Spill The Beans

I love Oxfam.

I really have no choice in the matter.

I have tried to want to do other things. When I was an intern at Imagewest (a student-run ad/pr agency) I wanted to fit in and believe that I wanted to work at an agency. I also tried to pretend that I wanted to always live and breathe public relations.

I guess I never do a great job of completely fitting in.

Don’t get me wrong, I would work at an agency in a heartbeat (if the opportunity presented itself). And I love public relations. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gotten up every day to sit through 3 hours of lectures about it. I wouldn’t have learned the ins and outs of it. I truly believe that communication is a powerful tool, and I’m glad I have had the opportunity to  learn how to use it. 

However, I am not a public relations specialist, despite what my portfolio says on the front of it. I can write a marketing plan if you need one. I can crank out a press release in my sleep. I can organize an event.

What I really am, is a helper. And yes, I know this is ridiculous since I’ve never helped anyone (except that homeless person I gave a 2-liter to outside of LaserQuest once). But I know that this is what I am. 

Call me crazy (if you haven’t already today).

I guess I’ll just never be “normal”. I have tried. I don’t know why I can never fit perfectly into the mold. But I just can’t. I can’t seem to identify with my peers around me who just want to get married and live in the same town the rest of their lives. I can’t identify with my classmates who will forever be content pushing paper at a large company. The fact of the matter is, I am Hayley. And God made me this way.

And its not easy. I’m from small town Kentucky. Most people dont get out. And if they do, they don’t get far. 

But for me, I know deep down that one day I will work for Oxfam. I would love to be a Media Specialist for the organization. I know that I will travel across the world to places most people have forgotten about (or never heard of in the first place) to hear the stories of the people who have been forgotten as well. I’d be content with that. 

Until then, I’ll keep following the mold. Its not so bad, after all. 

I just know that somewhere down the line I won’t be able to continue being “normal” anymore. In the words of one of my grad professors, it’ll be time to “live out loud”.

WordPress is great, but it continues to confuse me.

I think I was smart at one point in my life.

I would like to take a break from “fiddlin’” with my blog to make a profound statement. And here goes:

I do NOT have an iPhone.

Whew, glad I got that off my chest.

And guess what? I’m ok with that. Granted, if someone offered me one free of charge I would not turn it down. But, I don’t feel like the value of my life has depreciated due to my lack of “apps”. 

Every day I see people living their lives solely on their iPhones. I think they are cool, for sure, but a major time consumer. Sometimes I worry that society has become way too absorbed in the palms of their own hands. 

I love technology, don’t get me wrong. I mean, my childhood would have been a waste of time without Super Nintendo. But I think we have to take a moment out of our days to look at the world around us, instead of googling images of it from the comfort of…well, anywhere.

Just a thought. All of you with iPhones can commence sending me hate mail now…or hate texts, all things considered.

This will be short.

BUT 

Let me just say that I continue to be amazed by the talent around me every day. Recently I found myself in the presence of another awesome (and humble) artist. Check out his website. Its a lot of fun.

And lets face it, you have nothing better to do. I mean, what? 

http://www.explosivelimes.com/

I get confused about what I want a lot of times.

I mean, obviously I want to maintain my existence and I want to have money in my bank account and I want to have friends.

Normal stuff.

But I spend a lot of unnecessary time thinking about what I want in the future. I guess this is a good thing. But its also a hassle.

Because sometimes I forget the presence.

I just have this irrational sense of my own importance. I know that sounds terrible (and possibly confusing) but allow me to explain.

I have never been the prettiest, most athletic, or even the most popular. However, I have always been smart. (Well, book smart. I don’t have the common sense to stop myself from pushing when the door clearly says pull). And I have always had a very reflective nature about me. 

Not to mention a strange desire to help people.

So I know that I want to do that. But where? And who? And how?

These questions make for great entertainment when I’m staring at the ceiling at 2am. 

I know what I want to do though. I know that I want to fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. I want to do it on an international level. For all those who would tell met that are plenty of people living in poverty around me every day, I say:

You are right.

But there are plenty of resources in place for those around me. People in certain other countries of the world have no say and no resources available to them. They only have themselves and the occasional influx of others to help them if something drastic happens (like a natural disaster). 

I don’t want aid to be a political thing. I don’t want to say that just because I’m American I have to solely want to help other Americans. I am more than that. I am a global citizen. I am a human. Because of where I was born I have been given a lot more than I deserve and the tools to help others. 

And that’s what I intend to do. 

But I just don’t know how to go about it. A lot of people also tell me to just go to Africa and stay there. But that doesn’t seem entirely helpful to me either. I have no useful skills to make their lives easier. I’m more of a story teller. A communicator. I think I need to go to where they are and hear their stories, for sure.

But I want to come back and lobby for the people around me every day to take notice and take heart.

Hopefully one of these days I figure out my niche.

I’m currently trying to “redecorate” my blog. 

But I’ve never been super crafty. And I have the attention span of a labrador retriever.

So I decided to write a new post instead to fill you in on my life and times.

I”m exhausted. The end.

Just kidding! Get it? Its funny b/c I made you think I was done writing. Oh man, I am good.

I’ve been working a lot. Both jobs. I’ve also been contemplating a move to a city known as Nashville. My only issue with this decision is that Nashville is known for country music…and country music makes me want to take a long stroll off a short bridge….or a short stroll off a long bridge…or….

You get it, I’m not a country music fan.

But part of me thinks that maybe I’ve overstayed my welcome in this transitional period of my life. Its time for another transition. 

I’m ready for a transition that’s more permanent. LIfe has other plans.

So there’s that. And then there’s my continuous quest to get to Africa. Its a lot more complicated than I thought. I have to get shots, get a Visa (not the card), get enough money for a plane ticket. And that’s the easy part! The trickiest part is finding a place to fly in to. I’m thinking of just building a hot air balloon with all my free time to take me there. It’ll give me something to do with all my complaining. 

Plus, there’s the coolness factor that comes along with having a hot air balloon. Maybe I’ll even make the basket in the shape of a pirate ship. Although, air traffic control might not appreciate that.

I also need to learn Portuguese. I’m not really sure how to go about this. Audio books maybe? The only problem is that I don’t like being read to because it makes me feel inferior. I’d hate to have to put my tape player in its place. Plus, I have no one to practice it with. Maybe I could just speak it to my dog Oliver. He gets excited about everything you say to him, so that would be really great affirmation/encouragement.

In other news (yes observant readers, that is a “fresh” way of saying “also”) I still want to work for Oxfam. I got an email from an Oxfam media officer in New York City who gave me some “great” advice. He basically told me to take risks and hop the next plane to Santo Domingo. I’ll let you mull that one over on your own.

Which is a bummer because I have some great insight on that.

Finally, I am still training for the half-marathon. I can run a 5K in my sleep (and I think I do because I wake up so tired). But I just can’t seem to push myself past that. I will either have to find some magic running dust or find a stunt double.

Unfortunately i am redhead and that would be impossible to find.

C’est la vie.

I like talented people.

I guess the world does really. How else would the likes of lil wayne and carrot top become so great otherwise?

Please take a moment to enjoy the above sarcasm.

But seriously, I am fascinated by artistically talented people. Those who walk among us that can turn spilled coffee beans into art or throw a bunch of ugly things together to make something awesome. What blows me away even more are those talented people who are also witty and possess more common sense than yours truly (not that its hard). 

At one point I wanted desperately to be talented in that kind of way. In fact, that’s probably why I have been telling anyone with an ear (whether it works or not) that I want to play the fiddle. Its like my last attempt to fool life into thinking it gave me an ounce of creative talent.

Life will probably not be fooled. 

I find these artistically talented people in lots of places I never imagined I would. I know I mention this a lot, but suck it up because its worth mentioning. Since I can’t seem to draw my way out of a paper bag, can barely carry a tune in a bucket and look like I dress in the dark every day, it has become my not-so-silent mission in life to keep my eyes peeled for “hidden” creative talent around me every day.

Especially those who use their art for more than a paycheck.

During my undergraduate career I found myself surrounded by graphic designers. While I know they are talented, some of them weren’t interested in using their talent for anything more than designing newsletters for money-hungry companies or appearing on billboards for fancy alcoholic drinks.

I mean hey, we all have to put food on the table. I’m not knocking that.

But the people who always inspired me the most. The ones who made me so desperately want to take 8 years to learn how to be a graphic designer, the ones I sought out to live vicariously through are/were the ones who used their talents to tell a story. A story about the lives around them every day or the voices of those who never get heard. I wanted to be like those designers who made other people happy through their art.

Its an amazingly beautiful thing.

I encourage you to keep your eyes peeled for those artistically creative people around you as well. 

In the meantime, I’m gonna go draw and erase several stick men…

As I have mentioned before (and I reiterate simply because I know you aren’t listening), I am surrounded by a lot of “hidden” talent in this small town.

Especially at the coffee shop.

I guess a prerequisite for working at a coffee shop is having some sort of uniqueness about yourself. And lemme tell ya…my co-workers are definitely a unique bunch of people.

That word is open to interpretation of course.

Anyway, to the point. And yes, there is one this time!

One of my co-workers (actually, I’d call her a friend) is a small, dark haired girl who doesn’t have much to say. But man, when she does talk its always super witty and super well-timed.

Exactly how I’d like to be, but haven’t quite gotten there. Ah well, I can live vicariously through her.

 What lies underneath her small, quiet shell is a world of creativity and imagination that I have never seen before. I’m lucky to have had the privilege to find out more about it during my days steaming milk and getting yelled at by the general public.

Although I hate my job sometimes (yeah, its true), the days that I get to work with people like my creative friend give me hope that it is playing some significant role in my life. Maybe I’m supposed to have this job so I can learn how to get to know people better. People I never would have given a second glance to. Maybe its teaching me to dive farther than the surface.

There’s a lot of treasure past the surface.

Take a minute to check out this treasure. I’ve included the link to her blog. 

http://blog.jennidickens.com/

Alright folks, I’m about to get up on my soap box.

Well, actually, its more like a coffee box. But whatever.

I complain a lot. We’ve been over this. But I complain about things that I actually do something about (well, unless I”m complaining about the sorry drivers that live in my town).

I’m ok with complaining that’s accompanied with action.

What I don’t like is the complaining I see/hear on a daily basis by people who have no intention to do anything. People complaining about government, or the ideas of a certain religious group, or about poverty. They safely complain from the comforts of their facebook statuses and twitter. Open for the world to see. Things like, “the political parties of this country are useless” or “so and so is a racist and ignorant”. I mean, its absurd.

I think one of the great things about democracy (real democracy) is that it allows us to have a voice. But yelling into the dark, cluttered world of the internet with that voice isn’t enough. Part of having that voice is  having the resources to do something, ANYTHING about it. If you are going to complain, use that energy to work towards change.

Every time I tell someone about my trip to Africa I immediately get made fun of or an eyebrow lifts. People ask me , “don’t you know there’s poverty here? don’t you want to help here?”

It makes me want to cry or bang my head against the wall…or both.

Yes, there is poverty everywhere. And yes, this concerns me. However, there are resources available to those people here. Many places in Africa do not enjoy those resources. Furthermore, I want to help those people. I consider myself a global citizen. I have been given a voice simply because I was fortunate enough to be born where I was. Why should that stop me from wanting to help someone who wasn’t?

Next time someone complains or raises their eyebrows at me for going to Africa I am simply going to look at them and ask what they are doing to help those here who are in poverty. 

I bet the answer doesn’t come as quickly as the complaining. 

End scene.

I’ve been listening to the song “Breathe” by Alexi Murdoch lately.

Never heard of it? Not surprised. I heard it at a colour guard show. 

It basically haunted my musical brain waves until I found it. It was quite an elusive song. But the internet is an amazing stalker.

Anyway, I’ve basically had it on repeat. The song has an eery tone to it, but its also a lot like the title (that would be Breathe  in case you have already forgotten. I know I almost did). The song has a very excellent message in it that I think we can all benefit from. 

Wanna know what it is? Of course you do. The message is…it is….”don’t forget to breathe”. 

Did you just roll your eyes? 

Breathing isn’t exactly the most simple thing in the world. Now you just wait a second before calling me an idiot. 

Yeah, sure, breathing is involuntary and everyone does it. Heck, you have to do it to survive.  But there is a difference between that natural, involuntary breathing…and really letting the good air in and the bad air out. Sometimes, the bad air continues to pour in while the good wastes away. You forget that step of the process. 

This song just helps me to remember to complete the breathing process. I suggest you check it out. Just make sure you have several hours to dedicate to listening to it on repeat.

And don’t forget to breathe…

Part of me wakes up every day thinking that something amazing is going to happen in the next 12 hours. Some extraordinary phone call, some flash of genius thought or even some random act of kindness. 

The other part of me brushes her teeth, combs her hair and wonders what the weather is going to be like.

I wish my better half took control more often.

Today during my break at work I ignored my ham sandwich in pursuit of something better than cheese, egg and ham on an artisan roll. I neglected these things to read Donald Miller’s newest book (or, at least newest to me) entitled “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years”. For those of you unfamiliar with Mr. Miller (and I’m guessing its a lot since I got a lot of blank stares at the mention of his name at work today), he is a writer and co-founder of something called The Mentoring Project.

He’s also one of my favorite people in the world…who I haven’t met of course (so stop getting jealous, friend).

Many of his books are memoirs and follow a stream of consciousness approach. Which I happen to love considering my mind moves at an un-Godly speed from one topic to the next. In fact, my friends have learned to speak “my” language which involves remember topics we talked about minutes to days earlier…since I go back and forth.

Anyway, obviously I just made that clear.

This particular book is about Donald Miller getting approached by some Hollywood “types” (love the lingo, right?) about making his life into a movie. Mr. Miller is excited by the idea…til he stops to really think about it. What’s so special about his life? About his story? Does he even have a story? He starts out by questioning whether he’ll have anything to tell God at the end of his life. 

Not that God needs a reminder.

I’m not going to feed you line after line of the book. Obviously if you’ve made it to this sentence, you’ve got a pretty good grasp on literacy. I will say that it goes on to really describe what a “story” is…and that despite our thoughts to the contrary, we all have one. Our lives are one big story. So, what you say?

Here’s the what.

If our life is a story, shouldn’t we want it to be a good one? I know I’d rather my life be a thriller than an encyclopedia. When you start to imagine your life being more like pen to paper, rather than sand passing through an hour glass, it becomes more real. More important. More eternal.

I’ll admit, so far my story hasn’t been an exciting one. But Donald Miller has given me inspiration for a new plot. There are lots of unwritten words, scenes and characters to discover. And, as Mr. Miller points out in the end, “It’s as though God is saying ‘Write a good story, take somebody with you, and let me help’”. 

End Scene.