A book I read: Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert

After reading Eat, Pray, Love, I HAD to see what was going to happen to Elizabeth Gilbert and her Felipe.

Allow me a small confession here: I have a really hard time buying books. One of my favorite pass times from ages 19 to 26 as a single lady (is that really the word we want to use between girl and woman? I mean, it sounds slightly like a tiny princess toilet rather than a thoughtful human being. I guess Beyoncé called all of us together cause she figured we were at her level. I suppose I am on Beyoncé's level. Thanks, Bey.) was to go to a bookstore and stare at the books I wanted to buy. Mind you, my boat is full of integrity so ne'er e'er did I crack the covers of those books except to read prologues, praises, or the poignant, tear-jerking, nostalgia-inducing author dedications. (I mean "For Dad" come ON. You wouldn't be able to wipe all of my tears from that, even if you had a ShamWow.)

I would just stare at them and wish that I had them in my hands. After my betrothed discovered this adorable habit of mine, in order to shorten the length of time spent staring at books on our dates, he would just buy me the books that I was staring at. I tell you this because Committed was one of the first books he bought me. And also embarrassing anecdotes are fun.

Back to the real reason we're here: the book!

Taylor Swift Is Singing My Life 10 Years Ago.

I know I'm tagging in late, but hear me out.

At first I was mad at Taylor for not letting me listen to her latest album with my Spotify subscription. Then I thought to myself, if I wrote an incredible book (which I will someday), then I would like people to enjoy it for the worthy price of $16.99 ($14.99 paperback) and not $9.99 a month, along with busloads of other songs, eh...books, that feel like they are FO FREEEE!

So after that train came veering safely around the corners of my mind, I decided to forgive Taylor for wanting a fair monetary representation of all of her hard work. I get you, Tay. Which is to say, I bought the album.

For the first few listens I went straight to the hits: Blank Space, Shake It Off. That lasted a couple days. And then I hit the deep tracks.

The time I thought I might actually die.

When I told people that I was from Colorado while I was in Argentina about 87% of the time this was their response (but in Spanish, of course): 

"Oh, where the Grand Canyon is?"
or

"Ohhhh the Grand Canyon! How beautiful!"
or

"Do you live near/in/on the Grand Canyon?"

Allow me to save you the trouble of getting on Google Maps yourself by showing you where exactly the Grand Canyon is in relation to the state of Colorado.

Now do you see why it was confusing to me that those were the consistent responses I received? Me too. 

Okay, so they weren't familiar with the United States, much less Colorado, and that's fair. I couldn't pick out an Argentine land mark before I went there, nor could I hardly name one. I assume that they assumed that because the Colorado RIVER is what helped form the grand Canyon. So close Argentina but no cigar. 

Now to the part where I almost died. 

You're Irrational

When I tell people what I'm afraid of, they generally tell me that it is an irrational fear.  This just simply isn't true.  Let me tell you some reasons why it isn't irrational:

• I have nightmares about it
• In those nightmares, I cry
• That should be justification enough
• CRYING
• Sometimes I wake up crying, and continue to cry until I realize it was a nightmare
• This is actually happening to someone very close to me right now, and I tell her often how sad I am for her and her loss and I frequently mourn in her behalf
• It is not uncommon that I fall asleep praying that this doesn't happen to me
• If this did happen, I would cry for days, nay, weeks.  
• Then I would attempt to embrace it
• And then I would fail
• The fear of this has been a catalyst to fearing the following things:
• new foods
• pregnancy
• a bad grade
• an important test
• stress
• anxiety 
• breathing the wrong air
• See why it's not irrational?  

If you can guess what it is I'll give you five dollars.  Seriously, I will.  Put it in the comments and I'll come find you.  

Hannah, the hipsters, and Jesus.

3 things have spurred these thoughts.  I've color coded them so that you might more easily make the distinction.

Please meet Hannah.
Hannah built a matrix.
A matrix of awesomeness out of clothing items.
With Hannah's matrix her originality won't run out for some 27 months, if I'm not mistaken.

From many a hipster I have learned that it is cool (but like one-of-a-kind, unique cool) to have, be, wear, or do what no one else has ever had, been, worn or done.

To my dearest hipster nation, hear you this: you are not the firsts and you most certainly are not the only-s.  Acceptance is step number one.

I decided at the ripe old age of 15 that I was going to get on and stay on the road that I believe not only leads to happiness but is also happy along the way.  Following Jesus and listening to God, that's what I chose.  

Hannah, the hipsters, and the embracing of the Gospel of Jesus Christ have spurred a schizophrenic conversation in my head and it's been going for quite some time.  It entails topics such as originality, individuality, and the ever-flowing body of water that we call mainstream, both within the realm of my religion and outside of it.

How much of what you think is original is the original? This started when I wondered who thought of parachute pants.  We are born imitators. Whether from the conscious or subconscious that is what we do. We imitate what we see and experience. How did we learn to walk, talk, and throw food? Imitation, baby. Despite what you just assumed, I'm not discounting creativity or saying that it doesn't exist, rather that it is often wrongly defined.  Creativity is bringing something about that doesn't naturally evolve or come about through natural processes.  It is not something built from nothing, because you didn't start with nothing. You always start with something: an idea, an object, something you learned previously that was gathering dust in the back of your mind whether you were aware of it's presence or not.

There are many facets to this topic and I can't attempt to voice my opinion about all of them, so this will be a more focused opinion on just one aspect of the whole ginormous thing. 

In this, as I said, is the battle of how to embrace that endeavor of becoming like that person that more than 2 billion people are trying to be like (Jesus, in case you didn't know).  In that effort where does individuality come in? How are you like Him but an individual at the same moment? In the rise and the fall of it I have learned much.  From many sources comes encouragement to be unique, to find a niche, and to be no one but yourself.  We are pushed to "find ourselves" and once that is found to be our "best self", but not to conform and become another lemming without any meaning in our march.  So how do I be like Jesus, but be myself?  This is where the awesomeness begins.  Brace yourself.  Are you seated?   In trying to be like Him, you grow out of bad and good things into this person that is loving, kind, and devoted but with traits that only you have. You love the way that only you can love.  You be kind in only a way that you can be kind.  And you give in a way that only you can give.
To become like Jesus is to be the best version of you that is possible.  He doesn't want you to be Him.  He wants you to be you but be like him.  Love, give, and care but in your own way.