Nothing Much

image via

I must admit.... I've had a bit of Blogger/Pinterest/Instagram envy going on lately.  It's not that I am dissatisfied with my own life, exactly, but it seems to be paling in comparison with the lives of everyone else.

I know, I know.  Us social media creatures tend only to post the rosy, glamorous parts of our lives and even when we have the best intentions of sharing a balanced view of both the good and exciting and the bad or mundane, the bad or mundane tends to get left out.  I know there is a lot more to everyone's life going on behind the scenes.  I know that I have a tendency to only share the sunshine and flowers in my life as well.  It's not that we don't want people to know about those times, I think it's more that when we are going through a blah patch, we don't feel like sharing anything on the internet anyhow.

So it's easy to look at how stylish other bloggers are, the beautiful photography they are doing, the fun places they are traveling to, the adventures they are having and then look at my own life and feel like I am falling short.  It's hard to look past the filtered Instagram photos and the cute Facebook posts and see the difficult part of peoples lives that are hovering behind them.

I try to remind myself that, as a culture, we don't like people to know about the struggles we are going through.  It's considered impolite to tell people how we are really doing, unless we are very specifically asked.  We want to put on our best face, we don't want anyone to see what is going on behind the scenes.

It is hard to remember that though, and to keep myself from looking away from the blogs and social media and look at everything that I'm not.  I'm not stylish, I'm not losing any weight.  I'm not crafty or artsy, it's been a long time since I've done any sort of creative writing.  I haven't traveled outside of the United States. I haven't done anything great or exciting with my life.  I haven't worked all these neat jobs, or met all kinds of fascinating people.  I'm not exceptionally talented at anything.

I doubt anyone would ever look at my life and go "Oh wow... I wish my life was more like Amanda's!"  My life isn't terrible by any stretch of the imagination, and that's not what I'm trying to say.  Its not that I don't value the life I live or appreciate what I have. It's that my life is just - well, ordinary.

I think when you are focusing on all the things that you aren't, you are supposed to take a step back and look at the things that you are, and that is supposed to make you smile cheerfully and say "Well golly, I guess I'm pretty awesome after all!"  That's what I've been told, anyhow, but that doesn't mean it's easy to do or that if I do try to look on the positive side, that I'll even find anything the first twenty times I look.

It's much easier to scroll through Instagram and Pinterest and my blog feed and feel a little twinge of jealousy because I want to be like that.  And it's hard not to turn life into a competition, to not take photos and heavily Instagram everything so that I can make it seem like I have a Pinterest-worthy life too.  It makes it hard to just enjoy your life as it comes, without thinking "Oh, what meaningful and inspiring blog post can I turn _________ into?  And I'd better be ready in case something comes along that I can Instagram!"

I suppose if anyone out there has ever read my blog or scrolled through my Instagram and had that kind of envy, I am trying not to laugh at the thought of you.  This post isn't going to wrap up with some attempt at a profound recollection of what I've learned from my emotions and envy, because I haven't learned anything yet.  This is, I guess, my shot at showing the side of my life that doesn't have an Internet filter applied to it.

Feeling Fab

It's that odd, frustrating in between season where I'm never sure if I should keep my winter clothes out a bit longer or pull out the spring clothing and just layer up. Yesterday was finally a beautiful, sunny spring Sunday and so I ventured into the spring clothing to pull out a favorite outfit of mine.

I've always been a fan of blue and white and nautical style clothing/floral prints.  When I found this top and skirt at a thrift store last summer I initially tried them on together for time and efficiency, and then realized that... they actually could be worn together. 

 Combining the pearls with the gold anchor earrings and the white bow gave the outfit just the right balance of nautical and femininity to really pull the ensemble together.

blouse // thrifted

skirt // thrifted

pumps // JC Penny

bracelets // Khols

necklace // gifted

earrings // gifted (pearls), Charming Charlies (anchors)

bow // borrowed from my sister

It's a very comfortable outfit, and I love that the top can be dressed up with a skirt, or dressed down with a pair of jeans for more of an everyday wear.  I'm so glad that springtime is finally here!

In Christ Alone

Of all the days of the Triduum, Holy Thursday has always been my favorite.  There is an atmosphere about it that is so joyful, and yet so solemn and sacred and sad as well.

I love the great ringing of the bells, the singing of the Gloria for the first time since Lent began.  I love the incense, the ceremony, the beautiful procession of the Eucharist from the Church into the Chapel set aside for Our Lord until Easter Sunday.  I love staying up late in the Chapel in Adoration, keeping watch with Him.

There is sadness in knowing that Christ underwent terrible torture and agony in the garden that night, and that the next day He would suffer more than we can ever imagine and then die for us.  Yet there is also great joy and comfort in knowing that, before He died, He gave us the Eucharist and His true presence so that we could always be close to Him.

The true, complete presence of Christ in the Eucharist has always been something I have accepted as a natural and undeniable fact. I have never needed great theological explanations or proof to make me believe... to me, it has always made sense.  If God loved us enough to die for us, how could He not love us enough to give Himself to us in the Eucharist?  He could create the whole world out of nothing, raise people from the dead, ascend into Heaven, how could He not make Himself entirely present in the host, and in the wine?

I believe it with my whole heart, even if my actions don't always show it.  I know that I do not always have the reverence that I should, that I don't give the time that He deserves, that I don't show the fervor and awe that that the King is worthy of.  And yet He is always there, waiting patiently for me, and when I kneel in Adoration and receive Him in Mass, I can feel His love for me.  There is so much beauty there, so much power and so much love.

There is joy in the celebration of Holy Thursday, in knowing that God loves me, and loves each one of us so much that He made sure to give Himself to us in the Holy Eucharist before Christ died, rose from the dead, and ascended into Heaven.  There is sorrow in knowing that I do not deserve any of that love, and that I can never repay it.  There is peace in being reminded that despite my unworthiness, He is offering me His love anyways.

The Grace and Confidence of Cinderella

I have been wanting to write something about the new, beautiful film Cinderella that everyone and their stepmother's cat has been blogging about and writing profound and insightful posts about, but I wasn't sure what to say that hadn't already been said before.  And then, I thought of something that I wanted to say, something that no one else to my knowledge has talked about yet.  So here we go.

We talk all about the time of the stereotypes of men in films - how they are either a) immature and rude b) sleazy and creepy or c) apathetic.  In any case they are all seen as never as good as the women they are paired with, and it is a step down for the leading lady to end up with them.  That's been covered a lot, and it has also been talked about how Prince Charming/Kit is a beautiful example of the opposite of all of that.  But that is not what I want to talk about here.

What I do want to bring attention to, is the fact that women in films have a stereotypes as well.  The slutty, bottle blond stereotype yes, but that is typically reserved for supporting characters.  Main actresses in films and television have a tendency, rather, to fall into the clumsy stereotype.  You know - awkward, says the wrong thing at the wrong time, thinks she's alone and does something weird or embarrassing and then turns around to find the romantic interest/everyone she knows is watching her.  She trips a lot, she falls, she is uncomfortable with herself.  Usually by the end of the film she has achieved enough grace to fulfill whatever plot element is required, but she is still clumsy and awkward enough to remind the audience that she is "a real woman."  This applies predominantly to romantic films, not  adventure or thriller films, which is the reason I bring it up.

Cinderella is not that woman.  It didn't hit me until almost the end of the film, that subconsciously I had been waiting for that stereotype to emerge in someway.  I had been waiting for her to fall off her horse when she met the Prince, I had been expecting her to trip or make a fool of herself in front of her stepsisters, I had thought she would act the awkward, uncertain country girl dressed as a princess when she went to the ball.  I was surprised when she never said anything odd or embarrassing to the prince in the garden.

Throughout the film, Cinderella was the picture of grace, and confidence.  Once I realized it, it was so refreshing to see her step out of the carriage, utterly sure of herself and her belonging there.  It was beautiful to see her enter the ballroom with as much grace as if she had been born to it, to see her pause on the staircase and curtsy to the crowd that was staring at her, and then walk with confidence right up to the Prince, without faltering or becoming flustered when she realized the man she thought was merely an apprentice was actually the heir to the throne.

She didn't murmur "Oh, but I don't know how to dance!" when the Prince asked her.  She didn't trip, she didn't fall.... she didn't do any of the things that we have come to expect from the leading lady in a romantic film.

We are growing used to being told that a woman must be clumsy or awkward in order to be "real".  We will probably mess up, or say the wrong thing at an important moment, or stutter, or generally look silly in the eyes of the person we are trying to make a good impression on.  We are forgetting that a lady can be full of grace and class and confidence.  We can walk into a room filled with people without having to feel apologetic for being there.  We can dance with all the beauty of royalty without feeling ashamed of our more humble origins.

Being graceful does not make us any less of a "real woman."  Yes, of course we'll all have our clumsy and awkward moments - after all, we are human.  What we cannot do, however, is let our humanness give an us excuse to stay within the safety net of being clumsy and awkward and keep us from venturing into the risky area of maintaining an air of poise and class.

Cinderella is a fairy tale princess, you might argue. Of course she is going to be filled with elegance and grace.  Yes, and no, is my answer.  Look at Ana, from Frozen.  Or Merida from Brave.  I'm not saying that I don't love them, but they were princesses who were anything but pictures of grace.  Princess does not equal being a lady, and a princess character being a lady does not mean it is an unrealistic goal for us "real women."  Look at Audrey Hepburn, or Grace Kelly.  We used to admire such elegance and beautiful confidence, we don't do so as much any more.

To have Cinderella possess all those qualities and not fall down into the stereotype of a clumsy and awkward girl was the element of the film that really captured my attention.  The cinematography and design of the film was breathtaking, and the execution of the story and the character development was superb to be sure.  But it was the depiction of Cinderella as a lady, as a woman of style and grace and such confidence that made me a fan, and is the reason I look forward to watching this film over and over again.  Let us hope Hollywood takes note, and gives us more women like her in the future.

Oh Brother

I think that at this point in my life, I've gotten the hang of living with four sisters pretty well.  I'm a girl so of course I know how we think, I'm the oldest so naturally that makes me the most perceptive and understanding of all my siblings, and I've had twenty-one years (yikes, that long?) of being a big sister to figure out how my sisters work and think.

What I'm discovering that I do not quite have the hang of yet... is living with brothers. It's really only hit me in the last six months or so that boys are totally different than girls.  I've had a younger brother for almost fifteen years now, but honestly when they are younger they really weren't that different from having little sisters.  Aside from burping and making other obnoxious bodily noises more and finding it hysterical, and running around making sound effects.

I don't know about y'all, but I think boys are confusing.  Maybe it's just teenage boys, because my Knight has not been that hard to figure out.  Maybe it's brothers that are confusing.  I'm not really sure.  But it is definitely different.

There are days when he can be the most arrogant jerk that ever walked the face of this earth.  Unlike my sisters and I, whatever mood he is in seems to be the mood that sticks with him all day long rather than changing by the hour, so when I am at home and he's on a jerk day, there is nothing I want to do more than punch his face through the wall.  I don't know how my mom and the sisters that are home more than I am put up with him.

When Brother #1 began developing the symptoms of being a teenage guy, we were told that this was normal and pretty much all boys are a pain in the rear at this stage in life and we should expect physical expressions of anger - something foreign to a bunch of girls who prefer using their tongues over their arms when they get ticked off.  We were warned that it is quite common for boys to punch a hole in the wall, or punch their brothers, or punch anything.

But then there are days where he's awesome and I remember why I kind of like having a brother more than having sisters. Because on a good day, he is more or less in a great mood all day long, he is very agreeable, he starts my car for me, he'll run into the other room to grab something, he is fun to talk to and be around, and did I mention he gives really great neck and shoulder rubs? His gentleness could use a little work, but I have perpetually chronically knotted shoulders so having someone with as strong of hands as he has rub my shoulders feels great.

I really don't understand brothers.  I don't understand how someone can be in a bad mood all day long, or how they can manage to be in a good mood all day long.  I don't understand why he can be so convicted of his own opinion sometimes that it would literally be easier to get a rock to talk to me.  I can't say that I understand why he does things the way he does sometimes, or what on earth his thought processes was when doing it.

Brothers are different, and I suppose that is okay.  Different is good, and decidedly not boring.  Unlike all my sisters, however, I only get two brothers to observe and try to comprehend.  We shall see how that goes!