The quality of life

There's something beautiful about the quality of life I enjoy everyday. I don't have to worry about finding a place to live or hunting an animal for my meal each day. I don't have to use these primal instincts that were passed down from far ancestors.

So, I'm free to enjoy the world. I've got all this free time to do what I love. Everyday we make thousands of choices. We act everyday. What a beautiful thing: the ability to act. The desire, the instinct, to act.

Rather than sitting here on my butt all day like a stereotypical American girl, I can choose to act. Choose to write, choose to help someone, choose to make a difference in the world, big or small.

What a beautiful quality of life we have- even when we grow up and have to worry about finding and keeping work, providing for a family, raising children right. We still have this beautiful God-given gift. This gift of holding our destinies in our hands. What if I wanted to switch schools? What if I decided to never marry? What if I ran off to Vegas and became a stripper? What if you did?

I never would, but that's just it. I could if I wanted to. I can be as big or as small in this world as I choose to be. And so can you.

When someone, myself included, says they are unhappy because of something in their life, it's absolutely a lie. Happiness is a choice, I've discovered. Our quality of life is a choice. We can live a boring, miserable, meaningless life if we want to. Or we can choose each day to focus on the beauty around us and live a happy life full of light and change.

I will admit that somedays I choose to let my life be dull and meaningless; I sometimes choose to have a bad day or be in a foul mood. Sometimes you just need it. But I've always got this fire burning within me, this happiness and satisfaction with myself. Why else would I write this blog that is read by no one? Because I'm just happy with myself and where I am.

I can't wait to see where I go because I know I will be big. Things just work out for me because I believe they will. Because I recognize my role in the opportunities I come upon.

Circles

My life seems like a series of circles that I run time and time again. Everywhere I go seems like ground I've already covered. Like, love, lost. Like, love, lost. Time and time again. Everytime I find someone new, I think he's gonna be different. I know in my heart, he is the same, but it helps to hope. I'm in the like cycle yet again. Someone amazing appearing into my life. Maybe only for a short time. Maybe it will lead somewhere.

Either way, it's the same story again. If only you knew. If only you could realize I like everything about you. When I see that grin, nothing is wanting. But it's the same story again because it's my same nature, my same impulse to develop feelings for any guy who seems admirable. Or is it? One of these days it's going to be different. One of these days I'm going to get it right.

But it should be sooner now, now that I've learned the biggest lesson of my life: I'm ok.
I'm ok without him, I'm ok with my flaws, I'm ok with where I'm going, I'm ok with where I've been; I'm ok. I'm even ok if nothing comes of these ridiculous feelings or if my plans are turned upside down. I'm ok with life's unexplainable twists and turns. I'm even ok with heartache now and then. I'm ok because I know who I am, and I know where I want to end up. I know I'm doing what needs to be done to get there. I know I'm ok.

Imploding..

Do you ever just feel like you are about to explode? Like your brain and your heart cannot take any more of the shallowness and immaturity that you witness on a daily basis. At home when I grew tired of the world, I could go lie down alone on the forest floor and listen to the natural sounds of the world. The whushing wind, rustling leaves, chirping birds. It was absolute peace: seclusion from the outside world. Where can I find that here? Where can I find peace? I am surrounded by people, yet I feel alone. I want to find silence and peace. I want to get away from this constant rush, this constant white noise, the shallow interactions of everyday life here.

I don't want it anymore. It was fun at first to have so many people around, but right now, right here, I want to be alone with the night. I want a forest, a mountain. I want Washington.

I have yet to find a similar outlet to finding peace in the woods. The closest I have come is walking up and sitting at the foot of the temple late at night, but even then there are cars driving by constantly. I can't escape the civilization. If only I had a car and could drive to some farm and sit among the fields in peace. But I don't even have that. For the first time in my life, silence is not within walking distance.
And my consciousness feels like imploding.

Dedicated to exes..

The facebook status box asks "What's on your mind?"
What can I say? I long to type your name.  The name that inspired so many songs and poems.  The name that offered comfort on cold lonely nights.  The name that now causes pain like a knife stabbing through my heart.  The name that now reminds me of what we had, what you did, and what I miss. I go through all the processes that are typical of grieving a lost relationship: wondering what went wrong and how it all changed so quickly.  Wondering why you did what you did and if I will ever find out. 

I thought I had closure and I would be able to get over it relatively quickly.. until you pulled that last move.  You had stabbed the knife in, now you had to twist it and yank it out, abandoning me to bleed, just like all the rest.

That dream I had about you early on was dead on the spot.  The one where you abandoned me naked and alone in a field?  I should have paid attention because that's exactly how it happened.  You gave me all sense of love and security.  Two days after you said you were in it for the long run, you abandoned me.  It would have been a mutual break up and relatively easy for me to get over until you deleted me from your life completely right after you had said you wanted to remain friends.  We decided we would see what would happen when I got home from this journey, but I knew I didn't want that and neither did you.  But I was satisfied to keep your friendship.  You said you were too, but apparently not.

And now I'm left with this emptiness in my heart that no boy around me will bother to fill quite yet.  And every song, every smell, every glance in the mirror reminds me of fond memories... late nights on the phone, whispered wishes of meeting up again at home, etc... Now, even though I know you're not right for me, in fact you are wrong for me, and I'm not right for you either... even though I know we made the right choice... that doesn't stop me from missing you, and.... us.


Nothing in the world hurts more than a broken heart.  And it's funny that I'm listening to the same song now that I was listening to while I blogged about my love for the boy before you.  He still holds a fond place in my heart too.  But you?  No, I thrust you out like a bad taste.  Atleast he and I broke it off with dignity.  But you.. you delt with it like a petty tween. 

I got so much satisfaction from ripping up your letters.  Pure lies.  I felt so released as I ripped them up and tossed them in the dumpster with the rest of the garbage.  And I feel release writing this out.  You may never see it, but atleast I got to have my last say.  The say that you promised me eternity and gave me a month.  That you confided fears that I would break your heart when really you were planning that for me.  Sure, you didn't really break my heart.  We weren't together long enough for that.  But it still hurts, and I'm lonely without someone to call me baby.

And I know that after tonight, my designated grieving time will be over, and I will get over you.  But for now, it will start that process when I admit:
I wish it had never gone wrong.  I wish we were right.  I wish we could work out.  I wish you were good enough for me.  I wish I had never given in to your lies.  I wish I had never given you my heart.  You took everything from me, stripped me bare, and then abandoned me.  Screw you, not the good kind. 

And you weren't a very good boyfriend anyways.  You pressured me, and you were unsupportive of my dreams and wishes.  You manipulated me.  I wish I would have broken it off a week earlier when I knew it was time to let you go.

All that said, I feel free.  I feel like you were shackles that had me chained down, and now I'm let out of them.  Yes, I'm a little sore in the places where the shackles grasped me too tightly, but those are just flesh wounds, and they will heal soon.  And you will soon be just another boyfriend I once had, long forgotten, no longer cared for. 

So, I set you free.  Fly to better things.  I know I will.  :)

screw...

Sometimes.  You just need to say... SCREW YOU.  Like sometimes you just can't stand people or how they treat you or what happens between you, and you just have to say screw you all.  Screw you and screw her too.

And when you can't stand someone anymore, but you still love them... just say, "Screw you," and walk away.

I really don't know how else to deal with it when someone I love constantly frustrates me.  I don't know how else to deal with feelings I have that I know I shouldn't have.  That's why my favorite phrase is becoming,
"Screw you."

Fallen.

In Book of Mormon class on Friday, Brother Wightman told us that we are fallen.  He said that is often hard for his students to accept the fact that we are all fallen.  That’s not the problem I had.  I am all too aware of my faults and shortcomings.  I often feel full of regret for my past that’s already been forgiven.  I beat myself up over mistakes I make.  My life feels like a constant screw up because I just can’t be perfect no matter how hard I try.  No matter how hard I try not to sin, I still do.

When Brother Wightman said that, I thought especially of my attitude and actions during this first week of school.  I’ve been a little cold to people, not because I don’t like them.  And it’s not because I don’t like being surrounded by Mormons; I love that.  It’s because of expectation-failure, like Brother Wightman talked about the very first day.  I expected everyone around me to be so much better, and I especially expected that I would be a better then I am.  I feel a little bit like maybe I’m not good enough to be here, but then I think that most of the people around me aren’t either. 

Then I remember either Brother Wightman or another teacher saying that if you feel like everyone around you is hypocritical or not as good as they could be, take comfort in knowing that everyone around you is trying their best to be the best they can be.  I do see that for sure.  But I wonder if I am trying my best.  I’m probably not.  I know I could serve my roommates more.  It’s just so hard to face rejection, but at the fireside on Sunday, they said we should lose ourselves in service because if we do, we will forget ourselves and find happiness. 

And when it comes down to it, I really am selfish.  I don’t serve people just because it’s the right thing to do, I do it because I need to feel needed.  But who can really point fingers right now anyways?  We are all in the same boat.  We’ve never been away from home before; some of us have never had to share a room with someone before.  And we’re all trying to figure out how we can make this whole thing work.  That said, if anyone can recognize they are fallen, I can.  Without Christ, I would be no better off than a demon.  I try to tell myself I’m doing my best, but when it comes down to it I can get really down sometimes because I know it will never be enough.

That’s where Christ comes in.  When I was a young girl, I wanted a horse more than anything.  I saved money from when I was 5 years old until I was 11 years old.  I wanted a horse that was $2,000, and I had saved up only $1,500.  My parents gave me the other $500.  That’s like how it is with Christ, but with him, I am trying so very hard to earn that money that my soul is bleeding from the effort, and yet I have only earned $1.  He wants to pay the other $1,995. Can you imagine?  My parents would have never done that deal.  But Christ would.  No one would.  But Christ would.  It really just makes me feel guiltier because I know I never did anything to deserve Christ’s love and grace.  But I guess that’s how he teaches us about true love and grace.  He doesn’t expect perfection in return; He just expects our best.  But if he expected something else in return, I would imagine it would be faith and a strong testimony.  I have those forever strong.

Really saying goodbye

The moments that mean the most in life definitely don't last long enough.  Do you ever meet someone and just know they're going to be special to you?  And then every moment you spend with them just verifies that more and more?  It's times like those when my usually-complicated feelings become so clear and simple.  I simply like you.  You simply inspire me.

I'm beginning to realize that anyone you can be yourself around is usually worth being around.  When you just don't feel like you can be yourself, that's a bad sign.  But when you feel like being around someone causes you to be yourself even more, that's perfect.

Sometimes life can be so ironic.  And life never gives you what you expect it to... ever.  If you do expect something, it oftentimes give you the exact opposite.

Right now life is giving me goodbyes.  Lots of them.  And lots of "I miss you."  I miss so many people already.  I just have to remember I will be back in three months.  Even though I can't trust life to do what is right for me, I can trust the Lord to.  I know He's got a plan in all this.

I can't wait to see what that plan is.

May I?

May I refer to love again?

I've been discovering lately that love, real love, is not something that can be extracted or expelled.  Either it was there or it wasn't.  I have much love in my heart, but lately my heart has had an iron wall around it, complete with an iron gate and locked padlock.  What used to be an open field became a towering fortress.  What (or who) has caused me to grow so cold is unimportant.  How I can break through that wall is vital.

I've realized that when we put walls around our hearts, those walls are made out of experiences and built upon fears.  And the walls are built stronger through habits.  The wall starts as a 6-inch picket fence that can easily be stepped over, but as you give in more to your own doubts and fears, the wall grows taller, thicker, and stronger. Before you know it, it's a 12-foot wall covered in razor-sharp spikes.

However, these walls can be broken down, as I'm slowly learning.  You must focus on the love within your heart, the love you are so afraid to let out.  Focus on it so it grows, it expands.  While growing, this love builds up pressure, and soon your fortress cannot contain it anymore.  It bursts forth, breaking down the iron bars, burying the spikes in rubble.  What is left is your beautiful heart overflowing with love once again.

When you stop reflecting on your pains, sorrows, and fears.  When you start reflecting on your hope, faith, and love.  This is when the love in your heart can grow.  Your very heart will grow.  Just as the Grinch's heart grew two sizes, so can our hearts grow.  We slowly let in our faith, our God, our spirituality.  We slowly let in our gratitude, our compassion, our love.  And soon, the walls are overcome by these items, and our love is free again.

The coldness has melted away and all that's left is a warm flowing river ready to love and show love.  A gooey heart that can let people and emotions in as well as share them outwardly.

And what are we to do if we do not experience this change of heart?  We must or we cannot survive.  This world would have us believe that the only things that matter are physical and outward.  But I can testify that the only things that matter are the things inside of us that we can share with others around us.  If we conform to the world's meaning of love, that dark, carnal, twisted abomination, we are no better than rocks lying on the road waiting to be walked on or driven over.  We are emotionless zombies feasting on each other's fears and inhibitions.

 If we can turn inwards and upwards to find love, we gain a new zest for life.  We can see the beauty in all things around us, we can appreciate every angle of every situation.  We can see everything for what it is, a blessing.  There is nothing in this life that is not a blessing, whether an obvious or a disguised one.

If we can let go of fears and wrong tendencies and embrace kindness and love, if we can stop being so prickly and let ourselves get along with each other, we can become better, happier people.  Happiness comes in finding love.

Why do I write?

Writing is a sickness, you know.  Consider yourself lucky if you're not infected.  I am very much infected, but it's wonderful.  I wouldn't trade it for the world.  I use my words to create things that could never have been possible.  I can be anyone, anywhere, anytime, and I can make you be anyone.  But with any good thing, there are side effects.

I can't choose when I want to write, it just happens.  It's like being Harry Potter, but you can't summon magic any ole time.  It just comes whenever it feels like it.  As I get to be a better writer, I can call upon my talent and bring it forth, but it's harder that way.  The real side effect is, I can't not write.  I literally might die.  It occupies my mind constantly.  (What if she had this?  What if that was secretly this?  What if they could turn into this?)  There is no rest from it.  If I go for more than a week without writing, I nearly can't function.
Still, if you were to ask me what my greatest possession was, it would be my ability to write.  Writing is the friend that has never abandoned me, never judged me, never stabbed me in the back.  Writing has often times been the only constant in my life.  I could be sitting alone in a storm of chaos and heartbreak, but whatever it is, I can always find comfort in the words my fingers put on paper.

People don't make much sense to me, and you know boys make absolutely zero sense to me, but words?  They make perfect sense.  I'm not the best speaker, but let me write, let me type.  I'll make you a world.  I'll give you an escape.  Sometimes the words don't fall perfectly in place, sometimes I might even get (heaven forbid) writer's block.  But it never lasts long.  It's like a small spat with your true love.  It doesn't last long, and when it's over, you're relationship is even stronger.

Many people have taken many things from me in my lifetime.  And I have given without receiving many times. But it doesn't matter what anyone does to me, what anyone takes from me.  As long as I can write, I know I'll survive.  It's not something anyone can take away; they would have to kill me to extinguish it, but even then it would live on through the words I've written before.  No one can take this gift away from me because it is me.  It's who I am.  My identity: a writer.  Sure there is more to me; I'm actually quite complicated.  But it all boils down to the fact that I'm a writer.

Because I'm a writer, I act like an alcoholic without alcohol if I go too long without writing something.  I assign a story to everyone I meet, and if I can't find their story out, I make one up for them because I'm a writer.  If you've known me for more than a couple hours, I know your life story.  It may be fictional, but I know your story top to bottom.  I create and create and never stop.  Do ants ever stop building ant hills?  No, they keep at it until they die.  There is no quota, no minimum they must meet.  No goal size to make the ant hill.  They just keep going.  And why?  What could they possibly be working towards?  Nothing.  They are gathering and building because it is their nature.  I hope to accomplish things in my life, but that doesn't drive my writing.  Money, fame, a family, or even the ability to influence the world does not fuel me.  I keep writing because it is my nature, and it's the only thing in this life that truly makes sense to me.

I'm commitment-shy about everything else in my life (boys, sports, hobbies, responsibilities), but I've been committed to writing since the first time I wrote my name.  It's the one thing in my life that I never give up on and never let slip away.  And it's the one thing in my life that has never let me down.  Like I said, it's a sickness, an obsession, an addiction.  I couldn't stop if I wanted to.  No Writer's Anonymous group could cure me.  I'm stuck for life, and even after that.  But you know what?  That sounds fine to me.

Taking a break from kindness, goodness, etc. BLAH BLAH BLAH

I just have to say.
Ohmygosh. Do some people just sit around thinking, "I've gotta find something to argue with. Let me listen to everyone's conversations with the intention of doing nothing but arguing with them!"? And do others sit around thinking, "I have this urge to correct people. I must listen to everyone with my only intention being to correct anything they say!"?

I mean, come on! The worst kind of person is the contentious person. Everyone else is content to go around in life with an open heart, letting other people believe and do whatever they want to, but that contentious person is there. And they are set on controlling everything that anyone ever does. They argue with every word that comes out of your mouth (or every facebook post that comes from your keyboard) and they must correct you everytime you speak.

It drives me insane. I don't care!!! I don't care if you disagree with what I am saying, it's your right. I don't care if your opinions differ from mine, it's your right. I don't care if you think everything I say is utter rubbish, it's your gosh darn right! But you don't have to share it! It's my right to believe what I believe and to agree to disagree with you. But that's not good enough is it? You can't be happy with agreeing to disagree. You have to badger me and harrass me until you think your point is pounded so good into my head that I will eventually come to your side. But what you don't get is that will never happen because I simply don't care. I don't care about what you think. I don't care about some random trivia knowledge that you want to share because you're a selfish know-it-all. I don't care about your opinion on my opinion. I don't care that you've obviously got some kind of disease that causes you to argue with everything I say and seek out conflicts with me.

All I care about is peace and quiet. You are constantly disrupting it with your contentious ways, so you know what? Get out! I don't care where you go, just get out. I don't care what you do, what you say, just for goodness sakes, stop trying to start arguments with me over Facebook! You're younger and less experienced than me. I thought you had grown up but your snobbish, selfish, puffed up, know-it-all behavior is proving me wrong. Screw you!

Ahhh... that feels so much better. Ok now that I got that out of my system, I can go back to, you know, looking for good and kindness and all that stuff in the world around me. Yay for goodness! :)

Finding forgiveness

After 18 years on this Earth, I have learned that things are never as bad as they seem. Sure, it's easy for me to forget that sometimes, but I eventually always remember it. I also sometimes forget how freeing forgiveness is, but I often remember and experience it. Forgiving someone is usually easier if they are sorry.
The hardest people to forgive are 1. people closest to you, 2. people who don't deserve forgiveness, and 3. people who are not sorry. I have had issues with all three, especially no.1 lately, but I have found forgiveness in my heart for all of them, and I am grateful.
It releases such a burden to forgive someone. You free themselves and yourself. Even if they never know how deeply they hurt you or how hard it was to forgive them, the healing powers of forgiveness will work hard on your heart, and with time you will forget.
It's also important to forgive ourselves for mistakes and for being hurt and upset by other people. Forgiveness in itself is vital for anyone who wants to be happy in this life.Happiness is simply unattainable without forgiveness and love.
I don't have much more else to say except that I hope we - myself especially- can all forgive because if we cannot forgive others, the Lord cannot forgive us. Also because without forgiveness, we tend to dwell on the negative aspects of life and cannot see the positive ones. We focus too much on the dirt on the ground and not enough on the flowers growing in that dirt.

I love you, and so I let you go. I set you free to go your way. I know it is time for us to go seperate ways and move on to greater things. God has better things planned for you and I, and he is going to bless us with comfort, happiness, and peace for doing His will. I have faith in Him and in you. Don't lose faith in yourself, but if you do, you can borrow some of mine because I will never lose faith in you. As I cut the ropes holding you down, tying you to me, I let you go. You are free to soar, to fly higher to greater things.
I wish you peace, joy, and success. I send my prayers and thoughts with you, and I hope for you to overcome your weaknesses and do as God says in the scriptures: to come to Him with your weaknesses and let Him turn them into strengths. I have enjoyed spending time with you, and watching you grow. I know God is pleased with your efforts, and He will bless you for trying. Do all that you can and then turn it over to God and let Him do the rest. And never give up. May God be with you always. Amen.

Insignificance.

The aftershock has set in, and I've lost all motivation. I don't feel like eating, drinking or getting dressed. I am trying really hard to convince myself to go for the jog I know I need this morning, but I'm not sure it's going to work. If I don't jog, hopefully I can convince myself to take a shower.
I feel awful. My eyes are swollen and I feel dizzy. Everytime I stand up, I almost fall over. And don't even get me started on homework. I can't find the motivation to do any of it.
Ugh... still ugh. I'm trying to figure out why I'm a target for crap like this. Maybe every girl is a target for heartache. Except for whores. They probably never get heartbroken because they use their bodies to keep guys around. I'm not like that. Why do I get punished for not being like that? Why are there negative consequences for being a good person?
Yet, I still can't help feeling like this is my fault. Like maybe there's something I could have done different or better. Who knows.
I got to bed at 1:30 a.m. and barely slept. I woke up real early this morning and didn't have the motivation to go back to sleep. I certainly couldn't handle laying there with just my thoughts, so I got up. Now I'm tired but going back to bed frightens me. It's been so long since I felt this way, and I told myself it would never happen again, yet here it is.
And I know there are so many other people in the world going through this right now, and it makes me feel even more insignificant. I am just one tiny star in one tiny galaxy in a sky filled with trillions of galaxies. And so are you. I guess we are all insignificant.

Being hurt

It's easy to say that you have general goodwill to everyone and that you forgive everyone who hurts you. But when someone actually hurts you, it becomes harder to maintain that. It's harder to keep having a positive attitude, to keep being kind to everyone when you get hurt really bad. Especially if it's someone close to you, a loved one. Those ones hurt the worst, and take the longest to heal. Especially if they hurt you by breaking your trust.
Trust. It takes a lifetime to build it, and one moment to shatter it.
Sometimes people hurt you so bad that you can't stop crying and you just want to go to sleep and never wake up. But atleast have a dreamless sleep so you don't have flashbacks in your dreams of being hurt. How do you get over being hurt that bad? Do you just wait for it to fade? Just sit around feeling like dying until you kind of minutely feel like living?
Ugh. Truth is, someone close to me hurt me very badly. And truth is that I don't think anyone really cares because I am still pretty insignificant. But what else am I supposed to do but write when he did the two things that would hurt me the very most in the whole world that he promised he would never do? ...Ugh. I feel like my insides have been ripped out of me. Just add him to the list. Ugh. My heart broke. I think it disinigrated too. ....ugh...!
So what now? I'm listening to him go on about ridiculous things like a sewing machine and a place called "Citrus Heights" pretending that it's ok, but it's so not. And I don't really know when it will be ok. But atleast this one doesn't demand or expect forgiveness right away like the rest of people who've hurt me.
But I know what comes next, I get so tired of the pain and heartache that I just make myself not care anymore. I rebuild that wall that we worked so hard to break through. Going backwards in time, in progress. Ugh, this blog is sounding emo. I guess I have to write about every emotion: happiness, love, and now heartache. I hope I survive this one.

Saying goodbye

As the editor in chief of my community college newspaper, I am involved with the hiring and firing capabilities. This year, we fired one reporter, two volunteers graduated, and two staff members quit. (One of which was my Co-editor, the other side of an awesome two-person team) Sometimes I see these people, sometimes they stop in and say hi, but they are no longer the same presences that would sit and chat in the office with me. They are just shadows now, flittering by and passing through. And truth be told, I miss them, well most of them. I miss the jokes, the air hockey games, the company. Yes, we hired three new staff members, and they are getting along well, but deep down I know that sometime, I will have to say goodbye to them as well. We everntually have to say goodbye to everyone, whether it be for a day or for a lifetime. Some people are meant to stay in our lives for our lifetime, and others are meant to be only a flickering ray of sunlight, just passing through. Some stay for a long time, others for a short time. It is what we do with that time before the goodbye that matters.
Do we cherish every moment with the people in our lives? Do we say goodbye with the slam of a door? Or with a hug and a kiss? And what if we did say goodbye with a frustrated phrase and a slam of a door, only to find out a few hours later that that loved one had died in an accident. When we say goodbye, do we think that those words could be the last we ever say to a person? When my parents hang up the phone without saying "I love you" do they hope they will get another chance to say it, or do they take my mortality for granted?
More significant rhetorical questions, I suppose. But as I get ready for the move from community college to a four-year university, I wonder how it will be to say goodbye to the home I have spent 18 years in. To have college be my permanent home for the next few years and my house be my temporary home. To have to share a room with another person, share an apartment with three other people. One of them likes screamo music and Miley Cyrus, one of them is from Texas, and the other one has not added me on Facebook, so I find it hard to Facebook stalk her. What an adventure it will be to truly be on my own. What an adventure to have to bid farewell to everything familiar to me. And my school? How will it be to say goodbye to this campus I have known and loved for two years? The newspaper office that has been my second home? The backroads, sidetrails and shortcuts; the events, the clam chowder every Friday and the falling down bulletin boards? What will I do without all these things? With a new campus with new things to discover?
What is it going to be to have to say goodbye.
It saddens me to remember all the goodbyes I have had to say in my lifetime, how many deaths, breakups, and fall outs I have endured. Now I must not only say goodbye to people, but to places. I know this place by heart, and I must let it go and embrace a new one. It saddens me even more to think that everyone else who is graduating is going through these same feelings right now. And remembering that reminds me of my resolve to be kinder and to lift other's spirits the way they lift mine. Hopefully I can be a part of helping this goodbye not be quite as sad.

A Smile

Today, I walked fast. I did not walk fast for my usualy reasons: being extremely late or trying to seem busy and therefore important. Actually I was late, but that aside, I was walking fast to get out of the icy cold rain and wind and away from the sky that was so gray it caused campus to be nearly nighttime dark at 11:30 a.m.  I hate days like this because I have to try extra hard to stay in a good mood.
Of course, living in Washington causes about 70% or more of our days to be this way; gloomy, wet and gray. Even the beautiful greens and blues of Washington landscape turn into gray and black on days like that. It is as if somebody opens Washington up in photoshop and turns the colorful landscape into a black and white picture.
I could go on and on about how dreary these gray Washington days are, but that's not my point.
As I was speed-walking to class, I glanced around me at all the dreary details. (good college reporters always look around at details)  I looked around me at all the other students sitting or walking with glazed eyes and frowned faces, knowing that they felt as down as I did on this gloomy morning. They probably also wished they were at home with hot cocoa, watching reruns of "King of the Hill." (or some similar notion)
I noticed a guy about my age hurrying towards me, going the opposite direction. He was probably late too. As I glanced at his face, he glanced at mine and to my surprise, met my gaze with a grin. It shocked me so much that I nearly didn't smile back. But in the nick of time, I returned a small smile and hurried on, flustered. But that boy's friendly grin was enough to raise my hunched shoulders and my dragging spirits. Even on sunny days, students don't look at each other, let alone smile at each other! They just walk with eyes glued to the ground, drowning the world out with their ipods, too busy with their insignificant lives to notice the people around them. And if we students do notice someone looking at us, we avoid their gaze, walking faster to avoid human contact. That is the purpose of college isn't it? To be anti-social and avoid those outgoing people who actually like to get to know people? (The nerve!)
Yet, on probably the grossest, grayest day of the year, this boy had the heart to reach out and touch my spirit with his. As I thought about it, I just wanted to run back and hug him. I wanted to tell him how bad I had been feeling and that his smile lifted me higher. But I had to hurry to class before I was late enough for the teacher to glare at me. I even said a small prayer thanking the Lord for the boy I knew He had sent to cheer me up. I even decided to start my "Thankful Journal" again, where I write five things that happened that day I am grateful for.So, see how much just one smile can do for someone? Never underestimate the power of a smile.  I am now resolved to sometimes break past the solemn face I always wear and genuinely smile at people, strangers even. If some other college student could do it, so can I. I am tired of just being another part of the gray scenery. We live in Washington; you know we need some sunshine. If the sun won't provide it, maybe we should?

How to express Love?

I am figuring out just how difficult expressing love can be. I mean, how do you express love to someone? By saying, "I love you."? "Ich liebe Dich."? Those are just three words. "Those three words are said too much, but not enough."
What do words mean anyway? Words are just utterances made from your voice box and released from your lips. Just clear sounds. And those three words do little to capture this explosive feeling found in the heart when you love someone. Besides, words can be retracted. The mouth from whence kind and adoring words once came can at a later time expel the most utter and horrific words. "I love you" can just as easily turn into "I hate you". So what could telling someone three words prove? Nothing.
So, judge them by their fruits, you say? So to express love, I can do little things like making my boyfriend pumpkin bread? Doing the dishes without my being asked too? Bringing flowers to a sick friend? What do those things do to prove love? Food will be eaten, dishes will get dirty again, and flowers will wilt.
So just how can we validly express love? If you think about it, it truly is frustrating.
I feel this ebbing, pulsing warmth radiating from my heart, my very core. This warmth desires to be spread. It wants me to share it with the people I am feeling it for. But how? How can I explain to them something that I feel? Feelings aren't tangible; love isn't measurable. You can't see it, yet it is utterly beautiful. You can't touch it, yet it can literally lift you up or tear you down. It can touch you? But Newton's third law of motion proves that you can not touch something without also being touched by that thing. So how could love touch us and we can not touch it back?
I have one conclusion. Love is unexpressable and unexplainable. The only way to get someone to understand how much you love them is to get them to love you back. Love truly is a give and take. No one can truly understand the feelings you have for them unless they feel that way back. I can bake you goodies, buy you cards, write you a song, cry if you break my heart, miss you when you are gone, kiss and hug you, make love to you in my dreams, utter your name in sleep, take a bullet for you, but none of it will mean anything to you unless you feel the same. Only then will you understand why I would want to stay up until 3 in the morning talking about things that won't matter when I wake up. Or why I would want to spend 11 straight hours decorating a birthday cake for you. Why I would sacrifice everything I live for and believe in just to make you happy. What does all that mean to an unrequited lover?
So there is something scientific about love after all.  Newton's third law proves that you cannot exert force on something else without it exerting the same amount of force back on you. When we cuddle, my cheek doesn't just rest on your shoulder, your shoulder supports my cheek. My hand doesn't just hold yours, your hand holds mine too. My lips don't just meet yours, but our lips meet each other. And I cannot just love you, but you must love me back with equal force. And you do. I thank the Lord above for that every time I see your excited eyes look at me; everytime I hear you tell me how beautiful I am as if it is a well-known, well-proven fact; everytime you hold me in that way that makes feel like I wouldn't be able to stand if your arms were not holding me up; everytime I nearly cry when you tell me, "I love you too."
Love is difficult to express because it must be simply understood. When I say "I love you," those three words turn into so much more than three words because you feel the same. You feel the meaning and the warmth radiating off those three words as they pass through my lips because you feel the same way I feel when you say "I love you." So love is not an expression, but a shared experience. One must experience it to understand it. And to understand how much someone loves you, you must feel the same amount of love towards them.