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Posts Tagged ‘growing up’

Howdy folks, long time no post… mainly because I honestly haven’t had the time to keep up with it… but now, late at night, I’ve decided to finally give way to my conscience and write a new post.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my blog lately, realized that I need to step up my game a bit and find my niche (which I haven’t yet, still working on that minor detail), but now that I think about it, life in general is a pretty big niche, don’t you think?

And since my blog’s title is in fact “Life in Slow Motion,” (emphasis on the slow part) why not just blog about life’s happenings, changes and issues?

So be it.  My blog is simply about life… life and its journey… because I of all people should know how much can change in a short amount of time.

This time last year, as some may recall, I was in a slump.  Last Thanksgiving was simply hell for my family and I as I dealt with a serious break-up (that you can read about to your heart’s content here, although it’s completely one-sided), and last Christmas was even worse thanks to me… well… getting serious with a guy that wasn’t in my family’s religion.

And that’s a huge deal with my family.

So you can imagine how well that went over… “You need some time for just you, you don’t need to date, you don’t need to date him,” etc.  And, I’ll give my family credit.  They were probably right, I did need time from guys.  But I’m stubborn and strong minded, and therefore I ignored them completely, which resulted in a HUGE blowup from me… It wasn’t too pretty.

Looking back on all that now, I realize that true love doesn’t always come easily, and that some things really are worth fighting for.

This Christmas, the man I fought so hard to have, so hard to have approval from my family, proposed to me.  And I said, “Yes,” after a long pause to take it all in.  Thanks to my brother, Brad Moore, it was caught on video for all you lovelies to watch it here.

Since then, I’ve been obsessing over Annie Little’s “Fly Me Away.” You may have heard it on the Amazon Kindle commercial this year.  I love it 🙂

But really though, I’m going to be a married woman this time next year.  Can you believe it???  Me, married at 21.  Holy crap, can you say reality check?

No more depending on parents.
I have to file my own taxes (ugh).
Find a REAL job (no internships, mall jobs. Crap).
Somehow get medical insurance (yeah, good luck with that).
Car payments, rent, furniture…

OH!  And graduate the spring AFTER I’m married… so that means I’ll still be in school… At least I have a semester until the real world smacks me in the face, right?

God wouldn’t give me anything I couldn’t handle.  Perhaps He’d give me something to straighten me out, teach me a lesson, build some character, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

I totally got this one.  I have a year!  Easy schmeasy.  Once I buy that dress, it’s all down-hill from there, right?
(By the way, anyone that knows of any venues in the Franklin/Nashville area or Knoxville, let me know!)

*Hopefully* December 18, 2010 will be the first day of the rest of my life with Rob Williams.  I hope to have an evening wedding, low-lit chapel with Christmas lights… cool silver-blue and white peonies accent the dresses… me walking down the aisle in a dreamy white (or ivory) form-fitting dress that lets out in organza below the hips, adorned in crystals… walking down the aisle to meet a man with a look of pure joy coming from his eyes, happiness walking—no, sprinting—across his face as his smile lights up the room.  He’ll hardly be able to stand there to wait for me to meet him at the altar… he may run to meet me in the middle…

Fly me away… take me away with you my love

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No, not Twilight.  Vampire romances never bit me.  I’m talking about an awkward teen in England that goes by Georgia Nicholson.

She shaved her eyebrows, went to a party dressed as a stuffed olive, but most importantly she taught me to laugh at my own self more while comforting me that I’m not the only person in the world that confides in my cat because that’s the only one that can understand me (sometimes, at least… sometimes even the cat can be heartless… does that make sense to anyone?).  She taught me the terms “sex god,” “have the painters in,” and “how’s your father,” and ultimately helped me to feel less awkward around guys.

I rediscovered my love (not of the lesbian kind, but one similar to a “man-crush”—I have a wonderful boyfeller) for Georgia when my English professor gave us an assignment to imitate an author of our choice, as long as the chosen author didn’t write poetry or plays.  It took me a while to decide on the perfect author for me—people threw out suggestions like Fitzgerald, Hunter S. Thompson and John Updike—but then a comment from an old friend on facebook reminded me (indirectly) of Louise Rennison, who wrote the series “Confessions of Georgia Nicholson,” and the first book is titled Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging.

This character, although fictional, is probably my “twin.”  Please, just find the book and read like, the opening page.  You’ll see why I say she’s my alter-ego.  We share so many similarities, except I suppose I’m a more mature version of her.

Georgia experienced seriously awkward moments in her life while she was growing up, and God knows I’ve had my fair share of “awkwardosity.”

She may have a 3-year-old sister that peed somewhere in her room, but my roommate has a Yorkie that can’t control her bowel movements… particularly in my room, for whatever God-forsaken reason.  She’s French-savvy (to some degree), and I struggle with it somewhat.  But I’m good with coffee.  I’m devilishly good with coffee.  In fact, I’m “double cool with knobs” when it comes to coffee.  Georgia’s so-called best friend, Jas, started a rumor that Georgia is a lesbian (which isn’t true, mind you), and my roommates nicknamed me “Shitney,” because of wonderfully awkward moments, a.k.a. dumb blonde moments, that I have from time to time.  I should probably also explain here that we have our own language called “shanguage,” that replaces the first two consonants in a word with “sh-.”  My name is Brittney.  Just think about that one a second.

So, here’s to you Georgia Nicholson.  May we meet someday in another world.

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Over the last month, my world has been turned upside-down and every which way imaginable.  Granted, it was I who put it all in motion, but I’m rather glad it’s all happened.

Learning isn’t always easy, especially when emotions are involved.  I’ve learned from seeing people around me, two in particular, that letting go is the hardest part of growing up.

But, if we dont’ let go, we never mature.  If we don’t let go, we never learn to walk on our own.  If we don’t let go, we never grow up, and we’ll continuously rely on others to make our lives easier.

Some people just never understand that concept until you ignore them completely.  No matter how much you try to explain it to them, they won’t let go.  That’s when all connections must be cut and let them learn the hard way.  That’s tough love.

Experience is the greatest teacher, and don’t let anyone tell you different.

Writers become immortal because they write.  Musicians become legends because they sing.  Artists become famous because they’re inspired.  Dancers become prima ballerinas because they practice.
All of the above require experience.  Experience requires making mistakes.  Mistakes give way to knowledge.

You can’t gain experience when you can’t let go…

I’ve had to make adjustments this holiday season.  Working an hour from home resulted staying in Knoxville three days out of the week and driving back and forth to spend time with my family just so it can feel somewhat like Christmas.  My roommates went back home in Middle Tennessee, leaving me all alone.

One thing I’ve learned from coming home to an empty apartment at the end of the day is that I need people; I thrive off of people.  Growing up in a family of five made me used to having people around, and being the youngest, I’ve seen my family of five transition to a family of three then to an empty nest.  It wasn’t easy, but I got used to being the only one around.

Now I have to get used to, if only for a short time, being the only one left in a “family” of four.

Perhaps this will prepare me for when I move to NYC and live alone until I meet the man of my dreams … I’ll look at it that way.  Maybe I’ll submerge myself so deep in my career I won’t have time to think about it when I’m climbing my way to the top to be editor-in-cheif of Vogue (granted, the magazine still exists in 10 years. Epiphany: I need to take web design classes).

Either way, being alone is something we all have to cope with at some point in our lives.  But, being alone gives you time to discover something about yourself you’ve never known before.  I’ve learned that being alone inspires me to write blogs like this one.  It gives me time to think, to consider events in my life and to reflect on them.  I have time to finish reading a book or get caught up on The Office.  Even so, I thought I’d be perfectly happy alone.  Instead, I’ve discovered that it sucks.  It sucks big ones.

It’s not easy, but it’s part of growing up.

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Time. It changes things, and change reflects time’s nature.

This weekend brought many thoughts to the forefront of my mind… for some reason when family comes to visit it just happens.

I left the snug room in the apartment I share with Brandon and Steph last Thursday to drive home to Wartburg for the 4th of July holiday. Mom told me previously that she remodeled my butterfly covered bright blue bedroom, so it was no surprise to me when I came home and saw that it was now a neutral brown, black and teal colored room with a futon instead of my bed inside. It was expected.

I’ve had many changes in my life. I’ve had my ups, downs and breakdowns alongside moments of triumph.

And for some reason, great weeks are always followed by something looming… by utterly crappy emotions, experiences and moments that build character.

Right now, my character is treading a sea filled with tears. I am an emotional being.

Last week was amazing; I’ll just be honest. I worked out everyday, ate amazingly healthy even for me, and I even went shopping at Gap (c’mon, the sales are irresistible). Two nights ended in conversations with Lance lasting more than 30 minutes, the weather was perfect and it was a short week: July 4th fell on a Friday.

Plus, I saw numerous relatives that stayed at the house all weekend from Ohio.

It was nearly perfect. I was home, seeing family, on a very extended weekend.

But all good things come to an end.

An indescribable feeling of emptiness surrounds me when a full house suddenly decreases to three people in a matter of moments. Watching them drive away was like being punched in the gut and I realized… the perfect weekend was over, and I, too, would soon return to my work-filled routine.

In an attempt to bring back the feelings that once were only a matter of hours ago, I walked outside onto the lone porch and into the empty yard. I picked up the corn bags and started practicing my corn hole techniques, then moved on to ladder golf once my arms were sore. My parents came out to relax, and Dad and I played a few rounds of ladder golf. But something besides the laughter and babies, someone without imposable thumbs, was missing.

Peanut.

I remember when I first laid eyes on that dog. It was a chilly November night, and Lance and I had just left church and pulled in the driveway when something small and white in the headlights caught my attention.

At first, I thought it was a rabbit, but then after looking closer I realized it was a very skittish mix of Jack Russell Terrier and something else. He was only a pup and skinny as a rail. You could count the ribs on him.

My heart melted right away, and after countless attempts to pet him, Lance and I finally coaxed him to get close to us with some leftover fries. Dad at first wanted to pay him no attention, hoping he would go back home, if he had one at all. Mom had a way, though, and Dad too warmed up to him and eventually built a doghouse complete with carpet and heat for colder nights.

We named him Peanut for two reasons:

  1. He peed a lot
  2. He was hyper, like a nut. No other name suited him better…

Mom saw him first. He was under the back porch by a bush. Normally he would be roaming around the back yard sniffing his territory with Fido, our aging Chihuahua. Something about Peanut wasn’t right… Dad had to pull him out from his spot and immediately we knew a vet must intervene.

We drove over to Karns and waited to see the vet. He was puny; didn’t move hardly at all… peaceful, almost.

Tests were run and everything checked out O.K. We paid the bill and went on our way, thinking he would recover after some prescribed medication.

Apparently, we were wrong.

A pet’s death never comes easily, no matter how long he or she is with you. We grow attached, play with them and either congratulate or regurgitate at the sight of a prized trophy on the back doorstep. We yell when they run out into the road and comfort them when they’re afraid of thunderstorms. We love them unconditionally, and they love us back. They learn from us, and we learn from them.

It’s been over one year since I gave my valedictory at graduation. I wish I’d kept it; it kicked butt, basically. It covered all the bases and summed up our years in the Morgan County School System pretty well: touch on getting screwed over multiple times, quickly change subject to how that helped us adapt to change, ending with learning to embrace our changes ahead in life, and I even sprinkled some song lyrics here and there.

Looking back now, I realize that speech was mostly meant for me. I knew I wasn’t ready to change my way of life; I knew I wasn’t really ready for everything I once knew to be stripped away in a matter of months (I once tried, unsuccessfully, to drown myself when I was 10 after my oldest brother graduated high school and two months later my grandma passed away. I was afraid of the future, the unknown). Once I thought I’d adapted to what had changed then, something else came along and signaled to me that I was growing up — my bedroom changed, I’m working more than relaxing during the summer, it’s hard to cope with a pet of only eight months dying.

It doesn’t help that I’m also gaining a year this Wednesday (July 16).

Change sucks. As Ben Folds once wrote in his song Still Fighting It,

“everybody knows it sucks to grow up, but everybody does…and let me tell you what, the years go on and we’re still fighting it…”

No matter how old we get, no matter how “seasoned” we are, will be, or ever were, it seems that change is the biggest challenge for each human being, for each soul. Time and change go hand-in-hand; they’re in cahoots with each other. They resemble Siamese twins joined at the hip and are inseparable. It’s inevitable.

“…And life’s like an hourglass glued to the table.”

Such haunting words, yet they fit now.

We can’t re-wind life. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it. All we can do is roll with the punches, adapt, learn and move on. That’s time, that’s change and that’s life.

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