People died today. People die every day. It's sad today and it's sad every day. Illness. Natural disaster. Freak accidents. Homicides. Suicides. Genocides. The list is absolutely endless, and tomorrow something and different will grace the bottom of said list. Death has been weighing on my mind a lot here lately, mainly because of the book I just read ("The Dead Don't Dance", very good, I recommend it). The story revolves around a man and his wife who were expecting a baby boy, but when it came time to deliver, after a problem-free pregnancy, the baby dies just after he is born and the wife hemorrhages and is then in a coma for five months. Yes, this is a fiction story, and yes, I shouldn't have gotten as attached to the characters like I always do-- But, I did and it had me thinking, as most books I read do. Death is sad. It just is. Why? Because of the obvious: it means the end of a life. The end of a person. It means not seeing that person anymore. Not having them around. Not being able to touch them. Hug them. Kiss them. Simply hold them. And that's a sad thought. Just thinking about losing someone I love brings tears to my eyes.
But other than the obvious, why are we so afraid of dying? Something that's inevitable, something that's going to happen to everyone who walks this planet, because let's face it, as much as some of us would like it to be so, we are not immortal vampires, werewolves, or any other storytime creatures. Death is the only completely certain thing in this life. It's the only thing that is 100%, completely and positively going to happen to every single person. Yet, we fight it and hate it and curse it and try our best to avoid it. All of that understandable, because sometimes, death is just not fair. Today, I learned of two women who had CF. One had just gotten married. One was pregnant (and during treatments for the illness, lost her son). But both died (which is where I would like to input fuckYOUcf). Last year a seven year old with CF died. It's unfair. Because these people were just... people. And no, CF isn't the only awful disease, and no, these weren't the only people who have died from it.
But it's UNFAIR. That's the point. We lose people we love, innocent people who don't deserve it, and we're just supposed to accept it? I am lucky enough to have never lost anyone very close to me, but when that does happen, all hell will break loose. Because I can't handle death. It rattles me to my very core. When I hear about someone losing someone, it makes me sad. I feel depressed. Even if I never met the person. Even if it's a celebrity. Death makes me feel completely helpless. And it intrigues me. We fear it so much because it's so unknown. Because in an instant, without any warning, someone can be... just gone. Even with warning, nothing will prepare us for losing someone. Or for the thought of our own death. It's hard to accept the fact that in a split second, our hearts could explode inside our chest, the car we're driving will crash, the plane we're in will plunge into the ocean, the man across the street will pull a gun.
Fact is, death is scary. We're all afraid to die. No shame. I am terrified. But it's gonna happen, no matter how much we run. Nothing will make it easier. Maybe one day when I have both my feet placed steadily on the proverbial faith grounds, I'll have a better understanding and a lesser fear.
Maybe.
"Death is terrifying because it is so ordinary. It happens all the time." Susan Cheever
It takes more strength and courage than the bravest warrior to be broken enough to let ourselves fall, free and fast, into the unknown without hesitation of what’s waiting on the other side, trusting that someone will catch us, even if darkness is all we can see <3
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
We Shall Overcome?
I can remember the first time I realized the world was basically evil, and not the happy-go-lucky-full-of-rainbows-and-butterflies place most children start out believing it is: I was six, almost seven at the time, and JonBenet Ramsey's face was plastered all over the television screen. I thought we were the best of friends (obviously, we were not, as I had never met the girl frm Colorado), but at that tender age, I was old enough to grasp the concept that something horrific had happened to her, but too young to realize the monstrocity of the act itself. All I knew was this little girl, who was just a few months younger than I was, was dead, and my world was no longer the sparkly, pleasant place I had once known.
Fast forward almost five years, I'm sitting in my 6th grade science class, watching on TV something about an airplane crashing into a building in New York City. Eleven years old, not particularly interested in what was going on. An accident of somesort, or so they believed, until the world watched as a second plane, no doubt intentional this time, plowed into the adjacent tower. My eyes were glued to the screen, interest suddenly peaking in my fragile brain. Since the JonBenet case, not much else had rocked my small world, until this day when my belief that the world wasn't pretty was confirmed.
I didn't fully grasp the concept of 9/11 until a few years later, once the country was at war. To this day, I am still shocked and baffled by it, as I'm sure most of the country is and will always be. Something to that magitude will never be completely understood, because it will never be explained, it will never make sense, it will never seem real. Just like the Oklahoma City bombing and the anthrax scare and the razors in the mail and the case of Jonbenet Ramsey along with countless other unsolved murders. As a nation, we've come to fear just about everything because we've been taught through terror and scares and scandals and homicides that the world around us, the people we share this planet with, are out to get each other. And we blame the media and the culture of others and ignorance and greed and envy. But shouldn't we be simply blaming ourselves, as people, instead of the actions themselves? Because without a human brain making all the decisions, the greed and lust and idolatry can do nothing but fester until a decision is made.
I am by no means saying we blame should ourselves for the atrocious things that this country, and so many others, have gone through: I'm simply stating that as a country, as a people scared out of our wits, we need to learn to live in something other than fear. We are told by everything and everyone from day one that we should fear everything and everyone because the world is basically a bad place, there just happens to be some good in it, and you're lucky if you find it. As a little girl, feeling this longing need to befriend JonBenet Ramsey and know her, I wasn't able to grasp the idea of the horrendous fate she received, and yet as an adult 15 years later, I still don't completely understand it. Research can only get you so far. And because of things like this, we continue to live our lives in fear because we know no different.
We can't let our children play outside in fear of them getting snatched from our surburban streets. We can't fly in planes for fear of it being hijacked. We can't leave our doors unlocked in fear of burglars. We can't walk the streets at night in fear of muggers, rapists, murderers, etc. Even something as simple as we can't fall in love in fear if getting our hearts broken is etched into our brain from a young age. Yet, we have grown comfortable in this life, comfortable enough that the monotonous routine of being scared is just another day we float through, hopefully unscathed and unharmed, just to do it all again the next day.
When is it time to not be scared? When are we supposed to live by our own rules and make our own way in life, instead of living how the world tells us to? How are we supposed to be a civilized people when everyone keeps fucking things up for the rest of the world and making us all afraid again, because the world taught us that's how it's supposed to be and it will never be any different.
Today, I did not watch TV. I did not listen to the radio. I have the utmost respect for those who lost their lives on 9/11, for those who suffered a loss, and for those who survived: they have gone through more than I would ever wish on my worst enemy and have probably dealt with it so much more graceful than I would have ever thought possible. But as someone who already lives with a fear of the world and everyone in it, I spared myself the added emotional turmoil from the documentaries and dramatizations. It is a day in history we will never forget, a day we will teach our children about, a day we learned from, a day that made us united in a way we had never seen before. And a day that made us fear so much more than we did the day before.
So this quickly went from rational to rambling, but hey, it's what I do.
Loves.
Fast forward almost five years, I'm sitting in my 6th grade science class, watching on TV something about an airplane crashing into a building in New York City. Eleven years old, not particularly interested in what was going on. An accident of somesort, or so they believed, until the world watched as a second plane, no doubt intentional this time, plowed into the adjacent tower. My eyes were glued to the screen, interest suddenly peaking in my fragile brain. Since the JonBenet case, not much else had rocked my small world, until this day when my belief that the world wasn't pretty was confirmed.
I didn't fully grasp the concept of 9/11 until a few years later, once the country was at war. To this day, I am still shocked and baffled by it, as I'm sure most of the country is and will always be. Something to that magitude will never be completely understood, because it will never be explained, it will never make sense, it will never seem real. Just like the Oklahoma City bombing and the anthrax scare and the razors in the mail and the case of Jonbenet Ramsey along with countless other unsolved murders. As a nation, we've come to fear just about everything because we've been taught through terror and scares and scandals and homicides that the world around us, the people we share this planet with, are out to get each other. And we blame the media and the culture of others and ignorance and greed and envy. But shouldn't we be simply blaming ourselves, as people, instead of the actions themselves? Because without a human brain making all the decisions, the greed and lust and idolatry can do nothing but fester until a decision is made.
I am by no means saying we blame should ourselves for the atrocious things that this country, and so many others, have gone through: I'm simply stating that as a country, as a people scared out of our wits, we need to learn to live in something other than fear. We are told by everything and everyone from day one that we should fear everything and everyone because the world is basically a bad place, there just happens to be some good in it, and you're lucky if you find it. As a little girl, feeling this longing need to befriend JonBenet Ramsey and know her, I wasn't able to grasp the idea of the horrendous fate she received, and yet as an adult 15 years later, I still don't completely understand it. Research can only get you so far. And because of things like this, we continue to live our lives in fear because we know no different.
We can't let our children play outside in fear of them getting snatched from our surburban streets. We can't fly in planes for fear of it being hijacked. We can't leave our doors unlocked in fear of burglars. We can't walk the streets at night in fear of muggers, rapists, murderers, etc. Even something as simple as we can't fall in love in fear if getting our hearts broken is etched into our brain from a young age. Yet, we have grown comfortable in this life, comfortable enough that the monotonous routine of being scared is just another day we float through, hopefully unscathed and unharmed, just to do it all again the next day.
When is it time to not be scared? When are we supposed to live by our own rules and make our own way in life, instead of living how the world tells us to? How are we supposed to be a civilized people when everyone keeps fucking things up for the rest of the world and making us all afraid again, because the world taught us that's how it's supposed to be and it will never be any different.
Today, I did not watch TV. I did not listen to the radio. I have the utmost respect for those who lost their lives on 9/11, for those who suffered a loss, and for those who survived: they have gone through more than I would ever wish on my worst enemy and have probably dealt with it so much more graceful than I would have ever thought possible. But as someone who already lives with a fear of the world and everyone in it, I spared myself the added emotional turmoil from the documentaries and dramatizations. It is a day in history we will never forget, a day we will teach our children about, a day we learned from, a day that made us united in a way we had never seen before. And a day that made us fear so much more than we did the day before.
So this quickly went from rational to rambling, but hey, it's what I do.
Loves.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
I Miss You (Yeah, Who Woulda Thought?)
You know growing up, going to school was this unbearable, yet unavoidable feat that we had to do because, well, we just had to. Elementary school wasn't so bad, though it really should've been, seeing as I attended 5 different schools in those 6 short years. I had friends, but never kept in touch once I moved away. Middle school was probably the worst, being in that awkward-teen-who-am-I stage isn't something I'd wish on anyone, though EVERYONE has to go through that. But in those three years, you really learn a lot about life, about people, about back stabbing, fighting, feelings, relationships, and sure, in high school, all of those things are running even more rampant, but one (usually) learns how to deal with it more, especially in my case. I took on the fuck-the-world-and-everyone-in-it persona, and it worked for me for the most part. I was friends with everyone, I was on the honors track, I didn't care about what people said or did, because I was "tough".
And now that I've strayed entirely too far from the point of this blog... I went to school. But I didn't like it. My junior year I was set on taking a year off from school before going to college, to figure my life out. As we all know that didn't happen. I went to Vol State for two years (a school that I, and people will tell you this, was dead set on NOT attending, because I always felt I was far too good for a community college. Boy, did I get a slap in the face) and then MTSU, which I hated every second of, not to mention all the crazy ass criminals running around campus stabbing, shooting, raping, etc. And then there's the Art Institute, which, as much as I loved the idea of, is proving to be a bigger mistake than it was productive.
Anyway, what it all comes down to is, I miss Vol State. I loved that school. Sure, I know I complained about it at times, but I'm a girl and sometimes, we do that (SHOCKER). The people were always so helpful, the teachers (most of them) were amazing: Shoutout to Dr. P, Top, BoHarold, and Mrs. Bailey! I miss the classes. Oh, how I LOVED my psych classes and the crazy field trips we took, the interesting things we learned, the discussions that sometimes got heated enough to make someone flip their desk because they were SURE they were right on whatever point they were trying to make. I miss the people, the students, the interaction on this intellectual level that I never thought I'd enjoy, and sure as hell didn't think I'd miss when I didn't have it anymore. But most of all, I miss the stability of school. I had a schedule, class from this time to that, this day of the week. I was productive, I felt like a functioning part of society. I had a direction when I was in school, a path that I was following to a life that I wanted. I had a purpose in school, I had a way. I had FUN for God's sake.
And now, I have none of that, and honestly, I feel like my IQ is slowly dropping (ha, kinda like my GPA did!). I really feel like I can't carry on a normal, productive, smart conversation anymore, that my answers to intellectual questions are more "Yeah" and "Sure" and "Hm, I don't know" than an actual answer that means anything... I Google everything, too, because half the time, I have no idea what you're talking about. I might as well start dragging my knuckles on the ground and grunt when I need something.
All I have left now is a degree getting me nowhere and a stack of loans that Lord knows when I'll be able to start paying off, all when I should be a senior in college, making something of myself.
If anyone has a special potion that you drink that makes you wake up and suddenly have all the answers, please, let me have the recipe.
Math, the one thing I DON'T miss about school.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
There Comes a Time... Okay, So Maybe More Than One Time.
As most people know about me, I am a serial mover-outer (yeah, I just made that into a word-thing. Take THAT Webster!) I attempted moving after high school. That worked out SO well. After moving back home within three days of leaving, my life changed dramatically, but more on that later. I then moved, with the family, to the campground where I lived until last summer. Again, I tried the venturing out thing and moved to Murfreesboro to attend school. Sure it felt right at the time, but things were slowly going downhill and I found myself spending more time at "home" with my family than at my actual apartment where I should have been. Then, after I dropped out of school, I technically moved back in with my family, though most of my belongings remained at the apartment, with my dear roommate (worst roommate award definitely goes to me). I never ventured out. I couldn't ever be on my own. And now, at 21, I am finally a bit closer to that goal. Being independent.
Chattanooga is my home again, which is a weird thought, because I never felt like it stopped being home in the first place. But other places were just stand ins, I guess. Though I loved living in various other cities, and love the people (you know who you are), Chattanooga has always been my favorite place. Yes, I attempted living here once before, fresh out of high school. But, before the heckling of how I came home too quickly begins, you must understand where I was coming from. A shy (ha, yeah right) and completely oblivious to the real world 18-year-old with no car, no job/experience, and no prospects in this big city, when I was used to chickens trudging down the side of the road and tractors holding up traffic. Culture shock to the MAX. And I couldn't handle all the newness all at one time. Kudos to my awesome friend who stuck it out and loved it, I was always so proud of her for that. She was more brave than I could hope to be.
But I came back and had to figure out things, or so I thought. Three years later, and I still haven't figured out much. No longer the same person I was, however similar and scared. This place, though I am from here and do have family, is big and scary. Yes, I am living with my brother and his wife, but their lifestyle is different than what I'm used to. Not in bad way. Just in an unsuspecting, unfamiliar way. However different and crazy it may be at the moment, I must live with it. Because this is it for a while. I've got to do this. I feel out of my element, and I don't even know what my element is. Finding a job is hard. Understatement of the century. But again, I have to stick it out. I thought moving would help me feel less useless to those around me, but alas, I still feel that way. Yeah, I know, I've been told to not think negatively, so I'm just gonna plaster on a smile and be cheery. I do love it here, it's an amazing city. But I'm still processing it all. The people here have been nothing but nice. They party, and as much as I always thought that was me, a party girl, as much as I liked the idea of it, or thought I liked it, I'm not that person. Socially awkward (it's true, I have a slight panic attack in crowded places), I am always unsure of how to act around people. Never feeling good enough, funny enough, interesting enough. But. For now, I will look past that and try my best at this new life because this is it. This is my life. And I gotta live it, me or someone else. Happy or sad. Happy for the most part, so no worries, loves of mine.
I guess that's all for now, more of a rambling venting spew than a blog, but I appreciate the read nonetheless :)
I can't wait to see everyone again.
A LOT.
And that's totes for reals.
loves <3
Chattanooga is my home again, which is a weird thought, because I never felt like it stopped being home in the first place. But other places were just stand ins, I guess. Though I loved living in various other cities, and love the people (you know who you are), Chattanooga has always been my favorite place. Yes, I attempted living here once before, fresh out of high school. But, before the heckling of how I came home too quickly begins, you must understand where I was coming from. A shy (ha, yeah right) and completely oblivious to the real world 18-year-old with no car, no job/experience, and no prospects in this big city, when I was used to chickens trudging down the side of the road and tractors holding up traffic. Culture shock to the MAX. And I couldn't handle all the newness all at one time. Kudos to my awesome friend who stuck it out and loved it, I was always so proud of her for that. She was more brave than I could hope to be.
But I came back and had to figure out things, or so I thought. Three years later, and I still haven't figured out much. No longer the same person I was, however similar and scared. This place, though I am from here and do have family, is big and scary. Yes, I am living with my brother and his wife, but their lifestyle is different than what I'm used to. Not in bad way. Just in an unsuspecting, unfamiliar way. However different and crazy it may be at the moment, I must live with it. Because this is it for a while. I've got to do this. I feel out of my element, and I don't even know what my element is. Finding a job is hard. Understatement of the century. But again, I have to stick it out. I thought moving would help me feel less useless to those around me, but alas, I still feel that way. Yeah, I know, I've been told to not think negatively, so I'm just gonna plaster on a smile and be cheery. I do love it here, it's an amazing city. But I'm still processing it all. The people here have been nothing but nice. They party, and as much as I always thought that was me, a party girl, as much as I liked the idea of it, or thought I liked it, I'm not that person. Socially awkward (it's true, I have a slight panic attack in crowded places), I am always unsure of how to act around people. Never feeling good enough, funny enough, interesting enough. But. For now, I will look past that and try my best at this new life because this is it. This is my life. And I gotta live it, me or someone else. Happy or sad. Happy for the most part, so no worries, loves of mine.
I guess that's all for now, more of a rambling venting spew than a blog, but I appreciate the read nonetheless :)
I can't wait to see everyone again.
And that's totes for reals.
loves <3
Monday, March 21, 2011
Who I Am:101
It seems there is some confusion as to the kind of person I am. People tend to be slightly shocked when I share some of these things with them, but it's pretty much always been this way, for the most part. So I'm going to clear some things up so there's no more fuss and it's all out in the open. And when the children are sleeping what else is there to do?
-I have never had a Krispy Kreme donut. Not from the actual store at least, and those little donut holes from the gas station don't count.
-I document everything with pictures, including food (my camera has a food setting) and injuries. If I have a kickass bruise, which is eh, every week or so, you can count on it seeing it on Facebook.
-If I could walk barefoot everyday, my feet would be some happy campers. I wear flip flops, pretty much year round, because it's as close to it gets to being barefoot and I'm still allowed in Walmart.
-But as much as I love being barefoot, I do love my heels. And Toms. If you don't have a pair, I definitely recommend them.
-I don't like vegetables. At all.
-You couldn't pay me enough to watch Jersey Shore. Other shows/movies everyone else loves that I hate? Harry Potter. Teen Mom. The entire Twilight saga.
-Most of my closest friends are teenagers, but most of them are more mature than the adults I know.
-I was baptized on Halloween. I love how much of a contradiction that is.
-I like feet. Not in a weird, fetish, gets-me-off sort of way. But I think mine are quite cute.
-I think I could eat Cheeriohs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
-My life is pretty crazy right now. I'm broken, shattered, and torn, inside and out, and it's not changing anytime soon. Sorry if that's not good enough for you.
-I don't like ice cream. That's a recent development... I used to, like every normal human being. But not so much anymore.
-I put whatever is on my mind on Facebook, whether it's sappy, happy, bitter, or angry, swear words and all, even if I am friends with my pastor, his wife, church people, my parents, and my grandmother. It ask's "What's on Your Mind?" and I really don't want to lie to Facebook.
-I'm a Facebook junkie. Not ashamed of it.
-I prefer Sour Patch Kids over any kind of chocolate, any day of the week. Except the orange ones. I don't eat orange Skittles either.
-I will put make up on and fix my hair just to take a picture.
-I love concerts. Well, music in general. But there's something extra special about seeing the amazing musicians who always know exactly how I'm feeling and make those lyrics come alive on stage. One day, I will crowd surf.
-I am a virgin. Yep. Reread it as many times as you want, it's not a typo. I'm not ashamed of it, but I don't let it define me either. Ain't no thing.
-One day, I will live in a big city with noise and smog and angry drivers and pollution. I love it all.
-As much as it pains me to say this, because I do enjoy living on this planet, I could really care less about recycling and going green. I know, bad American.
-I sleep on a couch. And pay rent for an apartment I don't live in. Twisted, maybe, but for now it has to work.
-I'm probably one of the messiest, disorganized people you'll meet. Just check out my car and the room I don't reside in.
-I already have my wedding planned out. Just need the groom.
-I Google movie endings. I don't like to be surprised. If someone dies, I want to know. It has to have a decent ending, or I won't watch it.
-Same goes for books. I always read the last page or so.
-I can't look at the stars without thinking of somebody. Nighttime breaks my heart.
-I love to be in the rain. Standing, dancing, whatever.
-I want to be a man for a day. No lie.
-I'm terrified of ferris wheels. And the dark. And horses. And sometimes, ducks.
-I would marry Beaver from Greek. Or Chase from Army Wives. Or both, then we could have our own show on TLC. Brother Husbands?
-I was kicked out of school. Ok, so I wasn't "kicked out" per se, but it sounds much more badass to say kicked out than admit I lost my scholarship money because my GPA plummeted after having the worst semester of my life.
-I think my grandparents have the best love story ever. Just ask me.
-My family puts the FUN in dysfunctional. Trust me on this one.
-I have no regrets. I've made mistakes and there may be things I would do differently, but I've learned from every experience, good or bad, and don't regret a single thing.
-I'm always sick. Not I get sick a lot or I get what the kids I'm with have, I'm ALWAYS sick. Perpetually ill.
Serious and silly, this is the gist of me.
Can you say you're really surprised by any of it? :))
-I have never had a Krispy Kreme donut. Not from the actual store at least, and those little donut holes from the gas station don't count.
-I document everything with pictures, including food (my camera has a food setting) and injuries. If I have a kickass bruise, which is eh, every week or so, you can count on it seeing it on Facebook.
-If I could walk barefoot everyday, my feet would be some happy campers. I wear flip flops, pretty much year round, because it's as close to it gets to being barefoot and I'm still allowed in Walmart.
-But as much as I love being barefoot, I do love my heels. And Toms. If you don't have a pair, I definitely recommend them.
-I don't like vegetables. At all.
-You couldn't pay me enough to watch Jersey Shore. Other shows/movies everyone else loves that I hate? Harry Potter. Teen Mom. The entire Twilight saga.
-Most of my closest friends are teenagers, but most of them are more mature than the adults I know.
-I was baptized on Halloween. I love how much of a contradiction that is.
-I like feet. Not in a weird, fetish, gets-me-off sort of way. But I think mine are quite cute.
-I think I could eat Cheeriohs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
-My life is pretty crazy right now. I'm broken, shattered, and torn, inside and out, and it's not changing anytime soon. Sorry if that's not good enough for you.
-I don't like ice cream. That's a recent development... I used to, like every normal human being. But not so much anymore.
-I put whatever is on my mind on Facebook, whether it's sappy, happy, bitter, or angry, swear words and all, even if I am friends with my pastor, his wife, church people, my parents, and my grandmother. It ask's "What's on Your Mind?" and I really don't want to lie to Facebook.
-I'm a Facebook junkie. Not ashamed of it.
-I prefer Sour Patch Kids over any kind of chocolate, any day of the week. Except the orange ones. I don't eat orange Skittles either.
-I will put make up on and fix my hair just to take a picture.
-I love concerts. Well, music in general. But there's something extra special about seeing the amazing musicians who always know exactly how I'm feeling and make those lyrics come alive on stage. One day, I will crowd surf.
-I am a virgin. Yep. Reread it as many times as you want, it's not a typo. I'm not ashamed of it, but I don't let it define me either. Ain't no thing.
-One day, I will live in a big city with noise and smog and angry drivers and pollution. I love it all.
-As much as it pains me to say this, because I do enjoy living on this planet, I could really care less about recycling and going green. I know, bad American.
-I sleep on a couch. And pay rent for an apartment I don't live in. Twisted, maybe, but for now it has to work.
-I'm probably one of the messiest, disorganized people you'll meet. Just check out my car and the room I don't reside in.
-I already have my wedding planned out. Just need the groom.
-I Google movie endings. I don't like to be surprised. If someone dies, I want to know. It has to have a decent ending, or I won't watch it.
-Same goes for books. I always read the last page or so.
-I can't look at the stars without thinking of somebody. Nighttime breaks my heart.
-I love to be in the rain. Standing, dancing, whatever.
-I want to be a man for a day. No lie.
-I'm terrified of ferris wheels. And the dark. And horses. And sometimes, ducks.
-I would marry Beaver from Greek. Or Chase from Army Wives. Or both, then we could have our own show on TLC. Brother Husbands?
-I was kicked out of school. Ok, so I wasn't "kicked out" per se, but it sounds much more badass to say kicked out than admit I lost my scholarship money because my GPA plummeted after having the worst semester of my life.
-I think my grandparents have the best love story ever. Just ask me.
-My family puts the FUN in dysfunctional. Trust me on this one.
-I have no regrets. I've made mistakes and there may be things I would do differently, but I've learned from every experience, good or bad, and don't regret a single thing.
-I'm always sick. Not I get sick a lot or I get what the kids I'm with have, I'm ALWAYS sick. Perpetually ill.
Serious and silly, this is the gist of me.
Can you say you're really surprised by any of it? :))
Saturday, March 12, 2011
days.
Do you remember that day we had? It was early on, in the beginning of things. We watched movies.We sat on the roof. We played in the rain. We skipped rocks and jumped into the overflowing, and most likely toxic, creek. Nothing had topped that day.
Webster defines perfect as a complete. Total. Absolute. Being without defect.
Flawless.
That day was perfect. The epitome of perfection, in every way. I think about that day all the time: the childish things we did, the ordinary details that made the day extraordinary. How the day made me feel, how you made me feel. How you still make me feel.
Days like that are hard to come by, especially now. To be absolutely, 100% happy for an entire day. To find the mundane, everyday things to make you content. To just be. And be happy. I miss those times. I miss you.
Part of me wants you to read this. To read this, and remember how happy we were. How we worked so well together. How we could do nothing and be completely content with that. How every moment, hour, day and night with you were the definition of perfection. Part of me wants you to know that I think about it everyday, that I didn't forget, and that I never will.
The other part of me doesn't ever want you to see this. Because that part of me knows that day doesn't mean anything near to you what it does to me. Because I never meant anything near as much to you as you did to me. Because the only thing getting me through is making myself believe that that day crosses your mind, that I cross your mind. That you think about me as much as I think about you. That you feel what you say you did. That you didn't actually break your promises.
That I still matter.
Because I know the truth, deep down.
I just hope that day meant something to you, something similar to what it still means to me. Something amazing. Untouchable.
"Just don't think that this will be easy. Saying that you love me when lying tongues are clumsy. And don't speak when one more word will kill me. Saying that you love me when lying tongues are clumsy. And who am I to say that every breath we take won't be another pointless kiss we gave away? And what we love we burn. It's from the ashes we all yearn to be the phoenix that rises from up from the flames."
Webster defines perfect as a complete. Total. Absolute. Being without defect.
Flawless.
That day was perfect. The epitome of perfection, in every way. I think about that day all the time: the childish things we did, the ordinary details that made the day extraordinary. How the day made me feel, how you made me feel. How you still make me feel.
Days like that are hard to come by, especially now. To be absolutely, 100% happy for an entire day. To find the mundane, everyday things to make you content. To just be. And be happy. I miss those times. I miss you.
Part of me wants you to read this. To read this, and remember how happy we were. How we worked so well together. How we could do nothing and be completely content with that. How every moment, hour, day and night with you were the definition of perfection. Part of me wants you to know that I think about it everyday, that I didn't forget, and that I never will.
The other part of me doesn't ever want you to see this. Because that part of me knows that day doesn't mean anything near to you what it does to me. Because I never meant anything near as much to you as you did to me. Because the only thing getting me through is making myself believe that that day crosses your mind, that I cross your mind. That you think about me as much as I think about you. That you feel what you say you did. That you didn't actually break your promises.
That I still matter.
Because I know the truth, deep down.
I just hope that day meant something to you, something similar to what it still means to me. Something amazing. Untouchable.
"Just don't think that this will be easy. Saying that you love me when lying tongues are clumsy. And don't speak when one more word will kill me. Saying that you love me when lying tongues are clumsy. And who am I to say that every breath we take won't be another pointless kiss we gave away? And what we love we burn. It's from the ashes we all yearn to be the phoenix that rises from up from the flames."
Monday, September 13, 2010
Right at the next opportunity. Left to your life.
I don't know.
I just don't.
20 years old. Junior in college. (I feel like the next part should say "I enjoy long walks on the beach..."). Ask me today what I want to do with my life, and I'll tell you. Ask me tomorrow, and I'll curl up in a ball on the floor and cry. I've been in college for 3 years now. I've had 3 different majors. I've taken classes and read books and talked to advisors and been to seminars. Yet, I still don't know what I want to do.
I'm not okay with this.
I've known for years what I've always wanted to do, but when it comes down to it, and I'm asked that shouldn't-be-hard-but-throws-me-for-a-loop question, most of the time, I don't know what to say. I try to people please when everyone asks me how school is going or what I want to do with my major. I tell them what they want to hear.
School is great.
I want to work with children.
Or I want to be in the FBI.
Honestly, I have no idea. And I'm so scared. I don't want to settle. I'm not okay with living a mediocre life. I want to do something I love and something that makes people happy and something that makes me happy.
Something wonderful.
But right now, I'm lost. I'm confused. I'm terrified. Why can't I just know? Why can't things come easy with no complications and just... be?
I'm praying that God gives me the strength to keep going and figure everything out. Because I can't do it on my own.
I can't.
I just don't.
20 years old. Junior in college. (I feel like the next part should say "I enjoy long walks on the beach..."). Ask me today what I want to do with my life, and I'll tell you. Ask me tomorrow, and I'll curl up in a ball on the floor and cry. I've been in college for 3 years now. I've had 3 different majors. I've taken classes and read books and talked to advisors and been to seminars. Yet, I still don't know what I want to do.
I'm not okay with this.
I've known for years what I've always wanted to do, but when it comes down to it, and I'm asked that shouldn't-be-hard-but-throws-me-for-a-loop question, most of the time, I don't know what to say. I try to people please when everyone asks me how school is going or what I want to do with my major. I tell them what they want to hear.
School is great.
I want to work with children.
Or I want to be in the FBI.
Honestly, I have no idea. And I'm so scared. I don't want to settle. I'm not okay with living a mediocre life. I want to do something I love and something that makes people happy and something that makes me happy.
Something wonderful.
But right now, I'm lost. I'm confused. I'm terrified. Why can't I just know? Why can't things come easy with no complications and just... be?
I'm praying that God gives me the strength to keep going and figure everything out. Because I can't do it on my own.
I can't.
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