Thanksgiving = epic fail

Thanksgiving is tomorrow and as I spend the day helping my fiancee's family prepare the enormous spread of food, I notice the meaning of the holiday has been lost. Isn't it called thanksgiving for a reason? We spend all this time seasoning the turkey, baking the pumpkin pie, making mashed potatoes, mixing up the cranberry sauce, cooking the green beans, and then eating everything once it's all finished in one sitting with a bunch of family and friends. Sure it's nice catching up with others that you haven't seen in awhile and it gives you an excuse to stuff your face with an ungodly amount of food, but why should all of that be called "Thanksgiving?" How is that any different than a birthday party or Christmas? Or course there's no birthday cake or Christmas tree, but those are both symbols of the holiday just like the turkey. Thanksgiving is a time to be thankful. You're most likely going to be thankful for the people surrounding you and for the large amount of food provided on the table, but is that all? There is so much more to be thankful for in life. How about having the privilege of being alive? Has the thought ever crossed your mind that you may not even be living today? I take the gift of life for granted everyday. The ability to wake up every morning is enough to be thankful for. Statistically, 1.8 people die every second worldwide. That means about 135 people died since you started reading this post. We should all be unbelievably grateful and thankful for still walking on this earth. I've never understood why we feel the need to eat so much on this holiday. There are about 925 million people who are hungry this second. Each day somewhere around 16,000 children die from starvation. These children are younger than you and I. They haven't had the chance to live yet and their life is already being taken from them, while we sit and shovel the food in. The amount of food that we have on an average day is enough to be thankful for. Most of us will be gathering to celebrate at someone's home or in a public place.  The best estimate of how many people are homeless in the world is 100,000,000. This shouldn't be a number that we easily forget but most of us do, every day. A roof over your head should be enough to be thankful for. All the "things," the money, the achievements, they're all extras. They all deserve a special thanks as well. If you have money in the bank and in your wallet, you are in the top 8% of the world when it comes to wealth. We should be thankful for all of this on Thanksgiving but it shouldn't take a holiday to make us realize it. I'm going to try and make Thanksgiving part of my everyday life. Will you do the same?

my old, torn up storybook

There was a book I used to write in. I’m trying to figure out why I stopped. The cover was red. When I think of red, two emotions come to mind. Love and anger. This book was definitely created out of anger. It was almost like my last resort back then. I was having a hard time with, well, life. I yelled, fought, screamed, and rebelled but somehow writing it all down seemed to make things a little better, at least for a while. The first page was the worst. That first page was abused. The words were harsh, they were mean, they were brutal but very honest. There seemed to be no point or purpose to anything that I had invested my time in. My best friends were gone and the ones who decided to stick around were bad influences. I knew there had to be something more to life. There had to be something out there that would make my world better. As I turn the pages, the words become nicer as I read how I described my future and what I wanted. I talked about you many times. What I imagined you would be like and how you would alter my world. I tried picturing how you would look and wondered everyday where you were…when I would find you. It seems I had hope that slowly trickled away everyday you weren’t there. I wrote in that red book almost everyday for a year and then just stopped. I hadn’t run out of pages or things to write about, so what happened? Most days I was angry, sad, unsatisfied, frustrated. It wasn’t until the last page or two that I seemed happier and optimistic. The last page is dated November 4, 2006, the day I finally met you. You were, and continue to be, even better than I had described. I think that’s why I stopped. That book was associated with bad things and everything changed for the better in November. That day put an end to hate, the resentment in my heart; almost like an end to that part of my life, an end to the red book. If I could erase everything in that book, I would redo it all. It would be a book about love and the day we met would be on the very first page. <3

battle wounds

We all have battle wounds and we all used to show them off in fifth grade. Your friends and family usually knew the whole story, but you changed a lot of the details to make it sound cooler and not as bad as it was. After the story you could laugh about it even though you knew how bad it hurt at the time. Some people have them on their legs or their arms. I’ve seen scares on faces and cuts on feet. There’s always some sort of cover up for them. You usually have the option of a bandage, stitches, a cast, or a sling to go along with you pain killers and crutches. To keep them from getting worse and probably so most people aren’t disgusted when they see you. Hopefully time makes them better and the pain goes away. Thankfully I’ve never broken a bone or gotten into a bad fight. You wouldn’t see any battle wounds if you looked from the outside. But I can only imagine what my heart looks like. It has been through a number of aches, pains, disappointments, surprises. Sometimes it has the problem of fighting a losing battle against itself. But instead of bandages, I use writings. Instead of casts, I use smiles. Instead of stitches, I use distractions. Instead of crutches, I use my friends and family. Instead of pain killers, I use Dan. To keep them from getting worse and so people aren’t disgusted when they look at me. Time makes most of it better but the pain doesn’t always all go away. My friends and family know everything most of the time but I usually change or leave out some details so it doesn’t sound too bad. So we could laugh about it and not make it such a big deal even though I know it was painful. There’s not a day I’m not reminded about what all of the distraction and writings are for. My battle wounds will always be there, but they’re the reason I am who I am today.

pancakes

Some of my previous writing:


I made pancakes this morning, but they were nothing like yours. I guess now I have to say how yours used to be. You don’t make them now. It’s weird how the stores don’t carry the right batter anymore. It’s almost like they knew. I’m pretty sure you were the only one who bought that brand. Every time you went to the grocery store, you took all of them that were on the shelf. You found some substitutes for awhile but then…you just…stopped. I still expect them if I come home on the weekends but somehow I always find myself in an empty kitchen wanting to leave. I looked forward to those mornings every weekend but now I almost dread them. It wasn’t even about the pancakes. It was more about me and you being in the same room sort of hanging out. My pancakes today were flat. There weren’t any chocolate chips in them. They didn’t have that outer ring around the edge. They weren’t shimmering from all that butter and somehow my pancakes, were just pancakes. I cried as I sat there and tried to enjoy them with Dan. It was one of those cries where everything on your face sort of mixes together. Of course he asked me what was wrong and luckily I was able to make up some good excuses. Somehow everything reminds me. Today I hate breakfast.

undecided

I remember feeling confused. I wasn’t sure if should look forward to it or if I would end up wishing that I would have never gotten in the car. The ride was long and I was nervous. Nervous because I was afraid of what could happen. I could have gotten in a lot of trouble and I could have been going to meet someone who would quickly become my worst enemy. At the same time, I could have gone to sleep completely happy, dreaming of what might be. That 20 minute drive was all uncertainty, imagining, hoping, wishing, praying for what I didn’t know. My mind was telling me to slow down but my feet were moving too fast. As soon as I got there, nothing and waiting and then nothing again. My stomach was turning. What’s going on? Why was I brought here? Is there a reason this is happening? I looked around, walked around, waited around. That’s when I heard the news and my heart dropped. I needed to keep myself occupied so I walked so more, to where I don’t know. As I turned the corner, that’s when I saw, and the busy world that I was once in decided to stop. My heart stopped. It was nothing that I had expected. As I walked closer, I became more and more sure of what I was seeing. At three feet away you I heard you say, “Hey, I’m Dan.” And my life has never been the same. I was sure I was seeing my future boyfriend, fiance, husband and I was sure that I would have regretted it if I hadn’t gotten into that car. Last night I went to sleep dreaming of what is and what is going to be.

First Post

Hey everyone,
Obviously my name is Taylor and this is my second blog. I will be sharing about life experiences and thoughts that are hopefully inspiring to you. Writing has always been something I loved. I may have some repeats on here from my other blog. I'm new to blogger so I'm still getting used to everything. I hope you like it :]