"And then my life was changed forever."
The words dangle in the air, ready to fall into anyone's mind that might be listening. But no one really is because we've heard it all before. We've heard the tragic childhood stories and inspirational climbs to success that inevitably climax at some event and causes one to utter that they were "changed forever".
There is nothing wrong with this, I just feel like the forever part really isn't necessary.
What change isn't forever?
How can anything return completely to its original state after it has been changed? You can replicate the setting, circumstances--and if you are lucky--the people that surrounded you. Yet as time moves on, life moves on, and you have been changed. Permanently. No matter what you do to return external circumstances, you can never fully revert your mind to where it has once been. There are new ideas, thoughts, and experiences in your mind and your life will be inherently different because of that.
The smallest event can completely change your perspective on life. The life that I face right now is somehow different than the life I faced a week ago. Not because I had a momentous epiphany or a soul-bending experience, but simply because a week has passed and I now have a week's worth of thoughts and experiences that have ingrained themselves into my brain and become a part of its permanent collection, whether I am aware of it or not.
This is not to say that we are simply helpless pawns in the face of destiny. Every small detail of life changes you somehow, whether it is a glimpse of pure beauty or a snippet of a strangers conversation. Yet we have some decisions to make. We can allow a hurtful remark to embitter us or enjoy the freedom that giving the benefit of the doubt gives back to us. We can listen to the wind rushing aimlessly or scowl as we pick up the papers it scattered.
Don't wait for the events that society has labeled as milestones to realize that you have been changed forever.
You are forever changing.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Self-Suffocation
Thinking can be dangerously self-absorbed. Of course, this depends entirely on what you are thinking of. This morning, I woke, moved around, then laid on my bed to think. Sometimes thoughts are enlightening, wonderful, and inspirational. Other times, they are simply self-suffocating. I keep thinking the same things over and over and the monotony threatens to kill any creativity I have left but my brain is set on repeat and I can't stop. I was in this stifling cycle this morning so I decided that going on a run would be helpful.
I have an odd malady where occasionally I will have shooting pains in my lungs and won't be able to breathe. If you know me personally, and I happen to freeze in the middle of a conversation or action, this is probably why. It isn't that much of a problem, I can usually resume breathing after a few moments and keep going. Sadly, this morning, when I most needed to run away from myself, my lungs would not cooperate and I was forced into a fast walk.
I had been doing this run for a little bit, stop running to start breathing again, start walking, forget why I couldn't run, start running, stop breathing, and so on for about an hour and had no less separated myself from my thoughts than when I was lying on my bed. This made me very frustrated and I was on the verge of considering my run/walk a waste when a very well timed friend sent a text saying that they wanted to know the real me.
It then struck me. God wants to know the real me too and is daunting as that may feel (the idea that the creator of the universe and savior of mankind cares at all about me), He already knows the real me. All my efforts to sculpt my outward self into the person I wish I could be are pointless. The fact that I was letting personal battles and distractions get in the way of being intimate with God who already knows all about my shortcomings and failures suddenly seemed quite foolish indeed. If I must think myself in circles, then perhaps refocusing myself on living for God and Him alone could release me from this trap of thinking.
I have an odd malady where occasionally I will have shooting pains in my lungs and won't be able to breathe. If you know me personally, and I happen to freeze in the middle of a conversation or action, this is probably why. It isn't that much of a problem, I can usually resume breathing after a few moments and keep going. Sadly, this morning, when I most needed to run away from myself, my lungs would not cooperate and I was forced into a fast walk.
I had been doing this run for a little bit, stop running to start breathing again, start walking, forget why I couldn't run, start running, stop breathing, and so on for about an hour and had no less separated myself from my thoughts than when I was lying on my bed. This made me very frustrated and I was on the verge of considering my run/walk a waste when a very well timed friend sent a text saying that they wanted to know the real me.
It then struck me. God wants to know the real me too and is daunting as that may feel (the idea that the creator of the universe and savior of mankind cares at all about me), He already knows the real me. All my efforts to sculpt my outward self into the person I wish I could be are pointless. The fact that I was letting personal battles and distractions get in the way of being intimate with God who already knows all about my shortcomings and failures suddenly seemed quite foolish indeed. If I must think myself in circles, then perhaps refocusing myself on living for God and Him alone could release me from this trap of thinking.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
The Right Now
Right now, its so quiet. The house is still and dark because no one else is stupid enough to be up right now. But I love the right now. Its so peaceful. The lists and lists of things that must be done have been set aside because, really, 1:48 is not a time of night to be doing anything productive effectively. What I can do right now is write. Freed from pesty to-dos, freed from the pleasantries and the pains of the day, this is my time.
Sometimes I have something I want to say but not enough courage to make it known. This particular post was originally titled "Vulnerable" and it was started on March 9th but never continued. There are some things which I write about with ease. This is not one of them.
I read somewhere that great epic poems do not start at the beginning or the end, but in the middle. So in the style of the classics, here we go.
I developed a very odd habit around the age of 8. Whenever there was a prevailing emotion, mood, or aura around me, I would immediately assume the opposite. If there was great pessimism, I would see the sun shining through. If there was great impatience and anxiety, all the peace and tranquility in the world would flow through me. If there was anger and hatred and misunderstanding, I would suddenly be filled with empathy and love. See, this only applied to the negative emotions around me. Thankfully, if there was happiness and kindness and puppies and rainbows, I wouldn't automatically turn into a rain cloud.
This habit is both helpful and destructive. It allows me to stay calm when others are panicking and it allows me to think rationally when logic is nowhere to be found. What it keeps me from doing is being vulnerable. There are those moments when everyone else is falling apart and yet I can't help but be stoic and strong. In those moments, there is nothing I want more than to join in and cry and show that I can fall apart too, but I can't. My eyes remain dry while my heart breaks on the inside.
So its not that I can't be vulnerable because I am bent on maintaining an image of strength and resilience but that I've trained myself to balance out the sentiments in a given area. This also can make me infuriating to some when in argument and my calmness is be mistaken for arrogance. I can drive people crazy when positivity is the last thing someone wants to hear. So I'm learning there are times to look on the bright side and to remain logical but there are also times when I need to simply agree with the person that yes, sometimes life sucks and when I need to skip the rationality and just admit I was wrong.
What I haven't yet mastered is how to be vulnerable, let go, and be human. It's a work in progress, just like this post, just like my life, and just like you.
Sometimes I have something I want to say but not enough courage to make it known. This particular post was originally titled "Vulnerable" and it was started on March 9th but never continued. There are some things which I write about with ease. This is not one of them.
I read somewhere that great epic poems do not start at the beginning or the end, but in the middle. So in the style of the classics, here we go.
I developed a very odd habit around the age of 8. Whenever there was a prevailing emotion, mood, or aura around me, I would immediately assume the opposite. If there was great pessimism, I would see the sun shining through. If there was great impatience and anxiety, all the peace and tranquility in the world would flow through me. If there was anger and hatred and misunderstanding, I would suddenly be filled with empathy and love. See, this only applied to the negative emotions around me. Thankfully, if there was happiness and kindness and puppies and rainbows, I wouldn't automatically turn into a rain cloud.
This habit is both helpful and destructive. It allows me to stay calm when others are panicking and it allows me to think rationally when logic is nowhere to be found. What it keeps me from doing is being vulnerable. There are those moments when everyone else is falling apart and yet I can't help but be stoic and strong. In those moments, there is nothing I want more than to join in and cry and show that I can fall apart too, but I can't. My eyes remain dry while my heart breaks on the inside.
So its not that I can't be vulnerable because I am bent on maintaining an image of strength and resilience but that I've trained myself to balance out the sentiments in a given area. This also can make me infuriating to some when in argument and my calmness is be mistaken for arrogance. I can drive people crazy when positivity is the last thing someone wants to hear. So I'm learning there are times to look on the bright side and to remain logical but there are also times when I need to simply agree with the person that yes, sometimes life sucks and when I need to skip the rationality and just admit I was wrong.
What I haven't yet mastered is how to be vulnerable, let go, and be human. It's a work in progress, just like this post, just like my life, and just like you.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Standing on my Shallow Soapbox
Now is the time to write. In the past, my creativity was being forcibly taken from me by a busy schedule and projects. Conversations have also drained my ability to put coherent thoughts on a page, yet these I do not regret. Typically, I have at least one nugget of an idea a day which I'd like to write about. If I'm lucky, I write it down and don't lose the scrap of paper. Lately, however, I have had some very decent talks with some very decent people which gave me another outlet for thinking. Good for myself and my friendships, bad for a blog. To be honest, though, I'm not writing for whoever is reading this.
I can't talk. I'm always talking. But not today. And it's killing me. My soul is restless, I can feel the words, thoughts, phrases, and clauses, trying to come together. They keep missing each other, like a failed high-five, an inch away from collision, a centimeter away from forceful contact. This is my attempt to put them together so that I can feel the impact of words once again.
Today my blog is my soapbox. I have completed high school which gives me a relatively shallow box to stand on and give advice, but it is my box and I am going to use it.
As a result of scholarships, senior awards night, and making an obnoxious amount of display boards and scrapbooks, I have come to two conclusions:
1) I find myself quite annoying at times. I feel like the poster child for anything and everything and if I could be someone else and know me, I'm not sure I'd want to. This is the last time I will spend a concentrated amount of time reading about myself. I much prefer reading about others.
2) It is my sincerest wish that my time in private school, home school, and public school does not simply add up to a resume of accomplishments, awards, and certificates. I was looking at a sheet with all of those listed and realized that those things did not embody the success of my schooling, not by a long shot. This led me to reflect on the things that I did in high school that actually did matter and this is where things get a little soapbox-y.
I have met some of the most incredible people in high school, particularly in the last two years. They aren't the people that I was supposed to be associated with. They weren't friends because they boosted my outward reputation. Sometimes we didn't have that much in common. The majority of them started off with poor first impressions and misjudgements. So my word to the wise: never overlook anyone. Never write someone off after the first conversation, first month, or even first year. People continue to surprise me with how much they add to my life and much of their value you probably won't even realize until they are gone. If you want to limit yourself to the people that approach you first, that are accepted by others, or don't require you to exit your comfort zone, feel free. You'll miss out on knowing and learning from some of the most original and wonderful people you'll ever know, but hey, at least it won't be uncomfortable and you'll always have that little group of friends that are exactly. just. like. you.
We are now drawing near to the end of my writing abilities. Significant events generally spur on significant writing and while these past few weeks have certainly not been lacking in significance, I have only brushed the surface of their impact on me in this post.
Until I have more time,
Chloe
I can't talk. I'm always talking. But not today. And it's killing me. My soul is restless, I can feel the words, thoughts, phrases, and clauses, trying to come together. They keep missing each other, like a failed high-five, an inch away from collision, a centimeter away from forceful contact. This is my attempt to put them together so that I can feel the impact of words once again.
Today my blog is my soapbox. I have completed high school which gives me a relatively shallow box to stand on and give advice, but it is my box and I am going to use it.
As a result of scholarships, senior awards night, and making an obnoxious amount of display boards and scrapbooks, I have come to two conclusions:
1) I find myself quite annoying at times. I feel like the poster child for anything and everything and if I could be someone else and know me, I'm not sure I'd want to. This is the last time I will spend a concentrated amount of time reading about myself. I much prefer reading about others.
2) It is my sincerest wish that my time in private school, home school, and public school does not simply add up to a resume of accomplishments, awards, and certificates. I was looking at a sheet with all of those listed and realized that those things did not embody the success of my schooling, not by a long shot. This led me to reflect on the things that I did in high school that actually did matter and this is where things get a little soapbox-y.
I have met some of the most incredible people in high school, particularly in the last two years. They aren't the people that I was supposed to be associated with. They weren't friends because they boosted my outward reputation. Sometimes we didn't have that much in common. The majority of them started off with poor first impressions and misjudgements. So my word to the wise: never overlook anyone. Never write someone off after the first conversation, first month, or even first year. People continue to surprise me with how much they add to my life and much of their value you probably won't even realize until they are gone. If you want to limit yourself to the people that approach you first, that are accepted by others, or don't require you to exit your comfort zone, feel free. You'll miss out on knowing and learning from some of the most original and wonderful people you'll ever know, but hey, at least it won't be uncomfortable and you'll always have that little group of friends that are exactly. just. like. you.
We are now drawing near to the end of my writing abilities. Significant events generally spur on significant writing and while these past few weeks have certainly not been lacking in significance, I have only brushed the surface of their impact on me in this post.
Until I have more time,
Chloe
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Linguistics
Just from reading the title, you are probably already bored. Linguistics sounds like a required gen ed course at a liberal arts college. I'm not talking about analyzing the Greek and Latin roots of the English language (been there, did that--trust me, its not fun). So stick with me on this one.Conversationalist
I feel like the ability to carry on a conversation is extremely limited nowadays. In my opinion, a conversation is not:
a contest to get in the most brag points as possible
an argument
a five part report
a string of questions
topping someone's stories with a better one of your own
constant connections to your own life, often unrelated to what the person was really trying to say
gossip
talking about the weather or teachers
inserting "lol" or "haha" at the beginning and end of each sentence
Conversations are precious and beautiful. They are an effort on the part of two people to better understand each other, themselves, and the world around them. They are about philosophies and ideas, hopes and dreams, silly thoughts and deep ones. They aren't all intellectual exchanges, but with some inconsequential small talk mixed in. They are a give and take. They involve more listening than talking.
A true conversation is one where you are actually hearing and following up with the person you are talking to, not waiting impatiently until you get to have your say. A true conversation can be both enlightening and confusing. It is not limited to a list of topics. It is not limited by social barriers that dictate what is appropriate for conversing. It can make your heart soar with new ideas and freedom. It can weigh your soul down with the burdens of another. But its worth it. Every time.
Talking to someone else could be the key you were looking for that opens up their soul and saves their life. And, at the same time, you are saving your own.
The Best is Yet to Come
Many times during the day I begin to compose a post, journal entry, essay, random prose, if you will, in my head. One of the recent ones was bemoaning the fact that my life was a series of to do lists and as soon as one major goal was finished (ie AP tests) another one quickly bopped its head up to request, no demand, my complete attention, time, and energy (ie getting a summer job). It inspired a mental essay on the futility of life, and the continual tasks that will never cease to rob life of meaning and joy. I'm so glad that idea never got onto paper.
Next mental musing: Something sweet and nostalgic about the future and the past and the present (those three always go nicely together) After all, this is the time of last tests, last classes, last hugs, last friendships, last everything, right? It is only appropiate that something sickingly sweet drip from this post. Again, I'm so relieved that one never came to fruition.
So now I've got two ideas that I don't want to write about. You might be wondering if this post is ever going to have any meaning. Here it comes. While I was wrestling with these very different ideas in my head (rat-race life vs. kind reflectings) I had a new thought. My mind was turning around questions like....
"Can I be happy just living off a to-do list and fleeting memories? Is this the best it is going to get?" In the midst of this self-interrogation came a refreshingly clear and simple sentence.
The best is yet to come.
Not tomorrow, or in 10 years, or when I am retired. As long as I am me, things will be quite the same. No, the best will come after this life. How could the best possibly be in this world that is filled with brokenness and pain? If we continue to believe that the best is just another day away, we might just never get there. There is a bigger picture than this life. It's not only bigger, its better.
Next mental musing: Something sweet and nostalgic about the future and the past and the present (those three always go nicely together) After all, this is the time of last tests, last classes, last hugs, last friendships, last everything, right? It is only appropiate that something sickingly sweet drip from this post. Again, I'm so relieved that one never came to fruition.
So now I've got two ideas that I don't want to write about. You might be wondering if this post is ever going to have any meaning. Here it comes. While I was wrestling with these very different ideas in my head (rat-race life vs. kind reflectings) I had a new thought. My mind was turning around questions like....
"Can I be happy just living off a to-do list and fleeting memories? Is this the best it is going to get?" In the midst of this self-interrogation came a refreshingly clear and simple sentence.
The best is yet to come.
Not tomorrow, or in 10 years, or when I am retired. As long as I am me, things will be quite the same. No, the best will come after this life. How could the best possibly be in this world that is filled with brokenness and pain? If we continue to believe that the best is just another day away, we might just never get there. There is a bigger picture than this life. It's not only bigger, its better.
Friday, May 6, 2011
I am still here.
I've had a splendid childhood. However, there are parts that I now have negative associations. The odd thing is, whenever I think of those parts of my life, I tend to feel like I am thinking about someone else's memories. It doesn't feel like it was me that couldn't talk properly until she was 12 or danced for 10 years of her life or used to make excellent pottery in her spare time. This is possibly because I can currently talk coherently, can't dance to save my life, and my last pottery experiment looked like, well, an experiment. I have changed yet that doesn't mean that who I was isn't part of who I am now. My eager anticipation for everything and anything. I still get flutters every time I check the mail even if I am expecting absolutely nothing. You just never know.
My ability to talk to inanimate objects. Most of the clocks, shower curtains, and lamps in my house have personalities. They don't talk back anymore sadly but there is still an aura about them. For example, the clock in the downstairs bathroom is incredibly lonely while the living room one is quite shy.
My desire to talk in general. To be quite honest, my estimation of you will go up tenfold if we can hold a decent conversation that moves past weather and school. I am not completely against small talk but I prefer discussing something that actually has value. Personal preference. I will overuse the word conversationalist when describing someone I respect and enjoy.
My inability to stop. Stop thinking, stop wondering, stop working. Productivity fuels me. Complacency stifles me.
My insatiable desire for books. I may have moved from historical fiction to biographies but I still sneak down to my basement and pick up a few Goldenbind books once in a while. Nothing but the classics.
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