Feeling Thankful

I know a lot of people save the "I'm thankful for..." posts for Thanksgiving, but as I was driving to work this morning, I somehow realized how much I really have in this world. I felt like I couldn't keep it to myself; maybe other people could also realize that today's problems are so small in the grand scheme of things. Maybe we could all use a little reminding why we should be incredibly, deeply thankful and happy for our lives.

First, let me say that I'm going to skip all of the "Other people have it worse" cliches. It's been said, and it's never really moved anyone or changed any feelings. In fact, I think it may just depress people more. So, moving on....


I'm going to go through some things about my life lately that might (and often do) have me thinking, "Could things get much worse?":

1. It's been almost a year now since our family lost our precious Tatum (my second, beautiful niece).

She passed away, suddenly and without warning, on her first birthday, just a couple weeks after this photo was taken (we celebrated her birthday on Easter while the family was over). For an entire year, we've all been asking "Why?". And of course, there has never been, and never will be an answer. Tears, frustration, anger, incredible sadness come and go. We will never know why she was taken. We will always feel like we didn't have enough time with her. We will always wonder what she would be like today. And even though I force myself to picture her on Easter, eating that monkey cake, I will always remember how she looked when we laid her to rest: like a sweet, little doll. 

Aaand kaboom. Like a bomb, right? I probably don't even need to list anything else. That feels like enough. In fact, I kind of want to just stop writing because I suddenly feel hopeless, but now I really have to go on.

2. My job.

I have been miserable at work every day for about six months. It's not a bad job...I work at a bank. It's a typical customer service job: grouchy customers, meager pay, repetitive tasks, overbearing managers, etc. The real problem is, however, it's so incredibly unfulfilling, I feel like I'm wasting every breath I take while I'm there. I majored in art, for goodness' sake. I thrive off of expressing my emotion, which I was actually told (by my manager) that I was not allowed to show. And that's enough of that...everyone hates their job, right?

3. Transportation.

My husband and I share a dented up car that's already having problems even though it's only a couple of years old and costs us $300 a month. Moving on.

4. Money.

We don't have much. We have been living paycheck to paycheck since we got married a year and a half ago. We have almost nothing in savings. I'm in charge of our finances, and I live every day in fear that something will happen to us that we won't be financially prepared for. Both of our jobs pay so poorly that we really have no other option. The amount of stress building up within me is enough to crush a small village.

5. All the little things.

Feeling like I have no direction. Living in a bad neighborhood in a small apartment. Feeling disconnected from people around me. Stressful relationships. Being tired all the time. Having baby fever without the means to actually raise a child. Pressure to prove myself. Our messy apartment. That rusty, noisy, smelly and terrifying washer/dryer. Our noisy neighbors. Etc.

Wow, THAT was fun. Chances are, a lot of you know how some or most of this feels. Now I'm ready to tell you why I'm choosing to be thankful for those problems instead of upset about them.

1. We had a whole wonderful, amazing year to watch Tatum grow. She brought us countless moments of joy and many memories of her adorable, chubby face and crazy hair. In life, she was a gift beyond words. In death, she is the reason we live the way we do. Her passing reminded us how temporary life is. I make more trips home to see family, I feel more emotion day-to-day, and I realize how lucky I am to be surrounded by loved ones. I take less for granted. I consider myself to be lucky to have had her as my little niece, even if it meant enduring so much pain and sadness. Even though it was such a tragedy, it was all still more good than bad. A one year old child gave us the greatest gift: Awareness of what we stand to lose.

2. I HAVE a job. Just when I thought work couldn't get any worse, something amazing happened: I got a new job. I start on Monday. This new job is in my field: there's graphic design, writing, THINKING, and even the opportunity for a bit of marketing and thinking outside of the box! No customer service...just me being able to be me and accomplishing something wonderful while I'm at it. Not to mention the nice salary to go along with it. Of course, I won't actually know how great it is until I'm doing it, but I have very high hopes. 

3. We have a car! That's amazing, and it's a lot more than many, many people can say (that's as close as I'm getting to the "other people have it worse cliche." Who cares if it has a couple of dents? It gets us from point A to B and is shiny and blue and fantastic. And yes, we share it...big deal! I love my husband and I would share anything with him (except my toothbrush).

4. We're not starving. Really, I'm very thankful for that. All of our basic needs are met and then some! Who cares if I can't buy new clothes every week...and we don't go to Disney a few times a year (big whoop). Eating out? It's bad for you anyways! I need to stop whining that I can't afford to fix the cracked screen on my phone and realize I HAVE A PHONE.

5. They don't matter.

And how about some things that are just wonderful through and through?

6. My amazing parents, Al and Jo Ann. They've offered me so much guidance through the years...I owe everything I am to them. They've been married for a kajillion years (that equals 30-something) and have been wonderful examples to me. They are just all around awesome human beings.

7. My niece, Isabella. She'll be in kindergarden this year. I can't believe it...she talks to me about dinosaurs and shows me how to spell her name (backwards "S" and all). She dances and sings with me and is always willing to share whatever delicious treats she's eating. She's an awesome little person.

8. The rest of those awesome people I call "family". My sister, Becca. My mother-in-law, Emily. My aunts and uncles and grandmas and grandpa. They've impacted me in so many ways. I wouldn't be who I am without them.

9. My best friend, Liza. She thinks I'm going to forget about her when I leave my job (we work together). How silly! I can't imaging how dull life would be without her! Words don't express how scared I am of working somewhere she isn't...but thankfully there are weekends and weeknights, and she has nothing to worry about because I love her soooo much! She has taught me so much about life and relationships...her worth to me can't be measured. (Got it, Liza?)

10. All the little things. :)

So be thankful...I mean truly thankful, for everything you have in your life. I know some things suck...but just remember that you always have something to be happy about. We could all list a million things in our lives that suck...but I bet we could all list a million and one things that are quite fantastic.

DIY Projects!

I woke up this morning and felt like going thrifting. Despite our new, terrifyingly tight budget, I decided to take advantage of this rare mood and find some things to spruce up our decor a bit. Since it's Sunday, the only place I could find that was open was Goodwill, so there I went.

I found eight small photo frames that were in horrible condition, with disgusting photos inside of them, that I could see had potential. They were only a dollar a piece!

I also found two golden-yellow stars made out of some flimsy metal that were $8 each (more than I would have liked to pay, but they caught my eye).

In addition, I found a small wooden floating shelf still in it's wrapper for only $3! It's probably not well-made enough to hold up anything of significant weight, but it should do in the bathroom over the toilet for some nice candles (as bathrooms often do appreciate lightly scented candles). It needs a coat of paint, though...something I didn't have the time for today. That will have to be saved for another day.

Here are some photos of how it went down!

First, the before and after of the photo frames! I love the chunky one with scrollwork in the corners, and I love the ivory spray paint! When these bad boys are done, they will have pressed flowers behind the glass. Then I will arrange them in a collage pattern somewhere in our apartment.

 Here are the Before and After photos of the metal stars! I hung them over the couch, but decided not to put the finished photo up yet because I'm not sure if I like the pattern of the metalwork over the blue and white stencil pattern of the wall.

I also went to Home Depot today to buy a hanging kit for this mirror we found at Goodwill ages ago! It was old and ugly, but a few fresh coats of red spray paint gave it new life! I also hung the hats my husband and I wore on our wedding day over the flowers I used in our wedding...in a jar I decorated for our wedding. I guess this is our wedding corner! Like the antique record player and cabinet? I do! It's a loaner from my mother-in-law. She's the greatest!

So all in all, I'm happy with what I accomplished today. We finally have one more little piece of our lovely apartment "finished". I absolutely love this corner now (it's right at the base of the staircase on the right...sliding glass door is on the left). Before it felt so drab and boring. Now it looks like some thought went into it!

Thinking about it, I will probably move the stars into the kitchen somewhere and find something else to put over the sofa. Maybe silhouettes of myself and my darling husband? I've seen some other people do it (Christina, for example), and I absolutely love it, but my husband is always complaining that he hates his profile. :)

Spontaneous Human Combustion

Most children have an irrational fear or two that plague them throughout the majority of their childhood. Some include being left and forgotten in a public place, the monster in the closet, being hit with the ball in gym class (the fear of which always seemed to be the actual cause of the collision), popping balloons, big dogs, people in giant mascot costumes, etc. Those fears, and others, follow children around for years upon years, constantly reminding them that something terrible could happen to them at any moment. 

My fear was that of spontaneous human combustion. You know, it’s the sudden bursting into flames of a human body for no apparent reason and from no apparent source. If you ask me, it’s a perfectly reasonable fear.

I was seven years old, the perfect age for an adventure into the unknown. My mother, my sister, her friend and I were visiting my mother’s friend, Dana, in North Carolina. As soon as we began to see mountains during our drive from Florida, my face was permanently pressed against the chilled backseat window. A landscape of sparkling white slowly appeared before me. Trees that should have been green took on an almost gray color with white frosting, and fields that should have been grassy appeared to resemble a page in a coloring book in which someone had simply forgotten what color crayon to apply.

It was the first time I had ever seen snow, and my level of excitement was so extreme that I didn’t care that the temperature outside was twenty-million degrees below zero. I was bundled up so tightly, I could barely put my arms at my side, and the only bit of my face you could see under the black ski mask and my geeky glasses were my eyes. After everyone had a good laugh at my appearance, thanks to my mom overdoing it, playing commenced. Dana’s backyard was the best place I had ever been. We went sledding down the street, threw snowballs, made snow angels, and shivered. We shivered a lot.

After some time we were finally cold and wet enough to go inside, though some coaxing from the grown-ups was necessary. Unfortunately, being from Florida, we were completely unequipped with the proper footwear for romping around in snow. Our feet were freezing cold, and our shoes and socks were soaking with melted slush. We hung them to dry so they would be ready again for tomorrow and proceeded to make our way to the living room by the fireplace and the television. I was in desperate need of warmth and planted myself on the sofa seat closest to the fire. It was warm and inviting, and much easier to appreciate than any fire in Florida since it’s always unnecessary.  

One of the grownups decided to watch a television show called “Fact or Fiction.” It would show some outlandish story reenacted by less-than-mediocre actors and then have the viewers guess if it was “real” or not. It was all good and fun until a story about something called Spontaneous Human Combustion. It went something like this:

There was an old woman who was taken care of by her daughter. The old woman said she wasn’t feeling well and sat down in her wooden rocking chair by her bedroom window. The daughter left, saying she would be back in a few minutes, and closed her mother’s door behind her. After fifteen minutes or so, she went back to her mother’s bedroom to find the doorknob incredibly hot to the touch. Fearing the worst, she flung the door open only to discover that everything appeared normal. However, something was wrong. Her mother was nowhere to be found. She walked over to the chair her mother had been sitting in and found nothing but a pile of ashes on the floor in front of the wooden rocking chair.

After watching the combustion segment on the show, I began to feel slightly warm. After a few minutes, “slightly warm” became “outright uncomfortable.” The program broke for commercials and promised the answer of “fact” or “fiction” upon return. I found myself praying and hoping for it to say “fiction.” What kind of strange occurrence could cause a woman to simply burst into flames without any reason? Why didn’t the old lady scream for help? What happened?

As the commercials continued to play, beads of sweat formed on my forehead and my heart rate increased dramatically. Thirty second commercials lasted longer than what was reasonably humane. Every muscle in my body was tense as I waited for the answer. Fiction, fiction, fiction…it has to be fiction, I thought. Nobody around me noticed my discomfort. My body must have been emitting steam, I thought. I was so hot.

I jumped as the last commercial ended and the program came back on. Finally, the moment I had been waiting for! I sat up, ignored my immense discomfort for a moment, and watched the television as intensely as if it held the key for life. To me, with my ever-increasing body temperature and sweaty brow, it did hold the key to life…a life devoid of people randomly bursting into flames. 

With a cheesy smile, the host said, “So is it fact, or fiction?” There was a suspenseful pause, and then...


"Fact."

This was the end. God was smiting me for something I'd done in my seven short years on earth. That's what happens to those-who-are-smited. right? Death by spontaneous combustion? According to the television, which was all the truth in the world to a seven year old, some old lady was sitting in a chair enjoying the scenery from her window and burst into flames. A helpless old woman became nothing but a pile of ashes.

I knew my life was about to end. I knew that I, also, would be consumed by flames by some freak act of nature. I sought out comfort from my mother.

“Mom, I’m hot” I whimpered.

She looked at me, then at the fireplace and replied, “Move away from the fire, silly.”

I moved to the other side of the couch and waited to see if it was cooler. Instead, however, as time went by I felt like I was boiling.

Desperately, I made another plea to my mother.

“Mommy, I’m still hot.”

She felt my forehead. “You’re fine. You don’t feel like you have a temperature.”

I was on the verge of tears. Hysteria was building up inside of me like gas in a shaken soda can, but I kept it bottled up. I wasn’t the type of kid to confess my worries to adults for fear of ridicule. It was serious, and I didn’t want my mom to belittle my imminent death by telling me I was overreacting. Soon, I would catch fire while sitting next to her and then she would know that something had been seriously wrong. That would show her...yeah.

Dana had heard my pitiful complaints and called me over to the kitchen. I slowly walked to her, afraid to make any sudden movements, and she stuck a thermometer under my tongue. Realizing that Dana was trying to get to the bottom of my ailment, a hope began building up inside of me. Maybe she could fix me. Maybe she could keep me from combusting!

The thermometer began signaling that it was finished and Dana announced that I had a fever. It was real after all. My hopes of help were dashed as she and my mom ushered me into the bedroom and into bed.

“You need to sleep and get better so we can go sledding tomorrow!” exclaimed my mother.

They left the room, leaving the light on as I requested (if I was going to die, it was NOT going to be in the dark), and I lay completely still, sweltering under the covers. I would not go sledding tomorrow, I knew. I would not wake up. If I was lucky, I would be asleep when it happened and wouldn’t feel any pain. My first trip into snow had turned into my worst nightmare, and it was the last one I would ever have.


Obviously, I didn't burst into flames that night. Though I feel very sheepish for admitting this, the fear of Spontaneous Human Combustion plagued my existence for YEARS. I was seriously probably 16 or 17 years old before I decided I would not randomly burst into wild flames one night.

Hello Again.

So it's been awhile, but we all expected that. Forgetting I have a blog is my specialty! Some quick updates:

I graduated in May. I now have a degree that feels very useless.
I work at a bank and make very little money doing it.
I haven't finished a painting in almost two years.
My family endured a tragedy last May.
My husband and I upgraded to a beautiful apartment that isn't mold-filled.
I'm designing my own website! It's at sadgarcia.com. There is a link on it pointing to here, so we have the potential for an infinite loop.

Sometimes (meaning most of the time) these days I feel like this whole school thing is such a waste. I'm craving some kind of evidence that it's not.

Flashback!

I decided that once a week or so I am going to post old photos from my childhood and reminisce. Should be fun for two main reasons:

1. I get to remember growing up, which is usually pretty awesome.
2. You get to see me as the nerdy child I was, and we can all have a giggle together.

Today's post is about something I noticed while looking for the perfect photo to blog about. I never realized it until now, but I think most of my childhood consisted of me wearing clothes that were much too big.

Exhibit A:


Disney...sometime after the first Toy Story came out, judging by the Toy Soldiers. Just LOOK at that jacket. Where are my hands? I don't know. (I'm also digging the pink sweat pants...aren't you?)

Exhibit B:


Disney again...I'm guessing the same weekend but different day. In front of some sort of Pirates of the Caribbean display? Anyways, I'm rocking the Sarasota sweatshirt but my hands are still nowhere to be found.

Exhibit C:


This may be the same year as well (or maybe a bit earlier, since I don't have glasses yet). I remember that dress...it was my favorite dress ever, and I wore it almost every Sunday for church. But look...my fingers are barely poking out of those puffy sleeves.

So it seems that my hands were in hiding for much of my young life. I wonder why Mom and Dad had so much trouble finding shirts that didn't eat me alive? Hahaha.


Note: Young children can not be held responsible for pink, high-water sweat pants and oversized sweatshirts bearing the name of the town they actually live in. Pleaseandthankyou.

This is ridiculous...

Did I really not post anything on here for almost a month? What is wrong with me?!

I promise....I'm still running. No joke...its been over four weeks. That's a milestone for me!

In case you're wondering, I haven't lost any weight...but I do feel thinner around the stomach (my rear feels and looks the same. Oh well).

I'm also running twice as much as walking in my workouts, now. The last week was a 5 minute warm up (I run part of it), 3 minutes running, 1.5 walking, 5 running, 2.5 walking, 3 running, 1.5 walking, 5 running, and a 5 minute cool down (I also run part of that). My shins are starting to feel the pressure now. Yesterday was the toughest run yet, and today I'm feeling sharp pains and burning. Hopefully tomorrow will be better because its a new week and a harder workout.


Last Thursday I also had the privilege to photograph a great new band called The Reverie. My husband Alberto is the bassist and I've known the drummer and electric guitarist for several years. Would you like a sneak peek?



From the left: John-Michael (acoustic and vocals), Eric (electric guitar), Dan (drums), and Alberto (bass).










Hope you enjoyed that!

Progress...

So I had a day of rest after my first day of walking/running.
The next day, I was supposed to do 8 minutes walking, then 8 1-minute intervals of running and walking. Then walking 4 minutes. Alberto, however, had a different idea. He wanted to go biking in the Flatwoods. I agreed, and we spent about an hour and a half out there.

IT WAS INSANE.

I had a bike when I was a kid, and on and off through college...but the extent of my bike riding was on the road in my old, quiet neighborhood, and around campus. Nothing crazy. I ride on one gear: fast. Yes, it makes pedaling harder, and yes, its harder to get going...but thats how I like it, no matter how many times Alberto tells me to shift gears. :)

I had never ridden a bike on anything that remotely resembled dirt or sand. In the Flatwoods, there was dirt and sand and leaves and roots, and HUGE roots, and hills, and drops, and narrow paths, and armadillos, and unseen animals rustling around in bushes menacingly. It was fun, but frustrating. We got lost. We were exhausted. I wanted to go home.

And my butt...OH MY GOODNESS. The bumping along on the roots was excruciating, and the soreness as a result was even worse and lasted longer.

But wow, it was an amazing workout. The skin on my arms did the same thing my legs had done before...they got all itchy and burning. The skin became all red and blotchy, too.

It was fun, though, and we're hopefully going again tomorrow, if I can borrow a bike.


Today I got back to my walking/running.
This time it was on the treadmill in our apartment's gym since it was dark outside and I don't feel safe running alone at night. I did a total of 1.12 miles...the workout I describes in the beginning.

The treadmill said I only burned 85 calories, and I'm really hoping thats an underestimate. >:/



Also, I've been trying to eat healthier! More on that later.

Here We Go Again...

But this time, I'm REALLY going to do it!

I've said at least ten times in my life that I was going to start running, and keep running. About 8 of those 10 times, I actually started the running. And none of those times did I actually KEEP running.

Lack of will-power and motivation was to blame. Lazy? Yes. But since in the last year I've gained 12 pounds (in the form of a gut that makes me look 3 or 4 months pregnant and a much larger rear-end), obesity runs in my family, and I'm most comfortable when my jeans are unbuttoned, I decided it really is time I get in shape.

I posted on my Facebook status about this endeavor and told many friends and co-workers, and most of the replies I got were people saying that 12 pounds isn't that much, that I'm already petite, or that I've always been skinny, and am I crazy? Honestly, its very annoying. For a 5'1" woman who has always hovered around 105, YES, 12 pounds is that much. And since when is not fitting into any of your clothes NOT a good reason to lose weight? And people..."petite" does not mean skinny. It means proportionally small height-wise. That means I could be 200 pounds, short, and be called petite. Thank you to all of my friends who still think I look good...really, I appreciate it.

But when I look in the mirror, I see fat where I did not see it before. I see my stomach actually hanging over the waistline of my pants. I see myself weighing 300 pounds like relatives of mine in twenty years. I see a million reasons to start down the road to being the weight I want to be and being fit and healthy.


Now, the motivation and will-power previously lacking in my life is here at the moment. What if it goes away? I don't know, honestly. I do know that I am being more proactive about that possibility by reading health blogs, visiting Womens Health Magazine's website every day, visiting Runners World's website every day, and Googling whatever I can to keep my interest peaked.



Today was the first day of my actual training regimen. I am following the Beginners Running Guide from Women's Health Magazine. Today was 10 minutes of walking, then 6 minutes of alternating between running and walking...1 minute for each. Then a 4 minute cool-down.

It started off great! I felt empowered with my new running shoes ($22 Adidas from Ross!) and clothes. I felt AWESOME with my iPod playing rock music. I felt slightly worried that I would lose my keys (mental note: buy a lanyard).

After the first minute of running, however, the difficulty level shot sky high. I thought 3 minutes of running would be a breeze...oh boy, was I wrong. My whole body kept seizing up, and then I would realize that my form was really bad and try to correct it. Suddenly, carrying my iPod was a nuisance...and I did drop the keys (luckily, I somehow heard the "clink" of them hitting the cement over the sound of my music). When it was 4 minute walk-time, I was thanking the Lord Jesus.

When I got home, I walked to the kitchen to make a protein shake, only to realize I didn't have any milk. I pondered over the situation for a moment, and decided to walk/run to the gas station nearby to get some. Driving seemed like a stupid idea since I had just walked/ran about 3 times the distance.

Then it hit...OH MY GOSH, it was awful.

ITCHING...my legs, hips, thighs...itching and burning! What the heck? I have NO IDEA, but it was unbearable. I walked, and it went away. When I started running again, it came back. Could my own body be against me in this goal to better myself?

That doesn't make any sense!

I made it home after questioning myself several times about why I did not just take the car. I've learned my lesson...always have milk.


Tomorrow is walk 8 minutes, alternate walking/running for 12 minutes...4 minute walk. Somehow...I'm still excited about it!

And in case you're interested, here is a map of my walk/run today!
http://www.mapmyrun.com/route/us/fl/tampa/420129376407977481

An Honest Statement

I have a soft aching in my chest. I'd like to say its because of many things, but I know the exact thing that caused it, and I have to say, I'm ashamed of myself.

I feel like even though I have learned that God is all that I need and that I can't fill any hole in my life with a husband, I find that it is very difficult to actually put that knowledge into use in my life. I yearn for that companionship. If I can't be wholly satisfied with God as my Number One, how can He ever trust me enough to send me my husband?

Sometimes I think I'm not meant to be married...that there is no man I could ever put up with or that could put up with me, and for awhile I am satisfied and quite happy to not have to deal with any of it. I thank God for those moments of content. Then, slowly and silently, the yearning, hoping, wanting, and waiting creep up on me and I find myself wanting more.

How could I ever want more than God? Its quite terrible. God provides everything that I need...why does my heart stray to man?

And whats worse is that aside from the inability to be content with just God in my life, I cannot fully share in my engaged and married friends' joy because jealousy creeps into my heart when I think about it too much. Of course, I am always quite happy for them...it makes me happy to see them happy and united with the partner God created for them. Its those little thoughts, though...the thoughts like, "Why hasn't God sent me my husband yet?" or "Why are they happy and not me?" that create that aching in my chest.

Its a mixture of discontent, sadness, jealousy, and guilt for feeling those things that settle themselves in for a little while. I need to pray for completion from God, not from a man. I need to pray that God would fix my heart so that I can really just feel pure joy for my friends who have been blessed with their partners.