So last night (technically this morning, but who's keeping track?)
I started thinking.
Not on my own of course, I had a bit of prodding.
But the thinking was purely self processed,
yeah,
I'm good like that.
Anyways, lately, some big decisions have come up in my life.
I know, I know,
how important can they be?
I'm 19 years old--what level of legit could I have possibly reached?
Well--that's where my thinking began.
I remember in high school--
okay, let me stop right there.
I know I've been out of high school only 2 years, and as such, have no right to take off on a "when I was your age" tangent, but give me a break--I'm nostalgic, dangit.
Digressing--
I remember my life in high school,
and how something truly insignificant would occur, and the Earth would shatter.
Literally--tremble and move.
I was done for, out for the count, throwing in the towel.
Funny now, how those major escapades and downfalls turned out.
How I look back and shake my head, smiling at my own ignorance, but a little embaressed at the same time.
Embarressed because, yes mother, you told me so.
(You have no idea how many hours I just stared at those words in awe.)
Moving on.
In truth, as amusing as I find those former meltdowns which now seem a lifetime away,
in essence, they give me hope.
No, perhaps hope isn't the correct word--
what they give me is perspective on life.
The perspective and knowledge that one day,
maybe a week from now, maybe a month from now, maybe a year from now,
I will look back on my college days in the same way.
I will most assuredly remember those "catastrohpic" evenings spent in tears and sigh.
Smiling a little at my own ignorance, and embaressed, because like all good little girls and boys,
the words of my mother have falled unheeded and on deafened ears.
Jeese, Fran, don't those "I told you sos" ever get old?
Because last night at..well, I won't tell you the time, because my mother will most assuredly read this post and then lecture me on the benefits of a good night's sleep,
but last night,
for whatever reason, I saw life with a clarity I never thought possible until adulthood.
Then it hit me,
holy crap,
I'm in adulthood.
I realized for the first time, that maybe you can never be absolutely certain about any one thing, act, or person in this lifetime.
Perhaps you were never meant to.
Maybe it is just as everyone says: no one is ever ready for marriage, parenthood, or for life to begin.
It just happens.
One more time, friends, life...just...happens.
And guess what?
It doesn't wait for you to get back on your feet.
I guess nothing is ever certainly seadfast wrong or right.
There are just good and bad consequences of each--in truth, you won't know until you look back.
Until you reminisce, or begin one of those "when I was your age" tangents.
I guess what I'm trying to say, or to type, more aptly, is what on some level, I've always known;
hindsight, my dears, is 20/20.
So maybe, this whole time, this whole kerbobbled (thanks Cindy Lou Who), this whole topsy turvy, windy, crazy, life--
we are caught up in trying to make this "good" choice or that "bad" choice.
But when it comes right down to it, all we are doing is making a bunch of choices.
And when it seems like everyone knows more than you--they don't.
Don't race to catch up, don't pretend to know things,
instead, slow down, and actually learn them.
Because what most fail to realize, is that the discomfort of uncertainty is the most precious part of the experience.
If you can feel comfortable "not knowing", you can learn anything.
And if not, then..well, you've stopped before you've begun.
Some things in life are meant to be broken, imperfect, chaotic.
It's the universe's way of providing contrast.
There have to be a few holes in the road, it's how life is.
Essentially,
what's going to happen is going to happen.
With or without our lowly, little human interference.
And most of the time, it's really us that get in the way os what we want and need anyways.
And time, world wide webbers, is an unreliable narrarator.
History is rewritten everyday.
Too often, life passes people by, while they're busy making grand plans for it.
So "we must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us".
So while tomorrow I will have another moment of weakness and fear the future and what it holds--
right now,
at this minute,
on this day,
I am simply thankful for the endless possibilities before me.
And I will try not to think too hard or process too much,
or use this as an excuse for not acting.
I will simply thank the Lord for the waking of another day (no matter how early), for another Christmas sunrise, for a day to spend baking with Grandma, for a hug from my Meemaw, a jab from my Peepaw.
And for another "I told you so" from my mom.
And I will remember always, those that cannot do and see and act anymore--
"I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them.
But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still live as we go from there. We can still DO things. And we can still try to feel okay about them."
Just wanted to leave you with one of my favorite movie quotes:
"It's hard to stay mad when there is so much beauty in the world.
Sometimes, I feel like I am seeing it all at once, and it's too much!
My heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst...
And then I remember to relax--and stop trying to hold on to it.
Then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid, little life."
Anyways, I was just thinking.
that is all.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
one for the ages--a love story
Way too often--we look at the world through a pair of prescription lens.
The only problem is, these lens were prescribed by Mr. Cynic, himself.
We no longer believe in love stories, sun shine, or frankly, even happiness.
Don't think I'm counting myself out of the mix, either.
I, the eternal optimist; one who never gives up hope in anyone or anything--am guilty as well.
But today, in UofL Hospital-Room 732, proof of hope and love existing in a broken world was had.
It's not that I didn't know my grandparents loved each other,
I suppose it was simply taken for granted.
But they--they're past their prime, you see.
What do they need with love?
Most of the time, my Peepaw is too busy picking on Meemaw for me to see any passion or love pass between them.
I'm a bit more like him in that regard.
Whereas Meemaw is sensitive, prone to tears of joy, sadness, pain--well, just tears;
Peepaw is more prone to laughter or more often than not, sarcasm.
I used to wonder how they ever found one another or thought to mesh.
Peepaw, Mr. Sociable; Meemaw, let's just be quiet.
Republican vs. Democrat; rambuxious vs. subdued--
Just all around 'different'.
Lately, they've been through so much, there hasn't been much time for romance.
These days they were supposed to spend, quietly basking in the glow of retirement and no children, have instead been spent on worries, exhaustion, deaths, caretaking, medical bills, and restless nights.
No traveling like they had pictured--
No relaxing days at all.
Sure, I've heard the stories of green taffeta dresses, wedded bliss, and candlelight dinners--
but I guess it never sunk in.
Until my Peepaw broke down for the first time in my life.
The strongest man I'll ever know--hands like steel, shoulders like brick, taller than a skyscraper.
19 years and I've never seen that man loose his composure.
Not when his daughter was dying, not when he buried his mother, father, and a brother; not even when he was past the point of going.
Until he faced the possibility of life without my Meemaw.
When they told him Sunday night that they didn't think she would make it--
Peepaw couldn't make it.
"I'm not ready--I can't walk in that house without her.--
I'm not ready."
My grandparents have been married for 54 years--but that wasn't enough for him.
And here I sometimes questioned if they even liked one another.
While we waited through procedures, tests, and well, just waiting,
Peepaw paced and prayed; prayed and paced.
Until they let him by her side.
He's a controller--yeah, it's kind of what our family does; sorry. =/
And his instinct took over.
Fluffing her pillow, covering her up, showering her--always moving at a constant speed.
Since Saturday night, he has yet to leave her side.
He sleeps in a chair next to her bed--
but mostly, he just lays and watches.
How many times have I heard that man say "Oh, Larkie"--and look to the Heavens in exasperation.
And how many times have I heard her respond "Oh hush" with a pout.
This is what love is.
This is what should be glorified in story books, not a silly story of a glass slipper.
Our minds and hearts have been fooled into thinking that love is this and relationships are that; but when it comes right down to it, sometimes, you just have to get through.
It's not always going to be perfect or easy or fun.
Hell, you're not always going to like one another.
But when you have someone to hold your hand, and help you walk, and change your clothes, and feed you--
When you have someone that knows your thoughts--and can talk to you with a look, and read you like a book, and can calm you with a touch.
That is love.
Love is needing someone--Love is putting up with someone's bad qualities because they somehow complete you.
Because the truth is, no relationship is perfect, ever.
There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater. But, the love we have for each other is bigger than these small differences.
And thats the key.
It's like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece.
Love can make up for a lot.
Attraction fades--
Romance dwindles--
and the roses and chocolates won't always be there.
But look around at what the love of 2 people has created.
Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren--
all there at a moment's notice because of what they mean, because of what this family means.
Who am I to speak of love or marriage, right?
I'm 19 years old with little to no real world experience--
but I know enough.
I know what a real love story is.
And this one has nothing to do with ball gowns, kisses at midnight, or an attractive prince (sorry Peepaw).
So take that cynics of the world.
Who needs Cinderella anyways?
I'm living a love story--
that is all.
The only problem is, these lens were prescribed by Mr. Cynic, himself.
We no longer believe in love stories, sun shine, or frankly, even happiness.
Don't think I'm counting myself out of the mix, either.
I, the eternal optimist; one who never gives up hope in anyone or anything--am guilty as well.
But today, in UofL Hospital-Room 732, proof of hope and love existing in a broken world was had.
It's not that I didn't know my grandparents loved each other,
I suppose it was simply taken for granted.
But they--they're past their prime, you see.
What do they need with love?
Most of the time, my Peepaw is too busy picking on Meemaw for me to see any passion or love pass between them.
I'm a bit more like him in that regard.
Whereas Meemaw is sensitive, prone to tears of joy, sadness, pain--well, just tears;
Peepaw is more prone to laughter or more often than not, sarcasm.
I used to wonder how they ever found one another or thought to mesh.
Peepaw, Mr. Sociable; Meemaw, let's just be quiet.
Republican vs. Democrat; rambuxious vs. subdued--
Just all around 'different'.
Lately, they've been through so much, there hasn't been much time for romance.
These days they were supposed to spend, quietly basking in the glow of retirement and no children, have instead been spent on worries, exhaustion, deaths, caretaking, medical bills, and restless nights.
No traveling like they had pictured--
No relaxing days at all.
Sure, I've heard the stories of green taffeta dresses, wedded bliss, and candlelight dinners--
but I guess it never sunk in.
Until my Peepaw broke down for the first time in my life.
The strongest man I'll ever know--hands like steel, shoulders like brick, taller than a skyscraper.
19 years and I've never seen that man loose his composure.
Not when his daughter was dying, not when he buried his mother, father, and a brother; not even when he was past the point of going.
Until he faced the possibility of life without my Meemaw.
When they told him Sunday night that they didn't think she would make it--
Peepaw couldn't make it.
"I'm not ready--I can't walk in that house without her.--
I'm not ready."
My grandparents have been married for 54 years--but that wasn't enough for him.
And here I sometimes questioned if they even liked one another.
While we waited through procedures, tests, and well, just waiting,
Peepaw paced and prayed; prayed and paced.
Until they let him by her side.
He's a controller--yeah, it's kind of what our family does; sorry. =/
And his instinct took over.
Fluffing her pillow, covering her up, showering her--always moving at a constant speed.
Since Saturday night, he has yet to leave her side.
He sleeps in a chair next to her bed--
but mostly, he just lays and watches.
How many times have I heard that man say "Oh, Larkie"--and look to the Heavens in exasperation.
And how many times have I heard her respond "Oh hush" with a pout.
This is what love is.
This is what should be glorified in story books, not a silly story of a glass slipper.
Our minds and hearts have been fooled into thinking that love is this and relationships are that; but when it comes right down to it, sometimes, you just have to get through.
It's not always going to be perfect or easy or fun.
Hell, you're not always going to like one another.
But when you have someone to hold your hand, and help you walk, and change your clothes, and feed you--
When you have someone that knows your thoughts--and can talk to you with a look, and read you like a book, and can calm you with a touch.
That is love.
Love is needing someone--Love is putting up with someone's bad qualities because they somehow complete you.
Because the truth is, no relationship is perfect, ever.
There are always some ways you have to bend, to compromise, to give something up in order to gain something greater. But, the love we have for each other is bigger than these small differences.
And thats the key.
It's like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece.
Love can make up for a lot.
Attraction fades--
Romance dwindles--
and the roses and chocolates won't always be there.
But look around at what the love of 2 people has created.
Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren--
all there at a moment's notice because of what they mean, because of what this family means.
Who am I to speak of love or marriage, right?
I'm 19 years old with little to no real world experience--
but I know enough.
I know what a real love story is.
And this one has nothing to do with ball gowns, kisses at midnight, or an attractive prince (sorry Peepaw).
So take that cynics of the world.
Who needs Cinderella anyways?
I'm living a love story--
that is all.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
thanksgiving wasn't meant to be confined to just one day
I'm a stickler for tradition--
Change, to me, is evil at it's very conception.
So the fact that I am not at a Thanksgiving dinner cooked by my Meemaw and Peepaw in the formal dining room of 206 Locust St. should be killing me.
Really--
it should be.
The fact that the same broccoli casserole and pumpkin pie recipes of my childhood are not going to be appearing in my Thanksgiving horizon should have me up in arms.
Maybe that's what growing up is all about.
The realization that some things are just more important.
Especially on a day set aside for thanksgiving.
This turkey day, while I sit in a hospital waiting room, typing papers, and reading books about politics, I'll keep one thought in mind.
I don't care that my tradition is destroyed, or that my ritual has been cancelled;
because to be perfectly honest, the most important constant is present.
I am surrounded by the ones that I love.
And sure, we may be spending our time in uncomfortable chairs, and sure we might be eating lunch in a Cracker Barrel instead of around my great-great grandma's oak table, and sure we might smell like hand sanitizer and medicine--
but we are together.
And we are arguing and punching each other and moving at a constant speed of 100 mph like always.
And we have my Meemaw.
And all that is worth giving up a million brocolli casseroles and a billion pumpkin pies forever.
I of all people have reason to be thankful this year.
So God, thanks--
give us one more, huh?
that is all.
Change, to me, is evil at it's very conception.
So the fact that I am not at a Thanksgiving dinner cooked by my Meemaw and Peepaw in the formal dining room of 206 Locust St. should be killing me.
Really--
it should be.
The fact that the same broccoli casserole and pumpkin pie recipes of my childhood are not going to be appearing in my Thanksgiving horizon should have me up in arms.
Maybe that's what growing up is all about.
The realization that some things are just more important.
Especially on a day set aside for thanksgiving.
This turkey day, while I sit in a hospital waiting room, typing papers, and reading books about politics, I'll keep one thought in mind.
I don't care that my tradition is destroyed, or that my ritual has been cancelled;
because to be perfectly honest, the most important constant is present.
I am surrounded by the ones that I love.
And sure, we may be spending our time in uncomfortable chairs, and sure we might be eating lunch in a Cracker Barrel instead of around my great-great grandma's oak table, and sure we might smell like hand sanitizer and medicine--
but we are together.
And we are arguing and punching each other and moving at a constant speed of 100 mph like always.
And we have my Meemaw.
And all that is worth giving up a million brocolli casseroles and a billion pumpkin pies forever.
I of all people have reason to be thankful this year.
So God, thanks--
give us one more, huh?
that is all.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
a.d.d.
I have trouble concentrating.
Should you know me, even for a short time--
this you will have discovered.
I can't control my thoughts, and so they simply tumble out.
Filter--
what's that?
It takes me an hour to tell a five minute story because I get off track and tell 11 more stories before ever reaching my point.
I have to tell every single, superfluous detail.
I've never been able to "think" my prayers silently.
Otherwise, my mind will jumble and travel in a thousand different directions going a thousand miles per hour.
So I have to pray aloud--
and well, even that sometimes runs amuk.
So I use a different strategy; prayer journal.
I actually have to write down my prayers, or my thoughts will never make it on a single track.
Try getting your notebook out and rustling pages everytime someone says "let us pray."
Frankly--it's exhausting.
There are few people in this world who truly understand what goes on inside of my heart and mind.
The speed that my thoughts run and then change is a lot to keep up with.
The feeling to always be here and there, to fix this and that, to say it right, do it better is always there.
So many times I leave a place and am worn out from the whirring inside of me going non stop.
To be perfectly honest, my reality would suprise most people.
I'm shy.
You just rolled your eyes, don't deny it.
I hate ordering in restraunts, knocking on doors, or meeting new people--
Sometimes, it makes me sick to my stomach.
I like being mellow.
Again with the eye rolling.
I am loud, obnoxiously perky, and giggly for most of my existence--
but my happiest is when I don't feel the need to be loud, obnoxiously perky, and giggly.
Contrary to popular belief--I have emotions.
A fair lot of them.
I would just rather breathe through something than break down and out.
And because I'm not into the whole "feel your feelings and share them" thing--
my image gets somewhat misconstrued.
But the truth is--this isn't me hiding behind an image or mask.
This is just me striving to be a person that I percieve.
It’s like, there’s this person that you want to be for other people. To make them proud of you. And then there’s you. And sometimes it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.
So you're not being fake or hidden or masked--
you're simply being another version of yourself.
I guess what makes me so blessed is that I've found the people that I can be whatever, whoever, whenever I need to be.
Very rarely does someone balance me well enough to fit my different facets into the right places.
My friends--my family--they are my fitters and balancers.
And when I come before Jesus Christ, he sees me as his child.
In my basic, most pure form.
A sinner who fails--but keeps striving.
And he doesn't care if I'm obnoxiously loud or am dull and silent.
And you know what?
That's enough for me.
that is all.
Should you know me, even for a short time--
this you will have discovered.
I can't control my thoughts, and so they simply tumble out.
Filter--
what's that?
It takes me an hour to tell a five minute story because I get off track and tell 11 more stories before ever reaching my point.
I have to tell every single, superfluous detail.
I've never been able to "think" my prayers silently.
Otherwise, my mind will jumble and travel in a thousand different directions going a thousand miles per hour.
So I have to pray aloud--
and well, even that sometimes runs amuk.
So I use a different strategy; prayer journal.
I actually have to write down my prayers, or my thoughts will never make it on a single track.
Try getting your notebook out and rustling pages everytime someone says "let us pray."
Frankly--it's exhausting.
There are few people in this world who truly understand what goes on inside of my heart and mind.
The speed that my thoughts run and then change is a lot to keep up with.
The feeling to always be here and there, to fix this and that, to say it right, do it better is always there.
So many times I leave a place and am worn out from the whirring inside of me going non stop.
To be perfectly honest, my reality would suprise most people.
I'm shy.
You just rolled your eyes, don't deny it.
I hate ordering in restraunts, knocking on doors, or meeting new people--
Sometimes, it makes me sick to my stomach.
I like being mellow.
Again with the eye rolling.
I am loud, obnoxiously perky, and giggly for most of my existence--
but my happiest is when I don't feel the need to be loud, obnoxiously perky, and giggly.
Contrary to popular belief--I have emotions.
A fair lot of them.
I would just rather breathe through something than break down and out.
And because I'm not into the whole "feel your feelings and share them" thing--
my image gets somewhat misconstrued.
But the truth is--this isn't me hiding behind an image or mask.
This is just me striving to be a person that I percieve.
It’s like, there’s this person that you want to be for other people. To make them proud of you. And then there’s you. And sometimes it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.
So you're not being fake or hidden or masked--
you're simply being another version of yourself.
I guess what makes me so blessed is that I've found the people that I can be whatever, whoever, whenever I need to be.
Very rarely does someone balance me well enough to fit my different facets into the right places.
My friends--my family--they are my fitters and balancers.
And when I come before Jesus Christ, he sees me as his child.
In my basic, most pure form.
A sinner who fails--but keeps striving.
And he doesn't care if I'm obnoxiously loud or am dull and silent.
And you know what?
That's enough for me.
that is all.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
God send
Every so often,
you need a night.
One night where life seems to fall into place.
A night to sing Moulin Rouge and old country with your best bud--
to sit around a bonfire playing catchphrase--
to make mini adventures and have time--
and to help.
To lay on couches until 3 in the morning "counseling", even though you have to be up by 7 to pray--
Too meet new people--
and to feel God move your heart.
Every so often,
you have a good day.
Full of fun photoshoots, Thanksgiving dinner, and girl talk.
Every so often,
you get that perfect outfit.
Skinny jeans, flats, a Run-D.M.C. shirt, and some zebra print--topped off with a leather jacket.
Thanks God.
After everything going on--I was getting a little fidgety.
So this Thanksgiving, be thankful.
Mine?
Hey--I'm just happy for those good days that get me through the bad.
God always sends exactly what I need--exactly when I need it.
I pray you have that day.
that is all.
you need a night.
One night where life seems to fall into place.
A night to sing Moulin Rouge and old country with your best bud--
to sit around a bonfire playing catchphrase--
to make mini adventures and have time--
and to help.
To lay on couches until 3 in the morning "counseling", even though you have to be up by 7 to pray--
Too meet new people--
and to feel God move your heart.
Every so often,
you have a good day.
Full of fun photoshoots, Thanksgiving dinner, and girl talk.
Every so often,
you get that perfect outfit.
Skinny jeans, flats, a Run-D.M.C. shirt, and some zebra print--topped off with a leather jacket.
Thanks God.
After everything going on--I was getting a little fidgety.
So this Thanksgiving, be thankful.
Mine?
Hey--I'm just happy for those good days that get me through the bad.
God always sends exactly what I need--exactly when I need it.
I pray you have that day.
that is all.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
rely
Lately--I have been finding my joy in other things.
Specifically, other people--my friends, my KD sisters, anything or anyone but alone time in Christ.
I can't tell you when the last moment I spent on my own was--let alone the last time I had a quiet moment to reflect and rely on Jesus Christ.
And to be perfectly honest--I was content to allow the process continuation.
Love of myself was more important than my relationship with Christ--who IS love.
Wow, Hunter.
Sarcastic high five on that one.
For some reason, we humans find the need to validate our own lives and existence through others.
Through friendships, and relationships, family members, and activities.
But the truth of the matter is--we have each already been validated.
The fact alone that the God of the universe sent his only Son to die--a painfilled and grotesque death, substantiates us each individually.
Yet we continue to feel worthless.
Don't deny it.
If our fellow human beings felt worth--then young girls wouldn't feel the need to act in certain ways to gain the attentions of the opposite sex, young men wouldn't feel the constant need to impress one another, and instead of working everyday at jobs they loathe to simply "earn the buck"--then the people of the world would stand up, work toward their calling and say to Hell with labels and interests; economy and stocks.
Do not think that I mean to exclude myself from any such categorizations.
If anything--I write this as a confession of my own shortcomings.
If I were to truly strive to see myself and others through the eyes and heart of Christ--rather than those of man--then I would find no need to kill myself to make that grade, fix that person, entertain that group.
So this Sunday, I want you to know that you are a treasure.
Something is worth only what is paid for it--and you were paid for with precious, perfect blood.
Stop seeing yourself as someone lacking.
Quit looking in the mirror and pointing out your flaws.
Don't wish for different tomorrows but find hope in your todays.
And in the same way that your seek to view yourself as a unique creation in Christ,
seek to view others likewise.
You'd be amazed to see the pure transformation that can take place in your heart.
This probably all sounds like a cliche, motivational bunch of bull--
but the truth is--it's something people need to hear.
We don't talk like this anymore, but it's not because those thoughts and feelings are gone,
but because we have lost the courage to search them out.
Dear ___________,
You are special.
And you are special because God the father, in his infinite wisdom created you.
He created you for a specific purpose.
And he LOVES you.
Not the love that you toss around in temporary relationships, lasting friendships, or even the earthly love of your family.
Let that love sink in.
Let it wash over you.
Rely on that love--
and most importantly, share it.
that is all.
Specifically, other people--my friends, my KD sisters, anything or anyone but alone time in Christ.
I can't tell you when the last moment I spent on my own was--let alone the last time I had a quiet moment to reflect and rely on Jesus Christ.
And to be perfectly honest--I was content to allow the process continuation.
Love of myself was more important than my relationship with Christ--who IS love.
Wow, Hunter.
Sarcastic high five on that one.
For some reason, we humans find the need to validate our own lives and existence through others.
Through friendships, and relationships, family members, and activities.
But the truth of the matter is--we have each already been validated.
The fact alone that the God of the universe sent his only Son to die--a painfilled and grotesque death, substantiates us each individually.
Yet we continue to feel worthless.
Don't deny it.
If our fellow human beings felt worth--then young girls wouldn't feel the need to act in certain ways to gain the attentions of the opposite sex, young men wouldn't feel the constant need to impress one another, and instead of working everyday at jobs they loathe to simply "earn the buck"--then the people of the world would stand up, work toward their calling and say to Hell with labels and interests; economy and stocks.
Do not think that I mean to exclude myself from any such categorizations.
If anything--I write this as a confession of my own shortcomings.
If I were to truly strive to see myself and others through the eyes and heart of Christ--rather than those of man--then I would find no need to kill myself to make that grade, fix that person, entertain that group.
So this Sunday, I want you to know that you are a treasure.
Something is worth only what is paid for it--and you were paid for with precious, perfect blood.
Stop seeing yourself as someone lacking.
Quit looking in the mirror and pointing out your flaws.
Don't wish for different tomorrows but find hope in your todays.
And in the same way that your seek to view yourself as a unique creation in Christ,
seek to view others likewise.
You'd be amazed to see the pure transformation that can take place in your heart.
This probably all sounds like a cliche, motivational bunch of bull--
but the truth is--it's something people need to hear.
We don't talk like this anymore, but it's not because those thoughts and feelings are gone,
but because we have lost the courage to search them out.
Dear ___________,
You are special.
And you are special because God the father, in his infinite wisdom created you.
He created you for a specific purpose.
And he LOVES you.
Not the love that you toss around in temporary relationships, lasting friendships, or even the earthly love of your family.
Let that love sink in.
Let it wash over you.
Rely on that love--
and most importantly, share it.
that is all.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
quick update
For a while,
life sucked.
Then I got some good advice.
Now,
life is on the look up.
More later.
that is all.
life sucked.
Then I got some good advice.
Now,
life is on the look up.
More later.
that is all.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
dear life, batters up
I approached blogging with the intention of updating quite often.
Yeah...sure.
Time constraits aside, sometimes I just have nothing to say.
Shocking...I know, right?
Anyways, to bring you up to date, as I am sure you are gripping the edge of your seat: my life is as follows:
I seem to be back up to my old habits of Freshman year, which basically means running on an average of 3 hours of sleep a night.
Let me tell you, not a good way to start out.
And well, so far back to college life has been good.--This week, not so much.
Along with no sleep, I've been falling back into some other old habits as well.
and well, today I've decided...no more.
My life is completely crazy right now. Between classes, Kappa Delta, and all my clubs and activites, I seem to have lost Hunter.
No world, I have not lost my religion, my soberness, or my virginity.
Indeed, all are intact.
However, I seem to be getting so caught up in the activities of life that I am forgetting to live life.
I wake up ready to go to bed, work toward the goal of sleep all day, hit the sack for a few hours and then do it all again.
I am forevermore being pulled in a thousand different directions and am losing bits to each.
Don't get me wrong, I am aware that this is all of my own doing.
I realize that I agreed to each of these responsibilites and positions placed before me,
but I did not take into account the personal aspects of life being pulled into the works as well.
And so I have concluded only this:
I am a college student.
My existence is supposed to be crazy and tossed around.
But these classes and grades are my life and my job right now; and nothing, I repeat nothing can get in the way of that.
Not a hundred activities, nor a thousand friends, or a million boys.
This is what I am here to do.
And damnit,
I'm doing it.
To thine ownself be true, yes, but to God in Heaven be truer.
I am 19 years old and if it be His will, have years of living ahead of me.
Years to become what I am meant to become and to do what needs to be done.
So right now, calm take a backseat and calamity come on up. I'm ready for you.
Hello world, hope you're listening.
This is Hunter Stevens,
stop kicking my ass.
that is all.
Yeah...sure.
Time constraits aside, sometimes I just have nothing to say.
Shocking...I know, right?
Anyways, to bring you up to date, as I am sure you are gripping the edge of your seat: my life is as follows:
I seem to be back up to my old habits of Freshman year, which basically means running on an average of 3 hours of sleep a night.
Let me tell you, not a good way to start out.
And well, so far back to college life has been good.--This week, not so much.
Along with no sleep, I've been falling back into some other old habits as well.
and well, today I've decided...no more.
My life is completely crazy right now. Between classes, Kappa Delta, and all my clubs and activites, I seem to have lost Hunter.
No world, I have not lost my religion, my soberness, or my virginity.
Indeed, all are intact.
However, I seem to be getting so caught up in the activities of life that I am forgetting to live life.
I wake up ready to go to bed, work toward the goal of sleep all day, hit the sack for a few hours and then do it all again.
I am forevermore being pulled in a thousand different directions and am losing bits to each.
Don't get me wrong, I am aware that this is all of my own doing.
I realize that I agreed to each of these responsibilites and positions placed before me,
but I did not take into account the personal aspects of life being pulled into the works as well.
And so I have concluded only this:
I am a college student.
My existence is supposed to be crazy and tossed around.
But these classes and grades are my life and my job right now; and nothing, I repeat nothing can get in the way of that.
Not a hundred activities, nor a thousand friends, or a million boys.
This is what I am here to do.
And damnit,
I'm doing it.
To thine ownself be true, yes, but to God in Heaven be truer.
I am 19 years old and if it be His will, have years of living ahead of me.
Years to become what I am meant to become and to do what needs to be done.
So right now, calm take a backseat and calamity come on up. I'm ready for you.
Hello world, hope you're listening.
This is Hunter Stevens,
stop kicking my ass.
that is all.
Friday, August 21, 2009
suffering and God
What if God's goodness and God's love don't necessarily remove the cruelty and suffering and injustice and pain from the world?
What if they were never intended to?
What if goodness still exists even though life is hard and cruel, and even though people suffer?
What if God's goodness wasn't meant to take away the world's suffering, but was meant to provide a refuge in the midst of it?
If these realizations are true, then the only thing that God's goodness would eliminate was hoplessness.
Because if God is good, then there can always be hope... though there may continue to be pain and suffering and injustice and cruelty and heartbreak.
There is only this and nothing more-- God is good.
It does not mean that things in one's life will always be good...but that God is good.
It does not mean that one's life will be an easy one...but that God is good.
It does not mean that one's prayers will always be answered in the way that one would like...but that God is good.
It does not mean that tragedy may not visit one...but that God is good.
It does not mean that the human struggle is not difficult...but that God is good.
it does not mean that there will not always be suffering in the world...but that God is good.
It does not mean that there will not be times when one is so overcome by sadness at memories in life that you must go outside and find a place to be alone and cry...but that God is good.
It does not mean that there will not always be many who will deny His very existence because of the pain and seeming unfairness of life they see all around them...but that God is good.
It does not mean that there will not always be many questions for which we have no answers... but that God is good.
God's goodness is the larger truth over the whole, the largest truth overspreading all of life-- over cruelty, over suffering, over tragedy, over doubts and despair, over broken relationships, over sin itself.
Why that goodness doesn't eliminate such things, I don't know. Perhaps we shall ask him one day.
For some reason our tiny human minds cannot comprehend, God has allowed pain in his universe. You and I might have done it differently, but then, we are not God.
And as such, it is impossible for us to see all the way into the depths of the matter.
We therefore cannot perceive the many ways in which the very suffering we rail against may in fact contribute to the overall eternal benefit and growth of God's universe and its created beings.
We cannot see to the bottom of such things. So we foolish creatures look at the world's hurting and say God must not exist, or if he does he must not care, or must be a cruel God. Yet I suspect, that when we are one day able to see all the way into it, we will see that Goodness and Love lie at the root even of all the suffering that was ever borne by this fallen humanity of which we are part.
Therefore, hope must be the basis for our faith, not that God will give us a happy life.
For it is that God is good, loving, and trustworthy that are the deepest truths of the universe. These are the ingredients of the soil out which grows our salvation.
For indeed, it is not the cross that is the basis of our salvation, but rather, that the cross is evidence of our salvation.
Men and women are so prone to place limitations upon what God does, or can do, or might do, so that they can explain his ways and means to the satisfaction of their small intellects.
God's love and slavation are never limited by man's interpretations or by the boundaries man would place around the extent of their reach.
What if they were never intended to?
What if goodness still exists even though life is hard and cruel, and even though people suffer?
What if God's goodness wasn't meant to take away the world's suffering, but was meant to provide a refuge in the midst of it?
If these realizations are true, then the only thing that God's goodness would eliminate was hoplessness.
Because if God is good, then there can always be hope... though there may continue to be pain and suffering and injustice and cruelty and heartbreak.
There is only this and nothing more-- God is good.
It does not mean that things in one's life will always be good...but that God is good.
It does not mean that one's life will be an easy one...but that God is good.
It does not mean that one's prayers will always be answered in the way that one would like...but that God is good.
It does not mean that tragedy may not visit one...but that God is good.
It does not mean that the human struggle is not difficult...but that God is good.
it does not mean that there will not always be suffering in the world...but that God is good.
It does not mean that there will not be times when one is so overcome by sadness at memories in life that you must go outside and find a place to be alone and cry...but that God is good.
It does not mean that there will not always be many who will deny His very existence because of the pain and seeming unfairness of life they see all around them...but that God is good.
It does not mean that there will not always be many questions for which we have no answers... but that God is good.
God's goodness is the larger truth over the whole, the largest truth overspreading all of life-- over cruelty, over suffering, over tragedy, over doubts and despair, over broken relationships, over sin itself.
Why that goodness doesn't eliminate such things, I don't know. Perhaps we shall ask him one day.
For some reason our tiny human minds cannot comprehend, God has allowed pain in his universe. You and I might have done it differently, but then, we are not God.
And as such, it is impossible for us to see all the way into the depths of the matter.
We therefore cannot perceive the many ways in which the very suffering we rail against may in fact contribute to the overall eternal benefit and growth of God's universe and its created beings.
We cannot see to the bottom of such things. So we foolish creatures look at the world's hurting and say God must not exist, or if he does he must not care, or must be a cruel God. Yet I suspect, that when we are one day able to see all the way into it, we will see that Goodness and Love lie at the root even of all the suffering that was ever borne by this fallen humanity of which we are part.
Therefore, hope must be the basis for our faith, not that God will give us a happy life.
For it is that God is good, loving, and trustworthy that are the deepest truths of the universe. These are the ingredients of the soil out which grows our salvation.
For indeed, it is not the cross that is the basis of our salvation, but rather, that the cross is evidence of our salvation.
Men and women are so prone to place limitations upon what God does, or can do, or might do, so that they can explain his ways and means to the satisfaction of their small intellects.
God's love and slavation are never limited by man's interpretations or by the boundaries man would place around the extent of their reach.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
say a little prayer for me
It seems that this semester is going to be a bit hellish.
Hunter, never learning from her past mistakes, has once again spread herself too thin.
18 hours of class work, all upper level courses.
Council for BCM.
Leadership with CRU.
The Honors College.
Further involvement with Christ Fellowship.
My regular volunteer hours with Parker Bennett and the Great Acres Nursing Center.
Rushing, which is enough within itself.
V.P. for College Republicans.
N.S.C.S.
More involvement with AID and The Invisible Children.
and now an application for internship in Brett Guthrie's district office.
Really??
Really??
I honestly don't know what I am thinking.
I somehow have to be there whenever and wherever I am needed and still maintain a 3.5 GPA for scholarship.
I really don't see any time for friends or fun throughout the coming months.
I really don't see any time for rest or food in the coming months.
Welcome to the life of an overly invested college student.
Obviously, my prioritizing talents leave a bit to be desired, as does my ability to sometimes just say "NO".
I'm the Hermione Granger of Western except I don't have a time stopper like in the Prisoner of Azkaban.
Great, on top of everything else, I'm a nerd.
You're thoughts and prayers are welcome.
P.S. If you see me around campus, throw me some food, becasue I'm sure I won't have taken the time for food, and if you can stop me long enough, give me some words of encouragement, maybe a hug. Any human contact would probably be welcomed.
That is all.
Hunter, never learning from her past mistakes, has once again spread herself too thin.
18 hours of class work, all upper level courses.
Council for BCM.
Leadership with CRU.
The Honors College.
Further involvement with Christ Fellowship.
My regular volunteer hours with Parker Bennett and the Great Acres Nursing Center.
Rushing, which is enough within itself.
V.P. for College Republicans.
N.S.C.S.
More involvement with AID and The Invisible Children.
and now an application for internship in Brett Guthrie's district office.
Really??
Really??
I honestly don't know what I am thinking.
I somehow have to be there whenever and wherever I am needed and still maintain a 3.5 GPA for scholarship.
I really don't see any time for friends or fun throughout the coming months.
I really don't see any time for rest or food in the coming months.
Welcome to the life of an overly invested college student.
Obviously, my prioritizing talents leave a bit to be desired, as does my ability to sometimes just say "NO".
I'm the Hermione Granger of Western except I don't have a time stopper like in the Prisoner of Azkaban.
Great, on top of everything else, I'm a nerd.
You're thoughts and prayers are welcome.
P.S. If you see me around campus, throw me some food, becasue I'm sure I won't have taken the time for food, and if you can stop me long enough, give me some words of encouragement, maybe a hug. Any human contact would probably be welcomed.
That is all.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
if you're ever wondering, just ask the three year old; the world according to miss briley brown
I'm not one of those people that waits until the ending to title a piece of writing or rambles.
I just can't seem to reach that plateau in my life.
(in a side note, I honestly think that is the first time I have ever used 'plateau' in a sentence.)
I suppose I'm just a stickler for sequence.
The title sets my tone; shows the path my words shall tread.
However, I'm attempting this new thing in my life called "acceptance".
Strange, huh?
Trying to better gain foothold and graspings on the everyday changes of a moving, growing life.
And also with the fact that, gasp, I am not in control of that life.
Ahh..wouldn't you think that this knowing would be enough?
Shouldn't I simply take the knowledge that the Father has placed within me for good reason and run with it?
Oh no.
And why not?
Because I am stubborn as a mule, spoiled, self centered, and broken.
Somehow I have travelled far from my point or at least my journey toward a point,
and must once again reign the thoughts that are spilling forth.
Before I begin the introspective walk down Hunter Lane, back to the whole title thing.
This will be the first writing (if this can even be called as such) or humble babbling that I have ever begun without that title heading as my constant beacon and guiding light.
As such, this post may seem a bit queer and quite 'Alice in Wonderland'-ish.
Can't say you weren't given fair warning.
You could still get away, you know.
I haven't released the arsenal of my jumbled thinkings upon the pure tapestry of the world yet.
Get away while you still can.
The only image coming to mind is a blobby monster attacking the innocents of a sky sraper filled horizon.
Sounds like a plot for a black and white horror film, huh?
And this is what I compare the contents of my mind to? Yeesh.
Call the Feds.
And again,
woah horsey; bring it in.
Digressing.
This evening I lay upon the carpeted floor of my family room, rolling with my niece as my nephew slumbered upstairs whilst my sister and mother watched on.
Briley and I (the niece in question) swung from the winding staircase, road piggy back for hours, and wore matching headbands.
Again, all of these details are superfluous.
And as I lay on my stomach with a 2 and a half year old on my back listening as I read a pop up book of 'Santa flying through the night sky and stars', this sweet little innocent says:
"Jesus made the stars."
Again.
"Jesus made the stars."
Now,
admittedly, this is partially marked down to just plain old fashioned good parenting.
But I can't help but think it is more than that.
This little girl had just stated, with all of the assurance in the world a truth which has had scholars and scientists, professors and theologians around the times baffled.
To Briley this was not a suggestion, not a hint, not even a questioned statement of belief.
But merely the simple spoken word of an affirmation.
When we are young, our minds are like a small cup.
A small cup that takes very little to fill to the brim.
As it is with faith.
However, as we grow, and our mind expands, taking in the world around us,
so does that cup.
And so does the amount of faith it takes to fill that cup.
I have often wondered if it wouldn't have been simpler for the Father to make us eternally childlike in our mind and wonder.
But I am no one to question our Maker.
As of now, my little Briley's cup is overflowing.
Yet everyday, she learns a new word, she changes, she grows, her mind forever whirring like an old Singer sewer.
At the want of keeping her forever innocent and her cup forever flowing, I would not only hinder the creature God created her to be,
but also deny her the joy that will accompany the heartache she is sure to encounter.
And so as of now,
I shall be content to watch in wonder the person she is fast becoming.
A perfect mixture of worlds and lives.
A perfect innocence that doesn't yet think to question the voices she trusts.
I would like to think that I have always been the self sacrificial type.
Willing to give and if necessary lay down for those I love.
Yet I have never in my life, felt towards anyone, the love that I feel for Miss Briley Brown and her brother Eeagan.
It is an overpowering, frightening love.
And it leaves me in wonder at the works and ways of God's hands.
And so as this mess of a pondering comes to a close,
it is done so with a sense of hope.
Since childhood, my cup and the level of faith to sustain the filling of that cup has indeed grown,
but so too has my ability to love the Lord and his children.
So too has grown my wonder at the works and words.
Indeed, my hope, and my prayer for all of you world wide webbers is that your mind and cup will never cease its growing and never become content. That you will forevermore be seeking and that your faith will forevermore keep filling.
My advice?
Just remember to look through the heart of a three year old every so often.
and now...a title.
That is all.
I just can't seem to reach that plateau in my life.
(in a side note, I honestly think that is the first time I have ever used 'plateau' in a sentence.)
I suppose I'm just a stickler for sequence.
The title sets my tone; shows the path my words shall tread.
However, I'm attempting this new thing in my life called "acceptance".
Strange, huh?
Trying to better gain foothold and graspings on the everyday changes of a moving, growing life.
And also with the fact that, gasp, I am not in control of that life.
Ahh..wouldn't you think that this knowing would be enough?
Shouldn't I simply take the knowledge that the Father has placed within me for good reason and run with it?
Oh no.
And why not?
Because I am stubborn as a mule, spoiled, self centered, and broken.
Somehow I have travelled far from my point or at least my journey toward a point,
and must once again reign the thoughts that are spilling forth.
Before I begin the introspective walk down Hunter Lane, back to the whole title thing.
This will be the first writing (if this can even be called as such) or humble babbling that I have ever begun without that title heading as my constant beacon and guiding light.
As such, this post may seem a bit queer and quite 'Alice in Wonderland'-ish.
Can't say you weren't given fair warning.
You could still get away, you know.
I haven't released the arsenal of my jumbled thinkings upon the pure tapestry of the world yet.
Get away while you still can.
The only image coming to mind is a blobby monster attacking the innocents of a sky sraper filled horizon.
Sounds like a plot for a black and white horror film, huh?
And this is what I compare the contents of my mind to? Yeesh.
Call the Feds.
And again,
woah horsey; bring it in.
Digressing.
This evening I lay upon the carpeted floor of my family room, rolling with my niece as my nephew slumbered upstairs whilst my sister and mother watched on.
Briley and I (the niece in question) swung from the winding staircase, road piggy back for hours, and wore matching headbands.
Again, all of these details are superfluous.
And as I lay on my stomach with a 2 and a half year old on my back listening as I read a pop up book of 'Santa flying through the night sky and stars', this sweet little innocent says:
"Jesus made the stars."
Again.
"Jesus made the stars."
Now,
admittedly, this is partially marked down to just plain old fashioned good parenting.
But I can't help but think it is more than that.
This little girl had just stated, with all of the assurance in the world a truth which has had scholars and scientists, professors and theologians around the times baffled.
To Briley this was not a suggestion, not a hint, not even a questioned statement of belief.
But merely the simple spoken word of an affirmation.
When we are young, our minds are like a small cup.
A small cup that takes very little to fill to the brim.
As it is with faith.
However, as we grow, and our mind expands, taking in the world around us,
so does that cup.
And so does the amount of faith it takes to fill that cup.
I have often wondered if it wouldn't have been simpler for the Father to make us eternally childlike in our mind and wonder.
But I am no one to question our Maker.
As of now, my little Briley's cup is overflowing.
Yet everyday, she learns a new word, she changes, she grows, her mind forever whirring like an old Singer sewer.
At the want of keeping her forever innocent and her cup forever flowing, I would not only hinder the creature God created her to be,
but also deny her the joy that will accompany the heartache she is sure to encounter.
And so as of now,
I shall be content to watch in wonder the person she is fast becoming.
A perfect mixture of worlds and lives.
A perfect innocence that doesn't yet think to question the voices she trusts.
I would like to think that I have always been the self sacrificial type.
Willing to give and if necessary lay down for those I love.
Yet I have never in my life, felt towards anyone, the love that I feel for Miss Briley Brown and her brother Eeagan.
It is an overpowering, frightening love.
And it leaves me in wonder at the works and ways of God's hands.
And so as this mess of a pondering comes to a close,
it is done so with a sense of hope.
Since childhood, my cup and the level of faith to sustain the filling of that cup has indeed grown,
but so too has my ability to love the Lord and his children.
So too has grown my wonder at the works and words.
Indeed, my hope, and my prayer for all of you world wide webbers is that your mind and cup will never cease its growing and never become content. That you will forevermore be seeking and that your faith will forevermore keep filling.
My advice?
Just remember to look through the heart of a three year old every so often.
and now...a title.
That is all.
Friday, August 7, 2009
confessions of a shopaholic
I have a problem.
I really do.
It's not my fault. That's what all the crazies say, right?
I blame my mother.
Except honestly though, have you ever seen that woman's style?
Except honestly though, have you ever seen that woman's style?
Frances H. can most definitly pull off some expensive wares from one Mr. Joseph Ribcoff.
Fan of the name designers, she is.
And my Peepaw.
Don't even get me started on that man in a shop.
Yet I digress.
This isn't about the diseased limbs of my family tree. No.
This is about me.
This is about me.
It is afterall, my blog.
Go get your own.
This is about my very own physiological downfall.
My weakness.
My achilles heel.
The noose on the neck of my being.
Shopping.
Shopping.
Now, please do not judge me.
I am not your average ditz who enjoys: "boys, talking on the phone, shopping, and rainbows. like totally!"
You know; the very one ending every sentence with an upward slant, punctuated by an infinitly perky exclamation mark.
egh.
Not at all.
The furthest thing possible, in fact.
Yet I simply cannot deny the boldly carved writings on the wall of my life,
"I, Hunter Stevens, am a shopaholic."
HELP!
I am addicted to fashion.
Fedoras are my heroin.
Scarves my personal crystal meth.
Dresses are my cocaine and skinny jeans, my marijuana. (The appeal not quite as strong you understand.)
Dainty tops are like alcohol rushing into my bloodstream,
and v neck tees, oh lord, are the speed to jumpstart my system.
And shoes, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppppppppppppppppppppp.
overdose.
Where there is a will, there is a way.
Where there is a will, there is a way.
I do not need you, silly little purse.
My life is full.
My life is happy.
My life is....hopefully, shopping free.
While this entire post is comical at best,
it is also a contract (binding tighter than a covenant with an archangel) that my relationship with shopping is dying a painful death.
Sigh.
I am reformed.
That is all.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
unprepared on all accounts
Spring semester for Western Kentucky University ended in May.
Around the 20th or so if I recall correctly, which is, in fact, a rarity,
so do not, dear readers take my word for it.
That being said, the 20th of May commenced my pining for the town of Bowling Green, the routine of school, and the presence of the people with whom I had grown to love.
This dazed state of inactivity and boredom, interrupted only by video chats and trips to the drive-in ended rather unexpectedly around the 21st of June when I left behind the shining city of Greensburg for an out of way camp called Crescendo.
If for no other reason than convenience, I shall from this point on refer to my summer in parts.
Part 1: The Great Slumber; mainly due to the fact that I rarely, if ever, excaped the grasping claws of my bed sheets.
Part 2: Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice
It was around the beginning of S.S.E.N (I enjoy acronyms) that I finally began to not only make my peace with being away from Bowling Green and the college environment but to actually enjoy the sunshiny reprieve from the constant stream of papers, exams, and the neverending stress to "make the grade" and "be the top".
Note to Hunter: Self motivation can be very unrelenting.
And now the date, as of 22 minutes ago CST, is August 5th, 2009.
Just to clue you in, classes for the Fall Semester begin for Western Kentucky University on August 31, 2009.
That leaves exactly 17 days until I will be moving my self and my belongings up to Minton Hall, floor 6, with one Savanna Gulley.
Tell me please, where the time went.
The plans to visit here, to go there, to grow as a person before entering the nonstop parade of the American college student.
Only now, when I had finally begun to enjoy this life, is the other calling me to its return.
How on Earth can one exist in two lives for four, grueling years without losing track of self identity?
A few months here, a week there, pack up and home again; the process never stops.
Yes, I am sure I will "get back into the swing of things" as Gare Bear gushed in his last email.
I only wish that I had held a greater appreciation for the life of home while I still had the chance.
19 years of experience in the realization that one shouldn't wish her life away,
and yet here I am.
Continuing in the same bad habits.
So I suppose my advice to you, whoever and wherever you are in this world wide web, is simply this: do not fight the cliches.
When you are tired of forevermore hearing the words: "you don't know what you have, until it's gone"; take a deep sigh, and look around you.
Enjoy the arguments with your moms,
the giggling with your grandmas,
the toothless grins of your nephews,
and the warmth that spreads over you in your hometown churches.
Enjoy the reprieves and the last lingering moments of childhood and store them away.
Hold them close for a rainy day away from home.
Appreciate it.
Love it.
That is all.
Around the 20th or so if I recall correctly, which is, in fact, a rarity,
so do not, dear readers take my word for it.
That being said, the 20th of May commenced my pining for the town of Bowling Green, the routine of school, and the presence of the people with whom I had grown to love.
This dazed state of inactivity and boredom, interrupted only by video chats and trips to the drive-in ended rather unexpectedly around the 21st of June when I left behind the shining city of Greensburg for an out of way camp called Crescendo.
If for no other reason than convenience, I shall from this point on refer to my summer in parts.
Part 1: The Great Slumber; mainly due to the fact that I rarely, if ever, excaped the grasping claws of my bed sheets.
Part 2: Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice
It was around the beginning of S.S.E.N (I enjoy acronyms) that I finally began to not only make my peace with being away from Bowling Green and the college environment but to actually enjoy the sunshiny reprieve from the constant stream of papers, exams, and the neverending stress to "make the grade" and "be the top".
Note to Hunter: Self motivation can be very unrelenting.
And now the date, as of 22 minutes ago CST, is August 5th, 2009.
Just to clue you in, classes for the Fall Semester begin for Western Kentucky University on August 31, 2009.
That leaves exactly 17 days until I will be moving my self and my belongings up to Minton Hall, floor 6, with one Savanna Gulley.
Tell me please, where the time went.
The plans to visit here, to go there, to grow as a person before entering the nonstop parade of the American college student.
Only now, when I had finally begun to enjoy this life, is the other calling me to its return.
How on Earth can one exist in two lives for four, grueling years without losing track of self identity?
A few months here, a week there, pack up and home again; the process never stops.
Yes, I am sure I will "get back into the swing of things" as Gare Bear gushed in his last email.
I only wish that I had held a greater appreciation for the life of home while I still had the chance.
19 years of experience in the realization that one shouldn't wish her life away,
and yet here I am.
Continuing in the same bad habits.
So I suppose my advice to you, whoever and wherever you are in this world wide web, is simply this: do not fight the cliches.
When you are tired of forevermore hearing the words: "you don't know what you have, until it's gone"; take a deep sigh, and look around you.
Enjoy the arguments with your moms,
the giggling with your grandmas,
the toothless grins of your nephews,
and the warmth that spreads over you in your hometown churches.
Enjoy the reprieves and the last lingering moments of childhood and store them away.
Hold them close for a rainy day away from home.
Appreciate it.
Love it.
That is all.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
the thoughts that started it all
change: n. the act of becoming different; to replace or exchange with another
For as long as I can remember, I've hated any alteration to my life, any bump in my routine.
Example? I order the same meal, from the same restaurants, and eat it in the same fashion; one thing at a time.
I don't like the furniture to be rearranged, the church bulletin to be printed differently, or the type of haircut my grandmother has to be shorter or longer. And trust me, I always notice.
So, try, if you will putting yourself in my shoes for a quick minute;
because change will not, for some reason, be held at bay.
Most usually, I can accept this as a fact of life.
Today, again for some unknown reason, both my mind and my heart refuse.
I hate the fact that 84 year old Grandpas aren't around for any more tea parties. But more so, the fact that little girls seem to think they 'outgrow' these tea parties while the Grandpas are still around.
I hate the fact that 19 year old girls die before they find the cure for cancer or AIDS, or just have the chance to hug their moms one more time.
I hate the fact that best friends become strangers, and that we make new ones and forget, until like our parents we say 'hey there on the street.
I hate the fact that people break up. But more so, that people move on and the cycle continues.
I hate the fact that I don't remember every memory I ever had.
I hate that little babies grow up to be toddlers and teenagers. But more than that, I hate the fact that their lives are wished away through dreams that they would just start talking, just start walking, start school, and 'grow up already.'
I hate the fact that every hurt seems like it's going to shatter the world, only to be forgotten tomorrow.
I hate the fact that every year, a new class graduates, new somebodys gets their hearts broken, and new babies are born, but at the time it feels as if we are the very first and the very last.
I hate the fact that I can't remember that first time I 'felt' like a grownup, but more so, the last time that I felt like a kid.
I hate the fact there is a world full of hurt around me and I don't know what I've done to add or detract from it.
I hate the fact that it is only when I am in moods like these that I give pause to life.
I hate the fact that we have become so accustomed to pain that we rarely separate it from joy.
I hate the fact that the age when people lose their childlike wonder is lowered with each word of hate and each slap on the cheek.
I hate the fact that there are people in the world that aren't told everyday that they are special and unique and gifted, but more so, the fact that I've never told anyone that.
I hate the fact that people feel like they need to pretend to be something else than they are, simply to be loved, when really what they need is to be hugged tightly and told that they are.
I hate the fact that there are people living everyday just to 'get by' and that they have no joy in what they do, when there is so much passion to be had.
I hate the fact that we have forgotten what trust means, let alone how it feels.
I hate the fact that people live their lives just trying to get to that next step, that next phase, only to realize that people in every step and phase are the same, just taller and more cynical.
I hate the fact that the idealistic are looked down upon as naive, when really, what is wrong with a little innocence in the world?
I hate the fact that the opposite of optimism has become realism, when what reality needs is for someone to start looking for some good in it.
But above all, I hate the fact that as much as you fight it, change comes, and that eventually we all stop fighting.
That is all.
For as long as I can remember, I've hated any alteration to my life, any bump in my routine.
Example? I order the same meal, from the same restaurants, and eat it in the same fashion; one thing at a time.
I don't like the furniture to be rearranged, the church bulletin to be printed differently, or the type of haircut my grandmother has to be shorter or longer. And trust me, I always notice.
So, try, if you will putting yourself in my shoes for a quick minute;
because change will not, for some reason, be held at bay.
Most usually, I can accept this as a fact of life.
Today, again for some unknown reason, both my mind and my heart refuse.
I hate the fact that 84 year old Grandpas aren't around for any more tea parties. But more so, the fact that little girls seem to think they 'outgrow' these tea parties while the Grandpas are still around.
I hate the fact that 19 year old girls die before they find the cure for cancer or AIDS, or just have the chance to hug their moms one more time.
I hate the fact that best friends become strangers, and that we make new ones and forget, until like our parents we say 'hey there on the street.
I hate the fact that people break up. But more so, that people move on and the cycle continues.
I hate the fact that I don't remember every memory I ever had.
I hate that little babies grow up to be toddlers and teenagers. But more than that, I hate the fact that their lives are wished away through dreams that they would just start talking, just start walking, start school, and 'grow up already.'
I hate the fact that every hurt seems like it's going to shatter the world, only to be forgotten tomorrow.
I hate the fact that every year, a new class graduates, new somebodys gets their hearts broken, and new babies are born, but at the time it feels as if we are the very first and the very last.
I hate the fact that I can't remember that first time I 'felt' like a grownup, but more so, the last time that I felt like a kid.
I hate the fact there is a world full of hurt around me and I don't know what I've done to add or detract from it.
I hate the fact that it is only when I am in moods like these that I give pause to life.
I hate the fact that we have become so accustomed to pain that we rarely separate it from joy.
I hate the fact that the age when people lose their childlike wonder is lowered with each word of hate and each slap on the cheek.
I hate the fact that there are people in the world that aren't told everyday that they are special and unique and gifted, but more so, the fact that I've never told anyone that.
I hate the fact that people feel like they need to pretend to be something else than they are, simply to be loved, when really what they need is to be hugged tightly and told that they are.
I hate the fact that there are people living everyday just to 'get by' and that they have no joy in what they do, when there is so much passion to be had.
I hate the fact that we have forgotten what trust means, let alone how it feels.
I hate the fact that people live their lives just trying to get to that next step, that next phase, only to realize that people in every step and phase are the same, just taller and more cynical.
I hate the fact that the idealistic are looked down upon as naive, when really, what is wrong with a little innocence in the world?
I hate the fact that the opposite of optimism has become realism, when what reality needs is for someone to start looking for some good in it.
But above all, I hate the fact that as much as you fight it, change comes, and that eventually we all stop fighting.
That is all.
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