I was seventeen and headed to college. Eager to decorate my new home, I crafted picture collages with inspirational quotes. I made one with my boyfriend; "There is no fear in love" was written in calligraphy in the center. I was really proud of the calligraphy, as well as the vulnerability the quote represented. My mother, however, saw it and gave me a similar warning to the one she gave when she discovered my ribcage read, "Pass boldly in the full glory of some passion."
"Anna," she cautioned, "sometimes fear is a good thing. And sometimes the answer is not to be bold, but to be still." Ahhh, my propensity to act meets maternal wisdom. Of course, she is right that both fear and stillness are, at times, the appropriate response. More on that later. But for now - love.
At the beginning of the year, I wrote about my desire for a husband (or at the very least, someone to buy me dinner and change my stupid light bulbs). I know, I know, twenty-seven year old men - run! I was upset, not about any guy in particular, but about my life. When I moved to Charlottesville, I came with the expectation that I would find a job I loved or a man I loved - because why else would God have called me to a random place?* It had been over five years, and neither of those had happened. I was tired and a bit confused.
But mostly, I was afraid. I was scared of what God would call me to do next. What if He wanted me to leave? What if He wanted to pluck me from my comfort zone yet again? What if I had to make another major life decision on my own?
The quote adorning my freshmen dorm is 1 John 4:18: "There is no fear in love," but in retrospect, my naive teenage self took it a bit out of context. The second half reads: "But perfect love drives out fear."
There's a lot to fear in this world. Just look at the Sunday paper, the Drudge report, or ESPN - whatever your news source. The future is uncertain and completely out of our control, and embracing that is terrifying. At the beginning of this year, I felt that terror. And then I remembered those so sweet words and their true meaning.
Perfect love is not of this world. I have yet to go on a date in 2015*, but I have felt the perfect love of God in a way that I had yet to experience in my twenty years as a Christian. That love has driven out the fear of an uncertain future. For that, I am extremely thankful.
*More on that later, too.
*Obviously, not because I couldn't get a date.
Thursday, November 26, 2015
Friday, November 13, 2015
The Origin of the Dome Selfie
"If an atomic bomb hit, it would bounce off your forehead and propel into space," an ignorant sixth grade boy told me years ago. I think it was an insult/method of flirting, but I really did not understand why he would mock such a glorious feature, so I gave him a high pitched laugh and proceeded to the bus.
You see, I have a large forehead. Over time, my head has grown into its size, but as a child, I was 80% dome. Even now, when isolated from the rest of my bobblehead, it still makes a statement.
Adolescent boys will find any reason to poke fun at girls. My nickname in sixth grade was Turtlewax, because the boys wondered if I waxed my forehead to make it shine. Of course, the majority of these boys had a crush on me at some point, and their mockery never phased me.
Besides, for each hater of the dome, there was a lover. My sister's friend made it known that if I were to die, she planned to bronze my forehead. Another sister's roommate was immediately taken; I believe she was the first to put her hand on my forehead and remark on the "power of the dome." This became somewhat of a ritual, and many-a palm caressed my forehead to feel its emanating strength.
My parents also adored the dome. My mother accentuated it with big bows in my early years, and my father still tells me how much he loves the exposed forehead. It is a sign of my Polish roots, and incidentally, also a perceived sign of wisdom, which I like to remind everyone.
Granted, this brief history may beg more questions than it answers, but the dome is my birthright, and I have chosen to embrace it.
Why selfies? I put selfies in the category of Snapchat, engagement photos, and BuzzFeed articles. I get why society has them, but I don't think they really add much. Don't worry, all who consistently snap shots of your adorable selves with a ducky face - I am not judging you. After all, some of us document 20% of our thoughts for the world to read. (The world could not handle more than 20% of my thoughts.) Anyways, I don't like them - selfies, that is. Sarcasm, I like. And what better way to document my travels than a sarcastic spin on the selfie, while also paying homage to my heritage?
So last year, when Julie suggested we take a selfie in front of some London building - maybe the palace or castle - the dome selfie was born. Our year together has been wonderful, and I look forward to what the future holds. Stay tuned for posts on 5 tips to the perfect dome selfie, and follow me on SnapChat for real time updates.
You see, I have a large forehead. Over time, my head has grown into its size, but as a child, I was 80% dome. Even now, when isolated from the rest of my bobblehead, it still makes a statement.
Adolescent boys will find any reason to poke fun at girls. My nickname in sixth grade was Turtlewax, because the boys wondered if I waxed my forehead to make it shine. Of course, the majority of these boys had a crush on me at some point, and their mockery never phased me.
Besides, for each hater of the dome, there was a lover. My sister's friend made it known that if I were to die, she planned to bronze my forehead. Another sister's roommate was immediately taken; I believe she was the first to put her hand on my forehead and remark on the "power of the dome." This became somewhat of a ritual, and many-a palm caressed my forehead to feel its emanating strength.
My parents also adored the dome. My mother accentuated it with big bows in my early years, and my father still tells me how much he loves the exposed forehead. It is a sign of my Polish roots, and incidentally, also a perceived sign of wisdom, which I like to remind everyone.
Granted, this brief history may beg more questions than it answers, but the dome is my birthright, and I have chosen to embrace it.
Why selfies? I put selfies in the category of Snapchat, engagement photos, and BuzzFeed articles. I get why society has them, but I don't think they really add much. Don't worry, all who consistently snap shots of your adorable selves with a ducky face - I am not judging you. After all, some of us document 20% of our thoughts for the world to read. (The world could not handle more than 20% of my thoughts.) Anyways, I don't like them - selfies, that is. Sarcasm, I like. And what better way to document my travels than a sarcastic spin on the selfie, while also paying homage to my heritage?
So last year, when Julie suggested we take a selfie in front of some London building - maybe the palace or castle - the dome selfie was born. Our year together has been wonderful, and I look forward to what the future holds. Stay tuned for posts on 5 tips to the perfect dome selfie, and follow me on SnapChat for real time updates.
Monday, November 2, 2015
I Am the Loudest Person in Eastern Europe... and Other Thoughts on Euroadtrip
Surprising, I know. My laugh echoes there, too.
I never know what to write when I travel. I want to talk about the beauty, the history, the best place to go for local grub and the corner pub we found. But everyone's already written something about it, and I have very little chance of adding to those conversations - especially when it comes to history, since the extent of my historical knowledge is Brno the hero, of the fourteenth century, that Philip and I referred to the entire trip. No, history buffs who momentarily questioned your prowess, Brno is not real.
So what original content do I have to offer? My thoughts, of course.
Visit in the fall. It's off season so nothing is crowded, the colors are beautiful, and Eastern Europe just feels more natural in the gray, eerie weather. Plus, you can wear super cute outfits. Unless you are Phil and wear the same two outfits the entire time. Probably good he is not obsessing over super cute outfits.
AirBnB, while reasonably priced and centrally located, is not as well marked, as, say, a Hilton. You may end up knocking on random Croatian doors before reaching your destination.
Tom Tom, or Tranny Tom, as Philip and I named it because its voice is female and name is male, is a terrible investment. If you are considering purchasing one - DON'T! The device was perfectly usable on the highway, but I don't need to be told I have 100 kilometers (roughly 500 miles) until the next exit. I need to be told how to navigate streets the size of grocery aisles with no perceivable road signs once I get off the exit. The worst part is, you want to believe it will work, because that would be so easy, but you reach a city, and without fail, it loses the GPS signal. Thanks to printed Google map instructions and innate sense of direction, we eventually found our way each time, but we felt like we were navigating in the dark ages.
Border patrol: really not a thing. So, when you read articles that dramatically proclaim Hungary has closed its borders to Croatia, it just means that they now actually have borders. Kind of. Our interaction with the Hungarian border patrol went something like this:
Hand passports to policeman.
Policia: Hungarian jibberish, even though, come on, you know English, and our passports are American.
Me: English?
Policia: 20 euro.
Me to Phil: I think this guy's trying to rip us off.
Policia, realizing we are not complete suckers: Ahh, Americanos.
Policia waves us away... without even stamping our passports. Real strict.
Unfortunate similarities between Eastern European cities and American cities: they, too, give parking tickets. I am not quite sure what will happen in a week when the ticket is not paid, but I imagine I will be extradited back to Hungary. Or receive a two hundred dollar fine from the car rental company.
European cultures America could adopt:
1) GUMMIES. It's Haribo heaven.
2) More doughy food lining the streets. I don't even buy the doughy food; I just feel comforted by the smells.
3) Fortified cities and cathedrals. The Googleplex would be a lot cooler as a fortified city, and I would love looking out a stained glass window.
4) Free food at restaurants. Nothing says I will see you next time like a "thank you" and a digestif.
5) WAFFLES. Frankly, I am disappointed these have not become a trend in the US yet. We call ourselves undisciplined and indulgent, yet we have yet to introduce this delicacy. I'm not talking brunch waffles. Dessert waffles. Nutella, frosting, peanut butter, whipped cream, hot fudge, sprinkles, ice scream sandwiches... This is the sweet spot. They can be the new cupcake. Mini waffles in lieu of wedding cake, birthday cake... lunch.
6) Their men.
Okay, so a lot of my cultural adaptations pertain to food. Here are some suggestions:
I would like every country to have a sign when you enter that says, welcome to "said country". Tip is included, or Tip is not included. As it is, I have no idea if I am a cheap foreigner for not tipping or a lavish foreigner for overtipping. I then err on the side of lavish foreigner, but I ain't rich yet, so I would like to know if this is necessary.
Pedestrian signage - I'm looking at you, Amsterdam. It's hard to pay attention to rogue bikers when I am salivating over the waffles.
This final one is specifically to GoPro: tap into the Asian market. I don't why you have not yet, but tourist groups are everywhere, and they definitely love documenting their every movement.
Speaking of tour groups, self-guided tours are the way to go, as you never know what you will find. For instance, you may find the Italian embassy has an oddly ideal location in central Budapest. You may then discover that it is actually the Budapest Royal Palace, and the two countries just have unoriginal, similar flags.
Bring a photographer. They make pictures fun.
Closing thought: Prague was cool, and the castle - or palace, I get the two confused - architecture was awesome. Budapest was great; the food and shopping excellent. Split was cute and cozy, and I would definitely return to Dubrovnik in the summer. But the Plitvice Lakes - they were unforgettable. You visit all these places, and you see the incredible things man can do. Then you see the beautiful intricacy of God, and nothing else comes close to comparing. Especially if you visit in the fall.
I never know what to write when I travel. I want to talk about the beauty, the history, the best place to go for local grub and the corner pub we found. But everyone's already written something about it, and I have very little chance of adding to those conversations - especially when it comes to history, since the extent of my historical knowledge is Brno the hero, of the fourteenth century, that Philip and I referred to the entire trip. No, history buffs who momentarily questioned your prowess, Brno is not real.
So what original content do I have to offer? My thoughts, of course.
Visit in the fall. It's off season so nothing is crowded, the colors are beautiful, and Eastern Europe just feels more natural in the gray, eerie weather. Plus, you can wear super cute outfits. Unless you are Phil and wear the same two outfits the entire time. Probably good he is not obsessing over super cute outfits.
AirBnB, while reasonably priced and centrally located, is not as well marked, as, say, a Hilton. You may end up knocking on random Croatian doors before reaching your destination.
Tom Tom, or Tranny Tom, as Philip and I named it because its voice is female and name is male, is a terrible investment. If you are considering purchasing one - DON'T! The device was perfectly usable on the highway, but I don't need to be told I have 100 kilometers (roughly 500 miles) until the next exit. I need to be told how to navigate streets the size of grocery aisles with no perceivable road signs once I get off the exit. The worst part is, you want to believe it will work, because that would be so easy, but you reach a city, and without fail, it loses the GPS signal. Thanks to printed Google map instructions and innate sense of direction, we eventually found our way each time, but we felt like we were navigating in the dark ages.
Border patrol: really not a thing. So, when you read articles that dramatically proclaim Hungary has closed its borders to Croatia, it just means that they now actually have borders. Kind of. Our interaction with the Hungarian border patrol went something like this:
Hand passports to policeman.
Policia: Hungarian jibberish, even though, come on, you know English, and our passports are American.
Me: English?
Policia: 20 euro.
Me to Phil: I think this guy's trying to rip us off.
Policia, realizing we are not complete suckers: Ahh, Americanos.
Policia waves us away... without even stamping our passports. Real strict.
Unfortunate similarities between Eastern European cities and American cities: they, too, give parking tickets. I am not quite sure what will happen in a week when the ticket is not paid, but I imagine I will be extradited back to Hungary. Or receive a two hundred dollar fine from the car rental company.
European cultures America could adopt:
1) GUMMIES. It's Haribo heaven.
2) More doughy food lining the streets. I don't even buy the doughy food; I just feel comforted by the smells.
3) Fortified cities and cathedrals. The Googleplex would be a lot cooler as a fortified city, and I would love looking out a stained glass window.
4) Free food at restaurants. Nothing says I will see you next time like a "thank you" and a digestif.
5) WAFFLES. Frankly, I am disappointed these have not become a trend in the US yet. We call ourselves undisciplined and indulgent, yet we have yet to introduce this delicacy. I'm not talking brunch waffles. Dessert waffles. Nutella, frosting, peanut butter, whipped cream, hot fudge, sprinkles, ice scream sandwiches... This is the sweet spot. They can be the new cupcake. Mini waffles in lieu of wedding cake, birthday cake... lunch.
6) Their men.
Okay, so a lot of my cultural adaptations pertain to food. Here are some suggestions:
I would like every country to have a sign when you enter that says, welcome to "said country". Tip is included, or Tip is not included. As it is, I have no idea if I am a cheap foreigner for not tipping or a lavish foreigner for overtipping. I then err on the side of lavish foreigner, but I ain't rich yet, so I would like to know if this is necessary.
Pedestrian signage - I'm looking at you, Amsterdam. It's hard to pay attention to rogue bikers when I am salivating over the waffles.
This final one is specifically to GoPro: tap into the Asian market. I don't why you have not yet, but tourist groups are everywhere, and they definitely love documenting their every movement.
Speaking of tour groups, self-guided tours are the way to go, as you never know what you will find. For instance, you may find the Italian embassy has an oddly ideal location in central Budapest. You may then discover that it is actually the Budapest Royal Palace, and the two countries just have unoriginal, similar flags.
Bring a photographer. They make pictures fun.
Closing thought: Prague was cool, and the castle - or palace, I get the two confused - architecture was awesome. Budapest was great; the food and shopping excellent. Split was cute and cozy, and I would definitely return to Dubrovnik in the summer. But the Plitvice Lakes - they were unforgettable. You visit all these places, and you see the incredible things man can do. Then you see the beautiful intricacy of God, and nothing else comes close to comparing. Especially if you visit in the fall.
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