It has come to my attention, of late, that the very purpose which I set out to fulfill in this blog has been undermined. I originally wanted to write, to update simply for the sake of jotting down my thoughts. I wanted to force myself to write....not to write anything spectacular or even very good. Just to write. More specifically, as the subtitle of the blog suggests, I wanted to "write what I want."
Unfortunately, as the blog gained a few curious readers, mostly friends of mine, I began to feel a pressure to update. Not only that, but I began to feel a pressure to update with meaningful content. It ruined the original intent. And that is a problem I've found in my day to day life -- I care far too much about what other people think. I censor myself. I'm not speaking about being polite. Hmmm...how to word this...?
I am paranoid, worried that something I say will be misinterpreted. Sometimes, I'm even worried that things I'm trying to conceal will be unveiled by a poor choice of words (written or spoken). I worry a lot. I'm not sure it's evident to the rest of the world. Maybe it is. In any case, it's very true. I worry about my friends. I worry about what they think, what people think about them, how they're feeling. I worry about their well-being. If they're injured, I worry about them furthering their injury. If they're tired, I worry about them getting enough rest. If someone's cruel to them, I worry about them being hurt emotionally.
With myself, I think, I worry less. I tend to worry the most about the things over which I have no control. Much of my own well-being and how other people affect me is under my control. I tend to take care of myself (except for, maybe, that time when I had strep for three weeks). I know my own limits. I do worry about how I affect others, though. When I'm speaking to people about anything of significance, I often simultaneously figure out in my head how they could be interpreting our conversation. Many times, I'll have conversations with people, leave them, think it through and then regret the way I worded a few sentences, the tone I used, or some strange emphasis I made on a particular topic.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I decided to start typing and try not to edit myself too much. I'm trying to reclaim something of the "I write what I want" purpose. I suppose the fact that I'm back here typing again means it's working.
The hardest parts of these posts is the conclusions. I feel as though every one needs to end with some sort of "BANG." They each need a huge revelation to accompany them, some sort of wisdom to be imparted to the world. But, alas, I have no such revelation.
Today's blog is a rambling of the thoughts in my head. Some of my weakness. A piece of my mind, of my heart. The only solid conclusion that would really fit would, perhaps, be the acknowledgement that clearly all of this worrying isn't good. I need to give over to God my worries. I know that. In my head I know all of the right answers. But I'm tired of writing these booming conclusions where it sounds like I've had some glorious epiphany about myself. I'm tired of pretending that these are new lessons I'm learning. It simply isn't true.
I think that God will spend the rest of my life teaching me the same five lessons over and over again. It baffles my mind that it will take that long, that I won't be able to one day learn them all in my head and my heart and my body.
Alright, well that's enough of my thoughts for one night. I'm going to go search my closet for a magical hidden country. I'll write again soon.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Monday, January 21, 2008
Out of Control
Here I am at the dawning of a new semester of life at Grove City.
Perhaps it's a characteristic of all fall semesters, but this past semester passed very quickly, much like my first. I can't decide if the speed is a good thing or a bad thing, but it doesn't much matter, I suppose. I can't control it anyway.
As I was contemplating ideas for this entry, this sentence popped into my head: "I feel like I'm not in control of my own life." I don't mean that I necessarily feel that way...just that as I looked at various aspects of my life, it occurred to me that I can't control them. Then it occurred to me that sometimes people take these thoughts to an extreme and utter the aforementioned phrase.
As it turns out, that statement is usually (entirely) true, and the sooner we realize it, the happier we'll be.
I'm not in control of my own life.
I'm not in control of my own life.
I'm not in control of my own life.
God is.
I can make choices. I can take action. I can say things. I can think things.
I cannot control everything, and that is most definitely a good thing. Undoubtedly I would mess up a large amount of things. And I have. And that's okay, because those mistakes ultimately send me back to the only one who can take full control. And that's where I find myself now. I find myself confused, weak, trying, and trusting with hope and optimism that if I rely solely on God, He'll take control.
It's a very hard thing for me to do. It's a hard thing for anyone to do, sure, but I think I have a particularly hard time with it. I've been searching my past and memories lately to find some mile marker that I can point to and say, "there it is. There is the moment that caused me to desire control of everything." Alas, no such marker exists, or if it does, I've lost it.
In order to illustrate the extent of my desire to control (without dragging you into some emotional battlefield), I'll relay to you the story of my dinner this evening.
Upon arriving in Grove City, my Dad and I searched around for a place to eat dinner together before he brought me to the dorm to unload. After driving around for an entirely unnecessary half-hour, we ended up at the Pizza Hut. I like pizza. I wanted dinner to be fast so that I could go settle in. It seemed like a good choice.
It was not.
We were seated within minutes of our entrance to the restaurant. It seemed promising. It turned out, however, that those running the restaurant believed that the most important part of service was prompt seating, and that every other aspect could be sacrificed...taking our orders for example.
We sat down in an incredibly dimly lit booth on the far side of the restaurant, a dimly lit booth that was to be our home for the next hour.
After about ten minutes, a waitress came over and took our drink orders, quickly running off before we could tell her that we'd like to order our food, too. In another five minutes our drinks arrived and five minutes after that, our waitress returned to take our dinner order. My dad ordered a hoagie and I ordered a pizza with three toppings...
Me: "I'd like a single serving pizza with pepperoni, banana peppers and extra cheese."
Waitress: *confused look* *scribbling* *confused look* "Pepperoni, banana peppers and cheese."
Me: "Yes."
Now, normally when a waitress gives me that kind of look, I know something's up. Honestly, my immediate instinct was to stand up and look at what she had written down. I'm not even kidding. I wanted to SO badly (controlcontrolcontrol). But I didn't (small victory), partly because she repeated the order back correctly. Turns out that repetition was a fluke.
For the next forty minutes we were basically ignored by every worker in that restaurant. No apologies. No offers of discounts. No drink refills. No updates on why it would take forty minutes to cook a small pizza.
This was my moment of greatest desire to control. At about minute 35, I was shaking in my booth. I punched one hand into the other. I tapped on the table. I wanted, very badly, to walk up to the counter, go behind it and find my order sitting there. I honestly thought about going back and asking if I could make the pizza myself.
Basically the night was like a series of small victories.
Eventually, a waitress got close enough for us to flag her down. After hearing that we had been waiting for over half and hour, she said she'd check on our order (no apology). She apparently spent the next five minutes checking. Let me tell you -- when you're hungry and annoyed and hungry and impatient, five minutes is a long time.
Eventually we got the food. The only thing on the pizza was banana peppers and the normal amount of cheese. Now, usually I would simply tell the waitress that the order was wrong and ask her to go add some pepperonis (very politely, of course), but I was too worried that they would take another hour to do that, so I made no comment. My next thought was that I could perhaps sneak into the kitchen and grab some pepperonis without anyone noticing. Now, obviously I didn't...but it did cross my mind.
After we ate, it took another five billion hours for us to realize that it would take them five billion hours to bring us the bill, so we just went up to the counter and waited there for someone to notice us, which happened promptly (perhaps they thought we were waiting to be seated).
The End.
Wow. That story took a long time to tell, it wasn't that good and it didn't really illustrate my point, much. Oh well. I think that I partly just wanted to vent about my less than poor dining experience.
I don't have much else to say. I suppose I would leave you with this though -- **see the insightful bit about God being in control**
Perhaps it's a characteristic of all fall semesters, but this past semester passed very quickly, much like my first. I can't decide if the speed is a good thing or a bad thing, but it doesn't much matter, I suppose. I can't control it anyway.
As I was contemplating ideas for this entry, this sentence popped into my head: "I feel like I'm not in control of my own life." I don't mean that I necessarily feel that way...just that as I looked at various aspects of my life, it occurred to me that I can't control them. Then it occurred to me that sometimes people take these thoughts to an extreme and utter the aforementioned phrase.
As it turns out, that statement is usually (entirely) true, and the sooner we realize it, the happier we'll be.
I'm not in control of my own life.
I'm not in control of my own life.
I'm not in control of my own life.
God is.
I can make choices. I can take action. I can say things. I can think things.
I cannot control everything, and that is most definitely a good thing. Undoubtedly I would mess up a large amount of things. And I have. And that's okay, because those mistakes ultimately send me back to the only one who can take full control. And that's where I find myself now. I find myself confused, weak, trying, and trusting with hope and optimism that if I rely solely on God, He'll take control.
It's a very hard thing for me to do. It's a hard thing for anyone to do, sure, but I think I have a particularly hard time with it. I've been searching my past and memories lately to find some mile marker that I can point to and say, "there it is. There is the moment that caused me to desire control of everything." Alas, no such marker exists, or if it does, I've lost it.
In order to illustrate the extent of my desire to control (without dragging you into some emotional battlefield), I'll relay to you the story of my dinner this evening.
Upon arriving in Grove City, my Dad and I searched around for a place to eat dinner together before he brought me to the dorm to unload. After driving around for an entirely unnecessary half-hour, we ended up at the Pizza Hut. I like pizza. I wanted dinner to be fast so that I could go settle in. It seemed like a good choice.
It was not.
We were seated within minutes of our entrance to the restaurant. It seemed promising. It turned out, however, that those running the restaurant believed that the most important part of service was prompt seating, and that every other aspect could be sacrificed...taking our orders for example.
We sat down in an incredibly dimly lit booth on the far side of the restaurant, a dimly lit booth that was to be our home for the next hour.
After about ten minutes, a waitress came over and took our drink orders, quickly running off before we could tell her that we'd like to order our food, too. In another five minutes our drinks arrived and five minutes after that, our waitress returned to take our dinner order. My dad ordered a hoagie and I ordered a pizza with three toppings...
Me: "I'd like a single serving pizza with pepperoni, banana peppers and extra cheese."
Waitress: *confused look* *scribbling* *confused look* "Pepperoni, banana peppers and cheese."
Me: "Yes."
Now, normally when a waitress gives me that kind of look, I know something's up. Honestly, my immediate instinct was to stand up and look at what she had written down. I'm not even kidding. I wanted to SO badly (controlcontrolcontrol). But I didn't (small victory), partly because she repeated the order back correctly. Turns out that repetition was a fluke.
For the next forty minutes we were basically ignored by every worker in that restaurant. No apologies. No offers of discounts. No drink refills. No updates on why it would take forty minutes to cook a small pizza.
This was my moment of greatest desire to control. At about minute 35, I was shaking in my booth. I punched one hand into the other. I tapped on the table. I wanted, very badly, to walk up to the counter, go behind it and find my order sitting there. I honestly thought about going back and asking if I could make the pizza myself.
Basically the night was like a series of small victories.
Eventually, a waitress got close enough for us to flag her down. After hearing that we had been waiting for over half and hour, she said she'd check on our order (no apology). She apparently spent the next five minutes checking. Let me tell you -- when you're hungry and annoyed and hungry and impatient, five minutes is a long time.
Eventually we got the food. The only thing on the pizza was banana peppers and the normal amount of cheese. Now, usually I would simply tell the waitress that the order was wrong and ask her to go add some pepperonis (very politely, of course), but I was too worried that they would take another hour to do that, so I made no comment. My next thought was that I could perhaps sneak into the kitchen and grab some pepperonis without anyone noticing. Now, obviously I didn't...but it did cross my mind.
After we ate, it took another five billion hours for us to realize that it would take them five billion hours to bring us the bill, so we just went up to the counter and waited there for someone to notice us, which happened promptly (perhaps they thought we were waiting to be seated).
The End.
Wow. That story took a long time to tell, it wasn't that good and it didn't really illustrate my point, much. Oh well. I think that I partly just wanted to vent about my less than poor dining experience.
I don't have much else to say. I suppose I would leave you with this though -- **see the insightful bit about God being in control**
Sunday, January 13, 2008
When In Rome
How much do we influence each other's actions?
How much do we influence the actions of our friends?
How much do our friends influence our actions?
How much should we let our friends influence our actions?
I think that there are a large group of people in the world who are labeled as "followers," who don't consciously choose to constantly follow the decisions of others. They go through life, and a few noticeable choices happen to match those of people around them. Suddenly they are a "follower," or perhaps, "conformist." They don't have thoughts of their own. They don't have opinions of their own.
Or so we say.
I think that there are a large group of people in the world, who are labeled as "conformists" by their fellow humans, who in actuality just do what they want, regardless of whether or not other people do it. Or maybe they began certain practices because of other people, but continue them because it brings them joy.
On the flip side, there are also those people out there who are being controlled by the masses. They appear to be independent and free spirited. They appear to be original. But, they are more influenced by others than the first group.
And, of course, a lot of us would like to say we fall into the category of "somewhere in the middle," and rightly so. I think it's just sort of a commentary on how much labels can affect how we view people as much as it's a commentary on conformity.
There are varying degrees of conformity in every one's life. It's how we live. I eat cereal for breakfast (sometimes). Why? Because that's what people eat for breakfast. AND because I enjoy having cereal for breakfast. The original reason that I chose to eat cereal (aside from the fact that my parents probably fed it to me) for breakfast is that it's a common practice amongst Americans. However, the reason that I continue the practice is because I enjoy doing so.
Does that make me a conformist? Am I just a mindless follower in the realm of breakfast foods? Most people wouldn't argue that.
When I was in middle school, I shopped at American Eagle for jeans. It was a very popular store then. Everyone else was wearing American Eagle gear, so why shouldn't I? I went to the store and bought a pair of jeans. It was probably one of the best purchases I've ever made. For about three years, I would only wear American Eagle jeans. This is not because I was "brand conscious" by any means. They were just the best fitting, longest lasting jeans I had ever tried. Upon first glance, though, I was simply conforming to the standards set down by popular teens everywhere.
Does that make me a conformist? Do I just want to wear whatever fashion is the most popular at the time? (yes, go ahead and laugh. I know I'm far from "fashionable.")
My entire immediate family up to this point graduated from Grove City College. When I went searching for a college, I knew only one thing -- I wouldn't end up at Grove City. I just wasn't going to follow the family trend. I wasn't going to settle for what my family chose. I wasn't going to fit into that box.
The problem is this: after visiting a lot of other colleges, only Grove City felt right. Only Grove City had what I was looking for. Turns out there's a reason that my family all decided to go to Grove.
And that's when I realized that deciding not to do something just because other people do it, is just as wrong as deciding to do something just because other people do it.
I suppose the question then becomes: how wrong are those reasons?
I can't say that making a choice based on the fact that others before you made it is necessarily wrong. Perhaps you trust the opinions of your friends. Perhaps you know that you like similar music, so when your friend buys a CD, you immediately buy it too. You're not at fault.
I could go on with hundreds [exaggeration] of other examples, but I'll spare you the dry explanations. The point I'm making is that we need to reevaluate the basis of everyday claims and connotations that we simply accept as true without a second thought. And so it comes around again....you shouldn't simply accept thoughts that others hold true simply because they've always been thought.
I love how inconclusive my thought process is. [Seriously. If my thought process were entirely conclusive, I would probably cease thinking.]
How much do we influence the actions of our friends?
How much do our friends influence our actions?
How much should we let our friends influence our actions?
I think that there are a large group of people in the world who are labeled as "followers," who don't consciously choose to constantly follow the decisions of others. They go through life, and a few noticeable choices happen to match those of people around them. Suddenly they are a "follower," or perhaps, "conformist." They don't have thoughts of their own. They don't have opinions of their own.
Or so we say.
I think that there are a large group of people in the world, who are labeled as "conformists" by their fellow humans, who in actuality just do what they want, regardless of whether or not other people do it. Or maybe they began certain practices because of other people, but continue them because it brings them joy.
On the flip side, there are also those people out there who are being controlled by the masses. They appear to be independent and free spirited. They appear to be original. But, they are more influenced by others than the first group.
And, of course, a lot of us would like to say we fall into the category of "somewhere in the middle," and rightly so. I think it's just sort of a commentary on how much labels can affect how we view people as much as it's a commentary on conformity.
There are varying degrees of conformity in every one's life. It's how we live. I eat cereal for breakfast (sometimes). Why? Because that's what people eat for breakfast. AND because I enjoy having cereal for breakfast. The original reason that I chose to eat cereal (aside from the fact that my parents probably fed it to me) for breakfast is that it's a common practice amongst Americans. However, the reason that I continue the practice is because I enjoy doing so.
Does that make me a conformist? Am I just a mindless follower in the realm of breakfast foods? Most people wouldn't argue that.
When I was in middle school, I shopped at American Eagle for jeans. It was a very popular store then. Everyone else was wearing American Eagle gear, so why shouldn't I? I went to the store and bought a pair of jeans. It was probably one of the best purchases I've ever made. For about three years, I would only wear American Eagle jeans. This is not because I was "brand conscious" by any means. They were just the best fitting, longest lasting jeans I had ever tried. Upon first glance, though, I was simply conforming to the standards set down by popular teens everywhere.
Does that make me a conformist? Do I just want to wear whatever fashion is the most popular at the time? (yes, go ahead and laugh. I know I'm far from "fashionable.")
My entire immediate family up to this point graduated from Grove City College. When I went searching for a college, I knew only one thing -- I wouldn't end up at Grove City. I just wasn't going to follow the family trend. I wasn't going to settle for what my family chose. I wasn't going to fit into that box.
The problem is this: after visiting a lot of other colleges, only Grove City felt right. Only Grove City had what I was looking for. Turns out there's a reason that my family all decided to go to Grove.
And that's when I realized that deciding not to do something just because other people do it, is just as wrong as deciding to do something just because other people do it.
I suppose the question then becomes: how wrong are those reasons?
I can't say that making a choice based on the fact that others before you made it is necessarily wrong. Perhaps you trust the opinions of your friends. Perhaps you know that you like similar music, so when your friend buys a CD, you immediately buy it too. You're not at fault.
I could go on with hundreds [exaggeration] of other examples, but I'll spare you the dry explanations. The point I'm making is that we need to reevaluate the basis of everyday claims and connotations that we simply accept as true without a second thought. And so it comes around again....you shouldn't simply accept thoughts that others hold true simply because they've always been thought.
Where can a teacher go?
Wherever she thinks people need the things she knows.
Hey, those books you gave us look good on the shelves at home,
And they’ll burn warm in the fireplace, Teacher, when in Rome
I love how inconclusive my thought process is. [Seriously. If my thought process were entirely conclusive, I would probably cease thinking.]
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Conflict Resolution
I think that "conflict resolution" is sort of a catchphrase in the business world at the moment. Of course, within that context it has to do with being able to deal with conflicts between two or more people, usually in a corporate setting. However, the phrase can take on many different meanings, and none of the aspects I am about to address will likely have anything at all to do with business.
The particular conflict resolution that I'm exploring in this first bit is of the introspective kind. Thus, a section title, I suppose, would be
The resurrection of this blog has come about because of this lengthy break from school. A break from school means a break from constant interaction. And in my case in particular, it means an extreme amount of alone time. This time with myself is not unwelcome. I require it. By the end of the semester, I'm usually craving it. However, when I spend so much time with myself instead of interacting with other people, I end up thinking about how I interact with people. A lot.
Again, this is not necessarily a bad thing, so long as I'm able to keep a certain...hmm...positive perspective of myself. To be honest, though, whenever I spend hours and hours in one single person's company, I tend to involuntarily focus on their flaws. Over break, that one single person is me. Spending hours doing nothing but focusing on my flaws is probably incredibly unhealthy. I'm willing to admit, right here and now, that I have a problem letting myself off the hook. I know I've written before that I have issues forgiving myself. Well, it's still true, and not just for instances of gross personal error, but even in cases where my personality appears to rub people the wrong way.
[At this point the topic of the blog may seem to slightly shift, but stay with me and I promise that it will all come around full circle. As you can see, I have about a month and a half of introspection built up within me and a large majority of it will be spilled into this post. We're nowhere near the end. You have been warned.]
In order to look more closely at my only personal inner conflict, I first needed to ponder humanity as a whole. The following is an account of my observations regarding something I like to call
How many of you have either heard someone use the phrase "two-faced" or used it yourself? *everyone's hands raise* I knew it. I just knew it.
As humans I think we tend to focus a lot on how other people act. For those of us who spend a lot of time analyzing actions and words of others, the conclusion is often made that certain people act differently toward different people.
We think
"That's not what she would have said if I did that."
Or
"When I asked him to do such-and-such, he said he didn't want to, but there he is now doing such-and-such with her."
Or
"I bet if *insert name* were going to be there, she would come with us."
It's not uncommon. It's human nature to think these things. However, what I've come to understand is that it's also human nature to be on the other side of these statements. All of those are seen as generally negative statements, but I would argue that that is not necessarily true.
Related to those instances, and perhaps more related to the use of the term "two-faced," is the idea that people act differently in different groups of people. If someone observed me interacting with a group of friends from home and then observed me interacting with my friends from school, they may notice a difference in my actions and behavior. They may presume that this indicates I'm being "a different person" when I'm around various others. It may influence them to call me "two-faced" or say that "[I]'ve changed" or that I'm "not who [they] thought [I was]."
All of this would be a waste of breath.
I'm guilty of similar thoughts. I think that people "have changed." What does that even mean? I've used the phrase "it's like they're a different person." Not only is this grammatically incorrect, but it's also probably not true. They are the same person. I just haven't seen that side of them before. People can change, but just because they act in a way that isn't consistent with how I viewed them previously doesn't mean that they've undergone some huge transformation. All it means is that some aspects of their personalities (which probably have changed very little throughout our acquaintance) are highlighted when they interact with me. Others are highlighted when they interact with people different than me.
One personality can demonstrate a thousand different facets when put in a thousand different situations. This isn't to say that no one's personality ever undergoes great change. I'm willing to concede that if you compared my personality in early middle school to my personality now, it would be considerably different.
I just don't believe that we can legitimately call people "inconsistent" as much as we might like to do so. Now, what exactly triggers these different flashes of the same personality is another conversation completely, and one best left for another day. For now I'm going to bring this topic back to its starting point.
Me.
Or, I guess, more specifically,
As you will remember, I've spent time focusing on my flaws. I've discovered in this analysis that my flaws in some situations are actually strengths in others.
If I'm in a group of people who are very competitive and we're playing a game, then it is more fun for everyone involved if I exhibit my competitive nature. Similarly, if I'm in a rugby game and we're down by a lot of points, because of my competitive nature I'm going to continue to play as hard as I possibly can. In this specific case, my competitiveness often leads to optimism.
However, if it's Christmas day and I'm sitting down to a nice board game with my family, which involves...less competitive people, going into extreme "I WANT TO WIN" mode is probably not advisable.
This is where I run into a problem in my introspection. I have trouble sometimes deciding which parts of my personality I need to cut out, because it's hard to determine at what point it becomes more a hazard than a help. (I'm not talking solely about competitiveness, by the way. It was just an illustration.)
When I look only at flaws the outlook becomes bleak, fuzzy and confusing. So where do I go from there?
It's simple, really.
Instead of asking "What do I not want people to see in me?" and "What do I not want to be?" I should ask "What do I want people to see when they look at me?" and "What do I want to be?"
The answers to those questions are much more attainable. I want people to see me as a woman of God.
As for the second question, when I was thinking about this entry, and thinking about how I would answer that question, I remembered an encouraging email I received from a friend last year. The subject line read "Romans 12:12."
That's what I want to be...
The particular conflict resolution that I'm exploring in this first bit is of the introspective kind. Thus, a section title, I suppose, would be
"Internal Conflict Resolution."
The resurrection of this blog has come about because of this lengthy break from school. A break from school means a break from constant interaction. And in my case in particular, it means an extreme amount of alone time. This time with myself is not unwelcome. I require it. By the end of the semester, I'm usually craving it. However, when I spend so much time with myself instead of interacting with other people, I end up thinking about how I interact with people. A lot.
Again, this is not necessarily a bad thing, so long as I'm able to keep a certain...hmm...positive perspective of myself. To be honest, though, whenever I spend hours and hours in one single person's company, I tend to involuntarily focus on their flaws. Over break, that one single person is me. Spending hours doing nothing but focusing on my flaws is probably incredibly unhealthy. I'm willing to admit, right here and now, that I have a problem letting myself off the hook. I know I've written before that I have issues forgiving myself. Well, it's still true, and not just for instances of gross personal error, but even in cases where my personality appears to rub people the wrong way.
[At this point the topic of the blog may seem to slightly shift, but stay with me and I promise that it will all come around full circle. As you can see, I have about a month and a half of introspection built up within me and a large majority of it will be spilled into this post. We're nowhere near the end. You have been warned.]
In order to look more closely at my only personal inner conflict, I first needed to ponder humanity as a whole. The following is an account of my observations regarding something I like to call
"Personality Conflict Resolution."
How many of you have either heard someone use the phrase "two-faced" or used it yourself? *everyone's hands raise* I knew it. I just knew it.
As humans I think we tend to focus a lot on how other people act. For those of us who spend a lot of time analyzing actions and words of others, the conclusion is often made that certain people act differently toward different people.
We think
"That's not what she would have said if I did that."
Or
"When I asked him to do such-and-such, he said he didn't want to, but there he is now doing such-and-such with her."
Or
"I bet if *insert name* were going to be there, she would come with us."
It's not uncommon. It's human nature to think these things. However, what I've come to understand is that it's also human nature to be on the other side of these statements. All of those are seen as generally negative statements, but I would argue that that is not necessarily true.
Related to those instances, and perhaps more related to the use of the term "two-faced," is the idea that people act differently in different groups of people. If someone observed me interacting with a group of friends from home and then observed me interacting with my friends from school, they may notice a difference in my actions and behavior. They may presume that this indicates I'm being "a different person" when I'm around various others. It may influence them to call me "two-faced" or say that "[I]'ve changed" or that I'm "not who [they] thought [I was]."
All of this would be a waste of breath.
I'm guilty of similar thoughts. I think that people "have changed." What does that even mean? I've used the phrase "it's like they're a different person." Not only is this grammatically incorrect, but it's also probably not true. They are the same person. I just haven't seen that side of them before. People can change, but just because they act in a way that isn't consistent with how I viewed them previously doesn't mean that they've undergone some huge transformation. All it means is that some aspects of their personalities (which probably have changed very little throughout our acquaintance) are highlighted when they interact with me. Others are highlighted when they interact with people different than me.
One personality can demonstrate a thousand different facets when put in a thousand different situations. This isn't to say that no one's personality ever undergoes great change. I'm willing to concede that if you compared my personality in early middle school to my personality now, it would be considerably different.
I just don't believe that we can legitimately call people "inconsistent" as much as we might like to do so. Now, what exactly triggers these different flashes of the same personality is another conversation completely, and one best left for another day. For now I'm going to bring this topic back to its starting point.
Me.
Or, I guess, more specifically,
"Internal Conflict Resolution"
(with an emphasis on "resolution")
As you will remember, I've spent time focusing on my flaws. I've discovered in this analysis that my flaws in some situations are actually strengths in others.
If I'm in a group of people who are very competitive and we're playing a game, then it is more fun for everyone involved if I exhibit my competitive nature. Similarly, if I'm in a rugby game and we're down by a lot of points, because of my competitive nature I'm going to continue to play as hard as I possibly can. In this specific case, my competitiveness often leads to optimism.
However, if it's Christmas day and I'm sitting down to a nice board game with my family, which involves...less competitive people, going into extreme "I WANT TO WIN" mode is probably not advisable.
This is where I run into a problem in my introspection. I have trouble sometimes deciding which parts of my personality I need to cut out, because it's hard to determine at what point it becomes more a hazard than a help. (I'm not talking solely about competitiveness, by the way. It was just an illustration.)
When I look only at flaws the outlook becomes bleak, fuzzy and confusing. So where do I go from there?
It's simple, really.
Instead of asking "What do I not want people to see in me?" and "What do I not want to be?" I should ask "What do I want people to see when they look at me?" and "What do I want to be?"
The answers to those questions are much more attainable. I want people to see me as a woman of God.
As for the second question, when I was thinking about this entry, and thinking about how I would answer that question, I remembered an encouraging email I received from a friend last year. The subject line read "Romans 12:12."
That's what I want to be...
Joyful in hope,
Patient in affliction,
And faithful in prayer.
If I can concentrate on being seen as a woman of God who is joyful in hope, patient in affliction and faithful in prayer, somehow I doubt that I'll have to worry much about what I'm not being.
Internal conflict resolved.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
To Be Surprised
It occurred to me that it is close to Thanksgiving. Well, despite the forged time/date stamp on this entry, it is now Thanksgiving Day. What would be more appropriate than to list off things that I'm thankful for?
God
Family
Friends
Shelter
Food
Blah
Blah
Blah
Doesn't really make for an interesting entry? Okay. I guess I'll dig a little deeper (despite the fact that I could easily fall asleep with my hands on this keyboard). Perhaps I shouldn't be lying down while writing this...
I'm going to elaborate on something I'm thankful for that's not on the list. I suppose it would be a subheading under "God" and "Friends." It's something God's changed about me that I really appreciate. I never thought I'd say that. I never thought it would change, and I never thought that I'd appreciate this particular change...but life surprises me sometimes.
I'm thankful that I've learned to be more open. Not only to be more open, but to be okay with being more open, and to see the value in being more open. I'd say it's something that changed over the course of the last year, and maybe it started over a year ago when I came to Grove City.
Now, being more open doesn't mean I go telling strangers my life story. Nor does it mean I go around telling acquaintances my life story. In fact, overall I'd say people would still consider me to be a reserved person when it comes to my thoughts and feelings. And, I suppose, compared to others, I am more reserved. It's all relative. I'm okay with that. I'm fine being reserved.
What's not okay is being shut off.
Being unwilling to open up to anyone.
Being so untrusting of every other human in the world that I refused to let them in.
Being so afraid of being misunderstood that I didn't give anyone the chance to understand.
And that's the root of why it's a problem, really. I know I've written before about how I long to be understood (I think the title of the post was "Friendship"). That, I think, is what most humans seek in their relationships--to be understood and to understand others. Up until this past year, I think I had developed a very good understanding of other people. I spent so much time observing and listening and absorbing that I'm fairly good at reading people, at understanding people, at "getting" people. That's a good skill to have, and I don't think it's bad at all. The problem, of course, is that I felt hopeless that anyone else could possibly understand me(...which proooobably sounds arrogant, but it's what I thought, so I don't care).
It occurs to me now (hindsight 20/20) that the reason people didn't understand me was because I refused to let them in. I refused to tell them what I really thought, what I really felt. Obviously when you let people know those things, you're opening yourself up to the chance of rejection and hurt. However, you're also opening yourself up to the chance of close friendship and bonding. That's not to say that I didn't have close friendships before college...just that they took a lot longer to build.
I can now honestly say that there are a handful of people who understand me. Who really understand me. And there are another handful who are on their way :)
I love them all. I do. Whether we're really close at the moment or not, I will always be thankful to have met them and to have been understood.
Like I said, I'm surprised. I would not have believed you if you told me a year and a half ago that I'd be such an open person (in my eyes).
That's something I've come to understand about life, too. No matter how much I may want to figure out my future, no matter how much I want to analyze my life and where it's been, no matter how much I plan for where things will be a year from now...the only thing I know is that I'll probably be surprised.
God
Family
Friends
Shelter
Food
Blah
Blah
Blah
Doesn't really make for an interesting entry? Okay. I guess I'll dig a little deeper (despite the fact that I could easily fall asleep with my hands on this keyboard). Perhaps I shouldn't be lying down while writing this...
I'm going to elaborate on something I'm thankful for that's not on the list. I suppose it would be a subheading under "God" and "Friends." It's something God's changed about me that I really appreciate. I never thought I'd say that. I never thought it would change, and I never thought that I'd appreciate this particular change...but life surprises me sometimes.
I'm thankful that I've learned to be more open. Not only to be more open, but to be okay with being more open, and to see the value in being more open. I'd say it's something that changed over the course of the last year, and maybe it started over a year ago when I came to Grove City.
Now, being more open doesn't mean I go telling strangers my life story. Nor does it mean I go around telling acquaintances my life story. In fact, overall I'd say people would still consider me to be a reserved person when it comes to my thoughts and feelings. And, I suppose, compared to others, I am more reserved. It's all relative. I'm okay with that. I'm fine being reserved.
What's not okay is being shut off.
Being unwilling to open up to anyone.
Being so untrusting of every other human in the world that I refused to let them in.
Being so afraid of being misunderstood that I didn't give anyone the chance to understand.
And that's the root of why it's a problem, really. I know I've written before about how I long to be understood (I think the title of the post was "Friendship"). That, I think, is what most humans seek in their relationships--to be understood and to understand others. Up until this past year, I think I had developed a very good understanding of other people. I spent so much time observing and listening and absorbing that I'm fairly good at reading people, at understanding people, at "getting" people. That's a good skill to have, and I don't think it's bad at all. The problem, of course, is that I felt hopeless that anyone else could possibly understand me(...which proooobably sounds arrogant, but it's what I thought, so I don't care).
It occurs to me now (hindsight 20/20) that the reason people didn't understand me was because I refused to let them in. I refused to tell them what I really thought, what I really felt. Obviously when you let people know those things, you're opening yourself up to the chance of rejection and hurt. However, you're also opening yourself up to the chance of close friendship and bonding. That's not to say that I didn't have close friendships before college...just that they took a lot longer to build.
I can now honestly say that there are a handful of people who understand me. Who really understand me. And there are another handful who are on their way :)
I love them all. I do. Whether we're really close at the moment or not, I will always be thankful to have met them and to have been understood.
Like I said, I'm surprised. I would not have believed you if you told me a year and a half ago that I'd be such an open person (in my eyes).
That's something I've come to understand about life, too. No matter how much I may want to figure out my future, no matter how much I want to analyze my life and where it's been, no matter how much I plan for where things will be a year from now...the only thing I know is that I'll probably be surprised.
I'm not gonna state
Obvious observations everybody makes
But, baby, be prepared to be surprised
Better be prepared to be surprised
Baby, be prepared to be surprised
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The Fight
I don't tend to think of myself as a violent person. I mean, I'm quite sure that few people would consider me docile. When I think about it, though, there are plenty of other people out there who are much, much more inclined to promote violence than I am. That said, I find the idea of hitting people very appealing sometimes. Not necessarily people I'm mad at either. Perhaps that's why I enjoy rugby so much. You might ask what has brought these thoughts to my mind.
Well, it all stems from a conversation that took place on the second floor of the Breen earlier this evening. The seating arrangements and surroundings are somewhat important to the story, so I will explain them as best I can...
Nate, Lisa, Katy and I were sitting at a normal-sized rectangular table up on the Student Life and Learning side. Our computers were all out. Other various books and papers were out on the table as well. Katy and I were sitting across from each other, against the railing (about 4 feet high). Next to Katy sat Nate and across from him, Lisa. Each of us was in a normal sitting position with our legs underneath the table. Can you picture it? I hope so.
I honestly cannot remember the particulars of how the question came about, but it came about nonetheless.
All personal feelings aside, if Lisa, Katy and I had to throw Nate over the railing and off of the second floor, could we? We would be allowed and willing to hurt each other, kill each other, etc. We would start from our current positions at the table. Nate's only goal is to keep from being thrown, and our only goal is to get him over the railing.
This question caused quite a stir at the table. Of course, we all came to quite different conclusions. Everyone seemed to think that their "side" would be victorious. Nate claimed that he could easily knock us out one by one. We claimed that we could easily overtake him, knock him unconscious and then lift his limp body over the railing.
His first move would be to grab Katy's head with his hands and slam it, full force against the corner of the wood pillar just behind her, thereby killing her or at the very least knocking her unconscious. Either way, that move would undoubtedly take her out of the picture. All four of us conceded that this was a likely first move, and would probably be feasible considering Katy's size and strength and the position of her body at the time. [As a side note, Nate claimed that had Lisa or I been sitting there, the move wouldn't have worked because...let's see, he said it so eloquently...we're "more massive."]
Once we've reached the point where Katy's been killed/maimed, we found ourselves in disagreement. You see, the amount of time it would take for him to kill Katy would give Lisa and I time to get our of our chairs and around the table to begin our assault on Nate. At this point, the scenario was changed a bit. Nate asked:
Okay, so what if there were no tables or anything and it was just you and Lisa standing about 4 feet away from me? Then do you actually think you could get me over the edge?
Yes. Yes, I believe we could.
Now keep in mind, up to this point, you've got a table of four people who have been discussing with increasing intensity and volume about bashing each others' heads into walls, killing each other, and ultimately throwing each other off of balconies. The one guy at the table has put his hands on the head of the girl next to him multiple times and slowly simulated pounding her head to a pulp.
Now realize that there is a boy sitting at the table behind us, facing us, without headphones in. He hasn't made a stir yet, and we still don't notice that he's there.
Nate, after posing this new question, suggests that his first move would be to kill me swiftly with one blow to my head with his elbow. He seemed to think that if we were both standing, his elbow would be right around the height of my temple. Of course, this isn't true and I had to prove it, so I had Nate get up out of his chair and I went to stand with him. And there we are, facing each other discussing the ways in which we would begin attacking. For example, I would tackle him, rugby-style to the ground and then Lisa could come over and begin jumping up and down on his head thereby rendering him unconscious. And at this point, I began to show Nate exactly what I meant by a rugby-style tackle.
Apparently this demonstration was a bit too much for the boy who had been creepily (and probably frightfully) observing our interactions. We explained ourselves, he agree that the girls would win and we decided that it would be best to sit down.
We continued discussing this matter for some time and realized that we would never be able to figure out for sure what the outcome would be. All of this discussion made me think, though. It made me introspective and I came to this somewhat frightening conclusion: I would like the chance to beat someone up. Even just getting one good, solid punch at someones face would be so satisfying. I would love it if there were some way that I could experience that without actually hurting someone.
It frightens me a bit that the idea of beating someone to the ground is so appealing. Lets get something straight--I would NEVER do it. NEVER. But that in and of itself is a strange thought. Most of the people I know will never know what it feels like to punch another person. And I know that that's a positive thing....I don't even know where I'm going with this. Maybe I'm insane. I wonder if anyone else is intrigued by the idea of being put in that ultimate fight, having my own life and the lives of others dependent upon my own ability to use my strength.
Yep. I sound like a nut job. I know. I sound like a violent crazy person, just waiting for someone to anger me so that I can unleash the anger within...but that's not true at all. It's all hypothetical...and will stay that way.
On a completely unrelated note, I love rugby....yeaaaah...completely unrelated.
Well, it all stems from a conversation that took place on the second floor of the Breen earlier this evening. The seating arrangements and surroundings are somewhat important to the story, so I will explain them as best I can...
Nate, Lisa, Katy and I were sitting at a normal-sized rectangular table up on the Student Life and Learning side. Our computers were all out. Other various books and papers were out on the table as well. Katy and I were sitting across from each other, against the railing (about 4 feet high). Next to Katy sat Nate and across from him, Lisa. Each of us was in a normal sitting position with our legs underneath the table. Can you picture it? I hope so.
I honestly cannot remember the particulars of how the question came about, but it came about nonetheless.
All personal feelings aside, if Lisa, Katy and I had to throw Nate over the railing and off of the second floor, could we? We would be allowed and willing to hurt each other, kill each other, etc. We would start from our current positions at the table. Nate's only goal is to keep from being thrown, and our only goal is to get him over the railing.
This question caused quite a stir at the table. Of course, we all came to quite different conclusions. Everyone seemed to think that their "side" would be victorious. Nate claimed that he could easily knock us out one by one. We claimed that we could easily overtake him, knock him unconscious and then lift his limp body over the railing.
His first move would be to grab Katy's head with his hands and slam it, full force against the corner of the wood pillar just behind her, thereby killing her or at the very least knocking her unconscious. Either way, that move would undoubtedly take her out of the picture. All four of us conceded that this was a likely first move, and would probably be feasible considering Katy's size and strength and the position of her body at the time. [As a side note, Nate claimed that had Lisa or I been sitting there, the move wouldn't have worked because...let's see, he said it so eloquently...we're "more massive."]
Once we've reached the point where Katy's been killed/maimed, we found ourselves in disagreement. You see, the amount of time it would take for him to kill Katy would give Lisa and I time to get our of our chairs and around the table to begin our assault on Nate. At this point, the scenario was changed a bit. Nate asked:
Okay, so what if there were no tables or anything and it was just you and Lisa standing about 4 feet away from me? Then do you actually think you could get me over the edge?
Yes. Yes, I believe we could.
Now keep in mind, up to this point, you've got a table of four people who have been discussing with increasing intensity and volume about bashing each others' heads into walls, killing each other, and ultimately throwing each other off of balconies. The one guy at the table has put his hands on the head of the girl next to him multiple times and slowly simulated pounding her head to a pulp.
Now realize that there is a boy sitting at the table behind us, facing us, without headphones in. He hasn't made a stir yet, and we still don't notice that he's there.
Nate, after posing this new question, suggests that his first move would be to kill me swiftly with one blow to my head with his elbow. He seemed to think that if we were both standing, his elbow would be right around the height of my temple. Of course, this isn't true and I had to prove it, so I had Nate get up out of his chair and I went to stand with him. And there we are, facing each other discussing the ways in which we would begin attacking. For example, I would tackle him, rugby-style to the ground and then Lisa could come over and begin jumping up and down on his head thereby rendering him unconscious. And at this point, I began to show Nate exactly what I meant by a rugby-style tackle.
Apparently this demonstration was a bit too much for the boy who had been creepily (and probably frightfully) observing our interactions. We explained ourselves, he agree that the girls would win and we decided that it would be best to sit down.
We continued discussing this matter for some time and realized that we would never be able to figure out for sure what the outcome would be. All of this discussion made me think, though. It made me introspective and I came to this somewhat frightening conclusion: I would like the chance to beat someone up. Even just getting one good, solid punch at someones face would be so satisfying. I would love it if there were some way that I could experience that without actually hurting someone.
It frightens me a bit that the idea of beating someone to the ground is so appealing. Lets get something straight--I would NEVER do it. NEVER. But that in and of itself is a strange thought. Most of the people I know will never know what it feels like to punch another person. And I know that that's a positive thing....I don't even know where I'm going with this. Maybe I'm insane. I wonder if anyone else is intrigued by the idea of being put in that ultimate fight, having my own life and the lives of others dependent upon my own ability to use my strength.
Yep. I sound like a nut job. I know. I sound like a violent crazy person, just waiting for someone to anger me so that I can unleash the anger within...but that's not true at all. It's all hypothetical...and will stay that way.
On a completely unrelated note, I love rugby....yeaaaah...completely unrelated.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
That Warm, Fuzzy Feeling
The sky is gray. Clouds stretch on for miles and miles. The once lush and lively trees are falling to pieces along the sidewalk, their remaining leaves showing off only muted versions of their once fiery colors. The grass seems to have lost its usual green vibrancy. The air is cold and damp. The wind whips at my face, forcing me to blink excessively. A few short hours of restless sleep, and now I have to head to class. And yet...
I'm excited.
Not sarcastically excited.
Not temporarily excited.
Genuinely excited.
I spend about one sixth of the year living under the influence of this genuine excitement. It's one of the most real, tangible, long-lasting feelings I experience. And it starts on a day like this. The first snow. Some people dread it. Some people like it. Some people are indifferent. But as far as I'm concerned, it's one of the highlights of the year. It doesn't even have to stick. In fact, it usually doesn't. It usually comes on an otherwise miserable day, weather-wise. So why, then, do I experience it with such optimism? Where does that warm, fuzzy feeling come from?
Anticipation. Anticipation of one moment. The moment that I consider to be one of my favorite things. I'll set up the scenario:
On Christmas morning, my siblings and I wake up around 9 or so. We used to all wait at the top of the stairs together, until everyone was ready. Now my big brother lives in the basement, so that's not possible, but we all wait and go into the family room at the same time, regardless. And there our stockings are waiting. We wait for Scott to place all the gifts he clearly wrapped that morning under the tree, and then we all approach the stockings together, opening up various small gifts, candies and usually some flavored hot cocoa. In that moment we're still kids, all of us, from 15-25 years old...but it's not the moment.
After we've gathered all of our goodies back up into the stockings, we take a short break of sorts and head over to the living room. Usually anyone who wants coffee or a cocoa goes into the kitchen and gets a steaming mug. and then we all sit down together. The very second after we sit down the moment happens.
A large bay window looks out into our front yard, hopefully covered in a light layer of white. In front of the window, the Christmas tree is all lit up with colored lights. Our mismatched ornaments litter the tree with a variety of colors, shapes, and pictures chronicling our growth. The moving train ornament that we've enjoyed since childhood creates a small buzz, and it's the only noise in the room. My pajama-clad family surrounds me, smiles on their faces, contentment in their eyes, hot drinks grasped in their hands. I feel loved. I feel at peace. I feel at home.
That is my favorite moment of every Christmas. There are those who would argue that my perception of Christmas is off. They would argue that when people primarily associate Christmas with family togetherness and gathering together on Christmas morning, we're missing the point. They would be wrong. Don't get me wrong, the idea is something I struggle with. The issue of the commercialization of Christmas is something that's been on my mind ever since watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special oh so many years ago. But I'm not talking about the commercialization, I suppose. I'm talking about that warm, fuzzy feeling. That feeling that I consciously trace back to the moment but can actually be traced back even further.
The root of the feeling is Jesus Christ, and ultimately his birth. Without Christ, my life would be meaningless. I firmly believe that He is the reason my family is so close. I believe that He is the source of all love, and as such the source of every comfort and peace I've ever felt in my life. So when I wake up on a day like today and begrudgingly head to class, I can feel a hope that transcends my limited existence here, and that hope can carry me through with a joy and excitement that's like nothing else in this world...and like everything in the next.
I'm excited.
Not sarcastically excited.
Not temporarily excited.
Genuinely excited.
I spend about one sixth of the year living under the influence of this genuine excitement. It's one of the most real, tangible, long-lasting feelings I experience. And it starts on a day like this. The first snow. Some people dread it. Some people like it. Some people are indifferent. But as far as I'm concerned, it's one of the highlights of the year. It doesn't even have to stick. In fact, it usually doesn't. It usually comes on an otherwise miserable day, weather-wise. So why, then, do I experience it with such optimism? Where does that warm, fuzzy feeling come from?
Anticipation. Anticipation of one moment. The moment that I consider to be one of my favorite things. I'll set up the scenario:
On Christmas morning, my siblings and I wake up around 9 or so. We used to all wait at the top of the stairs together, until everyone was ready. Now my big brother lives in the basement, so that's not possible, but we all wait and go into the family room at the same time, regardless. And there our stockings are waiting. We wait for Scott to place all the gifts he clearly wrapped that morning under the tree, and then we all approach the stockings together, opening up various small gifts, candies and usually some flavored hot cocoa. In that moment we're still kids, all of us, from 15-25 years old...but it's not the moment.
After we've gathered all of our goodies back up into the stockings, we take a short break of sorts and head over to the living room. Usually anyone who wants coffee or a cocoa goes into the kitchen and gets a steaming mug. and then we all sit down together. The very second after we sit down the moment happens.
A large bay window looks out into our front yard, hopefully covered in a light layer of white. In front of the window, the Christmas tree is all lit up with colored lights. Our mismatched ornaments litter the tree with a variety of colors, shapes, and pictures chronicling our growth. The moving train ornament that we've enjoyed since childhood creates a small buzz, and it's the only noise in the room. My pajama-clad family surrounds me, smiles on their faces, contentment in their eyes, hot drinks grasped in their hands. I feel loved. I feel at peace. I feel at home.
That is my favorite moment of every Christmas. There are those who would argue that my perception of Christmas is off. They would argue that when people primarily associate Christmas with family togetherness and gathering together on Christmas morning, we're missing the point. They would be wrong. Don't get me wrong, the idea is something I struggle with. The issue of the commercialization of Christmas is something that's been on my mind ever since watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special oh so many years ago. But I'm not talking about the commercialization, I suppose. I'm talking about that warm, fuzzy feeling. That feeling that I consciously trace back to the moment but can actually be traced back even further.
The root of the feeling is Jesus Christ, and ultimately his birth. Without Christ, my life would be meaningless. I firmly believe that He is the reason my family is so close. I believe that He is the source of all love, and as such the source of every comfort and peace I've ever felt in my life. So when I wake up on a day like today and begrudgingly head to class, I can feel a hope that transcends my limited existence here, and that hope can carry me through with a joy and excitement that's like nothing else in this world...and like everything in the next.
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