My Interior

I am growing and changing all the time.  Each day, I encounter new adventures that help me flourish as an individual.  I am not the Davina I was fifteen years ago.  Hell, I am not even the Davina I was three years ago.

But that doesn't mean I can't channel her.  

I remember who I was five, ten years ago and can empathize with that person.  I believe this is crucial to my humanity.  Although I have made mistakes in my past, or made decisions I am not entirely proud of, I don't punish or disregard the person I was when I made those choices.  

I know quite a few people- more than I would like to count actually- that try to abandon the person/self they were in the past.  They are ashamed of a previous relationship, or a bad addiction, and make an attempt to erase those years of their lives.  

I've heard it a million times.  "I try to forget it even happened."  "It's as if those years happened to someone else."  "The decisions I made were ridiculous.  I have no idea who that person was- it definitely was not, and is no longer, me."

But it was you.  You can't change the core of your being.  And I don't believe you should try.

I can still channel my five year old self that would throw temper tantrums over my dad not giving me enough time to pick out a Barbie Doll.  No, I do not throw raging fits over toys anymore, but I can still remember why I felt those emotions.

I am not proud of the Davina who continued to date a boy for months even though he cheated on me with numerous hussies.  But I don't want to forget her either.  

I want to remember why I made the choices I did, no matter how ridiculous they were in order to continue my personal development.  If I abandon, or even try to ignore the person I was, then I am cheating.  I would be fooling not only those around me, but most importantly, I would be tricking my soul.

Because even after all my years of physical change and development, the core of my being, my soul, has generally remained the same.   

Child Star

I was born to be on stage.

Unfortunately though, I wasn't blessed with the talent. My father’s singing gene did not get passed down to me, which was something I didn’t become painfully aware of until just before puberty.

During childhood I held allusions that I would grow up to be a famous singer. I promised my daddy that the singing business would never leave the Coady family. I would take over Dave Coady’s Irish Express when he retired. Of course the name would have to be changed, but we would handle that when the time came.

I spent weekend afternoons running errands with daddy, which I saw as a perfect opportunity to showcase my singing talents. While in the car, between the post office and the cleaners, I would belt out my favorite Mariah Carey or Celine Dion songs—with my headphones on.

I actually feel sorry for him now. He never once told me I was a terrible singer. He simply encouraged my other talents and told me to explore different options.

But I was relentless. I watched Grease like it was going out of style. While dancing and singing in front of the television dressed up in purple pants, faux leather jacket, and blue cowboy boots all topped with bright red lipstick (all borrowed from my mother’s closet), I believed I was the next Sandra Dee.

It wasn’t until I recorded myself singing that I realized I was awful. It is uncanny how similar I sound to a Tom Cat alley fight. Needless to say I was heartbroken. Devastated. Shattered.

I abandoned my dreams of starring on Broadway. I found other dreams and left my singing career as a thing of the past. I continued dancing and actually found decent success, but honestly, you can’t be a real star unless you can do both singing and dancing.

I still have an affinity for singing- I sing while showering, cleaning, driving, and sometimes working. But it is now done in private as I prefer not to have an audience. And I definitely do not sing loudly while wearing headphones. I no longer have the confidence or reckless abandonment as I did as a child.

But sometimes, while no one is watching or listening, I imagine my bedroom is the stage and the center spotlight is shining directly on me.

Pining

While driving through my college campus last weekend I was struck by the oddest feeling- sadness.

I really miss college.

During school I spent most of my time thinking about how much “easier” and “better” life was going to be when I graduated. I anticipated the days when I would no longer have the responsibilities of writing papers, studying for exams or attending lectures. When I felt bogged down by the amount of studying or writing I had to do, I always made myself feel better by counting down the weeks left in the semester. To help me trudge through I would reason, “Sure I have a 22 page paper to chunk out in three days, but in two more weeks it will all be over!”

Life didn’t get any easier. In fact, it got a whole lot harder.

Gone are the days of variety and discovering new things. The workday generally consists of the same routine day in and day out and surprises don’t happen very often. Classes on the other hand were always introducing new concepts or ideas, and although I didn’t always agree with these thoughts or theories they usually gave me something new to think about.

I yearn for the challenges of college. I miss juggling my various classes and the feeling of achievement when I received a good grade on a test or essay. The constant feedback of doing well, or not so well, gave me a sense of progress. I was on a path to self-betterment.

I also miss the freedom. If I wasn’t feeling well, or simply wanted to skip down to the beach for the afternoon, I had no one to answer to except myself. As long as I made up the work, or received the notes from a classmate, I was in the green. Could you imagine skipping out on work for the afternoon simply because you thought it was nice outside? Hardly. I can see my boss’ reaction now.

I went to one of the most beautiful colleges in the country. Nestled upon a hill in San Diego, the landscape and location always made me feel as though the world was at my feet. I felt that equipped with a Liberal Arts education from a good institution, I could accomplish anything. Upon graduation I would start my ideal job and my career would take me to fun and exciting places. Office work was not what I had imagined.

But there is still time, and I am still quite young. The world is my oyster and I have the opportunity to make whatever I want out of myself. Hopefully, my college education will help take me to those career places I dreamed about only a few short years ago.

If not, I could always go back.

Food Evolution

I grew up in a house where food was a necessity. Eating wasn’t something we particularly enjoyed doing. We simply did it because we needed it to survive. In fact, cooking (and the inevitable long clean up) is something my family members, myself included, didn’t enjoy doing. We ate out quite often and did our best to have simple and smaller meals.

Not to say that I didn’t enjoy the occasional Irish Stew Mom would make on ‘colder’ winter days (please note that colder is in quotations as it refers to Vegas cold and after living in Michigan I know that is NOT cold). I also looked forward to the Irish Breakfast Fry Dad would do on Sunday mornings. But I definitely didn’t think about the food I would be eating. Or long for it.

Things have since changed. I now dream about what I am going to eat, how I am going to eat it, where I am going to eat it, and what exactly it is going to taste like.

And no, I am not a fatty.

Scott opened my eyes to the world of food. When we started dating he pushed my food comfort zone and encouraged me to try food I had refused to even look at only months prior. He pushed me into eating sushi, Thai food, Mexican food (because I learned that Taco Bell was in fact not Mexican food), Vietnamese food, Spicy food, Health Nut food- you name it, he encouraged me to try it.

Now, I must be upfront here, my husband is a fantastic cook. And, truth be told, if he wasn’t so good at it I probably wouldn’t be open to eating all these different types of meals. But I struck gold with Scott (in more ways than one), and everything he touches in the kitchen tastes like heaven. I’m a lucky girl.

Over the course of our five year relationship, I have become more and more involved with his cooking and food choices. In the early stages I was simply a food victim, being bullied into trying the different, and sometimes odd looking, plates he put before me. I have since evolved and now like to help pick out the recipes in our cookbooks or on various internet cooking sites. I also, and this is a huge change from pre-foodie Davina, enjoy accompanying him to the grocery store to pick out the necessary ingredients.

Unfortunately though, his cooking abilities have yet to rub off on me. Meals I attempt to make never taste as flavorful and always seem to be missing something that he nails every time. As my mom said after sampling my fish tacos, “It’s good, Davi, but it’s obviously not Scotty’s.” Thanks, Mom.

In the meantime, I will continue to be Scott’s little sous-chef. But I won’t complain, it’s actually quite the gig.

Attempting to run

I have started running. Which, for anyone who knows me well enough, is odd.

I actually hate running. Well, I used to hate running, now I am starting to find it a little more tolerable.

It all started because I wanted to spend more time outside during the warmer months in Michigan. Why didn't I pick up biking you ask? Well, my poor baby, Mea, is stuck inside all day and she needs to spend some time outside too. It's really hard for her to keep up with the bike, so I usually end up pedaling at snail pace and get absolutely no exercise out of the routine.

So, Scott and I decided on running. He began first- taking Mea for a brief one mile run in the mornings while I worked out in the living room to various Exercise TV routines. When he came home he always looked refreshed and ready for the day. Eventually his comments about the gorgeous flowers blooming made me jealous and I decided to sign up for running too.

I have been running religiously for a week. We did about 4.5 miles last week (I know, I am almost a pro) and some days were better than others. Friday was a tough fun- I truly thought I was going to die at the end of it.

I am hoping I stick with this as I usually tend to abandon things after a week or two of zealous effort. It's actually quite nice to run in the mornings when the rest of the world is slowly waking up. I love the smell of the morning dew, the soft sunlight breaking over the trees and houses, and the lack of noisy distractions.

It's my time of reckless abandonment, as silly as that may sound. Although I feel like keeling over, or vomiting from exhaustion at the 3/4 mark, I am always really glad I decided to do it.

My relationship with running, thus far, is quite contradictory. My joy peaks twice during the jog- at the very beginning when I first hit the pavement and then again at the very end when I know it's all over.

Michigan Circle

Making friends isn’t always easy.

You pack up your life, move 2,000 miles across the country to a new city, which although is still in the United States, has a whole different culture and feel to it, you can’t expect to make friends overnight.

But that’s exactly what I expected.

I have always been a ‘social butterfly’, as I have been fondly referred to over the years. I am used to having a social circle, that I prefer to be in the center of, at all times. Throughout my life, I was never alone on a Friday or Saturday night- there was always someone I could call up.

When I moved to Michigan that all changed. Of course I had Scotty to hang out with, and although we always have a great time together, I needed more friends. I also needed girlfriends.

I needed girls that I could complain to about my period, my overly logical husband, my bad hair, my fat belly and the importance of eating chocolate on a daily basis- because they would share their experiences and empathize with me. Boys usually have a tough time understanding certain women’s tendencies or cravings.

My first closest girlfriend in Michigan arrived just when I needed one most. She worked with me at my last company, and although quite a few years older than me and pregnant, we had a lot in common. We connected instantly and she became my best friend when I needed a girlfriend most.

She listened to me bitch about the shared problems we were experiencing at work. And she helped me through my roughest time of traveling- when panic attacks consumed me by night and exhaustion ruined me by day. I listened to her adventures of being a stepmom, her apprehensions about becoming a new mother, and her excitements about the sex of the pending baby growing inside her (which turned out I was right, and it was a girl!)

For a year, we spent Monday through Friday together in a shared office. We worked together, laughed at our shared work misery, goofed off playing Reversi and watching True Blood, and dreamed about the joys of summer when things were miserably cold. I am not sure she has any idea how much her friendship means to me, or how much she saved me when things were really rough in Michigan, but she truly did. I would be lost without her.

Stacey helped me get back on the friendship horse.

When I started at my current job, I was able to quickly build a social circle of friends. Stacey built up my friendship confidence again, and our friendship reminded me of the importance of having close friends in my life.

A number of my co-workers are around my age and share a lot of common interests, so it was actually quite easy. They are a great group of people and my days wouldn’t be the same without them. I have finally started building my Michigan social circle, and they are really starting to feel like a second family.

Browser Addict

I am addicted to online… browsing. I enjoy spending time on my favorite clothing stores’ websites. On a weekly basis I find myself placing new items in my Ann Taylor, Nordstrom, Express, Victoria’s Secret or Banana Republic virtual shopping bags. 

Most of the clothes I browse look much better online than they do in person. Those two-bit skinny models have the capacity to make almost anything gorgeous, thus increasing my odds at wanting it for myself. I usually pick a random assortment of items, and to be completely honest, most are things I normally wouldn’t purchase while shopping at a ‘real’ mall. 

$250 peep toe shoes- no problem- throw them in the shopping bag! $100 passion pink colored pencil skirt- I would look fabulous in that too- throw it in! $80 silk scarf with beaded accents- it’s the perfect spring item- adding it is only one click away. CLICK!

I enjoy picturing myself in these different outfits (and of course I look just as good, if not better than the models pictured in the outfits). I like to imagine where I would wear my new sexy outfits, and how multitudes of people will stop me in the streets to compliment me on my style and grace. During my virtual shopping sprees, I am a more sophisticated, better dressed, elegantly clad Davina. 

It’s all fun and games until I actually click on “Purchase Your Items”. Those three little words have the capacity to make my online fantasy instantly disappear. And I am left with the hard truth that my new shoes, pencil skirt and scarf are going to put me back about $330- and that’s before shipping and taxes!!! Puh-lease. 

And reality begins to set in. It takes me about 2 days of work to make that kind of money. 16+ hours of slaving away at the office to only buy 3 pieces of clothing??!! I would be insane to make that type of purchase! I have a mortgage, student loans, car loans, insurance, and various otheI am addicted to online… browsing. I enjoy spending time on my favorite clothing stores’ websites. On a weekly basis I find myself placing new items in my Ann Taylor, Nordstrom, Express, Victoria’s Secret or Banana Republic virtual shopping bags. 

Most of the clothes I browse look much better online than they do in person. Those two-bit skinny models have the capacity to make almost anything gorgeous, thus increasing my odds at wanting it for myself. I usually pick a random assortment of items, and to be completely honest, most are things I normally wouldn’t purchase while shopping at a ‘real’ mall. 

$250 peep toe shoes- no problem- throw them in the shopping bag! $100 passion pink colored pencil skirt- I would look fabulous in that too- throw it in! $80 silk scarf with beaded accents- it’s the perfect spring item- adding it is only one click away. CLICK!

I enjoy picturing myself in these different outfits (and of course I look just as good, if not better than the models pictured in the outfits). I like to imagine where I would wear my new sexy outfits, and how multitudes of people will stop me in the streets to compliment me on my style and grace. During my virtual shopping sprees, I am a more sophisticated, better dressed, elegantly clad Davina. 

It’s all fun and games until I actually click on “Purchase Your Items”. Those three little words have the capacity to make my online fantasy instantly disappear. And I am left with the hard truth that my new shoes, pencil skirt and scarf are going to put me back about $330- and that’s before shipping and taxes!!! Puh-lease. 

And reality begins to set in. It takes me about 2 days of work to make that kind of money. 16+ hours of slaving away at the office to only buy 3 pieces of clothing??!! I would be insane to make that type of purchase! I have a mortgage, student loans, car loans, insurance, and various other bills to pay first. So, I don’t. I clear out my shopping bag and abandon the site.

Not to worry though, like clockwork I will be back next week. r bills to pay first. So, I don’t. I clear out my shopping bag and abandon the site.

Not to worry though, like clockwork I will be back next week.