The world made a little space today.

It may seem odd to question the significance of being present at a birth as this is the most thrilling of moments, but I contemplate everything and I've never experienced such a moment.

I was the youngest in my family. Obviously, my parents had been on the planet long before I and since I was the youngest, I never experienced the birth of a younger sibling. My cousins were born either before me, when I was too young to really know what was going on, and when I was old enough, they were out of state. But today, I was old enough and sitting in that waiting room right down the hall, holding my breath to ensure I’d hear the beautiful screams of our little girl, my niece, when she was ready to join us.

We arrived at 6pm Friday evening. She arrived at 2:16pm Saturday afternoon and trust, not a minute sooner (That is the very short version to a long laborious process). Her mother, by the way, is a rock star. What she endured and the duration of which, was simply incredible. She brought it.

The world made a little space today (yesterday now). Enough for 7 pound-7 ounces of joy to squeeze into and make her own. And in the process, forever changing the lives of those who awaited and welcomed her.

It is an indescribable excitement that I, or anyone for that matter, feels about the birth of a baby that is apart of their family or part of someone’s family whom they are close to. These last 9 months have been an extreme test of patience (which I have little of anyway but the teaching thing is slowly but surely helping), awaiting the arrival of my niece. Of course I filled this time buying her cute outfits and accessories which I would one day get to dress her in and books that I still can’t wait to read to her and help her sound out those tough words in. We’ll succeed together.

Seeing that full head of dark hair and that perfect blend of skin to make an olive complexion, I could not and did not try to hold back any tears. Here she was minutes ago a bump in a belly whose heart beat was our joyous music, and now here she was making the cutest sneezes, a noise much sweeter than anything I’ve ever heard before and sucking her oh-so-tiny thumb.

Staring at this little creation in my brother’s arms as he looks at her with adoration, steals my complete breath, takes all the moisture out of my mouth and I shed relentless tears that I won’t fight back. Here is the person who’s foot of the bed I snuck into on nights where the shadows scared me on my walls or a nightmare startled me awake, holding his very own daughter. He’s the one I always resented for being overprotective or too “nosey” about where I was and who I was with, now holding his own little girl. How lucky she will be to have someone who cares for her more than anything else on this Earth. And on those days when she is frustrated and doesn’t understand the loving place it comes from, I can’t wait to talk her through it. I know he’ll make space when she too thinks that there are monsters in her closet.

I’m so excited to get to know her. I wonder what kind of ice-cream she’ll pick when I take her to Baskin Robbins or what her favorite movie will be. I wonder what colors she’ll want to decorate her first big girl room in and which Disney character she will run to hug on her first trip to Disneyland. Oh, the places she’ll go.

In closing, I happen to be reading ‘To Kill a Mockingbird” right now. For some reason, every book I seem to pick up, conveniently fits right into my life at that moment. And for this moment particularly, “To Kill a Mockingbird” has touched me.

“Jem” I asked, “what’s a mixed child?”

“Half white, half colored. They’re real sad.”

“Sad, how come?”

“They don’t belong anywhere. Colored folks won’t have ‘em cause they're half white; white folks won’t have ‘em cause they’re colored so they’re in betweens. They don’t belong anywhere.”

There is nothing more beautiful than the blend of these two colors in her skin. She’s blessed with the absolute best of both worlds and I will always tell her that. I’m sure the world will too.

The world has made a space for you and that is with us and in our hearts forever. There is nowhere else you're supposed to be.

You belong right here, Olivia.

Reflections on Inception.

Christopher Nolan knows me. Perhaps we met in a dream.

Not only did he put my boyfriend who just doesn't know it yet, Joseph Gordon-Levitt (or as he likes to be called, "Joe") in the suits and vests that I adore him in most, but he threw in my old classic love of Leo who only seems to become more handsome with age. In the unfortunate event that you've been asleep within your own dreams for the past month or so, I'm referring to the film 'Inception.'

Although an insomniac, when I do dream I have what most of my friends consider to be deranged dreams. To me, they've become normal. You know, the typical scenario of being chased by a family member who is shooting at you while you attempt to flee by scaling barbed wire fences, that sort of thing. Then I bleed for what seems to be forever but don't seem to die when I've lost a lot of blood. When it feels like I am losing breath and will cease to dream exist, I startle back to reality.

There it is. My peaceful room: The bookshelf overflowing with stories begging to be read, the humming of my fan that I find necessary to sleep to during the summer, and my all too comfortable bed that I could literally live in if I had the assistance of something not as gross as a bed pan to deal with that waste thing and an attractive butler to wait on all other needs.

It was just a dream.

I roll over, shut my eyes and await the next ludicrous story that awaits to meet me in my subconscious.

Now with all that insanity that stirs through my mind while I'm asleep, I have equally random thoughts when I'm functioning about the masses. Not on the level of the previous example of course or you may want to check me into a mental facility ASAP (I'd prefer the lavish one where all those stars with "addictions" go), but I think...A LOT. About life. About the what ifs. Things that I have found through conversations aren't so typical to think about while picking up your dry cleaning.

Warning: Semi-spoiler alert for those who haven't seen the movie:

When you break down the central plotline of Nolan's, it's DiCaprio trying to reach his dream...to get home. His "real" home. But the end may have you guessing, is it in fact real? No, I'm not going to stop there because this begs the question, what is real for us? Yes we have a collective reality that can be proved through facts and general observations about how the weather is or isn't behaving, but we also have individual realities. For instance, I have a habit of ignoring things or diminishing their impact until someone else confirms its occurrence. The morning of 9-11 was a clear example of this. I didn't believe it was happening even while watching live footage, because this wasn't possible...until my mom walked in and acknowledged its reality. No she wasn't chasing me and she really is a lovely woman. My dreams don't do her justice.

In opposition, some things that I may witness with other people I feel much more attached to, moved by and contemplative over because for some reason, it resonates with my reality. Just because it exists in me and not in others doesn't make it unreal, or in other words-a dream. Perhaps, this entire "Inception" contemplation is one of those things.

Usually I loathe unfinished endings that make the viewer do work in order to reach a conclusion. My reaction is usually along the lines of, "I believe I paid you to see this movie therefore I shouldn't be responsible for producing the beginning, middle, or end of it." However, given the blurry nature of the lack of lines created between dream and reality, the film's end was perfect.

Bravo, Nolan. Bravo.

Scavenger Hunting

I enjoy scavenger hunts. Give me a clue that requires me to use off-the-wall random knowledge I've acquired to take me to the prize and I’m all thrills. I like scavenger hunts when there is a foreseeable end; in two hours tops, it’s over.

My brother and I (him in the middle and I on the right) used to craft scavenger hunts around the house; one of many of our made-up games that we created to amuse ourselves. This along with stair ball and slither-on-the-carpet-around-the-living-room-and-not-get-caught-by-the-light-on-the-alarm (okay this one didn’t have an “official” title), were a few of my favorites.

For our house-hunts (not to be confused with HDTV’s popular hit ‘House Hunters’), we would make the other sit in their room until all the clues we had thought up were spread out amongst the house. We’d get real creative with clues like, “Mom says we can’t have these til after dinner,” that led us to the teddy bear cookie jar. Whoever completed their scavenger hunt in less time, won. And usually at the final destination, there was some type of prize. Maybe a lego piece or something else that would bring relative joy to a 10 year old.

These were what I considered to be good times. You figure it out in minutes, go to the next destination and before you know it, success! You win.

Suck it scavenger hunt.

The house suddenly became the world and I realized that these clues could take me anywhere. That in itself is incredibly overwhelming. What if I misread these clues? If the “hint” was to take a left at the fork and I took a right and ended up in Norway but was supposed to be in Nepal* (yeah, right)...will another path form? It’s not as easy as backtracking from mom and dad’s room to the living room. And if I do misstep, are there two possible right answers or can we increase the odds and say there are infinite directions that lead to awesomeness?

I realize I am overanalyzing. I do this often. This time my excuse is that a new year of my life looms just days before me. I am about to hop on the slide that will take me into the latter years of my twenties and that in a sense is terrifying. Not because I feel “old” (okay maybe a little) but because I haven’t figured it out. Unlike my brother’s clues, they are very well hidden.

"All you have to do is pay attention; lessons always arrive when you are ready, and if you can read the signs, you will learn everything you need to know in order to take the next step." -Paolo Coelho

Sweet. I'm all ears.

*Devoted blog readers (all two of you), please remind me I wrote this when I send you a postcard from Nepal.

When is it okay to 'be'?

Sometimes life feels like you’re in the midst of a back-to-back-to-back 400 m sprint. For a former sprinter, this is completely exhausting. I only can go for short distances before I need a breather, some fresh air. A drink of water to rehydrate.

How come life doesn’t afford you these times to take a break and to catch up with your oxygen intake? It seems as though each time you hit a milestone or accomplish something, there is some force out there asking you what our next step is, when you plan to achieve it by and how you will go about that plan.

The minute you walk in the door at freshman orientation for high school, you are already seeing brochures of how to plan for college: What grades you need to make, how much your parents should be saving, guides of how to succeed on your SAT’s. Quick sign up for the P-SAT...you only have 4 years to prepare! Forget after football game dances and assemblies, you should be studying for your SAT.

They quickly usher you out of this 4 year institution into the college you have been steadily preparing for these last 4 years. You check into your dorm, go to see your advisor to make your course plan. They then ask you the million dollar question: “What do you want to do with your life?”

Life? I just turned 18 and I thought this is life. Going to school, moving away, new experiences, love, loss, education, friendships. I have no idea what I am going to eat for dinner tomorrow night, let alone know what career I would choose to wake up and go to every single day until the gold watch of retirement glimmers.

So you choose something that sounds like what you’re interested in learning more about and you pray that in 4 years you won’t hate it and can make a career or at least get hired somewhere. You know, if the economy doesn't suck.

You have a few beers, you go to some football games, you casually date, and before you know it you’re sitting in a sea of Josten’s caps n gowns yet again listening to a speech about your future and tomorrow. What about the now? The right now in that moment?

You’re now in your mid twenties, working at a job that is satisfying for the moment thinking about this dreary future "thing" that everyone is constantly reminding you about. Save your money, invest, buy! Make a plan. For what? I could wake up dead tomorrow.

You drift toward your thirties, still single with the constant reminder that you are: “Are you seeing anyone?” No, should I be? I’m enjoying being single, strengthening friendships, learning more about who I am, and enjoying the freedom of the moment. But for some reason, the world tells you that you aren’t and that you must hurry to find someone. As if the world is running out of people. I'm quite sure the opposite is occurring.

You finally meet this person that you believe to be amazing. He makes you laugh, he is sincere when he tells you that you’re beautiful, and you feel that this is real companionship. This isn't like the others. Love.

“When are you going to get engaged?” I don’t know…I’m not sure what marriage is all about. Is there a test drive route I can take?

You get engaged.

“When is the wedding?”

You wed.

“When is the baby coming?”

Pretty soon the future is so crammed down your esophagus that you are unable to focus on the present, to enjoy the beautiful moments of extraordinary days that only seem ordinary because you are too busy to pay attention. Too busy writing in your planner, stressing about this unknown future.

There might not be a tomorrow for you or me. How many of them do you want to look back at and find unrecognizable because you were too busy to look around and enjoy this amazing world we have at our fingertips?

You can see the finish line. With every step you take though, it seems to be pulled further and further away from you, a cruel tease, and you have to keep running or you might never catch it.

Stop. Let them pass you if this really is in fact a race to them. Literally, stop and smell the roses or daisies or hydrangeas, whatever it is you enjoy the scent of. Lay your back flat on the surface of the Earth and make shapes out of the clouds until they fade into a magnificent dark sky only lit by the stars that dance in it and the moons light cast upon it. Then lay there longer.

Rehydrate.

Be.