This week's musings...

This week I have been feeling extremely grateful for my 26.5 years. I'm in that really comfortable, exciting place in life where I am still young and have so much to hope for and dream about, but I've also passed by some years of awkwardness and insecurity that I don't miss at all! I think the mid-twenties bring a new feeling of peace and comfort in your own skin that early twenties in all it's glorious uncertainty and arrogance just can't compete with. Sure, I'm not just out of college, but I look better, feel better, and react more sanely to things at 26 than I did at 22. Ironically I haven't really answered any of those big life questions I was asking myself when I graduated college, but I've lived A LOT of life and learned even more about relationships and myself than I did in the self-indulgent years of college (not self-indulgent in a bad way, college is a great time to focus on figuring out who you are and what you are about). I think our current culture puts SO much emphasis on getting it together right when you leave college--what is your career, where are you going to live for the next 10 years, how much money will you have--and I know very few people who are still on the same path they were on at graduation day. Just like people tend to change their major a couple times in college as they settle in and the voice of their high school guidance counselor fades into the distance, so do the first few years of college bring a lot of changes and surprises to what you thought adult life was going to be about. I for one do not miss being 22 or 23, and I think that these next few years might just end up being the best I've had yet. Thank you Lord for growth, perspective, and the mercy of change!

What do you think?

I'm back! I had an amazing vacation in Cabo. I usually am really depressed at the end of vacations, but this time I was perfectly content to head back to "normal life" which is an indication of how content I am with my life right now. What a relief to be able to thoroughly enjoy a vacation without the sadness at the end! Although you know I love a good cry, especially if paired with a really depressing and poignant song on repeat.

***The following is in NO way some sort of passive aggressive shout out to anyone in my life. If I want to be passive aggressive I'll just say something really snotty in my facebook status :)

Ohhhh now you're all really interested, aren't you?

I've been thinking about opinions a lot this week. I have a lot of them, as we all know. And I love hearing other people's--in fact, I seek them out. Whenever I have a big decision in my life, or am conflicted about something, or even just because I love talking about myself and my life (sarcastically stated, startlingly true...) I am the first to ask my friends what they think. I am a verbal processor, and I often end up figuring out how I really feel about something after having a good chat about it with someone. The problem is, the more people you ask about something, the more conflicting opinions you are bound to hear. Unless it's a really black and white issue, it can often be more confusing then helpful to hear all the various opinions. And unless you are my mom (who is basically always right), you may in fact have an opinion that doesn't necessarily end up being best for me. All of this to say, that lately I have been sort of overwhelmed by all the different voices in my life. And that's when I realized that I was seeking out all this advice/commentary, but failing to ask the one person whose "opinion" I really need to hear--God's. This is not to say that I don't ENDLESSLY value my friends' advice. Like I said, I am the one who asks for it. And my friends happen to be extremely insightful and helpful (and pretty!). But sometimes I am so focused on asking everyone around me what to do that I forget to include God in the conversation. And it's only when I look to him that all the other voices fall in to their place--helpful, thought-provoking, and appreciated, but ultimately second place.

Going up?

Stepping onto an elevator is exciting, because you never know what kind of experience you might have. Aside from the possibility that you will 1. never again see the light of day because you are stuck inside a 4x4 deathcube or 2. never again see the light of day because you've plummeted to your death...you are probably going to have one of the following 3 experiences.

Situation One: Can you see me?

Involves you, alone on the elevator which may or may not have a mirrored ceiling, checking yourself out and possibly singing softly all the while wondering if there are hidden cameras watching you,

Situation Two: Faith in Humanity--Restored!

Sometimes elevator "drivebys" can be really uplifting. You know what I'm talking about. For the brief, 34 seconds that it takes you to go up to the mail room, you share a witty and charming conversation with a total stranger that ends with one of you wishing the other a good day as you giddily prance from the elevator. I love when that happens. Against all the odds, two strangers in a deathcube (in this case lifecube? Maybe not unless you're in an elevator with Jesus? But Jesus is everywhere, Lexi...ahhhhhhhhh you got me) manage to have an non-awkward and breezy social interaction in less than one minute while standing very close to one another without an agreed upon place to rest your eyes

which leads me to Situation Three: Awkwards Unite!

Unfortunately this is what usually seems to happen. Despite my 3 years of cotillion (thank you Atlanta Country Club for teaching me to wear gloves and wait for HIM to bring ME the punch) and gracious upbringing from Babs, I manage to lose all semblance of social niceties and stand awkwardly, counting each of my louder than an airplane runway breaths and seconds as they tick by until the door slowly creaks open and I try not to LEAP out of the Awkward Cube.

***There is an elusive, unicorn of a situation which I have indeed experienced, albeit only once.

Situation 4: Thank you God for this day of glory

In which case you find yourself on an elevator with Matt Leinart at the height of his attractiveness and football all-starness, in which all the lights go out and you ride in the dark for 4 floors, illuminated only by the blue glow of Matt's phone. I mean, I'm not that huge of a fan, but come on...that's just awesome

iWantone

I have had 3 iPods, none of which were purchased by me. Actually the people who gave them to me didn't even pay for them. Number one was given to me via my Dad via his company and I was oh so cool--the first person I knew to have one back in 2004...Number two was left in an Oakwood apartment that I was inspecting at my old job by the MTV employee who was living there. When I called her to tell her I had found it, she told me to keep it as MTV had upgraded her to a newer one. Since old 2004 was about to die, I gladly accepted. A few years later and my big, old bodied iPod numbers 1 and 2 are on the brink of death. Fortunately, my mom won an iPod shuffle at the grocery store...I know, we are a blessed family. I think she was the 100th customer or something. Anyways, the point of all that is that perhaps due to my past iPod experiences, or perhaps simply because I have entitlement issues, I feel like it is unfair that no one has yet handed me a free iPhone. I don't know why exactly I feel like I NEED one, as literally all my friends that I hang out with often have one, so it's not like I can claim I will get lost or not be able to look up a movie time. I have my own computer, as well as a work computer that I can bring home with me. But none of the that is the point. I WANT ONE and I want it now. I have 4 very close friends whose husbands/boyfriends gave them one, so maybe I'll add that to my list of entitled hopes: boyfriend approaches, riding on a narwhal on the tumultuous seas, holding out an iPhone towards me as I wait on the shore, my long black locks waving in the winds of change...

The then and now

Yesterday I was thinking about all the fun games I used to play as a child, and discovered that ironically I am still playing most of them today. The only difference is, now it doesn't feel a lot like playing. For instance:

THEN: My sister and I used to close all the doors in our little upstairs hallway, cover the floor with pillows, turn out the lights and then proceed to run around and continuously fall over with all our friends. It was a chaotic, squealing, laughing good time which usually resulted in running into a wall and/or each other. NOW: I run around having no clue what job to take, who to date, where to live or what I'm doing half the time--often falling down and ALWAYS running into walls.

THEN: My mom (bless her) used to let me make "recipes" in the kitchen which always, without fail, resulted in a creation of brown disgusting soup/goo into which I would then pour copious amounts of sugar and add sprinkles on top. My mom would then taste it with me, always encouraging me to keep up my "efforts" in cooking. NOW: I still love to cook, but now it's more about is this healthy, when will I have time to make something before work, and why are groceries SO expensive?

THEN: I would spend hours playing outside with my friends. The dogwood tree was a boat/fort/castle/time machine and the swing set was a huge catapult with a slide that led to a pool of lava. NOW: I feel guilty if I don't work out 5 days a week, I complain about sore muscles and keep waiting to wake up looking like Cameron Diaz in Charlie's Angels II...still waiting...

You get the idea. It's not that I'm not a joyful person, in fact I am an idealist and an optimist who can normally have fun doing almost anything. It's just that, compared to all those things when I was a kid, the day to day activities seem to have lost a lot of their carefree joy. Instead of playing, I work out. Instead of inventing, I cook dinner. Instead of embracing the uncertainty of running around a tiny room with pillows covering the floor, I fear the unknown and take tiny baby steps towards my dreams. I was trying t0 pinpoint what the difference is between the THEN and the NOW. Although I had about as near to a perfect childhood as one could ask for, it still was far from perfect. I had fears then (of course most of them involved wondering if my guinea pig Laura would live forever as I hoped she would) and I have fears now. I had problems then as I do now (mainly my sister locking me out of her awesome room of wonders and sticker books). But back then, despite my child-size trials and tribulations, at the end of the day I knew my mom and dad would take care of me. In my mini-Lexi mind I knew that they could solve anything. My dad (the fix-it-up-Chappie) and my mom (the Queen of our household, reigning in love and mom-wisdom) always knew what to do. But here's the thing: I may be a grown up now, and my mom and dad (who will of course always be hugely a part of my life) aren't running the show. But. God. Is.

And that is what can make all the difference. It frees me up to play and dream and create. Yes I have bills and go through suffering and doubts which is a part of being an adult. But I don't have to lose that child-like faith that at the end of the day, I know God is in control and will take care of me.

And just think of all the time that will free up to run around outside playing with dragons...

500 Reasons why I loved 500 Days of Summer

Ok, I'm not going to list all 500. But I could! (NOTE: I don't think this post gives away anything about the movie you wouldn't know from seeing the trailer)

1. My love for Zooey Deschanal borders on stalkernesss. Except that I don't stalk her. But I do love love love her and sort of (completely) want to be her. I'm sure you all feel the same.

2. There is a psuedo musical number mid-movie (which I won't explain more of in hopes that you will all go and see it) but needless to say, that sort of thing happens in my life (mind) all the time, complete with animated birds (unicorns). Love it!

3. The movie is set in LA but I thought it was NYC for the first 2/3 of the movie. AND I've lived here for 8 years. So basically they succeeded in making LA into a magical new city that I can't wait to go and take part in (hopefully this new expedition into LA life will include my own personal Joseph Gordon-Levitt?)

4. I love movies that are told out of order--especially since this movie is about a relationship and that is so often how we remember things

5. The movie completely validates my previous post on love/love lost--Utter romantic character falls in love and when it doesn't work out questions everything he believed about soul mates/destiny/love. Ain't love grand? GO SEE IT!

I love it/I hate it

Here's a fun game: what is one thing you love and one thing you hate today? Here is my example, I hope you will all post your own.

LOVE IT: Hardware stores. What's that, you say? It's true! Today I went to three hardware stores in search of some illusive air filters and something about the chaotic but systematic organization combined with the smell of who knows what (wood? tools? metal?) just makes me feel like I'm in a happy small town and I'm about to walk outside to get my Bernese Mountain Dog who is waiting patiently by the parking meter and take her to get an ice cream cone. Or something like that. I think my love for small, non-chain (well actually they are all owned by ACE--who you can now follow on Twitter according to their website...what the heck do they post? Hammers have now dropped in price from 9.99 to 7.89, come on down--@drillbitwoodshavings) Don't get me wrong, I love a good trip to Home Depot when you need something obvious, but these smaller hardware stores are really where it's at. They remind me of going to the hardware store with my Mom on the main street in the town where I spent the first 7 years of my life and feeling like all was right in the world because the nice man behind the counter gave me a lollipop while mom picked out an outdoor light bulb. Today, for instance, at Busy Bee Hardware in Santa Monica, the 100 year old man behind the counter let me go in the employees only section with him to locate the air filters and then climbed up a ladder and dropped them down to me. Where else can you find 100 year old employees climbing ladders so gracefully, so cheerfully? He even gave me a discount--I think I may be the only female who ever comes into the store. Either way, I think local hardware stores may be the key to feeling that home-town feeling in a city as big as LA.

HATE IT: Fox's up and coming show More to Love. (for those of you who Tivo past all commercials, it is essentially The Bachelor with all the women contestants being on the heavier side) OK people, here comes a rant. FIRST of all, since when is it OK to define "real women" as either size 2 or size 14? Last time I checked I was a real woman (or at least that's what Shania told me) and I am in between. Second of all, and what I hate the most, is that this show parades itself as some sort of friendly, accepting, "finally letting the big girls have their moment in the spotlight" show, while really objectifying those very women and doing so in front of the whole world. I could go on and on, but here is my main point. Obviously shows like that are anything but real anyways (this coming from someone who actually likes watching The Bachelor/Bachelorette), so why even bother trying to claim that this larger version is any more "real"? Corralling 30 women into a mansion to compete for a man's attention so he can propose and then later break-up with her (or vice versa with Bachelorette) is not generally the way real people fall in love, so let's just call this show the shock factor factory that it is. Honestly, my heart breaks for these women, who have some how been convinced that they will feel better about themselves if they confess their deepest insecurities about love/their bodies/etc in front of millions of viewers. Reality dating shows can be fun to watch, but honestly this latest version makes me sick.