Why I don't write poetry

Rain pelting on the window pane

Growing stronger every second

Each solitary drop containing something unique

Something more than hydrogen and oxygen

Much more

Ironically, it isn't raining

My window is dry

Open, in fact, to the immense black

Where whispers are permitted to pass through the dirty screen

Only to be drowned by the stale drone of a radio

Speaking of ironic...

In between my ellipses is a space anything but sterile

Anything but lifeless

Almost like the time before the sun's

Tonight should never end

Even though the clock indicates it already has

Tonight isn't wonderful, or overtly terrible

It's closer to mediocre

Perhaps holding onto the shards of night postpones the morning

At least in some insignificant way

That matters regardless

Watching the third become the fourth

And so on.

Nonsense doesn't make as much sense after sunrise

Duh!

Today, like most good Christians, I went to church.

As a side note, if you're looking to whet your appetite for a cynical church kid attitude, you can just stop reading right now. Or you can keep reading. You're just not going to get much cynicism this time.

I realized what's been lacking in my life In fact, I think I've realized why Christians sometimes act the way they act. While Christians should, ideally, be a loving group of people, they so often are portrayed and thought of as wanting in the area of love.

Today I had such a duh moment. As in, duh, most Christians don't love others, it's because they've lost sight of the love of Christ.

Duh.

Although, it's not that we've simply forgot that Christ and love can be used in the same sentence, or even that he loves humanity as a whole.

I think that on the personal level, we don't realize God's immense love for us. And this is hurting our ability to love others. I mean, if you don't realize that you are loved by the one who commands you to love, then your efforts towards genuine love will most likely fall flat.

Sitting in church today, singing this one song, I realized that I had not focused much on the fact that God loves me. I knew he wanted me to do the right thing. I knew he cared enough to let me pray. I knew he died for me. But somehow, I had been missing the most crucial piece of the puzzle.

That he actually loves me.

I think I started crying. And that's weird, because it's been a crazy long time since I've cried. As crazy as I know some of you think it is, the fact that I am loved unconditionally by Jesus just blew my mind. I can't contain myself when I think about it for too long. And yet, I don't want to stop thinking about it.

Love is personal again.

I don't walk around thinking "oh, God loves the world." Although it is true that God's love extends to each and every person, it's so vital to have it on a personal level. "He loves me" echoes through my mind.

I love the feeling of being loved. I don't care if you think that I'm so desperate to be loved that I force emotional highs involving a deity. I don't care if you think I'm out of my mind. Simply, I don't care what you think.

I think, no I know, Jesus loves me. And that's enough for me.

My Face-Tweeting Book Space.

What can you say in 140 characters or less? Anything important? Anything someone would feel inclined to 'follow' ('stalk' might be more accurate) you to learn? Would you text a tweet from the toilet to appease these, ahem, followers?

Twitter. 

My oh my, how social networking has changed. First, there was MySpace. I had a MySpace for about two weeks, got sick of it, and moved on. Lately it seems like a lot of other people have done the same thing, although evidently there still are some people who have a MySpace. Go figure. Now, most everyone has a Facebook. You can update your status, post pictures, poke your friends, write on walls, and tout the massive collection of friends that you have. It's oh so addicting, yet it is everything essential to existence.

Or is it? 

Apparently not, since someone thought there was a need for Twitter. And apparently there was a need, according to the amount of people who tweet almost daily. Ellen DeGeneres does. Oprah has a following on Twitter. Ryan Seacrest updates his profile daily. I think even Barack Obama tweets. 

At first, I wasn't sure of the appeal to Twitter, since I thought the entire premise was typing constant status updates of 140 characters or less. Now, though, I am still unsure of the appeal, since the entire premise actually is typing constant status updates of 140 characters or less. 

What if I'm having a complicated day and I need 141 characters? Obviously, the internet and social networking sites are exactly what I need to get all the complicated tangles of my life straightened out. In those situations, however, I can rely on zero success from theraputic tweeting.

Oh Twitter. I got a Twitter today. I still think it's dumb. I will most likely think it's dumb for the rest of my life. I only got one so people couldn't attack my claim that it's dumb with the cliched "just give it a chance" argument. I already have two followers. Oh how popular I am. And I'm sure, since everyone cares about my impressive updates, more followers will come my way. 

If there is anything of any value that Twitter has to offer, I'm sure I'll discover it by the end of the summer. If I can find at least ten things that appear to have some point of maintaining a Twitter, then I might keep tweeting just for that. If I can't, Twitter is just as dumb as I think it is and it's ridiculous that it even exists. 

I'm probably right, though. I usually am.

Underdog Millionaire?

Well, I've done it. I've finally done it. 

For 120 minutes on the night of Memorial Day, I jumped on the Slumdog Millionaire bandwagon. 

I had wanted to see this movie when it first came out and everyone started talking about how good it was. I don't like to go see movies at the theaters, though. I hate spending almost ten dollars to get in, and I'm always very cold throughout the movie's entire duration. Mostly, though, I hate spending money. 

Anyway, I waited to see it until my mom sent me to the Redbox, telling me to get her a movie. It's only one dollar that way, AND she gave me her credit card. It's really a no-brainer. 

I see why it won Best Picture. 

I'm not going to go through the entire story, because I'm pretty sure everyone is relatively aware of the general plot. I've heard it called a classic underdog story. Aside from the canine references, however, I found it to be vastly different from that category. Sure, in the end, he wins and gets the girl. But to get there, it took a lot more than is usually shown in "underdog" films. 

Maybe I'm a sucker for flashbacks, but I absolutely loved the way this film related the hero's entire life to his current situation. I like when there are common, recurring elements weaved throughout a story. When a movie makes you think, instead of allowing you to mentally check out for a few hours, it proves that it has  sustenance to it.  

Slumdog was intentionally gruesome. The way it portrayed life in India's slums was shocking and disturbing. But, that was the point of it. That's also why it's so effective. It's not disturbing for shock value; there's a point to it, I guess. 

The acting was so intense. I hate it when a script has potential and then the actors just butcher it. The acting in this film was fairly close to flawless. It was never over the top. It was never under-played. The child roles were especially impressive. The acting made you feel like the characters were real. 

My biggest problem with this film, though, was its soundtrack. I know it won an Oscar for its score, but it ruined itself for me when I heard M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes." I. Hate. That. Song. In fact, I hate it so much that I just ignored the generally accepted rules of English grammar and put a period after each word of that former sentence for emphasis. Actually, though, if you took that song out of the mix, the rest of the contributions by M.I.A. aren't all that terrible. 

I also had a problem with the full scale dance number during the credits. Yes, there was an intense dance number. And yes, I asked the same question when it came on. It felt out of place. I mean,  I guess there's something attractive about large dance numbers, but this isn't Hairspray, Footloose, or High School Musical.

Slumdog Musicalnaire. 

It doesn't have the same ring to it. 

Overall, though, this movie is pretty much awesome. I'm really upset I decided to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button in theaters over this one. You should see it, because I told you to. I liked it. And since I don't like a lot, that has to be worth something. 

AAAAACHHOOOOOO. Ugh.

I decided I wanted to make a blog post. That's really how most (if not all) of my blog posts come into being. I just randomly decide I want to make one and I just do it. What if children happened that way? Someone just decides they want one, and then boom, there one is. It's a good thing the making of children takes much more cooperation. ahem. 

For the purposes of this post, however, I think I want to ramble about sneezes. 

David has just sneezed roughly twenty times in a thirty second time frame. I believe that is a problem he should go get looked at. 

I hate sneezes. 

I hate having to sneeze when I'm talking to people. And that is always when I have to sneeze the most. When I'm all by myself, sneezes never take the time to come upon me. It is only when I'm in the middle of a sentence or a quiet room that they think I deserve to sneeze. I hate it when people sneeze on me. It's gross. In sophomore year of high school, I had a job watching about fifteen two year olds once a week. They always sneezed on me. Little kid sneezes are far from cute. They're gross. I think that experience scarred me for life, as well as giving me an anti-sneeze bias. 

I always feel bad for people with lots of allergies, who sneeze constantly. Being in a room with them and all their sneezes makes me very claustrophobic. I once knew a boy who sneezed ten times in a row without stopping. I couldn't stand it. 

Whoever invented sneezing anyway? It's really one of the odder functions of the human body. Couldn't we survive with coughs alone? Coughs don't bother me. You and I can cough all we want. Just please, no sneezing. 

The moment leading up to a sneeze is the worst. You know it's coming, and you're frightened. The anticipation leading up to the culminating moment of the actual, physical sneeze is one of the most stress-filled, phobia inducing anticipations one can experience. There is really very little you can do to stop it. Even if you do manage to stop it this time, it's only going to come back in a few hours at the most. And when it comes back, it's going to be bigger and more obnoxious than before. Oh the anticipation. If we could do without the anticipation, then thirty percent of the problem would be solved. The other seventy percent is the sneezes themselves. 

I guess there really isn't anyone I can blame for sneezes, though. I think that's what upsets me the most about them. It's somewhat of a comfort if you can get angry at something or someone in specific. Actually, it's very comforting to be able to do that. I haven't sneezed since last night, though, so hopefully I can go the entire day without sneezing. I'm going to beat the system on this one. I'll let you know how I do. 

Please pull up to the next window for your total.

May I rant for a few moments?

Drive-thrus. While I am opposed to torture and inhumane treatment, I still think that the inventor of the drive-thru window should be hung upside down by his toenails and forced to listen to Taylor Swift and Amy Winehouse all day long. And then, we should give him a life sentence. 

As if it isn't bad enough that people are even eating the food that's most often served at drive-thru windows, now they're given the option to sit lazily in their cars while they purchase said nutritional atom bombs. I thought we were trying to fix the obesity epidemic in our society. How, exactly, is giving people another option to be lazy going to help?

Also, most people don't know how to act at drive-thru windows. No one knows anything about drive-thru etiquette, so drive-thrus are really just horrible experiences for most people involved. At least, definitely for the person manning them. In order to assist with this problem, I have come up some of the most annoying things people do at drive-thru windows (I have definitely been in a list mood lately. Odd.) :

• They talk on their phones. I'm sorry, but I can't see your phone, so I definitely have no idea that you're talking to your wife and asking her what she wants from the drive-thru. It's obnoxious and rude. Get all your asking done before you pull up to order. 
• They specify that the order is "to go." Okay, this isn't bad etiquette so much as it is people just being completely dumb. Most of the time it's actually kind of amusing. One of these days, I think I just might make someone's drive-thru order for here and then insist that they didn't specify. Dumb people can be funny. 
• They have noisy cars. Oh this is terrible, but it's especially terrible because people don't seem to notice that their cars are so noisy. Thus, when they pull up to the window, they tell you (very angrily) that your speaker sucks and you should get it fixed. I'm sorry. That is definitely my fault. I'll go out and rewire it immediately. TURN YOUR CAR OFF!
• They honk their horns because the line isn't moving fast enough. Really? If you were inside, would you honk your horn, or at least mimic a horn honking, due to the speed of the line? This is just downright rude. If you really don't like waiting, make food at home instead of going to a drive-thru.
• They drive away right after their order is filled. Evidently, the line was taking too long, so instead of honking their horn, they just up and leave. And of course they have to wait until there's only one car in front of them to make their departure. Really? Fail. That's probably the nicest thing I can think to say.
• The wait until they drive up to the window to place their order. This is probably the WORST thing you can do at a drive-thru window. If you do this, you might as well just come inside and stop being so lazy, because this absolutely defeats the entire purpose of a drive-thru. It throws the whole system off and you actually end up having to wait longer, as do all the people behind you. If you do this, your drive-thru privileges should be revoked.
  

This list is very incomplete. 

I hate drive-thrus, obviously. I hate going through them myself and I hate the way people act when they go through them. I think people just make them way more complicated than they have to be, which just stresses everyone out. In theory, I guess I understand the attraction, but the execution of drive-thrus is highly obnoxious. Sometimes, a very nice person will come through the drive-thru. Other times, a very nice AND attractive person will come through. Mostly, the meanest people go through the drive-thru. 

The best thing about drive-thrus is having two employees talking to the customers at once. Especially if they'll hear alternating between male and female voices. Sometimes the customers will confusedly question it. Other times, they're simply too, ahem, preoccupied to notice. 

Either way, do everyone involved a favor and boycott the drive-thru. Thank you. That felt good.

Rocks and stuff

The semester is almost over. While I should be practicing a speech, I decided to instead give another quick top ten list. As I was looking through my notes from my geology class, I came across the most important things said by the instructor thus far. At least, they were important enough for me to write down. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, or at the very least find it amusing.

The Geology Top Ten

10. "Now, this rock has excellent cleavage." [cue Jenny's laughter row two.]

9. "Believe it or not, you can kill someone with only a pencil."

8. "People just keep diddling with the environment!"

7. "Now, I'm sure you all are familiar with Wisconsin."

6."For those of you who are musically minded, da da dum doo dee da da."

5. "Just let the beavers do their thing."

4. "We're living on a giant Tums."

3. "Now what kind of rock is this? I'll give you a hint: IT AIN'T GRANITE!"

2. "Give yourselves a pat on the head for surviving the wet one."

And the number one quote from geology:

"Now, this has nothing to do with geology..."

And, that's basically how the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays of my spring semester have been spent. They're almost over. Peace.

=]

Lately, I've been thinking a lot. Well, a lot more than usual. I mean, I'm usually thinking about several things at the same time. It gets pretty crowded in there --in my head, that is. 

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about the kinds of things girls like to think about. 

Relationships have been on my mind lately. I'm one of those crazy people who have been having dreams about getting married pretty much since I could walk. Maybe even before that. By the time I could talk, I had the entire perfect wedding planned in my mind. As I got older, maybe a few of the details changed a bit (for example, I don't want to have my wedding reception at a McDonald's Playplace anymore). Maybe I'm exaggerating a tad, but I honestly have been one of those cliched hopeless romantic types for the majority of my life. 

That said, I have no problem admitting that I have NEVER been in a relationship, had a boyfriend, etc. etc. And I mean never. As in, it hasn't happened. 

I guess I'm expected to have had that, though. People think it's funny when you're sixteen and haven't "had a boyfriend." Uh-oh. Now, I'm really getting too old. 

I don't think dating like that in high school would have been beneficial for me whatsoever. I mean, it sucked then, especially since I am the way I am. But, what's the point? I don't want to "have a boyfriend" just so I can say that I have. I don't want to use people in that context. If I wanted to be in a relationship just so I could change my Facebook relationship status, well I probably could have had a boyfriend or two by now. But, they wouldn't have lasted very long. 

Again, what's the point?

When I look at my childhood dreams of getting married and compare them to the ones I have now, one thing hasn't changed. I don't plan on being married five times. I like the idea of having that one person for the rest of your life. 

So, how would countless short term relationships help me at all? Well, they'd make me feel better about myself, for one. I wouldn't have to be alone. Alone is a terrible thing to feel. The worst feeling in the world is sitting there watching everyone around you fall in love, all the while you wonder why you haven't yet. It hurts to think that maybe you never will. It scares me to think that maybe I never will. 

I don't think I'd make a very good nun, to be perfectly honest. 

It hurts sometimes. It's frustrating sometimes. It seems hopeless sometimes. It's hard all of the time. 

Someday. 

But, I'm not one of those people who are one hundred percent against "dating" or what have you. 

I don't really know exactly why it's taking so long. I don't really know if it's me, or just the circumstances of my life. If it is me, I don't know what it is about me exactly. I don't know if I'm distancing myself to hold out for something better or just distancing myself for the heck of it.

I really hope something comes along, sooner rather than later if I had a choice. 

But, then, at the same time, I'm okay with it. As hard as it is to say, maybe my picture perfect wedding is never going to happen. Maybe I'll never fall in love. Maybe I'll live with lots of cats someday. 

I never thought I would say this, but I actually find myself alright with that. If that's the way it's going to be, okay. I'm perfectly happy right now. It's dumb to wait for another person to show up and make you happy. I can and am happy just as I am, lonely and all. 

And, you know, I'm really not that lonely after all. 

There's always a song in my head.

I decided that I've been getting more into music on the whole. I think a lot of it has to do with writing CD reviews for newspaper. I love writing these reviews, because there is simply so much put out that is absolutely terrible. It gives me an outlet to say how terrible I think something is. 

My music appreciation class has also given me a true appreciation of music, ironically enough. With that said, I decided to comprise a list of the most intriguing, interesting, and appealing sections that we've covered in the class thus far:

• Classical. Usually, I am not a classical music person whatsoever, but Mozart is awesome. Why has no one ever made me aware of his amazingness??? I'm also just struck by the sad lives the artists of this time lived. I'm probably not going to become a classical music patron, but I didn't mind learning about this.
• Messiah. We did a whole focus on Handel's Messiah in class. I loved it, because I really love Handel. He's my absolute favorite. Messiah is so not usually me, but I loved it when I saw it live. I also sang the Hallelujah chorus in Christmas choir once, and that gave it its special place in my heart.
• Opera. I have only seen one opera, and I did not like it. But, the genre itself is intriguing to me, since it's so different from anything I experience on a typical day. We watched La Boheme in class, and I found it very interesting. I still have a hard time listening to the singing in opera, but I liked it on the whole. 
• Romantic. This time period is just so romantic. Ew. No, but I find the shift that occurs in this time period really interesting. Also, the music has such a fanciful feel to it. It's pleasant to listen to.
• Film Music. We haven't discussed this in class yet, but this is what I picked out a while ago to do my presentation on. I'm really excited about this, because I love movies, so I think it'll be a really cool thing to look into how the music affects the overall story.

And, there ya go. A rather lame blog entry, but it is an entry nonetheless.

 Appreciate music. And appreciate this quote by Igor Stravinsky. If you don't know who he is, that's what Google is for. 

"My music is best understood by children and animals." [Igor Stravinsky] 

Lottery Tickets and Cigarettes?

Well, I made it. 

I don't feel any different. That's kind of how I feel every May 1st. Exactly the same. Except for my second or third birthday, which was when I finally understood what was actually going on. Other than that, I'm always overwhelmed with the sense of uniformity the first of May always brings about. 

This birthday is the birthday I've wanted since sixth grade, probably. I've always wanted to be about ten years older than I really am. My age is always something I've tried to escape. Maybe it's because a part of me has always been running ahead of where I chronologically am. In my mind, eighteen was always that magic age when I'll finally have arrived. For the entirety of my adolescent years, I've imagined midnight on May 1st, 2009 to be filled with...well, with something.

Somewhere, my childhood escaped me. But, it's not like I woke up one morning (or stayed awake one morning) and realized that I wasn't a kid anymore. It's a process. How's that for the obvious observation of the month?

Growing up is in the present tense for a reason; it's always happening. 

Speaking of presents, I'm older. For my birthday, I would like my childhood back. 

It's not that I'm not excited about getting older and all the new experiences that entails. I'm really excited about my life. Childhood is just one of those things that doesn't come back. Not even for a long weekend. 

A part of me wishes I could be digging in the sandbox, instead of digging for information in the utterly helpless library at school. I'd rather be able to go to the park and just swing, instead of going to work and having to deal with people angry about the amount of whipped cream I put on their hot fudge sundae. I'd give almost anything to be able to play in the awesome fantasy world my best friend and I created in first grade, instead of playing with reality.

Maybe my exposure to reality is what gave my growing up such a jump-start. When I look at people who are eleven or twelve right  now, I'm always struck by just how childish they really are. The things they do and talk about are anything but similar to what was on my mind at eleven and twelve. 

When I was eleven, I was trying to figure out what the meaning of life is. No joke. It kept me tearfully awake just about every single night. I also got my braces taken off that year. When I turned twelve, it got more intense. The search for life's meaning, that is. I remember being struck my own emptiness almost daily throughout most of seventh grade. I was still immature, but it was the kind of immaturity that almost realized its own existence. My immaturity contributed to my emptiness. It didn't make sense how one part of me could be dealing with such weighty things, and another part could just want to do dumb things like playing in the mud. It was too late to go back to the mud, though. My childhood had already mostly flown by.

And now I'm here. I'm still struck by my own immaturity at times, although I like to think of myself as mature on the whole. I'm still aware of emptiness from time to time, although it's mostly that of those around me. I'm still searching for my life's exact meaning, although I do have a firm grip on its general meaning. I still have my braces off, although I do wear a retainer every night. So, in a way, I guess I still am the same person.

'60s, hippies, etc.

I usually don't do journal style blog posts, where I talk about what's going on in my life. Mostly, that's because I'm fairly convinced that nobody cares all that much. Today, though, I'm really in the mood. 

For my honors history class, I have to write a final paper on any topic relating to western civilizations, as long as it dates from the 1700s to the present day. I picked hippies and the counter cultural/anti-war movements of the 1960s. 

Just for kicks, I used Google Images to search for photos of "hippies." I thought you might enjoy this one:

It goes along perfectly with a book I came across in my research. Apparently, the school's library search engine thought this book would come in handy. 

My Hippie Grandmother is a children's book written by Reeve Lindbergh, whoever that is. The basic focus of the story is on a young girl's relationship with her grandmother, who drives a purple bus and "hasn't cut her hair since nineteen sixty-nine." Together, the pair work in Grandma's organic garden and participate in anti-war protests outside of City Hall.

Oh, and the hippie grandmother's cat is named Woodstock. That just might be the most important detail.

Anyway, this paper. 

I went to the library and got about five books on hippie-related subjects. Actually, I got exactly five books on hippie-related subjects. I realized that I really miss doing research with actual books, instead of just typing things into Google.

Maybe I should become a hippie and reject all forms of modern information-getting. I should live in a cabin on top of a hill and grow my own food in a garden in my backyard. I'll become a vegetarian and I won't drive my hippie bus very often, unless I find time to create my own form of oil for it to run. You know, it's to save the environment and everything. If I have to, I'll get a horse and a buggy to travel from place to place.

Or would that be considered Amish?

un-hippielike quote of the day: "a large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of." [jane austen]

(noun) trib'-yah-LAY-shahn

Here I am, sitting in the school library. I'm people-watching, because I finished all my statistics homework within a reasonable amount of time today. I'm pretty sure that no one cares about how I spend the minutes of my free time, so if anyone actually is reading this, they are no doubt wondering 'why.' 

Why indeed. 

It's a good question. A lot is packed into that one three letter word. No matter what it's asked about, 'why' can easily be considered the Superman of questions (or whatever other comic book character you happen to think the most worthy, I guess). 

It's a heartbreaking question, to ask as well as to hear. Asking 'why' when you know that no one has a real answer, at least not one they're going to give you, is frustrating at best. It's tragically pitiful at worst. Being asked 'why' when you don't even know yourself is probably one of the hardest things, really whatever that 'why' might be relating to. It would be so much easier if life just was, without having to be explained. 

It's like in math class, where all the answers are just supposed to be. No questions asked. 2+2=4. But, in my statistics class, our instructor will constantly ask us 'why.' Why do you use the binomial formula in this instance, but not in the other instance? Why does the probability equal .5? 

But, then, you can ask 'why' about much more difficult things. Why am I so alone so much of the time? Why is he not talking to me anymore? Why is my life falling apart, when all the lives around me are staying perfectly intact?

Why indeed. 

For the most part, I don't have the answers. I don't know why the quartiles in a certain data set are what they are anymore than I know why you had to lose someone so important to you. I think I remember someone saying that it's not always important to have the answers, provided you can ask the right questions. 

Really?

As long as someone has the answers, I guess that's an acceptable statement. But, it doesn't give that qualifier. What's the point of asking questions if you never ever hear an answer? 

And yet, I'm never going to get all the answers to all my questions. Maybe I'll figure some out. Maybe someone will be able to tell me 'why' in a few circumstances. But, every question I have? There's no way all of those will be answered. Although it's kind of frustrating to think about, I'm pretty sure that most of my questions will remain unanswered. 

Such as, WHY is there an obnoxiously large dinosaur statue, painted with the most seizure-inducing colors, being stored in the back of library?

"Stuffed deer heads on walls are bad enough, but it's worse when they are wearing dark glasses and have streamers in their antlers because then you know they were enjoying themselves at a party when they were shot." [ellen degeneres = awesome]

So Much Love (yes, i do name blog posts after what comes up on my ipod's shuffle. sheesh.)

I have this full length mirror in my bedroom. It's slightly classy. Maybe someday I'll take a picture of it. 

I have this habit of looking at myself. If a mirror isn't available, I'll use windows, puddles, shiny cars, or your sunglasses. This full length mirror makes looking at myself so much more convenient. 

I'm probably not the right person to have a full length mirror, or any object I can see a reflection in for that matter. Looking at myself has always caused me so much more grief than it should. I remember times when I would end up sobbing, all because my reflection just happened to catch me off guard. 

Lately, though, looking at myself in my mirror has put different kinds of thoughts in my head. Sure, I still see the things I wish didn't exist. That's just not what looking at myself makes me think about. 

I'm really just nothing special. 

My whole life I've been told I was special. Mr. Rogers had me convinced by the age of three. I was the first grandchild, so that automatically made me a big deal. When I could memorize those AWANA books cover to cover in second and third grade, I got super proud of myself. In sixth grade, when I scored at the college reading level, I knew I was special. In high school, when I would compare the person I was to the people my peers were, I had this idea of being miles ahead of them on the maturity scale. And then the big one. I finished high school a whole year early. Woah; I'm so special. 

Not really. 

For the most part, this past year has instilled a good sense of my normal-ness. Really, I'm not as different as I naively used to think I was. That's not to say I've become a conformist. I still think I'm strongly individualistic. 

I'm really just nothing special.

I like knowing that. It's actually very comforting. There's a lot more pressure involved if you're "special." You have to live up to certain expectations. I'm not complacent, though. I don't want to be mediocre in life. The more special I am, though, the better I supposedly am than everyone else. It's kind of complicated to explain, I guess. 

It's not like I'm normal now, so I can fit in. It's not like I all of a sudden have given up on attaining anything worth attaining. It's more of an adequate sense of myself as compared to the universe. It makes me feel small. The good kind of small. 

I'm really just nothing special.

And I wouldn't change that for anything. 

let no one who loves be unhappy. even love unreturned has its rainbow james barrie

You know that feeling you get in your toes when it's December and you only wear one pair of socks?

Numb

Almost like frost bite

Not hurting, not feeling,

But dying everyday. 

Cold and unmoving

Nothing comes in, nothing gets out.

Lifeless and empty

The vacancy sign lit

Eternal vacancy. 

Not changing, not caring.

Alone yet unbothered.

Ceasing to exist,

Through merely existing. 

No more than survival, 

And barely even that. 

Breathing is humanity's only signal.

Painless, loveless.

Without despair, without joy. 

Almost like frost bite

Numb.

I think numb is something I have the potential to become very easily...again.

 So much about not feeling anything seems appealing. But then, at the same time, so much about it scares me. 

Maybe I'd never get hurt, but I couldn't ever be happy, either.

Numb is the easy choice, I'm convinced. I mean, it sucks to be numb, but it really is a lot simpler to just not feel than to live in a constant state of pain, at least on the surface. After a while, you've gone too far. Being numb causes you to lose a part of you that you honestly will never be able to get back. 

Numb is a dangerous place to be. And so often it seems like the only means of escape, which is a big part of what makes it so dangerous. You might not even be living if you're so completely immersed in numbness. 

Numb is not an option anymore. Forcing myself to feel, even if it's pain, is the only way I can logically see getting through life's ups and, perhaps more essentially, downs. 

First Impressions.

I've basically grown up at church. I've been attending and involved for as long as I can remember. I honestly can't think back to a time when church hasn't been a HUGE part of my life. There's a lot of who I am that stemmed from the things that I've learned and experienced through church. There's a lot of friendships I've made through church activities that I know I'll maintain throughout the rest of life. 

That said, the church is so ridiculous so much of the time. 

And I mean that in the most respectful way possible. 

For the most part, the members of the church are insanely judgemental. It's absolutely revolting how the people found inside of the walls of a church are easily the most judgemental and condescending people you could find, at least 85% of the time. 

How is that even possible?

Based on everything I've learned in church, the church should be a place full of vibrant, genuine and loving people. The church has even taught me that the Bible makes it clear that God is in the only one who is in a position to pass judgement on people. Other people are simply not equipped to pass this judgement. 

I hate how unloving the vast majority of the Christian community is, especially the sect which would identify themselves as "traditional", "fundamental", or "conservative". 

I think that attitude has everything to do with my general sense of distaste for those three aforementioned words. 

So many times people act like the only people who deserve their respect are other Christians who would label themselves as such.

Honestly, that's ridiculous. 

Ugh. It just disgusts me so much. I really don't blame people for being turned off of Christianity and church. If it hadn't been such an integral part of my life from such an early age, I might very easily be turned off of it myself. And maybe to some extent I am.  Perhaps I'm unjustly passing judgement on the Christian community, percieving a mind set that might not even be close to reality. Based on what I hear from people outside of the church, though, it's perfectly accurate. Maybe I really am cynical towards the general population of church-going, conservative, fundamentalist Christians. Maybe this is even my own way of judging others.

And maybe that's harsh. 

All I know is that I've been able to disassociate God from the broken institution that is the church, so that my own faith isn't affected by the attitudes I see around me. I still do consider myself a Christian. I simply do not want to be categorized as the stereotypical and all to common judgemental Christian.

In church, you're always taught to live your life different from the rest of the world. I'm not satisfied just living differently from the general population of people, though. I want to live differently from the general population of Christians, too. 

"We have too many high sounding words, and too few actions that correspond with them." [Abigail Adams]

The Essence of Inhumanity

So.
I hate posts that begin with "so." It sounds like you don't know what you're talking about. It reminds me of some sort of valley girl. "So" is one of those fillers that I actually used to get in trouble for using Freshman year of high school. I have lots of terrible memories surrounding the word "so."
But, I digress (I also love the phrase "I digress"; I could use it non-stop. But, I digress).

Last Thursday, the Amnesty International at my school hosted this screening for a film made by Invisible Children (http://www.invisiblechildren.com/). Basically, the organization raises awareness about the situation of abducted child soldiers of the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) in Uganda, working towards their rescue.

It really got me thinking about being indifferent, apathetic, complacent, or any other synonymous word that could go along with those.
It's so easy for us to see something like that and go "Oh, that really sucks" without taking any further action, or at the very least thinking about it more than that. The most people do when confronted with issues and situations like that is become immediately more thankful for their own way of life.

That's so bogus, to put it mildly.

Caring is one thing, but caring can still become identical to indifference if you simply care on the inside. If you only do that, you might as well not care. I really don't think the general cliche of 'it's the thought that counts' applies to situations like these. Your thoughts don't count if they don't compel you to actually do something. If your thoughts don't make you rethink your indifference, you might as well not be thinking, since it isn't doing anyone any good.

I love George Bernard Shaw, for many reasons, but mostly because I found a quote by him last Friday that completely summed up all of my feelings on this subject:
"The worst sin towards our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent towards them: that's the essence of inhumanity."

People so often attribute the label of "worst sin" against other people to the direct and outright hatred towards other people, mainly seen as the deprivation of basic rights or the dehumanization of another individual. That's not it, though.

While those things are wrong, I think it's the person who hears about these things being done to a fellow human being and then proceeds to do nothing that has inflicted the most wrong upon them.

Valentine's Day

Well.
It's that time of the year again. You can't go anywhere without seeing people who are in love. Everyone's in love on February 14th.
Naw, I don't want to do some deep entry about what love really is (Mostly because I've already done that: http://changetheworldplease.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-love-you-so-much-i-would.html).
And I don't want to go all cynical about love and relationships (Mostly because I haven't done that yet, and don't want to disrupt my perfect record).
For everyone out there who actually is in love, there's about three people who's hearts are broken. And have been broken for a long time. This isn't a statistic that I found on some government website.
I just made it up.
But, when you've got that broken heart, how should you deal with it? Well, match.com has some ideas, for starters. While the original ideas were much longer, the gist of their seven tips was:
Court your career, focus on the negative, (my personal favorite) make out and move on, shush yourself, pump yourself up, go all natural, and trash it.
Do we want to simply be making out and moving on, while constantly focusing on the negative in order to shush ourselves?
Obviously, match.com was made to get people together, not help them cope with being apart.
Anyway.
I don't want to talk about match.com, either.
If you've got a broken heart this Valentine's Day, here's what you do in five tried and true steps:

[1] Do not watch the Lion King, under any circumstances. Simba and Nala are a sure fire way to make anyone tear up.

[2] Make Valentines. Make them make them. Don't just buy a box and write your friends' names in them. Get out the construction paper and the ribbon and make a pop-out Barack Obama Valentine for your best friend. Not only will they appreciate the gesture, but you'll be so insanely proud of your creativeness that it just might distract you.

[3] Say no to band-aids. They don't work. They only make you think it's better, but it's really not. It's been proven that a band aid could make any injury feel better. Actually, I don't know if it's been proven, but the point is that band-aids don't last and shouldn't be used for something this serious. Try The Office instead. The Office is more like a splint, or a cast, or really really strong Tylenol.

[4] Play Scrabble with your grandmother, or an equivilant relative. Be sure to use the letter 'Q', though. The best words to use it in are: Quick, Queen, Quarter, Quack, Quaker, or the two very best Quartz and Quiz (you get the 'Z' in there, too).

[5] Cry, if you have to. Sometimes, crying really puts things into perspective. After you've spent a good hour or so at it, not only do you get a headache, but you start realizing what actually caused you to start crying which gave you the headache in the first place. After you realize that, you usually come to the conclusion that maybe it wasn't worth crying at all, because now you just have a headache. This is the point where most people go to sleep. Once they wake up, they may not be cured of their broken heart, but they now have a new perspective on their brokenness, all because they cried about it and gave themselves a headache. Make sense? Probably not, but that's the reason why it works.

And a bonus #6 for this Valentine's Day:
Love like crazy.
No limits. Everyone gets some love. Hating anyone is a sure fire way to keep your heart in its broken down stage. Don't be so afraid of getting hurt that you forget how to love. Keep an eye on your heart, and you'll be just fine.

Happy Valentine's Day.

"We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give." [Winston Churchill]

think about it....

Easier

Without a sound
Without a noise
Without a whisper
Without a word
Voices fill the air
thickening the atmosphere
Screaming silently
Forgotten voices
Forgotten by the world
Cruely forced to retreat
to disappear, to remain forgotten.
Their existences only distub
the world's complacent comfort.
God forbid that be disturbed.
And so the voices continue
Silently haunting,
Crying for remembrance
Without a word
Without a whisper
Without a noise
Without a sound.

"Sometime they'll give a war, and nobody will come" [Carl Sandburg]

Yes we can, I guess

Change.

I've heard so much talk about it this past year. People like to talk about change, I think. It's one of those things that just sounds exciting. There's been a constant flow of change talk, so it's basically my turn.
The dictionary defines change as:

to make the form, nature, content, future course, etc., of (something) different from what it is or from what it would be if left alone

"if left alone" implies that change comes from outside of yourself. Perhaps people don't have the ability to change just out of sheer will-power. Or, the dictionary just doesn't know what it's talking about.

First possibility: change does not occur naturally. If you think about it, this really makes sense. Changing something means making it different than it was before, different from its natural state. Change is one of the most un-natural things, and yet it happens everyday.
Paradoxical, much? Eh, not really.
Alright, so change doesn't just happen on its own. Change has a cause. All the time.
People change for many reasons, but there is always a reason. Maybe these people do change themselves. I'm inclined to think that those kinds of changes don't last for very long.
In order to for someone to truly change through and through, there has to be an outside factor influencing the change.
Change is still a lot of work on your part, though. Change may not be easy, but it is possible.

Second possibility: the dictionary gave a bad definition, meaning that people are perfectly capable of changing themselves from within, on their own. This is really appealing for people to hear. It's nice to think that you can conquer the world --or at the very least your own life-- without anyone else to help you. I haven't found this to be the truth.
When I am in most desperate need of changing, I am also the most incapable of changing anything about myself. The little things -yeah, maybe those can be changed through will-power. But, the larger and more important things of life are the things that people actually need help to change, at least if that change is going to last.

Quote: a bird does not sing because it has an answer; it sings because it has a song.

A Solemn Goodbye

Dear tonsils,

I'm sorry.
I don't think that I ever fully appreciated you while I had you. At least, I never communicated that appreciation in an effective way.
You could have given me a second chance, instead of just leaving in the way you did.
It hurts more than I thought it would, now that you're actually gone. I know we've talked about you leaving before, but now that I'm facing it, the pain is almost unbearable.
I can't even talk to the other people in my life, because of the pain you have caused me.
After your removal from my life, I was left swollen and hurting in your absence.
We've been through so much together. When you experience so many difficulties with someone, you kind of expect them to be there for the rest of your life.
Apparently, you didn't see things the same way.
I'm sure you're only doing what you thought was right for you. I guess that meant leaving me. I guess now you guys can be together forever, without me getting in the way.
All the same, I miss you more than I thought I could ever miss any of my lymphatic organs.
You will always hold a special place in my heart, if not in my throat.
Goodbye.
Goodbye forever.

Love,
Keirstin

Quote of the day: when the power of Love overcomes the love of power, the world will know Peace