I had this friend awhile ago, a friend that is no longer friends with me. She lived a very hard family life, a lot of it she could have changed but she didn't because she didn't want to put forth any effort. I would sit and empathize her every time we hung out because she would complain all the time. Which, I understand, and in all honesty a didn't mind her complaints; I liked listening and giving advice.
What was hard was that when I was struggling or going through a difficult day, she would play the 'whose-life-is-worse' game. I hated it. Whenever I tried to talk about what I was going through, she was there to tell me about how her life is so much worse and that I was really complaining about nothing. Maybe my problems were irrational sometimes, but that didn't mean that I wasn't hurting. Soon, I just stopped talking about myself and my problems, which I guess was also the wrong thing to do, because she got angry about that too.
But that's not the point, the point is that everyone has a hard life.
A lot of the time, we as humans try to compete with each other, like having a hard life puts you above other people. It's as if our burdens put a badge on us that says, "My Life Is Worse Than Yours, So Now I'm Stronger Than You". Perhaps part of it is thinking people will care for you more. I'm honestly not sure what the reason for playing this game is.
I do know that it really frustrates me though.
This is one of the biggest flaws in society, the fact that we compare people's problems. We believe that the rich have everything made, that homeless people suffer more. I don't think so, I think they suffer in different ways. Celebrities definitely have a lot of emotional problems, whereas the homeless shiver in the cold and their stomachs hurt physically. Who are we to say that physical suffering is above emotional and mental suffering? Who are we to say that these people suffer more than these people because of this, this and this? You don't know what they're really feeling, you don't live with them, you really have no idea because you are not them. So STOP.
When we will we finally put down our charts of endless comparison? That's all we do in life, compare. This person is prettier than me, that person is skinnier than me, they have better parents than me, this family has more money than mine, why is he so much smarter than me, she should stop complaining because I have it so much worse. Blah blah blah blah.
I will admit, I'm guilty as charged, I've compared people's problems with mine. But guess what? It never makes me any happier. I never get any kind of satisfaction out of it. I just do it. And I hate it.
Stop judging. Stop comparing. When you think of others, you will always be happier than if you're merely thinking of yourself. Because you can never truly understand a person's mind unless you are them. Just STOP IT.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Saturday, December 29, 2012
I Dreamed a Dream...
I grew up listening to the Les Mis Broadway album. I had the songs and story memorized. When I first saw the trailer that showed a movie would be released of it, chills ran up my spin. Then on Christmas as I sat in the theater and the first scene began, it was like watching a wonderful and surreal dream.
I love Les Miserables.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Juicebox #7
Dear Florida Girl,
I really liked reading about your memory, I could tell it was very special to you. Thanks for sharing. (:
My favorite childhood memory:
I have a lot of memories from being a little kid that I adore, and that make me smile. Sometimes, I think I even get confused I mesh similar moments together. But either way, I like the memories that way.
But one in specific would be in Arizona. 2001.
I was about 4 years old, so the memory is most likely distorted, blemished. The edges are fuzzy.
Anyways, it was a month or so after it had finally been confirmed that my mom's cancer was gone for good. So the family took a trip down to my Aunt Liz's house, my favorite aunt on my mom's side. I liked to call her Lizard and she would call me Fanny.
One night she got out her bike which had a little baby seat type thing on the back. All my cousins had come down for the trip too, so she thought it would be fun to take us all individually on a ride around her neighborhood. I was so excited. Everyone wanted to go first, and I wanted to be a good little girl. So I let everyone else go before me, trying so hard to be patient, waiting and hoping for my turn.
It seemed like an eternity of waiting. The bugs and dirt got boring, and I was getting upset as the sun began to quickly set. My aunt got back from the latest trip and said, "Time to go inside, it's too dark." My heart sank and I walked inside slowly and sulked until I fell asleep.
The next night was the last night I would be staying in Arizona. I asked about her bike, and she said that we could have another round tonight. I was excited and waited all day in anticipation for my turn, thinking I would get to go first. But of course, all the other cousins wanted a turn to go again too. So trying not to be a bother, I sat on the bottom stair of the front porch and waited. One by one the cousins took their turns that seemed to last forever.
Once again, right before my turn, my aunt forgot about me and said, "Time to go inside, it's too dark." I felt a little bit crushed, a little bit forgotten and a little bit angry. I sulked until I fell asleep again. When I woke up, I went into the bathroom and cried quietly. I stayed in there until our car was all packed and it was time to say goodbye. But I didn't, I walked straight past my Lizard and she said, "Fanny? Fanny wait. Come say goodbye to me." I shook my head and grabbed my beanie baby lamb, walking bitterly out of the house.
I climbed into my car seat, put my head down and began to cry again. It just wasn't fair to me. I was sure that I loved Aunt Liz the most and that she had just forgotten about me. Liz came out to my car and leaned in the window. "I love you Annie Fanny." I said nothing. "What's wrong sweetie?" I said nothing. "Fanny?"
I hiccuped, "Why won't you let me ride on your bike with you?"
She said nothing to me for a moment, "Oh Annie, why didn't you tell me you wanted to?"
"I did, but would go inside every time it was my turn," I muttered grumpily.
She laughed, and I looked up at her in surprise, "You need to stop being so nice to all the other cousins then! How about we go right now?"
I grinned at her, jumping out of the car, I ran over to where she kept the bike. I jumped up and down until she finally lifted me up and buckled me in. She began to pedal.
To me, it felt like we were flying down the streets, faster than a race car. I remember smiling into the wind and swinging my short, stubby legs.
You know, now that I've written all of that, I'm not exactly sure what made that memory so special to me. But it's one that I've always remembered it more vividly than anything, besides my mom's cancer. Hmm...
Well there you go, my pointless memory. Haha.
I love you.
Love,
Me
@losingsleep.blog.com
I really liked reading about your memory, I could tell it was very special to you. Thanks for sharing. (:
My favorite childhood memory:
I have a lot of memories from being a little kid that I adore, and that make me smile. Sometimes, I think I even get confused I mesh similar moments together. But either way, I like the memories that way.
But one in specific would be in Arizona. 2001.
I was about 4 years old, so the memory is most likely distorted, blemished. The edges are fuzzy.
Anyways, it was a month or so after it had finally been confirmed that my mom's cancer was gone for good. So the family took a trip down to my Aunt Liz's house, my favorite aunt on my mom's side. I liked to call her Lizard and she would call me Fanny.
One night she got out her bike which had a little baby seat type thing on the back. All my cousins had come down for the trip too, so she thought it would be fun to take us all individually on a ride around her neighborhood. I was so excited. Everyone wanted to go first, and I wanted to be a good little girl. So I let everyone else go before me, trying so hard to be patient, waiting and hoping for my turn.
It seemed like an eternity of waiting. The bugs and dirt got boring, and I was getting upset as the sun began to quickly set. My aunt got back from the latest trip and said, "Time to go inside, it's too dark." My heart sank and I walked inside slowly and sulked until I fell asleep.
The next night was the last night I would be staying in Arizona. I asked about her bike, and she said that we could have another round tonight. I was excited and waited all day in anticipation for my turn, thinking I would get to go first. But of course, all the other cousins wanted a turn to go again too. So trying not to be a bother, I sat on the bottom stair of the front porch and waited. One by one the cousins took their turns that seemed to last forever.
Once again, right before my turn, my aunt forgot about me and said, "Time to go inside, it's too dark." I felt a little bit crushed, a little bit forgotten and a little bit angry. I sulked until I fell asleep again. When I woke up, I went into the bathroom and cried quietly. I stayed in there until our car was all packed and it was time to say goodbye. But I didn't, I walked straight past my Lizard and she said, "Fanny? Fanny wait. Come say goodbye to me." I shook my head and grabbed my beanie baby lamb, walking bitterly out of the house.
I climbed into my car seat, put my head down and began to cry again. It just wasn't fair to me. I was sure that I loved Aunt Liz the most and that she had just forgotten about me. Liz came out to my car and leaned in the window. "I love you Annie Fanny." I said nothing. "What's wrong sweetie?" I said nothing. "Fanny?"
I hiccuped, "Why won't you let me ride on your bike with you?"
She said nothing to me for a moment, "Oh Annie, why didn't you tell me you wanted to?"
"I did, but would go inside every time it was my turn," I muttered grumpily.
She laughed, and I looked up at her in surprise, "You need to stop being so nice to all the other cousins then! How about we go right now?"
I grinned at her, jumping out of the car, I ran over to where she kept the bike. I jumped up and down until she finally lifted me up and buckled me in. She began to pedal.
To me, it felt like we were flying down the streets, faster than a race car. I remember smiling into the wind and swinging my short, stubby legs.
You know, now that I've written all of that, I'm not exactly sure what made that memory so special to me. But it's one that I've always remembered it more vividly than anything, besides my mom's cancer. Hmm...
Well there you go, my pointless memory. Haha.
I love you.
Love,
Me
@losingsleep.blog.com
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Quote of the Week.
"Being tender and open is beautiful. As a woman, I feel constantly 'shh'ed'. Too sensitive. Too mushy. Too wishy washy. Blah blah. Don't let someone steal your tenderness. Don't allow the coldness and fear of others to tarnish your perfectly vulnerable, beating heart. Nothing is more powerful than allowing yourself to be truly affected by things. Whether it's a song, a stranger, a mountain, a rain drop, a tea kettle, an article, a footstep, a sentence, feel it all - look around you. All of this is for you. Take it and have gratitude. Give it and feel love."
-Zooey Deschanel
-Zooey Deschanel
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Oh, How I Love the Holidays.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Every year, I am always amazed by how blessed I am. Some how, it seems to hit me in a wave and I get emotional, and I just sit for awhile feeling infinite, feeling so grateful.
I love Christmas time, it's a happy time full of love and charity.
It's the best.
The End.
Every year, I am always amazed by how blessed I am. Some how, it seems to hit me in a wave and I get emotional, and I just sit for awhile feeling infinite, feeling so grateful.
I love Christmas time, it's a happy time full of love and charity.
It's the best.
The End.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
These People... These Amazing People.
I have the best friends in the entire universe.
Some have been around a lot longer than others. Some are brand new. Some aren't even my friends anymore.
But I've had some of the best relationships, with some of the best people.
Some have been around a lot longer than others. Some are brand new. Some aren't even my friends anymore.
But I've had some of the best relationships, with some of the best people.
These people mean the world to me. <3
Saturday, December 22, 2012
The Christmas Orange.
Every year on the night of Christmas Eve, my Papa would sit all of us Grandchildren down and read us this story. He'd then suggest that tomorrow when we are all done unwrapping our many gifts, that we should choose one and donate it to a child who doesn't get the Christmas we do. I've learned to love this story very much, and I'm very grateful for my Papa and his willingness to serve. This year though, he isn't here to share it with us, he is on the other side of the world serving. So I'll share it with you, and suggest the same thing.
Sometimes it is easy to forget the true meaning of Christmas. The busy traditions of the season and the appealing advertisements for material goods can leave the pure and simple truths far, far behind.
Jake was nine years old with tousled brown hair, and blue eyes as bright as a heavenly angel. For as long as Jake could remember he had lived within the walls of a poor orphanage. He was just one of ten children supported by what meager contributions the orphan home could obtain in a continuous struggle seeking donations from townsfolk.
There was very little to eat, but at Christmas time there always seemed to be a little more than usual to eat, the orphanage seemed a little warmer, and it was time for a little holiday enjoyment. But more than this, there was the Christmas orange!
Christmas was the only time of year that such a rare treat was provided and it was treasured by each child like no other food, admiring it, feeling it, prizing it and slowly enjoying each juicy section. Truly, it was the light of each orphan's Christmas and their best gift of the season. How joyful would be the moment when Jake received his orange!
Unknown to him, Jake had somehow managed to track a small amount of mud from his shoes through the front door of the orphanage, muddying the new carpet. He hadn't even noticed. Now it was too late and there was nothing he could do to avoid punishment. The punishment was swift and unrelenting. Jake would not be allowed his Christmas orange! It was the only gift he would receive from the harsh world he lived in, yet after a year of waiting for his Christmas orange, is was to be denied him.
Tearfully, Jake pleaded that he be forgiven and promised never to track mud into the orphanage again, but to no avail. He felt hopeless and totally rejected. Jake cried into his pillow all that night and spent Christmas Day feeling empty and alone. He felt that the other children didn't want to be with a boy who had been punished with such a cruel punishment. Perhaps they feared he would ruin their only day of happiness. Maybe, he reasoned, the gulf between him and his friends existed because they feared he would ask for a little of their oranges. Jake spent the day upstairs, alone, in the unheated dormitory. Huddled under his only blanket, he read about a family marooned on an island. Jake wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life on an isolated island, if he could only have a real family that cared about him.
Bedtime came, and worst of all, Jake couldn't sleep. How could he say his prayers? How could there be a God in Heaven that would allow a little soul such as his, to suffer so much all by himself? Silently, he sobbed for the future of mankind that God might end the suffering in the world, both for himself and all others like him.
As he climbed back into bed from the cold, hard floor, a soft hand touched Jake's shoulder, startling him momentarily and an object was silently placed in his hands. The giver disappeared into the darkness, leaving Jake with what, he did not immediately know.
Looking closely at it in the dim light, he saw that it looked like an orange. Not a regular orange, smooth and shiny, but a special orange, very special. Inside a patched together peal were the segments of nine other oranges, making one whole orange for Jake! The nine other children in the orphanage had each donated one segment of their own precious oranges to make a whole orange as a gift for Jake.
Sharing what we truly value is the true spirit of Christmas. Our Heavenly Father gave us His beloved Son. May we, like the children in the orphanage, find ways to share His love with others less blessed.
Sometimes it is easy to forget the true meaning of Christmas. The busy traditions of the season and the appealing advertisements for material goods can leave the pure and simple truths far, far behind.
Jake was nine years old with tousled brown hair, and blue eyes as bright as a heavenly angel. For as long as Jake could remember he had lived within the walls of a poor orphanage. He was just one of ten children supported by what meager contributions the orphan home could obtain in a continuous struggle seeking donations from townsfolk.
There was very little to eat, but at Christmas time there always seemed to be a little more than usual to eat, the orphanage seemed a little warmer, and it was time for a little holiday enjoyment. But more than this, there was the Christmas orange!
Christmas was the only time of year that such a rare treat was provided and it was treasured by each child like no other food, admiring it, feeling it, prizing it and slowly enjoying each juicy section. Truly, it was the light of each orphan's Christmas and their best gift of the season. How joyful would be the moment when Jake received his orange!
Unknown to him, Jake had somehow managed to track a small amount of mud from his shoes through the front door of the orphanage, muddying the new carpet. He hadn't even noticed. Now it was too late and there was nothing he could do to avoid punishment. The punishment was swift and unrelenting. Jake would not be allowed his Christmas orange! It was the only gift he would receive from the harsh world he lived in, yet after a year of waiting for his Christmas orange, is was to be denied him.
Tearfully, Jake pleaded that he be forgiven and promised never to track mud into the orphanage again, but to no avail. He felt hopeless and totally rejected. Jake cried into his pillow all that night and spent Christmas Day feeling empty and alone. He felt that the other children didn't want to be with a boy who had been punished with such a cruel punishment. Perhaps they feared he would ruin their only day of happiness. Maybe, he reasoned, the gulf between him and his friends existed because they feared he would ask for a little of their oranges. Jake spent the day upstairs, alone, in the unheated dormitory. Huddled under his only blanket, he read about a family marooned on an island. Jake wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life on an isolated island, if he could only have a real family that cared about him.
Bedtime came, and worst of all, Jake couldn't sleep. How could he say his prayers? How could there be a God in Heaven that would allow a little soul such as his, to suffer so much all by himself? Silently, he sobbed for the future of mankind that God might end the suffering in the world, both for himself and all others like him.
As he climbed back into bed from the cold, hard floor, a soft hand touched Jake's shoulder, startling him momentarily and an object was silently placed in his hands. The giver disappeared into the darkness, leaving Jake with what, he did not immediately know.
Looking closely at it in the dim light, he saw that it looked like an orange. Not a regular orange, smooth and shiny, but a special orange, very special. Inside a patched together peal were the segments of nine other oranges, making one whole orange for Jake! The nine other children in the orphanage had each donated one segment of their own precious oranges to make a whole orange as a gift for Jake.
Sharing what we truly value is the true spirit of Christmas. Our Heavenly Father gave us His beloved Son. May we, like the children in the orphanage, find ways to share His love with others less blessed.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Juicebox #6
Dear Musically-Talented-Blue-Eyed-Beauty,
I hope you're having a wonderful time in Florida! My mom is still super jealous of you. Haha, so anyways, I love you. Things here aren't the same without you, I really miss you, and I know that Elysa probably misses you more. (:
So the reason I'm "writing" this to you is when I was laying in bed last night. I just got the impression to ask you this...
What's one of your favorite childhood memories?
Yeah, I just needed to ask you that, well, I love you, have a blast!!
Love,
Me
@losingsleep.blog.com
I hope you're having a wonderful time in Florida! My mom is still super jealous of you. Haha, so anyways, I love you. Things here aren't the same without you, I really miss you, and I know that Elysa probably misses you more. (:
So the reason I'm "writing" this to you is when I was laying in bed last night. I just got the impression to ask you this...
What's one of your favorite childhood memories?
Yeah, I just needed to ask you that, well, I love you, have a blast!!
Love,
Me
@losingsleep.blog.com
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
When Snow is Falling.
The snow was gently falling, soundlessly in the still night. With just a glimmer of a street lamp light to guide her through the dark, there was nothing but a flicker of hope to show her the way. Cold air bit her nose as she pulled her coat tightly over her body, her teeth began to chatter while her lips became numb.
Why are you doing this? Her mind began to argue, Why would you give yourself up once again to her venom? As a small war raged in her head, her footsteps became slower... slower... slower until she stood still for a moment. Shivers of doubt ran through her body, her toes began to freeze... Then came the memories, tidal waves of anger, hurt and maybe even relief. Flashes of emotions, ringing in her ears, pounding in her heart.
You need to move on.
I don't want to move on..
She hurt you.
But...
She told you she didn't care about you.
I know, but maybe if I-
You've tried this before, and failed. Look at your life now, you're so much happier, there's no more pain. Why are you trying to change that??
... I still miss her.
No, you miss who she USED to be.
I still owe her an apology.
There are different ways to apologize.
It wasn't fair of me to leave her like I did.
Obviously, life isn't fair.
... This is just once, I'll just give it to her and be done with it. She'll know I want the best for her...
In her heart, she knew which argument was right, she knew what she really wanted, and it wasn't where she stood now. Tears streamed down her face, burning her eyes and moving down her neck into her hair. She turned and looked back her house, full of people she loved, a safe haven. Then she turned and looked at where she was headed, an unknown monster waiting to pounce on its next victim. She began to sob uncontrollably and her body shook, her voice made small whimpers, wanting desperately to turn and run. Run until she couldn't breathe, until she collapsed, but she didn't. She stood and cried, sure that at any moment she would run out of tears.
She wasn't sure how long she had cried, but after what seemed an eternity she began to walk forward sniffling and hiccuping. She walked blindly into an unknown future, her whole body was a throbbing shell of anxiety. The snow was coming down more heavily now and she was scared, but in a way she couldn't force herself to just go home.
Now she was in front of the house, with the porch light on, the walkway seemed to be a thousand miles long. Her lungs felt like they were under a million pounds of pressure as she tried hard to breathe normally. Slowly, she was on the porch, her frozen finger an inch away from the doorbell, she could see her breath in little puffs and the world began to spin. Then as if electrocuted, she jolted forward pressing onto the little lit button. What have I done? She felt the sudden urge to just pretend like it was a dumb doorbell ditch and flee from the home. Please don't answer, please don't answer...
Too late.
The door opened and a tall, pretty Hispanic woman smiled at the girl, who looked much like a deer in the headlights. She looked up at the woman with huge, fearful eyes. The woman looked puzzled.
"Are you lost sweetie?" She asked in some kind of heavy Spanish accent. The girl said nothing, her mouth was glued shut. Instead she shook her head. The woman then smiled kindly, "How may I help you then?"
The girl once again said nothing, but she she stared down at a small pink bundle in her hands. Tears dripped off her face. The woman didn't know what to say, so she just stared, an obvious look of confusion on her face. Finally, after looking at her hands for so long, she looked at the woman and smiled sadly, "Will you please give this to the pregnant young lady who lives here?" She couldn't bring herself to say the young lady's name. Her voice was a croak as she handed what she was holding to the woman, which could now be seen as a small baby blanket.
Gently, the woman took it from her and looked at the girl as if some kind of recognition had occurred. "What is your name?" More tears splashed down her face, she began to back up off the porch and whispered, "It doesn't matter, my name no longer needs to be of any significance here." With that she turned and walked away quickly.
Oh my heavens, oh my heavens, oh my heavens. As she ran home, her body still was shaking out of nervousness. But a sense of relief was washing over her, out of everything that had happened, it felt as if she had been given wings to fly again.
Why are you doing this? Her mind began to argue, Why would you give yourself up once again to her venom? As a small war raged in her head, her footsteps became slower... slower... slower until she stood still for a moment. Shivers of doubt ran through her body, her toes began to freeze... Then came the memories, tidal waves of anger, hurt and maybe even relief. Flashes of emotions, ringing in her ears, pounding in her heart.
You need to move on.
I don't want to move on..
She hurt you.
But...
She told you she didn't care about you.
I know, but maybe if I-
You've tried this before, and failed. Look at your life now, you're so much happier, there's no more pain. Why are you trying to change that??
... I still miss her.
No, you miss who she USED to be.
I still owe her an apology.
There are different ways to apologize.
It wasn't fair of me to leave her like I did.
Obviously, life isn't fair.
... This is just once, I'll just give it to her and be done with it. She'll know I want the best for her...
In her heart, she knew which argument was right, she knew what she really wanted, and it wasn't where she stood now. Tears streamed down her face, burning her eyes and moving down her neck into her hair. She turned and looked back her house, full of people she loved, a safe haven. Then she turned and looked at where she was headed, an unknown monster waiting to pounce on its next victim. She began to sob uncontrollably and her body shook, her voice made small whimpers, wanting desperately to turn and run. Run until she couldn't breathe, until she collapsed, but she didn't. She stood and cried, sure that at any moment she would run out of tears.
She wasn't sure how long she had cried, but after what seemed an eternity she began to walk forward sniffling and hiccuping. She walked blindly into an unknown future, her whole body was a throbbing shell of anxiety. The snow was coming down more heavily now and she was scared, but in a way she couldn't force herself to just go home.
Now she was in front of the house, with the porch light on, the walkway seemed to be a thousand miles long. Her lungs felt like they were under a million pounds of pressure as she tried hard to breathe normally. Slowly, she was on the porch, her frozen finger an inch away from the doorbell, she could see her breath in little puffs and the world began to spin. Then as if electrocuted, she jolted forward pressing onto the little lit button. What have I done? She felt the sudden urge to just pretend like it was a dumb doorbell ditch and flee from the home. Please don't answer, please don't answer...
Too late.
The door opened and a tall, pretty Hispanic woman smiled at the girl, who looked much like a deer in the headlights. She looked up at the woman with huge, fearful eyes. The woman looked puzzled.
"Are you lost sweetie?" She asked in some kind of heavy Spanish accent. The girl said nothing, her mouth was glued shut. Instead she shook her head. The woman then smiled kindly, "How may I help you then?"
The girl once again said nothing, but she she stared down at a small pink bundle in her hands. Tears dripped off her face. The woman didn't know what to say, so she just stared, an obvious look of confusion on her face. Finally, after looking at her hands for so long, she looked at the woman and smiled sadly, "Will you please give this to the pregnant young lady who lives here?" She couldn't bring herself to say the young lady's name. Her voice was a croak as she handed what she was holding to the woman, which could now be seen as a small baby blanket.
Gently, the woman took it from her and looked at the girl as if some kind of recognition had occurred. "What is your name?" More tears splashed down her face, she began to back up off the porch and whispered, "It doesn't matter, my name no longer needs to be of any significance here." With that she turned and walked away quickly.
Oh my heavens, oh my heavens, oh my heavens. As she ran home, her body still was shaking out of nervousness. But a sense of relief was washing over her, out of everything that had happened, it felt as if she had been given wings to fly again.
I don't owe you anything.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Quote of the Week.
“I am a princess, all girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics. Even if they are dressed in rags, even if they aren't pretty, or smart, or young. They’re still princesses. All of us. Didn't your father ever told you that? Didn't he?!”
- A Little Princess Sara Crewe
- A Little Princess Sara Crewe
Sunday, December 16, 2012
My Boys.
My guy friends are SO much cooler than yours, like a billion times cooler than yours. Actually there isn't even a number for how much more fantastic they are than whoever your's are. Their names are Fat, Phatty, Fatter and Fatest. Haha, I don't really call them that, but that's how they refer to themselves...
Why are my boys so amazing?
*They come to visit me at 12 at night because nobody called me that day. Or they'll come to visit me and talk just because they can.
*Sometimes they'll sneak in through my back door and scare the heck out of me.
*When I had a bad day, they brought me pizza.
*After watching Lord of the Rings, they would hug me because they knew I was terrified.
*One of them has the FUNNIEST laugh ever, and when he laughs we'll all just sit there together and laugh at his laugh.
*They'll play with my hair.
*They give the best hugs in the entire world, the kind where they just squeeze you. I love that!
*It doesn't make a difference to them if I'm wearing cute clothes or have my makeup and hair done.
*They don't mind that I'm the most boring person in the world, and that I depend on them to keep the conversations going.
*They care about me (not in like a 'lovey' way) and don't flip out when I accidentally say the wrong thing.
(There are a lot of other things, but I don't want to make this super long.)
I can't say that I love them more than my girls, because that would be a lie. But I do love then in a different way than I do my other friends.
A year ago today I would have never guessed that I would have the wonderful relationships with these boys. I was so lost then, I was so sure I would never have anyone to fall back on like I do now, like my boys. I'm so grateful for them, for their humor and kindness and generosity, they really are great kids. I am such a blessed person to have them in my life. It helps reassure me that there are lots of people out there that are trying to make this world a better place.
And who knows if I'll be their friend at this time next year, maybe one of them will have to suddenly move. Maybe in 5 years we'll all be gone our separate ways, I don't know, I can't see into the future. But whatever happens I know I'm who I am today because I knew them, I'm so thankful for right now, and I want to make the most of it.
Why are my boys so amazing?
*They come to visit me at 12 at night because nobody called me that day. Or they'll come to visit me and talk just because they can.
*Sometimes they'll sneak in through my back door and scare the heck out of me.
*When I had a bad day, they brought me pizza.
*After watching Lord of the Rings, they would hug me because they knew I was terrified.
*One of them has the FUNNIEST laugh ever, and when he laughs we'll all just sit there together and laugh at his laugh.
*They'll play with my hair.
*They give the best hugs in the entire world, the kind where they just squeeze you. I love that!
*It doesn't make a difference to them if I'm wearing cute clothes or have my makeup and hair done.
*They don't mind that I'm the most boring person in the world, and that I depend on them to keep the conversations going.
*They care about me (not in like a 'lovey' way) and don't flip out when I accidentally say the wrong thing.
(There are a lot of other things, but I don't want to make this super long.)
I can't say that I love them more than my girls, because that would be a lie. But I do love then in a different way than I do my other friends.
A year ago today I would have never guessed that I would have the wonderful relationships with these boys. I was so lost then, I was so sure I would never have anyone to fall back on like I do now, like my boys. I'm so grateful for them, for their humor and kindness and generosity, they really are great kids. I am such a blessed person to have them in my life. It helps reassure me that there are lots of people out there that are trying to make this world a better place.
And who knows if I'll be their friend at this time next year, maybe one of them will have to suddenly move. Maybe in 5 years we'll all be gone our separate ways, I don't know, I can't see into the future. But whatever happens I know I'm who I am today because I knew them, I'm so thankful for right now, and I want to make the most of it.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Speaking... Publicly
I love it, I don't know why, but when I do it I get so happy...
Public Speaking.
Ever since I was little, just giving a pointless one minute talk in church just made me feel so special for no apparent reason. Most people get up to speak and tell about how nervous they are and they joke around about wishing someone else would've had to do this. Not me. I get up there and I'm like, "Ahhh yeaaaah. Now I have all ya'll suckers attention!" Okay, I don't really think that, but I do get excited.
I can't really explain why I love it so much. It's just something that has always been easy for me, even though it's something that I would never actually volunteer for (because then I would seem prideful or something like that) but whenever I hear that someone needs a speaker I silently plead in my head, Me, me, me pick me! I'll do it!
So when I do get asked its like a rush of adrenaline, I immediately get all excited and millions of things run through my head, I could tell about that one time, or maybe point out that certain thing, what if I were to say this? I spend awhile just writing all my ideas down with no organization, then I start talking out loud, putting it all together. When I finish preparing my "work" I wait in anticipation for when I get to share... Then I always regret it like 5 seconds before I have to do it though. My heart starts pounding, my hands tremble and it gets harder to breathe. I walk slowly up to the stand and my legs feel like jello, I wish desperately that I could run away... But then I start to talk, the words just come naturally, and it's so easy to say everything I know I need to say. I could go on and on and on forever explaining things in detail, telling stories, sometimes I don't even remember what I've said, but some how I'm able to connect everything and it makes sense.
People always talk about 'natural highs' and it sounds really weird, but Public Speaking gives me that fake high. And now that I think about it, it's not exactly the speaking that gives me that feeling, its the feeling afterwards.. compliments and knowing that I made a difference in someone's life because I was successful in getting a message across. That sounds kind of selfish, but it's one of the few times that I receive real, genuine compliments. That's why last night I was one of the happiest people alive. One lady in our ward, who's opinion I really cherish was talking to my mom and I just "happen" to hear, "Annie should write a book, she has such a gift at this and writing. She's a remarkable young lady." Then another woman, "Annie I hope you're going on a mission!" Or, "Oh my gosh I adore you." Then, "That was wonderful, I needed to hear that."
But really, probably my favorite thing is, that I'm actually talking. Something that's really hard for me to do just one-on-one with a person. I'm talking and I'm doing it well, I'm enjoying it. I can finally say what I'm thinking, what I feel, sure I can write it but this has a different satisfaction to it.
I love it.
Public Speaking.
Ever since I was little, just giving a pointless one minute talk in church just made me feel so special for no apparent reason. Most people get up to speak and tell about how nervous they are and they joke around about wishing someone else would've had to do this. Not me. I get up there and I'm like, "Ahhh yeaaaah. Now I have all ya'll suckers attention!" Okay, I don't really think that, but I do get excited.
I can't really explain why I love it so much. It's just something that has always been easy for me, even though it's something that I would never actually volunteer for (because then I would seem prideful or something like that) but whenever I hear that someone needs a speaker I silently plead in my head, Me, me, me pick me! I'll do it!
So when I do get asked its like a rush of adrenaline, I immediately get all excited and millions of things run through my head, I could tell about that one time, or maybe point out that certain thing, what if I were to say this? I spend awhile just writing all my ideas down with no organization, then I start talking out loud, putting it all together. When I finish preparing my "work" I wait in anticipation for when I get to share... Then I always regret it like 5 seconds before I have to do it though. My heart starts pounding, my hands tremble and it gets harder to breathe. I walk slowly up to the stand and my legs feel like jello, I wish desperately that I could run away... But then I start to talk, the words just come naturally, and it's so easy to say everything I know I need to say. I could go on and on and on forever explaining things in detail, telling stories, sometimes I don't even remember what I've said, but some how I'm able to connect everything and it makes sense.
People always talk about 'natural highs' and it sounds really weird, but Public Speaking gives me that fake high. And now that I think about it, it's not exactly the speaking that gives me that feeling, its the feeling afterwards.. compliments and knowing that I made a difference in someone's life because I was successful in getting a message across. That sounds kind of selfish, but it's one of the few times that I receive real, genuine compliments. That's why last night I was one of the happiest people alive. One lady in our ward, who's opinion I really cherish was talking to my mom and I just "happen" to hear, "Annie should write a book, she has such a gift at this and writing. She's a remarkable young lady." Then another woman, "Annie I hope you're going on a mission!" Or, "Oh my gosh I adore you." Then, "That was wonderful, I needed to hear that."
But really, probably my favorite thing is, that I'm actually talking. Something that's really hard for me to do just one-on-one with a person. I'm talking and I'm doing it well, I'm enjoying it. I can finally say what I'm thinking, what I feel, sure I can write it but this has a different satisfaction to it.
I love it.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Quote of the Week.
"It's so stupid because all I wanted was space and now that I have it, there's this part of me that's achingly lonely... so lonely I could die."
- Me
- Me
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Grrr...
Alrighty, someone is going to get punched in the throat. Hard.
This is one of the reasons why I hate hanging out with girls. We. Are. So. Dramatic. And. Dumb.
All the time, girls talk about how boys are dumb... but at least boys aren't fake. At least they don't make themselves throw up or starve themselves just because the stupid, fake world we live in is telling them that's what they need to do. At least they don't sit and complain about something they could fix themselves. At least boys don't gossip. Most of the time, I'd rather be with boys then girls. I hate girls... So much.
... Okay I really don't hate girls, I actually like a lot of girls, but right now there are a few that are frustrating me and killing them wouldn't make me feel guilty... That was rude, but goodness they are so hard to be around sometimes!
First of all, I am so sick of the "I'm so fat" and "I need to stop eating this certain thing" phrases. This is what makes me angrier more than anything else in the entire world. The girls that are saying this HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE FAT. They have no idea what it really means to envy other people's bodies and not being able to fit into most clothes. Because the girls that sit and stress over those two things are the girls wearing size 0 - 7. Oh. My. Gosh. Stop right now. Check what size you're wearing. Are you in that range or below? Yeah, okay then shut the heck up.
http://www.allaboutlifechallenges.org/anorexia-bulimia.htm
Second, "I'm forever alone". Yeah, you're going to be if you keep saying that stupid, annoying phrase. You're like 13, 14, 15, 16 maybe 17. Come on, that's ridiculous.
Man. Just. AAGGGH!
This is one of the reasons why I hate hanging out with girls. We. Are. So. Dramatic. And. Dumb.
All the time, girls talk about how boys are dumb... but at least boys aren't fake. At least they don't make themselves throw up or starve themselves just because the stupid, fake world we live in is telling them that's what they need to do. At least they don't sit and complain about something they could fix themselves. At least boys don't gossip. Most of the time, I'd rather be with boys then girls. I hate girls... So much.
... Okay I really don't hate girls, I actually like a lot of girls, but right now there are a few that are frustrating me and killing them wouldn't make me feel guilty... That was rude, but goodness they are so hard to be around sometimes!
First of all, I am so sick of the "I'm so fat" and "I need to stop eating this certain thing" phrases. This is what makes me angrier more than anything else in the entire world. The girls that are saying this HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE FAT. They have no idea what it really means to envy other people's bodies and not being able to fit into most clothes. Because the girls that sit and stress over those two things are the girls wearing size 0 - 7. Oh. My. Gosh. Stop right now. Check what size you're wearing. Are you in that range or below? Yeah, okay then shut the heck up.
http://www.allaboutlifechallenges.org/anorexia-bulimia.htm
Second, "I'm forever alone". Yeah, you're going to be if you keep saying that stupid, annoying phrase. You're like 13, 14, 15, 16 maybe 17. Come on, that's ridiculous.
Man. Just. AAGGGH!
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Monday, December 3, 2012
One Conversation.
He came to my house over the weekend to hang out with me. As we talked, he stared out the window and muttered something. I leaned closer and asked him what he said. He turned to me and grinned, "Just stating the fact that I've been forever friend-zoned."
I glared at him, "Oh, whatever!"
He locked eyes with me then said seriously, "I'm being honest. Most girls go through a stage of absolutely HATING me, I may not show it, but it affects me more than they think... In other words, most people wouldn't care if I were to disappear tomorrow."
I wanted to hug him, squeeze all the sadness out of him. In my head I cried, I care!! Seriously, like when I lose my phone I freak out like a maniac... I can't imagine what I would do if I lost you... I would probably break something. Like a chair. Like a stupid chair with stupid legs. Because I would never see you again. I couldn't do it...
Instead I smiled at him, "I would miss you, and I can think of plenty of other people who would too."
He shook his head and laughed sarcastically, "Thanks Annie."
I learned a few amazing things from just a short conversation:
1.) What we say to and do to others may affect them more than we could ever understand or know. Whether it's teasing, ignoring and obviously just being plain rude because you don't like them, it's not okay. When it comes down to it, nobody deserves to be treated like trash. There are other ways to handle situations of anger and annoyance, making them feel miserable is not the right method.
2.) When you care about someone, tell them. It doesn't have to mean that you confess some kind of undying love for that person, but telling them that they mean something to you can hugely benefit them. Sometimes, I think that we think that people should just realize that we care about them, and usually I guess they do, but it's a whole other thing for you to actually say it to them. You never know when a person is feeling low, and how knowing someone cares that they exist could totally change them.
3.) Despite what lots of people say, I think true friendship can go on into the next life. It may not be everybody you've ever been friends with, maybe it's not the people you laughed with, cried with, hung out with, or maybe it's not even the people you called 'best friend'. But part of me knows that there are people who were put in our lives to benefit us so greatly, that they will be held onto. And who knows, one of those people might be the person you marry.
4.) This one is kind of more personal I guess is what you would say. But I realized that I don't think I like him the way I thought I did. My emotions got confused. I like being around him, I like talking to him, I like him... but I don't "like-like" him... I hope.
Now as a closing thought, I just love my friends, so much it's not even funny.
I glared at him, "Oh, whatever!"
He locked eyes with me then said seriously, "I'm being honest. Most girls go through a stage of absolutely HATING me, I may not show it, but it affects me more than they think... In other words, most people wouldn't care if I were to disappear tomorrow."
I wanted to hug him, squeeze all the sadness out of him. In my head I cried, I care!! Seriously, like when I lose my phone I freak out like a maniac... I can't imagine what I would do if I lost you... I would probably break something. Like a chair. Like a stupid chair with stupid legs. Because I would never see you again. I couldn't do it...
Instead I smiled at him, "I would miss you, and I can think of plenty of other people who would too."
He shook his head and laughed sarcastically, "Thanks Annie."
I learned a few amazing things from just a short conversation:
1.) What we say to and do to others may affect them more than we could ever understand or know. Whether it's teasing, ignoring and obviously just being plain rude because you don't like them, it's not okay. When it comes down to it, nobody deserves to be treated like trash. There are other ways to handle situations of anger and annoyance, making them feel miserable is not the right method.
2.) When you care about someone, tell them. It doesn't have to mean that you confess some kind of undying love for that person, but telling them that they mean something to you can hugely benefit them. Sometimes, I think that we think that people should just realize that we care about them, and usually I guess they do, but it's a whole other thing for you to actually say it to them. You never know when a person is feeling low, and how knowing someone cares that they exist could totally change them.
3.) Despite what lots of people say, I think true friendship can go on into the next life. It may not be everybody you've ever been friends with, maybe it's not the people you laughed with, cried with, hung out with, or maybe it's not even the people you called 'best friend'. But part of me knows that there are people who were put in our lives to benefit us so greatly, that they will be held onto. And who knows, one of those people might be the person you marry.
4.) This one is kind of more personal I guess is what you would say. But I realized that I don't think I like him the way I thought I did. My emotions got confused. I like being around him, I like talking to him, I like him... but I don't "like-like" him... I hope.
Now as a closing thought, I just love my friends, so much it's not even funny.
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