I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane

I want to pick up and move to a foreign country. I want to go to Australia or Dubai or anywhere and teach English. Leave with no real plan and enjoy the ride. 


Considering I had my entire apartment mentally furnished 3 months before I moved out, stepping out with no thoughts as to how I will provide for myself scares me immensely. But it is also exciting at the same time. I could save up a lot of money and come home in a year better off financially than if I had stayed in the states and worked for 2 years. Not to mention it would be an experience I've never had before. 


There is nothing stopping me... I have no significant other, kids or real responsibilities. I could just quit my job (even though I do enjoy where I work and with whom I work) and move to another country. Make it up as I go. Meet people in the local market. Work in a cafe while I travel. Learn a new language. Try new foods and customs. 


All I need is the plane ticket.

Plans vs. Reality

You would think that after being on the earth for almost 23 years I would eventually stop being surprised by the way God works. You would think. But as impressive as the human brain and capacities are, we are incredibly dull beings. Our ability to dream is limitless, but our ability to believe? Minuscule. Even after writing that last sentence, I am struggling to put into words what I mean by it. But I don't want to take it out. It fits.

Kids have no problem believing the things they are told. Like every other child who has ever ridden a bike, I fell off once, embedding pebbles and dirt into my knees and elbows. Since I have such loving older brothers, they told me they would need to amputate to prevent infection. I still get made fun of for cautiously saying, "Fection?! I don't want no fection!!" and the petrified look I wore on my face as my mom cleaned out the wounds. 

Until the idea in our head becomes a reality, it is just a dream, a delusion. No matter how much you believe in it. I could (and did) believe with all my heart that my elaborate plans in high school would come true, but that didn't stop them from crumbling in a matter of seconds.

If you were to ask me in elementary how I thought my life would play out, I would have looked at you blankly and gone off to send Ken and Barbie on their honeymoon. I didn't care. As long as I lived with mommy and daddy and Mittens never ran away. And I could have peanut butter and jelly for lunch. And Cheetos. 

If you were to ask me in high school how I thought my life would play out, I would have told you step by step what was going to happen, whom I would be with, what I would be wearing and the name of our great-grandkids. That plan was engraved in my mind and there were no plausible alternatives. It was the perfect plan so why wouldn't or couldn't it work?

If you were to ask me in college how I thought my life would play out, I would have burst into tears and used your sleeve as a handkerchief. Never had I ever felt so hopeless and disoriented. What was my new plan? Live at home and mooch off the parents? Move out and ruin my life by choosing a variety of mistakes to follow? I was literally trapped inside myself. I had no chance for plans. Even if I dreamed of one day finally breaking free of my self imposed prison, I had too many barriers to cross and those dreams would dissolve without much trouble. Reality is relentless. My plans were to live to see the next day.

If you were to ask me today how I thought my life would play out, I'd smile and say, "The way it's supposed to". I don't have long term plans right now. I'm taking each day as it comes. Meeting people. Trying things. Making mistakes. Enjoying life. I do my best to not put a timeline on myself. What good would that do other than to add unneeded stress? I am too good at stressing myself out the way it is. I'm not going to worry about whether the next person I meet will land me my dream job or if the guy I talk to in line at Starbucks is my future husband. 

If my plans from any other stage in life had worked out like I thought, I would not be blessed to be where I am today. The knowledge that I would have missed out on even one part of this stage in life makes the purgatory I lived in for too long, bearable. People I currently count among my closet friends would be nonexistent. That is enough to make me grateful for the pain that brought them into my life. Though I never could fathom ever saying this, I am glad my plans fell apart. My reality is better than I ever dreamed.

Blue Eyed Girls

Several years ago I read the book The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. Yes, it was in Oprah's Book Club, but I didn't know that at the time. It just looked like an interesting read. The basic premise is a little black girl in 1940s Ohio and how different she is compared to her white classmates. She goes home every night and prays, asking God to give her blue eyes so she will be pretty like the other girls. Of course, no matter how hard she prays, her eyes remain dark brown and she is continually insulted and ridiculed for her looks. 

This always made me wonder why it was that human nature craves what it can never physically possess. Whether it be blue eyes instead of brown or to be taller or shorter, we never stop wishing for that "something else". Modern science and technology has made it possible to change some of these wants. Now you can grow longer eyelashes, get a bigger or smaller chest just by swiping a credit card or reform an entire face into a designer model.

But why? Why do we feel the compulsive need to change ourselves? No matter who you are or what you look like, there is always something about yourself you would like to change if you could. It doesn't even have to be a physical trait. People wish to be funnier, less sensitive to criticism or to be freed from crippling depression.

Oh, there's always the bandages you can slap on to fix the problem for the time being... antidepressants, plastic surgery, copious amounts of food, alcohol. It's a Russian Roulette of vices. 

That still leaves the question of why humans are diametrically opposed to what they have inherited. Is it the allure of the new and exciting? Is it jealousy of what we do not and cannot have? Why do we go to such lengths to achieve these ideals? No matter how many PSAs or commercials from Dove are made saying that you are beautiful regardless of race, size or ethnicity, people will always crave that which they cannot obtain. 




*UPDATE*
The very same day I wrote this post, I saw this article on the internet: http://www.neatorama.com/2011/11/05/laser-turns-brown-eyes-blue/

I May Regret This...

... but I am starting a blog. I don't even know what the heck I'm going to write about. 


I figure I'll be working 12 hour days here in a few weeks so it will give me something to do to pass the time. 


Anything I say on here is personal opinion and not directed towards any one person in specific. It makes me nervous to think that this is on the internet for anyone to read, but such is life in the technological age. You put it out there, you deal with the consequences. I can't promise everything will flow or completely make sense, but that is not what this is about for me. It is a place I can ramble as needed and say anything I want. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it!


As for the blog name, I chose cette bella vie, this beautiful life, in French as a play off my longstanding username ce bel amour, this beautiful love. I am at a place in life that while it would be nice to experience beautiful love, I am enjoying the beautiful life and second chance I've been given. The love will come in time.


I don't expect thousands of readers and I don't want them. I'm not asking for accolades or praise, sometimes I just feel the need to write. Might be an introspective, heartfelt post or I might vent about the idiot who cut me off on the interstate. 


So if you always secretly wanted me to write a blog, you now have have your wish.