tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44704456588655165502024-03-12T22:19:21.201-07:00Life on EspressoThe cup of jo that makes me goJen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-32526829739169972522013-11-19T11:54:00.002-08:002013-11-21T22:36:40.440-08:00Lessons Learned<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As I was running around my house the other day looking for a computer disc, my scattered and haphazard desk resembles more of a collage of skewed papers and bills than a place where work occurs, I came across a pink envelope with the ever familiar handwriting which stopped me dead in my tracks. It was the last birthday card I had ever received from my dad. I sat down on the floor and I re-read the card that I had read probably 100 times since his death. It was simple, nothing life shattering but in his handwriting said, "To my beautiful daughter on her birthday, I love you more than words can express." As old memories rolled over me like waves of the sea; tears just began to stream down my face. It has been 3 years since I have received a birthday card from my dad and as I prepare for yet another candle on the cake, I think about how far I have come over those last 30 years and the lessons I continue to learn.<br />
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Love is real. I think growing up I had this fairy tale belief in love. That it was all about prince charmings and happy ever afters. Yet, what I have learned is that love is raw, big, and at times desperate. I re-live the moments of my father's last months of life and I feel nothing but warmth. It is the quilt that covers you when nothing else will keep you warm. It is my father's best friend who slept on the couch, while my father slept in his hospital bed, so that my mother and I could get sleep. It is the phone call from friends for no reason. It is the look on the groom's face, as my best friend walks down the aisle. This kind of love changes people, it changed me, and I can never be more grateful.<br />
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I used to have a real problem when I was little. I talked to all sorts of strangers all the time. My mom would look away for a second and the next I would be chatting with a stranger in the middle of the women's department at Macy's. It is a miracle I wasn't abducted and the face of the missing child on the milk carton. I believe that this ability to talk openly and honestly has allowed me to build meaningful relationships. My friends are my greatest assets. They are my family, they are the brothers and sisters I never had. They give my life substance. I find delight in their successes.<br />
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I used to be a different person growing up. I was so intense and focused that I couldn't see the bigger picture. I learned that success is a personal measure, not a societal goal. That what is important in life, is what you deem worthy of importance. There is no substitute for family. You can never have too many friends, and laughter can change everything. That half the fat ice cream will never be as good as the real thing. That a good cry is cathartic and can remind you that you are alive. Against popular opinion you can listen to Christmas music any season.<br />
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I sure do hope that in the next 30 years I will get better at saying the things I want to say, regardless if the answer is not what I want to hear. I hope that I will be able to decipher between the moments that truly matter and the ones that don't. I hope that the walls of my home will reverberate with the sound of children's laughter. I want to look in the mirror and know I am beautiful at any age. I want to believe that life is full of endless possibilities, and that your glass can be infinitely half full. </div>
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For now I smile, because all I know is how truly blessed I feel in this moment to have family and friends who love me, the opportunity to have a job that takes care of people, and how at peace I am with adding another candle to the cake. </div>
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I love you all </div>
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- j</div>
Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-30461750352899528982013-08-11T12:53:00.002-07:002013-11-22T18:08:08.276-08:00The Perfect Storm<div>
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Growing up in Indiana, you know when a storm is approaching. My dad used to say you can tell because all the leaves turn upside down before the rain, and by the rich smell the earth has before the storm. When I was little I was terrified of storms, there were countless crying episodes at the Pasko compound secondary to my fear of storms. I remember my dad would stand on our back porch and watch the rain pouring down as the dark clouds rolling in, as he proceeded to watch and listen to the lightning and thunder. While it has taken me years, I finally am able to appreciate a storm, the unpredictable perfect combination of cold air meeting hot air and the electrostatic chemistry that follows. Much like a perfect storm, I believe that real life is much the same: a little bit of chance, and a lot of being in the right place at the right time.</div>
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When it rains, it pours as the old saying goes and so it was for one my friends. My friend was moving to a new place, starting a new job, with a guy we all were a bit skeptical about. I blame myself and others a bit, because we were the silent witnesses to what was about to happen. The two were engaged for almost a year when I get a call a month before their wedding " Jen, the wedding is off. He told me he didn't love me." There is a certain sort of pain that comes with that statement, an awkward card to wedding guests stating the wedding has been cancelled, and the throwing away of thousands of little napkins with your name and his printed on it. In my heart I hated this man for what he did to her, but in a way I was so grateful because I knew something better was in store for her. Yet perhaps things do happen for a reason, worlds collide and bam, my beautiful friend met her perfect companion. I am overjoyed to report that my friend will be getting married in the fall, to a man that couldn't be a better match. </div>
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If my friends today would have met me in college, I don't think they would recognize me. I was the ultimate planner, the queen of routine, the "to-do list" master, and the rule follower. Yet the spring of my last year in college I remember my life changed for ever. All my perfect plans were shattered. I had been rejected from every medical school I applied, my father had been diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer, and I was left picking up the pieces of the life I once knew. It is a rarity in life to have the ability to re-invent yourself, but this is what I did. From some of the darkest times of my life, I have truly learned to live. I am happy to report I haven't written a single to-do list since that year. I have learned that spontaneity is the spice of life. That time is perhaps one of the greatest gifts you can be given. This was one of the most influential years of my life, a year of rebuilding, a year of growth. It has given me the tenacity and strength to know I can weather almost any storm.<br />
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I received a call from one of my good friends last week and though we hadn't talked in probably over a month, you know she is a good friend because we seemlessly picked up where we had left off. We began chatting briefly about the weeks that have progressed and then without hesitation or presentation she says. I'm moving to Uganda in October. While I am driving in my car (a ticket waiting to happen) a chill came over me, and tears began welling up in my eyes- happy tears. Perhaps it is because I knew her long journey to this point, the unhappiness in her job, the courage I knew it took to get to this point, and the will to act. I couldn't be more happy for her, I think it is the perfect timing for something truly beautiful in her life<br />
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I often wonder am I doing what I am supposed to be doing? Am I where I am supposed to be? After asking these questions, I don't feel the turbulence and unsettled feelings of my early 20s, but a sense of peace. I have come so far, evaluated and re-evaluated. I am surrounded by good people, who care about me. I have family and friends that are supportive and loving. I like to get out of bed and go to work in the mornings. I can delight in the beauty that surrounds me. This is half the battle. And while there are many pieces to my puzzle that I can't seem to place, like love and career, I know that at any moment opportunities arise and clarity can set in. You just have to be patient enough to weather the storm.<br />
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Have a fabulous week<br />
xoxo<br />
jen*<br />
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Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-78112079904687286182013-07-28T12:49:00.000-07:002013-07-28T12:56:05.983-07:00The simple things...<div>
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My dad and I used to roll down the car windows on summer days and sing Jimmy Buffet songs at the top of our lungs. I was probably the only 11 year-old who knew every song to the Cheeseburger and Paradise CD compilation. We would laugh at out attempts to harmonize and to do instrumentals with vocals. I can see my father's face so clearing; laughing his hardy laugh and smiling. Life was simple, warm, and good. I think about these times and wonder why life seemed so effortless.</div>
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But, I think this is because when you are eleven you actually can't imagine that summer will end. You think that school will never start and you can run through the sprinklers all year long. Yet somewhere you learn life is a little more complicated. </div>
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This week I have found myself in the single stall bathroom at work crying my eyes out. I am totally embarrassed to admit this, but this is the only place I can go where I know no one will hear me sobbing. I love my job, but it reminds me daily of the things I need to and want to do in this life. These past few weeks I have taken care of a 32 y/o man with the worst metastatic colon cancer I have ever seen. When you are 32 you are not supposed to get cancer. Explaining it to him is even worse, because when you are 32 the only thing you can think about is fishing in the river and drinking beers with friends. Instead he is in a hospital room with a pain pump and IV nutrition. Perhaps the hardest part of this all is realizing that this man could be me, or anyone of the friends, or family I so dearly love.</div>
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As I come upon my 30th year, I have realized more than ever I don't have all the answers. While I might be a little bit wiser, I still struggle on a daily basis on where to go next. In the last several years I have come to appreciate that there is never a reason to go to bed mad, laughter is the best medicine, happiness cannot be sought only found, and that having all the answers is overrated. I have realized that plans were meant to be changed, and that spontaneity is the spice of life. And perhaps most importantly, Love can change people. <br />
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I love to make homemade Valentine's day cards, and each year I cut and paste construction papers hearts to a card with one simple quote from Mother Teresa, " Where there is love, there is life." From the single lady who should never give love advice, I do know that when you discover how to love people and things without the requirement of love in return your life will be forever changed. These are the simple things I am trying to live by these days.<br />
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Some of the most joy provoking moments of my life revolve around the ordinary. I love long drawn out dinners with friends and family. Last night we went to one of my favorite restaurants in town, where I frequent often. We sat outside under some incandescent lighting and talked and laughed all night. So simple, yet worth every penny. I love running outside, feeling the wind hit me in the face, and hearing the stories of others. I love getting a knock on my door from my neighbor at 9 AM, smiling with a bag of homemade macaroons ready for my taste testing. <br />
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So I ask what is holding us back today? I think about all the things I cannot wait to do. The marathons I am going to run or the art classes I am going to take, the swimming lessons to be swum, and wonder why should I wait. Memories are just waiting to be made. Thus I get ready to scurry out of my house to meet up with friends, I can't help but sing:<br />
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" I LIKE MINE WITH LETTUCE AND TOMATO, HEINZ 57 AND FRENCH FRIED POTATOES, BIG KOSHER PICKLE, AND A COLD DRAFT BEER, WELL GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY WHICH WAY DO I STEER........"</div>
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Have a gorgeous week!<br />
xoxo<br />
jen*</div>
Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-62511601553031403142013-05-11T23:05:00.002-07:002013-05-11T23:05:12.881-07:00An Ode to My Mother on Mother's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think there is that moment that hits all women, oh my gosh " I am turning into my mother." While I can try to deny as much as I can, I know there is a fair bit of Cath Pasko in me, and I am ok with that because my mother is a pretty phenomenal lady. She exudes love, warmth, and has a tenacity to overcome obstacles and disappointment like no one I have ever met. She is the "cake boss" and a cook extraordinaire. She is a loyal friend, and an excellent listener. She is the hostess, I wish I could be. She is an excellent shopping partner. She is a comedian without even trying. She is strong, brave, and courageous. She has taught me that to be beautiful on the inside is much more important than the outside. She is a constant support. She is my best friend and she has taught me life is precious and short and that you should say the things you mean. <br />
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While I am my mother's daughter, we do have very different lives. She was wed at 19 and was married for 43 years, I will be lucky to be married by 43. As an added bonus my mother was engaged 2x in her life, of course having to tell the other guy she had met my dad, the ever charming. She would have had 2 children by the age of 29, while I am lucky to remember to water my plants. I often wonder how my mother raised such a stubborn, independent woman and then I realized she wouldn't have had it any other way. She raised me to believe in myself, to believe that the impossible was impossible, and for that I am ever grateful.<br />
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Thus, Mom, while I have failed at getting a letter in the mail or even a gift delivered on time, please know that I love you more than words can express. You are an inspiration to me daily, and you encourage me to be better person. You are the woman I call when boys break my heart, and the woman I want to share my greatest joys. I only hope I can be half of the mother you have been to me. While I wish I could spend Mother's day with you this year, know that there is nowhere else I would rather be than with you. Please know that I love you and I am so glad that I am your daughter. <br />
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Happy Mothers Day<br />
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<br />Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-67166259574119466742013-04-26T11:16:00.002-07:002013-04-26T11:21:04.211-07:00A Tourist in Paris....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yes, as much as I hate to label myself with this term, I am most definitely a tourist in Paris. Over the last 2 days I have really knocked it out of the park with seeing the sites of Paris. So in order to make best use of our time on Day 3, we decided we would exercise/ run to all of the tourist hot spots, prior to the Parisians even waking. This is where our 6 mile run turned into 8 miles. Thus, my last two days in review...<br />
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Eiffel Tower<br />
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I did think it was going to be bigger in real life, but the eiffel tower looms over Paris as few tall buildings exist in the city limits. Chris served as our historian for the trip, as my French history is subpar, thus the eiffel tower was originally built for the World Fair of 1889 and is the tallest building in Paris.<br />
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Arc de Triompe<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So next stop on our run Arc de Triompe, I took pictures and learned the history then approximately 100 feet later wiped out on ground on the " 5th avenue of paris" the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;">Champs-</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><em style="color: inherit; font-style: normal;">Élysées. </em><em style="font-style: normal;">Thus forgetting all knowledge of what I had learned about this structure secondary to sheer mortification from my fall </em></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><em style="font-style: normal;">and now apparent limp, we moved on.</em></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; line-height: 16px;"><em style="color: inherit; font-style: normal;">Garden de Tullerias/Louvre </em></span><br />
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I love gardens, flowers, and fountains thus the Garden de Tullerias was a huge hit. Nothing else life shattering just a gorgeous park that opens into the entrance of the Louve.<br />
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At this time I was becoming "hangry", which is a combination of hungry and angry, so we decided to head on back towards our home and grab breakfast. We went to the most adorable patissierie. The woman who waited on us had on the most gorgeous burnt orange apron on and a blouse that was dark blue and speckled with a pattern the same color as the as her apron. I was in love and of course seemed very French. I ordered an almond crossiant and cafe crema. I swear this was the best pastry I have every eaten, thus now nourished I was ready to proceed.<br />
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We then headed to Sacre le Coure<br />
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Sacre Le Coure is probably my favorite tourist site in Paris. It is an old basillica built long ago on top of a hill overlooking Paris. From here you can see the entire city, it really gives you a feel for how big Paris really is. Truly gorgeous. </div>
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The rest of the afternoon was dedicated to eating. Yes eating, which I have done so much of on this vacation. I am going to have to eat salads for months maybe years to work off all of the creme sauces, pomme frites, macaroons, and creme brulee I have eaten on this trip. However, I would like to emphasize how much I love a good macaroon. I swear they are little puffs of goodness that melt in your mouth with a creme filled center that make you feel like you are eating air. Check out <a href="http://www.pierreherme.com/">Pierre Hermes,</a> supposedly the best macaroons in town per our tour guide Steeve. As an added bonus I was thouroughly entertained by the fact that there is an iphone app for this store. </div>
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Lastly, no day is complete without cheese!! We went to Barthelemy for some amazing stinky cheese. It was a true parisian fromagerie as their English was as about as good as my French and the place had a true stench. Thus I am trying to do interpretive dance to communicate about cheese, as well as by pointing and touching all the cheese in sight. I learned very quickly that touching the cheese is a huge no no in France. As the guy finally got my attention by making claw like hands that resembled bear claws everytime I touched the cheese. No wonder the French love Americans, we have to have our hands in everything. </div>
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Ok another day down, more to come </div>
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Au revoir </div>
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jen*</div>
Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-17622345134254380732013-04-24T17:52:00.000-07:002013-04-24T17:52:48.884-07:00Champagne!!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Paris day two.... road trip!!! So today was a surprise trip to the Champagne region of France, for Chris's dad's birthday. If you know me at all, you would know I have a profound deep love for champagne. It is my drink of choice, as I believe every day is worth celebrating. Thus my joy as we all loaded into a tour van to Champagne was absolutely uncontainable. This was only enhanced by our ever so charming tour guide Steeve. Yes, steeve has 2 "E"s in his name, and as he is quite the history buff educating me on the basics of champagne.<br />
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So things you should know about Champagne, in France it is an everyday drink- no special occasion required. It is a way of life for these people, and it has been in these families for hundreds of years. Champagne is an Art. It takes 4-6 years before a harvest actually is placed on market, thus champagne is also an investment. The smaller the bubble the better the champagne. The more expensive the champagne the more it is marketed to Americans. Don Perignon was first a monk, second a champagne man.<br />
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Ok enough fun facts, we started at a small family owned vineyard, <a href="http://www.lemaire-champagne.com/en/champagne-rc-lemaire.html">R. C LeMaire</a>, where they make champagne. It was my favorite. They wanted us to understand the art of their work and how it truly is a family affair. The champagne was phenomenal, and our group bought 16 bottles.<br />
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The next vineyard was Pommery, a well known commercial vineyard. We explored the caves, where they keep the champagne. The caves spanned miles and we were amazed at how much champagne could be stored. The champagne was also excellent.<br />
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View from the bottom of the champagne caves<br />
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We headed home for a night in, of cheese, and more cheese, with more champagne. Honestly, a perfect evening if you ask me. More adventures for tomorrow<br />
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Au revoir<br />
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Jen*<br />
<br />Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-70705078823742501972013-04-21T21:40:00.001-07:002013-04-21T21:40:49.160-07:00Pasko in Paris!!!<img height="320" src="webkit-fake-url://04F24E70-749F-4B34-BF20-AC0184D7927E/image.tiff" width="237" /><br />
It has been a long, cold, wet winter in Portland. It has been some time since my last entry, and much of this is due to my hectic schedule. The second year of residency is notorious for being the worst year of residency, and I would have to agree. While I love my job there is something about this year that has weighed particularly heavy on my soul, perhaps it is the constant frustration, the inability to do anything right, or the feeling that you are not progressing in your own personal life. Thus mid- march this year I made a brash, but much needed decision to travel to France. As my mother would say to me when I was little, I was in need of some ER, or lovingly known as emotional refueling.<br />
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Thus I boarded the plane Saturday for a trip to Paris, with layover in Amsterdam. One of my favorite things about this trip is that I was on a sky bus, which is the most luxurious plane I have ever been on. Remote controls, luxury hand soaps, and free wine on all european flights. I watched every movie I haven't had time to see in the last year to see in one setting. I recently had a discussion with one of my friends where we talked about if we had 1 rainy day in Portland with nothing to do, we would watch movies all day and wear pajamas. I basically did that yesterday and would like to report it was awesome. Argo and Perks of being a Wallflower are my top picks.<br />
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Secondly, the guy sitting next to me on my 12 hr plane ride, Alec, who lives in the south of France and was just happened to be working for my good friend's father -in -law in Hood River. Really, of all the people to sit next to, I sat next to someone who we have a mutual acquaintances. Truly, the world has never been smaller or bigger for me.<br />
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So I arrived in France at 10:30 AM and then it basically was a scavenger hunt to get to my apartment I was renting. So I cashed in some Euros and then hopped on the RER train into Paris, which is the public transportation. Having done some evaluation. I knew the station I needed to get out on, but was relying on my GPS to get me to the address. So as I came above grown with the largest suitcase known to mankind to ake in my first sights of Paris I knew I was in love. Soot stained white rock homes with gorgeous black little balconies, with plants looking over the city, crowded street bistros, and sun shining down on me. A truly glorious day, until my phone's international data plan failed.<br />
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Thus the next 1 hr that existed was of me, meeting Parisians in my broken french "Pardon, Parlez vous angles?" in the dire attempts of finding my apartment, with the last resort plan of me getting a cab. There were brief moments in my head where I was kicking myself for not Rosetta stoning prior to this experience, but all in all I couldn't have been happier. Thus from the help of approximately 15 Parisians, who I can't decide if they could sense the sheer panic in my voice or just the desperation in my eyes, who walked, pointed, directed me to the big brown door which is my apartment, I thank you. Whoever said parisians hate Americans, yesterday they became the nicest people EVER.<br />
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My place is delightful, think Louis the 16th meets small apartment. There is a huge chandelier, and gold encrusted mirror, with furniture that does appear to date back to Louis. Quickly settling in I met up with the Chris Connelly who will be known as Christophe for this trip and Courtney Nall who will be Coco-belle for the rest of my adventures. We walked along the Seine, prior to have a nutritional consult with an adorable bistro. Salad Nicquoise, and cafe de cremas were high on my list. We walked around Notre Dame, and the little side streets of Paris. The town was all in a bustle yesterday, it was in the 60s, sunny and I felt like every Parisian had left their home and was outside. We had plans of attempting getting ice cream, but every ice cream store had lines around the corner. We ended the evening with a delicious European dinner, with old friends and new. Laughing and copious amounts of champagne and wine were absorbed. Did you know champagne is cheaper than wine here? This is excellent news.<br />
We are off to a day trip today, the location cannot be shared until this evening due to its sensitivity as it is a surprise, more details to come.<br />
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Au Revoir!<br />
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jen*<br />
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<br />Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-70995564532121327372012-12-18T10:21:00.002-08:002012-12-18T10:21:39.374-08:00SNOW!<br />
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<br />It is snowing in Portland today, not just snow flakes but snow chunks are falling from the sky. It reminds me of something magical as if I am sitting in my own snow globe at work. While I should be studying or reading the latest journal article on liver cirrhosis, I am instead sitting in my office cubical waiting for my next patient and feeling moved to write a blog about those glorious flakes of white.
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Besides being amazingly beautiful, the snow reminds me of new beginnings. It is fresh, cooling, and something about it makes me want to curl up next to the fire with a warm cup of cocoa. There is something in its purity that leaves me fresh and renewed. Perhaps this is the panacea we all need right now. <br />
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I have been overwhelmed with sadness and grief over the last couple of weeks tragedies. It truly shakes my soul to the core, to read the paper or to watch the television as the pictures of the innocent children fill the screen. I live in Oregon, and approximately 1 month ago I had no idea where Clackamas was, and now I and the entire country does. I often find myself asking why do bad things happen? There is no answer. I think the thing about tragedy in the darkest of moments is the ability to see what good can come from these situations. It is in the aftermath, that rebuilding and healing can occur. While I am less concerned about my constitutional rights to bear arms, I hope that true work is being made on gun policy. I hope that we are having a frank discussions about mental illness in this country. I hope that we will find peace in the light of tragedy. I hope that we are able to see the snow, in the dark of night. <br />
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I still believe in the innate goodness of people. I believe that this is a place I want to have children. I believe that this is a place I want to grow old and wear big hats. I believe that beauty surrounds me daily. I believe that love will prevail. I believe in forgiveness and rebuilding. </div>
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Let it Snow!</div>
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Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-22846665000177493652012-12-13T12:59:00.002-08:002012-12-13T13:09:59.165-08:00Birthday Blog<div>
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My favorite movie growing up was "The Wizard of Oz," I literally watched it on repeat. I would frolick around our house singing "Somewhere over the Rainbow" as if I was a budding Judy Garland. I cried every time I saw those darn monkeys, and I was mesmerized by the Emerald City. Thus you can imagine my delight, when my mother asked me what I wanted to be for Halloween when I was 6 years old. I mean Dorothy was an obvious winner. I remember my mom had bought these black patent leather shoes and each night after school for the entire month of October she and I would glitter my shoes with the most magnificent color of red glitter. I just remember how I would jump up and down with glee as I sprinkled red glitter all over the shoes. I was so eager, so full of excitement. I don't know if you imagine what 31 days of glitter looks like on a pair of shoes, but I can. It was stinkin' amazing. <br />
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The truth is I often wish I could view the world as I did when I was 6 year old. Everything was so fresh and new. Life seemed so magical and everything sparkled like those damn ruby slippers. The truth is as I just blew out another candle on my birthday cake this year. I can honestly say while I didn't wear ruby slippers, I didn't feel remorse or an inch of bitterness as my 29th year came to greet me. I believe that there are truly seasons of our lives, the highs and lows, and the years where we try to make sense of it all. Thus my annual birthday blog this year is dedicated to the learning the lessons that will keep us young at heart.<br />
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My greatest lesson I have learned over the years is that the relationships we foster matter. Perhaps it is because I grew up as an only child, but I love my friends like they are my family. I feel so truly blessed to have people in my life that care about me the way my friends do. I had the opportunity of welcoming one of my very best friend's baby into the world yesterday. Being the sap that I am, I could barely hold my tears of excitement for the couple and journey that lie ahead for them and their new baby girl. Sharing in the joys and successes of others is one of the things that has truly allowed me to be a better friend and a more free spirited individual.<br />
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I believe the one thing that I miss most about my youth is the resilience- the bounce back. I watched a little girl skipping down the street a couple of days ago fall down, and rip her most adorable tights. Tears poured down her cheeks instantaneously, yet the immediate kiss on the knee and the girl was back to skipping and laughing. If only adult life was like this. My goal in the coming year is to be more resilient, to let hurtful words roll off my back like water, and to forgive more.</div>
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I remember when I was little and my mom would get dressed up for parties. I truly thought she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world. She wore these really tall high heels, fire engine red lipstick, and I would watch from the bed in admiration. While I do think my mother is an attractive person on the outside, the thing that makes her the most beautiful to me these days is how big and gorgeous her heart is. In my 29th year I have come to terms with the fact I will never be a size 2 or be a model. Thus I am going to strive to work more on my interior than my exterior this year. To try to smile more, and frown less, to laugh more, and worry less. No botox, no plastic surgery, just me learning to age gracefully with a smile on my face.<br />
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Lastly, I could write an entire book on the do's and don'ts of dating from the last year. I have learned you can change no one. You cannot help anyone find happiness. You cannot make excuses for men who leave you at marathons. You cannot potty train 26 year olds. The list continues. While most of my friends are in serious relationships, or married I sometimes feel like the lone cowboy searching for a mate in the desolate streets of Portland. Thus, I have vowed to be more open to new opportunities. Thus my friends have helped to place me on a dating website. While it is nothing what I expected and I find myself saying no more than yes, it has left me hopeful, for possibilities, and prince charmings.<br />
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Perhaps this is what being young at heart is. You don't have to be Peter Pan and never grow up, but just be adaptable to change. Learn to appreciate the people in your life. Learn to live, laugh and cry without fear. To know love and to be hopeful, and before you know it you will realize you truly are as young as you feel. <br />
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Thank you for a gorgeous, and memorable birthday. I am truly blessed. XOXO - jen*</div>
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Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-63543395816761660672012-09-10T22:51:00.001-07:002012-09-10T23:00:41.097-07:00Metamorphosis<div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I am getting ready to go to my 10 year reunion this week. I have thought a lot about who I was back then and the person I have become. Yeah, I still have curly hair and giggle incessantly, but so much has changed. It is astonishing to me to think of the metamorphosis I have had. While I joke that many of my memories from high school have been replaced with useless medical jargon, I do remember how driven I was to succeed. When I was 18 I knew exactly what I wanted, I only wish I could say the same at 28. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">Ten years of life experience, of success, joy, disappointment, death, and failure and I am here to tell you that many of my life goals have changed. That sometimes the things we wanted so badly in life, were just detours to what we really needed to know. I have learned that success and status in this life mean nothing. That the relationships we build and the people that surround us are everything. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;">I have come to believe in change. Today was the first day of</span> fall in Portland. I almost had tears in my eyes as I felt the crispness in the air as is whisked in and out of my hair. The tops of the trees are turning a rich burnt ogre and fire engine red much to my eyes delight. I quickly pulled out my fall coat and headed out to clear my head this evening. As I walked the streets of Portland this evening, there was a lightness in my step as if a weight of the past months had been lifted off of me. My life has been a cacophony of chaos the last couple of months. Work has weighed on my soul, the tragedy of real life pulls on my heart strings, and each day trying to rinse and repeat the routine can be exhausting. Yet, the seasons of our lives are filled with ups and downs. These are the moments that define us. The moments that speak of our character and show us that we were stronger than we thought we could ever be.<br />
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I believe in love. I feel like 10 years ago love was more of a fairy tale to me. Yet I have witnessed real love. I have watched grown men cry and heard babies scream with glee. However, the most beautiful of love stories was watching my father in his last days of life. The steady flow of friends and family. The friend who slept on the couch so my father wouldn't be alone. My mother who was there at his bedside 24 hrs a day. If anything good can come from my father's death, it was the lesson that love is real, and it is nothing to be afraid of. That I can surround my heart with as many walls as I want, but love will seep in through the cracks like a great flood. Love will prevail.<br />
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I believe in beauty. Most of my last 10 years I have struggled with my self image with the person I am exteriorly. Yet, over the years I have grown into my skin, and am more excepting of the woman I am becoming. Because at the end of the day it all means nothing, I too will be left a withered prune someday with nothing left to show but the person I am inside. Beauty resides all around me in the pacific nw. It is the man running the marathon beside me with bilateral prosthetic legs. It is the little girl giggling at the table next to me uncontrollably. It is the 80 year old couple eating the biggest piece of chocolate cake, with no remorse. This is the beauty that I have come to appreciate over the years, not because It wasn't there before, I'm just slowing down to take it in.<br />
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My mom has the picture above on our mantle at home. My mom loves this picture because she feels that it embodies me, my personality, and my spirit. When I look at this picture, I am surprised at the woman I see. A woman who has known successes, and failures. A woman who has know love, and the greatest of losses. A woman who cries because she was moved by beauty. A woman who is ever evolving, a giggling mess, a running fool, and a raging liberal. And yet, being resilient enough to laugh at myself along the way has made all the difference. May the adventure continue! Have a gorgeous week my friends!<br />
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Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-11126824688299806922012-06-17T08:12:00.000-07:002012-06-17T08:17:19.948-07:00Father's Day<br />
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When I was little I remember this very intense conversation with my father where I was trying to convince him that my bike did not need to progress to a bike without training wheels, because basically I was an expert at my bike with training wheels. I remember my dad just laughed as I made my case, but he instead made the point that I couldn't have training wheels on my bike forever, I would be the laughing stock of town, so I dubiously agreed to the removal of my beloved training wheels.<br />
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I remember how utterly terrified I was to ride my bike. My bike was this beautiful light pink Scwhinn with a banana seat and streamers on the handle bars. It was utterly perfect. Yet, minus my training wheels I was a huge skeptic. I remember my dad told me he would hold on the whole time, catch me if I was going to fall. I trusted him more than anyone in this world. Thus, I remember how I wobbled to and fro as I started peddling, how he caught me before I was about to fall, and helped me avoid major catastrophe. Then before I knew it I looked back in the distance and realized I was peddling all alone with no assist, and my dad was just there waving in the distance.<br />
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I have thought about this memory a lot over the last year. You see my dad was always there for me. He was silently and quitely always making sure I didn't fall. He was the person I was frantically calling when I didn't know what exit to take on the highway, the man in my life who loved when I didn't love myself, the person always reassuring me that I could do anything. Yet when my father passed away I felt like that same little girl riding here bike alone, a bit wobbly for sure, terrified, and wondering who would help her break her fall.<br />
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My father had an ability to light up a room. He had a boisterous personality and a spirit for life that was uncontainable. He had this smile and laugh that was infectious. He could make me laugh so hard I though I might pass out from lack of oxygenation. He could tell stories that would make you want to listen for hours. He loved his friends and family. He liked to butter about anything that needed butter, and even those that didn't. He had a soft spot for ice cream and watched the Hunt for Red October incessantly. Most importantly when he hugged me, I have never felt more safe and more loved.<br />
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If I could tell you anything, It would be that there is not a day that goes by that I don't want to pick up the phone and call my dad. Whether it is just to tell him about this great restaurant I ate at the night before, or the great OR case I did, or just to say I love you; these are the things I miss. I will be honest sometimes I call our house in the middle of the day when I know no one is home just to hear his voice on our home recorder.Yet, what I have learned from my father and this experience has forever changed the way I approached the last year and ultimately the rest of my life. <br />
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I have learned that I am stronger than I ever imagined. That living through this experience has made any other obstacle in my life look miniscule. I have experienced and seen love in ways I have never imagined. It has changed me and my heart. It has made my mother and I closer. I tell people that I love them often and much. I sing in the car at every opportunity. I drink beaujolais and have warm memories of Christmas day with my dad. I am a more empathetic doctor. I give better hugs.<br />
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You know I think we all remember the big days, the extraordinary days, but if I had one more day with my father I would want it to be just an ordinary day. The ones where you sit on the back porch eating dinner, the ones where you watch movies on the couch, or the ones where you are singing at the top of your lungs in your car to Jimmy Buffet. These are days I long for- the ever so ordinary.<br />
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While I am the queen of composure, there are the moments of immense sadness for me when I think about the things, he is going to miss.The grandchildren, retirement, and finally me having a real job.Yet, one of the things that has been hardest for me to cope with is the fact that he won't see me get married. Don't worry I have no current prospects in the works, much to my mother's dismay, but hopefully someday. Yet, I still cannot help but cry at every wedding I been to this year, when the father and daughter walk down the aisle. I will without a doubt be walking down the aisle alone, because there is no one who could ever fill his shoes.<br />
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Yet, the thing that gives me peace is that I loved my father and he loved me. We had such a special relationship, he was my best friend. I feel so truly blessed to have had the time we did together. I know more than anything he wanted me to be happy, to love, and to explore this world. I am actively working on accomplishing all of these tasks. This Father's day I hope you are celebrating. I hope you are laughing. I hope you are eating delicious brunch. I hope you are celebrating the man who has made you who you are today. I know I am.<br />
From the bottom of my heart I wish you the happiest Father's Day! XOXO jen*Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-11260570218666067362012-03-08T22:08:00.000-08:002012-03-08T22:15:01.466-08:00The Art of Happiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Where do I begin? I am happy. I have been for most of my life, but recently in the last 3-4 years have I really understood what it means. Some people will search their entire lives looking for happiness, others are just afraid of what being happy will actually mean to them. Yet, what I can tell you is that it is the most beautiful development of my current life. Yet, perhaps this week i have been asking myself how we deal with the disappointments of this world. How do we pick ourselves up again?</div>
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I was the sort of child who had decided their profession by age 7. I also had planned most of my major life goals up until the age of 30. I was going to go to Notre Dame for college, become a pediatrician, be married by 28, and have 3 children, Scott, Stephen, and Stewart. I was motivated, focused, and driven. I knew all the things I wanted and would have done anything to get them. Yet, the one thing I did not cope with well was when these things didn't go according to my plan.<br />
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People who have known me my whole life will tell you I am quite a different person now than I was 10 years ago, heck 4 years ago. I will say that my 18 year old perfectionist, uptight, intense self has morphed into a free- spirited, laugh till hit hurt sort of girl. I truly believe that most of this dramatic transformation is a result of life not going as planned, disappointment, and tragedy.<br />
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People may say that this is depressing, but I disagree. The only thing it is-- liberating. The truth of my story is that as hard as I worked in high school and college, valedictorian, class president, captain of sports teams, it didn't get me into Notre Dame. Nor did it get me into medical school. These failures have been some of the hardest things, I have ever swallowed. The sheer embarrassment and hopelessness I felt are still haunting. Yet, what I didn't mention is that these also might have been some of the greatest blessings and some of the most transforming and amazing years of my life.<br />
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Yet, perhaps the last year of my life has been the most unexpected years of my life. It has been wonderful, tumultuous, and deeply humbling. I never expected to watch my father deteriorate before my eyes so quickly. To see a man who at one time was invincible to me, a man who could make any bump better, become a man who I would spoon feed tangerine ice cream in the last days of his life. My maturity has been tested, and my life ever changed. Yet, only to be foiled by the fact that I am utterly and passionately in love with my new city, friends, and my profession.<br />
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What I have learned is that some of the darkest moments of my life have only allowed me to truly appreciate the beauty and gorgeousness that surrounds me. It has made me so aware of my surroundings. I value my friends as if they were family. I attack life with ferocity. I love people who will never love me. I cry often and much. I laugh and I cackle. I find joy in the simplest of things- big hats, the elderly, and sunshine. I live to bring joy to others, yet I ask where does that leave me.<br />
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Growing up is hard. I have heard from friends in the last week who have told me stories of personal loss and pain. I received an email this week for inspiration and hope for a friend suffering from cancer. It leaves me at a place of desperation, dark, and lonely, because I have no answers to why bad things happen to good people. Why some of the most beautiful people I know still struggle with finding a good man who appreciates them and doesn't tear them down. Why some of my friends refuse to recognize the happiness that surrounds them. I don't know these answers nor will I ever. <br />
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What I do know is that happiness is real. It is palpable, just like you know the wind is there when you stick your hand out the car window, because it is hitting you in the face. This is what happiness feels like. You question if it is there if it is possible, and bam it is hitting you in the face. Life is unpredictable, short, and sweet. My greatest advice to you and even myself is to quit being disappointed when things don't go your way. Perhaps it is part of a greater plan, where your greatest disappointments will morph into your greatest blessings. Look around you. Embrace your friends. Love your life. Happiness waits for us all, the question is would you recognize it if it hit you in the face? I sure hope so.<br />
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<br />Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-57929098605684034582012-02-20T00:03:00.000-08:002012-02-20T00:05:20.668-08:00Food and Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So I would be the first to tell you I love a long drawn out dinner. I believe that most of my life changing conversations and warmest memories have been shared around a table with good company. Perhaps this is why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, but I think most of it revolves around the fact that when you sit down and eat with people life just seems to pour out like a special sauce or gravy. <br />
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Thus you can imagine how delighted I was to be invited over for dinner this week to one of my dear friend's home. Being a surgery resident doesn't always make homemade meals a possibility, I had to think long and hard about the last time I had eaten a real homemade meal. Thus, you can imagine how jazzed I was to be invited to such a gathering since basically my evening meals revolve around eggs-scrambled, poached, or sunny-side up. <br />
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Upon arriving to my friends apartment, I was delighted to find that the theme of the evening was old Paris. A place I have never been, but a place I am in love with undoubtedly. With wine in tote, it took only moments before the the thick tannins were permeating the air. The conversation and discussion of the weeks events were met with laughter and smiles. The NY times rested on the table, perhaps a conversation piece, but more of an offering for entertainment and enlightenment. As more friends arrived the energy in the room was palpable.<br />
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Perhaps my favorite part of any meal is the preparation, the cutting the whisking that ultimately leads to a true masterpiece. Thus, as I attempted to be the best soux chef possible, I was fascinated by the way my friend concoted a gorgeous meal with ease. As many of you know I do not pride myself on being a cook, if I did cook we might all need take-out after dinner, but this meal was nothing short of gourmet. My task was to help with dessert, a buttermilk cake topped with plums and blueberries, which was right up my alley. <br />
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Yet, as we all sat down to partake in the roasted vegetables, salad, and baked chicken it was as if all the memories I love about sitting at a table for dinner hit me. The memories of my dad and I talking about my day at school, or the way my grandmother would blot her food obsessively for grease before eating, or the stories of Thanksgiving that were repeated each year for tradition sake.There is a familiarity about the table, it is a place where people come to share their lives. And that my friends is what we did. We shared the joys and the tragedies of this life, the things that warm our hearts and the things that make you realize that life is finite and short. <br />
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The company was lovely, but the dessert was also a sight to be seen-gorgeous and rich with color.<br />
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As I scurried out the door for work with a dessert to-go cup in hand, I felt full. Full of delicious food, but more importantly rich with good friends. For a girl who has been a bit homesick this week for my family and old friends, I felt rejuvenated. Sometimes all it takes is a warm meal, a glass of wine, and good conversation to remind you that home is never too far away.Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-37270628926325917912012-02-17T14:38:00.000-08:002012-02-17T14:38:00.136-08:00Ravenous<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We all know the feeling. Perhaps some better than others, but most of us know when we are hungry. You can hear the grumblings in your stomach the urgent subconscious voice urging you, basically propelling you towards the refrigerator. The last time I can truly say I was ravenous was after the marathon this year. As soon as I got to the finish line, I just started putting food in my mouth. It didn't matter what flavor of yogurt or how brown the banana was I was basically desperate for nourishment. However, I also know the rewards of a long drawn out 5 course meal. The rich foods and flavors that intoxicate my soul. The fullness of my belly only a sign of the food euphoria that will follow shortly. Yet, it still baffles me that even after the most lovely of meals within 2 hrs I can find myself back at square one-starving for more food.<br />
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This is what I have been struggling with this week, the fact that I have been given so many blessings in this life, but I still have this hunger, as if I am starving for more. I would say that over the last couple of years I have truly grown as an individual, I see life entirely differently. Much of this has to do with me gradually learning to love myself, which for me has been and is an extreme task. I used to be consummed with appearance, weight, success, and acceptance. I didn't love myself, heck I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. Yet, I feel that much of my life events teeter on highs and lows; thus until you have ever reached a placed where you know life cannot get any worse, you can never appreciate your climb. I learned to except that I cannot change my past, I can only make today and tomorrow better.<br />
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When I think of the things that bring satiety in my life most of them point to my friends and the relationships I have built with others. I get so much energy from others. I love to know people in away that goes beyond the surface. I was not given brothers and sisters of my own, but I feel like my friends are my family. I love them so much. They are people who will wake up at 1AM to listen to you sob on the phone, people who make you laugh until your abdominal muscles hurt, they know you better than you know yourself, they are people who are there for you in the darkest of hours. I am so grateful for these relationships for they are substance that give meaning to my life.<br />
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Yet, I think it is so easy regardless of how full you are to let the hunger pains seep into our lives. The feelings of insecurity, the questions of why me, and whether I will ever be good enough can prey on you like a parasite. It is so hard not to compare our lives to others, and this can leave us unsatisfied in our own lives. Why do they get to have a boyfriend? Why do they get the best job? Have the nicest things? Why is it so easy for them to have children? Why is my timing all wrong?<br />
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These areas become voids, desolate holes, we try to fill. When you are ravenous, you would do almost anything to fill the void. I think for me the most frustrating concept for me is timing. My friend told me last week that I might have the worst timing known to mankind. She said when you were in high school your were like a 30 y/o adult, you knew exactly what you wanted. Now you are just slowly waiting for the rest of the world to catch up with you. Maybe she is right, but it just feels as if I am on the rat wheel of life and everyone else's life is maturing. People are getting married, having babies, buying homes, spending time with family, being promoted in their jobs, and me I just keep running on my rat wheel. While I couldn't delight more in the success of others, their happiness, it just feels like I am starving for more.<br />
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The truth is instead of concentrating on the things I don't have, I should concentrate on the multitude of things I do have. I live in a wonderful city, have amazing friends, and have a job I love. I delight in beauty that surrounds me, the love people constantly show me. I have been given a heart capable of loving almost anything. These are the things that should fill my soul, give me purpose.<br />
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As difficult as it might be this week, I encourage you to embrace the nourishment of your life. The things that truly motivate you and fulfill your life. I think you will find that even the most ravenous of souls can find nutritional substance from counting your blessings and the joys of this life.<br />
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<br />Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-67865963138953660112012-02-11T18:03:00.000-08:002012-02-11T18:04:18.325-08:00Won't you be my Valentine?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I went running today in Forest Park, on one of the most beautiful days in Portland this winter. The temperature was perfect the sun was beaming down. During my run I was listening to the thick and distinct voice of Adele, and somehow I was reminded of Valentine's day lurking around the corner. My mind began swimming with all the cheesy decorations and cards, that just make me smile. I was transported back to 2nd grade when we would sit at our school desks and create Valentine's Day cards, small tokens of love. I would be covered in glitter up to my elbows. I would rush in our front door always so proud to go home and give my parents my card a symbol of my appreciation for everything they did for me. As I have gotten older, I wouldn't say I have gotten cynical, but perhaps jaded by the commercialization of the holiday. The way that it seems to be focused on the lovers of the world, the chocolate, and the roses. Yet for me, Valentine's day is the opportunity for me to say the things you never say to people, show them how important they truly are to you.<br />
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Thus, this afternoon I have been embracing the energy of my youth, as I have been constructing, jazzifying, and creating homemade Valentine's day cards. I have been giggling and laughing all afternoon as I individualize each card. The truth is love is not just for lovers, it is for those people in life you can't imagine life without. The people who make you laugh, cry, and truly show you how to live a passionate life; abundant and rich in the things that matter most. </div>
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I have never experienced and witnessed so much love than I have this year. People have embraced me and carried me through some of the stormiest of weather. The love that I and my family have experienced this year has changed me forever. It has given me a kinder and more forgiving heart. It has shown me what true friendship is. While I may not be romantically inclined, I can say from the bottom of my heart love is real. It surrounds you at the times you need it most, and it can change the hardest of hearts. Love has carried me like a canoe with no paddles this year. It has bandaged the wounds to my heart and left me renewed. </div>
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For those of you, who have changed my heart this year, shown me the greatest love I have ever experienced, please know I love you all from the bottom of my heart. Besos- xoxo jen*</div>
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<br /></div>Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-10959732439490515312012-02-09T17:01:00.000-08:002012-02-09T17:01:00.301-08:00Some things are worth the fight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I would be the first to tell you I am the last person you would want to pick to go to war. I don't have an inkling of how to put up a good fight, I can't even win a game of arm wrestling. My mother once told me my passive, non- confrontational matter was due to the fact that I lacked siblings, and thus I never learned the art of fighting back, but I just think I hate the entire concept of anger and arguing. I am far from a wallflower in everyday life, but have a lot of work to do on making my presence know. Yet, I have come to believe that over the last year that there are some things worth fighting for, and as mellow as you might be everyone has a pair of sassy pants hanging in the closet ready for good use.<br />
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It just so happened that yesterday, I exercised my right to fight back. I had just gotten home from working out, and all my parking spots in front of my house were full, thus I parked in the 1 hr parking across from my home. I being conscious about my parking spot looked out approximately 45mins later to see a policeman in a smart car placing a hideous yellow ticket on black beauty, my 2003 chevy cavalier. I don't know how to explain what I was feeling at that moment except, I was hot like fire. As I scurried down the stairs, I ran out screaming, "Excuse me! Excuse Me! I have not been parked here over an hour. " The police officer turned around and said the ticket was a result of not displaying a front license plate, because Oregon is a two plate state. Then out of no where, I found my sassy pants and put them on. I told this officer this was quite frankly ridiculous. I asked him how he would like me to place a plate on my car that doesn't have a front license plate holder. Does he want me to bolt it into my car? I then asked him if he knew how many power tools I had wielded in my life? Or the fact that I am single woman who has no male counterpart to bolt anything into anything, and on top of all this I work 80 hrs a week and the last thing I want to do is come home in the dark and use a semi automatic hand tool on my car. This officer looked at me, for awhile, I think we were both shocked at all that had come out of my mouth, and he just said " I'll take the ticket back, but please take care of this soon, or you will get a ticket." I honestly had no idea what had just come over me, but in that instance I was reminded that perhaps some things are worth fighting.<br />
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All of this caused me to ponder the things I might not be fighting for, but should be. How do we choose our battles? What I have learned in the last month is that while I have ease in writing down my thoughts and emotions, I have great difficulty revealing my inner most personal feelings aloud. Sometimes I am afraid to verbally express what I really want whether it involves love, my profession, or life. I contemplate all the time whether it is worth the fight or the fear of rejection, failure, and judgement.<br />
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Yet, love is worth the fight. Love of friends and family are one of the most essential basic needs. Everyone needs someone in their corner. Someone they can count on. When you love someone you want to fight their battles, you want them to win their wars. You learn selflessness and sacrifice, and maybe even suffering. Yet, at the end of the day you recognize that any battle you go into it never hurts to have another person by your side.<br />
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I used to think that life and it's opportunities would just come to me and make themselves evident. That jobs and research would just come just fall in my lap. That boys would come knocking at my door. Yet, more recently I am of the opinion if you want it, you go get it. I can't tell you how many times I have just let other women swoop in on opportunities with the men in my life, and I just sit back and watch. My friends will ask me if I am going to let another girl do that to me, and perhaps the Jen of old would have said yes. I didn't want the confrontation the awkward moment of me saying "what do you think you are doing?" But perhaps I should be less timid about rocking the boat, and start being more assertive about my life.<br />
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Fight for the things that truly matter to you in this world. You know I choose my battles. As much as I wanted to tell the lady at the grocery store the other day who stole my parking space by going down a one way the wrong way and eventually swinging her huge Lexus in my spot, she was a despicable human being. I refrained because karma is a real bummer. Yet, I can't encourage you enough to fight the good fight- fight for what is right and good in this world. Fight for the things that move you. Fight for those who can't fight for themselves, and rest easy at night because you have done all you can do.<br />
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This week don't be afraid to speak up say the things you want and go get them. Life is too short to be beaten down, sometimes you just have to pull yourself off the floor and throw a punch.<br />
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<br />Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-32213009719116768122012-02-05T22:24:00.000-08:002012-02-05T22:24:09.673-08:00Love Deeply<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is that time of the year, when the aisles are filled with red hearts, confetti, and pink flowers, where love is commercialized to its finest, and romance permeates the air. Thus it is time for my annual Valentine's day blog. This year I have thought long in hard about what I want to say, what I have learned over the last year, and what I hope to find in the future. I have learned that to know love and joy you must also experience pain and sorrow, and to truly appreciate companionship you must know solitude. But, perhaps the best way to show how I have been moved, changed, and amazed by love, is a series of true short stories from the last year.<br />
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<b>Love is blind</b>. It was just a week ago, I was in the Veteran's Hospital waiting for a patient to get out of the restroom when I wandered over to his roommate's side of the curtain. I looked at the old man with gray hair sleeping peacefully, and smiled as I turned to look at his bulletin board across from his bed. The board was filled with pictures of him and his wife. It started from their engagement pictures and documented every 10th anniversary up to the 70th anniversary. There was something so beautiful to me, as I watched the relationship between these two people I had never met, their mannerisms, how they actually looked more comfortable with each other with age. I was surprised to see as I turned around that the man in bed was awake. I told him I was just enjoying his pictures, the man responded with words I couldn't understand so I went to the side of his bed. When I arrived the man grabbed my hand and said with clarity, I love you. I don't know what it was, the fact that the man continued to not say another comprehensible thing, or the fact that no man besides my father had ever said this to me, but tears just began streaming down my face. I rushed to grab a photo from the bulletin board, I asked the man if he recognized the handsome gentleman in the picture, he bluntly said no without hesitation.<br />
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I often wonder what I will be like as an old woman, will I be loud, wear big hats, and eat ice cream everyday, I sure hope so. Yet more importantly if my mind is blinded with age and disease, will someone be there to love me. Will someone be there to remind me, of death do us part.<br />
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<b>Love is patient. </b>One of my dearest friends just got married recently. I will have to say after knowing this girl most of my life I couldn't be happier that the two of them found each other. They remind me that true companionship exists. Yet, the story she told me one day after a night of inebriation is the ultimate test of love. A girl who is known to have a queasy stomach, told me she was awakened by her husband shaking her and saying, why are my shorts wet? Upon inspection the heroic husband realizes that his wife had vomited in bed, and didn't know it. Thus they were sleeping, rolling around in vomit. He told her she had to get out of bed, so my friend feeling awful took the duvet cover and tossed it in the hall not knowing that vomit has just aerisolized and vomit was all over the floor. When my friend woke up in the morning she said she found herself in a clean bed, and a clean house. He had taken care of all her dirty work. As I was laughing until tears were running down my face, I just said now that's love. Bottom line if you can find a man who will hold your hair when you vomit, sleep with your vomit, or even better yet clean your vomit - he's a keeper.<br />
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<b>Love is change. </b>I have watched some of my dearest, most promiscuous guy friends become saints of holy monogamy. It's truly an amazing spectacle. We all have these friends, the college fraternity guy who was the guy every girl wanted to date. The guy who I felt honored just being labeled his friend. The guy you thought would be life's most eligible bachelor for eternity. Yet, all of this changed when he met "the girl." I'll never forget the day he told me, the shock in my eyes, as I listened to him tell me about her. I knew that she was a game changer, quite honestly his personal game changer. You see I knew his past, I knew every one of his pick up lines, and now he was smitten. This is what I love about love, It is forgiving of the past, capable of the seemingly impossible, and yet somehow together they have changed each other for the better.<br />
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<b>Love is Life. </b>Ghandi said it best, "Where there is love there is life." I believe this to my innermost core. I believe love is not something not just shared by two people, but something you live. It is in our interactions with others and the relationships we build. I have been so blessed to have some of the most amazing friends. The kind of friends who would fly across the country to see you in the darkest of days, send you letters in the mail, cry with you, run the last two miles of a marathon with you, eat brunch with you, and truly drop anything for you. Love is not only a noun, but more importantly a verb. To love people, work, and life is one of the greatest gifts you could ever give yourself. I have found that when you surround yourself with love, life is a little bit sunnier, even in Portland.<br />
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<b>Love Deeply</b>. If you know me, you know I believe in love. I believe in great loves. Perhaps I have watched one to many romantic comedies, but I truly believe that there is someone for everyone. Someone out there who can be your better half, the cheese to compliment your wine, a person who will stand by you until the end of time. Perhaps the most life changing experience for me this year has been watching the love of my mother and father, and knowing in my heart of hearts how real it was. No one talks about suffering when they talk about love. While I hate to dwell on the past, it has forever shaped the way I view love. My father taught me many things and one of them was to love deeply, to never be afraid to say the things that need to be said, to feel with your heart and not your head. I will never forget the days leading up to my father's death, how my mother never left his side, the sleepless nights, and the final day my father's life. I will never forget the pain in my mother's eyes when I told her softly, in my quietest voice that dad had passed away.<br />
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My parents had a love I could only dream of finding. That is why I wasn't surprised to learn that upon cleaning out my father's office a couple of months ago they found a letter addressed to my mother he had written before his death. The contents of the letter were the ultimate gift, a letter of love, gratitude, and a gift of hope for the future. My father's final love letter moved me to tears as he left bits of advice and comedic stories he didn't want us to forget, but most of all he wrote were phrases of endless love.<br />
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Perhaps I am a little afraid of love, how vulnerable love makes people, how trusting it forces us to be. Over time I have built these walls around my heart to protect me from the pain that loving someone can cause. Yet what I really should do is tear down those walls, because if I have learned anything it is that love is worth all the suffering, pain, and tears this world can hand you.<br />
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Thus my hope for you this Valentine's day is to not be afraid to love and feel deeply. Say the things you never say. You might just surprise yourself.Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-80054520899240925832012-01-22T01:47:00.000-08:002012-01-22T01:47:14.099-08:00Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So I have eagerly been awaiting the release of the film, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, since I learned it was being filmed early last year. The movie is adapted from Jonathan Safran Foer's book about an 8 year old boy who loses his father in 911. It is probably one of my all time favorite contemporary books. It truly is a shining star amongst new age literature, not only is it an artistic masterpiece, but it is able to transcend the page and truly speak to the soul. I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I first read it, and that hasn't happened for me since the Great Gatsby in my high school literature class.<br />
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It was last year in early December, I was interviewing for residency and one of my best friends recommended that I pick up this book for my travels. She is a literary aficionado, who knows me well, thus I trusted her opinion. Let's just say, she is yet to steer me wrong. I couldn't put the book down. Doused with imagery, the book is complex and spoke multitudes to me. I was actually on a plane flight to Portland, OR for my interview when I finished the book. It was late, as I had taken a red eye flight, I stayed up the entire flight reading it with tears streaming down my face. A stewardess, who noted my tears, came up to me and asked if she could help me in any way, I just smiled and said through my sniffles and tears "It's just a really good book."<br />
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The premise of the book resides around a little boy whose father dies in the world trade center on 911. The boy to some may be odd, but his bond with his father is not misunderstood. The boy stumbles upon a key in his father's closet after the "worst day,"which he feels is a sign from his father, as if he is trying to tell him something. The rest of the book revolves around this boy's adventure to find the lock to this key. It is a beautiful portrayal of grief, loss, and the things we do to try to understand it all.<br />
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As I sat in the movie theater tonight I couldn't help but love every morsel of this film. From the cast, to the imagery, to the screen play. It was magnificent. The photo above is one of my favorite scenes in the entire film. Immersed in imagery it is a powerful moment in the film about stopping. As the film unfolded I couldn't help but be moved to tears while sitting in the theater. Perhaps, the movie has hit home more than I thought it would over the last year. You see the entire movie revolves around Oskar, the main character, trying to make sense of why his father was killed. Yet he concludes it doesn't make sense. And I agree. I will never understand why the sky is blue instead of green, why bad things happen to good people, why tragedy strikes, why boys will break your heart, why my timing is always off, or why people suffer.<br />
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I know what it is like to ask yourself these questions over and over again. Contemplating if you did something wrong, wondering what you had done to deserve this sort of loss. You try to hold on to anything, whether it is a search for a lock to a key, or just something that will bring you closer to the person you lost. Yet, at the end of your search, you learn that you are not alone. That everyone is searching for answers, and sometimes there are no good explanations.<br />
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Through his pain and paralyzing grief, Oskar, found his strength. The same is true for us. Real life is full of joy, sorrow, and confusion. None of us are exempt. Yet, once you have lived through the unthinkable you learn how strong you truly are, the burden you can bare. You realize that life is precious, and can be altered in a minute or a mere phone call. Yet, without ruining the end of the book, I will say the take home message of this movie is that life is worth the accumulation of all the joy, grief, mystery, and laughter this world has to offer, it's about being moved to tears, laughing until you cry, and loving someone with all your heart and hoping that someday you will be able make sense of it all.<br />
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So pretty please do yourself a favor, and go see this movie.--- You won't be disappointed.<br />
<br />Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-65366119533756001872012-01-07T15:32:00.000-08:002012-01-07T15:39:24.700-08:00Refusing to Settle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think sometimes in life we all need a little reminder. I received mine on New Year's Eve this year. I think that we all have expectations of what we think is going to happen when you move somewhere new. Perhaps I thought Portland would be a sea of endless liberal, handsome, artistic men and I would finally find someone special. Unfortunately, my love life has been quite the opposite. My love life this past year resembles more of a comedy routine than a love story. If I could tell you the stories of my life, you wouldn't believe it. The stories are hilarious, jaw dropping, and I would have you laughing until you were crying. <br />
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Thus, in my mind New Years was supposed to be this magical night for me, a new start. I tend to have a good time wherever I go, but perhaps my friend could sense my disappointment for the evening. We were laughing and chatting when she opened a beer for herself. The cap of her beer of choice always has a little message on the underside of the cap, kind of like a Dove chocolate. She read the bottle cap and looked at me and said, " This is for you." She placed it in my hand. As I uncurled my fingers that surrounded the bottle cap, I just kept reading the words on the cap over and over in my head, "to refusing to settle."<br />
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While she will never know the extent of what she did for me that night, I realized how right she was. Not only did it pertain to my love life, but everyday life. I feel we all are prone to settling. The truth is that with the real things that matter in life, you deserve the best and settling should never be an option. I think we all know those people who are perpetually in relationships because they cannot fathom being alone. They constantly jump boyfriend to boyfriend to settle for the next best thing. I have gone to their weddings, bought the gifts, smiled and wondered to myself are they happy? Will their love last? I feel that in our society there is this palpable pressure to follow the crowd, to do what everyone else is doing, because no one wants to be left out.<br />
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Maybe I too was prone to settling this year, just wanting someone to want me, to think I was special, despite how un-Mr. Wonderful they were. Yet what I have learned this year is that life is too short to settle, whether it is love, your job, or your goals of life. There is no reason I should of hobbled home after a marathon because he forgot to pick me up, or entertain my date's ex- girlfriend who happened to show up at dinner, but for some reason in my mind I had decided this was ok. The truth is both you and I deserve more.<br />
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We deserve the best this world has to offer, and it starts with us. It begins with you and me believing we deserve great things. It begins with you and me refusing to settle for mediocrity. It begins with you and me pushing ourselves one more mile, because we can. It begins with us. My hope for you this year is that you settle for more. Prove to yourself that you are worth it. Know in your heart that you have something to give to this world. Because what you will discover is how wonderful you truly are.<br />
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<br />Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-7808472318359527252011-12-25T21:50:00.001-08:002011-12-31T17:43:33.344-08:00New Year, New You<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
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Resolution. To me it sounds like a cure. Some concotion a doctor would prescribe for any ailement you might have, and within weeks you would be better. Yet, the truth of the matter is many of the resolutions people make on New Year's are far from a quick fix. The problems people have stem from a multitude of years of bad habits and bad choices. You can't get skinny in 1 month, you can make a lifetime of debt disappear in days. Thus I have a hard time accepting the hard and fast rule of resolutions, but I do take inventory on my own life and see what is working and what could be improved. </div>
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The best thing about the New Year is that it is like the first day of grade school- a fresh start. No matter what plagued you the year before whether it was subtraction or social studies, the first day is a chance to regain lost ground. Thus all I can do is look to the new year ahead with hope and anticipation.</div>
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Perhaps it is my giddy joy for things to come, or just the fact that I have been through the trenches of life this past year and I am ready for higher ground. I have learned more about myself in the last year than I ever wanted to know. I am a stronger being than I ever thought I could be. I mean what more could you want from a year right? Yet, the truth is I will always want to lose another 20lbs or save a little more money, but what I really want from this year ahead - is to be amazed. </div>
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Amazed at the beauty, the spontaneity, and the love this world has to offer. I want to eat more cheese, drink more champagne-and laugh often, loud, and much. I want to believe that I have purpose. I want to listen better, and I want to marvel at the beauty around me. I want to be a better doctor, daughter, and friend. I want to love.</div>
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When I was little I used to write my resolutions down, and place them on my closet wall. They would stare at me right in the face everyday all year long. What I came to find is that more times than not I completed the tasks I had set out for the new year. I was methodical and everything was planned perfectly, so that I could complete my list. Yet, as I have gotten older I have mellowed a bit, I am not as uptight, or stressed out. My goals are not as particular, but a little more lofty, a little more crunchy granola I would say. With this unleashing of check marks to be completed or jobs to be done, I feel more spontaneous and free as if nothing in this world could weigh me down. </div>
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Thus, I hope you will not get caught up in the moment of the night, making all these new resolutions, because in honesty it can become more exhausting than good. My hope for you is that you bring in the new year in style, class, and above all champagne. I hope that when that ball drops tonight you feel nothing but hope for the things to come. I hope there are those obnoxious blow horns, and party hats. I hope there is a kiss. I hope you feel like your slate has been cleaned, and this year is yours for the taking. More than anything,I hope your year sparkles and shines like nobodies business.</div>
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</div>Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-73429116656319240952011-12-08T09:32:00.000-08:002011-12-08T11:39:16.569-08:00Twenty-eight and counting...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmajejaaBX-FFawtpdrXFXZ5iCtcidM-gnWz1HhyWJOgI81c2cPpLylPik7ddOTP2uVyO51T2UZqu1NjPgvGpREwaIiAqJCg_lvzOybLSNLRocVz34c_woVgl6hoEQNlWM287X4aBWndk/s640/Screen+shot+2011-04-26+at+9.08.56+PM.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 632px; height: 417px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmajejaaBX-FFawtpdrXFXZ5iCtcidM-gnWz1HhyWJOgI81c2cPpLylPik7ddOTP2uVyO51T2UZqu1NjPgvGpREwaIiAqJCg_lvzOybLSNLRocVz34c_woVgl6hoEQNlWM287X4aBWndk/s640/Screen+shot+2011-04-26+at+9.08.56+PM.png" border="0" alt="" /></a> It is a fact. Tomorrow I turn twenty-eight years old, and I am absolutely 100% OK with it. You see there are some years in life where you actually don't feel any older than you did the year before, but this year is not that year for me. I am so ready to leave my 27th year in the dust and move on to bigger and brighter years to come. <div><br /></div><div>The truth is, as hard is it is to say, I have aged this year. Not only have the little lines began to creep up around my eyes when I smile, but more importantly I have grown emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I actually am bothered when people ask me if I could go back in time what age would I choose, I always say "I choose now." You see when I look at the person I was 7 years ago I can barely recognize her. She is a faint memory of the person I am now, today. </div><div><br /></div><div>I believe as I age I have become more confident in the person I am, and I have more realistic goals of the person I want to become; and I love the person I am constantly evolving to be. I'm not scared of what the future may hold, but truly believe that there is a reason for everything. I believe more than anything this year, I have realized that I am stronger than I ever imagined.</div><div><br /></div><div>Furthermore, each year I dedicate my birthday wish to a mantra for the next year to carry through the year with me. Last year it was happiness, while I can think of a lot of other words to describe last year, I will have to say that through it all I still feel that happiness did prevail. Thus for the year approaching I have done a lot of thinking, and I have decided that this year is going to be about love- giving, receiving, and making it apart of my everyday life. </div><div><br /></div><div>Over the last months I have been so impressed by love others have shown me and my family. I have goosebumps, just thinking about how much this means to me. I guess my goal for the year is to let people know how much they mean to me, how important they really are. I want them to have no questions about the way I feel about them. Life is just too short to be indecisive. </div><div><br /></div><div>It is crazy to me that I know exactly what I was doing one year ago today. I was sitting in the Indianapolis Airport at my favorite local restaurant, Cafe Patachou, with my parents. I was getting ready to go on a whirl wind traveling expedition for residency interviews. I remember exactly what I was wearing, I remember what I ate, I remember my nervous energy, and I remember thinking I'm not sure if things will ever be the same. In retrospect you have these moments that you come back to think about, these glimpses that foreshadow the future. I remember specifically when my dad gave me my birthday card, we looked at each other in the eye. Without saying a word my eyes began to water, and I had to look back at my omelet and toast to prevent tears from streaming down my face. I think we both knew that this would be our last birthday together.</div><div><br /></div><div>While tomorrow will be a bit bittersweet, you can have no doubt that I will welcome 28 with open arms. There might not be cake or candles tomorrow, but you can bet there will be champagne, friends, laughter, and love. I am determined to make 28 the best year yet. </div><div><br /></div><div>Have a Fabulous Weekend! XOXO</div><div> jen*</div><div><br /></div>Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-16556493676213999802011-12-06T21:27:00.000-08:002011-12-07T18:54:47.319-08:00Christmas Cheer<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1x9EV5_DSNDdihIwxe__rR020gFPTKd_diK5hXqTUVmgTdA3-7JW3c0vNl1EOKn0wR_c251RiJFSyN1VoPntrLNKEag7tV034wjMN0-hI6RRstgb0Smib4Xfmjtg3WOYg-pNDw2XS_7b9/s1600/christmas-spirit.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 381px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1x9EV5_DSNDdihIwxe__rR020gFPTKd_diK5hXqTUVmgTdA3-7JW3c0vNl1EOKn0wR_c251RiJFSyN1VoPntrLNKEag7tV034wjMN0-hI6RRstgb0Smib4Xfmjtg3WOYg-pNDw2XS_7b9/s1600/christmas-spirit.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>I am that girl who listens to Christmas music in September, has her tree up no later than black friday, and believes full heartedly that Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year. Last night I went running around 9 pm in Downtown Portland. It was the first day of the year where you walked outside and the crispness of the air made you shiver from head to toe. While Portland city proper does not specialize in snow, it does have a dense fog that engulfs the city giving it an eerie, yet magical feeling. It was truly the first winter day I have had here. As I ran around town all of my favorite Christmas memories and moments started to come to me. Perhaps it was the nostalgia of the evening, or all the holiday cheer I found in home windows, or the lights that I passed, but I couldn't help but share these stories that had me both laughing and crying on my run. <div><br /><div>When I was in kindergarten I remember it was about this time of the year, when I was given the greatest honor of all time- I was chosen to be student of the week which basically means you bring something in for show-and-tell to share with the class. I had decided that I would bring in my most beloved book of the holiday season " The Sweet Smells of Christmas." I didn't just love this book because it revolved around that jolly man in red and white, I really loved it because it was a scratch and sniff book which back in 1989 was stinkin' amazing. Thus, I was so proud the day I was student of the week. I remember I told the story from memory and then passed around the book so everyone could enjoy. I will never forget how my body first began to trembled and then big tears began streaming down my face as I realized that everyone in my class loved my book too, because ever page had holes in it from where children had zealously over scratched and sniffed my book. Needless to say show-n-tell was never quite as exciting for me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I feel that if you know me at all, you would know I have huge faith in people, and thus I had huge faith in Santa Claus. My mother and I had this holiday tradition growing up where we would decorate our house and make cookies for Santa all weekend long. There are multiple home videos of me prancing around our house singing songs about Santa and how I deserved the biggest barbie dream house of them all. The truth is I will never forget that frightful day on the bus as I explained to one of my neighbor boys how excited I was for Santa to come. I will never forget as he looked at me with malice in his eyes and said, " Jennifer, Santa doesn't exist, It is your mom." I being the very dramatic child that I was said with my hands upon my hips, "Jason Campbell, Santa can hear you and you are getting nothing for Christmas." I remember getting off the school bus, slinging my book bag down, and asking my mom point blank " Is santa real?" I could see the concern in her face and she said something I cannot remember, but all I did take from this conversation was that Jason Campbell had stolen Christmas and how my 8 year old life would never be the same. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yet, Christmas has really evolved over the years for me. As a family, we don't really do gifts anymore, but it is much more about good company and of course good food. My mom makes the most amazing cinnamon rolls known to mankind. Each Christmas she would make several batches for us to take to our friends. Thus, my dad and I would fill the back of the car with the Christmas rolls and deliver them one by one to each home on Christmas Eve. It was so special getting a glimpse of each family's Christmas Eve tradition. It was one the moments I waited for all year. When we returned my family would generally go to the Christmas Eve service where we would sing songs and carols. I would wait eagerly for one of my favorite Christmas songs "Silent night" as I stood between my parents holding my candle. I would just close my eyes and listen to heavenly peace. My father would belt out the words in the deepest voice you have ever heard, it was as if the earth was shattering. It is one of the most beautiful memories of Christmas that I have and I will never forget as long as I live.</div><div><br /></div><div>This is what I love about the holidays, it is so grounded in tradition, and yet there is still so much hope for new opportunities. While my holidays will never be the same, it is about carrying on the traditions that mean so much to me. While I won't be home for Christmas this year, I am eager to share my love and family traditions with my new family here in Portland. I laughed aloud today when one of my friends said, " Your are the daughter of Christmas, and you have never been to the Nutcracker?" So perhaps the best things about the holiday are bringing in the traditions of old with the possibilities of the new. Trust me, the opportunities are endless. May the season bring you nothing but holiday cheer, and memories to last all year long.<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:monospace;"><div size="-webkit-xxx-large" style=" ;"><br /></div><div style=" ;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:monospace;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:7;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></span></div></div>Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-32752447891421051362011-11-16T19:00:00.000-08:002011-12-05T06:25:49.549-08:00Le happy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkeFfEjJYhdAZE6enLWWsuuEHyNNMqzsU6-1wURu1QmbVxVOyyaZuUKHhb-CsRHqfr3MYmT0QGhNFsKt_VqEohlYeg1BHuUD50HRZWcQNwVVXLgDBNC7l6n-p0xRlnTcQ_doIbeN6hOAdg/s640/Le+Happy+Creperie+vis+simply+grove.PNG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkeFfEjJYhdAZE6enLWWsuuEHyNNMqzsU6-1wURu1QmbVxVOyyaZuUKHhb-CsRHqfr3MYmT0QGhNFsKt_VqEohlYeg1BHuUD50HRZWcQNwVVXLgDBNC7l6n-p0xRlnTcQ_doIbeN6hOAdg/s640/Le+Happy+Creperie+vis+simply+grove.PNG" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 497px; height: 496px; " /></a><div> This is a French eatery which is approximately 2 blocks from my house. I run past it every day on my daily jog, and for some reason a smile always spreads across my face as I pass by the store front. Perhaps it is the canary yellow <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">facade</span> or the fire engine red door, but something about this place speaks to me. I had the opportunity of eating there about a month ago with a dear friend of mine after running my marathon. Let me just say it's name lives up to its expectations. An <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">eclectic</span> place at best, the dim red lighting accentuates the need to eat a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Nutella</span> infested crepe without guilt. Literally, after several glasses of champagne and one crepe later we were definitely were in our "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">le</span> happy" place. Yet it hit me unexpectedly, perhaps it was just the sheer moment of joy, but I realized in that short moment that my "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">le</span> happy" place had been on a long <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">sabbatical</span> and I wondered why i needed a crepe to find it. </div><div><br /></div><div>We all are searching for it. We all want it. This nebulous emotion we are left with wondering how to obtain and maintain- the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">le</span> happy. The problem is that I have searched for happiness in the most superficial of places. I think we all at one time or another have thought happiness resided in a pant size, in possessions, beauty, in the love of a certain someone, but yet what you find is that these things are not enough you are constantly searching for more. While I would be lying if I said I don't find joy in retail therapy, I do believe that the joy I speak of transcends the fleeting happiness of the perfect sweater. Over the past months I have struggled and dealt with my own personal battles of what constitutes happiness.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will say the death of my father has had a long and lasting impact on the way that I view life and ultimately death. I have learned that my family and friends are a large source of my happiness. It is the relationships that bind us, give us purpose, and help us to feel connected. I will say that the loss of my father has left me feeling a bit like I am drowning in a sea with no life jacket. I didn't realize how much I relied and needed him as a source of strength and happiness until he was gone. Yet, I cherish the memories and the happy times we shared and know that he would want me to be as happy as I possibly could be. And thus here I am.</div><div><br /></div><div>Despite friends and family, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">le</span> happy is intricately intertwined with love, the most basic of human needs. You all know what I am saying. We all have experienced the way your stomach feels when that special someone grazes your hands. It is this feeling again of being connected, respected, and needed. I would go so far to say that the vulnerability that love requires of us may actually be an essential key to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">le</span> happy. Non restrained, uninhibited, you are your truest form of self. I think for a long time I struggled with the fact that actually I do deserve the love of someone, and someone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">stinkin</span>' wonderful at best. I am here to tell you, you deserve it too.</div><div><br /></div><div>Another factor that has really helped me is forgiveness. I would be the first to tell you how difficult this task is. I have always been a little soft in nature, thus my feelings are easily trampled. The truth is more often than not people have no idea they have caused your soul to be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">smattered</span> to a million little pieces. Yet, I find holding grudges to be ever so tiring. I have found so much more peace in forgiveness and think you will too.</div><div><br /></div><div>When you ask people what they want out of life most will answer happiness. Yet, in my experience some of the most destitute and impoverished people I have come across, have been the happiest. They value the things in life that have no price tags, they value each other and the things they do have. I have done some deep evaluation of my life and have found that most of my searching and pursuit of happiness has been in folly, because my true happiness resides around me in the people, the relationships, and love that surrounds me. I just was too consumed with everything else to recognize it. Reclaim your <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">le</span> happy this week, it's often found in the places you least expect.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-29799068367471918972011-10-24T21:00:00.000-07:002011-10-24T21:02:17.337-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0px; line-height: 511px; "><img class="spotlight" alt="" describedby="fbPhotosSnowboxCaption" busy="false" src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/294871_611434683052_22100798_33229559_1846218257_n.jpg" style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: inline-block; height: auto; image-rendering: optimizequality; max-height: 100%; max-width: 100%; vertical-align: middle; width: auto; " /></span></div>Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4470445658865516550.post-62141195226118230362011-09-05T21:13:00.000-07:002011-09-13T21:27:38.149-07:00Learning and re-learning how to dance...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjthl9ckfSSpCpLJXiZSvpBO9DfAJgwvTEs8D4G5ZCFpVolERzhTRKjvsVUPHlujSikE-EKmoZGiMmD__qXrlxKXhJfCrXbdVGM1olHSuLVi3a3vcRXARuNTJ1cUf5NX93HJ5i4-8RsmSLq/s1600/JS_567633_361.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjthl9ckfSSpCpLJXiZSvpBO9DfAJgwvTEs8D4G5ZCFpVolERzhTRKjvsVUPHlujSikE-EKmoZGiMmD__qXrlxKXhJfCrXbdVGM1olHSuLVi3a3vcRXARuNTJ1cUf5NX93HJ5i4-8RsmSLq/s400/JS_567633_361.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652054099487452130" /></a> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><span style=" font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"font-family:";font-size:13.0pt;">I remember the first time I learned to dance. I was about 5 years old and it was a wedding of a close family friend. I just remember how beautiful and pristine the reception hall looked. With ornately decorated tables, and large bouquets of flowers I truly felt like I had walked into the scene of a Cinderella story. Needless to say, it was definitely not a place for me, and my Play-Do encrusted fingers. Yet, I will never forget my dad grabbing my hand and and leaning down to me and saying "Let's dance." He took me out to the dance floor, which seemed so big, and placed me firmly on his feet and swept me around the dance floor as if we were the only people in the room. He showed me how to twirl like a princess, along with which came my massive amounts of giggles.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><span style=" font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"font-family:";font-size:13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><span style=" font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"font-family:";font-size:13.0pt;">Yet, it is funny how some things don't change. Fast forward about 20 years and here we are doing the thing that just came natural for us- dancing. Thus you can imagine I love everything about this photo- the lighting, our expressions, and the fact that in this small still frame of time it looks as if we are the only people on the dance floor, perhaps the only people in the room.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><span style=" font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"font-family:";font-size:13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><span style=" font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"font-family:";font-size:13.0pt;">Thus this is where my dilemma begins. The last couple months of my life have been nothing but tumultuous, new, and cloaked with grief. Yet, the thing that I struggle with the most is the fact that I feel like I am constantly re-learning how to do the things I once new how to do with ease. You see losing someone that knows you better than you sometimes know yourself leaves you broken and vulnerable. Thus over the last 2 months I have been picking up the pieces of my life and trying to create something that resembles what it once was.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><span style=" font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"font-family:";font-size:13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><span style=" font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"font-family:";font-size:13.0pt;">Yet, what I have discovered is that sometimes all the pieces don't fit the way they did before, and your are forced to create more of a mosaic of the person you once were than a replica. You see I don't think I will ever be the same. I will never be able to call my dad at work just for a chat, or call him frantically on the interstate as I question my exit, nor will he grab my hand for just one more dance at a wedding.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="right" style="text-align: left;"><span style=" font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-bidi-Times New Roman"font-family:";font-size:13.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <span style="font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria;mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-USfont-family:";font-size:13.0pt;">Yet, what I have learned through my solitude and pain is that life is worth the dance. That despite everything, I know in my heart that my dad would want me to dance, to love, to feel, and to inspire. While I have never felt so alone, I also have never felt such love. I sometimes wish I could rewind the last 6 months of my life, that I could change the course of events. There are images in my mind that will haunt me for life, and moments that I will treasure forever. The truth is I miss my dad more than you will ever know, but when you are given the chance- you must dance.</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><br /></span></span></div>Jen Paskohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10108545915695493794noreply@blogger.com3