It's a Perfect Day to Get Lost Today

So, I received another inspirational text the other day, that I absolutely must share:

"It's a perfect day to get lost today." (Yes, Joanna, it was you)

Sound inspirational? Maybe, maybe not, but in the midst of all the chaos and rain of that day, I wished I could've simply escaped it all...if only by accident.

And coming from a person that gets lost ALOT... unintentionally, that is telling you something. That being lost sometimes means having the opportunity of finding your way back (or not). Of having the possibility of being found.

Making three left turns (instead of two) and ending up in front of the same person that gave you instructions on how to get home in the first place. Losing all sense of direction as soon as you hit your own alley (assuming you had any to begin with).

Then you know.

 You just know,

things can only get better.

Because after you visit a place 40 times, you know in time, you will learn to get there without a GPS.

...In time

In time...

The Symphony of Possibilities

"When I was a kid, if a guy got killed in a western movie I always wondered who got his horse." (George Carlin)

So life has really turned a wheel on me lately. I guess I have become accustomed to a life devoid of motion. Not looking forward to the world beyond. Not wondering what tomorrow will hold.

Not dreaming like a child

Not daring to get my shoes dirty in the sandbox. Not letting my ponytail go during the drive back home after work. Not leaving the ketchup on my lower lip untouched when I know people are indeed watching. Not smiling to a very grumpy lady that rams her cart ON TO my feet in the grocery store.

Not believing I can do it all

But, you see...I have permission to do it all

I have a duty to do it all

Becuase I am invinsible...

With God

I know the quote may sound barbaric to some or gruesome to others. But as children, we don't miss a thing. If one thing goes wrong, there are aleast a million other things waiting to go right. And as of late, I have noticed that spark in me... blow out. That enthusiasm that would keep me up at night, dreaming of my future. The can-do attitude that made me happy. In my own little world, I was a fighter. I was fighting obstacles, circumstances, real-life bullies.

ANYWAY

I am close to getting a promotion. At work. Something I had no time to dream of. No strength to dream of. As soon as I heard the possibility of a promotion, I put it aside and said to myself I would not get my hopes up.

Yet here I am. Awaiting my third interview... with the district manager. Something I would've only dreamt of as a child. Not that it's a great position, but it's definitely improving.

So I am telling you, Marlen;) Please dare to dream. To laugh. To feel the breeze on your face. With your windows down. On a hot day. To find God. To love.

It's Not Really Yours...

“Nothing that you have not given away will ever be really yours.”

After I read this quote... I was touched. I felt like quitting my job and taking the first trip to Columbia, where there are hundreds of orphanages packed with abandoned children in Bogota. I felt like giving away all of my belongings and donating them to the Salvation Army. Like shaving off my hair and giving it to someone going through chemo.

***I felt like not being me.***

Like not being selfish. Not holding back love. Because by not giving love, love will really never be mine. By not telling someone else I have forgiven them, forgiveness will never be mine. If I don't learn to let go of a piece of chocolate, no one else will ever think to give me one... in time of necessity. So, point in case:

"Nothing that you have not given away will ever be really yours."

If I don't give up some of my time, my time will never be mine. I will belong to the clock. I will be controlled by the clock.

But last week at church, I was taken back to Jesus' times. The times when showing your necessity with no regard for what others around you think is in itself, a necessity.
...A young mother ran inside of our church with her three small, defenseless children. The father followed behind. With a key in his hand. The key he used to slash her throat. I froze in that moment, not knowing how to react. My perfectly timed clock froze. I saw pain. I witnessed the hard reality of life.

Inside was the woman and her children crying. Outside was the father crying. He was fighting the tears, but they were still coming.

"I can't change.

NO. NO. No. I can't."

And I realized.... This is what we are here for. For the broken. The hurt. To cry with them. To grow with them. Leave aside differences and simply love.

So let's give love. Then we will receive it in our hearts until it blooms. Blooms until it can bloom no more.

Until next time....

The FOREVER 21 Syndrome...

Dear FOREVER 21,

I am disappointed! You lied. You made me feel FOREVER young. Forever chic. Forever 21. You should be ashamed, dear Forever 21. I bought your clothes. I saved hard-earned pennies for your cute blouses. Those seemingly cheap headbands... I bought them! Yes, and I never even wear them. I was a faithful FOREVER 21 clearance shopper, I must admit. But I was still faithful! The nerve of you.. to lie.. to cheat!

I could take you picking in my little pockets. But lying? No. NEVER. I could take buying a $10 hair pin. A pin I worked an hour of sitting in front of my work computer to buy. But don't you EVER tell me I am FOREVER 21...  again. Getting a year older has brought me wisdom. No more $8 trendy tights. Target... here I come. Yes, I shall pay a good $5 more, but atleast you wont lie.

It has dawned. The Age of Wisdom and Understanding. The Age of lies. The Age of newfound truth.

                        ***I am no longer 21***

I promise my next blog will speak hope and inspiration. But right now, I am simply the girl who is no longer 21. Tomorrow I will speak poverty and third world hunger. I shall speak in regards to the negative impact McDonald's has on the children of America. The adults of America.

But today I am on strike. I am standing outside of the doors of FOREVER 21, holding a sign, wearing my JC Penny shirt and K-Mart jacket. A sign that reads: Don't Believe the LIE. I am shredding my $80 gift card from this wretched store. The card I am planning on receiving tomorrow. From my co-workers. The co-workers who no longer know me. The NEW me. The me that hates Forever 21.

Tomorrow, I will speak inspiration. I will speak moving on. Letting go. Today, I am resentful. I am sickened. I really want to shop. Really. REALLY. Want to shop. Must shop FOREVER 21. But I know I have not learned resistance in vain...

I have not gone to COLD STONE in about 2 WHOLE WEEKS. No "Gotta Have It", Founders Favorite. Strawberry and coffee icecream creation. Dear $5.65, I have learned to take care of you.  I have not indulged in an iced coffee in almost a week. No x-cream, x-sugar, hazelnut/toasted almond flavor delight. No money in the world can compare to the art of self-control. My friends are testimony to that. I have taught them that food never compares to the "penny saved, penny earned" theory of satisfaction.

They have learned from me that nutrition must always come before craving. An apple a day keeps the doctor at bay. I mean, I have not gone to the dentist in a VERY long time. And I haven't even needed the apples. After all, McDonald's sells great APPLE pies for only $1. And it says  "Low Fat" on the back. My toothpaste actually prevents gingivitis. Not to mention my inclination for chicken ceasar salad. With extra ceasar dressing on the side. Who needs to floss? The dressing gets anything stuck... unstuck.
You don't know how much of a consolation it is to know that I am indeed a healthy eater. When I go to Burger King for my double Whopper, I always ask for no cheese. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the extra charge.  

Tune in tomorrow, my friends. Because tomorrow isn't here yet and I am already inspired. In a positive light: Love. Eternal life. Health. Abuse prevention... Watch OUT! Becuase this cavity-free, no-longer-21- girl is inspired. I'm not saying I won't feel down in the dumps tomorrow, but I shall definitely be inspired.

P.S. Dalia, Marlen, and Kiara thanks for yesterday! Kenia, thanks for your smile. JZ, thanks for being you. Joanna, thanks for not letting go and holding on! Jenny, thanks for your inspiration in my life. JM, thanks for your present last night! Senia, Lupita, thankyou for showing me that silence sometimes speaks more than words. Mirian, thanks for reading my blog! Mayra, you little sucker... I love you! To all of you: Thank you for contributing to my "healthy eating". Hee hee hee.

The Elusive "Mr. Right"

I received a text a few days ago from a very special friend. In her text, she wrote the following:

"Did you hear I found Mr. Right?!"

I, ofcourse, freaked out and replied, "OMG!!! Who?" Considering that we are both single, I thought maybe God showed her a glimpse of her dream guy.... because it's important to have some sort of idea.

"He gives me eternal life. He walks on water. He is Perfect!! He shines like the sun. He will never leave me. He is a Prince! He died for me! He knows the desires of my heart. He opens the door. he loves me!! I FOUND MR. RIGHT!!!!"

Sad to say, I was disappointed. I had wanted something thrilling. Something exciting out of an oh-so ordinary life. Becuase, you know, after you've seen one customer, you've pretty much seen them all. After you take the same route home every. single. day, you've definitely no risk of getting lost. After your sister gets married and the wedding bells have stopped ringing for over a week, life seems so bland. The romance of it all escapes you.

That's where it helps to have someone like my dear friend remind me of the ultimate romance. The ultimate sacrifice made by...made by love.

And a very special book comes to mind. Now, I know you are thinking the Bible, but in this case, I have to say no. The book is called "Never the Bride". I read it during a very trying time in my life, as did my sister who is six years older than I. She was in sheer desperation and curiosity of who would be her special "Mr. Right". We both went on a journey during the time we read page 1 and concluded with page 100- something.

It showed me a visual of who Jesus is. Of just how much he loves me. In that book, He told me just what my soul had been yearning to hear. That I am loved. I am special. I am worthwhile. In that book, Jesus dined with me. He cooked for me. He cried with me. He understood. my. pain.

In that book, I didn't marry who I thought was perfect for me. I married Him. I fell in love with Him first. And it was just what I had wanted all along. No more purple pen ideologies. No more hollow dreams of Mr. Right. I learned that surrendering my special "purple pen" is indispensible. Not surrendering my imagination, hopes, dreams, or aspirations for my future- "one and only", but letting God make the Ultimate decision.

Needless to say, my sister was engaged a few weeks after terminating the last chapter of the book. I make it sound as though the book made it happen. I know. But in my opinion, it kind of did. When she finished the book, she concluded a chapter in her life. The chapter that ends with surrendering her purple pen and diary, filled with hopes of her future wealthy, Italian husband, and all. Surrendering that to her here and now.

To all my Fellow Single Female Friends:

Let us surrender our Purple Pen, dispose of our doubts. After all, we are surrendering to the One who CREATED romance... 

Heads Up Girls! Here comes the Bouquet...

I guess I threw in the title above to lighten up the mood. The mood of my whole blog. The blog I have been avoiding to write.

Henceforth, we shall ignore the fact that I have been melancholy for the past week. We shall omit the fact that my whole family has been down in the dumps with sadness for what feels like a funeral ambiance. Our precious Mayelli has left us. No one will mention my mother's last-minute tantrum attack moments before the ceremony began. Or how the photographer was barred from the dressing room, where she had hoped to capture those last heartfelt moments. Needless to say, if we had allowed her entrance into the small room, the pictures taken would definitely have been heartfelt. Because my mother was angry and frustrated for "heartfelt" reasons not worth mentioning. 

My guess is that the ONLY thing worth mentioning would be my sister's calmness throughout her last minutes of "singlehood" and her complete oblivion to the chaos around her. Don't get me wrong, my sister has a history for smiling in the most innapropriate moments and laughing after seeing me in a fit of rage. That is her way of being Mayelli, of "lightening up the mood".

In that particular moment, she simply did what she could do best: look absolutely charming and gloriously pretty, feathers, sparkles, birdcage veil, bouncy curls, and all. It was only her and her thoughts of the nervous guy wiggling uncontrollably on the opposite side of the altar. The guy who forgot how to stand, how to smile, how to think straight at that point in their time. He was the perfect example of what a guy should feel as he stands at the front of the altar in desperation to see his beloved.

SO, back to the bouquet...

The moment we had all been waiting for. The moment that predicts our future as single women. Or so French tradition goes.The lucky one to catch the bundle of flowers will indeed marry next. Ha. That is precisely why I did NOT want to stand up and participate. All eyes watching. Gawkers gawking. There I am standing to the side, hoping not to be noticed, while some other girl catches the bouquet, when the bouquet hits me on the shoulder. And I grab it. Before my sister's gorgeous bouquet shatters on the floor.

Call it destiny or just bad luck. Or perhaps nothing at all. 

All in all, I enjoyed my sister's wedding. I adored the colors and the theme, which seemed unclear when she was presenting it to me.

And I was able to contemplate talent. Our talent. The talent of my mother. The talent of friends (thanks Kiara and Jenny!). Talent that I hope very soon to share with the world. Perhaps a wedding coordinating business. Or a top class flower shop. Why not a European bakery? Or wedding catering? Alright, alright, I guess I'm still in the wedding mode, where all I think about are flowers and last-minute decorating. But I found out we are good. Oh man, are we good!

Mayelli, you have my utmost gratitude. You are a top-class sister, daughter, and friend. Thanks for not slapping me across the face when I deserved it. Thanks for taking the role of bread provider. Thank you for not running away from it all. Above all, thank you for your sunshine! I love you, sis!

The Wedding Blues. That is.... in my opinion

Yes, it's a time for celebrating... or so the saying goes. Where the past stays in the past and the blooming future is the here and now. The day that starts off with hair salon visits and last-minute makeup applications. Where dresses and shawls become our main object of torture and the cake is all there is to look forward to. Hearts beating. Armpits gasping for air. Human ribcages constricted to the point of sure death by suffocation. There will be singing and laughing. Crying and wailing. Eating and gawking at any and all passersby.

But surely and most certainly, there will be begging.

Because as sure as the sun sets in the east, my heart will be secretly wishing this moment had not arrived. My heart will beg her to stay and have at least one more late-night chit chat about matters of the heart.

One more cruise down the lake... together as single sisters. And although we are both young, but grown adults, I'd like for us to tease and joke like old times for at least one more decade. As crazy as it sounds, I would put up with 5 more years of her wreckless roomate tendancies all for the sake of having more sister-to-sister moments.

But the day is almost here. The countdown has begun...

The day that my elder sister marries her childhood "enemy"/ now-apple of her eye- fiance.

From the moment she says her "I do", I will officially be second or third or fourth in her life. Selfish. I know. But understand. This is heart-breaking for me.

I am transporting to a different stage in my life. Not exactly sure why, but I feel this weird sensation in my bones that tells me... times are about to change in more ways than one. But in a good way. In a depressingly, new good way. Like when you are down to your last cupcake and a little girl asks to have it. You do nothing but say yes. It's sad, but for the greater good.

So now, I pray. I pray that she lives a fairytale romance. Not something perfect, but something real. Where heartfelt emotion lives in the air they breathe. Where her husband becomes more than a husband, but a prayer warrior. A romance led by  the One who designed romance, God.