the power of people

a quick post:

today i did the unthinkable, i got my dinner from taco bell’s drive through. 

 

judge away.

(this whole moving/having two leases open right now/never being at home is taking a toll on my beautiful diet, but i digress…)

i was talking to the handsome and generous christopher on my cell phone while i went through the drive through to place my order of the #7. the friendly, polite voice on the calling box was surprising. before she even asked what i wanted to order, she asked how i was, and when i asked if they had power-ade (i was incredibly thirsty haha) she said that they didn’t, but said they did have fruit punch and lemonade. all in a crisp, friendly voice. and when i pulled to the window she smiled and thanked me, and told me to have a great night.

her friendly, sweet demeanor really made an impact on my evening. granted i’m still not that into taco bell, but i would go back through the drive through for a nice chat with that lady. 

christopher and i concluded that something so simple as being kind goes a longer way than one would think. instead of being drab and miserable like many people i run into over a day, simply being in the presence of one so kind made me want to change my day as well. she didn’t have to go out of her way to be nice to me, but it was a breath of fresh air.

so the next time you’re doing something no-fun (which probably isn’t worse than working the drive through at a fast food joint) remember that just by putting a smile on your face and being kind really could impact someone’s day and put a smile on their face as well.

 

happiness is infectious!

xoxo,
annie

lady power and fayetteville

listening to: the album, “transcendental youth” by the mountain goats

my life has been tiring and often frustrating lately. there is no denying it. more specifically, my job has been tiring and frustrating (i am specifying to make sure no one worries about the status of my personal and family lives). there is something uniquely pestering about a change of command inventory. you lay out every single thing that you are responsible for and count all if its itty bitty parts to make sure the new commander knows the equipment he or she will be signed for. i, myself, am signed for 15 million dollars worth of equipment. trucks, but mostly antennas and radios. one antenna system has about 15 pages of components. so at times, i go a little bit crazy – chasing down three more washers or extra antennas that had fallen behind my shelving units. 

anyway. whenever i get overwhelmed by the mundane awfulness of it all, i think to myself:

“self, you are fighting the good fight.”

and what is my fight? i want to behave and act and lead flawlessly at work so that i can play my part in showing that a lady has just as much of a right in the military workplace as a man. granted, i am in the signal branch, where women are allowed to deploy with men, but that doesn’t mean i don’t face adversity at some smaller scale. but slowly, my bosses are seeing that i am serious about equality. their initial skepticism is being replaced by confidence in my abilities, both physical and mental. i am no longer getting picked last for football teams, my commander recommends me as a rope-climbing teacher, and one of my sgm’s makes sure that ranger school is something in my life path. 

i do this all so that i can open doors for the young girls who (hopefully) can find something in my life and follow it. so they can know they can do it too and they’re not alone. 

so, when i was at the fayetteville dogwood festival this saturday, i was struck by two beautiful lady power moments. first, one more finesse filled and beautiful:

tiny beautiful ballerinas. it is my belief that your job shouldn’t be allowed or expected to steal any of your femininity from you. i am a lady. that does not mean i won’t wear camo and sweat and smell bad with everyone else. but it does mean that i will act like a lady. i do not stand for innuendos or objectifying speech. i believe that the soldier is a professional, and he or she should act like one.

my second lady power moment was this:

an all lady band at the battle of the band stage. i loved it. being brave and expressing themselves. just because you open a music magazine and see so few lovely lady faces doesn’t mean that isn’t the place for you. these girls are following their hearts and that inspires me.

one day i hope to live in a world where my daughter doesn’t feel pressured by society to act a certain way or do a certain thing. i want my children, regardless of their sex, to know that this whole world is open to them. nothing will stand in their way. and in order to make that statement a reality, i will let nothing stand in my way.

to be an example for those who come after me.

xoxo,
annie

the crumb coat: a lesson from baking

listening to: the album, “one foot in front of the other” by hayley taylor

today, my mommy, who has her own baking business, posted a photo of some delightful spring muffins she had baked for a show. i expressed to my mom how much i wish she had some to send me, to which she replied “i only made enough for the order!” which made me respect my mommy’s self-control, because if i had baked those, i would have found a way to make a tiny extra muffin for myself. goes to show i’d probably be a bad business person. however, i am not here to explain how i wouldn’t make it in the business world, but to tell a story of a lesson i learned while helping my mommy in her bakery one long weekend. 

my mommy had tasked me with frosting an adorable cake, layer by layer to make an easy round cake for a customer. now, my mom has been making delicious and love-filled items all of my life – but i normally just watch and eat extras. but she had many orders, and now i am legally an adult, so i could handle the task of frosting a cake. right? 

well here is the thing, home baked and fresh cakes have a tendency to crumble. so while i was coating the lush cake with bright white buttercream frosting, the cake was crumbling into the frosting when i spread it. i was horrified and didn’t want to tell mom (remember what i said about legally being an adult… it’s only a legal thing still), so i just kept trying to do my best. i would spread lightly. spread on more icing. eventually, since mom is pretty scientific now about how much of each ingredient is needed to make a profit, i didn’t want to waste any more frosting. so i told her of how i was ruining the cake.

and she responded, “oh don’t worry, that’s just only the crumb coat,” and turned back to whatever she was working on. 

the crumb coat! capture up all of the cake crumbs in a hidden layer and then frost over that with the frosting that will face the world. i felt like i had an inner glance at the world and its secrets. no one would ever know that in order to produce a beautiful cake, the loose ends have to be tied up and covered up before its presentation. 

the concept of a crumb coat applies to a lot of things in life. the observer just does not know what has gone on, what struggles something has endured, or the changes that have been overcome in order to present itself to the world.

everyone and everything has a crumb coat. whether they are still being frosted or their crumbs have been hidden, we all have struggles and trials that we have gone through. so before you think you’re the better product, remember that you don’t know how much frosting has been added to the other’s cake.

 

xoxo,
annie

 

p.s. i’m hungry for cake

the moment in which i realized that i am actually an awful girlfriend: also, a poem

listening to the album “the lone bellow” by the lone bellow

today was a big day at work. finally, after many months of anxiously waiting for the status of my top secret paperwork to change to… anything really… i had my interview! i was nervous! i wiped down my desk with eco-friendly wipes and made sure my little framed picture of christopher and i was displayed. i didn’t want my agent to think anything in my office gave off the appearance of someone who would betray the secrets of our country! 

anyway. everything went fine. she interviewed one of my soldiers, my psg, lovely roomie devin, and then it was my turn. everything went well. and then she asked if there was anyone else that knew me well to ask about my life, and i said:

“oh! my boyfriend, christopher!!”
“aw that’s sweet, where is he now?”
“west point, i think his info is later in the questionnaire”
“could i get his phone number?”

…

..

“um, so i don’t know his phone number”
“really?”

instantly my mind entered a catastrophizing pattern where i’m stranded on an island one day and i must call him, but i have no iphone contact list! it is something i should have committed to memory, and now it is the only thing i think my agent can hold against me. if can’t remember my sweetheart’s number, what will i do with all of the secrets of america?

 

either way, i know a very talented word artist and i’ve decided to post his works from time to time. here is a poem he wrote and sent to me not too long ago:

Is there anything more terrifying than a claustrophobic psyche?
I fear that I am changing, forever, and that frightens me.

Do I want to be who I was? 
Who I am?
Or who I will be?
Or do I not want to be at all?

Dreams fade to reality as the present becomes the past.
I want to be rich, but I think that’s just for the ease of the social class.
I truly want peace, to say peace be with you and really mean it, comfortably kneeling on a church pew where I can rest my soul from all the demons.

How can someone understand me if I don’t understand myself?

I think I’m on the precipice of finding my soul’s mission,
Life is an adventure; I think I’m just wading through the waters of transition.

-Lucius

xoxo,
annie

happy birthday daddy

listening to: the album “alexander” by alexander

my daddy and i have shared many a near death experience. when i was a little 6 year old in quantico, virginia, my daddy caught me when i fell out of a tree while we were apple picking one fall day. two years before that, i was perched on his strong shoulders as he walked through the ocean in panama. i pointed out to two snakes swirling around his feet, which he disregarded, and soon realized those were – in fact – water moccasins. not too long ago, in the summer of 2009, my daddy and i jumped out of a perfectly good airplane together. he looked back at me (he was the first one out) and asked, “are you all right?” and i responded “yes, just please don’t get hurt.” i didn’t want my mommy to blame me if i broke her husband on one of my endeavors. 

my daddy has taught me to be fearless. although, often he has been far away geographically due to an interesting slew of employers, the lessons that he taught me growing up have been some of the guiding principles that have made me who i am. but this fearlessness was disguised in discipline and rules. it only took me many years and much time to ponder over it to understand the lessons which he had taught me. 

i had a very strict curfew growing up. i didn’t watch pg-13 movies until i was thirteen. i was instructed to go over multiplication tables in my head when falling asleep. i had a whole college plan, and had already contacted the air force academy by the fifth grade. if i got a 98% on a paper, i was quizzed on where the other 2% went. i addressed my daddy as “sir” and in a complete sentence. 

simply put, i had my shit together as a child. 

once i had mastered the basics of being a good cale child, i was finally released gradually to be fearless with this great confidence i had built in myself. flying transcontinental from europe to america with no adult supervision? no problem. my parents had faith i could figure it out. i was free to make my own relationships and i was taught to deal in pros and cons. when i failed and my heart was broken, i was never mocked, i was only sympathized with. and always the guiding rule: “call us when you get there” when in doubt, call. 

but my daddy has always taught me to be fearlessly in love, and to trust. growing up, he always said “it’s not that i don’t trust you, it’s that i don’t trust anyone else. i only trust, you, your brother, and your mother.” and i think at some point my daddy began to trust christopher before i did. there was a time over the summer where chris and i stopped talking, and i was heartbroken. later my daddy revealed, “i never gave up on him, you know, i knew what you and him have wouldn’t just end.” 

my daddy is fearless because he has always done what he needed to do to make our family work. whether that was deploy, or take the harder job, or take the job further away – i’ve finally come to realize it was out of love for our family.

with such love in my life, my daddy (and of course, mommy) have brought me into a world where i expect that love out of others and will not settle until it is found. 

i love you daddy, and happy happy birthday.
i wish i could be with you today, but i will some day soon.

xoxo,
your daughter

 

swimming to the surface

listening to: the album, “bon iver” by bon iver

i love, but also hate, giving advice. i love it because i very firmly believe that i can help others with my past experiences. but i also hate giving advice, because there are no two same situations. i used to consider it a strong point of mine, when people to help, to offer my personal experiences as some sort of guidance to help lead them forward. 

then i took counseling back in school as part of my psychology core course. one of the first exercises was to counsel one of the other people in the class on either a real or created problem/conflict – while we were being filmed to watch our techniques later. my first dyad was a total bust. when the person disclosed their problem, i immediately related it to my life. i soon learned this is a very big “no-no” in the counseling world. if someone is coming to you with their problems, they didn’t come to hear about yours and how much of a success story you are, they come to you to be listened to and guided. 

with all of this in mind, though, i wanted to address something. almost exactly a year ago i was struggling to keep my head above water emotionally. the details of the situation and the heartbreak aren’t what i am writing about, but about how i made it. and a method i think others can use as well to swim back up to the surface, and love life once again. 

and that is through keeping a gratitude journal. words do not describe the hopelessness and downright worthlessness i was feeling. but through my research for my thesis, i came across the facet of positive psychology of gratitude. the whole idea is that if you, at the end of the day, write down three things that happened during the day that you were grateful for, or that made you smile – you are able to slow your heart rate, relax, and allow the sunshine to flow back into your life. (and also be able to fall asleep, focusing on sunshiny thoughts allow sleep and relaxation a lot better than crying yourself to sleep) to make the task easier and more routine for me, i downloaded a gratitude journal app on my iphone and set a reminder on my phone as well. because eventually  this will become a habit. and instead of focusing on all of the super depressing things in your life, you can better appreciate and look for beautiful, happy things.

instead of only recording three things i could call to mind at the end of the day, i would pull my phone out and record things once they happened. so i could reflect at the end of the day. i was reading my journal from this time of my life and very often the thing that brought me the most joy were my friends and their support of me. and love. 

moral of the story: if you are upset and feel lost. try to focus on the tiny good things in life. examples from me include: “the sunrise over the plain” “free wraps in the psychology lounge” “the smell of the rain” literally anything that will take your mind away from the terrible awful you’re trying to overcome. secondly, don’t push away those who care about you. even if people don’t know what to say, or what to do, no one wants to see someone they care about suffering. 

hang in there

xoxo,
annie

we only have what we remember

listening to: the album, “barton hollow” by the civil wars

the title of this post is a lyric from a listener song. i was in the middle of my baking dance around the kitchen with one of chris’s spotify playlists playing in the background. while folding my wet and dry ingredients together one lyric stood out clearly in my mind, “we only have what we remember.” i was instantly incredibly grateful to my father who made me keep a journal. it started out as a chore back in second grade – when i lived in this house for the first time. growing up he would remind me after a college visit (yes those also started in second grade), or an eventful day, that i should write about that day in the journal. of course my journals started, from a very early age, to be chronicles of my pursuits to find my voice – which echoed those of various american girl doll characters, rebellious main characters from movies, or the person that i wanted to become.  these journals have served as an easy and humorous trip down memory lane that are honest and most often, embarrassing reminder of who i really am. 

but, whatever is actually written inside of those books (which began by being covered with cartoon character band-aids, transitioned into being covered in band stickers, but now are sophisticated and plain), they do allow me to always have what i remember – which is everything. so i am thankful to my father for giving me the gift of never forgetting a piece of my life. and i treasure it. i always tease my boyfriend that i have a stellar memory. but really i probably do not have that great of a memory, just writing an event down has consistently allowed me to reflect on and better engrain that memory. 

but these journals do not just serve as a way for me to own my whole journey through life, but they also serve as a way for me to live on when i pass from this earth. in my literature class in high school, we would discuss the ways which we could become immortal. we narrowed the options down to becoming famous for a great deed and being printed in a history book – so all children would be taught your great part in history in their school books. secondly, you can become immortal through your blood line and having children. thirdly, you could become a published author. your thoughts and words sitting forever on a book shelf. but my ticket to immortality, i think, is through my words and journals. i hope one day someone can learn from my mistakes and follies, or someone can learn that if i could make it – so can they. 

all my life i’ve been obsessed with what i’ll pass down to the next generation, even 10 year old me wrote in the cover of my first harry potter book “please pass on!!!” i just do not want my lessons to be wasted and ground up to float away in the passing time. so i will continue to write for this invisible audience, that maybe one day i can influence. and at the very least, i will live a very full and happy person with my memories at my side. 

xoxo,
annie

ps: and my baking skillz? i got those from my mama :)