"A conclusion is the place where you get tired of thinking."
Missing Piece,
I'm in a funk. I'm going to tell you why. I hope to keep this short because I'm busy, and I'm tired, and I want to crawl in a hole and never come out. I don't suppose that you want to hear about this at all, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Here I go.
While my family was visiting me at college yesterday, my dad informed me that he had a story about my little brother Evan. Evidently, Evan, all of 11 years old, walked into the kitchen (my dad was the only one in the room), and says, "Dad, can I talk to you about something?" Obviously, my dad panics because he thinks something terrible has happened or that he's going to have to have some super awkward talk with an 11-year-old, but Evan continues with some prompting.
"I'm going to the Homecoming dance."
"You are? Oh!"
"With Angela."
"Oh! Did she ask you or did you ask her?"
"I asked her."
Now, Piece, this is the part in the story where I went, "AWWWWWWW!!! THAT'S SO FREAKING CUTE! MY LITTLE BROTHER LIKES A GIRL! :D AND HE ASKED HER OUT! :D AND SHE'S NOT EVIL OR FREAKY OR SNOTTY! :D Oh, we sisters raised our little buddy right."
I was so freaking happy after hearing this story... until someone mentioned that my little brother, who I might add is nine (count them NINE) years younger than me, may very well have his first significant other before I do.
My little brother's homecoming dance is in six days. I have six days to find a boyfriend or my little brother will have a girlfriend before I've had a boyfriend. I feel like I'm going to vomit.
I'm going to go crawl in my hole now, Piece. Perhaps, you could be so kind as to throw down some bread or a blanket if I haven't crawled out in a couple of days.
Piece, I have concluded that it's going to take some major change of situation to get me out of the funk I'm in. I can't focus on homework. I don't want to go anywhere. I can't even manage to get out of bed today. This is so unlike me.
I need something to live for again. Something to throw myself into. Something that can consume me.
I need to find my missing piece, and I need to find it now.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Defining Tolerance
"A man's called a traitor or liberator. A rich man's a thief or philanthropist. Is one a crusader or ruthless invader? It's all in which label is able to persist. There are precious few at ease with moral ambiguities, so we act as though they don't exist." -"Wonderful," Wicked
Hello, Piece.
Hope you're having a lovely night wherever you happen to be. I wanted to fill you in on an interesting situation my brain is stuck on. Perhaps, you can shed some light on it for me. Perhaps, just writing it down will make it make sense in my head. Perhaps, I'm just full of shit. Regardless, here's the deal.
I have a roommate. (Well, actually I have three, but for the sake of this story, the one is important to recognize.)
I have a roommate who's dating this guy. (She swears they aren't dating. Just "going on dates" - which is definitely NOT the definition of dating (*insert sarcasm here*) - but for the sake of this story, they're dating.)
This roommate has issues with the guy she's dating because he's Catholic. You see, Piece, this roommate seems to believe that there's no reason to date if there's no chance she will marry the man in question, and since he's Catholic and she'll NEVER become Catholic then their relationship (or lack of relationship since they aren't dating (*SARCASM SARCASM SARCASM*)) isn't worth it.
Now, yes. The anti-Catholic sentiment this roommate possesses bothers me immensely. I'm Catholic. You can't bash Catholics, and then turn around and say we're best buddies. It doesn't work like that, and I'm working on figuring out a solution. It's been a wrinkle in our relationship, but that's not the point of the story.
One of this roommate's highest priorities is her faith. That's fair. Nothing against that. She goes to a church group on my college campus. She breaks out her Bible in our living room. She goes to church when she's not working Sundays, and she doesn't have to get up too early, and she has a ride. She hates Catholics. (Not that that last bit is really relevant. I'm just beginning to think that it's a staple in any non-Catholic religion, to hate Catholics. Thought I'd throw it in while I was thinking about it.)
This roommate believes that the only way to heaven is the way she sees it. Believe in Jesus her way. Practice religion her way. Do what her church says to do. Everyone else is doing it wrong. This roommate can only date people who can follow what she dictates as the right path, and as far as I can tell, she feels little need to entertain a discussion in which she may be wrong on the subject. It's sort of a you're-either-with-me-or-against-me sort of mentality.
Alright, Piece. Here's where it gets tricky.
This roommate obviously knows what she expects out of religion. She has her convictions, regardless of whether I approve of her methods or not. She'll associate herself with people who feel the same as she does. She'll only date a man she'll marry. She'll only marry a man with the same religious beliefs.
I'm the opposite. I have issues with religion. I question it. There are parts that I don't believe in or agree with. I don't go to church regularly (though I do my best to pray every night). I'll associate myself with anyone who is willing to discuss religion rather than debate it. I feel like I grow from conversations like that.
And honestly, Piece, I could give a rat's ass what religion my future husband subscribes to. Sure, things could get complicated if he's Jewish or Buddhist or something of the like, but I wouldn't have any problem trying to work something out. (My mother would say otherwise, but she's not the one marrying the man, so it's a moot point.)
So, here's the question: Does my roommate's conviction to only date a man she'll marry (who thus has the same religious beliefs as her) mean her faith is stronger than mine, that my convictions and actions mean less? Or does it simply mean that I'm a more tolerant person?
It's a very tricky balance, Piece. One I'm not sure I have a grasp on yet. Hopefully, I can come up with an answer soon. Perhaps, there's no answer to find. Either way, I have a puzzle on my hands. A puzzle I'm dying to solve, and while I wait to see how all the pieces will come together, I'll wait for you, Piece. I'm sure you fit into this jumble somehow.
I promise to leave space for you. One space for the piece I'm missing.
Goodnight, my Missing Piece. Sleep well. God bless.
Hello, Piece.
Hope you're having a lovely night wherever you happen to be. I wanted to fill you in on an interesting situation my brain is stuck on. Perhaps, you can shed some light on it for me. Perhaps, just writing it down will make it make sense in my head. Perhaps, I'm just full of shit. Regardless, here's the deal.
I have a roommate. (Well, actually I have three, but for the sake of this story, the one is important to recognize.)
I have a roommate who's dating this guy. (She swears they aren't dating. Just "going on dates" - which is definitely NOT the definition of dating (*insert sarcasm here*) - but for the sake of this story, they're dating.)
This roommate has issues with the guy she's dating because he's Catholic. You see, Piece, this roommate seems to believe that there's no reason to date if there's no chance she will marry the man in question, and since he's Catholic and she'll NEVER become Catholic then their relationship (or lack of relationship since they aren't dating (*SARCASM SARCASM SARCASM*)) isn't worth it.
Now, yes. The anti-Catholic sentiment this roommate possesses bothers me immensely. I'm Catholic. You can't bash Catholics, and then turn around and say we're best buddies. It doesn't work like that, and I'm working on figuring out a solution. It's been a wrinkle in our relationship, but that's not the point of the story.
One of this roommate's highest priorities is her faith. That's fair. Nothing against that. She goes to a church group on my college campus. She breaks out her Bible in our living room. She goes to church when she's not working Sundays, and she doesn't have to get up too early, and she has a ride. She hates Catholics. (Not that that last bit is really relevant. I'm just beginning to think that it's a staple in any non-Catholic religion, to hate Catholics. Thought I'd throw it in while I was thinking about it.)
This roommate believes that the only way to heaven is the way she sees it. Believe in Jesus her way. Practice religion her way. Do what her church says to do. Everyone else is doing it wrong. This roommate can only date people who can follow what she dictates as the right path, and as far as I can tell, she feels little need to entertain a discussion in which she may be wrong on the subject. It's sort of a you're-either-with-me-or-against-me sort of mentality.
Alright, Piece. Here's where it gets tricky.
This roommate obviously knows what she expects out of religion. She has her convictions, regardless of whether I approve of her methods or not. She'll associate herself with people who feel the same as she does. She'll only date a man she'll marry. She'll only marry a man with the same religious beliefs.
I'm the opposite. I have issues with religion. I question it. There are parts that I don't believe in or agree with. I don't go to church regularly (though I do my best to pray every night). I'll associate myself with anyone who is willing to discuss religion rather than debate it. I feel like I grow from conversations like that.
And honestly, Piece, I could give a rat's ass what religion my future husband subscribes to. Sure, things could get complicated if he's Jewish or Buddhist or something of the like, but I wouldn't have any problem trying to work something out. (My mother would say otherwise, but she's not the one marrying the man, so it's a moot point.)
So, here's the question: Does my roommate's conviction to only date a man she'll marry (who thus has the same religious beliefs as her) mean her faith is stronger than mine, that my convictions and actions mean less? Or does it simply mean that I'm a more tolerant person?
It's a very tricky balance, Piece. One I'm not sure I have a grasp on yet. Hopefully, I can come up with an answer soon. Perhaps, there's no answer to find. Either way, I have a puzzle on my hands. A puzzle I'm dying to solve, and while I wait to see how all the pieces will come together, I'll wait for you, Piece. I'm sure you fit into this jumble somehow.
I promise to leave space for you. One space for the piece I'm missing.
Goodnight, my Missing Piece. Sleep well. God bless.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Semantics and Loopholes
"When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers." -Oscar Wilde
Dearest Piece,
Dearest Piece,
Last night, I went to bed and prayed for love to find me in the morning.
I woke up.
I did not find a love today, but I found love.
Touche, God. Touche. But seriously, no more loopholes.
Next time, Piece, I'm getting specific.
Next time, Piece, I'm getting specific.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Old and Frozen, New and Movin'
"The more things change, the more they stay the same."
Hi, Piece.
I know it's been a while. I'm sorry I didn't write sooner. It's not like I didn't have time or I had no topic to write about. I have no excuse. Things are just different here. Home is... home. Two days after I moved back here, I wanted to leave again. I'm in a funk. I feel restless. I'm simultaneously free to do as I please and trapped in some endless cycle that makes me feel caged. I can't think straight. This place is a world of its own. Somehow, here, nothing changes. But everything changes.
When I left for college, I knew what I was leaving behind. A nutty albeit wonderful family. Great friends who I'd spent nearly every day of my senior year of high school with. A house that I loved in a town that I cared about. A close-knit community that served as a support system. I chose to let it all go.
I went to school. I found myself a new set of friends who became my family, who I saw more often than I ever could have imagined before I'd lived it. I loved my dorm room (and the fact that it really was my own space), and I came to adore the city I'd moved to. I discovered a new support system in the staff and advisers at my school.
And all of this made me happy. It took me some time, but I carved out a new life for myself. Like the old one, yes. But very different. I kept the things that I valued. Everything else started fresh. No one knew who I was or where I came from or how nerdy I was in 7th grade. They had no idea I'd never dated or drank. I could be the best version of me because no one would question it. And that's exactly what I tried to do. I could be myself in my purest form, and that was okay.
I know I've changed since I left almost two years ago. I accept that. I'm proud of that.
Coming back here, though. I feel like I'm regressing.
My family still lives in the same house. The same things are still expected of me that were expected of me since I was 16 (or younger). Do the dishes. Drop your sister off at the school. Run to the grocery store. Eat your vegetables. Pick up your room. It's the same every day. It's a bit frustrating at times because I'd gotten used to controlling these things myself. Being subservient to my parents again (though still working to assert my independence) has taken some adjusting.
My community hasn't changed. Everyone still has the same jobs. The same people are still in control of the same things. Things are in the same places. It's like the town is frozen. It's predictable. Nothing unexpected happens here.
My friends are... well... all over the place - literally and figuratively. Only four of us from my high school group are home for the summer. Everyone else is out in the world living their life. As for the few friends that are home, they're still the same people I went to high school with, but certain characteristics have been magnified. We're all still great friends, and we hang out every other weekend (-ish). Our problem is, we all know (though one still hasn't fully accepted) that we're going back to college soon. Back to our other lives. Our group here, we have very little future together. Honestly, we're running out of things to talk about. Anything we discuss either has to do with the past or with one individual's future plans. We really have no present or future that involves all of us together.
I'd love to change that. I'd be ecstatic if I could show my friends my new home. Show them where I've gone and what I've done with myself. Show them the new life I've made. They refuse to see it though.
One friend from home has visited me in the time I've been away. That one friend is the only one who can actually understand what my new life means to me. None of the others can comprehend why I now act the way I do or the reasons I need to return to my other world so badly.
Oh, Piece. I just want to get back to my second home. I want to be happy and independent and free again. I want to go back to being the better me.
I want to show my old life what it was missing. Now, if only it would open its eyes to what I want it to see.
A new home. One I made on my own. One I'm proud of. May I give you the tour, Piece? If no one else will see it, can I show you both worlds? May I reconcile them in front of you? Because I need this. I need to connect the dots and look at the whole picture. I need to reevaluate what's happened so far.
I need someone to witness - whether I succeed or fail - while I live out my first attempt at the rest of my life.
Hi, Piece.
I know it's been a while. I'm sorry I didn't write sooner. It's not like I didn't have time or I had no topic to write about. I have no excuse. Things are just different here. Home is... home. Two days after I moved back here, I wanted to leave again. I'm in a funk. I feel restless. I'm simultaneously free to do as I please and trapped in some endless cycle that makes me feel caged. I can't think straight. This place is a world of its own. Somehow, here, nothing changes. But everything changes.
When I left for college, I knew what I was leaving behind. A nutty albeit wonderful family. Great friends who I'd spent nearly every day of my senior year of high school with. A house that I loved in a town that I cared about. A close-knit community that served as a support system. I chose to let it all go.
I went to school. I found myself a new set of friends who became my family, who I saw more often than I ever could have imagined before I'd lived it. I loved my dorm room (and the fact that it really was my own space), and I came to adore the city I'd moved to. I discovered a new support system in the staff and advisers at my school.
And all of this made me happy. It took me some time, but I carved out a new life for myself. Like the old one, yes. But very different. I kept the things that I valued. Everything else started fresh. No one knew who I was or where I came from or how nerdy I was in 7th grade. They had no idea I'd never dated or drank. I could be the best version of me because no one would question it. And that's exactly what I tried to do. I could be myself in my purest form, and that was okay.
I know I've changed since I left almost two years ago. I accept that. I'm proud of that.
Coming back here, though. I feel like I'm regressing.
My family still lives in the same house. The same things are still expected of me that were expected of me since I was 16 (or younger). Do the dishes. Drop your sister off at the school. Run to the grocery store. Eat your vegetables. Pick up your room. It's the same every day. It's a bit frustrating at times because I'd gotten used to controlling these things myself. Being subservient to my parents again (though still working to assert my independence) has taken some adjusting.
My community hasn't changed. Everyone still has the same jobs. The same people are still in control of the same things. Things are in the same places. It's like the town is frozen. It's predictable. Nothing unexpected happens here.
My friends are... well... all over the place - literally and figuratively. Only four of us from my high school group are home for the summer. Everyone else is out in the world living their life. As for the few friends that are home, they're still the same people I went to high school with, but certain characteristics have been magnified. We're all still great friends, and we hang out every other weekend (-ish). Our problem is, we all know (though one still hasn't fully accepted) that we're going back to college soon. Back to our other lives. Our group here, we have very little future together. Honestly, we're running out of things to talk about. Anything we discuss either has to do with the past or with one individual's future plans. We really have no present or future that involves all of us together.
I'd love to change that. I'd be ecstatic if I could show my friends my new home. Show them where I've gone and what I've done with myself. Show them the new life I've made. They refuse to see it though.
One friend from home has visited me in the time I've been away. That one friend is the only one who can actually understand what my new life means to me. None of the others can comprehend why I now act the way I do or the reasons I need to return to my other world so badly.
Oh, Piece. I just want to get back to my second home. I want to be happy and independent and free again. I want to go back to being the better me.
I want to show my old life what it was missing. Now, if only it would open its eyes to what I want it to see.
A new home. One I made on my own. One I'm proud of. May I give you the tour, Piece? If no one else will see it, can I show you both worlds? May I reconcile them in front of you? Because I need this. I need to connect the dots and look at the whole picture. I need to reevaluate what's happened so far.
I need someone to witness - whether I succeed or fail - while I live out my first attempt at the rest of my life.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Waking Up
"If every day is an awakening, you will never grow old. You will just keep growing." -Gail Sheehy
My dear Piece,
A couple months ago, I found a post on the internet while Stumbling that really hit me hard. I've been meaning to print it off and hang it up, but in the meantime, I've decided to share it with you.
The following is titled "The Awakening." It details a time in a person's life when they finally grow enough to discover that life is simply what you make of it.
Piece, I've been having little moments like the ones in "The Awakening" frequently in the past couple of weeks. I've been alone at home with lots of time to think - not the bad sort of thinking where I'm trapped in my own head, more philosophical sort of stuff - and I'm coming to realize that perhaps I'm not as miserable as I make myself out to be. I'm having such a wonderful life.
And even on the off-days, Piece, I can make myself feel better by being proactive. If I'm feeling lonely, sitting around waiting for someone to talk to me isn't going to improve the situation, and I'm starting to realize that. If I want something to change, it needs to start with me.
But you already knew that, didn't you, Piece? Perhaps, you already know how this goes, too...
The Awakening
A time comes in your life when you finally get it. When, in the midst of all your fears and insanity, you stop dead in your tracks, and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out, "ENOUGH! Enough fighting and crying and blaming and struggling to hold on." Then, like a child quieting down after a tantrum, you blink back your tears and begin to look at the world through new eyes.
This is your awakening.
You realize it's time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change, or for happiness, safety, and security to magically appear over the next horizon.
You realize that in the real world there aren't always fairytale endings, and that any guarantee of happily ever after must begin with you, and in the process a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.
You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, appreciate, or approve of who or what you are. And that's OK. They are entitled to their own views and opinions.
You learn the importance of loving and championing yourself, and in the process a sense of new-found confidence is born of self-approval.
You stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you or didn't do for you and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected.
You learn that people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say and that not everyone will always be there for you and everything isn't always about you.
So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself, and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance.
You stop judging and pointing fingers and you begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties, and in the process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.
You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. You begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for.
You learn the difference between wanting and needing and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you've outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with.
You learn that there is power and glory in creating and contributing, and you stop maneuvering through life merely as a consumer looking for your next fix.
You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a bygone era, but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.
You learn that you don't know everything, it's not your job to save the world, and that you can't teach a pig to sing. You learn the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry and that martyrs get burned at the stake.
Then, you learn about love. You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You learn that alone does not mean lonely.
You stop trying to control people, situations, and outcomes. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility and the importance of setting boundaries and learning to say NO.
You also stop working so hard at putting your feelings aside, smoothing things over, and ignoring your needs.
You learn that your body really is your temple. You begin to care for it and treat it with respect. You begin to eat a balanced diet, drink more water, and take more time to exercise.
You learn that being tired fuels doubt, fear, and uncertainty and so you take more time to rest. And, just as food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul. So you take more time to laugh and to play.
You learn that, for the most part, you get in life what you deserve, and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different than working toward making it happen.
More importantly, you learn that in order to achieve success you need direction, discipline, and perseverance. You learn that no one can do it all alone, and that it's OK to risk asking for help.
You learn the only thing you must truly fear is fear itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens you can handle it. To give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your own terms.
You learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.
You learn that life isn't always fair, you don't always get what you think you deserve, and that sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people. You learn not to always take it personally.
You learn that nobody's punishing you and everything isn't always somebody's fault. It's just life happening. You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls.
You learn that negative feelings such as anger, envy, and resentment must be understood and redirected or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.
You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower.
Then, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself, and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never ever settle for less than your heart's desire.
You make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.
You hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind.
Finally, with courage in your heart, you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best as you can.
So there it is, Piece. "The Awakening."
This is what I'm aiming for. Perhaps if I can keep these words nearby and if I really strive to put them into action, I can feel as happy as I do right now more often. Because, Piece, this is what I want. To be happy. To be happy and to share that happiness with others. To be happy and to share that happiness with others because making other people happy makes me happier than anything in the world.
Would you like to share in this happiness, Piece? I can save a slice for you, but take your time. I'm in no rush for you to get here, tonight.
Tonight, I'm reading the words I needed to read a long time ago. Tonight, I'm content with trying to rouse my spirit in this small moment of clarity before I must sleep.
Tonight, I'm waking up.
My dear Piece,
A couple months ago, I found a post on the internet while Stumbling that really hit me hard. I've been meaning to print it off and hang it up, but in the meantime, I've decided to share it with you.
The following is titled "The Awakening." It details a time in a person's life when they finally grow enough to discover that life is simply what you make of it.
Piece, I've been having little moments like the ones in "The Awakening" frequently in the past couple of weeks. I've been alone at home with lots of time to think - not the bad sort of thinking where I'm trapped in my own head, more philosophical sort of stuff - and I'm coming to realize that perhaps I'm not as miserable as I make myself out to be. I'm having such a wonderful life.
And even on the off-days, Piece, I can make myself feel better by being proactive. If I'm feeling lonely, sitting around waiting for someone to talk to me isn't going to improve the situation, and I'm starting to realize that. If I want something to change, it needs to start with me.
But you already knew that, didn't you, Piece? Perhaps, you already know how this goes, too...
* * * *
The Awakening
A time comes in your life when you finally get it. When, in the midst of all your fears and insanity, you stop dead in your tracks, and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out, "ENOUGH! Enough fighting and crying and blaming and struggling to hold on." Then, like a child quieting down after a tantrum, you blink back your tears and begin to look at the world through new eyes.
This is your awakening.
You realize it's time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change, or for happiness, safety, and security to magically appear over the next horizon.
You realize that in the real world there aren't always fairytale endings, and that any guarantee of happily ever after must begin with you, and in the process a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.
You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, appreciate, or approve of who or what you are. And that's OK. They are entitled to their own views and opinions.
You learn the importance of loving and championing yourself, and in the process a sense of new-found confidence is born of self-approval.
You stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you or didn't do for you and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected.
You learn that people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say and that not everyone will always be there for you and everything isn't always about you.
So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself, and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance.
You stop judging and pointing fingers and you begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties, and in the process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.
You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. You begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for.
You learn the difference between wanting and needing and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you've outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with.
You learn that there is power and glory in creating and contributing, and you stop maneuvering through life merely as a consumer looking for your next fix.
You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a bygone era, but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.
You learn that you don't know everything, it's not your job to save the world, and that you can't teach a pig to sing. You learn the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry and that martyrs get burned at the stake.
Then, you learn about love. You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You learn that alone does not mean lonely.
You stop trying to control people, situations, and outcomes. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility and the importance of setting boundaries and learning to say NO.
You also stop working so hard at putting your feelings aside, smoothing things over, and ignoring your needs.
You learn that your body really is your temple. You begin to care for it and treat it with respect. You begin to eat a balanced diet, drink more water, and take more time to exercise.
You learn that being tired fuels doubt, fear, and uncertainty and so you take more time to rest. And, just as food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul. So you take more time to laugh and to play.
You learn that, for the most part, you get in life what you deserve, and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different than working toward making it happen.
More importantly, you learn that in order to achieve success you need direction, discipline, and perseverance. You learn that no one can do it all alone, and that it's OK to risk asking for help.
You learn the only thing you must truly fear is fear itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens you can handle it. To give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your own terms.
You learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.
You learn that life isn't always fair, you don't always get what you think you deserve, and that sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people. You learn not to always take it personally.
You learn that nobody's punishing you and everything isn't always somebody's fault. It's just life happening. You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls.
You learn that negative feelings such as anger, envy, and resentment must be understood and redirected or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.
You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower.
Then, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself, and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never ever settle for less than your heart's desire.
You make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.
You hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind.
Finally, with courage in your heart, you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best as you can.
* * * *
So there it is, Piece. "The Awakening."
This is what I'm aiming for. Perhaps if I can keep these words nearby and if I really strive to put them into action, I can feel as happy as I do right now more often. Because, Piece, this is what I want. To be happy. To be happy and to share that happiness with others. To be happy and to share that happiness with others because making other people happy makes me happier than anything in the world.
Would you like to share in this happiness, Piece? I can save a slice for you, but take your time. I'm in no rush for you to get here, tonight.
Tonight, I'm reading the words I needed to read a long time ago. Tonight, I'm content with trying to rouse my spirit in this small moment of clarity before I must sleep.
Tonight, I'm waking up.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Take the Controls, I'm Going In
"Fear of the unknown translates to fear of losing control. In order to feel safe, we feel we must control every variable - human, environmental, technical. And yet, as life, this just isn't realistic. Controlling everything that's around the corner simply isn't possible." -Ivy Naistadt
Hello, Piece.
Lovely day we're having today, eh?
It's been an interesting couple weeks on my end. It all started in early May. Jared was down in my room a bit. I was trying to study for finals. I needed to start packing. Everyone was leaving for the summer. I left for the summer. My cousin got married. My family visited my grandmas' graves. I met up with some old friends. I skyped with some newer ones. I'm trying desperately to find a summer job.
And now? Now, I'm sitting here trying to take in all the stupid things I've done lately. You see, Piece, I have no idea what I've gotten myself in to, and I'm stressing myself out over it. For the first time in a while, I've involved myself in things I can't control, and it makes me uncomfortable.
Well, Piece. A while back I told you I'd explain my fear of losing control. I suppose now is as good a time as ever to do so. Therefore, without further ado...
As promised.
WHY I WILL NEVER LET MYSELF LOSE CONTROL
I have secrets. Secrets I'm not even comfortable sharing here, Piece. I've got skeletons in my closet that I dare not dig out and show to the public. It was these skeletons that (as far as I know) started it all.
In high school, I didn't drink. When I learned about these skeletons, I knew I couldn't start, not in the presence of my classmates. Until I knew how I'd react to alcohol, I couldn't run the risk of them finding out my secret. I couldn't let myself get drunk and forget that I was so desperately trying to keep something hidden.
From there, it's snowballed. I became more introverted. If I couldn't trust anyone to know my big secret, maybe it was wrong to tell them any secrets. What would happen if they changed their mind about me? If they didn't like me anymore, who would they tell? I couldn't let someone have that kind of control over me.
Then, I got paranoid. Every instance, no matter how small, that could be construed as someone disliking me found a way to get interpreted as such. Now, I start to freak out over not talking to someone for three days. I really flip when I'm ignored for a whole week. If a friend doesn't invite me to dinner or out to a movie, I take it very personally. I have such a low opinion of myself that anything that seems to reinforce this feeling is magnified. And unfortunately, I can't help it. I can't turn it off.
My mind is playing tricks on me. I know my friends like me. Or at least, I think some of them do. Still, I go to such great lengths in an attempt to please. I hate getting on people's nerves. I hate being uninteresting. I hate when I can't entertain. I hate repeating myself. I hate being ignored. I hate being left out. I hate making a scene. I hate arguing over religion and politics when something real is on the line.
I'm trying to reverse the damage. I really am. I don't know if its working though. I can't state my opinion on controversial topics because I can't control people's reactions. I chicken out when I try to tell the guy I like how I feel about him because I can't guarantee he likes me back. I avoid forcing myself into social events I wasn't included in, even if I'm invited later, because I don't want to be a burden. But truthfully, it hurts me more than anything when I discover that I'm an afterthought.
I guess, in some respects, my paranoia is a defense mechanism. I've been hurt before. But everyone has. Evidently, it's just harder for me to let go of all that. Harder for me to move on.
I need to though, Piece. It's imperative that I find a way to beat this. One of these days, someone's going to come along and want to be my friend, and I'm going to miss what's right in front of me, all because I'm too scared to let them in. I can't let that happen. I need a good friend in my life too much right now. I need one best friend. Someone I can tell everything to. Someone who I can trust. Someone I can be there for and who will be there for me in return. Someone who won't overlook me or forget me. Someone who truly enjoys my company. Someone who considers me their best friend, too.
So, Piece, I'm setting a goal for myself. Screw the unknown. The loss of control can stick it. I hate hiding myself. I'm going to be selfish for a while. I'm going to surround myself with people who care about me. I'm going to build up my self-confidence. And then? Then, I will go out and take on the world. I'll search it up and down until I find someone who makes me feel like I'm amazing. To hell with the people who are bringing me down. They aren't invited for the ride. No need to keep them around anymore. There are enough people to love me here. My phenomenal friends. My kooky family. I'll get through.
It's time to find who I'm looking for, Piece. Do you know who it will be? Do you know when I will find them? Are my searches for this person and you one and the same? Perhaps I'm closer to you than I think, Piece, and I don't mind at all. This puts me one step closer to finding a place in the world.
This puts me one step closer to you.
Then, I got paranoid. Every instance, no matter how small, that could be construed as someone disliking me found a way to get interpreted as such. Now, I start to freak out over not talking to someone for three days. I really flip when I'm ignored for a whole week. If a friend doesn't invite me to dinner or out to a movie, I take it very personally. I have such a low opinion of myself that anything that seems to reinforce this feeling is magnified. And unfortunately, I can't help it. I can't turn it off.
My mind is playing tricks on me. I know my friends like me. Or at least, I think some of them do. Still, I go to such great lengths in an attempt to please. I hate getting on people's nerves. I hate being uninteresting. I hate when I can't entertain. I hate repeating myself. I hate being ignored. I hate being left out. I hate making a scene. I hate arguing over religion and politics when something real is on the line.
I'm trying to reverse the damage. I really am. I don't know if its working though. I can't state my opinion on controversial topics because I can't control people's reactions. I chicken out when I try to tell the guy I like how I feel about him because I can't guarantee he likes me back. I avoid forcing myself into social events I wasn't included in, even if I'm invited later, because I don't want to be a burden. But truthfully, it hurts me more than anything when I discover that I'm an afterthought.
I guess, in some respects, my paranoia is a defense mechanism. I've been hurt before. But everyone has. Evidently, it's just harder for me to let go of all that. Harder for me to move on.
I need to though, Piece. It's imperative that I find a way to beat this. One of these days, someone's going to come along and want to be my friend, and I'm going to miss what's right in front of me, all because I'm too scared to let them in. I can't let that happen. I need a good friend in my life too much right now. I need one best friend. Someone I can tell everything to. Someone who I can trust. Someone I can be there for and who will be there for me in return. Someone who won't overlook me or forget me. Someone who truly enjoys my company. Someone who considers me their best friend, too.
So, Piece, I'm setting a goal for myself. Screw the unknown. The loss of control can stick it. I hate hiding myself. I'm going to be selfish for a while. I'm going to surround myself with people who care about me. I'm going to build up my self-confidence. And then? Then, I will go out and take on the world. I'll search it up and down until I find someone who makes me feel like I'm amazing. To hell with the people who are bringing me down. They aren't invited for the ride. No need to keep them around anymore. There are enough people to love me here. My phenomenal friends. My kooky family. I'll get through.
It's time to find who I'm looking for, Piece. Do you know who it will be? Do you know when I will find them? Are my searches for this person and you one and the same? Perhaps I'm closer to you than I think, Piece, and I don't mind at all. This puts me one step closer to finding a place in the world.
This puts me one step closer to you.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Your Story
"Everyone is necessarily the hero of his own life story." -John Barth
Hello, Piece.
I told my friends about you today. I finally shared your story with them. I feel it would be appropriate to tell you how I arrived at that conclusion though. Here's the story I've told them, Piece. Here is what they know.
"When I was younger, my family was gifted two Shel Silverstein books, The Missing Piece and The Missing Piece Meets the Big O. Up until tonight, I couldn't remember much about either book except for the fact that I liked them as a kid, but for the honors floor poetry night, I looked them up. Now, quite possibly, I love them even more than I did before." And then, I did it. I wrote down the whole story.
With my blog titled as it is, how is it that I failed to relive the messages played out in those books until now? You've been staring me in the eyes for the past three months, and I'm just realizing the wisdom in your words now?! How on earth did I miss this?
You've been pointing me in this direction for a while, Piece. I'm so glad I finally listened.
Keep pushing me, Piece. Would you please? I know I'm stubborn, but I'm trusting you. I'm trusting that you'll help me get where I should be going. See things in front of my face that I should be seeing. Identify feelings and emotions we both know I have.
Hopefully, I'm up to the challenge, Piece. Hopefully, I'm prepared for what I discover.
Hopefully, I'll find you along the way.
Hello, Piece.
I told my friends about you today. I finally shared your story with them. I feel it would be appropriate to tell you how I arrived at that conclusion though. Here's the story I've told them, Piece. Here is what they know.
"When I was younger, my family was gifted two Shel Silverstein books, The Missing Piece and The Missing Piece Meets the Big O. Up until tonight, I couldn't remember much about either book except for the fact that I liked them as a kid, but for the honors floor poetry night, I looked them up. Now, quite possibly, I love them even more than I did before." And then, I did it. I wrote down the whole story.
With my blog titled as it is, how is it that I failed to relive the messages played out in those books until now? You've been staring me in the eyes for the past three months, and I'm just realizing the wisdom in your words now?! How on earth did I miss this?
You've been pointing me in this direction for a while, Piece. I'm so glad I finally listened.
Keep pushing me, Piece. Would you please? I know I'm stubborn, but I'm trusting you. I'm trusting that you'll help me get where I should be going. See things in front of my face that I should be seeing. Identify feelings and emotions we both know I have.
Hopefully, I'm up to the challenge, Piece. Hopefully, I'm prepared for what I discover.
Hopefully, I'll find you along the way.
Friday, April 8, 2011
The Successes and Failures of FAP
"Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need. Not one of all the purple Host Who took the Flag today Can tell the definition So clear of Victory As he defeated - dying - On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Burst agonized and clear!" -Emily Dickinson (Who, because I haven't mentioned this before, is one of my favorites.)
Hello, my dear Piece.
Have you missed me? I'm sorry I haven't written in so long. I've tried a few times, but the things I write haven't been turning out quite right. I attempted to tackle religion. That was a huge mistake. I tried to tell you I had nothing to say, but obviously that didn't turn out well. I also thought about dedicating one post to each of my friends. I think I may still do that, but not tonight. Tonight, I have something to share with you, a realization I made a couple days ago.
The way I see it, if you want to succeed in life you must have a power that drives you - some will or desire, something that pushes you forward. What I've discovered is that, when you hold everything else constant, people who want to make something of their lives (from here on we'll call them FAP - freaking awesome people) fall into two categories named for their guiding forces. They are the FAP who are motivated by a need for success and the FAP who are motivated by a need not to fail.
Sure, Piece. At face value, they seem to be the same thing, but they aren't. Think about it.
FAP with a drive to succeed will work hard. Now, it's not that all FAP don't work hard. It's just that FAP who fall into this particular category want to do what they're doing. For instance, say you meet a success driven FAP who is working on a project for a class. The two of you start discussing it, and you discover this FAP started the project a month before it was due because they wanted to put the time into it. Because they were interested in the material. Because they wanted the project to be the best it could be.
Now, compare this notion with FAP who strive not to fail. Sure. They work hard. Nearly as hard as the success-obsessed FAP. Here's the key difference though - FAP who are afraid to fail only need to do the work required to get a little bit ahead. They would take that same project from above and start it two nights before it was due (if even) and do as much work as possible to make a very nice project before the deadline. It won't be their best work though. It may be close, but they will have been able to do better.
I hope this makes as much sense to you, Piece, as it does in my head.
As you can probably tell, though, I'm a person who doesn't take failure well. I've heard that constructive criticism is supposed to make you stronger and being rejected should make you more independent, but I don't see it that way. I take failing personally. Everything I do is in an attempt not to be told I'm not good enough. Maybe it's just a self esteem thing, but I need to know I can do enough to make someone proud. Granted, when I do occasionally succeed it does feel absolutely amazing, but that's only because I've been shot down so many times.
This is exactly why I have to work to retrain my mind. I can't stay stuck in this train of thought. Success-driven FAP can push through hard times and make something of themselves. I want that, too.
I don't want to be the girl who graduated from college with a degree in Political Science only to sit at a Customer Service desk the rest of my life. Part of me really wants to be a hit; the other part is very scared of what will happen if I'm not up to the challenge.
Do you think you have a fix for this dilemma, Piece? Can you tell me what I need to do to get my life back on course? To get my childhood spirit of excitement back?
I want to become something. Well, you've seen the list. I want to do something with my life. I want to change my mentality, so I can be motivated do it all. I want to be ready when I find you, Piece.
I want to show you just how much of a freaking awesome person I am.
Hello, my dear Piece.
Have you missed me? I'm sorry I haven't written in so long. I've tried a few times, but the things I write haven't been turning out quite right. I attempted to tackle religion. That was a huge mistake. I tried to tell you I had nothing to say, but obviously that didn't turn out well. I also thought about dedicating one post to each of my friends. I think I may still do that, but not tonight. Tonight, I have something to share with you, a realization I made a couple days ago.
The way I see it, if you want to succeed in life you must have a power that drives you - some will or desire, something that pushes you forward. What I've discovered is that, when you hold everything else constant, people who want to make something of their lives (from here on we'll call them FAP - freaking awesome people) fall into two categories named for their guiding forces. They are the FAP who are motivated by a need for success and the FAP who are motivated by a need not to fail.
Sure, Piece. At face value, they seem to be the same thing, but they aren't. Think about it.
FAP with a drive to succeed will work hard. Now, it's not that all FAP don't work hard. It's just that FAP who fall into this particular category want to do what they're doing. For instance, say you meet a success driven FAP who is working on a project for a class. The two of you start discussing it, and you discover this FAP started the project a month before it was due because they wanted to put the time into it. Because they were interested in the material. Because they wanted the project to be the best it could be.
Now, compare this notion with FAP who strive not to fail. Sure. They work hard. Nearly as hard as the success-obsessed FAP. Here's the key difference though - FAP who are afraid to fail only need to do the work required to get a little bit ahead. They would take that same project from above and start it two nights before it was due (if even) and do as much work as possible to make a very nice project before the deadline. It won't be their best work though. It may be close, but they will have been able to do better.
I hope this makes as much sense to you, Piece, as it does in my head.
As you can probably tell, though, I'm a person who doesn't take failure well. I've heard that constructive criticism is supposed to make you stronger and being rejected should make you more independent, but I don't see it that way. I take failing personally. Everything I do is in an attempt not to be told I'm not good enough. Maybe it's just a self esteem thing, but I need to know I can do enough to make someone proud. Granted, when I do occasionally succeed it does feel absolutely amazing, but that's only because I've been shot down so many times.
This is exactly why I have to work to retrain my mind. I can't stay stuck in this train of thought. Success-driven FAP can push through hard times and make something of themselves. I want that, too.
I don't want to be the girl who graduated from college with a degree in Political Science only to sit at a Customer Service desk the rest of my life. Part of me really wants to be a hit; the other part is very scared of what will happen if I'm not up to the challenge.
Do you think you have a fix for this dilemma, Piece? Can you tell me what I need to do to get my life back on course? To get my childhood spirit of excitement back?
I want to become something. Well, you've seen the list. I want to do something with my life. I want to change my mentality, so I can be motivated do it all. I want to be ready when I find you, Piece.
I want to show you just how much of a freaking awesome person I am.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
U is for Unsure, Uncertain, and Unknown
"When the mind is in a state of uncertainty the smallest impulse directs it to either side." -Terence
I must apologize, Piece.
I know it's been a while. So much has happened in the past week. I attempted to write once, but I couldn't find enough things in my head to write anything worth reading. Now, I have so much in my head I don't know where to start.
I think, though, I need to write down my thoughts to make sense of them. So... Here goes. My week so far.
Sunday night was fairly normal. I work the hall desk in my dorm, and it's really slow on the weekends. I was sitting on Facebook, and Jared messaged me. He told me I should have gone swing dancing on Saturday. That he had gone with a girl who said she could swing dance but that she couldn't, and he had a lame night. Soon after, Jared got off Facebook and came to meet me at the desk. When I finished my shift, he followed me to my room and stayed to talk for about 45 minutes. It's been like that for about 2 weeks now. Jared has come downstairs for at least an hour every night with the exception of the swing dancing Saturday. It was getting to be a normal part of my day. Expected.
Monday, I finished class and headed to my room for the afternoon. I was stopped by my Community Advisor, Laura. (Her fiancée is Jared's best friend, so the group of them know each other well.) Laura questioned me (as she's gotten in the habit of doing) about how I felt about Jared. I told her I liked him as far as I knew him, but I didn't know him all that well. Then, Laura asked me if Jared had told me about his date Saturday. Laura proceeded to explain that Jared had gone swing dancing with a girl and had a miserable time. (This was reaffirmed by my roommate later, who told me Jared spent the evening talking to her and her family instead of with his date.) While she had my attention, Laura also told me Jared thought I was "a cool girl" and said she'd been trying to get him to tell me about his date. She told me to ask him about it. I declined. I didn't feel it was my business to ask about something like that.
That night, Jared showed up in my room around 9:30pm. We talked for about an hour and a half, adding and subtracting people to our conversation as the night went on and people popped in and out of my room. Laura stopped in several times, and on her last time out the door, she reminded Jared he had something to tell me. I pretended I heard nothing and brushed it off.
Around 11pm, my roommate left for another building to spend time with her boyfriend, and I told Jared I'd be going to bed soon, 8am class and all. He asked if I wanted to talk before I went to bed. I said that would be fine. He asked if he could shut the door. I agreed. Then, he told me Laura said I had something to tell him. I was caught off guard. I had nothing to say. Jared just sat across from me for a full (and I'm not exaggerating) two minutes staring at me, saying nothing. I eventually choked out that I'd talked to Laura and that she'd told me to ask about his Saturday night. I told him that it was none of my business to ask and that I'd told Laura I was uncomfortable doing so.
Jared told me he'd been talking to Laura, too. He said he'd been informed that I "really liked him", but he explained he wasn't looking for a relationship. I was horrified and excessively confused. Firstly, I had NOT said I really liked him. I said I liked him as far as I knew him, and I told Jared that. Then after a few uneasy jokes and attempts to change the subject, I told Jared I was going to give Laura grief about passing bad information the next time I saw her. He wondered if she was still awake, and we ended up heading to her room together.
Laura questioned us about our conversation - if it was worth it, if we felt better now that we knew where our relationship stood. I talked very little and left quickly. I was still shell-shocked, and I had to get up early for class the next morning. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well.
Tuesday, I woke up hurt and confused. I still had no idea what had happened the night before. I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn't get it out of my head. I skipped my morning classes, but I went to lunch with Andrew and Laura. Laura asked me what had really happened the night before. I filled the table in. Laura swore to me she'd never told Jared I had something to tell him, though she may have exaggerated how much I liked him. I believe her.
Later that day, I filled in one of my best friends, Davalyn. When I told her about Jared's statement about relationships, she stopped me. She asked me if not wanting a relationship meant he didn't want to date me specifically or if he didn't want to date anyone or if he was just too busy to date now but wouldn't mind asking me out later (since he is busy running for GSB Vice President). I told Davalyn I hadn't considered any of this, and now, I was more confused than before.
Tuesday night, Jared showed up in my room as usual. I half expected him to skip making an appearance, but we talked about inconsequential things for an hour before I went to bed. He acted as if nothing weird had happened the night before. I went along with it. I was still confused. I tried to talk to Laura after Jared left, but I couldn't form coherent questions. I had no idea what was going on or what I wanted to know.
Wednesday night, Jared did the same. He stayed for a half hour before I kicked him out so I could go to bed. He acted as if nothing had happened. I played along.
Today, I filled in my friend George, hoping for some male input that would make my situation make sense. He suggested that Jared has been coming downstairs because he suspected I was interested and (related to a conversation George and I had had earlier in the semester) liked knowing someone was paying attention. That explanation made perfect sense to me, even if I don't really like it.
So now, Piece, I'm stuck. I have no idea what I want to happen. I don't understand Jared's actions or the motives behind them. The only conclusion I can come to is that I should keep playing the game and see where it leads.
Hopefully, no one gets hurt.
Truthfully, Piece, I'm terrified about this. I have a fear of the unknown. Of losing control. Perhaps, I'll explain the reasons why soon, but until then, please hope for the best. I think I'm going to need all the luck I can get.
Here I go, Piece. Towards uncertainty. Towards the unknown.
I must apologize, Piece.
I know it's been a while. So much has happened in the past week. I attempted to write once, but I couldn't find enough things in my head to write anything worth reading. Now, I have so much in my head I don't know where to start.
I think, though, I need to write down my thoughts to make sense of them. So... Here goes. My week so far.
Sunday night was fairly normal. I work the hall desk in my dorm, and it's really slow on the weekends. I was sitting on Facebook, and Jared messaged me. He told me I should have gone swing dancing on Saturday. That he had gone with a girl who said she could swing dance but that she couldn't, and he had a lame night. Soon after, Jared got off Facebook and came to meet me at the desk. When I finished my shift, he followed me to my room and stayed to talk for about 45 minutes. It's been like that for about 2 weeks now. Jared has come downstairs for at least an hour every night with the exception of the swing dancing Saturday. It was getting to be a normal part of my day. Expected.
Monday, I finished class and headed to my room for the afternoon. I was stopped by my Community Advisor, Laura. (Her fiancée is Jared's best friend, so the group of them know each other well.) Laura questioned me (as she's gotten in the habit of doing) about how I felt about Jared. I told her I liked him as far as I knew him, but I didn't know him all that well. Then, Laura asked me if Jared had told me about his date Saturday. Laura proceeded to explain that Jared had gone swing dancing with a girl and had a miserable time. (This was reaffirmed by my roommate later, who told me Jared spent the evening talking to her and her family instead of with his date.) While she had my attention, Laura also told me Jared thought I was "a cool girl" and said she'd been trying to get him to tell me about his date. She told me to ask him about it. I declined. I didn't feel it was my business to ask about something like that.
That night, Jared showed up in my room around 9:30pm. We talked for about an hour and a half, adding and subtracting people to our conversation as the night went on and people popped in and out of my room. Laura stopped in several times, and on her last time out the door, she reminded Jared he had something to tell me. I pretended I heard nothing and brushed it off.
Around 11pm, my roommate left for another building to spend time with her boyfriend, and I told Jared I'd be going to bed soon, 8am class and all. He asked if I wanted to talk before I went to bed. I said that would be fine. He asked if he could shut the door. I agreed. Then, he told me Laura said I had something to tell him. I was caught off guard. I had nothing to say. Jared just sat across from me for a full (and I'm not exaggerating) two minutes staring at me, saying nothing. I eventually choked out that I'd talked to Laura and that she'd told me to ask about his Saturday night. I told him that it was none of my business to ask and that I'd told Laura I was uncomfortable doing so.
Jared told me he'd been talking to Laura, too. He said he'd been informed that I "really liked him", but he explained he wasn't looking for a relationship. I was horrified and excessively confused. Firstly, I had NOT said I really liked him. I said I liked him as far as I knew him, and I told Jared that. Then after a few uneasy jokes and attempts to change the subject, I told Jared I was going to give Laura grief about passing bad information the next time I saw her. He wondered if she was still awake, and we ended up heading to her room together.
Laura questioned us about our conversation - if it was worth it, if we felt better now that we knew where our relationship stood. I talked very little and left quickly. I was still shell-shocked, and I had to get up early for class the next morning. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well.
Tuesday, I woke up hurt and confused. I still had no idea what had happened the night before. I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn't get it out of my head. I skipped my morning classes, but I went to lunch with Andrew and Laura. Laura asked me what had really happened the night before. I filled the table in. Laura swore to me she'd never told Jared I had something to tell him, though she may have exaggerated how much I liked him. I believe her.
Later that day, I filled in one of my best friends, Davalyn. When I told her about Jared's statement about relationships, she stopped me. She asked me if not wanting a relationship meant he didn't want to date me specifically or if he didn't want to date anyone or if he was just too busy to date now but wouldn't mind asking me out later (since he is busy running for GSB Vice President). I told Davalyn I hadn't considered any of this, and now, I was more confused than before.
Tuesday night, Jared showed up in my room as usual. I half expected him to skip making an appearance, but we talked about inconsequential things for an hour before I went to bed. He acted as if nothing weird had happened the night before. I went along with it. I was still confused. I tried to talk to Laura after Jared left, but I couldn't form coherent questions. I had no idea what was going on or what I wanted to know.
Wednesday night, Jared did the same. He stayed for a half hour before I kicked him out so I could go to bed. He acted as if nothing had happened. I played along.
Today, I filled in my friend George, hoping for some male input that would make my situation make sense. He suggested that Jared has been coming downstairs because he suspected I was interested and (related to a conversation George and I had had earlier in the semester) liked knowing someone was paying attention. That explanation made perfect sense to me, even if I don't really like it.
So now, Piece, I'm stuck. I have no idea what I want to happen. I don't understand Jared's actions or the motives behind them. The only conclusion I can come to is that I should keep playing the game and see where it leads.
Hopefully, no one gets hurt.
Truthfully, Piece, I'm terrified about this. I have a fear of the unknown. Of losing control. Perhaps, I'll explain the reasons why soon, but until then, please hope for the best. I think I'm going to need all the luck I can get.
Here I go, Piece. Towards uncertainty. Towards the unknown.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
And The World Spins Madly On
"If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and make a change."
Hi, Piece.
I had fully intended to write a post yesterday, it being Valentine's Day and all, but I changed my mind. I don't want this blog to become an outlet for me to whine. There's no reason to give you the impression that I don't have a wonderful life. I do. I have an amazing family, fantastic friends, an education. A future. There's still time for me to figure out what I want and go get it. So tonight, Piece, I'm laying it all out. Right now, at this exact point in my life, this is what I want to do before the world goes spinning on without me.
First off, I want to graduate college. It may not sound too terribly fancy to anyone, but it's a big deal to me. My mom, who I love dearly, just got her Associate's degree this past December. She dropped out of college when she realized she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. When I asked her about it, she told me that she never saw a point in wasting money pursuing an elusive major. She didn't know what she wanted to do then, but she figured it out. You should have seen my family when she became an official college graduate though. My mom was practically glowing, she was so happy. It was beautiful.
I also want to travel. Everywhere. I want to learn languages and live oversees in the center of a phenomenal city. I want to be able to go to a foreign country and communicate with people so well that they can't tell I'm a stupid American. I want to learn about the culture and politics of other countries. I want to find similarities and differences between the people I know and the people I meet. I want to see the world.
I want to work as a political analyst. I want to live in another country and study their politics and report back to my employer in the US. I wouldn't mind being an journalist nor would I mind working for a government organization. I think I would love a job like that though.
I want to get my SCUBA diving license. I've gone twice in a swimming pool, but I think it would be amazing to dive at the Great Barrier Reef. Someday, I will.
I want to get my pilot's license. Ever since my first plane ride three years ago, I've been in love with flying. Call me crazy considering my fear of heights, but I felt so free, being so removed from everything. It's an amazing feeling. Almost like you're being liberated. Like you're being given permission to let everything go.
Eventually, if I can find the right guy, I want to get married. I'm not looking to do it anytime soon, but someday. Here's the thing though. I don't want to get married and "settle down". When I find my guy, he's travelling with me. Only after that, when we've run out of things to see, people to meet, and places to visit, will I start thinking about creating a family. I think I want kids, but I'm not certain. I have names picked out, but I'm not sure if I want to have kids myself. I suppose I'll decide if that time ever rolls around.
I'd like to get a dog. I don't know why. Man's best friend, I guess. Someday though. It'll be a smart dog, too. Just you wait. Smart and adorable.
Lastly, I want to find happiness. I want to be so at peace with myself that I can't help but be happy. I'd like to love my job and love the city I'm in, love God and love my family. I want to love so much that I'm bursting with joy, and everyone I talk to knows it. I intend to be so happy that I can't help but shower the world with random acts of kindness so other people can share in my happiness. I'm going to be the crazy old lady who brings a foreign exchange student breakfast in bed, and uses new technology to chat with my old people friends, and buys flowers and leaves them on a random doorstep so the person who lives there knows they're loved by someone.
There you are, Piece. This is what I want. This is what I hope to do with my life. And where do you come in, Piece? Are you waiting for me somewhere in those dreams? Will you point me in the right direction? Set me on course when I get lost?
I not sure what the future holds, Piece, but wherever you are, I look forward to finding you. And fingers crossed, when I finally stumble onto you, I'll be ready for whatever you throw at me.
Goodnight, Piece. Thanks for everything.
Hi, Piece.
I had fully intended to write a post yesterday, it being Valentine's Day and all, but I changed my mind. I don't want this blog to become an outlet for me to whine. There's no reason to give you the impression that I don't have a wonderful life. I do. I have an amazing family, fantastic friends, an education. A future. There's still time for me to figure out what I want and go get it. So tonight, Piece, I'm laying it all out. Right now, at this exact point in my life, this is what I want to do before the world goes spinning on without me.
First off, I want to graduate college. It may not sound too terribly fancy to anyone, but it's a big deal to me. My mom, who I love dearly, just got her Associate's degree this past December. She dropped out of college when she realized she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. When I asked her about it, she told me that she never saw a point in wasting money pursuing an elusive major. She didn't know what she wanted to do then, but she figured it out. You should have seen my family when she became an official college graduate though. My mom was practically glowing, she was so happy. It was beautiful.
I also want to travel. Everywhere. I want to learn languages and live oversees in the center of a phenomenal city. I want to be able to go to a foreign country and communicate with people so well that they can't tell I'm a stupid American. I want to learn about the culture and politics of other countries. I want to find similarities and differences between the people I know and the people I meet. I want to see the world.
I want to work as a political analyst. I want to live in another country and study their politics and report back to my employer in the US. I wouldn't mind being an journalist nor would I mind working for a government organization. I think I would love a job like that though.
I want to get my SCUBA diving license. I've gone twice in a swimming pool, but I think it would be amazing to dive at the Great Barrier Reef. Someday, I will.
I want to get my pilot's license. Ever since my first plane ride three years ago, I've been in love with flying. Call me crazy considering my fear of heights, but I felt so free, being so removed from everything. It's an amazing feeling. Almost like you're being liberated. Like you're being given permission to let everything go.
Eventually, if I can find the right guy, I want to get married. I'm not looking to do it anytime soon, but someday. Here's the thing though. I don't want to get married and "settle down". When I find my guy, he's travelling with me. Only after that, when we've run out of things to see, people to meet, and places to visit, will I start thinking about creating a family. I think I want kids, but I'm not certain. I have names picked out, but I'm not sure if I want to have kids myself. I suppose I'll decide if that time ever rolls around.
I'd like to get a dog. I don't know why. Man's best friend, I guess. Someday though. It'll be a smart dog, too. Just you wait. Smart and adorable.
Lastly, I want to find happiness. I want to be so at peace with myself that I can't help but be happy. I'd like to love my job and love the city I'm in, love God and love my family. I want to love so much that I'm bursting with joy, and everyone I talk to knows it. I intend to be so happy that I can't help but shower the world with random acts of kindness so other people can share in my happiness. I'm going to be the crazy old lady who brings a foreign exchange student breakfast in bed, and uses new technology to chat with my old people friends, and buys flowers and leaves them on a random doorstep so the person who lives there knows they're loved by someone.
There you are, Piece. This is what I want. This is what I hope to do with my life. And where do you come in, Piece? Are you waiting for me somewhere in those dreams? Will you point me in the right direction? Set me on course when I get lost?
I not sure what the future holds, Piece, but wherever you are, I look forward to finding you. And fingers crossed, when I finally stumble onto you, I'll be ready for whatever you throw at me.
Goodnight, Piece. Thanks for everything.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
To Be Loved
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."
Piece, I don't know how you did it, but you did.
Alex came back to the room and bummed around before she left for her boyfriend's building. Nicole and Cassidy took some time from homework and entertained me with ridiculous YouTube videos. Andrew stopped by and played a game. And just now, I received a text message forward from a high school friend, Shelby, telling me that I'm beautiful and loved. It was exactly what I needed.
Thank you, Piece. Wherever you are, thank you.
Piece, I don't know how you did it, but you did.
Alex came back to the room and bummed around before she left for her boyfriend's building. Nicole and Cassidy took some time from homework and entertained me with ridiculous YouTube videos. Andrew stopped by and played a game. And just now, I received a text message forward from a high school friend, Shelby, telling me that I'm beautiful and loved. It was exactly what I needed.
Thank you, Piece. Wherever you are, thank you.
A Lowly, Lonely Introvert
Lonely (adj) 1. affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome 2. destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship 3. lone; solitary; without company
Hi, Piece.
Tonight, I'm alone. My roommates, Alex, Cassidy, and Nicole are gone, busy with clubs, meetings, and/or boyfriends. My friend Andrew has already made his stop in my room for the evening. I am alone. I am alone, and I have free time to think. Usually a bad combination, but I'm going to try to use this time to sort through some things that have been stuck in my head for a while. Here's what I've come up with so far.
I'm a mild introvert. I have no problem being in groups, but when I am, I don't talk much. Don't get me wrong. I don't mind being in large social situations. They can be great fun. It's just that I have a desire to be close to individuals. I would choose to spend a day with one of my best friends over spending an evening at a party nearly every time. I like getting to know the people I care about, and part of me really wants them to want to know me, too... if that makes sense. When I talk about myself, I share the information I want other people to know. The things I talk about are directly proportional to the sort of things I want to know about the person I'm talking to. And here's the thing. I don't want to know about people because I'm nosy or because I want to have material to gossip about later. I want to know because if I can better understand my friends - know what they've been through or how they feel about things - I can tell when they need someone to be there.
In high school, I was the go to friend when people were bummed out. Evidently, I got to be a pretty decent listener because whenever someone was stressed or down, they'd come to me. I'd like to think I got pretty decent at making people feel better, but maybe it was all in my head. Regardless, I was glad to help. Eventually, I got to the point that I could tell someone was down just by sitting around with them for two minutes. With that knowledge, I could show my friend they weren't alone in whatever way they needed it illustrated. And that's what I did. Every day of every week of every month of every year. After a while, it sort of became a drug. It turns out making other people happy makes me happy in a way that nothing else in the world can.
Now, I'm in college. Things are different here. I've had to make a new set of friends (who really are amazing) and find a new place in our group. Something is missing though. I don't know most of my group well enough to know their history or pick out their moods, nor do I think I should know those things yet. But, I want to learn. I'm hoping to find people who I can get close to. I want that happy "I just made a difference" feeling again. More importantly though, I want someone who will be around to help me back.
The past few nights, I've felt lonely. Granted, maybe it's got more to do with hormones than my actual mood, but I don't like feeling isolated. Alone doesn't bother me. I enjoy time by myself, but lonely, that's a whole other ball game. It hurts to think that no one cares enough to wonder where I am or ask me about my day. No one has noticed my mood, or my open bedroom door, or me, sitting on my bed pretending to do homework. Maybe this is selfish of me, but sometimes, it's just nice to know that someone is paying attention. Tonight, I don't have that luxury. I am alone, and I am becoming lonely.
Is anyone looking for me, Piece? Is there someone somewhere thinking of me, hoping I'm happy? Is there something out there waiting for me that will make all of this loneliness worth it in the end?
Would you please come find me, Piece? I just don't want to be lonely anymore.
Hi, Piece.
Tonight, I'm alone. My roommates, Alex, Cassidy, and Nicole are gone, busy with clubs, meetings, and/or boyfriends. My friend Andrew has already made his stop in my room for the evening. I am alone. I am alone, and I have free time to think. Usually a bad combination, but I'm going to try to use this time to sort through some things that have been stuck in my head for a while. Here's what I've come up with so far.
I'm a mild introvert. I have no problem being in groups, but when I am, I don't talk much. Don't get me wrong. I don't mind being in large social situations. They can be great fun. It's just that I have a desire to be close to individuals. I would choose to spend a day with one of my best friends over spending an evening at a party nearly every time. I like getting to know the people I care about, and part of me really wants them to want to know me, too... if that makes sense. When I talk about myself, I share the information I want other people to know. The things I talk about are directly proportional to the sort of things I want to know about the person I'm talking to. And here's the thing. I don't want to know about people because I'm nosy or because I want to have material to gossip about later. I want to know because if I can better understand my friends - know what they've been through or how they feel about things - I can tell when they need someone to be there.
In high school, I was the go to friend when people were bummed out. Evidently, I got to be a pretty decent listener because whenever someone was stressed or down, they'd come to me. I'd like to think I got pretty decent at making people feel better, but maybe it was all in my head. Regardless, I was glad to help. Eventually, I got to the point that I could tell someone was down just by sitting around with them for two minutes. With that knowledge, I could show my friend they weren't alone in whatever way they needed it illustrated. And that's what I did. Every day of every week of every month of every year. After a while, it sort of became a drug. It turns out making other people happy makes me happy in a way that nothing else in the world can.
Now, I'm in college. Things are different here. I've had to make a new set of friends (who really are amazing) and find a new place in our group. Something is missing though. I don't know most of my group well enough to know their history or pick out their moods, nor do I think I should know those things yet. But, I want to learn. I'm hoping to find people who I can get close to. I want that happy "I just made a difference" feeling again. More importantly though, I want someone who will be around to help me back.
The past few nights, I've felt lonely. Granted, maybe it's got more to do with hormones than my actual mood, but I don't like feeling isolated. Alone doesn't bother me. I enjoy time by myself, but lonely, that's a whole other ball game. It hurts to think that no one cares enough to wonder where I am or ask me about my day. No one has noticed my mood, or my open bedroom door, or me, sitting on my bed pretending to do homework. Maybe this is selfish of me, but sometimes, it's just nice to know that someone is paying attention. Tonight, I don't have that luxury. I am alone, and I am becoming lonely.
Is anyone looking for me, Piece? Is there someone somewhere thinking of me, hoping I'm happy? Is there something out there waiting for me that will make all of this loneliness worth it in the end?
Would you please come find me, Piece? I just don't want to be lonely anymore.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
The Male Species and Me
"Boys are like busses, you wait for one for ages, then suddenly 3 come at the same time."
Hello, Piece.
I just wanted to put on the record that being a girl can really suck. I, a recently 20 year old college student, have been boyfriend-less for the entirety of my life. Don't get me wrong. Part of it's my fault. I've been rejected by my fair share of guys, but I've rejected some potential males, too. Maybe that trumps my right to complain, but I'm going to do it anyway. Twenty years. TWENTY YEARS, I've been waiting for the right boy to come along and want me. Now all at once, I'm walking around with a flock of boys swarming around my heart, waiting for me to let my guard down so they can pounce. For the sake of my sanity, I must sort this out.
So, Piece, here goes. This is the story of my collegiate dating history.
Chris was the first guy at school that showed potential. I got a free tutor from one of my scholarships, so I decided to use it on Calculus. I met a boy with the same tutor, Chris. Chris was in Navy ROTC and had a smile that made my heart melt. He grew up in Virginia but had moved to Hawaii because of his dad's job as US Naval Commander. We talked and texted for roughly two (solid) weeks and bummed around my dorm with my friends for a night. Then, Chris's dad came for a week-long visit, and I stopped hearing from him. That would have been the end of it, but the day I got back to school after Christmas break, Chris saw me in the dining center. We started talking again, and he told me he wanted to spend a weekend with me. (And don't take that the wrong way.) I told him I might be going home for my brother and dad's birthdays, which I did end up doing. (Family first, right?) I promised him we'd reschedule, but then he fell off the map again. I beat myself up for a few weeks, thinking he was such a player (which honestly isn't that far off) and that I was an idiot for liking him. However, a month later, I made an interesting connection. My friend Eric had met Chris through a roommate but hadn't realized I knew him. When the two of us saw Chris in the dining center, Eric told me the last time he'd seen Chris, the kid had been walking down the street half-drunk, pissed and bummed, because the girl he liked went home for the weekend... Turns out, that girl was me. Snap...!
Guy number two was named Alex. He was a junior in industrial engineering and had a cute, nerdy appeal to him. We met during one of our college's annual radio competitions, and he asked me to late night coffee. (My first ever legitimate date.) We sat and talked for a couple hours, and I had a nice time. He must've had a decent time, too, because he asked me out to breakfast a week later. Honestly, by this point, in the spring of my freshman year of college, I was sick of being single. I wanted things to work out, so I texted Alex. Now, either this kid has limited texting ability or he wasn't that interested in staying in touch. After the school year was up, he disappeared. Got rid of Facebook; didn't answer the two texts I had the lady balls to send. I was done. Ironically enough though, I did talk to a mutual friend a week ago. I was informed that Alex was actually a really odd guy and that I shouldn't spread it around my friend group that we'd dated. Awkward...
This summer, I was in Sweden, visiting my foreign exchange student friend Sofia. She's practically my adopted sister, and I tell her just about everything. Her being European, she always thought it was strange that I'd never been kissed by a guy, let alone had sex with one. So... she set me up. While out one night, Sofia's friend Martin drank and chatted up our group until the wee hours of the morning. As he went to leave, he declared that he was giving goodbye kisses. He pushed through the crowd, kissing all the girls on the cheek, until he got to me. He stood in front of me and told me he was not leaving until we kissed on the lips. That was that.
...
I may not understand how men work, what their operating procedures are around ladies, or what signs of theirs mean I'm wasting my time. I'm learning though. Little by little, I'm working on figuring out the male species. The guys in my life are making being alive a pleasure. Perhaps if I keep them around, I won't have to be alone anymore. Maybe, I'll find a someone to call my own.
Maybe, Piece, I'll find someone that leads me that much closer to you.
Hello, Piece.
I just wanted to put on the record that being a girl can really suck. I, a recently 20 year old college student, have been boyfriend-less for the entirety of my life. Don't get me wrong. Part of it's my fault. I've been rejected by my fair share of guys, but I've rejected some potential males, too. Maybe that trumps my right to complain, but I'm going to do it anyway. Twenty years. TWENTY YEARS, I've been waiting for the right boy to come along and want me. Now all at once, I'm walking around with a flock of boys swarming around my heart, waiting for me to let my guard down so they can pounce. For the sake of my sanity, I must sort this out.
So, Piece, here goes. This is the story of my collegiate dating history.
Chris was the first guy at school that showed potential. I got a free tutor from one of my scholarships, so I decided to use it on Calculus. I met a boy with the same tutor, Chris. Chris was in Navy ROTC and had a smile that made my heart melt. He grew up in Virginia but had moved to Hawaii because of his dad's job as US Naval Commander. We talked and texted for roughly two (solid) weeks and bummed around my dorm with my friends for a night. Then, Chris's dad came for a week-long visit, and I stopped hearing from him. That would have been the end of it, but the day I got back to school after Christmas break, Chris saw me in the dining center. We started talking again, and he told me he wanted to spend a weekend with me. (And don't take that the wrong way.) I told him I might be going home for my brother and dad's birthdays, which I did end up doing. (Family first, right?) I promised him we'd reschedule, but then he fell off the map again. I beat myself up for a few weeks, thinking he was such a player (which honestly isn't that far off) and that I was an idiot for liking him. However, a month later, I made an interesting connection. My friend Eric had met Chris through a roommate but hadn't realized I knew him. When the two of us saw Chris in the dining center, Eric told me the last time he'd seen Chris, the kid had been walking down the street half-drunk, pissed and bummed, because the girl he liked went home for the weekend... Turns out, that girl was me. Snap...!
Guy number two was named Alex. He was a junior in industrial engineering and had a cute, nerdy appeal to him. We met during one of our college's annual radio competitions, and he asked me to late night coffee. (My first ever legitimate date.) We sat and talked for a couple hours, and I had a nice time. He must've had a decent time, too, because he asked me out to breakfast a week later. Honestly, by this point, in the spring of my freshman year of college, I was sick of being single. I wanted things to work out, so I texted Alex. Now, either this kid has limited texting ability or he wasn't that interested in staying in touch. After the school year was up, he disappeared. Got rid of Facebook; didn't answer the two texts I had the lady balls to send. I was done. Ironically enough though, I did talk to a mutual friend a week ago. I was informed that Alex was actually a really odd guy and that I shouldn't spread it around my friend group that we'd dated. Awkward...
This summer, I was in Sweden, visiting my foreign exchange student friend Sofia. She's practically my adopted sister, and I tell her just about everything. Her being European, she always thought it was strange that I'd never been kissed by a guy, let alone had sex with one. So... she set me up. While out one night, Sofia's friend Martin drank and chatted up our group until the wee hours of the morning. As he went to leave, he declared that he was giving goodbye kisses. He pushed through the crowd, kissing all the girls on the cheek, until he got to me. He stood in front of me and told me he was not leaving until we kissed on the lips. That was that.
...
I may not understand how men work, what their operating procedures are around ladies, or what signs of theirs mean I'm wasting my time. I'm learning though. Little by little, I'm working on figuring out the male species. The guys in my life are making being alive a pleasure. Perhaps if I keep them around, I won't have to be alone anymore. Maybe, I'll find a someone to call my own.
Maybe, Piece, I'll find someone that leads me that much closer to you.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
So I'm Looking For My Missing Piece...
When I was in second grade, my friend gave me a notebook that I started to use as a journal. I thought I was hot stuff, writing about my teachers and classmates and the boys I liked. I wrote in that book nearly every night, and I filled it up pretty fast. When I ran out of pages, my mom presented me with my first ever diary. It had a lock and everything, but being as young and foolish as I was, I took it to school and got it stolen while writing in it on the playground. One of my blockhead male classmates thought it would be hilarious to read it and present it to my crush of the day. Needless to say, I was completely mortified, and I stole my stupid diary back as fast as I could (which is saying a lot because I was a slow runner).
I had to learn the hard way that diaries are no longer sacred. Notebook journals don't belong in the internet age. Nothing is private, and that's the way it's got to stay (assuming I don't want to go undercover or become a hermit). I've got to have Facebook; I've got to check my e-mail; I've got to take pictures of my college friends and show them to my mom to prove I have a life.
But I still want to write, to share my story with the world that's out there waiting for me. What I share may not be particularly interesting or funny nor can I guarantee it will be worth your time to read it.
This I can say though. I'm looking for something, and maybe, just maybe, if I can put my thoughts in order and get them out there, I'll figure out what the hell I'm looking for. It's like Shel Silverstein says in his book... "I'm looking for my missing piece..."
Well, Piece. Here I go. I'm starting tonight. Whenever, I'm feeling lost or lonely or confused or scared or joyous or loved, I will write for you. I'm going to figure out what my story is missing. Whatever you are, whoever you are, I'm looking for you, Piece. Now, all I can do is hope you're looking for me, too.
I had to learn the hard way that diaries are no longer sacred. Notebook journals don't belong in the internet age. Nothing is private, and that's the way it's got to stay (assuming I don't want to go undercover or become a hermit). I've got to have Facebook; I've got to check my e-mail; I've got to take pictures of my college friends and show them to my mom to prove I have a life.
But I still want to write, to share my story with the world that's out there waiting for me. What I share may not be particularly interesting or funny nor can I guarantee it will be worth your time to read it.
This I can say though. I'm looking for something, and maybe, just maybe, if I can put my thoughts in order and get them out there, I'll figure out what the hell I'm looking for. It's like Shel Silverstein says in his book... "I'm looking for my missing piece..."
Well, Piece. Here I go. I'm starting tonight. Whenever, I'm feeling lost or lonely or confused or scared or joyous or loved, I will write for you. I'm going to figure out what my story is missing. Whatever you are, whoever you are, I'm looking for you, Piece. Now, all I can do is hope you're looking for me, too.
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