Older & Wiser

Exactly one year ago, I was grumpy.

Why do I remember that?  

Because exactly one year ago, I started this blog.  And the reason I started this blog was because I was tired of being grumpy.

So I blogged about freedom.

For some odd reason I thought that starting a blog would help free me.  And strangely enough, it has.

There's something so refreshing about putting into words the things that weigh on my heart, mind, and soul.  Whether I'm whining about marriage or stating a lesson I learned through running, my blog has helped me get to know who Kristen Gibb really is.  My blog has given me reason to look deeper.  Ultimately, my blog has helped me let the little things become inspiring.

I have to admit that one of the best perks of having a blog is hearing that people actually read it.  I'm dorky enough to admit that I get giddy each time someone posts a comment and I'm bashful beyond belief when someone admits to reading it.  Although I started my blog for purely selfish reasons, I've found that the best posts and best lessons have come when I've blogged selflessly.  

For the longest time I was under the impression that I was a complete anomaly from any other person on the planet.  There was no one that could possibly understand what I was going through.  No one could ever be interested in the same things as me.  As far as I knew, I was absolutely and utterly different from everyone and because of that I never made an effort to relate.  I figured relationships were for the people who had similarities.  Fortunately, I've learned how wrong I was.  Thank you so much for sharing your insights and comments and thank you for the words of your own blogs.

So from now on, I want to relate.  I want my blog to stretch to include more than just myself.  Because we're all here for the same thing right?  Don't we all just want to win our lives?  

So here's to one year down and countless more to go.  Cheers to our continued "Near Life Experience."

Audience Duh.

I am a university student.  But that doesn't mean I'm smart at all.  In fact, I feel really dumb.

I've been back to school for almost two weeks.  One thing I've learned about already is how important your audience is when you're writing.  In fact, I'm in three classes that have done nothing but talk about how important your audience is.  And alas, I seem to have missed that on my blog.

I really want to apologize.  I've written a post that really bit me in the butt.  Serves me right.  I want to admit though that I have never, never written a post with the intentions of being malicious and hurtful.  In fact, most everything I write is simply for my sake, where I'm trying to make sense of something or get what I'm thinking out into words.  Please don't think I keep this blog to boast, put down, or ridicule.  Those were never my intentions and never will be.

And with that being said, I am again, really, really sorry for not thinking things through before hitting the "Publish" button.  I made a mistake and regret it.

The Main Characters...

Dear Blog,

Because of you, I've felt really sheepish and guilty this past week.

I've felt sheepish because of my little hissy fit I had on my last post.  

And I've felt guilty because I realized you make me kind of selfish.

You see, I started you with the intentions of becoming a better person.  I wanted to document and share the things in my life that teach me, inspire me, and make me stretch.  Don't get me wrong, it's been great having you motivating me to look deeper, and writing a post every week has really helped my writing skills in school.  Unfortunately, because I'm focussing so much on what is happening with ME, and what I'M thinking, and what I learn about, I've begun to lose sight of the people around me who really matter.

For starters, I talk about myself way too much.  That is really, really lame.  And annoying for the people who are stuck listening.

So, just consider this a warning, dear blog.  Don't think I'm breaking up with you or anything, I'm just not going to be as obsessed with myself as much.  

Sincerely,

Kristen Gibb



I've always naturally been a very selfish person.  My parents can attest to that.  I can even recall an argument with my Dad where I solemnly stated that, "I am the main character of my own life."

Fortunately, I'm growing up.  And with growing up comes the realization that I am not the main character in my life.  I am merely the protagonist, because my success and growth is the plot of my life, but as the protagonist, I am surrounded by the amazing spectrum of characters that fill main roles.

Allow me to introduce the main characters in the life of Kristen Gibb.

God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ

God lives, as does His Son Jesus Christ.  They love me and I love them.  I am happiest when I choose to follow the path their gospel teaches.

Ma and Pa

I couldn't have asked for two better people to have raised me.  Twenty two years later and they're still putting up with me and giving me love and advice.  They love me and I love them.

Stisters

I could have sworn Kassidy and Hannah were the antagonists of my life up until a few years ago.  Nowadays, I can't think of two people who are more crazy and fun to hang out with.  Sometimes we all love each other.  Just kidding.  They love me and I love them.

Grandparents, Aunts & Uncles, Cousins

Dear Melissa, I am straight up a picture thief.  Thanks.

Dear Wendorff Family, I couldn't find any pictures of us.  But I still love you.

I have the worlds greatest extended family.  I was lucky enough to live in the same town as all of my Mom's side of the family and fortunate enough to be apart of a tradition as spectacular as the Gibb Family First of July.  I love my Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, and especially my cousins.

Roommates & Friends

Nothing beats living with a group of strangers and becoming best friends with them.  And nothing beats friendships that will never die.  I love these girls to death.

Ponytail Jon

Once upon a time I blogged about this guy named Ponytail Jon.  Jon no longer has a ponytail.  And so that is why we are dating now.  Just kidding.  But seriously, Jon is great.  He's teaching me to embrace things like snow and Calgary, he puts up with me when I'm a brat, and I think he might even be a little more competitive than I am.  Which is really saying something.  I really like Jon.

And now you know them.  These are the main characters in my life and my story would be short and sad if I didn't have them in it.  The End.

Reebok Syndrome

When I was in grade three, my school gym shoes were an old pair of hand-me-down Reeboks.  They were legit pumped up kicks, the epic Reebok Pump Omni Lite runners.

Flippin' rad, totally awesome, wicked old school pumped up kicks.

And I hated them.

I'm not talking about dislike or joking hate, I'm talking about real, full force hate-hate.  The kind of hate oftentimes described as being with "every fibre of my being."  Passionate hate.  Irrational hate.  Unexplainable hate.

And that's the funny thing.  I couldn't explain why I hated them.  All I knew was that I did.  And because I hated them, I refused to wear them.  And because I refused to wear them, the teacher ended up calling my mom and telling her I needed gym shoes for school.  And because my mom got called, she ended up coming into the school to show the teacher I already had shoes.  And then I was confronted.  And I was speechless, yet resilient and refused to step down from my ivory tower of shoe hate.

To be honest, I don't even remember what happened after that.  I think my mom ended up buying me some $5 Walmart special runners and I was happy as a clam to have any shoes besides those infernal Reeboks.

Today, I'm still teased by my mom about this; she has diagnosed me with the "Reebok Syndrome."  Really, this syndrome has nothing to do with Reeboks (in fact, I would love a pair of those pumped up kicks today), it's mostly to do with my stubborn, defiant, and unwavering preconceptions, biases, and opinions.  This syndrome has reared it's ugly face during several occasions of my life.  In fact, it could also be named "Respiratory Therapy Syndrome"or "Basketball Syndrome."  Thankfully, I overcame those ones.  Unfortunately, last night I realized I've got the syndrome again.  I got it bad.  This time it's called "Marriage Syndrome."

The M-word?  Yup, not interested.  At all.  Ever.

I pride myself on having a cup half full perspective on life, but I'll admit when it comes to tying the knot, the cup is completely empty.  In fact, the cup sucks and it's cracked and doesn't even hold water at all.  Which is why I love being single so much...

So basically, I'm just letting you know that you can start giving me cats for my birthday and Christmas. Or, that you prescribe any treatments for this "Marriage Syndrome."  Or, you can send my mom a sympathy card because she has a dang, stubborn first-born.  Or, you can simply ignore this juvenile rant coming from a twenty-something who really just doesn't want to grow up.  I guess that's all this is.

Good night.

Numb

This past week I've been scrambling against time to finish the last few things on my summer to do list.  Last night I completed one of them.  I went to the Thirsty Bear with the Zum's staff.

Perhaps tagging along to a bar was against my better judgment, but I don't regret it at all.  In fact, it was one of those experiences that really, really opened my eyes.  And I'm starting to like having my eyes opened.  It's good for me.

I felt like a guest of honor as all my co-workers came up to express their surprise and excitement to see me there, my boss even bought me a virgin ceasar.  It was easy to see that everyone was in their element, everyone was letting loose after a day of work, and everyone was happy to be there.

Eventually the liquid happiness everyone was consuming began to take its toll.  Jokes became funnier.  Voices grew louder.  Dance moves flourished.  Touching became a language.  And I was suddenly filled with an emotion I've come to know as nothing more than pity.  It was bitter sweet actually.  As fun as it was to be with my friends, enjoying one of the last few days we have together, I felt incredibly sorry that this was what they considered a good time.  The more they drank, the less they felt.  These intelligent and excellent people I work with gradually became laughing and swaying zombies.  They weren't the people I know.  They were numb.

As I left the bar at midnight and walked home, the only thing I could think of is how grateful I am that I get to feel and experience every millisecond of my life, that I always get to be myself and not a drunken or high version of myself.  Life is too short to pass by in segments of stupor.

I grew up thinking the reason I didn't go out drinking was because I wasn't allowed.  Now I don't because I want to be present and experience and remember all of this great adventure my life is.  I don't want to be numb, I want to feel whatever life has to throw at me, whether it's the exuberance and accomplishment of standing on a mountain or the remorse and sorrow of trudging through a family trial.  It's such a blessing that I can feel.

And as of right now, I feel like I might just cry when I have to say goodbye to Waterton tomorrow.