A Letter of Gratitude

Dear Professor,

I am sorry I do not remember your name. I do remember your shaved head, riding your bike to class, and the way you didn’t stand in front of the class to teach; instead, you insisted on sitting with us as if we were all sharing ideas together instead of just being lectured. I remember your words “you are better than this” after reading a paper I had written. You weren’t referring to my writing, but to how I thought of myself at the time. You always told me to “write what you know” and “write what you love”.

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50 Days of Smiles

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My sister recently asked if I wanted to join in on the #100daysofhappiness bandwagon. It sounded great, but I wanted to do something of my own. I know, I know… I am as stubborn as can be and refuse to be a follower of any kind. I can’t help it. When my school has days where all the teachers dress the same, it is a struggle for me! Don’t get me wrong: I do it along with everyone else because I am a part of a team….but, boy it is hard!

So back to the bandwagon, I liked the idea very much. I just needed something that was mine.

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Kayaking Etiquette

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I found kayaking a couple years ago and it quickly became a true love. I am not a very religious person; I do not go to church regularly if at all, but kayaking gives me that feeling that church is supposed to. Peace. Connection to the god or gods above. A feeling that there is so much more than just me or you. Just pure happiness enjoying nature.

I firmly believe in reincarnation: where some people we become in love with or attached to must have been in our past lives because the connection is so strong; activities or places that we are extremely drawn to meant something to us in a past life as well. Kayaking is that for me. You might think it sounds crazy but that is what I believe.

Speaking of crazy, during kayaking yesterday a few things happened that forced me to think about certain manners people should use when kayaking:

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The Gypsy Life

When I tell people how I used to live, the majority of them respond about me being  a gypsy. I do not get offended; however, the term gypsy can mean so many different things.

I used to stay at jobs for approximately one year. I would also move residences ever year or so as well. I just got bored. I could be a “traveler” for the rest of my life; however, I chose (yes I had to consciously make that decision) to settle down. It is hard. Hard as hell. Always. It never gets easy. I just do not like being stagnant for long, I don’t like set plans for long, I don’t like going to the same job and doing the same thing for long. I don’t know what it is about me, but that is me.
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Whose Shoes Are Under Your Bed?

I recently saw a movie with my sister, her daughter (my niece), and my mother. That is three generations of women together and I hope that my niece remembers that night. I remember so many of those days where I was with my grandmother or my great aunts and they are some of the best memories of my childhood.

Those memories are special for many reasons but they are also so extremely simple. The most memorable ones are shopping with my Grandmother and her sisters (“the girls”). They were very sweet and very loud old women. I was very young and didn’t have to worry about ever being lost when you could hear them so loud all the way across the store, from one side to the next: Continue reading