29 and feelin' fine

What? It rhymed!

I still feel 28, 24 or 18 for that matter. I often wonder if anyone ever really feels like they are a particular age. In my head I envision myself as 19-20 and often forget that my actual age is the age I thought that my life would be drab and completely over. Granted, I doubt the things I find exciting and fun now are things I would have found exciting and fun at 19-20 (think bar hopping versus decorating my master bedroom) but I still think I'm pretty hip with the jive. No, not so much? Whatever, I still think alcohol is awesome and I know at least that hasn't changed.  

I rang in my 29th birthday two weeks ago and I thought it would be fun to re-cap my day to officially kick off my documentation of my 29th/pre 30th year.

Without further adieu, I present you-

 "My 29th birthday"

My birthday was on a Monday this year and I spent the weekend prior in Nashville celebrating my college roommate's bachelorette party. 

I love hanging out with Erika because she is one of the few people who lacks inhibitions in the same ways I do. She let me take her into a store and hand her anything to try on and model. Can't imagine why she didn't wear the gem above out for the evening celebrations. 

Monday morning (aka birthday morning) I woke up and did what every mature 29 year old does: I put on as many colors as possible in one outfit. This is a birthday tradition for me- I wear whatever strikes my fancy and this year I wanted color. 

Despite my epic weekend I managed to wake up early and so I started my day off with an early morning walk on the beach with my home girl, Rookie

Post walk, my friend Leah and I met up for some birthday yoga at a studio we've never tried. Not the most challenging class (we unknowingly registered for a senior class...irony?) but always fun to try a new teacher and a new environment. 

Following yoga we went to one of my favorite lunch spots for some delicious California tex mex. I graciously spared you the foodie pic (and not at all because I scarfed it before thinking to snap a blog worthy picture).

About a month ago I attended a spouse appreciation evening and won the grand prize in a raffle- a $100 gift certificate to a local spa. So, I cashed it in for my birthday and got a free mani/pedi after my yoga/lunch date.

Post mani/pedi I had my evening dance classes, so I was privileged to hang out with my favorite little people. 

And so concludes my exciting birthday events.

However, I was able to continue my celebrations throughout the week when two days later...

My Durham came home from a 5 month deployment!!!

And with his return home we made a long overdue, very large purchase....

A new car!!! 

So overall? Excellent birthday. I'll take it! Next year though, male strippers.  (Okay but for real, no strippers...unless it's Channing Tatum) 

To PTA or to Not PTA, that is the question.

Whether 'tis nobler to pursue more education or to throw the towel in and work with what I've got?

When I graduated from college I had no idea what I wanted to do and it took me two years to figure it out, when I decided to go back to graduate school at JMU for Master's. At the time, I realized I wanted to work with children in a recreation setting in some sort of administrative while still "hands on" role.

When I graduated from JMU I put my heart first and moved to Florida to be with my now husband, a pilot in the USAF.

I'm not going to sugar coat it, this part of the country has very little opportunity for the specific education that I pursued in my Master's program. I had imagined, as we often do when dreaming about the future, that I would be able to tap into the Air Force's MWR (Morale, Welfare and Recreation for the non-Military) Programming and get a sweet gig working on base in their gyms or outdoor rec programs. However...hello $8.00/hour for entry level and the 2011 to the present total hiring freeze for salaried employees.

So...that's been fun.

I've fuddled my way through several jobs. I won't take you through the entirety of the saga but it's been a a drawn out experience. Finally, last summer I evaluated my options. We're military, we're going to move, and I need a mobile career. As is stereotypical with women married to the military, I had two options: Medical field or Teacher. I opted medical.

I quit my job as a staffing agency branch manager and enrolled in an online program to take the prerequisites for a Physical Therapy Assistant program.

Have you ever taken online classes? I think in my entire higher education I've taken a total of one and it was an internship where I did the actual work in an office and simply tracked my hours and completed a few journal entries online.

Now, after two semesters of online classes I think I can adequately state that I, Christina, am NOT an online student. At all. I am not a fan of the self taught atmosphere, the lack of personal interaction and the "glued to the computer screen for hours of your week" studying. For some people the perks may outweigh the downfalls; I'd rather spend my time getting a root canal.

The online aspect (it would be two more years of online school to earn the degree) combined with the realization that PTA was an interest not a passion (among other factors) has lead me to decide NOT to PTA and to work with what I've got. I have guilt about the wasted money spent on going back to school. However, I think the Anatomy and Physiology and Medical Terminology is never a waste of time or money...especially considering my background.

So...check that off the list...I've decided not to PTA. But what now?

Come fly with me

Or more accurately, don't. I'm a miserable beast to fly with and it's actually far better for me to do it alone than drag anyone else through the drama it is to travel in an air bus with yours truly.

I have four reasons that I don't like flying. The first two are associated with very technical "in the box" definitions of other phobias I have: claustrophobia and a fear of heights. When people ask about my fear of flying (or more accurately when I'm in an airport, freaking out and I volunteer the information to anyone who will listen) that is what I tell them; I don't like to be a sardine in a can and I don't like to be a sardine in a can 2,600 feet about ground.

The two, probably more accurate and to the point reasons I hate flying, are as follows. 

Number one: I like to exit any area that I occupy whenever I deem necessary, with or without notifying those who have accompanied me to said area. My friend L.J. calls this the Irish exit and I like it so I've adopted it. I perfected this skill in college but, upon reflection, I've been epic at this far before then. I always had a legit problem with administrators telling me I was confined to a specific desk and classroom in kindergarten. Furthermore I never understood why, in any stage of my education, it was deemed inappropriate to leave when I found it necessary- whether it be for the restroom or because whoever was standing in front of the classroom was boring the shit out of me and it was time to move onto bigger and better things. Regretfully, no one shared my opinion of the Irish exit during my public school education so I was continually forced to claim menstration or a bad fight with my boyfriend to facilitate me leaving the classroom to escape to the the choir room to nap on the floor behind the fourth row of chairs.

In college my Irish exits became infamous and often I would arrive to a party and have a barrage of people ask me for my keys and/or purse to prevent me from taking my exit as needed. I always politely declined and promised to stay right before I snuck out the back door. At this point of my life I'm confident that anyone who I became close with in school either resigned to the Irish exit, hijacked it for their own purposes, or decided it to be beneficial to them personally and therefore supported it. After all, if you supported my Irish exits it didn't  go unnoticed and you were undoubtedly rewarded with a ride home with an almost guaranteed stop by Sheetz for late night snacks.

I would also like to point out that my husband also shares in my love of Irish exits, something he also perfected prior to our relationship, and this alone makes us soul mates. We always plan our exit from any social gathering prior to arrival and it takes very few signals for either of us to read the others mind when we're thinking "evacuate immediately".

BACK TO THE POINT.

Do you see what I'm getting at here? I like to get out of places fast, on the drop of a hat, as soon as the mood strikes. Airplanes don't provide too many options to make that possible and it pisses me off. You can pull a car over, you can de-board a bus, but a plane is taking you from point A to point B without any pit stops or negotiations and I'm not a fan. If I wanted to be locked in a place with people I didn't know for a long period of time I would have found my way to prison by now. 

Number two:

I don't like not being able to fly my own plane. I rarely get in a car with a driver I don't know- I would rather walk than taxi in the highest of heels. At least with a taxi I can watch you while you drive, correct your obvious driving faux pas, view your taxi license, and order you to pull over when I deem you've run through your three strikes. I am completely and totally flabbergasted that prior to getting on a flight the pilot does not feel compelled to personally introduce himself to me and set up a pre-flight interview so I can determine if he is capable of getting me where I need to go without any hiccups. I can't believe they don't even send their resumes! Furthermore, preventing me from watching you do your job and critiquing the process is a hard slap in the face. I'm in charge of my destiny and I must say the minimal communication and total lack of an ability to observe the pilot is most disconcerting.

All this said, the irony is not lost on me that my husband is a pilot and I'm afraid to fly. If Durham could personally fly an expensive, private jet that we have purchased and maintained through a very well paid and knowledgeable mechanic I suspect that I might experience a 10-12% decreased freak out when traveling. I'm going out on a limb here when I say that this option is unlikely.

As you may have guessed, goal #12 is to overcome my fear of flying. I fly regularly and plan to fly continually throughout my life so conquering this is definitely something I not only want but need to do. I HAVE tried drugs, so I'll throw it out there that all they do for me is put me in a sedated panic. Not ideal for traveling alone- being stoned and walking around an airport by yourself (let alone driving to one) doesn't work. I mean, it works, just probably not for everyone else  when I stare at a water fountain for 10 minutes mesmerized by it's aquatic magic and miss my flight in search of chocolate chip cookies.

I'm currently in the process of an initial six appointments with an acupuncturist to work on my fear of flying, among other things. I'm also considering hypnosis and therapy, if necessary. I will continue to post on the developments in this area as they occur, and just my experiences overall because, who isn't interested in what goes on at an appointment with an acupuncturist or a hypnotist.  I am open to suggestions or pointers so please feel free to comment.

Excuses, excuses.

Warning: This is a religiously affiliated post. 

My social media is currently vomiting information about Lent. I mean that in a most religiously respectful manner. However, I mean that in a Judgey McJudgerson way, too.

Every year for Lent a series of posts, conversations and promises are made about a specific "thing" that a person is giving up for the upcoming 40 days. I get it- you go Glenn Coco- you sacrifice for your Lord and Savior! I approve! But...I think it's lame that you give up food. Food is so...unoriginal. Not to mention somewhat of an easy feat, when you consider it.

Growing up in the Orthodox faith, every Lent meant the sacrifice of meat for the entire 40 days and dairy and oil for specific days/weeks. It sometimes sucked but frankly it was never that hard. Additionally, (sorry Mom)...it didn't make me more contemplative, pleasant, or repenting. It kind of just made me hangry (Hangry, adjective, meaning "When you are so hungry that your lack of food causes you to become angry, frustrated or both." Definition generously brought to you by Urban Dictionary).

Sidenote: My mom was particularly tedious because she also believed (for a time) that there should be no birthday parties or celebrations during Lent. My brothers and I broke her of this habit by basically Trojan Horse-ing her: "This isn't a party, it's a gathering of friends, a get together". I also think some legit incessant complaining/nagging/crying ensued on my part, as a March 31st birthday.

I digress...

I was a vegetarian for 10 years. Currently I am on a kick with Virgin Diet (something I'll probably explain in a later post) where I have predominantly eliminated the 7 highly intolerant food groups from my menu - gluten, dairy, eggs, soy, peanuts, corn, sugar/artificial sugar. I am of firm belief that giving up a specific food or a food group is not hard, especially when you benefit from it. You people out there giving up sugar treats- are you telling me you don't enjoy the weight loss you get out of that?

I guess my point is this- give up something you're particularly bad about. Give up something that hurts or something that you you know you are going to struggle with. Why? Because the whole concept of Lent is to contemplate that Jesus Christ gave his life so that you could live. So...shouldn't you probably give up something that is particularly difficult? Maybe even a sin you commit that you'd like to try to rectify? Just my personal take but I feel like food is a fatty mcfaterson's cop out and requires very little effort or self control. 


DRUM ROLL PLEASE. I thought a lot about this, and, in addition to the traditional Orthodox fast that I'm going to jump back on the train with, I am also going to give up excuses.

Excuses? Yes, excuses.

I am going to give up the excuses I use to get out of doing the things I do not want to. This excuses could also be categorized as " little white lies" but no one likes to call themselves out like that, including me.

"What excuses do you use?" you may ask. Just a few. 
#1- "I'm too tired to work out, I worked a long day" will be replaced with "Get off the couch fat ass, everyone is tired and the endorphins will help you build up some energy".
#2- "I'm sorry I can't go out tonight, I have to wash my hair" will be replaced with "Thanks for the invitation to go out this evening but I am really in the mood to stay in. Maybe next time!"
#3- "I don't feel like going to church on Sunday mornings, its the only day I get to myself all week!" will be replaced with...just going to church.

...and so on and so forth. My excuses aren't necessarily the #1 reasons that I'm not doing something. They're often the "supporting arguments" that substantiate the big, central idea behind the general avoidance. So, why not just tell the truth? E'rebody got time for the truth.

In doing this I'm hoping to maybe improve myself in a way that I wouldn't normally commit to. Okay, and to help me quit being lazy. Cause ain't nobody got time for that.

***2 Week Update***
Despite a minor set back at a certain temptation ridden brunch, I've been able to maintain my meatless fast.
Additionally, I have not made any erroneous excuses yet. Spring Break from dance has helped. 

Captain, my Captain

I don’t want to go any further until I give credit where credit is due; and that “due” is to myself. One thing I figured out “right” in my 20’s was this stud muffin right here, Capt. Snuffin.

Durham is the bomb. There really isn’t any other cliché early 2000’s way of saying it. He is, undoubtedly, the #1 best thing that I figured out in my 20’s especially when I married him when I was 26…and then again when I was 28.

This man puts up with me, and an easy feat that is not. He provides me with a mountain of support, encouragement, thoughtful advice, epic dance parties, marital bliss and unconditional love.

He has given me the freedom and support to pursue my professional dreams. I am forever grateful to him for his understanding, patience and love and grateful to God for bringing him into my life. 

Post #1- The List

Since 2008 I have kept a list in my wallet. It started when I sat in the miniature chair at my full-time job as a day care teacher (which I tried really hard to refer to as an all-day pre-school teacher but…let’s call a spade a spade, shall we?). I realized that day, one year after I had graduated from college, that living at home, earning…not a lot… and babysitting 30 children all day (in a room the size of your average dining room) was not going to be “it” for me. I took out a piece of red construction paper and I wrote down 25 goals I had for myself prior to turning 30. At the time I was 23.

Then, a funny thing happened- I actually started to achieve some of the goals. I applied to graduate school and was accepted. I moved out of my parents’ house. I ran the Charlottesville 10 miler. I met my husband. Things started to get better.

In 2011, on the brink of matriculation from graduate school, I revised my list. At that time I was 26.  I omitted the goals I had achieved and goals that I simply didn’t feel as though were relevant to life’s current direction.  Below is a picture of the list that I have been carrying around for the past 3 years (apologies for the…eccentric nature of some of the items.) Good things have continued to happen as I’ve continued to achieve my goals.

Now, on the eve of my 29^th year of life and just a short 12 months away from greeting my 30^th birthday I have revised my list, yet again. This time I have created a list of goals that are achievable in the span of one year and, beginning at the start, goal #1 is starting and maintaining a blog for the duration of the next 365 days.

This blog was born out a need of accountability to achieve my goals but also because, while 40 is the new 30, my 30^th birthday seems like a big deal to me. I’ve read a several times that your 20’s are the most tumultuous decade of your life.  You’re figuring out who you are, what you’re doing, how you’re going to do it, who you love, who you need, who you don’t…You’re just figuring it all out! I wholeheartedly agree with this assessment. Frankly, the past 10 years have had more teenage angst than the angst of my teens. The omni present question “What am I doooiiinnnggg” (insert moan here) has been consistently at the forefront of my mind and finally…finally…I am starting to figure out that answer.  I’m proud of that and I credit the beginning of “figuring it all out” to my red construction paper list.

For the next year the posts that I update here will track my progress with achieving each goal. I may throw in some random posts here and there…because I am random and that’s how I roll…but for the majority it will be good old-fashioned goal setting and documentation.

So, without further pomp or circumstance, I present to you “the list”-

29 Things I want to do by the time I turn 30.

1.     Start  (& maintain!) a Blog for an entire year.

2.     Attend another DMB concert.

3.     Become certified in TRX, Pilates Mat & Aerial Movement.

4.     Travel to Europe

5.     Go to Disney World.

6.     Complete a volunteer project.

7.     Fix my tattoo

8.     See a musical

9.     Complete a Children's Yoga Teacher's course.

10. Become a consistently religious person

11. Plant and cultivate my own vegetable garden

12. Take steps in overcoming my fear of flying.

13. Perform in an artistic show.

14. Achieve my short term financial goals

15. Finish decorating my home

16.  Be Cinderella for Halloween

17.  Participate in Stand Up Paddleboard yoga

18. Start my own company

19. Decide if PTA school is the next step.

20. Write (but not necessarily send) apology notes to people I’ve hurt in the past.

21. Learn to safely handle firearms.  

22. Work on a consistent wellness regime.

23. Keep a kayak log.

24.  Re-vamp my wardrobe.

25.  Sail on a sailboat.

26.  Horseback ride.

27. Attend a children's dance teacher retreat and seminar.

28.  Run three 5k’s.

29.  Turn 30 with grace and elegance.  And maybe a little big of alcohol.