2005: Sophomore year - Homecoming Dance
I don't know why but I let it slip to my friend that I want to go to homecoming with this guy I sort of know. And being miss independent, my friend encourages me to ask him myself. I don't mind the idea actually; it wouldn't be the first time I would put myself out there for a guy. How hard could it be to ask a guy to the dance? It's not like guys have any guts to do that sort of thing anymore (since most guys I know who are girlfriend-less aren't really trying to find a date to the dance). So okay. Yeah. I'll ask him to homecoming.
End of the school day and I see him by his locker. My friend is with me. "Go!" she whispers to me. I freeze. "You know what, I don't know if I really want to..." she doesn't let me get away with it. She promptly pushes me in the direction of the boy and I realize I have no choice but to explain why I am suddenly in his personal bubble. I somehow spew out the words, "was wondering if you wanted to go to homecoming with me?" and he blushes a deep red. He says he's not sure (code for no) but will get back to me later. I remain hopeful.
The next week I find out I was not the only girl to ask him to homecoming (apparently a lot of girls have the confidence to ask guys out) but it doesn't matter. He likes another girl. And after telling the rest of us no, he will not even be going to homecoming, I find out he asks her to the dance shortly after.
I'm offended and pissed. I act angry. But really, I'm not that upset that he said no to me and asked another girl instead. I am upset because I don't understand what's wrong with me. I don't understand why he didn't want to go with me to homecoming. I don't understand why no guy has asked me to homecoming. Even when I try to give myself the change, no one is willing to give me one. I go home, lock myself in the bathroom, and cry.
2008: Spring/Summer - Evil Coach
I'm exhausted and confused. I have just talked to my high school about my coach hitting on me and I don't know what to feel. It needed to be done, but he's still my coach. I still have this mad crush on him. I am still somewhat hopeful that if he wanted to hook up with me, he must like me. Maybe this was his attempt at making things work.
It takes me awhile but as time goes on I realize my coach had no intentions of being with me the way I had hoped: a relationship. He wanted me like a booty call. It really sinks in when his fiancee calls me wondering what had happened. He had told me he had told her and she was infuriated. Instead he tried to continue the relationship with her and every time she questioned him about me, he said that she was crazy and nothing happened. The latter is true. Nothing happened. Yet all summer I wondered if I had let something happen if maybe my dreams would've worked out.
I'm happy nothing worked out with us. I'm happy I didn't go over. But I feel miserable. The one guy I trusted, the one guy I admired and respected, saw me as nothing more than a booty call. He only wanted to use me. Not even the guy I think is the best wants to be with me. I feel hopeless.
2008: First year at Ball State
He would be transferring. Right as I'm getting to know him, it would be the last time I'd probably see him. At least for a long while.
His name is Collin and he's a Christian, a musician, and one of the sweetest guys I know. I met him on a Cru retreat earlier this semester but didn't get to know him until December. Right when I learned that he was transferring to IU.
We meet for breakfast on the last day of finals and our conversation lasts for a few hours. We talk about everything. I tell him my dream to write for the Rolling Stone; he tells me his passion for music. We talk about Eric Clapton and God. But our conversation comes to an end because he has one more final to take. Unwillingly I leave.
My friend Joe texts me and begs me to have lunch with him. My mom will be here at one to pick me up for winter break; I won't see him for three weeks. I agree, even though I really just want to go home and feel sorry for myself.
We sit at lunch and I let it all out. I gush to him about how great Collin is, how unhappy I am that he's leaving, how much I wish it could in some miracle turn into a relationship, even though we still don't know one another that well. Joe sits and listens. He doesn't say much.
So I turn the topic to him. "Who do you like, Joe?" "A few people," he says. I'm nosy; I want specific names. We're both on run club so I figure it has to be some girls from there. I take a guess at our friend Liz; I knew he liked her before. He says he still does like her, but there's someone else. I start naming every girl I can think of. Erica? Chelsea? Rachel? Bobbi? The list goes on. He responds with "she's pretty" and "she's really nice" but they're all inevitably no. I dwindle the list down to everyone but one: me.
It suddenly dawns on me that the other girl must be me but I'm too afraid to ask. I keep pushing him, hoping he'll spill the name and especially hoping that it won't be mine. Eventually time runs out and I need to return to my dorm before my mom arrives. We say our goodbyes and I walk back.
On my way back I get a text: Hint #1: She has blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes. Hmm. I am blonde. I have blue eyes. Oh boy.
Another text: Hint #2: It's you!
It's cute. But it's Joe. He's nice and we get along and all, but he's just a friend. He's not a musician; he's a math major. I just don't feel that way. A phone call a week later and I explain: we're just friends.
2009: May - Last day of school
I'm sitting in my J102 class listening to the final presentations being given and I swear it can not go any slower. I have a limited time table and I'm in a panic. This needs to end because I'm on a mission. And I must succeed.
This semester has been one hell of a roller coaster. Joe and I have become best friends; and while he remained crazy about me (his own words) I could not make up my mind about him. I wanted to kiss him on his birthday. But I didn't like him sitting next to me on a car trip cause I didn't feel comfortable around him. All semester I couldn't make up my mind. 2am texts were sent to his phone telling him "I think I like you", while the next week he'd get a 2am text saying "We can only be friends." I've put the boy through emotional hell and I hate myself. Especially now.
Six weeks before school ended I decided I would put an end to the misery. I told him I wanted to be single during the summer. I told him to move on. And after changing my mind a thousand times, he listened. He's pursuing another girl. And up until now I have been fully supportive. Until 3am last night when I realized: I want him to be with me.
Class finally ends and I walk as fast as I can without running to his dorm. This time I'm the one begging him to have lunch with me. We go to one of the campus dining rooms and buy food, but I can barely eat. I start rapidly talking. Talking so fast that I can't keep up with myself. Joe laughs at how fast I'm talking. I'm failing. I'm trying to explain that I change my mind, and it won't be changed again but why should he believe me? I'm begging, literally begging, for a second (or more like 15th) chance.
He can't give it to me. We made a deal we would not date each other. We made a deal we'd wait until fall. He can't trust my feelings. If we feel the same way in the fall, well, we'll take it from there.
He walks with me back to my room and as a pathetic attempt to get him to change his mind, I try to kiss him. He pulls away (how embarrassing). And I panic. Because I realize I really have fucked things up this time. There is no remedying the situation. I pushed him away and he's over me.
Until he changes his mind, and kisses me. And while we stand there in a hug, I can hear his heart pounding through his chest. And I think to myself: "I still have a chance."
Today
Summer of 2009 was by far the worst summer of my life. I lost 10 pounds, not because I'm a runner (I barely ran at all) but because I slept all day and ate nothing. I would stay up til 3am and cried almost every night. I felt sick to my stomach all the time. I literally hated myself. I realized I lost the one person I actually thought I should be with and it was my own fault. Not to mention, I was losing my best friend.
I don't regret that summer though because I learned what my true feelings were. No more changing my mind. No more chasing other guys. I tried dating over the summer, only to end every night on the phone with Joe.
By some miracle things worked out in the fall. There was one odd night where all but two of our friends were gone. And when those two friends left to go to parties it was just us. With nothing to do but to have the same conversation we'd had a thousand times before. This time around though, we would both be on the same page.
One year since then and I swear I'm the happiest girlfriend alive. He doesn't play the guitar. He's not a writer (in fact, he hates it). He has no desire to live in NYC. But he treats me like gold. He makes me laugh. He doesn't freak out when I cry (which happens more than I'd like). He's nothing like the man I once dreamed of dating; but he is more than I could've ever imagined.
I owe God a big fat THANK YOU because I'm finally living what I was once afraid I would never experience. It took some time, tested my patience and drained me of many tears, but here I am. Maybe I'm ridiculous. I am only 21. What do I know about love? Only what I've experienced. And I hope what I'm living only continues. And I hope others can have the same experience.
So there you have it. After a blog full of hatred, here is my blog about love. My little love story. Hopefully this is only the beginning of it.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Only Love Can Conquer Hate
I hate someone. I know, what a cheery way to start off a new post. But it's true. I know you're not suppose to hate. I know most people like to sugar-coat it by saying, "I don't hate anyone, but I strongly dislike (so and so)." And I used to say that because I know it's a terrible thing to hate someone.
But I'm not going to lie: I hate him.
If my close friends were to take a guess at the person they think I hate, they'd be surprised to learn that it's not who they're thinking of. Yes, the person they're thinking of is not one of my favorite people. He falls on the "strongly dislike" list. But I do not hate him. And it's interesting because these two people are similar in a lot of aspects. But there is one very specific reason why one falls under hate while the other does not.
I guess I should begin as to why this even comes up. Pretty simple actually; I came across his facebook. And I looked at it. Reread his bio, thought about how there was truth to it while the rest was complete bullshit, and remembered why I am no longer friends with this person. Which inspired me to vent about it.
I could give you details as to why I hate this person, and maybe I should because there does need to be some proof, some reason, some truth as to why I have come to hate this person. But honestly, what good will it do? You're not me, you haven't had the interactions with this person the way I have. And I have no idea how anyone aside from myself defines hate. I could tell you the whole story in great detail but it doesn't mean you'll agree with me. So I'll skip all that. Just trust that I have my reasons and hate is what has resulted.
But why him?
Truth is, the other person caused a lot more personal harm than the person I actually hate. The other person stressed me out, angered me, brought tears to my eyes, left me vulnerable and inspired revenge. For a long time, I did in fact hate person B.
Until earlier this year. Person B subtly popped up on my facebook (I hate technology) and although it wasn't enough to call for communication, I jumped on it anyway since I was dying with curiosity to understand why he was even looking at my facebook (because I'm a girl and we overanalyze EVERYTHING. If someone merely "pokes" you on facebook it's enough to get your mind going with all sorts of theories and thoughts that this person is trying to catch your attention). So I messaged him. He responded. He, for the first time ever, apologized. Cool. But when he tried to keep the communication going, I stopped him. This is weird, I remember thinking. It's like we're trying to get back to being friends again. And I don't want to be friends. I don't even want him in my life.
So to avoid the "I never want to speak to you again" message, I blocked him. That should send the message loud and clear, right? Of course, little did I know that I would later receive a nasty e-mail from him saying that if I didn't want to talk to him all I had to do was say so. I didn't have to block him.
And there, right there, is actually what draws the line between dislike and hate.
Person B is a straight-up douchebag. No doubt about it. And I have even more proof to back that up and I doubt anyone would disagree with me if they heard my story. But the difference between Person B and Person A, is that Person B doesn't understand that he's a douche bag. He doesn't understand that he hasn't changed at all. That one simple message he last sent said it all: He's the same guy from two years ago and I doubt he understands what could've been the consequences of his actions. All I'm saying is, if someone blocked me I would get the hint that they didn't want to talk to me. And if I was mature enough, I would respect their wishes. I would not go out of my way to bitch at them for doing such a thing. I'd let it go.
Maybe it was immature of me to block him. But then again, if you heard my story I think you'd understand. Plus, in my defense, I was 20 when I blocked him. He was 30. Don't you think someone ten years older would have a little more maturity?
Maybe once again I overanalyzed. But when I think of Person B, I no longer feel anger. I just feel sympathy. Sympathy because he hasn't changed. Sympathy because he doesn't understand just what's he done, mostly to himself. Sympathy because I don't think he grasps what he did wrong.
Person A on the other hand? He knows. I don't know how to explain that he knows, but he does. I just know it. He knows his actions, he knows how his actions are going to affect other people, and he goes ahead and does it anyway.
And that's why I hate him. I hate him because he intentionally hurts people for his greater good. Person B hurt people, and I'm probably the person who felt the least of it. And yes, he hurts people for his greater good as well. But Person B doesn't seem to grasp how he hurts other people. He doesn't seem to be able to wrap his mind around how his actions really affect others. In his mind, he is the victim.
Of course, I don't like either of them. I really don't like Person B any more than Person A. But I can forgive Person B because I understand his ignorance. I don't want to forgive Person A because he had it coming.
This was all just a rant. In fact, I don't even know why I had the desire to write about this. Maybe it's one more piece of guilt that I needed to flush out my system; the guilt of knowing I hate.
Marvin Gaye said, "Only love can conquer hate." And I agree with him. But how do you love someone who has hurt you? How can you possibly love someone you know you hate?
I know the answer to this. I don't like it, but I know it. It's called forgiveness. I've forgiven Person B, because I understand that he doesn't understand. I haven't forgiven Person A though. And trying to forgive him will be difficult.
And that's my prayer for tonight: That God can show me how to love, so I may conquer my hate.
But I'm not going to lie: I hate him.
If my close friends were to take a guess at the person they think I hate, they'd be surprised to learn that it's not who they're thinking of. Yes, the person they're thinking of is not one of my favorite people. He falls on the "strongly dislike" list. But I do not hate him. And it's interesting because these two people are similar in a lot of aspects. But there is one very specific reason why one falls under hate while the other does not.
I guess I should begin as to why this even comes up. Pretty simple actually; I came across his facebook. And I looked at it. Reread his bio, thought about how there was truth to it while the rest was complete bullshit, and remembered why I am no longer friends with this person. Which inspired me to vent about it.
I could give you details as to why I hate this person, and maybe I should because there does need to be some proof, some reason, some truth as to why I have come to hate this person. But honestly, what good will it do? You're not me, you haven't had the interactions with this person the way I have. And I have no idea how anyone aside from myself defines hate. I could tell you the whole story in great detail but it doesn't mean you'll agree with me. So I'll skip all that. Just trust that I have my reasons and hate is what has resulted.
But why him?
Truth is, the other person caused a lot more personal harm than the person I actually hate. The other person stressed me out, angered me, brought tears to my eyes, left me vulnerable and inspired revenge. For a long time, I did in fact hate person B.
Until earlier this year. Person B subtly popped up on my facebook (I hate technology) and although it wasn't enough to call for communication, I jumped on it anyway since I was dying with curiosity to understand why he was even looking at my facebook (because I'm a girl and we overanalyze EVERYTHING. If someone merely "pokes" you on facebook it's enough to get your mind going with all sorts of theories and thoughts that this person is trying to catch your attention). So I messaged him. He responded. He, for the first time ever, apologized. Cool. But when he tried to keep the communication going, I stopped him. This is weird, I remember thinking. It's like we're trying to get back to being friends again. And I don't want to be friends. I don't even want him in my life.
So to avoid the "I never want to speak to you again" message, I blocked him. That should send the message loud and clear, right? Of course, little did I know that I would later receive a nasty e-mail from him saying that if I didn't want to talk to him all I had to do was say so. I didn't have to block him.
And there, right there, is actually what draws the line between dislike and hate.
Person B is a straight-up douchebag. No doubt about it. And I have even more proof to back that up and I doubt anyone would disagree with me if they heard my story. But the difference between Person B and Person A, is that Person B doesn't understand that he's a douche bag. He doesn't understand that he hasn't changed at all. That one simple message he last sent said it all: He's the same guy from two years ago and I doubt he understands what could've been the consequences of his actions. All I'm saying is, if someone blocked me I would get the hint that they didn't want to talk to me. And if I was mature enough, I would respect their wishes. I would not go out of my way to bitch at them for doing such a thing. I'd let it go.
Maybe it was immature of me to block him. But then again, if you heard my story I think you'd understand. Plus, in my defense, I was 20 when I blocked him. He was 30. Don't you think someone ten years older would have a little more maturity?
Maybe once again I overanalyzed. But when I think of Person B, I no longer feel anger. I just feel sympathy. Sympathy because he hasn't changed. Sympathy because he doesn't understand just what's he done, mostly to himself. Sympathy because I don't think he grasps what he did wrong.
Person A on the other hand? He knows. I don't know how to explain that he knows, but he does. I just know it. He knows his actions, he knows how his actions are going to affect other people, and he goes ahead and does it anyway.
And that's why I hate him. I hate him because he intentionally hurts people for his greater good. Person B hurt people, and I'm probably the person who felt the least of it. And yes, he hurts people for his greater good as well. But Person B doesn't seem to grasp how he hurts other people. He doesn't seem to be able to wrap his mind around how his actions really affect others. In his mind, he is the victim.
Of course, I don't like either of them. I really don't like Person B any more than Person A. But I can forgive Person B because I understand his ignorance. I don't want to forgive Person A because he had it coming.
This was all just a rant. In fact, I don't even know why I had the desire to write about this. Maybe it's one more piece of guilt that I needed to flush out my system; the guilt of knowing I hate.
Marvin Gaye said, "Only love can conquer hate." And I agree with him. But how do you love someone who has hurt you? How can you possibly love someone you know you hate?
I know the answer to this. I don't like it, but I know it. It's called forgiveness. I've forgiven Person B, because I understand that he doesn't understand. I haven't forgiven Person A though. And trying to forgive him will be difficult.
And that's my prayer for tonight: That God can show me how to love, so I may conquer my hate.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Baby Steps
Let's start small.
That's the best I can do right now and I think it's the most I can handle. After feeling insanely guilty for my lack of obedience to God, going to church yesterday, and then reading my friends' e-mails today, I realize I've somehow jumped the tracks when it comes to being a Christian and having this relationship with the Lord. I'd ignore it but that's just an easy cop-out. Not to mention, it's also because I've been ignoring it for so long. I can't ignore it anymore.
The truth is, I miss it. I miss turning to God for help. I miss how calm I feel when I do go to church, and pray, and read the bible, and talk to others about God. I miss that feeling of "everything's going to be okay." I miss having God a part of my life.
I know how this happened and as much as I hate to say it, I could've seen it coming. Instead of putting my faith and love and trust into God, I put it in other people. I specifically put it into my boyfriend. Now, I am by no means blaming him. It's just that I found comfort in his physical presence that I've lost the comfort of being in God's spiritual presence. And let's face it. It's obviously a lot easier to run to my boyfriend crying and have him wrap his arms around me than it is to run to God. I think that's the point though. You're suppose to turn to God even though you can't see Him, or hear Him, or feel Him, in the physical sense. That's the whole point of faith. To trust in what is unseen.
And I still do trust in what is unseen. I still believe in God, I still believe He can help me. But I've been carrying around this guilt of sin. This sin that I don't know what to do about. Because I still live in it and I don't think it will stop. Sin that has me torn up because I don't even feel guilty except when I think about the fact that it is all sin. I'm not sure what to make of it.
And that's what's been separating me from God. Sin. This guilt, this shame, this knowing that I have failed because I did not obey. Why should God listen to me when I don't listen to Him? It makes sense, does it not?
But I also have to remember that God was well aware of this and fixed it. You know, Jesus dying on the cross. So that our sins would not separate us from God. I know that Jesus' death was more so that we would go to heaven instead of hell even though we are sinners. But I think it applies to our lives here on earth. I think, and I am by no means any expert on God or Christianity or anything for that matter, but I think part of being a Christian is that you know God loves you in spite of your sin and you don't allow your sin to come between you and God.
If you can't tell by now, I am trying to work out this puzzle of religion and faith in my head. Bear with me.
To let my sin separate me from God is only what is making this worse. To allow guilt to keep me from going to Church, from praying, from doing the things that will bring me closer to God is going against what Jesus did for me in the first place. God knows I've f'ed up. God knows I will f up again. But I don't think God would want me to stop talking to Him because I keep f'ing up. At least I hope not.
So where do I start?
And that's what brings me to the whole point of this blog: to start small. I can't expect myself to dive right back into Christianity like it's my job because as history has taught me I'll only feel overwhelmed and confused, and when I fail I'll go back into my same cycle of ignoring God and letting time pass until I'm right back to where I am right now. No, I can't put pressure on myself to be the perfect Christian. It'll never work.
So I've decided I will start with a small goal. This week: pray every day. Whether that's for just a minute or for an hour, I need to get into the habit of talking to God. That's the first step in remedying a relationship, right? To start talking. Letting it all out. And more importantly, to be completely and utterly honest. Even about the things that I know God won't be happy about.
My first prayer is that God will listen.
That's the best I can do right now and I think it's the most I can handle. After feeling insanely guilty for my lack of obedience to God, going to church yesterday, and then reading my friends' e-mails today, I realize I've somehow jumped the tracks when it comes to being a Christian and having this relationship with the Lord. I'd ignore it but that's just an easy cop-out. Not to mention, it's also because I've been ignoring it for so long. I can't ignore it anymore.
The truth is, I miss it. I miss turning to God for help. I miss how calm I feel when I do go to church, and pray, and read the bible, and talk to others about God. I miss that feeling of "everything's going to be okay." I miss having God a part of my life.
I know how this happened and as much as I hate to say it, I could've seen it coming. Instead of putting my faith and love and trust into God, I put it in other people. I specifically put it into my boyfriend. Now, I am by no means blaming him. It's just that I found comfort in his physical presence that I've lost the comfort of being in God's spiritual presence. And let's face it. It's obviously a lot easier to run to my boyfriend crying and have him wrap his arms around me than it is to run to God. I think that's the point though. You're suppose to turn to God even though you can't see Him, or hear Him, or feel Him, in the physical sense. That's the whole point of faith. To trust in what is unseen.
And I still do trust in what is unseen. I still believe in God, I still believe He can help me. But I've been carrying around this guilt of sin. This sin that I don't know what to do about. Because I still live in it and I don't think it will stop. Sin that has me torn up because I don't even feel guilty except when I think about the fact that it is all sin. I'm not sure what to make of it.
And that's what's been separating me from God. Sin. This guilt, this shame, this knowing that I have failed because I did not obey. Why should God listen to me when I don't listen to Him? It makes sense, does it not?
But I also have to remember that God was well aware of this and fixed it. You know, Jesus dying on the cross. So that our sins would not separate us from God. I know that Jesus' death was more so that we would go to heaven instead of hell even though we are sinners. But I think it applies to our lives here on earth. I think, and I am by no means any expert on God or Christianity or anything for that matter, but I think part of being a Christian is that you know God loves you in spite of your sin and you don't allow your sin to come between you and God.
If you can't tell by now, I am trying to work out this puzzle of religion and faith in my head. Bear with me.
To let my sin separate me from God is only what is making this worse. To allow guilt to keep me from going to Church, from praying, from doing the things that will bring me closer to God is going against what Jesus did for me in the first place. God knows I've f'ed up. God knows I will f up again. But I don't think God would want me to stop talking to Him because I keep f'ing up. At least I hope not.
So where do I start?
And that's what brings me to the whole point of this blog: to start small. I can't expect myself to dive right back into Christianity like it's my job because as history has taught me I'll only feel overwhelmed and confused, and when I fail I'll go back into my same cycle of ignoring God and letting time pass until I'm right back to where I am right now. No, I can't put pressure on myself to be the perfect Christian. It'll never work.
So I've decided I will start with a small goal. This week: pray every day. Whether that's for just a minute or for an hour, I need to get into the habit of talking to God. That's the first step in remedying a relationship, right? To start talking. Letting it all out. And more importantly, to be completely and utterly honest. Even about the things that I know God won't be happy about.
My first prayer is that God will listen.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Daydream Believer
Yesterday, just yesterday, did the idea of attending grad school finally burrowed it's way into my head. Talk about an unexpected desire showing up just a little too late.
I have never had any desire to continue my education further than undergrad. Never. In fact, I could barely stand the idea of attending school for as long as I'm supposed to. But thanks to the post-secondary program I did my last year and a half of high school, I skipped out on high school classes and took college courses instead. I walked into Ball State with 32 credit hours under my belt. Now I'll be getting out of school a year ahead of time.
I realize, with this last year of college speeding by me just a little too quickly, how much of a hurry I've been in my whole life to get out of the education system and be able to stand on my own two feet. Ever since I could remember I've been eager to grow up. Of course, that's natural. Everyone at some point in their childhood dream up different careers and imagines what life is like as an adult. But I don't know if anyone has been trying to rush through it in such a way as I have. And now with my childhood behind me and my "grown-up" years only minutes away, I'm trying to preserve every ounce of youth that I have.
I'm technically an adult, but like most people my age I don't feel it. I feel childlike in so many ways. Still constantly learning things about the world I feel I should already know. Still in this self-conscious state of mind where I feel any wrong move I make will bring everything falling apart. My grades aren't good enough, my cooking isn't up to par, and I'm still living off my Dad's paycheck. If you threw me out into the "real world" right now, I would fall apart.
And that's part of the reason I think this mysterious desire to continue my education popped up. It was Saturday night, just my boyfriend and I sitting and talking when somehow I brought up the grad programs a journalism professor recommended. Northwestern was one of them and boyfriend, being the Chicago/Illinois enthusiast that he is, piped up and urged me to check out their website. So I looked it up and saw the program and the courses they offered. It intrigued me. I felt like I was a junior in high school again, enthusiastically and curiously looking up all the possible universities I could attend. Except this time I could expand my search even further. Think of all the universities out there, at all the different places, all offering to help improve my journalism/writing skills. Think of the opportunity! I won't lie...it's a little tempting.
It's also tempting to go back in time, return to my happy days of cross-country running, Steve & Barry's working, college classes at Miami Hamilton, and just be 17 forever. Have my girls nights, flirt with cute boys, be naive and live life the way I always knew it. If and only if.
Truth is, I do believe I am much happier here (believe it or not) in Muncie, IN. I am much happier not stressing about boys, especially one who I should've never stressed about in the first place, and be in the relationship with the boy I was lucky enough to snatch. I am happy to not be worried about what I am going to do with my life and now only have the pleasure of worrying about how I will succeed with what I want to do with my life. I am happier even though I'm broke. I am happier even though I'm farther away from my family and some of my very close friends. In a nutshell, my life is harder than what it once was...but I am happier with it.
I've decided not to pursue the grad school idea just yet. That's going on hold. I always have a thousand of "wonderful" ideas I get all gung-ho about, only to toss them out a week later. I am still very eager to just throw myself out there, even though I'm terrified. I still like the idea of not knowing where I'm going to be a year from now, even though it goes completely against my anal "have a plan for everything" for personality. As odd as it sounds there is some sort of odd comfort in knowing that I don't know. And I won't know until after next summer.
Until then, I'll flirt with the ideas that come and go, dream of the possibilities ahead, cry over my worries, and know that in the end I'll be okay.
I have never had any desire to continue my education further than undergrad. Never. In fact, I could barely stand the idea of attending school for as long as I'm supposed to. But thanks to the post-secondary program I did my last year and a half of high school, I skipped out on high school classes and took college courses instead. I walked into Ball State with 32 credit hours under my belt. Now I'll be getting out of school a year ahead of time.
I realize, with this last year of college speeding by me just a little too quickly, how much of a hurry I've been in my whole life to get out of the education system and be able to stand on my own two feet. Ever since I could remember I've been eager to grow up. Of course, that's natural. Everyone at some point in their childhood dream up different careers and imagines what life is like as an adult. But I don't know if anyone has been trying to rush through it in such a way as I have. And now with my childhood behind me and my "grown-up" years only minutes away, I'm trying to preserve every ounce of youth that I have.
I'm technically an adult, but like most people my age I don't feel it. I feel childlike in so many ways. Still constantly learning things about the world I feel I should already know. Still in this self-conscious state of mind where I feel any wrong move I make will bring everything falling apart. My grades aren't good enough, my cooking isn't up to par, and I'm still living off my Dad's paycheck. If you threw me out into the "real world" right now, I would fall apart.
And that's part of the reason I think this mysterious desire to continue my education popped up. It was Saturday night, just my boyfriend and I sitting and talking when somehow I brought up the grad programs a journalism professor recommended. Northwestern was one of them and boyfriend, being the Chicago/Illinois enthusiast that he is, piped up and urged me to check out their website. So I looked it up and saw the program and the courses they offered. It intrigued me. I felt like I was a junior in high school again, enthusiastically and curiously looking up all the possible universities I could attend. Except this time I could expand my search even further. Think of all the universities out there, at all the different places, all offering to help improve my journalism/writing skills. Think of the opportunity! I won't lie...it's a little tempting.
It's also tempting to go back in time, return to my happy days of cross-country running, Steve & Barry's working, college classes at Miami Hamilton, and just be 17 forever. Have my girls nights, flirt with cute boys, be naive and live life the way I always knew it. If and only if.
Truth is, I do believe I am much happier here (believe it or not) in Muncie, IN. I am much happier not stressing about boys, especially one who I should've never stressed about in the first place, and be in the relationship with the boy I was lucky enough to snatch. I am happy to not be worried about what I am going to do with my life and now only have the pleasure of worrying about how I will succeed with what I want to do with my life. I am happier even though I'm broke. I am happier even though I'm farther away from my family and some of my very close friends. In a nutshell, my life is harder than what it once was...but I am happier with it.
I've decided not to pursue the grad school idea just yet. That's going on hold. I always have a thousand of "wonderful" ideas I get all gung-ho about, only to toss them out a week later. I am still very eager to just throw myself out there, even though I'm terrified. I still like the idea of not knowing where I'm going to be a year from now, even though it goes completely against my anal "have a plan for everything" for personality. As odd as it sounds there is some sort of odd comfort in knowing that I don't know. And I won't know until after next summer.
Until then, I'll flirt with the ideas that come and go, dream of the possibilities ahead, cry over my worries, and know that in the end I'll be okay.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Teenage Dream
So awhile ago, I'm guessing maybe two years, I discovered this band called Boyce Avenue via youtube. They did a cover of Rihanna's Umbrella and it blew me away. Aside from Alejandro's undeniably beautiful voice, I was impressed with this band because they're one of the few who can actually perform a decent cover, as in they can take a song and make it their own without ruining the original version.
Well time has passed and Boyce Avenue sort of slipped off my radar. I didn't forget about them, I just didn't keep up with them. That was until this week, Thursday actually, where I was still feeling ill (especially after realizing I certainly did not do my best on a project for one of my favorite classes) and needed something to cheer me up. I saw they had done a cover of Taio Cruz's Dynamite and figured it would be worth checking out. It was pretty decent. But the next video I saw was a cover of one of my recently favorite pop songs: Katy Perry's Teenage Dream. Ah. Beautiful! Just his voice and the piano. And what I loved the most was that he completely desexualized the lyrics. Everything raunchy and everything that was hinted at sex was changed in his version. As a girl I of course found this completely sweet and sentimental. Romantic. Pure. I could go on. But let's just say I love it.
Anyways, the reason I bring this up is because Boyce Avenue suddenly reminded me of the reason I even decided that writing was what I wanted to pursue as my career. In fact I remember the exact moment I decided what I wanted to do with my life.
I was 15 years old and still working at McDonald's. It was a beautifully warm afternoon and I was stuck in the back working extension, aka, taking orders for the drive-thru. It was a slow afternoon, that time in-between lunch and dinner, and with no orders to take and nothing else to keep me preoccupied, I did what I do best: I daydreamed. Considering it was so gorgeous out and how much I hate being indoors when the weather is so, I leaned my body halfway out the window (as I normally do when the managers weren't around) trying to grab on to some sort of freedom that existed outside of that little hell-hole. And I realized; I had to get out of this. I couldn't end up like the managers, in their 30s and 40s and still working at this greasy little restaurant apologizing to the bitchiest customers for forgetting to take pickles off their 1000 calorie sandwiches. No, I could do better than that. I had to.
But what was I to do with my life? I wondered. What do I want to do? What can I do? So, trying to be as logical as I could, I thought about my two greatest passions at the time: writing and music. I love writing as I always have. And from what all of my teachers and peers had told me, I wasn't half-bad. In fact in third grade we did this project where on one side of the paper you wrote what you thought you would be doing when you grew up, and on the other side of the paper your peers wrote what they thought you would be doing. Half of my peers wrote "author" or "writer". Even my teacher wrote "I think whatever you'll be doing it will involve a lot of writing." It's kind of creepy that in the third grade they all somehow knew.
But then there was music. Something I had pursued several times yet could never fully find the passion for it that a true musician has. I was in the school choirs up until I was cut in the sixth grade (I discovered I was no longer a soprano...alto is where I stand). I also tried the flute. A beautiful instrument but I gave that up after a year. I then pursued the piano...something that I still love to this day. I took my piano lessons seriously. But when running became more important I realized I didn't have the time to do a sport, a part-time job, and high school along with putting an hour into the piano everyday. I determined I had learned enough and could figure out new songs on my own. I dabbled with the guitar for a bit and for a long time I considered a great passion. But I discovered that Dave Matthews likes to write some very difficult tabs and I didn't have the time nor patience to try to learn the songs I wanted to play.
So in a nutshell, I was never meant to be a musician. But that didn't mean that I still didn't love music (who doesn't?) and that I couldn't make it a part of my life. So the wheels began turning...writing or music? Writing or music? Writing or...
And then BAM! The big a-ha moment. It suddenly dawned on me that there are people out there who make a living by writing about music. They write reviews, the cover concerts, they interview bands, etc. Even though this was nothing new I felt as if I had just invented my own dream job.
And there it was, on that terribly boring afternoon hanging outside a McDonald's drive-thru window I realized that what I really want to do with my life is write about the music and musicians that I loved. My ultimate goal was to be a journalist for the Rolling Stone. That is what I wanted. That was what I was going to strive for.
And up until last year that was it. That was the big dream. Get to NYC, write for the Rolling Stone, meet all these amazing bands and live in a dream world. It was perfect.
Until I realized, it wasn't. My RS dream started to fade after having a conversation with someone who told me what the business is really like. The more I read the Rolling Stone the more I realized I wasn't sure I would fit in. I dreamed up interviews with musicians that I liked. I forgot about the thousands of other musicians out there that get covered as well. I forgot that everyone else is striving for the same dream job as my own. I also realized that I knew nothing about writing for a music magazine.
I also think there is an internal reason as to why this dream has slowly faded away from me. I think I have this great fear that this passion will be ruined. That if I try to build a life around it I will learn to hate it.
But Laura, aren't you afraid that's going to happen with writing? Well, yes, I am a little afraid that one day I'm going to wake up and no longer have any desire to write. But I don't see that happening for a long time, and when that day comes, well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Until then, I need music. It was the escape from my misery on Thursday. It is my comfort. It brings tears to my eyes, it is my coffee in the morning. It's what takes me away from my stresses and what gives me strength to push forward. I need music in that vital way that most people depend on it. Listening to Boyce Avenue reminds me of that.
So the Rolling Stone dream is on hold. For now at least. I have bigger concerns for right now, like finding an internship and determining where I'm going to be living after this school year. Music isn't going to leave me. Writing is only going to strengthen me. And if there comes a day when those two can be combined, well then, hopefully I'll be living my teenage dream.
Well time has passed and Boyce Avenue sort of slipped off my radar. I didn't forget about them, I just didn't keep up with them. That was until this week, Thursday actually, where I was still feeling ill (especially after realizing I certainly did not do my best on a project for one of my favorite classes) and needed something to cheer me up. I saw they had done a cover of Taio Cruz's Dynamite and figured it would be worth checking out. It was pretty decent. But the next video I saw was a cover of one of my recently favorite pop songs: Katy Perry's Teenage Dream. Ah. Beautiful! Just his voice and the piano. And what I loved the most was that he completely desexualized the lyrics. Everything raunchy and everything that was hinted at sex was changed in his version. As a girl I of course found this completely sweet and sentimental. Romantic. Pure. I could go on. But let's just say I love it.
Anyways, the reason I bring this up is because Boyce Avenue suddenly reminded me of the reason I even decided that writing was what I wanted to pursue as my career. In fact I remember the exact moment I decided what I wanted to do with my life.
I was 15 years old and still working at McDonald's. It was a beautifully warm afternoon and I was stuck in the back working extension, aka, taking orders for the drive-thru. It was a slow afternoon, that time in-between lunch and dinner, and with no orders to take and nothing else to keep me preoccupied, I did what I do best: I daydreamed. Considering it was so gorgeous out and how much I hate being indoors when the weather is so, I leaned my body halfway out the window (as I normally do when the managers weren't around) trying to grab on to some sort of freedom that existed outside of that little hell-hole. And I realized; I had to get out of this. I couldn't end up like the managers, in their 30s and 40s and still working at this greasy little restaurant apologizing to the bitchiest customers for forgetting to take pickles off their 1000 calorie sandwiches. No, I could do better than that. I had to.
But what was I to do with my life? I wondered. What do I want to do? What can I do? So, trying to be as logical as I could, I thought about my two greatest passions at the time: writing and music. I love writing as I always have. And from what all of my teachers and peers had told me, I wasn't half-bad. In fact in third grade we did this project where on one side of the paper you wrote what you thought you would be doing when you grew up, and on the other side of the paper your peers wrote what they thought you would be doing. Half of my peers wrote "author" or "writer". Even my teacher wrote "I think whatever you'll be doing it will involve a lot of writing." It's kind of creepy that in the third grade they all somehow knew.
But then there was music. Something I had pursued several times yet could never fully find the passion for it that a true musician has. I was in the school choirs up until I was cut in the sixth grade (I discovered I was no longer a soprano...alto is where I stand). I also tried the flute. A beautiful instrument but I gave that up after a year. I then pursued the piano...something that I still love to this day. I took my piano lessons seriously. But when running became more important I realized I didn't have the time to do a sport, a part-time job, and high school along with putting an hour into the piano everyday. I determined I had learned enough and could figure out new songs on my own. I dabbled with the guitar for a bit and for a long time I considered a great passion. But I discovered that Dave Matthews likes to write some very difficult tabs and I didn't have the time nor patience to try to learn the songs I wanted to play.
So in a nutshell, I was never meant to be a musician. But that didn't mean that I still didn't love music (who doesn't?) and that I couldn't make it a part of my life. So the wheels began turning...writing or music? Writing or music? Writing or...
And then BAM! The big a-ha moment. It suddenly dawned on me that there are people out there who make a living by writing about music. They write reviews, the cover concerts, they interview bands, etc. Even though this was nothing new I felt as if I had just invented my own dream job.
And there it was, on that terribly boring afternoon hanging outside a McDonald's drive-thru window I realized that what I really want to do with my life is write about the music and musicians that I loved. My ultimate goal was to be a journalist for the Rolling Stone. That is what I wanted. That was what I was going to strive for.
And up until last year that was it. That was the big dream. Get to NYC, write for the Rolling Stone, meet all these amazing bands and live in a dream world. It was perfect.
Until I realized, it wasn't. My RS dream started to fade after having a conversation with someone who told me what the business is really like. The more I read the Rolling Stone the more I realized I wasn't sure I would fit in. I dreamed up interviews with musicians that I liked. I forgot about the thousands of other musicians out there that get covered as well. I forgot that everyone else is striving for the same dream job as my own. I also realized that I knew nothing about writing for a music magazine.
I also think there is an internal reason as to why this dream has slowly faded away from me. I think I have this great fear that this passion will be ruined. That if I try to build a life around it I will learn to hate it.
But Laura, aren't you afraid that's going to happen with writing? Well, yes, I am a little afraid that one day I'm going to wake up and no longer have any desire to write. But I don't see that happening for a long time, and when that day comes, well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Until then, I need music. It was the escape from my misery on Thursday. It is my comfort. It brings tears to my eyes, it is my coffee in the morning. It's what takes me away from my stresses and what gives me strength to push forward. I need music in that vital way that most people depend on it. Listening to Boyce Avenue reminds me of that.
So the Rolling Stone dream is on hold. For now at least. I have bigger concerns for right now, like finding an internship and determining where I'm going to be living after this school year. Music isn't going to leave me. Writing is only going to strengthen me. And if there comes a day when those two can be combined, well then, hopefully I'll be living my teenage dream.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Life is Short. Have an Affair. - The AshleyMadison Rant
I am using my blog to try something new that I think will help my writing. You see I'm taking the opinion-writing class, a class that I very much enjoy but have found to be increasingly difficult. It's not hard to comprehend, and what I've learned from the class and from the book we're reading is all useful information that I'm trying to put into practice. And that's where the tough part comes in: writing is always easier said than done.
So I have a column due tomorrow for this class and what I've found works is to do my research, write up a draft the night before it's due, then look over it and make adjustments for it in the morning. So far my grades have been consistent. High Bs, just below the A mark. Which is great, but is also frustrating. This next column I turn in I would love to receive an A on.
However, this week's column is going to be difficult for me to write, because it is an issue that really bothers me, in this instinctive way that I can't describe. I hope no one takes offense to this, but I feel uber-conservative with this issue: close-minded and in denial of any facts that support the opposing argument. It really is something that no matter how well you present the opposing side, I just can't agree with it.
So before I start writing my draft, I figured I would give this a try and write a pre-draft. It'll give me a chance to vent, really let out of my feelings without having to worry if what I'm saying makes up a good column, or whether it's supported by any facts, etc. This is my blog, and while I love hearing feedback on what my friends/random readers read here, in the end I really don't care. This is for me. These are my thoughts. I say what's on my mind and that's all I need to justify it.
So here goes my ranting and raving. I'm hoping that through this blog I can sort out what I'm really thinking and feeling so I can write up the column that's going to get me an A.
What I'm writing about this week is AshleyMadison.com. What is it? It's a website for married couples to cheat on each other. That's right. A website completely devoted for married couples, or I guess couples in a relationship, to cheat. As if we need more problems in this world.
I'm not sure who to blame here. Most of me wants to blame the founder, Neil something, because while he claims he is a happily married father of two, here he is encouraging people to cheat. How hypocritical can you get? But at the same time, maybe he's just being smart. His website has exploded, with more than 7 million members. 7 million people using his website to cheat. As angry as I want to be at the creator, look at all the people who have jumped on his immoral bandwagon. If I want to blame on anyone, I'm battling more than I can handle.
Still it goes back to the creator. I think what bothers me most is that this guy is married and he is encouraging others to cheat. Actually, what really bothers me is his wife. Maybe it's because she's a woman, so naturally I relate to her more, but I don't understand how she can be married to a guy who believes that it's okay, in fact as he has often stated healthy to cheat in a marriage. When you get married, aren't you making a vow to stay with your partner for better or for worse? I'm sorry, but I don't remember ever attending a wedding where they exchanged terms of when it's okay to cheat. If you wanted to cheat, I feel like you shouldn't get married in the first place.
But back to the wife. Doesn't it bother her that the guy she is married to is encouraging 7 million people to go against what they promised to each other? Doesn't a giant red flag just pop up in her mind? Isn't she scared that one day she'll do something wrong, or something will go wrong, and as a "solution" to avoid divorce he'll go cheat? How can you trust someone who is encouraging everyone else to be untrustworthy?
I think that's the big issue I can't get over. It'd be one thing if he was a bachelor, or had a history of cheating. But according to Neil, he's blameless. In a committed relationship he doesn't plan on straying from. As I've heard him say in an interview, he provides the product but he doesn't use it.
Part of me wants to praise the wife for being so trustworthy. Another part of me wants to believe she's stupid and naive.
But this isn't about the wife. This isn't even about Neil. It's about this damn website that has shown how many people out there are willing to cheat. Is there any hope for a monogamous relationship when you hear those numbers?
Part of the argument is that cheating helps. For some couples, it saves the marriage. I'd like to believe that there are better, more honest ways of improving a marriage. I just think that infidelity happened to be there and they had no where to go but up. And that doesn't make cheating any better.
Sigh.
Sad truth is, it's not going to change. The dude's right. With or without his website, people are going to cheat. But at the same time, for every person who is willing to use this website I'd venture to say there is two or three who are against it. Why else would networks refuse to air his commercials? Because the majority of the people still believe it's not right.
There are a lot of people who will cheat. But there is also a lot of people who believe it's wrong. And it's the latter that gives me hope.
So I have a column due tomorrow for this class and what I've found works is to do my research, write up a draft the night before it's due, then look over it and make adjustments for it in the morning. So far my grades have been consistent. High Bs, just below the A mark. Which is great, but is also frustrating. This next column I turn in I would love to receive an A on.
However, this week's column is going to be difficult for me to write, because it is an issue that really bothers me, in this instinctive way that I can't describe. I hope no one takes offense to this, but I feel uber-conservative with this issue: close-minded and in denial of any facts that support the opposing argument. It really is something that no matter how well you present the opposing side, I just can't agree with it.
So before I start writing my draft, I figured I would give this a try and write a pre-draft. It'll give me a chance to vent, really let out of my feelings without having to worry if what I'm saying makes up a good column, or whether it's supported by any facts, etc. This is my blog, and while I love hearing feedback on what my friends/random readers read here, in the end I really don't care. This is for me. These are my thoughts. I say what's on my mind and that's all I need to justify it.
So here goes my ranting and raving. I'm hoping that through this blog I can sort out what I'm really thinking and feeling so I can write up the column that's going to get me an A.
What I'm writing about this week is AshleyMadison.com. What is it? It's a website for married couples to cheat on each other. That's right. A website completely devoted for married couples, or I guess couples in a relationship, to cheat. As if we need more problems in this world.
I'm not sure who to blame here. Most of me wants to blame the founder, Neil something, because while he claims he is a happily married father of two, here he is encouraging people to cheat. How hypocritical can you get? But at the same time, maybe he's just being smart. His website has exploded, with more than 7 million members. 7 million people using his website to cheat. As angry as I want to be at the creator, look at all the people who have jumped on his immoral bandwagon. If I want to blame on anyone, I'm battling more than I can handle.
Still it goes back to the creator. I think what bothers me most is that this guy is married and he is encouraging others to cheat. Actually, what really bothers me is his wife. Maybe it's because she's a woman, so naturally I relate to her more, but I don't understand how she can be married to a guy who believes that it's okay, in fact as he has often stated healthy to cheat in a marriage. When you get married, aren't you making a vow to stay with your partner for better or for worse? I'm sorry, but I don't remember ever attending a wedding where they exchanged terms of when it's okay to cheat. If you wanted to cheat, I feel like you shouldn't get married in the first place.
But back to the wife. Doesn't it bother her that the guy she is married to is encouraging 7 million people to go against what they promised to each other? Doesn't a giant red flag just pop up in her mind? Isn't she scared that one day she'll do something wrong, or something will go wrong, and as a "solution" to avoid divorce he'll go cheat? How can you trust someone who is encouraging everyone else to be untrustworthy?
I think that's the big issue I can't get over. It'd be one thing if he was a bachelor, or had a history of cheating. But according to Neil, he's blameless. In a committed relationship he doesn't plan on straying from. As I've heard him say in an interview, he provides the product but he doesn't use it.
Part of me wants to praise the wife for being so trustworthy. Another part of me wants to believe she's stupid and naive.
But this isn't about the wife. This isn't even about Neil. It's about this damn website that has shown how many people out there are willing to cheat. Is there any hope for a monogamous relationship when you hear those numbers?
Part of the argument is that cheating helps. For some couples, it saves the marriage. I'd like to believe that there are better, more honest ways of improving a marriage. I just think that infidelity happened to be there and they had no where to go but up. And that doesn't make cheating any better.
Sigh.
Sad truth is, it's not going to change. The dude's right. With or without his website, people are going to cheat. But at the same time, for every person who is willing to use this website I'd venture to say there is two or three who are against it. Why else would networks refuse to air his commercials? Because the majority of the people still believe it's not right.
There are a lot of people who will cheat. But there is also a lot of people who believe it's wrong. And it's the latter that gives me hope.
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