Letters I'll Never Post

Dear Somebody-that-I-used-to-know,
Are we okay? Are you going to be weird about this? I hope you understand.
Why I had to stop.
You push my boundaries, both in a good way and a bad way. It would have gone father, I know myself. Shitty self-control. And I would have fallen again.
In love? ♪ What is love? Baby don't hurt me. ♪
That's my best reason. Without meaning to, you would have made me like you again. You think things are awkward now? Imagine if I was crushing on you again instead of just trying to get us back to normal!
I can't do that to myself. Not again.
It's pretty clear to me that I'm not your type. I don't have long, straight blonde hair. I don't play soccer, or any type of sport for that matter. I'm not Canadian, or Australian, or any of those more "exotic" types. I'm not crazy tiny and skinny like those girls. The only thing I check off on your list is that I'm Christian.
Big whoop that. And that's one of the other reasons I stopped.
So why did this happen? Why pursue it? Why pursue me? Was it because I posed some sort of challenge? I think if I understood your "why," then it would all make sense. I could leave you alone then, if that's what you want.
I hope you know I think of you as a friend. Above it all, I like you for who you are. You're weird and impulsive and funny and comfortable to be around. Our friendship is more important to me than whatever this "thing" was.
Of course, if you were interested I would want to pursue it again but that's another matter entirely.
Who you are, what you've gone through, it makes me think that God has a lot of great things in store for you! I just hope that I get to be around to see what that "thing" is. So dream big! Go on with confidence! And like the verses you have emblazoned on your chest and arm, be strong and courageous and know that you can do all things through Him who strengthens you!
Sincerely,
Somebody-that-you-used-to-know

Lazy Dreams and Fairy Tales

All I want is a flat stomach and smaller thighs, maybe even less broadness in my shoulders. Is that too hard to ask?
Two are manageable with hard work.
I hate hard work.
All I want is a guy who will finally take notice of me, for me, not for their own sense of self-worth. Is that too much to ask?
Nineteen years say yes, ten more will confirm it.
If my life was a fairy tale, my story would be different.
If my life was a fairy tale, my journey into this dubiously labeled "friends-with-benefits" would have yielded something more.
If my life was a fairy tale, the smooth-talking guy who went after all the other girls would have taken notice of me, and not just in a weird gesture of friendship.
If my life was a fairy tale, our kiss would have meant something more, a transition between flirtation without intent to this blossoming interest.
If my life was a fairy tale, the "college" me versus the "high school" me would have made some remarkable transformation in my self that he would stop and take notice.
If my life was a fairy tale, I wouldn't be so confused over what to do next.
My life will never be a fairy tale.
But maybe...
Just maybe...
I can make it what I want it to be.
I can work on myself and set goals and dream big.
I can do the hard work I've so long avoided.
I can change myself into the person I want to be.
Then maybe...
Just maybe...
Life will be a little bit brighter.
And it won't matter that it's no fairy tale
Because I will be proud of what I've made myself.

Bruises and Self-Reflections

"Anyone know how to get rid of bruises more quickly? I bruise so easily, it’s such a pain in the neck."

Bruises are a weird phenomena. I've always wondered about their usefulness, though I guess it's more biology than anything else. Blood vessels are broken, blood has to go somewhere, blood stays trapped, thus a bruise forms.
They're still a pain in the neck....

I've been thinking back to years ago when there was this Generation Unleashed conference where the theme that year was "Anthem." One of the speakers challenged us to press in and pray about it and try and figure out what God was calling you to. In other words, what was your anthem? I came away from that conference with the word "purity" as my anthem. At that point in my life I was positive that this would and could be something that was easily attainable. I had no boyfriend and no one seriously interested in me, and I was not expecting that to change anytime soon.
Well, as I learned, not all losses of purity have to do with people.
At the moment I was scornful of this anthem that I had been given. I didn't know how much purer I could get. But as I ponder my life today, I wonder if it was more of a warning and a call for my future years. I truly became addicted to love stories, and not always the clean ones. That has progress and continues to affect me now, especially now that there may be someone interested in me (no actual conformation, and I don't plan on letting it come to anything yet).
I wonder if my ideas of purity and how far and too much have been skewed. I have this fear that I will go to far one day. I've never been very good at self control. Nothing has happened or truly challenged anything major, thank God, but if it did, would I be able to walk away?
I don't know anymore. And that, my friends, scares me. 

The Chemistry of Romance or Lessons from Chemistry

In accordance with some law
Of chemistry and the
Natural balance of things
I’m afraid it’s quite clear
Though you are not the
Compounds of my change
You were, in fact
The catalyst

(What do I mean by things? Things of balance? Control? Of identity? Or beauty? Happiness? Friendship?)

Laws of chemistry dictate balance

Laws of chemistry require compounds

Laws of chemistry do not always need a catalyst

But a catalyst can speed the process up

This process of becoming something other

Two elements combining to form

Something entirely new

(What do I mean by process? Process of what? Elimination? Self-explanation? Transformation?)

Even considering this

Naming you my catalyst

I'm afraid I give you too much credit

Because I am still me

These compounds of change

Of beauty, happiness, or control

Were mine from the beginning

And you merely a reaction

With my natural state of being

Exceptions

You said once that you disliked being a girl's
                                           firsts...
What makes me the exception?
         It must be intention!
I have to believe that, or else...

Don't ask me what I expect from this
                                             from you
If I knew I would have been
         more decisive!
Stopped you before this began
                     or at least asked your intentions
Instead I'm in this ridiculous middle
            Not overwhelmingly either

You might have ruined this
                        our awkward-something-friendship
I hope I can act the same
           But if I do...
Will this happen again?
      Will you be hurt somehow?
            Will I?
Maybe I'm not as much in the middle
                                        as I thought...

Grown-up problems are not for teenagers (or pseudo-adults?)

♪ "I threw my hands in the air, said, 'Show me something,'
He said, 'If you dare come a little closer'...
Not really sure how to feel about it...
Funny you're the broken one but I'm the only one who needed saving" ♪

The songs that you end up identifying with always seems to surprise me. Don't get me wrong, I identify with a lot of songs and even have a list of "theme songs" for my life from seventh grade all the way up to this year. But I may have to rethink the one I wanted to claim for this year.
Most of the songs I end up liking best are from my favorite Christian bands. But this song caught my ear and it has been sticking with me for a couple days now. I first identified it because of the bridge line which is used in some screencap or gifset of an OTP of mine. I liked how the song felt when I sang it. But now I almost want to identify with the singer.
Exaggeration, at best, but it's still true.
Why is communication such a difficult thing to humans? Are we really that afraid of getting hurt? I say yes, but I also think that it has to do with our insufferable pride. My current awkward/not-awkward/I-have-no-idea-what-this-is situation feels more like it's situated in pride rather than in any fears of getting hurt. 
Ignorance and avoidance will have to do for now. It's not going to hurt anyone (yet?).
I almost can't keep this to myself. I have to. I will. I know, at least I think I know, deep down, what it meant, what this means, and I am okay with it. I'm grateful in a weird way. I won't let it ruin anything.
Better not to make waves with it and use it for what it wasn't meant.
What does it mean to be grown up? I've been stewing over that phrase and the concept of maturity versus responsibility as my friends go through their own transitions and dramas unfold and refold and disappear (thank god!) and even their perceptions of themselves. 
I don't feel grown up. I don't want to grow up.
Responsibility definitely increases with age, but without living a bit of life first and experiencing things (I guess I mostly think of painful things) and perhaps even increasing in maturity THEN and only then, do I think someone is actually "grown up."
I'm rambling and speaking in subtext. God, I hate it when people do that. But in this case, it's necessary. I have stooped to that because I needed to write this out somewhere where people wouldn't know or comment or ask. 
It's simple. I'm confused. Life is confusing. I still have no idea where I'm going. God help me and strengthen me for whatever it is that is coming my way.
Yay for finally writing after it's been like three months!!! I should get into this habit again.
Oh, and by the way...
Day 1 starts now.

Take Me Home

Crashing and burning, so no day count today.

Over Memorial day weekend a couple of my friends and I were being driven back to college by one of those "ride share" drivers that you tend to find occasionally when you attend school so close to home. Though the guy was a fairly safe driver, I couldn't help but be nervous even as the skies stayed clear and we hit minimal traffic. This was a source of irony for me, because not even a month before you could have found me in the heart of Mexico driving around with my family and even on a couple memorable occasions, my younger friend who had just received her license. Oaxaca city is a combination of narrow streets, busy streets, streets with potholes, and very pushy drivers. But while I was there I hardly ever felt nervous. I wouldn't have wanted to drive, but I was more than comfortable enjoying the "seat-belt-less experience" that you can really only have in a foreign country. In contrast, driving in my sleepy town with my sister in the front seat or even occasionally with some of my friends I am always on the edge of my seat expecting the worst. Is my brain slightly dysfunctional or am I just regressing to my childhood mentality when I go to Mexico?
It is a constant worry of mine that I will never actually be fully "known" by someone. By someone I more often than not mean my imaginary future husband. I say this because despite the importance of my time in Mexico, I have no real way to explain it to an outsider. How do you explain something that was normal life to you? How do you explain how the Hispanic culture sometimes feels more like home than the everyday American culture? How can anyone, let alone myself, understand why I am equally comfortable in a concrete, dusty house covered in bad paint and graffiti and the average quaint country-style home in America? To explain the inner workings of my mind and my twisted up emotions about living in Mexico for so many years feels like an impossibility. And yet, I feel like no one will truly understand me in my entirety unless they understand how important these weird conflicting facts and memories are to me...
Where is home when your heart feels like it's tied and pulled apart in a hundred different pieces to different places and people? 

We Are No Accident

Day 8 (though really day 2 if I'm being completely honest)

"To avoid criticism, do nothing, say nothing, be nothing." - Elbert Hubbard

Cowardice must be a flaw of mine. This quote speaks all too easily to me. I abhor criticism; I get hurt over the smallest things, remarks that cut like the sharpest knives over my sensitive skin. Why is it that life has to hurt so much? There seems no end to the pain people have to go through.
Recently in our honors class we have been discussing the philosophy of the German philosopher Schopenhauer. He denies that free will exists and most of the people in the class tended to disagree with that statement. However, the truth is that their adherence to atheism, to evolutionism in the macro sense, all indicates this randomness and pointlessness. Life under this has no point; life and people and civilization as we know it would be "an accident" of the universe. It reminds me of the point that my mother stressed over in "Life of Pi." My sister and I had both read the book before we went to see the movie, and as such we were not surprised by the twist at the end. My mother, on the other hand, kept thinking over the parallel stories and the phrase "As it is with God." "As what is with God?" she kept asking. It took a while, but eventually we looked up some of the literary commentaries for her and she figured out a concept even my sister and I had overlooked. When Pi says, "As it is with God" he means that life is a better story when we tell it with God involved. All the pointlessness, all the pain and suffering, all the ups and downs have some sort of bigger picture and purpose to them! Pain is therefore not meaningless; we aren't just suffering without any promise of salvation or rest at the end. And yet, so many people have a problem with accepting the existence of a God, especially a benevolent God. "Then why is there suffering?" they ask, "Why is there suffering if God is supposedly all good, all knowing, all powerful? Why doesn't he stop it?" How I wish I had the answers. My best explanation cannot cover everything.
My father likes the phrase "We're spiritual beings experiencing the physical, not physical beings experiencing the spiritual." I take comfort in it too, because for me it shows that life is bigger than this. My life is not just this. How wonderful to think that my life extends beyond this world! I was meant for something better and bigger than this! My very being does not belong here; my very being is not home yet! I am a spiritual being experiencing a physical world, not a physical being trying to reach out to the spiritual. Religion, if you want to call it that, is not just me trying to cope with the world. Religion is a relationship to me. Religion helps me reason about why I'm here and why I have to go through the things I do. But it's bigger than that. My relationship with God is a learning experience. If I am a spiritual being, then why do I waste my time fulfilling the desires of my physical body? Would it not be better to build up the spiritual in me?
The point is, I have no answers. Jesus and his life, his purpose for me, is what I plan to live for. That is my bigger purpose. I can still be afraid of criticism and pain. I can still be struggling with what I want and what I should really be doing. But I would rather be struggling for something, towards something, than believe that live, that my life, that everyone's life is an accident. Because if it is, then we doom so many. And we wonder why suicide rates are going up...

Relationships and Power Struggles

Day 6
The saying goes that the person who cares least in the relationship is the one with the power. As unfortunate as that may sound, there is a lot of truth in the statement. Children have quite a bit of power over their parents and are apt to misuse this relationship in various ways. The husband and wife scenario, whether they be ordinary or abusive, someone holds power over the other. Even friends, especially girls, will create drama by placing expectations on the other person and get upset when they don't live up to those invisible "rules." I see this over and over again with two of my dear friends. Though they both care for each other, the fact is that the one has an over-reliance on the other girl and her opinions and thus is hurt more often. It's not that the one girl is trying to hurt her, but her abrupt nature and her desire to see the other blossom into a self-independent person creates conflict between them. Of course, in life the expectation is that a "healthy" relationship will be able to move from some sort of power struggle into a balance.
It's funny how so many things in life come down to balance.
This makes me wonder though, I know that there is one relationship in particular where I have always felt.....well for lack of a better word, unbalanced. It has always felt like I am the one who cares too much and my affections aren't returned, or at least not to the same extent. I know this person loves me, but it has been a struggle at times to keep to myself when all I want is to lavish some sort of attention on them. Because of this, a lot of my interactions with this person has come down to teasing and bickering. By adding that level of distance, of boundary, of some sort of sarcasm and silliness, it becomes a situation where I have the power. The joking masks my kinder actions, like some sort of thorny exterior to a sweet interior. Not that that helps our relationship any. But isn't it better to keep yourself safe? Would it be better for me to show them how much I love them, how proud I am of them, only to be scorned for the affection I'm trying to show? I don't think I could stand that. Ridicule me all you want, but ridicule my selfless or kind actions towards you and see just how much you lose. Or is this more my overwhelming desire for respect?
I don't know how to fix this problem. Is there even a problem? Perhaps not in their eyes, but in my opinion I can't stand the limbo!
Where is the balance when you're trying to avoid more pain to yourself? Do you risk it and suffer or keep them oblivious?

Youth and Beauty?

Day 4
When does youth become an asset more than an excuse? It seems as if teenagers use their age as an excuse to do the crazy/dangerous/stupid things they do. And yet, the older generation bemoans their wasted years and remark on how much they could have done in their youth if they had set their mind to it. I have no desire to accomplish great things. I like simplicity. I like comfort and stability. To accomplish anything requires sacrifice and hard work. Or is my issue with hard work? Youth of this era, especially in the United States, are notoriously lazy about getting jobs and being proactive about their tasks. And here comes another confusing part. Adults tell you to enjoy youth in one breath, and in the other are encouraging us to exercise our responsibility. Why is life all about balance? I personally like extremes. Extremes mean finality; extremes mean truth and opinions that people live up to. Extremes to mean are the opposite of hypocrisy. Perhaps this is taking the translation of the word too liberally, but the point remains. Hypocrisy versus taking a stand, whether you end up being wrong or right. You can admire a man for his dedication even if you disagree with what he stands for.
This has just become too twisted and rambling for my tastes. I'm not sure whether I'm arguing for something or against it. At least I'm thinking about it? Better than most people my age who are trying to dull pain and anger and confusion. Maybe that's the thing here: youth becomes an excuse when we choose not to face the problems that are at the heart of our actions. If you can recognize your pain, laziness, ignorance, etc then maybe there is hope for this generation yet.

Pessimistic Optimism

Day 2
Experience is the ultimate teacher. There are some things that just cannot be learned from books. As a bibliophile myself, this is a difficult truth to swallow. I find it easier to deal with books than with real life. Life is messy. Life is painful. Books have a measure of distance from them. If you don't like what's happening, you can put it down and come back later. You share the character's journey, but never to the full capacity. The pages between you and the event serve as a type of protection from the full brunt of any blow. But as my professor said today, it's a good thing that life is painful! Because of the pain, we actually feel. Better to live in the ups and downs, the joys and sorrows, than in some dreadful monotony that dulls the senses. I have yet to decide. It's not like I have lived enough, seen enough, done enough, to understand the full brunt of life's moments. I have never been in love. I have never experienced the death of a loved one. I may have faced some "unfortunate" events or been caught up in teenage infatuation, but I have yet to grasp the true thing. My experience is like looking through a clouded window; there is only a hazy recollection once the time has passed.
One thing that experience and age takes away though is the endless hope that the younger generation has. Perhaps hope isn't the right word. Rather, it's this infatuation with dreams and schemes and belief that nothing can go wrong yet. A child's infatuation with life, embracing what may come, is indicative of this. And yet, time passes. Children grow up, and in the words from a movie with a terminal cancer patient played by Benedict Cumberbatch:

"We've all forgotten that moment when we realize that we'll never play in the world cup finals or be the first man on mars and all those dreams become fantasies instead of possibilities."

Isn't that so true? The only difference in growing up is that we cease to believe in the possibilities. We decide that dreams can only be fantasies and never become true. In this way, the mindset of a child is a beautiful thing. Instead of dismissing the concept entirely, they ask why not? Why not try? Why can't it be possible? What is stopping me? My parents have always encouraged me to follow my dreams, to imagine what I can do and then, instead of saying it can't be done, consider what steps, no matter how small, can be taken to make it possible! Better to live like this! Live like the world's problems can be tackled. Live like the glass is half-full so that, in turn, you end up seeing it that way too. I don't want to say live optimistically; neither, though, should you live in a state of perpetual pessimism. Find a balance in your dreaming and rationalizing. But above all, live it out!

Identity is a Tricky Thing

Day 1
Isn't it a curious thing that as you yourself get older you find out that your parents go far beyond the titles of mom and dad and are actually human beings? Imagine that! Your mom and dad had a story, a history, before you!
I was brought to hiding in my room and bursting into tears today. No, I'm honestly not one of those crazy hormonal teenagers, but today I definitely felt the need to release the pressure somehow. It was a combination of things, but the main trigger was my father. Since I'm starting this random blogging journey I was reminded that my dad had a blog of his own, so I proceeded to go and read everything that he himself has written and posted. His writing has always been a comfort, because he knows how to combine Bible verses and leave the reader feeling inspired to change. However, a couple of the entries reminded me of just how much my dad has sacrificed for our family. He's not necessarily satisfied with work and, like my sister and me, feels a disconnect with the culture we're living in now. But he continues on and despite it all is striving for happiness no matter how he is feeling. Above anyone I have met, my father is one of the most admirable and most constant in his love and devotion to both God and his family. My mother feels the same way as dad, in a different aspect of course, but her way of expressing her struggle to adjust is more verbal than my dad. She summed it up well though when she said that the "problem" surrounding coming back and transitioning was that she had just "completed" her dream. Ever since she was nineteen, my mother wanted to be a missionary, and now she's middle aged, doesn't feel particularly old, and yet she's done with her life goal, her dream! Your identity is so tied into these things, your goals, your ambitions, your dreams. The return to the states from the mission field creates an identity crisis. You're no longer involved in the things that defined you.
My own identity was so tied to the concept of being a student for the longest time. It always felt like I had to be the best, otherwise it was demeaning myself. Because of this, even now I fear challenge and am apt to give up or choose something that will play to my strengths. This cowardice in myself I continue to try and rectify. Maybe this is why one of my favorite quotes talks of bravery.

"A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's good to remember that what you do definitely should not completely define who you are. Jobs change, schools change, test are failed, scholarships go to someone else, you complete a dream and suddenly feel adrift. These things can shape you, but should not control who you are or what you continue to be. I am still a missionary kid whether or not I go to the nice private Christian college or the larger public state school. I am still passionate about helping people and reading books whether or not I pass or fail my Anthropology exam. My parents are still themselves even though they can no longer call themselves "missionaries." Identity is what we make of it. Who are you? What are you going to let define you?

Montaigne and his penis jokes...

When you begin life, especially as a girl, you are taught the beginnings of romance. Disney waters it down and gives you a stylized version where the guy gets the girl or the girl gets the guy and everyone lives happily ever after.

Then you get to middle school or high school and it's all about the dating and discovering that really cooties weren't all bad and that your entire life (and its happiness) depended on whether or not you had a boyfriend or girlfriend. Also, you may or may not have discovered sex and the awkwardness ensues.

Recently, when my family and I had the chance to go back to Mexico where I had spent most of my childhood, I was confronted with a rather unfortunate truth of life. As much as the memories we rediscovered caused joy, there was a measure of pain wrapped up in the middle. Multiple times my mother was on the verge of tears. We discovered people who remembered us, people who didn't or chose not to, people who had split, or people who had fallen upon hard times. I'll never forget my mother's comment that people were both bringers of happiness and of immeasurable pain. That was the day I realized life would never be perfect. It may have been delusional of me to ever consider that it would be, but the point remains. I grew up a bit more that day in a tiny kitchen in Tlaxiaco watching my mother wipe the tears from her eyes and confess in a round-about way the reason for her occasional attempts at distancing herself from friendships. People and the resulting interactions are painful.

College has been such a time of discovery, and the more I learn the more I see my ignorance. I've learned more about myself in the last five months than I have in the past couple of years. Coupled with that though, I've again learned some of the harsher truths of life.

Montaigne is an interesting character. While reading his essay titled "On Some Verses of Virgil" one may find themselves a bit shocked at 1) how little he talks of Virgil and 2) how much he talks of his own "member." But put aside all his side comments of how flaccid he looks or how he has a problem with premature ejaculation, and you find an interesting discourse on marriage and love. He defines love as the purely lustful desires. He claims that love and marriage cannot coexist. He says infidelity is bound to happen and should be no surprise. I may be oversimplifying or understating his points, but in the discussion that followed I found myself rather pessimistic as to the future of any marriage of mine. Is marriage or any relationship doomed like a flame without fuel? Obviously, if it is based in lust and carnal love the answer would be yes. But does this mean that marriage must be totally without any passion? Is the lack of passion, the loss of the "allure", truly why so many people leave their marriages? Is that why the US, country of consumerism and individuality and a "please yourself attitude", has a 50% failure rate in marriages? Though it may not be the only reason, it seems like a factor in the bigger problem. So what now? Do I give up and doom myself to a marriage with no spark? Or do I merely recognize the spark will one day die or become "the normal" and the marriage will have to fall back on a foundation stronger than lust? Is it that easy? My parents make it seem so, however in these cases my pessimism comes out and I'm tempted to ask how any marriage survives. Not that this means that I'm some sex-crazed person! Not at all! I'm merely curious as to the problem with passion and friendship coexisting in a marriage. Is it possible or do I have to choose? Or am I just confusing myself?

On New Year's Resolutions

Maybe it's because I'm a cynic; maybe it's just because it's the truth.
When is the best time to make a resolution? The minute it occurs to you? A week after? Does resolution necessarily have to be synonymous with repentance?
Every year, as January 1st approaches, people begin to create these wonderful and high-reaching goals and resolutions for themselves. I'm going to exercise more. I'm going to eat right. I'm going to be more proactive and not procrastinate. And though these are all well and good, the fact is that they're meaningless! Isn't it the truth that New Year's resolutions are made precisely because no one plans to keep them? Wouldn't it be better to make a resolution whenever precisely because you are planning to keep it? Shouldn't we be looking over our lives and what we do constantly instead of just at the end of the year?
Maybe it's because I think the world is full of hypocrites; maybe it's just because I am one myself.
My own resolution, without going into detail, is important not because of the time frame surrounding it. I have struggled and struggled and as Darcy would say, it will not do. My feelings on the subject will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love yo-- well not quite. But the point is that I have come to grips with my thoughts, with my actions, and with my very being. My resolution is perhaps more important because of the lack of timing. Since I live in a culture obsessed with time and punctuality, it only makes sense that these things will bleed into my very actions. However, this time I may need to give myself some slack -- or not! -- I can't be sure. Shall I be severe upon myself for a fault which I have no desire to struggle to overcome? Shall I give up before the venture is even started because of my own selfish desire for entertainment and completion? It is best to learn to reign myself in. Just because I cannot detest it in the moment does not mean that it is something that should be pursued with reckless abandon.
Maybe it's because it's consuming my life; maybe it's just because I want to live again.
Please, God, I want to live again.