Who Am I?

I decided at the last minute to join the Blogtember challenge with Jenni at Story of My Life. I think with school starting, it'll be a great idea to have my post topic picked out in advance.

So on with today's topic, the post is about where I come from. I'm gonna be a little different and avoid talking about my family or hometown. I'm gonna talk about how I attended Catholic schools from Kindergarten to 8th grade.

Yes, plaid skirts and knee socks we're my uniform for 9 years. Sexy. I had such a different experience growing up in a Catholic school than all of my public school friends. When I started 9th grade at my public high school, it was complete culture shock.

first Communion  //  confirmation pic with the bishop  //  dressed as St. Monica  // first day of school (circa 1997)

Catholic school has made me the person I am today.

I always write in cursive. Being graded on penmanship and only being allowed to write in cursive for the majority of my academic career means I will probably never break the habit. When I started high school, my friends were baffled that I would write in cursive even though I didn't have to anymore. Honestly, it's easier to write this way. I don't have to pick up the pen for every. single. letter. It's also awesome to write my notes in cursive because it means no one will every want to borrow them. Apparently it's hard for people to read? I dunno.

Sample of my lovely cursive

I respect authority figures. When I started high school, it blew my mind that kids would talk back to the teacher or give a principal attitude. It still kinda blows my mind, actually. I see it at work too. I have no idea how people think it's okay to backtalk their manager or supervisor. When passing professors in the hallway, my automatic response is to say good morning or good afternoon, so and so. When I was in grade school, we'd stand up and chant good afternoon, [insert name here] whenever another teacher, principal, priest, or other special visitor entered the classroom. Respect.

I have pretty decent grammatical skills. I'm not saying I don't make a mistake every now and then, but I'm fantastic at proofreading. I actually enjoy it (I should've been a book editor). The first time I proofread one of Kris's term papers, I laughed out loud. When I asked him if he'd ever heard of run-on sentences, his response was "they don't care about that stuff in public schools!" It took every ounce of my self-control to not strangle him. In third grade I knew what a preposition was, how it was used, and was able to recite them in alphabetical order. In 10th grade, my teacher made me explain prepositions to the class because they'd never learned about them before. WHAT?

I have Faith. It is an experience like no other, that I got to learn about the history of what I believe in for 9 years. It's hard to explain, but there is a pride in knowing you went to a school with people who believe in all the same values as you do. Without Catholic school I'd never have caught the liturgical music bug that keeps me close to my faith through my "job" as a church singer today.

I hope this post shows a little more of what makes me me.

XO - Monny

Beautiful Life

It's been a few weeks since I last posted. Sadly, my grandmother passed away last weekend. After a long battle with metastatic bone cancer, my Mom-Mom went home to heaven to be with God and Pop-Pop. She fought bravely and her faith never once wavered. She was surrounded by a house filled with family and friends who loved her in her final moments on earth. I miss her more every minute, but I can still feel her with me as I do my daily activities.

Her senior portrait from 1944. She's gorgeous.

Through everything that's happened in the last two weeks, I feel closer to God than ever. During her final week of life, we saw Mom-Mom smile at angels we couldn't see. I feel like that's the closest to heaven I'll ever get while I'm here and it was phenomenal. She was the most incredible woman I've ever been blessed to know and I know she'll continue to watch over me.

 For a long time, Mom-Mom had been telling me that she wanted me to sing Schubert's Ave Maria at her funeral, when she died. I was never prepared to sing it because the thought of her dying was too much to handle. I grew up a lot this month and I told her I'd sing it, but that when the time came, she'd have to help me through it. I don't know how I sang without bursting into tears, but I know she was with me. She gave me the strength I needed to honor her beautiful memory. Everyone said she'd be proud of me and I believe it.

Strawberry Daquiri

Some of the last words my grandmom spoke were,"I had a beautiful life." My goal is to live as she did, appreciating everything I have at any given moment. I hope that in my last moments on earth, whenever they will be, I will be able to say the same thing.

Live life beautifully.

XO - Monnny