The "27 Things" Series Continues; of Breakfast, Silence, and Sleep

Hi Faithful Readers and Friends,

So, last night I was so exhausted that I went to bed early. Ever have one of those days when you were just so overcome with tiredness and a sleepy feeling, that you needed to obey your body and just go to bed? Well, that was how I felt last night. As a teacher, I am always working. My sleep schedule changes from day to day; sometimes I go to bed at 9, while other times I go to bed at 11:30pm. One of the things that I need to work on in this new year is having a regular sleep schedule. Science has shown that sleeping well and for the recommended amount of hours per night, leads to better health, eating patterns, and overall positive mood throughout the day.

Along with that, I am still learning how to incorporate "balance" in my life. There was a time (believe it or not), when I did not submerse myself in work 24/7. Before I went back to school to earn my Graduate Degree, I remembered having a life full of balance, education, and even a social life (what is that nowadays?!) During Graduate School, I would come home and plan lessons for teaching the following day and on the weekends, do my school work. I had like 1% of a social life.

Now, I am starting to learn how to slowly welcome a social life and balance back into my everyday routine. I have to admit, at first, I was nervous. For so long, I was so used to having structure, a plan, and a focus, that not going to school on a Thursday night and not working at the coffee shop every Saturday and Sunday, scared me. Well, maybe not scared me like a Haunted House kind-of-scary, but rather like a "I'm-not-sure-what's-next-kind-of-scary."

And, these past couple of days with my goals for this "27 Things" series of January have allowed me to reinstate some of that structure and routine into my life. I do have to admit, I like just coming home and prepping my lessons and teaching materials for the following day at school and not having to balance both college level work and a full-time job work. I am grateful for that point in my life where I had the opportunity to do both. And, I do know that I will return back to college someday - for further education. However, incorporating small term goals, such as accomplishing one thing every day for the month of January leading up to my birthday - has paved the way for me to have some kind of semblance in my life, while allowing some wiggle room for spontaneity.

So, though I got up very early over the weekend and made myself a home cooked breakfast (I love scrambled eggs and eggs over hard!) - I failed to do that yesterday. However, I did get up for 6:00am and had some Multigrain Gluten-Free Cheerios with Lactaid Free Milk...which was amazing! That small amount of time in the morning, where I allow myself an extra hour or so to "putter around," wake up, and get ready for the day, is important to me. I've even noticed that I have pockets of my day (albeit small as they are) 5-10 minutes a piece, where it is quiet, whether I am walking from my classroom to the office or tidying up my room, or even the drive into work in the morning. I've learned to embrace those times, such as when I come in early to work in the morning, because those moments are precious. It is a time where I can get some work done, gather my thoughts, review lessons and plans for the day, make copies, and catch up with teachers. It's those minute periods of time that I've learned to appreciate the most that occur both during the week and on the weekends.

With that, I've also decided to take a short hiatus from "social media" for the next five days. So, if you are a regular reader and looking for updates on the latest confessions of what this "single, gluten-free gal" has been up to, then be sure to check here!

Part 6 is coming soon,
to a blog near you.

Until then -
cheers, my friends!

-alex

"27 Things Series": January 3: Notes of Encouragement

Today, I learned that we have the opportunity to leave notes of encouragement everyday in a variety of places. They can be handwritten, spoken, presented in the form of a gift, or a combination of all three. Encouraging words are one of the most powerful things that human beings have the power to hold.

This week, I am planning on starting a month long social studies theme on Martin Luther King Jr. The children's book, "Martin's Big Words," showcases a timeline of his life, with beautiful illustrations, accompanied with quotes and phrases that he spoke during his lifetime. One of the phrases that he is quoted as saying is a personal favorite of mine: "Hate does not drive out hate. Only love can do that."

Only words with the background intention of love can change people, thoughts, ideas, concepts, customs, etc. Love can encourage and uplift people through a variety of means, by giving a sandwich to a friend when they are hungry, by offering a hug when a co-worker is stressed, and by making a dear friend laugh. Notes/words of encouragement are expressed in different ways depending upon the expressor and the expression that such a person wishes to send to the second party.

Today, I thought that I had failed in leaving a "note of encouragement in a random place." However, as I reflect back on today, I realized that I left my "notes of encouragement" in a few different ways today. I surprised my parents with small gifts: hand lotion for my mom and sparkly cleaned dishware for my dad that he let me borrow last week. I unintentionally encouraged the cashier at Barnes and Noble when I shared that I was a teacher and had to go back to work tomorrow and she said that she was a Bus Monitor and understood that feeling of waking up early, too.

So, though my "notes of encouragement" were presented more with actions than with writing today, I learned that the act of "encouraging" itself, is quite priceless and free. When we think we have to provide "material possessions" (and sometimes, we do), we may need to reassess how we can encourage and provide support to those in need (for free.)

cheers!
-alex

27 Things Series: January 2 - a lesson on the prefix "re"

Hi Again,

It's me, Alex. So goes this "27 Things I Want To Do Before I Turn 27" series, parte dos. Yesterday, I painted my nails. Today, I went to the gym. Oh, the irony! I wrote that I wanted to work out for 4 consecutive days,. Well, to be perfectly honest, I went to the gym on Friday, too - so, "technically," I'm actually one day ahead on this "27 things" list.

For the past 18 months (1.5 years), I focused my effort on obtaining my Masters Degree and less on working out. Granted, I still maintained a routine of exercising 4-5 days a week by walking and running around my neighborhood. However, I was so incredibly stressed with trying to balance the full-time work as a teacher along with the full-time work of being a Graduate Student, that I often found myself getting very sick. My immune system was on overload and I wasn't allowing my body (nor listening to it, for that matter), time to rest, to recover, and to rebuild.

Life is kind of like that. It has a funny way of showing me that I always need to embrace that process of resting, of recovering, and ultimately, of rebuilding. God shares in his Word that a man who builds his house on rock has more support than the man who builds his house on sand. It lasts longer and the foundation on which the house on rock is built, is very different than the one on sand. Sandcastles don't last very long when they're near the water :)

As I look back on my life, specifically - my early to mid-twenties, I've realized that there have been instances where I have built my house on sand. I've been "that girl," trying to maintain balance and control, running around my neighborhood, without any "notion" of where I wanted to ultimately end up. Life requires so much more than aimless running, up and down hills, across all kinds of terrain. Life requires that kind of determination that I know is inside of me. It is that kind of perseverance that I need to reach down and pull out from my innermost being, to awaken it again. It is the kind that I used to have about a year and a half ago - when I was at the gym 6-7 days a week for an hour or more. I stretched and I pulled. I did dead bugs and lifted weights and worked on my favorite machine, the AMT.

Reigniting this passion for exercise and health once again, is like riding a bike. Now that I am finished with Graduate School, this task combines a mixture of emotional ingredients for me. I feel excited and joyful, while at the same time, knowing it takes a self-determination and constant dedication to succeed at building a routine. One of my high school teachers once told me that it takes "six weeks to build a habit."

It also requires that I know my body well - and, after multiple times of losing my voice and searching for it, like a man who has lost his best pearl - I understand now what it means to "know" my body well. I know its limits and how far I can push them.

A great artist is one that knows when it is time to stop painting. I now know that I require time to stop, to pause, to rest, and to reflect on a daily basis. Furthermore, we all need a day in our week to "rest" and to cease from working. My difficulty in the past resided in the reality that I did not listen, nor follow my advice and that is what caused me to miss out on truly resting.

Along with resting, is recovering. Science has proven that when we sleep and when we "take a necessary break" from any sort of work (like the gym), our bodies recover. This means that they work to repair, to rest, and to provide us with the nutrients that we need to collect our thoughts and to focus on the present moment. Here's another honest moment for you: sometimes, I am so caught up with living in the day, that I forget and/or cease to live in the moment and enjoy "that moment" for all that it is.

Resting from the gym, especially after I have established a routine once again, is challenging for me. As mentioned in my post from yesterday, I work, A LOT. It's hard to pull back, reflect, refocus, and not have structure. Planning and mapping out my days/weeks are a part of my life and taking a step (well, sometimes many steps backwards) to reassess the bigger picture forces me to submit and to say "I can't do it on my own and I need help."

Here's another way of looking at recovering. I have worn glasses since I was in first grade. So, I have been wearing them for over 20 years. Wow, time certainly does fly. Every night, I allow my eyes a chance to recover when I take off my glasses to sleep. I give my eyes a chance to rest from providing a necessary resource for me, that is, the ability to see, albeit with help. As such, when I work out, I need to be sensitive to my body, know when to push myself, and know when to hold back. That kind of sensitivity and understanding, comes with time, and we are always working towards knowing it better.

In a way, exercising and resting my eyes is kind of like doing a waltz. In college, I was part of a ballroom dance club for one semester. Waltzing with a guy requires that you know him, and his movements. You are in step with him, following his lead, across a solid oak floor. At times, it feels like you two are the only ones out there, under a sea of spot lights, capturing the moment of two people moving with their bodies, conveying a message of hope, joy, and love, however cliché that all may sound.

With rest and recovery comes one more facet, that is, the brick of rebuilding. Rebuilding suggests that something had to be broken or devastated before in order for it to be remade. In college, I traveled with a group of my friends from the northeast to New Orleans, Louisiana for two spring breaks to help rebuild homes from Hurricane Katrina. My first year that I went on the trip, I got really sick. Again, I was still learning about the process of listening to my body. I lost my voice and learned how to rebuild houses with a whisper. But, during that time, I also learned how to listen to the people who inhabited the homes that Hurricane Katrina took away. In the Lower Ninth Ward, the devastation was mind blowing. Homes were completely turned over and memories were lost, just like a set of stairs that led to nowhere, in an empty field, with memories strewn out of a vacant house, just across the way.

It was in the south, that I learned about the process of rebuilding. My heart was transformed when I listened to the locals songs and stories of the hurricane. I was amazed that many continued to stay and rebuild not only their homes, but their lives as well. Yes, old material possessions were gone, but new memories were being put on the mantle and hung up on newly painted walls.

Recently, I've learned that material things are often attached to memories. It's hard to say "no" to material things that have brought so much joy over the years, especially when there is a strong memory or a group of memories attached to them. It is so easy for someone to say "at least you have a home or an apartment," or "you can always rebuild," typical responses following a catastrophe or life-altering event. Yes, I can rebuild the home and buy new things, but it's the memories associated with what was there that cannot be replaced, repurchased, or reframed. In times like these, coping with a loss has taught me to always, always preserve the memories in order to keep them alive.

As such, when I go to the gym, I tend to keep to myself. I have made friends within my small fitness community, and for that, I am grateful. I've learned to be more independent and to throw the timidity over my shoulder like a sweat rag when I go to lift weights with a bunch of guys that are much taller and muscular than my 5 foot, petite Italian frame. I've learned to become a woman that knows what she wants and will march right in to get the 15 pound weight. With that, I've also learned how to take a step back and to dead life, waiting until the time is right to pursue a beautiful endeavor that is crafted into a colorful mosaic of stretch bands and slam balls.

Cheers!
-alex

27 Things Series: January 1

Well, folks.

As promised, here is my first post of the "27 Things" Series. For January 1st, I wrote that I wanted to paint my nails.

So, tonight, I did just that. I painted my nails this subtly light pinky sparkly color. I know, I know. Too many describing words, but alas, that is the teacher in me. Over the years, I've learned that it is very hard for me sit still after I apply that first coat of polish. I am like a child, eagerly awaiting Christmas morning, excited to see the presents under the tree. And, by the time the second coat of "Picture Perfect Pink" is applied, I am the child jumping on my parents' bed at 4:30am in the morning, unable to contain my excitement.

My grandmother was always the best when it came to getting a manicure and waiting for the polish to dry. She would sit at her kitchen table, her fingers out, as I painted them. I don't know how she sat there, waiting for each fingernail to dry. Never once did she chip a nail, unlike me - who is ready to get up and go even when "things are still wet."

I've experienced that latter mentality in life, you know, the "eagerness" to "just go," even when "things are still wet" and waiting to dry. As a teenager, I just wanted to go and go, like the Energizer Bunny. Though I was shy, even during my English classes and would rarely raise my hand to provide an answer when called upon, the innermost parts of me, were leaping like a frog, from lily pad to lily pad.

As an adult, I find the actual part of "waiting," much easier. In fact, I've coined myself with the term "the waiter," or rather, "the waitress." Waiting comes easy to me, because for 26 years, I've waited and worked for all that I have. Yet, when it comes to relationships, particularly those with men, I wait and wait. My friends, especially those who are close to me, say that I should "take risks" (albeit, healthy), and "put myself out there." Yet, as an independent woman, I've realized that I've become used to "sniffing" out the imposter guys; the ones dressed in suits and who seem to have their whole life together. Their clothes are pressed with a flat iron, their words are all strung together so intricately like a string of those aforementioned Christmas lights, and their solid black shoes convey a stunning reflection of themselves. I was confused by their appearances at first, often falling for my "crushes" but refusing to follow them for real, knowing deep down in my being that they were wearing a façade of societal obligations.

Now, I've realized that its the men that come by unexpectedly, the ones that don't necessarily follow all of the customs and rules and routines that society has traditionally mapped out for them; the ones that are genuine and innately natural, those are the ones that I remember the most. They convey the simple things in life and sometimes, plaid shirts are easier to manage than pressed business suits.

Anyway, all of this over painting my nails.
:)

Cheers, friends - and may you have a happy, and healthy New Year!
Stay tuned for Post # 2, coming tomorrow.

-alex