Well folks, I again have big news.
After plenty of thought and deliberation, many a pros and cons list that weighed heavily on my mind and heart, a long talk with my mom, followed by a long talk with myself, I have made another important decision. One that has again changed the path I am following and the future I am pursuing. I am content and surprisingly relieved with this decision.
I am not moving to Portland or going to the Art Institute.
Now you can say, "I knew it!" or scream "Whyyyyyy?!?!?". To baffle you, confirm your suspicions, or answer your questions, there were two main factors that led me to this decision.
1. Money. There simply just isn't enough of it, is there? At least that's the general consensus of most people I know. And life as a fairly recent post-grad has surely made me value my money. And not just mine, but that of my generous and loving parents, who have already put me through a public, well-known four year university for five years, supported me for nearly my entire life, including those less than financially secure college and post-college years. And now that I have a full time job, with great benefits, a nice place to live, and am starting to build some financial stability, I can't bring myself to throw away such security and independence to go back to school, for a ridiculous amount of money, that I would need from my parents and undoubtedly in loans. And do I really want to be nearly 30, fresh out of college again, with loan payments and starting in the workforce all over again? No, no, and no.
Besides, I truly want my parents to use their hard-earned money for themselves. On vacations and on anything they went without in exchange for supporting their restless and reckless eldest child. Not that my brother was less money, he's just less complicated. I couldn't have been more blessed and I so appreciate all that they have done. But I realized that I didn't want to place this burden upon them or myself.
2. I began to lose heart for "Portland" and all that it meant to leave where I am now and start anew. When I made the initial decision I truly meant it and couldn't wait for the new journey to begin. But, as many of you are aware of, a new journey snuck in and started to lay before me, while I wasn't even paying attention. My heart, for many reasons, is still in the Palouse and I don't think I could leave without regrets. I do love fashion and I haven't given up on a future career in the industry, but I am perfectly content to go about it another way.
Yes, my Mountain Man was a great reason to stay. But when we began our relationship it was understood that I would be moving to Portland in March and we would make it work regardless. But I'll never forget the smile on his face and the way I felt when I told him I was staying.
With all that said, and to echo what I said earlier, I am so happy with my decision. It's interesting how life works. I have always loved Pullman and the Palouse area, so much so that I wanted to move back after I graduated from WSU and left. And even after I did, I wasn't always sure I was where I was supposed to be. Life works in strange ways. I feel as though I went on a journey, with every intention of leaving and having a completely different life, only to find myself doing the opposite. And in that journey I truly did find myself, right where I've always wanted to be.
Just my opinion...but I could never credit random coincidences but give glory to God for so intricately piecing together the puzzle pieces that I would have forever stared at in frustrated incomprehension. It is true, when you hand over control to Him you are inherently blessed with something better than you could ever come up with for yourself. Thank goodness.
The Palouse is a great place to call home. And Portland is a nice place to visit. Like I always say, everything happens for a reason. I could analyze every event, thought, or word in detail to find just how I came to be where I am now. But none of that is necessary. I don't care how it happened, or where I thought I was going. I'm just happy to be where I am now.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
Antlers, Cast Iron, and Eggs. Oh My!
The Mountain Man and I had been dating a mere two weeks when Christmas rolled around. To gift or not to gift was something we had not discussed. Which was why I was quite surprised one evening when, after loading up our plates with a tasty home-cooked meal and sitting down to eat, I noticed a brown paper bag sitting under my Christmas tree.
Mid chew, with a mouth full of pasta, I looked at him and asked, "Wha's tha?" He smiled that perfect crooked smile I love. "You'll just have to go down there and find out."
He had given me my first Christmas gift from him. All wrapped up in a brown grocery bag was cast iron cookware.
Did I forget to mention that cooking is not my strong point and I don't spend much time in the kitchen unless I'm pouring myself a glass of wine or looking for something edible on the nearly bare shelves of my lonely refrigerator? Was this a hint? I eyed him suspiciously. He had an expectant smile on his face. And then I remembered. He swears by cast iron cookware. And that might be an understatement. The first time he cooked for me in my kitchen and pulled a Teflon pan out of the cabinet I thought I was going to have to pick his jaw up off the floor for him. Apparently Teflon is bad for you and can cause cancer. Cast iron cookware now rules in our kitchen, the Teflon pots and pans gather dust on the bottom shelves. Which is what most of my kitchen utensils were doing until my cooking, baking, and frying machine of a Mountain Man showed up.
I wasn't displeased with my gift by any means. I was happy that he was thoughtful enough to get me a gift at all and that he had gotten me something that he knew would be good for me and we would use together. In fact, we do so much cooking together that these new cast iron essentials have become a mainstay on my stove. Cast iron does take some maintenance. To keep them doin' their thing and doin' it well, you need to oil them after they are cleaned. Just pour some oil on the clean and dry pan or pot, let it burn off and then wipe dry. Then put them away. Those first few steps don't always get done, so this happens:
Please excuse the messy stove top. This was taken after quite the messy fried-chicken and apple pie making sesh. Which was done by yours truly. As an early Valentine's Day surprise (and not to conflict with what I already know are his V-day plans for us - he's making me my favorite meal) I made him dinner.
Yes, folks, I cooked. And baked. Check for flying pigs next time you step outside.
My man loves to eat. Which explains all the cooking. A man with as big of a hunger as he has, complete with a very strict sense of frugality, he cooks at home a lot to save money and stay full, which is easier said that done. I meant the part about him staying full. We've had his favorite meal a few times now. It's an easy one. Fried chicken with homemade honey-mustard dipping sauce, mashed potatoes, and apple pie. What a good American. Not to mention he won't even buy hardware tools if they aren't made in America.
I've been playing around in the kitchen a bit lately, mostly when he is there to help me with the ingredients, or rather when I offer to help what he's already started. Nevertheless I knew what I wanted to do. Blow him away by surprising him with dinner. His favorite dinner.
Long story short, and what could quite possibly be a whole other blog post, the cooking and baking went very well. Even with a late start and a short freak-out session. I didn't get pictures, but I did snap one of the half-eaten pie before it's gone.
And every time I open my drawer to reach for a spoon for my Greek non-fat yogurt, that thankfully doesn't get touched by him, I see these...
A hunting knife, which is apparently better than my dull kitchen knives. I've already lost the battle on this one. I may have a future of hunting-like knives in my kitchen, but there are other battles to worry about winning.
Oh, and yes I do have silverware, just not any clean ones at the moment.
Besides the kitchen getting a Mountain Man makeover, the rest of my apartment has some new items.
A nice collection of deer and elk antlers have found their way into my home. Right now that is exactly where they sit. Looking like some kind of trap to caution against anyone that might try and steal my tiny little flat screen TV that fits just right in my tiny little entertainment center. But I've welcomed them, the antlers. I see them as decorations. I'm sure he's thrilled to have his precious "sheds" sitting next to my candles and books and picture frames. In all honestly, I really think he loves it.
Excuse the dust...apparently it shows up more with the flash of a camera. And apparently I need to do some dusting.
But my favorite use by far for the antlers is when they are used as a toy by my grown man of a boyfriend. With an antler nestled into his shoulder, I've walked into the room to see him pointing it at the TV, pretending it's a gun, complete with sound effects and arm movements. It's a priceless picture. I can see him, five years old and doing the same thing. And I can also see him, years from now and doing the same thing with his young son. Isn't that what we love about our men, ladies? That they never truly grow up.
But they are grown up and when they love you it shows. Which is why my Mountain Man took the time to mount my deer antlers onto a plaque. The antlers from my first deer, that I shot at home in Bickleton in the fall of 2010.
We haven't got it up on the wall yet but I'm so appreciative of his hard work and thoughtfulness. He even burned this into the wood:
What a sweetheart. Did I mention I don't mind all the things he's brought into my home since we started dating? I don't at all.
Sidenote: The Mountain Man and I do not live together, but we do spend a lot of time at my place, including all the cooking and baking that we love to do together. And the antlers have found their home with me for storage reasons. When the day comes that we do live together there will be plenty more "whaaaat am I gonna do with that thing???" moments. So far it's just food, heavy cookware, and antlers. I'm such a lucky girl.
Mid chew, with a mouth full of pasta, I looked at him and asked, "Wha's tha?" He smiled that perfect crooked smile I love. "You'll just have to go down there and find out."
He had given me my first Christmas gift from him. All wrapped up in a brown grocery bag was cast iron cookware.
Did I forget to mention that cooking is not my strong point and I don't spend much time in the kitchen unless I'm pouring myself a glass of wine or looking for something edible on the nearly bare shelves of my lonely refrigerator? Was this a hint? I eyed him suspiciously. He had an expectant smile on his face. And then I remembered. He swears by cast iron cookware. And that might be an understatement. The first time he cooked for me in my kitchen and pulled a Teflon pan out of the cabinet I thought I was going to have to pick his jaw up off the floor for him. Apparently Teflon is bad for you and can cause cancer. Cast iron cookware now rules in our kitchen, the Teflon pots and pans gather dust on the bottom shelves. Which is what most of my kitchen utensils were doing until my cooking, baking, and frying machine of a Mountain Man showed up.
I wasn't displeased with my gift by any means. I was happy that he was thoughtful enough to get me a gift at all and that he had gotten me something that he knew would be good for me and we would use together. In fact, we do so much cooking together that these new cast iron essentials have become a mainstay on my stove. Cast iron does take some maintenance. To keep them doin' their thing and doin' it well, you need to oil them after they are cleaned. Just pour some oil on the clean and dry pan or pot, let it burn off and then wipe dry. Then put them away. Those first few steps don't always get done, so this happens:
Please excuse the messy stove top. This was taken after quite the messy fried-chicken and apple pie making sesh. Which was done by yours truly. As an early Valentine's Day surprise (and not to conflict with what I already know are his V-day plans for us - he's making me my favorite meal) I made him dinner.
Yes, folks, I cooked. And baked. Check for flying pigs next time you step outside.
My man loves to eat. Which explains all the cooking. A man with as big of a hunger as he has, complete with a very strict sense of frugality, he cooks at home a lot to save money and stay full, which is easier said that done. I meant the part about him staying full. We've had his favorite meal a few times now. It's an easy one. Fried chicken with homemade honey-mustard dipping sauce, mashed potatoes, and apple pie. What a good American. Not to mention he won't even buy hardware tools if they aren't made in America.
I've been playing around in the kitchen a bit lately, mostly when he is there to help me with the ingredients, or rather when I offer to help what he's already started. Nevertheless I knew what I wanted to do. Blow him away by surprising him with dinner. His favorite dinner.
Long story short, and what could quite possibly be a whole other blog post, the cooking and baking went very well. Even with a late start and a short freak-out session. I didn't get pictures, but I did snap one of the half-eaten pie before it's gone.
The picture doesn't do it justice. But that super flaky crust you see is delicious. And those red spots are raisins. Who knew raisins were so good in pie?! Well, I didn't.
Speaking of cooking and baking and all that jazz. You should see my fridge. If only I had a before picture to really get you to grasp the meaning of the after picture...
This is the fullest my fridge has ever been. There are leftovers, milk that hasn't gone bad, fresh fruit and veggies, and ingredients that I have learned work together to make actual meals.
And I'm sure most of you thought it was the woman's job to introduce domestic skills such as cooking and baking to the man. Well, my friends, I have proven this to not always be the case. And don't be fooled, there are definitely signs of a true man partially dwelling in my home....
Hot sauce is the condiment of choice for men. I've never seen someone get so excited in a grocery store when we found this extra large bottle of Frank's RedHot sauce.
And you must have plenty of eggs to feed a hungry Mountain Man...
And every time I open my drawer to reach for a spoon for my Greek non-fat yogurt, that thankfully doesn't get touched by him, I see these...
A hunting knife, which is apparently better than my dull kitchen knives. I've already lost the battle on this one. I may have a future of hunting-like knives in my kitchen, but there are other battles to worry about winning.
Oh, and yes I do have silverware, just not any clean ones at the moment.
Besides the kitchen getting a Mountain Man makeover, the rest of my apartment has some new items.
A nice collection of deer and elk antlers have found their way into my home. Right now that is exactly where they sit. Looking like some kind of trap to caution against anyone that might try and steal my tiny little flat screen TV that fits just right in my tiny little entertainment center. But I've welcomed them, the antlers. I see them as decorations. I'm sure he's thrilled to have his precious "sheds" sitting next to my candles and books and picture frames. In all honestly, I really think he loves it.
Excuse the dust...apparently it shows up more with the flash of a camera. And apparently I need to do some dusting.
But my favorite use by far for the antlers is when they are used as a toy by my grown man of a boyfriend. With an antler nestled into his shoulder, I've walked into the room to see him pointing it at the TV, pretending it's a gun, complete with sound effects and arm movements. It's a priceless picture. I can see him, five years old and doing the same thing. And I can also see him, years from now and doing the same thing with his young son. Isn't that what we love about our men, ladies? That they never truly grow up.
But they are grown up and when they love you it shows. Which is why my Mountain Man took the time to mount my deer antlers onto a plaque. The antlers from my first deer, that I shot at home in Bickleton in the fall of 2010.
We haven't got it up on the wall yet but I'm so appreciative of his hard work and thoughtfulness. He even burned this into the wood:
What a sweetheart. Did I mention I don't mind all the things he's brought into my home since we started dating? I don't at all.
Sidenote: The Mountain Man and I do not live together, but we do spend a lot of time at my place, including all the cooking and baking that we love to do together. And the antlers have found their home with me for storage reasons. When the day comes that we do live together there will be plenty more "whaaaat am I gonna do with that thing???" moments. So far it's just food, heavy cookware, and antlers. I'm such a lucky girl.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Home Sweet Home
There's nothing like a trek to the mother land to secure your sense of self and renew your spirits. At least that's how I feel every time I return to my hometown. It's not quite a mother land like if I was returning to another country after years of being away, but sometimes such strong feelings for a place, like home, require a dramatic description.
Bickleton, my small and isolated hometown, is full of many things dear to my heart. People, certain places like Pine Creek, the grove of trees below our house where I used to play, and the timber where my dad logged for so many years, my dogs, and a thousand memories of a childhood filled with endless hours spent playing and exploring the expanse of land and trees and creeks that is only offered to us lucky rural dwellers. There is freedom in those open fields and skies, canyons, timber, and waters. Freedom that encourages creativity, strength, and knowledge in a young persons mind.
I get a little nostalgic when I think about my hometown, obviously. I get a little defensive whenever I hear someone put down a small town, speak ignorantly about the people from a small town, or in some other way make assumptions and false statements about anything having to do with rural America. One look at me and you may not think I am from a small town. You may never guess that I graduated in a class of only nine students, or that I come from two prominent families that farmed and ranched in the north eastern area of Klickitat county. You may never know, unless you asked, that I showed steers for nine years as a 4-H member. Or that I played on the varsity volleyball and basketball teams as a seventh grader because the high school numbers were down that year.
Do I look "small town"? From the surprised looks I get when I tell people where I am from, I would guess not. But did I learn significant values such as hard work, respect, humility, and honesty, to name a few, from growing up in a small town? Absolutely. Not that you can't learn these values elsewhere or from a different form of being raised, but I do thank God for the blessing of growing up in a small town.
All of that being said, I recently went home for a weekend and loved it. It probably had a lot to do with me taking a certain special someone home with me for the first time. That special someone also met my parents for the first time. Yes, it was the man.
They loved him. He loved them. He loves Bickleton.
HALLELUJAH!!!!
Excuse me while I breathe a big sigh of relief. Not that I was worried. I really wasn't at all. But there is something very special about the relationship between the person I want to be with and my family. There is a huge part of my heart reserved for my family and I want the love of my life to have a place in his heart for them too. And also...for my dogs and my hometown and my extended family. Of course.
And I truly do believe he is the man that is capable and willing to love every bit of my life as I do. And yes, people, that deserves a big sigh of relief and a big smile for finally finding someone to share all of that with.
I've never felt more at home in my hometown, surrounded by my family and loved ones, with the man that holds my heart. It was a great weekend indeed.
And now that I've exceeded the mushy-gushyness level allowed per blog post as previously set by my single self, I will end with this thought:
If home is where your heart is, my home dwells in a number of people and places. Bickleton, my true hometown. My crazy, silly, loving family. My truest and best friends. My dog, Sadie, and all family dogs, past and present. My grandparents house and the trees and barns that I spent a childhood playing in. My second hometown, Pullman. And most recently, my Mountain Man.
Home is most definitely a sweet place to be.
Bickleton, my small and isolated hometown, is full of many things dear to my heart. People, certain places like Pine Creek, the grove of trees below our house where I used to play, and the timber where my dad logged for so many years, my dogs, and a thousand memories of a childhood filled with endless hours spent playing and exploring the expanse of land and trees and creeks that is only offered to us lucky rural dwellers. There is freedom in those open fields and skies, canyons, timber, and waters. Freedom that encourages creativity, strength, and knowledge in a young persons mind.
I get a little nostalgic when I think about my hometown, obviously. I get a little defensive whenever I hear someone put down a small town, speak ignorantly about the people from a small town, or in some other way make assumptions and false statements about anything having to do with rural America. One look at me and you may not think I am from a small town. You may never guess that I graduated in a class of only nine students, or that I come from two prominent families that farmed and ranched in the north eastern area of Klickitat county. You may never know, unless you asked, that I showed steers for nine years as a 4-H member. Or that I played on the varsity volleyball and basketball teams as a seventh grader because the high school numbers were down that year.
Do I look "small town"? From the surprised looks I get when I tell people where I am from, I would guess not. But did I learn significant values such as hard work, respect, humility, and honesty, to name a few, from growing up in a small town? Absolutely. Not that you can't learn these values elsewhere or from a different form of being raised, but I do thank God for the blessing of growing up in a small town.
All of that being said, I recently went home for a weekend and loved it. It probably had a lot to do with me taking a certain special someone home with me for the first time. That special someone also met my parents for the first time. Yes, it was the man.
They loved him. He loved them. He loves Bickleton.
HALLELUJAH!!!!
Excuse me while I breathe a big sigh of relief. Not that I was worried. I really wasn't at all. But there is something very special about the relationship between the person I want to be with and my family. There is a huge part of my heart reserved for my family and I want the love of my life to have a place in his heart for them too. And also...for my dogs and my hometown and my extended family. Of course.
And I truly do believe he is the man that is capable and willing to love every bit of my life as I do. And yes, people, that deserves a big sigh of relief and a big smile for finally finding someone to share all of that with.
I've never felt more at home in my hometown, surrounded by my family and loved ones, with the man that holds my heart. It was a great weekend indeed.
And now that I've exceeded the mushy-gushyness level allowed per blog post as previously set by my single self, I will end with this thought:
If home is where your heart is, my home dwells in a number of people and places. Bickleton, my true hometown. My crazy, silly, loving family. My truest and best friends. My dog, Sadie, and all family dogs, past and present. My grandparents house and the trees and barns that I spent a childhood playing in. My second hometown, Pullman. And most recently, my Mountain Man.
Home is most definitely a sweet place to be.
Friday, January 27, 2012
We have an Adventure List.
The mountain man and I are doing great.
Before I dive in to a ridiculously long and obnoxious list of why he is so wonderful, let me just say that a man that enjoys cooking, doesn't sit glassy-eyed in front of the television for hours on end, believes in a good work ethic, enjoys hard physical labor, is always on time, has given me nothing but a million reasons why I can trust him with my ever so fragile and wary heart, makes me laugh until I can't breath, and looks like a model even with all that hunting camo, with the most beautiful blue eyes and smile....wait a minute, I'm doing it aren't I?
What I mean to say in not quite so many words, is that I have truly found a man that is good to me and good for me. This boot walkin' girl has been stopped dead in her tracks by a sometimes shy, but as she knows him, a goofy, strong, highly animated when story-telling, honest, hard working, loving, man.
And I feel that my lone boot walkin' days are over. Which is perfectly and completely fine by me. Especially since we eat good food--he's teaching me how to cook and I'm actually eating regular meals--and we enjoy being active, being outdoors, and are insanely happy just to be together.
For those of you rolling your eyes and gagging...get over it. I've waited a long time to be this happy.
But enough of the rainbows and puppies. The newest update is that we have an adventure list. What is an adventure list,? A list of places we want to go and things we want to do over the next two years. Not that the adventure ends then....it's just as far as our list goes.
Our list contains hiking, rafting, camping, hunting and all the adventurous things my Mountain Man has primarily been doing on his own before I came along. I'm thrilled that he wants to include me into this area of his life. He's ecstatic that I want to go. We're both a little wary of how it will go. Yes, I'm outdoorsy. But if we were comparing our outdoorsy-ness, I would be like the family dog that likes to run and play in the outdoors and enjoy the occasional family camping trip, venture to the river or casual hike. He would be like the wild bear that lives off of nuts and berries and roams around like he owns the wilderness. My feelings for him won't change, even if he drags me up a cliff while I complain about my feet or my back or the weather or how fast he wants us to go.
Which is why we will start out small and work up for the longer hikes and bigger climbs. Besides, I plan to be in very good shape.
Sidenote: I am beginning training for my first half marathon. So yes, I should be in very good shape. Even though running and hiking are different and require different muscles. But at least I'm not going from the couch to the mountain.
I've never had an adventure list before. No, I take that back. I've always had a list of things I wanted to do and see. And up until he came along I've been going about life, checking things off and adding new items to that list. Now, with my Mountain Man at my side, I have a new list to conquer.
I still have my own list, such as running my first half marathon. And things I want to do with others, such as take another girls trip to Vegas, or go to Ireland with my mom, as well as other things I was to accomplish on my own. But I'm so glad to have that adventure list with him.
And as for the adventures we've already had, I've learned one thing:
Happiness is definitely not overrated.
And for the adventures to come from that list with the Mountain Man, there will be plenty of fun stories to tell, so stay tuned.
Before I dive in to a ridiculously long and obnoxious list of why he is so wonderful, let me just say that a man that enjoys cooking, doesn't sit glassy-eyed in front of the television for hours on end, believes in a good work ethic, enjoys hard physical labor, is always on time, has given me nothing but a million reasons why I can trust him with my ever so fragile and wary heart, makes me laugh until I can't breath, and looks like a model even with all that hunting camo, with the most beautiful blue eyes and smile....wait a minute, I'm doing it aren't I?
What I mean to say in not quite so many words, is that I have truly found a man that is good to me and good for me. This boot walkin' girl has been stopped dead in her tracks by a sometimes shy, but as she knows him, a goofy, strong, highly animated when story-telling, honest, hard working, loving, man.
And I feel that my lone boot walkin' days are over. Which is perfectly and completely fine by me. Especially since we eat good food--he's teaching me how to cook and I'm actually eating regular meals--and we enjoy being active, being outdoors, and are insanely happy just to be together.
For those of you rolling your eyes and gagging...get over it. I've waited a long time to be this happy.
But enough of the rainbows and puppies. The newest update is that we have an adventure list. What is an adventure list,? A list of places we want to go and things we want to do over the next two years. Not that the adventure ends then....it's just as far as our list goes.
Our list contains hiking, rafting, camping, hunting and all the adventurous things my Mountain Man has primarily been doing on his own before I came along. I'm thrilled that he wants to include me into this area of his life. He's ecstatic that I want to go. We're both a little wary of how it will go. Yes, I'm outdoorsy. But if we were comparing our outdoorsy-ness, I would be like the family dog that likes to run and play in the outdoors and enjoy the occasional family camping trip, venture to the river or casual hike. He would be like the wild bear that lives off of nuts and berries and roams around like he owns the wilderness. My feelings for him won't change, even if he drags me up a cliff while I complain about my feet or my back or the weather or how fast he wants us to go.
Which is why we will start out small and work up for the longer hikes and bigger climbs. Besides, I plan to be in very good shape.
Sidenote: I am beginning training for my first half marathon. So yes, I should be in very good shape. Even though running and hiking are different and require different muscles. But at least I'm not going from the couch to the mountain.
I've never had an adventure list before. No, I take that back. I've always had a list of things I wanted to do and see. And up until he came along I've been going about life, checking things off and adding new items to that list. Now, with my Mountain Man at my side, I have a new list to conquer.
I still have my own list, such as running my first half marathon. And things I want to do with others, such as take another girls trip to Vegas, or go to Ireland with my mom, as well as other things I was to accomplish on my own. But I'm so glad to have that adventure list with him.
And as for the adventures we've already had, I've learned one thing:
Happiness is definitely not overrated.
And for the adventures to come from that list with the Mountain Man, there will be plenty of fun stories to tell, so stay tuned.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
A Match made on Match
Match.com that is.
As open and honest as I am on most days, or more like every day, I have not told many people one tid-bit about my life over the last few months. Besides the whole quarter life crisis that led to a decision to go back to school and move to Portland. But I already came clean about that one.
Yes, I joined an online dating site. I allowed the internet to do my match making for me. Scary, right? Yes and no. Some of it was a little strange, some of it was fun. I met some great guys, met some interesting guys, met some guys that are trying way too hard, some that should try a little harder, and some that aren't paying much attention to what a girl is looking for. If you are 50, you are outside of my age range, and the same age as my dad. Why don't you talk to him about dating his daughter? Seriously.
Speaking of my dad, he was the one that suggested I give online dating a try. After picking my jaw up off the floor when I heard those words come out of his mouth, I protested the idea. And made it very clear that I did not need to resort to the internet for a date. Just yet. But in his defense, I was going through a breakup at the time and I'm sure he was only trying to help.
But when he suggested it again a few months later I started to wonder if he really was convinced I needed to consult with a team of relationship specialists that spend hours pouring over the profiles of the less fortunate single people like myself that just couldn't get it figured out on their own, matching people with their soul mates. Because I'm sure that's how it's done right? Based on some of the gents I was matched with, I highly doubt that is how it's done.
And obviously I gave in and decided to give it a shot. Or maybe I was just jilted by another failed relationship and thought at the very least I could give myself something to do. Being bored is an excellent reason to sign up for a dating site, it instantly gives you something to do. And plenty of people to talk to. Okay, so that's probably not the best reason, don't tell them I said that.
Out of all the guys I emailed, chatted with, texted, and talked on the phone with, I only met two. The first one didn't work out, but I am happy to have met him. He is a great guy, I hope some lucky girl finds him soon. The second one I completely blew off and didn't meet until months later.
It was near the end of October and I had been talking to and fighting off men I had met on Match for almost a month. I mean that in the very least vain way possible, if that is possible. It was growing old and I suddenly felt like the Bachelorette. I couldn't keep track of who I was emailing, who I was texting, who I was calling, who I was supposed to see on Thursday and then on Friday and who the heck was calling me from the 425 number or the 360 number. It was getting a little crazy. Even for me. I realized the fun of having multiple people interested in you was a novelty that was quick to wear off.
It was then that I met Craig. I honestly don't remember who contacted each other first. But we talked a little back and forth on the website, then exchanged phone numbers, and then made plans for our first date. He seemed like a nice guy, not someone I didn't trust giving my address to. And we had similar interests, such as hunting and being outdoors. Plus we could talk to each other easily enough over the phone.
And it was then that I blew Craig off. For someone else. Someone that I didn't meet on a dating website. Someone that I had dated before and had just come back into the picture. There was no guarantee that things would work out a second time around with so-and-so...but he was familiar to me. I already knew him and didn't have to worry about a blind date with someone I had met online. And after all the texts, phone calls, emails, and winks (a wink is way of letting someone know you are interested in them on Match) I was getting a little tired of the online dating game. So I kindly told Craig I was seeing someone else and removed my Match profile.
Almost two months later and I was still single. My hopeful attempt at second, or third, times the charm with that one guy didn't go as planned. Although this time around I was just fine with that. Realizing that we were better as friends and I was fine to be on my own, without any Match dates, I decided to just focus on myself and enjoy my last few months in Pullman before moving to Portland. I did not want a date, a boyfriend, or anything of that nature.
But life never really goes how you plan it, does it? I just couldn't help thinking about the guy that did want to go on a date with me that I blew off for the guy that didn't want to date me. Why do us women do that? Finally, I decided to text him. I wasn't interested in dating him, I just wanted to apologize. Why do us women also do that? Always feel the need to apologize, even to people we've never met face to face.
He had deleted my number. I don't blame him. After I told him who I was, we started catching up a little bit. And before I knew it, I had a date again. A date that should have happened two months ago.
We chose to go cut down a Christmas tree for my apartment. Before I could let myself get nervous, I had to figure out what to wear. Duh. Here was my dilemma: Does a girl look her best, without concerning herself with proper tree cutting attire? Or does she do the opposite? Dress for a walk in the woods and not care about the first date impression. Who do I want to be? "Fashion forward" Erica or "I Hunt and Like Spending Time in the Woods and am Not Afraid to Get Dirty" Erica? I decided to be myself. Which is a combination of both. I wore a cute, new top with cute, new jeans, my cowboy boots, and a vest to keep me warm. He later said I looked gorgeous. Awww. :)
It's a good thing I spotted my perfect Christmas tree within five minutes and we were back in the truck within ten. I really didn't want to ruin those new jeans.
It was the perfect first date. Almost as good as the perfect second date we had the next day. I'm not quite sure he believed me when I said I loved it, so I'll say it again. I loved the nearly two hour drive down to the Grand Ronde river where we walked, hiked, talked, and sat on a hill in a canyon, enjoying a beautiful, sunny day and watching the river below and the picture-perfect scenery around us. I knew then that this guy was definitely someone very special.
Craig, who I may refer to as "Mountain Man" in my posts, because he truly is a man that loves the outdoors and would probably spend most of his free time out in the wilderness, alone, hunting and watching wildlife, living off of nothing, and enjoying it. I completely admire him for this. I just won't let him plan the vacations.
I'm not sure I would suggest online dating to everyone. If you do find yourself sifting through profiles on Match.com or another similar site, just remember to have fun with it. And always trust your gut and be safe. I knew there was a reason why I couldn't get the guy I blew off and never met out of my head.
So I guess the internet is good for some things. It brought the world facebook. And it brought me my Mountain Man.
"Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans."
As open and honest as I am on most days, or more like every day, I have not told many people one tid-bit about my life over the last few months. Besides the whole quarter life crisis that led to a decision to go back to school and move to Portland. But I already came clean about that one.
Yes, I joined an online dating site. I allowed the internet to do my match making for me. Scary, right? Yes and no. Some of it was a little strange, some of it was fun. I met some great guys, met some interesting guys, met some guys that are trying way too hard, some that should try a little harder, and some that aren't paying much attention to what a girl is looking for. If you are 50, you are outside of my age range, and the same age as my dad. Why don't you talk to him about dating his daughter? Seriously.
Speaking of my dad, he was the one that suggested I give online dating a try. After picking my jaw up off the floor when I heard those words come out of his mouth, I protested the idea. And made it very clear that I did not need to resort to the internet for a date. Just yet. But in his defense, I was going through a breakup at the time and I'm sure he was only trying to help.
But when he suggested it again a few months later I started to wonder if he really was convinced I needed to consult with a team of relationship specialists that spend hours pouring over the profiles of the less fortunate single people like myself that just couldn't get it figured out on their own, matching people with their soul mates. Because I'm sure that's how it's done right? Based on some of the gents I was matched with, I highly doubt that is how it's done.
And obviously I gave in and decided to give it a shot. Or maybe I was just jilted by another failed relationship and thought at the very least I could give myself something to do. Being bored is an excellent reason to sign up for a dating site, it instantly gives you something to do. And plenty of people to talk to. Okay, so that's probably not the best reason, don't tell them I said that.
Out of all the guys I emailed, chatted with, texted, and talked on the phone with, I only met two. The first one didn't work out, but I am happy to have met him. He is a great guy, I hope some lucky girl finds him soon. The second one I completely blew off and didn't meet until months later.
It was near the end of October and I had been talking to and fighting off men I had met on Match for almost a month. I mean that in the very least vain way possible, if that is possible. It was growing old and I suddenly felt like the Bachelorette. I couldn't keep track of who I was emailing, who I was texting, who I was calling, who I was supposed to see on Thursday and then on Friday and who the heck was calling me from the 425 number or the 360 number. It was getting a little crazy. Even for me. I realized the fun of having multiple people interested in you was a novelty that was quick to wear off.
It was then that I met Craig. I honestly don't remember who contacted each other first. But we talked a little back and forth on the website, then exchanged phone numbers, and then made plans for our first date. He seemed like a nice guy, not someone I didn't trust giving my address to. And we had similar interests, such as hunting and being outdoors. Plus we could talk to each other easily enough over the phone.
And it was then that I blew Craig off. For someone else. Someone that I didn't meet on a dating website. Someone that I had dated before and had just come back into the picture. There was no guarantee that things would work out a second time around with so-and-so...but he was familiar to me. I already knew him and didn't have to worry about a blind date with someone I had met online. And after all the texts, phone calls, emails, and winks (a wink is way of letting someone know you are interested in them on Match) I was getting a little tired of the online dating game. So I kindly told Craig I was seeing someone else and removed my Match profile.
Almost two months later and I was still single. My hopeful attempt at second, or third, times the charm with that one guy didn't go as planned. Although this time around I was just fine with that. Realizing that we were better as friends and I was fine to be on my own, without any Match dates, I decided to just focus on myself and enjoy my last few months in Pullman before moving to Portland. I did not want a date, a boyfriend, or anything of that nature.
But life never really goes how you plan it, does it? I just couldn't help thinking about the guy that did want to go on a date with me that I blew off for the guy that didn't want to date me. Why do us women do that? Finally, I decided to text him. I wasn't interested in dating him, I just wanted to apologize. Why do us women also do that? Always feel the need to apologize, even to people we've never met face to face.
He had deleted my number. I don't blame him. After I told him who I was, we started catching up a little bit. And before I knew it, I had a date again. A date that should have happened two months ago.
We chose to go cut down a Christmas tree for my apartment. Before I could let myself get nervous, I had to figure out what to wear. Duh. Here was my dilemma: Does a girl look her best, without concerning herself with proper tree cutting attire? Or does she do the opposite? Dress for a walk in the woods and not care about the first date impression. Who do I want to be? "Fashion forward" Erica or "I Hunt and Like Spending Time in the Woods and am Not Afraid to Get Dirty" Erica? I decided to be myself. Which is a combination of both. I wore a cute, new top with cute, new jeans, my cowboy boots, and a vest to keep me warm. He later said I looked gorgeous. Awww. :)
It's a good thing I spotted my perfect Christmas tree within five minutes and we were back in the truck within ten. I really didn't want to ruin those new jeans.
It was the perfect first date. Almost as good as the perfect second date we had the next day. I'm not quite sure he believed me when I said I loved it, so I'll say it again. I loved the nearly two hour drive down to the Grand Ronde river where we walked, hiked, talked, and sat on a hill in a canyon, enjoying a beautiful, sunny day and watching the river below and the picture-perfect scenery around us. I knew then that this guy was definitely someone very special.
Craig, who I may refer to as "Mountain Man" in my posts, because he truly is a man that loves the outdoors and would probably spend most of his free time out in the wilderness, alone, hunting and watching wildlife, living off of nothing, and enjoying it. I completely admire him for this. I just won't let him plan the vacations.
I'm not sure I would suggest online dating to everyone. If you do find yourself sifting through profiles on Match.com or another similar site, just remember to have fun with it. And always trust your gut and be safe. I knew there was a reason why I couldn't get the guy I blew off and never met out of my head.
So I guess the internet is good for some things. It brought the world facebook. And it brought me my Mountain Man.
"Life is what happens when you are busy making other plans."
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Tip and Tricks for Getting Up Early. From a Gal That Loves to Sleep In.
I'm talkin very early. At least for me.
And yes, I have been MIA on this blog for a little too long. It's called the holidays, a busy season for anyone that is a part of a family or has a job. Which includes practically everyone. So gimme a break.
It's no secret that I like to sleep in. The snooze button is definitely my frenemy, which means I have a love/hate relationship with it. Love it at 6:15 when it first tells me to get up and I know I can hit it at least once, or maybe twice. And I absolutely despise it when it's ringing and vibrating somewhere under my pillow where I shoved it ten minutes ago. And now, 10 minutes later, and 30 minutes late, I am about ready to chuck it across the room as I shoot out of bed. By the way, this alarm clock is my iPhone, which I would never throw anywhere or at anything. Because we all know us iPhoners are addicted to our iPhones.
I'm a night owl and a childhood spent suffering from insomnia only secured my habit of staying up late. No longer a slave to staring blankly at a dark ceiling and praying for sleep to come, I stay up late because I like to. Going to bed at 8 or even 9pm seems so boring! I have TV shows, a Netflix movie, or both to watch before the next day. I have facebook that I must check regularly. A bottle, I mean a glass, of wine to drink. Dishes to do and clothes to put away while listening to Pandora. Or maybe even a blog to write. Online shopping. A night out with friends. A book I can't put down. I can think of plenty of reasons to stay up. Especially when I just have to get up and go to my job the next day. Because my days are committed to work, from 8am to 5pm, after I get home I want to do what I want to do, and take my time doing it.
Another thing I love to do on my own time is work out. I love to run. After joining a gym last year I started running again regularly for the first time in a long time. Getting up to six miles a day was my peak this summer. And then, after the carefree days of summer and long daylight hours had passed, I started to slip. A little each week until, to my unliking, I wasn't running or going to the gym at all. When I started at the gym I was going at 5:30 in the morning. But that barely gave me enough time to do a full workout without having to hurry back home to get ready for work. Then I started going right after work. Then I got so busy neither one of these seemed to satisfy my overpowering need to sleep in and take a nap the minute I got home from a long day.
What I have come to realize is that no matter how busy, tired, stressed, or crazed you are, the best thing you can do for yourself is keep up your regular, healthy habits. With my mind firmly set on breaking my non active cycle, I decided to make the gym my bff. Again. This time, I told myself the morning was my best bet. Leaving my evening to be taken up by whatever activity I desired. Whether it be cleaning, socializing, or curled up on my couch. But instead of the old 5:30am routine I knew that an earlier gym entrance was best. So now, my alarm wakes me up at 4:30am, ready or not.
As a self-proclaimed night owl and sleep-in-aholic, I have had to think of ways to trick myself into getting up this early. Here are some tips.
Go to bed early. Duh. This no-brainer becomes my biggest obstacle in getting up on time for an early morning. But I'm usually tired at about 7 or 8 pm. But too many times I just sit up until I get my second wind. A second wind is great on a Friday or Saturday night, but not when the amount of hours you can sleep is limited. Although I'm still working on this, I try and do something less active or requiring less thought when I start to get tired. Cleaning energizes me, so does a movie, and sometimes even a book. But if I have mellow music on and read a magazine, with shorter stories and articles, I get bored and give in to being tired more easily. Or, when you are tired and ready for bed, just go to bed. Turn off the lights, turn off your brain, and give in to sleep.
Set your alarm clock for the time you need to get up. Even though I am the snooze-button Queen, I have realized that if I hit snooze once I'll more than likely do it again. And again. All the while I'm not really even sleeping, just thinking of reasons why I should just stay in bed. So set the alarm for the time you need to get up and do it.
Turn on a light. If I turn on the light next to bed as soon as I turn off my alarm I wake up much faster. Even though it's nearly painful at first, turning on my light right away helps tremendously if I have any ideas about getting "just five more minutes".
Personalize your alarm. If possible. I have my iPhone alarm set as a ringtone. My alarm also has a name, which I have set as something that encourages me to get up. So when 4:30 hits and I reach for the alarm, it is not only a song that I associate with being motivated, but I am staring at the words "Be Your Best" and I'd feel way too guilty about shutting that off. If you don't have this capability, get a radio alarm clock or something similar. Switch it to a station that plays music that will help you wake up. And don't shut it off right away. Let it go on until your brain has registered the music and it starts to wake you up.
Stretch. Even if you plan on stretching at the gym, rejuvenate those tired limbs and get the blood flowing.
Start your car early. Especially this winter. Once your outside in the cold air you are sure to be wide awake. Go start your car then head back in to let it warm up and you can get ready.
Have your workout gear ready to go. Set out everything you need the night before. The pre-planning will give you the extra minutes to have a snack.
Eat something. Unless you are a robot and don't need fuel to keep you going. If I skip a pre-workout snack I lose steam quite quickly, feel hungry, and want to go home sooner. My morning pre-workout faves are a banana or a Fiber One bar. They are easy to eat on the go and don't fill me up too much to weigh me down while I'm logging miles on the treadmill.
Go to the gym. Obviously, this is a main point, but sometimes I wake up and can't shake the "I wanna go back to bed" blues. Even while feeling this way I make myself go to the gym. Once I'm there that feeling is usually gone. And I end up having a great workout. There was one time that I got to the gym and couldn't find the energy to get through my work out, so I cut it short and headed home for a quick 20 minute power nap before getting ready for work. In that situation, I really just needed the sleep. But that was just one time in the many, many times I just made myself at least get there. And isn't that half the battle?
I love my morning workouts. I loved my after work workouts too. But hitting the gym at the start of my day always makes it so much better. I feel more energized and find that's it's easier to continue making healthy choices throughout the day. It also helps to have a workout partner. My workout partner, Heather, is great at texting me in the morning, making sure I am up and ready. Even though I've come up with my own get-the-hell-outta-bed plan, it's encouraging to know I'm not the only one crazy enough to go running at 5am.
Happy Holidays everyone and may you make good, healthy choices...or deliciously naughty ones in the form of too many Christmas cookies, peanut brittle, and egg nog. I certainly will indulge a little...'tis the season!
Either way, enjoy yourself, your family, and all of your loved ones.
And yes, I have been MIA on this blog for a little too long. It's called the holidays, a busy season for anyone that is a part of a family or has a job. Which includes practically everyone. So gimme a break.
It's no secret that I like to sleep in. The snooze button is definitely my frenemy, which means I have a love/hate relationship with it. Love it at 6:15 when it first tells me to get up and I know I can hit it at least once, or maybe twice. And I absolutely despise it when it's ringing and vibrating somewhere under my pillow where I shoved it ten minutes ago. And now, 10 minutes later, and 30 minutes late, I am about ready to chuck it across the room as I shoot out of bed. By the way, this alarm clock is my iPhone, which I would never throw anywhere or at anything. Because we all know us iPhoners are addicted to our iPhones.
I'm a night owl and a childhood spent suffering from insomnia only secured my habit of staying up late. No longer a slave to staring blankly at a dark ceiling and praying for sleep to come, I stay up late because I like to. Going to bed at 8 or even 9pm seems so boring! I have TV shows, a Netflix movie, or both to watch before the next day. I have facebook that I must check regularly. A bottle, I mean a glass, of wine to drink. Dishes to do and clothes to put away while listening to Pandora. Or maybe even a blog to write. Online shopping. A night out with friends. A book I can't put down. I can think of plenty of reasons to stay up. Especially when I just have to get up and go to my job the next day. Because my days are committed to work, from 8am to 5pm, after I get home I want to do what I want to do, and take my time doing it.
Another thing I love to do on my own time is work out. I love to run. After joining a gym last year I started running again regularly for the first time in a long time. Getting up to six miles a day was my peak this summer. And then, after the carefree days of summer and long daylight hours had passed, I started to slip. A little each week until, to my unliking, I wasn't running or going to the gym at all. When I started at the gym I was going at 5:30 in the morning. But that barely gave me enough time to do a full workout without having to hurry back home to get ready for work. Then I started going right after work. Then I got so busy neither one of these seemed to satisfy my overpowering need to sleep in and take a nap the minute I got home from a long day.
What I have come to realize is that no matter how busy, tired, stressed, or crazed you are, the best thing you can do for yourself is keep up your regular, healthy habits. With my mind firmly set on breaking my non active cycle, I decided to make the gym my bff. Again. This time, I told myself the morning was my best bet. Leaving my evening to be taken up by whatever activity I desired. Whether it be cleaning, socializing, or curled up on my couch. But instead of the old 5:30am routine I knew that an earlier gym entrance was best. So now, my alarm wakes me up at 4:30am, ready or not.
As a self-proclaimed night owl and sleep-in-aholic, I have had to think of ways to trick myself into getting up this early. Here are some tips.
Go to bed early. Duh. This no-brainer becomes my biggest obstacle in getting up on time for an early morning. But I'm usually tired at about 7 or 8 pm. But too many times I just sit up until I get my second wind. A second wind is great on a Friday or Saturday night, but not when the amount of hours you can sleep is limited. Although I'm still working on this, I try and do something less active or requiring less thought when I start to get tired. Cleaning energizes me, so does a movie, and sometimes even a book. But if I have mellow music on and read a magazine, with shorter stories and articles, I get bored and give in to being tired more easily. Or, when you are tired and ready for bed, just go to bed. Turn off the lights, turn off your brain, and give in to sleep.
Set your alarm clock for the time you need to get up. Even though I am the snooze-button Queen, I have realized that if I hit snooze once I'll more than likely do it again. And again. All the while I'm not really even sleeping, just thinking of reasons why I should just stay in bed. So set the alarm for the time you need to get up and do it.
Turn on a light. If I turn on the light next to bed as soon as I turn off my alarm I wake up much faster. Even though it's nearly painful at first, turning on my light right away helps tremendously if I have any ideas about getting "just five more minutes".
Personalize your alarm. If possible. I have my iPhone alarm set as a ringtone. My alarm also has a name, which I have set as something that encourages me to get up. So when 4:30 hits and I reach for the alarm, it is not only a song that I associate with being motivated, but I am staring at the words "Be Your Best" and I'd feel way too guilty about shutting that off. If you don't have this capability, get a radio alarm clock or something similar. Switch it to a station that plays music that will help you wake up. And don't shut it off right away. Let it go on until your brain has registered the music and it starts to wake you up.
Stretch. Even if you plan on stretching at the gym, rejuvenate those tired limbs and get the blood flowing.
Start your car early. Especially this winter. Once your outside in the cold air you are sure to be wide awake. Go start your car then head back in to let it warm up and you can get ready.
Have your workout gear ready to go. Set out everything you need the night before. The pre-planning will give you the extra minutes to have a snack.
Eat something. Unless you are a robot and don't need fuel to keep you going. If I skip a pre-workout snack I lose steam quite quickly, feel hungry, and want to go home sooner. My morning pre-workout faves are a banana or a Fiber One bar. They are easy to eat on the go and don't fill me up too much to weigh me down while I'm logging miles on the treadmill.
Go to the gym. Obviously, this is a main point, but sometimes I wake up and can't shake the "I wanna go back to bed" blues. Even while feeling this way I make myself go to the gym. Once I'm there that feeling is usually gone. And I end up having a great workout. There was one time that I got to the gym and couldn't find the energy to get through my work out, so I cut it short and headed home for a quick 20 minute power nap before getting ready for work. In that situation, I really just needed the sleep. But that was just one time in the many, many times I just made myself at least get there. And isn't that half the battle?
I love my morning workouts. I loved my after work workouts too. But hitting the gym at the start of my day always makes it so much better. I feel more energized and find that's it's easier to continue making healthy choices throughout the day. It also helps to have a workout partner. My workout partner, Heather, is great at texting me in the morning, making sure I am up and ready. Even though I've come up with my own get-the-hell-outta-bed plan, it's encouraging to know I'm not the only one crazy enough to go running at 5am.
Happy Holidays everyone and may you make good, healthy choices...or deliciously naughty ones in the form of too many Christmas cookies, peanut brittle, and egg nog. I certainly will indulge a little...'tis the season!
Either way, enjoy yourself, your family, and all of your loved ones.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Dustin' Pullman off my Boots and Headed Somewhere New
This is the secret I was telling you about.
Although it's no secret to many of my friends and family by now. And it's true, this small town, country girl is puttin' Pullman in her rear view mirror and headin' for the city. It's been an idea of mine that has been working itself out in my head, then into conversations with friends and family, and now has come to life as a real, set in stone plan. It hasn't been an easy decision. I love Pullman. I've called Pullman home for over seven years now. I love the friends I've made here and the family that I've become a part of. It will always hold a very special place in my heart and who knows, I may come back. Someday.
So where am I headed? It wasn't exactly a choice of where I wanted to go but rather, what I want to do, that led me to choose my destination. First of all, I love the Moscow-Pullman Daily News and all of my coworkers, which really is like a family, and that's no lie. But what I do now is not what I feel will fulfill me. I've felt that something was missing, in both this job and my previous job. Not that I could ever put my finger on it, but I knew that I wasn't doing what I was meant to do. I wasn't fully using my God-given talents and abilities. And for a long time I had no idea what those talents and abilities were. I thought of the many different jobs I could have and the different ways I could express the things I love doing. I thought of becoming a teacher, a Real Estate agent, an event coordinator. I thought maybe a change of location would help. But no matter what I thought of, or where I searched, I still felt lost.
I believe in doing something that you truly love and enjoy doing. I wanted to find something that I was passionate about. I just had no idea what it could be. It's been a very frustrating journey. But I'm thankful for the route that I took. I've met some amazing people and learned valuable lessons along the way.
I've always been artistic. When I was little I was singing and dancing and demanding a hand-crafted spotlight to perform in front of my family. Then I was writing stories, first on paper, then on the computer. I was making up plays. I was painting. I was drawing. When I was twelve I started drawing a lot. It was sketches of real people that I'd pull out of magazines. Okay, so it was more like sketches of Leo DiCaprio and other celebrities that I had a crush on. But those sketches were good. Really good for a twelve year old. I was in band, I was in drama, even taking the lead role two years in row. And of course, as you know, I started a blog. I never thought as myself as an artist; just someone that enjoyed expressing myself artistically. I guess that's why I never considered an artistic career an option.
And as you should know by now, I love clothes. And shoes. And accessories. All that pretty stuff that make up the world of fashion. One day I realized that I am passionate enough about this stuff that I could make a career about it. Then one evening, while watching Real Housewives of New Jersey on TV I saw a commercial for the Art Institute. Talk about a light bulb idea moment. In the next five minutes I had logged onto the website for the Art Institutes and had requested more information.
Now, weeks later, I have applied to and visited the Art Institute in the city of my choice. And in April 2012 I will be attending the Art Institute for a degree in Fashion Marketing. Thankfully, 60 of my WSU credits transferred into this three year program, knocking off a whole year and a lotta money, making it a slightly less expensive two year program for me. This particular degree is very broad and the possibilities are endless once I've graduated. I could be a buyer, a stylist, a merchandiser, work in marketing, work in management, or even write for a fashion magazine.
The weekend I went to visit the college a lot of things clicked for me. Many of my God-given talents are artistic. And if I'm not able to express myself artistically, I won't feel fulfilled. I could have gone with one of my other choices, such as pursuing a career as a teacher. I'm sure I would have made a great teacher and would have felt fulfillment from the children that I would have taught. But my life did not lead me down that path. And I feel very certain, for the first time in a long time, that I am headed in the right direction.
So where am I headed? I am attending the Art Institute of Portland.
Portland, Oregon. For those of you smarty pants that may suggest I meant Portland, Maine.
I'm so excited to take you all with me as me and my boots find new adventures. When I created this blog and put "Dirt Roads. City Sidewalks. Follow us wherever we go" as the sub heading, I really had no idea how true that would become.
Although it's no secret to many of my friends and family by now. And it's true, this small town, country girl is puttin' Pullman in her rear view mirror and headin' for the city. It's been an idea of mine that has been working itself out in my head, then into conversations with friends and family, and now has come to life as a real, set in stone plan. It hasn't been an easy decision. I love Pullman. I've called Pullman home for over seven years now. I love the friends I've made here and the family that I've become a part of. It will always hold a very special place in my heart and who knows, I may come back. Someday.
So where am I headed? It wasn't exactly a choice of where I wanted to go but rather, what I want to do, that led me to choose my destination. First of all, I love the Moscow-Pullman Daily News and all of my coworkers, which really is like a family, and that's no lie. But what I do now is not what I feel will fulfill me. I've felt that something was missing, in both this job and my previous job. Not that I could ever put my finger on it, but I knew that I wasn't doing what I was meant to do. I wasn't fully using my God-given talents and abilities. And for a long time I had no idea what those talents and abilities were. I thought of the many different jobs I could have and the different ways I could express the things I love doing. I thought of becoming a teacher, a Real Estate agent, an event coordinator. I thought maybe a change of location would help. But no matter what I thought of, or where I searched, I still felt lost.
I believe in doing something that you truly love and enjoy doing. I wanted to find something that I was passionate about. I just had no idea what it could be. It's been a very frustrating journey. But I'm thankful for the route that I took. I've met some amazing people and learned valuable lessons along the way.
I've always been artistic. When I was little I was singing and dancing and demanding a hand-crafted spotlight to perform in front of my family. Then I was writing stories, first on paper, then on the computer. I was making up plays. I was painting. I was drawing. When I was twelve I started drawing a lot. It was sketches of real people that I'd pull out of magazines. Okay, so it was more like sketches of Leo DiCaprio and other celebrities that I had a crush on. But those sketches were good. Really good for a twelve year old. I was in band, I was in drama, even taking the lead role two years in row. And of course, as you know, I started a blog. I never thought as myself as an artist; just someone that enjoyed expressing myself artistically. I guess that's why I never considered an artistic career an option.
And as you should know by now, I love clothes. And shoes. And accessories. All that pretty stuff that make up the world of fashion. One day I realized that I am passionate enough about this stuff that I could make a career about it. Then one evening, while watching Real Housewives of New Jersey on TV I saw a commercial for the Art Institute. Talk about a light bulb idea moment. In the next five minutes I had logged onto the website for the Art Institutes and had requested more information.
Now, weeks later, I have applied to and visited the Art Institute in the city of my choice. And in April 2012 I will be attending the Art Institute for a degree in Fashion Marketing. Thankfully, 60 of my WSU credits transferred into this three year program, knocking off a whole year and a lotta money, making it a slightly less expensive two year program for me. This particular degree is very broad and the possibilities are endless once I've graduated. I could be a buyer, a stylist, a merchandiser, work in marketing, work in management, or even write for a fashion magazine.
The weekend I went to visit the college a lot of things clicked for me. Many of my God-given talents are artistic. And if I'm not able to express myself artistically, I won't feel fulfilled. I could have gone with one of my other choices, such as pursuing a career as a teacher. I'm sure I would have made a great teacher and would have felt fulfillment from the children that I would have taught. But my life did not lead me down that path. And I feel very certain, for the first time in a long time, that I am headed in the right direction.
So where am I headed? I am attending the Art Institute of Portland.
Portland, Oregon. For those of you smarty pants that may suggest I meant Portland, Maine.
I'm so excited to take you all with me as me and my boots find new adventures. When I created this blog and put "Dirt Roads. City Sidewalks. Follow us wherever we go" as the sub heading, I really had no idea how true that would become.
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