The Flavor of Victory is Called "SourCane"

Times so bitter became so sweet. I had a rough started three and a half years ago when I started at The Birch. I was unsure of the area, the lady in charge was a difficult person to work with/for. My mom's advice to me was to always hang in here. Through my forced commitment to this place I successfully graduated from beauty college and earned my cosmetology license. This company has been good to me, and I have earned many awards through these years here. I have been lucky enough to be stubborn in my leasing position here, finally being promoted (through no choice, forced exclusion) to assistant manager. After six months of being an assistant manager, I have proven worthy and earned a shot at being manager, I am facing an extreme challenge. Stacks of paperwork reminds me of the carpet hall in Aladdin. The residential issues are going to be difficult. I am ecstatic. Though it is heartbreaking to leave The Birch, it is thrilling to discover what is over this giant hill. I have been nesteled in this green valley for a few years now and it is time to move on. Louie said it best when he mentioned that "the squeaky wheel gets the oil." Wish me luck, friends, as I travel onward. I will, of course, keep you updated on thoughts, feelings, and the struggles along the way. It will be made much easier when Mike and I get new computers as I will not be allowed the luxury of smooth sailing. I will be engulfed in work, the process. I am hoping to discover new worlds. This flavor is called sourcane. This feeling is called limbo.

Glowing Perspective

There is a challenge. We call it discovery. I am terrified, excited, nervous, and joyful. A new adventure kisses the horizon and I am currently left in limbo. It does not become the question, "should I or shouldn't I," instead it breaks a new dawn, revealing colors I did not understand before, a new strength I did not know I possessed. The once sandy beaches and tangerine sunsets are left behind only to be discovered by a new wave. What is this wonder? A new world is just ahead, I can see the peaks of the mountains. I can smell the air, feel the crisp mornings. As a legacy dies, fall gives birth to an upcoming dream. Flames.

The view of the dreadful fire has since been extinguished, leaving only ashes for this phoenix to be born, again. There are the views, the stages, awful sensations. There are surges of insecurity, creativity, passion. A challenge presents itself, asserts my soul. Stares into my multi-colored eyes. A giant dare, a faint scare. A living pawn is suddenly thinking, viewing life as a new-born. Educated.

Shouldn't I Have Something To Do?

A new thinking is born, as happens many times in a woman's life, that the idea of not committing to an idea, per se, is a beautiful gift. Julia Child wasn't married until she was in her 40's. She remained a virgin all of those years. At 6'2", a tree of a woman, blossomed into being Julia Child. Once married, she became a sexual beast. Reportedly making love to her husband almost everyday on his lunch break. A romantic. A dreamer. She was looking, in her 40's, to re-invent herself. She kept true to her nature, true to her heart, and began cooking. Her famous book, "The Art of French Cooking", was published when she was 50 years of age.

Then there is me. Twenty three and insane. I feel as though I am constantly trying to reinvent, or invent in the first place, who I am and what I want to do. Shouldn't I have something to do. Whether entertaining the thought of purchasing a house, upgrading our outdated computer system, going back to school, or just changing the color of my hair, I am a mess. I am a passionate person, and the feelings that I feel are deep and they do not hide well. They do not hide at all. When I am happy, the sun shines right through my eyes. The saddness, indeed, brings dark clouds all around. I wonder how, in my now-years, and later years I will choose to reinvent myself. If being twenty three and acting older will bring more youth to my older ages. If a college degree will ultimately make a differance in my life plan. I, of course, have no answers and remain clueless. Stay with me. There are going to be twists and obsticals along my path. I can't wait.

The Pink Martini (virgin of course)

The words strike me straight through my stomach. I am not a perfect being. I have always walked tall, as though I was a giant and all the people in the world were in my playground. Today, walking home, I looked to the sky only to discover that tall isn't really anything at all. What are the ceilings but captors of our lives? Our world has been built around humans, not the misconception of the giant I am. I am beginning to like the bitterness of the martini. Though I really do want a little sugar in my bowl. I have felt though I am a small adult, I am an adult. Not always brought up in the brightest of lights, a lot of my childhood was dim and dismal. However, I have prevailed, and feel as though it is time to grow up, time to become a full-grown adult. Though I am still quite fond of the flavor of kool-aid, I have grown even fonder of Diet Pepsi, a true adult beverage. I still eat cereal for breakfast, I am maturing slowly, though this progression has been a series of quick pains. I am learning to let go, slow down, take a step back and let the other adults around me shine through my clouds. I am not the forty-foot tall woman as I once thought, I am a measly small adult. All five-foot-four of me. A painful realization this has been. All of the time I spent in my youth trying to build myself up, grow up, and here I am, full-grown and small. This was not what I thought it would be at all. I still panic, but the lessons that are coming with that panic are teaching me to have a picnic in that panic. To not only eat the strawberries but enjoy every last morssel. To not buy the cookies, but to enjoy making them. Slow down. Don't grow so tall.