An Awful Lot of Running

You know, you come to college, and you think, "This is where everything in my life is going to fall into place, and make sense!" And that is quite possibly the biggest lie you will ever tell yourself.

It's funny. I started this blog when I was a freshman. A lot has changed. I dreamed about meeting The One, and everything falling into place, and being a big time writer. And I think now, three years later, I'm a little bit less Ted Mosby and a little bit more Robin Scherbatsky. And that's not a terrible thing...it just...is. Dreams change. People change. I used to not think that as much -- I thought that beliefs and ideas stayed the same in people forever -- and in a sense it does. A person is themself, at their core, they are them. Core values stay the same. But other things? Other things change. They get blurry, and less important, and other things step up and become more important.

This has been a pretty damn hard year. I fell for the wrong guy; got my heart broken by another (twice -- same guy); my boss was a bully. People used to ask me where I would go after college, if I'd stay in Colorado or go back to Texas. That question used to be a lot harder to answer. But this year has literally beaten the hell out of me, and I just can't do it anymore. I used to love my school. Now? Now...I want to go back to Texas. There is no hypothetical situation in which I would stay here at this point. I used to think, "Well what if I have a boyfriend when I graduate, or am engaged?" Well, that's not going to happen, which I am very much okay with. This isn't a post about how lonely I am -- I'm not. I'm actually quite happy being single. Still, I'm not going to get a "ring by spring" and it's almost freeing. I'm going straight back to Austin, Texas when I graduate, and I'm going to join the video game industry. And I'll write on the side, when I have time. At least that's the current plan. But this one makes a lot more sense than any of the previous ones I've had. In fact, as for the couples I know that are engaged, I worry about them. I have to wonder -- in the case of a few -- if they're going to last. Statistically speaking, after all, divorce rates are higher for those who marry young. And so many of these people I know -- they've only ever had one boyfriend or girlfriend, and they barely were dating a year before they got engaged, and will be married in less than. Some I look at and think, "Yeah. They could last. They're mature and know what they're getting themselves into." But others? Others I pray for.

Back to the past school year. It's been one hell of a year. Probably the only reason I haven't just dropped out at this point is because I have such a good group of friends, especially roommates. They've helped me a lot. Dunno what I'd do without them. I'm really going to miss them when they graduate. But on the other hand, I want so desperately to get out of here that I am counting down the days to graduation so I can go running home into my mother's arms. Sometimes I really wish my dad was still alive more than others. I could have used his stories a lot this past year. A horrible boss and stupid boys? Yeah. I could've used my dad. RaHimah allah.

The two things I had here at CCU I've lost. They were the things I loved from the very beginning -- the start of my college career. And I've lost them both. RHA is in ruin. Kyra has made sure of that. If it lasts next year at all I would be surprised. And that guy? Yeah. He will never in a million years see me. He sees through me. But that's alright. It never would have worked out anyway, right? He's Anglican and I'm Baptist. Lots of differences there. The only thing that makes me angry anymore with him is that I feel like he hasn't been much of a real friend to me this year. Unless you catch him hours upon hours in advance (and on occassion days) to make plans with him, he'll go off and drink with friends. In case I haven't made it clear before, I don't like being blown off. Either you can make a bit of time for an old friend, or you can't. And I feel like for the most part, he chooses others over me. I have other friends to rely on anyway.

I get along with the English majors a lot better than I used to. I suppose that's the bright side to all of this. I have more friends in that department. I want my English professor to smile-upon me. She'll be my senior thesis advisor next year, so hopefully she won't regret that life decision. I can only pray about that one. But I hope I'll impress her.

You know, I used to want to be swept off of my feet by the Doctor and his Tardis. I wanted to run away, and join the stars. But earlier this year, I decided that if the Tardis ever did appear before me, and the Doctor opened the door and offered his hand and all the wonders, I would turn him down. Because it only ever ends badly; someone will wind up with their heart broken. But I think I've changed my mind back now. After everything that has happened to me this year, I would give anything to just hop aboard the Tardis and run away. I'd ask to meet Shakespeare; go to the 51st century; shopping on a different planet. The fear of having your heart broken shouldn't hold you back. The wonder would be worth it all. And anything would be better than the stuff I've had to endure this year. This year has made me want to run away again. And no, the Doctor isn't real, nor is his Tardis. But the lessons he has taught me are real. The memories I have of watching that show with my dad, those are real. And the desire to run away and join the stars is real, too. And they're not here at CCU or in Colorado. They are somewhere out there, waiting for me. And I can't wait to see what the next three years have to offer.

Seven Gentlemen and a Lady

This is gonna be a weird, possibly awkward post (and no, not in the same way that I once ranted about periods; you're safe, men). It'll just be awkward for me should any of the people I'm about to brag about ever read this. The good news is, this thing is no longer connected to my Facebook, so all I have to worry about is those of you in Russia and Germany who seem to love reading my blog. But whatever floats your boat, bro.

I just want to take a moment to brag about some really amazing guys in my life. Why? Because they're just awesome. This semester has been very interesting as far as my joke of a love life is concerned. I've gotten more action the past month than I've gotten since high school. But that's a story for a different day. Today's story is about the guys that have never really hit on me, or given indication of being attracted to me. But it's about a few very sweet gentlemen that have given me hope the past few days, despite the amount of pigs that actually do hit on me, that there are good guys out there. So, here goes.

Kyle. You are one of the most amazing guys I have ever met in my life. You're like a little cartoon, making jokes and being a redneck. But you are a perfect gentleman, respectful, and I pity any guy that ever breaks my heart or hurts me, because above all else, you're my big brother and will kill them. You should know that any girl would be unbelievably lucky to have you, because you have such a big heart, and I love that about you. You're adorable, and not in a silly way that girls sometimes call guys. You're just so sweet and caring, and I highly value your opinion. You inspire me to want more out of a guy. Also, you address me as "beautiful" and that scores mega points with any girl, platonic relationship or otherwise.

Garrett. In case you were wondering, Garrett, half of the female population at this school is madly in love with you, and the other half at the very least finds you highly attractive. In some ways, you remind me of Ethan Craft from Lizzie McGuire. And no, that's not an insult. You're quite a bit smarter than Ethan Craft ever was; but you're still as sweet as he was. Ethan was a good friend to Lizzie, even though he was never specifically interested in her. And you've always been a good friend to me. We've known each other since Moonlight Volleyball, and were neighbors last year, and you always ask me how it's going. You genuinely care about the people in your life, and whether or not you're aware of the fact that most of the women on this campus find you attractive, you treat them all with respect, gentlemanly cowboy-ness, and never try to take advantage of it. Plus, you're a Texan; that pretty much makes us friends for life.

John. I would assume that any views I get from China are from you. Do I have any of those? I really haven't checked. But if I get one, I will still assume it's you. You are the definition of a gentleman. I loved getting to know you last year, and seeing you at the beginning of this year was a nice surprise. I hope you're having fun in China; I've heard they seem to like your hair. Anyway, you are quite amazing, and I'm so, SO glad that I got to know you. You're very sweet and respectful, and I have been blessed to meet you. I hope I'll see you again within the next few years here at CCU, because you're a wonderful human being, and I love catching up with you.

Andy and Andrew. Shocking, right? You two drive me absolutely crazy! But I actually love seeing you guys, even though I haven't seen much of Andrew lately. You both have your moments where I'd love nothing more than to smack you upside the heads -- and yet, you're gentlemen, and it's an honor to know the both of you. It's also hilarious to irritate the crap out of the both of you, but it's all in good fun, and I hope you both know that. I feel like you do the same to me, so it's only fair. I want you both to know that I don't hate either of you, and while you drive me crazy, I wouldn't want it any other way. You're great friends, and I wish we could see more of each other.

Jeff. Yet another redneck in my life that I adore. You're always a gentlemen, and while you, too, drive me nuts sometimes, I love hanging out with you at RHA and otherwise. You crack me up, and I love mothering you. I hope you know that I think you're an amazing person, and the mischief we could get into if left to our own devices could potentially end the world or cause the zombie apocalypse. But it would be so much fun it would be completely worth it.

Shane. You are hilarious. You're sweet, and kind, and you have a huge heart, and I love you to death (in a platonic way). Last year, you told me that I was loved, and I needed to hear that more than you could ever imagine. You're a great friend, and I wish that we could see more of each other. I do apologize for trying to kill you for stealing the Egg...mostly. God is doing amazing things through you, and it's awesome to witness. I'm so proud to call you a friend, because you're one of the most caring people I've ever met in my life, and you seem to always have a smile on your face. Your happiness is infectious, and you can always make me smile. Thank you for that.

And there you have it. Those seven men right there are all wonderful, and I love them all so much. I really just wanted to brag about how inspirational they've been in my life. I've recently met someone who made me realize, I want someone more like these men. Men who are gentlemen, respectful, kind, and funny. When I woke up this morning, I realized something -- I deserve a gentlemen. I don't need to settle for a jerk who shows interest in me. I deserve better than that -- I deserve to feel secure, and loved, and happy. Someone who actually takes a legitimate interest in me; in my life; in my struggles. Not someone who only talks about himself, and never asks questions about my life. And more than anything, I'm only twenty years old. Twenty! I have so much of my life to live! Would I be opposed to a significant other? No. But I'm not going to settle for anything less than what I've listed. More importantly, as much as I love my friends, I don't want to be like some of them, engaged and getting married, especially not while I'm still an undergraduate. If it was grad school, maybe, but we're in our very early twenties. I shouldn't be rushing from college, to dating the first guy I meet, to getting engaged, to graduating, to getting married, to having children! What about my dreams? What about my life? When you're married, everything changes -- you reevaluate your dreams and change your life to accommodate a second person in your life! It's not to say it's a bad thing, it just means that plans change, especially if you have a child! I have a long time before I start needing to "worry" about being single. For now, I'm happy with my life, just as it is. If my relationship status changes, so be it, but for now? For now, I am happy, and refuse to settle for anything less than what these men have shown me a good guy should exhibit.

That time I got caught in a love triangle

Sometimes I wonder if God likes to write tragedies. Or perhaps just very sad comedies.

Maybe I should give some context. I've liked this guy for a long time -- longer than I'm honestly willing to admit. And over the past month, I feel like most of my chances with him have been shot. Why, you ask? Because my life is a sad comedy.

It's actually a bit harder than you would think as to where to start. Probably about a month ago, when I found out that several years ago he actually really liked one of my roommates. Which made me feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. But I'm over that, mostly. Because, I mean, I'm a girl. We compare ourselves like none other, and find all of the flaws in ourselves and tell ourselves we're not good enough, so why bother? But don't worry -- my church pastor preached the following Sunday on that sort of thing. Definitely set me straight. So like I said, I'm over that. Mostly. It does make me reconsider some things that may have happened previously. But whatever.

The next bullet to my love life is that a friend of ours has been making me extremely uncomfortable. He did it a few times last year, but then he got a girlfriend! It was beautiful. I had nothing to worry about, because he had some other girl to keep him occupied. I was pleased as could be. Then they broke up. GML (if you don't get that, go back to Oh, Gud...). Ever since then he's been making me uncomfortable again. He invades my bubble, he walked me to my door on the third floor (my roommates' boyfriends don't even always do that). He keeps sitting down next to me, so that when we play games in the Stu, I wind up pressing myself into the wall to leave space between us. Not to mention he has this foot fetish, and I like painting my toenails and walking around barefoot, so thanks a lot for that! Now I have to be sure to wear shoes, whenever I happen to remember (luckily, my dearest roommate reminded me to put on socks last night). Which is lame! I mean, I paint my toes for a reason, and soon I'm going to have to be running around with shoes on all the time anyway, so great. If I do happen to be barefoot around him, I suddenly remember, and feel this urge to cover up my feet. Foot fetishes are just weird, guys.

You wanna know the punchline to the above, though? Get ready, it's pretty amazing. He's the guy I like's roommate and friend. So basically, if they're like most people, you don't like the person your friend likes, or at least don't make a move on them. Do not even start with things like, "You shouldn't lead him on," and, "Why not give him a chance?" Because he's not my type, and that sounds stupid, but I am actually turned off by him, rather than just neutral. And I haven't lead him on. I have straight out told him that he's been friendzoned (yes, I used that word, and I hate that term), and that he's specifically not my type. And when I say he's not my type, I don't just mean aesthetically (though there's that, too). Look, I like guys typically that have strong jaw lines (which he does not), guys that are witty (which he is not, particularly), guys that are funny (pity laughs do not count), and frankly, guys that I don't feel smarter than. Not to sound vain or pompous, but he does things a lot that I'm just like, "Seriously, what are you thinking??" Academically he's not doing too hot, and it reflects in some of the things he'll say or do. Also, I don't like being treated more softly just for being a girl. There's a difference between treating a girl like a lady and just giving handouts. Don't fart in front of me; that's acting like you think I'm a lady. Letting me beat you at a game is a handout. No. If I'm going to kick your ass, it's going to be on my own terms. It's more of an accomplishment that way. A vagina doesn't mean I'm helpless, it just means you think you need to "go easy" on me.

So, there's that. And I don't know, because the guy I actually like has so many female friends that sometimes it's a little disheartening. Like I said, girls compare themselves. I'm trying not to, I really am, but it happens. And I saw this picture that looked like he might be holding this girl's hand, but it's not really clear, so you can't quite tell. It could go either way. But he also brought a girl home the other night (not the same girl...I looked...), and in a panic (because at that point in time I didn't know it wasn't the same girl), I finished destroying his roommates at SSBM, made a lame excuse about it being late and being tired, and got the hell out of dodge. Stupid, I know, but because I had seen the picture the night before and was already a little wounded and confused, the fact that he brought a girl who had similar dark hair home made me freak out.

So, yeah. My life is a really sad comedy. I'd love if it would improve soon, but I don't know what to do about most of this stuff. I like hanging out with the two, but the problems are as thus: 1.) If my friend keeps making me uncomfortable, I'm not going to want to be around him, and I don't know how to express that without sounding like a jerk if it's all in my head; 2.) If the guy I like doesn't like me, then that hurts a lot, and I'll want some space; 3.) If he actually now is interested and starts dating a girl, then he will no doubt bring her around to hang out, and just after the other night, I know I cannot handle that. And the worst part is, I wouldn't be able to explain it to either of them why their friend has suddenly stopped hanging out with them, and says no. But I'd have to, and it would make things ten times worse. "I can't hang out with you, because I don't like you and you're making me uncomfortable. I can't hang out with you because I've liked you for such a long time that I can't handle being around you if I know for a fact that you don't like me, too." That's awesome. My life is awesome.

The organ with an attitude problem....

There is one thing that unites each and every single woman, whether they be mother and daughter, in the Western Hemisphere or the Eastern, best friends or mortal enemies. They all experience the same bloodshed, the same battle wounds, the same pains...all at the expense of the same hellion.

Fair warning, men, if any of the following words scares you, I highly recommend running away to find some other "manly" blog (i.e., something about drills, trucks, tools, mud...whatever it is your species likes): uterus, vagina, or ovaries. Any of you still around? Well, then, I applaud you. You might withstand getting married. It happens to all of us women, whether you like it or not. Don't worry, though. I'm pretty sure that the other guys who ran for it will wind up having all daughters. Now, onward!

So, for those of you who weren't aware of it, there's a small, powerful organ inside each and every woman. It produces the miracle of life. Beautiful, right? Wrong. This organ has serious attitude problems and a vendetta against each and every single woman in which it resides. If you think you and your uterus have a good, happy relationship, then I laugh. I'd be careful. She's a very pissy creature, and changes her feelings for you on a whim. Sometimes, she'll be merciful, and prolong the inevitable by a few days when there's something important going on -- like a long car ride somewhere and back. Sometimes, she won't give you any symptoms other than the one she absolutely has to, but sometimes even that won't be so bad. And then sometimes, something in her just snaps, and you find yourself growing a headache, feeling nauseous, with a backache, and so tired that focusing in class is impossible, and all of this makes no sense to you, because you shouldn't be having any symptoms for another week. Then the cramps start, and you realize what she's doing, and you find yourself curled up in your bed in the fetal position, clinging to a heating pad for dear life, and wishing you hadn't been nice enough to give your roommate the last of your Tylenol just a few hours before all of this started.

To any man who has ever questioned a woman's pains, let's make one thing clear: No uterus, no vagina, no opinion. If you can't bleed constantly for a week once a month, every month, without dying, then you shouldn't say anything. There are just some things you will never understand, and the symptoms of a period is one of them. There are the obvious ones -- cramps, that make a woman want to scream and rip out her uterus and offer it as a sacrifice if it means the pain will stop -- and then there are the not so obvious ones -- the headaches, backaches, the everything-aches-so-will-you-please-just-stop-talking-and-let-me-lie-here-while-I-die. A girl may feel nauseous, may have an increased or decreased appetite for being a carnivore (I personally go vegetarian for a couple of days when the symptoms are really bad), may find herself much more tired than usual.

Then there's what men like to label "PMS" and blame for all of our pissy behavior, but to be fair, we're experiencing so many other physical symptoms and the loss of an organ whom just last month was being very nice to us, that being friendly isn't a high priority. Now, to say that women get angry on their period would be a vast understatement. We don't get angry. We get irritated, and sad, and happy, and confident, and self-conscious. It's like a roller coaster self-esteem wise, which in turn leads to a roller coaster mood wise. One second, you feel like you can take on the world. The next, you find yourself once again curled up in the fetal position in your bed, clutching your heating pad, coming to the conclusion that you will die alone.

Sometimes, your uterus is more of a bitch than others. Sometimes she chooses to make you start early in the most inconvenient places -- such as five minutes after you get through security at the airport. And, since you weren't supposed to start for another several days, you have nothing in your carry-on to remedy the situation. Of course, it should be simple. Public restrooms always have those little things you can buy tampons or pads from. Except when they're out of order. And then you begin to think your uterus is really plotting against you and wants nothing more than to see you dead. Sitting in the stall, you may find yourself wondering what on earth you're going to do, when you sigh, choosing the not-so-appealing option which is your best bet at making sure your jeans don't get wounded from your uterus's vendetta. Wadding up a ton of toilet paper, you stick it in your underwear, making a flimsy, makeshift pad, and say a small prayer to God that you can make it safely in the next three hours to the other airport where hopefully their little machine won't be out-of-order.

Making a note of the 25 cents the out-of-order machine costs, you hurry to wait by your gate. When the cramps start in, you close your eyes and breathe slowly, using every ounce of your brain to recall what you learned about meditation and pain in your stress and anxiety class the semester before. It actually seems to work, and you say another little prayer thanking God. Finally, you board the plane, and sit for three hours, hoping that this will go well and that your toilet paper pad will last. Three hours crawl by, and at last, you find yourself practically running to the restroom. You checked while at the gate, and saw you had exactly one quarter, the same amount you needed at the other airport. And then you walk in, see the machine, see that it's perfectly in order, and -- it costs 50 cents. Damnation. Stifling a sob, you find yourself once again in a stall, wondering why your uterus is doing this to you. You have to make a new toilet paper pad, because the other one is no longer in working condition. It was a brave soldier. You sigh, and resolve to yourself that you will be at your apartment soon, where pads are plentiful, as are tampons. Finding your roommates, you give them a giant hug, happy to see them, but even more happy that they mean home. After an hour long car ride, that seems to take longer than normal (though that could be because the roommate driving is a safe, slow driver), you burst through the doors of your apartment. You say hi excitedly to two of your other roommates, then make a beeline for the door. At last, you have the proper equipment to take care of your uterus's hissy fit. It only took five hours.

And that is why, from that point on, even if it's in the middle of your cycle and you know you won't be starting soon, you pack at plenty of equipment. Just in case your uterus decides it's in a pissy mood again.

So close to home....

I may have had a minor meltdown. Finals week, stress, emotional, underlying tensions...they all lead to this sort of thing. I guess it's not so surprising. Sigh...Maybe I should explain.

So, here's what happened. Two people on exec board told me they didn't see the point of one of the things that I ask of them. Something called OTM's -- Of The Months. They're basically recognitions of things that people do, or a program, or an organization, or just something that's done something awesome in the past month and deserves a little praise. I submit them to the IACURH powers that be, and they -- exec board, members of RHA (but we haven't really explained OTM's to others in the general assembly, so they don't do them...because they don't know) -- are supposed to write them and send them to me.

Well, I was told that it was pointless. Mind you, one of these guys has only given me, like, one, and the other has not given me any. That's not a very good standpoint to be arguing from. I mean really, get off your lazy ass and do it, dammit! But I digress. I am not, how shall we say, good at defending myself. I can start an argument, but I stumble for words, and I am not a debater. But, of course, one of the guys -- the guy that matters -- is on debate and loves to spar with people like this. I do not. I hate arguing. With a passion. I think it's stupid. But that's beside the point. The point is, he is good at it, and I am not. If it were a fight using writing, I could totally kick his ass, but alas, it was impromptu and I found myself struggling to find words and even get my brain to function properly. In my fury, I just started spouting out the different things I do and asking what the point of any of it was, and why I shouldn't just quit, because hey! He thought my job was pointless anyway. At least it got him to shut up. Then the president had us focus back in, and we were dismissed.

Now here's the stupid part. The other one -- the one that's not submitted any, and started the whole stupid fight in the first place -- said a few seconds later when I almost bumped into him, "Oh, better move out of the way. We all know Becky hates me." And I dunno. I was already upset because I felt like I'd just been called unimportant and useless, and I was frustrated because nothing had been accomplished. And I don't know why he says that anyway -- that "Becky hates me!" -- because I've never given any indication that I do hate him. But that just killed it for me. All the frustration, and hurt, and really stress and emotional strain just came boiling over in the form of tears and the only thing I could get myself to do was burst through the door and past him so he wouldn't see me cry.

One of the girls caught up with me and realized I was crying. She asked why, and I explained my frustration, and she consoled me on the walk back to my apartment. Then I went to my room and had a good, legitimate cry. That is, of course, until I decided I felt too alive and warm, and the solution to that was to go out into the cold on a walk with only a hat and hoodie. So, I went quite numb, but at least I didn't feel as much. Of course, I wound up seeing the debater through the window of the library. Which only made me upset again, and feel embarrassed (not sure if he saw me or not, but I still looked like hell). Then I texted Victoria, because when all else fails, call on your best friend. She made me feel a lot better. Then I decided I should talk to the president. I mean, I shouldn't be made to feel like that, you know? So, I texted him, and he said to meet him in 30.

So I went to his apartment, and he immediately started apologizing, and said that this needed to change, and that it would change next semester. Which is nice. It does need to change. I love the people on exec board to death, but some of the attitudes need to be fixed. Not all of them -- just a few. There's so much potential, but I feel like there's a bit lacking in the motivation department. Anyway, he told me that I was loved, and that they all think I'm wonderful and fun to be with, and that if I think anything else, then it's a lie. That's really what he said. Straight up, "It's a lie." Which I needed to hear more than he'll ever really know. If there are two things I struggle with more than anything, it's insecurities about my leading abilities and just friends in general. I think I've mentioned before how I'm scared that people are only nice to me because they were raised by good people, and taught to be nice to everyone, even the annoying freak shows. But secretly, they talk about me to others like, "Oh, she's so obnoxious and annoying and hideous." As for my leadership abilities, I think I've never felt like a good, confident leader. And while I was Battalion Commander, and Rifle Team Commander, I never felt like I deserved it. I always felt like I only got it because of my sister, and I even had a "friend" in JROTC tell me that straight out once. He also told me on a regular basis that I shouldn't be Rifle Team Commander, and that he deserved it and the only reason he wasn't was because 1st Sgt hated him. (Gee, thanks. Douche.) So I think as NCC, a small part of me is always afraid that someone's just going to come up to me and say, "You got this job by mistake. Even though you were the only one who ran for the position. But we've found someone better for the job. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

And I know it's stupid, and I know it's silly. But between the two of them, those guys really brought my deepest insecurities to surface, and just made me feel terrible. It's the one scab that Satan likes to pick at it, and man, does he know how to pick at it or what. So when Shane said that...I almost wanted to cry again. For a different reason this time. Just because it's like God knew exactly what I needed to hear; that I am loved, and that I do well at my work. And honestly, I've told this story several times, to most of my roommates, two close friends, my RA, and my counselor. But this is the first time I've admitted to even myself about the insecurity part of it all -- out loud, anyway. (Sort of.) I've mulled it over in a few conversations in my head, but this is the first time I've thought about how what Shane said touched me. I knew it did at the time, but I hadn't thought much of it since. And it's almost like God is speaking to me again through it. Because Satan has been gnawing at me, in the back of my mind, telling me I'm not good enough, for so long that I think I almost started to believe him. But no. I am good enough. I'm loved so much, it's crazy. I have such wonderful friends, and that night, God showed that to me. And even though two of my friends hurt me that night, I still love them. Because I know they didn't mean to; I know that Satan tried to use it to make me beat myself up, but God used it -- is still using it -- to help me with my much older wounds. 

I think on a minor level He was reminding me that all is not roses and daisies when it comes to love, and that man does disappoint us, no matter how close you are, and that God will never disappoint. I think I forgot that for a while. But I don't think I will again. And that's not to say that I'll never trust again. It's just that people disappoint you sometimes, and sometimes you disappoint others. But God never disappoints, and I forgot that I should rely on Him and His plans, not my own. Because I screw everything up. Oh well. He still loves me.

But yeah. There's my lovely little pouring out of my heart. I hope you enjoyed reading about my insecurities and how I had a nice little cryfest and a few nice realizations. I go home day after tomorrow, and it'll be nice and calm. Actually, no, my sister'll be there. It'll be chaotic. But at least I can sleep as long as I want, no homework, and lay around in my PJ's all day. And no drama. I can't wait.

Stumbling Around

I don't believe in love at first sight. I think it's absolutely ridiculous. Love is something that takes time, and I really don't think you can be "in love" just by looking at someone. I can suspend reality long enough to watch a chick-flick, where a couple meets, knows each other for a week, stumbles around until the last five minutes where they realize all of their feelings and admit it to each other, but it's not real life.

That being said, I do think that sometimes you can just sort of know that someone is going to be important in your life. Do you know what I mean? Not, "I love him, and I'm going to marry him! ...Now what's his name?" I mean...you just know that whoever they are, they're going to have an impact in your life. It's just this feeling you get, just a sort of instantaneous knowledge. Maybe that's what the movies are picking up on. You do, after all, write what you know, so movies, TV shows, books, and other literature do reflect the real world in some ways. We all would like to think that when we meet "The One" that we're going to just absolutely know that they're the one. But that's not necessarily true. I mean, come on? How many couples have you known where they didn't really like each other when they first met? But perhaps, sometimes, you can know that someone is going to play an important role in your life. Maybe it'd be easier if I just told you a story.

Once upon a time, I was a timid little college freshmen, in the cafeteria for lunch. I'd barely said goodbye to my mother, and was attempting to adjust to my roommates, whom -- I was slowly coming to realize -- were psychotic. I was getting up to go get some water, when I noticed there was a very attractive young man staring at me. I immediately felt self-conscious. And it was different than one of those awkward moments, where you're totally zoned out, only to realize you're staring at someone, or you're looking around the cafeteria and someone looks up at you at the same time your gaze falls to them. No. This was different. And I still remember my first thought. "Oh, crap." Because I knew -- I knew -- that no matter what I did, I was going to fall for him. And I have. We've yet to ride off into the sunset. Shoot, I haven't even made it to a ballgown scene. It's obviously a work in progress. If this were a movie, I'd say I'm maybe, beginning of the middle? Maybe a little bit earlier than that.

And what happened next you may ask? Did he stroll up to me, wink, and ask me for my number? Did I casually walk by, sit down at his table, and introduce myself? The honest answer? No. No, I didn't. Because he terrified me. Crazy, right? I knew this guy was going to be important in my life, and I couldn't even talk to him. I couldn't really talk to him until the very end of last year and a lot this year. I've changed a lot since I first saw him across the cafeteria. How I feel about him has changed. I actually got to know him, and he's an amazing guy. Last year, I knew that he'd be important somehow. I'm still not 100% sure on how he's going to be important, but it's still just a feeling that I have. I knew that he was attractive, and that he seemed sweet. This year? This year I know that he's sweet. And smart, and funny, and a dork, and amazing. Before it was a small infatuation. Now? How should I put this...When I don't see him, I feel down, and bummed out.  My day sucks a little bit if I don't see him just once. And when I do see him? I feel so unbelievably happy it's crazy. Just seeing him once can brighten my whole day. And if he says hi to me? Well, might as well put that day down under "great." Sometimes -- okay, a lot of times -- I find myself absolutely speechless around him. And I don't know why. It's just, I don't know what to say. But then there are other times where we're talking, and it's amazing, and I just love spending time with him.

My feelings for him are getting stronger, and I know it. I wish so, so bad that I could fastforward to the part of the movie where we finally realize how much we care about each other, and wind up together. (Again, that's about the last minute and a half to five minutes of the movie.) But you know what? We're enthralled by the movies, TV shows, and books because of the hour and a half (or 300 pages, or 5 books, or 8 seasons) of stumbling around. When the couple gets together, it's great, and we're happy, and knowing that their lives together afterwards is going to be exciting and full of love is the best news ever. But secretly, we love the suspense, wondering, "Will they get together now?" And I think that's what life is all about. It's the middle that makes life exciting. The end is fantastic, and the beginning is what hooks you, but the middle is the reason you stay. It's the messy, sticky, tough, complicated middle that makes you keep watching, or reading, and waiting. Maybe I'm crazy, but it's the messy, sticky, tough, complicated parts that make life worth living. Because if life were easy, what'd be the point? If "he" had come up and asked me out right there in the cafeteria, I would have said no. I didn't know him. There was no reason for me to find him in the least bit interesting. I didn't know he was sweet, or funny, or a dork, or smart. I probably wouldn't have associated any of those qualities with him. And I don't think he'd be the guy he is if he had done that.

If nothing else, I know that he has already impacted my life. Honestly, you could probably say that if not for him, I wouldn't be NCC right now. It's not like he suggested I be the NCC; didn't suggest I should be apart of RHA, even. But because of events -- which he may have unknowingly been apart of -- I became my stairwells representative. I loved it. I became the NCC. I didn't expect that. I didn't expect to get involved in anything, especially not anything that can sometimes be compared to Student Council. But I did, and I love it, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my job. I know it's stressful, and sometimes I complain, but I love my job, and I love the people I work with, and I wouldn't change anything for the world. So no, I don't believe in love at first sight. But I do believe in significance at first sight, and most importantly, I believe stumbling around is the best part of life. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to stumble off to bed. Stay ducky and lucky.

An Apology

So I took that other post down. I dunno, I felt kind of bad about it. It actually got one whole view, from AMERICA. Amazing, right? Since most of you are from Russia and Germany and other foreign countries. Seriously, what's up with that? How the heck do you people even get here!? *cough* Anyway....

Mostly, I took it down because my partner actually really started involving me. I wonder if he read it. I doubt it, but it's still interesting that he started talking to me about the "project" shortly after that. Probably just coincidence. But just in case it's not, and he did read it, and he's reading this, I apologize. I was just being cranky. That's not an excuse, though. Of course, you could just respond with, "I don't want your apology," which will lead to another argument about the whole forgiveness thing, but that's another problem entirely. (I don't care what you say, you can still forgive someone even if they don't want your forgiveness!)

So, the Upperclassmen Luau was like, ridiculously awesome. Seriously. I had a ton of fun setting up for it, and even disassembling it. Gah! I can't really explain why I have so much fun doing that sort of thing. Maybe it's just the people I'm with when I do it. The people I work with are absolutely amazing. I love them so much. When you're with fun people, doing work actually is pretty fun. I started to realize it at 48 Hours of Prayer, but it really hit me after My Generation. I just love RHA. The stuff we do is amazing, and the people who make the stuff happen are just so wonderful and fun and humble. The guys remind me of my JROTC buddies (only without a ton of inappropriate jokes), and the girls are really pretty chill (which is nice, compared to other girls who can be so high-maintenance). And even though I get really stressed out about my job, it doesn't mean I don't love it. I love doing the work stuff. Give me an order, and I'll follow it. I'm not the best at planning, but I try my best, and support my fellow execs.

Monday is our first meeting. I can't wait. It's going to be awesome. This whole year is going to be awesome. It already has been! I've had more fun these past 4 weeks than I had the entire 9 months last year! Sometimes I get stressed and frustrated, but overall, I'm happy. I feel like I've branched out more this year. In a way, I feel a little bit like I was being held back last year. This year...I dunno. It's just different. And I'm glad it is. Last year had some pretty good highlights, don't get me wrong. But this year has already had a ton of highlights, and it's barely even begun. It's gonna be a good year. That much I'm sure of.