It's all in the perspective

I'm having a bit of blog envy right now. Strangely enough, it all started on FB. I read a comment someone posted on a friend's (OK, an ex-bf's) wall, and it led me to Google, which led me to a blog. The blog was my ex's high school girlfriend. I remember his stories about her. She seemed kind of fascinating. Her blog totally proved that she is.

She's lived in Texas and in England, both to write greeting cards (how cool is that?!). She's witty and seems to be so full of life. And she's a talented photographer. She is now living in Miami studying photography. (I would kill to study photography.)

A few weeks ago, one of my very favorite bloggers, GFF, posted about Blog Envy. I'm sure it's something we've all felt. Someone else seems so much freer, so much cooler, so much smarter, more talented, funnier ... Well, Miss TX/England/Miami (much like GFF, actually) seems all of those things to me. So much that I even overlooked a comment in one of her posts that mocked my beloved Oklahoma (something about actually using the words "cool" and "Oklahoma" in the same sentence).

It's definitely my fault for neglecting this blog like I have. Some days I feel too busy to get down all I need to (part of that is due to the fact I don't really tell short stories), and sometimes I feel like I wouldn't have anything nice to say, so why bother to begin with (which is why I didn't write a marathon post immediately after the run).

Miss TEM, with all her world travel and amazing photos of places I may never see, seems so much wiser and worldly. I'm definitely not worldly.

I started to feel a little down on myself ... and then I started thinking.

I'm a pretty patriotic person. I've always been that way, but it's increased more and more over the years, starting first with my love of the Fourth of July and our family reunions, then the report I did in the fourth grade on Molly Pitcher, building with my high school experience at Girls State, and rocketing to the next galaxy once I fell in love with an Army guy.

And obviously I love Oklahoma. I am so proud to be from there, and I am so proud of the reputation we Okies have as being such great, friendly people. You can talk to anyone in Oklahoma, whether you know them or not. I've had some surprising and great conversations that way. (It's taken me a long time to realize people in most other places don't do that. Not that it's stopped me from trying!)

Oftentimes people somehow know I'm from that area (and this was even before I got my necklace). It happened with a kickballer on another team (he actually wanted to guess I was from Nebraska, "or one of those nearby states," he said. For a guy born & raised in VA, he got pretty dang close!). It happened to me once when I met a new coworker in Dallas. (I asked if it was because I exuded awesomeness.)

I've had people marvel at my knowledge of state facts (doesn't everyone know their state bird, state tree, state flower, etc.?). Sometimes I actually even remind myself of the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, with his ability to tie everything back to Greek culture (obviously for me it would be Oklahoma). What most people don't know is that it was leaving Oklahoma that made me love it so much. Absence definitely made my heart grow fonder.

Here in VA, I've heard comments like, "You're so from Oklahoma!" (I took that as a great compliment) and "How big is the town you're from?"(For the record, 18,000. Pretty decent size for Oklahoma.)

I may not be worldly. I might enjoy using the word "y'all" a bit too much. I will never quit trying to start up conversations with strangers at the grocery store.*

I am the all-American girl next door. A small-town Okie. A meat & potatoes girl. A butcher's daughter. A NASCAR sister. An Army wife.

My world may be smaller, but it's the perfect size for me.

*For the record, I'm not the crazy lady who mumbles to herself. I'm a fan of talking to people in similar situations. Real-life example: Scanning an aisle at the store, noticing a woman next to me doing the same. "I swear, they're out of everything today!" (No, this woman did not respond. This happened in my first few weeks of moving to Dallas. She stared straight ahead, unmoving, as though I didn't exist. I really wanted to cry.)