Monday, December 22, 2014
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Merry Christmas, here's a funeral.
I didn't make it near as long between deaths this time as I did last time, and what's worse is that this time it's someone close to our family.
Dad called me at work today to inform me that the Husband of our married neighbors died last night.
He was in Galveston, picking up a boat, when he died in the hotel room. He was found the next morning, they called the ambulance, who found him unresponsive and took him to a hospital where they pronounced him dead.
We've known this family since I was about 10 or 11. They own a restaurant here in town that is well known and loved by everyone in the area. In fact, just last week they opened a new, bigger location. My family has all worked at this restaurant at one point or another. We grew up with his youngest daughter, who is now married with two kids of her own. He's helped us with projects on the property, and vise versa. He would come over and talk to my Dad for hours, or come out and say hi when we stopped by the restaurant and refuse to let us pay. He was always good to us, his family is full of good people. We would go over for Thanksgivings or whatever they were having at the house, he would drive his little red sports car over to see us. It's just weird to know he won't be outside to wave when we go walking, or give me a hard time when I come home late, or hang out with my Dad.
I think I'm still in shock. It doesn't seem real. After all, he's always there, surely he still will be, right?
And I'm here at work, having to suppress feelings so I don't lose it or whatever. I just want to sit in an empty place with my journal and really process this.
I want to hang out with my Dad.
Dad called me at work today to inform me that the Husband of our married neighbors died last night.
He was in Galveston, picking up a boat, when he died in the hotel room. He was found the next morning, they called the ambulance, who found him unresponsive and took him to a hospital where they pronounced him dead.
We've known this family since I was about 10 or 11. They own a restaurant here in town that is well known and loved by everyone in the area. In fact, just last week they opened a new, bigger location. My family has all worked at this restaurant at one point or another. We grew up with his youngest daughter, who is now married with two kids of her own. He's helped us with projects on the property, and vise versa. He would come over and talk to my Dad for hours, or come out and say hi when we stopped by the restaurant and refuse to let us pay. He was always good to us, his family is full of good people. We would go over for Thanksgivings or whatever they were having at the house, he would drive his little red sports car over to see us. It's just weird to know he won't be outside to wave when we go walking, or give me a hard time when I come home late, or hang out with my Dad.
I think I'm still in shock. It doesn't seem real. After all, he's always there, surely he still will be, right?
And I'm here at work, having to suppress feelings so I don't lose it or whatever. I just want to sit in an empty place with my journal and really process this.
I want to hang out with my Dad.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Yeah, about that.
I was thinking of writing a post that involves discussion of something I have dealt with in my past.
Something not often discussed passed my sphere of close friends.
But I kept hesitating.
I would get nervous and very leering of talking about it.
But I want to tell people what's on my heart. I want to warn people who may be debating doing something like this. I want to help as many people as possible. It breaks my heart to know that there are people out there who will make the decisions I did and end up in this place of struggle and misunderstanding. I want to hug every single person who cries to themselves over all of this mess.
Yet I mostly keep my mouth shut.
Because when I open it, I get pity.
I get gasps of shock and unbelief.
I get empathy over something that happened under their noses years ago.
I inflict guilt. And confusion. And shock.
I get people doubting me or hating on me, which honestly is the easiest to deal with.
I'd rather have hate than pity.
So why don't I speak?
Honestly, I don't know.
If there moment arises, I will.
If someone comes across my path that needs my words, I'll speak.
But as far as being public with it, I just can't do that yet.
Maybe because I'm still not fully "over this" or whatever.
Thrust into a pit of shock and pain and confusion and memories and voices screaming at me while people are watching my every move to see how I'll react--I can't do it.
It's harder when they're closer to you. Strangers are easier to handle.
So I sit here, quiet.
Contemplative.
Waiting.
Something not often discussed passed my sphere of close friends.
But I kept hesitating.
I would get nervous and very leering of talking about it.
But I want to tell people what's on my heart. I want to warn people who may be debating doing something like this. I want to help as many people as possible. It breaks my heart to know that there are people out there who will make the decisions I did and end up in this place of struggle and misunderstanding. I want to hug every single person who cries to themselves over all of this mess.
Yet I mostly keep my mouth shut.
Because when I open it, I get pity.
I get gasps of shock and unbelief.
I get empathy over something that happened under their noses years ago.
I inflict guilt. And confusion. And shock.
I get people doubting me or hating on me, which honestly is the easiest to deal with.
I'd rather have hate than pity.
So why don't I speak?
Honestly, I don't know.
If there moment arises, I will.
If someone comes across my path that needs my words, I'll speak.
But as far as being public with it, I just can't do that yet.
Maybe because I'm still not fully "over this" or whatever.
Thrust into a pit of shock and pain and confusion and memories and voices screaming at me while people are watching my every move to see how I'll react--I can't do it.
It's harder when they're closer to you. Strangers are easier to handle.
So I sit here, quiet.
Contemplative.
Waiting.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
thoughts to ponder.
So many thoughts in my head.
Not sure I want to tell them to the world.
Maybe some things are meant to be left unsaid.
Maybe secrets exist for a reason.
Lies are a funny thing, too.
But is a secret a lie?
Merriam-Webster dictionary says:
Secret adj.
1: Kept hidden from others; known to only a few people
2: Keeping information hidden from others.
Lie verb
1: To make an untrue statement with intent to deceive.
2: To create a false or misleading impression.
So I guess it can be, but it also doesn't have to be.
Definitely more thoughts to ponder.
Not sure I want to tell them to the world.
Maybe some things are meant to be left unsaid.
Maybe secrets exist for a reason.
Lies are a funny thing, too.
But is a secret a lie?
Merriam-Webster dictionary says:
Secret adj.
1: Kept hidden from others; known to only a few people
2: Keeping information hidden from others.
Lie verb
1: To make an untrue statement with intent to deceive.
2: To create a false or misleading impression.
So I guess it can be, but it also doesn't have to be.
Definitely more thoughts to ponder.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Introvert and stuff.
It's funny to me how one second I'll feel like nothing has changed between 16 and 26, and the next second it feels like I'm not even the same person.
The things my eyes have seen
The things my heart has felt
The things my mind has been told
Definitely more than one would thing when they look at me.
I think I'm becoming more introverted by the second.
Don't get me wrong, I love people. There's just a difference between different human interactions.
There's the people that I will drop anything for, no matter what:
These are the people that never seem to get on my nerves. Someone broke your heart? I'm on my way with ice cream or coffee. Trouble at work and you just want to get your mind off of it? Come over, we'll paint my house or something. You have to jet out of town to take your beloved dog to the vet? I'll be there to watch the other two, no matter what I'm doing or how far it is. Foot breaks? I'll be there to process what just happened with you, the best I can.
Sometimes I don't really realize one person or another is one I'll drop anything for like that. But when the moment arises, you know. Generally, I'll help if I can, but there are some that don't feel like anything out of the ordinary. Some that I don't count the cost before, I just make it happen, because someone needs help and I am able to help.
Now, I'm human, so I can't do everything or help everyone, but I truly want to do my best for these people. They deserve it.
There's the people that I'll be there for if they really need it, but won't offer if I'm not asked:
These are the people that can use me, or don't get the help they need to handle everything, if that makes sense. The ones that will ask me because I'm there, not necessarily because they need it. Generally good people, but can err on the side of needy. I have mixed feelings about these people.
Then there's the people that voluntell you to do something:
These are the people that assume you will do something because you're good at it, it's your profession, "You always have your camera" or whatever else. These are also the people that won't tell you or ask you to do something, but instead assume you'll do it because you "always do" and then if you don't (like when I don't bring my camera) have the means to do it, they get mad at you.
The first group are the people that can almost always call up, ask for help, and I'm there. I say almost because sometimes I have to turn even my closest friends down for my own health or whatever, or have something I absolutely can't get out of. But for these, I'll do all I can to be there.
The second group I handle depending upon how spent I am with my own life and how many first groupers have already needed help. Typically I'm pretty done, which I used to do about anything I was asked, but I've gotten better about that. Some people have started to get mad at me for this, or avoid me, or whatever. But I have to take care of myself. No matter how much I care about people, I can't be everything to everyone.
The third group are people who need to be punched in the face. I avoid these at all cost. They do nothing but sap me of energy and strength.
And not only in the context of helping people. Sometimes just being around the people from the latter groups can be exhausting. They ask questions I don't have answers to, or assume things that are idiotic, or just want to find out something you know, or want to mark off something on their list by seeing you.
Cut off those people that have you as nothing more than an item on your list to be marked off.
I wish this were more easily accepted for me. I find myself trying to take care of me, but then there are things I'm required to do that I would much rather not, but I don't really have a choice.
(Thankfully, Nutcracker is getting me out of a lot of these this year. Sadly, not all.)
I'd like to live life on my own schedule. I'd like to make decisions for myself, and not seem to have an agenda that's owed to certain people.
I realize this sounds really rude, or shallow, or whatever. But honestly, sometimes I'd just rather lay in my bed with a book and do nothing.
Sometimes I'd like to be alone except for a choice friend. Sometimes I'd like to have a few. But I hate feeling required to do things that don't interest me.
I guess it comes down to this: Time is short, I don't want to waste what I have left on things or people I'm not passionate about.
But I do what I have to do, because sometimes those things you can't stand open up doors to things you love, or give you experience for something that will happen later that will be easier because you stuck it out before.
At least, this is what I tell myself to get through.
Some people just want to suck the life out of you to make themselves feel better. You are not chocolate, you are not a power plug, you are not Jesus. Don't let them sap you of what you have for their comfort.
Know who your friends are and who is worth your time.
(Hint. The first group-ers are typically those that hate asking for help, or don't want to be a bother. And that's how you know; because they won't use you, and they're typically beyond grateful.)
The things my eyes have seen
The things my heart has felt
The things my mind has been told
Definitely more than one would thing when they look at me.
I think I'm becoming more introverted by the second.
Don't get me wrong, I love people. There's just a difference between different human interactions.
There's the people that I will drop anything for, no matter what:
These are the people that never seem to get on my nerves. Someone broke your heart? I'm on my way with ice cream or coffee. Trouble at work and you just want to get your mind off of it? Come over, we'll paint my house or something. You have to jet out of town to take your beloved dog to the vet? I'll be there to watch the other two, no matter what I'm doing or how far it is. Foot breaks? I'll be there to process what just happened with you, the best I can.
Sometimes I don't really realize one person or another is one I'll drop anything for like that. But when the moment arises, you know. Generally, I'll help if I can, but there are some that don't feel like anything out of the ordinary. Some that I don't count the cost before, I just make it happen, because someone needs help and I am able to help.
Now, I'm human, so I can't do everything or help everyone, but I truly want to do my best for these people. They deserve it.
There's the people that I'll be there for if they really need it, but won't offer if I'm not asked:
These are the people that can use me, or don't get the help they need to handle everything, if that makes sense. The ones that will ask me because I'm there, not necessarily because they need it. Generally good people, but can err on the side of needy. I have mixed feelings about these people.
Then there's the people that voluntell you to do something:
These are the people that assume you will do something because you're good at it, it's your profession, "You always have your camera" or whatever else. These are also the people that won't tell you or ask you to do something, but instead assume you'll do it because you "always do" and then if you don't (like when I don't bring my camera) have the means to do it, they get mad at you.
The first group are the people that can almost always call up, ask for help, and I'm there. I say almost because sometimes I have to turn even my closest friends down for my own health or whatever, or have something I absolutely can't get out of. But for these, I'll do all I can to be there.
The second group I handle depending upon how spent I am with my own life and how many first groupers have already needed help. Typically I'm pretty done, which I used to do about anything I was asked, but I've gotten better about that. Some people have started to get mad at me for this, or avoid me, or whatever. But I have to take care of myself. No matter how much I care about people, I can't be everything to everyone.
The third group are people who need to be punched in the face. I avoid these at all cost. They do nothing but sap me of energy and strength.
And not only in the context of helping people. Sometimes just being around the people from the latter groups can be exhausting. They ask questions I don't have answers to, or assume things that are idiotic, or just want to find out something you know, or want to mark off something on their list by seeing you.
Cut off those people that have you as nothing more than an item on your list to be marked off.
I wish this were more easily accepted for me. I find myself trying to take care of me, but then there are things I'm required to do that I would much rather not, but I don't really have a choice.
(Thankfully, Nutcracker is getting me out of a lot of these this year. Sadly, not all.)
I'd like to live life on my own schedule. I'd like to make decisions for myself, and not seem to have an agenda that's owed to certain people.
I realize this sounds really rude, or shallow, or whatever. But honestly, sometimes I'd just rather lay in my bed with a book and do nothing.
Sometimes I'd like to be alone except for a choice friend. Sometimes I'd like to have a few. But I hate feeling required to do things that don't interest me.
I guess it comes down to this: Time is short, I don't want to waste what I have left on things or people I'm not passionate about.
But I do what I have to do, because sometimes those things you can't stand open up doors to things you love, or give you experience for something that will happen later that will be easier because you stuck it out before.
At least, this is what I tell myself to get through.
Some people just want to suck the life out of you to make themselves feel better. You are not chocolate, you are not a power plug, you are not Jesus. Don't let them sap you of what you have for their comfort.
Know who your friends are and who is worth your time.
(Hint. The first group-ers are typically those that hate asking for help, or don't want to be a bother. And that's how you know; because they won't use you, and they're typically beyond grateful.)
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Sometimes sad things happen.
I found out another friend of mine died on Sunday.
I wasn't immensely close to him. I hadn't even spoken to him in 10 years. (since he graduated. I feel old.) But we were on the same debate team, which was a family.
This has kind of wrecked me again.
I don't understand why I've known so many people to die. My record is 17 months without someone dying. I don't think this is normal, but at the same time I feel like I don't have the right to be sad.
"You weren't that close to them."
"You weren't their best friend."
"They didn't even follow you on insert social media site here ."
"Someone else was closer to them."
"Their mom doesn't even know who you are."
"Who are you to grieve my best friend? You don't even know. Stop playing. You don't know pain."
These are things that go through my head.
Because there will always be someone who was closer/better/more than you.
I find myself feeling connections to certain people who died that I never met.
Why? I never met them. I never can meet them. They had friends and family who loved them; who am I to be sad over their death?
But, isn't that something to be said over their life?
That someone whose name they never knew was so touched by their life that they feel a pang of the loss?
Sure, it'll never be to the same caliber as someone who knew them personally.
But, that doesn't mean that it's nothing, right?
I've been doing a lot of thinking.
About living and dying and the point of it all.
There are many thoughts in my head about it all, but they are so numerous, I don't know I could even attempt to get it all down.
So they'll stay there for now.
One day, I will die. And maybe one day these blog posts will mean something. And maybe some people will feel something from them; people I've never met. And I'm sure they won't feel the same as you who follow me while I'm here, living and breathing and actively thinking. But words live on long after the speaker dies.
I just want mine to be worth it, ya know?
Not to be something that hurts or is pointless.
I dunno, those are my thoughts for now.
I wasn't immensely close to him. I hadn't even spoken to him in 10 years. (since he graduated. I feel old.) But we were on the same debate team, which was a family.
This has kind of wrecked me again.
I don't understand why I've known so many people to die. My record is 17 months without someone dying. I don't think this is normal, but at the same time I feel like I don't have the right to be sad.
"You weren't that close to them."
"You weren't their best friend."
"They didn't even follow you on insert social media site here ."
"Someone else was closer to them."
"Their mom doesn't even know who you are."
"Who are you to grieve my best friend? You don't even know. Stop playing. You don't know pain."
These are things that go through my head.
Because there will always be someone who was closer/better/more than you.
I find myself feeling connections to certain people who died that I never met.
- Rachel Scott
- Anne Frank
- Esther Earl
Why? I never met them. I never can meet them. They had friends and family who loved them; who am I to be sad over their death?
But, isn't that something to be said over their life?
That someone whose name they never knew was so touched by their life that they feel a pang of the loss?
Sure, it'll never be to the same caliber as someone who knew them personally.
But, that doesn't mean that it's nothing, right?
I've been doing a lot of thinking.
About living and dying and the point of it all.
There are many thoughts in my head about it all, but they are so numerous, I don't know I could even attempt to get it all down.
So they'll stay there for now.
One day, I will die. And maybe one day these blog posts will mean something. And maybe some people will feel something from them; people I've never met. And I'm sure they won't feel the same as you who follow me while I'm here, living and breathing and actively thinking. But words live on long after the speaker dies.
I just want mine to be worth it, ya know?
Not to be something that hurts or is pointless.
I dunno, those are my thoughts for now.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
She said my name.
This has the potential to be a controversial post.
I do not want controversy. If you have a negative opinion, I could care less to hear it.
In the wise words my mother told me,
If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.
If you're resilient to give your opinion, at least read through everything and hear me out.
If it's negative, I probably still won't care to hear it, as I don't care to feel shame or guilt, which is what initially happens with things like that.
On that note, the blog post:
Some of y'all may have read my post about seeing the first ever Harry Potter book I read for the first time since I was eleven. You may have read how I was hooked after the first few chapters, but was told I wasn't allowed to read it, how I respected my parent's wishes and stayed away. How I understood why they felt this way, but as I'm older have found my way back to Harry Potter and have fallen in love with the story. How I don't resent my parents for it, but wish I could have grown up with it. (Especially seeing as how I was 11 when the books came out. The prime age for getting into the Harry Potter fandom as I would grow up with them.)
I'm reading the books for the second time in my life (The first began last Christmas when I got my tablet and could read them without my parents knowing) and falling in love with the feeling it gives me all over again.
I'm not into witchcraft. I love God with every ounce of my being. And I think that's what I love most about the series; the two don't have to be separate.
Let me explain.
I read this knowing what's real, what's not, etc. I read this knowing Who God is and what He's done and is doing for me. That being so, I read this and can identify with Harry. I feel as though I am part of God's Army (like Dumbledore's) and fighting against Satan and his dark forces (like Voldemort and the Death Eaters) and what I really love is that JK Rolling doesn't sugar coat it--people die, bad things happen, but what matters is that they didn't fight for naught. We win in the end.
It's not about kids reading about witchcraft, it's about kids (and grown adults. hi.) seeing that there is evil out there, but evil doesn't have to win. It's about fighting for what you believe in.
Ps. C.S. Lewis had witchcraft in his books, too. (that's a whole different post.)
(Okay, that wasn't even the controversy I was referring to in the beginning.)
I'm part of the Harry Potter Alliance. I found out about it through Esther Earl and learning more about John Green and becoming a part of Nerdfighteria. I debated joining, because they support things that I didn't necessarily agree with. I ended up going ahead and joining because they did such a greater good to fight for literacy and women's rights and so many other things that my one differing opinion wasn't really going to do any good. If anything, it may do more harm than good.
(If you just want to hear about how Evanna Lynch came to say my name, where to pick up is noted with **)
here we go.
I don't agree with homosexuality. I could go into the details of this and why, but I'm going to choose not to. Because honestly, I have friends who are homosexual, I don't want them to feel shame for how they live.
"But Emilee, they're wrong. You shouldn't care about how it makes them feel. They need to know the truth!"
Okay, but look. They've been told. And I don't feel I will do anyone any good by making anyone feel guilty. It's not my job to "fix" or "change" anyone. It is my job to show people love and let my life speak for itself.
"But the Bible says it's a sin!"
Yep. It also says that alcoholism is a sin, but I'm not going to throw that in the face of my friend who drinks. They know what they're doing. It's their choice. The Bible also says to get to heaven, you have to confess Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you can't do that.
I had an eating disorder for four years. It was literally killing me. I shouldn't be here right now because of what I was doing to my body. But you know what? God still used me. Even though I wasn't living my life fully how He would want me to and how He was asking me to, He still used me. And further more, He loved me. And it wasn't anyone telling me what I should and shouldn't do that helped me overcome that eating disorder. It was love. It was God showing me that He's not mad at me, that He created me as a human, so of course He understands that sometimes I won't make the best decisions. It was a friend showing me the love of God in action. Not by telling me what I should and shouldn't do, but loving me despite what I did. I believe this is one of the hardest things for any human to do. It seems very hopeless at times, but let me tell you, it's worth it.
Now, I know that one of the greatest arguments is that people who identify as homosexuals believe they were born that way, and people against it argue that it's a choice.
I personally believe it's a choice, but look. I'm not gonna argue.
When it comes down to it, you are responsible for your life. You are the one that has to face God when you die. By yourself. I won't be there, that's between you and Him.
I had a dream once that I had a friend who told me, "God called me to be gay." And I remember being stunned, because this went against everything I had been taught. But it got me to thinking. I talked to God about it, I mulled it over, I evaluated it. What if God did? What if someone whose convictions I trusted told me that? What would I say? Would I say, "No, you're wrong, God didn't tell you that." Who am I? I am not God. And what I have lived for my whole life is that you live out your convictions. Who am I to tell someone that their convictions are wrong? I'm not.
I won't vote for marriage equality, but I'm not gonna harp on my friends that do.
That's the beauty of the world. If everyone was the same, it would be so boring.
We need different people.
**(If you want to hear the story of how Evanna Lynch said my name on a livestream, start reading here.)**
So I had seen the Harry Potter Alliance post about their fundraiser Equality FTW (for the win, for those not savvy with these internet terms.) which is raising funds for the HPA and all the awesome things they do to make the world a better place. They've raised funds for Haiti, donated 120,000 books around the world, raised money to send underprivileged kids to camp, collected over 50,000 signatures to makes Universal Studios get their chocolate they use in the Harry Potter world from places that don't use child labor, etc. They aren't just about marriage equality, but it is one of the things they support. And that is their right to decide what their organization is for.
(And if you're just now getting here, and you want to debate me on why I support this organization, read that whole part you skipped over and know that I am living according to my convictions.)
I debated for a while on if I should actually give monetary donations toward this organization if there's something I don't agree with involved. I could hear the opinions of people I love in my head telling me that I shouldn't, that the devil would make this look enticing and I would be lining myself up with him if I contributed, and so many other things. I would go to the perks page and see all these things I would love to donate to receive, but held back because I wasn't sure what I should do. Yesterday, I was looking at it at work again, and thought to myself, "What am I afraid of?"
Afraid.
Fear.
Where does fear come from? Not from God, that's for sure. Anxiety doesn't either. So why was I letting these things dictate my decisions? What did I feel God was saying about the situation?
I thought back to the dream. I thought about friends of mine who have told me how "religious" people make them feel. I thought back to stories and testimonies and good versus evil, and I thought how so much of this could be avoided if we just did what God told us to do and that is to love. To love other people, right where they are, and that this is the greatest commandment. I've felt what it's like to have someone not agree with your decisions, and how rejected and hated it could make you feel, and no one deserves that. No one deserves to feel such hate just for making a decisions, whether I agree with it or not. (I could get into more sides of opinions here, but look. That's not what this blog is about, okay?)
I get home from work and fire up my laptop, trying to calculate what time the HPA Equality FTW live stream with Evanna Lynch is starting in my time zone. I had read 7 Pacific, which would make it 9pm here, and I had read 7 Eastern, which would make it 6pm here. My laptop decided to be dumb, so I pulled it up on my phone. I really wanted to see Evanna Lynch. This whole fandom is new to me, and to feel like there was some sort of connection to it, I wanted it. I wanted to get as much of this motivation and support that I could grasp. I don't want to miss out anymore. And Evanna is the one that was a fan herself. She grew up with the books, wrote fan mail to JK Rolling. She waited in line for book releases. She also ended up beating out a heck of a lot of people to play the roll of Luna Lovegood in the movies, and honestly, I don't think they could have picked anyone better. She shows me that anything is possible if you believe it is.
So I'm watching this live stream, and the two guys from HPA and Evanna feel like old friends, and I'm laughing and hearing what they have to say, and wishing I was taking notes for some of the amazing points and opinions they were wording so perfectly. And then they go through the whole spiel of plugging the perks because, let's be real, it is a fundraiser. And they talk about a new perk that they hadn't unveiled yet, and it involved the Hang in there baby Crookshanks poster which they were going to have Evanna's cat, Lil Puff, autograph for the perk.
I had been mulling over the perks, and trying to decide and evaluate on what I would like and what I could afford. Of course I wanted an autograph of something. But should I spend less money for a chance at an autograph from JK Rolling, in which 148 other people had already put their names into the hat? Or should I spend a little more for a guaranteed autograph from Evanna? I was leaning more towards the guarantee, but man, to have the signature of the woman who put this world on to paper that means so much to me... With this new perk, it offered a new option. And after hearing the three of them talk about it, I decided, "You know what? I'm doing it."
I bought the perk.
Upon doing so, I realized I was the only one who had done so thus far. I decided to tweet about it,
Remember that you matter.
Your voice is important.
Your story is important.
Stick to what you believe is right.
If you have questions, ask someone you trust. Wisdom is always great to gain from someone whose lived a little more life.
Don't let anyone make you feel inferior.
If you feel guilt or shame, ask yourself why. Address the issue.
Learn who you are, and love it.
Never stop learning and growing.
Keep your mind wide open.
I do not want controversy. If you have a negative opinion, I could care less to hear it.
In the wise words my mother told me,
If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.
If you're resilient to give your opinion, at least read through everything and hear me out.
If it's negative, I probably still won't care to hear it, as I don't care to feel shame or guilt, which is what initially happens with things like that.
On that note, the blog post:
Some of y'all may have read my post about seeing the first ever Harry Potter book I read for the first time since I was eleven. You may have read how I was hooked after the first few chapters, but was told I wasn't allowed to read it, how I respected my parent's wishes and stayed away. How I understood why they felt this way, but as I'm older have found my way back to Harry Potter and have fallen in love with the story. How I don't resent my parents for it, but wish I could have grown up with it. (Especially seeing as how I was 11 when the books came out. The prime age for getting into the Harry Potter fandom as I would grow up with them.)
I'm reading the books for the second time in my life (The first began last Christmas when I got my tablet and could read them without my parents knowing) and falling in love with the feeling it gives me all over again.
I'm not into witchcraft. I love God with every ounce of my being. And I think that's what I love most about the series; the two don't have to be separate.
Let me explain.
I read this knowing what's real, what's not, etc. I read this knowing Who God is and what He's done and is doing for me. That being so, I read this and can identify with Harry. I feel as though I am part of God's Army (like Dumbledore's) and fighting against Satan and his dark forces (like Voldemort and the Death Eaters) and what I really love is that JK Rolling doesn't sugar coat it--people die, bad things happen, but what matters is that they didn't fight for naught. We win in the end.
It's not about kids reading about witchcraft, it's about kids (and grown adults. hi.) seeing that there is evil out there, but evil doesn't have to win. It's about fighting for what you believe in.
Ps. C.S. Lewis had witchcraft in his books, too. (that's a whole different post.)
(Okay, that wasn't even the controversy I was referring to in the beginning.)
I'm part of the Harry Potter Alliance. I found out about it through Esther Earl and learning more about John Green and becoming a part of Nerdfighteria. I debated joining, because they support things that I didn't necessarily agree with. I ended up going ahead and joining because they did such a greater good to fight for literacy and women's rights and so many other things that my one differing opinion wasn't really going to do any good. If anything, it may do more harm than good.
(If you just want to hear about how Evanna Lynch came to say my name, where to pick up is noted with **)
here we go.
I don't agree with homosexuality. I could go into the details of this and why, but I'm going to choose not to. Because honestly, I have friends who are homosexual, I don't want them to feel shame for how they live.
"But Emilee, they're wrong. You shouldn't care about how it makes them feel. They need to know the truth!"
Okay, but look. They've been told. And I don't feel I will do anyone any good by making anyone feel guilty. It's not my job to "fix" or "change" anyone. It is my job to show people love and let my life speak for itself.
"But the Bible says it's a sin!"
Yep. It also says that alcoholism is a sin, but I'm not going to throw that in the face of my friend who drinks. They know what they're doing. It's their choice. The Bible also says to get to heaven, you have to confess Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you can't do that.
I had an eating disorder for four years. It was literally killing me. I shouldn't be here right now because of what I was doing to my body. But you know what? God still used me. Even though I wasn't living my life fully how He would want me to and how He was asking me to, He still used me. And further more, He loved me. And it wasn't anyone telling me what I should and shouldn't do that helped me overcome that eating disorder. It was love. It was God showing me that He's not mad at me, that He created me as a human, so of course He understands that sometimes I won't make the best decisions. It was a friend showing me the love of God in action. Not by telling me what I should and shouldn't do, but loving me despite what I did. I believe this is one of the hardest things for any human to do. It seems very hopeless at times, but let me tell you, it's worth it.
Now, I know that one of the greatest arguments is that people who identify as homosexuals believe they were born that way, and people against it argue that it's a choice.
I personally believe it's a choice, but look. I'm not gonna argue.
When it comes down to it, you are responsible for your life. You are the one that has to face God when you die. By yourself. I won't be there, that's between you and Him.
I had a dream once that I had a friend who told me, "God called me to be gay." And I remember being stunned, because this went against everything I had been taught. But it got me to thinking. I talked to God about it, I mulled it over, I evaluated it. What if God did? What if someone whose convictions I trusted told me that? What would I say? Would I say, "No, you're wrong, God didn't tell you that." Who am I? I am not God. And what I have lived for my whole life is that you live out your convictions. Who am I to tell someone that their convictions are wrong? I'm not.
I won't vote for marriage equality, but I'm not gonna harp on my friends that do.
That's the beauty of the world. If everyone was the same, it would be so boring.
We need different people.
**(If you want to hear the story of how Evanna Lynch said my name on a livestream, start reading here.)**
So I had seen the Harry Potter Alliance post about their fundraiser Equality FTW (for the win, for those not savvy with these internet terms.) which is raising funds for the HPA and all the awesome things they do to make the world a better place. They've raised funds for Haiti, donated 120,000 books around the world, raised money to send underprivileged kids to camp, collected over 50,000 signatures to makes Universal Studios get their chocolate they use in the Harry Potter world from places that don't use child labor, etc. They aren't just about marriage equality, but it is one of the things they support. And that is their right to decide what their organization is for.
(And if you're just now getting here, and you want to debate me on why I support this organization, read that whole part you skipped over and know that I am living according to my convictions.)
I debated for a while on if I should actually give monetary donations toward this organization if there's something I don't agree with involved. I could hear the opinions of people I love in my head telling me that I shouldn't, that the devil would make this look enticing and I would be lining myself up with him if I contributed, and so many other things. I would go to the perks page and see all these things I would love to donate to receive, but held back because I wasn't sure what I should do. Yesterday, I was looking at it at work again, and thought to myself, "What am I afraid of?"
Afraid.
Fear.
Where does fear come from? Not from God, that's for sure. Anxiety doesn't either. So why was I letting these things dictate my decisions? What did I feel God was saying about the situation?
I thought back to the dream. I thought about friends of mine who have told me how "religious" people make them feel. I thought back to stories and testimonies and good versus evil, and I thought how so much of this could be avoided if we just did what God told us to do and that is to love. To love other people, right where they are, and that this is the greatest commandment. I've felt what it's like to have someone not agree with your decisions, and how rejected and hated it could make you feel, and no one deserves that. No one deserves to feel such hate just for making a decisions, whether I agree with it or not. (I could get into more sides of opinions here, but look. That's not what this blog is about, okay?)
I get home from work and fire up my laptop, trying to calculate what time the HPA Equality FTW live stream with Evanna Lynch is starting in my time zone. I had read 7 Pacific, which would make it 9pm here, and I had read 7 Eastern, which would make it 6pm here. My laptop decided to be dumb, so I pulled it up on my phone. I really wanted to see Evanna Lynch. This whole fandom is new to me, and to feel like there was some sort of connection to it, I wanted it. I wanted to get as much of this motivation and support that I could grasp. I don't want to miss out anymore. And Evanna is the one that was a fan herself. She grew up with the books, wrote fan mail to JK Rolling. She waited in line for book releases. She also ended up beating out a heck of a lot of people to play the roll of Luna Lovegood in the movies, and honestly, I don't think they could have picked anyone better. She shows me that anything is possible if you believe it is.
So I'm watching this live stream, and the two guys from HPA and Evanna feel like old friends, and I'm laughing and hearing what they have to say, and wishing I was taking notes for some of the amazing points and opinions they were wording so perfectly. And then they go through the whole spiel of plugging the perks because, let's be real, it is a fundraiser. And they talk about a new perk that they hadn't unveiled yet, and it involved the Hang in there baby Crookshanks poster which they were going to have Evanna's cat, Lil Puff, autograph for the perk.
I had been mulling over the perks, and trying to decide and evaluate on what I would like and what I could afford. Of course I wanted an autograph of something. But should I spend less money for a chance at an autograph from JK Rolling, in which 148 other people had already put their names into the hat? Or should I spend a little more for a guaranteed autograph from Evanna? I was leaning more towards the guarantee, but man, to have the signature of the woman who put this world on to paper that means so much to me... With this new perk, it offered a new option. And after hearing the three of them talk about it, I decided, "You know what? I'm doing it."
I bought the perk.
Upon doing so, I realized I was the only one who had done so thus far. I decided to tweet about it,
I even misspelled "Lil Puff" oops.
Well, whilst watching the livestream, they started talking about how many of which perks were still available. I got my phone out, on a hunch that maybe they'd notice a Lil Puff perk had been claimed and maybe say something about it.
The timing of the video was perfect. Like. unnaturally perfect.
It starts right when Paul notices the perk was claimed. And they get excited. And then right then Evanna sees the tweet and mentions it on the live stream. She said the hashtag, said she loved it, and said, "Thanks, Emilee!" Then Andrew asked if #lovethepuff was a thing, to which Evanna said it's something she says to Lil Puff because, let's be real, you kinda can't not say that to fluffy cats. (and now I'm kicking myself for having not made a youtube video of my reaction to this. I think I was too stunned. I think I shall remedy this after work.)
So I'm freaking out. It doesn't feel real. How in the world did the Harry Potter world just legitimately just connect to my world? There's no way that really happened. It has to be another one of those dreams that feel like reality.
But then someone favorited it, and replied how Evanna thanked me on the live stream. And this is real.
But I can't tell my parents. Assuming the Harry Potter world is real, they are extreme muggles. Mom would probably listen and get excited with me, but Dad wouldn't have it. And it's not that I get in trouble, per se, but doing something my Dad doesn't agree with is one of the harshest things to hear. So I'd rather just keep it to myself then feel badly about it.
Because ya know, I didn't.
I was on cloud 9.
The impossible happened, and I felt good about it.
I didn't feel shame in supporting this cause, I felt good about it. I only felt shame when I thought of what other people might think about me.
So I grab my phone and tell one of my friends what just happened and here is her reaction,
I went ahead and put the entire conversation, so your curious little minds wouldn't explode.
But that made me feel even better. Knowing that this wasn't in my head. This wasn't me being ridiculous. This wasn't nothing. This was something, and it was a big deal.
So, that was the time she said my name, and when the Harry Potter world dipped into mine. After which I picked up my tablet, and continued reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, laughing as I read, "The Lovegoods have been there for a week." and I highlighted it, because Luna is an old friend.
An old friend who knows my name.
I watched the rest of the live stream, and they talked about different things, and the guys asked Evanna some questions, and her thoughts and opinions on them were so well said that I was in awe. So gentle, and so kind, and so true to the opinion of her I had formed in my head. Which makes you feel really good, when someone you look up to--in a sense--proves that they aren't some person that's gonna disappoint you down the road. It's refreshing.
(this was just a screen shot. Before the mentioned the perk. I was so excited. Is this picture legal? I don't know.)
And then her Dad came in to the video, and he's adorable. And it just shows you that they're real people, too, with real lives and hopes and dreams and fears and opinions and likes and dislikes. They have a story, too, theirs just happens to involve being in the spotlight. The world just amazes me at how connected it all is, sometimes. People are real, no matter who they are. And they deserve kindness and respect. (okay, soap box away.)
And then I woke up this morning and remembered, "Oh yeah, I still get a perk out of this!"
And it shall be framed and placed in my house.
And it shall make me feel wonderful every time I see it.
I love that these last few months (really just the last 4 weeks) have given me so many moments like this.
Ones where I feel like I'm doing the right thing and my life is finally going somewhere.
Like I matter.
Your voice is important.
Your story is important.
Stick to what you believe is right.
If you have questions, ask someone you trust. Wisdom is always great to gain from someone whose lived a little more life.
Don't let anyone make you feel inferior.
If you feel guilt or shame, ask yourself why. Address the issue.
Learn who you are, and love it.
Never stop learning and growing.
Keep your mind wide open.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Life is funny.
Life is funny.
And sometimes it feels a certain way, and you can't find words that make sense.
And sometimes you just know things, but you don't know how you know them since there's no proof
But you sit back and just watch it happen, because you had a little nudge before.
And sometimes you wish you could use words to lace together feelings with analogies
To find words to express this funny life.
I am one person. I am the only physical mind that knows my physical thoughts.
When I die, they die with me, and no matter how much I write I will never get it all down.
Inevitably, some things will go to my grave with me, whether I want them to or not.
I have thoughts and ideas and opinions. I have the power to create things based off of what is inside of me and if I never do, it will never exist.
What I create is what I leave behind; what will live long after I die.
I often find myself with a yearning to write, even if I don't have two words to string together.
I think it is because of this deep knowing that life is finite, and we have influence, and what we do with today is important.
I don't even know if that made sense.
And sometimes it feels a certain way, and you can't find words that make sense.
And sometimes you just know things, but you don't know how you know them since there's no proof
But you sit back and just watch it happen, because you had a little nudge before.
And sometimes you wish you could use words to lace together feelings with analogies
To find words to express this funny life.
I am one person. I am the only physical mind that knows my physical thoughts.
When I die, they die with me, and no matter how much I write I will never get it all down.
Inevitably, some things will go to my grave with me, whether I want them to or not.
I have thoughts and ideas and opinions. I have the power to create things based off of what is inside of me and if I never do, it will never exist.
What I create is what I leave behind; what will live long after I die.
I often find myself with a yearning to write, even if I don't have two words to string together.
I think it is because of this deep knowing that life is finite, and we have influence, and what we do with today is important.
I don't even know if that made sense.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Since my journal is in Austin.
I have a tumblr, and there are a few celebrities I follow.
Not the stereotypical celebrities just because they're famous, but ones whose art forms I enjoy, and also seem to have personalities I can respect. (You know, normal human beings. Those people that see they're people and embrace it. I like these kinds of people.)
There are a few I follow on Twitter and Instagram as well, and one thing I've noticed is how they'll say something completely normal, and people will freak out on it. It won't be anything remotely profound, but it'll have thousands of reblogs/hearts/retweets/favorites/etc.
Sometimes I'll look back on my feed from my perspective social media sites and notice that I say similar things, and no one cares.
So why do I still say them?
If there's no one who follows my blog, why do I continue to post?
If there's no one who sees my Tumblr posts, why do I put them there?
If there's no one who reads my tweets, why do I try so hard to fit it perfectly into 140 characters?
Because I don't write or post for other people.
I write and post for me.
If other people get something out of it, that's an added bonus.
Sure, I'd love to inspire hundreds or thousands or whatever.
I'd love to know that some little thought I had had an impact on strangers.
I would love to see that my life inspired people, that someone out there related to something I felt.
That they felt it, too.
I've often wondered if sometimes these famous people feel empty from the attention received from these posts; if it's exhausting to have people comment things that are completely irrelevant and beside the point.
I wonder if it makes them feel good to see all the feedback.
If they scan through the pointless and smile at the comments that are proof of that connection; If they risk seeing all the irrelevant just to know that someone out there related to what they felt.
Recently I posted a picture on tumblr that I was rather confident would appeal to a certain group of people.
Tagged accordingly, I figured it would make it's rounds and get a bit of attention.
And it did, and I see my dashboard filled with names I don't recognize liking and reblogging this post.
but then there's something I didn't expect to see.
I see these names of people I don't know reblogging older posts.
Some are pictures I had found and reblogged as well.
Some are random thoughts I had that no one seemed to blink an eye at.
Posts I almost deleted, because I thought they were irrelevant.
Times I thought, "maybe I should just keep these thoughts to myself. Ya know, only post what's expected."
But I left them.
And these strangers connected to it.
They felt something, something similar to what I felt when I wrote it.
That is the greatest hope for a writer; for someone who lets themselves be vulnerable.
To know that the risk you took in that moment made a difference to someone else, even if it was only for a moment.
Our lives are made up of a bunch of little moments. Like little tiny building blocks that make up our lives and who we are. These kind of moments you collect can determine whether your life leaves you feeling happy or sad or angry or hopeless.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes we all feel those things. All of them.
But in those moments, what do you turn to? What fills those moments? What do you put in front of your eyes and what fills your ears to make you get through the moments?
Life isn't perfect; it never will be.
But you have a choice.
You can fill it according to what you think people want to see; what's expected.
Or you can fill it with what makes you feel something.
Feel the pain, cry, let it out.
I've spent hours and hours trying to figure out what it is about those days that I desperately want to pass when I'm in them that also makes me long for them when they're over.
They make me feel alive.
Even if I feel so lost, and alone, and hopeless.
I feel.
Those moments I remind myself of who I am and why. I collect the little moments that make me feel an inner peace and I build on them.
If I feel this thing, and someone else relates to what I feel, then it's worth it.
It's like reaching through to this person I don't even know and holding their hand; reaching out support to them to let them know, "hey, you're not alone."
To me, that is a powerful thing.
I feel like there's more to say, and I could keep rambling to try and get it out, but I think my point was made. At least, the best it can be. Sometimes words just aren't enough.
<3 p="">
Not the stereotypical celebrities just because they're famous, but ones whose art forms I enjoy, and also seem to have personalities I can respect. (You know, normal human beings. Those people that see they're people and embrace it. I like these kinds of people.)
There are a few I follow on Twitter and Instagram as well, and one thing I've noticed is how they'll say something completely normal, and people will freak out on it. It won't be anything remotely profound, but it'll have thousands of reblogs/hearts/retweets/favorites/etc.
Sometimes I'll look back on my feed from my perspective social media sites and notice that I say similar things, and no one cares.
So why do I still say them?
If there's no one who follows my blog, why do I continue to post?
If there's no one who sees my Tumblr posts, why do I put them there?
If there's no one who reads my tweets, why do I try so hard to fit it perfectly into 140 characters?
Because I don't write or post for other people.
I write and post for me.
If other people get something out of it, that's an added bonus.
Sure, I'd love to inspire hundreds or thousands or whatever.
I'd love to know that some little thought I had had an impact on strangers.
I would love to see that my life inspired people, that someone out there related to something I felt.
That they felt it, too.
I've often wondered if sometimes these famous people feel empty from the attention received from these posts; if it's exhausting to have people comment things that are completely irrelevant and beside the point.
I wonder if it makes them feel good to see all the feedback.
If they scan through the pointless and smile at the comments that are proof of that connection; If they risk seeing all the irrelevant just to know that someone out there related to what they felt.
Recently I posted a picture on tumblr that I was rather confident would appeal to a certain group of people.
Tagged accordingly, I figured it would make it's rounds and get a bit of attention.
And it did, and I see my dashboard filled with names I don't recognize liking and reblogging this post.
but then there's something I didn't expect to see.
I see these names of people I don't know reblogging older posts.
Some are pictures I had found and reblogged as well.
Some are random thoughts I had that no one seemed to blink an eye at.
Posts I almost deleted, because I thought they were irrelevant.
Times I thought, "maybe I should just keep these thoughts to myself. Ya know, only post what's expected."
But I left them.
And these strangers connected to it.
They felt something, something similar to what I felt when I wrote it.
That is the greatest hope for a writer; for someone who lets themselves be vulnerable.
To know that the risk you took in that moment made a difference to someone else, even if it was only for a moment.
Our lives are made up of a bunch of little moments. Like little tiny building blocks that make up our lives and who we are. These kind of moments you collect can determine whether your life leaves you feeling happy or sad or angry or hopeless.
Don't get me wrong, sometimes we all feel those things. All of them.
But in those moments, what do you turn to? What fills those moments? What do you put in front of your eyes and what fills your ears to make you get through the moments?
Life isn't perfect; it never will be.
But you have a choice.
You can fill it according to what you think people want to see; what's expected.
Or you can fill it with what makes you feel something.
Feel the pain, cry, let it out.
I've spent hours and hours trying to figure out what it is about those days that I desperately want to pass when I'm in them that also makes me long for them when they're over.
They make me feel alive.
Even if I feel so lost, and alone, and hopeless.
I feel.
Those moments I remind myself of who I am and why. I collect the little moments that make me feel an inner peace and I build on them.
If I feel this thing, and someone else relates to what I feel, then it's worth it.
It's like reaching through to this person I don't even know and holding their hand; reaching out support to them to let them know, "hey, you're not alone."
To me, that is a powerful thing.
I feel like there's more to say, and I could keep rambling to try and get it out, but I think my point was made. At least, the best it can be. Sometimes words just aren't enough.
<3 p="">
Thursday, September 25, 2014
End of a journal entry.
What you think matters, what you feel matters, what you want to say matters. You matter.
Oh gosh, how you matter.
So keep thinking, keep feeling, keep wanting. Keep that blood pumping through your veins.
Every bit of you is important.
Oh gosh, how you matter.
So keep thinking, keep feeling, keep wanting. Keep that blood pumping through your veins.
Every bit of you is important.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Autumn.
Yesterday marked the first day of Autumn in the US, and it seems as though the grackles and morning air have a calendar and abide solely by what it says.
I must admit, it is a very welcome change; even if it is ever so slight.
So I've got my fall scented burner going, my favorite Autumn tunes and a comfy (light) sweater on as I try to convey what it is I want to say.
Let me preface with a few thoughts about this post.
At first, the realization happened and a smile was brought to my face. I felt light and pleasant--like all my enduring and pain was finally starting to let up and things are getting better. I kinda already talked about this a bit before, but this was a moment for me.
Then I started thinking about writing the blog post, and how this might be one I put out there. Not many people read this blog, and certain points I'll post about publicly.
Then I started to think about if this will get backlash. What would I do if someone chewed me out over it or got their feelings hurt?
Then I thought something momentous: This is my story, I'm entitled to tell it. I don't care what they think.
So, here we go.
Today is my co worker's birthday. I woke up early so I could buy her flowers and a balloon before work because "every birthday girl needs a balloon!" That's when I noticed the cooler air, crisp against my skin. Autumn is here.
In Texas, it takes a bit longer for the full effects to happen, so we relish in the 79 degrees that is the first sign of Fall. I felt happier, more alive.
I felt hopeful.
My boss's wife had made a breakfast casserole for my co worker since breakfast is her favorite and asked me to bake it in the morning. I get here before anyone else, so I'm bustling about, getting everything ready, putting the flowers and balloons on Gail's desk just right and making sure everything is good to go for breakfast.
About the time Gail walked in the door, you could smell the goodness coming from the oven. The timer went off and I pulled the dish out and smiled.
It felt like fall, the air smelled of fall. I was reminded of days of open window, lit candles, curled up on the couch, cup of coffee roommate living and it made me smile.
So I took these pictures when I realized what was happening.
I must admit, it is a very welcome change; even if it is ever so slight.
So I've got my fall scented burner going, my favorite Autumn tunes and a comfy (light) sweater on as I try to convey what it is I want to say.
Let me preface with a few thoughts about this post.
At first, the realization happened and a smile was brought to my face. I felt light and pleasant--like all my enduring and pain was finally starting to let up and things are getting better. I kinda already talked about this a bit before, but this was a moment for me.
Then I started thinking about writing the blog post, and how this might be one I put out there. Not many people read this blog, and certain points I'll post about publicly.
Then I started to think about if this will get backlash. What would I do if someone chewed me out over it or got their feelings hurt?
Then I thought something momentous: This is my story, I'm entitled to tell it. I don't care what they think.
So, here we go.
Today is my co worker's birthday. I woke up early so I could buy her flowers and a balloon before work because "every birthday girl needs a balloon!" That's when I noticed the cooler air, crisp against my skin. Autumn is here.
In Texas, it takes a bit longer for the full effects to happen, so we relish in the 79 degrees that is the first sign of Fall. I felt happier, more alive.
I felt hopeful.
My boss's wife had made a breakfast casserole for my co worker since breakfast is her favorite and asked me to bake it in the morning. I get here before anyone else, so I'm bustling about, getting everything ready, putting the flowers and balloons on Gail's desk just right and making sure everything is good to go for breakfast.
About the time Gail walked in the door, you could smell the goodness coming from the oven. The timer went off and I pulled the dish out and smiled.
It felt like fall, the air smelled of fall. I was reminded of days of open window, lit candles, curled up on the couch, cup of coffee roommate living and it made me smile.
So I took these pictures when I realized what was happening.
Smells of Autumn.
So I'm there, happy. Even in knowing that I can't eat ham and I will surely be feeling the pain of this temporary pleasure later. The memories were sweet and I wanted to run with it.
That's when I realized how hopeful I felt.
I used to be friends with this girl, and my experiences with her had overrun my view of fall. By "overrun" I mean that they had replaced the old memories and became the new thing with which I associated Fall. This was good at the time, but became painful as the days passed.
I'll admit, I was a bit nervous coming to the end of this summer, knowing that I could potentially be overwhelmed by the memories of years before. That Autumn and Winter could become a darkness that settles over my heart rather than a freshness that wakes me up. I had finally moved past the connotation of death and near death that had laced the seasons before, only to have it replaced with pain and betrayal to learn to move past.
I was very fortunate last year to be living where I was. My roommates were wonderful and helped give me something positive to hold to and a great example to follow in my own life. I think this was a detrimental step in the process to coming to an Autumn and eventually Winter that I can enjoy, and for that I am forever grateful.
There are still moments that past people say things that hurt. They may think they are doing the righteous thing, but it's actually twisting the knife around and can make for a painful day. But I am glad to know that I am on the ascending end of this issue, and that next year the Autumn season will be laced with happy feelings.
I hope the house is finished before the cool weather goes away, so I can spend a Saturday with open windows, comfy pants, lit candles, and favorite movies.
It's these simple things that remind you that life is good. These kind of days where you can step back and know you like the person you are.
Thanks, Autumn.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Unmasked.
I hate new things,
but I love new things.
Yes, I realize this is an oxymoron, I have just accepted the fact that my life is laced with them.
I'm at a new dance studio.
It sucked leaving my old one.
It sucked starting the new one.
But as I start to find my footing, make a fool of myself, and face these gargantuan fears no one else even realizes are there, I find myself in one of my favorite times of meeting new people.
You can never take back a first impression.
With some people, first impressions are only the first layer of beauty the person possesses.
With others, it's about the only beautiful thing you'll see.
Nonetheless, these are my favorites, because you get can learn so much.
There's this girl in my Ballet V class that has to be the sweetest person I've ever met.
But she's not so shallow as to just remain there.
She's one of the first of the girls I didn't know to talk to me, and that has meant so much.
More than that, she's real.
People say that I'm sweet, but they don't seem to leave me room to be anything other than sweet.
She was late one day and clearly frazzled, and when someone asked her, she didn't mask it.
The thought of not masking to some people is unheard of to me.
With more thought, I can recognize that there are times that I can be unmasked, and others where it's easier to not be.
I guess the hardest part is encountering those people who knew me when I was younger; ya know, before the world took it's beating, before I had to fight my way to survival. Who they knew me then, although the same person, functions a bit differently now. Some can accept it, but others aren't as open. It tends to be the ones that are just takers that have the hardest time. Sadly, some takers are a necessary evil.
Anyway.
Seeing her reaction and her honesty in life really showed me it's possible. That you should have a place that's safe to be yourself and not have to put up a front, and you should strive to life an unmasked life. (Given that you're a decent human being and not just using that as an excuse to be a jerk.)
So, thanks for being sunshine, Eloise, and for not being afraid to show that sometimes rain happens.
but I love new things.
Yes, I realize this is an oxymoron, I have just accepted the fact that my life is laced with them.
I'm at a new dance studio.
It sucked leaving my old one.
It sucked starting the new one.
But as I start to find my footing, make a fool of myself, and face these gargantuan fears no one else even realizes are there, I find myself in one of my favorite times of meeting new people.
You can never take back a first impression.
With some people, first impressions are only the first layer of beauty the person possesses.
With others, it's about the only beautiful thing you'll see.
Nonetheless, these are my favorites, because you get can learn so much.
There's this girl in my Ballet V class that has to be the sweetest person I've ever met.
But she's not so shallow as to just remain there.
She's one of the first of the girls I didn't know to talk to me, and that has meant so much.
More than that, she's real.
People say that I'm sweet, but they don't seem to leave me room to be anything other than sweet.
She was late one day and clearly frazzled, and when someone asked her, she didn't mask it.
The thought of not masking to some people is unheard of to me.
With more thought, I can recognize that there are times that I can be unmasked, and others where it's easier to not be.
I guess the hardest part is encountering those people who knew me when I was younger; ya know, before the world took it's beating, before I had to fight my way to survival. Who they knew me then, although the same person, functions a bit differently now. Some can accept it, but others aren't as open. It tends to be the ones that are just takers that have the hardest time. Sadly, some takers are a necessary evil.
Anyway.
Seeing her reaction and her honesty in life really showed me it's possible. That you should have a place that's safe to be yourself and not have to put up a front, and you should strive to life an unmasked life. (Given that you're a decent human being and not just using that as an excuse to be a jerk.)
So, thanks for being sunshine, Eloise, and for not being afraid to show that sometimes rain happens.
Monday, September 22, 2014
Please, be. ©
I have you but a moment
A fleeting breath slips through my lips
As you slip through my fingers
A fleeting breath slips through my lips
As you slip through my fingers
You're gone as quickly as you came
My eyes are open
Searching, waiting.
Hoping to see you
walk through that door.
My eyes are open
Searching, waiting.
Hoping to see you
walk through that door.
I'll slip back into your arms
Next to your heart
Your hand in mine
Where we belong.
Next to your heart
Your hand in mine
Where we belong.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Birthday.
Tomorrow is the first of the birthday/year of awesome celebrations.
I've just decided that everything awesome will be in attribute to my birthday.
Birthday shopping weekend
Birthday pointe shoe fitting
Birthday SYTYCD Tour
Birthday Europe trip
Why not?
Now, I don't know if I'll stick with this, but it's a fun thought.
'Bout to go buy new windshield wiper blades.
Because it's my birthday. And it's supposed to rain.
As it should :)
I've just decided that everything awesome will be in attribute to my birthday.
Birthday shopping weekend
Birthday pointe shoe fitting
Birthday SYTYCD Tour
Birthday Europe trip
Why not?
Now, I don't know if I'll stick with this, but it's a fun thought.
'Bout to go buy new windshield wiper blades.
Because it's my birthday. And it's supposed to rain.
As it should :)
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Winter.
I have yet to figure out why, but it seems that winter always seems to weigh heavier than most seasons.
I'm not sure if it's because the cold is here such a short amount of time in comparison to the warmth, thus having a far narrower spectrum of time to place into this category.
It could just be because tragedy seems to strike more in the fall and winter months.
*shrug*
I tend to dread it. So much so, that I was exceptionally panicky one October. A good friend caught on and thus got with my roommate to fill my hallway with balloons.
FILLED. WITH. BALLOONS.
And at the end of the hallway was two stuffed elephants and my favorite candy.
It was amazing, unlike anything ever.
It definitely helped combat those winter blues, especially for that year, and thankfully that October went down as one laced with moments of happiness, rather than the notorious years of pain.
The thing about painful winters is that you not only feel them when they happen,
But also the next year; when the air is crisp and memories stare you blankly in the face.
It's heavy, like a blanket of snow on your shoulders, stitched together and never melting.Then you reluctantly face the cheery summer that mocks you. How can you possibly think of going into a summer that's supposed to be happy with this blanket suffocating you?
And it's the first year without Instep, which is gonna be hard, since such happy winter memories were made there.
But, you know what?
This year is different.
This year, no one is going to dictate my winter but me.*
This year, I'm calling the shots.
This year, I'm not going to feel guilty over things that aren't in my control.
This year, I'm gonna appreciate what's around me to the fullest.
This year, I'm taking winter back.
I'm gonna fill it with memories that leave me smiling.
I'm going to surround myself with people I love.
I'm going to talk about things that make me feel happy.
And next year, when I look back, I may feel sad, because I'll miss it so much.
But then I'll feel inspired to make that next approaching year even better than this one.
Simply. It doesn't take much. Just some good people, a couple good books, a few adventures, and lots of laughs.
This year is different.
And I'm looking forward to it.
*I would hope that when I say "No one but me" that it is assumed that "me" is synonymous with God. Of course, He has the final say. But I do what He says. It's not necessarily a big, impressive prayer, just a gentle nudging and knowing.
Anywho. Just to clarify.
Carry on.
I'm not sure if it's because the cold is here such a short amount of time in comparison to the warmth, thus having a far narrower spectrum of time to place into this category.
It could just be because tragedy seems to strike more in the fall and winter months.
*shrug*
I tend to dread it. So much so, that I was exceptionally panicky one October. A good friend caught on and thus got with my roommate to fill my hallway with balloons.
FILLED. WITH. BALLOONS.
And at the end of the hallway was two stuffed elephants and my favorite candy.
It was amazing, unlike anything ever.
It definitely helped combat those winter blues, especially for that year, and thankfully that October went down as one laced with moments of happiness, rather than the notorious years of pain.
The thing about painful winters is that you not only feel them when they happen,
But also the next year; when the air is crisp and memories stare you blankly in the face.
It's heavy, like a blanket of snow on your shoulders, stitched together and never melting.Then you reluctantly face the cheery summer that mocks you. How can you possibly think of going into a summer that's supposed to be happy with this blanket suffocating you?
And it's the first year without Instep, which is gonna be hard, since such happy winter memories were made there.
But, you know what?
This year is different.
This year, no one is going to dictate my winter but me.*
This year, I'm calling the shots.
This year, I'm not going to feel guilty over things that aren't in my control.
This year, I'm gonna appreciate what's around me to the fullest.
This year, I'm taking winter back.
I'm gonna fill it with memories that leave me smiling.
I'm going to surround myself with people I love.
I'm going to talk about things that make me feel happy.
And next year, when I look back, I may feel sad, because I'll miss it so much.
But then I'll feel inspired to make that next approaching year even better than this one.
Simply. It doesn't take much. Just some good people, a couple good books, a few adventures, and lots of laughs.
This year is different.
And I'm looking forward to it.
*I would hope that when I say "No one but me" that it is assumed that "me" is synonymous with God. Of course, He has the final say. But I do what He says. It's not necessarily a big, impressive prayer, just a gentle nudging and knowing.
Anywho. Just to clarify.
Carry on.
Friday, August 29, 2014
This week.
To say this week has been amazing is an understatement.
In the past 6 days, I have booked a trip for Europe, found a way to go to a dance tour I really wanted to see, found out my tickets are SECOND ROW (WHAT?!) and won a professional pointe shoe fitting contest (which I so desperately need.)
I've started new classes and really enjoy them, especially Thursdays. I feel like I'm finally starting to find where I belong, and I'm making new friends.
I got to see my baby Jenna yesterday, which absolutely made my day.
I haven't been too insanely sick, which is nice, although sometimes my stomach likes to throw me some curveballs.
I really need to book more photo shoots.
I'm trying not to stress out about that.
I really felt like God wanted me to not worry about distance or gas or money. To do what I feel in my heart I need to do and take the risk.
So, here's me, taking risks.
And, believe it or not, nervous me isn't freaking out near as much as I normally would.
(Go team!)
In the past 6 days, I have booked a trip for Europe, found a way to go to a dance tour I really wanted to see, found out my tickets are SECOND ROW (WHAT?!) and won a professional pointe shoe fitting contest (which I so desperately need.)
I've started new classes and really enjoy them, especially Thursdays. I feel like I'm finally starting to find where I belong, and I'm making new friends.
I got to see my baby Jenna yesterday, which absolutely made my day.
I haven't been too insanely sick, which is nice, although sometimes my stomach likes to throw me some curveballs.
I really need to book more photo shoots.
I'm trying not to stress out about that.
I really felt like God wanted me to not worry about distance or gas or money. To do what I feel in my heart I need to do and take the risk.
So, here's me, taking risks.
And, believe it or not, nervous me isn't freaking out near as much as I normally would.
(Go team!)
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Monday, August 4, 2014
Contemplation
It always seems that my biggest burst of inspiration for creating comes when I'm at work.
I guess when you're faced with something you don't want, you're reminded of all the things you do want.
It's easy to forget how important something is to you when you have time to spare, but when push comes to shove you're forced to make a choice.
As I'm waiting for my co worker to leave to bust out my journal and sketchbook, I'm reminded of what is important to me, those things I value above the mundane, and the certain qualities I like about myself.
I have to remind myself of these times when the world seems dull and impossible. It's best to look around you and see all the beautiful things you do have, rather than thinking of the things you wish you had. One day you'll look back and wish you'd appreciated what you have now.
Time goes by way too quickly to waste a second. Everything can change in an instant, and if that hasn't happened to you yet, it will.
That's no reason to be afraid, just be aware.
Grab every moment and hold it tight before progression forces you to let go.
Memories are all we have left in this world.
I guess when you're faced with something you don't want, you're reminded of all the things you do want.
It's easy to forget how important something is to you when you have time to spare, but when push comes to shove you're forced to make a choice.
As I'm waiting for my co worker to leave to bust out my journal and sketchbook, I'm reminded of what is important to me, those things I value above the mundane, and the certain qualities I like about myself.
I have to remind myself of these times when the world seems dull and impossible. It's best to look around you and see all the beautiful things you do have, rather than thinking of the things you wish you had. One day you'll look back and wish you'd appreciated what you have now.
Time goes by way too quickly to waste a second. Everything can change in an instant, and if that hasn't happened to you yet, it will.
That's no reason to be afraid, just be aware.
Grab every moment and hold it tight before progression forces you to let go.
Memories are all we have left in this world.
Friday, July 11, 2014
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)