11/15/2009

This is a very, very old draft of mine. But reading it brought to mind details that I forgot, and generally warmed my heart. My baptism is one of my favorite memories, and I'm happy to have these little scraps of that day. This is a chatlog, and beneath it is my journal entry for that day. Enjoy, future me.



me: hey!

 Timothy: SUP

 me: I JUST HAD THE COOLEST THING EVER HAPPEN TO ME AND I WANT TO TELL EVERYONE IN THE WORLD

8:42 PM Timothy: AND?????

8:43 PM me: Ok this will take a minute.

8:44 PM Timothy: was it something cool like getting baptized?

8:45 PM me: jerk

  wait it's bigger than that

  wait

 Timothy: jack did it

 me: I know

  it's bigger than that!!!!

  shut up!

 Timothy: FINE

8:49 PM me: So lately I was so mad and so frustrated and hating food and i started making myself throw up and it was only since last night but I sort of felt like I was on the edge of something. And tonight at Flatirons God was totally telling me I don't have to go there and I don't have to wait until things are unbearable to stop. And this morning in the lesson one of the verses was that one you always beat me with about my body is a temple. and tonight I totally just felt God telling me to let it go and how I can just make the choice to stop it all and i thought of how tehre's struglling with stuff vs wallowing in it. And they said again how it's baptism day. and i was like oh shoot because like i said before God telling me to get baptized again like last year was the clearest thing from God I had ever heard and tonight I was like no i'm not gonna do it and during Marvelous Light God was bugging me about throwing up and I was thinking about how cheesy and lame it would be to give it up then. And Jim was talking about making God the centre of your life and how that's the best plan ever and I was like okay and I prayed and there was another song and he said come get baptized if you want and i was like deciding okay we're just going to leave and it'll be fine. And sara said "I'm getting baptized" and so I decided to too, and then Jack came over and saw me in line and was like "YOU ARE AWESOME" and I asked him to baptize me and he was like sure and we waited in a long line while they were playing music. and when it was my turn they were playing marvelous light again and i was like holy crap no way. it was awesome. and it was just so incredible and I'm so happy.

8:51 PM Timothy: that's awesome

I got baptized tonight!! It was so amazing. It's hard to write about now, everything is so fresh in my mind. Jack is an incredible friend. He was 1 of 3 who baptized me: Pastor @ Flatirons and my dad being the others. He hugged me like 52 times we were both so happy and excited about it. After one of them he just left his arm on my shoulder. And I wasn't uncomfortable which is pretty much a first. God jut did such cool things. He got me to turn from a habit I had just started with. I prayed lastnight something about if Jack does indeed care to show it to me and he did. It's been an awesome 24 hours.

Long Live the Car Crash Hearts (or Yes I Still Love Fall Out Boy)

Best. Show. Ever.
At first I felt like an outsider because a) I often feel that way and b) A lot of the fans there were the age I was when I discovered fall out boy. (For those of you keeping score at home, I just did some math and realized I discovered fall out boy when I was 11.  So I suppose that's a bit of an exaggeration. Most of the kids looked about 15.)   I, naturally, made fun of the kids with bright hair and holes in their pants. Having done the whole purple hair and fishnet sleeves and thick wristbands and so much eyeliner thing, I felt safe to mock them. They were here because they were angsty and lame but I was here because I like the music. I felt really superior. It's a bit nauseating. After an hour and a half of waiting in line with them, I started feeling self-conscious. I saw my reflection in the window, and I honestly felt like a soccer mom in my button up shirt and practical shoes. Even though I am only a few years older than those kids. I shouldn't feel so very old. But I did. And I felt super awkward. What was I thinking even going to this show? This isn't my crowd.

Normally at a concert I become very concerned with my body movement. Should I be jumping? Is it ok to do this with my hands? I'M DOING EVERYTHING WRONG AREN'T I? I felt that way again with 21 Pilots and a bit during Panic!'s set, but by the time fall out boy came on I didn't care anymore. I moved because I wanted to and I just felt the music. I moved my arms because I wanted to move my arms. I did what felt right for the music and how I felt. And I joined a ton of other people in singing along. I couldn't even hear myself and it didn't matter because I was so deep in the songs. I knew all of the words in an intimate way. They were singing songs that helped me through my life. When I say that I listened to fall out boy during my emo phase, I mean to say that their music brought me through really hard times. I genuinely cried a little when they played Thriller (No, not that Thriller).

Pete Wentz gave this speech (Essentially,"We love you guys because you are freaks. Not in spite of, because.") and it made me feel better about life lately, specifically me not fitting in with certain people. I realized I don't need to fit in with them. I'm different than them and that is a good thing and that's me. And they aren't like me and that's great because that is them. Maybe I'm weird, and maybe I should have outgrown being/feeling like a freak but I know 4 guys and a whole bunch of fans who are freaky just like me.

I have never felt so at home at a concert. I felt so connected. They were singing my songs. The songs that I used to write in my journals and listen to when I felt like the only person in the world. And they wrote them and sang them because they felt that way too. And although when I was waiting in line I made fun of all the young kids who were there, I now feel that we have something in common. I wish them all the good things in life. I talked to a guy whose hair I made fun of extensively. He was kind and funny. I was a jerk to make fun of his hair. It was pretty stupid of me to see a band I started loving because I felt like an outcast, and judge other people for being different.

Leading up to the show I kept thinking I GET TO SEE PANIC AT THE DISCO LIVE THEY ARE MY FAVORITE AAAAAHHHHH, literally to the point that at times I forgot Fall Out Boy was even playing. But, by far, they were the band that I enjoyed the most. There was a touch of nostalgia and a lot of hope for me in the songs that they played. i remembered listening to and singing their songs, feeling low. I remembered that things got better. I realized that things might be tough now but they will get better again. As much as I loved feeling the bass in my chest from 21 pilots and fangirling over panic! (They played my ringtone! Have I mentioned recently that they are my favorite band?!), fall out boy felt like old friends to me. 

I screamed and danced and sang so much. Every time FOB finished a song I felt like I was ready to drop because I was exhausted but then they started another and I got lost in the music. I didn't want them to ever stop. But eventually their set ended. My throat was full of goop, my ears were ringing, and my feet were sore. I guzzled an iced tea and it was the most satisfying drink of my life. And now I am here.

I got some great pictures, I got some cool merch (NEW FAVORITE TSHIRT), and I got to see 2 of my favorite bands, complete with a life lesson or two. My personal history aside, all three bands really put on a great show and I am so, so happy. I feel very lucky.

Best.
Show.
Ever.

Graduation, or, It's Complicated.

Yesterday, I went to a friend's graduation.
I was singing in the choir. Despite the worst rehearsal I've ever had, we did well when it counted.
Of course, because a few dozen people can't leave and enter large rooms stealthily, we stayed in there the entire time. Mostly it was people I didn't know. But I am friends with one of them, and watching her and her parents cry on stage made my eyes well up. Partly because I am empathetic, partly because I love her, and partly because I knew what was coming the next day.
When I got on stage with her I squeezed her so tight.
When I got home, it felt like Christmas Eve. This nervous anticipation, only bigger because I hadn't been waiting a year for Christmas. I had been waiting my life to graduate.
Today, I attended my own graduation.
A friend and I sang a song. For Good, from the musical Wicked. Esther was Galinda, and I was Elphaba, if you care. Before we even started singing, I cried.
I started crying at home on Thursday. Because I was so happy and so sad and so scared.
I made the mistake of saying that I would say goodbye to my friends and I cried. I had to correct it to "signing their yearbooks" to avoid further tears.

I was happy and excited, yet calm, as I waited in the aisle to  limp my way to the stage. We pledged our allegiance to the American flag. And as I sat down, I saw Lisa. She has been a mother figure to me for over ten years. She is one of the dearest people in my heart, and there she was in the audience beaming at me as only she can beam. I was so happy that she was there that I started tearing up and waving at my face how girls wearing mascara always do. I put my hand over my lips and chin, the way I do when i'm almost crying.
The principal gave a lovely speech and I realized that of all the graduation speeches I've heard, this one was meant for me. I was the recipient. I was old enough that these words were literally written for the girls I was sitting with, and myself.
I looked and I saw my friends sitting down. So proud of me. And Lisa, so proud of me. And Julie and Susie and Nathan and Dan....so proud of me. And I was so happy I cried.
Then I had to sing.
Because I had the second half of the song, I had Esther's verse to get myself together. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply and tried to stare at a wall. I felt this peace wash over me (I now wonder if someone prayed when they saw me struggling) and was able to open my eyes. Before I knew it, I heard "...changed...for good." and the six notes that cued me. First I sang staring at a wall, mostly for vocal reasons. That is, "pretend you're just singing to practice" reasons. But as I got comfortable, I started to look around. I saw Lisa again, and Brittany, and of course, Esther. I started to think about how Kelly had introduced the song. "As Laura and Esther were thinking of a song to sing, they felt that the lyrics of this one really applied to how they feel about each other and the School Program". I started to think about how these people I had met had affected me. And so, I was able to sing, "I do believe I have been changed for the better" with a full, strong meaning, but not a full strong voice. Around the word better, I had to actually stop singing because I was crying. I have never meant words more.

Throughout the ceremony, I cried. On and off, of course. When, in Mariko's speech, she talked about the meaning of my name, my character, and the fact that I am a champion on her heart. When in Mrs. Mann's speech she mentioned how I talked to her about my insecurities (last year in choir, I spoke to her about how terrified I was about singing in front of people). Often when I just thought of my friends out there. Making hearts at me with their hands.

I  have never, in my entire life, felt something so bittersweet. I never knew what that truly felt like until today. So strongly bitter, yet so strongly sweet.

After the ceremony, talking about leaving made and makes me cry. I can't just leave Annie and Brittany and Corri and Hannah and the other Hannah and Scott and Rachel and...and...and...everyone behind. They are what made this day so bittersweet. Finishing high school? Good riddance, learning. (that was a joke). But leaving behind my friends? That's something else.

I didn't get a chance to put my handprint on the wall. Now I feel like I'm going to be forgotten. That is all I have to say about that.

Guys, what do you do after high school? I think I'm an adult now. I think I'm supposed to move on, but I don't know where I'm going. I have goals for this year. Maybe I will just follow those and try to stay in touch as much as I can. What do you do?

Another reason for tears was fear. Fear of forgetting. Fear of being forgotten. I'm afraid everything will be the same without me, and I'm afraid that it won't be. I'm worried that I won't be able to be there for my ducklings, and I'm worried that they don't need me anyway. It's weird.

Tonight, talking outside about today, I felt so strange. It feels like it didn't even happen, but of course it did. There are pictures, there is video.

I'm an adult now. Not just a "technically 18" adult, but a "not in high school" adult.

I feel like being an adult pushed me out of the box that is my school and cut me off. I know I'm not any more grown up than I was a week ago, but I still feel this way. I know my friends have open arms, but I still feel this way.

Dan says it takes a few days for it to stop feeling so confusing and sad. He used a word in his sentence. It rhymes with Goose and it made me cry. Because Annie's name rhymes with goose. And Annie isn't graduating.

To be able to look offstage and see this whole horde of people that I am totally convinced love me was incredible. The spatterings throughout the audience, the Lisa's, were something. But when I looked to my left, I saw an army of my dearest friends. Beaming at me. It was so beautiful.

Leaving makes me sad.
Being done with school makes me happy.
Growing up makes me scared.
Being showered in love makes me cry.

Guys, I am not even kidding, I love you so much. You are what made me cry. I feel so strongly about each of you individually. From Elsa to Esther. You are all so special to me. You mean the whole world to me. I love you individually, and collectively you all make me so happy and so proud. I just love you all so much.

Response Paper 3: Deviance

I am a goody-two-shoes. There's a part of me that feels very rebellious, but the rest of me knows better. My “rebellion” extends to listening to 90's punk bands and thinking about doing things. If I break a rule, it's because I think that a) I have a good reason to, and/or b) I won't upset an authority figure. I have always been that kid. I feel that if I get less than the highest possible grade on any assignment I have personally failed my teachers. They are authority figures, I did something bad, and I should feel bad. I also feel incapable of being deviant. If I have no respect for someone in authority, I will argue with and possibly disobey them, but that is the exception to who I am. I am not deviant. I have difficulty believing that a car can move without my seatbelt being buckled. It's kind of a strange kink of who I am. I will talk about doing rebellious things, but unless I am given the green light by someone in authority, I will rarely do those things. My kind of thrilling deviancy is walking on the grass. You aren't supposed to do that, you know.

When I got this assignment, I actually gasped. Out loud. I would never dream of taking anyone's seat, and I knew that I was having ankle surgery during the time we would be working on these papers, which complicates tall building escapades. This left me with imagining it, or using my hands to eat something. I chose the latter. I found it so devilishly exciting, because I am so profoundly vanilla. It is worth noting that I hate having things on my hands. I love me some french fries, but eating them means rubbing my fingers on my jeans to get the salt off. It drives me crazy. When I was very young I would tentatively play in the mud, and then run inside, frowning, to my mom, hold my hands out, say “dirty!”, and wait for her to clean them. All this added to my excitement to eat something with my hands. Most people don't do that, you know.

The night before I had talked to my sister about my plans, “I'm going to eat pancakes or something with my HANDS! Isn't that crazy?” as I grinned and told her of my planned deviancy, I started to realize how silly it was to get worked up about eating with my hands. How silly it is that someone my age considers syrupy fingers deviant and exciting.

So Easter Sunday, post-surgery, I wheeled into an IHOP with some devilish smirk on my face. Everyone was looking at me, because I was in a wheelchair. Some people kept looking as I very excitedly discussed Portal 2. But slowly, most of them started to look away, onto their own breakfasts or a child making noise. After our food arrived, I almost immediately had to explain myself to my breakfast date. I am completely transparent when I'm up to something. “Ok! So, I....nevermind.” I wanted to keep it a secret and get his response, but of course I suck at that. Some skeptical prodding led to me finally admitting that I had to be deviant for a class and was going to eat my french toast with my hands and wasn't that so crazy? The official response from my companion was a laugh and an eye roll. I tore my french toast into small pieces and dipped them into syrup. The whipped cream and berries caused me wide eyes and giggles because I had to directly touch things that were “messy”. Again, I received smirks from the other side of the table.

We continued talking as we ate, and I tried to surreptitiously observe anyone's reactions to me. Before I did this experiment, I assumed that everyone in the entire world would stare at me. Because who does something so crazy? Eating with your hands. Ridiculous. I looked around for evidence of that, and found the woman seated at the booth next to our table was giving me a disgusted look. Because I have poor impulse control, I loudly and immediately said, “I think that chick hates me.” in order to freak her out and/or make her stop looking. However, further investigation proved that that was just her face, and she was probably looking at me because I kept looking at her.

At the time, our server also seemed a little off-put by my shenanigans. However, looking back on it, I think I was just projecting my own feelings of doing something strange and being afraid of people confronting me.

Other than the wheelchair, I did one other thing that got me many more strange looks than eating without utensils. I stared out the window for a couple of minutes. People started to glare at me. No one was even sitting where I was looking. Why they cared about this, and not my attempt to be deviant, I will never know.

I had expected this assignment to be a great lesson in human behavior, and why innocuous things are considered deviant. For example, there is no law enforcing silverware use, but it is extremely strange for an adult to eat many food items with their hands. I was quite surprised that no one cared, but I think that had a lot to do with the fact that out at an IHOP on Easter Sunday, everyone had bigger things on their mind. Another thing that is frowned upon in society is staring at people who are behaving oddly, and so it is possible that some people noticed and discussed my behavior, but were just stealthy about it. I think that this would have turned out to be a little bit more enlightening if I hadn't told people beforehand that I would be doing this. But in my defense, I assumed everyone on earth would care, judge, and give me things to write about. I was also super excited about being “bad”, if only for an hour or so.

Despite the lack of response by my my fellow restaurant patrons, I did find this very eye-opening. Talking in elevators and eating without “proper” utensils are not inherently bad. They aren't wrong. They're just different. This means that the fact that my sister's boyfriend eats pizza with a knife and fork isn't bad, just different. I think it's weird. But why? It can be a messy food. I have just been socialized differently, and that isn't bad. Another implication of this assignment that I found was that I have no reason to not do some things. So why not talk to cashiers, or change seats? Being deviant is not always the same as being “bad”. If I'm not breaking any laws or moral code, then it is only my self-conscious, goody-two-shoes attitude that is stopping me from walking on grass and climbing trees and having adventures. Because when you are that strange way that I am, adventures can be found in things like french toast.

On Islam

Muslims are not filth. They are not terrorists. They are not murderers. They are people. I am trying to fathom how I have any ties with people who would view any other human the way that some people I know view Muslims. Most priests are not child molesters. Most men are not pedophiles. Most Muslims do not hurt people. Not all Christians are closed-minded and hateful. What's that whole thing about innocent until proven guilty?

I realize that some Muslims are radical, but some "Christians" force sexual acts on children. Do they define all Christians?

This makes me sick. This literally makes me shake with anger. How could you ever hate someone so much? You don't know them. There are non-practicing Muslims, just as there are "Christmas and Easter" Christians. You wouldn't know they are Muslim. The assumption that all Muslims wear a hijab is ignorant. The assumption that everyone wearing something interesting on their head is going to destroy America is disgusting.

People can believe different things. That's what religious freedom is. I don't agree with what Muslims believe. That's why I'm not a Muslim. But I don't think they're lesser people. I think they have as much value as I do.
Islam has been around for a very long time. It's not a sudden threat. It's just a different religion.
If you want others to accept your Christianity and not discriminate, and you hate Muslims without knowing them, you are missing the point.
Identifying as a member of a religion doesn't mean you agree with everything that anyone who has ever associated with that religion does. Not all mormons have seven wives.

I realize I may literally lose friends over this sentiment. I welcome that. I want no association with someone who blindly hates others. Defriend me. Please.

sing for the moment

I have a lot of strange angst these days.

I consider myself someone who cares for others, but I'm finding myself in a different position. Being short with people.
It makes me completely hate myself.

A couple of months ago, I went off of antidepressants. Mostly it has been really cool, when I first went off them I was super dizzy, but the biggest problem has been my emotions getting super heightened.

I had gotten really used to living a completely jaded existence, and it's because every feeling was very dulled.

Suddenly, there was no barrier. Funny things were hilarious, sad things were awful, frustrating things were really bad. I was crying. I haven't cried without a really great reason in years. I was getting the giggles constantly.

It's been quite a ride adjusting to having all these new feelings. It has been a somewhat difficult journey and I have been feeling very insecure about it lately. For some reason my thick, thick outer shell has dissolved some. I care a lot about what the people I care about think.

My highs are higher, and my lows are lower.

I am happy to live fully, to truly feel things. I'm just not used to it at all.

Lately I've been getting organized and working on my attitude. I have been working on a whole bunch of things very hard. I hope I can redeem myself to the people I have hurt. I hope I can work out my feelings. I get breif dark impulses and I have to keep training my mind again to not go there. I guess I got lazy with the help.

I'm a Christian who forgets to read her bible. I listen to mostly punk and alternative music. I love pink and sparkles, and I love black and skeletons. I'm half princess, half warrior, half rebel and half goody-two-shoes. I don't weigh myself anymore. I have sprained my left ankle 4 times. Prior to that, I loved to run and dance. I spend a lot of time in my room listening to music. I love math. I love science. I like to write, but only on my own time. I have anxiety problems. I think I might be a little ADD. I'm freaked out by being an adult. I refuse to tell most people the way I voted. Not because it would offend them, but because I have a right not to. I draw on things. I have scars. I have stretch marks. I bite my lips constantly, especially when I'm thinking or stressed. My therapy is music. I'm creative. I'm messy. I'm organized. I'm impulsive. I feel guilty. Sometimes I want to back out of things because I don't get what I want. I'm baffled that I am here. That I am the same person who I was years ago, but not. I'm the same entity, but I'm different. I just can't believe that my consciousness in my body is here and now. Things used to be different.