Elsa

#tb to the pure joys of public transit and its patrons:

HOWEVER.  The woman at the very end of this video is named Elsa and here is a nice, long story about her and our meeting that I happen to like a lot.

When asking if she could sit by me, she touched my arm, which immediately endeared her to me. (Not a recommended method for males on public transit, btw. I mean, it will endear you to a cold glare and my pepper spray and that's about it.)

I pretended to keep reading (Anna Karenina for those of you curious) while trying to figure out this elderly lady safely from the corner of my eye: around 80 yrs old...clothes are simple but nails done...Clip-on earrings... aaaand she's pulling out a tube of Chanel. Okay now I'm smiling to myself.

She was so warm & friendly at every opportunity that I was reminded that I don't always need to be closed in on myself in public situations. I probably miss out on a lot of great conversations.  (Also spare myself potential death. Also couldn't help but wonder how gullible she was, cause who is willingly that open and sweet on a bus to San Francisco with these...folks? For all she knows, I'll be the next one the driver is yelling at to calm down or she'll pull over and hit my eject button).

Well, one question snowballed into another and over the next 45 minutes I found out her story. Born in Peru, she was working for NASA when she graduated high school. Her boss told her she would make more $$ if she learned English and offered to connect her w/a job in Washington DC. "What do you do when you finish school?" She had a very strong Spanish accent.  "You adventure. So I adventured."

She flew to Washington DC at 19 for her big girl job w/out knowing a word of English.  When I asked how things went, she leaned in to my arm like she was sharing a secret and said "I got married within 2 years!" and laughed like she'd fallen for the worst trap of all adventuring girls.  Her husband didn't speak a word of Spanish, either.  "Spoke the language of love, eh?" I asked.

17 years ago he said he was done, that he didn't love her anymore, and he left her with nothing but the mortgage payments for a house he stripped clean, 2 daughters, and no job.  Having never managed their checkbook, she got a job at Neiman Marcus and another as a secretary, and finished raising her girls alone.  I showed her how to navigate photos on her iPhone so she could show off her 2
daughters, now working for GE in Sacramento and dancing with the New York Ballet, and 1 granddaughter, in ballet lessons of her own.  She still has a huge family back in Peru that she has visited a couple of times, but they don't want to come here.

 She showed me her SF hotel reservations her daughter had printed for her, and insisted I send her an email right there while she watched me, so she could have my contact to invite me to visit her "old, small but filled with love" house in Virginia.  I thought she was just being friendly, until I realized she was seriously watching me, waiting for me to get out my phone to email her.  Ha!

When a little old lady grabs your arm, looks you in the eye with a thick Spanish accent and says "You come.  You come to see beautiful Virginia, and you stay with me" the way she said it, you will hear "come fill your soul with my wonderful Peruvian food and be my grandchild" and find yourself mentally scanning your calendar without knowing what's happening.  

After the bus stopped, I asked if she knew where to go and she had no idea.  While she waited for her luggage to unload, I felt a sense of responsibility for seeing her safely into a cab and went in search of the bus driver.  By the time I'd given up and went back to make sure she hadn't been mugged, she was trekking away down the sidewalk, luggage in tow, smiling and waving back at me with her classy little head scarf on.  She yelled that she knew where to go and that was the last I saw of her.  Other passengers saw our exchange and when I looked at them like "well, guess I'm not as needed as it seemed" they laughed.

 I reminded myself that in that 80 yr old body was a 19 yr old Peruvian girl who had uprooted her entire life for the sake of opportunity and adventure and never looked back. She had the house she had worked hard to pay for and repair along the way, and an incredible family now taking care of her that she raised herself in a foreign country.

Anyway, she emailed me back.. Twice. Once to tell me she had made it to her hotel and that her room was lovely, and the second time to tell me she was back in Virginia.

"Dear Ms. Sara, please let me know when you are ready to visit [name of town], VA, my dream house (small old house, but will always welcome you) and your family. I had a wonderful time. Saludos!" 

This is me committing to make more friends like Elsa. <3

(My next post will be a photo of Elsa's kitchen table, an empty plate and my full heart, thank you very much and goodnight.)

Leaving Was the Best Decision I've Made In Years!

About a month ago, I moved back to Midtown Sacramento.  There hasn't been any update or writing from me because I needed to let the dust settle in my brain.  Quite frankly, I wanted to re-start on my own terms and re-build after clearing away the excess.

Though a hefty chunk of my motivation for blogging about my recent move is so I can Instagram my new place with reckless abandon, writing really plays a huge role in my emotional well-being.  Thank you, fearless reader, for your contribution and sacrifice.

The leap from Fresno to SF was a story of faith, miracles and awesomeness in itself, and I learned a whole heck of a lot about what our God will do for His kids when they ask for something. I had spent my savings in transitioning to Fresno, and when the time came where boyfriend and I were on the same page about moving, I had no means to make it happen.  With no potential job or ideas for one, no money, and no place to go, choosing one of the most expensive living areas and competitive job markets in the entire world was ludicrous. Still, I felt God telling me to fast (something I had never done in the context of asking Him for something), and knew that I was about to see a new facet of how He works.  So, while working at a piano store and Starbucks (this Starbucks), I fasted food and social media for over a week.  Oddly enough, being out of touch with social media was the most in touch with life and reality I've ever felt.  You know what I'm talkin' about.

 A week and a destined Craigslist ad later, I was jumping back and forth from Fresno to SF for multiple job interviews at one company.  When I was open w/Starbucks manager about potentially moving soon, she said she had to take me off the next 3-week schedule to prevent an opening on the floor if I left in the middle of it.  (Of course. Sure.)  Trying not to feel punished for doing the right thing wasn't easy at that point, but I understood her position. (This pill would have been easier to swallow if the new schedule didn't start THE NEXT DAY.) However, I had gone in to work that morning with the surreal feeling that it was my last day (I have a text I sent to boyfriend that morning as proof), so when those words came out of her mouth my brain entered an oddly satisfying twilight zone. It was like I was watching my own life get more ridiculous.  "Please fire me.  Please do something drastic and unexpected; it will be a great plot twist right now."  When life gets weird, I reach a point where those twisted thoughts happen.  Currently calling it the "bring it on! DO YOUR WORST CAUSE THIS JOURNAL ENTRY WILL SIZZLE" phenomenon.

There were a couple of floaty, jobless days between previous job and hearing from potential new one, where I had no idea where my life was going.  All I knew was that this ride was going somewhere, and that it would catch me in a couple of days. It hasn't dropped me yet, so I would hold on tight. There was no panic. (If you know me, let us revel in this together. Cheers to miracles.)  Good thing I didn't bail (where would I have jumped?! Let's be real, everything around me might as well have been lava) because I got a call a couple days later saying I had the job in SF and could start ASAP.  My Fresno roommate found a replacement for me the same day as my final interview, whose lease happened to end the same day ours did.  It was all flawless, really.  Then, since I had nowhere to live while starting new job, a beloved instructor and mentor who had lived in the City connected me with beautiful people to take me in.  Boyfriend and I schlepped my extra stuff to his garage and moved my butt to the big, sparkling, crazy Bay Area.  (He followed with a new job of his own and a place to stay less than 2 weeks later.  I know.  We're well-matched in the cray-cray dept.)

POPCORN BREAK:

Want to hear something super cool, though?  Through the summer and fall, when math said I would no longer have monies after a certain point, I continued tithing on every measly paycheck.  Later I looked back and realized not only were all of my bills always paid on time and in full, but I consistently had healthy (if fewer) groceries and gas, and my sweet little Ugandan girl continued getting sponsored every month.  Gosh, God is faithful even when we're looking the wrong way, flailing our arms at invisible fires.

Let's talk about actually being in SF for a moment.

Life in the City was exciting and fairly hysterical.  A small-town INFJ's inner commentary while navigating public transportation and Market Street every day in the dead of winter was a silent narrative of laughter, awe, disgust, and misery.  My commute was a wild journey of uphill, over-freeway climbs, wind/rain/fog, freezing, sweating, sunburns, death-by-body-odor on BART, and shedding various layers of clothing according to block-by-block climate changes.  Hair looked like a curly-haired toddler stuck their finger in a light socket or slid down a slide.  Maybe simultaneously.  (If you don't think hair plays a role in one's sanity, you don't have hair with unexplained racial identity issues. FOR THE LOVE. WHY.)

Oh, remember #rainageddon?  When Embarcadero shut down, BART flooded and Daly City had cars under water?  I walked to work on those days, too.  Rainboots, umbrellas, and plastic ponchos flee in fear while horizontal rain has its way with you.  Has.  Its.  Way.

 What I've learned:

Living and working in San Francisco was an idea born mostly out of proving to myself that I could do it.  (Plus it beats Fresno by a long mile. Peace be with you, Fresno). It had been in my mind for a while and I had to give it a shot. I'm so glad I did!

A strategic and unique relationship scaffolding has been constructed around me over the last several years as I grew into almost an entirely different human.  Yes, I can launch and build a network anywhere, BUT, I haven't been launched yet.  Until I have, I need these peoples.  My identity/ministry/outlet is in such a transitional place that their guardrails are invaluable.  Temporarily stepping away to let some dust settle helped me see it clearly.  Throughout my time in the Bay, I continued to miss Sacramento in a fierce way.  Moving away was the best decision I could have made, and returning was the second best.  I had to know why I was coming back, instead of simply being somewhere because I knew nothing different.

I've learned that I sabotaged my own creativity and progress by putting myself in boxes and assuming I had to walk the paths I saw others running with my same skills.  For some reason I only saw obligations, hamster wheels and church politics everywhere I looked (whether legit or not but you get me), and plenty of confusion and burnout. Much of what I saw behind the scenes scared the heck out of me and wasn't what I wanted for my own life.

The entire move to Sacramento (job, place to live, etc) happened in 3 days.  It started with the realization that The Bay and I were only meant to be friends and nothing more, then turned into another sense that I would be moved by the new year.  (I'm learning to pay attention to these senses.)  Well, on New Year's Day, I was standing in my own studio.  The moving story is too unbelievable to put energies into writing out now that I've blabbed this much.  All I gotta say is that I signed a year lease with gusto, spent about 2 weeks battling fatigue from the mental whiplash, and my soul is breaking at the seams with joy over creating a haven of my own in a neighborhood I love.  A quiet place where creativity can be fostered and excuses minimized as much as possible.  Two years spent away from actively participating in writing and music has been enough to determine that I need them.  Ergghhh... as of right now, I still sit and stare at journals and pianos as if they're my best/worst frenemies.  If I could just sit down with one of those for about 3 days straight and get out everything bouncing around in my head, I might find relief.  Or burn them both with fire and be free of them.  Choices.

Ping-Pong: Life Edition

(a short story)

There's this quaint little Starbucks in a classy, quiet, friendly neighborhood of Fresno called Fig Garden.  It is filled with wealthy old folk in pastel who never fail to say hello or good morning, or greet Pink Lilly as I take her for walks when I'm dog sitting.  This Starbucks shares a shady, greenery-filled parking lot with Whole Foods, JCrew, Banana Republic, Jamba Juice and live outdoor concerts every week.

What I'm saying is I could set up a tent in this parking lot and have no need for anywhere else.

This is the main reason I applied to work part time at this Starbucks.  Do I want to work at Starbucks?  Eh, I wouldn't say no but wouldn't say yes, either.  Do I want to work at this Starbucks?  Yes.  That's how warm and fuzzy I feel about it.  I applied, prayed for favor, and stalked met with the manager.

As I hoped, she had me in for a "casual interview" which consisted of chatting about life and laughing.  Not one interview-related question was asked, besides "what job did you have before??"  Even that was asked out of curiosity rather than for interview purposes.  In short, I felt more like I'd found a friend than a potential supervisor.  God, I hoped for that job.  It was too good to be true.  This was when she broke the bad news:  that particular location wasn't hiring... because they hadn't had any turnover in 2 years (!!!) because it was just that lovely and no one else wanted to leave, either. (!!!)  DAGGUMMIT.  So close.  "However... HOWEVER!"  she said, "You WOULD be trained at this location.  Then sent to the busiest Starbucks between Stockton and Bakersfield."
No.  Why you gotta hurt me like that.  Just, no.  No no no no no, that wasn't what I came here for.

Meanwhile, over in Old Town Clovis...

A cozy little Christian-ran real-coffee-coffee-shop (very non-Starbucks) with antique brick walls, dark re-purposed wood and cool naked light bulbs is bustling with a consistent, friendly, non-snobby coffee community.  (A rare find.  I'm easily intimidated by coffee snobs because I like [lots of] cream and don't dress as well.)  Michael knows the owner and after two emails, reassuring him that I would stick to it and not peace out on him like so many had lately, I found myself a job.  I learned what a macchiato actually is, the finer points of making a french press and a pour over, and that I like straight shots of good espresso.  Basically I found my inner coffee badass.

I had worked 3 opening shifts when I received a phone call from the beloved pipe-dream Starbucks location manager.   She had strange news:  for the first time in 2 years, she had just received a barista's 2 week's notice.  She had called me first.  Me.

The timing.  My heart.  It splintered a little.

Well, remembering my commitment made the answer easier.  It was obviously a no.  Because she is that cool, she loves the other coffee shop a lot and understood my plight.  If I ended up hating it for some reason, call her, she said.   I hung up genuinely sad, feeling like I'd missed "it" with one wrong move, but hoped I'd be blessed for doing the right thing.  

Evening approaches of the same day, and I receive an email from coffee shop boss.  He had strange news: the girl I had replaced had been denied entrance to college due to returning from a summer camp job a week too late.  She would be resuming her opening shifts and my hours would be drastically reduced.  Basically, I was no longer needed and he understood if I needed to find work elsewhere.

I read that sentence several more times as the straight-up wackiness of it all sunk in.  When I informed Michael (in hysterics), he said "when you told me that Starbucks had called you, I asked God to give you a release from [coffee shop].  Looks like that's what happened."  Uh... I hadn't even thought to pray for that.  Thanks, bud.  ;)

I finished up my shift the next morning and drove straight from that to pipe-dream Starbucks and met with pipe-dream manager.  Told her the hilariousness that was my life.  After another casual, laugh-filled catch up on life, she asked if I had any questions and said she had to wait for my background check to come back.  I paused and said, "So... are you telling me that if I don't turn up as a murderer or felon, that I'm hired...?"
"Yep!"

Just like that, without an interview, I gots da job.  And that is how I'm about to freakin buy that cute seafoam green mug I've been eye-ing for 3 months at 40% off, you guys.

To Start

Reasons this first post wasn't up sooner:

- Blog Identity Crisis: where do I start?  The interwebs don't need more makeup, health food, outfit pairings & small dogs (sigh. I do love those things)
- Denial: I know where to start
- Pride: I want it to be good; I'm the pickiest reader of them all. But my life is messy.
- Vulnerability: who enjoys it?  no one.

"Stop underestimating yourself and overestimating the competition.  You are better than you think." - Tim Ferriss

That quote is one of many things that told me to get over myself and flippin write about my life.  There is too much going on under the surface to waste my time or yours by sharing only funny stories or anecdotes, although that's a kick and some giggles... obviously we need kicks and giggles.  I can't, however, ignore the elephant in the room:  I moved.  I'm dating someone from another planet.  I picked up and started my life over in what seemed to the outside world like an instant poof of smoke.  (Contrary to popular belief - assuming there is a belief and that I'm popular enough to occupy it - I post nothing about what's really going on in my life on social media.  I don't like using it as a platform, religiously, politically, personally or otherwise.  Many do, and a few do it well.  Most abuse it and I've used the "hide" feature for those.  Ain't nobody got time for that).

All that to say: what you're going to get from this first, long post is tactful honesty and careful vulnerability.  What I mean by this is I do not intend to incriminate or offend others, EVER, and I don't believe in laying ourselves out on chopping blocks before those who are not intimately involved with our lives and cheering us on.  However, I've taken those two concepts very much to heart and over time, that belief has turned into making sure everything always looks pretty, everyone feels good, and I am protected by a barbed wire fence disguised by a prettier fence covered in flowers.  It's a beautiful fence, and inside I am safe.  I can process my problems with just myself, my journal and God.  Cause I'm that strong.  Everyone will still like me.  Oh how I love to be liked.  However, perfection is a facade and completely unattainable.  If all everyone sees is that fence, my life is of no real benefit to anyone.

Moving to Fresno wasn't a flower I would have chosen to contribute to the fence.  The "Welcome To Fresno" sign doesn't make a cool Instagram, no matter how many filters.  After graduating college, however, I set out on a very unexpected 2-year journey of total confusion and depression.  Sounds extreme, but here's why: confusion because I was working with people I loved, for an organization I deeply believe in, yet I was discontent.  Eventual depression because I judged myself hard for feeling that way.  

No one ever put pressure on me to do what I did- I made my own choices.  Growing up, I was an oldest sibling with strong influences around me that used the phrases "You have a responsibility" a LOT.  I made very many choices based on my "responsibilities" and not on my wants, because I wanted to be a good girl and glowed in the approval of those in charge of me or who I felt watching me.  (my parents are awesome, by the way; I'm referring to everything from friends to babysitters to church leadership to teachers... it was simply how I responded to praise and peer pressure).  On one hand, this spared me a lot of junk that teenagers get in to.  I was too vain and concerned with appearances to get myself in trouble.  Yippee!  Flip side: this turned into self-denial and burnout.

I have been blessed with both my mom's ability to feel deeply and my dad's logic, so I reasoned myself out of my feelings for 2 years until I forgot what I was passionate about and lost all sense of who I was and therefore what the heck I want to do.  5 years of college completely shaped and changed my life, and after climbing and crying my way out of intense fear and confidence issues, it sent me off with the identity of the girl who stood in front of 5 or 500 people calmly behind a keyboard and microphone, and could hold comfortable conversations with both the cool and the socially awkward.

For various circumstantial and personal reasons, I no longer had the same platform.  Life obviously changes after graduation.  I chose a worthwhile, meaningful commitment that provided security, made wonderful memories and spent time with people I love during it, and came out of it completely directionless.

You can bet I took all the right steps to fix it, because that's what I do: the right thing.  I moved to my dream neighborhood.  Contacted worship leaders from home that I had admired from afar, and they contacted me back, yet nothing ever came together.  So I inserted myself into a wonderful church in my own neighborhood, and set about building community.  Yet I was missing something huge and continued to judge myself for feeling that way, because the fence still looked rockin.

Not everyone reading this believes the same way I do, but hopefully you are reading this because you love me and will continue to read while I talk about God and my beliefs.  :)  I believe we are created to worship, and we all worship something: be it God, our families, ourselves, our jobs, whatever.  Taking it a step further, we are created to worship in different ways unique to us as individuals: dancing, music, writing, painting, building, administration, child-raising, speaking, training, whatever.  As beings created by God, our worship is for Him first and foremost.  Dancing for Him because He gave us the talent and He enjoys us enjoying it, etc.  (I'm not trying to paint a picture of a person dancing alone in front of a cross or crucifix, here... it's a heart thing, guys...)

Usually we can identify what it is for each of us, because it's our heart's deepest desire.  If we are not making time for it, our lives suffer as a result, whether slowly and subtly, or quickly and obviously.  (so many adverbs).

I can make excuses and derail the truth for days, but the core issue was that I wasn't making time for what was in my heart to do: music and writing.  I wasn't journaling consistently, and my perspective suffered as a result.  My platform for music wasn't as easy after college, and since I was working a lot (teaching piano lessons after work), I was too tired during the weekend to commit to church music.  I could play the keyboard in my room and worship alone, but for some reason the draw simply died.

In the midst of my secret depression, in denial that my Instagrammable life wasn't cutting it for me, my mom flipped the "I want grandkids" switch and started teasing me about online dating.  I thoroughly enjoyed my freedom and wasn't putting myself out there enough, apparently.  So I got over my disgust with online dating and tried it.

Well, so had this other guy. A tall, blue-eyed, bearded man with a deep laugh and gentle demeanor.  Besides being absolutely hilarious, he had a level yet excited perspective of life and its possibilities that no one else had re-ignited in me.  He welcomed risk and the ridiculous (within reason) in a way that I desperately needed, and conducted his life free of the fences I had trapped myself in.  He had seen both great success and "failure," and his life story alone directly challenged my fear of failure and the unknown.

I encountered questions and opposition, doubted myself, and we broke up.

A dear friend gave me a come-to-Jesus talk, shook me and told me I was a dummy, that I had walked away from something good for me out of fear and wanting approval.  I had ignored and denied myself, once again.

I realized I wasn't done with having this man in my life.  I put on my big girl boots and informed him, only to find he had been waiting to see if I would change my mind the entire time.  So I moved closer to him a month ago. This also removed me from the familiar, from comfort zones, and from excuses.

Despite its booming agriculture, Fresno is literally a geographical desert.  A few weeks ago, I heard the Biblical story of the Israelites re-told in a way I had completely missed in my years of Bible-knowledge-madness: When God told Moses what to say to the Egyptian leaders, it was "...let my people go, that they may serve [/worship] me in the wilderness."  (Ex. 7:16).  Didn't mention a destination there.

Blew.  My.  Mind.

In conclusion (I first wrote "in short," then laughed and deleted it), free and completely removed from pressures to do something big and cool that makes for great Instagrams, I am currently rediscovering and redefining what fulfills me the most.  Not what others expect, or what I perceive they hope for.  Not what might bring me the most approval or be praised as the right thing, "the responsible" thing, or even the cool-because-it's-alternative thing.

One day I even wondered if majoring in music had been a mistake.  Before you check my temperature or worry for my sanity, I think it was a healthy moment.  It signified a newfound freedom in perspective.  No, I didn't reach this insightful conclusion myself.  In my mopey "I had an identity crisis today, hold and pity me" moment, my dear sweet boyfriend responded genuinely, "That's exciting!"

Precious.  -_-  But wrong answer.

He was right, though.

I know I have a good singing voice, but all I hear when I sing are my shortcomings.  Where my placement needs help.  When my pitch falls flat.  Feeling frustrated and inadequate when I can't sing as powerfully or play as creatively as my friends.  All of that shouldn't matter, in theory, yet I've been too proud to not care about those things.  And so, systematically, I've watched God strip my life of all things cool or of places to hide, and remind me of why I can sing in the first place: for His enjoyment.  Desire to improve is a good thing, but motives are the more important thing.  I didn't even realize my motives were off until I was removed from everything.  Until I am content to sing and play completely in private, there won't be a platform.  If I ever do lead worship for others again, and I know I will, it will be birthed from a place of genuine intimacy, where I have allowed God to tear down once again who I thought I was so that I can be freed of myself.

...

Whew!  I've been putting off this beast of a blog post for weeks!  Obviously I am still in the "desert," unpacking thought patterns I got caught in, learning to get over myself and what it means to worship God in private.  I believe that my next step will be birthed from that.  Better to take a step and plow through now than to idly wander for 40 years, if you catch my drift.

 If you read this, I hope that what I've written has helped you in some way.  If you have immediate thoughts where things I've said have struck a chord, would you comment or share?    Lighter posts on random life occurrences are definitely coming,  but not this time.  :)