Better late than…never?

In life sometimes I think you find people who you never imagined living without… be it a new friend that feels like an old one or a significant other than makes you think of “the one.”  When you find that special someone, you have to hang on and never let go.  You have to put in the effort and the work that relationships take.  You have to sacrifice.  You have to give all you have.  And more than anything, you have to compromise.  Working towards a relationship is the most rewarding work I’ve ever known.  You don’t get a paycheck every two weeks, instead you get a priceless, living, breathing, thing that you have to cherish and never take for granted. 

When I met Dennis, something about him stuck with me.  Maybe it was the pink shirt, the suspenders, or the smile…or maybe it was his sense of humor.  At the time, I absolutely couldn’t place it.  I couldn’t explain it better than the “something” that I felt.  As we got to know each other, I found that underneath a seemingly tough exterior, there was a vulnerable, caring, sensitive man.  Dennis opened up to me and I found that I trusted him.  We had our share of ups and downs as any two people do as their figuring out the ins and outs of the others personality…but in the end we always came back to each other with the mutual understanding that we would never be better off without the other.  We fell into a love that surprised us both in some ways, and made perfect sense in others. 

I stare down at the ring on my left hand and I can’t help but smile.  At times I’m still completely shocked that it’s mine…that he’s mine…that this life we have and will continue to build is ours forever.  I truly believe that marriage is a commitment, a promise, a sacrament.  Through all the work we’ll put into it, we’ll have twice as many laughs.  Dennis is my rock, my center, my calm.  He knows when I need a hug and a shoulder, and when I need to be tickled.  He knows when I need motivation, and when I need praise.  He challenges me to come out of my shell when I’m tempted to cave in.  At times I feel like he knows me better than I know myself. 

I love him more than I ever knew I could love someone.  I will support him and cheer him on, give him a friendly nudge and make him do the dishes.  I’ll love him through it all.  I found my “one” and I believe in real life fairy tales….tales where two people who love each other unconditionally and make a commitment to building a life together.  Mine is just beginning…but I have a feeling there’s going to be a happy ending. 

Talkin’ bout love tonight folks

I have always had the mindset that if you really love someone or care about them, you should tell them as well as show them.  So many people are afraid to tell other people they love them, like the other person has to say it first.  I don’t think it should be a game. I don’t think we should hold back.  Life is too short.  We don’t know what tomorrow brings.

I want to look back and know that I went all in with everything. I want to be smart in my decisions but I hope I live my life as much with the direction of my head as with my heart.

Those wishes worked…

It is easy to forget about this blog.  Really easy and very unintentional.  But considering the last post was my desperate plea for a job, I think it is worth noting that a short month after that post I found something.

I never pictured myself as a person that would work in mortgages.  I am a customer advocate, and that part makes sense.  But mortgages?  Me?  Hmmm…  I think it is great that life hands you things sometimes just to see what you’ll do with them.  I could have passed at this job without a blink of the eye.  But something was intriguing.  And I am so thankful that I gave it a shot.  Even if the job was miserable, which it certainly is not, the people that I have met in this experience would make it completely worth it.  I am finally meeting like-minded people that I can truly relate to.  I love it.  I was bitter when I moved out here a year ago because I have amazing friends all over the country, and none of them were in Denver. The decision to move to Denver was all my own, but a girl can still be bitter.

But I found some MORE amazing friends. And they are fantastic.  There are always opportunities to meet new people and open yourself up to the possibility of influencing/being influenced in a really positive way and this experience has taught me to always be open to those opportunities. I am in a very different place than I was barely over a year ago today.  I took an incredible risk moving out here on my own and I almost gave it up about 17 times, but my gut was right again.  I made the right decision.

I will forever be grateful to my friends and family for supporting me in all of my crazy, somewhat irrational, life choices.  When I am at my lowest they remind me that it will get better, or they pour me a glass of wine and listen to me blather on about how I don’t have a clue what I am doing.  I truly am faking it until I make it.   Regardless, I wouldn’t be half the person I am today if it wasn’t for the people in my life that always stand by and support me.  I am a lucky lady.  A lucky lady with great new friends and a job that pays more than the bills.  I am going to soak up this content feeling for a little while. Knowing me it won’t last terribly long. 

What should I do with my life?

I truly believe that this is a question people ask themselves until their final days.  Do we ever really know what we are meant to do with our lives?  I don’t know.  I think we just do the best we can and fight the constant battle of needing to pay the bills but wanting something more out of a career.  I am in the interesting limbo period of life after college, especially when I didn’t major in anything that directed me to a specific career.  Don’t get me wrong, I am very pleased with my English major and accompanying Business minor, I just didn’t realize how hard it would be to get into anything let alone the perfect job.  I search and search and send and send resumes and cover letters until my fingers bleed, but in the world of online applications it is incredibly difficult to make a good first impression (or an impression at all).  I scour websites looking for a direct email address and not just a “submit-your-resume-and-never-email-us-here-again” address.

I refuse to give up because I know that I will find a job that is fulfilling and exciting and one that hopefully gives me financial stability, but I can’t help but be a little discouraged.  So cross your fingers and wish on shooting stars that somewhere, someday, I find whatever it is that I’m looking for.

Confusing the Masses

Today we are talking about a little known coffee company called Starbucks. This has absolutely nothing to do with their coffee products however and everything to do with their confusing language.  I find it amazing that a company can use actual words that have actual meanings to represent entirely different things.  And nobody is saying anything about.  In fact we all just go along with it and join in the confusion epidemic that is becoming commonplace in coffee shops.

I have always been on the receiving/explaining end of these confusing interactions because I have never worked in Starbucks, but instead at J&S Coffee Co. and Peet’s Coffee and Tea.  The sizes at both of these coffee shops are small, medium, and large.  Pretty standard, not-meant-to-trick-you names that are universally known as describing the smallest choice, the largest choice, and the choice in the middle.  Starbucks, however, simply couldn’t just be happy with the fact that they were making gourmet coffee accessible and relatively affordable to the American consumer market.  They needed to create their own language to describe not only their drink sizes but also their specialty drinks.  I wonder how many Italians are rolling their eyes at this very instant at the American-born coffee company who uses their ancient language to represent things that make absolutely no sense.

Let me explain myself.  I truly believe that ignorance is bliss in the world of coffee.  I wish I could get my ignorance back on the subject because knowing what things actually mean only causes headaches for me when trying to explain things to a few hundred customers a day.  Lately a long southern drawl has been accompanying these customers and if I have to hear “Ya’ll have macchiato here?” one more time I just might get violent.  So for those of you who don’t know, here is the Starbucks language decoded.

For drink sizes:

“Short”:  was originally the size of their smallest beverage.

“Tall”: was originally the size of their largest beverage.

These two drinks alone would not cause confusion.  It appears that Starbucks was just getting creative and letting their two drink sizes be described as one might describe a person’s height.  Perfectly acceptable.  However, when Starbucks expanded or decided to create even more sizes, they should have just changed the names of their cup sizes to accommodate.  Let’s look at the sizes they added later on.

“Grande”: was meant to represent the next size up.  “Grande” means large is many languages but in Starbucks-land it represents the size greater than “Tall” but smaller than “Venti.”  So “Grande” means large but they customer is actually getting the middle size (the short fell by the wayside for the most part and is not listed on the menu).  People are still going to associate “Tall” as the biggest drink choice because tall literally means to be “high in stature” or of “considerable height” but in Starbucks-land it now represents a small size.  Are you confused yet?  Because I sure am.  Moving on to the next size up.

“Venti”: means 20 in Italian.  As in it represents the number “20.”  The reason why this is so frustrating to me is because it was the fourth size option created and because nothing logical would directly follow “short”, “tall”, and “grande” Starbucks just added another ridiculous element to the list.  You might argue that a large hot beverage cup holds 20 ounces of liquid so using the Italian word for 20 makes some sense.  I would argue that their large cold beverage cup holds 24 ounces so their logic fails.  I could continue with the fact that the number 20 alone does not represent liquid measurement but I think you get my point.

To recap, Starbucks originally had only two drink choices but once they realized they could capitalize on the American public’s need for everything to be gigantic and in excess they created more size options.  They completely disregarded the fact that their language made no sense whatsoever anymore and apparently no one suggested that this might confuse thousands of people for years to come.  But now it is 2011 and Starbucks has decided that America can take one more ridiculously large size added to their menu; because honestly, you can never have too much of a good thing, right?  Enter the “Trenta.”

“Trenta”: means 30 in Italian.  At least they decided to use the same language this time around and follow in the footsteps of the “Venti,” but the “Trenta” represents a 31 ounce drink cup.  31 ounces.  Seriously.  Who in their right mind needs 31 ounces of ANYTHING, unless it is water?  Nobody does.  31 ounces of coffee should be called “heart attack in a cup” with the disclaimer “please don’t sue us because you are a greedy bastard.”

The last item of confusion that I would like to clarify is the “Macchiato.”  Macchiato means “marked” or “stained” in Italian.  In the coffee world it represents either espresso marked with steamed milk/foam (Caffe or Espresso Macchiato) or steamed milk marked with espresso (Latte Macchiato).  It never in any land except for Starbucks land represents a vanilla latte with caramel drizzle all over the top.  That doesn’t make sense, does it?  Not even a little bit.  The popular “Caramel Macchiato” as created by Starbucks is one of the most ridiculous drinks I have ever heard of.  I didn’t know until a few months ago when I asked some ex-Starbucks workers, what was actually in the drink.  When I discovered it was simply a vanilla latte (espresso, vanilla syrup, steamed milk) drizzled with caramel, my jaw dropped a little bit.  The beautiful Italian word “Macchiato”, which is used in countless coffee shops to represent a drink that actually makes sense, is the name of a sugary imposter invented by Starbucks.  Seriously.

Why do they get to use actual words to represent whatever they want?  I just don’t get it.  Perhaps one day when I am not behind an espresso machine “caffeinating the masses,” as I like to put it, this won’t bug me as much.  But for now it does, so I am telling you about it.  So you can be pissed off too.

Power of Prayer

As much as I silently waver in my faith and question just about everything, the undeniable power of prayer that I have experienced has me biting my tongue.  Each morning I’ve started asking for strength and patience to get through the day on my drive to work.  I am trying to concentrate on being a pleasant and enjoyable person to be around.  So each morning I ask for help and in turn, each evening I have been thanking God (or the universe, or whomever you believe in) for another great day marked off the calendar.

I am not sure why it’s working but I will not question it.  I have had a long, busy week full of work and babysitting and job-applying and I have ended each day with a tired smile on my face and I am thankful.  I am thankful and I am going to do my best to remember to be thankful each day.  Because, honestly, I’ve got it pretty good.    

I never imagined my life would become a day to day struggle through which I fight to the death just to survive.  It sounds dramatic but if you have ever suffered from depression you probably know what I’m talking about.  I leave notes around  my apartment to remind myself to “be thankful” “smile” “try not to cry at work today” etc…and it works for awhile until finally at the end of the day I climb into the shower and pretend my tears are just water.

Ever since my uncle died I remind myself that I could never do what he did to our family.  He had his reasons but for now I will be angry at him for giving up.  I will be angry that he knew our family’s history with mental illness and refused to find hope anywhere else but in the bottom of a beer bottle.  I will be angry that he left all of us to pick up the pieces and wonder what might have happened if he had held on for one more day.  And then I will just be sad.  I will miss his smile and in the future I will wish he could have been at my wedding, met my children, and I will always always wonder if he knew that we were proud.  Even when we were embarrassed, even when we half-halfheartedly laughed at his jokes (because while most were funny, some just weren’t!) and even when we didn’t see him on a regular basis, we were always always proud to call him our uncle, brother, son, friend.

Grief is a new concept for me.  And boy is it a bitch.  I can be surprised one day at how well I’m coping and be a puddle on the rug an hour later.  It hits you like a wave, but you didn’t even know you were near water.  It doubles you over.  It literally brings me to my knees and has me clutching the toilet.  It invades my body one minute and leaves the next- once again tricking me into thinking I’m doing okay.  I start to reason with myself about why he did what he did.  I tell myself he’s in a better place.  But what if he isn’t?  What if he’s just gone and that was it.  He struggled for 42 years and then poof.

I am trying to have faith and believe in something.  The Lord does know that that is what gets me out of bed in the morning.  But some days it’s easier to doubt.  So I read books, I leave notes, and I get up everyday hoping it’s just slightly better than the day before.  I won’t ask for much.  But I’m certainly trying.  I will keep getting up and going through the motions until I get a bit of a break and reach that light at the end of the tunnel.  It better not be a mirage.