My pheromones affect people miles away – in a mild but measurable way. My blood smells like perfume. My personality is so magnetic I can’t even carry credit cards.
I love music and I love to dance. I don’t mean that I enjoy these things. I mean that I love them. Music and dancing fill my heart with a joy that makes everything feel right in the world. Often, when I’m listening to music I imagine myself being a spectacular dancer – complete with five inch stilettos and a sequin dress short enough to be mistaken for a top (if you didn’t know me better). I always imagine myself in the trendiest Miami nightclub. A tall Latin stranger grabs me and spins me onto the dance floor. He speaks no English. I speak what amounts to no Spanish. But dancing – fabulous, choreographed, expert level salsa dancing – is the only language we need.
What a loser! If I keep my mouth shut and stand in the corner with a drink in hand, I can pass for the sexy mysterious girl that everyone wants to get to know. But that has never happened to me a day in my life. For starters, I am physically unable to keep my mouth shut for any amount of time; but also because I am the world’s biggest goof ball. I crack incredibly corny jokes. I do the robot on the dance floor. And my face is like an open book – you can tell exactly what I’m thinking the moment I think it. Not terribly interesting.
Today is my birthday. People often ask if I dislike having been born the day after Christmas. Though I have been known to receive combination birthday/Christmas presents, overall I think my birthday (like Charlie’s review of Maverick's performance) is right-on. Clearly, Jesus loves me best. And in addition to not having to work or go to school on this day, being born at the end of the year helps me to reflect on the year I’ve completed and plan for the year ahead. I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. Besides, I’ve never heard of one that didn’t involve weight loss. (Side bar: You don’t need January 1st to start a diet or hit the gym. Just Do It.) Instead, I focus on what will make me a more interesting person. What, if anything, will balance out the fact that I am the world’s most incredible dork?
Last year that thing was triathlons. The sport has changed my life. And it has given me a head start on Operation Interesting 2011. The first time I travel to the African continent will be to race in my first Half Ironman. I leave in 24 days and can hardly contain my excitement. But even less interesting than being a dork would be becoming a one-dimensional person. While I love triathlons – racing and training – I don’t want my life to be consumed by them. This year, while I will continue with my newfound love, I will also find a new accomplishment to help me become extraordinary. With a last name like Gonzalez I should consider salsa lessons so that I can stop doing the robot on the dance floor. OK, I won’t go that far – it is my signature move. But maybe I will be able to walk into a dance club in Havana, summon the attention of the most interesting man in the room, and in five inch heels and ridiculously short and flowy white dress, dance the dance of love. (While the details of my fantasy change, the short dress and high heels remain constant.)
I am serious when I say that I don’t make New Year's resolutions. I don’t know that I will ever be an international salsa star - beyond my own imagination. Right now I am focused on surviving my Half Ironman, January 23rd in South Africa: 1.2 miles swimming, 56 miles biking, 13.1 miles running. However, I do know that next year, as I reflect on my life and my impending 22nd birthday, I will remain the silliest girl that ever walked the planet, but I will also be a little more interesting.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
A CHRISTMAS STORY
“They” say things come in threes. Among them are Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Of course this is the most magnificent Trinity of all. But my recent non-celestial threesome was far from being in the vicinity of magnificent. Sorry fellas. It ain’t that kinda story…
One.
I was recently in a car accident. I walked away, trembling and hysterical, with barely a scratch on me. My car, much like a reliable friend, had been with me for a third of my life. It was not so lucky.
Two.
Last week I stopped seeing a man that I had hoped to share a future.
Three.
A few days ago I dropped my iPhone and watched it shatter into a thousand pieces.
This is life. Sometimes it really sucks. It can make you walk around in sweat pants for days in a row eating ice cream by the pint, in bed, surrounded by used Kleenex, watching romantic comedies and feeling like there is a deep pit inside your stomach that actually leads to a black hole. I mean, that’s never happened to me. I am way too awesome. I’m obviously talking about lesser people, far more susceptible to un-awesomeness than me.
So, I’ve actually been in several car accidents. It compliments my clumsy nature, I think. But this was the first accident that I actually feared for my life. It was a dark and stormy night (honestly, all good stories should start that way), the first real snowstorm of the season. I was on the highway and saw break lights in front of me. I quickly slowed down, knowing that the road was icy. In my rear view mirror I saw a pick up truck speeding towards me. My body tensed and my knuckles turned white gripping the steering wheel, preparing for the inevitable. The sound of speeding metal colliding, the gust of freezing cold wind when my rear windows shattered, the impact of my head hitting the roof, and the trickling crimson blood on my hand – it was all so horrific. The crash threw my phone and I couldn’t find it. I took my seatbelt off to look around and noticed a car doing doughnuts on the road, heading straight for me. Screaming, I tried to put my seatbelt back on, but it was stuck. In that moment, I literally thought my life was over. I didn’t have any flashes of loved ones or of cherished memories. I felt no regrets on the cusp of leaving this world. I didn’t even see a light or a tunnel. Instead, I sat frozen clutching a malfunctioning seatbelt and feeling two of the most basic human emotions: pure terror and an overwhelming desire to live.
You know how the story ends. I lived and was truly grateful to my Creator for continued life, for the ability to walk, to see, speak, and feel. But instead of walking away with new super-hero powers, like the ability to control the weather or be a really amazing graphic designer who can draw the future (as is customary with all near death experiences), I was left with a totaled car, insurance hassles and a case of “Why Me.”
With the exception of being unnaturally awesome (as I mentioned earlier), I really am like every other silly girl in America. When I meet a man that I click with, I imagine our futures together. How long will we date before we get married? How many children will we have? Will we have a church wedding or get married in the Caribbean? What will my dress look like?! Ahh… think I’m crazy if you will, but the truth is once I cannot see myself marrying a man, I lose interest in him. That is the price of crazy, I guess. When I realized that I had no future with Chaz Michael Michaels, it was like pieces of my life were being taken away from me. Three boys and a girl – vanished; summer boat trips – gone; New Years Eve date – sayonara; and of course the company of someone I had grown to care for – well, it was all over. While the relationship wasn’t serious, it was serious enough for me to feel hurt at its ending. Facebook doesn’t make it any easier. Every day, all day its pictures of people’s adorable children with stupid looks of unconditional love plastered on their faces. And incredibly obnoxious postings like:
“It ALL means nothing by yourself...having that special someone to share it ALL with, does something to your soul. Happy Holidays ♥ ♥ ♥”
Really? I mean, I should start driving towards the cliff, since my life apparently means nothing and my soul is unfulfilled. Less obnoxious would be my response:
“I eat 3,500 calories a day and I’m a size 4. And gorgeous. And the only ass I wiped today was my own.”
Finally, when I shattered my phone it all began to feel unbearable. “Why Me?”
The next day when I walked into the Apple Store I was prepared to drop up to $400 to repair or replace my phone. I must have looked desperately pathetic because the sales rep said it seemed like the universe was out of balance for me and he replaced my phone… for free. I believe that the Lord never gives you more than you can handle. In that moment, again born from misfortune, I felt grateful to my Creator. Not just over $400, though that amount of money means more to me now than it ever has. I was grateful for a win, or at least not one more loss.
All around us is suffering. Though so many others have it far worse, it is often little consolation for our own suffering. “Why Me.” In truth, I cannot begin to count my blessings. As we approach the celebration of Christ’s birth, it seems that I am becoming more aware of His presence in my life. As unworthy as I am, I continue to praise His name and acknowledge my gifts… among which are a brand new triathlete rear-end that even J-Lo would envy (it really is quite spectacular); incredible resilience – even if it does seem that I could use a little more time to recover between hits lately; and my gift for writing which had seemed to all but disappear. It’s return, much like a super-human mutant power, was sparked by a trilogy of misfortunes. So, thanks JC. I owe you. But maybe the next time I get writer’s block, You send a writer’s clinic pamphlet instead?
One.
I was recently in a car accident. I walked away, trembling and hysterical, with barely a scratch on me. My car, much like a reliable friend, had been with me for a third of my life. It was not so lucky.
Two.
Last week I stopped seeing a man that I had hoped to share a future.
Three.
A few days ago I dropped my iPhone and watched it shatter into a thousand pieces.
This is life. Sometimes it really sucks. It can make you walk around in sweat pants for days in a row eating ice cream by the pint, in bed, surrounded by used Kleenex, watching romantic comedies and feeling like there is a deep pit inside your stomach that actually leads to a black hole. I mean, that’s never happened to me. I am way too awesome. I’m obviously talking about lesser people, far more susceptible to un-awesomeness than me.
So, I’ve actually been in several car accidents. It compliments my clumsy nature, I think. But this was the first accident that I actually feared for my life. It was a dark and stormy night (honestly, all good stories should start that way), the first real snowstorm of the season. I was on the highway and saw break lights in front of me. I quickly slowed down, knowing that the road was icy. In my rear view mirror I saw a pick up truck speeding towards me. My body tensed and my knuckles turned white gripping the steering wheel, preparing for the inevitable. The sound of speeding metal colliding, the gust of freezing cold wind when my rear windows shattered, the impact of my head hitting the roof, and the trickling crimson blood on my hand – it was all so horrific. The crash threw my phone and I couldn’t find it. I took my seatbelt off to look around and noticed a car doing doughnuts on the road, heading straight for me. Screaming, I tried to put my seatbelt back on, but it was stuck. In that moment, I literally thought my life was over. I didn’t have any flashes of loved ones or of cherished memories. I felt no regrets on the cusp of leaving this world. I didn’t even see a light or a tunnel. Instead, I sat frozen clutching a malfunctioning seatbelt and feeling two of the most basic human emotions: pure terror and an overwhelming desire to live.
You know how the story ends. I lived and was truly grateful to my Creator for continued life, for the ability to walk, to see, speak, and feel. But instead of walking away with new super-hero powers, like the ability to control the weather or be a really amazing graphic designer who can draw the future (as is customary with all near death experiences), I was left with a totaled car, insurance hassles and a case of “Why Me.”
With the exception of being unnaturally awesome (as I mentioned earlier), I really am like every other silly girl in America. When I meet a man that I click with, I imagine our futures together. How long will we date before we get married? How many children will we have? Will we have a church wedding or get married in the Caribbean? What will my dress look like?! Ahh… think I’m crazy if you will, but the truth is once I cannot see myself marrying a man, I lose interest in him. That is the price of crazy, I guess. When I realized that I had no future with Chaz Michael Michaels, it was like pieces of my life were being taken away from me. Three boys and a girl – vanished; summer boat trips – gone; New Years Eve date – sayonara; and of course the company of someone I had grown to care for – well, it was all over. While the relationship wasn’t serious, it was serious enough for me to feel hurt at its ending. Facebook doesn’t make it any easier. Every day, all day its pictures of people’s adorable children with stupid looks of unconditional love plastered on their faces. And incredibly obnoxious postings like:
“It ALL means nothing by yourself...having that special someone to share it ALL with, does something to your soul. Happy Holidays ♥ ♥ ♥”
Really? I mean, I should start driving towards the cliff, since my life apparently means nothing and my soul is unfulfilled. Less obnoxious would be my response:
“I eat 3,500 calories a day and I’m a size 4. And gorgeous. And the only ass I wiped today was my own.”
Finally, when I shattered my phone it all began to feel unbearable. “Why Me?”
The next day when I walked into the Apple Store I was prepared to drop up to $400 to repair or replace my phone. I must have looked desperately pathetic because the sales rep said it seemed like the universe was out of balance for me and he replaced my phone… for free. I believe that the Lord never gives you more than you can handle. In that moment, again born from misfortune, I felt grateful to my Creator. Not just over $400, though that amount of money means more to me now than it ever has. I was grateful for a win, or at least not one more loss.
All around us is suffering. Though so many others have it far worse, it is often little consolation for our own suffering. “Why Me.” In truth, I cannot begin to count my blessings. As we approach the celebration of Christ’s birth, it seems that I am becoming more aware of His presence in my life. As unworthy as I am, I continue to praise His name and acknowledge my gifts… among which are a brand new triathlete rear-end that even J-Lo would envy (it really is quite spectacular); incredible resilience – even if it does seem that I could use a little more time to recover between hits lately; and my gift for writing which had seemed to all but disappear. It’s return, much like a super-human mutant power, was sparked by a trilogy of misfortunes. So, thanks JC. I owe you. But maybe the next time I get writer’s block, You send a writer’s clinic pamphlet instead?
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