Stuck in a Small World

One balmy summer evening just a few months ago, I was riding my bike west along Strathmore Avenue, chasing the fading glow on the horizon. I'd just finished a long ride with a friend, but after seeing him off, I had decided to take the long way home to see the sunset. Cycling west west west I crested the hill and then there it was, waiting for me. Pink and orange clouds, lit up by an invisible sun, swirled over shadows of silhouetted trees like painted portals to another place. The sight was simple, but so soulful, and I felt that if I could reach those clouds, they could take me to another planet.

At that moment, a thought swished into my head--like a little revelation: "It's so easy to get stuck in a small world."

It's so easy to get stuck in a small world.

The thought cycled though my mind on repeat for the rest of the ride. Stuck in a small world. That's not what I want to be. That's never what I want to be.

I think a lot of us live in sad little bubbles of sameness. We push the same snooze button on the same clock at the same time every morning. We drive the same road to work or school or wherever. We listen to the same radio stations. We stop at the same stop light. We stand in the same line at the same grocery store, with the same things in our cart. We see the same people. Think the same way. Repeat the same platitudes. We live in the same world.

There is so much that we don't know. So many places we haven't been, people we haven't met, things we haven't done. Am I the only one disheartened by this?

Sameness is so easy to fall into, because same=comfortable. I'm so afraid it will catch me. I'm afraid of being the same. 

Ay it's so easy to get stuck in a small world. Don't do that to yourself. Live big! Swim in the vastness of the ocean! Visit all the places! Meet all the people! Learn all the things!

Change is the law of life! It's beautiful! Embrace it!

Take me here instead!

In other kind of but not really related news, I regret to inform you that I'm going to have to bid adieu to this blog for the time being. Time to let go. I'm feeling a little untrue to myself since it has been, you know, almost two months since I lived in Washington, and Washington is not in the foreseeable future.

There are no more wishes from Washington, only wishes for Washington.

Oh but don't worry, I'll be returning someday. I'm too in love with that humid, hurried, heart-holding home of mine.

Until then... you can find me over here at my other blog.

Stay sameless,


<3 Jenna

Thoughts from Thursday: On Having Curly Hair

Having curly hair builds character.

Did you know that women with curly hair are statistically 65% more likely to have more character than their straight-haired counterparts?

Moral of the story: It's the curly friends you want. It's the curly wives you want. IT'S THE CURLY PRESIDENTS YOU WANT, OKAY??

I don't really remember the moment my hair became "curly." Nobody ever mentioned my having curly hair when I was a child--it was just golden and wavy and angelic. But some time during puberty, (I almost typed "pubic years." I don't think that's a thing... I hope that's not a thing.) my hair went from wavy to curly, and then it just kept getting curlier and curlier, until we reached critical mass:

Ready for a nuclear chain reaction.

Oh, I've tried to tame it. I've tried ironing it, diffusing it, braiding it. I've tested every single brand of mousse and gel on the market. I've used coconut oil and avacado oil and argon oil. I've washed it with honey, guacamole, even beer.

I bought a silk pillow case. I stopped washing the conditioner out. I piled it in a curly mass on top of my head, (affectionately dubbed "The Pineapple") before I went to sleep (ask Becky, she has a photographic evidence!).

Right now I'm in Phase 57 of How to Handle My Hair. In Phase 57, I use 5+ high-end hair products, the combined cost of which equals just about $100.  I never sleep on wet hair. I go up to 4 days without washing it. And my latest kick is to not comb it or even run my fingers through it--even when I'm in the shower. That way it's dirty and tangly all the time, but the effect is that it's actually less crazy. Imagine that. Curly hair is counter-intuitive like that.

Speaking of counter-intuitive, most people believe that curly hair can be cut the same way that straight hair can be cut. This is a big fat fallacy and one that the hair dressing community needs to understand already!!!

I don't think I've walked out of a hair salon happy since I was 13. Nobody can do it right! Nobody! Not two hours ago I walked out of a salon for curly hair and I still left disappointed (hence, this rant).

But honestly, even though these people were "curly-hair certified," my expectations were still low. Because really, it's just never going to look good.

If you see a girl with curly hair, chances are she's used to getting crappy hair cuts. She's used to leaving the salon with a smile, saying "Thanks--it looks good," and then getting in the car, looking in the review mirror, and laughing (or crying) (or swearing) because it happened again.

Chances are she spent her formative teen years trying to figure out what the heck to do with her unruly hair and then just got used to the idea of standing out.

Chances are she's spent tons of money and time and maybe even tears in search of products and gadgets and all manner of garbage to get her hair to behave "like everyone else's."

Chances are she's learned how to take all the off-hand comments about frizz, fluff, poodles, etc, etc.

Chances are she's been on a long journey of self-acceptance and she's come to a place where she's comfortable with they way she looks. She's embraced herself for who she is. She's stopped trying to fit the mold.

She has character--and lots of it.

Sitting in a classroom

Yesterday, as I was sitting in kinesiology class, listening to my professor lecture about the finer points of muscle origins and insertions in the foot, I looked out the window and what did I see?

The world.
Going on out there.
Without me.

I rested my chin in my hand and watched the setting sun bathe the mountains in orange. And then I had the sad little dejected thought:"What the heck am I doing in here? Why am I not standing at the top of that mountain? I am not a science person. I do not care about dorsi flexion or anterior displacement. I do not care that I'm supposedly ruining my feet by wearing flip-flops. I do not care that I don't "load my weight" correctly on my lateral arch and my gait is therefore screwed up.

I'll have you know, professor, that I hiked to the top of a waterfall once, in flip-flops. And I've walked the world on that arch, with that gait! And I intend to keep walking, even if I'm doing it wrong!"

Of course, I like education. I like to learn. And I realize that there are millions of people in the world who would give a lot of things to be in my shoes (my flip-flops, if you will) right now. But sometimes my brain gets a little warped by all the information going in and I just want to ditch school and catch the next flight to Budapest, you know?

There's this little Hasidic (not to be confused with sadistic) saying that is printed on a little piece of cardstock sitting on my dresser:

Everyone should carefully observe which way his heart draws him, and then choose that way with all his strength.

I've observed the way my heart has drawn me, and I've chosen the way.

Now to just stick with it. The mountains will still be there tomorrow. The sun will still set. You can't have it all, at least not all at once. And anything worth chasing requires a little bit of sacrifice and patience anyway, right?