Some thoughts...

True life: I am a recovering awkward.

2011-12-25T23:18:00.000-08:00

This topic is not one I touch upon frequently - especially not publicly. However, I have always counted one of my strengths (and at times weaknesses) to be honesty. I find there is not enough honesty in the world, and sometimes when I engage in conversation I wanna scream, "Just say what you really mean!" If we were to all say what we really mean, if we were all a little more honest with each other, I believe the world would be a better place.

For example, if every celebrity would stop saying they have perfectly sculpted bodies because they are always "chasing their kids around," and admitted to America that they spend thousands of dollars on a personal trainer and eat nothing but protein shakes and rice cakes, us normies would feel a little better about our normie bodies. If every over achiever student would stop claiming they "didn't really study" for that mid term they got an A+ on, and instead admit they didn't sleep for weeks so they could get more flash card memorization in...the student who failed and actually didn't study wouldn't feel like such an idiot. If we could all stop pretending that we don't try and be a little more encouraging to each other... I think we could remove a lot of emotional issues all together. Which is why I am blogging to discuss this constant problem I have:

I often feel extremely awkward.

People who know me on an acquaintance basis might be slightly surprised to hear this - considering I have developed normal social skills, look like a normal person and am relatively successful out of college. However, in the spirit of honesty, I am going to divulge a small truth to you - if you promise not to laugh (too hard).

Yep. That was me. 13 years old, awkwarding out the greater Chicago area. Yes, most people go through an awkward phase and yes, it could have been worse. However - my awkward phase wasn't that brief year in middle school when things were a little weird, my awkward phase lasted 8 years. EIGHT. Think of the most formative, foundational years of your life - and then imagine being awkward for ALL of them. (And in case you were wondering - that is my natural skin color. Once I transitioned out of awkward land, I found other methods to keep from blinding everyone within a 10 foot radius. These methods are time consuming and expensive, it's not just from "walking to and from my car." No celebrity answers here, folks.) We are talking pre puberty, puberty, and moving from puberty to early adult hood...awkward.

While I was not a local news story about a suicide attempt due to bullying because I was super into anime or ninja turtles (because I feel so sad for those poor kids), I can say that boys did NOT like me. Did NOT. At least not the normal ones. I have a very sensitive spot in my heart about a certain group of boys in Middle School who liked every single one of my friends except for me. We are talking TOTAL rejection at middle school dances, general group hangouts and every other opposite sex function ever. The kids called me pale and fugly and "fotch." (Yes, they called me a fotch when I was 12 and I begged my mom to let me dye my hair but she said no - thanks for that, Linda.) In the years that I started noticing boys and when my self esteem started forming, all I knew is that I was ugly. That's what I was told, and that's what was known at school. No matter what my mother told me at home or some random adult in the grocery store who was CONVINCED I would grow up to be gorgeous, all I knew was that in reality - I was ugly. I would go to the bathroom and cry after every fotch joke, this was serious. And this lasted and lasted - and it got worse. Middle School was just the beginning, but enter freshman year at Wheaton North (a public high school of like, 40,000 kids. That's an exaggeration but that's how it felt). My zero curves, night walking 80 pound self had to roam the halls in the shadow of my blonde bomb shell older sister just hoping to get noticed - which actually never happened. The "your sister is so hot - what happened to you?" comments were just a day in the life. And since there was a lot more going on with me at the time - the type of thing that is too personal to blog about, or else everything gets super weird - I spent most afternoons after school crying in my room. While battling acne and staring in the mirror trying to WILL any sort of curve to grow, (seriously, I even tried mind power) being invisible became a feeling that was all too familiar.

And even after I slowly transitioned out of this - junior year hit, I discovered tanning beds, got my braces off and found a blow dryer - the feeling of awkward never went away. And I say never, because it's still there. Even though I am now an un-awkward, fully functioning human, in my head I am still 80 pounds and bright as the sunshine, incapable of having a normal conversation with a cute boy. Even though I look back on those middle school boys (spoiler alert: they always grow up to be ugly) and chuckle because the jokes on them, I saw one of them at Barnes and Noble the other day and suddenly felt like hiding under a chair. How ridiculous! I am 22 years old, fully bloomed (the curve fairy came in college) and the grown up version of a scrawny little 12 year old makes me quake and shake.

But that's just the truth of it - that we all feel a little awkward sometimes. And even though I feel more awkward than maybe my sister does, or those kids I went to school with who never had an awkward phase (you all suck by the way), we all have moments where we feel inadequate, sweaty or like we might have something in our teeth. If we could all just admit to it, I believe that horrible awkward feeling might start to subside. If I had more friends who confessed to downing 5 cupcakes for breakfast, or not washing their hair for a whole week - the little things I felt insecure about that day would just feel normal, because I would know that everyone sometimes comes to work with dirty hair or linty pants, and it's okay. We are human, and we need to stop being so scared to admit it.

So here's my challenge to you: start confessing your inner awkward. Because come on, the truth that my natural skin color shines like the stars at night definitely makes you feel a little better about yourself, and you know it.

...I'm just saying.

Going home for lunch.

2011-12-16T20:28:00.000-08:00

As I've declared many times, I am not the most extraverted person in the world. Although I can be bubbly and "turn it on" when it needs to be on - - I would pick being alone over being with others 9 times out of 10. While I have come to know, grasp, love and understand this part of myself over the past few years - as a child, it wasn't so easy.

I always knew I was a little different from the other kids...I loathed engaging in ridiculous activities such as soccer at recess, playing in the snow, and any form of a sleepover. The only reason I ever involved myself in such things was due to social pressures or because it made me feel more normal. I often felt like a weirdo, and I wish my parents had come across the book, "The Highly Sensitive Child" following with "The Highly Sensitive Person" so I could have adjusted better to my unique temperament earlier than age 20. (I spent most of my life thinking there was something wrong with me.) Unfortunately that was not the case. But as I have come to terms with my introverted nature, looking back I remember certain moments and feelings I had that I still have today.

One distinct memory I have, is going home for lunch.

Yes - a magical time. In elementary school we were allowed to go home for lunch. So after the hustle and bustle of morning classroom time, I received the joy of being picked up in my mother's periwinkle blue mini van and whisked away to the safety of my own home for one precious hour of my day. Not every day was a going home for lunch day, somedays my mother would have errands or meetings. These days would leave me stuck in a very overstimulating cafeteria eating a bagged lunch, next to horribly chattery girls making jokes that I never thought were funny, playing with their food in a manner that made me nauseous. I hated this time of the day. For a highly sensitive child, this was a living nightmare. All I would think about was curling up in the corner with my fingers in my ears to get two seconds of peace and quiet before I resumed more overstimulation, afternoon class. Afternoon class was worse than morning class, because the children would come in all hyphy from recess, cracked out on the sugar from their juice boxes and pudding cups. By the end of a full day at elementary school, my 7 year old self felt like passing out.

But going home for lunch was a breath of fresh air. For one hour I had quiet. I had the warm and nurturing presence of my mother, our quiet little house and freshly cooked mac n cheese that I could eat peacefully, in front of the Disney Channel which required no interaction on my part, at a volume that I got to choose. For one hour I was safe from the chaos, from recess games and loud lunch bells and laughter and food fights and lunch ladies who were only lunch ladies because they had miserable lives and enjoyed yelling at children. (You know exactly what I'm talking about.) Going home for lunch was an invaluable time that allowed me to recover from the morning and survive the rest of my day.

But it was always bitter sweet. Because no matter how relaxed and happy I was, 12:45 always came. 12:45 meant I had to brush my teeth, get back in the van, and head back to the chaos. I would walk back onto the playground to be greeted loudly and obnoxiously by the overly chattery girls, who made jokes I never thought were funny and were now hyphy from recess and sugar. I remember I would close the van door and take a deep breath before entering the premises - because I knew I was about to be hating life for 3 more hours. It was an inevitable fate.

While I didn't realize at the time what was happening - (that being introverted is a biological condition, and I needed to recharge my energy by being alone in order to continue to peacefully be with people - man, would have been helpful to know this), I know now when that begins to happen. Although it is quite different now.

Now, my weekends are like going home for lunch. I spend Monday through Friday in an overstimulating cafeteria, with loud people who tell jokes I don't think are funny, who live their lives in ways that make me feel like an alien observing another planet. I get sexually harassed by middle aged business owners, brutally rejected and bitched out by strangers, all the while trying to tune out an ungodly amount of pressure that LITERALLY wakes me up in the night. Although if my 7 year old self had to endure this I would have died at age 8 (not exaggerating), and an actual cafeteria with 6 year olds and their bagged lunches sounds like a piece of cake... my 22 year old self can cope, but not without going home for lunch. Friday evening, Saturday and Sunday I return to a world that makes sense to me. A world that quiets down at 9pm, a world where I feel safe and where all standard morals apply (or at least the ones I grew up with), a world with warm and nurturing people who love me, with old friends who live their lives in ways that I admire. An extremely cute dog and my Christmas scented candles from Yankee, (Balsam & Cedar, Cinnamon Sparkle - invest, I'm serious), with no pressure to be anything but myself - or to do anything but what I want to do.

Although I wish all of life could be like going home for lunch, and that every day would be like the sigh of relief I heave out when I finally pull into my driveway on a Friday - I know that that's not real. And given all that happened in the fall of man, it is a miracle that we still get to go home for lunch, to have little breathers and moments of safety before this cold and overwhelming world swallows us whole for another week. I thank the Lord every day for the success I have had at my job, and for the wonderful home I come back to when it is over.

And when Monday morning comes and a feeling of dread creeps into my stomach - I know that in a few days, I can go home for lunch again.

...I'm just saying

I'm annoyed.

2011-09-01T20:25:00.000-07:00

By this.

Please click that link, or else you won't know what I'm writing about.

I am sitting in my bed, all ready to go to sleep, when I receive an email from my dad about an event coming up at Wheaton College. Of course, my father who is married to/the dad of two women that share very similar issues and values (ahem, vanity), was only trying to spark my interest and encourage me to attend said event for positive reasons. While I am not annoyed with my dad, I am annoyed with this topic.

Mainly, I am annoyed with the people who talk about this topic.

Yes, I am all about loving your body. Yes, I am all about embracing who you are, dressing for your body, and caring more about the inside than the outside. But am I all about letting yourself go because God says it's okay? Absolutely not. Why? Because WE STILL LIVE IN THE WORLD.

Yes, that's right. I can write as many books and speak at as many lectures as I want about how image doesn't matter, body doesn't matter, it doesn't matter it doesn't matter it doesn't matter but then as soon as I step outside of the lecture hall, or close my book and run an errand, guess what? It matters. It just does. Why? Because if I was 300 pounds over weight, I wouldn't have gotten the job that I have. I also wouldn't have the wonderful boyfriend that I have. And yes, I do feel comfortable saying that, because if Sam was 300 pounds over weight, I wouldn't have started dating him either. Of course we can argue that it's all about compatibility, love and the goodness of your partner's heart, and I would be the first to raise my hand and agree... but that's after you get past the first step, the initial stage, the audition: physical attraction. Sam nor I would have even stood a chance with each other if either of us hadn't passed that test. I would have never gotten to know how completely wonderful he is if I didn't FIRST find him completely hot. So let me be clear, this blog is not about needing to be hot or thin to get a man, it's about every human being needing to be attractive to someone else in order to even have a relationship. It's just the truth, and we all know it, no matter how many stay at home moms tell us it's a lie.

While I don't know much about this book, or this woman (except that her picture completely diminishes all credibility in my eyes), I will say that she makes a point when saying that beauty is not just one thing, like skinny jeans or long hair etc. People come in all shapes and sizes, and someone who I would not consider to be attractive could be stunning to someone else, and vise versa. I recognize that for most people, the media's standard of beauty is pretty tough to achieve, considering we did not all grow up to be 6 feet tall with perfectly symmetrical faces. However, I will stand by the blunt truth once again that the world cares about appearance. In every culture worldwide there is a standard of beauty that is impossible to avoid. As Christians we are called to be in the world but not of the world (which I am ALL about), but being in the world does not mean "ignore everything the world does and pretend it doesn't exist." That would cause us to stick out in a negative way, in a way that doesn't attract others to want to be Christlike, it would moreso attract others to want to NOT be Christlike. (I know in my experience, as I've blogged about before, even I have come across Christians that make me not really want to be a Christian anymore, you feel me?)

I am completely exhausted of hearing about how the media "lies" to us about beauty being our number one priority, because as far as I know, people have had eyes since the beginning of time. Additionally, God for sure mentions whether or not people are hot in the bible...Esther? Joseph? Sampson? Rachel? The list goes on. (Not to mention that Jacob wanted to marry Rachel instead of Leah because Rachel was prettier, not because her personality was super awesome. I'm just saying.) And why are we not looking at how we are created? Humans are visual beings! Why do you think God created the mountains or the ocean, beautiful plants and animals? Because they are pretty! Is there some secret reason that we are supposed to exclude human beings from this category? Aren't we created in God's image? Aren't we made to admire each other physically? Have you ever seen a completely repulsive looking animal (like this one) yet still oo'ed and aah'ed over its great personality? Absolutely not. Let's be realistic here.

If we Christians could just open our eyes, and maybe have a lecture series or a few stay at home mom novels on how to productively handle the issue of beauty, its importance in our lives and in the world, and how it can be beneficial, it would probably be a lot more useful. Because no matter how hard we try to look away from the magazine covers in the checkout line at Jewel (or Vons, depending on where you're reading this), the magazine covers are never going to look away from us.

And neither are dating prospects.

I'm just saying.

Snooty vs. Epic

2011-08-16T18:32:00.001-07:00

I am blogging to share a very serious dilemma that is occurring in my life.

As we have probably already figured out by past posts, fitness is a big thing for me. I am a 4-5 timer a week, fitness is built into my routine. The importance of fitness in my life began after I turned 20 and suddenly learned that eating 7 oatmeal raisin cookies on a daily basis no longer equals size 2. Thus began habitual exercising. (I also no longer eat cookies.) Although I would definitely put working out on a top 10 list of things I hate, it's something I love to hate. Love the results, hate the work. (Kind of like my job). But after I left college land (class at 1pm and lots of chill/nap time) and entered grown up land (up at dawn and home at 7pm), finding the time (and energy) for fitness has become near impossible. I am starting to understand why most women over 30 don't look as rockin as they used to - since these women work full time AND have the joy of children (whom I still hate, by the way). When I get home after a long day of driving/walking/skipping across the greater Chicago area (because that's pretty much my job) - the very last thing I want to do is hit the gym. In fact, you can find me in my jam jams laying on my bed within 10 minutes. Not kidding. Which leads us to our main problem:

My gym is 15 minutes away.

That's right, 15 minutes. And anyone else in the world who loves to hate working out knows that just GETTING to the gym is 75% of the battle.

So here is the option: There is a gym right across the street.

Now before you tell me, "Elizabeth - that's a no brainer. You should obvi join the gym across the street." Let me clarify something. My gym that is 15 minutes away - is LIFETIME. Yes, lifetime. Any lifetime member knows that lifetime is not just a gym...it's an experience. Fitness is no longer just fitness, it's an adventure, a magical escapade that begins once you open the big glass lifetime doors. Lifetime is an escape. You can spend hours there, and in fact, I do. It's one of my favorite pass times. On a Saturday morning/afternoon, you can find me enjoying a 90 minute work out with the cornucopia of exercise equipment that lifetime has to offer. After that you will see me sipping on a protein shake and eating fruit from the lifecafe, all while sinking onto a leather couch in the women's lounge watching HGTV. Following this is hot tub time in lifetime's ginormously spacious hot tubs (because there are 2) (and they are olympic sized). To conclude, an hour of shower/get ready time in the cozy, wood paneled women's locker room. All of this takes place WITHOUT seeing anyone I know and WITHOUT having to talk to a single person. An introverted dream.

Now, before you tell me, "Elizabeth, it's a no brainer, lifetime is LIFE altering." I will say, "I know," but here's the issue: that's only on Saturdays. On week days I have no interest of having a lifetime adventure - all I wanna do is get in and get out. Whether that be a 5am spin or a quick cardio weights session after work, leisurely gym time is the last thing on my mind. And there is just absolutely no way that I will haul my little booty 15 minutes to lifetime. Because there and back, that's 30 minutes taken away from jam/jam bed time. Which brings us to the gym across the street:

The Wheaton Sports Center.

Ugh. Just the sound of it ultimately sucks. I have been cheating on lifetime a little, I got a few guest passes to WSC to try it out, to see if it was tolerable. Tonight was my first time, and it was completely underwhelming. Let me break down the things I don't like about WSC:

- Small

- Not epic

- Lots of people I vaguely know (rando people who graduated ahead of me at Wheaton North, people's moms, old teachers, etc.) (this completely ruins the experience)

- Some people I actually know (old classmates, people's moms, etc.) (even more than ruins the experience)

- The front desk people call the members BY NAME. (This takes away the anonymity of the experience, I want to know zero people when going to the gym.)

- The hot tubs are far from olympic sized

- There is no cafe

- Everyone kind of stares at each other (I mean, what if I trip? Fall off the treadmill? Spill water on my face while I'm running like I sometimes do? Everyone is watching. So awk.)

- It is snooty (elitist, WSC people are generally just snooty and everyone knows it)

- Zero experience factor

But let's be 100% honest with ourselves. When I was having jamjam time on my bed tonight, I thought "ugh I don't wanna work out." But then I thought, "well, it's right across the street, so I might as well just go." And that's the magic that we were looking for. Monday-Friday, I ultimately just need a place that gets the job done. Not to mention, there is coffee. Yes, coffee. Complimentary. All kinds of creamers, funsy to-go cups, all right there outside of the locker room. Can you picture me grabbing a to-go cup of french vanilla after my 5:15am spin class, on my way to work? Unfortunately, I can too.

So folks, at this point, it's my head or my heart. My head says WSC. I am shallow, the bod comes first. But my heart says lifetime, I'm a true introvert and a sucker for epic experiences.

I have until the end of August to decide the fate of my fitness for the next year.

I'll keep you posted.

....just saying

Grown up land

2011-07-01T23:41:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know...I have been awful at blogging. But it's only because I have been so busy transitioning into grown up land. And that's what this post is about.

I haven't voiced many of my thoughts on grown up land to anyone, really. Since I got hired at Cbeyond a month ago, I have been so tired/stressed/overwhelmed... the last thing I've felt like doing is talking about more things that make me tired/stressed/overwhelmed. But as I've expressed in my blog before, though I may present a calm and unfazed face to the world...an entirely opposite narrative takes place in my head on a constant basis.

Something happens after you leave college land and enter grown up land... scandalous secrets start pouring out of other adults. Suddenly you are a peer and no longer an inferior whose innocence they must protect. It seems that over the past few months I have been bombarded with the truth about grown ups...marriages of neighbors and friends I always thought were peaceful are actually filled with deceit and contempt; rage and drama occurs privately between seemingly cheerful members of my home church; co-workers in my office engage in consistent competition and disrespect. If I could pick one word to describe the world I have just entered, it would be dirty. When we're little, and even in high school we see grown ups as higher beings. Their purpose is to protect us, guide us and help us when we're in need. But let me tell you...when you enter grown up land as a grown up, you realize that grown ups cheat on their wives, lie to get ahead at work, abandon their little children and cuss at people when they drive. And those are just the things I thought were appropriate enough to mention.

It sucks.

Grown ups are dirty. This world is dirty. While I did not realize it at the time, I have been extremely sheltered these past four years at a Christian college. Although I was aware of the taboo things that happen here on earth, I was able to stay within an arms length of them. Now, I am not only immersed in the earth, but in my generation. Being in a primarily 20-something office, the habits and social norms of 2011 culture have been slammed in my face since day 1...things I will NEVER understand, despite my every attempt. The moral code that my family and closest friends all abide by does not apply, and I am considered an absolute lunatic for the things I believe. While I knew the day would come that I would leave the colony of honesty, kindness and abstinence (also known as Westmont College), it has surprised me that I feel so confused and have spent this much time processing this transition. I lie awake at night and ponder the evils of the world...there's so much I have been learning, and so much more yet to come. I have barely scratched the surface of the corporate world, yet it has left me clinging to God with all of my strength. Although I have started grinding my teeth and have not yet adjusted, I am extremely thankful that I am in this position. I've found in the past that my faith thrives when I'm surrounded with secularism. It is much easier for me to see the goodness of God when I am faced with the alternative. (Because with Christians, it's like "omg, you are so weird," but in the real world, it's like "omg, this is so horrible.") It's not even a choice, it's a given. The only thing, the only being that will keep me on the straight and narrow is God. Without Him, everyone will fall.

I have preached many times about not speaking "Christianese." I have griped and complained about how weird Christians are and how odd our language is for expressing our faith. But as I've embarked into this new world, this grown up land, Christianese thoughts and phrases enter my mind throughout each day. And while I will never become a huge weirdo and bust out ex shirts , (because omg, mark my words, I will never be that weird), I can only hope that my weirdo Christianese thoughts and prayers will shine through my every word and action for the remainder of my life.

Because I don't wanna be a dirty grown up.

...just saying.

The truth about this year.

2011-04-19T00:27:00.000-07:00

If you really knew me, you would know one very important thing: I am severely reflective.

While you might think that "severely" does not fit in with that sentence, you're wrong. As a unique individual and also an INFP, I am prone to having a lot of feelings. While that doesn't necessarily make me emotional (I'm not really a crier and sometimes I am actually kind of vapid), it does make me super, super severely reflective. Those close to me know that I will mentally disappear for hours at a time after running into an old friend whom I never speak to, and on the eve of each birthday you will find me gazing at a blank wall pondering the events of the past year, and maybe even the events of my childhood, depending on which song I'm listening to. Not a love has been lost nor a transition been made without cumulative weeks of just severe reflection. That's the only word strong enough to describe this aspect of me.

To get to my point, it's my 22nd birthday. Yes, a big one for my reflective self. Not only have I entered into my 20s, but I am past funsy 21, and into my post college year. Thoughts of the future and of my past will surely keep me up tonight, but a main reflection of mine for this birthday is a little more specific. I have a distinct memory of being 16, and listening to the song "23" by Jimmy Eat World. (Truly an EPIC song.) In the song he says, "amazing still it seems, I'll be 23." When I was 16, I was super awesome and would ditch a class or two (and by a class, I mean choir, and by two, I mean also study hall) (I wasn't that awesome), to go hang out with my super emo badass college boyfriend (yes.). During several of these field trips I would listen to this specific Jimmy song and think to myself, "23 sounds so old. That is gonna be so weird when I'm in the year of turning 23." And then, being even MORE reflective at 16 (due to the ultra fun addition of hormones), I would wonder what I would be like when I was 22. And now, here I am, 22 years old, and I'll be 23.

Tomorrow won't be a fun birthday. I am literally booked from 9am-8pm with meetings and classes...but if you see me, you officially now know there will be a tune in my ear and a memory in my head. Am I who I thought I would be when I was 16? If I could do it all over again, would I? You wouldn't BELIEVE the reflections that happen inside such a small person.

enjoy!

...just saying.

It had to be said.

2011-04-06T23:17:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, my sister wrote a blog on Appropriateness. While that post was about adoption (and I am not adopting a child any time soon) (or ever), it made me realize how little some people know about being appropriate in very specific situations, like that one. Reading her post, I had specific memories of me thinking of asking those rude questions, but then randomly deciding not to. Her advice was so helpful and informative, and I now know how to communicate with parents who are adopting.

There are many things that people do that are rude and inappropriate. Maybe they mean well, but they just need to be informed, because wow, they are so offensive. These past few weeks I have been reflecting on one of these issues. It is my desire and goal to now provide you with an informative and helpful post.

I have come into contact with this "appropriateness issue" over my last 4 years of college. College is a very unique, and isolated experience. You are living closely with hundreds of people your own age. You watch each other's lives, behaviors, and every day happenings in a way that you don't in high school. You also meet and hang out with people from different backgrounds, places, upbringings and cultures. That being said (which I will address more later), I will get to the topic of this post:

Body discussion etiquette.

While that may sound like a strange and unusual topic, the meaning behind that phrase is just this: the appropriate way to discuss other people's body shapes, including eating habits, and negative features.

Want to know what's appropriate?

DON'T DISCUSS IT AT ALL.

Yes. For those who have been educated in this specific etiquette lesson, this is common sense. For those who haven't: listen closely: It is completely 100% inappropriate and completely 100% insulting to make any kind of remark/comment/utterance/verbal thought about someone else's body in any negative way. ever.

I have come across this oddity in college. As I mentioned earlier in the post, college is a unique experience because you live very closely to one another. This means, people are around to watch everything you do. While I personally do not intently monitor everything that other people eat, I have learned the hard way that food monitoring is quite common. In addition to this, COMMENTING about food monitoring findings has been a big part of my life. Phrases such as:

"YOU DON'T EAT ENOUGH."

"YOU NEVER EAT THINGS WITH SUBSTANCE."

"YOU NEED TO EAT MORE."

"YOUR BODY HATES YOU BECAUSE YOU WON'T FEED IT."

have permeated the last 4 years of my life. And after 4 years of silence, I am finally speaking out and saying: Stop! You are inappropriate! Every single person who has ever hounded anyone about their every meal and snack, stop, now! Before it's too late. Imagine if I, or someone were to say:

"YOU EAT TOO MUCH."

"YOU EAT HORRIBLY, BE HEALTHIER."

"YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T BE EATING THAT."

would you not be appalled? Would you not want to hide under your bed and cry, and then continue to be extremely insecure about eating in front of that person forever? Or, if this was said by me to someone else, would you not absolutely loathe and hate me out of defense for your poor friend? Well it's the same in reverse. Be sensitive. (Oh, and also, I log everything I eat in a food log, and I eat enough. People are just mean.)

Not only have I had encounters with the eating police, but also with those "your body sucks" people you meet in college. (To anyone who hasn't had these encounters, I know it sounds crazy, but seriously, it's real.) I remember my freshman year at Biola, a guy in my first semester friend group (because your first semester friend group only lasts a semester, and everyone knows it), would tell me I needed to eat more. He would say things like, "Wow you are TINY. You reallyyyy need to eat. That is not attractive." I specifically remember it was those interactions with him that planted a very small seed in my brain. This was the "maybe there's something wrong with my body" seed. It had not occurred to me before that my body might be bad, ugly, or inadequate. While I had my share of issues and insecurities in high school, that one wasn't really on my mind. But thanks to this boy (how funny that he has probably forgotten this, yet it was life changing for me), that seed grew into an enormous ugly weed that I call the "negative body image" weed. It sprouted and grew leaves and gets watered from time to time by eating police people, and other "you are too skinny and it is not okay and you suck" people. Despite what our culture may tell us (that being thin is right, and being not thin is wrong), 99.9% of people struggle with body image issues. Whether we believe we are too fat or too skinny or too athletic or not athletic enough or too curvy or too shapeless, it's because of that one person in our lives for one random moment (and for some, like me, several people) (or, just the entire media as a whole, but that's another post) to tell us that we are not good enough.

So here is my advice to you: Do not be that person. Just because someone might seem confident or secure does not mean they are exempt from struggles or feeling not good enough. Telling someone to gain or lose weight is equally hurtful, or at least it is for me. I can remember several times at Biola I had to get up from the lunch table to go to the bathroom and cry in the stall because the friends sitting with me kept commenting on what I was eating. (I'm sorry that I don't like vegetables, but let's get over it.) As friends, you should be supporting each other and cheering each other on - not making comments about caloric intake. That's just completely ridiculous. And for those who don't find these comments hurtful, they will find them irritating and it will make them seethe and be pissed at you.

Now, let's address a problem to this etiquette lesson: What if someone actually has a problem? That's not what this post is about. I am not equipped to give advice on eating disorders. This etiquette lesson is for normal healthy people, talking to normal healthy people who have loving families and regular physicians who are perfectly capable of communicating any health concerns that might exist.

Is this you? Are you a food police? Are you a "your body sucks" person? Don't panic, but stop now! Make a change. Stop being mean - for the good of your friendships, and for the lives of others. Don't be the one to plant that seed - sometimes I wonder how differently I might view myself if I had never encountered "your body sucks" people. Keep your thoughts to yourself.

because if everybody verbalized all their thoughts about people's bodies - we would all be crying in the bathroom stall. And take my word for it - it's a crappy time.

...just saying.

Sleeplessness

2011-03-14T00:53:00.000-07:00

It is 2:53 in the morning, and I am awake. This has become a normal thing for me, considering I haven't slept well in over a month. That's right... in over 4 weeks (probably like, 6-7 weeks), I have been mostly sleepless.

It all started when I began searching for a job after college. The stress of being a graduate and becoming a grown up was setting in, and after I would complete full days of resume tweaking, cover letter writing and job hunting, the anxiety would keep my eyes wide open until about 3:30 am... consistently. I don't even HAVE a job yet, and I'm losing sleep from stress. How ridiculous.

Not only am I spending 2-3 hours a day working on finding a job, losing about 4-5 hours of sleep a night freaking out about getting a job, the truth is, I don't even want a job. At least not a real job. Even though I'm doing everything I can to get a real job, secretly, I don't want one.

What do I wanna do, you ask? That's a great question. For starters, I don't want any responsibility. I want to work part time at Abercrombie and Fitch, which basically consists of getting paid to curl my hair and wear skinny jeans and smile at people as they walk into the cologne infested air as I tell them to "check out our cool shorts." That sounds great to me. The only responsibility I would have is looking cute and showing up. And then maybe I want to spend some weekend evenings warming the seat of a front desk in a gym, where I stare blankly at people who swipe their membership cards to come get their fitness on, while I sip a protein shake from the gym cafe, read a magazine, and enjoy my free membership. Completely thoughtless. Completely meaningless. I love it.

Yep. Those are my truest hopes and dreams right about now. While some aspire to be doctors, lawyers, teachers or hold public office... all I can muster up the desire to do is curl my hair each day and watch full seasons of desperate housewives for hours at a time. Of course that's not what I'm actually going to do... but when I eventually do get a job, and I'm telling you how excited I am to work 40 hours a week and be doing something that "matters," you can have the inside knowledge that I'm secretly pining over 12 hours a week at a company that regularly gets sued for discrimination based on race and general physical appearance. (Which my opinion on that is a whole other blog post, which I could write, but I would probably lose some friends. So I won't.)

So why the lack of motivation, yet so much stress? Because I am TIRED. While many college students can fly through their university years with ease and straight A's, this is not the case for me. I have to try so. hard. For tests that students don't study for and get A's, I have made 80 flashcards, memorized them all, and end up with a B+. And before you say boohoo, so do a lot of people, let's get the facts straight: I have a very low energy level. I am always tired. I am introverted, I am easily overwhelmed. All it takes is a 3 hour class and I am useless, burned out for the day. While I power through that (as a responsible and focused human), I hate it. I hate every second. I have about an hour, maybe two, each day of extremely useful brain power that I enjoy using, but after that... I am hating life. End of story. I have always been that way, I will probably always be that way, and there's nothing I can do about it.

Also: Because appearances are important. I like to have my life together, and I like people to know about it. While it might actually be slightly acceptable for me to live at home and waste my life on meaningless part time jobs for a few years... I cannot possibly bring myself to do that. Just like I couldn't bring myself to transfer to Wheaton College and live at home, even though I wanted to, because that would have been ssoooo laaammmeee. I also firmly believe that even if I don't make any sort of difference in society right now, that someday I will. But I'm not actually going to live by that, because that's how you end up 29 and still living in your parent's basement working at Walgreens. And not as a pharmacist.

Essentially what I'm saying is that I have the motivation and enthusiasm of burnout who spends all day playing video games in a garage and hasn't showered in two weeks, yet the pride and snobbery of, well, me.

So here I go... continuing in my night of sleeplessness... praying for a real job, but dreaming of a meaningless future.

those were the days.

...just saying.

(Note: I actually do have depth, intellect and goals for my future, I am just in a lazy phase and am blogging at 3am.)

Sunshine Isn't the Only Solution

2011-02-10T13:36:00.000-08:00

If you know me at all, you'd know that the subject title of this post is not something I would usually write. For the past 21 years, sunshine has always been the solution... warm weather the only cure. However, as I've begun the process of figuring out what I'm doing with my life after college, my perspective has changed a little.

I think I'm moving home after college.

Shocking, I know. It has shocked me that I've even considered it. But after an interesting turn of events a few weeks ago, I was left with two options: stay here, or go home. At first, go home was not an actual option. As my mom was mentioning its practicality over our phone conversation on Sunday I abruptly said, "No, not an option. Too cold. Absolutely not." But as I settled into the thought of staying in Santa Barbara indefinitely, a very potent feeling of misery began to sink in. And by using the term "misery," I am not exaggerating. The future that lay before me felt dismal and pointless...another year of feeling bored, another year of being away from my parents, another year of pouring money down the drain for rent. Bummer.

A few hours after we hung up, my mother called me again. As she began to utter the words, "Just come home" I quickly responded with, "I know I know I've been thinking about it and I want to but I just can't." Why? It's simple. I don't wanna be that person who just moved home after college. To me, that is infinitely beyond lame. "Oh, I have no life plan, so I'm just gonna freeload off my parents until I get my shit straight." Not cool, not who I am, not who I want to be perceived as. That was my biggest fear. Not the cold, not feeling trapped at home, not missing California friends - but being perceived as a deadbeat with no life plan. Yes, superficial, but still - it's the truth.

As we kept discussing this insane idea, I realized that if I had a job I really enjoyed that challenged me, I wouldn't feel that way. Moving home makes sense in every single way...economically, relationally, and career wise (let's be honest, working in Downtown Chicago might provide more opportunities than Santa Barbara). After being completely convinced by my mother that I would be wasting money and time being miserable when I could peacefully live at home for free and work full time - I discussed it with Sam. As I groaned on and on about the cold he put it this way:

"Every time you walk outside and you're cold, it's like someone just put 10 bucks in your pocket."

After he said that - the excitement began to build. I get to go home... while there will definitely be days (or maybe weeks) (actually, probably months) next winter that I am kicking myself for thinking it was actually a good idea to move to the North Pole and live with my parents...deep within me will be a sense of sincere fulfillment that I get to watch my little brother learn how to drive, visit my Dad at his office, watch movies with my mom on a Friday night and hang around with my grandma before she kicks the bucket (which hopefully will not be any time soon). I'll be greeted at the door by my precious little dog, and have a room of my own in a house full of people who love me. All of that + a fantastic full time job (which I'm still working on) is quite enough for me to make my decision. Not only that - but after searching the job market in various locations, the Chicago area is stocked with job openings that I am absolutely thrilled about. While I have no idea if I am going to be able to obtain said jobs (I am definitely not promising that), I am at least moving home with a plan. I will not sit around in my parents house twiddling my thumbs working 15 hours a week at Abercrombie. This is serious. Money in the bank, I will have.

It has taken me a while to declare this plan publicly. As I have tested out responses by telling a few random people, the response to "Yeah I think I'm moving home after college" is usually, "Oh..." Nod. No smile. Ouch. Fail. But despite each of these responses, my spirits are still lifted high. I wrote most of this post about two weeks ago (after I made this big decision) but decided I wasn't ready to share it with everyone. Now that it has sunk in, I have officially targeted my job search to the Chicagoland area, and my parents have basically already made me a Welcome Home Banner (they are peeing their pants), here I am, declaring it to the world.

Over these past few weeks when I realized my plan has changed, I was able to reflect on these last 4 years in California. I can happily say that I have not taken them for granted. There has never been a warm January breeze I haven't stopped to notice. When the weather is 65 and up, my windows are always down. 4 out of 5 times I take the beach way home and almost crash by staring at its beauty as I drive. When I was a Biola student, I frequented Disneyland at least 3 times a week. And now that I live in Santa Barbara and take Eucalyptus Hill on my route to school, I always appreciate the mountainous greenery that surrounds me. I have soaked up the California rays, and everything else it has to offer me. While I have been pondering this I came to a very important conclusion: California will always be here. But my family will not.

So here I go... into my last two months as a college student... and into my last two months as a California resident.

I'm realizing now that I'm the biggest hypocrite of all time. I write posts about being single, and now I'm in love. I write posts about living in a warm state, and now I'm moving back to the arctic. Next up: The 7 children I will unexpectedly birth in the next 20 years.

Stay tuned.

....just saying.

Blogging for the Public

2010-12-12T22:01:00.000-08:00

It's about time I sat down to blog.

I have sat down to begin a blog post several times in the past few months. While I may summarize some of those "almost" posts later in this entry, my reason for withholding these thoughts was due to the recent "publicity" of my blog. Yes, apparently the cat's out of the bag. A few months ago when my grandfather died, I blogged about it, and in an effort to communicate this loss to everyone, I posted the link on my facebook.

Grave mistake.

Within weeks I was approached in Starbucks by a blog fan I'd never met (I won't lie, that was kinda fun), had a classmate I barely know tell me she failed a test because she stayed up reading all my blog posts instead of studying, and received a friendly yet stressful email from a Westmont barefoot about how lice love a clean scalp and everyone should avoid materialism and chemicals.

Not exactly what I was going for when I started this.

While I know it is a "public" blog, it's on the internet for everyone to see, I thought if I didn't share the link with anyone at Westmont, it would remain "secret," leaving me free to make outrageous claims with little to zero evidence, as usual. This secret was kept until the fateful day of my facebook error. Thus, I am now blogging for the masses.

So here I am, on the eve of finals. Tonight I popped in my "Dec 09 Finals" mix (because if you really knew me, you'd know I have a cd mix for every stage/month/phase of life, all labeled creatively with titles such as, "True Life: I have Bieber Fever" and the month/year at the top), and I reminisced about everything that's happened in the past year.

While I am bursting with offensive thoughts about male ponytails, obesity, fits of laughter being essential to female friendship, over-sharers, and protestant worship styles... I'd like to honor those who have followed my blog for years, and take this time to post a life update for everyone.

I'm certain I have said this before, and I will say it again: It's amazing how much changes in just one year.

This time last year I was: Ripping out my hair from the stress of studying for my Rhetoric final (and just recovering from a semester of Rhetoric in general), helplessly in love with a guy who did not know I existed, heavily burdened with all my reasons for transferring, in my year off from dating, living with loud people, learning how to accept being an extreme introvert, and having zero direction about where my life was headed.

Now: Finals aren't that stressful, that guy was weird, so glad I transferred, dating a guy whose perfect for me (he also has offensive thoughts about obesity and male ponytails), living off campus in peace and quiet, being more introverted than ever before (and loving it), and accepting that the only thing I am actually passionate about is make up and skincare.

Yes - - that's right, make up and skincare. I was in the make up and skincare obsessed "closet" for a while, meaning I kept talking about and pursuing things that were seemingly more "meaningful" or "important," keeping my love for Sephora on the back burner. And while those meaningful and important things will still be a part of my life (i.e. Young Life Capernaum) - - I don't wanna do them every day, forever. Once I realized this, my incredible boyfriend asked me, "What do you really love? What are you passionate about?" I looked down at the floor in shame and mumbled, "make up and skincare..." His excited reaction to this deplorable confession was enough for me to take it seriously. We then sat on my bedroom floor for two hours googling esthetics schools and talking about my future. Reading the description of what I would learn in esthetics school, and looking even further to the career (and other careers closely associated with it), caused a reaction unlike any other I have experienced when looking at my future: excitement. I was literally squealing with excitement reading about micropeels and make up seminars. Yes. A seminar. About make up.

It's wonderful to look back and remember where I was then, and where I'm at now. While I still struggle sometimes with seeing God as an imaginary friend (an analogy I came up with last night after watching a Lifetime Original Movie about an imaginary friend), seeing these vast changes and obvious blessings in my life is overwhelmingly obvious that he is real all the time (not just sometimes).

And with that -

The male pony tail.

So against it.

... I'm just saying.

Mourning without death.

2010-10-22T14:23:00.000-07:00

Last night and today I re-entered a state of mourning. Not for the loss of my grandfather (for once), but for the loss of a friendship - two, in fact. I permanently lost these friendships a little over a year ago, for reasons in which I still don't think I understand. It has taken me until, well, this morning, to try and look back on them as fond memories, instead of tainted ones. I have lost many friendships in my life - (people tend to suck, I have learned this lesson more than most), but so far, these two friendships have had the longest recovery time. In fact, I'm not sure I will ever get over it. But in an effort to be functional (and stop crying), I'm trying to stay positive.

I read somewhere online earlier (someone's blog) that God places people in our lives at certain times for when we need them most. Perhaps, although I don't understand it, these two people are no longer needed in my life. Although my heart aches with the loss, it is a good lesson to trust that God planned this all along, that perhaps those friendships were only meant to last 4 years instead of a lifetime, like I thought. And even though this still pains me, I must remember the valuable lesson that was taught to me during the process: Choose safe people. After all the "unsafe" people who have painfully come in and out of my life, I can pick out someone safe or unsafe from a mile away. I currently ONLY have "safe" friendships in my life. I only invest in safe people. Maybe this one huge heartache will spare me from several in the future, or one that could be even worse. While this blog is used to vent and verbalize my outrageous sass, I also like to use it to reflect - and hopefully, help others who may be experiencing something similar. It's nice to know you're not alone, especially in these circumstances. And while I have a safety net of wonderful people in all of my places (Santa Barbara, La Mirada and Wheaton) (I kinda have 3 homes, it's weird), sometimes the ones you "lost" leave a hole so big it takes years to fill - and I am currently in year 2. Bummer.

I re-stumbled across this song today - cheesy as it is, it couldn't be more applicable to my life. Hopefully you will love it (and the play!) as much as I do: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CImGTTuEMEI

Sharing reflections really releases the tension they build in my brain. I feel much better now.

...just saying.

The perks and pains of 3000 miles.

2010-09-13T22:44:00.000-07:00

This is a topic I have been meaning to write about for a while - but of course, the collision of free time AND inspiration is rare.

Yes, my boyfriend lives 3000 miles away. Yes, I knew that when we started dating. I love the responses I get when people hear that. "Yes we met in high school, no we have been dating for 4 months, yes he lives 3000 miles away..." I mean how else would that sound to you? Yeah. Weird. But let me explain. I unexpectedly, spontaneously found someone exceeding all hopes/dreams/expectations who happens to also be absurdly right for me. (Because apparently when I try to pick out/expect/plan someone who is right for me, it ends up in DISASTER MODE. Terror. Heartache. I hate you. Death. Destruction.etc.) What would you do? I didn't plan it. I didn't even really have to think it through. Do I wanna date you? Yes. End of story. It didn't really take much mulling over or stress... with Sam, it was easy. Should I throw something wonderful away just because its inconvenient for a while? Absolutely not. Didn't even cross my mind.

And long distance is horribly painful. At this point its not like, "Oh I miss him, but its cool" kind of pain its like, "omg, I want to rip my heart out for just two minutes so that it will stop aching" kind of pain. It makes me cranky, tired and just straight up sad. Not to mention how unfair it is... how come the person I want to be with lives 3000 miles away, but all of my roommates get to see their boyfriends all the time? I mean, explain that to me.

But while all of this sucks and in my head I am like negative nancy, debbie downer and pessimistic pete combined... I also know the value of getting to know someone on the phone. Just ask my sister who knew she wanted to marry her now husband while being long distance. Although it is gut wrenching - good conversation coupled with the inability to make out can be a wonderful gift. It also creates a very high functioning, independent couple. As I have ranted and raved about before - - being independent is very important to me. I can only imagine that someday when Sam and I can see each other every day - this quality will carry out and make for a very healthy and fulfilling situation.

This relationship has taught me that having a boyfriend doesn't mean I have to lose myself. (Well, I learned that while I was single - but now I'm putting it into practice!) I don't have to let go of my independence or the stability I have in being an individual. In fact - having a boyfriend who APPRECIATES that just makes increases how awesome I feel. Over the summer an ex boyfriend of mine found out I was dating someone. He wrote to me in a message that he was glad I had "grown out" of my plan to be single. I laughed out loud in disgust at that - as though my recent desire to be single was "immature" or "ridiculous." I have written many blogs on how I believe the single life is valuable in many ways married life is not. Let me publically clarify that I still believe those things. I have no idea what my God has planned for my future -- but if it is singleness, then bring it on. What a great way to live.

But tonight I embrace my long distance, independent, non-single life that continues to be oh so worth it. Every day that I can wake up and call Sam my boyfriend makes the miles (3000 to be exact) between us practically irrelevant.

And if we do end up together forever - - we will have one hell of a story.

...just saying.

My grandpa just died.

2010-09-01T00:07:00.001-07:00

So what? That's what most people think when anyone gripes about the death of their grandparent, myself included. That's what grandparents do. They die. Get over it.

In many cases, the death of a grandparent is not so traumatic. The majority of people see their grandparents on holidays and talk to them on the phone a few times a year. Grandma and grandpa don't really play a major role in their lives - except for birthday cards and "we're going to my grandma's for Christmas." Yes, that is the case for most people. But not for us.

Grammy and Papa - - where do I even begin? Calling them grandparents doesn't really do them justice. Grandparent is a distant word - I think through all of this I would refer to them more as second parents. For the majority of my life, Grammy and Papa have lived across the street from me. Literally, I could walk there in 35 seconds. I spent my entire childhood hanging out with them. Sleeping over at their house, baking, shopping, errands, being taken to and picked up from school, Sunday afternoon lunches and everything else. My adolesence was spent calling them in refuge of my "awful" parents (:)), more Sunday lunches and spending time together each day. They came to everything. All my dance recitals and choir concerts. They paid for my private school and were at our house AT LEAST once a day for the past 16 years since we moved to Wheaton.

I don't remember all the dates and the number of years - but about 8-10 years ago my Papa started to get sick. Not physically by any means, but in his head. He would forget things, lose his words and get confused. As the years went on, this illness progressed and became diagnosed as "dementia." The past 5 years have been in utter decline, resulting in the past year being unable to have a conversation with him.

Let me back up here for a second. My papa is no ordinary man. My papa was a great leader of two major Christian universities for cumulatively 20+ years. My papa stood up before thousands and gave beautiful, eloquent sermons - he had his phd and lived life as a role model to many. To watch a man of this stature slowly become unable to form sentences was painful to an indescribable amount. Looking into my past and my difficult experiences with boys throughout middle school and high school, the reason I turned out okay without TOO much damage was because of my father, and Papa. I had two amazing men to look up to who were completely 100% involved in my life. Although my closeness with my own father surpasses my relationship with Papa, I still saw him as a father figure all my life.

And last week, he died. Although it was a bit sudden (we thought we had a few more weeks), it was to be expected. I spent my last days of summer next to his hospital bed, and I will never forget the last moment I saw him. Coming home from college 3x a year always made for a painful experience. Every time I came home he would be a hundred times worse than the time before. When I came home for Easter he was up and walking around, sitting with us at the lunch table, mumbling away. When I left after summer, he had been asleep for days, ready to be put on hospice and unknowingly live his final days. I knew when I walked out of that room with tears streaming down my face that I would never see him again. A man who raised me, supported me, and loved me from 0-21 is now dead.

How weird is that? How horrible, how tragic. My family has experienced much more grief than we expected. For some reason people are under the impression that if you see it coming, it's less painful. Maybe it's less shocking, but the grief is still looming. It is in my mind and my stomach at all times - it creeps up on me in the night and during class. I lose focus and I can't bring my mind back to where it was before, sometimes for hours at a time. And why? "My grandpa died." "Oh. Bummer." You really can't say that to anyone and expect them to understand. And that has been the hardest part of all this - I live in an environment where no one understands. A part of me is relieved that I'm not at Biola during this time - to see his face everywhere on campus and attend Chapel in Chase Gymnasium might be too much to bare. But a part of me thinks it would be easier - people would have a better understanding of what a tragic loss this is, of what a man this world is missing out on. That's really the root of it - the world has lost someone outstanding. I have lost a father figure.

This is the last good memory I have of him - the Biola Centennial gala. We really bonded that night, in his own way he told me how frustrating it was to be dealing with the illness. Although it took him about 5 minutes to form this sentence, it still haunts me to this day, "I have so many things I want to say to everyone, but I just can't."

So, cheers to my non-ordinary, wonderful grandfather - whom can now form all the sentences He likes... with Jesus. (After the second coming, that is - depending on your view :) )

And as for this weekend - I will fly home and spend it with hundreds of people who understand.

...just saying.

Take a listen, because I can't stop:

Being Healthy in a Fat World

2010-04-29T11:10:00.000-07:00

Think about this with me.

In Elementary school, when you would raise your hand and give the right answer - what was your reward? Candy.

In High School, whenever your "team" would win something, what was the prize? A pizza party.

In College, there are study breaks, and what is the big draw to the study breaks? TREATS.

Cupcakes, candy, rootbeer floats, pizza, popcorn, brownies and cookies. These are the things we have been rewarded with since age 5. Of course as children we never questioned it. We didn't know what a metabolic drop was and even up through college we are told that we are "young" and to "enjoy it while we still can." Well my friends, this mindset is the making of what is now the most obese country in the world.

I never noticed it before. We have been trained not to notice that calories and sugar have been lifetime prizes for good behavior or intelligence. However this past semester I began my new healthy lifestyle. For the first time ever I think about what I eat. I am careful with calories and I enjoy a good helping of junk food almost never. I have noticed such a difference in how I look and feel. My clothes fit better, my stomach is happy, my skin is clearer - - why wouldn't everyone want to live this way?

Well, let me tell you. Nothing is more difficult than being healthy in college - because NO ONE is healthy. People just pick things up and put them in their mouths, thoughtlessly. We have been so desensitized to putting things in our body. However there is definitely some consciousness about it, because unhealthy people try to bring healthy people down at every opportunity they get. "That's not realistic, you're a human it's okay to eat those things." It's not realistic? How come there are thousands of athletes, models, dietitians, doctors and personal trainers who consistently eat healthy? Are they not real people? Are they not human? I think not. Shut up.

Not only do you have to combat the tempting sugar junkies, but you also have to combat the rewards system. "STUDY BREAK AT 10PM! BROWNIES AND ICE CREAM!" Oh, outstanding. Reward me for my hard work by overloading me with sugar and shit. THANKS. Since when is food a good reward? Why can't we reward ourselves with other things? Like watching a tv show, going for a run, or getting a pedicure? Those all sound like much more enjoyable things than stuffing grease down my throat and watching it bulge out of my skin and over my bathing suit bottoms 2 months later. No thank you.

Along with rewards, eating is the way people get together, socialize and even hold meetings in college. For student government two nights ago, we wanted to get together and have dinner and talk about the upcoming year. Where did we decide to meet? A greasy pizza place. This is a nightmare for a healthy person in college. Because you have to go, it's mandatory. But you can't go and be all "actually I'm just gonna get a salad" while all your peers are inhaling grease because then you are tackled by all the non-healthy people trying to bring you down. They feel so violated that you would think about such a thing as "calories," they will tell you to calm down and stop making them feel bad. It's honestly not worth the work, awkward conversation and frustration, so you end up eating something you don't really want to eat and feel irritated the entire time.

My personal favorite though, is people who tell you that you should eat all the junk you want and not work out, because you are thin. "Why do you need to work out? You are sooo tiny." "Elizabeth you are already so thin you can eat whatever you want." Well... no... let's think about this logically, I work out 5 days a week, I eat healthy food, and I am thin. Do you think that maybe the first two things, factor into the third? Light bulb. You're an idiot.

Yes, I am young. Yes, I could eat two cupcakes a week and still look thin. But I wouldn't look fit. And if I can't keep myself healthy, fit and develop a good amount of self control at 21, how will I ever do it in 15 years when I am deep in the stress of life, with age and gravity working against me at full force?

And what about the women who plan on having children? If you can't say no to In N Out now, or muster up the energy to get off your ass and go for a run - good luck with that after 3 kids and stretch marks.

honestly...

...I'm just saying.

A thought on a warm day.

2010-03-23T17:54:00.001-07:00

Whenever I think about the fall of man, I don't think of the big things. I don't think of rapists, serial killers, republicans or gang violence - - it's the little things that come to mind, like how every moment is poisoned somehow. It is beautiful day outside, I was driving with the windows down, smelling springtime in Santa Barbara: flowers and the ocean, when I got a whiff of something absolutely terrible... cigarette smoke. And where was I driving to on this lovely day? To coffee bean, to study for my history test on friday... impending doom.

It's things like that. How doing the right thing always sucks at least a little bit, never achieving the perfect amount of sleep, break ups, ruined friendships, zits and metabolic drops. Where would our world be without just those few things? It would be a much happier and more attractive place.

So when I think about heaven, it's the little things that come to mind. Never feeling confused, enjoying each moment without impending test doom, smoke free air, and an eternity of being well rested.

I'm really glad I get to enjoy that someday. Thinking about it is one of those, "Oh, thanks God!" moments. I don't deserve it, but its where I will spend forever.

Of course I still fall victim to the typical single Christian feeling of wanting to have sex before I die/Jesus returns.

I guess I'll have to pray about that one...

...just saying.

Ew.

2010-03-11T22:55:00.000-08:00

I wrote this for a class and thought I should post it on the blog. It is sort of blog-esque in that I am venting about something I found at my school that pisses me off. Ha ha. Here it is:

Westmont Weirdness and the Importance of Shoes

“Westmont is a place where people who weren’t cool in high school, are cool” (anonymous). Truer words have never been spoken. Despite the relativity and immaturity of the word “cool” anyway, Westmont is a very strange place. Westmont is a place where being athletic and attractive is “out” and being grungy is “in.” While my point is not to emphasize Westmont weirdness, it does provide a great framework to discuss what is most important: not washing your hair, walking around barefoot, and shopping at thrift stores does not make you cool. It makes you gross, dirty, and ungrateful.

During my senior year of high school I had the privilege of traveling to Zambia, Africa. A group of 12 seniors and two adult leaders spent three weeks in one of the poorest villages in Zambia. Upon our arrival we saw children running down the street in nothing but an old ratty t-shirt. We saw infected wounds on people’s feet and legs due to lack of protection from the ground and climate. We were prepared to provide whatever we could for these children, especially shoes. These people were desperate for shoes. My arrival on Westmont’s campus was not much different from this. Yes, that is an exaggeration. However, it was odd to see wealthy college students wandering around campus in homeless attire. No shoes? Check. Nasty torn up clothes that probably cost 10 cents? Check. Messy, unwashed hair? Check. “What is this weirdness?” I would think to myself while passing a barefoot stranger on my way to Apologetics class. “Don’t they know that people all around the world would die to have just one pair of shoes?”

At Westmont, not wearing shoes is considered trendy. Students who don’t wear shoes are cool and unique. They don’t struggle with materialism like the rest of the sinning student body who like to protect their feet from hepatitis infested nails and other sharp objects laying on the ground beneath them. They are free spirits, roaming around with no sign of shampoo use, daily offending the general public with their unnecessary filth. Because really, what is more awesome than junk crammed into your toenails, and lice eating away at your greasy, bacteria swarmed scalp? In fact, I certainly can’t think of better way to say, “Thanks, Mom and Dad for working so hard to provide everything I need. I am going to appreciate you by throwing it all back in your faces and going bald at 25 because I just couldn’t keep myself clean!”

What’s even better is the “non-conformity” this style is supposed to promote. The dirty Westmont student likes to feel they are rebelling against society, not giving into what is “cool” and being their own person. Well, what happens when 60 other students decide the same thing? Then you have 61 students who all look the same, and they begin to conform to each other and create a mini society of smelly young adults. Together, they look at their clean, properly dressed peers with a judgmental eye, thinking that everyone should be dirty and “unique” just like them. Defeats the purpose? I think so.

Despite the ridiculous manner of this behavior, it is mainly a spirit of ungratefulness that reigns problematic. People all over the world die from diseases due to unclean environments, lack of shoes and clothes, and no way to keep themselves from infection. The wealthy students of Westmont College have all of these resources at their fingertips yet reject them for what? To be different, cool, tough or care free? If a follower of Christ, and a student at a $40,000 dollar school is going to abuse these privileges, at least send them to someone who will be grateful. Pack up your unused life supply of shampoo, all of your shoes and the nice clothes you got for Christmas and send them to Africa, or bring them downtown to the homeless community of Santa Barbara, where they will be appreciated and useful.

Or better yet, just stop being disgusting. Enjoy the gift of a hot shower; clean protected feet, oil free hair and your toothbrush. There are a million ways to be unique, hundreds of ways to make a statement, and many other options to start a trend. Unnecessary body odor is not one of them. So next time you pass a homeless person on the street and think to give them money, try and remember that they could be the child of a millionaire, just dressing like a bum to be cool.

Leave me alone.

2010-02-01T14:00:00.000-08:00

"Elizabeth, what do you think about that?" My teacher asks when he calls on me. I am startled, because as far as I can recall, my hand is not raised in the air. In a classroom setting in Western society, raising your arm in the air indicates that you have the answer, a comment, or a question. I did not have any of those things. While I was intently listening, I did not know the answer to the question which he asked, nor did I intend to raise my hand to make an ass of myself by guesstimating.

I am an audible learner. I learn the best through listening; not only to lectures but to other people's dialogues. Just because I am not speaking, does not mean I am not focused. Just because my eyes are widely staring at you, does not mean I don't understand. However - when my hand is not rasied, it does not mean I secretly have a fabulous answer but am withholding it from my classmates for my own selfish purposes. It means I don't know, dammit.

It is one thing to call on an unsuspecting student once, realize their embarrassment and learn from your mistake. It is another thing to continue victimizing them, feeding off their humiliation in hopes that this cruel and public attempt to get them to understand will in fact work and make you feel successful and good about yourself as a teacher. Of course professors thrive off of their students learning. To see the light bulb go on as their eyes grow wider with wisdom because of your initiative to draw them out during class. Perhaps they will jump up on their chair with enthusiasm shouting O Captain, My Captain! As they rejoice with the insights you have helped them discover.

Aside from this scenario being completely unrealistic, it is especially unrealistic for me. I do not learn this way. If a professor calls on me in class when I am unsure of the answer (which is always, if I am not raising my hand), Congratulations. I am officially not only humiliated and nauseous, but also infinitely distracted for the rest of your class. I will spend the next hour or so pondering the pros and cons of either getting up from my seat and running very far away, or shooting you in the face. Usually I decide upon both and then concoct a brilliant plan in achieving this illegal act without getting caught by government forces.

You may think I'm exaggerating, but you're wrong. Embarrassment and irritation do not affect me like normal people. I don't feel a little awkward for a few minutes and then move on, no. I become violent. I grow an overwhelming amount of internal rage directed specifically at the individual who caused said embarrassment or irritation, and a grudge is usually formed and held for the remainder of my life.

So, dearest professor. The next time you want to "draw me out" or "get me to learn" or "think deeper!", remember that instead of cultivating intellectual ideas, I am plotting your death.

...just saying.

Some recent developments: Literally.

2010-01-19T15:13:00.000-08:00

Puberty is an awkward thing, especially for girls. In health class you learn about your "changing bodies," the widening of hips, developing of chest and ass region, growing taller and dealing with skin problems. I still remember watching all of my friends in middle school go through this. Their bra sizes went to AA to C and sometimes D in middle school. They graduated from limited too to American Eagle jeans by the time they were 13. All the boys started noticing and being attracted to them in new and exciting ways...

I remember the transition of my friends so vividly because I never hit puberty.

I have been waiting for puberty since I was 11.

Well, my time has finally come. I am 20, and puberty has struck.

Yes, this topic is awkward. However, I don't care. It is a fact of life and it's been on my mind quite intensely all year. And that's what this blog is for - my mind. So here we go.

In middle school I received the suck part of puberty. I got the acne, the emotional problems, the mind numbing cramps and rage issues. I was moody and confused and hairy and pissed for about 6 years - but I never got the womanly part of it.

I was awkward all of high school, feeling scrawny and proportioned like my 13 year old little brother - but also redheaded which is not commonly attractive to the opposite sex. I have always been slightly one half of a person, never a full one. I remember my girl friends complaining about their boobs in high school and coveting my oh so sexy flat chested, assless figure.

Well, now I understand. Life with an ass is pretty damn awkward. It came upon me quite suddenly, too. I didn't even notice its development until someone pointed it out to me over the summer. Since then it just seems to continue growing. I think this growth began when I started working out the lower half of my body. I guess I essentially "built" my ass. However even when I stopped working out for a month or so during fall semester, it grew a little more. Although to the untrained eye I do not have a large ass - it feels enormous to me. I feel like I am lugging around a suitcase strapped to my backside that everyone can't help but stare at. There's not extra bunchyness in the back of my jeans? I have to buy a small in bathing suit bottoms instead of extra small? What is happening? My world is upside down - that's what's happening.

Due to reoccurring acne problems since age 11, this past semester my doctor prescribed birth control as a solution. While it has worked miracles for my skin, we all know the other effects birth control can have. It's a good thing I have a great scarf collection - because the chest is more awkward than the behind. This is where the male gaze is drawn during a conversation - no longer my eyes or my nicely curled hair.

I wear scarves. I just wear a big huge scarf every day - no matter the weather. How am I supposed to deal with this? I can't wear anything and feel normal anymore. I wore a turtle neck sweater dress the other day - a TURTLE NECK. But no, there I was, just BAM for the world to see.

Having a figure makes me rethink everything I do. Instead of getting up in the middle of class to use the bathroom when I need to, I stay seated and hold it for fear that everyone's eyes will gravitate towards my ultra huge behind as I get up from my desk. I can't get away with the kinds of shirts I used to wear - because now something low cut makes me look like a whore instead of a precious 13 year old girl trying to look grown up. I'm terrified of bathing suits, awkward and self-conscious when I go running and totally unsure of how to dress myself.

It's all kind of horrible, but really great at the same time. I no longer feel scrawny or pathetic looking. I'm not still struggling to weigh at least 110, or to appear as though I am in fact not a pubescent boy underneath my sweater. I am whole, I am a person. I have real people hips and real people legs. Even though I am still and will always be very petite, you can tell that I eat meals and don't throw up afterwards. I really enjoy this aspect of it all, and I think I will enjoy it more when I'm used to it. For now I sort of feel like I should wear long sweaters or a burka because no matter what I'm wearing, I feel kind of like a slut.

I am gaining an ass and turning 21 all in one semester. I suppose it's officially safe to say I am actually a woman.

...just saying.

Time for a lumpy throat.

2010-01-08T00:47:00.001-08:00

I keep trying to leave.

I keep trying to stay away for good, to become fully independent and move on from being here.

But every time I come home, I always leave wondering why I had decided to stay away in the first place.

I am quick to admit that Wheaton holds a lot of painful memories. But after each trip home I begin to realize how much being with my family quickly makes up for it. There is nothing quite as wonderful as inhabiting with my parents, and my brother. Nothing really in the world comforts me more than saying good night to my mother before I walk down the hall to my bedroom. Nothing brings me more peace than knowing my dad is in the living room studying, or when I hear my brother playing music in his room. I think living away from them has made me realize how amazing simplicity is - just having them near me. But then again, nothing is more amazing than having my older sister in proximity, after 5 years without her. It is hard to have the people I love most split between two places, this is why I pester my parents relentlessly to move. Even when they annoy me or I realize my 20-year old need for independence, I would give almost anything to have them close to me all the time. Hands down.

I miss my grandparents more now, too. I have reached the age where I realize their death is not far away. While my absolutely ridiculous grandmother irritates me horribly, and my grandpa can barely form coherent sentences... being in their presence warms my heart in ways I can't explain. My grandma will literally look me in the eyes and tell me I'm the most beautiful girl in the world, and mean it. That's ridiculous, but I love it. My grandpa will sit in his chair with a grin on his face, having know idea what's going on or even what my name might be - but I want them around, and I hate that I have to choose.

But I just don't like being here. It's cold and weird for me. While I love Wheaton, and always will - I hate it too. It's a strange conflict...

Tomorrow morning I fly back to warmth and happiness. I know as soon as I arrive and feel the sun on my face, I will quickly forget the wary feeling in my stomach about being away from mom again. I will remember why I made this choice and why it's just where God wants me.

All my problems would be solved if my family could move...

so I suppose for now, I will just pray that someday it will happen.

...just saying.

I'd never given much thought to how I would die...

2009-12-31T00:45:00.000-08:00

Twilight.

What comes to mind at this word? Screaming 13 year old girls, Taylor Lautner's absurdly buff body, bitchy Kristen Stewart, Stephanie Meyer's poor writing skills - but above all, Edward Cullen.

Before my discovery of the Twilight series, I remember hearing the buzz about Edward Cullen. Who the hell is Edward Cullen? Why are all these ridiculous people obsessed with a fictional character? I used to think. While I do not discredit myself for wondering such things, after I discovered the amazing PHENOMENON that is Twilight, I have become frustrated with all the antagonizing males and the rare female who tell me it is frivolous and completely foolish of me to be interested in such a thing.

Well, I beg to differ.

Let me backtrack to the topic of Edward Cullen. It will be my attempt to explain why this fictitious character has impacted so many females so strongly. Specifically, mature and educated females like myself.

I will stray away from the topic of his physical appearance until the very end - for it is the least important.

Let me begin with what struck me first: Edward's distaste for frivolous and ordinary women. This is of course extremely important, because it reflects Edward's own depth and lack of shallow thought and intention. It is rare today to find a male who desires more than someone who is easy and ordinary in their level of depth or view of the world. Edward is disgusted by the shallowness of girls in our generation, which is why he chose a celibate and rather lonely life style for the 80 years he has been a vampire. This kind of control, desire for something more and lack of debilitating need for a woman is extremely attractive.

Next, Edward's genuine interest in Bella. As I mentioned previously, Edward has a distaste for girls with selfish motives and shallow thoughts. Once he discovers Bella, her selflessness, goodness and kind soul, he is intrigued and actually wants to know her, to discover her heart, her secrets and the inner workings of her mind. He asks her carefully planned out, intentional questions in order to achieve this. He studies her body language and her eyes when she speaks in order to learn more about her. How many times have I been on a date, listening to some obnoxious boy drone on and on about himself, leaving me wondering why in the world he asked me out since he clearly has no interest in me at all? Several. How many times have I been telling a boyfriend something important about my past, or something I was thinking about and found that he either was not listening at all, did not care, or was staring more at my mouth the entire time just waiting for me to shut up so we could make out? Countless. It is hard for me to not feel intrigue and attraction toward a fictional character who possesses such a selfless focus on a female, when I myself have never experienced this in my direction. In my opinion, that is a perfectly healthy and mature thing to desire, which makes reading books about this wonderful character all the more fun, new and exciting. Edward also possesses something toward Bella that I like to call "tunnel vision." I have seen tunnel vision directed from male to females in just a few relationships, but have never experienced it myself. This is when a male is completely zoned on just one girl - with no interest, not even a glance at another. Again with the how many times... how many times have I literally watched my boyfriend look another woman up and down in my presence? Countless. Edward shows not even a hint of this, nor an interest to do so. Reading about a male that is so different from any I know is anything but silly or immature. It is interesting, and while he is not real, it still brings a gleam of hope that perhaps Stephanie Meyer knows someone just a little bit like Edward. That these qualities possibly could be real.

Aside from Edward's intriguing interactions with Bella, let's talk about his characteristics. One of the first I noticed and admired was his poise. Edward is not obnoxious.

If you haven't noticed, when I write a sentence and then press enter twice to create a space, that means it's important. So let me say that one more time, Edward is not obnoxious.

Impossible to find nowadays. I would be hard pressed to find a male my age, or close to it who isn't completely irritating, overbearing and loud. Over the years I have developed somewhat of an, "Oh please" attitude in the presence of college aged boys. Please talk to me when you aren't still making gay jokes and using improper grammar - thanks. Edward is completely the opposite of this. Perhaps this is due to him being alive for over 100 years (This is why women go for older men, they are less obnoxious), but it is also a part of his nature. He is wise, calm, collected, yet witty. He is an excellent conversationalist, but never talks too much. This combination seems to be unachievable for most men so again, it is refreshing to "experience" this lovely individual come to life through the writing of Stephanie Meyer.

Edward likes a challenge. This is something introverted women (like me) often hope for. I'm sorry that I do not engage in flirtatious arm touching and smiley face texts, you're going to have to try a little harder to date me. Edward is intrigued and attracted to Bella's quiet nature, and he is willing to spend the time it takes to figure her out. Patience is rare, Edward has mastered it. He prefers exclusive witty banter and drawing out a quiet and pensive soul, to a chatty and loud laughing coffee date.

Impossible.

While all these things are true, it is obvious that Edward's character is also quite flawed. Although many young girls describe him as completely perfect and dream of marrying him (although he isn't real), they aren't quite old enough to notice his inappropriate behaviors. Edward and Bella actually share a very unhealthy, dysfunctional, codependent relationship. While it has some beautiful and healthy elements to it, overall their need and obsession with each other would lead them to romantic failure if it took place in real life. Edward has temper issues, he is controlling, manipulative, slightly selfish and not to mention - desires to kill humans. So while I can read these books, immersed in the plot and the appealing and uncommon qualities of Edward Cullen - I can also know that he is fictional, and not to be used as a comparison to real, human males. Unfortunately too many 12 year old squealing girls have gotten ahold of these series, and don't have attentive enough parents to point out this distinction. No doubt this kind of thing will affect their romantic lives forever - just as, looking back, Cinderella and The Little Mermaid affected mine.

There are many other characteristics and actions I could list but I have decided to write of only the most important (that stick out most to me) ones since this is only my unedited blog. I will end last with his physical appearance. It is enough that he possess all above said qualities - ones that I have yet to discover in someone, but on top of this he is described in the books as being physically perfect, like a painting or a dream. While many men have groaned and joked about how Edward Cullen in the movie (Robert Pattinson) wears too much make up, and is too skinny, I find this to be absurd. Robert Pattinson weighs probably 125 pounds, skinny men all over the world should be rejoicing for this new found sex icon in society. For the past 30-some years we drool over men who are inordinarily muscular, tan and perfect. The movie version of Edward is far from this, which should in fact give hope to society that there are different types of beauty. Robert Pattinson is very unique looking which is not often celebrated in our culture. Why are we not all excited about this recent development?

While the main focus of this blog was Edward Cullen, I do plan to write a more detailed analysis on Twilight from the perspective of an interested and educated woman. However, I will now defend the theme of Twilight just briefly. The tension of the books center around Edward's desire for human blood, specifically that of Bella's, his soul mate. So: the two main characters are madly in love with each other, completely matched by the hands of fate, yet tormented due to the one problem which infinitely limits their relationship: The beast inside Edward wants to kill Bella.

Please tell me how that is not completely engrossing. Not only this but there are many honorable, and valuable underlying themes within the series: Selflessness, resisting temptation, looking beyond the surface, conquering evil desires, protecting the weak, etc. I could go on...

I am absolutely convinced that if women, particularly young girls, were not the target audience of this series - and now pop culture phenomenon, men would be more willing to admit this plot was good. But as I have mentioned earlier about all the problems with men these days, they cannot possibly give up their socially constructed masculinity, find a shred of individualism within themselves and give it a chance.

Pathetic.

Unfortunately this is another fabulous concept and book series that was destroyed by the media. It has too much of a connotation alongside it for people to open up to the idea, so all they can really do is make fun of it.

So whose immature, really? Me, who enjoys the series but takes a critical look at its appeal, or the 19 year old male who says, "Dude Edward Cullen is sooo gay. Twilight is stupid! I wouldn't go see that gay movie if u payed me, actually id pry go jst 2 make fun of it - haha dude we should totally do it! hah omg i cant wait im gonn by some popcorn and throw it at people."

(Word errors and abbreviations added for dramatic affect and accuracy.)

...I'm just saying.

Everybodys changing and I don't know why...

2009-12-22T00:15:00.000-08:00

They re-modeled the Starbucks in downtown Wheaton.

They COMPLETELY remodeled it. There is not a trace of what it used to be.

My life in Wheaton has changed. None of my friends are the same - in fact, most of my old friends don't like me very much... not after the summer. And I am making my peace with that. It's hard for people to understand mistakes - and how much can be learned from them. So I get it.

I have changed - pretty completely, I would say.

But not Starbucks. Everything has changed - but Starbucks is supposed to remain unchanged, always there, faithful and consistent. And now it's different - unfamiliar, kind of like my life.

I walked inside tonight, and felt confused. What is going on? This is not the same Starbucks it used to be. I looked to the unfamiliar face behind the register, "What happened?" I asked.

"What do you mean? We painted the walls white..." she said.

"No... no. I haven't been here since August... what HAPPENED?"

"Ooh. We completely remodeled. Started over and redid it. Just before Thanksgiving" she said.

"Yeah, I can hardly even remember what it looked like before" another guy told me, as I stood staring blankly at the walls.

"I REMEMBER" I stated, slightly furious.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying the remodel. It does look good, I must admit. But it's not what it was before.

Let me explain, this was not just any Starbucks... this was MY Starbucks. My home Starbucks. It was THAT Starbucks I used to go to on Friday nights in middle school with my friends. It was THAT Starbucks that I went to after my mom would pick me up from school. It was THAT Starbucks my mom and I would walk to on warm summer nights. It was THAT Starbucks I had countless coffee dates with old friends. That Starbucks I went to each morning before school when I finally got my license. I received the infamous Jeremy Kline break up text while I was in line, at THAT Starbucks. It is that Starbucks I go to every time I come home from school. It is always there, it is always the same. It represents my childhood, my adolescence and the first year of being an adult - and now it is different. Unrecognizable - just like everything else in my life.

Yes - I am being dramatic, but I am an INFP. Therefore I have feelings about this remodel. If my sister had discovered this remodel as unexpectedly as I did - even though it represents much of her life also, she would have raved about how cute it was and moved on with her life. She is an ENTP. Life is not so simple for me.

I walked out of the unfamiliar Starbucks into the ice cold air and cried a little. Not a lot, just a little. I cried a little because it's the end of an era. My life in Wheaton is becoming a distant memory. I come home to see my family and there's not much more of a purpose than that. It's not like I wanted to hang onto Wheaton - I always knew I would leave and most likely never come back to stay. But it is strange to watch everything become so foreign - and Starbucks was the last little piece to fade.

Regardless, I am happy with my life changes. I have been completely boyless single for 5 whole months. I am learning to live with God, instead of just kinda near Him. I am deciding what I think of myself. I am learning how to be authentic, consistent and kind. I am learning to love and forgive other people, even when I don't feel like it.

My brother is almost taller than me, the groomer shaved my precious dog to resemble a yak, my mom and daddy are still wonderful and I hang out with my grandparents.

I guess I have a lot to be thankful for.

Screw you, new Starbucks.

...just saying.

I want to live a quiet life.

2009-11-16T20:23:00.000-08:00

I live with loud people. They aren't just loud because they are people - they are loud people. I have never experienced such a thing in my life.

I am not loud, in any sense of that word. I am quiet. I speak in a quiet voice, I take quiet steps, I take quiet breaths and I chew mainly with the roof of my mouth. (I don't actually know if I chew that way subconsciously in order to be quiet, or if it just happens to be quiet.)

The people I live with are loud. The dictionary definition of loud: producing or capable of producing much noise; easily audible.

They speak, laugh and live at a piercing volume. That is the only word I can think to describe it, piercing. If I go to bed before 1 AM I can count on being startled out of my sleep at least twice by the laughing and voices of my suitemates - it awakens me with shock and an increase of my heart rate as if I were in Afghanistan being awoken by bombs. I am not exaggerating. However, when I am awake I have never once been startled when my room mate enters the room, because I can hear her coming from outside. She is either yelling, singing loudly, or enters the suite by hollering a phrase or laughing in a volume that I have probably never laughed in my life.

While I feel superior because I am quiet and introverted (I'm not even going to pretend that I don't), this loudness does not necessarily bother me all the time. Most of the time, it confuses me. I am baffled, intrigued and downright amazed at all times. How can one person be capable of producing so much noise? I have wondered in my head if I could be that loud - but I don't think I can. I simply cannot get my voice to that volume unless I am shouting, and my laugh really never raises higher than a slight giggle. Does this mean they also have to work at being quieter?

It's not as if I have never had interactions with loud people before. My sister is loud. I remember growing up I would ask my mom, "Why does she have to be so loud? I can always hear her talking from every room in the house." It puzzled me why she always had to make her presence known upon entering our home, whereas I can be home for hours and no one even knows I am there. But her loudness was never like this.

This kind of loudness is different. This is crippling loudness - loudness that makes it hard to do normal life things, like think, study, sleep, or read. It is also inconsiderate loudness - knowing it is 11:30 (which is one half hour past official quiet hours, in my defense) and I am asleep, their volume stays the same. I truly believe that after this year their piercing laughter will give me nightmares. It was easier with my sister, since she was my sister I or my mother could ask her to be quiet and she would work on it. My suitemates are not like this.

I am starting to wonder if a quiet nature is biological or a product of environment. I know extraverted/introverted is a biological thing that has to do with brain hemispheres (or whatever), but the volume in which someone speaks and lives may be a little bit of both. My room mate Chloe and I are both middle children. I responded to middle child syndrome by retreating inside myself, pushing other people away and hiding in my room next to my space heater for 6 years. Chloe responded by shouting. If you are loud, you get attention. Whereas I wanted all attention taken off me because I hated life.

However, I do believe the strength and ability of my vocal chords plays into this. I am really incapable of loud noises. There have been a few times in my life that I have been loud. Although I can't remember them, I know I have been - but it was never loud like loud people are. I cannot laugh loudly even if I try (because I have), and I think that although I tend to be quiet via choice, I also am quiet naturally. However, if for some reason the world was reversed and my quietness disrupted people I lived with, I would work on it.

This is not the case for loud people. Loud people do not believe their loudness is a problem. "It's who I am! I can't help the volume of my voice." Well... actually you can. It is scientifically proven that you are capable of controlling your body - this includes your vocal chords. But since loud people have been loud their whole lives, they are immune to their loudness. They think other people can just "deal with it" without realizing the horror they put us through. The sheer volume of their movements and speech takes away my ability to hear myself think. It is inconsiderate to believe that just because you are naturally a certain way, that everyone else you live with should just accept it. What if I were to walk around my suite naked at all times? "It's who I am. This is how I was born, why should I wear clothes if it makes you more comfortable?"

It's the same thing.

There is one loud thing about me, and it is even louder than loud people: the music in my car. I play my music so loud, my mother says she can hear the lyrics to the song I'm playing from her room as I drive onto our street. So maybe this is me making up for how quiet I am. Even though I cannot be loud, my music can be loud for me.

However, I would never play my music loud in my room when other people are sleeping, studying, or trying to think/live.

I guess that is just the difference between me and loud people.

...just saying.

Swans.

2009-11-02T19:47:00.001-08:00

I am alive. Hopefully I can have a more elaborate photo update soon, but for now, I have not developed any hideous warts nor have I gained excessive weight or shaved my head.

A dress up party:

Yay.

Something of more substance to come: Just let me finish studying for all my tests.

...just saying.

I love.

2009-10-15T19:16:00.001-07:00

B. Spears: Why are you infinitely more interesting than the essay I have to write right now??

http://www.metacafe.com/watch/sy-1844687139/britney_spears_womanizer_official_music_video/

For your enjoyment!

Reflections on being a me

2009-10-13T23:59:00.000-07:00

Not being a part of a "we" is something I haven't felt in a long time.

No more, "we love that restaurant," or, "we saw that movie last weekend," or, "we had a big fight last night but now we are okay."

I am just me. I make choices, I see movies, I do things without having to tell anyone about it. Not only am I just me, but there is no "he" in my life in any form, at all.

It has been almost 3 full months that I have been able to call myself fully and completely single. (This is a long time for me.) All the boy withdrawal has finally worn off (which may sound silly, but it is very real), and my boredom has turned to tranquility. I am content, I am at peace, and I am learning about myself at an accelerated speed. I pour myself into studying, into friendships and appreciating God's goodness. I have signed up for a life without we for the next 8 months, and as I have mentioned in earlier posts, I don't know if that will be long enough. It feels like I am catching up with myself. I am also catching up to where everyone else is, as they have lived most of their adolescence getting to know themselves, I am just starting.

I am beginning to learn why singleness is a gift from God. It allows you to focus on Him much more than when you have a romantic partner to think about. I have found that God pops into my head much more than ever before, and I feel like I have room to dwell on Him.

I am quieter now, I observe more. I think this is because I have no one to tell all my thoughts to, so I have taken living inside my head to a whole new level. I am developing better listening skills, and I am becoming exceptionally good at friend-zoning the crap out of everyone immediately.

I don't have as many feelings. I am neutral about a lot. I have gotten into classical music, and I like going places by myself. I pay attention in class, I pray throughout the day, and I work out 4 times a week.

I think this anti we thing is good for me, it brings out the best in me in a way I have never seen before. This helps me to understand the concept of someone else making you better, when you are already doing great on your own.

I am skeptical of this being possible.

Each morning when I eat my banana on the way to class, I thank God for giving me the courage to remove myself from being a we, and I pray this appreciative attitude continues for as long as possible.

I have decided I am brave. I ended my we and moved away with only me. Who does that, really?

I do.

... just saying.

True life: I'm a real introvert.

2009-10-05T19:38:00.000-07:00

Lately, I have been on the road to discovery to the truth about who I really am.

I said to my mom the other day, "I think I'm getting more introverted as I'm getting older. Every day when I come back to my room after class, I desperately want to shut and lock my door for the rest of the night."

For most of my life, I have known I am an introvert. After being with people for a long time, I need to be by myself. Large parties and social gatherings exhaust me, and I'm a good listener. But I have, however, thought that I wasn't that big of an introvert. I can handle a lot of socializing during the week, after all, I am in college and I'm doing just fine. You can imagine my confusion when I came to Westmont and felt overwhelmingly introverted, more so than I ever have in my life. I really thought I was becoming a real live grown up way too fast when all I want to do is go to bed at 10pm and sit in my underwear in my desk chair on weekends. Then tonight after my extremely extraverted room mate left to go to Young Life, I turned off my lights, turned up my fan and climbed into bed, even though I wasn't tired. As I was laying there I realized something: this is the first time my life has been set up as if I am an extravert.

It's true. In high school I would go to school all day, and then go home and spend time in my room or quietly on the couch. My family wouldn't bother me because they all know I am introverted. Freshman and sophomore year of college I had living situations that allowed for immense amounts of alone time. Starting second semester freshman year, I lived with an extravert who was much more quiet and less social than most. So whenever she was in the room, we would have our door shut and it was a pretty mutual desire to be quiet and avoid social interaction with others if at all possible. However, our class schedules were opposite of each other, and I would spend all afternoon in my room alone on weekdays. Sophomore year, my quieter extraverted room mate became extremely busy, and we lived in apartment style rooms with our own bathroom. I finished class at around 1pm every day, and would spend 1pm-6pm in my room, with my door locked by myself just because it naturally worked out that way. What I didn't realize at the time was how needed those five hours a day were for my well being.

I knew it was unique and introverted of me to walk quickly back to my room after just one class and lunchtime, and give a huge sigh of relief when I finally shut my room door behind me. But what I didn't realize was how unique and introverted it was that I could spend 4-6 hours in my room by myself, with the door locked and the blinds shut being entertained only by my thoughts or quiet music. Ready for the clencher: those hours were my favorite of my life, ever. I looked forward to that time. I squealed with joy when entering my room to be alone and thrive for the majority of the day. I would bounce around the room in my underwear, making tea, humming to music and working slowly on homework or reading one of my favorite books. In fact, if someone would knock on my door, I would pause my music and sit quietly until they left because that time was my time. Go away.

My life is quite different now.

I live in Clark. Clark is created for people who eat, sleep, and breathe socializing, specifically my suite. Now, don't get me wrong: I love the girls in my suite. Like, I love them. But they are all extraverts. I am the only one. One of my suite mates got a small sliver of introversion on her Myers Briggs test, but I got 82%, which means that I only actually like being around other people 18% of the time. Yeah. Life is rough for me. Our suite is set up with three doors facing each other and one bathroom. There are 6 of us living in here, and we all leave our doors open at all times. My room mate is the biggest extravert I have ever met in my entire life. While this isn't bad and I appreciate her extraversion immensely (probably because it gets me to leave my door open more than I naturally would...), I don't understand it. My suite mates will spend hours socializing. After dinner they will have a 90s music dance party in Megan's room, then they will say they have to go work on homework, which means dick around in each other's rooms for another 2 hours. Maybe they will study a little, go to the gym, and then socialize more until it's time for bed. In the morning they wake up in full swing, go to class, socialize between classes and at meals, and repeat.

I literally don't speak for at least an hour after I wake up.

After I eat a meal, I want to sit quietly and watch a show or read. At dinner conversations, I listen. 90s music dance parties? I close and lock my door.

And it's not just my suite, it's the entire transfer section. Several times throughout the day you will hear a roar of laughter coming from outside my suite in the courtyard, and its 9-10 transfers laughing and socializing for hours at a time. This makes me want to take a nap. I frequently escape to Cafe Luna for 4-5 hours at a time, just so I won't have to talk to people.

You can imagine how this would start to feel. What is wrong with me? Why am I like this? I have never been like this before!

Well, the truth is, I have always been like this, I just didn't realize it. I have always spent my free time alone, but I lived under the assumption that everyone else did too. I am very wrong about that. No one spends their free time alone. Well, some do, sometimes, but most people don't. I am different, and that is the hardest part about being an introvert: about 25% of the world's population are introverts. That is a lot less than half. I read an article today entitled Caring for Your Introvert (which I highly recommend reading...), and I realized why it is so awkward to be an introvert, it's because we are oppressed:

"Extroverts are seen as bighearted, vibrant, warm, empathic. "People person" is a compliment. Introverts are described with words like "guarded," "loner," "reserved," "taciturn," "self-contained," "private"—narrow, ungenerous words, words that suggest emotional parsimony and smallness of personality. Female introverts, I suspect, must suffer especially. In certain circles, particularly in the Midwest, a man can still sometimes get away with being what they used to call a strong and silent type; introverted women, lacking that alternative, are even more likely than men to be perceived as timid, withdrawn, haughty."

It is increasingly unfair to me that spending a Friday night alone in my room makes me a "loser," but after reading that article I am deciding that being an introvert is actually kind of amazing. In classes and especially in Christian environments I frequently hear about how important it is to really listen. I can't remember which class it was in but the professor was talking about how difficult it is to just listen without thinking of what you'll say next and without steering the conversation to you. I looked around and everyone seemed to be in agreement to this, in fact I hear many people discussing this hardship regularly.

I was like, what? That's not hard. 99% of my friendships are me listening, mindfully, intently, and quietly. And you know what? I'm an awesome friend. Why? Because I'm an introvert.

What people need to understand, is this: Being introverted doesn't mean shy. It doesn't mean quiet, or awkward. It means the amount in which extraverts talk, exhausts me. I am introspective, I am reflective, I am understanding, I am sensitive, and I work things out in my head more frequently than I do out loud. I write better than I speak, I thrive off of my own company, and I observe the world, instead of attack it with loudness.

"The worst of it is that extroverts have no idea of the torment they put us through. Sometimes, as we gasp for air amid the fog of their 98-percent-content-free talk, we wonder if extroverts even bother to listen to themselves. Still, we endure stoically, because the etiquette books—written, no doubt, by extroverts—regard declining to banter as rude and gaps in conversation as awkward. We can only dream that someday, when our condition is more widely understood, when perhaps an Introverts' Rights movement has blossomed and borne fruit, it will not be impolite to say 'I'm an introvert. You are a wonderful person and I like you. But now please shush.'"

Not that I don't love/need/appreciate extraverts but...

... just saying.

Being a transfer: the truth

2009-09-29T19:55:00.000-07:00

(Just a heads up, this is me complaining for an entire post. Get ready.)

I'm sick of meeting new people.

That is the worst part about being a transfer, 24/7 I am meeting new people. I hate it, though.

Even last year, at Biola, if I was walking somewhere with a friend and they ran into someone on campus that I had never met - I requested privately that they not introduce me, because I hate meeting people.

I hate shaking hands, I hate telling people what my major is, why I left Biola, and how I am liking Westmont so far. I hate it. But I especially hate the Biola question. I have to be all sugar coaty about it, "Oh... it just wasn't for me," when really I am thinking, "Umm because it was the weirdest place EVER." But I can't say that, and it's tiring.

I mean, I want friends... well actually, I have a lot of friends already, and as much as I want more, I kinda don't care that much. It's weird, I have all this perspective from high school and the first two years of college... I think to myself, "Well, I'm probably only going to keep in touch with like, 3 or 4 people from Westmont. I'm only here for two years, do I really need to shake your hand at dinner and tell you how much I love living in Clark? Probably not."

It's not good, I know. And I don't act on it, it's just how I feel. I don't want to go to new student mixers, I don't want to hang out with people I don't really like that much just because they invited me, I just want to live my life. Blah.

I hate the new friendship process. I hated it in high school, I hated it freshman year, I hate it now. Everyone is like, "well you're really outgoing it seems like you have no problem making friends," well yeah but that doesn't mean I enjoy it! It's sooo awkward and in my head I am sooo uncomfortable and all I really wanna do is sit in my room in my underwear and watch Family Guy, or go to the gym.

I love Westmont, though. It's not perfect, as I suspected it wouldn't be, but the flaws that annoy me so far are soo manageable. It almost excites me that these are the only flaws so far.

Here are the things that annoy me:

1) It is sooooooo small. Like, WOW. This is annoying because the professors are IN YOUR FACE. They will not leave you alone. If you miss class or seem tired one day, they will like, email you about it to make sure everything is okay. In class if you seem confused or distracted they will call on you to make sure you understand. A lot of people are like "omg it's so great because it's so small so the professors love you as an individual." No, this is not great. It's annoying. Today I turned in my test and my prof was like, "Why don't you fill in number 4 a little more?" Shut up, I am done. Leave me alone. I am paying over 40 grand a year to be taught by you, not to have you pester the shit out of me. Please.

2) Everyone complains about how hard it is. This is sort of a love/hate thing for me. Westmont is freaking HARD. Anyone who is at college right now who thinks it's hard, you are wrong. This is harder. I love that people at Westmont actually study, but it annoys me that they are always like omg this is so hard I hate it. Shut up. It's worth it.

3) I sort of feel like I am never clean. I mean not totally, but since Westmont is on top of a mountain, just walking to class is like a nature hike. My feet are always not 100% clean and it bugs me.

4) People I haven't met don't realize I'm a transfer, so they think I am a freshman. 18 year old Sophomores talk down to me. Excuse me? I am 20 years old. I may be new, but I am not retarded. Step off.

The amazing thing? That's it so far. I am so easily annoyed, this is miraculous. I thank Jesus every day for bringing me here. I will graduate with no regrets about my college decision.

Some girls in Armington are baking for the transfer girls tonight, but I am rebelling and going to the gym to have me time. Take that, transferdom.

...just saying.

Remembering the good days.

2009-09-22T23:20:00.000-07:00

I took for granted the days I had time to:

+Breathe

+Do anything other than homework

+Take naps

+Watch TV online

+Watch the OC

+Have coffee with a friend

+Work out whenever I wanted (at least 4 times a week)

+Hang out in someone's room, just to talk for more than 10 minutes

+Go to bed early

+Sleep in late

+Go somewhere that isn't my room, the library, or a coffee shop to study, on a week day.

+Read for fun

+Have "free time" (notice that it is in air quotes, because it is a thing that happens in an imaginary far off place) (I actually can't remember what its like)

+Talk on the phone with a friend for more than 10 minutes or when I'm walking to class

+Day dream

+Sit at a meal for more than 20 minutes, without rushing to go study more

+Listen to music and think about something that isn't school

+Go for a drive

+Go out to eat

+Do a favor for someone

+Video Chat

+Sit outside (without studying)

+Organize my desk

+Be able to make a list like this without it being a means of procrastination for two more hours of studying I have ahead of me

+Live.

Dear Westmont, I love you, I appreciate you, but you are difficult.

But I will love the challenge, no matter how much of my life it sucks away.

Back to Rhetoric.

Because this is infinitely better than starting my Rhetoric paper.

2009-09-14T18:00:00.001-07:00

Life Updates:

1) I have a brand new, bright yellow iPod Nano. Nanos now come with a video camera. I am officially high tech and up to date (even though I have no idea how to work all of its special features because it is like, from outer space).

2) I have a really, really challenging Rhetoric paper due on Wednesday. I'm freaking out, a little. (Hence this blog.)

3) I LOVE Westmont, but I am sick of being a transfer. I have a ton of friends, really, but its still pretty awkward. People will be like, "umm... are you a freshman?" I'm like, no, I'm a transfer. "Oh..." Shut up. Two years ago I moved 2000 miles away from home, BY MYSELF, and lived at college for TWO YEARS. That's more than I can say for you, sophomore from Goleta. Whatever. Don't ask me how I'm adjusting so far, don't ask me how I feel about "living so far away from home." THIS IS NOT A NEW EXPERIENCE. I haven't even cried once. Come on.

3) I made N Step, the dance team at Westmont. So... we'll see how that goes.

4) I am officially employed by the Westmont Horizon (the newspaper) with a biweekly column for the opinions page. My thoughts are going published, for the first time ever. More on that later...

5) I love THIS shampoo:

And even though I still highly recommend Biolage, I had to buy "Blonde Glam" for Multi-Tonal blondes due to my streaks. My hair is better than ever, lately. Thanks Redken!

6) I am on a brand new fitness program/diet. I can't remember the last time I had ice cream. (i.e. it has been more than a week = big deal.)

7) I'm sick of people talking about how small my phone is. (I have a juke.) I am saying this legitimately with no exaggeration, at least 3 different people PER day will make a comment about it. "OMG. IS THAT YOUR PHONE? IT'S SO SMALL." "OMG is it like hard to text? Omg can you even see the screen?" Really? What do you expect? "Yeah, actually I can't text on this phone and I have to wear glasses to see who is calling me, that's why I bought it." Idiot.

8) My second week at Westmont I was hired as a Tour Guide by the admissions office. = I get to sit in a cubicle and stuff envelopes/give perky tours of Westmont to prospective families and students. Awesome.

9) I am still 100% single. 100%. It's good and bad, but mostly good. This continues steadfast until May (and then I get $200), and indefinitely once May hits. More on that later...

10) Still don't have a facebook, still couldn't be happier about it. I have NO idea what's going on in hardly ANYONE'S life, and it's fantastic.

11) Within the next few weeks I will be blogging about:

- People who audition for things for fun (wtf?)

- Writing for the newspaper

- How I feel about not being at Biola

- My job at the Admissions Office

- My true thoughts about the iPhone (/space phone)

- The adventures of being a transfer

- My attempts to continue avoiding being pensive

- My success at being single so far

I MISS (Biola):

1) Amy Armstrong

2) The Fluor Fountain of Faith

3) The Caf

4) The Fitness Center hours

5) Knowing everyone

6) Dr. Muehlhoff

7) Dr. Killion

8) Julia Wible

9) Christian Young

10) Shannon Tierney

11) Rachel, Angela, Jake, Marshall Bang, Dustin Giallanza, etc etc etc etc...

12) XOPOC. (Like, WOW.)

13) Living in Stewart

14) The Love Nook

15) The Starbucks on Rosecrans/La Mirada (only because it became like home #2 for me)

16) Disneyland

17) People knowing who I am. (Not that being surrounded by complete strangers all the time isn't fantastic...)

18) The Dollar Theater

19) Going to Berry Cool

20) Getting movies from the library with Amy and watching them in a row instead of studying.

21) Xopoc Parties in Hope 2nd Lobby

22) Drive-Thrus. BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE THEM IN SANTA BARBARA. It's weird...

23) Target being 5 minutes away. (Here it is 30 minutes away.)

24) School being easy. (Or maybe just easi-ER, than it is here. Subjective, of course.)

25) Having something to rant/blog about daily. (I mean, I don't miss it, but I miss the rage and saying,"Freaking BI-ola." Ha ha)

But really, I love Westmont. That was just for all my Biola friends who read my blog. I still love you.

On to Rhetoric...

... just saying.

A Photo Update, number 2.

2009-09-13T13:27:00.001-07:00

Clark Cruise, Scavenger Hunt, Soccer games...

For our dorm, Clark, we went on a "Clarktoons" Cruise. Megan, Britt and I were powerpuff girls. (I was Blossom.)

And my RA, Ashley, was Dumbo :)

And some other girls in my section were Snap, Crackle and Pop, Bambi, Esmerelda, and Ninja Turtles.

The Flinstones, Tarzan, Shaggy and Fred...

We also went to a soccer game:

And on a photo scavenger hunt: Get a complete stranger to take off his shirt, and take a photo wearing his shirt with the stranger standing shirtless. Ha ha!

Westmont is great so far :)

I just want to be fit.

2009-09-07T08:17:00.001-07:00

So this semester I have some major fitness goals. I am drastically changing my diet, and intensifying my work out via personal trainer (because my suite mate just happens to be certified and willing to train me for Pinkberry :)). I began this plan yesterday afternoon, and this morning I eagerly awoke at 630 AM to go and begin my rigorous work out.

By the time I got changed, brushed my teeth, located an ipod and wandered down the endless hill (because I live at Camp Westmont, where everything is a hill) and approached the gym, it was 7 AM and all I could think about was the fitness that awaited me.

I began my work out, a little pull up machine, some abs, some glutes, some free weights, some triceps, but at around 7:40 I noticed something strange was happening...

everyone seemed to be leaving the gym. How coincidental, I wonder why they would all leave at the same time. At about 7:43 it was down to me and one other guy, who had been running intensely on the treadmill for only about 10 minutes. "Do they close at 8?" I thought, walking over to check the hours on the gym door. I guess that would be fine, it will give me at least 15 minutes to do cardio, as opposed to none.

NOPE. The westmont gym is open Monday-Friday, 6:30 AM - 7:45 AM.

What. the. hell. Please explain this to me. A normal, healthy and recommended work out is 90 MINUTES. 90. NOT 75! How am I supposed to be fit, if Westmont won't let me? On M/W/F, the morning is the only time I have to work out. The rest of the day is slammed with classes, reading and work. And here I am, waking up at the butt crack of dawn, ready to work out my body and Westmont is saying Nope - sorry.

How weird is that? Not only this but it has other weird hours too. In the afternoon it's only open from 1-330, and at night from 7-11. So if you have class all afternoon, and work in the evening, SORRY. You're just gonna have to be fat this year, Westmont student. Sucks to be you because your schedule does not conform to our extreme weirdness. I am pretty sure that no other gym in the world has hours like these. At Biola it was open from 6 AM to Midnight, daily. At Wheaton, I am pretty sure it's the same. I am also pretty sure that every other gym in the world is open all day, except for Westmont. And this angers me.

Well, I am rebelling against this system. Where will I be on M/W/F mornings at 7 AM from now on? NOT at the Westmont gym. I will be at East Beach, running. Thank you very much. I also am googling/researching/praying/fasting about joining 24 hour fitness, or another gym nearby. Because I am willing to pay a little extra monthly for fitness convenience and availability.

Not that I don't already pay over 40,000 dollars to go here.

... just saying.

I love to learn.

2009-09-06T14:02:00.001-07:00

I'm really sick of something.

It is officially very hypocritical for me to be writing about this specific topic, because it's something I was blind to for most of my life.

However, I have to express this.

I am sick of people complaining about school.

I am sick of it. All I hear, all day long, from EVERYONE around me is, "blah blah blah, I hate school. blah blah blah, whine whine whine, I don't wanna do my homework. School is the worst thing ever. blah."

Where do I even start? First I will begin with, how dare you? How DARE you complain about one of the greatest privileges you will EVER receive? To grow your mind, to read, to learn, to see the world through different eyes, to spend four years of your life, 100% focused on YOURSELF and becoming an educated person, and therefore benefitting the WORLD with your perspectives and ideas, is one of THE greatest gifts a human can EVER receive. We as a student body, here in the beautiful mountains of Santa Barbara, California, are the fortunate people of the world. We are it. We are the lucky and the blessed, we are the educated, the intellectual, and the valued (as far as society is concerned). Whenever I am feeling discontent, tired, lazy or not super into reading 100 pages of Rhetoric, I remember how many people in the world only dream of finishing high school. During my Senior year I was able to travel to Zambia, in Africa where I met a man who had been saving for 15 years to go to college. All he wanted to do was go somewhere to learn, and come back to where he came from and teach others. While I was there I found and was enlightened by a thirst for knowledge. I found children who would sit and listen to us for hours talking about normal, common things like the equator, or the solar system, or trees. They just wanted to know things.

This world is so big. There is so much to know, and so much we will never know. But here I am, in my third year of college, with the freedom to learn about whatever I want. And after I came to this realization (which was only about halfway through my sophomore year), I found myself being just like those children. I just want to know stuff. I LOVE knowing stuff. If I could, I would go to school for the next 10 years of my life, just so I could know more.

During freshman year at Biola we read a book called, "Love Your God With All Your Mind" by JP Moreland. At the time I was feeling all shallow and lazy and didn't understand the significance, but NOW I do! We are serving God through learning more about all he has created. People who drop out of school, or do not reach their fullest intellectual potential because they want to just "serve God" have got it all wrong, because that's exactly what being a student is all about - especially at Westmont. God has blessed us, so immensely. He has handed college to us, just like that. We are able to become educated Christians, and when some of us go onto the mission field in our futures - we will know what it means to follow Jesus. We will have an advantage and we can be teachers to everyone else who were not as lucky as we are. Does God need a college degree to use someone? No. But how could we ever reject or complain about such a wonderful gift?

A lot of the time, I don't want to do my homework. A lot of the time, rhetoric makes my head throb. But each day, whenever these feelings of laziness or angst or "rebellion against the man" (and college being the man is just inaccurate but that's another topic), start to creep into the depths of my soul, I stop and remember how awesome I am going to be when I graduate, because I am gonna know stuff. So I take a deep breath, open up my rhetoric book, and tell myself to shut up. Maybe you should shut up, too.

...just saying.

A photo update.

2009-08-30T21:30:00.000-07:00

So since I have no facebook, there may be periodic photo updates via blog. Here is proof that since my arrival at Westmont I haven't done anything crazy... (like shave my head or gain 100 pounds). Here are a few photos from the Line Dance in the Westmont gym on Friday :)

Clark C & D Girls

Clark D lower... (my quad :) )

All the transfer girls!

Classes start tomorrow!!

One more thing:

2009-08-24T20:43:00.000-07:00

These two things are making me laugh hysterically right now:

Camping

and Surprises

read the first, then watch the second. It will make your day.

Ending unplanned.

2009-08-24T18:14:00.000-07:00

There are many different sides to me.

MANY.

There are some that no one know about. But there is one in particular, and it is one of my main sides. I could possibly describe it as: pensive, complex, intense, analytical, overwhelming, or dark. Usually all of the above. I actually avoid letting this side of me take over. I spent many years of living daily life with this side dominating, and once I moved and grew older, I got a little tired of being pissed and sad so I decided it was time for a change. I want to be positive.

But it still creeps back in. There are many, many things that trigger this. Leaving is one of them. And I'm leaving tomorrow.

I leave a lot, actually. In big ways and small ways, I sort of always have. Now that I'm old enough to do so, and school allows it, when things are less than desirable I just switch states. I flee 2000 miles away, or in this case, I flee 2000 miles away and then two hours north, away from Biola AND Illinois. Double whammy. But I leave in small ways, too. If a situation is awkward, I just leave. If someone hurts me, I shut them out. If I'm bored or uncomfortable, I mentally leave the circumstance. I just check out. I'm a big leaver. I love to leave. Its my go-to when anything isn't great. Being unattainable, ignoring people, running, driving, flying, distancing myself in any way, leaving in any form - all my favorites.

But as I mentioned in a previous post , I am also self aware, and I know this isn't healthy. Its partially why I decided to be a communications major, I WANT to communicate effectively. I want to stay when things are bad, I want to address conflict, I want to embrace awkwardness, I WANT to stay. I want to deal with things. I really do. But I freak out, and I think too hard, and before I know it I'm in my car, or on a plane, or my phone is off, or I'm somewhere else far away from where I originally was in the first place and then I can't go back. Its a bad habit, I know.

BUT - good news, I'm addressing it. I'm writing it down. And mark my words, this time will be different. I am GOING to Westmont tomorrow. I am GOING to make it home, and I am GOING to stay there. I'm being aware, I'm thinking things through, and its going to be good. It has to be...

and here is why: I am avoiding my pensive darkness. Earlier today I got all caught up in "Bright Eyes." I got all "Land Locked Blues" and oh "the worlds got me dizzy again" woe is me, but I stopped myself. Right then and there, I stopped. I am officially as of today, refusing to be discontent. I will not let the darkness creep in. I am going to be like everyone else in that I am going with the flow. I am smiling, I am flying to the ocean and I am STAYING there. I am avoiding Bright Eyes (except for First Day of My Life, because its just so damn cheerful), and "What Sarah Said" by DCFC and "See You Soon" by Coldplay and all those other songs that make me sit and stare at the wall and dwell on all of life's unhappiness - I am making a choice.

So tonight, I am not going to blog about leaving Wheaton. I'm not going to blog about my broken friendships or the "pleasure that my sadness brings" (just getting it out of my system), or about my deep fears and angst about going to a new place and I'm all alone oohhh sweet sorrow.

Not tonight. Tonight, I am going to bump Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten" on repeat, put on some cute underwear and finish packing up my room. Because I am LEAVING. I am going to ADDRESS CONFLICT! AND DEAL WITH THINGS! AND TALK ABOUT MYSELF! I am going to live in the mountains, at a kick ass school, with brand new people who are GOING to rock my world. And I'm doing it all. by. myself. Because I am a woman, and I am empowered, and I am content.

Watch me go.

...just saying.

Honesty is one of my bests.

2009-08-19T22:00:00.000-07:00

I guess I'll start by apologizing to all the rant lovers in the world. My recent posts have been all touchy feely about my new life insights and deep thoughts... and although another one of those will be coming up soon (probably in my famous "the night before I go back to college" post where the touchy feely insights are FLOWING like a river), I will now rant on a topic about which I feel much, much passion and rage:

Yes. It is a child. For many, and I would even venture to say MOST women, when they think of children, and pregnancy they think of this:

or this:

And while those things are precious, I think of this:

Yes, its true. I hate children. However, for quite some time earlier in my life, I believed that I love children. I used to think nothing was more rewarding than a big family and an Elementary Education degree. My mom is a pre-school teacher and Anna was always Miss Summer Nanny, so I thought hey! Me too. Lots of kids? No problem.

But then I started babysitting. And everything changed.

I will admit, it took a while for me to be able to voice my feelings about this out loud. The image of being a beautiful perfect woman USUALLY includes "maternal instincts" and "holding babies while still having time to do my hair," but after I decided to forfeit that whole stereotypical woman thing - its become quite easy to say. Plus I sleep better when I'm honest about who I am, and who I am is NOT this: click here. (and BTW, I will be buying that book THIS WEEK.)

I first experienced the complete irritation of children when I babysat for Patrick and Daley, my Senior year of high school. We were walking to the park, and Daley insisted on bringing her bike along. This of course, was the most obnoxious thing in the world - because Daley doesn't quite know how to ride her bike. So, in order for this to take place, I was expected to walk behind her, legs straddled around her mini bike and mini self, pushing her on the bike ALL THE WAY TO THE PARK. Are you kidding? Do you know how physically uncomfortable that was? Not only this, but her mom acted like it would be a breeze. "Oh, no big deal Elizabeth - just hunch over, and increase your existing back problems for about 12 blocks so that Daley can have this experience." Bull shit. No way.

I am irritated by children, yes, but at times I am MORE irritated by children's parents. I have babysat for many families since then, only due to money desperation, and they treat me as though I love their children like my own. Phrases like: "She'll let you know when she needs to poop, so just take her into the bathroom and sit on the floor until she's done." or "He's going to want ice cream after dinner, so when its all over his face and hands you can just wipe him clean with a paper towel. Sometimes it will get in his hair and down his shirt a little, so you can just wash his hair in the sink and put on a clean shirt."

Um... that's DISGUSTING. Excuse me but I am your babysitter, I do not love your child. Why would you think, for even a minute, that sitting in front of the toilet while your daughter poops would NOT make me vomit? Truthfully she's really NOT as cute as you think she is - you only think that because she came out of you.

Which leads me to my next topic: pregnancy.

No. Just... no. After being at a Christian school for many years, I have experienced many, "Pregnancy is beautiful" conversations. Here is my issue with that, pregnancy is not beautiful. THE IDEA of pregnancy is beautiful - yes. Wow, how amazing that through sex I can actually GROW another human inside of me - that is pretty fantastic. But to say, "pregnancy is beautiful, I can't WAIT to be pregnant..." thats where its a little much for me. Although I keep my mouth shut I think, "You can't wait to be 900 pounds, nauseous and disgusting for NINE MONTHS?? NINE MONTHS?? You can't wait to push a watermelon out of a pinhole for agonizing hours upon hours, only to then spend the next 0-17 years of your life dealing with a creature that will prohibit you from sleeping, your house from being clean, and your life from being normal? Oh, okay. Yeah, that sounds great." I just don't get it. And everyone says to me, "you'll understand when you're older," or "when you get married, you will want to have children," or "you'll change your mind later in life - you really will." But why? Clearly, there are so many unfit parents in our world. I don't think I can count on all my fingers and toes how many friends I have whose parents have messed them up, royally - and I'm starting to think maybe some people (and I would be included in that "some" if I ever popped out a baby) have kids just because everyone else is doing it. There is so much PRESSURE to date, mate and procreate - but what if I really don't like children? What if I think, truly in my heart, that I won't enjoy being a mother? Why can't I spend ALL of that time and money that I would spend on pushing infants out of my body, on already existing humans who need help? There is so much need in the world - and for right now, I see the most "fulfilling" part of my life being contributing to and relieving that need, not breast feeding and picking out back to school outfits.

While I see the importance of procreating, and while I respect stay at home moms IMMENSELY, I just see my future a little differently. And while I plan on having lots of sex if I get married, and knowing I don't have total control on whether or not a baby comes from that... I sort of hope and pray that God sees my future a little differently, too. Knock on wood.

...just saying.

My New Beginning.

2009-08-16T18:05:00.001-07:00

This summer has been a summer of learning. A summer of big changes, big mistakes, and growing to be wiser... almost more wise than I wish I was at this point in my life.

Many mistakes and changes I have made over the past few months have allowed me to realize how susceptible I am to worldly poisons. I actually, as a human, am moderately disgusting. A lot of people make mistakes by accident, they fall into addictions and poison without realizing it or really meaning to... some people even believe its the right thing to be doing.

I'm not like that.

I am completely self aware. I always have been.

It's a gift and a curse.

When I make a mistake, a big mistake - I weigh my options. I think really hard about it, I know exactly what good and bad can come from it - and I go from there. There have been times in my life (and specifically over the past few months) that I knew EXACTLY what I was doing, exactly why it was wrong and how it would negatively affect me and others around me but decided to do it anyway. I'm gross, I know. However thats the effect poison has in my life. A memorable quote from Mean Girls will forever stick with me when things get messy, "When you get bit by a snake, you're supposed to suck the poison out. That's what I had to do, suck all the poison out of my life."

And thats what I am doing. I'm sucking the poison out.

So I deleted my facebook.

Yes, its true. I cut myself off completely from all that is socially relevant in the world. I cut myself off from easy access to people, to memories, and to places I no longer live. Of course I recognize how obviously cliche I sound right now by referring to facebook as "poison" in my life. You might as well put a bonnet on my head, take away my television and watch me homeschool my 10 kids with that kind of mentality - but let me explain, I don't believe facebook is poisonous. It is only affecting me in that way, right now, at this time in my life. Over the past few weeks, there have been several life poisons I have cut out of my life. The most noticeable to the general public (and pretty much everyone in my life) now, is facebook. The truth is, I just don't want to know. Whoever said "ignorance is bliss" was purely genius. I don't want to know about my friends from home who no longer speak to me, I don't want to be consistently reminded of my bad relationships, and all of my mistakes through photos of people plastered on my News feed. I need to move on.

How can someone move on from a place, from people and things, when she is completely connected to them and reminded of them several times a day?

She can't. Or at least, I can't. I don't want to be accessible. I don't want people to know things about me, and I don't want to know information I don't need to have. If people want to stay in my life, they can call me, they can email me, they can even write me a letter but officially as of now, I refuse to be easily seen and known. I also refuse to let myself dwell on unimportant things, and people.

When I made my decision to transfer to Westmont, I wanted to start over completely. I have learned a lot over the past year, and I want to bring that wisdom with me, to a fresh place, where I can think hard before I do anything. If I bring my facebook to Westmont, if I bring my photos, my wall posts, my friends, my past, my boyfriends and all of my screw ups displayed on the internet for all to see... how can I be fresh? How can I be new?

This transfer opportunity, is a gift. God planned it, and it becomes more evident every day. I want to arrive at Westmont alone, new, fresh, and ready. I want all that I have learned to start being reflected in my life, in my choices and my relationships. I plan to embrace the better part of who I am from now on, and I'm doing it facebookless.

I have also been really into the song, "All of My Days" by Alexi Murdoch, this summer. It represents something to me - although I don't know why. Maybe you should love it too.

... just saying.

The Gym

2009-07-31T08:28:00.000-07:00

Its a beautiful thing. I'm actually surprised it has taken me THIS long to blog about it - since the gym happens to be one of my most favorite things ever.

Why do I love the gym? Well for obvious reasons of course... being fit is important. I in no way desire to "let myself go," especially after I just turned the big 2-0 which finalized my very first metabolic drop as a growing woman. (Its weird to say woman, but technically, I am a woman. How did this happen?) I love the gym because I love the results - but that is not the only reason.

Something about the gym allows my mind to disappear. Even though I am surrounded by lots of sweaty people, men grunting and lifting heavy objects, loud music and big, dangerous athletic equipment... I do not feel stressed. The gym realistically is, a breeding ground for stress and anxiety due to the person I am but when I'm working out - stress is not a factor. The gym is my go-to when something is wrong. Lately on my days off I have been waking up obnoxiously early, feeling sick to my stomach, and am then unable to fall back to sleep. The first thing I think to do is get up and just go to the gym. I don't know how I would live without it - where would I channel my stress, my anxieties and my rage? I have a lot of rage.

In high school dancing was my outlet. I was in class 6-7 hours a week and thats where I would channel all of my issues. In all honesty, the gym does not compare to this. The gym is not a creative outlet but it IS a wonderful substitute when hours of expensive dance training are not available. I don't really know what other non-gym people do with all of their pent up thoughts and energies, exercise is really the only thing in this world that releases endorphins into your body, telling you everything is going to be okay WHILE making you sexy at the SAME. TIME. Can't top it.

Heres what I'm REALLY looking forward to: Living in Santa Barbara. Let me tell you why, because Santa Barbara is like the international home of YOGA because everyone there is overly wealthy, zen and hot. It was hard to find good, NON-Bikram yoga place around Biola but having a sister living in the Santa Barbara area (!!!!!!!), it will be very beneficial to get all the best yoga location information from her. My goal is to get settled into Westmont, and within the first month begin taking yoga twice a week, and working out three mornings a week. I am on my way to being healthy, sexy, and rage-free.

And now, I am going to the gym.

Maybe you should too.

...just saying.

A Multi Subject Post: My issues with blogging, being alone, and the irrisistibleness of a sundress

2009-07-22T13:32:00.001-07:00

Yes, I know, I am horrible at blogging. Over the past few weeks of my recent postless blog I have received lots of angry comments, pestering text messages, and confused/depressed fan mail about my lack of an update. (I'm exaggerating, but really, it was getting ridiculous.) However, during this time I have been doing a lot of reflecting on why exactly I have such an issue with blogging. For some reason I am extremely selective about my topics. There were in fact several times that I would write half a blog post, but then get annoyed and shut my computer. Although I really don't put THAT much work into my blog (some people edit, post links, theme their blogs and update everyday, clearly I don't do any of those things...), I still possess a certain snobbish-ness about what flows from my mind, through my fingers and onto this screen for the public eye to read. It wasn't up until very recently (like, maybe November) that I became moderately comfortable with the idea of writing things for others to see. However even now, alongside my public blog I have a private blog, where I release all of my deepest thoughts into the deep, vast unknown of the internet under a very cryptic blogger alias. Although I have truly enjoyed letting other people inside of my rants, raves, opinions and shampoo preferences, there is still 3/4 of me that likes to remain sporadic, mysterious, and aloof.

Well now that that has been established, I'm completely annoyed and enlightened all at once. Everyone is getting married. EVERYONE. For the first 20 years and 2 months of my life, I would have thought this was wonderful, because afterall, marriage IS the Christian American dream. If you are over 30 and single then, well, poor you. However, my recent decision to be single has taken me to a completely new way of thinking. It has been for the past few years that I have heard many people talk about the "adventure of marriage." And, "oh how wonderful to find someone and venture into the unknown of a lifelong romance." Today I was listening to, "Merry Happy" but Kate Nash (and if you don't know of her, then poor you), and I was struck with the desire to rant and rave about the adventure that is being single. Considering I have spent, oh, say 3/4 of my life having a boyfriend - I would like to officially say, that being single is much more of an adventure than being in a relationship. Perhaps this is just because being ACTUALLY single is a very new thing for me, but I am discovering things about myself that I never knew about until now. Now that I no longer have the ever present pair of listening boyfriend ears, more than half of my thoughts stay in my mind to float around and disturb my life throughout the day. I have discovered that things are much better this way. There is nothing more fantastic than bonding with yourself, having secrets no one else knows, and not feeling obligated to share them with an overbearing male that must know everything about you. I feel so absolutely empowered in my complete and true DESIRE to be and remain alone, that I pity people who get married. I think to myself how boring that must be to be chained to another human and I rejoice in that the next several years of my life will be spent on a roller coaster of decisions that only I get to choose - how much more adventurous could life be than that?

Lately I have also wondered why it is that everyone assumes they will get married? Why is everyone all, "someday" and "oh well when I get married...," who decided this was the life route everyone will ultimately choose? Why is it that every man and ESPECIALLY woman who are over 30 and single, are somehow stereotyped as lonely, destitute, and missing out on "the good things" in life? I have hardly found that being alone causes me to miss out on life, for the past month I have realized it was while I was in a relationship that I missed out on life. Although I am completely pro-marriage, I am thrilled to report that being alone has provided much learning and growing for me as an individual. When I look at my life and where I could be 5, 6, to 8 years from now I sincerely hope I will still be alone (and possibly a power bitch, which is my current life goal). I have never once in my life met a functional, strong willed, attractive older woman who chose to be single and is content with her decision. There is nothing I would love more than to be that woman, and to be an example to Christian girls all over the country (because someday I will write a book), as someone who chose the other road. In the church there is a very serious lack of encouragement for women that getting married is not the ultimate life destination. This really needs to change.

Today, I bought 3 sundresses. No matter how hard I try to avoid them - they somehow always find me. There is something so irresistibly feminine about a sundress, and today I have decided that I will continue collecting them.

... just saying.

I do other things besides rant.

2009-06-26T23:14:00.000-07:00

It never ceases to amaze me, how much things can change in a year.

After deciding to transfer to new school, going through a painful and dramatic break up, and bleaching huge chunks of my hair platinum blonde: my life is in a completely, 100% different stage than it was last summer.

It has been very amazing to see how God has always had his hand on my life. I will be going in one direction and all of a sudden, I am taken somewhere completely different - somewhere I never would have expected. (i.e. Wheaton Academy, Westmont) He saves me from things that I didn't even realize I needed to be saved from - until later.

Now, my life at Biola was a phase, a thing of the past, something I am no longer connected to. I am alone again, and for the first time I am starting something new, all by myself.

There is something very empowering about all of this, something exciting and fulfilling. Although it is scary, sometimes sad and confusing... I cannot express in words how grateful I am for the drastic turn my life has taken. I can only know that it was God's plan all along, and it will be much better than the plan I had in mind.

... just saying.