Things kept; things left.
Last night I was up late, due to a spontaneous desire to stalk myself [or who I pretend to be] on Instagram.
A trip down memory lane always proves jarring, and unsettling. It is funny what growing up does to you mentally as well as physically.
Everything changes. The clothes you wear, the thoughts you think, the way you see the world around you - all of it looks and feels different now than it did even a year ago. There are very few things that stay the same.
So, here is a list of some things that have stayed the same for years. At least, for me.
One thing I have had for years - I'm talking like 5+ years - is my anklet. I think it was in 2009 that I put it on. It's a smattering of torn fabric and twine that I thought would be "you know, cool I guess". It hasn't left my right ankle since then if my memory serves me correctly. It contains a shred of fabric from a zebra bandanna I wore as a VBS councilor the summer of 2009, a few strands of twine I found lying around in my room, and a friendship bracelet that was just added last year - to add some color of course. I just can't pull off the always-summer-vibe without an anklet of multiple colors. Clearly.
My affection for journaling. I keep a personal journal. I don't really consider this online typing to suffice. For one thing, this is certainly not private. I'm not broadcasting the latest he-said-she-said garbage, or the frivolous gaining or losing of weight I may or may not be going through. I'm not going to talk about my relationship struggles, or how it hurts when no one asks me "How are you really doing?", or how it's weird when I see one of my ex's getting married, or what the weather is like this week.
(It's been cold in case you were wondering)
There is a time and a place for each of those things. I don't think the internet is the appropriate medium for jotting down my daily goings-on. However, putting pen to paper is a supreme cause of joy for me. Not to mention, how is it not beneficial to see how I've grown over the past few years? Why shouldn't I be writing down my thoughts so I can grow even more from them, and then look back in two years and see how far I've come, even from where I am now?
My love of food. Shocking, right?
(P.S. I finally got my Food Blog up and running! You can visit it here if you feel like it)
How surprising that my love of food has turned into something I want to do for the rest of my life.
I've always been a foodie. My parents can attest to this. I'm always on the quest for the perfect sandwich, or the perfect ratio of butter-to-shortening in chocolate chip cookies, or the right amount of time for perfectly runny yet oh-so-delectable yolks in fried eggs. Is butter better for sauteing, or oil? Exactly how many things can you do with pasta or an avocado? Really, how many turtle brownies can I shove into my mouth at the same time? These are the real issues at hand, guys.
I know my love of food (and perfectionism) started young. My mom would always shake her head, or let out a resigned sigh at how long it would take me to make my sandwich for lunch.
(Mom, if you're reading this, I swear I don't take 15 minutes to put together a ham, turkey, cheese and lettuce sandwich anymore. And I've moved on to bacon, avocado, sauteed mushrooms and onions, smoked turkey, and Gouda in between two slices of Rye or Sourdough with a smidge of Dijon. That's what I'm talking about.)
There is a beauty found in food that one would be hard pressed to find elsewhere. I truly believe that food can be an art. Have you had a perfectly moist chocolate cake, with a scoop each of vanilla, and mint chocolate chip ice cream? The things those flavor combinations do to my mouth is not unlike what a warm summer sunset does to my eyes and skin. Except for the mosquitos. Those little bastards are more like eating a piece of perfectly baked salmon only to find a bone in every bite. Not exactly what I like to call a good time.
Once again I find myself digressing. My apologies, but you can see what food does to me. Things. Deliciously mouth-watering things.
Family. My family has always, and will always have the same feel about it. My mother will continue to worry about my
well-being and financial security. My father will continue to be pining after the best job he's ever had, while posting entirely too many Facebook statuses about any Michigan sports team. My brother will continue to try and grow a better beard than I, while also having the most radiantly beautiful wife and exhaustively adorable puppy I have ever met. I am convinced sibling rivalry never really dies, it just morphs into out-doing each other at every turn in the bigger things.
"I make beer now!" -Chris
"Oh yeah? Well, I'm moving to New York. So suck it!" -Me
Our relationship is just so tender-hearted.
My Eagle blanket. When I moved away to college, my mom gave me
(Okay, I kind of just packed it...maybe without asking..) a blanket. It happens to be black on one side, and brown on the other. It has a large picture of an eagle on it. It's so darn warm. It reminds me of winters in Florida when I thought 65 degrees was cold.
Dr. VanSchnaussenborgur and Flops. Two stuffed animals that I've had for as long as I can remember. Dr. VanSchnausseborgur is a small bead-filled monkey my dad brought back for me from one of his irrigation trips when I was a kid. He has holes in both of his ears from where Dante gnawed on him. He's a tough guy who's definitely seen some shit. Flops is the tiny stuffed dog my good ole' Uncle Steve gave to me while pretending to be Santa Clause one year when I was a wee child.
Do you remember those Moon Chair's from the 90's? Yes. I've had one since then. It's still awesome. But if I sit in it cross-legged for more than 30 minutes, my right foot falls asleep. It doesn't look entirely 90's due to the southwestern blanket ever so gracefully draped over top of it. Or maybe that makes it look even more 90's? Who's to say.
Facial Hair. Let's be honest, I've pretty much consistently had a beard or half-beard since I learned I could grow facial hair. This is simply because I don't like how I look without a beard. Like a 12 year old. I really can't remember what it's like not to have some hair on my face. The same way I don't remember what it's like to not have my ears pierced. Oh, hey I got my left ear pierced again. Now I've got a stud in each ear, and a ring on the left one as well. It makes me look "way more threatening. And you seem more hardcore now" according to one of my roommates. Figures.
Two pairs of jeans that I can't get rid of, because if I do, it means I'm too old or too big to wear the clothes I had in high-school. Even though one of them is outrageously ripped, and my wallet falls out of the back pocket of the other pair. They fit like gloves, contouring to each bend of the knee or squat to pick up my wallet yet again. I actually bought a pair to replace one of them thinking, "I can just throw the other ones out and wear these instead!" Haha, no. It means I have another pair of shorts for when it warms up. Good stuff. And I even mended the back pocket, and I heard that distressed jeans are coming back in style this year and boy are they distressed, so..there's that.
The ability to escape. Whether it is with a good book, or a movie, or reading/writing in a coffee shop for hours, I have retained the ability to get away for a bit and ignore the insanity of life for an hour or two. Which is very therapeutic.
The fear that I will never be cool/good/strong/attractive/skilled/brave enough. I guess you could call it little-brother-syndrome. Knowing that my worth is not defined by who I am, or what I do is continually refreshing. Knowing that I'm not defined by my job is absolutely a sense of comfort.
Some things that have changed.
My style. Growing up is weird in that you're not able to wear the same clothes you've worn throughout your youth, or even that you were able to in college. Sure, sometimes it's psychological. Why on earth would I ever wear those purple skinny corduroy shorts again? Sure I could still squeeze into them, but why the hell would I?
I had a funny moment at work yesterday after I was done with my lunch shift of waiting tables. After I changed into my normal clothes post-clocking out, while chowing down on some tacos I had multiple coworkers come up to me and say things like, "I didn't recognize you not in your work clothes!", or "I was wondering who that stud was at the bar, then I saw it was you" etc. It was really funny. The things a button down and a cardigan will do for your self esteem are pretty great. No, guys I don't wear a t-shirt and jeans 24-hours a day. Yes, I do have better style than that. Don't be so surprised.
It's sort of strange to see myself slowly replacing my wardrobe. No more of those oh-so-familiar t-shirts from college, even though now I guess they're retro? Cool man, cool. I'll stick with button-downs and cardigans when it's cold, and once it warms up give me a tank top and short shorts. Or a v-neck. Or just throw me out on the streets in a bathing suit. Once Spring arrives, it's over. I'll be a lean-mean-tanning-machine. Maybe I'll get tan lines again this year.
Friends. I have been so blessed to have the friends that I do. People that I didn't give a second thought to at college, have become people who are more like family. I love that I get to share my life with these people. They keep encouraging me to be a better person, and point me to Christ. I don't know where I would be without them.
My stuff. Furniture, dishes, other things that don't matter. I plan on keeping the tables I built when I move up to New York this year; or at least I'd like to. Hair products, the type of deodorant I use, which scent of soap I prefer, etc. I think it's a good thing I don't use the same stuff I did in school. What kind of a person would I be if I still used Axe body spray? Not that it's a bad thing. I think I just prefer not to smell the same as I did at summer camp when I was 14. Just about ten years difference does that to a person. Although I do know a few people that still use the same personal care items they did ten years ago. I can't really say anything about that. It's not like I still buy the same kind of tooth-brush or anything..
Myself:
My hair, in every sense. Different styles, different lengths, different colors. At least I know I prefer my beard longer to buzzed. I like my hair medium-short length. I like it styled instead of letting it lay flat; it adds an inch or two so I look taller. Always a good thing.
My personality. I'm so much more outgoing than I used to be. I'm no longer that scared little kid who suffers from anxiety and is crippled by the thought of meeting new people. I love meeting new people. I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. I might not be the greatest person you've ever met, but I know who I am and my Savior continues to grow me in ways unexpected and altogether wonderful.
My body. This is mostly because I work out so much. Hey, check it out, I'm not that shrimpy kid you knew so many years ago. I have abs now! Also, I can probably out-eat you. It's a gift, what can I say? Growing up isn't all bad.
My taste. In everything. Food, music, beer and the like. 'Refined' I suppose would be a better term. I know what I like and what I don't like. I will never be a big fan of pickles. I will always love bacon. I will never be vegan because I love cheese in any and every form. I still can't get why some people love screamo. There are some songs that will always be my favorites.
-The Head and the Heart will always take me back to those quiet nights at Covenant where tea is the beverage of choice and procrastination is the flavor of the evening.
-Young The Giant's 'My Body' will always put me in the mood of summer no matter where I hear it.
-The Temper Trap's 'Sweet Disposition' will always go along to any playlist because it encompasses every mood.
-The Heist by Macklemore will always make me feel like it's the Fall of 2012 and I'm driving on Lookout Mountain just as the sun is setting and the cool fall breeze drifts through the open windows of the car. I would turn quiet and introspective because I finally was coming to terms with how different life has been since I moved away and my parents divorce was now final.
It's funny how a certain song can make you remember vividly the situation in which you first heard it.
-Josh Garrels will always bring back memories of Emily Morris(now Meneghini), Caroline Mallory, and Anna Clare Freel and the peace I found in their room while hearing Bittersweet read aloud while I tried to hold back tears because life seemed so hard. Girls, you have no idea how you helped me stay sane during that time of life. You are all wonderful, beautiful, God-honoring women that I couldn't be happier to know.
Growing up is hard to do. But worth the while. Some things change, while others stay the same. I have such gratitude for both.
It's odd being a early-to-mid-20-something-year-old man. Am I a man? Weird. I've survived this far. Huh.
Bigger and better things lie ahead. New York is a terrifying prospect but the excitement is still overwhelming. Continuing a career in food and writing is altogether too enticing. Leaving my small town of Chattanooga will be hard. I will admit that I love this town. It has played a huge part of growing me into the man I will become. For that, I am thankful. Even more things will change when I move up to the big city. But therein lies the excitement. I think I'm ready for it.
A trip down memory lane always proves jarring, and unsettling. It is funny what growing up does to you mentally as well as physically.
Everything changes. The clothes you wear, the thoughts you think, the way you see the world around you - all of it looks and feels different now than it did even a year ago. There are very few things that stay the same.
So, here is a list of some things that have stayed the same for years. At least, for me.
One thing I have had for years - I'm talking like 5+ years - is my anklet. I think it was in 2009 that I put it on. It's a smattering of torn fabric and twine that I thought would be "you know, cool I guess". It hasn't left my right ankle since then if my memory serves me correctly. It contains a shred of fabric from a zebra bandanna I wore as a VBS councilor the summer of 2009, a few strands of twine I found lying around in my room, and a friendship bracelet that was just added last year - to add some color of course. I just can't pull off the always-summer-vibe without an anklet of multiple colors. Clearly.
My affection for journaling. I keep a personal journal. I don't really consider this online typing to suffice. For one thing, this is certainly not private. I'm not broadcasting the latest he-said-she-said garbage, or the frivolous gaining or losing of weight I may or may not be going through. I'm not going to talk about my relationship struggles, or how it hurts when no one asks me "How are you really doing?", or how it's weird when I see one of my ex's getting married, or what the weather is like this week.
(It's been cold in case you were wondering)
There is a time and a place for each of those things. I don't think the internet is the appropriate medium for jotting down my daily goings-on. However, putting pen to paper is a supreme cause of joy for me. Not to mention, how is it not beneficial to see how I've grown over the past few years? Why shouldn't I be writing down my thoughts so I can grow even more from them, and then look back in two years and see how far I've come, even from where I am now?
My love of food. Shocking, right?
(P.S. I finally got my Food Blog up and running! You can visit it here if you feel like it)
How surprising that my love of food has turned into something I want to do for the rest of my life.
I've always been a foodie. My parents can attest to this. I'm always on the quest for the perfect sandwich, or the perfect ratio of butter-to-shortening in chocolate chip cookies, or the right amount of time for perfectly runny yet oh-so-delectable yolks in fried eggs. Is butter better for sauteing, or oil? Exactly how many things can you do with pasta or an avocado? Really, how many turtle brownies can I shove into my mouth at the same time? These are the real issues at hand, guys.
I know my love of food (and perfectionism) started young. My mom would always shake her head, or let out a resigned sigh at how long it would take me to make my sandwich for lunch.
(Mom, if you're reading this, I swear I don't take 15 minutes to put together a ham, turkey, cheese and lettuce sandwich anymore. And I've moved on to bacon, avocado, sauteed mushrooms and onions, smoked turkey, and Gouda in between two slices of Rye or Sourdough with a smidge of Dijon. That's what I'm talking about.)
There is a beauty found in food that one would be hard pressed to find elsewhere. I truly believe that food can be an art. Have you had a perfectly moist chocolate cake, with a scoop each of vanilla, and mint chocolate chip ice cream? The things those flavor combinations do to my mouth is not unlike what a warm summer sunset does to my eyes and skin. Except for the mosquitos. Those little bastards are more like eating a piece of perfectly baked salmon only to find a bone in every bite. Not exactly what I like to call a good time.
Once again I find myself digressing. My apologies, but you can see what food does to me. Things. Deliciously mouth-watering things.
Family. My family has always, and will always have the same feel about it. My mother will continue to worry about my
well-being and financial security. My father will continue to be pining after the best job he's ever had, while posting entirely too many Facebook statuses about any Michigan sports team. My brother will continue to try and grow a better beard than I, while also having the most radiantly beautiful wife and exhaustively adorable puppy I have ever met. I am convinced sibling rivalry never really dies, it just morphs into out-doing each other at every turn in the bigger things.
"I make beer now!" -Chris
"Oh yeah? Well, I'm moving to New York. So suck it!" -Me
Our relationship is just so tender-hearted.
My Eagle blanket. When I moved away to college, my mom gave me
(Okay, I kind of just packed it...maybe without asking..) a blanket. It happens to be black on one side, and brown on the other. It has a large picture of an eagle on it. It's so darn warm. It reminds me of winters in Florida when I thought 65 degrees was cold.
Dr. VanSchnaussenborgur and Flops. Two stuffed animals that I've had for as long as I can remember. Dr. VanSchnausseborgur is a small bead-filled monkey my dad brought back for me from one of his irrigation trips when I was a kid. He has holes in both of his ears from where Dante gnawed on him. He's a tough guy who's definitely seen some shit. Flops is the tiny stuffed dog my good ole' Uncle Steve gave to me while pretending to be Santa Clause one year when I was a wee child.
Do you remember those Moon Chair's from the 90's? Yes. I've had one since then. It's still awesome. But if I sit in it cross-legged for more than 30 minutes, my right foot falls asleep. It doesn't look entirely 90's due to the southwestern blanket ever so gracefully draped over top of it. Or maybe that makes it look even more 90's? Who's to say.
Facial Hair. Let's be honest, I've pretty much consistently had a beard or half-beard since I learned I could grow facial hair. This is simply because I don't like how I look without a beard. Like a 12 year old. I really can't remember what it's like not to have some hair on my face. The same way I don't remember what it's like to not have my ears pierced. Oh, hey I got my left ear pierced again. Now I've got a stud in each ear, and a ring on the left one as well. It makes me look "way more threatening. And you seem more hardcore now" according to one of my roommates. Figures.
Two pairs of jeans that I can't get rid of, because if I do, it means I'm too old or too big to wear the clothes I had in high-school. Even though one of them is outrageously ripped, and my wallet falls out of the back pocket of the other pair. They fit like gloves, contouring to each bend of the knee or squat to pick up my wallet yet again. I actually bought a pair to replace one of them thinking, "I can just throw the other ones out and wear these instead!" Haha, no. It means I have another pair of shorts for when it warms up. Good stuff. And I even mended the back pocket, and I heard that distressed jeans are coming back in style this year and boy are they distressed, so..there's that.
The ability to escape. Whether it is with a good book, or a movie, or reading/writing in a coffee shop for hours, I have retained the ability to get away for a bit and ignore the insanity of life for an hour or two. Which is very therapeutic.
The fear that I will never be cool/good/strong/attractive/skilled/brave enough. I guess you could call it little-brother-syndrome. Knowing that my worth is not defined by who I am, or what I do is continually refreshing. Knowing that I'm not defined by my job is absolutely a sense of comfort.
Some things that have changed.
My style. Growing up is weird in that you're not able to wear the same clothes you've worn throughout your youth, or even that you were able to in college. Sure, sometimes it's psychological. Why on earth would I ever wear those purple skinny corduroy shorts again? Sure I could still squeeze into them, but why the hell would I?
I had a funny moment at work yesterday after I was done with my lunch shift of waiting tables. After I changed into my normal clothes post-clocking out, while chowing down on some tacos I had multiple coworkers come up to me and say things like, "I didn't recognize you not in your work clothes!", or "I was wondering who that stud was at the bar, then I saw it was you" etc. It was really funny. The things a button down and a cardigan will do for your self esteem are pretty great. No, guys I don't wear a t-shirt and jeans 24-hours a day. Yes, I do have better style than that. Don't be so surprised.
It's sort of strange to see myself slowly replacing my wardrobe. No more of those oh-so-familiar t-shirts from college, even though now I guess they're retro? Cool man, cool. I'll stick with button-downs and cardigans when it's cold, and once it warms up give me a tank top and short shorts. Or a v-neck. Or just throw me out on the streets in a bathing suit. Once Spring arrives, it's over. I'll be a lean-mean-tanning-machine. Maybe I'll get tan lines again this year.
Friends. I have been so blessed to have the friends that I do. People that I didn't give a second thought to at college, have become people who are more like family. I love that I get to share my life with these people. They keep encouraging me to be a better person, and point me to Christ. I don't know where I would be without them.
My stuff. Furniture, dishes, other things that don't matter. I plan on keeping the tables I built when I move up to New York this year; or at least I'd like to. Hair products, the type of deodorant I use, which scent of soap I prefer, etc. I think it's a good thing I don't use the same stuff I did in school. What kind of a person would I be if I still used Axe body spray? Not that it's a bad thing. I think I just prefer not to smell the same as I did at summer camp when I was 14. Just about ten years difference does that to a person. Although I do know a few people that still use the same personal care items they did ten years ago. I can't really say anything about that. It's not like I still buy the same kind of tooth-brush or anything..
Myself:
My hair, in every sense. Different styles, different lengths, different colors. At least I know I prefer my beard longer to buzzed. I like my hair medium-short length. I like it styled instead of letting it lay flat; it adds an inch or two so I look taller. Always a good thing.
My personality. I'm so much more outgoing than I used to be. I'm no longer that scared little kid who suffers from anxiety and is crippled by the thought of meeting new people. I love meeting new people. I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. I might not be the greatest person you've ever met, but I know who I am and my Savior continues to grow me in ways unexpected and altogether wonderful.
My body. This is mostly because I work out so much. Hey, check it out, I'm not that shrimpy kid you knew so many years ago. I have abs now! Also, I can probably out-eat you. It's a gift, what can I say? Growing up isn't all bad.
My taste. In everything. Food, music, beer and the like. 'Refined' I suppose would be a better term. I know what I like and what I don't like. I will never be a big fan of pickles. I will always love bacon. I will never be vegan because I love cheese in any and every form. I still can't get why some people love screamo. There are some songs that will always be my favorites.
-The Head and the Heart will always take me back to those quiet nights at Covenant where tea is the beverage of choice and procrastination is the flavor of the evening.
-Young The Giant's 'My Body' will always put me in the mood of summer no matter where I hear it.
-The Temper Trap's 'Sweet Disposition' will always go along to any playlist because it encompasses every mood.
-The Heist by Macklemore will always make me feel like it's the Fall of 2012 and I'm driving on Lookout Mountain just as the sun is setting and the cool fall breeze drifts through the open windows of the car. I would turn quiet and introspective because I finally was coming to terms with how different life has been since I moved away and my parents divorce was now final.
It's funny how a certain song can make you remember vividly the situation in which you first heard it.
-Josh Garrels will always bring back memories of Emily Morris(now Meneghini), Caroline Mallory, and Anna Clare Freel and the peace I found in their room while hearing Bittersweet read aloud while I tried to hold back tears because life seemed so hard. Girls, you have no idea how you helped me stay sane during that time of life. You are all wonderful, beautiful, God-honoring women that I couldn't be happier to know.
Growing up is hard to do. But worth the while. Some things change, while others stay the same. I have such gratitude for both.
It's odd being a early-to-mid-20-something-year-old man. Am I a man? Weird. I've survived this far. Huh.
Bigger and better things lie ahead. New York is a terrifying prospect but the excitement is still overwhelming. Continuing a career in food and writing is altogether too enticing. Leaving my small town of Chattanooga will be hard. I will admit that I love this town. It has played a huge part of growing me into the man I will become. For that, I am thankful. Even more things will change when I move up to the big city. But therein lies the excitement. I think I'm ready for it.
Comments
Post a Comment