What's My Name?

My name is unusual. If your reading this believing that it is pronounced Tanya, Like Tanya Tucker, then you are sadly mistaken. It is odd that I get weirdly offended by the mispronunciation of my name, I know. I have had this name my whole life and have been called some strange things. I always find it amusing when people find hidden letters in there and call me Tanisha or Tatiana. I should be used to it by now, and sometimes I don't even correct people because I don't feel like it's worth it. I once let a coworker call me by a different name for almost 3 months. Seriously, I really did.

My point is, and I am not trying to sound like a crazy lady (ahem, it comes natural.), I just want everyone to know what my name is;

Taniya [ten-knee-uh]

Say it with me;

10-knee-uh

Well, I appreciate the effort anyway...

Reading Kills.

As I sit at my desk on this lovely, warm May morning, I can see a faint breeze rustling through the green lush of spring, reaching up to the bluest sky of the season. The birds are chirping with new life from above and the air is fresh and free.

I can see it all from the window on the other side of the office....

Okay, that was a little dramatic. The window is only a few feet away. You know what my problem is? Books. And maybe a little bit of Disney, but mainly books.

I don't view the changing seasons as a simple natural cycle, I see the world through romanticism and L.M. Montgomery's eyes. I can hear the swelling sounds of a BBC film when I think about weddings. Men are weighed to the goodness of Austen's Darcy,  F. Wentworth, and Mr. Knightly. I mean, really. They're fake. Nobody can compare to a fictional character.

The truth is, I have done this most of my life unconsciously. I blame this entirely on books. Not to say these books are evil, or wrong to read. But maybe I have been missing the point. The men in these stories married wonderful women. The Witty Eliza Bennett, Forgiving Anne, and the Reformed Emma. Could I have been focused on the wrong characters?

The answer: Yes. Well, maybe not. Wait.. Hold on. I have to think about this.

How many women fantasize over the romance of the century, and wholly expect some dude to sweep her off her feet. Or awaken her from her slumber? What makes us think this poor dude wants to pick us up after we sat around eating ice cream with our favorite Austen? Or wake us up? Let's face it, we all have nasty breath when we wake up. So this guy has to be on steroids or something to heave us out of our helpless state, blind to our dragon like appearance upon awakening, and immune to equally dragon like breath...

Even for me, a single girl, that sounds a little rough on a poor guy.

There is a tiny voice telling me that I should have been spending more time on myself, cause lets face it, I am no Anne Shirley. I don't even know how my hair would look red. Probably terrible. Or amazing. Who knows, that's besides the point. The point is I should have been using those wonderful novels as a way to reflect upon myself.

*Reminder: These books are fake and should not be used as a guide. Repeat ladies. Fake. Not a guide.

What is the guide?

"But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you" Matthew 6:33 NKJV

The first step is here, and every other step will follow. I see so many young girls in the church make marriage they're sole mission in life, when there is so much more that God has planned for us. Marriage is something we should desire, God created it! But we often forget that marriage is not a destiny, it is the stepping stone to a calling.

I know, we still want that fairytale romance, I wrote this mostly to myself, I am one of the worst offenders. I can recite Pride & Prejudice line for line. I love BBC...*Sigh*. Seriously, Pray for me. Just writing about it makes me wanna go read the books again...

Cause she's the coolest!

True Warriors.

It's April. The same month Disney's Bambi was born. Did he die at the end of the movie? I can never remember...

Speaking of births, I am going to be an Aunt. My sister is about to pop and I am so excited! My own little nephew. He is either going to be insanely terrified of me, or think I am the coolest thing since the death of the bell bottoms fad. The second one...in the 90's.

Ahhh.... Materfamilias. The Matriarchal figure. The one with an extra celebratory day...

Is that really necessary though? Not that I am the one questioning it. That's just the attitude society has adopted. I won't even mention the lackluster of Father's Day.

In light of the many upcoming births within my circle, I have decided to write an ode to all mothers in honor of their wonderful sacrifices. Also, mothers day is next month and I want to have it ready, just in case I forget to buy something...


Oh Gee, Oh Wow,  it's finally time
you've told me once, you've told me twice
(though never would I without sigh),
To clean and vacuum this room of mine.

Tomorrow day will come and go
and chores will stack a mile high
you beckon and call without reply
continue to ignore, bravely I go

Heed not to your voice, i am alright
there's a new game to play instead
if i get up now ill surely be dead
building my XP will take all night

A sudden violent twist of ear
a grand miracle has taken place
a loving mom with a hand of grace
"were you calling me ma? I could not hear!"

You know, I am not really liking the direction this poem is going so I'm just going to stop right there.

Mother's have babies, who turn into little monsters who turn into preteen monsters, you see a cycle here? Any way, my point is, they deserve this. Maybe even more, seriously. Kids are monsters. Very terrifying, loud, smelly monsters.

So, brave warriors, we salute you. Well, not like, today, but on mothers day... you know, next month.....

All Hands In.

I'm going to lay it on the line and say something a little different today.

Sometimes, I don't feel like writing comical blogs. Sometimes I want to just write about all the horrible things that happen. I know that's not fair because the horrible stuff is everywhere and I need a break from it too. So, I won't. I will write about me. again....

Here we go.

Last week I was witnessing to a cousin of mine and his friend, the conversation turned into a debate. It eventually felt like 2 against 1, and I was losing. And all I could think was, why am I losing? I am the Christian here. I should know the answers to most of these questions. How did I lose dominion so early into this?

I don't exactly remember how it turned into what it did, but I can't stop thinking about it. What I shouldn't have said, what I could have said, why did I get so angry? This person is someone that I desperately want to see saved, and instead of leading the conversation to Christ and the Cross, I got sucked into a whirlpool of "If's"and "Why's".

I am not writing this to be a black cloud, on the contrary. Sitting in Revival last week with Evangelist Scott Snellen and hearing God's word has been an encouragement, and even through this failure, I am reminded that God can use me through my weaknesses for His Glory.

1st Corinthians 2:1-2; "And I, brethren, when I came to you, came not with excellency of speech or of wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of God. For I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and Him crucified."

God is so faithful that He would use people who have very little talent and so many faults to be the instruments used to bring souls to Him. If only we would allow Him a place in our lives, He could move so much more!

Being saved, I believed for so long, was enough. That, despite my many failures, even as a christian, as long as I did the bare minimum and made Heaven my home, that was all that really mattered. But that is in direct contrast to what God has called me to be. It is disobedience.

Mark 16:15 says: "And He said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature." 

Clearly, God wants us to do more than read our bibles and pray for the nations. He wants us to go to them. Not just pray for our city, but take it in the name of Jesus! Yet, I find myself arguing philosophy with the people God has called me to reach. Or, I'm not sure which is worse, not saying anything at all. Silenced by fear. Or something else?

 2 Timothy 1:8 "Be not ashamed of the testimony of our Lord..." 

I pray that God gives me the boldness I need to reach the lost. Not just the people I love. The lost on the street. The lost in the grocery store. The teenagers at the mall. Revival is upon us, our cities aching for the cleansing blood of Christ. God is already moving and I don't want to miss any part of it. I want to be able to lay a Crown of Glory at God's feet in praise and worship!

This blog has been a totally serious one and I am not really sure how to finish it....

So, hands in guys.

The Sickness

I hate being sick.

I hate it.

You may think my saying that is redundant, because, doesn't everyone hate being sick? The answer to that question, is no. There are seriously people who enjoy the attention they get for being sick. At least that's how it seems to me.

In case you were wondering, I am sick. And everyone at work is avoiding me like the plague. I am not a leper people! I don't have a fever! Don't leave me alone....

After spending a whole day on my couch with a roll of toilet paper (I was out of Kleenex, don't judge) and an almost full carton of Orange Juice supplied by my empathetic roommate, I have a renewed appreciation for work. There's a cabinet full of Kleenex boxes! It's like they never end! Tissue paradise!!!!

...Time for a new box..

This is literally how I feel right now. And look, obviously...

(photo credit: I-MaK)

I just felt like complaining a little...

The Super Bowl has come and gone again. After the flurry of excitement it has come to a sad and disappointing end. This may be considered a holiday, or a second Christmas for the menfolk but believe you me, it's much, much worse. And this year, it was a blood bath.

I didn't watch it.

I can probably guess what your thinking at this very moment, I am thinking the same thing. Why write about something I didn't even witness? I'll tell you, and the beginning of this blog and my future rant are about to come together like the concrete and a clumsy fat kids face...

Football is sick.  And it makes me sick. I mean, seriously, when you can't rely on a stinkin' Manning to dish out sweet, ice cold revenge on the team that crushed the dreams of an entire Bay Area...What has football become? That's right, I'm a NINERS FAN. Stupid. So stupid. I don't even like football...

I bet the half-time show was super lame (again) too. I am glad I didn't watch.

....

Sunday not wasted.

....

....I wonder if the half-time show is on YouTube....

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----oooO----

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-----------Oooo---

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----oooO----

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...I'm out...

In The Spirit

December 17, 2013
10:50am

Hello! It has been a while since I officially pulled the plug on my last blog. Only eleven posts ago I began to write, out of sheer boredom, about my daily odd goings-on. It was full of sarcasm, and my mostly sleep deprived and over caffeinated imagination that ran wild. I hope that this future blog will be a bit less frivolous, but just as humorous.

(note: I wear glasses...)

Now, I start this blog knowing full well that blogs are not read anymore. At least not by the general public, and that "Vlogs" are "the way to go". I have no desire to go this route. So, I will set up at my desk and carry on the "old fashioned" ways. There are a number of reasons for this. I don't really feel like going into them so use your imagination. I give you full leave to imagine me as some hideous monster or whatever. Your welcome.

Anyways.. I don't know if you noticed yet, but if you haven't, then look at the date! It's almost CHRIIIISTMAAAAAS!!!! SHABOOYA!

*NOT ME.*  (...but i totally get it..)

I love Christmas.

Sue me.

No, I mean I reaaaallly love it. I even used to believe in Santa Clause until.....no...it's too painful a memory.....please don't ask...... alright, I'll tell you.

*insert dream sequence music*

**begin flashback mode**
 
There I was, innocent, child-like, carefree. The beauty of life barely beginning to bloom in my fresh eyes. Blissfully unaware of the pernicious world around me. Living young, wild, and free was the only way I knew. Happiness came easy as a dewy mist on an April morning (<----dramatic imagery). 

Even as a child my love for Christmas overflowed. To me it wasn't only about getting a plethora of gifts, though that played a part (<---Check it. Honesty.), it was the shining lights bestowing their glory upon neighborhood after neighborhood, it was being allowed to joyously belt out the carols of old to those around me without any (ahem, loud) complaints. Then there were the excursions, the once every year adventure to find that perfect tree. The tree that would embody all the candied dreams of sugar plums and pudding. And the smell. Aaaah.. the smell of a Christmas pine... the comfort that smell would bring was indescribable. Once decorated, children's beds were oft abandoned and little ones slept near said monument until the very eve of Christmas itself. So many wonderful memories filled with family, food, and forced good behavior etched and wove into our souls like the ads of a December Sunday newspaper. 

Now it did not happen on a winter wonderland kind of day, but on a typical northern California afternoon. The sun was gloriously warm and I had been behaving, by my standards (I never got caught) very well in light of the upcoming festivities. So of course I was jubilant of the idea of the sweet Christmas load I would be receiving for Christ's birth (his birth, we get gifts....?) and I wanted everyone to know it. 

It is now time for me to make a few introductions. (all names have been changed to protect the "innocent")

First, there was my mother. She as far as mom's go she was, I suppose normal. If you consider telling your children lies about some creepy fat guy, who wears red, enslaves little people, and is always watching you, as normal. Next, there was "Samantha" This is my older sister. To be exact she is five years older than me, she had already patiently tolerated my deluded view of Christmas and "Santa Clause" for a few years. Her best friend "Esmeralda" was only a few months behind her in age (*key character*) and her and her sisters (my best friends) had a mother, my pastor's wife, who told them the real reason for Christmas, and that Mr. Fatty Santy did not exist. I of course had no idea of these circumstances at the time (DUH) and continued my erroneous present chatter, much to the aggravation to all of the non believers in the car (Ev.Ry.One.). 

Suddenly, Esmeralda turned candidly towards me, and mid-sentence said;

"you know, Taniya, Santa Clause is not real."

....

I felt my world was spinning. "NOT REAL?" How could that be?!? My thoughts were a mass of questions. Hadn't I always been told that he was real? Why would anyone make up such a person?!?! haha, no, I know she's lying! I took a picture with him, didn't I? He's everywhere, on every street corner...wait, how could that be...maybe there all fake? Maybe he's really DEAD!! 

In one sentence, my whole world crashed. And burned. Then exploded. And the ashes were blown away in the wind....

Being to shocked to speak all I could do was, well, cry. I turned my face as much as possible to the window (we were in the backseat of a car. I couldn't run and hide) and pulled my body into fetal position. I could feel the whole world go cold, as though the sun had burned out. "Could I trust anyone?" No. Nature itself was mocking me. 

I felt the depths of the blackest sea swirling around me. My breath caught in my throat. Stricken, I knew I was at my limit when suddenly a voice shot through the darkness;

"why are you crying?"

......

"Taniya, why are you crying?!?"

I couldn't speak. My whole body shook in misery. My brain would not form any words. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout "Did you lie to me? Is my whole life is a lie?" But nothing came. In distress "Esmeralda" muttered; 

"I told her Santa Clause isn't real".

You can probably imagine how awkward this situation was. Crying kid, angry mom, I don't really remember for sure but the others were probably snickering, at least, I don't see how they couldn't. The whole situation really is comical. And how can you punish a kid for being honest? You can't. Simple fact is simple fact. I have come to terms with the fact that Santa isn't real, but it truly did break my heart at the time, but over time my scars healed. I'm kidding. It still hurts.

In all seriousness, I would like to say thanks to "Esmeralda". Thank you for breaking my heart so that I would have something to write about in the first entry of this blog. Thank you for opening my eyes to the true reason that Christmas is celebrated, spelled out so clearly in the word itself, is Jesus Christ. Thank you. Also, I don't know why I picked that as your fake name. It's stupid. Your real name is way better.

Well, I hope everyone has a really great Christmas without forgetting the birth of whom we are celebrating, for without His birth, or His death, this dark world would never know the redemptive love of His Salvation. So, say it loud, say it proud, we are celebrating CHRISTmas. Not x-mas. Not just some Holiday.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

p.s. I told you I would be more serious :-D

p.p.s Shout out to my Awesome Heart Breaking Friend "Esmeralda" (you know who you are) for always reading my writings and for finding them entertaining.




*Disclaimer: This story is actually 100% true and not really even exaggerated, and since I wasn't really feeling that creative when I started writing this story was perfect because I didn't need to "embellish".