I love nothing better than love stories.
It was my last job as a freelance makeup artist -- I was newly pregnant, starting to feeling the woes of the first timester, and certain that after this job, I was ready to retire my makeup brushes.
Complicated how we met, but the bride was a friend of a friend who is actually the wife of one of Bozo's friend. I'd heard of her and her story before, and we first met at the birthday party of Bozo's friend's child.
The bride was bright-eyed, newly engaged, and full of love for her handsome Brazilian fiancee, who was equally bright-eyed and love-full.
Her story is one of those improbable ones ... something you'd read in a book or see at the movies, but it really happened. Born in Southern California, she was filled with wanderlust from an early age, one that led her to the Middle East where she felt the call to Islam. Although it was quite supsicious for a white woman to convert to this religion post-9/11, she knew with her entire being that it was meant to happen, and ended up becoming a media darling, sought after for her unique perspective and experience.
Shortly after her conversion, she married a fellow she met at her mosque and settled in to what she believed would be a typical and dutiful marriage that turned out to be anything but. After enduring various kinds of abuse, she took the brave step of divorcing her first abusive husband while remaining devoted to her faith.
As a single Muslim woman, she threw herself into her passions - religion, teaching, traveling - always a new adventure on the horizon. On one solo trip to Argentina, she decided to take a short ski tripwhere she started chatting with a guy from Brazil, where they hit it off very well until it was his time to leave. They didn't exchange information, but only briefly gave each other an overview of their traveling plans, telling him that she would be going on a boat ride in a few days. They parted ways, and she went on her boat trip, where she spent time with some giggling girls talking about Brazilian men ....
Her Brazilian friend couldn't get the spunky American gal out of his mind. He didn't have her phone number, but he knew she was going to get on a boat to get to another destination at a specific day and time. Although he didn't know what boat she would be getting on, he took a taxi ride, a bus ride, and walked to the ports where he took a chance and got on board an unknown boat. And his bright-eyed American friend was there.
They exchanged information, visited each other, and love grew. He converted to Islam, and they married in the mosque connected to the school she directed. Their love for each other was so powerful, their drive to be with each other was so intense that they made the impossible happen.
Now, they live in Brazil, she's expecting their first child, and she's pursuing a career in interior design. The photos she's posted of their home on Facebook show that it's definitely a great career move for her and her happiness is undoubtable.
So there you have it - the story of a woman who pursued her passions with every fiber of her being, and that of a man who literally took chance in his hands because he knew in his heart that he'd found his life's treasure.
Love happens ... sometimes when you least expect it. It really does happen that way.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
How I went from :\ to !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Earlier this week, I had written and scheduled this blog:
Honesty
To be completely honest, lately I've been attacked by a case of the self-doubts.
While I do intrinsically believe that everything eventually works out for the best, it's the lapse in time inbetween now and then that's causing some concern.
How much longer? Can I keep going like this? Is there hope?
There has to be hope.
But, how long can one survive on faith alone?
Maybe all you can expect to survive on is faith.
I need a sign. Seems like a lot to ask for, but I do ... please, Universe, send me a sign that hope exists.
A few hours after writing this, I received two signs which might sound weird to you, but just hear me out. I went to look through an office supply catalog for a self-inking stamp. I found a sample that had my first name and radio man's last name. Not saying I'm still hung up on radio man, but still ... that kind of blew me over. A few pages later, a stamp with my exact birth date.
Signs, I'm telling you, signs.
This past work week was rough,rough, rough. By the time the work week was done, I was at a particularly low point and so ready for the weekend. Driving towards the freeway, I received a mystery call and a following voice mail informing me that something amazing had just happened.
A few weeks ago, while perusing my blogs, I came upon this contest ... nominate someone you know, or yourself, for a makeover tv show. In need of a new beginning and new exterior to go with my new life, and figuring I had nothing to lose, I sent in my nomination, was honest about my size, and included a couple of casual pictures.
The call was from the company's headquarters ... in the voicemail, a large group was cheering for me. They loved my story, and was I still interested?
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I pulled over, and then I did the dance of joy.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am so excited.
Honesty
To be completely honest, lately I've been attacked by a case of the self-doubts.
While I do intrinsically believe that everything eventually works out for the best, it's the lapse in time inbetween now and then that's causing some concern.
How much longer? Can I keep going like this? Is there hope?
There has to be hope.
But, how long can one survive on faith alone?
Maybe all you can expect to survive on is faith.
I need a sign. Seems like a lot to ask for, but I do ... please, Universe, send me a sign that hope exists.
A few hours after writing this, I received two signs which might sound weird to you, but just hear me out. I went to look through an office supply catalog for a self-inking stamp. I found a sample that had my first name and radio man's last name. Not saying I'm still hung up on radio man, but still ... that kind of blew me over. A few pages later, a stamp with my exact birth date.
Signs, I'm telling you, signs.
This past work week was rough,rough, rough. By the time the work week was done, I was at a particularly low point and so ready for the weekend. Driving towards the freeway, I received a mystery call and a following voice mail informing me that something amazing had just happened.
A few weeks ago, while perusing my blogs, I came upon this contest ... nominate someone you know, or yourself, for a makeover tv show. In need of a new beginning and new exterior to go with my new life, and figuring I had nothing to lose, I sent in my nomination, was honest about my size, and included a couple of casual pictures.
The call was from the company's headquarters ... in the voicemail, a large group was cheering for me. They loved my story, and was I still interested?
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I pulled over, and then I did the dance of joy.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am so excited.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Every once in a while ...
... Bozo is struck in a romantic mood and sends me flowery text messages, emails filled with cutesiness that I might have fallen for about 4 years ago.
Do you know what I think about that? I think you do.
Shove it up your big wazoo, Bozo!
Do you know what I think about that? I think you do.
Shove it up your big wazoo, Bozo!
I cannot compute
Being an online junkie for so very long, I've come to know an individual for over 10 years through our online communities, first on one, then on another, both beauty/lifestyle related. She's in her mid-30s, hasn't worked for years, has always stayed home, and basically her life is about buying makeup and tending to her husband and their special-needs dog.
She's beautiful ... in her mind she thinks she's a monster, complaining about her face, her nose, her body shape ... all of which are enviable. At her relatively young age, she has a slew of psychiatric professionals tending to her, a dermatologist, a plastic surgeon. It's a little much.
Although I realize her mind is not working the way it should when she complains about how terrible she looks and wonders why a psychiatric professional won't prescibe her a dangerous acne drugs ... I look at stories about people who are really suffering ... and I cannot sympathize with her. At all.
I do hope at some point she gets the help she needs.
She's beautiful ... in her mind she thinks she's a monster, complaining about her face, her nose, her body shape ... all of which are enviable. At her relatively young age, she has a slew of psychiatric professionals tending to her, a dermatologist, a plastic surgeon. It's a little much.
Although I realize her mind is not working the way it should when she complains about how terrible she looks and wonders why a psychiatric professional won't prescibe her a dangerous acne drugs ... I look at stories about people who are really suffering ... and I cannot sympathize with her. At all.
I do hope at some point she gets the help she needs.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Trying to make changes around here
It's time, people, it's time, and while I'm working on some other doo dads to fancy up the place, "accessorize it up", here's a respite from the blahs.
Sure, my header is off center, but so am I. I kind of like it that way. :)
Sure, my header is off center, but so am I. I kind of like it that way. :)
A good story
Last Saturday, while Baby and I were strolling along the dioramas of stuffed animals at the Natural History Museum, I looked down to see two little girls chasing after each other, familiar little girls to me.
I quickly ID'd them as the daughters of one of my Facebook friends, a coworker from when I first moved to Southern California and was working for Smack Cosmetics in North Orange County. What a surprise - I haven't seen her in years, although we've kept in touch over MySpace and Facebook and I knew she had another daughter shortly after Baby was born.
Back when I first met her I was 24, she was 21 and a single mom to her then 18-month old daughter,struggling to get along in life, as we so often are. The concept of her lifestyle was foreign to me at the time. Funny, huh? She had married her father's child after her birth, who promptly abandoned them and refused to have any part in his daughter's life, impregnating someone else shortly afterwards, and also refusing to divorce his wife. A real winner.
My co-worker lived with her parents, pursued her passion of makeup artistry, had an unrequited love, and did things her way. At first glance, her tattoos, piercings, and stretched earlobes are a little offputting, but behind those adornments lies a heart of gold belonging to a person who overcame a hard youth to live a straightedge, vegan, church-going life.
We said hello, chatted for a bit, then parted ways until I saw them on another level. She didn't see me watching them from a few feet away as she talked to her youngest daughter. Time hasn't changed the fact that she is an amazing, caring, nurturing mother, and the smiles on her kid's faces is proof positive of that fact.
Her man is a good person - he'll never leave her, some things you can just tell.
This happy part of her life? It's making me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy inside.
One thing I know for sure is this: there is grace beyond the stormiest nights, and I see reminders of this constantly. Believe it -- I sure do.
I quickly ID'd them as the daughters of one of my Facebook friends, a coworker from when I first moved to Southern California and was working for Smack Cosmetics in North Orange County. What a surprise - I haven't seen her in years, although we've kept in touch over MySpace and Facebook and I knew she had another daughter shortly after Baby was born.
Back when I first met her I was 24, she was 21 and a single mom to her then 18-month old daughter,struggling to get along in life, as we so often are. The concept of her lifestyle was foreign to me at the time. Funny, huh? She had married her father's child after her birth, who promptly abandoned them and refused to have any part in his daughter's life, impregnating someone else shortly afterwards, and also refusing to divorce his wife. A real winner.
My co-worker lived with her parents, pursued her passion of makeup artistry, had an unrequited love, and did things her way. At first glance, her tattoos, piercings, and stretched earlobes are a little offputting, but behind those adornments lies a heart of gold belonging to a person who overcame a hard youth to live a straightedge, vegan, church-going life.
We said hello, chatted for a bit, then parted ways until I saw them on another level. She didn't see me watching them from a few feet away as she talked to her youngest daughter. Time hasn't changed the fact that she is an amazing, caring, nurturing mother, and the smiles on her kid's faces is proof positive of that fact.
Her man is a good person - he'll never leave her, some things you can just tell.
This happy part of her life? It's making me feel all kinds of warm and fuzzy inside.
One thing I know for sure is this: there is grace beyond the stormiest nights, and I see reminders of this constantly. Believe it -- I sure do.
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