Instead of No shave November, I decided to participate in No worries November.
The premise?
Don't care about anything.
Okay. I mean, don't get worked up about small things. You know, life goes on, blah blah blah.
Basically I figured it would be healthy to have a stress free month before finals, which will, of course, be out of control stressful.
Anyway.
I was thinking about the month of November. Mainly I was thinking about Thanksgiving...which happens to be on my top favorite holidays. Aside from food, family, and Black Friday, I just love how much nicer people get this time of the year. Everyone is more giving, more family oriented, more grateful.
So I concluded:
In order to have No Worries November be a success...to keep myself stress free...I should focus on the things I'm thankful for. The things that bring a smile to my face. When I concentrate on those things, I in general just feel like life is better. And thus, I decided to make it a blogging project. (Since I've been slacking...) I'm going to try and post as often as possible one thing I'm thankful for.
And so, today, I'm thankful for music.
Not just any music, but soulful, passionate, expressive music.
The music that sends shivers down your spine. That leaves you with goosebumps.
The music that brings tears to your eyes.
The music that leaves you speechless because you're overwhelmed with emotion.
That music.
Because sometimes music isn't about showing off. I don't need you to flaunt how well you can trill your voice. I don't need you to play arpeggios to show how fast your fingers can move.
I need you to feel it. To show passion.
I didn't understand that when I was younger. Back when I took piano lessons, my teacher always told me to "put the icing on the cake." In other words, add dynamics, play with the tempos...be expressive. (By the way, shout out to Mrs. Grinstead--she taught me everything I know.) Because that's what makes or breaks a song. I would do what she said, because she said it, but I never really understood the difference it made. As I got older and more experience in the music department I started to really "get it."
There's no better than playing a song that moves someone to tears.
Because although that is a reflection of your performance, obviously you did something right, it's the idea that you made someone feel something. They felt something on a deeper level...they weren't analyzing the structure of the piece or how complex it was. They were experiencing the music.
And that's when it's good.
It's killing me right now that I don't have a piano in my home. I'm craving it so badly now. But, a girl from church asked me today to accompany for a girl singing Ave Maria. As a result, I listened to a billion versions of Ave Maria on youtube. So good. Just. So good. I have no clue what the words are. The lyrics could be describing poop and I wouldn't have a clue. But the passion of that song? So good. Then, earlier today during a Sunday nap sesh, a friend of mine played some music by the Moleni Brothers. Just some polynesian brothers singing acapella. And it was so good. The harmonies just blended so well together, and such simple songs were so enjoyable.
And it brought a smile to my face.
Because, today, and always, I'm thankful for music.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
The wheels on the bus...
I've never ridden on a public transit.
I take that back. I've ridden the light rail in Phoenix.
But I've never ridden a public bus. In Tucson.
I'd heard rumors about what a bus is like-- a homeless haven with an aroma of urine.
Needless to say, I was a bit nervous to board a bus, but I treated it like an adventure, and all my fears went away. I mean, how scary can it really be?
I boarded the bus with my map in hand. I struggled to keep my balance at the payment machine while the bus started moving. I fumbled for my change. The bus driver looked at me in annoyance.
“Do you need a transfer?” he said.
“Um, no, I don't think so … no,” I replied in an obvious state of confusion.
After spending too much time trying to find the place to insert coins, and feeling more embarrassed than anything, I made my way to sit down.
It was obvious that I was out of place. As if the payment fiasco wasn't enough, I was wearing a blue Marc Jacobs blazer and white jeans. I looked like a bright crayon in a sea of dull, dark colors. I tried to find an empty seat as quickly as possible, trying to avoid adding to the level of awkward.
Finally, I situated myself in a seat alone, and began to observe my surroundings.
There was a father and son across the aisle from me. The son was playing on his Nintendo D.S. while asking the timeless question, “Are we there yet?” The dad was trying to politely ignore a talkative old man wearing a hat that read “Dysfunctional veteran, leave me alone!” I felt a little sympathetic for that dad, but I felt more relieved that I wasn't in his situation. There's nothing worse than being stuck on a bus next to someone who will not shut up, I'm sure.
In front of me sat an elderly Mexican couple. They sat in silence. Their faces said they had seen a lot. They were tired and worn. But there was an obvious love between them. A for better or for worse type of love. Meanwhile, behind me sat a young Mexican couple. They were loud and obnoxious. They were too touchy for public standards. There was an obvious lust between them. A type of love that probably would end in a month.
After noticing the people around me, I finally noticed where the bus had taken me. We were in Downtown Tucson. I panicked. What if we went all the way to South Tucson and I had no way back? Without even thinking twice, I got off at the next stop.
While I walked around town, I realized that the scariest part of the bus was not knowing where I was going in town. The experience it self wasn't scary at all! I realized that I made my situation strange because I was intimidated. I let the stereotypes and the rumors freak me out, and as a result it made me nervous and awkward. It made an interesting parallel to meeting new people. In no way should I let stereotypes and rumors freak me out. I should always give a person a chance before making a judgment on them. Because if I take meeting people like riding the bus, I'll be nervous and awkward. And who knows? The stereotypes might not be true.
I mean, the bus didn't even smell like urine.
I take that back. I've ridden the light rail in Phoenix.
But I've never ridden a public bus. In Tucson.
I'd heard rumors about what a bus is like-- a homeless haven with an aroma of urine.
Needless to say, I was a bit nervous to board a bus, but I treated it like an adventure, and all my fears went away. I mean, how scary can it really be?
I boarded the bus with my map in hand. I struggled to keep my balance at the payment machine while the bus started moving. I fumbled for my change. The bus driver looked at me in annoyance.
“Do you need a transfer?” he said.
“Um, no, I don't think so … no,” I replied in an obvious state of confusion.
After spending too much time trying to find the place to insert coins, and feeling more embarrassed than anything, I made my way to sit down.
It was obvious that I was out of place. As if the payment fiasco wasn't enough, I was wearing a blue Marc Jacobs blazer and white jeans. I looked like a bright crayon in a sea of dull, dark colors. I tried to find an empty seat as quickly as possible, trying to avoid adding to the level of awkward.
Finally, I situated myself in a seat alone, and began to observe my surroundings.
There was a father and son across the aisle from me. The son was playing on his Nintendo D.S. while asking the timeless question, “Are we there yet?” The dad was trying to politely ignore a talkative old man wearing a hat that read “Dysfunctional veteran, leave me alone!” I felt a little sympathetic for that dad, but I felt more relieved that I wasn't in his situation. There's nothing worse than being stuck on a bus next to someone who will not shut up, I'm sure.
In front of me sat an elderly Mexican couple. They sat in silence. Their faces said they had seen a lot. They were tired and worn. But there was an obvious love between them. A for better or for worse type of love. Meanwhile, behind me sat a young Mexican couple. They were loud and obnoxious. They were too touchy for public standards. There was an obvious lust between them. A type of love that probably would end in a month.
After noticing the people around me, I finally noticed where the bus had taken me. We were in Downtown Tucson. I panicked. What if we went all the way to South Tucson and I had no way back? Without even thinking twice, I got off at the next stop.
While I walked around town, I realized that the scariest part of the bus was not knowing where I was going in town. The experience it self wasn't scary at all! I realized that I made my situation strange because I was intimidated. I let the stereotypes and the rumors freak me out, and as a result it made me nervous and awkward. It made an interesting parallel to meeting new people. In no way should I let stereotypes and rumors freak me out. I should always give a person a chance before making a judgment on them. Because if I take meeting people like riding the bus, I'll be nervous and awkward. And who knows? The stereotypes might not be true.
I mean, the bus didn't even smell like urine.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Harder to Breathe
I don't get sick. I mean really. I can't remember the last time I was sick longer than a couple days...or even a time that I was so sick I had to go to the doctor.
So, naturally, I would get sick the second to last day of band camp.
Of course.
I guess I should probably explain what happened...
Essentially, on Wednesday night, I started feeling...off. Like maybe I had a fever, maybe I had a sore throat, maybe I just felt like poop.
But then again I was working my butt off at band camp. Probably just some symptoms of exhaustion, right?
Wrong.
I started feeling like a fish out of water, I kid you not. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe (lol, Maroon 5) and I started getting scared. No worries though. I'm Scarlett. I fight through stuff. So I took my inhaler and went to sleep.
Except I couldn't sleep. Because I kept waking up in pain and unable to breathe.
No worries though. I'm Scarlett. I fight through stuff.
So I go to band. I march in warm up block. I'm standing in concert arcs. It's getting harder and harder to breathe.
Not only was it harder to breathe though, my breaths were getting louder, I couldn't get enough air in.
This was quite possibly the most scary moment of my life.
After much persuasion, I sat on the side lines gasping for air, and crying out of fear, and pain.
No worries though. I'm Scarlett. I fight through stuff.
Except. It wasn't getting better.
After much persuasion, I sat in the waiting room of the local urgent care. The doctor gave me two nebulizers and steroid shot. My breathing still wasn't great, and I was feeling defeated.
That's when they did a chest x-ray. And that's when the doctor decided it was pneumonia.
Oddly enough, I was glad to hear that. Finally, an explanation.
Anyway. I spent the last day of band camp popping prescription pills, laying on my couch watching hours of Netflix, coming in and out of a fever, coughing, and feeling helpless and pathetic.
I would've done nearly ANYTHING to be out in the 100 something degree weather having my butt kicked by band.
But it is what it is.
I'm feeling slightly better. More energetic. More able to eat. So that's a start.
And aside from this whole sickness, and the issues with the cable/wireless internet at my apartment (which by the way, I totally fixed by myself...small victories.), life has been great.
My little apartment is turning into more of a home every day.
My room is super cute with all of the DIY stuff I made.
I've been spending a lot of time with one of my roomies, Brandi, and she is so sweet, and so much fun.
My bike, aka Nimubus 3000, is so baller, and so convenient.
Band is SO worth it, and I'm so excited for the rest of the season.
I'm thinking though, that everything will just go uphill from here. It doesn't get much worse than I was a couple days ago...so I'm looking forward to a great rest of the semester.
So, naturally, I would get sick the second to last day of band camp.
Of course.
I guess I should probably explain what happened...
Essentially, on Wednesday night, I started feeling...off. Like maybe I had a fever, maybe I had a sore throat, maybe I just felt like poop.
But then again I was working my butt off at band camp. Probably just some symptoms of exhaustion, right?
Wrong.
I started feeling like a fish out of water, I kid you not. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe (lol, Maroon 5) and I started getting scared. No worries though. I'm Scarlett. I fight through stuff. So I took my inhaler and went to sleep.
Except I couldn't sleep. Because I kept waking up in pain and unable to breathe.
No worries though. I'm Scarlett. I fight through stuff.
So I go to band. I march in warm up block. I'm standing in concert arcs. It's getting harder and harder to breathe.
Not only was it harder to breathe though, my breaths were getting louder, I couldn't get enough air in.
This was quite possibly the most scary moment of my life.
After much persuasion, I sat on the side lines gasping for air, and crying out of fear, and pain.
No worries though. I'm Scarlett. I fight through stuff.
Except. It wasn't getting better.
After much persuasion, I sat in the waiting room of the local urgent care. The doctor gave me two nebulizers and steroid shot. My breathing still wasn't great, and I was feeling defeated.
That's when they did a chest x-ray. And that's when the doctor decided it was pneumonia.
Oddly enough, I was glad to hear that. Finally, an explanation.
Anyway. I spent the last day of band camp popping prescription pills, laying on my couch watching hours of Netflix, coming in and out of a fever, coughing, and feeling helpless and pathetic.
I would've done nearly ANYTHING to be out in the 100 something degree weather having my butt kicked by band.
But it is what it is.
I'm feeling slightly better. More energetic. More able to eat. So that's a start.
And aside from this whole sickness, and the issues with the cable/wireless internet at my apartment (which by the way, I totally fixed by myself...small victories.), life has been great.
My little apartment is turning into more of a home every day.
My room is super cute with all of the DIY stuff I made.
I've been spending a lot of time with one of my roomies, Brandi, and she is so sweet, and so much fun.
My bike, aka Nimubus 3000, is so baller, and so convenient.
Band is SO worth it, and I'm so excited for the rest of the season.
I'm thinking though, that everything will just go uphill from here. It doesn't get much worse than I was a couple days ago...so I'm looking forward to a great rest of the semester.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Evaluation.
So this is the blog post that I use to evaluate my summer.
Enthralling, I know.
But before you decide to stop reading because you think this is going to be all about how "super totally awesome" my summer was... how I spent my days sleeping in late, staying out late, and how I obtained a glowing, sun-kissed skin tone...
Think again.
Because I didn't do any of those things, actually.
But I still had...a "super totally awesome" summer.
Although, I really wish I did get to spend a little more time in the sun...I have to admit that this was, indeed, the best summer yet.
Why?
Well, I'm glad you asked.
I learned soo much this summer.
I learned how to make super cute aprons.
I learned how to bake super yummy stuff. (Like oreo-nies)
I learned how to stick to my beliefs, and that good things come when I do that.
I learned that pets are just as much a part of a family as any human. And when they die, it's just as hard as when a person dies.
I learned that it is possible to be tired enough that when you go to sleep at 7 pm, you won't wake up till the next morning.
I learned that a good friend can be any age.
I learned to always be nice to a receptionist/secretary/person who answers phones. No matter what.
I learned that when you're kind, you receive kindness back.
I learned that older guys can be shameless. Especially when they're sufficiently older than you.
I learned to always be genuine. Not that i haven't been, just that others really notice, and do appreciate it.
I learned that sometimes, you have to make tough decisions to make better things happen.
I learned how to drive to California.
I learned legal jargon. Like: deposition and garnishment.
I learned that in order to make it in life, you need connections.
I learned how to be more confident.
I learned that some new friends can be just as good as old friends.
I learned that sleeping is awesome. Not that i didn't know that before...just have a new found love for sleep.
I learned that having a full time job is really exhausting. Really!
I learned that 11:11 wishes really do come true. Well, I always knew that, I just had a couple come true. One of which, happened in the same night. WHAT? Yeah. :)
I learned that good things come to those that wait. ...A long time.
I learned that I can't do a backflip on a trampoline. I just can't! (And I tend to land on my neck...)
I learned not to take my family for granted, because life's too short.
But most importantly, I learned a lot about myself and what I want in life.
I'm heading into this school year motivated and excited to see what's in store.
Ahh I just really want to know what the future holds for me!
Until then though, I'm going to take it one step at a time. Everything happens when it's supposed to happen.
Anyway, Summer 2011, you've been good to me.
Enthralling, I know.
But before you decide to stop reading because you think this is going to be all about how "super totally awesome" my summer was... how I spent my days sleeping in late, staying out late, and how I obtained a glowing, sun-kissed skin tone...
Think again.
Because I didn't do any of those things, actually.
But I still had...a "super totally awesome" summer.
Although, I really wish I did get to spend a little more time in the sun...I have to admit that this was, indeed, the best summer yet.
Why?
Well, I'm glad you asked.
I learned soo much this summer.
I learned how to make super cute aprons.
I learned how to bake super yummy stuff. (Like oreo-nies)
I learned how to stick to my beliefs, and that good things come when I do that.
I learned that pets are just as much a part of a family as any human. And when they die, it's just as hard as when a person dies.
I learned that it is possible to be tired enough that when you go to sleep at 7 pm, you won't wake up till the next morning.
I learned that a good friend can be any age.
I learned to always be nice to a receptionist/secretary/person who answers phones. No matter what.
I learned that when you're kind, you receive kindness back.
I learned that older guys can be shameless. Especially when they're sufficiently older than you.
I learned to always be genuine. Not that i haven't been, just that others really notice, and do appreciate it.
I learned that sometimes, you have to make tough decisions to make better things happen.
I learned how to drive to California.
I learned legal jargon. Like: deposition and garnishment.
I learned that in order to make it in life, you need connections.
I learned how to be more confident.
I learned that some new friends can be just as good as old friends.
I learned that sleeping is awesome. Not that i didn't know that before...just have a new found love for sleep.
I learned that having a full time job is really exhausting. Really!
I learned that 11:11 wishes really do come true. Well, I always knew that, I just had a couple come true. One of which, happened in the same night. WHAT? Yeah. :)
I learned that good things come to those that wait. ...A long time.
I learned that I can't do a backflip on a trampoline. I just can't! (And I tend to land on my neck...)
I learned not to take my family for granted, because life's too short.
But most importantly, I learned a lot about myself and what I want in life.
I'm heading into this school year motivated and excited to see what's in store.
Ahh I just really want to know what the future holds for me!
Until then though, I'm going to take it one step at a time. Everything happens when it's supposed to happen.
Anyway, Summer 2011, you've been good to me.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
My Life as a Grown-Up
It always happens like this.
I go out on a limb and make super difficult decisions.
As hard as they are, I know they're the right choices.
Then life sucks.
But then...
Everything is just...amazing.
It always happens like this.
You might say it's sheer coincidence.
I think it's more.
But I'm not going to gush about how great everything is working out right now.
Okay. Maybe a little.
So I was doing some major job hunting.
...Just like every other teenager.
Really though, I was pulling my hair out at home. I needed to work.
Every restaurant was shooting me down because I said I wouldn't work on Sundays.
Yeah. Lame.
So I just went on with life. Making aprons. Baking stuff. Hanging out with friends.
Then one Sunday, I was talking to a guy at my church.
"Yeah I'm looking for a job. Anything really. Of course, working in an office type job would be amazing."
"Well, I'll keep a look out for ya!"
...Everyone says that.
So I didn't expect much.
Until he called me a couple days later.
Until I sent him a resume.
Until the Law Firm of Davis Miles called me for an interview.
Until I had the most intimidating interview of my life. (Spelling/editing/timed typing tests, Spanish translation test, HALF THE INTERVIEW WAS IN SPANISH. what.)
Until the interviewer said, "Normally we don't hire anyone with little experience...or in your case...no experience...but we're going to take a chance on you."
Until I got a call offering me a full time job as the front desk receptionist.
It all exceeded my expectations.
I now work in the classiest office ever on Tempe Town Lake. I answer phones. I take payments. I notify attorneys when their clients are here. I put data in the system. I work full time. I wear classy clothes and high heels every day.
IT'S AWESOME.
And it's funny, because I'm pretty much the youngest person there.
I roll with adults. I'm learning so much about the professional world. Heck, I'm learning a ton about the legal field! And it is sooo interesting.
It's definitely a little weird.
I declared at the beginning of this summer that it was the summer of change.
And I totally see it happening.
My priorities are changing.
I feel myself growing up.
I mean, when you spend 8 hours a day associating with adults in a work environment you can't really joke about poop.
...Not that I do that...
And i'm not saying I'm changing completely.
I'm still a goof.
And I still dress up ridiculously and learn dances and make music videos with my best friend.
I'm not turning into a "I'm-too-cool-so-I'm-going-to-be-lame-and-boring" person.
But I'm definitely learning about what I really want in life.
Where I want to go. What I want to be. Who I want to associate with.
It's kind of refreshing.
Work also distracts me. Keeps me busy. My mind stays clear.
Which is exactly what I needed right now.
Funny how the best things happen when you need it most?
Anyway. This job isn't the only great thing going on in my life.
I could go on about the amazing people around me.
The greatest adventures we've been having.
The awesome things I've been making.
The sickest sale on clothes I found the other day.
...But I'll write about that another day.
I go out on a limb and make super difficult decisions.
As hard as they are, I know they're the right choices.
Then life sucks.
But then...
Everything is just...amazing.
It always happens like this.
You might say it's sheer coincidence.
I think it's more.
But I'm not going to gush about how great everything is working out right now.
Okay. Maybe a little.
So I was doing some major job hunting.
...Just like every other teenager.
Really though, I was pulling my hair out at home. I needed to work.
Every restaurant was shooting me down because I said I wouldn't work on Sundays.
Yeah. Lame.
So I just went on with life. Making aprons. Baking stuff. Hanging out with friends.
Then one Sunday, I was talking to a guy at my church.
"Yeah I'm looking for a job. Anything really. Of course, working in an office type job would be amazing."
"Well, I'll keep a look out for ya!"
...Everyone says that.
So I didn't expect much.
Until he called me a couple days later.
Until I sent him a resume.
Until the Law Firm of Davis Miles called me for an interview.
Until I had the most intimidating interview of my life. (Spelling/editing/timed typing tests, Spanish translation test, HALF THE INTERVIEW WAS IN SPANISH. what.)
Until the interviewer said, "Normally we don't hire anyone with little experience...or in your case...no experience...but we're going to take a chance on you."
Until I got a call offering me a full time job as the front desk receptionist.
It all exceeded my expectations.
I now work in the classiest office ever on Tempe Town Lake. I answer phones. I take payments. I notify attorneys when their clients are here. I put data in the system. I work full time. I wear classy clothes and high heels every day.
IT'S AWESOME.
And it's funny, because I'm pretty much the youngest person there.
I roll with adults. I'm learning so much about the professional world. Heck, I'm learning a ton about the legal field! And it is sooo interesting.
It's definitely a little weird.
I declared at the beginning of this summer that it was the summer of change.
And I totally see it happening.
My priorities are changing.
I feel myself growing up.
I mean, when you spend 8 hours a day associating with adults in a work environment you can't really joke about poop.
...Not that I do that...
And i'm not saying I'm changing completely.
I'm still a goof.
And I still dress up ridiculously and learn dances and make music videos with my best friend.
I'm not turning into a "I'm-too-cool-so-I'm-going-to-be-lame-and-boring" person.
But I'm definitely learning about what I really want in life.
Where I want to go. What I want to be. Who I want to associate with.
It's kind of refreshing.
Work also distracts me. Keeps me busy. My mind stays clear.
Which is exactly what I needed right now.
Funny how the best things happen when you need it most?
Anyway. This job isn't the only great thing going on in my life.
I could go on about the amazing people around me.
The greatest adventures we've been having.
The awesome things I've been making.
The sickest sale on clothes I found the other day.
...But I'll write about that another day.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
"I can't take this 'daddy beats me because he loves me' excuse."
I really wish I could articulate what is going on in my mind.
It always seems to come down to this. I'm totally inspired to write, but I have no clue what to write about, even though my mind is racing. Ugh. Well, here goes.
So I watched the movie Something Borrowed.
Twice.
(Yes, I know, chick flick, but I promise this is a good one.)
It really related to me.
No really.
It did.
I especially related to the main character, Rachel.
I don't want to give away too much of the movie, or the ending for that matter, because it's that good...that you should see it.
But. Essentially. Rachel has this big conclusion about herself in the end.
She goes through a lot.
She does a lot of thinking.
She does a lot of advice seeking from her best guy friend.
And in the end, she realizes for herself (with a little kick in the butt from her friend) what she needs to do, the kind of person she's being, and how she needs to change.
Okay. So what?
So say I'm Rachel.
I go through a lot.
I do a lot of thinking.
I do a lot of advice seeking from her best friend(s).
This is the end. This is me realizing for myself (with a little kick in the butt from her friend(s)/brother) what I need to do, the kind of person I'm being, and how I need to change.
What?
Yeah, I told you I've had a lot on my mind.
So here's my conclusion. My ending.
Sometimes we go through life thinking we're doing the right thing. We let things happen. We sometimes give people the benefit of the doubt. We allow those we care so deeply about to seemingly walk on us, thinking it's what you're supposed to do.
But sometimes, we have to take charge.
Sometimes we have to really evaluate our lives and think, What is it that I really want?
Because ultimately, it's about the big "I."
You can't live your life trying to change someone.
You can't live your life trying to be someone or something you're not.
You can't live your life trying to make decisions based off what someone else might think.
You can't do it.
The only thing you can do is think about you.
Think about what YOU want.
What makes YOU happy.
Regardless of what the mass populous might think.
Regardless of what people around you might think.
Regardless of what the most important person in your life might think.
Obviously the opinions of those others come into play.
But when you spend time trying to chase something that is seemingly unobtainable, trying to win a game you just can't win, trying to change something that just won't change...you lose time on something that is obtainable, a game that you can win, something you actually can change.
And this might not make sense.
And maybe you don't agree.
But until you are married and have your own children...who do you really have to think about?
When you're a 19 year old girl, succeeding in college, with opportunities surrounding you...who do you really have to think about?
You.
You need to be happy.
You need to be treated right.
You need to make decisions in a way that will positively impact you.
So since Sunday, I've really been evaluating myself.
What am I doing?
What kind of decisions have I been making?
What kind of life am I living?
What kind of people am I associating with?
And with that, I conclude.
This is my first summer in college. One of the last summers I'll spend at home. Three precious months of relaxation, before jumping head first into 17 credit hours and marching band in the fall.
This is the summer where I take charge of my life, where I decide what kind of person I'm going to be, who really matters to me, and what is really worth pursuing.
And maybe I won't have an ending like the one in Something Borrowed.
Or maybe I will. Who knows?
All I know is that life is too short to sit around waiting for a happy ending.
But I can start writing mine now.
It always seems to come down to this. I'm totally inspired to write, but I have no clue what to write about, even though my mind is racing. Ugh. Well, here goes.
So I watched the movie Something Borrowed.
Twice.
(Yes, I know, chick flick, but I promise this is a good one.)
It really related to me.
No really.
It did.
I especially related to the main character, Rachel.
I don't want to give away too much of the movie, or the ending for that matter, because it's that good...that you should see it.
But. Essentially. Rachel has this big conclusion about herself in the end.
She goes through a lot.
She does a lot of thinking.
She does a lot of advice seeking from her best guy friend.
And in the end, she realizes for herself (with a little kick in the butt from her friend) what she needs to do, the kind of person she's being, and how she needs to change.
Okay. So what?
So say I'm Rachel.
I go through a lot.
I do a lot of thinking.
I do a lot of advice seeking from her best friend(s).
This is the end. This is me realizing for myself (with a little kick in the butt from her friend(s)/brother) what I need to do, the kind of person I'm being, and how I need to change.
What?
Yeah, I told you I've had a lot on my mind.
So here's my conclusion. My ending.
Sometimes we go through life thinking we're doing the right thing. We let things happen. We sometimes give people the benefit of the doubt. We allow those we care so deeply about to seemingly walk on us, thinking it's what you're supposed to do.
But sometimes, we have to take charge.
Sometimes we have to really evaluate our lives and think, What is it that I really want?
Because ultimately, it's about the big "I."
You can't live your life trying to change someone.
You can't live your life trying to be someone or something you're not.
You can't live your life trying to make decisions based off what someone else might think.
You can't do it.
The only thing you can do is think about you.
Think about what YOU want.
What makes YOU happy.
Regardless of what the mass populous might think.
Regardless of what people around you might think.
Regardless of what the most important person in your life might think.
Obviously the opinions of those others come into play.
But when you spend time trying to chase something that is seemingly unobtainable, trying to win a game you just can't win, trying to change something that just won't change...you lose time on something that is obtainable, a game that you can win, something you actually can change.
And this might not make sense.
And maybe you don't agree.
But until you are married and have your own children...who do you really have to think about?
When you're a 19 year old girl, succeeding in college, with opportunities surrounding you...who do you really have to think about?
You.
You need to be happy.
You need to be treated right.
You need to make decisions in a way that will positively impact you.
So since Sunday, I've really been evaluating myself.
What am I doing?
What kind of decisions have I been making?
What kind of life am I living?
What kind of people am I associating with?
And with that, I conclude.
This is my first summer in college. One of the last summers I'll spend at home. Three precious months of relaxation, before jumping head first into 17 credit hours and marching band in the fall.
This is the summer where I take charge of my life, where I decide what kind of person I'm going to be, who really matters to me, and what is really worth pursuing.
And maybe I won't have an ending like the one in Something Borrowed.
Or maybe I will. Who knows?
All I know is that life is too short to sit around waiting for a happy ending.
But I can start writing mine now.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Here's to you: #3
He really annoyed me.
I broke his trucks.
He got me in trouble.
We got in fights.
I bit him.
He pulled a pencil out of my mouth.
I got braces.
He was annoying!
I told my parents I hated him.
My mom asked if she should take him back to the hospital.
I hesitated.
"No...No...you and Daddy still love him!"
He always played on the computer or played video games.
"Scarlett, do you want to play?"
"No. Leave me alone!"
(Okay, maybe I was a little bit mean.)
And then he grew up.
It was around when I was 16 and he was 14.
We started relating to each other.
We could actually...talk.
He's now my best friend.
We tell each other stories.
We hang out.
We rap to Lil Wayne while driving around.
We laugh at stupid YouTube videos.
We have "The Hangover" movie watching nights.
We kill zombies...on COD.
We come to each other for advice. (Well mostly me to him. Weird? Maybe.)
We tell each other everything.
We have each others backs.
And I have to admit...I admire him.
He is an example to me.
He is mature beyond his age. (Usually. And not only in appearance.)
He is honest and loyal and trustworthy.
He is so talented.
This weekend he went to prom.
I was so excited for him. He's all grown up.
Seeing him looking all sharp in his tux made me realize.
How proud I am of him, and the person he's become.
How responsible he is.
How I never have to worry about him getting into trouble, or making a bad choice.
How sometimes he puts me to shame. (Sometimes, I think my parents like him more. :P)
How I know we'll always be close even when we grow up.
How I'm glad that I'm able to not only have a brother, but a best friend.
So here's to you,
Salud!
I broke his trucks.
He got me in trouble.
We got in fights.
I bit him.
He pulled a pencil out of my mouth.
I got braces.
He was annoying!
I told my parents I hated him.
My mom asked if she should take him back to the hospital.
I hesitated.
"No...No...you and Daddy still love him!"
He always played on the computer or played video games.
"Scarlett, do you want to play?"
"No. Leave me alone!"
(Okay, maybe I was a little bit mean.)
And then he grew up.
It was around when I was 16 and he was 14.
We started relating to each other.
We could actually...talk.
He's now my best friend.
We tell each other stories.
We hang out.
We rap to Lil Wayne while driving around.
We laugh at stupid YouTube videos.
We have "The Hangover" movie watching nights.
We kill zombies...on COD.
We come to each other for advice. (Well mostly me to him. Weird? Maybe.)
We tell each other everything.
We have each others backs.
And I have to admit...I admire him.
He is an example to me.
He is mature beyond his age. (Usually. And not only in appearance.)
He is honest and loyal and trustworthy.
He is so talented.
This weekend he went to prom.
I was so excited for him. He's all grown up.
Seeing him looking all sharp in his tux made me realize.
How proud I am of him, and the person he's become.
How responsible he is.
How I never have to worry about him getting into trouble, or making a bad choice.
How sometimes he puts me to shame. (Sometimes, I think my parents like him more. :P)
How I know we'll always be close even when we grow up.
How I'm glad that I'm able to not only have a brother, but a best friend.
So here's to you,
Salud!
Monday, May 2, 2011
"In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns."
When girls are little they often dream about being a princess.
They dream of wearing big beautiful dresses. Riding in carriages. Living in castles. Marrying a prince charming.
I too dreamed of being a princess.
...A mafia princess, that is.
Okay, maybe I didn't exactly dream of this when I was very little. I, as most young children, wasn't aware of what a mob even was.
My daddy always watched mobster movies though. The Godfather. Goodfellas. Stuff like that was usually playing in the background of our house.
Eventually I began taking interest in these movies. Fascinated with the mafia culture.
My daddy explained to me the backgrounds of the families, the terminology, what they did.
I was intrigued.
We often went to my grandpa's house after church on Sundays.
I never really saw anything out of the ordinary with my grandpa.
As far as I can remember, he's always been a larger guy, hair always slicked back. Gold chain. Fat gold rings on each finger. Always clean cut, clean shaven. Sitting at the kitchen table with a cigarette and a cup of coffee. Every Sunday. Same thing.
I thought this was totally normal.
Until my Quinceanera.
He sat in the back corner with the rest of the family. My friends would come up to me asking..."OMG who is that guy?!" "Is that a real mobster?" "Can I take a picture with him?" "...Can I touch him?"
I swear it.
Like I said, I never noted anything different in my grandpa. That's just the way he was.
Didn't all grandpa's wear gold rings on each finger?
Didn't all grandpa's keep a gun on their waist?
After the Quinceanera incident, I became more inquisitive. I really wanted to know what my grandpa did. I wanted to hear stories. This was for real.
So he told me some stuff. The stuff he could tell me.
I was beyond intrigued.
That's when my grandpa became the coolest person I know.
Anyway, back to my dreams of being a mafia princess.
I've seen the movies. The Godfather. Goodfellas. My Cousin Vinny. Scarface. American Gangster. The Departed.
...Gangster movies.
I've done my research. The Five Families. Cosa Nostra. the Luftanza Heist. Sammy The Bull, John Gotti, the Gambino family...all that.
So I know what goes on with the business.
People get whacked and everyone is so non-chalant about it.
People are corrupt and it's totally okay.
People burn up buildings, ruin peoples lives, with no remorse.
And this is all because of money. Or someone insulting someone. Or someone not trusting someone.
It's bad. It's illegal.
...And I want it.
They go to the best restaurants and never having to pay, because they own them.
They go to concerts and shows and get backstage passes, because they own the theater.
They walk around town and townsfolk address them by name, because they probably have asked you for favors...and because they fear you.
Obviously the role of the wife is to not know anything. She doesn't ask. She doesn't tell. She takes care of the family. She makes appearances. She benefits.
So why do I dream of being a mafia princess?
Here's why.
Because I imagined myself being part of the business myself. Not being totally subservient but rather, being cunning, powerful, and wealthy.
My ballgown? A fur coat and dripping in diamonds.
My carriage? A black rolls royce.
My prince charming? A sophisticated, powerful boss. Feared, admired, revered.
Anyway, just like any girls dream of being royalty, this dream of being a mafia princess is pretty unrealistic.
It's really a life of gambling. Literally and metaphorically. Waiting for the day the feds come banging on your door at 5 am. And then life is never the same. It's a life of prison visits and being a single parent trying to make a living legitimately.
And once the cops get ya, you lose it all. The life is over.
Not to mention...It's basically a life built out of illegal activities.
...But a girl can dream, right?
They dream of wearing big beautiful dresses. Riding in carriages. Living in castles. Marrying a prince charming.
I too dreamed of being a princess.
...A mafia princess, that is.
Okay, maybe I didn't exactly dream of this when I was very little. I, as most young children, wasn't aware of what a mob even was.
My daddy always watched mobster movies though. The Godfather. Goodfellas. Stuff like that was usually playing in the background of our house.
Eventually I began taking interest in these movies. Fascinated with the mafia culture.
My daddy explained to me the backgrounds of the families, the terminology, what they did.
I was intrigued.
We often went to my grandpa's house after church on Sundays.
I never really saw anything out of the ordinary with my grandpa.
As far as I can remember, he's always been a larger guy, hair always slicked back. Gold chain. Fat gold rings on each finger. Always clean cut, clean shaven. Sitting at the kitchen table with a cigarette and a cup of coffee. Every Sunday. Same thing.
I thought this was totally normal.
Until my Quinceanera.
He sat in the back corner with the rest of the family. My friends would come up to me asking..."OMG who is that guy?!" "Is that a real mobster?" "Can I take a picture with him?" "...Can I touch him?"
I swear it.
Like I said, I never noted anything different in my grandpa. That's just the way he was.
Didn't all grandpa's wear gold rings on each finger?
Didn't all grandpa's keep a gun on their waist?
After the Quinceanera incident, I became more inquisitive. I really wanted to know what my grandpa did. I wanted to hear stories. This was for real.
So he told me some stuff. The stuff he could tell me.
I was beyond intrigued.
That's when my grandpa became the coolest person I know.
Anyway, back to my dreams of being a mafia princess.
I've seen the movies. The Godfather. Goodfellas. My Cousin Vinny. Scarface. American Gangster. The Departed.
...Gangster movies.
I've done my research. The Five Families. Cosa Nostra. the Luftanza Heist. Sammy The Bull, John Gotti, the Gambino family...all that.
So I know what goes on with the business.
People get whacked and everyone is so non-chalant about it.
People are corrupt and it's totally okay.
People burn up buildings, ruin peoples lives, with no remorse.
And this is all because of money. Or someone insulting someone. Or someone not trusting someone.
It's bad. It's illegal.
...And I want it.
They go to the best restaurants and never having to pay, because they own them.
They go to concerts and shows and get backstage passes, because they own the theater.
They walk around town and townsfolk address them by name, because they probably have asked you for favors...and because they fear you.
Obviously the role of the wife is to not know anything. She doesn't ask. She doesn't tell. She takes care of the family. She makes appearances. She benefits.
So why do I dream of being a mafia princess?
Here's why.
Because I imagined myself being part of the business myself. Not being totally subservient but rather, being cunning, powerful, and wealthy.
My ballgown? A fur coat and dripping in diamonds.
My carriage? A black rolls royce.
My prince charming? A sophisticated, powerful boss. Feared, admired, revered.
Anyway, just like any girls dream of being royalty, this dream of being a mafia princess is pretty unrealistic.
It's really a life of gambling. Literally and metaphorically. Waiting for the day the feds come banging on your door at 5 am. And then life is never the same. It's a life of prison visits and being a single parent trying to make a living legitimately.
And once the cops get ya, you lose it all. The life is over.
Not to mention...It's basically a life built out of illegal activities.
...But a girl can dream, right?
Sunday, May 1, 2011
College Sin Fronteras
So I'm in this class for my Hispanic Alumni Scholarship.
...And it is seriously the biggest waste of time.
I mean we do the most pointless stuff, and it's not even a Gen-Ed requirement.
We all hate it. All 50 of us.
So when the teacher introduced this "community based" project we all formulated ways to b.s our way through it.
Let me explain what this project is.
You're put in groups with kids that have the same type of major as you do. You find a problem in the community that hopefully relates back to what your majors are.You analyse the problem, conduct interviews and surveys to investigate the problem, research the problem, create awareness about the problem, hopefully find a solution to the problem.
Awesome.
Each group was rather large, at least 8 members.
Except ours.
We had 4 members. Four girls. The majors? Journalism, Mexican-American studies, Art, and Undecided.
...Right.
We had no idea what to do. We wanted to possibly investigate the decline of art programs in schools.
Yeah, we really had no idea what to do.
After many group meetings, and many meetings with our professor and p.a. we finally decided on an idea.
Problem: Not enough minority students attend college. Often times they aren't well informed about college, and they believe it is unobtainable. They also think that the careers they want to pursue aren't some they have to go to college for. Furthermore, they think to go to college means they have to be a doctor or an engineer, something that might seem out of their reach.
Solution: Find out the barriers students are facing in regards to college. Inform them about our majors, which are usually underrepresented at the grade school level. Target them with their interests to promote an interest in college. Provide resources for them.
And thus, the College Sin Fronteras project was born.
The plan was to go to Nosotros Academy Charter School and present 5 workshops to 15 students.
A little background?
Nosotros Academy is a charter school that is basically minority students. These are the kids who couldn't really do public school. Couldn't keep up with the curriculum for whatever reason. Instead of dropping out...they come here.
Our College Sin Fronteras program consisted of three main ideas. Overcome. Explore. Achieve.
In the Overcome stage, we pinpoint what the students barriers are...the "fronteras" keeping them from going to college. Whether it is money, grades, etc.
In the Explore stage, we present workshops on our majors. Expose them to the possibilities that lie within our fields of study. Basically letting them know the vast amount of opportunities within the university.
In the Achieve stage, we provided scholarship opportunity and financial aid sources to the kids. Help them realize that they too can go to college.
So the first day, we're discussing with the kids about how they feel about college.
"My mom says why should I even think about college when I'm 19 and still in high school."
What?
"Teachers look at me like I don't mean anything, like I'm not going to succeed."
Uhhh.
These kids were receiving absolutely no support.
They didn't have parents at home motivating them.
They didn't have anyone on their team.
I was completely taken aback.
When asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, many responded, "I don't know."
When asked where they see themselves in 5 years, many responded, "I don't know."
They don't have guidance.
They don't have a plan.
They don't know what to do.
My mentality prior to coming in to the school was just to get some research done.
After that discussion, my mentality turned to genuinely trying to make some sort of an impact on these kids lives.
So as the week progressed, they began to open up to us more, becoming receptive to our presentations.
(Not gonna lie, I was a little nervous for my 30 minute presentation on Journalism. 30 min, que??)
Alas, the last day arrived. We made sure to bring in pizza and soda for the kids, just as a little thank you for having them participate in our program.
As we ate, we talked to the kids, on a more personal level.
We asked how old they thought we were.
"22, 23."
They were blown away when we said we were Freshman, 18 and 19 years old.
We even got some of them thinking about college.
“I thought College was boring stuff and that I could not find something that would
interest me. Now I see that I can get a better job if I go to college”
"I'm considering maybe doing Art in college."
The most incredible thing was this:
"I think there should be more people like you guys to motivate us. It supports us and lets us know that people still care about whether or not we go to college."
Wow.
What?
All four of us girls were speechless.
This might have been a slightly pointless class to take.
We might have been completely stressed out trying to figure this project out.
We might have taken hours putting together powerpoints, brainstorming, and going back and forth with the principal.
And it all boiled down to that one comment.
"There should be more people like you guys to motivate us."
That right there made all of us want to go back to the school. (And the kids begging us to come back helped as well.)
That right there made me realize that although I have my own problems, I can use my talents and skills to help other kids who would otherwise really have no future.
That right there made it all worth it.
...And it is seriously the biggest waste of time.
I mean we do the most pointless stuff, and it's not even a Gen-Ed requirement.
We all hate it. All 50 of us.
So when the teacher introduced this "community based" project we all formulated ways to b.s our way through it.
Let me explain what this project is.
You're put in groups with kids that have the same type of major as you do. You find a problem in the community that hopefully relates back to what your majors are.You analyse the problem, conduct interviews and surveys to investigate the problem, research the problem, create awareness about the problem, hopefully find a solution to the problem.
Awesome.
Each group was rather large, at least 8 members.
Except ours.
We had 4 members. Four girls. The majors? Journalism, Mexican-American studies, Art, and Undecided.
...Right.
We had no idea what to do. We wanted to possibly investigate the decline of art programs in schools.
Yeah, we really had no idea what to do.
After many group meetings, and many meetings with our professor and p.a. we finally decided on an idea.
Problem: Not enough minority students attend college. Often times they aren't well informed about college, and they believe it is unobtainable. They also think that the careers they want to pursue aren't some they have to go to college for. Furthermore, they think to go to college means they have to be a doctor or an engineer, something that might seem out of their reach.
Solution: Find out the barriers students are facing in regards to college. Inform them about our majors, which are usually underrepresented at the grade school level. Target them with their interests to promote an interest in college. Provide resources for them.
And thus, the College Sin Fronteras project was born.
The plan was to go to Nosotros Academy Charter School and present 5 workshops to 15 students.
A little background?
Nosotros Academy is a charter school that is basically minority students. These are the kids who couldn't really do public school. Couldn't keep up with the curriculum for whatever reason. Instead of dropping out...they come here.
Our College Sin Fronteras program consisted of three main ideas. Overcome. Explore. Achieve.
In the Overcome stage, we pinpoint what the students barriers are...the "fronteras" keeping them from going to college. Whether it is money, grades, etc.
In the Explore stage, we present workshops on our majors. Expose them to the possibilities that lie within our fields of study. Basically letting them know the vast amount of opportunities within the university.
In the Achieve stage, we provided scholarship opportunity and financial aid sources to the kids. Help them realize that they too can go to college.
So the first day, we're discussing with the kids about how they feel about college.
"My mom says why should I even think about college when I'm 19 and still in high school."
What?
"Teachers look at me like I don't mean anything, like I'm not going to succeed."
Uhhh.
These kids were receiving absolutely no support.
They didn't have parents at home motivating them.
They didn't have anyone on their team.
I was completely taken aback.
When asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, many responded, "I don't know."
When asked where they see themselves in 5 years, many responded, "I don't know."
They don't have guidance.
They don't have a plan.
They don't know what to do.
My mentality prior to coming in to the school was just to get some research done.
After that discussion, my mentality turned to genuinely trying to make some sort of an impact on these kids lives.
So as the week progressed, they began to open up to us more, becoming receptive to our presentations.
(Not gonna lie, I was a little nervous for my 30 minute presentation on Journalism. 30 min, que??)
Alas, the last day arrived. We made sure to bring in pizza and soda for the kids, just as a little thank you for having them participate in our program.
As we ate, we talked to the kids, on a more personal level.
We asked how old they thought we were.
"22, 23."
They were blown away when we said we were Freshman, 18 and 19 years old.
We even got some of them thinking about college.
“I thought College was boring stuff and that I could not find something that would
interest me. Now I see that I can get a better job if I go to college”
"I'm considering maybe doing Art in college."
The most incredible thing was this:
"I think there should be more people like you guys to motivate us. It supports us and lets us know that people still care about whether or not we go to college."
Wow.
What?
All four of us girls were speechless.
This might have been a slightly pointless class to take.
We might have been completely stressed out trying to figure this project out.
We might have taken hours putting together powerpoints, brainstorming, and going back and forth with the principal.
And it all boiled down to that one comment.
"There should be more people like you guys to motivate us."
That right there made all of us want to go back to the school. (And the kids begging us to come back helped as well.)
That right there made me realize that although I have my own problems, I can use my talents and skills to help other kids who would otherwise really have no future.
That right there made it all worth it.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Dear Me, Sincerely, Me.
I'm a sucker for letters. I love writing them. I love receiving them. I'm also a sucker for writing letters to myself.
Let me explain.
When I was younger, probably 12 or 13 or something, we did this thing at church where we wrote letters to ourselves in the future. Basically we were writing about our future spouses or whatever, and we weren't supposed to open said letters until we were getting married.
I still have them. Unopened.
We wrote other letters as well, like time capsule type things.
I still have them. Unopened.
Back in 2006, when I was 14, I discovered this website called futureme.org. It was made for me, I swear. You write letters to yourself, and they're delivered to your e-mail address sometime in the future. Back in 2006 I wrote one. The subject of the email, "Wow your old." Obviously showing my impeccable attention to grammar. It is to be delivered in 2013. I cannot wait.
Since then, I've written an email to myself each year to be delivered around the time of my birthday. As I procrastinated today, I recalled these emails, and pulled them up out of curiosity.
I've always been fascinated with my progression as a person.
Just like every other adolescent girl I went through phases. Phases that were somewhat reflected through these emails.
These emails have started short, and got longer and more detailed as time went on.
The content of the emails started more trivial, and became more heartfelt and deep as time went on.
But as I read the emails, I'll admit, I got a little sad.
Not so much nostalgia, but rather, the idea that my life didn't exactly turn out as I suspected. My dreams didn't exactly come true. My predictions, well, were wrong.
For example:
January 15th, 2008: "I still want to go to UF, in fact I REALLY want to go to UF, and I hope you're getting good enough grades for it."
University of Florida was my dream. I wound up not even applying. Not because I couldn't, it just became unrealistic.
Over time, the people I was once close and devoted so much time to, changed.
This is evident through the emails.
And it makes me sad.
Like I devoted so much time and trust into a relationship that seemingly turned out to be a waste.
And then I think, what if I did something differently? What would my life be like if I handled a situation differently?
What if I never left Florida?
Or what if I went to UF?
And then I think, "what if" nothing.
There's no point to "what if."
It is what it is.
"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be."
I'm happy!
I love my life.
I may have redefined my dreams. I may have redefined my goals. I may have redefined my relationships. And through it all, it has shaped who I am as a person.
And I like who I am now.
So I'm going to keep on writing letters to myself in the future.
Why?
Because reading them reminds me of where I've been, who I was, what I've overcome.
They might make me a little bit sad, but more often than not, I find my present self laughing at my past self.
Because let's face it, I've had some pretty silly aspirations.
And at the end of the day, it's really okay that not everything worked out as I wanted them to.
Because if they had, who would I be today?
Let me explain.
When I was younger, probably 12 or 13 or something, we did this thing at church where we wrote letters to ourselves in the future. Basically we were writing about our future spouses or whatever, and we weren't supposed to open said letters until we were getting married.
I still have them. Unopened.
We wrote other letters as well, like time capsule type things.
I still have them. Unopened.
Back in 2006, when I was 14, I discovered this website called futureme.org. It was made for me, I swear. You write letters to yourself, and they're delivered to your e-mail address sometime in the future. Back in 2006 I wrote one. The subject of the email, "Wow your old." Obviously showing my impeccable attention to grammar. It is to be delivered in 2013. I cannot wait.
Since then, I've written an email to myself each year to be delivered around the time of my birthday. As I procrastinated today, I recalled these emails, and pulled them up out of curiosity.
I've always been fascinated with my progression as a person.
Just like every other adolescent girl I went through phases. Phases that were somewhat reflected through these emails.
These emails have started short, and got longer and more detailed as time went on.
The content of the emails started more trivial, and became more heartfelt and deep as time went on.
But as I read the emails, I'll admit, I got a little sad.
Not so much nostalgia, but rather, the idea that my life didn't exactly turn out as I suspected. My dreams didn't exactly come true. My predictions, well, were wrong.
For example:
January 15th, 2008: "I still want to go to UF, in fact I REALLY want to go to UF, and I hope you're getting good enough grades for it."
University of Florida was my dream. I wound up not even applying. Not because I couldn't, it just became unrealistic.
Over time, the people I was once close and devoted so much time to, changed.
This is evident through the emails.
And it makes me sad.
Like I devoted so much time and trust into a relationship that seemingly turned out to be a waste.
And then I think, what if I did something differently? What would my life be like if I handled a situation differently?
What if I never left Florida?
Or what if I went to UF?
And then I think, "what if" nothing.
There's no point to "what if."
It is what it is.
"I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be."
I'm happy!
I love my life.
I may have redefined my dreams. I may have redefined my goals. I may have redefined my relationships. And through it all, it has shaped who I am as a person.
And I like who I am now.
So I'm going to keep on writing letters to myself in the future.
Why?
Because reading them reminds me of where I've been, who I was, what I've overcome.
They might make me a little bit sad, but more often than not, I find my present self laughing at my past self.
Because let's face it, I've had some pretty silly aspirations.
And at the end of the day, it's really okay that not everything worked out as I wanted them to.
Because if they had, who would I be today?
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
What's On Your Mind?
I got into the habit of not posting.
This changes now.
This could be a result of my laptop being broken.
Yeah, tragic.
It's currently undergoing surgery at the Hewlett Packard Factory.
Although it's been a total pain not having my laptop it's given me some time to think...and sleep.
And what did I think about?
Facebook.
Not that I missed it...but how it's taking over the world.
Facebook.
Facebook.
Add me on Facebook.
Tag me on Facebook.
Facebook.
Facebook.
Everyone has a Facebook.
My grandpa has a Facebook.
Yeah.
And personally I'm a fan of Facebook. Converted to the Facebook World 5 years ago...back when barely anyone had a Facebook. Back when people used Facebook for the simplest reason...to keep in touch.
I miss those days.
People take Facebook way too seriously.
A relationship status on Facebook makes it "official."
Starting drama over Facebook.
Facebook comment wars.
Deleting people as friends on Facebook.
Getting offended if someone doesn't comment, "Happy Birthday."
Getting offended if someone doesn't say, "Thank you." for a compliment on a picture.
Having lectures in class about "Facebook Etiquette."
Posting "vague" status' to prove a point about something or someone.
Poking people.
SERIOUSLY.
My dear friend Stephen made a good point today, in regards to not posting the date of his birthday.
"I don't want 21381765230962 comments from people who really don't give a shit. So when I get one, it's because someone actually remembered."
I mean, yeah, a friendly Facebook reminder that it's someone's birthday because it totally slipped your mind is nice.
But when you use Facebook as your primary form of communication, it becomes an issue.
Here's my rant about Facebook:
It's not my life. Yes I will admit, I have mastered the art of Facebook stalking, but really, who hasn't? My mother has. Please.
I'm not going to delete you as a friend. I'm not going to have "friend sweeps." Why? At some point, you added someone because you had contact with them. I honestly don't care enough to go through the 500 something friends I have to take the time to delete people. If I don't talk to you anymore, if you hate me, if I hate you...I don't take Facebook seriously enough to "de-friend" you to prove a point. It's stupid. I'm glad you care enough about Facebook to take the time to do so, though.
Furthermore, I don't need Facebook to define a relationship. And if you want to have your relationship advertised on Facebook...then don't hide it from anyone. Case closed.
To those who post every little thing about their lives as status updates? Get over it. Some things should be kept to yourselves. You're not proving a point. You're not gaining my sympathy.
OMG HE POKED ME WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!?
Well, I don't know. Because if he wanted to talk to you, he probably would've by now, right? Yeah, I'm not a fan of poking. I won't start poking, nor will I poke back. Sorry.
My english prof deleted his Facebook. He figured if people were his true friends, they'd just keep in contact with him without Facebook.
I thought about doing that for a minute.
But really, Facebook is a great way to keep in contact. I'll admit it. I've been able to rekindle many friendships from Florida or whatever through Facebook. And yeah, it's a great way to share pictures, share news/events...blah blah blah.
But when it gets to the point that it causes drama or whatever? That's when it's too much. And really, we're all guilty of it at some point. (all of us who have a Facebook...that is.)
Anyway, I think I'll go check my Facebook now.
This changes now.
This could be a result of my laptop being broken.
Yeah, tragic.
It's currently undergoing surgery at the Hewlett Packard Factory.
Although it's been a total pain not having my laptop it's given me some time to think...and sleep.
And what did I think about?
Facebook.
Not that I missed it...but how it's taking over the world.
Facebook.
Facebook.
Add me on Facebook.
Tag me on Facebook.
Facebook.
Facebook.
Everyone has a Facebook.
My grandpa has a Facebook.
Yeah.
And personally I'm a fan of Facebook. Converted to the Facebook World 5 years ago...back when barely anyone had a Facebook. Back when people used Facebook for the simplest reason...to keep in touch.
I miss those days.
People take Facebook way too seriously.
A relationship status on Facebook makes it "official."
Starting drama over Facebook.
Facebook comment wars.
Deleting people as friends on Facebook.
Getting offended if someone doesn't comment, "Happy Birthday."
Getting offended if someone doesn't say, "Thank you." for a compliment on a picture.
Having lectures in class about "Facebook Etiquette."
Posting "vague" status' to prove a point about something or someone.
Poking people.
SERIOUSLY.
My dear friend Stephen made a good point today, in regards to not posting the date of his birthday.
"I don't want 21381765230962 comments from people who really don't give a shit. So when I get one, it's because someone actually remembered."
I mean, yeah, a friendly Facebook reminder that it's someone's birthday because it totally slipped your mind is nice.
But when you use Facebook as your primary form of communication, it becomes an issue.
Here's my rant about Facebook:
It's not my life. Yes I will admit, I have mastered the art of Facebook stalking, but really, who hasn't? My mother has. Please.
I'm not going to delete you as a friend. I'm not going to have "friend sweeps." Why? At some point, you added someone because you had contact with them. I honestly don't care enough to go through the 500 something friends I have to take the time to delete people. If I don't talk to you anymore, if you hate me, if I hate you...I don't take Facebook seriously enough to "de-friend" you to prove a point. It's stupid. I'm glad you care enough about Facebook to take the time to do so, though.
Furthermore, I don't need Facebook to define a relationship. And if you want to have your relationship advertised on Facebook...then don't hide it from anyone. Case closed.
To those who post every little thing about their lives as status updates? Get over it. Some things should be kept to yourselves. You're not proving a point. You're not gaining my sympathy.
OMG HE POKED ME WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!?
Well, I don't know. Because if he wanted to talk to you, he probably would've by now, right? Yeah, I'm not a fan of poking. I won't start poking, nor will I poke back. Sorry.
My english prof deleted his Facebook. He figured if people were his true friends, they'd just keep in contact with him without Facebook.
I thought about doing that for a minute.
But really, Facebook is a great way to keep in contact. I'll admit it. I've been able to rekindle many friendships from Florida or whatever through Facebook. And yeah, it's a great way to share pictures, share news/events...blah blah blah.
But when it gets to the point that it causes drama or whatever? That's when it's too much. And really, we're all guilty of it at some point. (all of us who have a Facebook...that is.)
Anyway, I think I'll go check my Facebook now.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Now boarding.
I love to travel.
And I love everything that has to do with travel.
...Even packing. (Trust me, packing is like an art form to me.)
Because traveling usually means vacations.
And vacations mean relaxation.
My most FAVORITE part of traveling though, are the airports.
Really.
And I really don't mind flying alone.
Something about going to the ticket counter. Taking care of business. It's empowering.
The best part of airports though...
People watching.
Airports are the BEST place to people watch.
Last week I went to Salt Lake City.
So I sat in the terminal at Sky Harbor and well, watched people. (And watched a little basketball too...conference championships...)
Anyway.
There were other kids traveling alone. I assume going back to school after spending spring break in Arizona. Or maybe going to spend spring break in Utah like I was.
There were old couples. An especially quirky old couple in quirky clothes. The husband brought back Wendy's...the wife spilled the giant cup of soda. Quirky.
There were families. With copious amounts of children. Why you would fly with multiple babies is beyond me...
There were businessmen carrying briefcases.
There were rich looking ladies with their Louie Vuitton luggage.
Then there were my favorite, the classy adult couples. One in particular, intrigued me. I sat next to the wife, who I noticed had a nice pedicure and a fresh set of Frenched nails. She wasn't the most fit woman, but she certainly aged gracefully. Makeup done, matching jewelery, shoes from Dillards. (I could tell because when changing from flip flops to her nice shoes, I saw the price tag on the sole) Her husband was looking particularly dapper. Blazer, slacks, loafers. Checking his e-mail on his i-phone. A very professional fellow. They were a very classy couple.
I wondered about them.
What was their life like? What did they do for a living? Did they have kids? Why were they going to Salt Lake City?
And then a lady came on the intercom.
"Now boarding first class passengers."
And there the couple went.
They flew first class, who woulda thought?
And that's when I realized.
I want that!
I want my future husband and I to be classy, professional people. People who can afford to travel. People who can fly first class.
Because I love to travel.
And that's when I made it a goal.
I have a list of places to visit. (Brazil, Panama, Italy, New Zealand/Australia, Alaska, Jamaica, Hawaii, India, South Africa, Chicago, New York City)
And someday, I will find a way to travel to all of those places.
My future husband and I...him in a blazer, me in my heels.
Flying first class.
Until then, I'll settle for traveling in the back row.
...with the families with copious amounts of crying children.
And I love everything that has to do with travel.
...Even packing. (Trust me, packing is like an art form to me.)
Because traveling usually means vacations.
And vacations mean relaxation.
My most FAVORITE part of traveling though, are the airports.
Really.
And I really don't mind flying alone.
Something about going to the ticket counter. Taking care of business. It's empowering.
The best part of airports though...
People watching.
Airports are the BEST place to people watch.
Last week I went to Salt Lake City.
So I sat in the terminal at Sky Harbor and well, watched people. (And watched a little basketball too...conference championships...)
Anyway.
There were other kids traveling alone. I assume going back to school after spending spring break in Arizona. Or maybe going to spend spring break in Utah like I was.
There were old couples. An especially quirky old couple in quirky clothes. The husband brought back Wendy's...the wife spilled the giant cup of soda. Quirky.
There were families. With copious amounts of children. Why you would fly with multiple babies is beyond me...
There were businessmen carrying briefcases.
There were rich looking ladies with their Louie Vuitton luggage.
Then there were my favorite, the classy adult couples. One in particular, intrigued me. I sat next to the wife, who I noticed had a nice pedicure and a fresh set of Frenched nails. She wasn't the most fit woman, but she certainly aged gracefully. Makeup done, matching jewelery, shoes from Dillards. (I could tell because when changing from flip flops to her nice shoes, I saw the price tag on the sole) Her husband was looking particularly dapper. Blazer, slacks, loafers. Checking his e-mail on his i-phone. A very professional fellow. They were a very classy couple.
I wondered about them.
What was their life like? What did they do for a living? Did they have kids? Why were they going to Salt Lake City?
And then a lady came on the intercom.
"Now boarding first class passengers."
And there the couple went.
They flew first class, who woulda thought?
And that's when I realized.
I want that!
I want my future husband and I to be classy, professional people. People who can afford to travel. People who can fly first class.
Because I love to travel.
And that's when I made it a goal.
I have a list of places to visit. (Brazil, Panama, Italy, New Zealand/Australia, Alaska, Jamaica, Hawaii, India, South Africa, Chicago, New York City)
And someday, I will find a way to travel to all of those places.
My future husband and I...him in a blazer, me in my heels.
Flying first class.
Until then, I'll settle for traveling in the back row.
...with the families with copious amounts of crying children.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Here's to You: #2
"Was that your bf on the phone?"
"No. That was my uncle."
"Oh. Do you have a bf?"
"Uhh, Nope. Why do you ask?"
"Oh. Just wondering."
That's the first conversation we had. I'm not even kidding. He said "BF."
"Why is your hair two different colors?"
"Well, I dyed it. And now the dye is growing out."
"When are you going to cut your hair?"
"Uhh...I don't know."
That was another conversation we had. He seriously asked me why my hair was two different colors.
Now, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad that he even talked to me. Or acknowledged my existence. I mean, I was the new kid to band, I knew barely anyone in marching band, and I had to sit next to him in concert band...every day.
Now, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think he was kind of awkward. Okay, maybe I was a little bit too...I was the new kid, I was feeling out my surroundings, and I didn't want to say anything stupid or whatever.
Now, I'd be lying if I said that he was like anyone I've ever met, or that based off those first several encounters, we'd be as close as we are today.
He drives me crazy.
I mean that in the best way possible.
He is so competitive. So. Competitive. Especially with me.
2009 National Championship: Florida vs. Oklahoma. We talked trash. We made a bet. Needless to say, I got dinner and a movie.
We played soccer. It resulted in a bloody leg. I have a scar to prove it.
He talks so much trash.
He argues so much.
It's not a bad thing, really. I argue as much as he does. And for some reason, we get some sick satisfaction from instigating each other.
No really, he knows EXACTLY what to say to provoke me. (and vise versa)
Usually it has to do with sports.
He know's SO MUCH about sports.
It's cool though. I know if I say, "OMG DUKE WAS UPSET," he'll know exactly what I'm talking about.
But he never let's me win. Or admits he's wrong. And forget him telling me I'm right.
Drives. Me. Crazy.
It's okay though...I'm the same way with him.
I'd like to say I know him extremely well. I mean. I do know him extremely well.
But he's like a rubik's cube. I think I've got him figured out, and then I'm totally confused again. And it drives me crazy.
He knows me very well though.
He knows what I'm going to throw in an hour long game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, Slap. Which resulted in my left hand being swollen to the point that I couldn't play the piano. (Again. Competitiveness...)
And he knows when I'm upset about something, even when I don't want to admit it.
And he knows, or at least tries, to make me feel better all the time.
Because he's the most hilarious kid I know.
Even if he talks about poop all the time. Okay, not all of the time.
Although, we did sit in Sam's Club one day talking about farts.
But he does always make me smile. And he cracks me up.
He's the right amount of sarcastic. And refreshingly witty.
It isn't always rainbows and butterflies though.
Sometimes we get mad at each other.
Drives me crazy.
But we get over it. And everything is back to normal.
And even when our friends were in World War III with each other, we somehow weren't.
Sometimes he's a douchebag though.
Drives me crazy.
Actually. He's usually the right amount of douchebag...at least in my opinion.
Anyway, I think we might have set the record of the longest conversations ever on facebook chat.
One night, we were talking till 5 am. We had jazz band that morning. Yeah, neither of us went.
Sitting in his car, talking on the phone, texting, facebook chat, skype...talking to him just never gets old.
We originated the Question Game and we even created rules.
Really, I could write a novel about us.
I could talk about when he jumped in the pool in Florida with his phone in his pocket. Or how we spent 3rd quarters together in the stands every football game. Or his church ball games. Or how we texted each other rap verses. Or when we would walk to the spot after 1st hour. Or when we didn't pay attention at all during graduation because we were too busy taking pictures and talking.
I could talk about the time we floated down the Salt River and he tried pushing me off the air mattress. Or when we climbed A mountain one night. Or the times we hit the gym. Or when we played 1 v 1 bball and I beat him...once.
I could talk about all the time we spent this year during POA band season. Every day for lunch and dinner during band camp. Walking around after football games. Driving back from Homecoming at 3 am. Being bus buddies for the bowl trip. Buying t-shirts at the mall in El Paso.
I could talk about lunches at Barro's. Or ordering the same Vito, no tomatoes, sweet peppers, and a Cherry Coke, at Jimmy John's...always. Or baking brownies. Or my mom making him eat a ridiculous amount of pasta. Or when he put on an apron and made me corn dogs. Or how much he loves the cakes I bake. Or how he eats tons of Thin mints at 2 am.
I could talk about the time he came swimming when I was babysitting 5 kids. And the 5year old girl totally fell in love with him. And then all the kids begged me to invite him for dinner because they liked him so much.
I could talk about when we bought sneakers. Or when we watched Seven. Or when we ordered at Carls Jr. then backed out of the drive thru. Or when he did that at Taco Bell because he forgot his wallet.
Most importantly, I could talk about how far we've come since those awkward conversations. How comfortable I am with him. How goofy we are. How he drives me crazy, but how I couldn't imagine life without him.
So, here's to you!
Salud.
"No. That was my uncle."
"Oh. Do you have a bf?"
"Uhh, Nope. Why do you ask?"
"Oh. Just wondering."
That's the first conversation we had. I'm not even kidding. He said "BF."
"Why is your hair two different colors?"
"Well, I dyed it. And now the dye is growing out."
"When are you going to cut your hair?"
"Uhh...I don't know."
That was another conversation we had. He seriously asked me why my hair was two different colors.
Now, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad that he even talked to me. Or acknowledged my existence. I mean, I was the new kid to band, I knew barely anyone in marching band, and I had to sit next to him in concert band...every day.
Now, I'd be lying if I said I didn't think he was kind of awkward. Okay, maybe I was a little bit too...I was the new kid, I was feeling out my surroundings, and I didn't want to say anything stupid or whatever.
Now, I'd be lying if I said that he was like anyone I've ever met, or that based off those first several encounters, we'd be as close as we are today.
He drives me crazy.
I mean that in the best way possible.
He is so competitive. So. Competitive. Especially with me.
2009 National Championship: Florida vs. Oklahoma. We talked trash. We made a bet. Needless to say, I got dinner and a movie.
We played soccer. It resulted in a bloody leg. I have a scar to prove it.
He talks so much trash.
He argues so much.
It's not a bad thing, really. I argue as much as he does. And for some reason, we get some sick satisfaction from instigating each other.
No really, he knows EXACTLY what to say to provoke me. (and vise versa)
Usually it has to do with sports.
He know's SO MUCH about sports.
It's cool though. I know if I say, "OMG DUKE WAS UPSET," he'll know exactly what I'm talking about.
But he never let's me win. Or admits he's wrong. And forget him telling me I'm right.
Drives. Me. Crazy.
It's okay though...I'm the same way with him.
I'd like to say I know him extremely well. I mean. I do know him extremely well.
But he's like a rubik's cube. I think I've got him figured out, and then I'm totally confused again. And it drives me crazy.
He knows me very well though.
He knows what I'm going to throw in an hour long game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, Slap. Which resulted in my left hand being swollen to the point that I couldn't play the piano. (Again. Competitiveness...)
And he knows when I'm upset about something, even when I don't want to admit it.
And he knows, or at least tries, to make me feel better all the time.
Because he's the most hilarious kid I know.
Even if he talks about poop all the time. Okay, not all of the time.
Although, we did sit in Sam's Club one day talking about farts.
But he does always make me smile. And he cracks me up.
He's the right amount of sarcastic. And refreshingly witty.
It isn't always rainbows and butterflies though.
Sometimes we get mad at each other.
Drives me crazy.
But we get over it. And everything is back to normal.
And even when our friends were in World War III with each other, we somehow weren't.
Sometimes he's a douchebag though.
Drives me crazy.
Actually. He's usually the right amount of douchebag...at least in my opinion.
Anyway, I think we might have set the record of the longest conversations ever on facebook chat.
One night, we were talking till 5 am. We had jazz band that morning. Yeah, neither of us went.
Sitting in his car, talking on the phone, texting, facebook chat, skype...talking to him just never gets old.
We originated the Question Game and we even created rules.
Really, I could write a novel about us.
I could talk about when he jumped in the pool in Florida with his phone in his pocket. Or how we spent 3rd quarters together in the stands every football game. Or his church ball games. Or how we texted each other rap verses. Or when we would walk to the spot after 1st hour. Or when we didn't pay attention at all during graduation because we were too busy taking pictures and talking.
I could talk about the time we floated down the Salt River and he tried pushing me off the air mattress. Or when we climbed A mountain one night. Or the times we hit the gym. Or when we played 1 v 1 bball and I beat him...once.
I could talk about all the time we spent this year during POA band season. Every day for lunch and dinner during band camp. Walking around after football games. Driving back from Homecoming at 3 am. Being bus buddies for the bowl trip. Buying t-shirts at the mall in El Paso.
I could talk about lunches at Barro's. Or ordering the same Vito, no tomatoes, sweet peppers, and a Cherry Coke, at Jimmy John's...always. Or baking brownies. Or my mom making him eat a ridiculous amount of pasta. Or when he put on an apron and made me corn dogs. Or how much he loves the cakes I bake. Or how he eats tons of Thin mints at 2 am.
I could talk about the time he came swimming when I was babysitting 5 kids. And the 5year old girl totally fell in love with him. And then all the kids begged me to invite him for dinner because they liked him so much.
I could talk about when we bought sneakers. Or when we watched Seven. Or when we ordered at Carls Jr. then backed out of the drive thru. Or when he did that at Taco Bell because he forgot his wallet.
Most importantly, I could talk about how far we've come since those awkward conversations. How comfortable I am with him. How goofy we are. How he drives me crazy, but how I couldn't imagine life without him.
So, here's to you!
Salud.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Here's to you: #1
So I decided that I would start dedicating my posts to people, occasionally that is. And by that, I mean, blogging about someone significant in my life, because I feel like it's the least I can do to show my appreciation for whatever they do for me. I'm calling it, "Here's to You." (Kind of like giving someone a toast. Just on a blog. Through writing.)
Here's the catch.
I'm not naming names.
I don't want it to be some sort of advertisement, and some sort of competition/controversy of who's name is on the blog, but rather, I want to explain the impact these people have on me, and publicize the awesome people I'm lucky to have in my life.
So, enjoy!
Over the years I've had many friends. Some closer than others. Like, way closer than others. But not all of those friendships have lasted. And that's okay. Really. Because from every single one of those friendships, I've learned lessons. I honestly don't regret any of them.
But I'm not here to talk about the friends I've lost.
I'm here to talk about the one friend I've kept since sophomore year.
I moved at the end of October my sophomore year.
It was the roughest year of my life.
But I'm not here to talk about the roughest year of my life.
I'm here to talk about the kid in my Spanish and Block classes.
The kid who called me "Florida."
Who made fun of me for writing, "Fresh to death, THUG LIFE 727," all over my stuff. (I seriously hated Arizona, sorry.)
The kid who originated (yes it was this kid) the name, Sca-Harlot. (He was making up raps, I told him the only word that rhymed with Scarlett was harlot. Mistake? maybe.)
I was searching for a picture today, and I came across some from sophomore year.
There I found pictures of the kid who befriended me when I was the Negative-Nancy-New-Girl.
The kid who might be more competitive than me.
Put us together and we'll own you in a debate. About stem cell research, specifically. (Don't play Risk with him though. He's over the top then.)
There was a solid year that I barely hung out, let alone talked, to this kid.
Then we had seminary together 2nd semester senior year.
It's like nothing ever changed.
This is the kid I would trust with my life.
The kid gives the best advice, I assure you.
"Fake it till you make it."
And even if he goes to another school, we have the best catch up seshes. At my house. Til 2 am. During winter break, specifically.
And this kid knows how to have a good time.
Specifically for my birthday. Dancing. Hard.
Or conquering mountains. Or floating down rivers. Or pool hopping.
And I know this kid has my back. Always.
I feel like I just don't give this kid enough credit for how awesome he is.
At the end of it all though, this kid is someone I know I might not see every day, or talk to every week...but I always know he'll be there when I need him most. Especially when I want to have a good time. (Involving, but not limited to: pudding, toilet paper, Bahama bucks, and the Boondocks)
So, here's to you!
Salud.
Here's the catch.
I'm not naming names.
I don't want it to be some sort of advertisement, and some sort of competition/controversy of who's name is on the blog, but rather, I want to explain the impact these people have on me, and publicize the awesome people I'm lucky to have in my life.
So, enjoy!
Over the years I've had many friends. Some closer than others. Like, way closer than others. But not all of those friendships have lasted. And that's okay. Really. Because from every single one of those friendships, I've learned lessons. I honestly don't regret any of them.
But I'm not here to talk about the friends I've lost.
I'm here to talk about the one friend I've kept since sophomore year.
I moved at the end of October my sophomore year.
It was the roughest year of my life.
But I'm not here to talk about the roughest year of my life.
I'm here to talk about the kid in my Spanish and Block classes.
The kid who called me "Florida."
Who made fun of me for writing, "Fresh to death, THUG LIFE 727," all over my stuff. (I seriously hated Arizona, sorry.)
The kid who originated (yes it was this kid) the name, Sca-Harlot. (He was making up raps, I told him the only word that rhymed with Scarlett was harlot. Mistake? maybe.)
I was searching for a picture today, and I came across some from sophomore year.
There I found pictures of the kid who befriended me when I was the Negative-Nancy-New-Girl.
The kid who might be more competitive than me.
Put us together and we'll own you in a debate. About stem cell research, specifically. (Don't play Risk with him though. He's over the top then.)
There was a solid year that I barely hung out, let alone talked, to this kid.
Then we had seminary together 2nd semester senior year.
It's like nothing ever changed.
This is the kid I would trust with my life.
The kid gives the best advice, I assure you.
"Fake it till you make it."
And even if he goes to another school, we have the best catch up seshes. At my house. Til 2 am. During winter break, specifically.
And this kid knows how to have a good time.
Specifically for my birthday. Dancing. Hard.
Or conquering mountains. Or floating down rivers. Or pool hopping.
And I know this kid has my back. Always.
I feel like I just don't give this kid enough credit for how awesome he is.
At the end of it all though, this kid is someone I know I might not see every day, or talk to every week...but I always know he'll be there when I need him most. Especially when I want to have a good time. (Involving, but not limited to: pudding, toilet paper, Bahama bucks, and the Boondocks)
So, here's to you!
Salud.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Okay, seriously, I'm on a roll with keeping this updated...
You know how sometimes you just have a great day?
Yeah, that was today for me.
I mean, it wasn't anything extraordinary...
My life doesn't suck, I do have other good days...
But today just felt exceptionally great!
It could be due to the fact that I'm coming off of a Monday being super stressed, feeling burdened with decisions, and drowning myself in a Weather and Climates test (Whoa now, don't underestimate that class. That test was way harder than I expected.)And then coming off a Tuesday being sleep deprived due to the previous night's cram sesh, and having to take said exam, AND having class all day. (No really. I have a 5:30-8 pm class on Tuesdays)
Anyway...I'm sitting here, trying to figure out why today was so great.
Maybe it was being able to sleep in, because I didn't have class until 11.
Maybe it was not waking up to my alarm, but to a text saying, "Good Morning!" from one of my favorite people in the world. Because a "good morning" text from the right person ALWAYS makes my mornings better.
Or maybe, it was sitting in class re-reading my syllabus', and realizing that on the Friday before spring break, one of my classes is cancelled, and the other, I realized doesn't have an exam in...so I can miss...thus...starting my spring break a DAY EARLY.
Maybe it was finally sightreading the piano arrangement of "I Stand All Amazed" that I've been obsessing over for the past couple weeks. And maybe it was the sweet girls who told me how impressed they were at how great it sounded...even though I was just sightreading.
It could maybe be the fact that I went to institute. Mayyyyyybeeeeee.
Maybe, perhaps, possibly, it was lunch with Al my pal. Because I was cracking up so hard, as usual. I don't even remember why. Regardless. So much good.
...Or it was maybe the fact that I fiiiinallyyyyy got my memory card back from him. Loaded with 250 songs. Ohhh yah.
Maybe though, it was going to my first kickboxing class with Olivia. Which was SO TIGHT. And I didn't even look as pathetic as I thought I would. The teacher complimented me. What?!
Oh, maybe it was Florida beating South Carolina. And Nova was upset. Yeah, I went there.
Maybe it was not only finding mail in my mail box, but having it be a certificate congratulating me on making the Dean's List. Shucks, thanks.
But maybe, it was just appreciating the little things, not worrying too much, and enjoying the now. After all, life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...it's about learning how to dance in the rain.
Yeah, that was today for me.
I mean, it wasn't anything extraordinary...
My life doesn't suck, I do have other good days...
But today just felt exceptionally great!
It could be due to the fact that I'm coming off of a Monday being super stressed, feeling burdened with decisions, and drowning myself in a Weather and Climates test (Whoa now, don't underestimate that class. That test was way harder than I expected.)And then coming off a Tuesday being sleep deprived due to the previous night's cram sesh, and having to take said exam, AND having class all day. (No really. I have a 5:30-8 pm class on Tuesdays)
Anyway...I'm sitting here, trying to figure out why today was so great.
Maybe it was being able to sleep in, because I didn't have class until 11.
Maybe it was not waking up to my alarm, but to a text saying, "Good Morning!" from one of my favorite people in the world. Because a "good morning" text from the right person ALWAYS makes my mornings better.
Or maybe, it was sitting in class re-reading my syllabus', and realizing that on the Friday before spring break, one of my classes is cancelled, and the other, I realized doesn't have an exam in...so I can miss...thus...starting my spring break a DAY EARLY.
Maybe it was finally sightreading the piano arrangement of "I Stand All Amazed" that I've been obsessing over for the past couple weeks. And maybe it was the sweet girls who told me how impressed they were at how great it sounded...even though I was just sightreading.
It could maybe be the fact that I went to institute. Mayyyyyybeeeeee.
Maybe, perhaps, possibly, it was lunch with Al my pal. Because I was cracking up so hard, as usual. I don't even remember why. Regardless. So much good.
...Or it was maybe the fact that I fiiiinallyyyyy got my memory card back from him. Loaded with 250 songs. Ohhh yah.
Maybe though, it was going to my first kickboxing class with Olivia. Which was SO TIGHT. And I didn't even look as pathetic as I thought I would. The teacher complimented me. What?!
Oh, maybe it was Florida beating South Carolina. And Nova was upset. Yeah, I went there.
Maybe it was not only finding mail in my mail box, but having it be a certificate congratulating me on making the Dean's List. Shucks, thanks.
But maybe, it was just appreciating the little things, not worrying too much, and enjoying the now. After all, life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...it's about learning how to dance in the rain.
Monday, January 31, 2011
When you wish upon a clock.
Confession: I'm an avid 11:11 wisher.
Yeah, some people claim they wish on 11:11. Whatever.
I go so far as to follow the rules of 11:11 wishing...Which are as follows:
1. Don't say what you wished for. EVER. Or else it won't come true. Go ahead. Ask me what I wished for. I dare you to. Many have tried. All have failed. I'm not telling you my wish. I'm not playing around with this.
2. Don't sit around waiting at 11:10 watching the clock for 11:11 to happen. That's like cheating. It's like babysitting the base in tag. Or goaltending in basketball. Whatever, just don't do it.
3. If someone tells you it's 11:11 and to make a wish...then freaking do it! Jeez. Consider yourself lucky for having someone care to share the opportunity to make a wish with you.
4. If you are within sight of a clock, it's always helpful (but not always necessary) to kiss the clock. For extra luck. And who doesn't want extra luck?
So I realize this kind of makes me crazy. But I have reason to be!
In 10th grade, a dear friend of mine made me a "wish bracelet." She said to make a wish when I put it on, and when it fell off...the said wish would come true. At this time, we had just moved to Arizona, and were living with my aunt. I wished to find our own house. My bracelet fell off in February. The Friday after it fell...we moved into the house we live in now.
WHAT. Yeah.
Ever since then...I've believed in wishes.
Okay. Maybe that whole thing was sheer coincidence.
Maybe the bracelet fell off because I had showered and swam with it...for several months. Maybe it was just it's time.
That very well could be.
But that doesn't stop my believing in 11:11.
Wishes give us hope. We've been taught to wish since we were little, each year blowing out our birthday candles..."MAKE A WISH!"
It gives us hope that although our dreams and aspirations may be a bit far fetched, there's a slim chance that it might just happen. It might just come true.
I'll confess that my 11:11 wishes are typically the same. Or some derivative of the same wish. I have this wished tucked away in my brain, and as soon as I see that it's 11:11, I wish it. And you know what? It will come true. Or maybe it won't, it's really not entirely under my control. But it keeps me motivated. It gives me hope. What's life without a little something we want to pursue, or achieve, or fulfill to keep us motivated, and to keep us from living without a purpose? And who's to say my wish, or anyone's for that matter, could NEVER EVER be granted?
Anyway, I'm going to keep on wishing.
Because it can't hurt.
Yeah, some people claim they wish on 11:11. Whatever.
I go so far as to follow the rules of 11:11 wishing...Which are as follows:
1. Don't say what you wished for. EVER. Or else it won't come true. Go ahead. Ask me what I wished for. I dare you to. Many have tried. All have failed. I'm not telling you my wish. I'm not playing around with this.
2. Don't sit around waiting at 11:10 watching the clock for 11:11 to happen. That's like cheating. It's like babysitting the base in tag. Or goaltending in basketball. Whatever, just don't do it.
3. If someone tells you it's 11:11 and to make a wish...then freaking do it! Jeez. Consider yourself lucky for having someone care to share the opportunity to make a wish with you.
4. If you are within sight of a clock, it's always helpful (but not always necessary) to kiss the clock. For extra luck. And who doesn't want extra luck?
So I realize this kind of makes me crazy. But I have reason to be!
In 10th grade, a dear friend of mine made me a "wish bracelet." She said to make a wish when I put it on, and when it fell off...the said wish would come true. At this time, we had just moved to Arizona, and were living with my aunt. I wished to find our own house. My bracelet fell off in February. The Friday after it fell...we moved into the house we live in now.
WHAT. Yeah.
Ever since then...I've believed in wishes.
Okay. Maybe that whole thing was sheer coincidence.
Maybe the bracelet fell off because I had showered and swam with it...for several months. Maybe it was just it's time.
That very well could be.
But that doesn't stop my believing in 11:11.
Wishes give us hope. We've been taught to wish since we were little, each year blowing out our birthday candles..."MAKE A WISH!"
It gives us hope that although our dreams and aspirations may be a bit far fetched, there's a slim chance that it might just happen. It might just come true.
I'll confess that my 11:11 wishes are typically the same. Or some derivative of the same wish. I have this wished tucked away in my brain, and as soon as I see that it's 11:11, I wish it. And you know what? It will come true. Or maybe it won't, it's really not entirely under my control. But it keeps me motivated. It gives me hope. What's life without a little something we want to pursue, or achieve, or fulfill to keep us motivated, and to keep us from living without a purpose? And who's to say my wish, or anyone's for that matter, could NEVER EVER be granted?
Anyway, I'm going to keep on wishing.
Because it can't hurt.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
"19 is the new 35"
I hate that I don't blog as much as I should.
And I hate that when I do blog...or crave it...it's when I'm procrastinating something.
Anyway, now that I'm here, let me cut to the chase.
I turned 19 on Sunday! AHH.
I have to say though, this was my favorite birthday ever. And I've had some pretty great birthdays.
Like my Quinceanera:
Or this super cool (3rd?) birthday party at Chuck-e-Cheese:
Or my 1st birthday, where I obviously developed my love for cake:
But really. Over the years I've had some good times. And I've had some bad. (cough, last year, cough) But this year. Was just great. For some reason, I had this fear, that no one would remember my birthday...that I'd just sit in my dorm all day Sunday and have my own little party watching football or something.
Didn't happen.
Basically, I had SO much fun with some of my best friends. Had 2 birthday dinners. Capitalized on as much free stuff as I possibly could. There wasn't really a dull moment.
And even though I wasn't at home, my family made it just as great. They made me videos and sent me cards, which meant just as much as anything else I could've done at home.
My mom, though, made me a video that made my cry like a baby. Like, I'm tearing up just thinking about it. She scanned a bunch of my baby pictures, and compiled it into a slideshow that went to an acoustic version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. So then I started to feel really really old. Which yeah, I know, I'm not old at all, really.
But here's what freaks me out:
People my age get married.
What.
Yeah, okay, so it's typically mostly only in the Mormon culture. Aka Mesa/Utah. But still. Even 20, 21, girls get married.
"19 is the new 35. You're in your PRIME!"
Um. How can someone like me get married? That's what old people do. Well. Not old people. But people who got married were always so old compared to me. One of my dear friends is engaged. She's a year younger than me.
Uhhhhhh.
There's no turning back now. It's full speed ahead. I have to be responsible from now until forever. From now until forever I have to worry about jobs, and money, and housing. Grown up stuff.
GROWN UP STUFF.
I shouldn't have to worry about that. Can't I just party at Chuck-e-cheese some more?
I need to stop. There's no point trying to grow up too fast.
For now, I'm just going to enjoy my youth while I still can. That means drinking too many energy drinks, listening to music incredibly loud, and eating more sweets than is medically acceptable.
So here's to being 19:
Saturday, January 1, 2011
2011>2010
Top 10 Lessons Learned in 2010.
10. Krispy Kreme donuts are made for consumption...not for throwing out the windows of cars.
9. You can sleep when you die. It is very possible to run on very minimal amounts of sleep. ...Even on Game Days.
8. Procrastination works!! Although, it can be quite painful at times.
7. Some battles aren't worth fighting. Because as much as you want to win...you probably never will. Thus, stop wasting your time, efforts, and emotions and divert them to battles that you do have a fighting chance in.
6. Never throw snowballs without gloves on. NEVER.
5. When you find someone you can trust...hold on to them. These days, they are very hard to come across.
4. Hard work pays off. So don't quit.
3. Burning bridges is necessary sometimes, as difficult as it is. But some best friends will always be there...despite adversity.
2. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or of the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
1. Family is always going to be there. Through moving away. Through losing best friends. No matter what. So if you don't like your family...get over it.
10. Krispy Kreme donuts are made for consumption...not for throwing out the windows of cars.
9. You can sleep when you die. It is very possible to run on very minimal amounts of sleep. ...Even on Game Days.
8. Procrastination works!! Although, it can be quite painful at times.
7. Some battles aren't worth fighting. Because as much as you want to win...you probably never will. Thus, stop wasting your time, efforts, and emotions and divert them to battles that you do have a fighting chance in.
6. Never throw snowballs without gloves on. NEVER.
5. When you find someone you can trust...hold on to them. These days, they are very hard to come across.
4. Hard work pays off. So don't quit.
3. Burning bridges is necessary sometimes, as difficult as it is. But some best friends will always be there...despite adversity.
2. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or of the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
1. Family is always going to be there. Through moving away. Through losing best friends. No matter what. So if you don't like your family...get over it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
