Crap and all its stuff.

I am looking around my room, and I recognize one significant aspect about myself: I have a lot of stuff. Things. Crap. It is piled, but neatly so. Tucked into baskets and placed on painted objects hanging on the wall.

Sure, I put this stuff to use. The perfume bottles and lotions serve as a reminder of a, um, fetish that I seem to have. I must like, or love, to smell nice. Some days like a coconut, others like an "Amethyst". What is an "Amethyst" anyway? Bath & Body Works and its clever branding does not serve it well in the naming department, but it, at the very least, can make a sweet aroma.

I guess there is a humor found in the action of my money spent on an item called "Twilight Woods" - I wonder where that naming came from - but I smell nothing like the greenery of nature nor a thing like twilight... if that has a scent.

Whatever.

I have a lot of crap. Shoes and clothes shoved into, not one, but two closets. Color coordinated, hung in specification - dresses, skirts sweaters (closet one) - and - shirts, jeans, dress pants shoes (closet two). See what I mean?

Craze and dazed I seem in this writing, but what it comes down to, the boiling point, the bulls-eye, is that my parents are selling the only house I have ever loved. Truly loved. Sure, building a relationship with this house was not my intention, but I guess you cannot resist its beauty (1.5 acres we are talking). I am almost positive you can love inanimate objects.

And that is where the utter, tragic, awareness comes from. The comprehension of all my stuff. Do I really need to smell like this or this or this? No. Just a want. If I had the guts, I would give it all away to a homeless person whose never smelled the scent of Valentino perfume.

I bet they would hate it. I bet they would look at me like an idiot with a hint of disgust. Did they need my pity via perfume bottle? Food would have sufficed. Some other necessity. Are those things my necessity? I can hear her now. Crap.

I do not know how I would answer, to be honest. I would walk away asking God to help me in my relationship with my finances and to teach my simplicity. Trace my steps of spending my money and where it floods into. No longer should I be blind to this. Because it all falls down the same shoot. It is all crap, stuff, great smelling stuff, but stuff and things in the end. So teach me. Teach  me the simplicity of living this life. To not be in want or in need. Sure, I've attempted  and it is still not enough.

There are people starving in this world. People who live their days in a cardboard box that they found behind a grocery store that just stocked their shelves full of food... and that is what was left for them. 


I am selfish. I am pathetic. And if this is what it takes for God to show me something, anything - thank You. Finally. I want to begin this work; to stop hitting the brakes in complacency. Now that I have broken down, I have to get started again. I need to be fixed in learning simplicity even deeper now. I want to begin reliving the vision that You've given me. Love others as I love myself - learning true equality that You have taught. Love You, love others. 


Where I physically end up in this move, I do not know. Maybe alone in Florida as my family moves to Chicago. But through that, I want to see You in my life, weaving into my finances, emotions, everything. I really do. 


I will delve into the love of my house and my soon departure from it in another post. I want to end with this:

‎"For where your treasure is, 

your heart will be there also." 

Matthew 6:21

Pumpkin Spice Latte's & Maturation.

As the warmth of my pumpkin latte clothed my throat like a sweater, I realized that I needed to bump up my A/C (I live in Florida and I am drinking a hot latte) and I had a slight taste of reminiscence. Now, I do not know if you are the type of person that has their nostalgic button kicked into high gear when you smell certain scents or when you taste certain things, but that is how my mind works. Well, the pumpkin latte sparked an intense memory that brought me back to just the year before. A year of tribulation and maturation. A year of doors closing and others opening.

I responded to the memory with a sick taste in my mouth - not attributed by the latte, I guarantee that - but quickly I withdrew those tastes with a quick swallow. Then a lump grew in my throat. I almost began to cry in re-adjusting my focus on, not my failures and faults, but on how far I have come. Not in the length of time "far", but in the sense of maturity in myself, my actions, my thoughts and my all around being.

I saw myself just a year ago as that someone who repeatedly ignored the request from God to let Him be my entire focus. It took a lot of regrets and pains in order for this shift came into place. My heart came to Him covered in scars and my mind quite weary. Now that the scars are fading and my mind has at last made its way to victory and freedom, it has begun to weave a web of a beautiful story.

It's funny that I do not have these recollections without the help of a pumpkin latte or a specific scent. I suppose that is what keeps my story from being null and void. It helps the little runner of my mind jog these memories without growing tired. I now begin to wonder what I will think back on with next years sip of a pumpkin latte. Overall, what I am saying is that... pumpkin spice latte's help mature your character. Well, spiced with God, too.

Recollectin': Cruising Through Old Memories

I have been thinking about childhood memories recently. I have thought about their importance and their feel of purity and utter realness to life. As a child, you run around feeling invincible and completely unaware of all the bad in the world. As a child, you can have fun with a patch of grass or a riding a slide a million times without the thought of it getting boring. Everything is fresh and new and unexplored in the mind of a child. So, I just decided to dive head first into nostalgia and reminisce on the memories that my mind still holds onto.

- I started with my days in Kindergarten and I specifically remember my first day. Walking into the fluorescent lit room and Mrs. Pennington introducing herself. The intimidation of peers stares and the realization that my mom dressed me, head to toe, in this matching jean outfit. I think this is where I learned what embarrassment was.
- I remember playing Red Rover, Red Rover when I was a Brownie in Girl Scouts.
- I remember my babysitter in fourth grade. Her name was Mrs. Lisa and she had freckles like stars and eyes as blue as the Mediterranean Sea. Her candy giving was rare, but I think I thought that was okay. She was sweet as it was. She used to frenchbraid my hair before school and marinate my hair in water instead of hairspray. We used to play dress up and I would hang out with her sons, as her daughter was still a baby. This is probably where I became a tomboy.
- I remember in fifth grade when a girl named Marci was my best friend, and we had carefree days at the park. We would swing on the tire swing and climb across the monkey bars. I think a cute boy was involved. That is a foggy memory.
- I remember attempting to build a treehouse with my step-sisters. We did a fine job and spent most of our days up in the tree that held the piece of plywood with such gentleness. Kristen and Karmin were my step-sisters and my best friends... but that's all changed. I haven't spoken to them in years since our parents divorced.
- I recall when Graham Costa and Mark Derkas proclaimed they would have a soccer match to figure out who would be my boyfriend. This was elementary school and I later was given a talkin' to by Graham's mom over the drama. I still keep in touch with Mark.
- I like the memory of my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Skeeter. I hold a soft spot in my heart for her. She was an amazing teacher who even got me into reading Anne Frank. Mainly because she said I looked like her. Mrs. Skeeter used to offer candy and Moonpies like it we forever stood in the cashier's line. I am officially friends with her on Facebook and we just talked this year. She's still as wonderful as I remembered.
- I remember meeting my biological father for the first time since practically birth and it being the most awkward encounter ever. I was about 8 and he wanted me to call him "dad", but I had already been calling someone else "dad" for the past 8 years. It didn't go over so well with my conscience. He did buy me Selena stuff, though.

My memories do stretch further, but those are the most memorable thus far. Do you have any interesting ones that you can recollect?