Since I came to MBBC, I have had a LOT of firsts. Actually, more firsts than I ever imagined having. But they have been incredible, and I have a lot of great memories because of those firsts.
When I said college has been a learning experience, I certainly wasn't kidding.
Some of these firsts may seem ridiculous, but they're parts of what shaped this time in my life.
With one exception, college was the first time I ate at Taco Bell. College was the first time I ate steak. College was the first time I had eaten pizza in years.
College was the first time I held a real gun, attempted skiing, and ate almost 15 wings at Bdubs, and then threw up.
College was the first time I seriously liked someone. College was the place where I discovered what I wanted to do in life. College is the first time I listened and now love country music.
College was the first time I bruised my tailbone. The first time I asked a guy out. The first I went tanning or dyed my hair.
College was the first time I did duet acting. The first time I wripped a ceiling, haha. The first time I got to drive anywhere farther than 2 1/2 hours away (that one was out of my control!).
College was the first time I went iceskating and tried rollerblading.
College was the place where I've had a number of all-nighters. College is what forced me to grow up. College is what taught me about myself and other people.
If I had to generalize "college" in only a statement, I'd call it one big human relations class that never ends.
I've also had a number of firsts since I attend a Christian college. But that's definitely another story . . .
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
I'll Take Math Homework for 500
It's true.
It's so utterly and terribly true.
Sometimes homework is just what I need at the time. My life has been filled with a dramatic overdose, and homework is just the thing to get my mind off of the current drama.
Unfortunately, it goes both ways. Or maybe fortunately? Sometimes drama even has it's tinge. Classes are just going badly, and drama is the perfect escape route. (Disclaimer--this tends to get a lot messier, however.)
The longer I'm at college, the more ironic I find life to be. Two things--that can be great and terrible--seem to switch roles on me all the time.
I don't claim to be dramatic. I also don't claim to be real academic. But sometimes, it's fun to be one or the other when the latter is driving me up a wall.
However, if I were forced to choose between the two . . . good grades, social life . . . I'd utterly fail . I love people and I love my relationships, but I'd disappoint myself and my parents, waste a heck of a lot of money, and have future regrets if I gave up studying. It's a game I can't win.
A good friend of mine once told me I had three options at college: social life, sleep, or studying. Oh, and I could only choose two.
Currently, I get little sleep, but that doesn't exactly mean I get good grades and have great relationships.
It all has to work out somehow, right?
It's so utterly and terribly true.
Sometimes homework is just what I need at the time. My life has been filled with a dramatic overdose, and homework is just the thing to get my mind off of the current drama.
Unfortunately, it goes both ways. Or maybe fortunately? Sometimes drama even has it's tinge. Classes are just going badly, and drama is the perfect escape route. (Disclaimer--this tends to get a lot messier, however.)
The longer I'm at college, the more ironic I find life to be. Two things--that can be great and terrible--seem to switch roles on me all the time.
I don't claim to be dramatic. I also don't claim to be real academic. But sometimes, it's fun to be one or the other when the latter is driving me up a wall.
However, if I were forced to choose between the two . . . good grades, social life . . . I'd utterly fail . I love people and I love my relationships, but I'd disappoint myself and my parents, waste a heck of a lot of money, and have future regrets if I gave up studying. It's a game I can't win.
A good friend of mine once told me I had three options at college: social life, sleep, or studying. Oh, and I could only choose two.
Currently, I get little sleep, but that doesn't exactly mean I get good grades and have great relationships.
It all has to work out somehow, right?
Friday, November 28, 2008
Maybe I've Watched Too Many Movies . . .
How secretive are we . . .
. . . really?
I wonder.
A bluff may have originated from poker, but it's carried far into the worst lies that separates couples, relationships, families . . .
It's just a secret, right?
No person can claim an emotionless state. And with those inbred emotions comes the truth. It's on your face. It's in your eyes. It's in your trembling lips.
It's no secret that I tend to steal lines from movies. Here's an appropriate one: "We're all less mysterious than we think we are."
Truth?
With deeper relationships comes a greater understanding of people, and what shields them: their emotions. With more observations of one's emotions, the greatest secrets are discovered.
Defense is one's worst strategy to guarding the truth. With defense comes a knowledge that something must be defended, and why defend the truth with "truth" when it is already truth?
But there's also another ingredient within the bowl: persuasion. Or rather, modes of persuasion. Dependent on the relationship, persuasion takes on many forms, some unusual, most usual.
I agree that one should know his opponent well, but I think one should know himself better. It's great to know your enemy's strengths and weaknesses, but it's far better to know your own and study them so your enemy is unable to discover yours.
Your greatest opponent is yourself. But you shouldn't keep that a secret.
. . . really?
I wonder.
A bluff may have originated from poker, but it's carried far into the worst lies that separates couples, relationships, families . . .
It's just a secret, right?
No person can claim an emotionless state. And with those inbred emotions comes the truth. It's on your face. It's in your eyes. It's in your trembling lips.
It's no secret that I tend to steal lines from movies. Here's an appropriate one: "We're all less mysterious than we think we are."
Truth?
With deeper relationships comes a greater understanding of people, and what shields them: their emotions. With more observations of one's emotions, the greatest secrets are discovered.
Defense is one's worst strategy to guarding the truth. With defense comes a knowledge that something must be defended, and why defend the truth with "truth" when it is already truth?
But there's also another ingredient within the bowl: persuasion. Or rather, modes of persuasion. Dependent on the relationship, persuasion takes on many forms, some unusual, most usual.
I agree that one should know his opponent well, but I think one should know himself better. It's great to know your enemy's strengths and weaknesses, but it's far better to know your own and study them so your enemy is unable to discover yours.
Your greatest opponent is yourself. But you shouldn't keep that a secret.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
What Happens After Watching "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" . . .
The pathetic part is you actually sit there and wait. Yes, you sit there and talk to your phone and hope to God he’ll call.
Maybe only some of us were meant to be tortured.
It’s your ex. It’s your break-up. It’s your end. It’s your issue-that-seems-to-be-taking-over-your-mind-every-waking-moment-of every-waking-day.
Or something like that.
I have not found life to be horribly difficult. I will attest that I make much bigger deals out of things than need-be, but with an accurate, passive, look back, I realize that life has been quite rosier on my side than most.
With one exception.
Yes, that whole “getting-over” stage that it seems everyone refuses to talk openly about but everybody knows about after getting to know you in five minutes.
Or without the five-minute introduction.
Either way, most people will admit getting hit in the face sucks, but heartbreak—there is no comparison.
“Punch me in the face, I’ll bleed.”
Worked for Toby. But movies aren’t real-life.
Those who experience it, hate it. But those who experience remind others they’re not alone.
One man’s tears may be another man’s comfort.
It’s fortunate, it’s unfortunate.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this disease, it’s time. Time may not be an emotion savior, but it’s on your side. It lets you grieve. It’s available. It’s always giving more. It’s reminding you that tomorrow is waiting and that yesterday is over. It’s comforting.
Time is knocking again. Or maybe stepping on the pieces left. Time’s backside is reminding you that it’s not unlimited. It’s long, but certainly not forever.
Time, heartbreak. How much do we really know about these things? How much can twenty years really teach a person?
They teach you everything. They make you realize the sun isn’t always shining. Life isn’t that movie you’re watching, that song you’re hearing, or the game you’re playing.
Here’s what I say: take what you’ve experienced and run with it, not against it.
Time is short, heartbreak is long. You decide which one will change your life.
Maybe only some of us were meant to be tortured.
It’s your ex. It’s your break-up. It’s your end. It’s your issue-that-seems-to-be-taking-over-your-mind-every-waking-moment-of every-waking-day.
Or something like that.
I have not found life to be horribly difficult. I will attest that I make much bigger deals out of things than need-be, but with an accurate, passive, look back, I realize that life has been quite rosier on my side than most.
With one exception.
Yes, that whole “getting-over” stage that it seems everyone refuses to talk openly about but everybody knows about after getting to know you in five minutes.
Or without the five-minute introduction.
Either way, most people will admit getting hit in the face sucks, but heartbreak—there is no comparison.
“Punch me in the face, I’ll bleed.”
Worked for Toby. But movies aren’t real-life.
Those who experience it, hate it. But those who experience remind others they’re not alone.
One man’s tears may be another man’s comfort.
It’s fortunate, it’s unfortunate.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this disease, it’s time. Time may not be an emotion savior, but it’s on your side. It lets you grieve. It’s available. It’s always giving more. It’s reminding you that tomorrow is waiting and that yesterday is over. It’s comforting.
Time is knocking again. Or maybe stepping on the pieces left. Time’s backside is reminding you that it’s not unlimited. It’s long, but certainly not forever.
Time, heartbreak. How much do we really know about these things? How much can twenty years really teach a person?
They teach you everything. They make you realize the sun isn’t always shining. Life isn’t that movie you’re watching, that song you’re hearing, or the game you’re playing.
Here’s what I say: take what you’ve experienced and run with it, not against it.
Time is short, heartbreak is long. You decide which one will change your life.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Applied and Non-Applied Smarts, According to Parents
I, for one, have sat back and laughed more than once at my parents. They're funny people, but they're funniest when they don't realize it.
I'm your typical A/B student. In high school, I was a straight A student who surprisingly picked up salutatorian in my twenty-seven student class.
That act won me my parent's approval - ya know, the look that says, "Wow, I raised a smart kid." That smile that's authentic. That nod exclaiming, "Excellent job!"
Those nods and looks are worth all the hard work, says me. But then once you work hard and make those strides, you might find yourself in a bind when you can't meet up to your once high expectations.
Another word for this could be "college."
*Sigh* yes.
Freshman year, well, I had no other choice BUT to meet those expectations. I didn't struggle since I was taking basic classes, and since I didn't have a very busy social life that year, grades were no problem.
But then sophomore year, reality hit in harder classes and more complicated relationships. My grades began to fall to levels that they had never hit before. I had never ever intended to view those things on my report card.
Suddenly the nods, the smiles, the looks weren't what they used to be. I wasn't the smartest kid anymore, and this, well, was a disappointment to someone who wanted to please her parents, at least in a round about way.
Now let me turn the tables for you. When it comes to academics, my grades, obviously turn my parents' heads one direction or another. But smarts includes more than academics . . .
You have the important things, like text-messaging, loading pictures from a digital camera onto the computer and putting them into files, fixing a printer, working a DVD player, making a picture slideshow, transferring pictures onto a CD . . .
Yeah. I love the generation gap + technological transformation. Those are my tools to proving my smarts. Actually, I don't really have to try.
My parents not only offered - but PAID - me for loading pictures onto a computer for a couple hours. Time equaled money, so I accepted it this time, but wow . . .
For the first time, maybe ever, some kids - in a technological sense - are outdoing their parents. Parents are going to their kids for help instead of vice versa. If there's a different time to live in, we certainly live in it.
I find it hilarious that I can work my butt off for all A's and maybe a B or two, but get the same kind of response from my parents for sending a text message or loading pictures.
I wonder why I don't get quite the same response when I exceed the monthly text limit . . .
I'm your typical A/B student. In high school, I was a straight A student who surprisingly picked up salutatorian in my twenty-seven student class.
That act won me my parent's approval - ya know, the look that says, "Wow, I raised a smart kid." That smile that's authentic. That nod exclaiming, "Excellent job!"
Those nods and looks are worth all the hard work, says me. But then once you work hard and make those strides, you might find yourself in a bind when you can't meet up to your once high expectations.
Another word for this could be "college."
*Sigh* yes.
Freshman year, well, I had no other choice BUT to meet those expectations. I didn't struggle since I was taking basic classes, and since I didn't have a very busy social life that year, grades were no problem.
But then sophomore year, reality hit in harder classes and more complicated relationships. My grades began to fall to levels that they had never hit before. I had never ever intended to view those things on my report card.
Suddenly the nods, the smiles, the looks weren't what they used to be. I wasn't the smartest kid anymore, and this, well, was a disappointment to someone who wanted to please her parents, at least in a round about way.
Now let me turn the tables for you. When it comes to academics, my grades, obviously turn my parents' heads one direction or another. But smarts includes more than academics . . .
You have the important things, like text-messaging, loading pictures from a digital camera onto the computer and putting them into files, fixing a printer, working a DVD player, making a picture slideshow, transferring pictures onto a CD . . .
Yeah. I love the generation gap + technological transformation. Those are my tools to proving my smarts. Actually, I don't really have to try.
My parents not only offered - but PAID - me for loading pictures onto a computer for a couple hours. Time equaled money, so I accepted it this time, but wow . . .
For the first time, maybe ever, some kids - in a technological sense - are outdoing their parents. Parents are going to their kids for help instead of vice versa. If there's a different time to live in, we certainly live in it.
I find it hilarious that I can work my butt off for all A's and maybe a B or two, but get the same kind of response from my parents for sending a text message or loading pictures.
I wonder why I don't get quite the same response when I exceed the monthly text limit . . .
Monday, November 24, 2008
The Then and Now
I go through these times where I have a million and one things I could do, but take time to do something I actually want to do.
Write.
For some people, they use writing for venting, for comtemplation, for creativity, or just for sheer enjoyment.
I find myself in the latter group.
And in all the groups before it, as well.
It's funny - I could write about anything in the entire world. Actually, I have a list of things that interest me that I'm supposedly going to write about eventually, but right now, I just don't want to. I just want to . . .
Write.
I still remember last Thanksgiving. It was a pretty memorable one for me. The usual family came over (my one Uncle) and we had the usual Thanksgiving dinner with the usual five people. It's simple, it's traditional, it's just the way I like it.
But I'll never forget a certain conversation that I had with a friend. And now that I'm home this Thanksgiving, the conversation passes my mind and I think back to last year and how life was then.
THEN was when I was in a group. A clique. A whatever you want to call it. I wouldn't exactly call it a "clique" since it was "open" but why am I using all of these "quotation marks"?
THEN was when life had an ending. I saw life as a box, with walls. I knew what I wanted at the time, and nothing else seemed to matter.
THEN was when I was caught up in the moment . . . all the time. I was always caught up with what happened yesterday, and the homework for tomorrow always seemed to get itself done . . . just not well.
THEN was when I thought that life couldn't get any better or any worse, all at the same time. I thought I knew heartache, and I thought I knew love. And I think I sound like a drunk poet . . .
But then. . . was THEN. This is now.
Now's not Then's greatest friend. Actually, they don't even like each other. At least in my world.
Now I'm learning I don't know what's going to happen from today to tomorrow. And it excites me. I don't have all the answers, and it's a good feeling.
I'm learning to live outside of the box. Not the cliche, but the actual box that I built last year. Well, figurative speaking . . . unless, of course, I'm referring to the dorm . . .
Today, I write. I think. I imagine. I plan. And then I laugh when my plans don't turn out right. But what I plan for most of all, like my good, REAL LIFE friend DAN, is . . .
To be surprised.
Write.
For some people, they use writing for venting, for comtemplation, for creativity, or just for sheer enjoyment.
I find myself in the latter group.
And in all the groups before it, as well.
It's funny - I could write about anything in the entire world. Actually, I have a list of things that interest me that I'm supposedly going to write about eventually, but right now, I just don't want to. I just want to . . .
Write.
I still remember last Thanksgiving. It was a pretty memorable one for me. The usual family came over (my one Uncle) and we had the usual Thanksgiving dinner with the usual five people. It's simple, it's traditional, it's just the way I like it.
But I'll never forget a certain conversation that I had with a friend. And now that I'm home this Thanksgiving, the conversation passes my mind and I think back to last year and how life was then.
THEN was when I was in a group. A clique. A whatever you want to call it. I wouldn't exactly call it a "clique" since it was "open" but why am I using all of these "quotation marks"?
THEN was when life had an ending. I saw life as a box, with walls. I knew what I wanted at the time, and nothing else seemed to matter.
THEN was when I was caught up in the moment . . . all the time. I was always caught up with what happened yesterday, and the homework for tomorrow always seemed to get itself done . . . just not well.
THEN was when I thought that life couldn't get any better or any worse, all at the same time. I thought I knew heartache, and I thought I knew love. And I think I sound like a drunk poet . . .
But then. . . was THEN. This is now.
Now's not Then's greatest friend. Actually, they don't even like each other. At least in my world.
Now I'm learning I don't know what's going to happen from today to tomorrow. And it excites me. I don't have all the answers, and it's a good feeling.
I'm learning to live outside of the box. Not the cliche, but the actual box that I built last year. Well, figurative speaking . . . unless, of course, I'm referring to the dorm . . .
Today, I write. I think. I imagine. I plan. And then I laugh when my plans don't turn out right. But what I plan for most of all, like my good, REAL LIFE friend DAN, is . . .
To be surprised.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Thankful
So this Thanksgiving break is not going to be exactly as I'd plan.
Regardless, I am finding the most unexpected things to be thankful for.
I'm thankful for . . .
1 - Having pink eye last year.
I got pink eye a few days ago, and I happen to have left-over medication = no appointment, no wasted money, no extra medication.
2 - A messy house.
I'm shorter on money this year than I've ever been in my entire life. My parents offered to give me $50 for cleaning the entire house.
3 - Closed doors.
Recently, I was planning on doing Covance to earn extra money for college and a few other things. Unfortunately, I can't because the only study available for me to do has been closed. I, however, can't meet the requirements:
*Be healthy NOW- I have a cold and pink eye
*No allergies to medication - I have a supposed allergy to penicillin
*Be healthy during the study - I get my wisdom teeth pulled five days before the opening day.
So some things are not meant to be. I miss out on more disappointment by not going to the screening date and finding out I can't participate. I'll also get to enjoy my break longer.
4 - Failed attempts.
I couldn't think of a better word. This refers back to my attempt for Covance. Although I can't participate, I am seeing an allergist over break to find out whether I have an allergy to penicillin or not. I never would have considered doing this if I hadn't attempted Covance. If I'm not allergic, I'll be able to participate in future studies.
5 - Friends to share Thanksgiving with.
For those of you who know me, you know that I don't have a big family. My biggest Thanksgiving celebration has included 5 people. This year, we're going over to a friend's house who already has 6 people. I've always wondered what the big celebrations were like, and it looks like I'll get to find out this year.
6 - Jeans.
The world takes these for granted. Going home over the break means I get to wear jeans! How I've missed them . . .
I'm thankful for more than these, but this year is making me especially thankful because circumstances are certainly not what I wish they were.
Regardless, I am finding the most unexpected things to be thankful for.
I'm thankful for . . .
1 - Having pink eye last year.
I got pink eye a few days ago, and I happen to have left-over medication = no appointment, no wasted money, no extra medication.
2 - A messy house.
I'm shorter on money this year than I've ever been in my entire life. My parents offered to give me $50 for cleaning the entire house.
3 - Closed doors.
Recently, I was planning on doing Covance to earn extra money for college and a few other things. Unfortunately, I can't because the only study available for me to do has been closed. I, however, can't meet the requirements:
*Be healthy NOW- I have a cold and pink eye
*No allergies to medication - I have a supposed allergy to penicillin
*Be healthy during the study - I get my wisdom teeth pulled five days before the opening day.
So some things are not meant to be. I miss out on more disappointment by not going to the screening date and finding out I can't participate. I'll also get to enjoy my break longer.
4 - Failed attempts.
I couldn't think of a better word. This refers back to my attempt for Covance. Although I can't participate, I am seeing an allergist over break to find out whether I have an allergy to penicillin or not. I never would have considered doing this if I hadn't attempted Covance. If I'm not allergic, I'll be able to participate in future studies.
5 - Friends to share Thanksgiving with.
For those of you who know me, you know that I don't have a big family. My biggest Thanksgiving celebration has included 5 people. This year, we're going over to a friend's house who already has 6 people. I've always wondered what the big celebrations were like, and it looks like I'll get to find out this year.
6 - Jeans.
The world takes these for granted. Going home over the break means I get to wear jeans! How I've missed them . . .
I'm thankful for more than these, but this year is making me especially thankful because circumstances are certainly not what I wish they were.
Somedays we forget
To look around us
Somedays we can't see
The joy that surrounds us
So caught up inside ourselves
We take when we should give.
So for tonight we pray for
What we know can be.
And on this day we hope for
What we still can't see.
It's up to us to be the change
And even though we all can still do more
There's so much to be thankful for.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Lovers Not So Lovely
Never in my life have I seen something so incredibly . . . twisted,
Bipolar, turned-around, out-of-place, horribly fake yet horribly realistic all at the same freaking time!
My Best Friend's Wedding.
So I'm new to this - I'm guessing 80's - Julia Roberts chickflick. Though, I don't know if this movie actually completes the qualifications for a chickflick.
Whatever your rules are for chickflicks, follow them. But when I classify a typical chickflick - er, the newly-named "romantic comedy" (because what romantic story doesn't have some element of humor?) - I usually end 'em with the dude ending up with the chick in the end. I mean, obviously, what would every desperate Lori Wick-reading single American woman who prides herself on the predictable happily-ever-after-ending do if your favorite romantic comedy's Romeo and Juliet never shared that million dollar smooch that made you flashback to your first kiss?
I'm not sure what I'd do. This virgin lips still enjoys Never Been Kissed since it still applies. Drew and I could have been good friends if she weren't acting.
**Let me take a moment for a few disclaimers for those offended/confused/or scoffing at my multiple mixed metaphors:
Two disclaimers for Miss (or Mrs.?) Wick: This is not a bash to her, I'm simply not a fan of romance novels, nor does reading Lori Wick make you desperate).
Shakespeare disclaimer: Romeo and Juliet are probably the worst examples for lovers in today's chickflicks, but everyone knows who I'm talking about. Just keep lying to yourself - they never killed themselves - Shakespeare was out of his mind!**
Back to My Best Friend's Wedding. First, let's start off with the typical chickflick elements:
*Yes, the beginning follows the quite typical chickflick format: Said boy and said girl used to like each other.
*Add in the jealousy elements, the tricks/lies the one plays and tells because she's in love with the dude. And don't forget that of course the two main people are best friends from the beginning. Very typical.
And now for some seriously ridiculous, unrealistic parts:
*Was anyone else questioning WHY THE HECK Cameron Diaz was playing little miss good girl? That one was interesting. And I doubt many see an 8-year age difference between Diaz and Roberts.
*Best friend man (his name escapes me, so we'll call him Mike) is seriously bipolar. From calling Roberts "beautiful," to complimenting her on her body in little clothing, to wanting to spend the day before his wedding with another woman ONLY with Roberts convinces you that Mike's real love is Roberts.
*George, the gay guy, has gay aspects, but part of the time, he appears straight. For example, when he flies out to see Roberts, [sorry for mixing character and actor names together], they both lie down next to each other. This causes the viewer to almost see THOSE two together.
The sole realistic moment of the movie:
*Here comes Mr. Bipolar. Once Roberts confesses her love after seriously making some horrible choices - all the while, you're screaming at the TV to make her stop, but you're also empathizing with her, cheering her on, because let's face it, who's a huge Cameron Diaz fan? - Mike still ends up marrying Diaz!
*It gets worse when at the wedding, Roberts eyes the groom the entire time. You're waiting for that ONE moment that you wait for in every chickflick you've ever watched. You don't care if the wedding is canceled, ruined, or crashed - you just want to see the right two people together. Besides, Diaz is made out to be somewhat a wuss that can't keep her mouth shut and holds few similarities with the man she's supposed to marry.
*And in the end, the very bittersweet end, I wanted to throw food at the TV, give a standing ovation, go in the corner and cry, and sit dazed, in front of the monitor - all at the same time. Roberts never gets the man of her dreams, and with this action, I refused to dubb My Best Friend's Wedding a chickflick, because it has broken my one rule for a chickflick.
I must give a little credit to whom it is due. George in the end gives a delicious string of words while he's on the phone with Roberts. Moments later, he sweeps her off her feet and depression for a dance to woo away all the complicated pain.
I could never rate this movie, however; I'm left with too many mixed feelings.
If I could take ONE thing away from this movie, I'd say this: Thank God my best friend is the same sex as me.
Bipolar, turned-around, out-of-place, horribly fake yet horribly realistic all at the same freaking time!
My Best Friend's Wedding.
So I'm new to this - I'm guessing 80's - Julia Roberts chickflick. Though, I don't know if this movie actually completes the qualifications for a chickflick.
Whatever your rules are for chickflicks, follow them. But when I classify a typical chickflick - er, the newly-named "romantic comedy" (because what romantic story doesn't have some element of humor?) - I usually end 'em with the dude ending up with the chick in the end. I mean, obviously, what would every desperate Lori Wick-reading single American woman who prides herself on the predictable happily-ever-after-ending do if your favorite romantic comedy's Romeo and Juliet never shared that million dollar smooch that made you flashback to your first kiss?
I'm not sure what I'd do. This virgin lips still enjoys Never Been Kissed since it still applies. Drew and I could have been good friends if she weren't acting.
**Let me take a moment for a few disclaimers for those offended/confused/or scoffing at my multiple mixed metaphors:
Two disclaimers for Miss (or Mrs.?) Wick: This is not a bash to her, I'm simply not a fan of romance novels, nor does reading Lori Wick make you desperate).
Shakespeare disclaimer: Romeo and Juliet are probably the worst examples for lovers in today's chickflicks, but everyone knows who I'm talking about. Just keep lying to yourself - they never killed themselves - Shakespeare was out of his mind!**
Back to My Best Friend's Wedding. First, let's start off with the typical chickflick elements:
*Yes, the beginning follows the quite typical chickflick format: Said boy and said girl used to like each other.
*Add in the jealousy elements, the tricks/lies the one plays and tells because she's in love with the dude. And don't forget that of course the two main people are best friends from the beginning. Very typical.
And now for some seriously ridiculous, unrealistic parts:
*Was anyone else questioning WHY THE HECK Cameron Diaz was playing little miss good girl? That one was interesting. And I doubt many see an 8-year age difference between Diaz and Roberts.
*Best friend man (his name escapes me, so we'll call him Mike) is seriously bipolar. From calling Roberts "beautiful," to complimenting her on her body in little clothing, to wanting to spend the day before his wedding with another woman ONLY with Roberts convinces you that Mike's real love is Roberts.
*George, the gay guy, has gay aspects, but part of the time, he appears straight. For example, when he flies out to see Roberts, [sorry for mixing character and actor names together], they both lie down next to each other. This causes the viewer to almost see THOSE two together.
The sole realistic moment of the movie:
*Here comes Mr. Bipolar. Once Roberts confesses her love after seriously making some horrible choices - all the while, you're screaming at the TV to make her stop, but you're also empathizing with her, cheering her on, because let's face it, who's a huge Cameron Diaz fan? - Mike still ends up marrying Diaz!
*It gets worse when at the wedding, Roberts eyes the groom the entire time. You're waiting for that ONE moment that you wait for in every chickflick you've ever watched. You don't care if the wedding is canceled, ruined, or crashed - you just want to see the right two people together. Besides, Diaz is made out to be somewhat a wuss that can't keep her mouth shut and holds few similarities with the man she's supposed to marry.
*And in the end, the very bittersweet end, I wanted to throw food at the TV, give a standing ovation, go in the corner and cry, and sit dazed, in front of the monitor - all at the same time. Roberts never gets the man of her dreams, and with this action, I refused to dubb My Best Friend's Wedding a chickflick, because it has broken my one rule for a chickflick.
I must give a little credit to whom it is due. George in the end gives a delicious string of words while he's on the phone with Roberts. Moments later, he sweeps her off her feet and depression for a dance to woo away all the complicated pain.
I could never rate this movie, however; I'm left with too many mixed feelings.
If I could take ONE thing away from this movie, I'd say this: Thank God my best friend is the same sex as me.
This Christian College Student's Learned . . .
Living is a learning experience . . .
Especially at college.
I love thinking back to before I came to college. College, then, seemed like a big, scary world, where I would never be able to keep up.
Now I'm trying to keep up with college.
College kind of runs away with one thing, then another. First, ya gotta have that one crush. Yes, on that one person everyone else is crushing on. Then after you've grown up from that, you fall for your best-opposite-sex-best-friend. THEN you realize that you're Julia Roberts from My Best Friend's Wedding, take a semester off from all dating . . . and unfortunately, or maybe only occasionally, start the whole process over . . . unless you learn from your "mistakes." You've now decided that it's time to grow up, be mature, find a real man or woman.
Best advice I've heard so far: Don't settle. Opportunities don't end at Baptist Bible College. ESPECIALLY when the boy or girl pool is under 500 each, save the ones already taken.
Then there's the academics. Yes, that one part you wish you could go to college and not have to deal with, yet simultaneously the MAIN reason you came to college. I love how that works out. Freshman year, you're diligent - or the complete oppostite. You're usually one extreme or the other. This usually depends on how social you become in the first few weeks. I joined the nerds that year. And yes, my grades were good.
By sophomore year, you're either "seriously" dating that first lucky person, or you're looking. You make fun of the freshman. Why? Because you can. You're not that freshman that used to get labled as . . . FRESHMAN! So while you were a freshman, frustrated out of your mind for getting made fun of for your freshmanness - and yes, you knew you had that - you take advantage of EVERY situation to play jokes on your freshman roommate. Plus, you're a sophomore, the o-so wise one.
You still take naps as a sophomore. Maybe not quite daily like you did freshman year, but you find the time. This college thing isn't that bad after all. Why do those ridiculous upperclassman always complain anyways? Plus, you have to take time for Walmart's guitar hero and your group of 6 friends.
Junior year hits you. What's a nap? The dean's list actually requires you to WORK to earn it. Every weekend isn't party time. A job is no longer a money machine, it's a necessity. But your freshman roommate . . . you don't mind so much. You find out from all of your classes that you're not-so-wise afterall, and while your freshman roommate sleeps 2 hours a day and your sophomore roommate is crying over the boy from last week, you're remembering that you're at college TO LEARN!
The creepy part is, while you find yourself disgusted by the younger ones, you see yourself in them just last year or the year before. Maybe that's why I don't mind the underclassman so much. (Disclaimer to those I've complained to about the freshman!)
And you know what ONE thing that's been consistent throughout each year, empty refrigerator, bare portfolio, ripped bookbag, holy wallet, I-just-need-to-drive-somewhere-to-get-alone-but-am-driven-mad-by-all-the-khaki-pant-wearing-college-students?
Wal-mart.
Welcome to Christian College.
Especially at college.
I love thinking back to before I came to college. College, then, seemed like a big, scary world, where I would never be able to keep up.
Now I'm trying to keep up with college.
College kind of runs away with one thing, then another. First, ya gotta have that one crush. Yes, on that one person everyone else is crushing on. Then after you've grown up from that, you fall for your best-opposite-sex-best-friend. THEN you realize that you're Julia Roberts from My Best Friend's Wedding, take a semester off from all dating . . . and unfortunately, or maybe only occasionally, start the whole process over . . . unless you learn from your "mistakes." You've now decided that it's time to grow up, be mature, find a real man or woman.
Best advice I've heard so far: Don't settle. Opportunities don't end at Baptist Bible College. ESPECIALLY when the boy or girl pool is under 500 each, save the ones already taken.
Then there's the academics. Yes, that one part you wish you could go to college and not have to deal with, yet simultaneously the MAIN reason you came to college. I love how that works out. Freshman year, you're diligent - or the complete oppostite. You're usually one extreme or the other. This usually depends on how social you become in the first few weeks. I joined the nerds that year. And yes, my grades were good.
By sophomore year, you're either "seriously" dating that first lucky person, or you're looking. You make fun of the freshman. Why? Because you can. You're not that freshman that used to get labled as . . . FRESHMAN! So while you were a freshman, frustrated out of your mind for getting made fun of for your freshmanness - and yes, you knew you had that - you take advantage of EVERY situation to play jokes on your freshman roommate. Plus, you're a sophomore, the o-so wise one.
You still take naps as a sophomore. Maybe not quite daily like you did freshman year, but you find the time. This college thing isn't that bad after all. Why do those ridiculous upperclassman always complain anyways? Plus, you have to take time for Walmart's guitar hero and your group of 6 friends.
Junior year hits you. What's a nap? The dean's list actually requires you to WORK to earn it. Every weekend isn't party time. A job is no longer a money machine, it's a necessity. But your freshman roommate . . . you don't mind so much. You find out from all of your classes that you're not-so-wise afterall, and while your freshman roommate sleeps 2 hours a day and your sophomore roommate is crying over the boy from last week, you're remembering that you're at college TO LEARN!
The creepy part is, while you find yourself disgusted by the younger ones, you see yourself in them just last year or the year before. Maybe that's why I don't mind the underclassman so much. (Disclaimer to those I've complained to about the freshman!)
And you know what ONE thing that's been consistent throughout each year, empty refrigerator, bare portfolio, ripped bookbag, holy wallet, I-just-need-to-drive-somewhere-to-get-alone-but-am-driven-mad-by-all-the-khaki-pant-wearing-college-students?
Wal-mart.
Welcome to Christian College.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Relationships BEFORE Religion
Unfortunately, I have to write a business paper for my advanced writing class. (Why does this class currently seem to affect my blog posts?)
So . . . I chose to write my paper on my high school. There was just this HUGE new project that was just completed before the beginning of this semester.
While I researched, I somehow found this website (http://www.dailyherald.com/story/?id=221965) that was posting a picture of the finished product (the add-on of the school), with a description of all the things included in the building: the new coffee shop, the 3-court gym, the 12 new classrooms, etc. We're talking several thousand square feet of building! 300,000 to be exact. Incredible.
I read the article, found it rather boring but relevant for my next assignment, and then I came to the end where people could comment. Then again, who actually comments on articles involving a "Bethel Baptist Church"? Evidently, several people fooled me.
The comments and people's opinions were far more interesting than the article itself. One guy called the church a "mega-mall-church." Like that's what every church wants to hear. There were a couple of Christians who commented with Scripture as well as an atheist who threw in his opinion. The conversation/argument/debate/commenting was quite eye-opening to how people perceive something as simple as an article about new buildings within a church as a huge problem. People take things very far in one direction or the other. Who woulda thought a theological (or not so theological) discussion would start over a church building?
Anyhow, as much as I enjoyed reading the conversation, I was bothered by how close-minded people are. I think witnessing is great, and I'm not downplaying anyone's actions or words, but it did hit me with a thought: witnessing to someone you know nothing about and claiming that you have all the answers is . . . well, not pointless, but really counterproductive.
How can you expect to reap results when you've never even a met a person? Whether it's religion, or the last presidential election, or some debate you're having with a person, it's hard to get someone to value your opinion when you know nothing about that person. There are NUMEROUS REASONS people have their beliefs, their convictions, and their opinions (Well, I'm talking educated, logical-thinking people).
My point is, it's great to share truth (or according to most, what your idea of what truth is), but you can't expect people to easily with you right away, or even side at all with you when you haven't established a relationship with them.
I know I'm sticking on the more spiritual side of things, but this idea of pushing your ideas on people before getting to know them was even evident in one of my dorm society meetings. A couple of girls were giving testimonies about different girls in jail that they had been mentoring. They wanted to share the Bible with them, but they wanted to get to know them before talking about religion. Common theme? Establish a relationship before sharing the Bible.
Yes, God wants His Word shared with others--it should be the Christian's main life goal--but shoving it down someone's throat (even in a way in which it seems respectful or kind), may not always be received so kindly by the recipient when he or she has opposing views. (Disclaimer--this is not to say that the people in the Daily Herald article were "shoving it down someone's throat.")
Solid relationships with people (whether casual or close) need to be established before the average person will be open to your opinions on beliefs, whether they we spiritual, political, or of some other importance.
So . . . I chose to write my paper on my high school. There was just this HUGE new project that was just completed before the beginning of this semester.
While I researched, I somehow found this website (http://www.dailyherald.com/story/?id=221965) that was posting a picture of the finished product (the add-on of the school), with a description of all the things included in the building: the new coffee shop, the 3-court gym, the 12 new classrooms, etc. We're talking several thousand square feet of building! 300,000 to be exact. Incredible.
I read the article, found it rather boring but relevant for my next assignment, and then I came to the end where people could comment. Then again, who actually comments on articles involving a "Bethel Baptist Church"? Evidently, several people fooled me.
The comments and people's opinions were far more interesting than the article itself. One guy called the church a "mega-mall-church." Like that's what every church wants to hear. There were a couple of Christians who commented with Scripture as well as an atheist who threw in his opinion. The conversation/argument/debate/commenting was quite eye-opening to how people perceive something as simple as an article about new buildings within a church as a huge problem. People take things very far in one direction or the other. Who woulda thought a theological (or not so theological) discussion would start over a church building?
Anyhow, as much as I enjoyed reading the conversation, I was bothered by how close-minded people are. I think witnessing is great, and I'm not downplaying anyone's actions or words, but it did hit me with a thought: witnessing to someone you know nothing about and claiming that you have all the answers is . . . well, not pointless, but really counterproductive.
How can you expect to reap results when you've never even a met a person? Whether it's religion, or the last presidential election, or some debate you're having with a person, it's hard to get someone to value your opinion when you know nothing about that person. There are NUMEROUS REASONS people have their beliefs, their convictions, and their opinions (Well, I'm talking educated, logical-thinking people).
My point is, it's great to share truth (or according to most, what your idea of what truth is), but you can't expect people to easily with you right away, or even side at all with you when you haven't established a relationship with them.
I know I'm sticking on the more spiritual side of things, but this idea of pushing your ideas on people before getting to know them was even evident in one of my dorm society meetings. A couple of girls were giving testimonies about different girls in jail that they had been mentoring. They wanted to share the Bible with them, but they wanted to get to know them before talking about religion. Common theme? Establish a relationship before sharing the Bible.
Yes, God wants His Word shared with others--it should be the Christian's main life goal--but shoving it down someone's throat (even in a way in which it seems respectful or kind), may not always be received so kindly by the recipient when he or she has opposing views. (Disclaimer--this is not to say that the people in the Daily Herald article were "shoving it down someone's throat.")
Solid relationships with people (whether casual or close) need to be established before the average person will be open to your opinions on beliefs, whether they we spiritual, political, or of some other importance.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Should I Come Back to Earth, or Am I Already There?
Oh how I hate it. Especially when it's from someone I respect.
I'm not talking open critism - it's from that one teacher you idolize secretly, but don't tell other people because they'd think you're a freak. So I got my dummy essay back from Advanced Writing today with a Midcalf warning that I was allowed to fight back. Well, I'm not your typical fighter.
And I'm certainly not a lover either.
I was looking through the corrections he made, and then I make it down to the lovely note at the bottom of the page. It went something like,
"Yeah, it's good. But I don't care for your condescending tone. Why don't you come back down to earth? The rest of breathe the same air you do down here."
Ouch.
See, judging myself--which may not always be the best idea--I'm not your usual hard critic that looks down on others. I would have ended up with the skater boy in the end.
I was trying to apply all of those "Zinsser says" rules, and this is what happened. Sure, I enjoyed writing the paper, and I can even back up why I took the direction and the tone. I'm used to people tugging away at me and telling me how it is. So I took my paper as opportunity to tell them back.
You be the judge. It's not horribly long, so don't get scared. I haven't blogged in awhile, so I doubt I'll get any responses, but here's the paper, in the computer screen flesh:
I'm not talking open critism - it's from that one teacher you idolize secretly, but don't tell other people because they'd think you're a freak. So I got my dummy essay back from Advanced Writing today with a Midcalf warning that I was allowed to fight back. Well, I'm not your typical fighter.
And I'm certainly not a lover either.
I was looking through the corrections he made, and then I make it down to the lovely note at the bottom of the page. It went something like,
"Yeah, it's good. But I don't care for your condescending tone. Why don't you come back down to earth? The rest of breathe the same air you do down here."
Ouch.
See, judging myself--which may not always be the best idea--I'm not your usual hard critic that looks down on others. I would have ended up with the skater boy in the end.
I was trying to apply all of those "Zinsser says" rules, and this is what happened. Sure, I enjoyed writing the paper, and I can even back up why I took the direction and the tone. I'm used to people tugging away at me and telling me how it is. So I took my paper as opportunity to tell them back.
You be the judge. It's not horribly long, so don't get scared. I haven't blogged in awhile, so I doubt I'll get any responses, but here's the paper, in the computer screen flesh:
"Let Your Ears Hang Low—If You Dare"
By Kristin Griffin
By Kristin Griffin
*****"What's that awful noise?"
*****As the church service begins, an elderly lady clunks away on the organ with the vibrato setting in gear—everyone reaches for their ears instead of the hymnals. You’ve been here before, right?
*****Only the uneducated average Joe would assume that each organ player is just alike, or that the organ is too boring for today’s listeners. What happened to the 7th inning stretch, the Phantom of the Opera, and every creepy horror movie you ever wasted your time watching? And no, none of those involved any amount of clunking. Professors, teachers, and the whole lot of leaders strive to educate students in music, literature, sports, history, and every other important area that creates the well-rounded individual. Most music teachers—I know from experience— stress the art of vocal capability and teach basic piano skills, but fail to even mention the organ. Band directors encourage students to take up clarinet or trombone lessons, but you don’t see many kids signing up to play the organ. Is this instrument too complicated, too ancient, too boring to learn about? Would you believe that the knobbies on the side of the organ are called “stops” and the keyboards on the organ are nothing like the keyboards on a piano? Pfft. Common beliefs of the ignorant.
*****Students are not at fault—I blame the teachers who don’t take the time to teach something that is valuable in today’s world. Stupid people do not magically appear—they’re simply uniformed. And those uninformed people are the ones who stereotype. So here’s a holler to the music teachers out there—get ‘em educated—or better, first educate yourself and then pass it on.
*****I don’t expect people to understand each function of the organ, but I demand that they don’t form uneducated opinions. It’s about time the organ stopped falling out of the music trend and started inching itself back into its proper place—the music classroom, the music curriculum, and the conversations that don’t start with “what’s that awful noise?” People, therefore, need to stop stereotyping, educate themselves before speaking on the matter, and consider teaching basic organ skills within music programs (if they’re involved in music education).
*****And here’s the billion dollar question: Where’s the R-E-S-P-E-C-T? Even someone who has no music knowledge can understand that the score for Phantom of the Opera isn’t exactly easy. J.S. Bach was a master—no, the master—of organ music. Most horror-movie viewers would recognize his Toccata and Fugue in D Minor if they actually listened to the classical station once in awhile. The musically-challenged have no excuse.
*****What’s so interesting about the organ anyway? Take the movie Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. While that may be most 15-year-olds’ favorite movie, many young adults would admit they’ve watched the movie if they haven’t declared obsession over the so-far trilogy. The half-dead Davy Jones doesn’t play the piano or even deliver one impossible-to-forget aria; he plays one mad pipe organ solo. Organs aren’t waiting for the monks, people (wait, do monks even play musical instruments?). The organ is up for 21st century entertainment. I guess cursed ship captains are good for something.
*****So give some Aretha to the organ players out there. Hey, most of them are probably somebody’s grandma anyway.
*****Play on, my fellow organ players. Play on.
*****Only the uneducated average Joe would assume that each organ player is just alike, or that the organ is too boring for today’s listeners. What happened to the 7th inning stretch, the Phantom of the Opera, and every creepy horror movie you ever wasted your time watching? And no, none of those involved any amount of clunking. Professors, teachers, and the whole lot of leaders strive to educate students in music, literature, sports, history, and every other important area that creates the well-rounded individual. Most music teachers—I know from experience— stress the art of vocal capability and teach basic piano skills, but fail to even mention the organ. Band directors encourage students to take up clarinet or trombone lessons, but you don’t see many kids signing up to play the organ. Is this instrument too complicated, too ancient, too boring to learn about? Would you believe that the knobbies on the side of the organ are called “stops” and the keyboards on the organ are nothing like the keyboards on a piano? Pfft. Common beliefs of the ignorant.
*****Students are not at fault—I blame the teachers who don’t take the time to teach something that is valuable in today’s world. Stupid people do not magically appear—they’re simply uniformed. And those uninformed people are the ones who stereotype. So here’s a holler to the music teachers out there—get ‘em educated—or better, first educate yourself and then pass it on.
*****I don’t expect people to understand each function of the organ, but I demand that they don’t form uneducated opinions. It’s about time the organ stopped falling out of the music trend and started inching itself back into its proper place—the music classroom, the music curriculum, and the conversations that don’t start with “what’s that awful noise?” People, therefore, need to stop stereotyping, educate themselves before speaking on the matter, and consider teaching basic organ skills within music programs (if they’re involved in music education).
*****And here’s the billion dollar question: Where’s the R-E-S-P-E-C-T? Even someone who has no music knowledge can understand that the score for Phantom of the Opera isn’t exactly easy. J.S. Bach was a master—no, the master—of organ music. Most horror-movie viewers would recognize his Toccata and Fugue in D Minor if they actually listened to the classical station once in awhile. The musically-challenged have no excuse.
*****What’s so interesting about the organ anyway? Take the movie Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. While that may be most 15-year-olds’ favorite movie, many young adults would admit they’ve watched the movie if they haven’t declared obsession over the so-far trilogy. The half-dead Davy Jones doesn’t play the piano or even deliver one impossible-to-forget aria; he plays one mad pipe organ solo. Organs aren’t waiting for the monks, people (wait, do monks even play musical instruments?). The organ is up for 21st century entertainment. I guess cursed ship captains are good for something.
*****So give some Aretha to the organ players out there. Hey, most of them are probably somebody’s grandma anyway.
*****Play on, my fellow organ players. Play on.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
It's In The Air
Change, that is.
It's amazing to see how much life changes in just a short time.
Let me expound for you . . .
I walked into my Junior year at Natha as an English major, taking an average 17 credits, with a part-time job, and ideas in mind for my junior fieldwork.
NOW I'm a Humanities major with a Writing minor. I dropped a class because it only helped me as an education major, so now I'm down to 14 credits. I don't have a job anymore, because evidently there were too many workers, so I got asked to leave (no, I wasn't fired pfft). Oh, and I guess there's no need to look into fieldwork when you aren't an Ed major anymore.
I seriously cannot explain how happy I am now that I'm no longer an Ed major. It took me 2 1/2 years and 4 majors to find out what exactly I'm supposed to be doing at this point in my life. Relief!
Something I find absolutely hilarious - I am now a lover of top bunks! When I was getting ready to come to school, I think I was losing sleep over hoping that I would get a bottom bunk. I've had one for the past 1 1/2 years, and I loved the convenience. Since one of my roommates has cerebral palsy, there's no way she'd be able to get on a top bunk all of the time. So yes, I was subjected to the top bunk, against my will, disappointed as an upperclassman to receive such a degrading sleeping location.
It's okay, I lived.
With the help of my roommate, Torie, and Lori, I was able to utilize PVC pipes, zip ties, a couple blankets, and safety pins into a bed canopy/wall/"do not enter" zone. Clearly, it's the most innovative invention since sliced bread. I predict most top bunks will be sporting these Torie-top-bunkers, as we coined it, in the next year.
My grades are better this semester than they've been since my freshman year. B's used to be my friend - now they're a disappointment. Unfortunately, I've been seeing more of those than A's, but they definitely beat all of my C's from last year. Guess I have think positively to keep myself motivated . . .
I have definitely enjoyed all of the fun things I've gotten to do so far this semester - movie-watching (at a Christian college, this becomes an off-campus activity versus an everyday occurence to my disappointment), iceskating, rollerskating (which today, I learned in Christian Living, is something questionable that I should seek to make a conviction about - be glad to know I stand firm still in my constant belief that rollerskating is certainly a good thing, haha). ALSO, I've went to a haunted house - too bad I got scared of the pirate-speaking-black-hooded-person. I don't get scared at these things. I almost cried at this one. And saying that MAKES me want to cry!
And a new experience - tanning! Hahaha, never thought I would admit this. Yes, it's true. If you want more details, contact Lydia Sadek. Actually, I take that back. She knows too much.
I've also faced new issues, new problems, and new situations, but overall, it's been a good semester thus far. I'm looking forward to graduating early, planning my best friend's wedding, and going on to Grad school.
Life is not about to slow down.
It's amazing to see how much life changes in just a short time.
Let me expound for you . . .
I walked into my Junior year at Natha as an English major, taking an average 17 credits, with a part-time job, and ideas in mind for my junior fieldwork.
NOW I'm a Humanities major with a Writing minor. I dropped a class because it only helped me as an education major, so now I'm down to 14 credits. I don't have a job anymore, because evidently there were too many workers, so I got asked to leave (no, I wasn't fired pfft). Oh, and I guess there's no need to look into fieldwork when you aren't an Ed major anymore.
I seriously cannot explain how happy I am now that I'm no longer an Ed major. It took me 2 1/2 years and 4 majors to find out what exactly I'm supposed to be doing at this point in my life. Relief!
Something I find absolutely hilarious - I am now a lover of top bunks! When I was getting ready to come to school, I think I was losing sleep over hoping that I would get a bottom bunk. I've had one for the past 1 1/2 years, and I loved the convenience. Since one of my roommates has cerebral palsy, there's no way she'd be able to get on a top bunk all of the time. So yes, I was subjected to the top bunk, against my will, disappointed as an upperclassman to receive such a degrading sleeping location.
It's okay, I lived.
With the help of my roommate, Torie, and Lori, I was able to utilize PVC pipes, zip ties, a couple blankets, and safety pins into a bed canopy/wall/"do not enter" zone. Clearly, it's the most innovative invention since sliced bread. I predict most top bunks will be sporting these Torie-top-bunkers, as we coined it, in the next year.
My grades are better this semester than they've been since my freshman year. B's used to be my friend - now they're a disappointment. Unfortunately, I've been seeing more of those than A's, but they definitely beat all of my C's from last year. Guess I have think positively to keep myself motivated . . .
I have definitely enjoyed all of the fun things I've gotten to do so far this semester - movie-watching (at a Christian college, this becomes an off-campus activity versus an everyday occurence to my disappointment), iceskating, rollerskating (which today, I learned in Christian Living, is something questionable that I should seek to make a conviction about - be glad to know I stand firm still in my constant belief that rollerskating is certainly a good thing, haha). ALSO, I've went to a haunted house - too bad I got scared of the pirate-speaking-black-hooded-person. I don't get scared at these things. I almost cried at this one. And saying that MAKES me want to cry!
And a new experience - tanning! Hahaha, never thought I would admit this. Yes, it's true. If you want more details, contact Lydia Sadek. Actually, I take that back. She knows too much.
I've also faced new issues, new problems, and new situations, but overall, it's been a good semester thus far. I'm looking forward to graduating early, planning my best friend's wedding, and going on to Grad school.
Life is not about to slow down.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Embracing Imperfection
It was Lord Chesterfield who said we should "aim at perfection in everything, though in most things it is unattainable."
Now why would the second earl of England, a man who obviously did not find perfection in love (he was married three times, not to mention the number of other women he had affairs with) fell so short of the mark of perfection?
Maybe my Google and Wikipedia skills have caught your attention for a moment.
I was talking to my sister the other day, and we were, in short, discussing some songs that we liked, and suddenly, the question popped in my head - or statement? - "Most songs are written about people who got their hearts broken." That may sound like a bit of a jump for you, but I'm sticking with my claim. You could at least acclaim most depressing songs to that title. And then you could reverse the "unbroken" hearts to the songs that are all about the happy side of love. Either way, you're forced to realize that most song-writers have chosen to write about something intimately personal in their lives, including that which knives the heart hardest: brokenness.
This brokenness initiates the conclusion that at one point there was an unbroken heart, built upon a foundation that probably felt perfect at the time being. And to reinforce an overstatement: No one ever promised that life would be easy.
When people build their relationships around a feeling of perfection, their walls are easily crumbled. Expectations are held way too high for people who fall way below that impossible standard. Maybe John Gray was right when he said that love was nothing about perfection, but all about embracing people's imperfections.
Then again, it doesn't take a doctor and author to teach us that. Look at your own relationships, and think about your personal experiences. Every relationship you have is built upon imperfection. Almost sounds bad, doesn't it? But the truth is imperceptible.
I think this insatiable desire to expect perfection from other people is unattainable, just like our favorite earl said. Too often, we expect from other people what we cannot give to others ourselves. So instead of seeking perfection from our imperfect family members, friends, and significant others, let's act a little more like Mr. Chesterfield. Okay, maybe let's think like him more than act ;)
"Aim at perfection in everything, though in most things it is unattainable; however, they who aim at it, and persevere, will come much nearer it, than those whose laziness and despondency make them give it up as unattainable." ~Lord Chesterfield
Now why would the second earl of England, a man who obviously did not find perfection in love (he was married three times, not to mention the number of other women he had affairs with) fell so short of the mark of perfection?
Maybe my Google and Wikipedia skills have caught your attention for a moment.
I was talking to my sister the other day, and we were, in short, discussing some songs that we liked, and suddenly, the question popped in my head - or statement? - "Most songs are written about people who got their hearts broken." That may sound like a bit of a jump for you, but I'm sticking with my claim. You could at least acclaim most depressing songs to that title. And then you could reverse the "unbroken" hearts to the songs that are all about the happy side of love. Either way, you're forced to realize that most song-writers have chosen to write about something intimately personal in their lives, including that which knives the heart hardest: brokenness.
This brokenness initiates the conclusion that at one point there was an unbroken heart, built upon a foundation that probably felt perfect at the time being. And to reinforce an overstatement: No one ever promised that life would be easy.
When people build their relationships around a feeling of perfection, their walls are easily crumbled. Expectations are held way too high for people who fall way below that impossible standard. Maybe John Gray was right when he said that love was nothing about perfection, but all about embracing people's imperfections.
Then again, it doesn't take a doctor and author to teach us that. Look at your own relationships, and think about your personal experiences. Every relationship you have is built upon imperfection. Almost sounds bad, doesn't it? But the truth is imperceptible.
I think this insatiable desire to expect perfection from other people is unattainable, just like our favorite earl said. Too often, we expect from other people what we cannot give to others ourselves. So instead of seeking perfection from our imperfect family members, friends, and significant others, let's act a little more like Mr. Chesterfield. Okay, maybe let's think like him more than act ;)
"Aim at perfection in everything, though in most things it is unattainable; however, they who aim at it, and persevere, will come much nearer it, than those whose laziness and despondency make them give it up as unattainable." ~Lord Chesterfield
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Blogger's Block Was Only Temporary
No matter how hard you try, you can't stop what's coming to you. There's no way to make a deal with fate or trade places with God for a day.
Whether you see life as how good the deck deals you that day or how much in favor you stand with God, the future is an exciting, inevitable time that awaits each person. So much thinking, so much planning goes into a time that is unpredictable, inmanageable, and uncontrollable.
I read a good deal of what other people write, and I have to admit, there are times I wish I could write like other people. But it seems that no matter how hard I try to change my writing style, to mimic the thoughts that cross others' minds, I just can't seem to write any other way besides what I have learned.
My mind gets hit with these out-of-nowhere and seemingly DUH! thoughts that I feel I must blog about immediately else all hell break loose. For example, go back to the top of this post and indulge yourself in the first two paragraphs. *Go read it!* See? Exactly. I have no idea where those thoughts came from either.
Continuing . . .
So I decided to take a blogger's leave of absense for a short time to regain a little bit of myself, and decide whether I should continue my blogging days or give up the blogging intranet for life.
But there's one thing you forgot to factor in that equation. I'm a girl, and with my gender comes one force that is irreversible - the ability to change my mind at any given moment for any said circumstance. So before you start reaching for your tissue box and give up the dream that you will no longer read my blog, I would like to inform you that those days are far from over. Although I don't know the world of politics, and I certainly don't want to vie far into the political world, I do have something to offer to the eyes and minds of those who decide to waste their next five minutes reading through my latest blab that splatters across my mind and gives me that unending urge to type until my mind has settled down.
I also won't bedazzle you with any fiction, since every effort of mine to write a story ends with two people living and dying, all in fifteen pages (double-spaced, of course). Actually, I haven't taken the time to test my fiction-writing skills for the past couple years, but my fear and laziness are stronger than my ambition at this point in time (if you remember from an earlier post this summer, I wanted to write a book).
One thing I would like to start writing more of are movie reviews. Although I have a biased opinion, it is, in fact, an opinion. Let the depth of my writing implore you to read on. There were days I would just sit at the computer and read movie reviews, and I felt encouraged to think more actively when watching movies. Again, I'll mention from an earlier post how much I despise passivity, even in movie-watching. Although I have not mastered the ability to actively engage my mind through every thought process occuring in movies, I am interested in taking a more psychological stance when writing about movies. (Note that this is coming from someone who couldn't get better than a C+ in psychology).
I must admit, part of me has kind of yearned for a career in journalism, though I don't see that ever happening. I don't think I'd be cut out to be a Chloe Sullivan. I'm not interested enough in getting my hands dirty nor would I want to personally interrupt complete strangers' lives in order to get a story of the century, and furthermore, a job promotion. The job is appealing, but from this writer's mindset, not the life for me.
So for the few of you who actually take interest in reading what other people have to say, including myself, stay tuned.
I always have more to say, even when I don't say it.
Whether you see life as how good the deck deals you that day or how much in favor you stand with God, the future is an exciting, inevitable time that awaits each person. So much thinking, so much planning goes into a time that is unpredictable, inmanageable, and uncontrollable.
I read a good deal of what other people write, and I have to admit, there are times I wish I could write like other people. But it seems that no matter how hard I try to change my writing style, to mimic the thoughts that cross others' minds, I just can't seem to write any other way besides what I have learned.
My mind gets hit with these out-of-nowhere and seemingly DUH! thoughts that I feel I must blog about immediately else all hell break loose. For example, go back to the top of this post and indulge yourself in the first two paragraphs. *Go read it!* See? Exactly. I have no idea where those thoughts came from either.
Continuing . . .
So I decided to take a blogger's leave of absense for a short time to regain a little bit of myself, and decide whether I should continue my blogging days or give up the blogging intranet for life.
But there's one thing you forgot to factor in that equation. I'm a girl, and with my gender comes one force that is irreversible - the ability to change my mind at any given moment for any said circumstance. So before you start reaching for your tissue box and give up the dream that you will no longer read my blog, I would like to inform you that those days are far from over. Although I don't know the world of politics, and I certainly don't want to vie far into the political world, I do have something to offer to the eyes and minds of those who decide to waste their next five minutes reading through my latest blab that splatters across my mind and gives me that unending urge to type until my mind has settled down.
I also won't bedazzle you with any fiction, since every effort of mine to write a story ends with two people living and dying, all in fifteen pages (double-spaced, of course). Actually, I haven't taken the time to test my fiction-writing skills for the past couple years, but my fear and laziness are stronger than my ambition at this point in time (if you remember from an earlier post this summer, I wanted to write a book).
One thing I would like to start writing more of are movie reviews. Although I have a biased opinion, it is, in fact, an opinion. Let the depth of my writing implore you to read on. There were days I would just sit at the computer and read movie reviews, and I felt encouraged to think more actively when watching movies. Again, I'll mention from an earlier post how much I despise passivity, even in movie-watching. Although I have not mastered the ability to actively engage my mind through every thought process occuring in movies, I am interested in taking a more psychological stance when writing about movies. (Note that this is coming from someone who couldn't get better than a C+ in psychology).
I must admit, part of me has kind of yearned for a career in journalism, though I don't see that ever happening. I don't think I'd be cut out to be a Chloe Sullivan. I'm not interested enough in getting my hands dirty nor would I want to personally interrupt complete strangers' lives in order to get a story of the century, and furthermore, a job promotion. The job is appealing, but from this writer's mindset, not the life for me.
So for the few of you who actually take interest in reading what other people have to say, including myself, stay tuned.
I always have more to say, even when I don't say it.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Inspiration?
"You don’t know the impact you left behind. You cannot see the tears he cried, you cannot hear the thoughts sweeping across his mind time and time again, and you cannot know the feelings that touched his heart because of you. All you can ever do is live up to the tears he cried and extends beyond what he thought of you, reminding him that his feelings were not in vain. His happiness now is not a fruitless endeavor, but a reminder that you once were the reason for his bliss. Don’t let bitterness overcome you as he moves toward the future, but let your constant smile make his absence a moment of the past rather than a tear of the present."
Monday, July 7, 2008
A Timely Gift
I think the best part of life is that it's unexpected. No one wrote a guidebook or Life for Dummies. How can words really do justice the feelings I feel? Sometimes my breathing will get harder and my head will get hot, and I'll be thinking of regretting moments from the past semester, from high school, and even the times when I was just a little kid.
I remember this one time . . . I had wanted this bike. I already had an old bike, but I really wanted this particular bike. It had these colorful stones on the spikes of the wheel, and I thought that it was the best bike I had ever seen. I didn't want the hand-me-down bike from my sister - I wanted this special bicycle. I remember my dad looking at me and trying to convince me that my sister's old bike was just as nice as that colorful bike that I wanted. It was an 8-speed bike that rode just as smoothly. But I couldn't be swayed. Eventually, my dad gave in and bought me that bike I had so desired.
I can't tell you how many times I wish I wouldn't have done that. I know that my dad surely doesn't hold any feelings of resentment against me for "being a kid," for wanting something that I didn't need without realizing the costs involved. Yet if I could take that back . . . I would.
I've never forgotten that story. It's a good one. It's a story that reminds me that I've done a lot of stupid things, even (or should I say, especially?) when I was younger.
I think that everyone has stories from the past, and slowly, everyone's writing his own life story. Maybe it's unnatural for someone to bring up a story that's regretful, as silly as it is, but it's a part of my life, and I'll never forget it.
There are parts of my life that I get impatient to live through, yet I keep trying to focus on the present. I've always been a person to focus on the future . . . what is it about the present that makes it difficult to focus in on?
It's easy to daydream about the future. It's sad and rewarding to think about the past. But to enjoy the present - that time that's getting written as I speak . . . wow. Now that's something.
I remember this one time . . . I had wanted this bike. I already had an old bike, but I really wanted this particular bike. It had these colorful stones on the spikes of the wheel, and I thought that it was the best bike I had ever seen. I didn't want the hand-me-down bike from my sister - I wanted this special bicycle. I remember my dad looking at me and trying to convince me that my sister's old bike was just as nice as that colorful bike that I wanted. It was an 8-speed bike that rode just as smoothly. But I couldn't be swayed. Eventually, my dad gave in and bought me that bike I had so desired.
I can't tell you how many times I wish I wouldn't have done that. I know that my dad surely doesn't hold any feelings of resentment against me for "being a kid," for wanting something that I didn't need without realizing the costs involved. Yet if I could take that back . . . I would.
I've never forgotten that story. It's a good one. It's a story that reminds me that I've done a lot of stupid things, even (or should I say, especially?) when I was younger.
I think that everyone has stories from the past, and slowly, everyone's writing his own life story. Maybe it's unnatural for someone to bring up a story that's regretful, as silly as it is, but it's a part of my life, and I'll never forget it.
There are parts of my life that I get impatient to live through, yet I keep trying to focus on the present. I've always been a person to focus on the future . . . what is it about the present that makes it difficult to focus in on?
It's easy to daydream about the future. It's sad and rewarding to think about the past. But to enjoy the present - that time that's getting written as I speak . . . wow. Now that's something.
So She Wonders
So for those who do visit my blog, you can see that it's...changed. Don't know how much I'm really a fan of the changes, but I'm planning to do some more different things when I find the time (that hasn't been wasted on something else or other).
It's interesting when someone mentions to you that he is searching for the meaning of life. No one has told me that recently, but I've been doing some contemplating of my own. While my eternal destiny rests in my Savior, my mind has been plagued about my future, what field I'm entering in, and what exactly to do with myself the next few years.
I tend to overthink, but I feel like the future is something that you can't keep putting off thinking about until tomorrow. I don't want to wake up one day and realize that I should have planned better for those next years in my life.
While I'm an English Ed major right now, I can't help but feel confused. I want to get involved in the area where God wants me, but I'm still a little clueless as to where He wants me. I'm just relying on Him right now and praying that I'm doing what's right for my future. But to quote a clique statement that is appropriate: "God helps those who help themselves."
That statement has been interpreted in a number of different contexts, but this is my finding: yes, God will lead you where He wills, but He's not going to bless you for sitting on your butt and doing nothing.
Something else that I've talked about with friends and learned in Sunday School: The will of God isn't something that you discover, but something that you need to go out and do. No, I find myself wondering from time to time, What does God want me to do with my life? How am I supposed to know? Why can't He just write a message in the clouds?
If only life were that simple. Guess it would take away from the fun complexity of all life's craziness then - that, and the satisfaction of finding the answers to all of those probing questions you wondered about.
I'm still at the point, even at 20 years old, of trying to figure out exactly what I'm good at. I don't want to do something that I'm only mediocre or okay at performing - I want something where I can really make a living out of. Something that's going to give me a sense of accomplishment at th end of the day. Something that's going to encourage me to return to day after day. Something that I'm going to be able to use to help people. Something that I'm going to be able to turn around and not tell people "you're welcome," but instead smile, knowing that my life has been a blessing to someone else. That is what I'm looking for. That is what I'm searching for, and what I want to find. Some day maybe . . .
My mom seems to always "discover" the things I'm supposedly good at. She's always found the best in me when I never even knew I was half good at something. I'm really thankful that she's been one of the few people who's always encouraged me to pursue my dreams and reminded me that I am capable.
So right now, I'm here...searching, praying, thinking, hoping, dreaming, wondering, imagining...and so much more.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
I'll Admit It . . .
Proofs that I have hideously bad luck:
1. I just misspelled "luck" up above as "look" and had to change it.
2. I wrote the wrong paper for my history class and have to write an entirely new paper.
3. I'm part of the 90% of Americans who want to quit their jobs but have no choice.
4. I am sick with only a cold, which gives everyone the liberty to say, "get over it, you're fine" while I really feel miserable.
5. My room has been messy for months and I have no found the time nor energy to clean it yet this summer.
6. I was supposed to send in my Sophomore Fieldwork Packet a month ago, but forgot.
7. This is a stupid list that I'm going to stop now . . .
So now that all of my complaining is out of my system (or so you hope, right?), I'll get over myself. Personally, I do have a lot to be thankful for, and if I really started making a numbered list of all those things, it would go faaaaaar beyond that list up there.
I had this conversation with myself that went on inside of my head tonight. I think I thought about at least ten life issues all at once and seemed to find the courage to forget my problems. At times, I get really depressed thinking about all of those times in my life that get me down. And sometimes, that quote pops into my head (which I will botch up), "Always try to be extra nice to people, because everyone is fighting some kind of battle." I guess it reminds me that I'm not alone . . . at all. Maybe that's what makes these hard times a little comforting - knowing that no matter what I'm going through, someone else is facing a hard time, too.
Another thing I think about . . . sometimes I wonder when everything's just going to end. When are all the hard times going to go away? I mean, I watch some of the people in my life and can't help but wish that sometimes I had things they had or wonder what it would be like to be someone else for a day. I don't want to be someone else - I don't think I've ever wanted to be anyone besides me - but sometimes I think about what it would be like to be in someone else's shoes for a day.
I'm learning this summer that you have to forcibly make yourself choose to be happy, especially when things are going downhill. Coming into this summer, I was expecting it to be incredible compared to the difficult semester that I was leaving behind me. But what's happened so far this summer? My job was changed, I've made a visit to the emergency room, I've missed too many days of work (which cuts my pay big time) due to being sick, my room is a complete wreck, I'm struggling in my college class, I've been sick three times, I and my friends got rained out at Six Flags (after weeks of planning), my plans got changed to go to Chicago, I got seriously lost in Wisconsin, I have no money, and now I have to rewrite a paper that I'm totally confused about.
Those things were not going through my mind as the "ideal" summer when I got in the car to drive home.
But those things are so petty when I look at it. Sure, they suck - I'll say it again - they really SUCK - but . . . they aren't the only things that have been part of my summer. Good things have happened . . . there is no dress code at the community college, I finally got a car, I had a great time with friends in Wisconsin, I work at the same place as my best friend, I've made new friends at my job, and I've had some good times with my family.
So I guess life isn't so bad after all . . .
I think that many times, it's much easier to point out the bad times in life in order to have pity on ourselves and to ask people in a nonverbal way to pity us as well. I know that everyone struggles, and that we all face hard times and need people to help us through them . . . but I'm learning that I can't let those difficult things hold me down.
What always scares me off from writing things down like this is feeling hypocritical. So many times, I've gotten down and it seems like the world has stopped spinning and I will never be able to get up. I've been there too often, but there isn't really a whole lot of fun. Therefore, I'm working on not getting down as often as I do and when I feel bad, that I don't let it get the best of me.
Good night, all.
1. I just misspelled "luck" up above as "look" and had to change it.
2. I wrote the wrong paper for my history class and have to write an entirely new paper.
3. I'm part of the 90% of Americans who want to quit their jobs but have no choice.
4. I am sick with only a cold, which gives everyone the liberty to say, "get over it, you're fine" while I really feel miserable.
5. My room has been messy for months and I have no found the time nor energy to clean it yet this summer.
6. I was supposed to send in my Sophomore Fieldwork Packet a month ago, but forgot.
7. This is a stupid list that I'm going to stop now . . .
So now that all of my complaining is out of my system (or so you hope, right?), I'll get over myself. Personally, I do have a lot to be thankful for, and if I really started making a numbered list of all those things, it would go faaaaaar beyond that list up there.
I had this conversation with myself that went on inside of my head tonight. I think I thought about at least ten life issues all at once and seemed to find the courage to forget my problems. At times, I get really depressed thinking about all of those times in my life that get me down. And sometimes, that quote pops into my head (which I will botch up), "Always try to be extra nice to people, because everyone is fighting some kind of battle." I guess it reminds me that I'm not alone . . . at all. Maybe that's what makes these hard times a little comforting - knowing that no matter what I'm going through, someone else is facing a hard time, too.
Another thing I think about . . . sometimes I wonder when everything's just going to end. When are all the hard times going to go away? I mean, I watch some of the people in my life and can't help but wish that sometimes I had things they had or wonder what it would be like to be someone else for a day. I don't want to be someone else - I don't think I've ever wanted to be anyone besides me - but sometimes I think about what it would be like to be in someone else's shoes for a day.
I'm learning this summer that you have to forcibly make yourself choose to be happy, especially when things are going downhill. Coming into this summer, I was expecting it to be incredible compared to the difficult semester that I was leaving behind me. But what's happened so far this summer? My job was changed, I've made a visit to the emergency room, I've missed too many days of work (which cuts my pay big time) due to being sick, my room is a complete wreck, I'm struggling in my college class, I've been sick three times, I and my friends got rained out at Six Flags (after weeks of planning), my plans got changed to go to Chicago, I got seriously lost in Wisconsin, I have no money, and now I have to rewrite a paper that I'm totally confused about.
Those things were not going through my mind as the "ideal" summer when I got in the car to drive home.
But those things are so petty when I look at it. Sure, they suck - I'll say it again - they really SUCK - but . . . they aren't the only things that have been part of my summer. Good things have happened . . . there is no dress code at the community college, I finally got a car, I had a great time with friends in Wisconsin, I work at the same place as my best friend, I've made new friends at my job, and I've had some good times with my family.
So I guess life isn't so bad after all . . .
I think that many times, it's much easier to point out the bad times in life in order to have pity on ourselves and to ask people in a nonverbal way to pity us as well. I know that everyone struggles, and that we all face hard times and need people to help us through them . . . but I'm learning that I can't let those difficult things hold me down.
What always scares me off from writing things down like this is feeling hypocritical. So many times, I've gotten down and it seems like the world has stopped spinning and I will never be able to get up. I've been there too often, but there isn't really a whole lot of fun. Therefore, I'm working on not getting down as often as I do and when I feel bad, that I don't let it get the best of me.
Good night, all.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Untitled Work
This is rather random, but where else should I share my random "work"? Here's a poem a wrote on a whim last night. Don't think I have a title quite yet. Ideas are welcomed. Warning: it's weird.
Here ya go:
Oh, to achieve such satisfaction,
To hear words miniscule-
For in them lie
The secret why
So many are steadily fooled.
Faces foiled, they do not toil;
I drink in deep despair.
I ask the wise-
I seek no lies.
The truth, I beg, declare!
Freeze, you taunting mystery!
Your world may end tonight.
For all the lies
Kept in disguise
May be revealed in light.
Only the truth I lonely seek,
Scarred hands held secretly so.
My heart did break.
The choice I take -
To decipher 'tween friend or foe.
My eyes see only pits of lies.
Your offense you cease to croak.
Words won't repay
What you did say
When my heart you took and broke.
I take tonight and choose to change -
Bare wounds open far too long.
I walk away
And all I say,
"Your sins no longer wrong."
Here ya go:
Oh, to achieve such satisfaction,
To hear words miniscule-
For in them lie
The secret why
So many are steadily fooled.
Faces foiled, they do not toil;
I drink in deep despair.
I ask the wise-
I seek no lies.
The truth, I beg, declare!
Freeze, you taunting mystery!
Your world may end tonight.
For all the lies
Kept in disguise
May be revealed in light.
Only the truth I lonely seek,
Scarred hands held secretly so.
My heart did break.
The choice I take -
To decipher 'tween friend or foe.
My eyes see only pits of lies.
Your offense you cease to croak.
Words won't repay
What you did say
When my heart you took and broke.
I take tonight and choose to change -
Bare wounds open far too long.
I walk away
And all I say,
"Your sins no longer wrong."
Ode To Pointless Babbling
I can't sleep. And of course, blogging seems like the only logical solution. So indulge your minds and I'll engage mine as I write.
Don't get too excited . . . yet.
Usually, by now, I'm pondering some issue, deep or insignificant, asking rhetorical questions that I always answer, and searching for the real meaning of life.
I'm sorry, but I have no life lessons or valuable truths to offer tonight. I come alone.
I'll be a bit open with all of you tonight. I think I'm a bit on the depressed side, but it's a mix between being annoyed with myself and feeling determined to rid myself of this depression. Nothing too extravagant, but a better word to describe my feelings: low.
See, I tend to have these moments where something bad happens - most of the time, it's something petty - but it pretty much fills the glass of bad instances that I've chosen to either keep my mouth shut in response to or refuse to react altogether for my sake and those sakes involved.
I think it spilled over a little tonight.
And then after there's that spill, I determine in my mind that I won't let these moments get the best of me, and I force my mind to accept what's happened and rise above the hard times. If only I were always so successful at inducing this response into my life. . .
Maybe only Charlie Brown understands. He had a few good words of wisdom, eh? Look up a quote by him sometime. He breathes the truth.
And now it's time for me to step off of my self-pity pedestal and return to earth to deal with the petty claims on my life to get annoyed, feel depressed, or pity myself. Life's too short to live on that thing anyhow.
I don't see how this post is worth showing to the world of my favorite five, but you were a great audience, nonetheless.
Bravo.
Don't get too excited . . . yet.
Usually, by now, I'm pondering some issue, deep or insignificant, asking rhetorical questions that I always answer, and searching for the real meaning of life.
I'm sorry, but I have no life lessons or valuable truths to offer tonight. I come alone.
I'll be a bit open with all of you tonight. I think I'm a bit on the depressed side, but it's a mix between being annoyed with myself and feeling determined to rid myself of this depression. Nothing too extravagant, but a better word to describe my feelings: low.
See, I tend to have these moments where something bad happens - most of the time, it's something petty - but it pretty much fills the glass of bad instances that I've chosen to either keep my mouth shut in response to or refuse to react altogether for my sake and those sakes involved.
I think it spilled over a little tonight.
And then after there's that spill, I determine in my mind that I won't let these moments get the best of me, and I force my mind to accept what's happened and rise above the hard times. If only I were always so successful at inducing this response into my life. . .
Maybe only Charlie Brown understands. He had a few good words of wisdom, eh? Look up a quote by him sometime. He breathes the truth.
And now it's time for me to step off of my self-pity pedestal and return to earth to deal with the petty claims on my life to get annoyed, feel depressed, or pity myself. Life's too short to live on that thing anyhow.
I don't see how this post is worth showing to the world of my favorite five, but you were a great audience, nonetheless.
Bravo.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Just Passing By . . .
This trait - this one trait - I hate. I hate it when I see it in other people. I hate it when I see it in myself. I don't even like using passive verbs, if I'm not too passive to overlook them. Oh, the evils of passivity.
You know what I'm talking about right? For instance, let's take a song. Most people, I assume, like songs because of the lyrics. Because the words speak to them, relate to their situation, or make them feel good. But don't you even listen to music - and even really enjoy it - and not realize a word that was sung? Maybe it's just me. I don't really know. But time to time, I find myself listening to music passively. Sometimes, my mind is filled to the brim with crazy details of my life, or I'm so mentally tired, that my mind checks out, and music sounds great at the time . . . without that concentration factor.
I'll be listening to a song sometimes, and I'll think wow, this is a great song, and then I'll realize that I know about two phrases from the song . . . maybe. Dang, how dumb is that? And other times, I'll find myself overlooking amazing songs, all because I never really listened to the lyrics.
Which reminds me . . . it's all about listening rather than hearing. I know, maybe this point is driven too far into the ground too often, but it really gets me. I think I forget too often to listen instead of hear. Afterall, I believe listening is one of the best qualities that goes overlooked. Anyone can sit there and hear your problems - and then they can tell you all the ways that they would fix them. But what about someone who can listen? Someone who take in everything you're saying, relay the information you gave them, and react in an understanding way that isn't overpowering? I think that's a gift. Imagine what would happen to people's relationships if they chose to listen more often than hear. I think we'd see a big change. But hey, that's just my opinion.
Ya know what makes Teardrops on My Guitar so amazing for every teenage girl out there who tears up every time this song is played on the radio (and let me add, it does tend to get annoying, not to mention, it's overplayed)? That girls can relate to this. When this girl I know first heard the song, she thought nothing of it. Days later, she comes to me saying, "Wow, I had no idea about that song. The words . . . they're great."
But let's get back to the soul of the matter: passivity. This doesn't just happen in music lyrics, people. Take the movies, for instance. Have you ever watched movies with people who seem to never have a clue about what's going on? (And yes, I know, all five of you, I probably drive people crazy when they watch movies with me, too, haha). They stare at the screen, but don't make an effort to engage their minds in what is going on. For the clueless girl, she'll watch any chick flick you put in front of her, but don't you dare put something in front of her that requires thinking. Unless, of course, you enjoy playing 20 questions. As for the clueless guy . . . well, you got me there.
And here's what gets me really bad. School. Or worse, summer school. Talk about not wanting to think! Although I'm typing 90 words a minute, my mind is pretty much across the nation. And then when my assignments come up, I'm lost . . . why? Because I'm passively paying attention. I'm not activating my mind. I guess it's not a crime. But it adds to my case that passivity is a problem.
I think it's so perfect that there are active and passive verbs in English. Did you ever hate learning about them? It never bothered me. Maybe that's because I'm a grammar nerd. But I had this one teacher in high school who had a passive verb limit for a research paper. And if you went over the limit, you had major points deducted. I don't think it was a terrible rule. Annoying? Sure, but not a bad thing. Action verbs make sentences more colorful and powerful, which in turn, improve paragraphs, and in result make a good paper great.
I think passivity can be looked at even further. Ever think about it as a personality trait? You see the people who allow bad things to happen in their lives, yet they choose to not do anything about them, usually for a variety of reasons. And then you see those people who choose to take action - I usually find more respect for these people. Maybe it's because I wish I were more like that. I understand that action should be taken in the right way, at the right time, and only when necessary, but gosh, do I respect someone who won't sit on the sidelines when he knows he can making a difference versus the person who's a quitter, who doesn't believe in himself, who chooses to let his circumstances become more important that what he believes.
Back to the English lesson session for just a moment . . . think about it for a second. A passive verb indicates that the suject is receiving the action - not doing it. It's just a thought, but I think it's deeper when looked at with a more discerning eye. When I move this concept into the lives of people, I get thinking . . . don't you always like the people who seem to get the job done more than the people who have to have everything done for them. I'm pretty much reiterating what I said in the prior paragraph. But overall, I'm going to respect someone who's active versus someone who passively let's life pass him by.
Don't sit around, waiting for life to happen to you. Make your life happen.
You know what I'm talking about right? For instance, let's take a song. Most people, I assume, like songs because of the lyrics. Because the words speak to them, relate to their situation, or make them feel good. But don't you even listen to music - and even really enjoy it - and not realize a word that was sung? Maybe it's just me. I don't really know. But time to time, I find myself listening to music passively. Sometimes, my mind is filled to the brim with crazy details of my life, or I'm so mentally tired, that my mind checks out, and music sounds great at the time . . . without that concentration factor.
I'll be listening to a song sometimes, and I'll think wow, this is a great song, and then I'll realize that I know about two phrases from the song . . . maybe. Dang, how dumb is that? And other times, I'll find myself overlooking amazing songs, all because I never really listened to the lyrics.
Which reminds me . . . it's all about listening rather than hearing. I know, maybe this point is driven too far into the ground too often, but it really gets me. I think I forget too often to listen instead of hear. Afterall, I believe listening is one of the best qualities that goes overlooked. Anyone can sit there and hear your problems - and then they can tell you all the ways that they would fix them. But what about someone who can listen? Someone who take in everything you're saying, relay the information you gave them, and react in an understanding way that isn't overpowering? I think that's a gift. Imagine what would happen to people's relationships if they chose to listen more often than hear. I think we'd see a big change. But hey, that's just my opinion.
Ya know what makes Teardrops on My Guitar so amazing for every teenage girl out there who tears up every time this song is played on the radio (and let me add, it does tend to get annoying, not to mention, it's overplayed)? That girls can relate to this. When this girl I know first heard the song, she thought nothing of it. Days later, she comes to me saying, "Wow, I had no idea about that song. The words . . . they're great."
But let's get back to the soul of the matter: passivity. This doesn't just happen in music lyrics, people. Take the movies, for instance. Have you ever watched movies with people who seem to never have a clue about what's going on? (And yes, I know, all five of you, I probably drive people crazy when they watch movies with me, too, haha). They stare at the screen, but don't make an effort to engage their minds in what is going on. For the clueless girl, she'll watch any chick flick you put in front of her, but don't you dare put something in front of her that requires thinking. Unless, of course, you enjoy playing 20 questions. As for the clueless guy . . . well, you got me there.
And here's what gets me really bad. School. Or worse, summer school. Talk about not wanting to think! Although I'm typing 90 words a minute, my mind is pretty much across the nation. And then when my assignments come up, I'm lost . . . why? Because I'm passively paying attention. I'm not activating my mind. I guess it's not a crime. But it adds to my case that passivity is a problem.
I think it's so perfect that there are active and passive verbs in English. Did you ever hate learning about them? It never bothered me. Maybe that's because I'm a grammar nerd. But I had this one teacher in high school who had a passive verb limit for a research paper. And if you went over the limit, you had major points deducted. I don't think it was a terrible rule. Annoying? Sure, but not a bad thing. Action verbs make sentences more colorful and powerful, which in turn, improve paragraphs, and in result make a good paper great.
I think passivity can be looked at even further. Ever think about it as a personality trait? You see the people who allow bad things to happen in their lives, yet they choose to not do anything about them, usually for a variety of reasons. And then you see those people who choose to take action - I usually find more respect for these people. Maybe it's because I wish I were more like that. I understand that action should be taken in the right way, at the right time, and only when necessary, but gosh, do I respect someone who won't sit on the sidelines when he knows he can making a difference versus the person who's a quitter, who doesn't believe in himself, who chooses to let his circumstances become more important that what he believes.
Back to the English lesson session for just a moment . . . think about it for a second. A passive verb indicates that the suject is receiving the action - not doing it. It's just a thought, but I think it's deeper when looked at with a more discerning eye. When I move this concept into the lives of people, I get thinking . . . don't you always like the people who seem to get the job done more than the people who have to have everything done for them. I'm pretty much reiterating what I said in the prior paragraph. But overall, I'm going to respect someone who's active versus someone who passively let's life pass him by.
Don't sit around, waiting for life to happen to you. Make your life happen.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The 2 AM Imperialism Paper
REVISED, PEOPLE!! I decided to get rid of the entire paper except the intro and conclusion after comments from people and the realization that I could barely get through the entire paper on my own. So if you took the time to read at all, here's just the snipets:
This is my crazy history paper that I wrote and finally finished late into the night the day before it was due. I'm never been much of a history buff, but I thought I would share it with all those who took the time to actually read my blog. Good luck - hope you don't get too bored - it's on imperialism! Also, it may be difficult to see, but the settings wouldn't let me put it in paragraph format. Heh.
“Old expectations encountered new realities”—this statement, taken from Americans on the Move: the West and the City, reflects the stories and live accounts of those who experienced the changing reality of imperialism. Whether Americans were on the move, imagining how the other half lived, or braving the beginning of the middle-class life, people’s expectations were met with realities they had never seen nor even imagined. James Rusling, Michael Gold, John A. Fitch, Jacob Riis, P. T. Barnum—these names offer no significance to the average ear, but their stories, their writings, and their books hold much meaning to the lives that were buried within their works and the audiences to whom they were directed. Those lives, along with many others, echo only a small portion of what imperialism entailed within the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Readers are welcomed to relive the journey of the struggles that new immigrants, hard-working foreigners, and the average, every-day American people endured as well as the actions that they took to ensure a change that would better their lives and the lives of the future generations.
Although each article summary remains undeveloped, certain points have been emphasized to relay importance. Even within each, only small shreds of information are contained within what represents this time period—the 19th and 20th centuries, and U. S. History within itself. What one should take away after reading the highlighted points is not the individual struggles, but the issues the nation itself faced: immigration, prejudice, strikes, labor, and status. The list is ongoing, but history at this time seems to be treading a slow uphill journey toward a lifestyle of independence, self-reliance, and human ability. Though small in size, these articles should not be overlooked but rather praised for those individuals who took the time to represent those people who lived to see difficult times. No doubt, there are moments when these certain individuals, these specific writings, and these recorded events may have been forgotten, but they cease to be lost to the great nation in which they took place.
This is my crazy history paper that I wrote and finally finished late into the night the day before it was due. I'm never been much of a history buff, but I thought I would share it with all those who took the time to actually read my blog. Good luck - hope you don't get too bored - it's on imperialism! Also, it may be difficult to see, but the settings wouldn't let me put it in paragraph format. Heh.
“Old expectations encountered new realities”—this statement, taken from Americans on the Move: the West and the City, reflects the stories and live accounts of those who experienced the changing reality of imperialism. Whether Americans were on the move, imagining how the other half lived, or braving the beginning of the middle-class life, people’s expectations were met with realities they had never seen nor even imagined. James Rusling, Michael Gold, John A. Fitch, Jacob Riis, P. T. Barnum—these names offer no significance to the average ear, but their stories, their writings, and their books hold much meaning to the lives that were buried within their works and the audiences to whom they were directed. Those lives, along with many others, echo only a small portion of what imperialism entailed within the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Readers are welcomed to relive the journey of the struggles that new immigrants, hard-working foreigners, and the average, every-day American people endured as well as the actions that they took to ensure a change that would better their lives and the lives of the future generations.
Although each article summary remains undeveloped, certain points have been emphasized to relay importance. Even within each, only small shreds of information are contained within what represents this time period—the 19th and 20th centuries, and U. S. History within itself. What one should take away after reading the highlighted points is not the individual struggles, but the issues the nation itself faced: immigration, prejudice, strikes, labor, and status. The list is ongoing, but history at this time seems to be treading a slow uphill journey toward a lifestyle of independence, self-reliance, and human ability. Though small in size, these articles should not be overlooked but rather praised for those individuals who took the time to represent those people who lived to see difficult times. No doubt, there are moments when these certain individuals, these specific writings, and these recorded events may have been forgotten, but they cease to be lost to the great nation in which they took place.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Not So Gratifying, Huh?
So after reading Mel's latest post on instant gratification as well as the - is it a fable or short story? - about Peter and the ball of yarn, I've been inspired to write a post of my own on time. Well, not necessarily time. You'll see.
If you haven't read the story, you should! Go to the Grass Roots Movement link and check it out on Mel's latest post. Honestly, I thoroughly enjoyed the story. You immediately understand the moral of the story about the second paragraph in, but regardless, I think it's a must-read. It immediately reminded me of the movie, Click. You know the moral of that story, right? Stop fastforwarding through the difficult times of life. Sooner or later, you'll wish you would have stuck through them - otherwise, you miss out on some of the most important parts of life, and before you know it, you're old and gray and cannot return to the past. Props to Sandler for incorporating his usual humor into a movie that had a good story in it.
What would happen if you did fastforward through all the sucky parts of life? No drama with friends, no more people problems, no more pain, no more anything bad. Wouldn't that be nice?
I guess it's those times that are most trying for us that teach us the most in life and help us grow. This concept reminds me of high school a little bit. At my school, some of my classmates, friends, and fellow students were given opportunities that I and others were not offered. Sometimes it was because of a last name, other times it would be because they were staff kids, and sometimes they were just the favorites. Well, ya know what? Thank God I was never a favorite. These people would always be the first picks for all the of the most desired gigs: the school play, the singing groups, the hot spots for competition. It was like a political race without actual competition: if you were better liked, then you were in. Half the time, talent had nothing to do with the matter.
Now I know you're wondering, what the heck does stupid high school politics have to do with not wanting to skip all the difficult times of life? Well, here, let me make the connection for you. Those favorites, those first picks, those staff kids - they had it easy. I'm not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you they were just special. Trust me, they weren't. And it wasn't just at my school. This type of thing happens pretty much wherever you go. The connection between the two points is this: I'm glad I wasn't a favorite, a staff kid, a top pick. At least 95% of the time, I had to work to get what I earned. I wasn't just picked. And it was those times that I made it into groups and accomplished goals, that I knew that it was the hard work that had gotten me where I was - not a last name. Those times of working for what I got while watching the same things just get handed to others helped me grow and become better at what I did. Just like the rough times of life build a person's character, so did hard work give me a better sense of accomplishment in my mind.
I can't imagine looking back on life and wondering what it would have been like to have hard times. Hard times are just a natural part of life. And it seems like the moment I get past a hard time, another just shows up in its place. It's either my friends, or my family, or I'm sick, or something terrible happens. It's everything. But those are the times that I am forced to learn, to do something that is outside of my comfort zone, to break down a wall and build a newer, firmer one in its place.
Sometimes, I would get annoyed at different preachers when they would say, "Now you should be thanking God for the hard times in your life just as much as you should be thanking Him for all of the good things He gives you." I mean, just hearing those words would make me shift in my seat. Are these guys nuts? Why on earth would I thank God for making my life miserable at times? Well, looking back, the puzzle pieces actually do fit. Seeing how one rough spot got me past certain barriers in my life and helped me grow in other areas is such an amazing thing. Maybe it's cliche to say this, but I believe it to be true. There is a reason for everything, and while going through those difficult times sucks, having the ability to look back and see how I got through it, how I perservered, and how God gave me the strength to get through everything just leaves me with a feeling of awe. Not having that opportunity would be stripping myself of life's most important lessons.
Peter learned his lesson, and Adam eventually figured out that you just couldn't click yourself through life and enjoy the nice times exclusively. Bad times have their time and place, and those bad times are what make the good times that much sweeter.
And I think the worst part about instant gratification is that the enjoyment lasts as long as it took for the good thing to happen: an instant. What's so gratifying about that? I think I sense an oxymoron.
If you haven't read the story, you should! Go to the Grass Roots Movement link and check it out on Mel's latest post. Honestly, I thoroughly enjoyed the story. You immediately understand the moral of the story about the second paragraph in, but regardless, I think it's a must-read. It immediately reminded me of the movie, Click. You know the moral of that story, right? Stop fastforwarding through the difficult times of life. Sooner or later, you'll wish you would have stuck through them - otherwise, you miss out on some of the most important parts of life, and before you know it, you're old and gray and cannot return to the past. Props to Sandler for incorporating his usual humor into a movie that had a good story in it.
What would happen if you did fastforward through all the sucky parts of life? No drama with friends, no more people problems, no more pain, no more anything bad. Wouldn't that be nice?
I guess it's those times that are most trying for us that teach us the most in life and help us grow. This concept reminds me of high school a little bit. At my school, some of my classmates, friends, and fellow students were given opportunities that I and others were not offered. Sometimes it was because of a last name, other times it would be because they were staff kids, and sometimes they were just the favorites. Well, ya know what? Thank God I was never a favorite. These people would always be the first picks for all the of the most desired gigs: the school play, the singing groups, the hot spots for competition. It was like a political race without actual competition: if you were better liked, then you were in. Half the time, talent had nothing to do with the matter.
Now I know you're wondering, what the heck does stupid high school politics have to do with not wanting to skip all the difficult times of life? Well, here, let me make the connection for you. Those favorites, those first picks, those staff kids - they had it easy. I'm not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you they were just special. Trust me, they weren't. And it wasn't just at my school. This type of thing happens pretty much wherever you go. The connection between the two points is this: I'm glad I wasn't a favorite, a staff kid, a top pick. At least 95% of the time, I had to work to get what I earned. I wasn't just picked. And it was those times that I made it into groups and accomplished goals, that I knew that it was the hard work that had gotten me where I was - not a last name. Those times of working for what I got while watching the same things just get handed to others helped me grow and become better at what I did. Just like the rough times of life build a person's character, so did hard work give me a better sense of accomplishment in my mind.
I can't imagine looking back on life and wondering what it would have been like to have hard times. Hard times are just a natural part of life. And it seems like the moment I get past a hard time, another just shows up in its place. It's either my friends, or my family, or I'm sick, or something terrible happens. It's everything. But those are the times that I am forced to learn, to do something that is outside of my comfort zone, to break down a wall and build a newer, firmer one in its place.
Sometimes, I would get annoyed at different preachers when they would say, "Now you should be thanking God for the hard times in your life just as much as you should be thanking Him for all of the good things He gives you." I mean, just hearing those words would make me shift in my seat. Are these guys nuts? Why on earth would I thank God for making my life miserable at times? Well, looking back, the puzzle pieces actually do fit. Seeing how one rough spot got me past certain barriers in my life and helped me grow in other areas is such an amazing thing. Maybe it's cliche to say this, but I believe it to be true. There is a reason for everything, and while going through those difficult times sucks, having the ability to look back and see how I got through it, how I perservered, and how God gave me the strength to get through everything just leaves me with a feeling of awe. Not having that opportunity would be stripping myself of life's most important lessons.
Peter learned his lesson, and Adam eventually figured out that you just couldn't click yourself through life and enjoy the nice times exclusively. Bad times have their time and place, and those bad times are what make the good times that much sweeter.
And I think the worst part about instant gratification is that the enjoyment lasts as long as it took for the good thing to happen: an instant. What's so gratifying about that? I think I sense an oxymoron.
The Music's In My Blood
Music is absolutely, undeniably influential. Did I just sound smart? It's like music to my ears . . .
Music makes the movies the movies. I mean, come on! Who would watch a movie that had no sound or background music? Talk about yawn!
iPods would be literally non-existent. Them, and every MP3 player to hit the market. A life with no portable music players? Somebody call an ambulance, cuz I think I'm going to have a heart attack!
I grew up on music. I mean, seriously. Literally, I was a music freak. I started taking piano lessons when I was 7 years old. Miss Suzanne was the name of my first of many piano teachers to come . . . and then go, of course. After Miss Suzanne, was Miss Wright, Miss Wenger (who became a great friend as I got older), Mr. VanMasdam, Mrs. Creswell, and last but certainly not least, Mr. Mayer.
But I didn't just play piano. I HAD to be a part of the band after I discovered one of my friends was in it. So I joined, and like every ingenious 6th grader, I took up the one instrument that I was fully capable of playing on the first day: percussion.
And then I realized it wasn't as easy as hitting a drum with a stick. It was crazy hard . . . but hands down, the most fun thing I have ever done in my life.
Elementary choir didn't do it for me, so I joined Junior High choir, and later on, High School choir. But who joins a choir without trying out for the ensembles? So I got past tri-outs and made it into the elite singing groups of Voices of Joy and Voices of Praise.
But if you really liked to have fun with music at school, you had to be apart of the Handbell Choir. This, with no doubt, was the BEST group to be a part of music and still have the wonderful opportunity of messing around with your friends for 45 minutes a class. Of course, I couldn't just do handbell choir, though. I wanted more. So I decided to become part of the Handbell Ensemble. We were so pumped about it, we even planned a Saturday get-together and went out to eat. Fun times!
And then there was Percussion Ensemble. Could you throw the word "fun" out there any harder? This was my ultimate favorite. After taking snare drums lessons for two years, the drum became my newest best friend. I had the record of being the only percussionist in band who played too loudly (everyone else committed the pitiful crime of not being able to be heard). It was a crime enjoyed committing daily.
Church orchestra became a bit of a drag, but being a percussionist always had its perks. Again, this time on the timpani, I was the only percussionist who played too loudly. Then again, who would not take advantage of having four kettle drums at their disposal? I would not let up such an opportunity that presented itself.
Music groups became only a part of music that I really enjoyed, though. I wanted something different, something new, something fresh to keep the beat alive in me, so I decided that I should try a new instrument my sophomore year that no one ever played: the organ. Now, I can hear you saying right now, "Don't only old grannies play the organ in church? Wait - people still play that ancient instrument?"
Yes, people, I do, indeed, play the organ. And trust me, I haven't grown my first white hair yet. Doesn't anyone remember the classics? Toccata in E Minor? It's like the most famous song ever - but no one matches the name with the song. I guarantee that if you heard the song, you would agree that you've heard it before and that it's a classic. And what about Phanton of the Opera? Don't think any grannies were sitting around, attempting that masterpiece on the organ! That is amazing music. How about "Take Me Out to the Ballgame?" Think your grandma could tough that one out? I don't think so.
Have I proven my point yet, or are you still convince that organ is for loser grandmas in church settings only?
How about those old horror movies. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about . . . half of their theme songs are played on the organ! Ever seen the musical Wicked? Yeah, that's pretty recent. Guess what - they use a freakin' organ!!! And what's the classic song that most brides walk down the aisle to? "Here Comes the Bride." Would you believe that it is played on an organ?
Okay, so I'll get off my organ defense pedestal and calm myself. But I want all five of the people (if five people even waste their time) who read this to know that organ is not an ancient instrument reserved for the boring, old in age losers (and if they play the organ, of course they can't be losers, haha).
After taking percussions lessons for a couple years, still continuing organ and piano lessons, and remaining involved with all of the many music groups, I still felt like I should take something new on in music. And that's when my mom bought me my first real guitar. I had been wanting to actually play guitar since I was a little kid. When I was about 7 or 8, I went to this garage sale and bought this ancient guitar, hoping that I could take lessons up. A couple years later, I went to one of the music teachers at my school, telling him about my interest in taking up guitar. He had me hold the guitar, but once he took a look at my fingers, he told me that they were too small for me to play the guitar. Disappointed, I walked away, figuring that was the first and last time I would ever hold a guitar. Eight years later, I'm sitting with a new guitar, and a contract to start taking my first lessons at a studio. My teacher ended up being a bit of a punk, but she showed me the basics. Sadly, she neglected to teach me actual chords and only taught me how to play a few songs. The exciting and pinnacle of my career in playing guitar is when I got to play a duet with my friend, Carey, in my Senior Recital in high school. The song didn't go over the best, but I'll certainly never forget the experience.
I wish today that I could tell you that I have kept up with all of that amazing music - the band, the choir, the ensembles. Percussion, organ, piano, guitar. All of it.
It had been decided from the very beginning. I was to be a church music major at Bob Jones University. But God had different plans in mind for me.
During my sister's sophomore year at BJ, a number of issues presented themselves that led to her transfer to Maranatha Baptist Bible College. This situation, along with praying, some pros, and a lot of confusion, I made the decision to attend Maranatha as well.
The music program at MBBC did not offer the world like it did at Bob Jones. I went in as a Speech Education major, next to the other two lonely and only speech ed majors at the college. Would you believe that major doesn't even exist now?
Right now, the most music that happens in my life is a little of the fiddling around I do on the piano. Going down memory lane, opening up the old yearbooks, and thinking back to the past is difficult for me. A large portion of who I used to be was lost. Freshman year, I did make some wonderful friends, but friends that did not share any of my interest in music. I truly feel like I lost a part of who I was and had grown up to be. It wasn't until this past summer that I felt like I had discovered a little bit of myself all over again.
I had been going through pictures I had found. Pictures from miscellaneous competitions, events, and trips - many of them dealing with music. Choir tours, handbell trips, nationals, band tours, festivals, state competitions, the whole deal. Can I not articulate how much I miss those times?
I realized that part of who I am was missing, and I'm so excited to say that I'm ready to meet up with a little of my old self again. In one of my older blog posts, I mentioned how I wanted to join the choir and maybe the orchestra as well. I would even like to commute to Madison to take up organ lessons again.
I don't know what that future holds, but I am holding on to the possibility of returning to the music I once loved and played every single day of my life. Music has always been a part of my life, and I don't think I'm ready to give it up quite yet.
To end this post with something random, yet relevent, I'll add the lyrics to a song. It's so true how you can not only be incredibly blessed and encouraged by playing music, but that you can be emotionally swept into a song just by listening to the music - the lyrics, the orchestration, the instrumentation, the instrument or voice from which the music is coming from. When I was sick about a week ago, I had a hard time talking for a few days, and I had more than enough time to be thinking. I thought it was amazing how God had brought certain lyrics from a song to my mind over and over and OVER again that entire week when I became really sad and discouraged.
So here are the lyrics that kept me going from "You're Not Alone," by Meredith Andrews (Verse 2 is my favorite):
I searched for love
When the night came and it closed in
I was alone
but you found me where I was hiding
and now I'll never ever be the same
It was the sweetest voice that called my name
saying
You're not alone
For I am here
let me wipe away your every fear
My love I've never left your side
I have seen you through the darkest night
and I'm the one who's loved you all your life
All of your life
You cry yourself to sleep
cause the hurt is real
and the pain cuts deep
All hope seems lost
With heartache your closest friend
and everyone else long gone
You've had to face the music on your own
but there is a sweeter song that calls you home
saying
You're not alone
For I am here
let me wipe away your every tear
My love I've never left your side
I have seen you through the darkest nights
And I'm the one who's love you all your life
All your life
Faithful and true... Forever
For my love will carry you....
You're not alone for I... I am here
let me wipe away your every fear... Oh yeah
My love I've never left your side
I have seen you through your darkest nights
Your darkest nights
And I'm the one who's loved you all your life
All of your life
Music makes the movies the movies. I mean, come on! Who would watch a movie that had no sound or background music? Talk about yawn!
iPods would be literally non-existent. Them, and every MP3 player to hit the market. A life with no portable music players? Somebody call an ambulance, cuz I think I'm going to have a heart attack!
I grew up on music. I mean, seriously. Literally, I was a music freak. I started taking piano lessons when I was 7 years old. Miss Suzanne was the name of my first of many piano teachers to come . . . and then go, of course. After Miss Suzanne, was Miss Wright, Miss Wenger (who became a great friend as I got older), Mr. VanMasdam, Mrs. Creswell, and last but certainly not least, Mr. Mayer.
But I didn't just play piano. I HAD to be a part of the band after I discovered one of my friends was in it. So I joined, and like every ingenious 6th grader, I took up the one instrument that I was fully capable of playing on the first day: percussion.
And then I realized it wasn't as easy as hitting a drum with a stick. It was crazy hard . . . but hands down, the most fun thing I have ever done in my life.
Elementary choir didn't do it for me, so I joined Junior High choir, and later on, High School choir. But who joins a choir without trying out for the ensembles? So I got past tri-outs and made it into the elite singing groups of Voices of Joy and Voices of Praise.
But if you really liked to have fun with music at school, you had to be apart of the Handbell Choir. This, with no doubt, was the BEST group to be a part of music and still have the wonderful opportunity of messing around with your friends for 45 minutes a class. Of course, I couldn't just do handbell choir, though. I wanted more. So I decided to become part of the Handbell Ensemble. We were so pumped about it, we even planned a Saturday get-together and went out to eat. Fun times!
And then there was Percussion Ensemble. Could you throw the word "fun" out there any harder? This was my ultimate favorite. After taking snare drums lessons for two years, the drum became my newest best friend. I had the record of being the only percussionist in band who played too loudly (everyone else committed the pitiful crime of not being able to be heard). It was a crime enjoyed committing daily.
Church orchestra became a bit of a drag, but being a percussionist always had its perks. Again, this time on the timpani, I was the only percussionist who played too loudly. Then again, who would not take advantage of having four kettle drums at their disposal? I would not let up such an opportunity that presented itself.
Music groups became only a part of music that I really enjoyed, though. I wanted something different, something new, something fresh to keep the beat alive in me, so I decided that I should try a new instrument my sophomore year that no one ever played: the organ. Now, I can hear you saying right now, "Don't only old grannies play the organ in church? Wait - people still play that ancient instrument?"
Yes, people, I do, indeed, play the organ. And trust me, I haven't grown my first white hair yet. Doesn't anyone remember the classics? Toccata in E Minor? It's like the most famous song ever - but no one matches the name with the song. I guarantee that if you heard the song, you would agree that you've heard it before and that it's a classic. And what about Phanton of the Opera? Don't think any grannies were sitting around, attempting that masterpiece on the organ! That is amazing music. How about "Take Me Out to the Ballgame?" Think your grandma could tough that one out? I don't think so.
Have I proven my point yet, or are you still convince that organ is for loser grandmas in church settings only?
How about those old horror movies. Yeah, you know what I'm talking about . . . half of their theme songs are played on the organ! Ever seen the musical Wicked? Yeah, that's pretty recent. Guess what - they use a freakin' organ!!! And what's the classic song that most brides walk down the aisle to? "Here Comes the Bride." Would you believe that it is played on an organ?
Okay, so I'll get off my organ defense pedestal and calm myself. But I want all five of the people (if five people even waste their time) who read this to know that organ is not an ancient instrument reserved for the boring, old in age losers (and if they play the organ, of course they can't be losers, haha).
After taking percussions lessons for a couple years, still continuing organ and piano lessons, and remaining involved with all of the many music groups, I still felt like I should take something new on in music. And that's when my mom bought me my first real guitar. I had been wanting to actually play guitar since I was a little kid. When I was about 7 or 8, I went to this garage sale and bought this ancient guitar, hoping that I could take lessons up. A couple years later, I went to one of the music teachers at my school, telling him about my interest in taking up guitar. He had me hold the guitar, but once he took a look at my fingers, he told me that they were too small for me to play the guitar. Disappointed, I walked away, figuring that was the first and last time I would ever hold a guitar. Eight years later, I'm sitting with a new guitar, and a contract to start taking my first lessons at a studio. My teacher ended up being a bit of a punk, but she showed me the basics. Sadly, she neglected to teach me actual chords and only taught me how to play a few songs. The exciting and pinnacle of my career in playing guitar is when I got to play a duet with my friend, Carey, in my Senior Recital in high school. The song didn't go over the best, but I'll certainly never forget the experience.
I wish today that I could tell you that I have kept up with all of that amazing music - the band, the choir, the ensembles. Percussion, organ, piano, guitar. All of it.
It had been decided from the very beginning. I was to be a church music major at Bob Jones University. But God had different plans in mind for me.
During my sister's sophomore year at BJ, a number of issues presented themselves that led to her transfer to Maranatha Baptist Bible College. This situation, along with praying, some pros, and a lot of confusion, I made the decision to attend Maranatha as well.
The music program at MBBC did not offer the world like it did at Bob Jones. I went in as a Speech Education major, next to the other two lonely and only speech ed majors at the college. Would you believe that major doesn't even exist now?
Right now, the most music that happens in my life is a little of the fiddling around I do on the piano. Going down memory lane, opening up the old yearbooks, and thinking back to the past is difficult for me. A large portion of who I used to be was lost. Freshman year, I did make some wonderful friends, but friends that did not share any of my interest in music. I truly feel like I lost a part of who I was and had grown up to be. It wasn't until this past summer that I felt like I had discovered a little bit of myself all over again.
I had been going through pictures I had found. Pictures from miscellaneous competitions, events, and trips - many of them dealing with music. Choir tours, handbell trips, nationals, band tours, festivals, state competitions, the whole deal. Can I not articulate how much I miss those times?
I realized that part of who I am was missing, and I'm so excited to say that I'm ready to meet up with a little of my old self again. In one of my older blog posts, I mentioned how I wanted to join the choir and maybe the orchestra as well. I would even like to commute to Madison to take up organ lessons again.
I don't know what that future holds, but I am holding on to the possibility of returning to the music I once loved and played every single day of my life. Music has always been a part of my life, and I don't think I'm ready to give it up quite yet.
To end this post with something random, yet relevent, I'll add the lyrics to a song. It's so true how you can not only be incredibly blessed and encouraged by playing music, but that you can be emotionally swept into a song just by listening to the music - the lyrics, the orchestration, the instrumentation, the instrument or voice from which the music is coming from. When I was sick about a week ago, I had a hard time talking for a few days, and I had more than enough time to be thinking. I thought it was amazing how God had brought certain lyrics from a song to my mind over and over and OVER again that entire week when I became really sad and discouraged.
So here are the lyrics that kept me going from "You're Not Alone," by Meredith Andrews (Verse 2 is my favorite):
I searched for love
When the night came and it closed in
I was alone
but you found me where I was hiding
and now I'll never ever be the same
It was the sweetest voice that called my name
saying
You're not alone
For I am here
let me wipe away your every fear
My love I've never left your side
I have seen you through the darkest night
and I'm the one who's loved you all your life
All of your life
You cry yourself to sleep
cause the hurt is real
and the pain cuts deep
All hope seems lost
With heartache your closest friend
and everyone else long gone
You've had to face the music on your own
but there is a sweeter song that calls you home
saying
You're not alone
For I am here
let me wipe away your every tear
My love I've never left your side
I have seen you through the darkest nights
And I'm the one who's love you all your life
All your life
Faithful and true... Forever
For my love will carry you....
You're not alone for I... I am here
let me wipe away your every fear... Oh yeah
My love I've never left your side
I have seen you through your darkest nights
Your darkest nights
And I'm the one who's loved you all your life
All of your life
Thursday, June 19, 2008
The Power Behind High Expectations
Why do people always expect the worst?
Isn't this the reason that people are afraid to trust again after getting out of bad relationships? Because the one person he or she cared about more than anyone else let them down (screw me for the pronoun/antecedent agreement), broke their trust, and proved themselves incapable of dependability.
That's one scenario. How about disappointment? Now how does that happen? When people's expectations are lowered. That implies that the expectations were high . . . er, higher until someone did something in order to disappoint them, therefore, lowering their expectations.
I could keep going here. If you really dig deep, you can find that a number of factors cause people to continually lower their expectations, sometimes until they amount into nothing at all. Life shouldn't be that way, if my opinion means anything. We should be able to have high expectations and not plan on lowering them in advance when we're let down. We should have the ability to trust and depend that people will not let us down all of the time.
You have to keep in mind that people are human, and that they do make mistakes. But I don't want to expect the worst from people just so I won't be disppointed in the end when someone breaks my heart, or loses my trust, or doesn't come through for me. I want to expect a lot of people, I want to impart my trust in others, I want to believe in the best that people have to offer. Is this possible nowadays with how untrustworthy people have become? Why do we always have to use the words, "now don't tell anyone." I thought that was a given, especially when people are close. But no. People have proven themselves liars in many cases.
I'm just as guilty. No doubt, I've let down even the closest of my friends and family. I find it interesting how it's the people that mean the most to us who usually let us down, and we let down in return. It's the close people that disappoint us and hurt us the most - not our enemies. Our friends, our family. And that pain hurts more than anything.
Disappointment, pain, heartache. It's all inevitable. No exit signs there. But I'm keeping my expectations high, regardless of the downhill trend to lose trust. I think there's a little bit of good in everyone, and as much as it hurts to be be let down, I rather be disappointed than to never have trusted and hoped at all.
Besides, I want people to expect more of me. Isn't that how I become a better person? It gives me a goal to push toward, not slide under.
Expect more of people, and don't get nervous when others expect more of you. Expectations don't change who people are but who they can become.
Isn't this the reason that people are afraid to trust again after getting out of bad relationships? Because the one person he or she cared about more than anyone else let them down (screw me for the pronoun/antecedent agreement), broke their trust, and proved themselves incapable of dependability.
That's one scenario. How about disappointment? Now how does that happen? When people's expectations are lowered. That implies that the expectations were high . . . er, higher until someone did something in order to disappoint them, therefore, lowering their expectations.
I could keep going here. If you really dig deep, you can find that a number of factors cause people to continually lower their expectations, sometimes until they amount into nothing at all. Life shouldn't be that way, if my opinion means anything. We should be able to have high expectations and not plan on lowering them in advance when we're let down. We should have the ability to trust and depend that people will not let us down all of the time.
You have to keep in mind that people are human, and that they do make mistakes. But I don't want to expect the worst from people just so I won't be disppointed in the end when someone breaks my heart, or loses my trust, or doesn't come through for me. I want to expect a lot of people, I want to impart my trust in others, I want to believe in the best that people have to offer. Is this possible nowadays with how untrustworthy people have become? Why do we always have to use the words, "now don't tell anyone." I thought that was a given, especially when people are close. But no. People have proven themselves liars in many cases.
I'm just as guilty. No doubt, I've let down even the closest of my friends and family. I find it interesting how it's the people that mean the most to us who usually let us down, and we let down in return. It's the close people that disappoint us and hurt us the most - not our enemies. Our friends, our family. And that pain hurts more than anything.
Disappointment, pain, heartache. It's all inevitable. No exit signs there. But I'm keeping my expectations high, regardless of the downhill trend to lose trust. I think there's a little bit of good in everyone, and as much as it hurts to be be let down, I rather be disappointed than to never have trusted and hoped at all.
Besides, I want people to expect more of me. Isn't that how I become a better person? It gives me a goal to push toward, not slide under.
Expect more of people, and don't get nervous when others expect more of you. Expectations don't change who people are but who they can become.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
We Fight
"TIME OUT!"
These are the words bellowed at children that just gave a teacher a hug.
Since when is hugging the new crime?
My job . . . well, if you want to call it a job, has jumped from normal to the ridiculous. Well, if you would call what we do normal.
Recently, the office people have been in a puff. A permanent puff. A puff of crazy rules that are so incredulous, that you would stop reading this if it were a fiction piece. But it's not.
Since when do kids get in trouble for trying to ask for permission to get out of their seats by getting out of their seats to ask for permission?
And how would you feel if your child was signed up for boarding school rather than day camp?
Does blowing whistles really solve every problem? I think not.
If you haven't guessed yet, yes, I am venting. Get over it. Seriously. This isn't a blow on my job or it's incapable staff. It's not even a gesture to say that I'm going to do something about it's incompetencey. I'm stating the facts, people, and facts are what you'll get.
Sorry for the complaint, but how terrible is it that I cannot even defend my own job? What is it, like 90% of Americans hate their jobs?
The ironic part is that I don't hate my job. What I do hate are the things I watch and am unable to put a stop to. Unnecessary punishments, over-the-top rules, normal gestures turning into crime scenes, and a whistle that will never run out of juice.
I know that every workplace has its problems, and not for the first time, the problems at mine are getting worse. The difference this time is that they are getting so blown out of proportion, and half of the staff lies relentless.
I'm working on taking action. I don't know how, but I don't like sitting on the sidelines, and I'm definitely not a bench-warmer.
I fight, along with my co-workers. And what we fight is one ridiculous fight.
These are the words bellowed at children that just gave a teacher a hug.
Since when is hugging the new crime?
My job . . . well, if you want to call it a job, has jumped from normal to the ridiculous. Well, if you would call what we do normal.
Recently, the office people have been in a puff. A permanent puff. A puff of crazy rules that are so incredulous, that you would stop reading this if it were a fiction piece. But it's not.
Since when do kids get in trouble for trying to ask for permission to get out of their seats by getting out of their seats to ask for permission?
And how would you feel if your child was signed up for boarding school rather than day camp?
Does blowing whistles really solve every problem? I think not.
If you haven't guessed yet, yes, I am venting. Get over it. Seriously. This isn't a blow on my job or it's incapable staff. It's not even a gesture to say that I'm going to do something about it's incompetencey. I'm stating the facts, people, and facts are what you'll get.
Sorry for the complaint, but how terrible is it that I cannot even defend my own job? What is it, like 90% of Americans hate their jobs?
The ironic part is that I don't hate my job. What I do hate are the things I watch and am unable to put a stop to. Unnecessary punishments, over-the-top rules, normal gestures turning into crime scenes, and a whistle that will never run out of juice.
I know that every workplace has its problems, and not for the first time, the problems at mine are getting worse. The difference this time is that they are getting so blown out of proportion, and half of the staff lies relentless.
I'm working on taking action. I don't know how, but I don't like sitting on the sidelines, and I'm definitely not a bench-warmer.
I fight, along with my co-workers. And what we fight is one ridiculous fight.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Thinks The Wandering Mind At 3 AM . . .
She walks into the room, but chooses not to sit by him. She wants him to wonder. After all, she always sits by him, or makes an attempt to do so. But not today. She walks past him and sits on the other couch. She pulls out her laptop and starts typing. She's typing the very words she's thinking, and she wants him to wonder what she's up to. What is she thinking? She's typing those empty, meaningless words, hoping to strike a tone of wonder and bewilderment in his mind. Only her peripheral vision is on her side. She stares at the screen, but her mind is wishing for his eyes to be looking up, staring at hers. She takes the risk. She glances up only to catch his glimpse for a second. That was awkward. Back to what she was doing. What exactly was she doing, anyway? Trying to get his attention, right? In a divert manner, of course. All she really wanted was for him to walk over and sit by her, and ask her what was going on. And then, of course, she'd have to reply with that completely false line: "I'm fine." She wanted him to press and to break the seal. It wouldn't take much, but she wasn't going to be a shell easily broken. There was so much behind that comment. So much "something" behind that "nothing." He could not be too ignorant to realize this, could he? This was her way of telling him how she felt. Today, there was no other way. It was not a mind game or a trick. She wanted to see if he cared. Well, just a little, that is. She wasn't ready for a night in shining armor to rescue her from a castle. All she wanted to know, all she really wanted was the assurance that he cared.
That, and his willingness to show it.
That, and his willingness to show it.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Only The Latest
Here's my most recent update on the current events on my life.
Aren't you excited?
I think that makes one of you.
In amazing number format, I present my life in recent time:
1. I almost quite my job last week, only the third day in. Another reason to convince me this life only gets more unfair. Okay, I'm over it now.
2. Jen's having surgery tomorrow morning. She has to have her gall bladder removed. She should be an outpatient, but there's always a chance that she may have to stay overnight. We're crossing our fingers that she's in the high percentage of outpatients.
3. I'm thinking about writing a book. Never seriously considered it before, but the idea has been rattling through my mind for a little while. More details on that later if it becomes a factual occurrence.
4. I'm going out for either choir, orchestra, or both next semester. Yes, I have already decided! I miss the fine arts from high school, and I'm ready to get back into the groove of things.
5. I should be getting a car by the end of the month. Finally, something to actually call my own. I'm really looking forward to it!
6. I have my 3rd phone this year! And no, it is no improvement from my chocolate. Story behind the matter: I lost my chocolate the last week of school, went without a phone for over 2 weeks, had my service transferred into my mom's old phone (her contract was up for a new phone), dealt with the crappy phone for a couple weeks, and now I have Jen's old phone (she was up for a new contract as well). My new contract doesn't come in until August, so I'm dealing with a pink razor that struggles to keep it's "okay" button in tact. But hey, I have a phone right? No complaining necessary.
7. Lori and I decided to go through the top 25 horror movies this summer. Should be exciting. We've watched Carrie and Halloween. Only 23 to go and counting. Can't wait.
8. A Six Flags trip is in the making, and I'm hoping and planning that it works out accordingly. *Six Flags Theme Song playing, crazy old man dancing*. Gotta love those commercials.
9. I'm definitely considering returning to playing organ next year. Since Natha doesn't offer an organ program, teacher, or even lessons now, I'm looking into plans to commute to UW Madison once a week for lessons. I'm crossing my fingers that it all works out.
10. I start my U.S. History 2 class this week on Tuesday at Harper. I'm completely stoked about it. Well, as stoked as you can get about a college class in the summer :-)
11. My music is growing everyday, it seems like. Recent artists to enter my music library: Secondhand Serenade (thanks for the intro, Tim), Reba, Brad Paisley, McFly (introduction from Just My Luck, and no, I don't care if you think I'm dumb for liking them), Alvin & the Chipmunks (just for kicks, of course - and Charlotte's undying desire to continually play "Bad Day" in the room over and over again!), and a little more of Katharine McPhee and Vertical Horizon. I was on a music downloading craze yesterday!
12. 24 has become the "thing" in my house for the past couple weeks. It's one show that actually gets my entire family excited. I now officially am a fan of Tony and a hater of Alberta Green. I'm rooting for the presidential candidate, ex-all-state insurance man (haha), I want to duct-tape his wife's mouth shut, and I think the entire Baur family is smart but each have at least one idiotic move on their parts, which leaves me screaming at the TV, wondering why they won't listen! I feel for Rick, was stunned that Ted rather die then give out information, and I'm incredibly thankful for Nina. I had Jamey guessed at from the start, convincing my dad that I had already seen all the episodes when in fact, I had never seen them before! The one part that makes me madder than anything is Kevin Carroll. I definitely did not see that coming.
13. I've only seen two movies in the theater this summer thus far, but they were both good. What Happens In Vegas and Prince Caspian. While movie critics give only 1 1/2 stars to Vegas (I think I'm right on that), I was stunned by Diaz and Kutcher's performances. Definitely entertaining movie. Prince Caspian turned out better than I expected, and I didn't think it was nearly as cheesy as the first Narnia movie. There were a few things I would have changed, but since I haven't read the books, I have little arguments for it. Overall, both were good movies that I would recomment to most people.
And that pretty much sums up the little and big parts of my life for now.
Stay tuned.
Aren't you excited?
I think that makes one of you.
In amazing number format, I present my life in recent time:
1. I almost quite my job last week, only the third day in. Another reason to convince me this life only gets more unfair. Okay, I'm over it now.
2. Jen's having surgery tomorrow morning. She has to have her gall bladder removed. She should be an outpatient, but there's always a chance that she may have to stay overnight. We're crossing our fingers that she's in the high percentage of outpatients.
3. I'm thinking about writing a book. Never seriously considered it before, but the idea has been rattling through my mind for a little while. More details on that later if it becomes a factual occurrence.
4. I'm going out for either choir, orchestra, or both next semester. Yes, I have already decided! I miss the fine arts from high school, and I'm ready to get back into the groove of things.
5. I should be getting a car by the end of the month. Finally, something to actually call my own. I'm really looking forward to it!
6. I have my 3rd phone this year! And no, it is no improvement from my chocolate. Story behind the matter: I lost my chocolate the last week of school, went without a phone for over 2 weeks, had my service transferred into my mom's old phone (her contract was up for a new phone), dealt with the crappy phone for a couple weeks, and now I have Jen's old phone (she was up for a new contract as well). My new contract doesn't come in until August, so I'm dealing with a pink razor that struggles to keep it's "okay" button in tact. But hey, I have a phone right? No complaining necessary.
7. Lori and I decided to go through the top 25 horror movies this summer. Should be exciting. We've watched Carrie and Halloween. Only 23 to go and counting. Can't wait.
8. A Six Flags trip is in the making, and I'm hoping and planning that it works out accordingly. *Six Flags Theme Song playing, crazy old man dancing*. Gotta love those commercials.
9. I'm definitely considering returning to playing organ next year. Since Natha doesn't offer an organ program, teacher, or even lessons now, I'm looking into plans to commute to UW Madison once a week for lessons. I'm crossing my fingers that it all works out.
10. I start my U.S. History 2 class this week on Tuesday at Harper. I'm completely stoked about it. Well, as stoked as you can get about a college class in the summer :-)
11. My music is growing everyday, it seems like. Recent artists to enter my music library: Secondhand Serenade (thanks for the intro, Tim), Reba, Brad Paisley, McFly (introduction from Just My Luck, and no, I don't care if you think I'm dumb for liking them), Alvin & the Chipmunks (just for kicks, of course - and Charlotte's undying desire to continually play "Bad Day" in the room over and over again!), and a little more of Katharine McPhee and Vertical Horizon. I was on a music downloading craze yesterday!
12. 24 has become the "thing" in my house for the past couple weeks. It's one show that actually gets my entire family excited. I now officially am a fan of Tony and a hater of Alberta Green. I'm rooting for the presidential candidate, ex-all-state insurance man (haha), I want to duct-tape his wife's mouth shut, and I think the entire Baur family is smart but each have at least one idiotic move on their parts, which leaves me screaming at the TV, wondering why they won't listen! I feel for Rick, was stunned that Ted rather die then give out information, and I'm incredibly thankful for Nina. I had Jamey guessed at from the start, convincing my dad that I had already seen all the episodes when in fact, I had never seen them before! The one part that makes me madder than anything is Kevin Carroll. I definitely did not see that coming.
13. I've only seen two movies in the theater this summer thus far, but they were both good. What Happens In Vegas and Prince Caspian. While movie critics give only 1 1/2 stars to Vegas (I think I'm right on that), I was stunned by Diaz and Kutcher's performances. Definitely entertaining movie. Prince Caspian turned out better than I expected, and I didn't think it was nearly as cheesy as the first Narnia movie. There were a few things I would have changed, but since I haven't read the books, I have little arguments for it. Overall, both were good movies that I would recomment to most people.
And that pretty much sums up the little and big parts of my life for now.
Stay tuned.
Concerning The Nonessentials . . .
In order to understand the "nonessentials," what exactly are the "essentials"?
Essentials: "One Lord, one faith, one baptism." That is the foundation of the essentials.
Get ready for an entry neither of us saw coming.
Yeah, I'm going to hit a debatable topic here today. I usually like to try to stay away from those, because frankly, I hate arguing with people. Maybe you could say that it's "just not my thing." I hate confrontation, and in all honesty, I dislike diagreeing. Yeah, it's a fact of life that I have to accept, but when possible, I choose to avoid it at all costs. But not today.
There are essential beliefs that I will not shy away from. There are things I know and believe to be true and will not admit differently to. My mind will not be swayed that there is another God besides the God of the Bible. I will not change my mind about the one true faith, that is, faith in Christ (faith not as in "believing," but faith that Christ is real, that He died on the cross, rose from the dead, and that He is returning one day). Those are the facts, and I'm proud of them.
Let me get to the crux of the message. What about the nonessentials? What about the gray areas that keep the different denominations fighting and splitting over?
The nonessentials make life not stricly black and white. The nonessentials allow us to draw lines that may not all be in the same places. I've struggled trying to grasp this concept of non-essentials for the longest time.
Let's define some nonessentials here: going to the movies, music standards, dress standards. Biblical times called for different "nonessentials," such as eating meat.
The beginning verses of Romans 14 in the ESV offers some explanation for my point:
"One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls."
Here are some points that my singles pastor drew from these verses:
1. Receive your Christian brother who is weak in the faith
A. Weak in the faith = Has a conscience that condemns him for things which God does not condemn him for.
B. Doubtful diputations = diputes of opinion
1. Eating meat vs. eating vegetables
2. Honoring certain days above others vs. honoring every day the same
2. The strong are not to despise the weak being immature and over-scrupulous
3. The weak are not to judge the strong for their liberty.
I could include more of the outline, but I'll spare all of you. My pastor brought up a very good point, though: how many times have you heard Romans 14 preached before? The group's response: rarely, if ever. That's interesting. Why? I think because it's incredibly debatable. People have a difference of opinions, and when their opinions are tried and preached against or differently, people take it personally and get offended. And no, I'm not rebuking the offended. I stand right there with them. When I hear something that offends me, I may not voice my opinion, but I do stay with how I feel about a matter in most cases.
Here's another great point of his: Let's get a little personal with some standards. (A very not me thing to do). How many times will someone visit Wrigley field, but banish himself from a movie theater? See a comparison? You can go to a baseball game, and there will be constant profanity, drinking, and music that may not meet up to your standards. As for the movie theater . . . from what I'v heard in about a million different messages, it's a testimony issue. I understand where people are coming from and I respect them for feeling the way they do. I understand that people don't know what I'm watching when I walk into the theater. I'm also willing to take that risk. I'm not downplaying those who feel like it is not a good place for them to attend, but I'm not going to raise or lower my standard because of others' feelings. Also, just to put out there, this is not something that I like to slap in other people's faces. This is my conviction, and mine alone. I believe everyone is entitled to their opinions on this matter.
Regardless, I think he made an excellent point. Rationalization. This is usually the argument people use when people, such as myself, "rationalize" different things in my mind in order to convince myself that they're okay. But isn't this a two-way street, people? Can you not rationalize something in your mind that it's - dare me say it - wrong?!
Here's a ridiculous, but a get-the-picture-across illustration, from the lips of Pastor Wilkinson, himself: A youth pastor preached that lipstick is wrong! So this girl would go home, and she would want to put lipstick on, and as she would move the stick to her mouth, a voice would pop into our mind: Lipstick is WRONG! Don't put it on! And in her mind, she believed that the voice of God Himself was warning her of making the grave mistake of applying lipstick! Thank God that He spoke to her before she almost committed such a sin! (No disrespect).
That may sound kinda crazy, but let's think about it. That girl wasn't hearing the voice of God in her mind. It was the voice of a man. There was not a Scriptural basis for not putting on lipstick. Sure, if you looked hard enough, you may be able to locate a verse in the Bible and twist its interpretation in order to fit with your finding, but the main emphasis is that something as petty as applying lipstick can become a petty, gray area that people don't like dealing with.
And if you look at it, you'll realize that you'll always have people who set their lines above yours and far below yours.
The girl in the lipstick illustration is a prime example of the weak in the Romans 14 passage. Yet the strong are warned to not undermine their thoughts. Yes, we (I'm not calling myself "strong" here either, persay) are not to belittle their thoughts and force them to do things that go against their conscience, even if they're as ridiculous as putting on lipstick! Now that is something very difficult for me to take in. I think I would slap someone if she tried telling me that putting on lipstick is wrong!
I think it's important to sometimes talk about things, even if it makes people a little bit uncomforable in their seats. I don't want to use Romans 14 as a crutch to do whatever I please that anyone may consider "not black and white," but I think that it is very applicable. It always gives me more confidence in my convictions on these areas that people feel very - here's a nice word - "differently" about.
I think I sound like I'm preaching. Want to debate about women preachers? That is black and white. No thank you. Haha.
Essentials: "One Lord, one faith, one baptism." That is the foundation of the essentials.
Get ready for an entry neither of us saw coming.
Yeah, I'm going to hit a debatable topic here today. I usually like to try to stay away from those, because frankly, I hate arguing with people. Maybe you could say that it's "just not my thing." I hate confrontation, and in all honesty, I dislike diagreeing. Yeah, it's a fact of life that I have to accept, but when possible, I choose to avoid it at all costs. But not today.
There are essential beliefs that I will not shy away from. There are things I know and believe to be true and will not admit differently to. My mind will not be swayed that there is another God besides the God of the Bible. I will not change my mind about the one true faith, that is, faith in Christ (faith not as in "believing," but faith that Christ is real, that He died on the cross, rose from the dead, and that He is returning one day). Those are the facts, and I'm proud of them.
Let me get to the crux of the message. What about the nonessentials? What about the gray areas that keep the different denominations fighting and splitting over?
The nonessentials make life not stricly black and white. The nonessentials allow us to draw lines that may not all be in the same places. I've struggled trying to grasp this concept of non-essentials for the longest time.
Let's define some nonessentials here: going to the movies, music standards, dress standards. Biblical times called for different "nonessentials," such as eating meat.
The beginning verses of Romans 14 in the ESV offers some explanation for my point:
"One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls."
Here are some points that my singles pastor drew from these verses:
1. Receive your Christian brother who is weak in the faith
A. Weak in the faith = Has a conscience that condemns him for things which God does not condemn him for.
B. Doubtful diputations = diputes of opinion
1. Eating meat vs. eating vegetables
2. Honoring certain days above others vs. honoring every day the same
2. The strong are not to despise the weak being immature and over-scrupulous
3. The weak are not to judge the strong for their liberty.
I could include more of the outline, but I'll spare all of you. My pastor brought up a very good point, though: how many times have you heard Romans 14 preached before? The group's response: rarely, if ever. That's interesting. Why? I think because it's incredibly debatable. People have a difference of opinions, and when their opinions are tried and preached against or differently, people take it personally and get offended. And no, I'm not rebuking the offended. I stand right there with them. When I hear something that offends me, I may not voice my opinion, but I do stay with how I feel about a matter in most cases.
Here's another great point of his: Let's get a little personal with some standards. (A very not me thing to do). How many times will someone visit Wrigley field, but banish himself from a movie theater? See a comparison? You can go to a baseball game, and there will be constant profanity, drinking, and music that may not meet up to your standards. As for the movie theater . . . from what I'v heard in about a million different messages, it's a testimony issue. I understand where people are coming from and I respect them for feeling the way they do. I understand that people don't know what I'm watching when I walk into the theater. I'm also willing to take that risk. I'm not downplaying those who feel like it is not a good place for them to attend, but I'm not going to raise or lower my standard because of others' feelings. Also, just to put out there, this is not something that I like to slap in other people's faces. This is my conviction, and mine alone. I believe everyone is entitled to their opinions on this matter.
Regardless, I think he made an excellent point. Rationalization. This is usually the argument people use when people, such as myself, "rationalize" different things in my mind in order to convince myself that they're okay. But isn't this a two-way street, people? Can you not rationalize something in your mind that it's - dare me say it - wrong?!
Here's a ridiculous, but a get-the-picture-across illustration, from the lips of Pastor Wilkinson, himself: A youth pastor preached that lipstick is wrong! So this girl would go home, and she would want to put lipstick on, and as she would move the stick to her mouth, a voice would pop into our mind: Lipstick is WRONG! Don't put it on! And in her mind, she believed that the voice of God Himself was warning her of making the grave mistake of applying lipstick! Thank God that He spoke to her before she almost committed such a sin! (No disrespect).
That may sound kinda crazy, but let's think about it. That girl wasn't hearing the voice of God in her mind. It was the voice of a man. There was not a Scriptural basis for not putting on lipstick. Sure, if you looked hard enough, you may be able to locate a verse in the Bible and twist its interpretation in order to fit with your finding, but the main emphasis is that something as petty as applying lipstick can become a petty, gray area that people don't like dealing with.
And if you look at it, you'll realize that you'll always have people who set their lines above yours and far below yours.
The girl in the lipstick illustration is a prime example of the weak in the Romans 14 passage. Yet the strong are warned to not undermine their thoughts. Yes, we (I'm not calling myself "strong" here either, persay) are not to belittle their thoughts and force them to do things that go against their conscience, even if they're as ridiculous as putting on lipstick! Now that is something very difficult for me to take in. I think I would slap someone if she tried telling me that putting on lipstick is wrong!
I think it's important to sometimes talk about things, even if it makes people a little bit uncomforable in their seats. I don't want to use Romans 14 as a crutch to do whatever I please that anyone may consider "not black and white," but I think that it is very applicable. It always gives me more confidence in my convictions on these areas that people feel very - here's a nice word - "differently" about.
I think I sound like I'm preaching. Want to debate about women preachers? That is black and white. No thank you. Haha.
Monday, May 26, 2008
The Mask of Mysteriousness
"Trust me. Everybody is less mysterious than they think they are."
Claire Colburn seemed to know a lot about life, even though she spoke the contrary: I "don't know a lot about everything, but I do know a lot about the part of everything that I know, which is people."
Claire Colburn may be a fictional character, but how can I not admit that for some reason, I know exactly what she was saying.
I think a part of everyone is hidden from the world. I won't lie - I hate it when people claim that first impressions mean everything. I beg to differ. There is so much to learn about people, that a first glance and remark can hardly define what a person is really like.
Some people wear their emotions for everybody around them to know. I'm not a stranger to this, to my dispostion. And then you know those people who pretty much hide themselves from every person. That, I cannot relate with.
I think it's a difficult thing to find the balance between showing emotions when needed, and "hiding them for the benefit of others." To me, I believe that emotions should be expressed, feelings should be put out in the open many times, and not everything should be hidden away. After all, how can problems be fixed when we represent a false view of how we really feel? If I have a problem, but I'm blowing it off like everything is fine, how am I supposed to fix it when no one else even knows there's a problem in the first place?
I understand that we can't always make known to the world exactly how we feel. There are times when we need to (and I hate this word) "hide" how we feel.
I've also heard that if I want to be really boring, then I should say everything. I think that's a fairly true statement. If everyone knows everything about you, where's the excitement in discovering things about your? There isn't any.
So, my five friends that read so intently, I may not know much about anything. And ya know, I probably appear a lot less mysterious than I've intended. And maybe I wish I could have hidden feelings more often than I have. But that's what makes me, me. And that's all I can be, really. I wouldn't be who I am if I knew everything about everything. I wouldn't be who I am if I always hid how I felt from my friends. Every person needs to grow, needs to fix issues, and needs to strive to become better all the time - but I also want to be true to myself. So as I'm trying to become a better person, I still want to be me. In the end, all I really want to be is myself, only changing things when necessary.
And maybe this sounds crazy, but it seems like the more mistakes I make, the more I realize that I can be a better person. Maybe the best people in this lifetime have made the most mistakes. Well, made them, and learned from them.
Have you ever experienced a trial or situation that required you to give so much of yourself, that you didn't think life could get any more difficult? Every single semester that I've been at college, I have dealt with a problem that became "the hardest thing I ever had to do." You really learn about yourself and the problems that present themselves. Maybe I've been affected on a deeper level, but I really don't think I'm alone in expressing this.
Sometimes, I'll be on campus, and I'll be going through that really hard time, and I'll wonder if people notice how that trial is just tearing away from my soul. Sometimes I wonder if people notice. And then . . . and then . . . I ask myself a question: What about everyone else? I can't be that mysterious. You hear about the rumor and problems of people all around campus, but maybe it's hard to take into account that that "rumor" is collosal to the person experiencing it. I still remember hearing about a "significant" couple that broke up in the last few weeks of campus. It was one of those topics that everyone was so surprised about, but I can't even imagine what the two people must have been going through. I know that everyone doesn't take some things as difficult as I do, but I wonder what it must have been like having to deal with all of the compication, all of the pain, all of the embarrassment of everyone knowing, and still walking around campus, trying to mask all of that.
I think people do it all the time. Besides, what else can they do? They can't walk around, acting like the whole world has crashed down on them.
It just depends how mysterious they appear.
Claire Colburn seemed to know a lot about life, even though she spoke the contrary: I "don't know a lot about everything, but I do know a lot about the part of everything that I know, which is people."
Claire Colburn may be a fictional character, but how can I not admit that for some reason, I know exactly what she was saying.
I think a part of everyone is hidden from the world. I won't lie - I hate it when people claim that first impressions mean everything. I beg to differ. There is so much to learn about people, that a first glance and remark can hardly define what a person is really like.
Some people wear their emotions for everybody around them to know. I'm not a stranger to this, to my dispostion. And then you know those people who pretty much hide themselves from every person. That, I cannot relate with.
I think it's a difficult thing to find the balance between showing emotions when needed, and "hiding them for the benefit of others." To me, I believe that emotions should be expressed, feelings should be put out in the open many times, and not everything should be hidden away. After all, how can problems be fixed when we represent a false view of how we really feel? If I have a problem, but I'm blowing it off like everything is fine, how am I supposed to fix it when no one else even knows there's a problem in the first place?
I understand that we can't always make known to the world exactly how we feel. There are times when we need to (and I hate this word) "hide" how we feel.
I've also heard that if I want to be really boring, then I should say everything. I think that's a fairly true statement. If everyone knows everything about you, where's the excitement in discovering things about your? There isn't any.
So, my five friends that read so intently, I may not know much about anything. And ya know, I probably appear a lot less mysterious than I've intended. And maybe I wish I could have hidden feelings more often than I have. But that's what makes me, me. And that's all I can be, really. I wouldn't be who I am if I knew everything about everything. I wouldn't be who I am if I always hid how I felt from my friends. Every person needs to grow, needs to fix issues, and needs to strive to become better all the time - but I also want to be true to myself. So as I'm trying to become a better person, I still want to be me. In the end, all I really want to be is myself, only changing things when necessary.
And maybe this sounds crazy, but it seems like the more mistakes I make, the more I realize that I can be a better person. Maybe the best people in this lifetime have made the most mistakes. Well, made them, and learned from them.
Have you ever experienced a trial or situation that required you to give so much of yourself, that you didn't think life could get any more difficult? Every single semester that I've been at college, I have dealt with a problem that became "the hardest thing I ever had to do." You really learn about yourself and the problems that present themselves. Maybe I've been affected on a deeper level, but I really don't think I'm alone in expressing this.
Sometimes, I'll be on campus, and I'll be going through that really hard time, and I'll wonder if people notice how that trial is just tearing away from my soul. Sometimes I wonder if people notice. And then . . . and then . . . I ask myself a question: What about everyone else? I can't be that mysterious. You hear about the rumor and problems of people all around campus, but maybe it's hard to take into account that that "rumor" is collosal to the person experiencing it. I still remember hearing about a "significant" couple that broke up in the last few weeks of campus. It was one of those topics that everyone was so surprised about, but I can't even imagine what the two people must have been going through. I know that everyone doesn't take some things as difficult as I do, but I wonder what it must have been like having to deal with all of the compication, all of the pain, all of the embarrassment of everyone knowing, and still walking around campus, trying to mask all of that.
I think people do it all the time. Besides, what else can they do? They can't walk around, acting like the whole world has crashed down on them.
It just depends how mysterious they appear.
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