Sometimes I Stutter

So I just woke up from a three hour nap and am a little confused and disoriented. When I woke up this evening I was hoping that it was morning time and I could just stay in bed forever; however, according to my phone it was only 9:00 almost on the dot when I woke up. With my grumpy I-just-woke-up face still on I walked out of my room to chill with the roomies on the couches which is where I am now and stuff. The first week or so (I’m not sure anymore how long I’ve been here) has flown by so quickly, filled with its share of new faces and problematic circumstances. The most interesting (and by most interesting I mean the only one I’m willing to write about on the internet) problem of the week was my very logical thinking that maybe if my Dad no longer paid for Sigma and I de-pinned (quit Sigma) he would get better and wouldn’t be sick anymore. Life, unfortunately, does not work like that. People say that giving something up, making a sacrifice, and/or punishing oneself does not make anyone else feel physically better. Now, normally I am quite a reasonable person so I’m unsure whether I should be amused at my own stupidity and plain unreasonableness by coming to such a silly conclusion that quitting Sigma meant my Dad would get better, or to be terribly concerned about my mental well-being. I think I’m going to pick borderline amused because it takes a great deal less effort to be slightly amused at one’s own folly and requires less follow up than mental health issues would.

Also interesting is my inability to speak properly in front of groups that intimidate me scholastically. I’m not sure if this happened because I’ve told myself I can’t speak and/or think well when I feel intimidated by someone else’s smartness and therefore I can’t or if it just happens and is one of my quirky traits. I wonder if I kept track of the number of times I stumble over words in a day if my stutters and word errors would increase or decrease?

Yes, I missed two days.

There is something to be said for people who hold you in the middle of their bedroom floor while you bawl your eyes out, especially if those people start crying with you. I will admit that I have been out of sorts lately and haven’t been able to absorb things quite well, or absorb them at all. Of course that means that a break down was imminent. It happened tonight. I’ve spent the last week filled with inner conflict while staying so busy that I barely had time to think about anything. This weekend has been so quietly peaceful, giving me enough calmness of heart to finally break down—which is a good thing. Yesterday, I stayed out of phone commission all day which means that I didn’t communicate with anyone electronically for most of the day except Joscelyn, but she gets the big sister/roomie exception award. I refused to communicate with anyone else because I didn’t have to…well that and I just needed a day off.  Both today and yesterday I was fortunate enough to have lazy breakfast in which I could drink coffee and sit still in the quiet sunshine while thinking about everything, anything, and nothing at the same time. I also got to go thrifting today and purchase some really cool booksJ I’m really excited about them. AND I had an amazing God conversation with someone who went through exactly what I went through last year and what I am also going through again this year. I guess Proverbs is right when it says “so as iron sharpens iron, so does one man sharpen another man,” but in this case, its women. How ‘bout them apples?! Although there are still things in my life I need to handle and learn how to handle better—including talking more to people when I’m dealing with stuff—I am more at peace than I have felt in a long time. That and happy. 

Phone Calls

My dad would be proud of me tonight. I was talking to one of my friends who expressed fear over the uncertainty in her life, what to major in, what to do after college, and all that jazz. Although I cannot remember her exact phrasing, she mentioned being something of a rambler, someone who never settles, for the rest of her life. I told her something my dad always told me: “life is a journey not a destination.” I used to tease my Dad all the time for kicks and giggles, telling him that life is a destination—it’s death.  While talking to my friend I used my Dad’s wisdom to encourage her that although the unknown future ahead may be scary because it is unknown it is okay to not have one place in mind where you’ll end up. It is okay not to have a five-year or ten-year plan that ends at a specific place where you want to be. THAT would be living for a destinations which isn’t what life is about, or at least I do not think that is what life is about. Life is about, well, living and growing as human beings and learning to love one another to the best of our abilities. My Dad would be proud to know that I was sharing his words of wisdom with someone else as well as agreeing with his words myself. I love my Dad very much and I am not to grown to admit that I need him in my life if only to text me and call me saying that he loves me and hopes I have a good day. I need to hear his perspectives and opinions on the thing in life I experience. I need his wisdom and I need to tell him what is going on in my life. My mom called me the other day after class letting me know my Dad had checked into the hospital again because of his heart. Around my birthday last year my Dad was really sick with a respiratory (I think upper) infection. After being sick for a while his heart started to act weird in a really bad way and Dad finally had to go to the hospital. I’m not sure if the doctors ever figured out what was wrong with his heart, but dad thinks it was the medicine he was given for his infection that caused it. Well my Dad is no longer taking funky medicine and his heart is acting up again. It started beating in normal rhythm this morning which is a good thing though I can’t help but be worried. I guess I’m just worried that he is going to leave me when I still need him. Though I am telling myself that he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon I can’t help but to think that if he is going away I want to spend as much time with him as I can. The problem is I’m so far away and I think he would be really upset with me if I left school. With thoughts of my Dad in my head I can’t help but to be grateful that life is a journey instead of a destination because  I don’t want my Dad to reach a destination as selfish as that may be.

I'm a contradiction

Bria, one of the alternate RA’s who lives on my floor, has been hanging out with my group of friends lately. It is a lovely surprise to have her around—I greatly enjoy her company. She is black or African American or whatever the politically correct term is and, thus, has a different kind of hair than I do. Well I have always been fascinated with black hair and how to fix it because I really had no idea it had to be treated so differently than mine until I gave a friend of mine a ride to the grocery store so she could buy hair products and I ended up standing with her in an aisle full of stuff I had never before seen. Bria randomly came to my room this evening to teach me how she fixes her hair at night to prevent it from breaking and to train it to curl correctly—she wears her hair natural and it seems to takes a little bit more time to fix. As she was “double twisting” her hair she explained to me what she was doing and why she was doing it and taught me other things about fixing natural hair. If I ever am so fortunate to have a black baby, I am going to keep her hair natural (I guess if/until she asks for a perm) and spend the time to fix it appropriately.

 Like I said, her visit was a surprise, but it was not pointlessly random because we started a conversation about God that I really needed. My staunch individualism likes to pretend I do not need others’ wisdom, but I really do. I hadn’t told Bria anything that was going on in my life before she started talking about relationships, Godly relationships, what they mean, and how to go about it that general direction. Also without knowing my current decisions, she started talking about putting God first in our lives and not putting those we’re in relationships with above God. “How can you love the creation more than the creator,” she said. She also mentioned the importance of choosing God every time over the other things that we’re tempted to choose. Her wise words gave me strength to do the things that I don’t want to do, but really do want to do if that makes any sense. Like wanting to eat French fries, but really wanting to be skinny and healthy. 

Scars

Whenever I do not know what to write about, I start typing a simple sentence: I do not know what to write today. After my fingers get in the motion I finally find something that I want to type about and backspace over my starter sentence. And while after procrastinating finding a topic I now have one, but I can’t write about it here—it is inappropriate to share everything with the internet in a time when a Facebook post can get you fired from a job.

I will say this:

People do stupid stuff all of the time. When we hurt others the most when we ourselves are hurting. People hurt those they love. I’ve done it. If you haven’t, just give it some time, it will happen. Sticky situations are just sticky. Time heals all wounds, but the scars are forever. Granted, I’ve learned to like some of my scars. (I have this one on my knee that I do not remember acquiring, but it is huge and feels different from the rest of my skin.) Some scars fade into the background so well that you can barely find them anymore; you have to be looking for them to find them. Other scars disappear from sight all together, though they’re still there. I’m not sure why we get scars, why our skin does not simply recreate the same skin texture we’re born with. Maybe the scars stay to remind us that the pain we once felt actually existed, to remind us that pain does exist but eventually ends. My scars are every bit apart of me as the undamaged parts and I don’t mind them. They give me something to ponder over when I get to bored.

I suppose all of that is easier to say when the wounds have healed into scars and the pain can no longer be felt. 

It has been a rather long day

So instead of filtering my thoughts I wrote a private entry.

Genocide and Chef Boyardee

Orientation has gone well so far, I think. Riding from Oglethorpe to the World of Coke museum where Coke hosted the freshman class party, I couldn’t help but remember all the events of Orientation past. It occurred to me while I was glancing down memory lane that I should live in the present instead of the past; however, I decided that I like looking at the past and that I was going to think about it because I wanted to. Now don’t get me wrong, a lot of the things I remembered were not the most pleasant but they I was able to giggle at my own foolishness and wonder what in the world I was thinking.

Last year I felt such a strong sense of family and community because of the people that were here. Now some of those people are gone and new people have arrived. Who will join my family and the inner circle of my community? I can’t help but wonder. Really t could be any of them. Some of the best friends I have now are people who during orientation I couldn’t imagine ever being friends with. I couldn’t imagine ever having fun at Chi Phi the first time I was there or being close to any of the people I saw there. A year later two of the people I saw that night were sitting in my room chatting with me just because they’re my friends and a kid I met during my orientation sat on my bed next to me as one of my best friends.

I see change in the past and the future and I can feel it in the air now. 

Orientation was interesting. My group is interesting. I'm excited to spend more time with them.

A part of the orientation events was this speaker guy thingy. The gist of it was that he was teaching everyone to be self confidant and to encourage everyone to put themselves out there. It was cool, though more specifically the guy was a dating coach and talked a lot about getting people laid and stuff. I wasn't so interested in all the advice he had because although I thought the encouragement to put yourself out there without the fear of embarrassment is great I thought he focused more on the shallow kind of relationships that don't really go anywhere. I mean, what is the point of meeting over 1000 people in a year if you don't have very many lasting relationships. I wish he had spoken on how to create and establish healthy and happy relationships, romantic and friendly, as well as talking about how to go about getting everyone's attention. I don't know. It was interesting with its good and bad.

The best advice I have heard in a while isn't from someone who earns 1,799 per person for a workshop of teaching people how to part in New England. Her advice was free.

"Don't be afraid to be ridiculous and get excited about silly nonsense, ask too many questions, snort when you laugh too hard, smile and be your cheerful self and drive your suitemate crazy. Not too crazy, she seems nice. But. Krista, I hope your day is as wonderful as you are."

And because I read it like five times today already I'm going to post what I woke up to this afternoon just so I will see it all over again one random day when I reread this blog:

"I miss seeing your beautiful smiling face. I miss your hugs. I miss your noseyness all up in my business because I know you mean well. I miss your excitement over silly nonsense that a lot of people look over but you notice, because, well, it's silly nonsense that we should be excited about. I miss your little snorts when you laugh too hard. I miss making popsicles with you. And eating the popsicles. Making more said popsicles. Eating more said popsicles. And, yeah. Ogle place and ogle people are lucky to have your presence there. I guess what I'm trying to say is that Krista, you're amazing. I hope this school year is better than the last year. Not saying that last year could've been better but that you deserve nothing but the best for you and I hope this year is damn good."

Happy Eve

Tonight is the eve of freshman orientation, the night before all the new kids move in and take over the school, feeling as though they own it. A year ago tonight I was driving up to Oglethorpe in Constantine, my old car, after a stressful day and leaving Caitlin behind at troy after a lovely but sad visit. Mom and I stopped at a hotel on the Alabama side of the AL/GA state lines because I saw double everything thing which I guessed meant I was falling asleep. The nerves in my stomach that night were almost overcome with fatigue, but not quite. I had been counting down the days of summer, the days till I would move to college and, most worrisome, see Forester. Although we were only at the hotel for a few hours, I didn’t sleep for much of the time my head was resting on a pillow. That night my worries consisted of whether or not I would be accepted on campus, how well I would succeed in “hard college classes,” what Forester would think of me in person, and whether or not Lindsey and I would get along as roommates. Comparing those fears to the worries I have tonight, I can’t help but to find the gulf in difference between them quite comical. (I could have easily have done without the last two worries that, were at the time, the most prominent in my mind.) I am still concerned about getting along with the people I live with, but I’m not sick in the stomach over it because it will be okay regardless of what happens. I have so many bros and good friends that I’m not concerned over what guys think of me or whether or not I will be accepted. (Granted, I’ve already been accepted for being my crazy self.) Although I am still a tad nervous about the difficulty of my classes and what challenges they will bring, especially my stats class, I know what tools and resources are available to me if I struggle and I also know I can handle college level courses. Now it is the future and the amount of responsibility I have that concerns me. If only everything could be done perfectly and I knew I wouldn’t make the wrong decision or do the wrong thing… Growing up and everything grouped with that term is frightening. What is the balance between being childish and maturing? Where is the line between chilling with my friends and trying to be amiable with a professor? Is it hypocritical to change one’s behaviors like a chameleon based on the audience watching?

Although I think I know some of the answers I am wise enough to realize I know less than I actually think I do. Thus, I am going to go to sleep instead of elaborating answers for you.

Today

I was finally able to sleep properly for the first time in a while.
I was made extremely uncomfortable by freshman sports players who just moved in staring and introducing themselves.
I hung out with a few different groups of people doing very different things.
I mattress surfed down my dorm hallway.
I had a lovely chat with Devon via skype even though we're only a few minutes away from one another.
I was taken aback by how to handle a situation that may arise in the future. I can only pray that God would give me the discernment and love and knowledge to handle any issue properly.
I ranted in anger about the world and bad parenting though I know it ix much more difficult than it seems to my punk kid self.
Now, I'm going to sleep.

The Help.

Moral of the story: even if you use a separate toilet, you can still spread germs if you don't wash your hands after doing your business.

Okay, so I thought it was a really good movie though I think some things were a little off with it. I haven't read the book so i offer no critique of it. While I was trying to share my critique with some friends who had seen the movie with me, they brushed it off saying they dealt with that more fully in the book and the book was better and ect. Maybe they are right; however, I am skeptical that the book handled some of the sensitive material differently enough from the movie to make much a difference. Please keep in mind that the flaws I saw in the movie I read about in a review before I saw it. So whether or not I actually saw the flaws because they exist or saw them because I read about them and then sought them out in impossible to discern.

While I fully understand and appreciate that servants literally raised the children while their parents neglected them, I feel like the love a servant may have felt for their charge was romanticized too much. For instance, they did not very much discuss the resentment a mother could only feel for having to leave her own children in order to care for someone else's child. Also portrayed too softly was the love a servant felt for a family.How could a servant love a family so much that treated them as though they were not worth as much as human being?

The other critique that I both read about and saw was that there were too many stock characters in the film. That the key servants fit stereotypical roles that did not capture the complexity of a African American servant.

i wish the movie had come out last semester because it would have been perfect for the discussion in the paper I wrote for my Rhetoric on Human Rights class final. The paper was about how there was a genocide of African Americans in the southern united states that was sponsored by the government. Not many people like to think about the Americans being guilty of a genocide.

Oh and I also think the violence wasn't portrayed correctly or as violently as it actually was dspite the amount of violence that was in the film. But I understand why they did that: more violence would have upped the rating making it less available to larger audiences and the story wasn't about violence...more may have not fit in very well.

A ramble

Orientation Leader training has been a lot of fun so far. I remember being on the other side of orientation last year, longing so much for attention and affirmation form the upperclassman while striving at the same time trying to seem chill and not in need of anyone’s approval. I will be with my kiddies not just through orientation, but throughout the entire semester because I am also one of their awesome mentors for their fresh focus class. Thankfully I do not have to work with people I dislike because a) I am their only orientation leader and b) I like the other mentors. I have to admit I’m a little nervous about being their only orientation leader….  I had two orientation leaders, when I was a counselors at Girls State I had two co-counselors, and tag teaming came in handy both times. I’m nervous I will drop the ball and forget what I’m supposed to be doing. You see, I’m bad with schedules. So bad that I normally have to keep several calendars, look over them several times, and think about them in depth the day before. Not only am I going to be in charge of herding these children around from place to place on time, but I’m also leading a session in which time is very important.  Although I’m incredibly excited and flattered that other think me capable to do things, I’m not quite sure what to do with responsibility and stuff—it’s weird.

The best part about training so far has been spending time with my lovely friends. I forgot how much I missed them, how painful the beginning of summer was without them around. New faces came into night so I received rounds of hugs (oh are hugs wonderful!) and had chat times with some of my besties. I wish I could express to you the amount I love my boys and my sisters. They make my world a much, much brighter place.

How do you define family?

( I can’t quite remember if I have discussed family in this blog before or not and I’m too lazy to check. Thus, if you don’t want to read on the same topic, feel free to skip. Not that you need my permission not to read or anything. )

The first two definitions of family in the Merriam-Webster dictionary are a) a group of people living under one roof with a common household head and b) a group of people with the same ancestry.

However, family is something so much different to me. It is ever revolving and yet always the same. I can’t help but to think that my definition of family is a result of the dysfunction that exists among my blood relatives. I do not consider all of my blood relatives to be my family, nor are all the people I consider family share my direct or slightly indirect bloodline.

Many people frequently say that we can choose are friends but are stuck with our families and while that is true to an extent I have chosen my family. The choices to include as well as exclude from my personal family has been both greatly joyous and incredibly painful though I love the family that I know have. Family to me is similar to an apartment complex in the sense that some will live there your entire live while other will only live in the building for a few years or a few seasons. I do not think the fact that some may come and go and come again or stay makes them any less a family.

How do you define family?

Oh Oglethorpe, Oh Oglethorpe.

I am thankfully back at Oglethorpe and very happy to be here despite my worrying about change the past few days. Driving through downtown Atlanta in the heavy traffic that as a whole travels much faster than what is safe I finally started to feel like I was home again after leaving what felt like home about three or four months ago. As the familiarity of the roads and the intimacy I felt with the are increased the more I felt at home and the more my worry of every changing thing melted. We pulled into Oglethorpe, I saw Jos’ car, and everything seemed to be okay. As we, my parents and I, were walking out of Emerson Jos yelled out ‘WEEE OONNE!’ and gave me a huge hug. Joseph, Kev, Dan, Hilary, and Justin followed. Man, I love those people. Joseph like the amazing friend he is helped me move in and offered to move around furniture, but we already had, and offered to lower my bed which I mistakenly raised. …I think I’m going to take him up on that offer. I am way to short for this bed. We all went to dinner. I got to go work out at a lesser quality gym than the one I got to use during July, but I didn’t have to pay extra for this gym. Oh ya, that’s right, savings are where it’s at. I had an interesting experience in a broken handicap shower thing. Let’s just say that shower has to be fixed. THEN! Most importantly I got to color and watch Pokémon and spend time talking to Justin which was all so win. I’ve missed my friends. I’m happy to be home. The only things wrong with tonight are: My fridge which already has food in it also has mold in it, there is a bug flying in my room, I have a mosquito bit on my thigh that itches like a something itchy and I have to unpack this.

All in all though, I don't think those problems are big at all considering I'm finally here again. (Well, there are a bunch of boxes under my bed too.)

So I wrote something in my personal journal and am going to share part of it here even though it is probably a bad idea.

This afternoon while packing I was listening to a song by Tenth Avenue North—it was randomly playing on Spotify so I’m not sure what song it was. But the song held fear and longing and comfort, but the fear seemed predominant. The song threw my mind to a future where I had just then made the decision to fight for someone, to fight to love them, to marry this nameless and faceless person. There was a familiar stranger talking to me, trying to comfort me and experience with me the fear I felt after finally choosing to fight for one someone. I was so frightened and scared it wouldn’t work, that I would terribly hurt this person I loved so dearly, and terrified that I was going to open my heart open only to be wounded deeply. I was scared because although I was making the choice to marry him it didn’t feel like a choice. I needed him. I had to marry him….

(I personally hate the idea of needing anyone except God and I stupidly fight my need for Him sometimes too.) Eventually this memory of a future I have yet to experience lost its hold over me and I was able to think normal things. My following thoughts were: that isn’t me, I don’t need anyone like that and I won’t, the only person I will ever let myself need like that is God. 

This semester is dedicated to Jimmy Lee.

For Jimmy Lee

How do you capture the essence of who a person is with words? How do you communicate the influence someone has had on you with groups of made up symbols that fall short of internal feelings? I want to describe Jimmy Lee to you not just to share him but so that I’m sure to remember him. Let me tell you what he looks like: He is a fifty year old black man who works as a truck driver, an oyster shucker, and works some odd job at a fishery or maybe he just drives trucks for the fishery. He likes to color coordinate his clothing although he never looks over coordinated or wears obviously expensive clothing. His head always wears one of his fifteen ball caps and his nose always holds a pair of black rectangular rimmed glasses. He is probably between 5-6 and 5-9 and weights about 200lbs. When he speaks his accent reveals him to be of the south and seemingly places him as a country man. I suppose I can also tell you some of the things he does or has done. He was married to a woman in Macon, GA which didn’t work out, and used to go to church quite regularly. Now he works 2-3 jobs and brings a cooler full of beer to work Friday and Saturday nights so he and his coworkers can stand around in the parking lot drinking beer while they’re being eaten by mosquitos. He doesn’t drink and drive and he has never hit on me although he frequently gives some of the waitresses a teasingly hard time. This man is really as sweet as can be. According to him I drive too fast and am going to lose my drivers license because of it. ( I do not drive too fast. I go by the speed limit.) Jimmy Lee and I have an ongoing joke that when I lose my license that he will drive up to ATL with his lawyer and come get me. It is silly, but cute.

In more ways than one Jimmy has communicated that he is really proud of me for going to college and taking advantage of the opportunity to do well and go far in life. I, being my lovely self, reminded him that plenty of people graduating college without jobs just after he was saying that I would do well and get a good job and ect. He just brushed my negative comment off. I’m not sure if it is the poor culture I grew up in that associates such a positive stigma to education, believing that if you can somehow afford to go to college and you’re smart enough to do well that you will get a good job and have an easy life. I don’t know why, but Jimmy wants that for be so badly. Tonight he even gave me a lecture saying, “I’m not trying to play daddy,” but work hard, have fun, don’t settle for the first guy that comes along, and sure as hell don’t get pregnant. Once that happens, he said, all your traveling and fun and opportunities will end and you will be stuck in Gulf Shores for the rest of your life.  

It was so important to Jimmy Lee to help me on this endeavor, to give me something to remember him by, and just to keep me safe that he asked me to lend him the favor of buying me a tank of gas. I told him he didn’t have to, but if that was so important to him I wouldn’t stop him. He replied it was terribly important and handed me a fifty dollar bill.

That man really treated me with love.

Thoughts from Places Edition: Jacksonville

Thoughts from Places Edition

Wednesday morning around 2am I arrived at Easton’s home in Jacksonville, FL. After chatting and watching Youtube videos with him I finally tried to fall asleep around 3am although his cat, who wanted to snuggle with me on the couch but who would refuse to lay still kept me up till about 4am when Zorro, the cat, finally decided that maybe snuggling me wasn’t in his best interest. My phone alarm went off around 5:40 which meant I pressed snooze and didn’t wake up to around 6am which was bad because I needed to be leaving the house at 6. I called Easton who said before bed that he may or may not go to the beach with me to learn that he was too tired to be bothered to go. I, tired from driving all night, hoped in my car and stopped by Dunkin Donuts before beginning my twenty minute drive to the beach. While I was driving I couldn’t help but wonder why in the world I was doing this, depriving myself of sleep, driving 14hours, and spending money on gas that I could use for something else, to simply see the sun rise. I mean, let’s be honest, it really only is a sunrise that last for maybe twenty minutes. As my thoughts continued to mock my actions, I finally reached the beach needlessly fearing that I was too late and the sun had already risen and parked in an incredibly residential neighborhood that I probably had no business parking in (I parked in front of someone’s home, but some random stranger jogging by told me it was public parking). I walked a block to the beach with a towel under my arm, obnoxiously loud keys dangling from my wrist, my mocha late in one hand and my cell phone (in case of creepers) in my other hand. The boardwalk to the beach that protects the sea oats from deathly stompings was shorter than I expected, but then again the beach itself was narrower than I expected. The beaches in Gulf Shores are wide, making the hike from a parking lot to the water’s edge feel like eternity when the hot sand is burning your feet, but the beach almost always declines sharply right before it meets the water. The Jax beach was terribly narrow even with the tide out and hardly had a slope at all as it reached the water, it was almost completely level. (I couldn’t help but think the insurance on the beach homes behind me had to be extremely expensive because they were not on pilings and it wouldn’t take much water to flood the beach that was so narrow and without an incline to speak of.) The edge of the water looked like a silk sheet slightly rolling in a soft breeze while looking perfectly still at the point where it touched and became one with the sky. I have to admit I was disappointed by the few scattered clouds in the sky because they prevented me from seeing the sun creep over the edge of the world and polishing  the water to reflect hues of red, yellow, and pink all at once. The clouds were far away in the horizon so I was still able to see the sun rise over the tops of the clouds making them come alive as their tips burned bright coppers and gold and looked like streams of molten metals. While watching this unfold several miles away from where I was standing, I couldn’t help but to be happy and glad that I was experiencing this alone, that no one I knew was with me in person or via my cell phone though I had to fight the urge to call people or send them the pictures I was taking of the sky. I do not know what was so special about my trip that made me glad I did it and did it alone for I invited several people to come with me and Easton had almost gone to the beach with me but no one came. The people, my friends and Easton’s restaurant people, all thought I was more or less crazy for driving so much for so little time at my destination. (I arrived at 2am and left before noon). Alex called me stupid and everyone Easton introduced me to at the restaurant (his dad owned it) were shocked that I had driven all that way to spend so little time in Jax and they were shocked that it was all only to see the sunrise.

Standing there on the beach that held nothing at all familiar I was happy to be alone and satisfied in my ability to accomplish my dream regardless if anyone wanted to be a part of it. I think the only person that I would have wanted to share it with would have been someone who had the same dream, not just someone who was accompanying me on my dream, someone following their own desires to accomplish their own dream.

The sun rose, I walked along the shore, collected a few beautiful and almost perfect shells and drove back to Easton’s house to take a nap before we went to brunch and I drove several hours back home. 

Day: 4 till ogletown

I have something to share with you. More specifically, I want to tell you about the road trip I took in the past 36 hours. However, I am far far too tired to write and tell you everything I want to tell you. But there is something else I wanted to share with you from my current obsession with Thought Catalog. Below please find the link to the article. It isn't really relevant or anything, but I think it is pretty great, pretty real....

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2011/reasons-why-i-cannot-love-you/

I'm a bum

Let’s face it, I’ve been sucking at writing lately more so than normally because I haven’t been writing at all lately. So much for having a 365 blog… I was going to try to write something witty about sun burns and tanning, but I think I will tonight opt for telling you about my day instead. Continue reading if you enjoy tedium.

My day, beginning around 12:00am as most days do, was rather long, filled with both mischievous giggles and disappointment.  When Monday became Tuesday, and/or today, I was goofing off with two of my good friends, Caitlin and Daniel, successfully playing Left for Dead for the first time, with Daniel’s help. Around oneish, Caitlin was overcome with fatigue and the realization that she was moving first thing in the morning and had yet to finish packing so I drove her home and helped her finish packing a  little. I’m that dork who can’t bear to part with friends, who begged Caitlin to let me see her in the morning before she left. So after getting home and skyping Thomas for a couple hours, I fell asleep around three, woke up at 6, dragged Caitlin to coffee, said byes and came back home to sleep for two more hours. Around 9:30am I woke up, showered, and drove an hour to my Grandma’s and to where I was hoping to get my car fixed. Chilllin with the Gran was as great as always, but sadly the car was not fixed. Thus, I still do not have A/C which is a huge disappointment because I was planning on driving to Jacksonville tomorrow to see the sun rise over the east coast but I’m not driving all that way without A/C. It is too miserable. I left the Gran’s just in time to drive an hour home, shower the sweat caused by no A/C in hell mirrored weather, eat, read Dan’s blog, and get to work on time. It was my last night at work tonight. It was a pretty darn good night too. We weren’t busy so the hostess and I kept picking on and flirting with one of the servers who is too old for us both but who picked on us the entire night. It was hysterical. We laughed and giggled and pulled pranks on one another and Brittany, the hostess, and I even split a cheese burger which, by the way, was as good as it looked. (I’ve been drooling over those stupid burgers since I started working there.) I got to give Jimmy Lee and the rest of the guys I spent time with this summer a gift to say thanks for all of their kindness and sweetness. They were simply awesome too me. I miss them already. Jimmy Lee almost made me cry saying how much they were all going to miss me and how things wouldn’t be the same after I left. Maybe he was embellishing, but it sure made me feel loved and liked.

It was a good day. I may have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, so bedtime it is. 

I wish he had a name.

After writing a blog last night that ends with, “I just want to remember them,” I am writing this morning because I just want to remember him. I dreamt about a guy last night and no, it wasn't a lustful dream.

He was tall and blond and built like a football player. In fact he slightly resembled Brandon Gottfried, the football player from my graduating class that went to Stanford in Cali. (Which is really weird because someone resembling Brandon is not a person I would pick out for myself.  At all. Ever.) The only down side to this boy in my dream last night was that like Brandon I fear he and I didn’t have to much in common though we had made plans to go swimming together. (We were going swimming instead of jogging for a work out. He was helping me to train so that I could be in shape.) He and I were somewhere and I kissed him. He kissed back but he didn’t seem too eager about the kiss so I stopped after trying to get him to want to be involved in the kiss. Afterwards when he and I were alone, he told said some things to me and I can’t remember exactly what he said, but I remember what he meant. He thought I was going too fast and that we should go slow, respecting each other and focusing on the one another without the distraction of all that is physical. There was something else in his reaction that communicated that HE wanted to be the one to lead and initiate what we did or didn’t do which honestly really shocked me. I have no problem with it at all, I mean there would be more than just him in the relationship so he wouldn’t have all the control, but he wanted to be the leader and he wanted me to let him lead. I’ve never met anyone like that before, someone who wanted to lead but who was interested in protecting himself as well as me, who wasn’t trying to lead just to take advantage of me.

I think I’m in love with this boy.

Towards the end of the dream I was trying to find him to ask him if he was a Christian or not. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let him lead me if he wasn’t a Christian because he would lead me somewhere I didn’t want to go. 

"You're not young, you're innocent."

Jose, my fellow busser, was talking about how the Jimmy Lee and the guys (those people I hang out with after work behind the restaurant) were all just trying to take advantage of me. His reasoning must have been that all the guys drink, tease me about not drinking, and were throwing me a small good-bye party. Jose’s thoughts made me a little angry at first because those guys have been so sweet to me all summer.  Don’t get me wrong, they were no means ‘proper’ and ‘respectful’ in general, but in their own way they showed me a great deal of respect. No one really flirted with me or hassled me. Only one of the guys ever touched me and it was Greg, he gave me a loose hug, and only after acting like he wanted my phone number all summer. He never asked for it either. (He finally explained to me tonight that he has been stressed out the entire time he has known me and if it wasn’t for that he probably would have asked for my phone number. I kinda wish he had, but I’m kinda glad he didn’t. After joking with him all summer about his old age, I finally found out he is twenty seven. It is nice to know I’ve been guessing correctly.) Jimmy Lee led a toast, or rather made everyone toast to me tonight to celebrate my going off to school. Although I explained to a few servers who came out just in time to participate but who didn’t know what the guys were celebrating that the guys were just eager to get rid of me, I think they may miss me after all. Jimmy Lee made it clear that he insisted on the celebration because he is proud and happy that I was going to school. Well, that and he said they will all miss me. I already miss them. I can’t help but hope these men have a good winter and that I’ll see them again if and when I pick up a couple extra shifts at the restaurant during Christmas break. I doubt they’ll all be there though which saddens me. Greg has had an interesting past to say the least and has court on Tuesday which could lead to 165 days in jail. Sounds like he made a bad life decision, but he didn’t tell me what. Hmmm, I’m guessing it was too many DUIs or something. (Ugh, driving when you know you shouldn’t be is STUPID!!) Yep, these are the men I’ve spent the majority of my summer Friday and Saturday nights with after work for a couple hours. Despite how sketchy it may all seem, the guys are great people and a lot different from the types of people I have for the most part always been around. Just because you did stupid stuff in high school or do stupid stuff now or are irresponsible or didn’t go to school and work a lower tier job doesn’t make someone a bad person. Those guys are good people.

I don’t think every relatively innocent girl has the same experience with a bunch of older guys while they are drinking after work. I can image that often the guys would mistreat of flirt with the girl and/or possibly put her in a bad position.  I mean it could potentially be dangerous if they were different…they could easily over power me if they wanted to. But they are kind and good people even if someone them haven’t made the best decisions. (Greg was telling me tonight that he quit several of the best jobs he has ever had to go to the beach—that is so stupid and irresponsible. Thankfully he knows that now and seems to regret doing so, in a good way if regret can be good….)

I just want to remember them all. 

Watching Esther.

I started watching some of her videos today. I'm not sure how I feel about watching this girl who I didn't really know while she was alive, but now that she is dead I am getting to know her. She had a great impact on some people I kinda sorta love. Is it weird to meet dead people?

What if you could buy thoughts...like in a Thought Catalog?

Thought Catalogue is a website where writers blog about non-fictional things anywhere from what they did that day or why the Middle East cannot seem to get along. Though in most of the pieces I have read the various bloggers are reflecting on different aspects of their life. Today I read an article in which the author was suddenly hit by the realization that, now in his pre-graduate years, he is an adult who doesn’t care much for the small town he grew up in and the friends he had while he was there. He expressed that he had once loved the place and the people, wishing that they could all stay there in that time and never leave one another. Now, we all know that such a wish is impossible and reflects the mind of a child who is afraid of leaving the comfort of what he knows and who is unable to picture a future reality.

While I’m sure not everyone has felt the same way as that child, I sure have felt that way before and to some extent I feel that way now. While I was eager to be off on my own at college my senior year of high school was great. I had a good job, I made good grades, I had amazing friends, and, although there were the bad things, I was really very happy. I was afraid of leaving the comfort provided by the people whom I loved and who loved me back in exchange for the big scary unknown that is, well, completely unknown. It was so unknown that just like the child mentioned above I couldn’t fathom what the real future would hold. I couldn’t imagine it or see it. You know how sometimes if you’re thinking of something you haven’t experienced yet but you have pictures in your head of what it could be like (even though those expectations never come true)? Well instead of having a picture of life after high school would look like, I had what looked like a cloud—completely blank. Don’t misunderstand, I could hardly wait to leave my small town and venture into the unknown despite my fear, but my readiness to leave didn’t erase or eclipse the fear. I dealt with that fear by planning as much as I could for what I could plan, my dorm room and more specifically my bedding. I stressed out so much over that bedding because I had to see and touch what I was anxious over. I couldn’t let myself be anxious over a big, white cloud-sheet thingy that was the epitome of intangible.

Although people have and may still say I am driven, I don’t have a lighthouse that I am running to or that is directing me. I do not know where I am going. In the comfort of my friendships and life, here and at Oglethorpe, I can’t see the future and, although I am eager for it, I almost don’t want it to come.

I’m so excited for it to come or, rather, for me to go there…wherever there is. 

Appetite-- what is that?

My stomach has been in knots all day. Although I am hoping the knots are the physical embodiment of my excitement to move back to, and all that is, Oglethorpe. However I have an inkling that the nervous stomach is resulting from anxiousness and fear and worry—all things God says we are better without. If only I could trust Him more, life wouldn’t necessarily be smooth or easy but it would be better. It would be without worry. After a few months of struggling to back into the Gulf Shores grove I am finally accustomed to living her and have developed a routine of sorts. Apparently the love for all things spontaneous and the love for change do not go hand in hand because change scares me. I like what I am used to for the most part and am worried about what life will be like once I move. I’m nervous about the changes that will happen, that have already started to happen. To be honest with you I lost myself last year for a little while and got to a place that I really didn’t like. To be having tons of fun and to be as far away from God as you can remember ever being isn’t really all that much fun. The struggle on my part to make things work with Him after months of ignoring Him was difficult—I had to give up some things and really re-examine my life. (It would have been easier if I wasn’t so hard-headed.) My relationship with Him is better now though I am afraid of losing myself again and drifting away from Him again. I’m only really happy when I’m spending time with God relatively often. I like being happy and I’m worried I’ll be too busy to make the time. Hmm, I guess I will just have to make the time and everything will just be okay. Instead of worrying, I’m going to try to trust God with my life—what a challenge—and do/change the things I can while learning to accept what I cannot change. 

Gossiping

Last Saturday night I was working at the restaurant just doing my thing when one of the servers informed me that she had a question to ask me and to not leave before talking with her. I between that conversation and closing time wondering what it was that she needed to talk to me about. Just before I walked out the door, I stopped by where she was counting her tips and doing her server thing before going home herself. She leaned into me and asked me a very inappropriate question about my personal life. Reacting in shock I answered her question quite unsure what to say and how to act and therefore defaulting to nervous giggles and the awkward smile that is too large to speak through. She had heard a rumor about me through the "grape vine" and wanted to know if it was true. It was not true and it wasn't a very nice rumor--well I'm sure it would flatter some but it didn't really reflect the kind of person I would like to be. For the past 3 days I have been thinking about what she asked and all that it means. Tonight, I have to admit that I am slightly upset about the whole ordeal, not that it is a really big issue, but all the same. You see, the bartender told the server this piece of false gossip and it was the server who confronted me. If the bartender was so interested in my personal life, why not just ask me? Probably because he truly has no business being interested in my personal life....He really tries to avoid conversing with me. It is awkward. Any who, I thought about confronting the person who started this rumor about me and simply saying gossip isn't nice, but I couldn't think of a kind or productive way to do it so keeping my mouth shut seemed like a better option.

It is impossible for someone who uses their brain ever so little to not contemplate the things they have said about others when they have found out certain things people say about them. I am completely guilty of butting my nose into other people's personal lives when their personal lives are really none of my business. (I suppose there is a difference. Go on ahead and butt your nose into someone's personal life if that person chooses to confide in you. You are their trusted friend--you can be nosey and check in on them. But you talk to them, not other people about them.) The more I think about it the more ashamed and, well embarrassed, to admit that I have done to others exactly what the server and bartender did to me.

No mas! Gossiping is bad, admittedly, and though I often make attempts to not engage in the sometimes fun but mostly hurtful activity I sometimes do it too. With a fresh taste of how it feels on the other side, my resolution to not be a gossip has significantly increased and I shall now take more care in the things I choose to say and the conversations I choose to participate in. Feel free to smack me in the face if you hear me gossiping.

It is much simpler to answer the question ‘why do I write’ than it is to explain why I first wanted to become a writer. I write for a few reasons. Other than the fact that I would like to be a writer and writing regularly supposedly helps hone the skill, I write to not hide myself. Sometimes I feel that if I do not share at least some of my thoughts and feelings and ideas that I will implode into oblivion without anyone getting to really know me or understand me. I write as a form of therapy to help heal the angry person that lies hidden and locked below my genuinely happy and bubbly outside personality, but also to regularly update one of my best friends about what is going on in my life. I write to say the things that I can’t tell anyone about and to tell the world the things I want to tell everyone. Not to mention I think the idea of leaving behind pieces of me to those who want to have them after I die is pretty cool. (I would love to read a journal of my grandfathers if he had kept it.)

I’m not sure why I initially wanted to be a writer, but there are several possibilities. I didn’t have a bad childhood, I frankly feel like my life was quite swell, but most psychologist would say there were some big issues in my childhood. Reading, one of the only things I was truly passionate about for an extended period of time, became my escape from the more difficult aspects of my life and I fell in love with books. At first I wanted to become essentially an editor though the picture in my child’s mind was a long way away from what an editor actually is, but as time passed by I realized that I had thoughts that are worth sharing with the world. Actually, I realized I had the capability to think great thoughts that were worth sharing with the world and began to hope that I would have those great thoughts so I could write a book.

Maybe it is my love for books that made me want to be a writer. Maybe it was the ideas I had and wanted to share or the ideas I thought I would have that I felt the world needed to know. To be honest, I do not know why I want to be a writer now let alone why I first wanted to be a writer. I do know that I read books and witness the creativity and art and wonder they hold and want to make the same thing. I want to write something that allows