Trust the Bum

If you don’t know I’m not just a lay-about that speed reads an impressive amount of books a week. I contribute to the betterment of society by teaching youngin’s how to swim and also guarding the lives of people who may choose to sit in, swim in, or otherwise exercise in water.

I do not sing the diddies though

As such it is not uncommon for me to spend about 8 hours in the sun each day. Unfortunately, those eight hours are spent in a very sporty one piece that serves to give me very distinct tan lines. In most pictures of me taken during the summer months I resemble an Umpa Lumpa. You may remember that the first week of August I spent the week at the beach with 15 other members of my family. The reality of facing them all in a bikini that made me look like I was still wearing a white one piece underneath caused me to create and implement the “one comment about my tanlines” rule. My dad kept claiming “mulligans” and my older sister Ashley very bluntly said she was using hers Sunday morning. Jeffrey though took the cake with the most infractions of the rule. Oh well, what can I do? I look normal with clothing on…

Near the beginning of the year, either mid-February or March I worked a very brief stint in the world of retail. During that time the store I worked for got promotional material for a company called Sun Bum. The larger than average postcard immediately grabbed my attention. It’s hard to break the habit of sunscreen obsession and as a lifeguard of 7 years I’m always on the lookout for the best one. When you spend as much time outside as I do you want something that smells pretty good, does what it says it will, and still let’s you get a tan. I’ve been an Australian Gold girl for years, but I thought I’d give this company a go.

They’re a little company based in Cocoa Beach, Fl (yay for supporting local economies!!) with some killer marketing. Just go take a gander why don’t you… I’ll be here when you get back: www.trustthebum.com

What’d you think? Did you notice the different color wood grains representing the SPF ratings? The bottles actually feely vaguely grainy. It’s crazy. I bought a bottle of 50+ and the 30+ Lip Balm a few weeks ago and I have to say I’m in love. For realz.

Sun Bum at Work

  My boss was a bit shocked when I told her about my sunscreen switch but I consider myself a complete convert. I know summer is winding down so sunscreen probably won’t be high on your list of priorities for the next few months. But just so you know Sun Bum is only sold at legit surf shops not at your run-of-the-mill Walgreen’s and CVSs.  Keep it in mind for next summer. And if you want to get me a present you can get me this:

Sun Bum Towel

Happy Sunning.

Time Travel or Emerging from the Cocoon

As I watched my reflection in the sliding glass door reach actual size an odd thought popped into my head, “I wonder if I owned these flops last time I was here as a student.” A strange thought indeed, how things can anchor us to a certain time. We may not have a DeLorean that we can crank up to a certain speed, dial in a set of numbers, and find ourselves back to the future, but for me something as banal as a CD player will do. Or the smell of sunscreen and chlorine, which Philip swore I smelled of even in late February.

I walked around campus a bit today; for the first time in awhile I wasn’t panic stricken about making everything work. Graduating seems a mere reality on the horizon just a year away. More on my mind was the echoes of the old Noel that wandered around the school in years past. USF’s seen some facelifts but she still seems to lack enough parking spaces for all her students. In contrast, I’ve gained some weight, grown my hair out about 8 inches, driven four cars in the time I’ve been (and not been) a student, and had a boo-koo of experiences. Those flops though, they were there with my that last year.

I bought the flops in question in Daytona the summer of 2007. The second round of Rainbows, over-priced leather flops, that I owned they lived through half of one of the most exciting summers of my life, the last year I was a mass comm student, and the summer I reeled out of the “well-planned” life and started to figure out what I actually wanted to do. Those poor flops, they’ve been through a lot in three summers. And as we head into the fourth they’re missing much of their soles, but we’re still a team. A glance sends me back to Mexico aka the hottest place I’ve ever been, the Lake last summer where they got wet and dried almost folded in half, and bike rides around South Tampa when I was house-sitting.

All the “stuff in between” that Will Schuester referred to in the season finale of Glee. These memories I have of trying to spot a giant green truck in the parking lot of the SunDome, hoping to ride a longboard on campus, the friend I made in physics, of passing the EDT, turning in papers, taking Hebrew (and meeting M. LeBlanc), meeting Pam for lunch dates, earphones in listening to Fort Minor as I walked between classes, two years of hiding in a cocoon, all of that, just stuff in between.

Or the desperate attempts to hide from the future and growing up, being depressed for months on end, feeling worthless, like I was only wasting time, losing my identity, grasping for the ever elusive meaning and purpose I so craved, getting hurt by and hurting people, looking for love in such a misguided manner, just stuff in between.

The cocoon wasn’t the sort that insulated me from pain. In fact I think it was made out of pain, pain that kept me locked in. But I remember something that resonates so truly with me: Jesus screaming alongside me, knowing pain more real and dark than mine. So, this is me faintly emerging from the cocoon I kept myself in. This is me not being afraid. This is me writing the story as we go and not being too worried about the “stuff in between”. This is me writing a very long and rambly entry. And this is me looking forward to another year walking around campus with my busted old flops.

solidarity

Last night I went to my first ever PostSecret event. Frank Warren was part of the lecture series at USF, which provided me with the opportunity to hear him speak for free and share the experience of airing secrets with a large group of people. There were so many things about the night that tugged on my heart, made me feel, brought tears to my eyes, and caused me to do some soul-searching.

The most overwhelming feeling I have leftover from the event is frustration or helplessness. I’m left with this overwhelming desire to love all the hurt people. Which just renews the idea of making sure the people I interact with on a daily basis get the best of me. I’m contemplating further steps, too.

Last week I was getting frustrated with my hair. It’s rather long, so I was contemplating a drastic haircut. I asked my friend Ryan his opinion expecting that he would say, “No, keep it long.” He surprised me with, “hahah i dont understand girls.. why not go do something externally crazy for adventure!” Not entirely sure how to respond I said, “Like what?” To which he responded, “like travel.. take off from work and go some place crazy.. or even pick up a new form of ministry.. Homeless, Orphan, Pregnant Women, etc… we fall into the smaller stories of life way too easily.” You all know how obsessed I am with stories. Anyway, I assured him that it was a practical rather than esoteric question based on the amount of chlorine that will be in my hair in the next few months. But after last night, I’m wondering a little bit. So, two things to ponder: the length of my hair and the ministry I can throw myself into.

On the other side, I wondered, as many people do when encountering PostSecret, what my secrets are. If you asked me in the past couple of weeks to tell you a secret I would respond that I don’t have any. What I’m really saying is I’m not sure if I can trust you with them yet. There’s a plot-line running through my life that I haven’t quite sorted out yet. When you lose someone abruptly from you life, by choice or not, it’s difficult to move forward. I’ve tried the best I could for awhile. But recently this person has been all over my mind. Suffice it to say I’m petrified.

I walked away from USF last night hurting for the people who are hurt and feel as though there is no one close to love them. I also walked away wondering how long I would allow my pain to make me so afraid. At this point it’s almost like I’m choosing to be afraid rather than deal. I’m starting to pull into myself again. Disconnect. It’s coming.

There’s no resolution to this. Except I want to go for a long drive with The Shins and the rain. But I have nowhere to go and not enough gas to get there.