees the whole picture and blesses it. And some days, I am able to rest in knowing that.

A Better Rain

This morning was one of those mornings that makes me wonder why I ever think that an extra hour of sleep could possibly be better for me than getting up early to take a walk by the ocean. The harbor in Santa Barbara is one of those places like the Biltmore Wall at sunset or the Elegant Farmer on a summer afternoon that for reasons I don't really understand, makes me feel incredibly happy, joyful really, thankful for what I've got and where I'm at, and comforted no matter what life is currently throwing my way. This particular morning was a glorious one.

More often than not, the sky in Santa Barbara is clear and blue. This morning though, the sky was one of my favorite kind of skies, lingering with rain. It kind of rained last night. At least, before dinner with friends I felt a little bit of that silly Santa Barbara rain that you can hardly feel because maybe a raindrop hits you every thirty seconds or so. At which point I actually even allowed myself for a moment to get excited about the possibility of a warm summer storm. A good summer storm is a rarity in Santa Barbara, an idea left now mostly just to nostalgic summer-in-the-midwest memories along with lightning bugs and early morning barefooting on a glassy lake and fresh berry pie, preferably baked in a brown bag and topped with ice cream. Things that I wish my summers in California could be full of. (Although, I am aware that Santa Barbara does have it's own fair share of summertime perks.)

The part of the sky over the ocean was dark with rainclouds on their way out to the islands, which caused the water to reflect in such a way that I could barely tell where the horizon line was. The sky and ocean appeared to be a seamless wash of a delicious hue of grey-lavender and a golden color that stopped me in my tracks and left me speechless for a moment. Latte in hand, I let my heart and mind wander and my eyes, ears and nose take in every bit of that harbor morning. The sun, the clouds, the colors, the salty harbor air mixed with the smell of rain, and the other happy morning risers out to greet and celebrate this good day. I felt my crazy, busy life slow down for a moment so that I could gain my footing and take a deep breath, breathing in appreciation for some of the day to day blessings that make up my life. Kind of like God gave me a time out. Not a misbehaving toddler being sent to the corner kind of time out, I'm going for the sports analogy here. Like, just a quick breather, a moment to gather my thoughts, refocus, and then continue on my merry way. This time, though, a little more hopeful, joyful and thankful in my soul for this life that in all of it's messiness is still filled with beauty and grace and goodness.

Write This Down

True confession: This is not the first blog I have started. Turns out I have a nasty habit of starting things of this nature, and then failing miserably. Maybe not miserably, but failing nonetheless. Kind of reminds me of the Friends episode, you know, the one with all the new years resolutions, and Rachel had resolved the previous year to keep a diary. Monica goes and retrieves said diary in order to illustrate the point that Rachel cannot keep a resolution, and reads it outloud. It reads something along the lines of "Dear Diary, my new years resolution is to write in you every day! See you tomorrow!"...then, NOTHING. So maybe I'm not that bad.

Generally, when I start a new journal, I put forth a valiant effort. I keep lists of things that I am thankful for, I keep track of prayer requests. I even manage to fill the first ten or so pages of my most recently purchased moleskin with a few days worth (I think a few times I've even gone a month or two) of incredibly interesting observations that I've made about my life and those around me, wisdom beyond my years, ranting and raving about life's frustrations, quotes, desperate pleas with God to answer my prayers, lingering thoughts or goals for the future...then, NOTHING.

So I suppose that the "glass is half full" perspective on this journaling situation would be that at least I keep trying, right? I mean, if at first you don't succeed, dust yourself off and try again? Well, yes. But I think it is important to remember that if I keep trying the same tactics, with little or no motivation to do a better job this next time around, I will continue failing at my journaling efforts, and killing innocent trees in the process. Alas, I enter the blogosphere.

Ideally this "blog" (a word which I will have to get used to, and don't yet take seriously) will be a place for me to reflect on my life and my world as I see it, and will also be a magical place of commitment. I assume that (once I actually tell people that I have a blog), the added pressure of not letting my loyal readers and fans down (probably Laura, Hilary, and Emily, if I'm lucky...) will add to my ability to commit to this place.

So, here's to blogging!