Genuine Surprise!

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . August 7, 2010 . 9:26PM

I so love a good surprise. Not the “Oh cripes he just spilled a milkshake in the backseat” kind of surprise. One where I had no idea it was coming and it makes me cry like a little wuss.

Because I’m a girl and a good cry from joy can make me happier than anything. And I’m ok with being a wuss.

When I don’t know that anything is coming to my post office box, I check it less frequently. Honestly, I don’t need Hardees coupons or local flyers. When I opened my box this week, I had a gift. It was a slip of an envelope that had Kurt Halsey’s name on it.

One of my first blogs, in a much different time of my life, was about a custom Kurt Halsey piece that Leon had commissioned for me for Christmas. I love his work and lately had been longing for something that represented where I feel I am now.

I mentioned in my twitter that I was wishing for the postcards of his most recent works. I had no idea what I’d do with them, but I would find something creative. In my mailbox this week were these.

Thank you, mystery gifter. You have no idea what kind of week I’ve had and what they meant. Kurt included a couple of handwritten post its that made me weepy.

And I cried.

Like the little wuss I am.

And I loved it.

Generosity in Children

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 22, 2010 . 8:55PM

Often, as adults, it is easy for us to forget how generous in spirit children are when left to their own devises and without the interference of us “well meaning adults.” Our influence upon them can suck the beauty and kindness straight out of those amazing little souls faster than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. Our disapproval, anger, anxiety and upset can shake them to their core and cause them to look upon the world with distrust and unease. It then becomes a place of distraction. A place where everyone is on their own and should take care of themselves instead of looking out for the interest of others. A place where their true goodness is hidden and they lose the innocence and humanity that they seem to have from such a very young age, instinctually.

However, it flickers. Oh, how it flickers. Like a flame just looking for a little encouragement to grow, it flickers and sparks and waits for the opportunity to shine. Unlike many adults, children don’t necessarily need to shine in front of others or with the purpose of recognition, or even allow their flame to grow at all. Sometimes, they just flame away without even thinking about it and move on. Such simple love and kindness.

I’ve seen this happen repeatedly in my life. Often during my time with my son and his friends and during my time in the school system. A few weeks ago, I saw it during a warm evening at the ballpark.

I was standing in line for one of the forty or so gatorades I buy every year at the concession stand when I saw him: the blonde little boy in front of me who was patiently waiting his turn. He couldn’t have been more than 8, at most, and was clutching three dollars. It was a school night and his eyes looked tired and sad. It was approaching 9 and he must have been at one of the early games and stayed for a sibling game.

I saw his eyes scan the menu. Hamburgers, Chicken (our stand serves Chik-fil-a!), hot dogs, french fries, sodas, energy drinks and many various candies. His little blonde head nodded slightly downward as he looked at the canisters in the front of the stand. Air heads, $0.25. Ring pops, $0.75. Tips for good service, please. Condiments. Napkins. Forks.

He looked carefully back to the menu and then to the canisters again and softly said, “French Fries, please.” The boy at the counter said, “Sure, kid. Anything else?” The little boy looked down at the canisters again, looking hard at the ring pops, and I saw him swallow. “No, no thank you.” He handed the concession stand worker his two dollars and waited for his french fries. They came promptly. He smiled, said thank you and deposited his $1 in the tip canister.

Generosity of spirit can be found in the most unexpected places. I am a lucky woman to find it in so many.

And now for something serious…

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . January 22, 2010 . 9:06AM

There are many things in my life that I am passionate about that I don’t take the time to write about here. It isn’t that I don’t care enough, it’s that I understand and am aware that my passions are not the passions of everyone. And I also know that when people are strongly polarized, the reasons of one’s heart are often not enough to sway one another. However, there are times that not saying anything is akin to agreement and I feel like I cannot let this subject be one in which there is any doubt as to how I feel.

Those in my life that know me best know that I’m generally quite apathetic on most issues and due to my profession, I support people as to their decisions. With that said, I am adamantly pro-life for many personal reasons and many well thought out ones. As a humanist, a scientist, a mother, a woman, a friend, a social science major and someone who cares deeply for others…I can be nothing else.

My husband wrote a post today, on the anniversary of Roe v. Wade. I’m linking it here. My personal whys will remain unsaid… Sometimes it is better that way.

In Memoriam

Prom and bad 90s hair

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . November 6, 2009 . 10:57AM

Other events that were important to my life coincided with the break-up with green eyes. One of the miracles of my life happened right before my junior prom in the form of a teeny, tiny preemie. Livvy, my only sibling and 16 years my junior, came into the world with serious struggles. When I finally got to hold her, through an incubator, she fit into the palm of my medium-sized hands. Rarely have I loved a person so much in my life and they were taking her from me. Our small town was not equipped to handle preemies and she would have to go to a larger hospital. It would be her home, and that of my mother and step-father, for many months. I will always be thankful to the Ronald McDonald house for allowing my mother to be with my sister.

Livvy was born three weeks before my junior prom. As such, my mother didn’t have time to go dress hunting with me or even see me before my junior prom. Thankfully, my aunt stepped in and green eyes and I had a fine night. I think. I don’t remember much of it because there was so much emotional turmoil around that time, both with his absence and Livvy’s health.

Livvy eventually came home and green eyes eventually drifted away and a new normal came to me. It wasn’t without much resistence on my part, however. I lost 30 pounds simply because I wasn’t interested in eating. I was depressed and had lost interested in most everything and everyone around me. I was starting to finally feel like myself when I developed what felt like the worst cold ever. My nose started dripping like a faucet and I’d rubbed the thing raw. My best friend, at the time, was a boy we later determined was related to me somehow. He and I went to Wal-mart, where I worked (I have SO many stories about that place) and saw the new guy stocking the shelves. A cute new guy. One I’d only seen in passing while we were zoning the area at night. I’d been lucky enough to help him a couple of times.

I’d never been a forward kind of girl. I’m shy, especially where my looks are concerned and even with the weight loss, I was sure he wasn’t interested in me. Nevertheless, I went up to him with my dripping, peeling nose and started talking to him. He talked back and seemed amused by what I was saying. Eventually we made a date. One date turned into several and we dated on and off, though mainly on, throughout my senior year of high school. He was a few years older than I was and was very different from the guys I went to school with. He introduced me to “No diggity” (which is still one of my favorite songs) and was probably one of, if not THE nicest person I’ve ever dated. He also took me to Olive Garden for the first time in my 17 years.

I don’t know anyone that didn’t like Aaron. He made friends with all of my friends and the people at work adored him. The girls at work really adored him. He kept his eyes on me. I felt adored. His sister and brother felt like my family. I thought a lot of them and still do. I have no idea what my senior year would have been like if his kind spirit hadn’t been a part of my life. My family was dealing with a lot of issues, not just a new baby. He was there for me and I will always appreciate that about him.

He was also my prom date that year. Strangely enough, I remember most everything about that night. I remember sitting in the chair at my salon and watching my stylist place mini-flowers in my hair and wondering if they looked Asian enough. Would Aaron like them? Was it too much? Were my bangs too high? The answer to the bang question was YES, THEY WERE TOO HIGH.

I remember the moment he saw me and the smile he gave me. I remember that his hands are really strong and when he held mine to walk me into the convention center that I couldn’t stop smiling. We sat with our friends and there was much dancing and laughing. When prom was over, we went to a friend’s house and, in my typical party animal fashion, I promptly fell asleep on the couch.

I’m a winner.

Three weeks later, I broke up with him for a guy who truly believed that there is a dark side and he was a jedi knight. I still have a lot of guilt about this and I’m so, so sorry, Aaron. It was among the most stupid decisions I’ve ever made. I’m a firm believe that things turn out the way they should, though, and I’m really glad that we are still friends. You were the best prom date ever.

This one’s for the dorks

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . November 4, 2009 . 10:26AM

I’m a dork.

Full-fledged geek extraordinaire.

I’m ok with it and I’m not sure why others aren’t, especially when I’ve embraced this aspect of myself. Is it no longer cool to go with the self-acceptance? Dork has such a negative connotation, but there is something to be said for people that are eccentric, quirky or don’t go with the flow. We tend to stand out. Some may say that it’s not in a positive way, but I don’t think that the way I am presents itself in a bad manner.

Last week, I was in class and one of my friends was talking to another cohort about the highlights she’s had all semester. She has spent a lot of time on her outer beauty this semester and I’ve really noticed. She’s beautiful. I don’t swing that way, but if I did, I’d give her a second glance. She’s a precious, sweet, amazing, funny woman and I think that she is special. She’d commented that it took almost the entire semester for this other person in the cohort to notice that she’d had her hair done. I made the comment that I’d noticed and that I’d “been digging on her all semester.”

Not only did she smile, but she came over to me, hugged me tightly and then she and another girl made me an “Oreo sandwich.” Apparently, this is where two amazingly precious African American sweethearts hug a confused Caucasian girl and make her the cream filling. Needless to say, there were some interesting comments about what I said, but I shrug them off. I’m an equal opportunity flirt and this girl deserved what I said. Yes, it took cajones to say it, but it’s part of being quirky: You say things that others might not and it changes the outlook of the group, one way or another. She needed to hear that she is adored and accepted. I met the need and was rewarded by her, kindly.

It’s part of being a friend.

I sing in the car. Loudly. With hand gestures. Cars around me either laugh and point or join along.

I wear my heart on my sleeve and it gets me into trouble more often than not. I get hurt a lot. It’s who I am.

I will eat chicken pot pie 4 days in a row and then convince my twitter friends, they should, too. Don’t lie. You know you ate the pot pie.

I laugh at fart jokes. I tell them in public.

I’m the girl who doesn’t wear the camisole under her shirt and doesn’t realize she’s flashed people until after the fact. It wasn’t that I was trying, I just didn’t realize the shirt went down that far. It didn’t occur to me. I’m glad you enjoyed the show. They ARE beautiful.

I rarely spend more than 5 minutes on my makeup and if my hair takes more than 10, I leave it where it’s at.

I wear sneakers most every day. Screw dress up shoes.

I’m a jeans and t-shirt girl.

My perfume smells like lemons. Not a girlie smell, a CLEAN smell.

I hate to cook and clean.

I literally just played rock, paper, scissors with a presenter while the professor took over her presentation and we got bored.

I make inappropriate jokes. All the time. At the wrong times. In company where it’s wholly inappropriate.

I named my car “Betty” because anything I spend that much time with deserves to have a name.

I make fun of my education. I have to. 22 years of education makes me a nerd, along with being a geek and a dork. Yes, it also makes me smart. I’m proud of it, but not so proud that I have to make you feel stupid. I may be stupid for sitting my butt in desks made for a 7th grader for so long. We can all be happy about our education.

I wear braids, pigtails and buns. I go out in public like this. I think I look cute.

I wear the friendship bracelets my 13-year old sister made me with pride. I’ll wear them until they wear out. If you don’t like them, don’t look at them.

I want people to be my friend. Including my professors and people that may not necessarily want to be friends with someone as free with their words as I am. I have no problem joking and cajoling until people give in and become my friend. I can be charming when I want to be. Not in the typical manner. I will run up to people and invade their personal space by hugging them before they know me. Sorry about that.

I’ve done the time warp.

I’ve made, worn and given out warm fuzzies.

Butterfly and eskimo kisses are my favorite to give and receive.

I spend way too much time on my computer, but I do it because I miss the people I’ve met on here when I don’t.

I text more often than I should.

When I have my sunroof open, I feel invincible.

How are you a proud dork?