Yearbook

I've been packing up my things to move to... wherever it is Scott and I are going to live in a little over a month... and in the midst of trying to figure out how to make all my yearbooks fit in a box, I ended out flipping one of them open. It was my senior year book. When I read the comments I nearly cried. I miss the people.

Those crazy friends who wrote such great comments in the yearbook before we went our separate ways. Some I haven't seen hide nor hair of since. Some I've grown closer to despite the distance. (Oh, and I may be calling a few of you in the next week or so to take you up on long passed offers of coffee and movies. It would be nice to see you again. Y'all were the best thing about high school.)

Now don't get me wrong, you couldn't pay me enough to want to be a high schooler again. The drama with people, the way nobody took you seriously, the junk... no thank you.

I almost wish I could start out everyday in the drama room though: With Chris flirting with whoever. Becca telling me that I had once more lost my right to dance due the fact that I am too white. Celeste eating the outer glazed part of the donut then trying to convince Justine to take the rest because she doesn't like bread. Guys suddenly deciding they want to try on dresses. Beating Chris and Becca at cards with V. Chilling with the band guys. V's jokes. Yugoslavia, Checkoslovakia...

I guess that part of me is the same part that honestly considered staying at college just so I could go to BCAR once a week, but alas, all the good people were leaving anyway: Rick was gone, so no more of that special brand of humor. Ryan was barely coming, so no one was telling like it is. Robby was gone, so no plan B to watch Supernatural or something equally cool if the pick was lame. Antonio was gone, so no one to make quiet, dark jokes in the back of the room with. Kaitlin seemed emotionally absent from the proceedings with Rita and Antonio gone...

I miss them though.

I want to reach out and be the one to keep in touch despite the rejection inherent to such efforts. I still try though. Sorry to those of you I've canceled on at any point. I know it sucks. Sorry. Some of these people will ultimately become nothing more then fond memories, but a few, at least I hope, will step forward and refuse to be relegated to the past.

I miss you already.

8 a.m. in room 112...

7 p.m. Wed. in the Green basement...

Maybe I'll find a new place to meet friends for some great new memories. Until then, stay in touch.

Meditation

I love driving at night. It seems good for the soul somehow, to move effortlessly through the quiet roads under a gentle light. It helps me think too.

I had a question earlier, but the person I needed to ask didn't answer so for now I'm releasing it.

Breath in.... peace, calm, confidence.

Breath out... doubt, worry, panic.

Breath in... I'm going to make it.

Breath out...

Lately my life seems to have become a series of meditations. I go into an almost meditative state of focus while at work that allows me to get things done reasonably quickly, forget other concerns that would only distract me and makes time seem to pass more quickly. I am forever meditative in my writing. I repeat my own mantra as I fall asleep.

Driving is the best though. When I am in the car alone is the only time when I feel totally free to let go and focus on the space around me and within me. It is my space. I am free to be me in it.

When I am alone in the car, the object(s) of my meditation tends to affect my driving. If I'm focused on good things, I tend to drive like a grandma. If I'm trying to figure out a problem, I drive like a stunt man evading police custody. I try not to meditate on problems while driving too often.

Meditation comes easy for me though. It is like the white hot flash of pain when your mind goes entirely blank, without the pain. Simple and automatic... easy.

I let my foot off the accelerator. Hello again, Exit 18. Time to plot out what I've found in this short meditation on paper. Perhaps then the answer will make itself clear...

...if indeed there is an answer.

A Post Pertaining to Scott, me and the Many Questions that are Currently Floating Through my Head

2 months until I bravely march where no Blackwell girl has marched before (at least not in the last half century): Down the aisle.

I'm a bit nervous at this point. Family pressure from all angles is getting to me. That is of course on top of the pressure I put on myself to be the most super awesome person I know. (Yes, this is how my brain describes it, and with super awesome people like y'all as friends its a lot to live up to.)

I want to turn to everyone and no one all at the same time to just sort out how I feel about the whole thing. I want to get married. Yes, I do love him. I think we can make it (financially, romantically, career-wise, etc). I want to do this.

The real kicker of the questions is this though: Do I think we're ready? Honestly, no. If by ready, you mean prepared for all of life's unexpected craziness, then I don't think it is possible to be. A Batman Beyond quote comes to mind on this, "... expect the unexpected."

I'm going into it about like I go into most major decisions though. I've gotten to know the people involved (me and him). I've done research to see what to keep an eye out for and to really focus on and to see what made other people succeed or fail. I've observed others as much as possible. But am I ready? Am I prepared? Can anyone ever be?

*sigh* I guess I'll just hope for the best and go for it. I know what I want out of life and as Shel Silverstein once made clear so pointedly, the "What ifs" are just distractions that keep us up at night.

I know what I want out of my life, and marrying the man I love is one of those things that I want. There are still a million questions in my mind, but the really important ones already have clear answers. Isn't that what really matters?

I Got You Babe by Sonny and Cher

They say we're young and we don't know

We won't find out until we grow

Well I don't know if all that's true

'Cause you got me, and baby I got you

Babe

I got you babe

I got you babe

They say our love won't pay the rent

Before it's earned, our money's all been spent

I guess that's so, we don't have a pot

But at least I'm sure of all the things we got

Babe

I got you babe

I got you babe

I got flowers in the spring

I got you to wear my ring

And when I'm sad, you're a clown

And if I get scared, you're always around

Don't let them say your hair's too long

'Cause I don't care, with you I can't go wrong

Then put your little hand in mine

There ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb

Babe

I got you babe

I got you babe

I got you to hold my hand

I got you to understand

I got you to walk with me

I got you to talk with me

I got you to kiss goodnight

I got you to hold me tight

I got you, I won't let go

I got you to love me so

I got you babe...

The Girl who Played with Fire

I just finished reading The Girl who Played with Fire, the second book in the Millennium trilogy by Stieg Larsson, and have been considering the characters. As a teacher once told me, a good book will make you think, a great book can change your life. In my opinion, this series could easily go into the latter category. It definitely made me think, yet it seems to call for something more from the reader.

The story centers around genius hacker, Lisbeth Salander, and crusading journalist, Mikael Blomkvist who find themselves facing off against criminals in their own unique ways. The main focus of the novel is the sex trade in Sweden, and a large part of the novel deals with why the sex trade is still able to flourish despite strict government regulations. Ultimately, it is a detective story though. Blomkvist tries to find the people who killed his friends and colleagues, while Salander tries to find and get back at the people who are responsible for putting her head on the chopping block. The novel is a bit dark at times, but that is really to be expected considering the content.

The series seems like a cross between Sherlock Holmes, All the President's Men and Sex in the City, if you can imagine that. The Girl who Played with Fire moved a little slower at some points then The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but somehow in less then a week I found myself on the other end of the book and wanting more. Unfortunately, the final book in the series, The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, won't be out until May 25. The really sad part is the fact that this will be the last we get to read from Larsson, due to his untimely death a month before the first book went on sale in Sweden. I guess, I'll just have to keep my fingers crossed that the rumored 4th book will be published at some point, but even if it isn't, Larsson's work was more then enough to reignite my love of mysteries.

I give The Girl who Played with Fire 4.5 stars out of 5.

Makes me want to go dig up some more mysteries to read...

... or solve a mystery or two of my own.

About me...

It's almost 2 am, and I know I should sleep, but I've been so on edge lately that it is giving me weird dreams. It's hard to say precisely what it is that is bothering me. It is a little of everything I suppose... work, family, the living, the nearness of some to death, the inevitable drift of friends, school (or lack there of), wedding stuff, direction....

I suppose what bothers me the most is my inability to relate to people lately. Everything just seems so serious for everyone right now, but only the usual actions will be taken so they just want to talk about it. *sigh* I almost wish I could still do that. I lost the ability to freak out about things without doing something almost 7 years ago. Now I just regress into being totally mellow, even if the situation is terrible, if I even start to believe that I can't do anything about it. (I think it is a security measure that my mind developed out of necessity.) But anywho, enough of that...

So, basically my feeling of not being able to relate to people has prompted me to want to tell more about myself, since I don't really talk about my personal stuff much unless I'm asking for advice. So here are a few facts that few, if any of you know about me. Enjoy! :)

• I love hugs, but always worry that somebody is about to leave when I get one, on some level anyway.
• My first cd ever was Jimmy Buffett's Banana Wind. My mom ended out kidnapping it, but I still reclaim it whenever I need a pick-me-up. Track 3 is my favorite.
• I hate answering machines!!! Especially the preset ones.
• I don't think school is as important as learning... I just wish there was a way to get credit for what I do that is anti-curriculum. (Is the college from Accepted still taking students?)
• I have been to 35+ countries.
• For years my number one rule of dating was don't say yes to guys who give off bad vibes. Number 2? If he can't ask me in person, then the answer is no.
• I sometimes worry that I am actually totally loopy, and everyone is just being nice to me because they feel bad for me. It would explain a lot.
• My dyslexic tendencies make my reading comprehension higher because I have to really focus on what I'm reading otherwise it won't make any sense. Because of this I will probably never be able to speed read.
• I made a 89 in every math class I took from 7-12 grade. (It would have been a 86 in one of those, but I ended out having to take the final because I missed too many days.)
• If we have been friends for anywhere over 2 years, I have probably wanted to beat you down anime style at some point. At this point, you probably saw me rub my forehead and ask a follow-up question to whatever you just said.
• I do not yell when I get mad. My voice gets level, and I ask you all the questions that I know you don't want to consider while staring you down because I'm not going to let you get away with a lie much less a half-truth this time, and everybody has their tells.
• I hate yelling. If you yell, I won't listen.
• I am secretly a fat kid. I just have a really good metabolism.
• I keep a running tally of which acne products people recommend that I use. The tally so far this year runs: Proactiv 6, Lemon Juice 3, Tooth paste 2, Noxema 1, Drugs from the Derm. 3. I'm presently using Neutrogena and Aveda. I have tried all the suggestions at some point or another. None worked.
• I don't have a favorite song, but Hands by Jewel is definitely in my top 5.
• And finally last, but not least: I like to drink hot coffee because it makes me think of all the times I've sat with friends and family drinking coffee and just chilling. It's really more of a comfort thing then a desire for energy. (Actually, it kinda mellows me out anyway so...)

So, yeah... lots of stuff about me. Probably not much of it too interesting, but I thought I'd share. So, anything you want to share?

Hungry for Skills

"It's not great, but I'm hungry," my co-worker mused over her food amid conversation over jobs. Maybe that is why we are here. We are hungry for something.

I just realized today that I have been working for Wal*Mart for almost 6 months. Scary thought. This was, in my mind, supposed to be a job just to keep me busy until I found something better. Still nobody is hiring, not really.

I have heard about some maybes, but somehow I just can't make myself believe that, in this time where people with 20 years experience and a PHD are out of work, I have any chance of getting a better job against the competition.

What do I have in my favor? I have some writing skills, I suppose, and an up-front writing style to go with those skills. I am easily adaptable and a quick learner, but then again most everyone claims the same. (I really am though.) I have a life and health insurance sales license. I know enough to edit html but not to write it (unless super simple web pages count). I have some experience with travel and at this point have been to all but one continent. I can cook. I've read a lot of books on business and other subjects. I am an okay artist, though I'm so easily distracted from my own art that I'll probably never be great. I know more about meditation and muscle relaxation then anyone I've met without some sort of certificate on the subject.

And I am smart. As a school councilor once told me after a conversation and a glance at my SAT score, I can do anything. I just don't have a piece of paper to prove it, so I guess I'll develop some more skills until I can find a job where I fit.

Wheel of skills, turn, turn, turn. Tell me the skill that I should learn.

Today's skill is: Business Spanish. Give me a day or two and it'll be second nature. I already know the basics, I'm just a little out of practice.

Now, for your entertainment, here are the main phrases I need for my present job:

Hola. ¿Como esta? Bien, gracias.

¿Encontró usted todo bien hoy? Si.

¿Querría usted solicitar una tarjeta de crédito de Wal-Mart? No.

Tenga un día bueno.

For my next job? Who knows. I guess it couldn't hurt to be prepared. Tune in next time for more fun "skills."

A Search for a Better Me

Today I think I'll begin to search to find a better me...

A me who is not afraid

A me who does what she must do

Not because of what they've said

But because my heart tells me to.

A me who writes with passion

A me who writes daily

Who makes meet the black and the white

And does so gayly.

A me who cooks often

A me who cooks not to pass time

But crafts dishes with panache

Because I expect the sublime.

A me who is not discouraged

A me who believes the impossible dream

Who doesn't listen to the naysayers

Because this little girl is more the she seems.

Happy New Year to all! If 2010 really was the last year what would you do? Now do it!

Spinning

I feel like I'm falling apart right now. I watch the moon through the trees and consider the manga that I have up in another tab and try to forget about how my heart hurts in this moment.

I need a good argument, a good conversation, a good hug and something to drink that will wake up the taste buds on the back of my tongue. I need to be able to release all my energy with my own effort.

Maybe I should start running again. Just need a low traffic area where I will be visible (just in case) and won't get distracted by random stuff going on in the background. Even thinking about it makes my knee tighten a little of its own accord though, so maybe not.

I feel the scar there, and think of the less defined one on the other knee. Life leaves scars on people who go through it. One or two of my invisible scars have been tightening lately too.

My invisible scars aren't hard to find. You will know them by my reaction that is not unlike how I react to when people touch my tangible scars. I pull away and go from my usually relatively mellow state to ready to fight if that area is further irritated. I fight for my friends, I fight for my family and I fight for my scars, that others may be saved from enduring them.

I'm backed into a corner now though, and the only thing anyone seems to want to talk about is those scars and what to do about them. Sorry folks, rubbing Vitamin E on the tangible scars didn't make them disappear, and four years of college won't magically solve all my job frustrations. Thanks for the advise though, really.

I know its my fault though. I keep pointing out my own scars and leave them in the open for you to poke and prod at. Who can resist doing something about what is right in front of them?

So, make a decision, my inner voice orders. What am I going to do? Right here, right now. What is it that I am working towards because if you aren't working towards it you are just wasting time and ultimately working against the very things you claim to desire.

I want to cook. I want to write. I want to see the world.

1 of 3. Unacceptable, and that only part time at that.

So, I must cook or travel. Not later. Not a year from now. Not 6 months from now. Now. This moment is when my fate is decided (if you can call anything that one has so much input in fate). My mind spins like a sword on its handle.

I'm sorry my friends, for when the sword lands I will have to meet my own expectations of myself. Everything else is just excess.

Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman (part 5)

From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
Listening to others, considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that
would hold me.

I inhale great draughts of space,
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

I am larger, better than I thought,
I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me,
can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me
I would do the same to you,
I will recruit for myself and you as I go,
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,
I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,
Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,
Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.

Don't Give Up

I presently have a very un-glamorous job, but, despite the ideas that Wal-Mart's promotional material instills, this is not a career, at least not to me. The scary part is that for many people there it is a career. Don't get me wrong. Wal-Mart is probably one of the best jobs I've had thus far pay and benefits wise (not to mention relatively reliable breaks), but if I had to deal with people yelling at me over $2 on a jacket for more then a year or two I'd snap. (And two years would be really pushing it.)

The people who work at Wal-Mart aren't the high school drop outs that my parents seem to assume they'd be either. The girl who trained me is finishing off a two year business degree this December. One of the night cashiers has a master's degree and used to teach 4th grade at the elementary school I went to. One of the cart pushers had scholarship offers from elite colleges all over the U.S. but decided to go to LG College because he wanted to stay close to home. The list continues, but the fact that these people have potential isn't my point. (Give me a min. I'm getting there.)

This economy yields some interesting insight into people and what they are willing to do and give up doing in order to get by. It is equally interesting to watch what people aren't willing to give up. People give up name brands, new clothes, more expensive foods and other such extravagancies. People don't seem to want to get rid of other things that have an equal if not greater impact on what they spend though, like gourmet pet food and impulse purchases at the register.

Look a little deeper though. What else are we sacrificing to just get by? Looking at the people who have been cashiers or door greeters at Wal-Mart for 10-15 years, I can't help but wondering how many of us are sacrificing our dreams for that tiny bit of financial stability. Overhearing some of the conversations that go on in the check out line, I sometimes get the urge to reach out to the speaker, shake them and say, "Do what you can! Go for your dreams! Don't go on always saying maybe tomorrow! Tomorrow never comes!" I don't say anything though, and they go on talking about what they are giving up. By lent, there will be nothing left to give up except impulse purchases, if things keep going the way they are going now.

Really I want to cry for them. For the dreams they are leaving behind... It is so sad, but few are brave enough to chase their dreams. Am I brave or stupid to attempt to chase mine? Or is it, as such things often prove to be a combination of bravery and stupidity?

Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman (part 11)

Listen! I will be honest with you,
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes,
These are the days that must happen to you:
You shall not heap up what is call'd riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
You but arrive at the city to which you were destin'd, you hardly
settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call'd by an irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you,
What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach'd hands toward you.

For everything else...

Ok so, I admit that I have been looking for "myself." Even as I type it I want to make fun of it, but there it is, the simple fact that I have been attempting to do for the last few months, what so many college age people do. The reason for the constant (and often deserved) satire on this topic is frighteningly clear to me at this close range. After all, what is there to look for? I've been here the whole time.

Really, what it seems to come down to is not so much finding oneself as re-finding oneself. I already know who I am (a pretty cool person if I do say so myself), what I love to do (write) and what I'm passionate about (traveling to really cool places and doing really cool stuff with really cool people).

The problem comes when you sit down and look at the career options and have to try to match what you are with which of the pre-designated acceptable career choices you want to go for. Somehow, travel writer never gets taken seriously as a proposed career path, so my real problem is what can I do that will not hinder what I am passionate about, which is really a bummer of a process when you get right down to it. I mean, who wants to spend the majority of their life doing a job that on the best days simply allows you not to be miserable?

As you've probably already gathered from previous posts, my goal is to be exceptional, so what would an exceptional person do in my place? They'd find a way to do what they love and get paid enough not to worry about overdraft fees, bills or other such annoyances. How can I make my love of travel and addiction to writing pay? Travel agents aren't doing so hot right now, so I'll put that near the bottom of the options list... below tour guide (because while fun in theory, there are only so many times I could answer the same stupid questions about any given place before my patience ran out).

So, I scan my list and check behind door number 3, only to find what I've always thought was awesome anyway, my best case scenario, if you will. Promise you won't laugh?

I want to own a bed & breakfast and close shop to travel during the low season. Sounds fun, right? It would keep me constantly occupied with the things I love, while minimizing the things that get on my last nerve. There are, of course, some big positives and negatives for me on this idea though.

Positives:

• I would be in the travel industry. Woot!
• I could travel (and write) for roughly 1-3 months out of a year.
• I would have a good crowd to help eat-up/give feedback on all my baking experiments.
• I'd need to live near somewhere super cool (location, location, location)
• My job would be to help people enjoy their vacation and find super cool stuff to see/do.

Negatives:

• Breakfast implies morning. I am not a morning person.
• High start up costs.
• Obnoxious guests.
• The cool place that I'd need to be located near would probably have traffic. (grrr...)

When I list it out, I can't help thinking of that credit card commercial. You know. "Backpack: $35, Plane tickets: $213, Dinner: $16, Seeing the World: Priceless."

Is it a realistic idea? Honestly, I have no idea. Does it sound exciting, fun and worth the time and effort? I think so. It definitely heads my career ideas list. First I have to actually own a building though. Baby steps...

What I do know is this idea is about the closest I've gotten to a career idea that I would really love, and like the commercial says, "There are some things money can't buy..."

Changes

There is so much that I want to say, but there is no good place to start. Just like there is so much that I want to do, but I can't seem to find a path that will take me to all the places I want to go and the things I want/need to do.

I've been thinking about relationships with people a lot more then usual lately. Last week I saw my ex-boyfriend, and he didn't recognize me. At first I was a little insulted, but the more I think about it, the more I realize why. I am not the same person I was 2 years ago. I'm not the same person I was a month ago or 10 years ago. For better or for worse I am fundamentally different from what and who I have been. I like to think I've grown.

A year ago, I thought the torture of college was the only way to get a decent job/career. Now I'm finding my own path, and while I won't even begin to pretend that a job at Wally World is the end all be all, it gives me the chance to find new things and in the meantime I am on or above par compared with many friends and even the parents of many of my friends.

2 years ago, I thought that it was okay to put what my family wants before what I want. Now I know that there advice is just that: advice. What I do is my decision because only I can live my life.

3 years ago, I thought that if I didn't have somebody to stand beside me, I would fall. Now I have stood on my own often enough to know that when you stand alone a strength that you did not know you had comes to support you against the turbulence that you must face. Having somebody to stand with me is nice, but if nobody can/will stand with me then I will still be able to survive, and quite possibly thrive.

5 years ago, I truly believed that if you called someone on the phone and hung out with them then you were friends. Now I know that friends are the people who are willing to support you when you aren't even sure if you're worth supporting. (Thanks to Adam K, Richard D and Scott H for being there when I needed it the most.)

10 years ago, I thought that all I needed to do was go to school and be a "good girl" in order to become a NASA scientist, a detective (like Nancy Drew and Scooby Doo) or a doctor.

15 years ago, I thought that life was as simple as it seemed on the weekends I spent at my grandparents' house.

I have changed, for better or worse. It is times like this when the lyric "Wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then" comes to mind, especially on some of the things that I learned weren't true too soon. Other things I seem to have discovered too late. This is who I am now though, for this brief moment in time. Only today though. Tomorrow is a new day where I will learn more (both good and bad) and grow even further.

I get up every morning determined to both change the world and have one hell of a good time. Sometimes this makes planning my day difficult. - E. B. White (1899 - 1985)

The Path I'm Going Down

Amid my parents' questions of my maturity and readiness to deal with life, I long simply to sprint off in a direction that has been becoming increasingly clear to me through the voices of writers both near and long since gone. It has been almost half a year since my heart to heart with God in the Ford fountain, but the cryptic words of that night keep coming back to me: "Wait and listen and the road will make itself known."

Yeah, you try explaining that to your parents and see what they say. Some things are simply beyond explanation. You have to see it, to hear it, to understand.

Over this brief break from academia, one idea has keep coming back to m

e again and again. The idea of true education. The fact that what we know is only loosely tied to such publicly acceptable institutions as colleges. How little knowledge of truly great importance is taught between those oft hallowed halls frightens me. Of course I know very little and my knowledge is admittedly quite meager, but this fact does not frighten me. What frightens me is those who claim to have vast knowledge of the world and all that is in it (which is an ostentatious claim at any age).

What has happened to travel as education? Why is someone who wanders through Roman ruins for several months, talking to tour guides and seeing the places where great events occurred, put on lower footing then someone who studies the contributions of the Romans in a college? Why is it more important to know about different economy academically then to talk to people in countries with different economies in person? Why is the piece of paper all that matters?

What is it that we learn in college that makes us better then someone with a little bit of real experiences (work or otherwise) under our belts?

But again, I digress into the college thing...

I guess, ultimately, I just want the chance to experience the world more fully and give that experience to others as well. Not everyone can pay for a full semester's education just to receive 3-12 hrs of credits while studying abroad (which are the main options I've observed in colleges). I want to share the world with my friends by giving them an intimate knowledge of it in the only way that such knowledge can be gained: by seeing it and experiencing it in its full beauty and ugliness, its diversities and similarities.

I want to give this generation a chance to possess the world. (Buddhist arguments about reality and possessing anything aside.) As I once read, you possess only what you know. We must know the world, that we may truly come to be, as a generation, the ones who take ownership over this great place where we live and all the influences that have made us who we are. In short, I want our generation to take ownership of ourselves, fully and completely.

Can we afford to accept anything less from life?

Song of the Open Road by Walt Whitman (part 15)

Allons! the road is before us!

It is safe--I have tried it--my own feet have tried it well--be not detain'd!

Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen'd!

Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn'd!

Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!

Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.

Camerado, I give you my hand!

I give you my love more precious than money,

I give you myself before preaching or law;

Will you give me yourself. will you come travel with me?

Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

Condensed Dreams

Today has been one of those days where for no particular reason I just felt off. Off isn't always a bad thing, but it can so easily go bad that many consider it synonymous with having a bad day. Today wasn't quite bad though.

Today felt like stepping outside of me and seeing all that I am and am trying to be without shields or pretenses. It's a scary feeling.

I decided to go down to Columbus to keep my mind off of it. Still, while I was trying on clothes in a store I saw a thin, almost pretty girl looking back at me in the mirror. Can she do all that I aspire to do? Whatever it is that I aspire to do? There is so much for me to do, and so little me. I don't know where to start.

I feel like I'm in a cloud, trying to find a way to condense my dreams.

Thoughts of an Insomniac

It was 2:30 when I realized that sleep wasn't going to happen, not for a while anyway. Too much is going on in my head, so I resort to facebook, where a friend's post actually reminded me that I've been neglecting the blog. So here I am, it's going on 3 am, I'm wondering how to make some coherent since of all these thoughts that keep flashing through my head and downloading Euro-pop.

My granddad is in the hospital now for a blood clot that somehow came up on the x-rays despite the fact that he is on blood thinners. When I see him I still think of sitting on the arm of his giant lazy boy when I was little and staying up way past my bed time to see if the Braves would win the game. Most of the time I didn't even stay awake until the end of the game, but I guess who won didn't matter as much as actually watching the game anyway.

He's worried about me and the fact that I'm not in college and that my lack of diploma will keep me from opportunities. I want to allay his concerns, but with my actual writing projects going so slowly, and my greatest job triumph over the past few months being that I am quote "Manager material," I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm not worried about my future. I know that whatever I do will work out, one way or another, and that if I work hard I'll do alright. (I expect way more of myself then alright, but we won't go into that right now.)

I don't like people worrying about me though. It feels weird somehow. And honestly I don't worry too much about most people I know. I like to talk to them, and I try to be helpful/supportive, but whether they succeed or fail is up to them and their efforts. We are only supporting characters in each other's lives, but we are each the star of our own world.

We each take the stage and play the part that we choose for ourselves. I refuse to let my story be anything but what I shape it to be. My life, my story, is and will continue to be a story of victory over my own life. Some craziness gets thrown in on me every now in then, but I am determined to shape it, so that it will not shape me.

Funny even as I say that, I can't help but picture a cartoon version of me (basically shorter with brighter colors) trying to push a giant globe. I guess that's how I feel some days. I'm too small to move the world on my own, but I'm too hard headed not to try. I like to think that maybe God will help, but my personal theory on God is that he makes things happen primarily when hope and strength are at their breaking points, like a scientist only adjusting a pendulum when it is hit so hard that it will soon fall off of what holds it aloft. Maybe that's a sacrilegious idea, but it seems to fit.

From out of nowhere, I recall a quote that seems to fit my mood: "Today is the first day of the rest of our lives." That it is. Will I be make it in the big bad world? Probably. Will I be hugely successful and do great things? Maybe. Will I meet my own ridiculously high expectations of myself? Ha ha. I'm not even entirely sure that's possible, but you can bet that I'm going to try. I will drive myself to achieve feats that I know need to be achieved because I know that some feats need to be achieved.

A guy once asked me what my story was, (and I don't know if you are reading this now, but) here is the real answer:

I saw that some things needed to be done in the world, so I decided that I would do them. Even though I'm only a small person, I have to try.

In the meantime, I really should try to sleep. Apparently it is supposed to be good for you. Who knew?

***(Note to my grammatically inclined friends: Yes, I know that I probably have a ton and a half of run on sentences in this post, but at 4 am I couldn't care less.)***

Home

I had Tuesday off from work and the day couldn't have been more needed. There comes a point when you start to not just know that you have limits, but you see them and feel them. They stretch when you push against them like a thin rubber layer surrounding you. Over the last week or two I've been driving full force into them.

On Tuesday, I started to wonder if they would break. For all my efforts to reach out and make myself better I suddenly found myself feeling totally exposed. All of me seemed, in my eyes, to be on display for the world to see. Every decision, every fault, every part of my life that I haven't quite figured out what to do with yet.

In need of somewhere safe to go I turned to what has oddly become my comfort zone: travel. I went to Atlanta and explored the malls, but with the exception of a really awesome chair store there was nothing really worth note. Even the software in the apple store seemed oddly unappealing. It was late in the day when I headed to Rome. The open highway was nice and getting to surprise Scott was even better. That night I discovered a comfort zone that I didn't realize I had left at Berry, my friends. I knew they were there, but to sit down and to actually just be able to enjoy people's company without imposing on their time or having "something that we need to talk about" turned out to be something that I need.

Now, I've never been home sick, and you couldn't pay me enough to want to go back to school, but when I sat down and played a round of BS with Kaitlin, Scott and the others in Krannert it felt like home. I was more at home in that moment then I've probably been the whole time at home.

I guess the old adage is true when it says that it is the people who make the home.

I am still going to go out and stretch my boundaries, and knowing me I will eventually stretch them too far, but now I know where I feel at home.

My meditation room is behind the steering wheel.

My bedroom is wherever I may wake-up in peace.

My dining room is on a beat-up couch in a student center.

My home is wherever I am where I have friends that accept me as is and allow me to accept them for all that they are, and all that they can be.

I once told a man that I wanted to live a life without regrets. I still do. In the meantime though, it is good to know where home is.

Parallels...

Yesterday I was so sick that for most of the day speaking seemed like a luxury that I could not afford.  In the sleepless hours of the night, when I could not sleep for coughing and needing to blow my nose yet again,  my mind began to race over a hundred ideas that lay buried just beneath the surface of my consciousness on a normal day.  I know what I have to do, but a voice deep within seems to cry with the knowledge that the messenger is almost always the one who gets shot.

Is it any surprise that a night like that gave birth to a day like today, where suddenly I had no greater desire then to accomplish my insignificant projects that I still hope will build into something greater?  

Even recovering as I was, it seemed so worth while to stand in the heat of the blazing sun to hear the thoughts of a few people who I deeply respect, not because of what anyone says about them, but because of what no one can say about them.  It is strange to find that I miss hearing the thoughts of people who aren't afraid -- like I wish I wasn't afraid -- of what people think of them.  In their jokes and suggestions they seemed to justify all that I am aiming for right now.  They are not great people by most measures of greatness, but their lack of pretensions is refreshing.  

One more thing occurred to me last night.  A parallel between a speech made in Atlas Shrugged and a debate on tv about how the proposed health care plan would affect small businesses:

"This is the age of the common man, they tell us -- a title which any man may claim to the extent of such distinction as he has managed not to achieve.  He will rise to a rank of nobility by means of the effort he has failed to make, he well be honored for such virtue as he has not displayed, and he will be paid for the goods which he did not produce.  But we -- we who who must atone for the guilt of ability -- we will work to support him as he orders, with his pleasure as our only reward.  Since we have more to contribute, we will have the least to say."

Even as I reconsider the passage, I recall hearing a man who owned a company of no more then a hundred employees saying that businesses like his were not considered because he didn't have a lobbyist working for him.  These small businesses don't have men in Washington.  Just the representatives who they hoped would remember that these small employers "pay 44% of total U.S. private payroll" and "have generated 64% of net new jobs over the past 15 years."  I remember also how my dad sat and ranted yesterday about how Obama is doing this as someone with no understanding of the great crime he is attempting to commit because the man has never held a non-government job with the exception of a single professor's position in which he used  to mangle the constitution in front of classrooms full of students.

Is this the future that we were told to look forward to?  I cannot believe that this mockery he is making of the democratic process in a capitalist country will be allowed to go on.  I cannot believe that this is, and should be, the end result of years of "higher learning."  Such a thought seems inconceivable,  yet here we are with our paper degrees proud of what we know, while the philosophers sit on street corners and engineering minds flip burgers because they could not put up with the most terrible lie of all.  The lie that only those who never participate in any truly hard work within the material realm can believe with full conviction.  The lie that school, as it is now, is made to educate.  

Those columns that were once made of marble are plaster now, my friends.  The ivory halls are a facade, and unless you missed it, the gate of opportunity closed before we even arrived.  All these institutions seem capable of doing now is indoctrinating young people with flawed ideals and handing out those pieces of paper that undeniably prove that they can put up with whatever B.S. is thrown at them for at least 4 years.

Sorry for the tangent to education again though.  I guess it still irks me that I've learned more about business, health, finance, philosophy and psychology in my stolen moments away from "education" then I ever did in class.  (And to head of any comments on this last sentence, I read books like a fish drinks water when I'm not in school.)  I dunno...  I guess it works for some people... somehow...  We'll blame my A.D.D. that I don't understand how, at least for now.

What am I doing?

So, for all my talk about how I'm not at Berry this semester, I ended out deciding to make a visit on the first day of classes.  It was nice to see everybody again, even if half the people I saw thought I was still at Berry.  Ha ha.

In a way, I felt almost guilty knowing that I was there actually having fun while everybody else hurried to go to class, bought the overpriced books and came to the startling realization that their "fun class" had a 12 page syllabus.  I've been there, got the t-shirt, won't be going back.  

The unanimous questions among friends seem to be: Where have I been going this summer? And where am I going in the future?  

Big questions, and what can I say?  This summer I updated my blog about half as much as I did during the school year, but I still feel good about those posts that I did make.  I got a job with zero prestige, but I'll be making more this year then I was previously figuring on making with a degree.  (Money isn't the only consideration on the job though, presently the job is funding my artistic pursuits, and the funding is always low for such things.)  Besides that I've basically cooked a little and tried to catch-up with friends whenever possible.

So basically, I've been doing what I was trying to get away to do: I got away from the stresses of school for a while and sat down and asked myself some important questions.  What have I found?  Basically what I already knew more or less on some level anyway.  What I want to do with my life is make something beautiful that will change the world in a way that will help people to be better people.   Now, I just have to narrow that down from Milky Way sized to, oh I dunno, the size of Jupiter. 

I've been trying to figure out a direction, and while I still don't know where I'm going, I'm trying to do the next best thing and go with the decisions that feel right.  I have made some pretty good intuitive decisions in the past, and in the face of the one large generalization that I have about what I want to do with my life, intuition seems best.

So, what are my plans?  Short term, I'll continue to write, paint, cook, plan the wedding and get together with friends as often as possible.  Long term, I'll... do something that I can be proud of.  I just hope that I can meet my own high expectations of myself.  I am my own harshest critic and my own biggest fan.  As such, I refuse to do anything less then incredible with this short time that I have on this little blue, green planet.

"Be the change you wish to see in the world."  -Mahatma Gandhi

Why I'm not going back to Berry this semester

"You really need to think about going back to school soon," my uncle told me in his most serious voice today after lunch.  Funny, I don't think anyone realizes just how much they're asking when they suggest that I return to school.

Flash back to spring:  I'm packing up all my stuff in the dorm.  I run across a second doctor's prescription for anti-depressants.  It had never been filled and never would be.  I through it in the trash with a slight flash of a grin at what the school shrink would think if he knew what I did with all his prescriptions.

Things were going downhill fast at school.  I kept falling asleep in class as professors droned on about the same s*** that was taught in high school, and when I didn't fall asleep I just zoned out for the whole class time.  It wasn't even that I didn't care so much as I couldn't seem to find a reason to care about the constant review.

I wanted to do something, create something and see things, meet people, all that jazz.  I still do.  That is why, the night after I went swimming in the Ford fountains at 3 am, I decided that I was leaving college and wasn't coming back unless somebody gave me a damn good reason why college counts for then a piece of paper saying that you went to class, did the reading and managed not to sleep through the final.

3 months later I don't know what to do.  I have painted a few things, cooked a little, and even worked on my drawing skills, but nothing major has been accomplished.  I have simply satisfied the the minimum requirements for not getting kicked out of the house.  I am still looking for direction, but in the very least I know where I'm not going.  I am not going to endure another 2 years of mind numbing torture for a piece of paper.  

There is a better way, and I will find it.

That which you call your soul or spirit is your consciousness, and that which you call 'free will' is your mind's freedom to think or not, the only will you have, your only freedom, the choice that controls all the choices you make and determines your life and your character. 

-Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

Bzzzz...

Here are the results of my cake decorating class today.  

Not half bad for a first timer, huh?

On Reading

I am the slowest reader I know (outside of a few elementary school kids), yet again and again I've found that my slow reading speed allows me to pick up on details that my peers who read the same passages in as little as half the time often miss until they have re-read the passage two or three times.  Why is this?  Is the speed that I read at the key?

I've often wondered why professors do little but review the text in so many classes and why students seem to find the minor leaps in information, that could be easily obtained through a few moments' analysis, so surprising.  Perhaps this fault of analytical review lies not with students as much as it may be blamed on the way they were trained.

As students we have been told to complete our work quickly.  From the SAT to the Georgia High School Graduation Test to college testing, the speed at which a student is capable of reading and "analyzing" a block of text is made central to today's learning environment.  But how much analysis can be done when a student is allotted less then a minute to read a page if he wishes to have any time to work on the questions?

Richard Restak, M.D. attempted to explain how reading and analysis has changed over the years in a passage from his book Mozart's Brain and the Fighter Pilot where he describes the affect of the transition from reading aloud to silently as a societal norm:

While this transformation brought obvious advantages, it also resulted  in people's employing different speeds and rhythms for thinking, reading, and writing.  While this isn't always a bad thing[...] it can lead to stressful feelings and loss of focus.  At times, thoughts come faster than the thinker can put into words.  The manic patient's tortured complaint of a "racing mind" represents the extreme of this tendency.

Perhaps the reason why so few students comprehend what they have read in depth is because of this habit of reading passages faster then they can actually comprehend them.  Maybe the problem also branches from a simple misunderstanding of what it means to  truly read.  

According to dictionary.com, "read" is a verb that means "to look at carefully so as to understand the meaning of" or "to make out the significance of by scrutiny or observation."

What many of us find ourselves doing, and are all too often encouraged to do, is skim passages which is defined as "to read, study, consider, treat, etc., in a superficial or cursory manner."

So, the big question is this:  Are you reading or are you skimming?  Maybe we should all try reading a little more and skimming a little less.  Now I'm not saying that you can't skim over the directions on how to turn on your iPod, but maybe give the classics a real chance, read them.

Good luck and happy reading.