Creativity

The Olympic buzz is wrapping up and all of the athletes are participating in interviews about Rio and in their individual events.  I heard a lot of the athletes refer to their sport as a mode of self –expression or an art form.  Who thought a muscle bound judo fighter would compare her roundhouse kicks and uppercuts to the soft strokes of a brush on a canvas?  I’ve never sought out creativity and artistic skill in practices other than painting and drawing.  This got me to thinking… in middle school, I discovered I sucked at art class.  I would follow all of the directions and try really hard but my projects would never turn out properly.  I could see the vision in my head, but my brain refused to collaborate with my colored pencil.  The fact that my painting did not compare to the model piece translated to “you suck at art” in my head.  I decided in that moment to avoid creative art projects if I could so I didn’t have to embarrass myself.  Over the years, that idea was converted to “I’m not creative”. 

That all changed when I went to college.  I found a group of people who turned into my creative space.  I learned how to express myself in ways that didn’t include smocks and watercolors.  My sorority nominated me for the position of website coordinator my sophomore year of college.  My duties included maintaining all social media outlets and our official website.  I slowly began to take photos of sisters at events and held photo shoots to collect content for the website.  By doing this, I found my creative artsy side!  I really enjoy photographing people and catching the feeling of our sisterhood in a picture. 

The other creative outlet I did not realize I had is blogging.  My senior year of high school I realized I loved to write and wasn’t too shabby at it!  It took me a few years to embrace this passion and explore what I can do with it which led me to creating my blog a little over a year ago.  At first I was afraid to share it with anyone, I wrote but didn’t tell anyone what I had done.  I finally got the confidence to share my blog through facebook.  I was overwhelmed by the praise and positive feedback!  This helped me recognize my creativity using words instead of colors.

Moral of the story is everyone is creative.  Just because your painting is hanging on your mom’s refrigerator instead of the walls of the Smithsonian, doesn’t mean you aren’t creative.  Explore your passions and talents to find creativity in sports, art, writing, exercise, or fashion!  Allow yourself to express your thoughts and emotions in a way others can’t.  I promise, it will be worth all of the failed attempts to paint a self portrait in elementary school. 

Quarter Life Crisis

A lot is changing in the next couple of weeks.  I am turning 20 years old, starting my junior year at Towson, and moving in with my first "real" roommate.  Some of my friends are graduating, moving, and getting married.

I think I am having a quarter life crisis.

I mean really! I am half way done with college.  What is next? I am a planner.  My agenda is my bible and I need to know when and where everything in my life is happening.  The idea that in two years, I have no idea where I will be or what I will be doing is scary.  By scary, I mean anxiety provoking-night mare scary.

Over the past few weeks, I have been trying to picture my post-grad life.  It's a hard thing to plan because there are so many possibilities!  I will be a broke 22 year old with a cat.  Hypothetically, me and Cookie could go anywhere!  Texas, Hawaii, Italy, you name it! We could be traveling the country in a tiny house attached to a F-350!  But realistically... that's a whole other ball game.

Everyone tells recent grads to move back home and save money.  I, being an independent hard head, have always scoffed at the idea of moving back in with my parents for a year or two.  (sorry mom and dad) But, I think they are right.  I think I can tough it out a year back in my childhood room to save up for the rest of my life.  I think about it as an "independence investment".  Give up my independence for a year to gain the ability to fly the coop.
So there, year one is planned (kinda)

I have always wanted to live in the south.  I will take dirt roads over a concrete jungle any day! When my family and I visited Tennessee last January, I fell in love.  We stayed in Nashville and I liked the city just fine but could not see myself living there, too much concrete.  One day, we visited Williamson county which is 30 minutes south of the city.  We went to the historic district of Franklin and I felt at home.  I don't really know how to explain why or how I felt this way, but it was effortless and I knew that I wanted to live there some day. There is a recurring theme in my life of fast decision making.  I make decisions very quickly and I never go back on them.  When I pick something, that is my choice and 9 times out of 10 it is the right choice.  So, in three or four years, I hope to move to Williamson County, Tennessee with Cookie and buy a cute little house to fix up and call home for years to come.  I know that the end goal will take a lot of commitment and funding but I can do it.  It will definitely be hard leaving the town that I have called home for the past 19 years but I know it is worth it.

Now that I have the next couple years planned out, I can take a deep breath before my junior year starts.  I know now that I have to focus on my goal and save every penny I can so hopefully in a few years I can read this post sitting on my porch in Tennessee sippin on a cup of coffee.
Stay tuned for how my crisis unfolds! :)

I'm not a "churchy" Christian

Before you get offended by the title and start praying for me, please hear me out.

I was raised in a Christian household where we went to church every sunday, that is if we were not traveling for soccer tournaments.  My family is a member of Huntingtown United Methodist Church which is the friendliest quaint little church you can find in Calvert County.  Every sunday morning our awesome praise band rocks the church fully equipped with a drummer, banjo player, electric guitarist, the whole works.  I attended Sunday School every sunday and Vacation Bible School every summer.  Over the years I learned compassion and humility for all living things and I am very grateful that my church has helped mold me into the young lady I am today.

Don't get me wrong, I love my church and all of it's members but I do not rely on church to fuel my faith.  Let me explain.

A lot of faithful Christians "feel" Christ the second they step foot into a church.  That is their shelter, their holy place, where they feel loved and connected.  I have never fully identified with that ideal.  Me and mom have always agreed that we don't need church to feel it.  I get that feeling when I am in the community doing God's work.  This might be donating a dollar to Make a Wish, or teaching children not only about math and science but about kindness and respect, or holding the door for a mom of three kids, or raising money for JDRF through my sorority's event.  When I am making a difference in my community, no matter how small of a deed, THAT is when I feel the most connected to my faith.  I don't need the boundary of four concrete walls to allow me to "feel it".

It hurts me when I go to church and are lost in a sea of new faces and are greeted by old faces wondering where I've been.  I don't mean to disappear from my church family at times but I know they respect my wishes to explore my faith in other adventures.  Just because I don't go to church every sunday doesn't mean I'm not a good Christian.  Right?

Next time you feel absent, either physically or mentally, take a second to think of when the last time you did God's work.  Just the smallest act of kindness can improve the world around you.

To my chosen few

What does being in a sorority really mean?  Some might think its pillow fights and parties.  Beer bongs and skipping class.  Frat guys and secret stuff.  If you ask me, being a part of greek life means sisterhood.  The Alpha Gamma Delta Purpose reads, "To cherish friendships with but a chosen few, and to study the perfecting of those friendships." Sisterhood is the basis of greek life.  It is the glue that holds us together.  It is what most seek when rushing a sorority.

We sometimes get caught up in life.  I get it.  Adulting is hard stuff.  But, when we loose sight of what makes us greek women, we become unbalanced.  Sisterhood is the one thing that binds us as sisters.  No badge, song, ceremony, or white dress can deem you a sister if you are not all of the things sisterhood entails. 

Sisterhood means going to lunch dates.  Picking her up at 2 am off the side of the road because her friend left her at the bar.  Surprising her with ice cream when she's had a bad day.  Reminding her to pay her dues.  Borrowing her clothes.  Always having someone to take countless pics with.  Late night group message convos.  Supporting her when she is fighting with her roommate.  Making her show up to events so she won't get fined.  Being able to tell her your deepest darkest secrets.  Always having a date to the date party. 

To be honest, sisterhood means more than I can type.  The only word that comes close to describing what sisterhood truly means is the purest and truest love. 

I realize now, as I write this that only Alpha Gams may fully understand what I am saying but I hope that everyone will learn something from this.   Being in a sorority isn't the stereotypical experience for everyone.  I have felt nothing but unconditional love and support from my sisters.  I am thankful everyday that I am lucky enough to be a part of this amazing sisterhood.  

Poncho's Big Move

I wrote this children's book for an assignment for school and I thought I would share!  It is inspired by my miniature horse, Poncho and his new buddy Riot. I love how it turned out so let me know what you think! :)

Poncho’s Big Move

Poncho is a funny name for a miniature horse, I thought, staring at his furry little body in an old photograph.  He lived on my Grandma’s funny farm where I had seen him once or twice before but never given him much attention.  When I heard the words “Poncho is coming to live with us!” come out of my mother’s mouth, I immediately gained interest.  

Grandma and her smorgasbord of pets lived deep in the woods of Virginia, miles from a Walmart.  I never minded trips to her house because I got to play with her sheep, llamas, donkeys, and other assorted farm animals.  I had not seen her since she got sick though.  She began to digress and was losing the ability to do manual labor that having farm animals entails.  Grandma knew that we were looking for a companion for my horse so she knew to call us when the time came.  

She began to find other homes for her high maintenance animals. A few sheep went to an old friend that ran a wool farm and the donkey went to a distant neighbor.  Her miniature pony was set to come to our house in Maryland.  The only problem with this was transportation: Poncho had never been in a horse trailer in his life!  He had a three hour ride ahead of him.  

When his homecoming day arrived, my older sister and mom loaded the truck and trailer with hay and set off for Virginia.  Seven hours later, “BEEP BEEP”, the truck rested in the driveway with a swaying trailer in tow.  I ran down to the barn to give my horse, Riot, a pep talk.  

“Your new roommate is here!” I screeched. “Just don’t step on him, he’s little.”

As I ran back up the hill, the trailer's tiny passenger door swung open, exposing a snout hanging six inches from the ground.  

“OH MY GOSH!” I exclaimed.  “I had no idea he was THAT small!” I squatted to the ground to get a better look at him.  His hairy little head swiveled to face me, showing his worried eyes and tired expression.  I crept toward him, still squatting, keeping our eye contact.  As soon as I got close enough, he stretched out his neck, pressed his nostril against my knee, and sneezed.  He shook his head as snot went flying through the air toward me.  I fell back onto the pavement with a yelp.  When I got my bearings back, I sat up and looked at him.  His expression deepened into a sort of apology.  I crept closer to him once more as he rested his head in my hands.

Poncho’s next hurdle to cross was exiting the trailer he so reluctantly entered.  This would be an easy task since he hates that box on wheels.  I was surprisingly wrong.  He resisted as he pulled and yanked at the leadline countering my mom’s weight.  Something must have persuaded him because in an instant, he darted with a heroic leap out of the trailer landing on the pavement with legs spread.

Once he got his footing on the slippery pavement, he lifted his snout as high as it would go, which was only about four feet, and took a mighty inhale.  He realized he was no longer at Grandma’s farm with the sheep, llamas, and chickens.  Does he know how far he has traveled today?  But he is staying for good! I reassured myself as I smiled and watched him explore his new home.

After he thoroughly investigated the black pavement and surrounding vehicles, his ears followed by his head, jerked up.  Riot whinnied a boisterous sound.  

“He is saying hello… I hope” I reassured Poncho.  He wasn’t paying much attention to me though.  His entire body pointed in the direction of the noisy horse as he trotted down the hill to the barn.  He could not yet see Riot but they were already holding a full conversation!  It sounded like a full orchestra of whinnies and neighs in different tones and pitches.  A constant stream of noise came from both horses until their eyes met.  

Riot has never seen a miniature horse before… Right?  As I pondered, he leapt backwards as if to gasp and say, “What is this creature you have brought to my home?” He lowered his head and cautiously stepped towards the newbie.  Poncho had lived with horses before so he wasn’t shocked at all at the giant in front of him.  The two met face to face with a second of intense staring followed by a few sniffs, a squeal, and off they went!  They walked side by side through the pastures to find a shady place to munch on grass.  They became instant friends.

In the following days, Riot helped Poncho continue to explore his new home.  Poncho was adjusting well but there was one last obstacle before he was free to roam: bath time.  To our knowledge, he had never received a bath in his life.  We knew it was going to be a challenging process but it needed to be done.  He was matted with dirt and smelled like a wet dog.  

“Today is the day!” I shouted as I skipped down the hill to the barn.  I put Poncho’s halter on and led him out of the barn and up to the deck.  As my mom prepared the hose and soap, Poncho was naively grazing in our backyard.  He was clueless as to what was about to happen.

“Ready?” Mom asked and she held the head of the hose.  I nodded to her as she pulled the trigger of the hose and aimed it at Poncho’s rear.  As soon as the cold water met his back, he kicked out his little legs and let out a long squeal.  I yelled at my mom to stop so I could regain control.  I held on to his halter tighter this time as she squirted him again.  This time he took off in the opposite direction of us, practically dragging me across the grass headed anywhere but in the hose’s direction.

I regained control for a second time and crouched down next to him and whispered, “We are only trying to help!”  He had a sense of relief in his eyes as I scratched the middle of his forehead.  I had my mom squirt him again while I was at his eye level.  He flinched at the initial shock but then calmed down.  As I looked into his big brown eyes, I realized that being on his eye level calmed him down.  Poncho doesn’t know how to look up at you so he would stare at your legs which is impersonal and rude.  By crouching down to his level, he saw me as a person instead of two moving sticks in boots.  

I sat in the grass with Poncho as he dried off, watching him graze in the yard.  He is a quirky little guy who just wants to be loved, I thought as I admired his valiant efforts.  We made a connection during his bath as he trusted me with his life.  Ever since that day, me and my little Poncho have been best friends.

My Recruitment Story

So it all began my fall semester of freshman year.  I was living with my sister in an off campus apartment and knew one girl.  I had one friend.  That is so not me.  I have always had an amazing core group of friends so this was a huge shock to me.  I lacked a lot of the typical socializing that dorms provide.

Needless to say, I HATED school.  After sleepless nights and countless calls to my mom, I wanted to transfer and never look back.  I picked my schools to apply too and had it all figured out.  I was set on leaving.

But I stayed.  I told myself that I had to stick it out one more semester and then I could transfer. So, I signed up for sorority recruitment in the fall.  I didn't really have any expectations or predispositions like many girls do.  I was walking in blind. (which turned out to be the best thing ever)

First day of recruitment rolls around and I walked in alone. (story of my life)  But to my surprise, I met some amazing girls who are just as nervous as me!  We lined up for our first party.  Me, still clueless as to what is going on.  I didn't gel with the girls in my first party but thought that was normal.  You know the drill, smile and wave.

Time to line up for our second party.  By this time, me and the girl in front of me are buddies.  We walked into the party and immediately loved it.  There was red, yellow, and green decor and adorable pictures on the walls.  I talked to some amazing girls, all in the same family.  We talked about netflix and gossip girl and chili and full house.  It just felt normal.  The entire rest of the day, I kept saying "Dang.  I really liked that rasta sorority!"

So, day two and three rolls around, yup, still loved that rasta sorority!

Flash forward to bid day.  I had two sororities left.  My favorite, and my least favorite.  (of course)  I was so nervous to open my bid.  I was blowing up my friends phone who I had met through recruitment freaking out.  I barely knew the girl yet she was talking me down from a nervous rampage.

I open my bid, and guess what colors I see.  Red, Yellow, and Green.  I was offered a bid from my favorite sorority, Alpha Gamma Delta.

In the following weeks, I went through the initiation process and was given a big and joined my family.  Remember that girl whose phone I was blowing up?  Yup, she is now my cousin. I immediately fell into a huge group of girls who became my best friends.  Now I have events, socials, meetings, and parties to attend with my best friends.  I am so busy and I love it.

Going greek has opened so many doors for me that I am forever grateful for.  I have met so many amazing people and been a part of amazing things.  I am so thankful that I stayed at Towson and signed up for recruitment because I wouldn't change this for the world.

As recruitment steadily approaches this semester, I can not wait to be apart of other girls' recruitment stories.  So, if you haven't already, consider going greek.  You will find your forever home.  I promise, you won't regret it.