In And Out And In Dependence

Happy 4th of July and food and fun and fireworks! Look at us, we made a HUGE turn around in history when some guy wearing a wig and pretentious smile turned to another guy wearing a tailcoat and monocle, to put together one of the greatest writings this nation has ever been blessed with - the Declaration of Independence. Forgive me if I sound a little sardonic at times, I promise you it is not a huffy whine of an ingrate, it's just that I have a very bittersweet taste in my mouth from the sugar coated ideology that is the American "Independence" of today. We all know the history of this amazing day and quite frankly it is amazing for so many reasons - it has given us the ability to move and think and say and do and advance in just about every way imaginable. It might sound like I'm talking about the Constitution, but while that is another wonderful piece of paper, it is not going to share the spotlight today. I am no political guru or historical buff, not by any means...but I do live in America (though sometimes I wonder if the other inhabitants are still living in America in their hearts and in their minds...much of the time it seems the lights are on but nobody's home...) and I truly fear for myself and my loved ones and their loved ones, etc., etc., on a daily basis. America has become so fixated on a hypnotic state of independence that everything is just as free as it used to be...that we are just as free as we used to be. Granted, there are many who are "wising up" and trying their darnedest to have their little voices shouting from the top of their little lungs on their little anthill be heard and heeded by the giants of the land who can so swiftly crush our semiannual parade-going, bbq-ing, firework-ing, red-white-and-blue-wearing, star-spangled-banner-singing lives to nothing but dust. At least we had some delicious hamburgers and got to make designs in the night air with our sparklers...weeeeeee...!

Charlotte Bronte, a character in one of my favorite books (Jane Eyre) said, “I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.” Alright miss Bronte, we share the sentiment, and we will continue to prove it by droning about the land fulfilling all the duties of a "free" America(n) by being corporate slaves, media slaves, domestic slaves, political slaves...we are bought and paid for...but at least we have our independent will! ;D If Thomas Paine stated “These are the times that try men's souls.” way back in the late 1700's, he would roll over in his grave if he knew how much worse things have been and what exactly "We the people..." has turned into with today's society and leaders. We have such a skewed sense of what freedom is now days, somehow the word freedom has had a Siamese twin baby and it's name is rebellion and ignorance. “We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately.” - Benjamin Franklin

After all that babbling, I feel I have quenched my blog-thirst and it is now time to rest my everything so that I can fully participate in the "Freedom Festival" of this national holiday. All the aforementioned having been said, I do wish to say one final peace...
To all the men and women who continually give of themselves in order to maintain the freedom that this nation does have - I thank you. I commend you. To all the hearts and minds of true patriotism - never stand still, but be immovable. To all those who have gone before, I am truly grateful. Let Freedom Ring.

Not So Merry Go Round

This moment, right here and now, this is for me. It's a moment for me to attempt to stop this ride that I'm painstakingly stuck on. Sometimes the things in life that seem fun at first can turn out to be my worst nightmare if I don't properly assess the situation and have a solid game plan. This life keeps going round and round, and it is not always so merry, in fact it can be devilishly horrible when trying to find my way through the crowds of projections passing through. When I'm trapped in the amusement park of my mind it can sometimes be quite opposite from amusing. The best thing to do is to keep looking for the attendant that knows the place far better than I ever could. He can help me get to where I'm going, He can help me start or stop any ride at any time. I just have to pay attention to where He places the maps of the park for added help.


 Sometimes I write things. And sometimes I wonder if it's even worth it. But I'm back.

In Memory Of Kaitlyn Stoutsenburger, 08/10/1989 - 03/22/2012

The queen of the Tinker Bell fan club. The talented one that would always try to include me in the choir and drama things even though I was severely lacking in the talent department. Haha, you set me up on my first blind date ever...which turned out to be absolutely terrible. You were one of the first people to befriend me my first year of public school in 9th grade. I remember all the times we would sluff class and make up the most ridiculous excuses. All those times we would practice musical arrangements for various school things or for absolutely no reason at all but just for the pure fun and enjoyment of it. All those fun, random adventures we would have when hanging out. Our many late night conversations. Haha and girl, you sure can move on the dance floor. So much talent for such a small-town "ordinary" girl. Girl, you weren't ordinary at all! You saved my skin so many times and always watched out for my well-being. I'm only sorry I didn't take more advantage of the time I was fortunate enough to have you in my life. But I look forward to the day that I can hug you again and tell you that in person. I love you, Kate Stoutsenberger. Keep developing those 5 Star talents of yours! ;)

One of my dear friends passed away on Thursday, March 22 around 9:30 A.M.
Kaitlyn, affectionately known as Kat, had been one of my best friends since 9th grade (my first year in public school) and was one of the very first people to befriend me. It was during auditions for the play Crazy For You that we met. She took me under her wing and would rehearse with me in the lunch room almost every day after school. We remained really close until the beginning of senior year when I transferred schools. Life kept changing, and we did too...and just grew apart, going in our new paths. We talked from time to time over the past few years, but I foolishly stopped talking to her at a time in my life when I was trying to eliminate stress and drama. I stupidly thought that getting rid of a lot of the people in my life would take care of that for me. Needless to say, that was one of the biggest mistakes I could have made. The guilt and heartache that I feel for making that choice is excruciating...but somehow, through this past week, I've felt her love for me and had the peace that she knows I love her and always did.

Your viewing on Wednesday was absolutely your style, Kat. There was a playlist of your favorite songs going on, bright and cheerful flowers everywhere, pictures and posters of most of your performances, blue ballons, even your casket was a pretty blue, and you even had on a white top with a cute blue sweater and a blue flower in your hair. :) It was a difficult night for everyone, but everything about it was exactly your style and it was almost as if you were trying to say "Hey guys, I'm okay now, SMILE." There was the most beautiful sunset, and then it started to sprinkle. Very fitting. :)
Your funeral services were yesterday...and boy was it beautiful. Your parents were having a little more of a struggle than the night before, but your sisters seemed to be doing a little better than the night before. I'm sure there will be good days and bad days for quite some time. The entire service was comprised of musical numbers performed by some of your friends, your cousins, and your sisters. Your aunt spoke in the middle of the program and your bishop spoke at the end and bore his testimony. Haha your aunt is hilarious, but mostly because of what she had to say about you and your quick-witted humor. Your aunt told a story of time when you were on your way home from working at Spanish 8 Theater and it was really late, and you got pulled over by one of Spanish Fork's finest. He asked for your license and registration and once you gave it to him he said "Hey, your eyes are kind of red and bloodshot, have you been smoking pot?" and without missing a beat you replied "Hey, your eyes are kind of glazed over, have you been eating doughnuts?" to which he gave you your ID back and said "Get home safely." Hahaha, another story that she told was about this girl that would make fun of you all the time when you were a Jr. in high school and one time she said "You dress like a 7th grader." and you instantly popped off with "Well I guess you would know since you were there for 3 years." Hahaha oh those stories just get me, because that is TOTALLY how you were! You were so kind and so genuine and sweet, but if anybody messed with you or your loved ones...WATCH OUT! ;p A couple of the musical numbers were Jimmy and Chad sang a duet that was sooo good, and Jimmy sang a song that was uh-may-zing! He did his absolute best to keep his composure but completely lost it towards the end...it was so precious. Your grave site was lovely and your father gave a sweet dedicatory prayer. The weather was very beautiful and sunny with a slight breeze. Very peaceful. :)
Anyway, I would go on and on with every little detail if I could. Soooo many people came to both your viewing the night before, and the services the next day. You impacted a TON of lives. :)
It's hard to understand why things happen the way they do...and it's hard to understand death...more-so this time around than with any other losses I've experienced. But I know that you are happy. I know that you are healthy and not in pain anymore. You were ill for as long as I knew you. I bet you're putting together the best choir ever up there. ;)

Rest In Peace, my dear Kat. You will forever be in my heart.

Waking Up Is Hard To Do

It seems that there comes a time in every human life when they get so caught up in the worldly routine of being in a routine that one eventually begins to die a little and turn into a soulless robot of sorts. Well, I recently realized that I have gone through that exact process and for a while have been trying to figure out what I could possibly do to "wake up" and bring myself back to life. I have just been going through the motions and letting auto pilot be the guide. Which we all know is never a good idea. Though it gives us a break from making an effort, the end result usually could have turned out better if we had just continued guiding the wheel ourselves the entire time; even if it meant having to change gears a bit. This week has provided quite the turn of events in my robotic path. It turns out this tin woman does have a heart, a soul, and a brain, and the ability to control each one of them and all at the same time even! The event that got the ball rolling was Wednesday night after a long day of school and work when my boss had the impression (for whatever reason) to ask if I was okay as I was putting something away in the office. In short, that single act of kindness made by her was just enough to get the ball rolling and help me make that breakthrough of being able to sob like a baby, begin to confront some issues in reality and finally say "hello" to my long lost friend -- myself. I am so grateful for what she did that even I couldn't do for myself. Anyway, since then I have continued to gradually feel lighter, happier, more peaceful, and like I'm making progress in regaining my center. Sometimes help comes in the strangest of ways.
Now onto today, Sunday. I realize that just because I'm making progress that I have absolutely no guarantee whatsoever of things going "smoothly" but that's because waking up is often very hard to do. Today has been yet another help-meat in my journey. While driving to work this afternoon I decided to turn the radio to 106.5 "Sounds of the Sabbath" instead of listening to the normal non religious music. I don't remember what was playing when I first turned to that station, but what I certainly do remember is when this song Gentle Savior by David Phelps came on. Never has a song touched me in such a significant, true to form way. It was though I couldn't imagine those lyrics or even the musical notes as being written and composed for anybody else than me. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDtS854RVzA&feature=fvst This song is so special to me now and I really want to share it. Listen closely.
As I continued to drive and the song ended, my eyes caught sight of the dash behind the steering wheel. So poignantly lit was the Low Fuel sign. An instrumental rendition of the hymn "O Lord My God" then started to play, and all I could think was that just as my car needed to be replenished of fuel so did I. When we neglect filling up weekly, biweekly or even daily (depending on how much we're traveling) it is much harder on our car. The very same goes for our spirit-ometer. The more we ride with the Low Fuel light on, the more likely we are to break down, need a new engine, and be stuck having to depend on others to help us get from place to place. Well what happens when we've used up or maybe even abused our options and we are left with nothing but our own two feet to get us places? Eventually we'll walk (or run) to the gas station to fill up a small container with just enough gasoline to take back and put in the car to get us directly back to fill up all the way. So, as I'm still driving and pondering, epiphany-ing and listening, the hymn ends and the radio host comes on with a short spiritual thought type of segment. She proceeds to share a quote (I wish I could remember the whole thing) about people that are moral cowards. They don't do what they know is right even if it's what they really want to do, because they are afraid of being laughed at, mocked or scorned by those who do not believe in or share the same values or sentiments. I never knew how to "explain" myself before that moment. It is entirely amazing how quickly moral cowardice can creep in and take hold. Why are we so willing to impress the ones that will make fun of and quite possibly condemn us for doing, thinking, saying, and believing in something we find to be important? What is trivial to one person may be of the highest importance to another, and we can never truly know how those things weigh out. But what we *can* and *should* do is let what's important to a person, be important to a person. In conclusion I guess I'm just trying to say "Hello there, I was in a coma for a while but I'm coming to." Or something profound like that. :)

Hiding Behind Glass

My eye-sight is very poor, so much so that without contact lenses or glasses I'm barely safe just walking around my house for a few minutes at a time before I break something around me or injure myself on an object I failed to see. Am I near-sighted or far-sighted? The answer is yes. As a "starving student" contacts are too expensive, so I wear this nifty invention of plastic and glass on my face and just make do. However, there is more to it than just trying to be cost effective. There is an underlying hope that I wear with them. (It must be that "special coating" they charge you an extra seventy-five dollars for.) A hope that I can also hide behind the glass and be just invisible enough so that people will overlook my flaws. My glasses are my shield. My shield from emotion, my shield from reality, my shield from life. I tell people I feel more studious when I wear my glasses. Replace that S-word with safe and you've got the real reason. The glass has been looking permanently smudged and dingy for quite some time now. It's also time for a new prescription. The lack of clarity is annoying to me because my poor vision is crippled that much more, and yet it has a very calming affect. Think of a very young child who, in their simple virgin mind, believes that if they cover their eyes and face it makes them invisible to others simply because they themselves cannot see anything at the present time. "If I can't see them they can't see me". There are days when the glass isn't enough and you know that you need a better shield. Does my brain really think that this small ocular device is truly going to guard and protect me? If only I could hide behind a bigger piece of glass. For whatever reason, as transparent as it is...it keeps me safe. So I keep hiding, thinking "If I can't see you, you can't see me."

Finishing The Beginning

Here's a little side note in my blog:

I've just noticed that I have about 12 drafts of entries I really want to finish but just can't for some reason. At least not yet. It's really funny to me how I have a lot of things that I've begun but haven't finished and I wonder when the time will come that I actually follow through. It seems like that's a problem with a lot of people with life in general, and is something that my boss likes to call "half-assing it". I tell ya what, I'm getting significantly better at not "half-assing it" with a lot of things in life. At any rate, I just wanted to share how funny and befuddling it was for me to see that many drafts of unfinished business, if you will.

Just A Thougt Of Mine

The power that we gain from the genuine love of others gives us the ability to do insurmountable things, to go beyond our fears, to look past the confinements of man and to venture into the "unknown", knowing that we have stopped talking and started doing. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
This so-called "playing it safe" will, more often than not, be more of a loss and a never ending tale of "I could have" and "I should have" to any single person than if they gave their all to do what they truly love in life and take a few "hits" in the process. It's called learning. We can't learn if we're never given the opportunity to explore...including giving ourselves permission to do so. If we can cultivate and apply this concept, we will be a much happier, much healthier people than ever before. We will be able to walk with strength that none of our predecessors have been fortunate enough to know. We decide where we go in life and we decide where life goes with us.

Why Is A Raven Like A Writing Desk?

It is my experience and observation that most, if not all geniuses are slightly or altogether mad. Never before have I thought to put myself even close to the genius category...but have generally given myself top ranking in the madness category. Yet, somehow...I find myself getting closer and closer with each passing day, to the coalescing of the aforementioned. Not sure how to look upon the entirety of my perplexing (and a tad exiting) situation. Now, why do I perceive genius and madness to basically be one in the same? I'll tell you, once Myself and I decide to let Me think for Myself a little while. *ahem* If you have learned anything at all in your art and history classes alike, you will have walked away with the knowledge that people like Albert Enstein and Vincent Van Gogh were absolutely genius in their creations and entirely fried as well. My question for thought is this - why does it take such tragic extremes to bring about some of the most magnificent creations?

It's Always Sunrise Somewhere

Worn from another sleepless night, body aching, head pounding like a thousand jackhammers in a studio apartment, and eyes feeling as though they were dipped in acid; I see the dimmed light behind the front-room drapery. I reach. My drained senses jolt as the sunrise pours into the room with every fatigued pull of the drape strings. Sight. It is a glorious morning.

The Apple and The Tree

What happens when the apple falls from the tree? Albeit, the landing spot may not be very far away, the apple still one day will grow into it's own tree. It can either take root the same way as it's predecessor, or it can take root and branch out in an entirely new fashion. No matter how you look at it, the apple that fell will still grow to be an apple tree like unto that from which it fell; there will be no sudden turning into a peach or pear tree, no matter what kind of nurturing it gets from the earth or any other outside force. BUT, the apple has a chance to roll with the bumps in the ground and decide how it's going to improve the way it will grow and how it can improve upon the fruit that it will soon bear.

Something I only just began to realise in full is how I truly feel sad for my Dad. He has spent 82 years of his life in fear. Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of outside wrong-doers, even fear of the good things - seeing even the smallest possibility of what could be bad in something entirely good - all due to circumstantial programming since the time of his childhood. He has carried this complex with him and force-fed it to everyone who has entered into his life. There are times when it will come out in discussion or in certain actions of his when it's very easy to see that he is still heavily weighted down by his past. Things he could not control and things he did not do were somehow etched into his memory board with the words "This bad thing happened because of YOU." At that point, I can see how one might take the inadvertent insult to existence to heart and therefore produce a sour harvest or two.
It amazes me (for lack of a more poignant word) that for all my distress and complex issues I've carried through my life thus far, I have managed to get most of them under control...whereas the things that he has had to cope with, or should have coped with, are still as strong at the surface now as when they first traumatized his being. It makes me wonder if maybe there's something that can be done even now, to help him come to terms with things while he's still cognizant. What has made him hold on to these feelings so long? Will I be the same at his age? Will I learn to let go completely or will I still hold on to the things of the past? The interesting thing is that though we've had to try to hold our ground and branch out despite the storms, it is the storms that help us grow, they are what strengthen us. Beneath the hard exterior is the intricately developed interior. It is our choice as to whether or not we welcome the storm and learn how to use what it brings to us.

Insider Sales

Have you ever had someone sell something to you?

Have you ever had to sell something to yourself? For instance, you see a pair of shoes in the window of a shop at the mall, and you know you don't actually NEED that particular pair of shoes but every part of your brain is searching for a reason as to why you should buy them -- "These shoes would make my butt look great." "These shoes would really be cute for summer." "These shoes would really bring out my eyes." (Pft, yeah right!) -- and the list goes on and on. Well let me pose this question and leave it up for individual interpretation...How good of a salesperson are you? Can you make a sale to yourself just as easily as you can to the public, and vise verse? Are you the honest salesmen that holds integrity to your pitch? Or are you a swindler?

...How good of a saleswoman am I?
I find that I've had to sell myself on so many things that I'm making myself nearly destitute. I've declared internal bankruptcy several times...and yet, I don't know how to stop selling and buying. It's an addiction. A cruel, undeniable addiction. The satisfaction of finding something that will make my life that much better than it was before is very short-lived. When do I reach that point where I no longer have to be sold on anything...I'll tell you...when I run out of reasons to convince myself of things I already know I do or do not need. Now, one thing that I may have sold YOU, the reader on, is that this blog is just a means of incoherent whining and running of the mouth as it were. But that is where you have misinterpreted things; this blog honestly does not have a whole lot to do with how I'm feeling at the time that I write any of the postings within. Much of the time when I write, it is purely thought. Not so much the exact emotion being conveyed within that thought. So though I may have a few depressed sounding entries, they're truly just ramblings of things that have entered my psyche and for some reason needed to be written down. I'm not a person of wisdom or sage advice, but something in me is saying "buy this" "sell that" whether to myself or someone else.

Masquerade

As is human nature, we tend to go around wearing masks all the time. When do we take them off? I paint mine on every morning and take it off before bedtime, if I'm not too tired. But do we often leave our masks on for days and nights at a time? Do we then put another mask on top of the old one? Mask upon mask? What is it like when you put your mask on? What is it like when you take it off? As for myself, I'm always very relieved to take mine off. But soon after, I start to get uncomfortable. Like I'm more transparent, like I'm not as pretty without my mask. But that's only what the world will tell you. The important people tell you the truth, which says otherwise. So why don't we listen to the truth? What's so hard about taking your mask off and simply not putting it back on or throwing it away period? Is it a thing of pride, a thing of deception, or simply a thing of comfort? My mask is full of endless color; I don't like wearing it for too long, especially when the colors turn drab. It's hard for me to be without it sometimes. What kind of mask do you wear?

Day's Eye

Anyone that really knows me, knows that the Daisy is my favorite flower. There is just something about them that makes me smile and gives me a feeling of contentment. I've always thought that they must have interesting lives. They seem so enchanting, so full of mystery that nobody would really think about because of how simple and maybe even plain they come across. I once read somewhere that there are over twenty-thousand types of daisies in the world. Interestingly enough, not only are there so many types within the genus, but some of them are in our gardens and are main components to the salads we eat, some are "weeds" in our yards, and others are beautiful sights for us to behold during a relaxing stroll through the park. The name of the daisy flower comes from the medieval english 'daies ie', meaning day's eye because the flower opens up at sunrise and closes at sunset; hence it is the eye of the day. According to an old Celtic legend, the spirits of children who died in childbirth scattered daisies on the earth to cheer their sorrowing parents. What do you think a single daisy could tell you from just one day of life? I would imagine that it would have quite the story to tell if given the chance. Maybe we should pay more attention to these auspicious forms of life.

Random

It's like sometimes I become so enclosed, like I'm verbally and expressively constipated. And then eventually out of nowhere there's this explosion of phonetic diarrhea. Pardon, but that's pretty much the best way for me to describe it right now. I see so much power, so much success being held inside of me and I just don't know how to let it out. I think it's because I look at everyone else on the planet and think "Now that is talent. That is what the world needs. I could never provide that." So I move on with my life yet again, just watching from the sidelines, wishing all the while that I were out on the field being cheered for and adored. Where's MY niche? Do I even have one? Can I just make my own?

My life is one fabulous gift of wonder and awe, waiting to be snatched up and taken advantage of. But I haven't reached the clearing where I can see what it is exactly that I'm reaching for. How can one snatch up something they can't see? Pretty soon you just start snatching up everything in reach, hoping and praying that it's what you're supposed to find. And eventually you just have to stop, take a step back, and just let life be for a while.

Long Time, No Expression

To start things off, I'm going to say that in all honesty I am lacking the whereabouts of a huge part of myself. So here I am, back to say "Hey there! Long time, no Expression...!" which is a slight variation of a well known, overused phrase...but that's okay. I'm really just saying these things to myself. I don't expect for any of you, whomever 'you' may be...to benefit from my writings. It's more of a therapy session for myself. I think this is one of the most straight forward, non writing voice entries I will have submitted yet. Sometimes one just needs to be Frank. Even if your name is Bill or Joe or Marvin. Or Bethany.
My eyes are tired. My soul is heavy with feelings of sadness, fear, remorse, anxiety, and a sort of blase` yet melancholy feeling. My body is weary. Sleep is of no use to me until I am able to get to the root of what is causing all this.
It's time to buckle down, saddle up and ride hard.
Here we go again...

Lost In Translation

Darkness.

Noisy.

Fluidity.

Safety.

Helplessness.

These few words all have to do with the state in which we first start our lives. Some are pleasant sounding while others seem rather frightening. We enter the world already having experienced so many thoughts, emotions, feelings, only to be thrust into completely uncharted territory where we take the meaning of these words with us in order to find new ones and adapt those into our lives and figure out what they mean exactly and how to use them. So day after day, year after year you become bigger, stronger, smarter...while each day you progress (hopefully towards something greater), the circle is still being drawn and is continually growing closer to a close. As you are waiting for everything to come full circle...somewhere in the midst of this waiting period you suddenly become lost in translation, wondering where you are and how you got there. You find yourself at a stalemate of sorts.

Stalemate
–noun
1.
Chess. A position of the pieces in which a player cannot move any piece except the king and cannot move the king without putting it in check.
2.
Any position or situation in which no action can be taken or progress made; deadlock


You go through life, day after day just doing your thing and it all builds up to a breaking point. Then one day while standing at a counter you realize that you're so burnt out and have breached that point of insanity and that 'it all' just simply doesn't matter anymore.


...Somehow, that makes you happy.


Realizing just how uneducated you are not just about life in general but about your own life, regardless of how long you've been in it, gives you a sudden outburst of hysterical laughter and though you are being shot funny looks from those around, you just simply don't care. Because you have found another part of yourself through losing it.


If anything, revision is always an option.

Take Me Home

Lately, I've been wondering if it's all I can do. My promise is forever with you.

I know you're probably trying to figure out what that means and where on earth it came from. Well I'm about to expound upon that beginning line - so all I ask is that you open up your mind and tune your heart and soul to not only hear what I am saying, but to feel what you need to feel, whatever it may personally be.
With each passing day, each moment, every single breath I take, I feel more and more the piling up of each trial being sent my way. And so I have been wondering, if it's all I can do to stay true. To stay faithful until my very last breath. But my promise, is forever with God...and with myself. My penance is constant, and my testimony is resolute. Though each day is yet one more day to struggle through, I know that God doesn't expect for me to be at the finish line in the beginning; but He does expect me to keep going no matter how much it burns, no matter how sick I feel at times. He does expect me to be running in the right direction. It will seem like the longest race you could ever imagine, and the temporal camera lens will zoom out making the finish line seem farther and farther away no mater how much you increase your speed. But in reality it will all be over in an instant, and you will have the success and glory to take with you through the eternities. There is, however, another thing to understand - the finish line is only the starting line of a new life where there will be a manifestation of all of your perseverance. In order to make it to the finish line, you can't give up. For any reason. Ever. No stopping to rest, because you will actually end up getting sicker and will not be able to go on. Nobody will stop running to grab you and pull you along with them. You have to push through the pain. You have to fight past the point of fatigue. Every time it hits. This is a race that it doesn't necessarily matter what your finish time is, but what does matter is that you do finish. You can't let yourself be left behind. Work hard, and be sure to fully lift your foot off the ground when you take that next step in the race. When you don't incorporate the things the Coach has told you to do, your feet will drag, your shoes will catch on the ground, and you will trip and most likely skin your hands and knees. But you can still get up and keep going. Band aids and cold electrolyte drinks are waiting for you later. Then when you've given it your all and crossed the finish line, you can relax completely, knowing that your parents that unconditionally love you will be there to gladly take you home in perpetual celebration.
So my point to all of this is that I want to say, with a huge smile on my face and tears of joy "Take me home." I want to make it to that finish line. I want my parents to be waiting for me with open arms, I want them to be proud, I want them to see that I was brave enough to finish the very race they not only sponsored, but went through themselves. They know exactly what it feels like to want so badly to just stop where you are and sit down in the middle of the track watching everybody else pass you by striving for the same goal. The hardest part, I think, is when you do keep going and you see others sitting down and giving up. But you must not follow suit. Keep going. Press forward. BELIEVE. Believe in YOU. You're not alone, even though right now you're on your own. You're not alone. The chief cause of failure and unhappiness is trading what we want most for what we want at the moment. So don't stop, don't sit down to rest, don't trade the everlasting triumph for the momentary relief.

Raging Nostalgia...

So its been quite a while since I've taken time to write down my thoughts. I decided right now would be a perfect opportunity to take into my hands and project a bit of myself onto the screens of whoever reads this. If anything, I'm able to send my thoughts and feelings out into cyberspace where those thoughts can collect a bit of dust and age like a fine wine, waiting for others to taste it and add it to their own collection. The outcome of these blog entries is never predetermined, so it's interesting for me to see where I take myself at the end of each entry. Where was I when I began? Where am I now? As of late, nostalgia has been raging through my emotions as if there were no tomorrow. It's times like these when I realize that though growing up and being a part of this constant thing called life is a thrill and a journey to be enjoyed - even when you have to slosh through the mud and the muck for a while - my soul misses being a little child when everything was naively simple and never seemed to change much. It's the daily realization of moving on and certain things never being the same that gets me. I eventually have to play psychiatrist with myself and lean back and ask how I'm doing and what is weighing on my innermost self. When nostalgia hits, such as now, I wish I could tell more people to stop going through life so fast without stopping to fully enjoy what will soon pass on its own time. Time has no consideration for you...it moves on with or without you...

Me And My Shadow

Have you ever stopped to think about your shadow? Does it ever get lonely?
While on a run one night as part of my ritualistic workout, consumed in thought and getting my energy boost from the psychological motivation in every beat of music I was listening to as my feet pounded on the ground and my heart speedily thumped against my chest; amazed at the city that was already half asleep and progressively shutting down for the night, my senses revved to full alert to any sound or movement going on around me. As my eyes flickered to and from the ground back to the street, to the sky etc., I caught view of a forgotten friend. This friend of mine had divided into three, showing me that I was indeed not running alone. I felt an odd sense of protection as I ran in the dark cold night with the company of my shadow. With every step I took, she did the same. With every movement of my arms, she was in sync. Any time I stopped, so did she. I felt watched over, cared for...running with my shadow. This is a feeling so difficult for me to fully describe, but is one of the more significant feelings one could ever experience. It was really good to see this forgotten friend. I wondered where she had been, if it had ever been lonely, if she felt neglected or unwanted or nonessential. She seemed to be doing well in spite of my past ignorance to her. Though she ran with me all the way home, she left without warning the moment I went inside. The company was very nice to have and I missed it. Where does she go when she goes home? How often does she come to see me without my notice? For her to surround me in such a protecting manner was and is greatly appreciated. I hope to see her again soon. And yet, I know that she is always with me though I may not always see her, a constant, watching over me even when I run in the pureness of light, she is there. And so we run. Me and my Shadow.

Nature's Wonders

One Sunday morning as I was driving back to my apartment from a much needed escape to my parent's house where I was warmly welcomed by the two kind faces I've known since birth, and the loving cuddles of my dogs and their smothering kisses, Mother Nature gave me a wonderful show, bringing all of her vast beauties to my mind. We all get caught up in the daily hustle and bustle of this journey called life, and seldom do we truly realise how blessed we are to have such graceful beauty surrounding us. All we see are hard buildings, endless pavement, dull scenes that we pass by every day. Same old song and dance time after time. But this was an eyeopening experience and was exactly what I needed - a reassurance that there is beauty and majesty even in the more drab parts of life. There was a seemingly impervious fog that filled the air, eventually making it so I couldn't see more than ten feet from my car in any direction. As I drove at a slow pace not knowing what to expect as the road kept disappearing, I began to think of what it must be like to be perpetually caught in the fog. No beacon to guide you, no lighthouse with the man to shine that light that will help you make your way through to safety. My heart sunk as I thought of those who are still in the fog and lack the motivation to keep going til they reach a clearing. After a while, everything that was hidden by the fog began to reappear and I started to feel safe and notice details more than usual. This next scene was especially breathtaking and further endorsed the previous enlightenment in the first part of this excursion; as the fog continued to let up there was a magnificent naturalistic painting laid out for my wonderment, trees covered in a brilliantly thick frost and the surrounding picturesque land and quaint little houses. After passing these visions of soul freeing beauty, everything I saw from that point on was more vibrant and detailed and lively. The bleakness that was there before had vanished completely. One well known saying was prominently playing in my mind, "...stop and smell the roses..." and my entire being was flooded with bliss.