Showing posts with label My Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Life. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Who I am List

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

WHO I AM
christian
God-follower
girlfriend
daughter
older sister
friend
adventurer
traveler
list-maker
organizer
New Yorker
former Tennessee inhabitant
former Florida inhabitant
goal-maker
blog author
dreamer
procrastinator
sunshine-lover
cook
gardener
brown haired
italian
water-drinker
swimmer
crafter
reader
doer
church-goer
beach lover
tea-drinker
foodie
designer-lover
photo-taker
summer girl

WHAT I LOVE
my Savior
my boyfriend
my mom
my sister
family
good food
design
sleeping in
sunshine
summer
swimming
the ocean
lakes
water features
snail mail
cleaning
cities
country life - sometimes
tea
hot baths
tan skin
flip-flops
mom’s cooking
sitting by a fire
traveling
blogs
photography
traditions
new music
new shoes
ponytails
water

MY DESIGN STYLE
simple
uncluttered
light
airy
natural
organized
clean
textured
layered
open
beachy
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
STRENGTHS :: task-oriented, visionary, big-picture thinker, hard worker, goal-setter, fast, intelligent, sensitive, logical, organized, personable, passionate, multitasker, writer, project organization, problem solving, DIY, creative, inventive, determined

WEAKNESSES :: bored easy, confidence, follow-through, print, details, negotiating, impatient, finances, can be overwhelmed easily, people pleaser, picky


Looking at these lists makes me realize that, in general, I really need to stop focusing on things that are out of my control. I don’t always follow through on things because I get stressed out too easily.  I love being able to create, but I need to focus on my follow through.

I know Challenges Come, but I WILL learn to stop thinking they are brick walls. I know that with God I can do anything.

Friday, February 11, 2011

My Life (Part Three) No Cows this time

My Life (Part Three)
Thankfully this part of my life has nothing to do with being chased by any type of farm animal. I was spared the constant torture of livestock, too bad I couldn’t say the same for the Rednecks.

I got relatively lucky. I moved in December of third grade. I was the new kid. I talked funny because I didn’t say things like y’all, yander or y’ant to? (translation: you want to?) I don’t know how Sha and I became friends as easily as we did, but I’m thankful to have had her. Jenica was also a good friend, but Sha was my best. We made it thorugh together. She understood how much I truly wasn’t happy. I just felt out of place and she was someone I could confide in. Sha and I went through a lot together.

After I finally started to get the hang of country life, my mom had Amber on October 27, 1995. Here’s a disclaimer: I love that girl with all my heart and would run in front of a bus or cut off my leg if it would save her. Hell I’d do both, in the same day. With that being said, I did not adjust to her in the beginning very well.
I was 9, I was used to being the only one. I was just starting to get used to directions like: Drive over the 3rd bridge and make a left at the 5th Oak Tree. To which, I replied something like, ‘How have we lived here for MONTHS and I haven’t seen a bridge? And what the hell does an Oak Tree Look like?’ FYI, they meant the little overpass to the river. And I can proudly say that now I retain the skill to tell you what an Oak Tree is.
I rebelled at school, got in trouble, and my grades suddenly started to drop. I think I may have even had a D or F, but I try to block that out. It took some getting used to, but eventually I really began to settle in again. I got used to the routine. I liked Amber for the most part, and was slowly moving towards being able to go out of my way to interact with her more.
I had my appendix taken out when I was 10. That’s a story for another time, but it ruptured 5 minutes after they removed it, so I’m lucky to be alive.
When I was 11, and Amber was 2, we moved to THE HILL. Basically, we moved to Lockwood way which is THE HILL that David’s family has lived on for easily 30 years. Times were tough on my mom and I. No matter how hard we tried to fit in, we were always going to be different. We knew what it was like to live in a large city with what seemed like the world at your finger tips.
Hornsby Tennessee is like having a mud hole at your beck and call.
More to come…Moving to Florida, back to Tennessee, and then New York again….ahh my nomad ways.

My Life (Part Two....the Cows)

My Life Story (Part Two)

I left off by describing the divorce between my mom & biological father. This all happened around the time I was 8 years old. After the divorce was finalized, my mom and I moved back in with my grandparents in Corona, Queens.
My mom had a friend, J, that used to live across the street from us when we lived in Long Island. J had married a house painter from Tennessee and moved to be near his family. She thought it would be a good idea for us to come visit her the summer of ‘94 to get away. She wanted us to be able to go to a quiet, calm, slow-moving place and just be able to breathe. Well, obviously, we went.
Long story short, J was friends with T. T is D’s older sister. D and my mom started to date. After the summer was over, they had a long distance relationship until Elvis came to my mom in a dream. I won’t get into the specific, but it’s due to the King of Graceland that I ended up in Tennessee. There was some serious drama over whether or not my mom should have let me stay with my grandparents. My dad wasn’t in the picture at all anymore, but my aunt and godfather, thought it was wrong for me to go. There was a huge fight, hurt feelings, and an 8 year old caught in the middle.
We moved December 2, 1994. I was 8 and in Third Grade. Talk about a culture shock. You move a girl from Queens to Hornsby and there’s going to be an adjustment period. Even though the 2 cities are in the same country, doesn’t mean a thing. We moved into a house David rented from his boss.
THERE WERE COWS IN THE BACK YARD!
I wish I was joking. Real, living, breathing, steak and hamburger producing FREAKING COWS!
They moved me from the Lemon Ice King of Corona to Pooping COWS?!?
Being a crazy city kid, I decided to ask if it would be ok if I went to go see the cows. I don’t know if I pictured these cows like they were in some petting zoo and I could feed them from my hand. I have no idea what the hell I was thinking. Imagine if you will, an 8 year old Italian girl from New York prancing up a hill to go pet COWS!
It would have been no big deal. Turns out the COWS were hungry and I looked as appetizing as a filet mignon. As soon as the first cow spots me, 50 cows start moving towards me. Not too quickly, just a slow, ‘hey, I think she might feed us.’ The next 50 cows that joined in were not as polite as the first, and now I have about 100 cows chasing me looking for food.
I FELL DOWN A HILL WHILE BEING CHASED BY FUCKING COWS.
If you have never had to say those word, congratu-freaking-lations for you. I was lucky I didn’t fall in shit. Needless to say, I didn’t eat steak or hamburgers for about a year after the chasing incident.
Now, please excuse me while I go try to find a hamburger. I’m getting my revenge boys!

Part Three soon…I have to mentally recover from the thought of the COWS…and enjoy a hamburger.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

My Life Story (Part One)

I figured its been long enough and now I can share a little bit about my life.

First, I want to give you a little warning. It may seem at times, that I am being cavalier. I'm not. I've gone through more in my 24 years on this planet than more have in an entire lifetime. If I don't laugh it off and give it to God, I would lose my mind (more than I already have).

I was born to a 21 year old Mom (AV), and 25 year old Dad (R). It has been said that the marriage was a mistake. My mom got married to get out of the house. She had to get away from very strict Italian parents. R, well that's a different story. From what I remember, he wasn't all that bad.

I have some good memories. I remember he used to pick me up and put me on top of the refrigerator, and I would laugh and laugh. I would be scared, but I knew he wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. Or atleast that's what I thought.

You see, my father was physically abusive to my mom. He started getting violent when my mom was about 4 months pregnant with me. My uncle had passed away and apparently he just lost it. He was so upset that his 'baby girl' wouldn't get to meet her uncle, that he never stopped to think that his upcoming actions would be the reason he would never be in her life past the age of 10.

While my father was physically and mentally abusive, my mom had something else to deal with. Her mom. My grandma. My Nonna. The woman who taught me how to make homemade dough for pizza. She was still practicing the Catholic faith at the time. Good Catholic Italians DON'T get divorced. Even if your husband is doing drugs and beating you. So my mom stayed.

My mom stayed for a total of 8 years or so. She tried everything. Moved into new houses, buying different cars, nothing worked. In a last ditch effort, we moved to South Carolina. I'm pretty vague as to why, but that's where we went. It is here that the story took a turn for the worse.

While I remember my mom going to the hospital at the hand of my father even when we lived in Long Island, this was unbearable. I remember it like it happened 20 minutes ago. I was 7. Mom and I were making steaks. We sat down to eat. He passed a comment that it didn't taste how he was used to and Mom said 'Oh well.' He freaked out. Apparently, the bottle of wine consumed prior to dinner, was just enough to throw him in the wrong direction. Here's where little Amanda comes in. I stood up and told him not to hit my mom. He pointed his steak knife at me and told me he wished I choked on my steak and died.

Later that night, I asked my mom a question in the way only an innocent child could. I asked her when she was going to leave that idiot. That night we ended up in a battered woman and children's home.
We made our way back to NY in a little under a month. There was a divorce and court ordered supervised visitation. That only lasted a few months. Needless to say, there was very little contact after I turned 9.

More to come...Tennessee, Florida, Tennessee, and New York.

Just know that I'm still here. I know how much God loves me. I know that I wouldn't give up anything I have ever gone through. These things made me who I am.


Here is the silver lining from Pompano Beach, July 4th, 2005.