I just watched Obama take the oath of office.
It's gonna be a long four years, y'all.
Here's my thing. Regardless of whether or not I voted for him ... and for the record, I DID NOT VOTE FOR HIM ... it's historic. I can appreciate the fact that he's the first black President and all that, which is why I'm currently skipping class and watching the inauguration on TV in my room. I like thinking about my grandchildren someday learning about this in school and the fact that I'll be able to tell them things like, that was the first Presidential election I voted in, I remember watching the election results and the inauguration in my dorm, those kinds of things. That's cool. So even though I didn't want him to win, I dig that.
I hate how this whole thing has centered so much on race, though. That really bugs me. I actually have some really very decided opinions on that subject in particular, but I won't get on my soapbox. I hate it when people talk out of both sides of their mouth, begging for people to be blind to race but constantly bringing it up. I would be glad to ignore people's skin color altogether if they'd let me.
I also don't like how everyone's soooo excited over Obama's election. I mean yeah, you can get excited, but some are really acting like Jesus has come back or something. I just don't like seeing that because he's only been President for about 30 minutes now - point being, he hasn't had a chance to do anything yet. Chill, people. Let him prove how great he is.
I just don't trust the man at this point, which is why I didn't vote for him. I mean yes, he is liberal and I'm conservative and therefore I didn't agree with his platform, but I wouldn't hesitate to vote for a Democrat if I felt he or she was the better choice and I trusted them. I don't know why, but I don't trust him now. I hope he ends up doing a great job and has earned my trust by the time his term is over. If that happens, praise God and I'm glad to be an American. All I'm saying is, I have my reservations now.
Either way, it's going to be a long four years and I'm going to be paying very close attention. During Obama's time in office I'll be going to grad school, maybe starting my career and family. Who could blame me for being a little nervous?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Memories
So ... I've been dying to write lately. Like, really really dying. Plus I have this creative writing: fiction class and we have to write 3 short stories to turn in. I've been getting impatient to get a brilliant idea and get something written down.
So, this weekend something came to me and I actually got right up and wrote it down, which is something new and exciting for me. I even procrastinate the good things.
I wrote this little piece, which is about what I remember from the day my grandfather died. I don't know where the idea came from, but I wrote it a little differently ... from third-person, and exactly as I remember it even though I know I don't remember everything accurately. When I remember those events, it's like watching a movie. I see myself going about doing things and interacting with people, instead of remembering myself actually doing it.
And it occurred to me that this is something of a recurring theme in my writing in general. This makes the third piece I've written about my grandfather. I can only assume I write about him so much because his death was one of the most significant events in my life, and it affected me in some crazy ways. Writing is cathartic for me since I can't ever express myself as well verbally as I do in writing, so I guess writing about it is a good thing.
Anyway, now I have a dilemma. I wrote this with the intention of turning it in to my creative writing teacher, but technically it isn't fiction. I could always pass it off as such, of course, but I probably will take creative writing: nonfiction next semester, if it's offered. So do I turn it in now or save it? I can't decide, so I'm posting it. Read if you want, let me know what you think.
It's a depressing subject matter, FYI. I know, duh, but I just thought I'd mention it. My frame of mind has been a little on the dark side this weekend. It's this fanfic I've been immersed in, which also has a character with a very dirty mouth, and consequently I've found myself randomly wanting to drop the F-bomb for the last two days. The person responsible for this, you know your blame.
Here goes. This piece is currently untitled.
**************************************************************************
The girl lay in bed and stared at the sun coming through the gauzy white curtains and making the pale orange walls impossibly brighter. She felt lightheaded, a little confused, almost panicking but not quite. She couldn’t wipe her friend’s words from her mind, the first thing she’d heard when she answered the ringing phone that had awoken her.
Hey, I heard your grandfather died last night.
And her immediate denial. No, he didn’t.
The line went quiet after that. The friend mumbled something and quickly hung up. She blindly set her cell phone back on the table beside her bed and lay unmoving a moment longer, but sleep was nowhere to be found now.
She was reluctant to get up, but she was too tense to lie there any longer. She had to move, had to feel like she was doing something. Above all else, she hated to feel helpless.
She padded down the carpeted hall into the kitchen and searched for something to eat even though she wasn’t really hungry. The house was quiet, and the silence was somehow ominous. She knew her sister was at school and her parents at work, but still the hush felt wrong.
And she knew. Her grandfather had died during the night, and no one had told her. They probably hadn’t wanted to wake her for that. And on top of that, her friend probably thought she was a freak.
She fought the panic rising in her chest, to no avail. Tears pooled in her eyes and she looked around the kitchen frantically, as if searching for something. As if a confirmation of her fears would be written on the tan painted wall or the green countertop.
Her eyes fell on the cordless phone sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen and she grabbed for it as a drowning man would a lifeline. With trembling fingers she dialed her mother’s office number; the voice that answered wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. Her mom had just left, and was heading home.
This was bad. It was all the confirmation she needed. Why else would her mom leave work so early?
It would only take her about ten minutes to get home from her office, but it felt more like ten hours to the girl pacing in front of the door. She watched her mother’s red car pull up in front of the house and her heart jumped in her throat. All of a sudden she was nervous.
The door opened and no words were needed. She fell into her mother’s arms, sobbing. Her mother said something, trying to give comfort through her own tears, but later the girl hadn’t the faintest clue what she’d said.
She dressed quickly, not even looking in the mirror, and left with her mother to pick up her sister from school early. They agreed to tell the ten-year-old nothing until they got home. The girl wondered how she would keep the tears at bay that long.
Somehow she succeeded and the little girl was none the wiser, excited at the novelty of going home mid-morning. She chattered happily from the front seat while the older girl sat in the back, trying to cry silently.
Their dad was waiting for them at home. He’d been called to his father’s bedside the night before, and he told them how it had all happened: how they knew it was the end, how calm it had been, how the sores covering his body had strangely faded in death, going away once they had claimed his life. He only broke down once in the telling. The girl thought it was strange that he could sit and relate the story so calmly.
An irrational part of her felt hurt she hadn’t been there. She remembered the last time she’d spoken to her grandfather and he hadn’t even known who she was. She remembered waking up in the middle of the night in the quiet of her dorm room crying, begging God. Please don’t take him yet. Please, we need him. Please. She remembered every hug, and wished she’d had more. She remembered the way he smelled. She remembered the sound of his voice leading the family in song. She remembered so many things he’d said, so many things he’d taught her. She remembered the day they found out the strange sores he’d mentioned in passing were cancer. She remembered every sight of the emaciated, weak man who had once seemed bigger than life.
She dreaded the thought of the funeral to come. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it together, and doubted anyone else would fare much better. She couldn’t imagine having the whole family together without her grandfather. It wouldn’t feel right. She wondered if she would ever be able to stop crying.
Two days later she was in a hotel room, getting dressed, fussing with her impossible curls, loaning her sister earrings. She had picked the black dress with orange flowers. She knew the heels would be killing her feet inside of an hour. She adjusted the black sweater until it hung just right. She stared at herself in the mirror. Eyeliner probably wasn’t a good idea … What the hell, she raged internally. It may have been stupid, but she wanted to look nice for her grandfather one last time. He always liked seeing everyone dressed up, always enjoyed the sight of his granddaughters in pretty dresses. She always had to be doing something, and here was something she could do for him. She applied her makeup meticulously, taking especial care with her eyes, her best feature. She made sure to put on the treble clef-shaped earrings as another private tribute to her musical grandfather. She primped until she knew she looked her best. No matter what sort of a mess she was on the inside, it wouldn’t show on the outside.
Later she looked back and realized the two days during which the funeral and burial took place were mostly a blur. She couldn’t really remember details. Everything was a little fuzzy, and her memories seemed as if she were outside her body watching herself. What she did remember, she couldn’t be sure it was accurate.
She never stopped crying. The tears periodically dried up, but they were always there, waiting to be triggered. Anything might do it, and usually at the most inconvenient times. To her surprise she found that she could still smile, could still laugh, could still enjoy life. The unfairness of it all grated, and probably always would. She never sang a song without remembering him. A year passed, then two … and she found that he was never really gone. She knew as long as she remembered him, he would live. The tears and the memories were bittersweet. She would take what she could get.
So, this weekend something came to me and I actually got right up and wrote it down, which is something new and exciting for me. I even procrastinate the good things.
I wrote this little piece, which is about what I remember from the day my grandfather died. I don't know where the idea came from, but I wrote it a little differently ... from third-person, and exactly as I remember it even though I know I don't remember everything accurately. When I remember those events, it's like watching a movie. I see myself going about doing things and interacting with people, instead of remembering myself actually doing it.
And it occurred to me that this is something of a recurring theme in my writing in general. This makes the third piece I've written about my grandfather. I can only assume I write about him so much because his death was one of the most significant events in my life, and it affected me in some crazy ways. Writing is cathartic for me since I can't ever express myself as well verbally as I do in writing, so I guess writing about it is a good thing.
Anyway, now I have a dilemma. I wrote this with the intention of turning it in to my creative writing teacher, but technically it isn't fiction. I could always pass it off as such, of course, but I probably will take creative writing: nonfiction next semester, if it's offered. So do I turn it in now or save it? I can't decide, so I'm posting it. Read if you want, let me know what you think.
It's a depressing subject matter, FYI. I know, duh, but I just thought I'd mention it. My frame of mind has been a little on the dark side this weekend. It's this fanfic I've been immersed in, which also has a character with a very dirty mouth, and consequently I've found myself randomly wanting to drop the F-bomb for the last two days. The person responsible for this, you know your blame.
Here goes. This piece is currently untitled.
**************************************************************************
The girl lay in bed and stared at the sun coming through the gauzy white curtains and making the pale orange walls impossibly brighter. She felt lightheaded, a little confused, almost panicking but not quite. She couldn’t wipe her friend’s words from her mind, the first thing she’d heard when she answered the ringing phone that had awoken her.
Hey, I heard your grandfather died last night.
And her immediate denial. No, he didn’t.
The line went quiet after that. The friend mumbled something and quickly hung up. She blindly set her cell phone back on the table beside her bed and lay unmoving a moment longer, but sleep was nowhere to be found now.
She was reluctant to get up, but she was too tense to lie there any longer. She had to move, had to feel like she was doing something. Above all else, she hated to feel helpless.
She padded down the carpeted hall into the kitchen and searched for something to eat even though she wasn’t really hungry. The house was quiet, and the silence was somehow ominous. She knew her sister was at school and her parents at work, but still the hush felt wrong.
And she knew. Her grandfather had died during the night, and no one had told her. They probably hadn’t wanted to wake her for that. And on top of that, her friend probably thought she was a freak.
She fought the panic rising in her chest, to no avail. Tears pooled in her eyes and she looked around the kitchen frantically, as if searching for something. As if a confirmation of her fears would be written on the tan painted wall or the green countertop.
Her eyes fell on the cordless phone sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen and she grabbed for it as a drowning man would a lifeline. With trembling fingers she dialed her mother’s office number; the voice that answered wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. Her mom had just left, and was heading home.
This was bad. It was all the confirmation she needed. Why else would her mom leave work so early?
It would only take her about ten minutes to get home from her office, but it felt more like ten hours to the girl pacing in front of the door. She watched her mother’s red car pull up in front of the house and her heart jumped in her throat. All of a sudden she was nervous.
The door opened and no words were needed. She fell into her mother’s arms, sobbing. Her mother said something, trying to give comfort through her own tears, but later the girl hadn’t the faintest clue what she’d said.
She dressed quickly, not even looking in the mirror, and left with her mother to pick up her sister from school early. They agreed to tell the ten-year-old nothing until they got home. The girl wondered how she would keep the tears at bay that long.
Somehow she succeeded and the little girl was none the wiser, excited at the novelty of going home mid-morning. She chattered happily from the front seat while the older girl sat in the back, trying to cry silently.
Their dad was waiting for them at home. He’d been called to his father’s bedside the night before, and he told them how it had all happened: how they knew it was the end, how calm it had been, how the sores covering his body had strangely faded in death, going away once they had claimed his life. He only broke down once in the telling. The girl thought it was strange that he could sit and relate the story so calmly.
An irrational part of her felt hurt she hadn’t been there. She remembered the last time she’d spoken to her grandfather and he hadn’t even known who she was. She remembered waking up in the middle of the night in the quiet of her dorm room crying, begging God. Please don’t take him yet. Please, we need him. Please. She remembered every hug, and wished she’d had more. She remembered the way he smelled. She remembered the sound of his voice leading the family in song. She remembered so many things he’d said, so many things he’d taught her. She remembered the day they found out the strange sores he’d mentioned in passing were cancer. She remembered every sight of the emaciated, weak man who had once seemed bigger than life.
She dreaded the thought of the funeral to come. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it together, and doubted anyone else would fare much better. She couldn’t imagine having the whole family together without her grandfather. It wouldn’t feel right. She wondered if she would ever be able to stop crying.
Two days later she was in a hotel room, getting dressed, fussing with her impossible curls, loaning her sister earrings. She had picked the black dress with orange flowers. She knew the heels would be killing her feet inside of an hour. She adjusted the black sweater until it hung just right. She stared at herself in the mirror. Eyeliner probably wasn’t a good idea … What the hell, she raged internally. It may have been stupid, but she wanted to look nice for her grandfather one last time. He always liked seeing everyone dressed up, always enjoyed the sight of his granddaughters in pretty dresses. She always had to be doing something, and here was something she could do for him. She applied her makeup meticulously, taking especial care with her eyes, her best feature. She made sure to put on the treble clef-shaped earrings as another private tribute to her musical grandfather. She primped until she knew she looked her best. No matter what sort of a mess she was on the inside, it wouldn’t show on the outside.
Later she looked back and realized the two days during which the funeral and burial took place were mostly a blur. She couldn’t really remember details. Everything was a little fuzzy, and her memories seemed as if she were outside her body watching herself. What she did remember, she couldn’t be sure it was accurate.
She never stopped crying. The tears periodically dried up, but they were always there, waiting to be triggered. Anything might do it, and usually at the most inconvenient times. To her surprise she found that she could still smile, could still laugh, could still enjoy life. The unfairness of it all grated, and probably always would. She never sang a song without remembering him. A year passed, then two … and she found that he was never really gone. She knew as long as she remembered him, he would live. The tears and the memories were bittersweet. She would take what she could get.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
'Fraidy-Cat
Well, it's nearly 1 in the morning and I'm still awake. You know what that means.
I've been thinking too much.
Yesterday I turned 21. It was a pretty good day, classes hadn't started yet so I didn't have much to do and that was nice. But 21 ... it's got me thinking about the future again. The near future, the not-so-near future ... you get the picture.
21 is kind of wigging me out. It's such a milestone, people have been saying things like, "21! Wow! What are you going to do?" Well, I didn't do much of anything special for my birthday itself, just hung out with my family. I haven't really been all that anxious to do anything I needed to be legal to do anyway, so it wasn't a big deal. But that last question, that "what are you going to do?" That's the biggie.
Because I'm hyper-analytical, so I take it somewhere faaaar from where it began. What am I going to do? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? Hitting this milestone reminded me how close I am to graduating from college. That is just ridiculous to think of - I am getting ready to graduate from college. Not just like, sometime, but in the actual foreseeable future. It's really happening.
That thought - that I'm going to graduate from college - quite frankly scares the shit out of me. Because ever since I was 4, I've been in school, in Williamsburg. I was in one building for kindergarten through 12th grade, and my college is just down the street from that. Now I'll be going to grad school, away somewhere. Whether I stay somewhere close by or go halfway across the country, I'll be away. I won't know my way around campus, I won't have known most of my teachers from childhood, I won't have my parents nearby if I need anything. For the first time in my life, I'll really be on my own.
Now this is exciting. I think about getting an apartment, maybe a pet, that kind of stuff. That will be fun. But it's scary when I think about being on my own. I've never been on my own. Even here at college, I live in the dorms but I live with someone I've known since I was in middle school. My family is here, I can go home whenever I want. I know this town, I know these people. There is a security here I know I will miss when I leave. That's what's scary. I'll really have to completely take care of myself. Part of me is ready to rise to the challenge, while part of me wants to stay here always, where it's familiar and safe.
I don't take change well anyway, of any kind. Tiny details just get me all messed up, so it's really no wonder I'm all worried about this now, when it's still over a year away. Welcome to the life of a compulsive worrier.
Anyway, that's been on my mind tonight. I know it's bound to only get worse over the next year, but maybe I can talk myself off the ledge when I start hyperventilating. I'll welcome any help and/or chocolate anyone wants to send. :)
I've been thinking too much.
Yesterday I turned 21. It was a pretty good day, classes hadn't started yet so I didn't have much to do and that was nice. But 21 ... it's got me thinking about the future again. The near future, the not-so-near future ... you get the picture.
21 is kind of wigging me out. It's such a milestone, people have been saying things like, "21! Wow! What are you going to do?" Well, I didn't do much of anything special for my birthday itself, just hung out with my family. I haven't really been all that anxious to do anything I needed to be legal to do anyway, so it wasn't a big deal. But that last question, that "what are you going to do?" That's the biggie.
Because I'm hyper-analytical, so I take it somewhere faaaar from where it began. What am I going to do? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? Hitting this milestone reminded me how close I am to graduating from college. That is just ridiculous to think of - I am getting ready to graduate from college. Not just like, sometime, but in the actual foreseeable future. It's really happening.
That thought - that I'm going to graduate from college - quite frankly scares the shit out of me. Because ever since I was 4, I've been in school, in Williamsburg. I was in one building for kindergarten through 12th grade, and my college is just down the street from that. Now I'll be going to grad school, away somewhere. Whether I stay somewhere close by or go halfway across the country, I'll be away. I won't know my way around campus, I won't have known most of my teachers from childhood, I won't have my parents nearby if I need anything. For the first time in my life, I'll really be on my own.
Now this is exciting. I think about getting an apartment, maybe a pet, that kind of stuff. That will be fun. But it's scary when I think about being on my own. I've never been on my own. Even here at college, I live in the dorms but I live with someone I've known since I was in middle school. My family is here, I can go home whenever I want. I know this town, I know these people. There is a security here I know I will miss when I leave. That's what's scary. I'll really have to completely take care of myself. Part of me is ready to rise to the challenge, while part of me wants to stay here always, where it's familiar and safe.
I don't take change well anyway, of any kind. Tiny details just get me all messed up, so it's really no wonder I'm all worried about this now, when it's still over a year away. Welcome to the life of a compulsive worrier.
Anyway, that's been on my mind tonight. I know it's bound to only get worse over the next year, but maybe I can talk myself off the ledge when I start hyperventilating. I'll welcome any help and/or chocolate anyone wants to send. :)
Monday, January 12, 2009
Setting Goals
Just over an hour til I turn 21!
Anyway.
Lately I've been thinking about New Year's resolutions. I don't make them anymore myself, since like most people I usually only kept them for a couple weeks, if that. With so many people talking about them, though, it does make me think about what I might resolve to do if I were making resolutions. And then I thought - I don't make resolutions, but I can always set goals! New year, new semester, why not.
First of all though, I have to say that I'm happier with myself these days than I ever have been. Let me get superficial here for a minute. I've never thought of myself as a "pretty girl." I always used to wonder about those girls ... you know, the perfectly skinny blondes ... I remember wondering how it felt to be pretty. Like, did they look in the mirror and think, wow I'm pretty? Did they even realize it?
So anyway, the other night we went out to dinner with the family to celebrate our three January birthdays - mine, my mom's, and my great-grandfather's. I'd dressed up for it, cause I like to do that, and when we got home and I went to change clothes I happened to glance in the mirror and I was like hey ... I'm pretty. I know it sounds vain, okay, but I had an epiphany y'all. And then I stopped to think about it. I could definitely stand to lose weight - more on that momentarily - but I've figured out what works on me and how to look good. My skin has definitely been worse. And my hair ... well, excuse the vanity, but I love my hair. So anyway. Point here being that I had an epiphany, hee, and I'm actually happier with the outside of myself than I can ever remember being before.
So, that happened.
Anyway, goals. Like I mentioned already, weight. My roommate and suitemate and I are going to diet and exercise together. I've already been informed that we're giving up pop. I'll miss it, but I know it's horrible for me and I kind of feel guilty when I drink it anyway. We're going to walk several nights a week and keep each other from eating horrible things. I'm planning to do some traveling this summer if I have my way, which I'm really excited about, so I have an extra incentive to look good.
I'm also going to work on being more organized, although I always say that at the beginning of every semester. I'm going to try to be more dedicated, more disciplined where schoolwork is concerned. I made better grades last semester than the year before, so that was nice and I'd like to keep that going. I'm really bad for procrastinating too, so I'm going to try to kick that habit.
I'll start tomorrow.
Besides that, I'm going to try to work on picking battles, letting the little annoyances roll off my back and only making an issue of things that deserve to be made an issue of. Lately I've found myself saying whatever I'm thinking instead of keeping it inside - I know it's not good for you to keep things bottled up, but it's also not always good to tell people exactly what you think! So there's that to work on.
So ... yeah. Some things to think about as the new semester starts. We'll see how all this works out for me.
Anyway.
Lately I've been thinking about New Year's resolutions. I don't make them anymore myself, since like most people I usually only kept them for a couple weeks, if that. With so many people talking about them, though, it does make me think about what I might resolve to do if I were making resolutions. And then I thought - I don't make resolutions, but I can always set goals! New year, new semester, why not.
First of all though, I have to say that I'm happier with myself these days than I ever have been. Let me get superficial here for a minute. I've never thought of myself as a "pretty girl." I always used to wonder about those girls ... you know, the perfectly skinny blondes ... I remember wondering how it felt to be pretty. Like, did they look in the mirror and think, wow I'm pretty? Did they even realize it?
So anyway, the other night we went out to dinner with the family to celebrate our three January birthdays - mine, my mom's, and my great-grandfather's. I'd dressed up for it, cause I like to do that, and when we got home and I went to change clothes I happened to glance in the mirror and I was like hey ... I'm pretty. I know it sounds vain, okay, but I had an epiphany y'all. And then I stopped to think about it. I could definitely stand to lose weight - more on that momentarily - but I've figured out what works on me and how to look good. My skin has definitely been worse. And my hair ... well, excuse the vanity, but I love my hair. So anyway. Point here being that I had an epiphany, hee, and I'm actually happier with the outside of myself than I can ever remember being before.
So, that happened.
Anyway, goals. Like I mentioned already, weight. My roommate and suitemate and I are going to diet and exercise together. I've already been informed that we're giving up pop. I'll miss it, but I know it's horrible for me and I kind of feel guilty when I drink it anyway. We're going to walk several nights a week and keep each other from eating horrible things. I'm planning to do some traveling this summer if I have my way, which I'm really excited about, so I have an extra incentive to look good.
I'm also going to work on being more organized, although I always say that at the beginning of every semester. I'm going to try to be more dedicated, more disciplined where schoolwork is concerned. I made better grades last semester than the year before, so that was nice and I'd like to keep that going. I'm really bad for procrastinating too, so I'm going to try to kick that habit.
I'll start tomorrow.
Besides that, I'm going to try to work on picking battles, letting the little annoyances roll off my back and only making an issue of things that deserve to be made an issue of. Lately I've found myself saying whatever I'm thinking instead of keeping it inside - I know it's not good for you to keep things bottled up, but it's also not always good to tell people exactly what you think! So there's that to work on.
So ... yeah. Some things to think about as the new semester starts. We'll see how all this works out for me.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Something that I've been thinking about all day ...
Wow, two in one day.
I'm a WILD WOMAN, I tell you.
But I have a purpose. Lately I've been hearing a lot of people talk about loving yourself, knowing yourself, etc etc. I also read something to the effect that the most important thing is how you feel about yourself, or something like that.
Okay, here's the thing: the more I think about it, the more I disagree. Like, a lot.
Yes, you need to love yourself. Yes, you need to find out who you are and be who you are. Yes, you need to be happy with yourself and not just focus on pleasing others. This philosophy, though, is unbelievably self-centered. Say it with me: DUH. Now that we've got that out of the way, I'll explain what I mean and why I disagree.
It is important to be happy with yourself and to do what makes you happy, but not to the exclusion of anything and everyone else. If you were going to go off and live in a cave somewhere, that M.O. would be fine and work out great for you. The thing is that we have to live with other people. Even if you technically live alone, you have interaction with other people all day. Fellow students, teachers, coworkers, the lady in the supermarket checkout line, whatever.
Not only do you have to live with other people, you have to live peacefully. You have to be kind, you have to get along to the best of your abilities. This isn't something that you can just do; having had three different roommates with very different personalities over the last three years, trust me, I KNOW. You can just get along with some people easier than others, true, but living with someone is another thing entirely. If you are so focused on only pleasing yourself, you're going to have trouble. Sometimes you have to do things you'd rather not for the sake of someone else.
Something else to think about: your every action affects the people around you. If you're focused on only pleasing yourself and to hell with everybody else, chances are that you're really hurting someone, and you don't even know it. If you focus on only pleasing yourself, you won't even see anyone around you. That's when you can do some real damage, and the sad part is that you'll have no idea. That person may start acting differently towards you and you'll have no clue why; then you won't do anything about it and will keep on hurting them.
Yet another point: humans are inherently selfish, but we're supposed to fight that. Now I realize I'm speaking from the perspective of a Christian, and not everyone would agree with me. That's fine, because everyone has the right to an opinion. As Christians, we are called to be servants. We are called to give of ourselves to help others - and not just sometimes, but all day, every day. What is a servant supposed to be focused on? Certainly not themselves. Think about the days when slavery was an accepted practice. What would selfishness get a slave? Nothing, and in fact it would probably cost them their life.
I'm not sitting here saying I have this down and I always have a servant's heart, because I know I don't. Like I said, humans are inherently selfish. But we are called to serve with humility, not please ourselves. And I think that if you try only to please yourself, you won't. If you're hurting people and losing friends right and left in the name of pleasing yourself, you're not going to be happy.
Rather, find out God's will for your life and strive to do it. Be meek and humble; stand up for yourself and don't let people treat you badly, but think of others before yourself. If helping someone means denying yourself a little pleasure but doing some good in their life, do it anyway. When you are someone that can be counted on, someone who makes others happy, then you will be happy with yourself. Surrounded by all the love that's sure to come your way, how could you not be?
The problem is that we focus too much on ourselves. Try forgetting about your problems and listening to someone else for a change. And don't just sit there being quiet while they talk, really listen! It's hard to do, but we all can if we try. Show compassion and love people. Remember that there are many, many ways to love someone - it's so much more than just three little words. You love through your words and your actions, what you do and sometimes what you don't. Conversely, you can show a lack of love through these same things. Be conscious of how you treat people. You can tell me you love me all you want, but if your actions say otherwise then what do you think I'm going to listen to? What would you listen to? Where words whisper, actions scream. Again, I know I'm not always as good at this as I would wish, so I'm not trying to be hypocritical or tell you that I've got it all figured out, because I certainly don't. This is what I believe, though, and what I try to live out.
Anyway, that's my take on it, agree or disagree as you will. I'll welcome any thoughts anyone wants to share. :)
I'm a WILD WOMAN, I tell you.
But I have a purpose. Lately I've been hearing a lot of people talk about loving yourself, knowing yourself, etc etc. I also read something to the effect that the most important thing is how you feel about yourself, or something like that.
Okay, here's the thing: the more I think about it, the more I disagree. Like, a lot.
Yes, you need to love yourself. Yes, you need to find out who you are and be who you are. Yes, you need to be happy with yourself and not just focus on pleasing others. This philosophy, though, is unbelievably self-centered. Say it with me: DUH. Now that we've got that out of the way, I'll explain what I mean and why I disagree.
It is important to be happy with yourself and to do what makes you happy, but not to the exclusion of anything and everyone else. If you were going to go off and live in a cave somewhere, that M.O. would be fine and work out great for you. The thing is that we have to live with other people. Even if you technically live alone, you have interaction with other people all day. Fellow students, teachers, coworkers, the lady in the supermarket checkout line, whatever.
Not only do you have to live with other people, you have to live peacefully. You have to be kind, you have to get along to the best of your abilities. This isn't something that you can just do; having had three different roommates with very different personalities over the last three years, trust me, I KNOW. You can just get along with some people easier than others, true, but living with someone is another thing entirely. If you are so focused on only pleasing yourself, you're going to have trouble. Sometimes you have to do things you'd rather not for the sake of someone else.
Something else to think about: your every action affects the people around you. If you're focused on only pleasing yourself and to hell with everybody else, chances are that you're really hurting someone, and you don't even know it. If you focus on only pleasing yourself, you won't even see anyone around you. That's when you can do some real damage, and the sad part is that you'll have no idea. That person may start acting differently towards you and you'll have no clue why; then you won't do anything about it and will keep on hurting them.
Yet another point: humans are inherently selfish, but we're supposed to fight that. Now I realize I'm speaking from the perspective of a Christian, and not everyone would agree with me. That's fine, because everyone has the right to an opinion. As Christians, we are called to be servants. We are called to give of ourselves to help others - and not just sometimes, but all day, every day. What is a servant supposed to be focused on? Certainly not themselves. Think about the days when slavery was an accepted practice. What would selfishness get a slave? Nothing, and in fact it would probably cost them their life.
I'm not sitting here saying I have this down and I always have a servant's heart, because I know I don't. Like I said, humans are inherently selfish. But we are called to serve with humility, not please ourselves. And I think that if you try only to please yourself, you won't. If you're hurting people and losing friends right and left in the name of pleasing yourself, you're not going to be happy.
Rather, find out God's will for your life and strive to do it. Be meek and humble; stand up for yourself and don't let people treat you badly, but think of others before yourself. If helping someone means denying yourself a little pleasure but doing some good in their life, do it anyway. When you are someone that can be counted on, someone who makes others happy, then you will be happy with yourself. Surrounded by all the love that's sure to come your way, how could you not be?
The problem is that we focus too much on ourselves. Try forgetting about your problems and listening to someone else for a change. And don't just sit there being quiet while they talk, really listen! It's hard to do, but we all can if we try. Show compassion and love people. Remember that there are many, many ways to love someone - it's so much more than just three little words. You love through your words and your actions, what you do and sometimes what you don't. Conversely, you can show a lack of love through these same things. Be conscious of how you treat people. You can tell me you love me all you want, but if your actions say otherwise then what do you think I'm going to listen to? What would you listen to? Where words whisper, actions scream. Again, I know I'm not always as good at this as I would wish, so I'm not trying to be hypocritical or tell you that I've got it all figured out, because I certainly don't. This is what I believe, though, and what I try to live out.
Anyway, that's my take on it, agree or disagree as you will. I'll welcome any thoughts anyone wants to share. :)
Introductions
Greetings, all and sundry!
While reading a friend's blog I realized how much I like to blog myself, so ... here I am! :)
I don't think anyone will be reading this who doesn't know me, but for the sake of argument how about some basic introduction.
I'm Leslie, I'm turning 21 in ~*4*~ days (!) and I live in the beautiful metropolis of Williamsburg, KY. Never heard of it? Get in line. I am in my junior year at the University of the Cumberlands in Williamsburg and, if I live long enough, will be getting my degree in English with a history minor, and possibly a religion minor as well. After college I'm going to grad school somewhere ... I don't know where yet, Brianna! ... where I will study archival studies or library science. I already dress like a librarian, so might as well become one, right?
I want to explain the title of my blog because now that I think about it, it might sound a little narcissistic ... brilliance, meaning that everything contained herein is brilliant? Yeah, not so much. The title comes from two conversations I've had with my best friends in the last couple of days, in which we decided that Leslie is at her most brilliant around midnight when she really ought to be going to sleep instead of running her mouth. Sometimes this is in the literal sense - I come up with things that amaze even myself. Other times, actually most times, the word "brilliance" is used with the strongest sense of sarcasm possible. The conversation in question centered around The Curls (aka Josh Groban) and The Sparkles (aka Edward Cullen).
Bri is concerned about my love for The Sparkles, since of course she's selfish and MUST KEEP HIM ALL TO HERSELF OM NOM, so I had to explain to her that I can love them both, and The Curls and The Sparkles can live in peace and harmony. The brilliant analogy I came up with? It's like a gourmet cheesecake and a Twinkie (Josh being the former, Edward the latter). Of course, you're going to love the cheesecake more. It's just better, and if you had your druthers you'd get it every time. Then you have the Twinkie, and you know it's horrible for you and nothing in it actually exists in nature ... still, sugarrrrrr, and you love it even though you know there's something better.
See, now isn't that brilliant?
This is why when I refer to my love for all things Twilight from here on out, the words "Sparkly Twinkie" will probably appear. Twilight is my Sparkly Twinkie.
So let's see, what else ... we just had Christmas! (Yay Christmas!) The holidays felt really rushed to me this year. Plus we had to travel, which I used to love but have now decided I'd rather not do on Christmas Day, thankyouverymuch. When you can't sleep the night before and you get up at 5, you don't want to spend all day in the truck - you want to play with your new toys and take a nap! Still, we had a good day. It's about the only time of year we get to see my mom's brother and his family.
We go back to school next week too ... and that is nothing at all even remotely resembling a sparkly Twinkie. It's more like a Twinkie that's been hiding, unwrapped, under the refrigerator for 6 months. I'm hoping this semester will be better than last, though. I've heard other English majors say that once you get past Literary Criticism, everything else is cake. Here's hoping! Next semester I'm taking Singers (again, because I cannot live without it), English Lit, Descriptive Linguistics (doesn't THAT sound exciting), American Lit, 20th Century America, and CREATIVE WRITING: FICTION!!!! I'm way pumped. I'm hoping that will only serve to enhance my fanfic adventures. :D
Okay, this is way long so I'll stop and try not to do this to you again. When I get going, it's hard to stop, hee.
Until next time!
While reading a friend's blog I realized how much I like to blog myself, so ... here I am! :)
I don't think anyone will be reading this who doesn't know me, but for the sake of argument how about some basic introduction.
I'm Leslie, I'm turning 21 in ~*4*~ days (!) and I live in the beautiful metropolis of Williamsburg, KY. Never heard of it? Get in line. I am in my junior year at the University of the Cumberlands in Williamsburg and, if I live long enough, will be getting my degree in English with a history minor, and possibly a religion minor as well. After college I'm going to grad school somewhere ... I don't know where yet, Brianna! ... where I will study archival studies or library science. I already dress like a librarian, so might as well become one, right?
I want to explain the title of my blog because now that I think about it, it might sound a little narcissistic ... brilliance, meaning that everything contained herein is brilliant? Yeah, not so much. The title comes from two conversations I've had with my best friends in the last couple of days, in which we decided that Leslie is at her most brilliant around midnight when she really ought to be going to sleep instead of running her mouth. Sometimes this is in the literal sense - I come up with things that amaze even myself. Other times, actually most times, the word "brilliance" is used with the strongest sense of sarcasm possible. The conversation in question centered around The Curls (aka Josh Groban) and The Sparkles (aka Edward Cullen).
Bri is concerned about my love for The Sparkles, since of course she's selfish and MUST KEEP HIM ALL TO HERSELF OM NOM, so I had to explain to her that I can love them both, and The Curls and The Sparkles can live in peace and harmony. The brilliant analogy I came up with? It's like a gourmet cheesecake and a Twinkie (Josh being the former, Edward the latter). Of course, you're going to love the cheesecake more. It's just better, and if you had your druthers you'd get it every time. Then you have the Twinkie, and you know it's horrible for you and nothing in it actually exists in nature ... still, sugarrrrrr, and you love it even though you know there's something better.
See, now isn't that brilliant?
This is why when I refer to my love for all things Twilight from here on out, the words "Sparkly Twinkie" will probably appear. Twilight is my Sparkly Twinkie.
So let's see, what else ... we just had Christmas! (Yay Christmas!) The holidays felt really rushed to me this year. Plus we had to travel, which I used to love but have now decided I'd rather not do on Christmas Day, thankyouverymuch. When you can't sleep the night before and you get up at 5, you don't want to spend all day in the truck - you want to play with your new toys and take a nap! Still, we had a good day. It's about the only time of year we get to see my mom's brother and his family.
We go back to school next week too ... and that is nothing at all even remotely resembling a sparkly Twinkie. It's more like a Twinkie that's been hiding, unwrapped, under the refrigerator for 6 months. I'm hoping this semester will be better than last, though. I've heard other English majors say that once you get past Literary Criticism, everything else is cake. Here's hoping! Next semester I'm taking Singers (again, because I cannot live without it), English Lit, Descriptive Linguistics (doesn't THAT sound exciting), American Lit, 20th Century America, and CREATIVE WRITING: FICTION!!!! I'm way pumped. I'm hoping that will only serve to enhance my fanfic adventures. :D
Okay, this is way long so I'll stop and try not to do this to you again. When I get going, it's hard to stop, hee.
Until next time!
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