“The old has gone, the new is here!”

After four and a half months Jack is no longer being trained to use the toilet. He has a box, full of litter, and he loves it.

I’ve been struggling with this decision for weeks, feeling like a “quitter”. He would poop and pee  in the toilet with much coaxing from Curt and I. Curt literally locked himself and Jack in the bathroom the other day and had a man-to-kitty showdown. He demanded jack poop before allowed out of the bathroom. He eventually pooped and all was well.

Until he started peeing right in front of the front door (signifying to us that he doesn’t like that we’re gone from home more…he’s lonely…and he’s having “anxiet-pee”)

I’m getting baptized tomorrow at sunrise in the Atlantic Ocean. A few weeks ago my preacher was talking about God’s love. Specifically about his perfect and unending love for me just as I am. Suddenly I realized that I didn’t really believe God loved me. I accepted Jesus as my savior long ago, but there was always a small part of me that doubted His love. 5% of me believed I had to make up for my shortcomings by being funny, or sexy, or smart, or slutty, or hard working, or talented, or “something”. I had to be something or someone else to REALLY be loved. As I sat there in church it hit me… that just isn’t true. God loves me just exactly how I am. He made me this way. Constanty compensating for my perceived “unloveable-ness”  is preventing me from really walking with God. It is preventing me from receiving the blessings God has designed for me. It is poisoning my realtionship with God. It is poisoning me. If I can’t let God love me, I can’t let Curt love me. God loves me. Curt loves me. My doubt in myself is a poison to both relationships.

Now what does this have to do with Jack pooping in the toilet? As I watched him frantically dig like a backhoe on crack, it occured to me I was trying to make Jack someone he isn’t, and he was trying to be the kitty he thought we wanted him to be. He didn’t enjoy the toilet, not jumping on it, not the little ring of litter, not awkwardly hovering his butt over the hole, and he hated not being able to dig. Jack is a digger. It’s how God made him. He is a vivacious, rambuctious, mischievous, and intensly playful kitten  who loves to dig and who deserves to be loved for exactly that. So tomorrow as I submerge myself in the Atlantic, I surrender to God’s love. To the Holy Spirit within me that His divine gift.

No more pretending to be what I think other people want. No more pressuring Jack to be someone he’s not. He’ll poop in a box and love it. And I receive God’s love and the gift of eternal salvation and love it!

2Corinthians 5:17 “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here”

My first newspaper article…

So after much lingering irritation I finally submitted my opinion to FIU’s local newspaper The Beacon, for publication….

Why is FIU wasting nearly $4 million dollars a year?

By: Bree Smith                                          

The economy sucks right now, everyone and their dog is perfectly aware of that. FIU is struggling with its budget, every student and their family is perfectly aware of that. We’re all tightening our belts, and going without luxuries and, in some cases, necessities. So why is FIU cutting academic programs and campus wide scholarships opportunities while wasting nearly 4 million dollars a year on electricity?

Have you noticed how the classrooms on FIU’s campus are always FREEZING? Even through winter, when we had lows in the 40’s the air conditioning continued to blast. Even if is 95° outside I carry a sweater with me every day, because I know once I get to class I’ll have to sit in a virtual refrigerator. During my calc 2 final last semester my fingers actually began to hurt not just from the two hours of grueling integrals, but because the bones inside my fingers had become so cold they ached.

Energy consultants recommend setting your air conditioner to cool at 78° and your furnace to heat at 68°. 3 percent to 5 percent more energy is used for each degree the furnace is set above 68° and for each degree the air conditioner is set below 78°. Since I’ve never found a working thermostat on FIU’s campus I don’t know exactly what temperature it is in each room, I do know that it’s not 78°. For arguments sake, let’s say it’s 72° (which I still feel is too generous). Having the classrooms 6° cooler than the recommended 78° results in 18% to 30% more electricity being used.

I was unable to find how much electricity FIU uses yearly, and exactly what rate they pay per kwh (Kilowatt hour). But I was able to find that New York University uses 150 million kwh per year, and power companies charge as little as 5 cents to 16 cents per kwh nationwide.  Lets say FIU pays 10 cents per kwh, and that FIU also uses 150 million kwh a year. That means that FIU pays $15 million dollars a year for electricity. By setting the thermostats to 78° they would save anywhere from 18% to 30% yearly on their electric bill; which equates to a savings of $2.7 million to $4.5 million dollars a year.

FIU please stop freezing the students in their desks. Stop wasting electricity. Stop wasting money. Bring back the campus-wide scholarships for students who so desperately need them. Realize and support the potential of this dynamic student body and challenge yourselves to act with the same resourcefulness and drive.

We’ll see if they get the message. Big Dummies.

Holy Crap it’s Loud in Here!

So, Curt’s lost 20 pounds in the last 5 months and I gained 7… Boo.

Hitting the gym, going to church, finding myself…decide to revisit Yoga tonight.

So here I am looking at my own plump ass straining to breath, telling myself to be peaceful, calm, at one with myself. And all of  a sudden I’m aware of all the actual thoughts in my brain..

“Wow, she’s has funky defined hamstrings when she does down dog….Is she better than me?”

“How does that woman not have her hair up in a pony-tail?”

“Really? Really? You two show up five minutes late, with your own personalized yoga mats, and you suck at the poses! Fuckers.”

“the yoga instructor doesn’t like me”

“He just smirked…is it cause I’m failing horribly at triangle?”

“Wait, what? Breath through the nose? the mouth? Oh God…I mean thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus. Please, Lord, fill my mind with peace. Please Lord, help me to stop judging everyone in this -DUDE SHE’S SUCH A QUITTER, THAT POOCH AINT GOIN’ NOWHERE IF YOU DON’T TRY BITCH- OH!!!!!!!!! Gosh, there I go again, Lord I’m SOOOOOOO sorry please just shut all the negativity up….oh fuck I don’t even know what move I’m supposed to be on now…is this even helping? I’m not feeling my inner skinny at all. fuck.”

My mind is so loud. not just busy and full but LOUD. I’m talking “swords and spears, peas and carrots” loud. Like a chicken coop, or a thug daycare with no supervision. Crazy Ass Cocophany. I’ve been praying this whole time for God to guide my thoughts, when in reality maybe my brain just needs to shut up. 

I have bad dreams every night. I mean BAD. Like I’m being raped, mutilated, chased, watching loved ones die, accidentally killing someone I love, literally petting the skin off of my kitty accidentally. Every night I pray for good dreams or at the least a “neutral” dream…and every night I have these terrible dreams. As I acknowledged the noise in my brain tonight, it occurred to me that the noise might be what’s poisoning my dreams.

It occured to me that the dreams aren’t just “bad”. More specifically they are full of fear and terror.

Fear and terror I can work with. “bad” is pretty darn vague.

So, Lord help me to recognize what’s terror and fear, and with the power of the holy spirit within me help me to challenge and overcome the voices. “For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of courage, love, and self discipline.”

Everybody Poops

For those that don’t know. Curt and I have welcomed an amazing new addition to our family. His name is Jack.

He’s a stunning tuxedo kitten weighing in at three pounds.

In just a week and a half he’s already brought so much energy, joy, and love into our home. It’s amazing how pure an animals love is.

A few facts I’ve learned from Jack…

1. His poop is stinkier than any poop I’ve ever smelled. Stinkier than even Curt! Which is pretty damn impressive considering he weighs three pounds and Curt weighs 186.

2. Letting someone rub your belly really is the ultimte sign of trust.

3. Sometimes a needle from a Christmas tree can be a better toy than even the fanciest lil invention from Petsmart.

But back to poop. First, I am still constantly amused that Curt and I talk about Jacks poop all the time. “Has he pooped today?” “Was it solid?” “Did you scoop it?” “Did he accidentally get poop on his feet again?” “Did you clean the poop off his feet?”

Poop and all, the journey in our home right now is courtesy of “The Litter Kwitter”. I’m training lil’ Jack to go to the bathroom in the toilet. For all you skeptics out there check it out www.litterkwitter.com. So far we have accomplished the following

1. Jack now poops and pees (almost all the time) in his litter kwitter

2. We have successfully switched to flushable litter (this means we can start to put the litter kwitter on the toilet seat!)

Major misshaps to date:

1. Complete rejection of the new litter (initially) resulting in a pile of very stinky poop under the christmas tree on my grandpas apron.

2. After mistakenly cleaning out the litter kwitter in the bathtub, jack has decided that that bathroom itself is a great place to pee. :/ Still trying to combat that…

This will be a log of Jack’s Poop. Stay tooned for poopdates. Complete with pics and videos (provided I learn how to do that)

Keep Poopin People!

Jack, Curt, and Bree

The Girl Who Was Good at Everything…

I’m good at everything I do, I’m not great at everything, but I’m good. Real good. Check that- I don’t have any natural athletic ability, I do however have great sportsmanship, a fantastic love of the game, and an ability to learn any sport. MVP vote in my future…probably not…but “most appreciated player” “most generous player” definitely!

This is a quality that one might think could bring comfort or joy…but…no. It’s actually quite confusing. Bitsy Dungaree’s blog “Don’t ask” resonates with me on this one. She writes,

“Author Po Bronson begins What Should I Do With My Life? with a discussion about the dreaded cocktail party question: what do you do? There are many reasons for disliking “the question” but Bronson figures, if we don’t like the question, it’s probably because we don’t like our answer.

I hate admitting that I am an actress.

Do I hate being an actress? Of course not! I love it! But I hate that silence in the moment before I have to answer what do you do? with I’m an actress.”

I too hate the silence before the answer…but even more so I hate the silence after my answer. I, myself, am an actress, an executive professional, a waitress, a nurturer, a woman in love, a dedicated animal lover, a manager, a bartender, a homemaker, a student, a christian, a pretty girl, a wine lover. And I’m good at all of those things.

If I actually rattle off the list above, I’m going to sound like a complete nutcase. So, what do I say?

Currently I’m pursuing my second degree in meteorology. After acting in New York for three years I found myself really unhappy. I didn’t like living in New York. I was getting a lot of pressure from my agent to do commercial work; to land a Colgate commercial! Which I had absolutely zero interest in. But I wasn’t making a single penny doing the kind of theatre I felt really passionate about.

I missed nature, I dreamed of owning my own home someday with a big tree in my front yard that I could hang a tire swing from, and watching my dogs run around a large backyard that butted up to a creek. That wasn’t going to happen in Manhattan, and as I watched the devastation of the ‘06 hurricane season I felt moved.  I’ve always been in love with weather. I watch the weather channel like most watch soap operas. I am deeply moved by the power of the atmosphere. I realized that somewhere along the way I had convinced myself that I wasn’t smart enough to be a scientist, and that it wasn’t possible to be both an artist and a scientist anyway.

Well, that’s crap.

So, here I am pursuing my second degree in meteorology, faced with more awkward silence then ever before. If I tell people I’m an artist pursuing a degree in science because I believe that I can have a part-time job that pays the bills in meteorology saving people’s lives while acting in all kinds of theatre I love without concern of the finances, with 2 dogs, a tire swing in my front yard, and the love of my life right next to me…well they don’t exactly shower me with support. Most often they cock their head to one side, give a small half smile/half laugh and wait for me to start laughing with them. But I don’t laugh.

Am I crazy? Is the girl whose good at everything simply spread herself too thin? People say “Follow your dreams! Stop at nothing! Love like you’ve never been hurt! Never stop believing”. I want to know if the people who shout these things follow their own damn advice. Cause sometimes I feel like I’m never going to get there.

How many dreams can one life hold? I mean really? How many dreams can fit in one life? How many heartaches? How much grief? How much love? How much courage? And when do we know when we’ve hit our max?

GET that ball! get THAT ball! get that BALL!

Laying in bed last night with the fear of being loved creeping into my stomach, urging me to suffocate the man laying next to me with affection. I heard myself say, “I love you.” A phrase I’ve said numerous times to this man. However this time the emphasis wasn’t on “love”, it was on “you”. Thinking of all the stumbling mistakes I’ve made, allowing the devil to manipulate past choices into reasons and fears that maybe I’m not worthy of this mans love. It occurred to me. As a woman carving her way through the products of abuse I have allowed men to fall in love with me, or rather the idea of me. But when I ask these men why they love me, most often they tell me, “because you challenge me”. Occasionally it’s “because you take care of me”…but it’s always because of what I DO for them. Strange how it’s possible for someone to claim to love ME, because of what I do for THEM.

Challenge yourself.

Take care of yourself.

Love me for ME.

Looking at the sleeping man next to me, who asks nothing of me other than to be me each day. Who hugs me the hardest and kisses me the sweetest when I am my most boldly and unapologetic-ly me. At this moment, while praying for God to fill me with the grace an courage to receive this love. I felt myself say “i love YOU.” I love this man for the man he is, not for what he does for me. I rose out of the same lost selfishness of the men of my past without even realizing that I was guilty of the same thing!

Challenge myself.

Take care of myself.

Love myself.

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