**wrote this one night when I was in Virginia...I had an itch to do so**
I have no idea what to put on top as my title. Why? Probably because I have been in on part 1 of my vacation for 10 days here in Virginia and within 10 days there are a plethora of topics to “blog” about. I have no idea which one I will focus on, but, hopefully we can all go away with some type of moral learned or at least feel that the time was not a complete waste, wouldn’t you say?
The last slightly interesting thing that I did before coming to bed and finally writing (yes, it has been more than 10 days since plucking away on my laptop), was watching Food Network Stars, where I watched about 6 contestants on Rachel Ray’s show pretty much selling themselves, their show, and their food. What I realized is that I do not ever want to be that, have my own cooking show, or have to sell myself to the public. Yikes. Bikes! (Movie references, please, know the movie, and be okay with movie referencing!)
I have spent my days here at home honestly the best I have in years. I am not pin-pointing why exactly but I most likely will and I have my assumptions on why that is. Flying home—as the years go on it becomes less and less dramatic. I get the routine. I used to be so incredibly scared of flying, like it was the biggest deal where when the plane took off I would become the cliché death bed repenter, praying to God to not let my plane crash, acknowledging my sins and promising that if I were to live, I would change. Okay, so, I still pray on my flights and recognize that I am far from perfect, and that if I were to crash and burn that my white t-shirt would have its share of blotches and unruly dirt stains, but, I guess the intensity of the prayer has dropped from the scale. Given the range of 1 to 10, me being a 15 before, has now gone to about a 4. I’m not exactly sure what that means or says about my character, but, as you can tell, flying has become more of second nature to me now—routine.
25 years old and I am realizing how much I need my parents. I have enjoyed the luxury of my very own queen size bed and a room with an actual door—very different from my current living quarters in Provo, Utah-- that has no door, and no heat to accompany it. What a cute couple my cold bed room makes with its deficiencies. Three is a crowd, I better get out of that relationship soon—hence why I am moving in the fall, but, continuing the epiphany. Dot. Dot. Dot…but in Virginia visiting home has its perks, no, not just in furnishing.
I have spent time with family but also with the three dogs that live in our white and blue adorned country house. Sometimes I feel like on every floor I find myself on there is a different dog to greet me. Wait, I feel that way because it’s true! I wake up in the morning to see that my brother’s pit bull is the perfect over-sized lap dog and cuddler and has snuggled up beside me during the night. Go down to eat breakfast and you’ll see our blonde dog Lady, our collie/hound mutt watching guard and looking out the side windows by the front door to make sure in the abyss of land and trees that surround our very secluded house that a trespasser not DARE to come a-knockin’. She will put up that mohawk hair of hers that always seem to present themselves when she gets into defense mechanism mode, and she will vocalize her defense until your ear drums stop drumming. On the last floor making three, depending on the time of day, you’ll find Bullet, my other brother’s beagle who seems to always be visiting us. Most likely you’ll see him with his face whitening and his age getting to him basking in a corner soaking in the rays of the yellow sunlight as his beautiful round brown eyes look into your soul pleading for a treat as his tummy hangs out, and he pants. Mom has been feeding him too much not realizing the difference in his size compared to his dog comrades requires less amounts of food. Today we discussed his protruding belly, call him a Tartaglia, and will decide to feed him less from now on. I swear, I look at all our dogs and I recognize that they have earned the last name Tartaglia. What can I say, we know how to eat and therefore will never be thin, not even our dogs. Genetics definitely have a play in this love for food somehow. (I don’t have the science down but let me Google and search a bit and I could write a very non-legit research paper or defense case.) I come from an Italian/Peruvian family, both sides know what celebrating is all about, what rich cuisine is, and are strong short people with dark hair. I got that covered.
I know you are wondering…in the country what’s the internet like? Let me just calm all quivers or questions. We have dial up. GASP. Hand covers mouth. Cringing ensues. I, on the other hand, embrace it. Guess what? My cell phone reception is so bad I can only text a few times a day and barely can get calls. I wish things were always like this. It is beyond liberation to not have to be sewn to an electronic device and to rely solely on what I remember and on the people and things around me. As I spend more and more days here I wonder what things were like “before” when people did not have these technological luxuries and debilitations or constantly having to answer to something without a brain but that has a voice—such as a ringing cell phone. You’d think this device became the human and not the tool on how it controls and bosses us humans around. Things become so much more clear and my feet slowly but efficiently become more reaffirmed on the ground, the literal earth, not the Google kind. It’s not a picture but in my mind I guess I will see it as one.
Every summer I have a favorite movie that I absolutely love and could go back to see three times. I know that statistic because if I do absolutely love a movie I saw it up until 3 times. I have the movie stubs to prove it—dating back to 1999 with The Gladiator. I walk into the dark theatre with subliminal messages telling me to buy from the concession stand and I talk back in my mind saying: Entertain me. This is why you people get paid so much; I hope they get the job done. A bit bossy, a bit dramatic yet anti-climactic but you know you do that too, perhaps in different dialogue. 2 years ago it was UP. I fell in love with that movie because I had no idea what it would entail and watching it with little preparation the entire message became more potent and I became swept away into the love story and quest. Good ‘ol Mr. Fredrickson. And, I’d like a kid like Russell, except he’ll have a Father who wants to be around. My Mom and I intentionally found reasons to pass by the theatre and slip in an extra two times with tissues and with a tempted heart with concession goodies in hand. That made three attendances. We still adore it. Last year the movie of the summer was Toy Story 3. Adorable. I love Spanish rose-in-teeth flamenco dancing Buzz Light-year. Dancing and dancing with rhythm and passion puts any guy on the extremely attractive scale and category. Represent, Buzz! (Yes, I’m talking to a fictional character.) This year…I have a new favorite movie. I didn’t even know I would like it, and I think that makes all the difference: Captain America.
An underdog from Brooklyn—which I love—he has a heart of gold and is made of courage, he sacrifices his life for the good of a nation and of humanity. I want me one of those! What really gets me is the honor and valor of him and the people from that time period here in America. I feel like that has died out and we have a lot of people who don’t know what they are fighting for, what freedom is, and or why it is important. That is disturbing and let’s face it—unattractive.
Being home has been such a huge blessing, and has really given me time to rest and catch up not only on sleep but on what matters most to me. What really is worth living for is my family and learning to keep my word. There is nothing better than getting reconnected with those whom you are turning into, and I can proudly say, just like in the end of Spanglish…I am my Mother’s daughter. I am my Father’s daughter, and I am proud to be what I am. People need to stop wishing to be what they are not and realize that there is pride in representing your family and creed, literally and spiritually.
