I was so surprised...I'm going for a career change!
So, some of you have seen my new blog around--The W(h)ining Army Wives--and are probably wondering what's up with it. You're thinking, "Sure, so Brandi and her army wife friends are having wine nights, big deal." But then you're also wondering, "Why did she put so much work into make that blog look nice, and filming their meeting, and writing up a whole evaluation on the wine?" You're not wondering that? Well, go check out the blog, and then you will!
Well, my curious friend, I did all that work (and, boy, is going through two hours of wine meeting film a lot more work than you'd think!) because I actually am attempting a career in wine.
"A career in wine?" you're shouting. I just ask you to stop shouting at me. It's very rude.
But yes, over Thanksgiving with my in-laws, I expressed to them my disillusionment with the job I had, and how I was unsure that I really wanted to be a teacher anymore, and all that fun, quarter-life crisis stuff. They told me they'd figured out a new job for me: a sommelier! And I laughed, (and what is that?), and we joked that it would be funny to make a switch from teaching to being a wine expert.
And then it hit me: that really did sound like a cool job. Something I might like.
I've always liked wine, and been interested in learning more about it. And how cool would it be to be an expert in a field? Let alone in wine.
So we researched, and I discussed it with my husband and mom, and in-laws, and myself, and I thought, "Why not?" If I can't take risks in my 20s, while my husband has a stable, well-paying job, we have a roof over our heads, no children to support, and my paycheck is all going toward savings anyway, when can I? What if this is a career I would thrive in? What if I could go to work every day, enjoying what I do?
Don't get me wrong--I love children, and I love working with children. If you know me, you know I do. But the things that go into working with children--all the considerations and plans and protocols--it all detracts for the actual interaction with children. The part I like. Besides, I've got plenty of years left to return to teaching if I miss it--or at least to teach my own children (and maybe my friends' children) some things about the world, and play around.
Maybe I need a change. And maybe this is exactly what I've never known I've wanted to do.
Regardless, I'm making the change, and I'm starting small. I'm taking a chance with something different, and hoping I can make it work.
And it's invigorating. I'm very excited about it. And I hope you'll support me along the way, and watch my progress--because something cool could end up coming my way, and I want you all to be my witnesses.
If you're interested in following along, my little "wine club" is meeting weekly (weather and life permitting, of course), and will be posting here: The W(h)ining Army Wives.
I really hope you enjoy watching this journey, and learning some things about wine as I do the same.
I guess life is just full of surprises--and I'm riding this one out. Stay surprised, my friends!
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Just a Sucker With No Self-Esteem
I was so surprised...to realize how much I've changed.
Okay, this may turn into a boring or self-centered, philosophical post, so if you're not into that, I recommend you go here instead. That'll be more interesting and insightful. haha
Anyway, the other day I was walking down the hallway at work and I realized, as I walked past a parent, that, while I still employ a brisk, hair-blowing walk (can't break that habit, sadly), I was holding my head so high I might have looked like I was snubbing them.
Now, this may not seem like that big a deal--wow, so you hold your head high; that means nothing!--well, my friend, this time the physical stereotype totally applies to me.
I specifically remember--because, annoyingly, I'm a very active thinker--walking from class to class in high school (and junior high, and elementary school), staring at the ground. And sometimes I would tell myself (seriously), "I just have to watch where I'm going. These halls are so crowded, gotta watch my stepping. It doesn't mean I'm self-conscious. I'm totally not."
But I totally was. And I knew it. I mean, if you have to pep-talk yourself and justify walking with your head down, I think you already know how (un)confident you are.
But I went through life for so long like this, pretending, even to myself when I could swing it, that I didn't have a confidence problem. "Fake it 'til you make it," they say. And I did my best to do so. Though, at the time I never thought I'd gain confidence. I honestly thought that was my normal, and that I'd never live life as one of those self-confident girls.
And then, college happened. And I started out just as self-conscience and scared as always, but somewhere along the way, my faking became superfluous. No one cared in college what I was doing or wearing--whether I was humming to myself as I walked, or if I wore a sweatshirt to class again today, or if I was too lazy to wake up early enough to shower before class. And as I realized that no one else cared, I began to slowly realize that I didn't really care, either.
I was in a sorority that made me meet new people--so many new people--and take on offices and lead people. People had confidence in me, and in my abilities. I had to talk to people, and in front of people, and for people. I couldn't be shy and insecure. There was no room for it.
I made new friends who loved me for me, and didn't try to keep me under their thumbs or laugh at me for things I said or make me feel useless--in fact, they sought out my attention and help and company--and I realized I had something useful inside me.
Somewhere along the way, the confidence that I faked--and I had begun to hold my head up as I walked, projecting the image of confidence wherever I went, hoping it would hold true--at some point, that confidence was real.
And I never even noticed.
How awesome, though, is marriage for your confidence, too? Though I know, respectively, my confidence improved the most while I was in college, it's continued to grow into a nearly-unmanageable beast now that I'm married. There's nothing quite like someone thinking you are the world--and expressing it often--for a little ego booster. When there's someone constantly telling you you're beautiful and smart and wonderful, and when your opinion of this person is pretty well equal to the one he has of you, it's hard not to believe it.
I always was told I was "cute," and just maybe "pretty," but--not including my mother and other family members who definitely don't count toward ego-boosting--beautiful was never something I thought I could be. God forbid anyone say I was sexy. I would've laughed right in their faces! That one is still a little hard for me, but, like I said, having this wonderful person building you up constantly has a way of wearing you down into confidence. Plus, you've got a ring on your finger, so who do you need to impress? Someone awesome loves you, so who cares what everyone else thinks?
Anyway, the moral of the story is, it's taken me 24 years (minus, of course, those lovely years of childhood where you just really don't care and have no idea what it means to be insecure), but I finally have found some self-esteem. And damn, does it feel good.
Okay, this may turn into a boring or self-centered, philosophical post, so if you're not into that, I recommend you go here instead. That'll be more interesting and insightful. haha
Anyway, the other day I was walking down the hallway at work and I realized, as I walked past a parent, that, while I still employ a brisk, hair-blowing walk (can't break that habit, sadly), I was holding my head so high I might have looked like I was snubbing them.
Now, this may not seem like that big a deal--wow, so you hold your head high; that means nothing!--well, my friend, this time the physical stereotype totally applies to me.
I specifically remember--because, annoyingly, I'm a very active thinker--walking from class to class in high school (and junior high, and elementary school), staring at the ground. And sometimes I would tell myself (seriously), "I just have to watch where I'm going. These halls are so crowded, gotta watch my stepping. It doesn't mean I'm self-conscious. I'm totally not."
But I totally was. And I knew it. I mean, if you have to pep-talk yourself and justify walking with your head down, I think you already know how (un)confident you are.
But I went through life for so long like this, pretending, even to myself when I could swing it, that I didn't have a confidence problem. "Fake it 'til you make it," they say. And I did my best to do so. Though, at the time I never thought I'd gain confidence. I honestly thought that was my normal, and that I'd never live life as one of those self-confident girls.
And then, college happened. And I started out just as self-conscience and scared as always, but somewhere along the way, my faking became superfluous. No one cared in college what I was doing or wearing--whether I was humming to myself as I walked, or if I wore a sweatshirt to class again today, or if I was too lazy to wake up early enough to shower before class. And as I realized that no one else cared, I began to slowly realize that I didn't really care, either.
I was in a sorority that made me meet new people--so many new people--and take on offices and lead people. People had confidence in me, and in my abilities. I had to talk to people, and in front of people, and for people. I couldn't be shy and insecure. There was no room for it.
I made new friends who loved me for me, and didn't try to keep me under their thumbs or laugh at me for things I said or make me feel useless--in fact, they sought out my attention and help and company--and I realized I had something useful inside me.
Somewhere along the way, the confidence that I faked--and I had begun to hold my head up as I walked, projecting the image of confidence wherever I went, hoping it would hold true--at some point, that confidence was real.
And I never even noticed.
How awesome, though, is marriage for your confidence, too? Though I know, respectively, my confidence improved the most while I was in college, it's continued to grow into a nearly-unmanageable beast now that I'm married. There's nothing quite like someone thinking you are the world--and expressing it often--for a little ego booster. When there's someone constantly telling you you're beautiful and smart and wonderful, and when your opinion of this person is pretty well equal to the one he has of you, it's hard not to believe it.
I always was told I was "cute," and just maybe "pretty," but--not including my mother and other family members who definitely don't count toward ego-boosting--beautiful was never something I thought I could be. God forbid anyone say I was sexy. I would've laughed right in their faces! That one is still a little hard for me, but, like I said, having this wonderful person building you up constantly has a way of wearing you down into confidence. Plus, you've got a ring on your finger, so who do you need to impress? Someone awesome loves you, so who cares what everyone else thinks?
Anyway, the moral of the story is, it's taken me 24 years (minus, of course, those lovely years of childhood where you just really don't care and have no idea what it means to be insecure), but I finally have found some self-esteem. And damn, does it feel good.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Love Conquers.
I was so surprised...this first week of deployment has been hard. (Yeah, I know. Read on, skeptical friend.)
Okay, so for those of you who are not aware of this already, my wonderful husband has been deployed.
It's only been about a week since he left, but it's been rough, nonetheless. You can think, "But he's only been gone a week. You've done worse than that," and you'd be right. I keep telling myself that, too.
But it's different this time. There's a knowledge in the back of your mind that he's going to be gone for nearly a year. This person who you've lived with and bet your whole life on is leaving you behind to live your life as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed.
He's not going on vacation. Or to the field. He's going into a war zone. There will always be worry on my mind. No matter how much I ignore it and tell myself he'll be fine, and that he won't be in any action. It doesn't matter. It's terrifying.
I sit on the couch and watch tv, just like I've done with Russell hundreds of times. And many of those times, we completely ignored each other for hours on end. But it's different. That warmth is gone. The companionship is gone.
It's the thought that he won't be here to hold me when I cry or to clean the dishes when I come home tired from work or to listen to me vent about this or that. But these are selfish things.
Sure, he has internet, and I can Skype him hopefully most days or weeks and keep in touch that way, but it feels disconnected. The internet is unreliable, the schedules are unreliable, and the conversations are public. It's hard to connect that way. And one should never undervalue the strength that holding a hand or touching a shoulder can have in communication.
But enough moping and self-pity.
I really have been handling it all pretty well so far, despite the doom and gloom of this post so far. I do well, I think, with living alone. And I know how to bring myself around, how to entertain myself and keep a home. So I'm not really worried about myself.
Plus, I have something no one else has: Russell. And he, and everything we've built and will build together, is worth so much more than nine months apart. I can get through anything knowing we've got our whole life ahead of us and I will have all the cuddles and kisses and talks and (within reason) babies I want for the rest of my life.
It's all worth it in the end, I know. But I will not lie, deployment already sucks. However, I am one week closer to holding my husband in my arms again, and that's all I've gotta remember to get myself through it. Boy, do I love this man.
Okay, so for those of you who are not aware of this already, my wonderful husband has been deployed.
 |
| The last photo of us together for a while. |
It's only been about a week since he left, but it's been rough, nonetheless. You can think, "But he's only been gone a week. You've done worse than that," and you'd be right. I keep telling myself that, too.
But it's different this time. There's a knowledge in the back of your mind that he's going to be gone for nearly a year. This person who you've lived with and bet your whole life on is leaving you behind to live your life as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed.
He's not going on vacation. Or to the field. He's going into a war zone. There will always be worry on my mind. No matter how much I ignore it and tell myself he'll be fine, and that he won't be in any action. It doesn't matter. It's terrifying.
I sit on the couch and watch tv, just like I've done with Russell hundreds of times. And many of those times, we completely ignored each other for hours on end. But it's different. That warmth is gone. The companionship is gone.
It's the thought that he won't be here to hold me when I cry or to clean the dishes when I come home tired from work or to listen to me vent about this or that. But these are selfish things.
Sure, he has internet, and I can Skype him hopefully most days or weeks and keep in touch that way, but it feels disconnected. The internet is unreliable, the schedules are unreliable, and the conversations are public. It's hard to connect that way. And one should never undervalue the strength that holding a hand or touching a shoulder can have in communication.
But enough moping and self-pity.
I really have been handling it all pretty well so far, despite the doom and gloom of this post so far. I do well, I think, with living alone. And I know how to bring myself around, how to entertain myself and keep a home. So I'm not really worried about myself.
Plus, I have something no one else has: Russell. And he, and everything we've built and will build together, is worth so much more than nine months apart. I can get through anything knowing we've got our whole life ahead of us and I will have all the cuddles and kisses and talks and (within reason) babies I want for the rest of my life.
It's all worth it in the end, I know. But I will not lie, deployment already sucks. However, I am one week closer to holding my husband in my arms again, and that's all I've gotta remember to get myself through it. Boy, do I love this man.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
We Run This...But Not Yet.
I was so surprised...I have volunteered myself for running...
Yes, I said it. Anyone who knows me knows I do not like physical activity of pretty much any kind, but I especially hate running.
However, this weekend, I was browsing through my Facebook feed, when I saw pictures someone had taken at a Color Run. I thought, "Man, that looks like fun." And then, "Too bad I'll never be able to do that."
And that was stupid. I'm a healthy (now that my husband has pulled my junk-and-fast-food-eating leash in a fair amount), four-limbed, capable 23-year-old. Why can't I participate in "only" 5 kilometers? (For those of you that don't want to google it, that's just a bit over 3 miles.)
I thought about all those times I've turned people down for working out (including my husband and probably Nicole) and told myself, "Nooooo, thank you" and how many times Russ has told me he wants to make sure I'm around for a long time. (You guys, I like junk food and not working out.)
Well, why not have some sort of goal for working out? Clearly, I can't maintain a "work out every day to be fit" goal. Nope. Don't care. I'm fit enough for my lazy ass. So, maybe a "run this fun 5K" goal will work! I'm hoping it does. Not because I care too much about being able to run forever--'cause I don't--but because I've seen all the ads for the cool 5Ks and I'm curious.
So I immediately texted my best army wife friend, and she said, and I quote, "Yesssssssssss". So I take it she liked the idea. haha And now we're starting our "training" tomorrow morning! I found an app called "C25K"--short for "Couch to 5K--so we'll see how it works out. It's supposed to work you up from being a couch potato to jogging a 5K. And I think both of us could use the slower transition and the guidance. I know I could.
Jesus. I can't believe I've volunteered to run.
Yes, I said it. Anyone who knows me knows I do not like physical activity of pretty much any kind, but I especially hate running.
However, this weekend, I was browsing through my Facebook feed, when I saw pictures someone had taken at a Color Run. I thought, "Man, that looks like fun." And then, "Too bad I'll never be able to do that."
And that was stupid. I'm a healthy (now that my husband has pulled my junk-and-fast-food-eating leash in a fair amount), four-limbed, capable 23-year-old. Why can't I participate in "only" 5 kilometers? (For those of you that don't want to google it, that's just a bit over 3 miles.)
I thought about all those times I've turned people down for working out (including my husband and probably Nicole) and told myself, "Nooooo, thank you" and how many times Russ has told me he wants to make sure I'm around for a long time. (You guys, I like junk food and not working out.)
Well, why not have some sort of goal for working out? Clearly, I can't maintain a "work out every day to be fit" goal. Nope. Don't care. I'm fit enough for my lazy ass. So, maybe a "run this fun 5K" goal will work! I'm hoping it does. Not because I care too much about being able to run forever--'cause I don't--but because I've seen all the ads for the cool 5Ks and I'm curious.
So I immediately texted my best army wife friend, and she said, and I quote, "Yesssssssssss". So I take it she liked the idea. haha And now we're starting our "training" tomorrow morning! I found an app called "C25K"--short for "Couch to 5K--so we'll see how it works out. It's supposed to work you up from being a couch potato to jogging a 5K. And I think both of us could use the slower transition and the guidance. I know I could.
Jesus. I can't believe I've volunteered to run.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Granada and Madrid in One
I was so surprised...we are exhausted. (Uhh, were exhausted. I started this post our last night in Madrid...haha)
I left off last time with us thinking about going out and seeing the cathedral in Granada, and, well, it didn't happen. I'm pretty sure we both had food poisoning--Malaga strikes again!--so we spent most of our first day in Granada in the hotel room reading. It was actually a very nice day, considering. Haha
The next day, we were scheduled to see the Alhambra in the morning, so we sucked it up and went. And it was awesome! The palaces were so ornate, with such detail in everything---it was gorgeous. We loved it. But our feet were dragging a bit by the end of a tour through the Generalife--the royal gardens--and it already had been a few hours.
So, after a siesta, we decided to check out the Parque de Ciencias (Science Park) and were thoroughly disappointed. It looked really cool and interactive and fun, but it was pretty much none of those. OK City's science museum was way better! So, hot and tired and disappointed, we trudged back to our hotel, after stopping for dinner--delicious bocadillos! Bocadillo is just the Spanish word for sandwich, and I became enamored with them. The meat and bread are just so yummy!
The next day, we were off for Madrid, and our final two days in Spain! We were excited, but also very, very tired. And kind of ready to be back in the States. After a confusing and stressful, final, four-hour drive, returning the rental car, and checking into our final hotel, we spent the first early evening in our hotel room and in Torrejón getting dinner. My stomach still wasn't feeling quite right, and we weren't sure we wanted to wander around hot, populated Madrid quite yet. So we rested for one more night and checked out the local areas around our hotel instead.
The next morning, we took the train over to Madrid and wandered around a bit. We found a cool marketplace that reminded me a little of the kasbah--only more modern and big-city-setup. It was pretty cool. But we were on our way to the Royal Palace, and we were on a mission. Also, it was really hot outside in the middle of the city. So we kept walking all the way down to the palace, stopping by the Royal Cathedral before, and admiring the colorful paintings all around the huge, vaulted ceilings and walls. I'm personally a bigger fan of the Gothic and Baroque styles, but the sleeker, more modern look inside a simple cathedral exterior was really perfect for the feel of Madrid.
After the Cathedral, we finally visited the Royal Palace, which turned out to be really awesome! I wasn't terribly excited for it, but I am so glad we went. There were just so many cool details, and fresco paintings and painted ceilings and really old furniture and floors and silver and sculptures and, finally, the armory, where there were endless rows of armor. Royal armor, common armor, 14th century, 15th century, horse armor, little prince armor, helms, breastplates, gauntlets, swords, crossbows, rifles, spears. Everything. It was so cool. We loved it.
Finally, we ended with some delicious montaditos--another Spanish word for sandwiches...And got some inspiration for a possible future venture. Russ really wants to start up a deli or something, and maybe a montadito shop with tiny sandwiches is just the thing. We'll see what happens. :]
Anyway, we finished off our final day in Spain with tapas--my favorite croquettes and chicken skewers--and a pitcher of sangria, of course. It was amazing.
Then, after a stressful time getting back to the airport the next (very early) morning--turns out the buses didn't start up in our area until 7--we got on the plane and made it home!
And thus ended a wonderful, amazing, so-fun honeymoon. I wouldn't have traded it for anything.
I left off last time with us thinking about going out and seeing the cathedral in Granada, and, well, it didn't happen. I'm pretty sure we both had food poisoning--Malaga strikes again!--so we spent most of our first day in Granada in the hotel room reading. It was actually a very nice day, considering. Haha
The next day, we were scheduled to see the Alhambra in the morning, so we sucked it up and went. And it was awesome! The palaces were so ornate, with such detail in everything---it was gorgeous. We loved it. But our feet were dragging a bit by the end of a tour through the Generalife--the royal gardens--and it already had been a few hours.
 |
| Isn't it beautiful? |
 |
| Such intricate detail--I'm obsessed! |
The next day, we were off for Madrid, and our final two days in Spain! We were excited, but also very, very tired. And kind of ready to be back in the States. After a confusing and stressful, final, four-hour drive, returning the rental car, and checking into our final hotel, we spent the first early evening in our hotel room and in Torrejón getting dinner. My stomach still wasn't feeling quite right, and we weren't sure we wanted to wander around hot, populated Madrid quite yet. So we rested for one more night and checked out the local areas around our hotel instead.
The next morning, we took the train over to Madrid and wandered around a bit. We found a cool marketplace that reminded me a little of the kasbah--only more modern and big-city-setup. It was pretty cool. But we were on our way to the Royal Palace, and we were on a mission. Also, it was really hot outside in the middle of the city. So we kept walking all the way down to the palace, stopping by the Royal Cathedral before, and admiring the colorful paintings all around the huge, vaulted ceilings and walls. I'm personally a bigger fan of the Gothic and Baroque styles, but the sleeker, more modern look inside a simple cathedral exterior was really perfect for the feel of Madrid.
After the Cathedral, we finally visited the Royal Palace, which turned out to be really awesome! I wasn't terribly excited for it, but I am so glad we went. There were just so many cool details, and fresco paintings and painted ceilings and really old furniture and floors and silver and sculptures and, finally, the armory, where there were endless rows of armor. Royal armor, common armor, 14th century, 15th century, horse armor, little prince armor, helms, breastplates, gauntlets, swords, crossbows, rifles, spears. Everything. It was so cool. We loved it.
Finally, we ended with some delicious montaditos--another Spanish word for sandwiches...And got some inspiration for a possible future venture. Russ really wants to start up a deli or something, and maybe a montadito shop with tiny sandwiches is just the thing. We'll see what happens. :]
Anyway, we finished off our final day in Spain with tapas--my favorite croquettes and chicken skewers--and a pitcher of sangria, of course. It was amazing.
Then, after a stressful time getting back to the airport the next (very early) morning--turns out the buses didn't start up in our area until 7--we got on the plane and made it home!
And thus ended a wonderful, amazing, so-fun honeymoon. I wouldn't have traded it for anything.
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| Cheers! |
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